"Bubbles are Good for the Soul"

Xiaz Padma
Fighter Pilot
USS Galaxy

--

When they got back from the mission, Xiaz was almost sure she never wanted to be in her fighter again. At least, not for a couple of rotations. Trill rotations (several hours longer than Standard). Frankly, she was sure that every part of her body hurt, down to the very last spot. It was an odd sensation. She'd had it once before, many lifetimes earlier, and the cause was a rather attractive blue orion named--

"Bliss," she murmured softly as she settled her body down into the large bathtub. With many crew down exploring the Great Secrets of the Romulan Star Empire (prepackaged and authenticated by the Emperess herself with all the nasty little bits concealed behind several feet of solid metal, concrete and other such impliments of protection) the holodecks were available for anyone who wanted time.

It was a simply program, one she designed herself, which involved a very large tub, hot water, and bubbles. Bubble baths were something new to the trill, whose past hosts (all male) had found them to be an entirely feminine indulgence. Xiaz had always enjoyed them in her youth, in fact they were one of the few indulgences the relatively sensable and reserved girl had ever taken, but it had taken years for Padma to be willing to explore. Several life times of absurd gender roles could endanger even a symbiot's thought patterns.

Of course, after the first time, all the reservations were off. There was little more relaxing, providing of course privacy was involved, something difficult to ensure on a starship. Holodeck activities were logged and monitored, everyone on the ship could know what program once was using if they decided to look hard enough (or, conversely, if they liquored up the Operations crewman in charge of such things; that kid had more dirt on more members of the crew than anyone, enough that, rumor said, he could buy his own moon in Ferengi space, and those things didn't come cheap). Therefore, locking a holodeck was a risk; it could draw attention.

Not that Pad particularly cared one way or another. She wasn't exactly known for her modesty or her policy of "don't kiss and tell." Still though, it was a matter of pride. She didn't need a holodeck program to "get some" and she would prefer rumors of such things to remain unspoken. Also, any rumors of her sexual escapades she prefered to keep more in the realm of the factual and, of course, understated.

Being in the holodeck alone with locked doors could do bad things for her reputation. But it was a risk she was willing to take. Better that then being disrupted by a horny crewman or one of the Galaxy's better known sexual predators.

After all, she was almost desperate enough to give that a go; it had been a while, the mission didn't exactly leave much time for the sack.

But as she leaned back into the tub, a jet of water against her lower back, the bubbles making their calming white-noise sound in her ears, sex or lack thereof was a distant thought. Padma leaned her head back and closed her eyes, listening to the nothingness lovingly supplied by the holodeck soundsystem.

It wasn't the stress of the mission that sent her there, more the stress of the information left on her computer when she returned. There were several messages from Trill, largely from her mother who had once again been release from prison and then once against arrested pending trial for an offense she likely committed mere hours later. Her mother was a colorful sort whose protests were well meant but poorly and extremely executed. After all. The woman had tried to kill her once, and almost tried a second time.

Of course, that was in the past as far as Mommy Dearest was concerned. Instead, she had reformed, just like she had after every release, and the charges were utterly false and, if there was any real truth to them, it was completely exaggerated. Just like every other time. It was the same old story. And her father was no different, nor were her siblings, all of whom still seemed to think she had some pull simply because she was joined (and why else would you stomach such a vile little worm for your whole life) and could contact mayor x or general whomever or councillor so-and-so and have the charges dropped.

They just didn't seem to get it.

Padma of course wanted nothing more than to watch the woman rot behind forcefield for all eternity as a terrorist and full-stop enemy of the state. Xiaz, on the other hand, found herself wishing she could help. As head strong as the girl was, in was in her own little soft spoken wanting to please way. She had a reputation of being a holy little terror in her childhood, but it was all an act, an attempt to hide the timidity that dominated her true personality.

So the shrink said. Padma thought it was poppycock.

Xiaz wasn't so sure.

Divided thinking was a difficult thing for a trill. Sometimes, everything trucked along fine, they were of one mind and one body, simply two souls, but sometimes everything faltered a little bit and it was a battle of wills inside her head. That was why there was such a rigorous training for potential hosts, that was why it was imparative that the Trill government kept to a (perhaps slightly reformed) more traditional approach to the joining process.

But sigh, politics wasn't her thing and it tended to give her grey hair, or at the very least worry lines.

She opened her eyes, realising she lost herself in her thoughts. Her body was pruned, almost uncomfortably so, the steaming water now on the cool end of luke warm, and her bubbles just a small film over the surface. The jets had stopped massaging her long ago. She lifted herself out of the tub and grabbed a towel, drying herself before she pulled on a robe of Trill silk, tying it tight around her waist. With a heavy, audible sigh, she took the bottle of water and sat down on the edge of the tub.

She didn't trust Romulans. They made her nervous.

And she didn't trust the Hydrans. Doubtless, they were enemies, but they had no honor, no methodology, no respect or appreciation for their opponent. That bothered her. And she hoped the intelligence departments and tactical departments had a head start because this would get dirty, fast. And even if this relationship with the Romulans continued past this crisis (if, indeed, Romulus continued past this crisis), the greater "things" that governed the universe might not end up any better in the Federation's favor. It was easy to fight a divided government. The hydrans and anyone else would take advantage of it.

Of course, that was more politics. It was instinctual her thoughts went that direction, several hosts had been involved such as councillors and other leaders. But Xiaz tried to stay removed, all she wanted to do was mind her own business, follow orders, and fly her damn starfighter.

At least, in a few days. Currently, her ass was still sore.

"Chance Meeting" pt 2/Marcus

Featuring
Ensign Marcus Slayton
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy -PPC

&

Ensign Evan "E" Onymons
Science Officer, USS Galaxy -NPC

with Special Guest appearence by Zaphod Beeblebrox Bartender, USS Miranda --NPC

"He's just this guy, ya know?"

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

Location: Corridor outside level two of the Cantina

*How do I get myself involved in these things* thought Evan as he walked next to his friend and shipmate in Marcus Slayton as the two headed towards the Miranda's Cantina. Evan's family was good friends with those of Marcus' from the days that their respective father's served on the USS Churchhill together.

Now here they both were, officers on the Galaxy-the class ship of the Galaxy series of ships and Evan was concerned about helping his friend's kid sister play match maker. During the Dominion War while Marcus served on the Hiroshima, Evan served on the Aurora under the command of Captain Kyle Adama. Evan had been there to help drag his bleeding friend to the Aurora's sickbay following the attack on the Hiroshima that left the other ship stranded in space for several hours after a battle.

Now, here he was-leading his friend into an uncertain situation but he was more afraid of Marc's kid sister than he was of Marc for the simple reason of Alexa could get him into real trouble with Katie and that was the *LAST* thing that he needed which was his Andorian wife throttling him again this year.

The doors to the cantina opened up and the two men entered, "E, I still don't understand why we're here man." Marcus said as the two walked towards the bar.

"It's simple, Marc. Ever since that whole O'Shea thing, you've been spending every hour when you're not on duty hiding in your quarters. I've had enough of that shit and quite frankly so has all of your friends." Evan responded. This was true, normally Marcus wouldn't let anything get him down but the whole "O'Shea Thing" was something unique.

"Eh, can't a man be rightfully depressed?" Marcus retorted but before he could respond a voice to his right said "Not on my time, buddy boy!" which made the two men from Rhodes Colony turn to face the Beetleguisan barkeep.

"So, what can I do for ya to ya?" Zaphod asked cheerfully.

"Well, I'll have a pint of your strongest and bitterest beer while my friend here," Evan said as he clapped Marcus on his right shoulder, "Well have a pan galactic gargle blaster if ya got 'em?"

At this, Zaphod rolled both sets of his eyes. "Got 'em, buddy boy, You're looking at the guy who invented them!" he said as he got to making the gargle blaster after quickly bringing the pint of Ventar Breweries of Gorn's infamous "Green Dragon Bitter" from the replicator and handing it to Evan.

"Thank ye sir." Evan said with a smile after taking a pull from his pint. "Now, let's grab us a seat and do something that the two of us haven't done since the academy..watch all of the pretties." Evan said with a smile which made Marcus roll his eyes once more.

"Wally Knows Best"

Crewman Allsion

USS GALAXY Main Armory

On the flickering video screen, the black and white image of a young man walked down the polished halls of a generic Starship.

"THIS IS WALLY." the baritone narrator proclaimed, "WALLY IS A MEMBER OF THE SHIPS CREW THAT INVENTORIES AND DISTRIBUTES FIREARMS AND FIREARM ACCESORIES....WE CALL THIS DEPARTMENT.....THE ARMORY"

Onscreen image of a clean-cut Wally standing behind the armory counter grinning like a loon.

"NOTE THE INVITING CHEERFUL EXPRESSION ON WALLY'S FACE.......NOTE ALSO HOW HIS UNIFORM IS NEAT AND TIDY, HIS HAIR IS REGULATION CUT, AND HIS FINGERNAILS WELL TRIMMED.......WALLY KNOWS THAT PERSONAL APPEARANCE IS HALF THE BATTLE IN REPELLING SHIPS BOARDERS."

Flash to Wally lamely struggling against "Klingon" invaders.....portrayed by humans in bad rubber masks. His hair is in place, and figernails well trimmed.

"THIS IS BOB....." The narrator tsked, as a surly looking Ensign appeared onscreen, his hair was long and unkempt, an unlit ciggarette hung from his lip. "BOB JUST DOESNT CONVEY THE SECURITY SPIRIT. HIS POOR POSTURE AND UNHAPPY EXPRESSION ARE A DRAIN ON ALL ARROUND HIM.

Onscreen, poor Bob is getting his ass kicked by the fake 'Klingons' who are throwing fake 'punches'.

"LETS LOOK CLOSER AT THE ARMORY DEPARTMENT." The narrator was cheerful and inviting, "LETS SEE HOW WE CAN BE MORE LIKE WALLY AND BE A REAL PAL TO OUR SHIPMATES AROUND US. LETS SEE HOW WE CAN TRULY SAY --ARMORY: ITS ABOUT PRIDE--"

Onscreen Bob and Wally faded into a giant title screen := ARMORY: Its About Pride........(A Starfleet training film copyright 2352 all right reserved.)

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

Alone in Clarence's cluttered back office, Allison Jimsdottir struggled to stay awake through the flickering images on the screen in front of her. Caught in a daze, she barely had the energy to get a weak 'pop out of her pink bubblegum. (Its flavor had faded long ago, but the pink squishy mass served as her only link with the real world. )

~~~2352~~~ she thought randomly struggling to stay awake.....~~~Why are all these films over 30 years old?~~~ She shifted a bit in the chair......aware that she was unable to feel her numb bottom anymore.

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

Onscreen again, the black and white film contnued in glorious monochrome glory:

Smiling Wally was standing behind the Armory Counter whislting a jaunty tune while he polished nonexistant specks of dust.

"Gee.....I sure am lucky that I got picked for Armory department." he announced to nobody in particular. "It sure is swell being able to inventory firearms and firearm accessories."

"You sure said it Wally!!" An annoying high pitched voice spoke from out of nowhere causing smiling Wally to jump.

"Golly, who said that?" Wally exclaimed with and exagerated 'Gulp'.

"Its ME." the voice anounced, "Mr. Happy Phaser!!!" With that, a poorly animated Cartoon-Character Phaser with a big smiley face popped into view.

"Golly Mr Happy Phaser!" Wally Exclaimed with another 'gulp'.

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

"Oh Puh-Leeze" Allison rolled her eyes and wished she had popcorn to toss at the screen.

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

"I'm Mr Happy Phaser." the little animated thing announed again, "Im here to spread the good news about Armory Department and how to get to be the best darn Armory Clerk one can be."

"Golly Could you? Mr Happy Phaser?" Wally was ecstatic.

"Absolutely!!" declared the phaser, "All you have to do is remember to sing the ARMORY SONG and everything will come out right!"

"Oh boy!!" Wally clapped his hands as the music began to swell.

==========

"Oh...HELL.... no!" Allison jumped form her chair to hit the fast forward button before Wally and his imaginary friend could burst into song. She fast forwarded a bit until she saw a new character appear on screen.

=========

"THIS IS BETTY" The deep voiced announcer was back, "BETTY IS THE PRETTIEST GIRL ON THE STARSHIP. ALL THE POPULAR KIDS LIKE BETTY."

Betty who looked to be about only 14 years old , wore a very prudent pleated skirt and large girlish pigtails.

"WALLY LIKES BETTY TOO, AND HE'D SURE LIKE TO ASK HER TO THE SPRINGTIME DANCE, BUT HE KNOWS THAT HE'S SCHEDULED TO WORK ARMORY THAT NIGHT. LETS SEE HOW HE HANDLES THE SITUATION."

"Gee Betty, " Wally exclaimed, "You sure do look swell today. Is that a new dress?"

"Yes Wally," Betty blushed, "I picked it out special to wear to the Springtime Dance."

"Golly.....I didnt know you had a date to the Dance.....that sure is swell."

Betty batted her eyes, "No, Wally I dont have a date to the Dance...nobody has asked me yet."

==========

"Ask her you Fool." Allison blurted out in spite of herself.

=========

"BETTY KNOWS THATS ITS IMPROPER FOR A YOUNG LADY TO ASK A FELLOW OUT." The Narrator explained, "BUT WALLY HAS GOTTEN THE MESSAGE THAT SHE'S INTERESTED IN GOING WITH HIM."

"Gosh Betty, It would be swell if I could take you but I have to work Armory Tonight."

Suddenly evil music began blaring, and the camera moved to capture the surly looking Bob entering the scene. His shirttail was hanging out, and the unlit cigarette still dangled from his lip.

"OH NO. HERE COMES BOB. HE'S STILL NOT DISPLAYING THE PROPER ARMORY SPIRIT, AND HIS UNIFORM IS DESHEVELED AND UNTIDY."

"Say there Wally," Bob declared, "I heard somebody taking about the Spring Dance out here."

"Gee Bob, " Wally looked unsure, "I thought Mr. Wilkins told you sweeping out the back room...I dont think you should be behind the counter."

"Aw dont be a wet blanket Wally." Bob leered, "I just wanted to talk to Betty."

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

"Yeah Wally, dont be such a Wet blanket!" Alli giggled inspite of herself.....not quite sure what a wet banket was.

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

Onscreen, Wally hemmed and hawed while Bob proceeded to move in on his girl. "Say Betty....If Wally here doesnt take you to the dance, how about hooking up with a cat like me?"

"Well gosh Bob," Betty was hesitant as a sensible girl should be, "I thought you and Wally had to work tonight?"

"Thats right Bob," Wally bobbed hishead, "We need to do a crackerjack job of inventorying firearms and firearm accessories."

"Aw heck." Bob cursed, "I'm sure you can finish sweeping for me Wally......I dont feel like displaying the proper Armory Spirit right now.......I'm taking Betty to the Dance"

"Well" Betty answered shyly, " I suppose since Wally has to work and all....I guess it would be allright."

"Groovy!" Bob grinned, throwing a casual arm around young Betty's shoulders, "Have fun minding the store Chump."

Bob and Betty stroll off screen leaving a very thoughtful Wally with a perplexed look on his face.

"WALLY'S FEELING KINDA SORE AT HAVING TO MISS THE BIG DANCE" the narrator droned, "BUT THEN AGAIN HE KNOWS DEVOTION TO HIS DUTY IS A VERY BIG RESPONSIBILITY.....AND HE'S THINKING ABOUT EARNING THAT BIG 'CLERK OF THE MONTH' BADGE AS WELL.....BESIDES HE'S SURE THAT BOB WILL SHOW BETTY A GOOD TIME AND THAT SHE'LL UNDERSTAND HIS ABSENSE."

Onscreen Wally smiles and nods to himself secure in the knowledge that Betty just ran off with a rat like Bob.

"Thats right kids!!!!" The annoying Mr. Happy Phaser popped into view again causing Allison to reach for the remote controll again, "Forget about the Dance and lets all sing the 'Devotion to Duty Song......"

"Lets not," Alli grimaced as she zipped forward.

"Mosaic"

Major Corran Rex
Flight Officer Xiaz Padma

---------------------
Pilot Lounge, Deck 35
Fighter Country
USS Galaxy
----------------------

Rumors spread on starships like wildfire through the American Southwest. After something happened, it didn't take long for some form of the story to reach people, and those who cared usually passed it on, adding their own telephonic spin to it. When it reach those who really cared, though, the rumor hit like a cold fist.

Xiaz Padma wasn't the greatest fan of the "Corran/Ella" relationship. But still. The dissolution of it was a sad thing because, at least for a while, her friend was some vague form of happyish.

He was in the fighter lounge, alone. It was late, after all, most pilots were asleep or tinkering or fornicating, doing three of the four things pilots were good at. He wasn't hard to find, wouldn't have been even if it weren't for the computer's voice stoically informing her of the man's location.

She sat the class down in front of him and poured from the open bottle of random knock-you-on-your-ass alcohol she'd found in her emergency stash before she slid into the seat across from him and poured her own, sitting silently. She didn't need to say anything, not really. It was the gesture that matter, the sentiment that: no matter all the other shit between us, I'm still the best friend and I love you and women fucking suck.

"Yep." Corran noted aloud from the silent commentary, knocking back - whatever it was.

It would have been the height of irresponsibility, of course, in such a n elevated alert state from him to get smashed without taking precautions, so he had one of those nice little from-the-replicator anti-intoxicant pills that neutralized the effects of real alcohol within minutes. It had been developed awhile back as a viable alternative to synthehol for people who, like Corran, just didn't think the fake stuff tasted the same.

He didn't really offer any conversational tidbits when Pad sat down, though.

She studied him for a long moment, offered a small smile.

"So my mother's back in prison," Xiaz said. "After seventy-two hours. I think it's actually a record for her."

He swirled his finger around in the the tumbler, watching as it moved around the replicated ice. Given that Corran and Xiaz had known each other well before they'd end up bonded to Rex and Padma, he was intimately familiar with the sordid family details of her life. "What for this time?" he asked in a tone that sounded as though he wasn't really paying attention.

"Usual crap they can't really prove but think they might be able to. Conspiracy to commit terrorism. Aiding and abetting. Withholding information in a criminal investigation. Combating officers of the law. So same as last time, really. She'll probably be out in a year or two. Trill should institute a three-strikes rule or something." She took a sip of her drink, shrugged. "Put her on a moon and leave her there."

"I hear Rura Penthe's lovely in the winter."

She scoffed, shaking her head, looking down in her lap.

"Sometimes I just wonder, you know that?" she said.

"Hmmn?" he said, laying his head back on the back of the chair to stare at the ceiling. The ceilings in here, he noted, were just as bland as the ones in his quarters. Someone should make a suggestion to ops to do something about that. Mosaics, maybe. Something for the eyes to follow.

"About life in general. Existential questioning, that's all." She sighed softly, lifted her glass again, sipped and the liquid stung down her throat, causing her eyes to burn a little. "Tough mission, huh?"

"Probably." he said noncommittally. "Unless the Romulan Fleet stops the Hydran advance which doesn't sound real likely. Hey - what do you think of mosaics?"

"They're spiffy," she said. "Why? Artistry appealing to you?"

"Nah. Done that. That was... " he frowned as he tried to remember the host. With forty-two of them, Rex, frankly, had more than Corran could possibly keep track of, inebriated or no. "Paolo. No, wait. He was a con man. Lefayne. He was a pretty crappy artist, though."

"Honestly? Most Trills are. But maybe I'm just cynical." She sighed. Figured it was time to bring it up, though it was difficult to do without a large I TOLD YOU SO flashing above her head. Funny how at the moment, that seemed far from important. "It's made its way around the deck, just so you know."

He just snorted. "Funny thing about mosaics. A bunch of small, totally unrelated things making up a bigger whole. You'd think we'd be really good at them."

She just stared at him. Whatever metaphor he was attempting to make went clear over her head. Perhaps it was meant to. She simply sighed, topped of his glass and pushed herself to her feet.

"I like blue mosaics, they're very pretty," she said, touching him on the shoulder and kissing his cheek. "I love you, friend; let me know if you need to talk."

That brought a small, sad smile to his face, and he really looked at her for the first time in the conversation. "Who am I, Pad?"

She smiled back, fondly touched his face with a gentle hand. "I thought we'd moved past the existential portion of the evening," she said. "You're you. And I know that because you're not me. You're a great pilot, a good man, my boss and my friend for longer than either of us care to admit on either side of our existences."

"I think I'm starting to loose hold of it." he admitted quietly, but there wasn't a drunken slur to his voice anymore. "Being with Ella helped. Nevermind that it wasn't real... we were just playing house. Whatever. Some days, Pad, I wake up and I don't know who I am. Pilot, Smuggler, Healer, Cop. Murderer."

His eyes locked with hers and she looked on as old a soul as she'd ever known. "I just don't know."

Her face creased with sympathetic pain as she took his hand, clasping it tight while she leaned against the edge of the table.

"Corran," she said, softly; it was almost jarring, she so rarely used his host name. "It's always been a difficult joining for you. The revelations you've endured can't have made it any better... I wish there was something I could do, but short of climbing into the pools together, I can't think of anything that would help. Not even that, probably. And I don't think that it was Ella herself, really, I think it was just... you need something to ground you, in this existence. Anything. Flying. Ella. Being the wanton playboy. Whatever. Does that make sense? I'm just rambling, I... I wish I could help. Take some of it for you. But I can't."

"Sounds about right." he muttered. "All alone with a head full of voices. Guess that means I'm all the company I'll ever need."

"We're all there, sweetie," she replied, softly. "We all have our voices. You just... you have more than most. But Corran, you're a strong guy. You have an amazing sense of yourself, even if you have a hard time realising that sometimes. You just have to have a little more faith in you. The strength comes from you; anyone else would have been crazy and dead by now. Trust me, I'd know, I've driven my share of hosts insane. When this mission is done... if you want to go to the pools, I'll come with you." There was more meaning to the offer than simply a travel buddy home; Pad hadn't returned to Trill in years, avoided the symbiosis committee like an alien plague, and it was all for the best given the family she came from. "It might help a little, if anything just help your bonding with Rex." She bit her lower lip, studying him, her face still tight.

He closed his eyes, running through the mental exercises Dr. Radnax - the specialist in long-lived symbionts from the Institute - had recommended, trying to bring himself to focus. The alcohol wasn't particularly helping in that respect.

He heard all their little voices inside him, a cacophony of thoughts, as always, within his joined mind. He knew joining wasn't supposed to work that way. He knew all of Rex's past hosts were supposed to blend in with his, creating the combined being known as Corran Rex. And most days, they did.

But the voices were always there. And the memories. So many of them. Humans especially just couldn't understand. They lived a hundred, hundred and fifty years.

Rex was four thousand years old. That many memories, one played off another and another and another in an almost endless cycle - enough that his mind had developed the ability to follow two completely separate trains of thought at once. It had had to, in order for him to maintain his sanity.

Such as it was.

Finally, he opened his eyes again, the voices down to a dull roar. "I think I need to stop drinking."

"Okay," she said softly, patting the top of his hand gently. "You should probably get some sleep, too."

"Yeah." he replied, standing too quickly from the table - and stopping a moment to balance himself against it as he waited for his vision to return. With a shake of the head, he met Pad's gaze again. "I heard you, you know. About going to the Caves."

She wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed a little, her head at his shoulder. "I know," she stated. "You'll answer when you can. Come on, let's get you to bed, okay?"

"Just drop me on my couch." he muttered absently, trying to decide who the joker was that was screwing with the artificial gravity. Spinning rooms just weren't funny.

She just shook her head, managing somehow to get the guy through the corridors and into his quarters, stumbling through and she dropped him into bed, pulling the sheet over him. She replicated a glass of water an set it on the side table, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

"Sorry mate, should'a warned you about the potency." She bent, kissed his forehead, and quietly moved out of the room, debating whether or not she should hang around, then deciding against it. He could always buzz if he needed something.

He slept, however, as peacefully as he could.

For now, the voices were quiet.

"Last Few Things"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO

Major Peter Shaw- SFMC Executive Officer/ Bravo Company CO 101st Battalion

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

After what was a relaxing, albeit too brief rest, For'kel was back at it again. They'd finally arrived at Romulus, and would be landing on the planet in just over 4 1/2 hours, as per agreement with the Romulan defense officials. There were apparently riots, and the Romulans were eager to try and quell the fear that had inspired them as much as possible. For his part, For'kel couldn't help but be a little suspicious. Rumors had it some of the officers in the Romulan military had opted to take convenient leaves, or resigned all together, taking their families with them on the transports that could be gathered for more safer worlds. Included in that were a lot of government officials and the well off... to someone who's domestic laws forbade officials from leaving their offices in instances of emergency, it was quite an experience to hear. Things weren't going well already. 07:20... at any minute Pete would probably be walking in with the final drills assessments and reports of the day. Let it begin.

Pete walked in as on que and slammed a PADD down on For'kel's desk. "I hate Intelligence," Pete said, "and you are not going to like this. Apparently SFI has the bright ID of installing surveillance equipment on our gear so they can get Intel on the Romulans. I don't know who thought of it, but I can tell you that I am not going for it."

For'kel blinked. "Good morning, Major. How're you today?" It was with that, that the Stagnorian reached over to the PADD. "Have the devices been installed already?" "Hell no. I just got done with the Galaxy CIO." Pete set another PADD down. "This one has the most latest information we can gather from the air." Pete took a breath. "I have already started re looking at our attack plan, but I don't see many changes."

For'kel chuckled. "It's police work at the moment Major, peacekeeping... not attacking. And if there is an attack, we'll be defending. But in either case, good. Consider these orders officially countermanded under my authority, and inform 'all' the Marines that the Corps will not be doing Intel's dirty work for them. Not on this mission, not while I'm in command. We're here to protect the Romulans, not spy on them." "I am sure that Galaxy's CIO will have a fit, but the little creepo can report us to command as far as I care."

"If he does, you can tell him he can speak to me." For'kel stated flatly, his tone rather unimpressed at the prospect of speaking to an intelligence officer. "In any case, command doesn't concern me. I'll tell them the same thing I just told you. How are the preparations for disembarking going?" "We will be ready to start sending people down in a half an hour," he told him. "Just a few more logistical problems and some different placements of mortars. It's hell down there. It is not going to be fun."

"That's why we're here... fun is for Risa, Major." For'kel leaned forward in his chair. "We can't land until noon, so's the agreement with the Romulans. Given that, starting at 08:00, I'd like to let the Marines out for a couple of hours. We don't actually have to suit up and load into the hoppers until 11:00, and it's best to get some rest in while possible." "I will give the orders myself. I think they will like a change and have a break," Pete replied as he sat down.

"Couldn't hurt. If at all possible I'd like to avoid any and all incidents that may present themselves planet side. I've worked out the security rotations, everyone takes a 6 hour shift around the capitol." He passed a second PADD Pete's way. "Everyone else will be split between helping to fortify the city, and liberty."

Pete took the padd and looked at it. "Looks solid enough." Pete couldn't help have a feeling that this would all blow up in front of them. "Have you worked with the Fighter Group about coverage?"

"We had a representative come down... Lieutenant Nathan Everett. We worked out a way to stay out of their cross hairs, and I sent a request for air support, what we might need in case of an invasion... we'll see what happens. For planning's sake however, let's assume enemy forces have the air. They might not be able to spare anyone for support."

Pete made a note of it. "We have that list of VIPs yet?"

"It may not be complete... tracking these people down isn't going to be easy. We should probably see who's willing to relocate now, especially for those who live on the outskirts of the city." "I don't think to many will," he told For'kel. "The Romulans are proud and arrogant race. Not a good combo."

"Yeah, that's why we talk to them now, before things happen, and before they can be accused of abandoning the planet. Let's hope for all their supposed pride and arrogance that they're also smart enough to know when to get the hell out of dodge... or at least get to someplace we can evacuate them from." Pete smiled at that. "Though, I think having stun sticks might be a good idea. Hit them, stun them, and carry them out."

For'kel whistled. "Yeah, but something tells me the Romulans might have an issue with that." "Saving their lives or hitting them with stun sticks?"

"On Romulus?" For'kel leaned back in his chair. "Probably both."

"Abstract Expressionism"

Lt. Ella Grey
Indigo Renkert, holographic representation

*USS Galaxy*

==========

A grunt worked its way past her lips as Ella hefted the can and then threw it hard against the wall, her efforts producing a splashing sound which was then followed shortly by a loud bang and then a sort of clunk.

The electric blue paint might have stood out if her canvas wasn't already covered in swirls and drips made by previous cans of hefted paint; Ella Grey might have cared if she hadn't been on her second bottle of Romulan ale.

"I dunno know, Indy." Ella to her friend. "It doesn't look like anythink my mother would have ever bought."

The holographic representation of Indigo Renkert, who today was dressed in an over sized black t-shirt, neon pink leggings, and sparkly purple legwarmers, tsked at the engineer. "Art is not always paintings of fruit in bowls or landscapes."

Ella frowned. "Well, there was also a couple of pictures done of my grandmother."

"The point," Indy said with vigor, much like the real Indigo would have done. "Is that art is supposed to be felt! Lived! Breathed!"

Ella looked at all the holographic paint that she had thrown on the walls. Then she decided that she'd much rather sit down and help herself to more ale.

Living and breathing were fine by her but the feeling part she could really do without.

Indy pursed her lips at Ella's work. "I think it's saying that you are sad. Confused. Look at this. There's absolutely no sense of balance or understanding of the color wheel here."

Ella shrugged and let her hands talk for her so she could swallow the large gulp she had just taken.

Indigo waved that aside. "There's no such thing as talent. Back in the day a man signed a urinal and it was called art. People buy paintings of bowls of fruit, lilies, and clowns. No, it's all about the *act* of creating the piece. Look at this, no care where the paint lands. No attention to detail and you're all about detail, Ella. Nope, it's all right here. You're depressed."

~~But oh so cute~~ Ella signed with a smirk and then took another swig.

"And will be dead drunk in a matter of minutes."

"God willing." Ella replied. "Amen and I'll drink to that."

"And just who is going to take you home, young lady?" Indy demanded.

Ella smiled sleepily. "I bribed a guy to come find me in a couple of hours, jus' in case. The beauty of being Chief. No more shit detail for him, designated driver for me. Sure, ship will be plastered ... (and here she giggled for a few minutes at her own cleverness) ... from wall to wall with the gossip but if it wasn't this, it'd be something else."

Indigo was about to comment when Ella leaped up, bottle in hand. "LOVE SICK MUTE CHIEF DITCHES FIGHTER PILOT BOYFRIEND TO PLAY DRUNKEN ROUND OF "WHERE"D THE DILITIUM GO" WITH ENGINEER LOVE SLAVE SUBORDINATE! OR SEVERAL.GOD BLESS ORGYNOMICS!"

Although the hologram had been programed with information about drinking, given Ella and Indigo's past binges together, Indigo found she was a bit lacking in what exactly to say to a person on the verge of total drunkdom. "My programming is a bit insufficient for this, Ella."

Ella considered.

"Life's a bitch and then you die." She informed the hologram. Sage advice, she thought. Sage advice was important when you were in the middle of a crisis.

Indigo brightened a bit. Humorous sayings were more than adequate in her database. "Life's a bitch and then you marry one."

"Ooh, good one!" Ella exclaimed. "How 'bout 'ain't over till the fat lady sings! That one just kills me!" And she doubled over laughing.

"I know a few 'your mother is so fat jokes." Indy said.

Still laughing, the engineer wiped back the tears that were dripping down her face, wondering if they'd look better as electric blue. "I'll tell you why it's funny, tha' bitch hasn' stopped singing since Coper'cus and tha's a long damn time. Well, if I was still sung, er, singin, I'd show her who was the damn op-por-ah singer!" I'll outsung her till she's blue in her fat face!"

Indigo frowned. It seemed they were back to 'does not compute' again.

"We could always try charcoal." Indigo hedged. "They're very expressive."

Ella looked over at her friend with a puzzled face. "Do they have blue charcoal?"

And then she passed out.

Indigo looked down at her inebriated friend and sighed. Nothing to do now but wait until the engineering officer came to pick up Ella and then turn off her program.

"Duh!"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
LtCmdr Erigone Aello

==R&D Section==

"Can I ask you a question?" Jaal asked his old friend. He still wasn't used to seeing her in 'science blue'. Truth be told, the Trill thought she looked horrible in it.

"You're always able to ask questions," Aello responded. She tugged at her collar self-consciously, as if the blue on it were choking her.

There were currently six empty cups of Raktajino on her desk waiting to be recycled. The seventh cup held the dregs of a double espresso, if Jaal remembered Aello's preferences correctly. "I may or may not choose to answer the question even if I know the answer."

Jaal folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the wall with his 'this is serious shit' look on his face. "Is Captain Summers high?" The old man had to be to let Aello out of operations especially on an assignment into Romulan territory. The Trill felt her place would be on the bridge in a crisis, not with the science geeks. Of course, Jaal had no idea that Summers really had no say in the matter.

"What did he do? I might be able to explain it." Aello marked her place and thumbed the PADD she'd been reading off. The data it held was classified and Jaal Jaxom might be an old friend, but he was most certainly not on a need to know basis for the particular piece of Ancient tech Aello was evaluating.

"Did he have anything do with your transfer to sciences? It's crazy, Eri. You belong on the bridge in a crisis, not down here... and being we're in Romulan territory constitutes a crisis in my book. What's gives here?"

"No. Chris had nothing to do with shuttling me down to Sciences." Aello sighed. "Someone with Toyota clearance named Jerri Wolfson did this to me, Jax."

"Wolfson? Jerri Wolfson?" Jaal exclaimed. "She's not even on this ship anymore! That's retarded!" He paced in a small circle waving his hands in the air.

"That's the name, alright." Aello confirmed. "I can't say it's the 'Jerri Wolfson,' you're thinking of, though. I met a Jerri Wolfson right before I joined the academy. She was an officer aboard the Yorktown. I'm thinking this Wolfson is the same one as that one and not the one you know. Anyway, the Wolfson in question is on assignment testing," she paused, "Something I can't tell you about anyway. It's not important."

"You mean it was her brainiac idea to take a seasoned officer off the bridge?... out of action and stick you behind some science project? That's crazy!" He stopped pacing for a bit to try and calm himself.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure our Capellan friend can handle an ops console but... he's not that experienced from what I've read... and a little too hot-headed. It's my professional opinion this is *not* a good idea... especially with us heading up Romulus? Eri, I can't believe you let them do this, Toyota clearance, or not!" He grabbed his temples between his forefinger and thumb as if to alleviate some imaginary pressure build-up. He shook his head and looked to his old friend again. "You can't be happy with it. I'm certainly not."

She raised an eyebrow in imitation of the Vulcan fashion. "I count two and a half pips on this collar, Jax. Not, three, not four, not five, and certainly not five hiding out in a brass rectangle. I don't get a damn say in the matter and neither does Chris. It's done. At least I'm here on the ship where I might be able to be of some help if something goes wrong and not stationed on Atlantis or somewhere even farther out of things." Aello sounded angry. "I can't believe that you, of all people, would come down here just to rub it in, because that's all you're here to do, Commander, you know where to find the door."

Jaal's expression showed a bit of anger now. "I think you know me a little better than that. My purpose for coming here was to see if I could change the captain's mind about sticking you down here, but I see now it wasn't his idea. I don't understand 'why' Jerri Wolfson has any pull on this boat, especially since she's been gone for months."

"Wolfson doesn't have pull here. She has pull with a certain brass admiral who used to captain this tug." Aello snapped. She frowned and finished the dregs of her espresso. "And as for why she tagged me for this job, I've got a one word answer for you, Jax. Icarus."

She tabbed up data on her PADD and slid it toward him. "Off the record, I found this just this morning going through the project files for things being stripped from Atlantis for study. She found something that looks like the Icarus virus. There are only two names that ever come up in association with Icarus. One is Admiral Ares Thrace. He used to be head of Starfleet Science, but he's been MIA since Federation Day. The other is mine. I guess beggars can't be choosers, especially when the expertise is right at your fingertips."

Jaal fell silent as he perused the PADD she gave him. As he read several things clicked in his head. More pieces of the puzzle slid into place. After a few moments he nodded his head slowly. "Things make a little more sense now," he said much quieter and calmer still reading the PADD. The 'brass' she referred to could only be Murdock.

He looked up at the Centauran, "This is really bad timing though. You have to admit that."

She crossed over and replicated another cup of "something made from roasted bean extract and milk." Aello perched on the edge of her desk. "It gets worse. Guess who rang me up to congratulate me about this before I even knew exactly what was going on?"

Jaal's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he replicated himself a raktijino, "I give up. Who?"

"Zephrim Thrace." Aello slid over slightly, offering him space on the edge of the desk. "The missing Admiral Thrace's father. He's a member of the Federation senate, as well as pretty heavily connected into Centauran politics, though his power base has been slipping since the Admiral disappeared."

"There's one of the reasons I hate politics," Jaal muttered under his breath. "Nepotism isn't always a good thing."

"His family has always looked after my mother and I. I imagine there's something he thinks he can collect on now, Jax." The dusky Centauran frowned more deeply. She pulled a data chit out of the breast pocket of her uniform and offered the slim card to Jaxom.

Jaal held the chip up studying it for a moment. When he glanced at Aello for an answer to the unasked question, she turned away. He plugged the chip into his PADD and called up the contents.

He read it. Then he read it again to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

He looked to Erigone with a concerned expression saying, "This is what you've been hiding from yourself all these years... I mean... isn't it? Have you ever read this?"

"No," she replied. "Not even while I was writing the virus to redact the damn thing out of my file. What' does I matter, really? I've known it since the first summer I got sent to Alpha Centauri to be 'educated.' There's really no point in reading it, when you've confirmed it. The question is, what does the Senator think he can gain from me now that the Admiral is out of the picture?"

Jaal's eyebrows raised. "Could be any number of things, Eri. You're 'high profile'. Look at all the years you've worked with Summers; he's considered quite the hero ya know plus your expertise on the Icarus thing... that could be more it. That's what I suspect."

"It could be. I've been tracking the most recent pattern of Icarus outbreak and I don't like the trend I'm seeing."

"What kind of trend are we talking about?" Jaal asked.

"High level installations. High profile ships of the line." She took a sip from her cup. "And, most disturbingly, everywhere I've been stationed for the past ten years, though the Miranda's the first place that I've come that Icarus was active before I came aboard."

"I thought our intel department was supposed to be helping to keep that kind of junk out of our computers?" Jaal asked as much as he accused.

"I told you a long time ago." She took another sip. "It's a damned sneaky thing. What's got me intrigued, though, is that Atlantis has files on it. . .assuming they're translated right. The linguists are still having a field day with the Ancients' writings and they're not always 100% sure of what they've got, given context, cultural meanings, all that minutia."

Jaal nodded in understanding. His own experience the first time he'd been on Atlantis was ... strange. "That's odd. When we first encountered Atlantis, the symbols and writings on the consoles shifted into the user's language of origin in perfect translation." His brow knit in thought. "I thought they were still doing that."

"Consoles: yes. Classified files held in the databanks that we're starting to get opened up: no. We're actually having to break encryption and then translate, which means actually learning the language. It seems those wacky Ancients had secrets they wanted to protect." She shrugged. "I've been having some better luck than most where that's concerned. Maybe I don't think like a human."

"Fascinating," Jaal commented. "I'm sure the best crypotologists are working on it though... aren't they?"

Aello didn't mention bother mentioning that she was one of the better cryptologists around. "The problem they're running up against is finding cryptologists who specialize in working with alien technology." Aello took another sip of the coffee. "That's one of the best parts of this assignments, actually. I'll be able to get up close and personal with the technology. It'll be like some of the things I did back aboard the Stephenson, actually."

"Well, concerning your thing with Thrace," Jaal changed the subject back, "If you want, I can ask Daneel to see what he can dig up. He's pretty high on the intelligence food chain these days." He was referring to his good friend Captain Daneel Olivaw, the commanding officer of the USS Eldritch.

"How is Daneel, these days? He keeps saying he's going to visit, but he always has some excuse." She considered the offer in silence.

"He will. He's just real busy with is current assignment," Jaal replied, "He's sort of seeing our CMO on the side," a sly half-grin appeared on the Trill's face.

"Really?" Aello wondered if Dany knew just how many other people the CMO was seeing on the side. Doctor or no, the Centauran woman figured that D'Bari was going to become her own green plague one of these days, even if one discounted half the ship's rumors. That was one Orion who really need to get her hormones under control.

Aello also wondered if Dany knew the CMO had been dating and rumor said was now marrying Gwen Parri, one of the doctors under her command. Now there was hold over from the 20th century if Aello had ever seen one: If the captain of a boat even looked at one of his the officers under his direct command and HQ got wind of it, they'd transfer the junior officer at warp speed, but the CMO could hook up with whomever he or she pleased.

"If he inquires, have him do it discretely. I don't want to make waves unless there's really something going on."

"That's for sure but you know Dany, discretion is his middle name."

"He told me that it was 'relentless'" Aello quipped.

Jaal chuckled. "I guess it's that too. The only other thing is we should probably wait until we're out of Romulan territory before sending the request. I'm positive the locals are monitoring our communications in some manner or another. A sudden transmission to an intelligence agent would not be missed."

"There's an ancient earth phrase that comes to mind when you warn me about such things, Jax" Aello set her cup on her desk and carefully rotated the handle so it was parallel to the edge. "I believe the word is 'duh.' Don't worry, Jax. I know how to be careful, too."

"Design Flaws"

Lieutenant Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Science, USS Miranda

Dr. Arasa Tk'ceshkam (npc) Romulan Scientist

=============== Romulus ===============

Even on Romulus, a world of regular political intrigue known to the Galaxy as a place coated in a veneer of civic responsibility and duty, with a thriving core of familiar based rivalry and extreme socio-economic stratification, there were people blissfully aloof of the failures of the system in which they'd grown... whether one could say they 'thrived' or not. For some people, home was home, and by default, worthy of the highest place in one's heart.

Arasa Tk'ceshkam was one of those people. She was by no means high-placed or successful, but like many was stuck between worlds, above the below and below the upper. It was that grey area where money was always tight, but never tight enough for one to qualify for assistance programs. Still, there was the fact she was 'above' somebody, however barely, and in Romulan society that often meant a lot.

Arasa was a student of Astrophysics, more precisely Multi-spacial Dynamics. She'd attended a good school, courtesy of a scholarship provided by the Romulan Navy in exchange for her talents in joining a design team. She'd consulted on a number of projects, usually consisting of detailed analyses of stress tolerances on space-worthy frames. The last 'major' project, from which she still retained some of the consulting fees she was offered, was none less than the Valdore project. It was a lot of work over a (fairly) constrained amount of time. Starship design wasn't only for engineers after all.

Science still remained a passion. There were a number of Academic institutions which had called upon her talents, and she had a well off benefactor or two that seemed to keep her around as their claim to philanthropy. She doubted they actually understood what they were funding.

At any rate, today she was at her small office maintained next to a lab in the basement of a small, somewhat prestigious university. On her desk was yet another grant proposal... this time for a long-term study on current shuttle hulls and how construction methods effected reliability. One could never be too careful.

Era hadn't intended to go down to Romulus. That is to say, she desired to, curious about the people and the culture, but she had made no immediate plans for it. If it weren't for the article she'd come across - after two sets of bibliographies - in an obscure academic journal on propulsion, she never would have arranged this trip. Yet here she was, an address hastily found for a Dr. Tk'ceshkam. The article itself had been rather dry, a review of current literature, projects underway, and speculations. But there had been a line, embedded halfway down the thirty-eighth page, that had made the Miranda's assistant chief of science jump from her seat. If she was understanding what she was reading, her project might not fail after all.

After being misdirected four times, Erastus at last found the small office door sandwiched between a broom closet and a generator room. Double checking the name on the door, Era knocked.

That was strange, Arasa hadn't been expecting any students today. In fact today was devoted entirely to research. Still, she couldn't help but be curious as to who would drop by for a visit at this time. "Please enter."

Erastus stepped inside and felt suddenly an overwhelming surge of nostalgia as she looked around the office. It was just like her old adviser's back home. "Dr. Tk'ceshkam? I'm Dr. Ampete," she opted for her academic title in the circumstances, even though she wore her Starfleet uniform. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

A Starfleet officer?! What was this, some kind of Tal Shiar trick to test her loyalties? Arasa shook her head. "Not at all doctor, please take a seat. You should be aware that I'm not at liberty to divulge any information protected by the State."

Era winced a bit at that as she sat down. She didn't know much about diplomacy and as For'kel and Jaal could attest, didn't have the head for politics. "I'm not here for State secrets. Unless you're in the habit of publishing them in the R'sterscham Proceedings?"

Arasa couldn't help but smile. "Those articles were very early works! I'm surprised, and flattered, that you would go through the trouble of searching for them. How can I help you?"

"I'm working on a project regarding long-range probes. Your work on stress-tolerance and friction-impact caught my eye. That is, your three sentences did. I'm afraid I was unable to access any of your more recent works. Not all of the journals have been released."

Arasa chuckled. "That would be the work of my superiors. Not everything is meant for every eye I'm afraid. Please, call me Arasa. How long have you been interested in Astrophysics Doctor Ampete?"

"Since I was a child," Era smiled, warming to the woman. "It's a shame the journals don't get more circulation. The implications of these conjectures could change the face of small craft design."

"I think you're out to flatter me." Arasa rosed... err... stemmed... over. "But thank you anyway. What's your work centered on?" Starfleet was renown as having some of the best scientists in the Galaxy, it was only fair to see what her contemporaries were up to.

"Presently, I'm pursuing probe design. I'm looking for something that's durable but will still allow for an independent perpetual motion propulsion mechanism."

Arasa raised her eyebrows. "That's extremely ambitious. How far have you gotten in the design process?"

"I'm in the initial testing phases of the various components - sensors, data collection and transfer, interconnectivity, and of course the propulsion system itself, which is really the whole point to it."

"Well I would certainly be interested in hearing more, and reading over what you have now, but I'm not sure how I can help doctor. Is there a specific portion which I can assist you with?"

"That really depends if you continued research into hull design and what the size limitations are on your research."

"I have, but I'm afraid that's part of the research which is classified. There isn't any reason I couldn't help you rework a Federation design, however."

Era paused to consider. If the research was classified on one end, what would the reaction be on the other side to this kind of collaboration? She wished Jaal were here to advise her. "Won't that constitute a breach of security, if you're aiding my work?"

Arasa shrugged. "I don't see how it would be, if we're reworking a Federation design."

Era shook her head slightly. "I've redesigned the entire structure of the probe. What I need is a material that can withstand the stresses that it will face internally and externally."

"Well if you don't need to worry about weight limit, and depending on what kind of environment you intend this probe of operating in, you should be fine with a reinforced duranium and titanium casing." Arasa pulled up a file on a computer. "It would be able to go anywhere a starship could go."

Erastus leaned forward slightly. "And for interlocked external parts? How much integrity do I lose with increased flexibility?"

"That would depend on how you designed them, but if you went with exterior, hull-conformal mountings, any loss in integrity should be negligible, especially with a strong integrity field." Arasa spun the computer around to show the nominal Starfleet probe, modified. "So long as you don't fly into extreme gravitic environments, you should be fine."

Era read through the specifications, then decided to go out on a limb. For the next two hours, she revealed the external design specifications to the Romulan scientist, pointing out where her own tests had encountered stress fractures or impeded energy renewal. The two doctors hashed out over a half dozen reconfigurations, adjusting ratios so as to attain the most efficient balance. With Arasa's expertise in exterior design and Era's own in gravimetrics, they made a good pairing, each able to point out the weaknesses and strengths of the others conceptualizations.

At the end of the session, Era sat back, the energized smile she'd been wearing falling back into one of satisfaction and recognition of a long road still ahead of her. "I hope I've not take up too much of your day."

"No not at all, it was a pleasure." Arasa held out her hand. "I look forward to reading your work after the development is over. Should you need anything else, feel free to contact me."

"I will," Era smiled, shaking Arasa's hand. "Thank you for all your assistance." Rising and slipping her PADD of notes into her pocket, Era gave the Romulan a parting smile. As she left, she wondered if, with a change of clothes, she might be able to access the university library. Doubtful, but worth a shot.

OOC: For reference, takes place after "Orders"

"Meditations upon the view"

by Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion
SFMC Commanding Officer/Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion, USS Miranda

and Second Lieutenant Greg Ward
SFMC Special Operations/ARC Trooper CO Furies Battalion, USS Galaxy

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

Greg gave his orders quietly to his ARCs before sending them out of the room to their duties. He trusted Waldron and her team to find out any secondary routes just in case. Now it was time to see about a question that came to Greg's mind.

Greg turned and walked over to where the Stagnorian stood and said "Sir, permission to freely ask a question? sir." in the same crisp and professional tone that he used while on duty.

For'kel honestly hadn't expected anyone to come up 'after' the meeting with questions, especially not after having given such time over to anyone with questions, having asked if there were any questions, or going through the briefing in as much detail as he had. Admittedly, the thought to say 'No' had indeed crossed the Colonel's head, though to his credit he never actually said it. He took a moment before speaking, making sure he didn't respond too curtly. "Sure, any particular reason it couldn't be asked during the briefing?"

"Well, it's more of a view that I didn't want to take up in front of the others, sir. I just felt that there was some..undue hostility towards me and my people." Greg explained, he then titled his head just a little bit to the right and said "I didn't want personal questions about my unit to be used or brought up during an official briefing sir."

For'kel blinked. He was joking right? He had to be... nobody could be this... this... overly sensitive? "I'm sorry Lieutenant? Not sure that I follow you."

This made Greg honestly blink in confusion, "So you don't have anything against me or my people?" Greg asked, honest confusion coloring his tone. "I thought that most officers in the SFMC didn't like the project sir, Lieutenant Baile most certainly doesn't." he explained as the ARC project had been a special operations branch akin to the old SFMC Ranger program.

"I was a Ranger, Lieutenant." For'kel smirked, not exactly sure why this guy had such a complex. "And quite frankly, I don't know much about your program, nor do I particularly care. You've got orders, see that they're carried out. Is there anything else you're seeking to falsely accuse me of tonight, or do I get to go home to my wife now?"

Greg looked kind of sheepish, "Many apologies sir. It wasn't my intent to accuse you or anything of the like. I just wanted to get any problems out of the way. Many apologies sir." Greg said with a respectable bow towards For'Kel. "May I be dismissed before I shove my boots any further down my throat, sir?" The Stagnorian smirked, trying desperately to remember that to most races, a bow was a sign of respect, even if in his it was a sarcastic, and audacious, insult. Starfleet was all about cultural understanding after all, it was best that the meaning behind it be kept in context. "By all means Lieutenant. I expect we'll be deploying at noon the day we reach Romulus. Be prepared."

"Intelligence in Quotations"

Major Rae Weber
Joint Commander, Miranda Intelligence Team

---

It had started innocuously enough, a dim tension at the base of her skull, easily written off as, quite literally, a pain in her neck. Perhaps one obtained from sleeping in an awkward position or participating in too strenuous an activity. But it slowly and dubiously spread, creeping around to her temples before settling behind her eyes, pulsating and making its presence known.

Tension headache.

It made her damn right crabby. Even crabbier than she otherwise would have been.

After all. She was a spook. A field operative. Not a desk jockey, and certainly not a dictator of policy. That was someone else's job, she shouldn't be bothered with it; she got orders and followed them, she didn't give them. And yet, here she was due to weird tricks of fate involving the untimely demise of an division director, the promotion of the woman who had stolen her own identity, and then, of course, the completion of her mission to nullify the threat propagated by the false Rae Weber otherwise known as Slim.

Oi. Vey.

If that wasn't enough to cause a headache, she didn't know what was.

But wait, there's more, she thought bitterly, picking up the tea cup as she read through the information being displayed in front of her. The Galaxy's Chief Intelligence Office had decided, quite brilliantly, to install surveillance equipment in the gear of the Marines that would be taking to the Romulan streets.

Okay. Under normal circumstances, Rae could see a value to it. She could even see a value to it under these strange and uncertain circumstances. But at the same time, it was a betrayal of trust.

Sure, the argument could be made that the Tal'Shiar and the rest of the Romulan military and government were going to use the occasion to gather as much information about Starfleet as they could. The argument *could* be made. What validity there would be was hard to determine, and the comparison not exactly one to one. This was their home planet. Few Federation citizens had ever seen Romulus, and those that had were off the record: highly classified undercover operations intelligence officers or highly classified prisoners of war, the nature of their captivity still unreleased even in most of the highest level dossiers. Conversely, their potential espionage on a handful of Starfleet Ships was a far cry from Starfleet Command. And even then. Many a Romulan had walked through those less than hallowed halls.

It was a betrayal of trust. An act of dishonor and disloyalty. Perhaps an act of war. Espionage under these circumstances? Hardly seemed sporting. And like many long-term field operatives, Rae saw all of this more as a game than anything else.

She groaned, folding her arms over her desk and resting her head against them, eyes closed.

"WWJD," she murmured softly. What would Jordan do?

Easy enough to answer. The Colonel would charge unthinking into the great abyss and get her skinny little ass killed, that's what. Leaving her, Rae, there to sort it all out more or less alone with only her analyst of a lover-slash-handler to assist. The Slim thing, first. And now this. What the hell did she know about any of it, anyway? And Alex was just as hellishly lost as she was.

Course, neither of them would admit it out loud to anyone and would challenge any person who dared hint at such a thing.

But eventually, she had to make her presence known, which was a difficult thing for an undercover operative to do. Usually, if she was doing her job right, no one even knew she was there. Now, she had to rattle a few chains by offering defense to the Marines who, unless the ground-pounder's opinions of Intel had changed dramatically, would find this to be a cowardly, demeaning, and dishonorable action. She wouldn't be surprised if they flat out refused and Powers Know where things would end up from there. And by coming to their defense, she doubted she would gain any favor amongst the Galaxy's Intelligence Team. Or, at least, with their CO.

Hell, she didn't even know how Alex would feel about it. He was her cohort in all of this. Where was he, anyway?

Jordan Elaithin would probably have agreed, would have thought this the logical course, would have bought that argument that it was almost expected of them. But then again, she might have argued that if it was expected, no information they got would be worth shit anyway so why even bother and let's stick to the several undercover operations still plugging away inside the Romulan government itself (those that had been there for months, years, a decade or more). Yes, Rae thought, that's probably what the woman would say. She had been the Director of Clandestine Ops, after all, and fiercely protective of her people. In fact, she might even argue that the move proposed and instituted by the Galaxy's CIO could prove damaging to those undercover operatives, that it was better to keep their position in tact should the Romulans survive this incursion than it would be to gather material that would prove next to irrelevant given it was expected of them to do just this.

Of course, that could be Rae reading into things. It was, after all, easy to put sentiment into the mouth of a dead woman. But it seemed just the argument that would come from the Colonel herself. If she wasn't stardust, of course.

"Yeoman," Rae said to the little blonde thing outside her door. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name, but I need you to get in touch with the Marine CO; if he has a moment, I'd like to see him before he goes down to Romulus. Tell him to bring his XO or his Intel Liaison if he wants. And then, I'd like time with the Galaxy's CIO, preferably in person, if it's not too much of an ordeal for him."

"Can I tell them what the meeting concerns?" the yeoman asked.

"Intelligence, however loosely we're applying that term," Rae muttered slightly, then glanced up from Saul Bental's file, toward the young woman. "Tell them it concerns the darker aspects of the mission. They'll likely understand. Tell the marines I'm on their side. Tell Bental that I would like to... coordinate."

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh. And if he could come to me, that would be terrific... I am the ranking officer. And I'd like to rope Alex into it, too. He and Bental are both analysts, might make it more comfortable. So it'll likely be easier for one to come over here than two to go over there. Providing Alex's analysis lab hasn't eaten him, of course."

"Yes ma'am."

"And smooth it over a little," she said, smiling softly. "There's no need for... Lieutenant... Bental to be on the defensive. I simply want to chat."

The girl nodded, left.

Rae sighed, leaning back in her chair. What were the odds, she wondered, of this - any of this - going well?

"Misunderstandings"

Primary characters:
The Aunts!
Ella Grey

****

USS Galaxy
Ella Grey's Quarters

=/\=Chirp.=/\=

=/\=Chirp.=/\=

=/\=Chirp.=/\=

Ella growled and threw off the protection of the cheerfully pink comforter. Most likely it was her mother on the line, and when her mother finally decided to talk to her daughter, nothing short of a 90% off sale at her favorite store would dissuade her.

She really didn't feel like talking to anyone, especially since her eyes and nose were probably redder than the comforter, but try telling that to a socialite who wanted your attention.

Ella sat defiantly in front of the screen, in her sweater, flannel bottoms, and messy pony-tail, and pressed a button.

The screen clicked on, bright light flooding the darkened room, and, before her eyes had adjusted, a pair of terrifyingly familiar voices began to speak.

"Hello, we hope we're not..."

"...calling at a bad time, but..."

"...we have a few questions that..."

"...we need to ask you, Ella, dear."

As much as she loved the aunts, she wished that they had chosen a day to call *other* than when she was hungover and looked like the Grim Reaper.

"It's not a bad time," she lied pleasantly.

"Oh good," Rexa said with an antenna twitch, "it's taken..."

"...us so long to deal with some things here on the Venture..."

"...since we talked to Angeli..."

"...and it's so very late there..."

"...that we were a little worried we'd..."

"...catch you at a bad time," Ar'resh concluded.

For a moment Ella just stared at them, blanking on who Angeli could be.

Then, of course, she understood. "Ah. No, it's not a bad time."

And then, her manners caught up with her and she asked the aunts how they were doing.

"Oh, well," the two women looked at each other, "we're not certain..."

"...really, Ella," Ar'resh admitted. "We... we're finding out..."

"...that some things that we thought..."

"...were true are apparently not, and it's a bit..."

"...disturbing to realize that we so completely..."

"...misunderstood and misread things."

Ella frowned slightly. She wondered if she could ask the aunts to be a little less cryptic but knew that it would probably be rude.

She also wondered if there was any Romulan ale hidden in her quarters that she'd forgotten about. To make the hangover go away.

"I'll try to help as best I can." She told them.

"That would make things..."

"...much easier, Ella dear," Rexa sighed. "We thought..."

"...about this and tried to come up with a delicate way..."

"...of asking that wouldn't offend you..."

"...but we couldn't think of one. So we're sorry if..."

"...that happens," Rexa said, antennae twitching apprehensively.

Oh, dear... "Shoot." Ella said.

"Did you and our Heinrich ever..."

"...have hot, sweaty, screaming, sex..."

"...while you were together like we believed..."

"...you were?" Ar'resh asked. "Or any kind..."

"...of sex whatsoever?" Rexa added plaintively.

Ella laughed metalically. "Does in my head count?"

The aunts paused, apparently uncertain as to how to respond to that for a second before Rexa essayed, "No, I don't think so..."

"...Ella dear."

"Then no," Ella replied. "We didn't."

"Oh," the women sighed in unison, their antennae drooping dejectedly and their body language a picture of despair.

"We were so certain," Rexa sighed.

"I know." Ella said. "It's my fault for not correcting you."

"No, Ella dear," Ar'resh corrected sadly, "It was..."

"...our fault for not listening. Heinrich told us..."

"...over and over that we were wrong, but we just..."

"...wouldn't listen to him. Or to you. The blame is..."

"...solely ours," Ar'resh completed.

The engineer smiled faintly. "Sometimes we hear what we want to, I guess. Anyway, I expect that he wasn't more forceful about correcting you because he likes when you're happy."

"Maybe so," Rexa agreed sadly. "Our Heinrich is a good boy..."

"...and we can see where he might do that..."

"...if he thought it would make us happy..."

"...to think that he was in a relationship..."

"...with someone that made him happy." Rexa's antennae wavered sadly.

"But..."

"...we still misjudged things so terribly with you, too..."

"...Ella dear. We thought that... well... that you..."

"...and he were...." Ar'resh stopped speaking and just looked at Ella for a moment before finishing the sentence, "......right for each other."

"Well, I..." She stuttered, not knowing quite what to say to them because she had once felt the same way. Maybe still did. Sure, she could beg the Aunts to try and plead her case to Victor but it would only fall on deaf ears. Ella sighed. "I hurt him."

"You hurt..."

"...him?" Rexa asked. "Why..."

"...would you do that?"

She supposed it was only fitting that they knew; they were his family after all. So she told them about Mirusa VI and what she had told Victor. And then what she had told Victor. It wasn't pretty but she told them and then waited for their response.

"Oh dear," Ar'resh sighed. "You really..."

"...said all those things to poor Heinrich?"

Ella nodded, hiding behind the hair that fell in front of her face for a moment before tucking it behind her ear. "I didn't want to tell him and then when he said nothing..."

She sighed. "Well, it wasn't one of my better moments. I guess.. I guess I just forgot."

"Forgot?" Ar'resh asked. "What..."

"...was it you forgot?"

"That even Death has a heart to break," the engineer said.

"Death?" Both women looked puzzled. "What do you..."

"...mean, 'Death?'" Rexa asked.

"I...nothing."

"You must have meant something, Ella," Rexa observed. "You..."

"...said it after all."

Ella sighed again. "You know how some people see him sometimes?"

"We think so," Ar'resh nodded. "Although we've..."

"...never felt what most of them seem to feel. To us, he..."

"...just feels very much like our Bernhard did when we..."

"...first met him and fell in love."

"Yes, well." Ella interrupted. "I don't get the heeby jeebies. Most of the time. But I've felt it once or twice, when he's wanted me to. Death is an appropriate nickname. Maybe I just forgot that's who he wasn't."

"No," Ella said again before the aunts could pipe in. "That's crap. I wanted to hurt him, like he'd hurt me."

"But...." Rexa stopped, puzzled.

"Yes?"

"We thought you knew," Rexa started again. "Since you seemed so..."

"...close to him and so right together. You mean you didn't?"

Ella said nothing. She was good at that, she'd decided.

"You didn't know that he'd believe you?" Rexa asked with infinite sadness.

She shrugged. "I...don't know, Rexa. Maybe I didn't."

"Oh, Ella." Rexa's face was somewhere between stricken and despairing. "You were..."

"...together for so long that we never thought to..."

"...tell you because we thought that already..."

"...knew. Heinrich never lies, he always tells..."

"...you the truth - and that when he trusts you..."

"...he always believes what you tell him." Ar'resh's antennae sagged despondently.

Ella flinched but held onto a small smile as if her life depended on it. It was an age old trick that she had learned in her early years, you didn't break down in polite society.

"I would have liked to have you both as my aunts." She replied instead, her eyes a bit glossy.

"But you don't have to..." Ar'resh started.

"I have to go now." Ella interrupted in a tight voice, even for a machine.

The two women looked at her for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "All right..."

"...Ella," Rexa sighed. "But if you want..."

"...to talk to us, just call - you know..."

"...where we are."

She nodded quickly, fumbling for the keys, and then was gone.

****

USS Venture
Deck 6
Rexa & Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff's Quarters

"I suppose that it could have been worse," Rexa sighed after the screen blanked out, "although…

"…the only way that comes to mind would be if we'd told her..."

"…that we think he wasn't trying to hurt her on Mirusa VI, but was…"

"…just trying to her that he needed to hear her say those..."

"...words - that she loved him - in her real voice," Rexa finished sadly.

"What do we do, now?" Ar'resh wondered aloud.

"Nothing," Rexa sighed. "We do nothing."

"What? Why?"

"Because Heinrich appears to have moved on," Rexa told her sister. "No matter what the reason he and Ella broke up – good or bad, mistake or not – he's moved on and, against all odds, found someone that loves him as much as Ella might have. As much as he deserves. We can't risk ruining that, no matter how right we think he and Ella were."

Ar'resh frowned. "So we do nothing?"

"Nothing but pray for him," Rexa agreed. "And love him as much as we can."

"Sorrow Mine"

Saia & Bran

*****Crew Quarters*****

Branwen was standing in her room looking at all the bits and pieces she had bought over the last couple of days.

"Saia!" She called out. "You did promise to come and help me find places for all the new stuff we bought."

Saia came in and sat on the bed. "Ok." Her mood was a bit better after spending some time off the ship. Nara going over to the Miranda sort of canceled it out. Nara promising to be back at the end of her shift lifted it a bit more. At least she wasn't snappy. Just indifferent.

"So what do you think, which colour should I put on my walls?" Not been able to choose she had ended up with several.

"This soft greenish tint. And a bright yellow trim." She looked up at Branwen, "And the door frame can be the bright red." Saia jumped up and shook her head, "No. Not yellow trim. Maybe a yellow line along the middle of the wall. Or maybe some..." Saia disappeared for a moment and came back doodling on her PADD, and showed it to Bran. It was an arrangement of curves, almost celtic but much looser and soft. "With red beads. I bet we can glue some read beads." Saia was getting a bit excited. Oddly enough, she hadn't even arranged her own things, let alone decorated her walls. Her paintings were piled in a corner, her PADDs scattered about the floor.

Branwen watched the PADD. "you know, you are really good at this. I think I am going to let you do the design." She smiled. "How is your room coming along?"

Saia let a big smile cross her face shrugging, "I'll get to it."

"So do you like your room now?" Branwen smiled.

The smile faded to concentration as she shrugged again, "Just a room."

"A second ago you were excited. Why do you want to let us think it doesn't matter to you? Are you unhappy here?"

She continued to doodle, the screen turning into something different. "Can't change it."

"Can't change what?" Bran asked softly trying to view the Padd.

"This."

"Show me." The Marine said. "I am mildly technical."

Saia looked at her strangely, "Technical?"

"I could you had a problem with your Padd?"

"No. Nothings wrong with the PADD." The tone of her voice indicated there was in fact something wrong...just not with the PADD.

Branwen gave even closer and gently put a hand on Saia's shoulder. "Why don't you tell me about it." She said softly.

"Cuz! Like I said! Can't change it!" Saia shrugged Bran off and walked out of the room, leaving the PADD on the bed.

Branwen picked it up and looked at it.

On the PADD was the celtic-like curves but, now also a rough sketching of a ship surrounded by debris. In context, it was obviously the catastrophe on Trill.

She shook her head sighing. The child wasn't over what had happened to her by a long stretch. She needed more help with it. So she followed Saia over to her own room.

"Saia "please can I come in and talk to you?"

There was no answer as Saia sat on her bed holding her pillow, trying not to cry.

"Let the tears out, sweetheart." Branwen said coming closer.

Saia just hugged the pillow tighter shaking her head. Her nose was already turning red as her face was scrunched around watering eyes.

Branwen rubbed her back. "There's nothing wrong with crying, even I do it occasionally and I'm supposed to be this tough Marine."

With a small shaky voice, Saia answered, "Nara doesn't cry."

"Sure she does. She only thinks she has to be strong for you, so she doesn't show you." Branwen said softly. "She loves you very much."

Saia turned away from Bran still clutching the pillow, sniffling now.

"That's it." Branwen said watching her but not coming closer. "You have the right to cry. I think I would cry if I was you." She thought for a while. "That or be incredibly angry." She was thinking back of her own less than idyllic childhood.

"You're not me. You're human." There was no anger or predjudice, just a simple matter of fact.

"True, like not even humans act the same way. So how do you feel then?"

"I wish we never went to the museum."

"I can understand that." Branwen said softly. "Did your parents want to go?" It was the first time Saia was talking about it, at least with Branwen.

"I think so. But I think it was for me."

"You liked the museum? That must be a pretty awful feeling, Saia."

Saia looked at her and furrowed her brow, "What?"

"You said they were going for you. Don't you find that difficult?" Branwen wanted to bring the girl's feelings to the open.

Saia looked at her angrily, "Get out!"

"Sore point?" Branwen asked gently.

Saia just turned and buried her head in her pillow.

"Saia, can I show you something?"

Saia peeked from the pillow, tears already having begun to flow, but a trembling lip showed she really was trying to stop crying.

She looked at the girl. "Oh come here, sweetheart." Bran opened her arms.

Saia dug her face back in the pillow and squeezed it. She didn't know why she was crying so much. She barely made a fuss when she was in the medical tent on Trill.

Branwen sat there quietly, and let the child cry for a while. It was a good thing that the tears were coming out finally.

"Dating Service for the Resident Cyborg"

Nara & Eve

*****Angel Moon*****

Ok, so a third time that week she sat here drinking. She was weary from stress and insomnia. It was only synthenol. What could it hurt? She felt disconnected to Saia, unsure how to make things like they were. She just plain felt distant. She hadn't sent out any correspondance and checked none that weren't marked for work. She supposed she was home sick, but she's been away from Sakaria at longer stints then this.

Naranda was just in a rut and growing weary of it. She seemed to feel more pressure as she was trusted to do more things in Engineering. Being picked as one of the three to disarm the bombs proved they trusted her skills. But other than, "Good job," what did she get? Of course, she felt a bit guilty for that. She saved lives. Wasn't that good enough?

She felt alone again. Like when she first boarded the boat.

She never considered herself an alcoholic, but now was a good time to start.

Eve strode down the corridors of the Galaxy, pondering a number of lines of inquiry. Adapting the existing designs for integration for marine armor and the fighter craft, reviewing the specifications and schematics of said base components, and a number of other things, mostly work related, floated through her mind. However, she was in need of a 'recharge' so to speak, and to a bar it was. Normally, any bar would do but no one made pan-galactic gargle blasters like the barkeeps on the Galaxy, and this one in particular.

Sitting on a stool at the bar, she ordered her first drink, and when it arrived she did two things - placed her order for a second, and them promptly slammed down the first.

There's something to be said for the unique sensation of feeling your brain being smashed by a bar of gold wrapped up in a lemon.

Nara saw Eve come in and smiled shaking her head. She made her way over and sat beside of her, "Part of me thinks you're a bit too young to be drinking like that. Then I remember you could kill me any number of ways, so I think I'll lay off." She was smirking.

She let the effects of the first drink subside before resonding. "I think I'll take that as a compliment," she said, her eyes still tightly closed. "Then again, I don't specailize in killing, mostly just making things that others decide to use to kill with."

Nara nodded, "Right. So what brings you here today?"

"Meh, taking a break from work. I've got a new department head, and therefore the Office is operating a bit differently," she said. "Not quite as freelance and sporadic anymore, but I still have my creative liscense.'

"Ah, whose the new boss?"

"LT Bental," Eve responded, followed promptly by downing the second Pan-Galactic.

Nara shook her head. "I'm a little slow today. I should had known that."

"Pardon?" Eve asked, her head twitching a bit from the second drink.

"I know Lt. Bental."

"What's he like?" Eve was completly oblivious to whatever the past held between these two, and therefore was not processing the emotional content in Nara's voice and body language.

Nara smirked a moment, letting her mind go to the gutter a bit. But she figured to keep it clean and cleared her throat, "Very intelligent and very good at keeping secrets."

"Then I guess he's the peerfect man for the job."

Nara tilted her head a bit raising an eyebrow, "Depends on the job."

Eve cocked her head to one side. "How do you mean?"

"Ever had a lover whose kept a shroud over most of his life?

Eve turned away to look out the viewports, a little embarassed, ashamed, and a few other things. "I've never had the opportunity to get close to anyone," she said quietly, almost to softly for Nara to hear over the hubub and activity around them.

Nara nodded, "Right. I forgot. Sorry." Nara gave a small smile to Eve.

Eve sighed. "I don't know why, either. I may not be perfect or anything, but so far you are one of the only people that will talk with me off duty."

Nara looked at Eve up and down and then around the bar. She was about to say something about George, but decided against it. She tilted her head, "I think you're giving off a signal."

Eve's eyes unfocused for a second before returning to normal. "There do not apear to be any active emanations sourced within my cybernetic components. Coupled with the fact that you currently do not posess a tricorder, I believe your statement to be made in error."

Nara smiled a bit, "No. Not transmitting a signal. Giving off. With your posture, your aura. You're telling people to stay away without wanting to."

Eve was thuroughly confused now, and it showed in her expression - hopelessly lost.

Nara laughed. She never had a little sister and she'd never show Saia how to flirt, but this would be fun. She looked around and saw a group of nice looking ensigns. She nodded toward them. "Pick one and look at him. Once he looks back, smile and turn away."

=Meanwhile= =Across the way= One Ensign Jason Jarex, a rather new engineer fresh out of the academy, was sitting with a number of his friends from the academy. They were laughing it up, and in general having a good time over a few rounds. Then SHE looked his way. They locked eyes, and he damn near spilled his drink in his lap.

Eve, on the other hand, didn't get quite what she was looking for, even if she had a clue as to what it was. To say that she lacked social skills would be an understatement.

Nara whispered to her, "Just give a little smile and turn back over here."

Eve was a deer in the headlights. the whole scene couldn't have been cuter if they had tried.

Nara frowned, and pulled on her elbow, "Eve!"

"Hm, wha?" Eve turned her head and looked at Nara, completly confused.

"Don't stare!" Nara scolded.

To another observer, the meek, contrite, and totally mortified look to Eve's face was priceless. Outwardly, on a day to day basis Eve didn't think about whether she was socially acceptable or not. However, deep down it turned out to be quite a real concern for her.

Nara smiled. "Now wait." She patted the girl's shoulder, "How did he react?"

"He almost dropped his drink," Eve said. "I think he was more surprised than anything else."

Nara smiled and nodded, "That he got the honor to be looked upon by you." She shook her head, "Ok, this is going to sound stupid, but trust me. Go ask for a salt shaker." There were no salt shakers, but Nara was pretty sure the boy wouldn't even be bothered by the little trick.

Eve nodded and began making her way over to that ensign she had first picked out, quite at random. As she aproached the table, Eve was keenly aware of the fact that all talk had ceased, and he and his associates were staring at her, though their reasons were as varried as their personalities. "Um, Could I have a salt shaker, please?" she inquired, looking straight at Jarex.

Jarex stared until one of his buddies poked his shoulder. He gulped and nodded, "Sure!" He didn't stop looking at her as he grabbed for a salt shaker and ended up handing her a shot glass.

Eve definitely needed work. She didn't glare, but as her eyes were artificial, she sometimes did forget to blink. "This isn't a salt shaker," she told him after looking at the shotglass.

He blushed a bit and realized there wasn't one, "Oh. Uh. You can keep that."

Eve smiled at him and then turned and went back to Nara, shot glass still in hand. "What next?"

Nara bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She took a deep breath to settle down and raised an eyebrow, "Wait. Give him a smile once and while. I bet he's looking over here as we speak."

Eve looked over at him, he was still looking at her .... she forgot to blink.

"And for heaven's sake, blink! Even Data blinks!"

Eve blinked, turning to face Nara, her cheeks red as a tomatoe.

Nara couldn't help but laugh. Just at the moment, though, Jarex stood and nervously walked over. "E....excuse me?"

Eve nearly jumped out of her skin, he had actually walked up behind her and she hadn't noticed! "yes?" she said, almost a whisper.

"I...Can I..." He cleared his throat, "Jarex."

Nara kept her back turned trying not to laugh as she listened.

"And," Eve asked, confused and yet curious.

Jarex rubbed his neck, looking down nervously, "What's your name?"

"Eve," she said simply.

He looked up into her eyes, smiling, simply stating, "Wow."

Eve looked over at Nara, the look of pleading helplessness on her face ... all but screaming 'HELP!'

Nara sighed to keep from laughing and whispered, "Take your glass and take a sip facing him." Nara hoped the poor nervous boy would take a hint to buy Eve a drink.

Eve reached for her glass, taking a sip - and only after the liquid touched her toung did she then recall that it was a Pan-Galactic Gargle blaster. It wasn't a drink to sip, and it came through in her reaction completly.

Jarex's eyes shot open as he reached out, "Are you ok?!"

Nara put a napkin to her lips as she laughed.

"I'm fine," she whispered hoarsly, downing the rest of the PGGB to fight away the harsh after effects of what felt like a lemon wrapped brick of gold trying to force it's way down her neck.

He gently took her arm over to a nearby chair, "Sit down."

Nara looked at her and nodded, hoping that Eve got the hint to milk it.

Eve got the message that she should go with him and sat in the profered chair, her neck still on fire, though without the more pleasent aspect of the bricked lemon in her head. "Oh, I'm going to feel that one in the morning," she whispered.

Jarex sat next to her, "Can I get you some water?"

Eve nodded, and when the lass came she sipped it tenderly, the heat washing from her throat so soothingly. "Thank you," she said to Jarex.

"Anything." He gently padded her arm and blushed looking down. "I mean, uh..."

"Yes?" she asked.

Without looking up, he rubbed his neck and answered sheepishly, "I feel I'd do anything for you."

"Why me?"

"Uh." He looked up and shrugged, "Not sure. Why not?"

"I don't know what to do," she said simply.

He frowned, "I...I don't either."

Nara turned and sighed, "Oh for heaven's sake. Drink! Talk! Flirt!"

Eve looked over, the moment lost ....

Nara sighed and stood. "My work here is done." She made her way to the door.

Jarex watched the back of Nara before turning to Eve, "Friend of yours?"

Eve nodded. "She was the first person outside of my department who talked to me."

"Maybe, um, maybe she's right." Jarex gave a nervous smile. "May I buy you a drink?"

Eve nodded, leting him take charge.

Smiling, he waved a waitress over. Moment saved.

“Snow Patrol”

Cole Slaton

[“We’ll do it all, everything, on our own. We don’t need... anything... or anyone...

If I lay here, if I just lay here, Would you lay with me, and just forget the world...

I don’t quite know. How to say. How I feel. Those three words, I said too much. They’re not enough.

If I lay here, if I just lay here... Would you lay with me, and just forget the world. Forget what we’re told... before we get too old... Show a garden, that’s bursting into life!”]

Pulling hard on the stick, partially listening to the music in the background, Cole brought his fighter up and around into a tight turn, he knew it wouldn’t throw the pursuing drone off his tail but it allowed him that extra manoeuvring space for what he had in mind. With two other drones already destroyed, the third was proving to be a bitch having adapted to Cole’s aggressive piloting.

Trimming the engine as he turned yanking hard on the stick feeling the pressure against his chest, the flight suit expanding squeezing the blood to his brain preventing a pilot’s worst fear. A black-out. With the turn complete the throttle flew forward with Cole’s left hand punching it through the gate kicking in the afterburner. Flashes of phaser fire passed his fighter, bathing the cockpit in brief spells of bright red light.

He pulled the fighter up, the drone following but unable to stay with Cole’s tight loop it was unable to prevent the El-Aurian from coming up behind it. Programmed with evasive manoeuvres the drone zigzagged through space trying desperately to escape, but with each turn Cole’s fighter was there matching it.

“Gotcha...” Cole whispered, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin. Firing the action the cannons spewed their deadly energy forward, the first three pulses missed their target, sailing harmless into space. Those that followed struck their mark. The drone’s shielding matched that of any Romulan or Federation fighter, but once shredded the hull was stripped away with ease.

The sleek black fighter passed through the exploded debris of the drone, fragments harmlessly bouncing off her shields, before Cole brought her around. Control had been monitoring the exercise, scoring points from the accuracy of each hit to the time taken to eliminate all three drone targets. It was proving to be quite a interesting battle for the top prize.

~One of my better ideas~ Cole thought. It was only the Renegades participating in this little tournament, at the moment anyhow, he had no delusions the other pilots will want in eventually. A chance to pit yourself against the others, too much to ignore for long, especially given the egos associated with a fighter pilot. Egos aside, it was already improving skills honed by years in the cockpit. And Slaton was no exception, seeing his score come up on the display in front of him. 2134, over a hundred added on what he’d got last time, a vast improvement.

“Bringing her in control.” Once getting the all clear Cole pitched slightly to the right lining the fighter up. ~Let’s see them beat that!~ he thought leaning back to enjoy the chorus of the song.

[“If I lay here... if I just lay here... Would you lay with me, and just forget the world... Forget what we’re told... before we get too old... Show me a garden, that’s bursting into life!”]

9ooc: i breifly considered doing another traiing video, but thougt i'd give yall a break since it brought up so many bad memories) :)

"Special Delivery"

Crewman Allison

Ensign John Riley (NPC)

USS Galaxy--Main Security Office

"Like I said before", Allsion tapped her finger against the counter to reinforce the point, "The name is All-ee-son. Thats it....no more....no less"

The young Security Ensign sitting behInd the desk frowned, "Then where the nametag reads Allison Jimdottir....." he began,

"All-ee-son." Alli interrupted reaching over and grabbing his cheeks and making him ennunciate it out. "Sound it out now....All---ee--- son."

"Aww--eee--soo," was all that he could manage through his pinched lips. Slapping her hands away, he massaged his cheeks and considered the girl before him.

The slim blond with pale skin and glitter-sparkled cheeks had arrived up from Armory about 20 minute before lugging a heavy box loaded down with Type 1 Phaser packs. They had been requsitioned for the upcoming defence preparations underway down on Romulus, but it was obviously way too heavy for the girl.

No less than three Security Ensigns leapt forward to rescue the poor girl, but John Riley had beat them all to the punch and now had the honor of chatting with the young lady.

Allison was a pretty young thing, that was obvious: The form-fitting starfleet uniform made it apprent she was a bit on the skinny side......but not overly so. To Riley's practiced eye it was obvious she'd also fill out a bikini rather nicely.

He shook his head to bring him back to the present, focussing instead on her fine Nordic features. Sharp curving jawline, slim nose, and very faint freckles completed the look, while huge ice-blue eyes watched him closely.

~~~I like the glitter on her cheeks....~~~ Riley thought, ~~~...but whats with this bubblegum chewing?~~~

Alli smacked her gum happily, eyes twinkling.

"So," he shook himself, "is this like some sort of weird Bajoran backwards name thingie......"

"Not a clue....dont play the Banjo....or whatever you said," Alli smiled with a toss of her blond hair. "I'm from Iceland," she explained, "Lake Myvatn area to be precise."

The Ensign frowned again. "And thats why you dont play the banjo?" He was becoming very confused. He'd introduced himself at first just to be friendly.......and becasue of the fact that the new recruit was something of a hottie....but he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was not following the normal rules of conversation as set down in the Geneva accords.

~~~She's cute....but somthing's not quite right about her......~~~ Riley wondered.

"No silly." Alli laughed, a slight snorting giggle, "Being from Iceland is why I dont have a last name."

"But....Jimsdottir?"

"Nuh-uh" she shook her head. "Native Icelanders dont follow the typical Western practice of family names.....Bob Smith...John Doe.......stuff like that."

"Okay......"

"Okay....what we do instead is similar to the old Norse naming systems.....since thats who settled the area after all......so we get Bob son of Biff........or John son of Eric. Slap them together and we get Bob Biffson and John Ericson.....see?"

"Okay." The Ensign nodded, "I've heard of a few famous people like that.....Lief Ericson the Explorer?"

"Right," Alli popped her gum in agreement, "Lief...son of Eric."

"But......Jimsdottir......oh wait I get it.....Jim's Daughter, your Fathers is named Jim?"

Allison's smile faded a bit, and she stole a nervous glance around the Security Office but she nodded, "Yah......Jimsdottir isnt really part of my name, it just tells people WHICH Allison I happen to be. My real name is really just plain old Allison......thats it."

~~~Or something along those lines.~~~ she thought to herself.

"All-ee-son" Riley grinned, finally understanding, "Nice to meet you kiddo."

"Uh-uh....wrong bucko..... " Alli warned, "Not a kid."

"Sorry, just that you're so young looking.....I meant it as a compliment......what are you 19 or so?"

"Or...so." was all that Alli confirmed, suddenly wanting out of this conversation, "Look.....uh John, I really got to get back to the Armory or Clarence will be on my butt, he thinks I'm still out delivering these....uh.....Phaser whatevers...for the away mission thingie," She indicated the large box of equipment that she had lugged up from the Armory.

"Aw forget Clarence," Riley dismissed her concerns with a wave. "That loser's been on board the Galaxy for over 10 years and has never made it out of the Armory....never made it past Petty Officer."

"Yah well that Petty officer outranks this mere Crewman Recruit." Alli tapped her own pathetic rank badge, "So I got to get going."

"Well my one pip trumps all the stripes in the world, and I say you can stay."

Allison, Daughter of Jim looked directly into Riley's eyes with her own ice blue gaze, "No, sir......I think I REALLY need to get going now sir."

Ensign Riley opened his mouth to object again, but shut it quickly realizing he was making the young girl uncomfortable. ~~~Dummy.~~~~ he cursed himself, ~~~You're putting her into an awful situation by bad mouthing her direct supervisor no matter if he is a big weenie.~~~

~~~You're also using your rank as a pressure to make her stay just so you can flirt with her.~~~

It was obvious the young blond was a very raw recruit indeed, and in truth looked alot younger than the '19' that Riley had guessed. It wasnt fair to start in with office politics her first day on the job.

"My apologies Crewman, " He nodded suddenly becoming quite formal, "thank you for you assistance, and please return to your post at once."

"Aye aye." Alli saluted with a pop of her gum.....the incongruity causing riley to hold back a chuckle.

He watched with interest as she spun on a heel and marched out of he Security office, a light spring in her step.

~~~Oh yeah....she'd look great in a Bikini.~~~

“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall” (Part 1)

Lieutenant Nara Roswell
USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
USS Galaxy

USS Galaxy Corridor

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

'Well that was an interesting briefing...' Raynor thought to himself, before asking aloud to no one in particular, "Now question as approach the fork in the corridor, do I go for beer, or shower..."

The choice was obvious... he went right.

----

Bar - USS Galaxy...

Nara held the bottle. It was three quarters full and she had been there about fifty minutes. Maybe the drinking was simmering down. Well, one would think if it wasn't her third bottle

----

The door hissed open, Raynor looked around... the usual crowd was about. He walked over to where a welcoming fluid was waiting for him. He licked his lips and sucked up the smell in the air with his nostrils. He began to strip and get in the bloody shower, washing away the stench that surrounded him.

15 minutes later he was dressed and guzzling down a beer at the bar.

Nara walked back over to the bar to get another bottle and saw someone too familiar. "How the hell do you keep finding me?" She wasn't particularly drunk, but synthenol made one feel like they had an excuse to be cruder.

"It's not hard... see we have this thing called a computer, and it keeps track of where everyone supposedly is at anyone given point in time... usually its pretty good at pointing me in the general direction..." Raynor joked. He was actually pure coincidence on his part that they bumped into each other again. "Plus you tend to hang out around the same areas so you know... it’s not like you make it difficult."

"Okay. WHY the hell do you keep finding me?"

Raynor didn't know... but he would hazard a guess. "I don't know could any number of reasons... maybe you’re sexy or because you’re my boss' girlfriend, or how about I don't do it on purpose, there are only a thousand people on board and it doesn't matter what you do during the day if you come here on a regular basis, I will probably find you."

He spoke as if were simply hypothesizing on the subject rather than giving actual reasons, which he meant more as a joke.

"Your boss' girlfriend. Now why would that matter?" It was hard to tell if she was playing along or suspicious. She wasn't even sure.

"It matters?" Raynor asked all confused, as if he didn't even know where he was for a moment before seemingly regaining his senses...

"Does it?" It was one of those moments two people are talking and neither really quite remembers what they were discussing.

I hope not... "So what you been up to recent like?" Raynor asked trying to change the subject that held very little importance.

"Lately. Serving on a starship where even your own boss can't be trusted. And bringing an orphaned Trill to live on said ship."

"Sounds familiar... do you want the pep talk from the wizened hand of experience?" Raynor asked causally looking away from the bar, towards the crowd.

She let out a laugh, "And you think that's you?"

"Over ten years in this fleet, not to mention experiences I have gained from before I became a citizen of the Federation, and the stuff I picked up from various mentors... I'm definitely not inexperienced that much I can say with certainly, but how about from a friend if not the veteran."

She looked at him, a bit more seriously so far, "You're not wearing your clown mask."

"I guess not..." Raynor spoke with a sense of realization in his voice. "So do you want the talk or not?" he asked again.

"Guess I don't see this side of you often." She let out another laugh, "Guess we're friends even we didn't intend it. But yes, what's your advice."

"Trust yourself, trust your instincts, and know the situation that you and those around you face... As my kid back in the Gamma Quadrant would say... the universe is made up of Love and Peace. You just got to find it sometimes."

"I'm a warrior. That's the first lesson of the first day. And love and peace? I found love. I'm your boss' girlfriend, remember. Peace...who knows. You have a kid?" Nara looked at him as if she didn't believe him.

"You found love in one man, have you found love in those you would call friend and family and in your life as a whole. You find may find some peace in that..."

Nara looked into his eyes, as if probing. She wasn't being telepathic, but trying to use good ol' instincts and intuition. "Who are you, Zev? How can a man who finds the need to hide behind a mask talk of peace if he can't be at peace with who he really is?"

"Because sometimes knowing what you aren’t helps you to find who you are," Raynor countered.

"Where in your ass did you pull that nonsensical crap from?"

"It's something along the same lines as, for every left you must first turn right, and you must learn to control your rage, or your rage will control you... that sort of thing," Raynor chuckled for a bit. "But seriously there are some who believe in the ying and the yang of the universe, by knowing your opposite, the antithesis of yourself... you may become more aware of who you truly are. Most people find these traits in others... I decided to incorporate it into myself."

"We evolved to trust one another or else we would have nothing... no society could form without a trust that we wouldn't betray one another... when someone does betray you, it shakes you to the core, but don't let it shake trust in other people... or else you undo everything you have evolved into..."

"Ok, so just for curiosity's sake..." Nara shook her head, "Maybe not. I really should stop that. Always end up in a mess."

"What?" Raynor asked, but having a very odd sense about where this was going.

~Little piggy, little piggy, let her in, let her in~ Madden taunted knowing what to come.

She shook her head, "Nothing. I been in people's minds before and always ends up being more than I bargained for."

"Plus there is the issue I'm a spy and that my mind has a lot of super sensitive information following around... like my penis size for example."

"I'd only go where you let me. IF I were to. And you're such a pig."

"Part of being a human who thinks up every possible angle and joke..." Raynor replied... while thinking to himself, 'Why is she so interested in my stinking mind. There way too much to see in it...'

~Does it matter why? She wants to look around... like an idiot... let her in~ Madden insisted.

'So you can invade her mind while were linked? Gee... let me think about that...' Raynor thought back.

Nara shrugged, "Just a random curiosity. Say no. Please."

"Curiosity claimed many a cat, rat, dog; human, elephant... snake... monkey... but not Betazoids... still the whole... I want to poke around inside your head for about an hour just out of pure curiosity doesn't quite add up..." Raynor sarcastically stated.

Nara smirked, "I'm a curious person, but like I said. It's ok. Really. I been burned enough to know better."

~Wasn't that a stirring reason to go ahead with it...~ Madden spoke disappointedly... ~she really is a dolt isn't she... I don't know why you hang out with these people. ~

'Shut up... don't make me come down ther-' Raynor began to threaten.

~What dive into your subconscious and beat the shit out of me in front of all these telepaths, displaying what you’re really capable of? I don't think so Zevy boy. ~

Raynor sat there seemingly lost in thought for a moment, this was a bad idea. Then he asked "Burned by whom?"

Nara held out her hand and pointed one finger, "Got inside Victor Kreighoff's mind enough to understand why people fear him." A shudder ran through her as she held up a second finger, "Went into Eshe's mind with her sister to try to help come out of coma and ended up being beat up by briar bushes." Third finger, "Baile..." Another shudder as if that was answer enough and a fourth finger came up. She left Eve out, taking to heart the warning. "I think that’s enough examples."

"That's it?" Raynor asked. "Those loveable clowns? Jeez... and here I thought it would some overly evil mind that no one can comprehend."

Nara looked at him, "YOU'RE a clown compared to them!" She felt defensive at his downplaying, "You've never experienced something so eerie and so nightmare inducing."

"They wear their emotions on their sleeve, they make no excuses for who they are, they do not hide what they've become from the world and they can still basically function as their true selves. I can't make that claim..." Raynor countered.

~Oh poor baby... do you want a tissue to cry on... JUST GROW UP ALREADY...~ Madden yelled within his head. It was telepathically loud enough to just breach the internal barrier to flash Madden's presence to any nearby telepaths. Having two conversations at once was annoying to say the least.

Nara raised an eyebrow looking at him, "Oh?" She shook her head a moment and looked around as if she felt someone was there. She held her arm a moment and sighed, gulping away the sudden fear that gripped at her. She assumed just a memory of Victor or Baile. Yet, she knew it was different. Yet, didn't really want to know more about it as it was gone now. She looked at Zev again, focusing her mind back, "I thought we were trying NOT get me curious."

"I'm not" was all that Raynor said; sipping whatever drink he had ordered. He wasn't even sure it was his... he just knew he needed one.

~I am little girlie, come on Zev... I know you like the white meat... hell even *I* like the white meat...~ Madden teased.

Raynor was fighting a battle on two fronts and he didn't know how much longer he could just stand there before his patience ran out.

"I'm not" was all that Raynor said; sipping whatever drink he had ordered. He wasn't even sure it was his... he just knew he needed one.

~I am little girlie, come on Zev... I know you like the white meat... hell even *I* like the white meat...~ Madden teased. Raynor was fighting a battle on two fronts and he didn't know how much longer he could just stand there before his patience ran out.

"Well I am." She watched him like a science project. "What's going on? Something's got you all...twisted or something. You're not being silly."

"You ever met a telepath with a split personality?" Raynor asked.

Nara just shook her head.

"No... I just asked that question because I was curious," Raynor sarcastically replied, he was on a streak today.

She furrowed a brow, "Ok, now you're just getting nasty." She pointed at his head, "So there are two people in there."

"Sorta... yea," Raynor admitted.

"Sorta?"

"Wouldn't call the other guy a person... heck I'm not even sure I qualify..."

Her face went to concern now. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Some things I've done... not sure if I even regret doing them or not, but they aren't what people can do... just monsters..." Raynor said quietly.

She sighed, "I've killed people. I refuse to call myself a monster. Victor and Baile were monsters. I conceded to that. I became convinced, but still...I can't help but think there's still humanity in them. It's more obvious in you."

"Humanity is full of monsters... Hitler would be example, its part of our heritage... we tend to have them in every age..." Raynor said, distractedly... made had gone into an annoying chant... which Raynor was trying to ignore. Ignoring his own thought processes wasn't easy though.

"Can't help but be more curious than ever." She looked down, "But I'll not push it."

Madden made his final push... "ALRIGHT you win... god damn it. Just SHUT UP!" And with that, he managed to draw the attention of the entire room. Raynor looked at all the faces. They looked at him. Without missing a beat, he emptied his glass, placed it on the floor, unzipped his fly, and filled it back up again. And then he exited stage left.

“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall” (Part 2)

Lieutenant Nara Roswell
USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
USS Galaxy

USS Galaxy - Bar
==========

"Humanity is full of monsters... Hitler would be example, its part of our heritage... we tend to have them in every age..." Raynor said, distractedly... made had gone into an annoying chant... which Raynor was trying to ignore. Ignoring his own thought processes wasn't easy though.

"Can't help but be more curious than ever." She looked down, "But I'll not push it."

Madden made his final push... "ALRIGHT you win... god damn it. Just SHUT UP!" And with that, he managed to draw the attention of the entire room. Raynor looked at all the faces. They looked at him. Without missing a beat, he emptied his glass, placed it on the floor, unzipped his fly, and filled it back up again. And then he exited stage left.

Nara blinked and after a moment jumped up and ran after him, "Hey! What the hell was that?!"

"Me - covering up the fact that I'm insane by pretending to be crazy... what did it look like?" Raynor responded. "Now are we going to do this stupid mind meld type of thing or not?"

Nara shook her head as his words made sense, "That made sense in a scary way. And I'm not a Vulcan and I'm not so sure. Maybe you need to see a counselor."

"Brian is sobbing in guilt and drinking away the memory of our last session... trust me I'm not visiting him again for another two weeks... and I'm not about to start scaring the entire staff away..." Raynor stated.

"You lie. Can't be that bad."

"Like I asked earlier, do you want to see this or not?" Raynor asked entering the public washroom.

"I think someone needs to." Nara followed him in.

Zev was already by the fountain, when she came through the door. He splashed his face with a small handful, of water. He looked himself in the eyes. What was he doing? Was he stupid? No... Just tired of the stupid clown. Tired of pretending to be an idiot. Tired of the lies. He sighed then went into one of the stalls and sat down... "Alright... you coming or what?" he asked.

Nara looked at the door, "Here?" She was concerned with his sudden attitude change. Frankly she was a bit unnerved.

"You have a room mate... I have a shit load of cleaning droids in my quarters, this is the most private public area that we won't be disturbed... unless you have a better idea? Or that concerned about stupid rumors..." Zev stated bluntly.

She considered a moment and muttered, "Saul knows me better than that." She stepped inside. "Just a tad small is all."

"Well..." Raynor sat there staring. They were in the same stall he was sitting, she was standing... a couple moments passed... someone walked, in washed up and walked out. "You want to start or what?"

"Just shut up Crumpy Pants." Nara knelt down and looked into his eyes, concentrating. "Ease in and ease out." She first just connected with his conscious, surface mind.

Raynor's... Avatar sat there waiting. At first glance, it was essentially Raynor with tattooed face, wearing all black and carrying a shit load of weapons. But as she sunk deeper, there were other features that emerged, there was a tattoo of a great eye on his forehead, that was shedding a single tear, he had sprung blacken wings of angelic composition... his eyes glowed with a soft yet brilliant blue.

But there was only a single light shining upon him, at the moment as Nara approached.

Nara looked at the Avatar, ever amazed at the complexities of the mind and how they represent themselves. "I think I can tell you're a telepath."

Nara looked at the Avatar, ever amazed at the complexities of the mind and how they represent themselves. "I think I can tell you're a telepath by your mindscape."

Raynor's Avatar began his introduction. "I am Pariah Ronin, but you know me as the Zev Raynor... I thought that this introduction would be best just so it didn't come at you all at once. Give you a chance to get your bearings before we proceed, that sort of thing... entering ones mind can sometimes be disorientating... especially this one, or so I've been told."

Pariah made no special movements, but suddenly a graveyard began to come into being... with tombstones stretching as far as the eye could see. People wandered about freely, talking amongst themselves, not paying the new comers any particular attention.

Nara muttered, "More organized than the rest. Even a damned greeter." Her words trailed as she looked about. She blinked at the tombstones and then the people. "A memory?"

She couldn't associate what she saw with anything in Zev's mind. She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Never seen a mindscape populated. Imaginary friends?" She was still basically talking to herself, trying to sort out this unique mind.

"No... They are mostly of the dead... some are shadows of the living... collected during those moments when they were most likely about to die. Extreme fear... Zev's mind works in some way that isn't normal for telepaths. You die; you live on in Zev's mind. You come close to death, and a copy of you wanders around here... sometimes there are multiple copies, of those who have faced death many times... he has more experiences than he should be able to manage... too many conflicting memories about where he was... yet he exists, and somehow is able to deal with all of this, even when it should be beyond him..."

Nara looked around. "Impossible." She whispered. Then she looked at the avatar. "Why are you talking in third person, Zev?"

"Inside my head, I tend to think the term of Zev as reference to my body rather than the consciousness that is me..." he explained.

Nara smiled. "Like I said. I can see you’re a telepath by how you organized this. E...." She frowned and slammed a wall over a part of her mind. Only one other mind was so organized to have a greeter. That one tried to kill her.

"I was afraid that, excuse me a moment..." Pariah bowed, before taking flight... and vanishing. When suddenly a disturbing image appeared before her... but it wasn't Pariah... it was herself.

She gasped and stepped back, turning away. "ZEV!"

"Zev's New Project"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence, USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy

Saul instructed the computer to pause the playback, halting Jonas' recorded speech. The display showing the marine's face was replaced by the red caption 'Chimera's Byte', yellow against black background. He turned toward Zev, who gazed at him cryptically as ever.

"The Romulans are hiding something." Saul scowled. "If we won't find out what happened to their fleet, we might be next."

"And I'm sitting here... so what?" Raynor asked. "The Romulans are ALWAYS hiding something. If they weren't, they'd be Vulcans. Personally I'm surprised we haven't been blown out of the sky directly yet simply for knowing about their ability to disable our engines with the flip of a switch, while allowing their ships to move around freely."

"We knew about their passive defense grid. We just didn't know they have nutcases at planetary defense command."

Saul couldn't avoid a grin at the Vulcan note. Raynor seemed to calm down since he got the assistant's job, yet he still had it in him "I haven't exhausted all non-covert methods to acquire the information" He continued, "but as I told Lieutenant Jonas - the Rommies are very tight-lipped about it. I'm going to try the Romulan ambassador as well, but I don't have high expectations. If the higher-ups got only evasive responses from the Romulan government, I doubt I'll be more successful. What I'd like you to do is to get the answers. Make this your top - and only - priority until we find out what's going on."

"Am I authorized to use force to weazel it out of our Romulan friends directly?" Raynor asked. "Or should I make a list of all possible explanations I can think of and go through each one and try and figure out through endless hours of analysis trying to figure everything out without having the Romulans noticing that their missing a few people here and there? Either option is fine by me, but there is the issue of time and certainy... one way as you know I can VERY certain, while the other not so much so."

Saul sighed. "Now we reach the most delicate point. We need to avoid diplomatic incident at ALL costs, Zev. The Romulans are our allies, and we need to keep it that way for our sakes and theirs. So use minimum-risk methods. You have plenty of tools in your toolbox before you need to use violence. Use them."

"This true... and I will use every other resource at my disposal but if... and I know this is a big IF. If they should fail, whats more important, our relations with the Romulans or the information?" Raynor asked. "Just so its clear where our priorities lie..."

"Relations, I'm afraid. But that doesn't mean we can't be creative. Just... careful. If you have an idea that may be 'pushing it', talk to me and we'll see if it can be worked out despite the constraints."

Raynor raised an eyebrow. "Alright..." he let out with a sigh.

"Listen, I'm sure a lot of people planetside have the information we need. Losing an entire fleet is not a tiny thing, and despite whatever efforts the Romulan government make to keep the actual events classified, there must be leaks. Family members of the deceased, for example. If someone from your family died, you'd like to at least know how, no?"

Raynor simply nodded before asking, "Are we overlooking the possibility that the Romulans don't know how they lost their fleet and are simply trying to cover their own incompetence?"

"If that's what happened, it would be very valuable to find out as well," Saul assured him. "But I think they have at least a general idea, since they have many sensor arrays and listening posts deployed near Judaris. One thing is for sure - they know more than we do."

A mischievous smirk surfaced on Saul's face. "And that's something we should amend."

"Alright... any particular suggestions on where to start?" Raynor asked.

"Not at the moment. If I'll get any specific ideas, I'll let you know."

"Okay..." Zev said nodding. A moment passed... "Can I go now? This chair isn't particularly comfortable."

"Get me a comfortable one for my birthday."

"And when is that?"

Instead of a response, Saul gestured to his colleague to get the show on the road.

* * *
FROM: Lieutenant Saul Bental\Intelligence\USS Galaxy
TO: Commander Stom\Hydran Intel. Research Desk\SFI HQ
SUBJECT: Chimera's Byte

Stom, our 'allies' refuse to provide us any information about the event codenamed 'Chimera's Byte'. I need any insight the desk could provide on the event.

* * *
FROM: Commander Stom\Hydran Intel. Research Desk\SFI HQ
TO: Lieutenant Saul Bental\Intelligence\USS Galaxy
SUBJECT: Re: Chimera's Byte

I heard about your promotion, Bental, and was wondering when you'll next contact me with your regular 'Told you so' routine. I still think that you would have advanced faster and did a job more interesting than being the Galaxy's 'intel servant' had you stayed here. Congratulations from everyone on the desk.

As for Chimera's Byte, what information we may have cannot be relayed to you given your position. However, we don't know much beyond the intelligence batch already spread through the regular pipelines.

* * *
FROM: Lieutenant Saul Bental\Intelligence\USS Galaxy
TO: Commander Stom\Hydran Intel. Research Desk\SFI HQ
SUBJECT: Re: Chimera's Byte

Stom, THEY already know what happened at Chimera's Byte. We don't. And unless you want the battle of Havras all over again without the cavalry, I ask that you provide any bit of information you have.

Officers' lives are on the line here, Commander. If you know something that can help keep them safe and you withhold it, their blood will be on your fingers. Worse for you - it'll make you the perfect scrape goat when Starfleet sets a committee to find out how we lost an entire fleet in Romulan space.

* * *
FROM: Commander Stom\Hydran Intel. Research Desk\SFI HQ
TO: Lieutenant Saul Bental\Intelligence\USS Galaxy
SUBJECT: Re: Chimera's Byte

Bental, save your manipulations for other people. Whatever I have, I cannot send you via subspace for obvious reasons - it is not helpful or urgent enough for me to compromise the 'special pipelines'. I'll see to it that the information will be delivered to you on the next vessel to reach ch'Rihan.

Until then, have a good day.

"Working Picnic"

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor
Pilot Ember Lansky, Vanguard Squadron

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

Ember Lansky would never voluntarily visit a counselor. She would have to be threatened, compelled or ordered, and even so, she would find her own ways to rebel against the 'request' thrust upon her, like showing up in a clown suit for example, but she would never, ever, in a million years -- and more after that, show up at a counselor's office unbidden. Or, at least, that was what she used to think.

It was almost ironic just how dead wrong she was, and it would no doubt make galaxy headlines if someone caught her standing out here in the corridor, with the most unusual, unexpected object in hand.

She buzzed again. With the way her luck was going lately, Miramon would likely be shocked out of his pants and possibly faint in front of her, needing immediate medical assistance, especially since she was dropping by unannounced.

T'Reev had already announced the presence of yet another appointment waiting outside the office. Miramon had already had quite enough of them today, since Commander Dallas has been kind enough to provide him with a full schedule today, rather than easing him into the job as she had been recently. He didn't mind, but it was one of those days when the only thing he wanted right now was a good sonic shower, a decent meal and a good night's sleep.

But still, he could hardly tell whoever it was to go away simply based on the fact that he had not had a quiet day. After all, this was to be expected and, as with most things, appointments tended to come and go, sometimes to the point where they were inundated, at other times, they barely had an appointment each during the duty shift, which meant they had to go hunt people down and pester them to ensure that *nothing* was wrong with them.

Well, beyond the fact that they had a pesky Counsellor following them around.

"You can send whoever it is in, Mr T'Reev," he said, almost sighing off the last name. He'd not met T'Reev until he'd first reported in to the Counselling Offices, and now the Vulcan was very much a familiar face. One he associated with work, no less.

"Thank you," Ember said to the man who let her in, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement before proceeding into Miramon's office. The first thing she noticed when she stepped in, was how tired the Bajoran looked. It wasn't like they had had a lot of daily interaction with each other for her to grow accustomed to his signs of fatigue, but there was just something... missing from his usually refreshed mien of peacefulness. Something missing, or maybe it was something additional -- a telltale, but faint crease of the brow.

"Hey you, surprise," She greeted, summoning a broad grin that she held on her face, holding up a basket. Of all things, a *picnic* basket. It almost wasn't certain which should have been the most surprising -- the delivery of comfort food to his office, or how drastically different she now seemed since they last saw each other. "I brought you stuff. It's going to make you feel a whole lot better," She continued, sounding strangely upbeat as she already began laying out a cloth over his coffee table and opening the basket. "Granted, I didn't cook any of these things, and I admit, they're all replicated, but it doesn't mean they're any less delicious. And there's so much food in here, you're going to have a hard time finishing, I'm sure." Ember smiled, barely pausing enough for a breath.

That caused a look of surprise to appear across the Bajoran's normally placid expression. Maybe he was tired enough to hallucinate the presence of Ember standing in his doorway, with a picnic basket no less. He tried to get the notion through what he felt was a mind suddenly turned to mush. Several months ago, Ember would have likely been quite happy to push him through a bulkhead, and now she was standing in his office bringing food. Replicated, no less. He was certain that was only a light aspirin he'd taken this morning...

He shook his head softly from side to side, as though trying to shake the hallucination from his mind. When his eyes focused again, he half expected her to be gone. No, she was still there. Not a hallucination, then? That was strange. Maybe it was Ember that had taken something beyond an aspirin, then? He wasn't sure, but still, he was hardly going to call attention to the possibility. After all she was in his office with a picnic basket. Not something that happened everyday.

"If there's so much there that I won't be able to eat it all myself, perhaps you'd care to sit down and have some as well? Better that than good food going to waste. Plus, of course, you should never eat alone."

Well, not quite true, he thought. Humans tended to believe that you should never drink alone, but he enjoyed cooking too much not to apply the same principle to food, especially good food. Admittedly, he had reservations about calling replicated food 'good', but it was the thought that counted, really.

"Still, my office isn't exactly suitable for a picnic. Shall we find somewhere a little less...formal?" he asked.

"I'm most certainly joining you in this little… picnic," She smiled, not stopping at all in her motions. She was taking out quite a few things from the basket. There was a loaf of bread, sandwiches, cheese, biscuits, and to top it all off, cake. She had even brought beverages. Shocking. And she hadn't even forgotten cutlery. She placed two plates onto the table, laying out a place setting for each. "And don't you dare ask me to move all these somewhere else now," She told him, in a tone of voice that still sounded bright and chirpy, even with the firm intonation. "There's too much here to move. Besides, what's wrong with eating in the office? It's perfectly okay, and maybe, might just add a more relaxed atmosphere and a healthier mental association to this room than let it be just about work, work and more work."

If nothing else, she was loquacious today. "C'mon, take a seat," Ember cajoled. There was something... off about all these, though it may not yet be obvious what.

Miramon relented at last, sitting back down on the couch with a wryly resigned expression on his face. He watched Ember carefully as she unpacked the food, keeping his dark blue eyes on her face in order to see any evidence of the underlying state of mind that must have been prevalent there. Regardless of the fact that he was rather drawn to the idea of this little picnic, nonetheless, he had to question *why* they were having this picnic. He might have been wrong, but it didn't normally seem like something Ember would do.

"What's the occasion? Did I forget my birthday, or is it yours? Or did you get promoted and nobody told me?" he asked gently. He wasn't naturally a suspicious person, but this *did* strike him as unusual behaviour, even if he did kind of enjoy it.

Ember shook her head, a teasing smile on her face. "Why, do we need a special occasion to have a picnic? To share a meal together? Can't we just do it because we feel like it?" Picking up a knife, she cut a slice of the chocolate cake and scooped it onto his plate. "Try it, it's yummy, really." She said, somehow still having that too-bright, too-forced note of insouciance in her voice. She sat back down after taking one slice for herself and took a bite with her fork.

"This is what happy people do, isn't it?" She said more softly, rhetorically.

Ah, so that was the way the wind was blowing. The comment smacked of self-denial, and given the situation Ember was in at the moment, that should hardly have surprised him. It sounded to him as though she was forcing herself to be 'happy', holding back the flood of emotions likely underlying that external facade.

"And are you happy, Ember? I know we're having this picnic, which is normally something happy people do, as you say, but this isn't to say you're necessarily alright," he noted. Indeed, he half suspected something definately *wasn't* alright, so the picnic was a good way to break the ice as she worked her way around to discussing what was on her mind. Maybe that was a counselling technique he should try more often.

Still, while he was watching her, he did indeed try the chocolate cake. Ember likely didn't realise it, but you didn't hand this particular Bajoran chocolate cake. He didn't like chocolate. He LOVED chocolate. And regularly cursed the person that introduced him to it simply because it was one of those things he knew fully well that he ate too much of.

Ember too had a fond passion for chocolate and she was enjoying the food, nibble by nibble, or at least, appeared to be. It was incredible though, how even when having a simple picnic, she couldn't be let off the hook. Naturally, Miramon couldn't be interested in pursuing a subject as frivolous as chocolate. He had to ask her if she was happy; he had to concern himself over her emotional well-being, even if he was technically, "not working".

"Why can't I be?" She asked again, yet another question to his question.

"I'm not saying that you can't be, as in you don't have the potential for happiness available to you, I'm simply saying that I'm not sure that you are. You're having to deal with some pretty negative emotions right now, so your natural instinct will be to push those feelings away to avoid being hurt by them," Miramon noted calmly. He knew as he said it that Ember wasn't likely going to be 'happy' with his analysis, but he wasn't going to accept her emotions at face value, since it was obvious to his mind that she was trying to deny how she really felt.

"It's quite a common thing, though. In the days of less advanced medicine, people would take painkillers to prevent themselves feeling that agony of their injuries, and this of course encouraged them to believe that nothing was, in fact, wrong with them. Thus, they would do everything as they had done prior to the injury and would inevitably do little more than exacerbate the wound, thus causing themselves more physical damage in the long term. That, I think, is what you're doing with your feelings."

The observation, even if it was accurate, stung. Ember swallowed, her face showing fleeting signs of flinching. Chafed, she involuntarily turned her focus to the chocolate cake in hand, taking larger bites from it and chewing hard, her energies suddenly seemingly channeled into an irrevocably simple act. She didn't say anything for the longest time, finishing the slice of cake, and setting the plate on the table with a clang before she turned to Miramon, a flash of anger steeling in her gaze. "Why can't you just accept that there's nothing wrong with me? I'm trying hard to be happy... and you're not helping," She accused, turning her face away from the Counselor, refusing to let him read her expressions like an open book.

"Trying to be happy is exactly the problem at hand, Ember. It means you're not succeeding, which leads me to ask why. Or would, if I didn't already know." Miramon knew that the human woman wasn't going to swallow this particular pill with anything other than bitterness, and like as not he was jeopardising his own relationship with her as a result, but nonetheless, he didn't want to see her in greater pain in the long run simply because she was refusing to let go. "I wish I could make it better, Ember, but alas, it's beyond my powers, as it is yours. The only thing you can do is to help yourself to move on."

Ember sucked in a deep breath, and when she looked back at Miramon, there was a glint of tears in her eyes, and it was painfully obvious that she was holding back, with her facial muscles tensely clenched. Her stubbornness -- and pride -- refused to let the tears fall freely. "Move on?" She gave a skeptical, mirthless laugh like Miramon had made the most inane statement. His know-it-all attitude and attempt to dismantle the layers of her carefully-sealed emotions irked her. "How can I move on when I don't even know for sure that he's dead or alive? When my belief and faith that he'll come back one day seems every day more and more like blind, foolish hope?" Her words were angry, but she didn't want to lash out at her friend. It wasn't his fault. He just didn't understand. Taking in several more deep breaths, she tried to steady herself.

"Let's eat, there's still so much food..." Ember said, obstinately unwilling to let the facade of good cheer unravel completely. She poured out drinks for the both of them, and served him -- and herself, another slice of cake. She tried to eat, to concentrate on this harmless, safe activity, but the fire had been struck. Her eyes were staring at the plate that she held, but her voice, in a whisper, was directed at him. "Tell me how to move on."

Miramon's deep blue eyes watched her carefully, his fair eyebrows raised slightly as he did so, not sure whether to proceed. Her reaction hadn't been the one he'd exactly been expecting - there had been something of her old fire there in her voice, but she hadn't exactly torn his head off, either, which to his mind was an improvement, but was probably not quite suitable for her, since lacking that same spark, she almost looked diminished. What he heard in her voice, though, suggested that she was at least making something of a recovery.

"Closure would have helped," he agreed, his gaze dropping back to the food, although he could do little more than pick at it for the moment. "If you knew Ayden was dead, you could at least mourn, I suppose." Miramon wasn't sure he wanted to be around for that. If this was how she was in this limbo of uncertainty, seeing how she reacted to the pain of permanent loss wouldn't be something he'd want to watch.

"You really have to make a decision, Ember. Whether you want to wait to see if he somehow makes it back, or whether you can let him go and accept the fact that he may not. You can't float between the two, hoping that the former occurs and means you never have to come to terms with the possibility of the latter."

The Bajoran knew how harsh that was going to sound to her. He'd only been a counsellor for a little while now, but he was already very much familiar with how people reacted to them, as though they were inhuman, lacking that same core of emotion. Maybe that was true of the clinical Vulcan standing outside the cluster of offices, but the others all knew that you couldn't risk being carried along by the emotions that walked through the door when your appointments did. If you couldn't help yourself, how could you help other people?

~ You can't float between the two ~

Miramon's words echoed in the caverns of her mind.

~ Hoping that he comes back means you'll never be able to let him go ~

Maybe that was why she was in so much pain and grief. They hadn't been able to find a body at the site and he could very well be dead. Ayden might never come back. It was a real possibility. But even with that thought in her head, she couldn't quash the undying flare of hope that he might be alive, that he might return. After all, if something had happened to him, there would have been evidence to sugest it. If he had been incinerated or worse, there would at least have been ashes, something. That they found nothing was good news, right? She was caught between the two possibilities, doomed to unrest because she was forever hovering in uncertainty.

Having her problem pinpointed and put into words didn't make it easier. She was suddenly forced to recognise the decision she must make, but which she did not want to make.

Damnably, it was growing harder and harder for her to keep the faith. The first few days were easy, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, time stretching to infinity, with no end in sight, she couldn't deny that the glimmer of foolish hope in her was starting to falter. She hated her weakness. She hated herself for even letting her thoughts venture in that direction.

Ember didn't want to have to make the decision. She didn't want to. "I... I gotta go, Miramon. Thanks for the advice. I'll.. I'll keep that in mind. Enjoy the picnic, the rest of the food. It'll be a pity to let it go to waste." She rattled off flounderingly, seeming distracted and not at all herself. Worrying still perhaps was the false smile she had pasted on her face. "Let's catch up again sometime okay? You can come look for me... I, I would enjoy the company." Her words were probably not making sense to herself. She was rambling, and then, only a few seconds later, she had hastened out the door.

The Bajoran watched sadly as Ember left his office. He delayed a moment, then gave a soft, exasperated sigh. He was definately beginning to think that there might be something to those warnings that suggested to all Counsellors that they should separate their professional work from their personal lives. Now the lines were looking a little blurry...

"Here's to Priorities" -- pt. 1

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Lt. Miramon Terrik
Counselor USS Galaxy

"I have to admit I've been more than a little excited to inaugurate this new stuff," Brian Elessidil said with an almost child-like smile. As his last "gift" to his friend and counselor before his departure, Captain Henderson had approved a modest expansion of the counselor's quarters to accommodate a small but fully functional kitchen. Along with his addition to the command rotation on Gamma Shift, Brian found himself with more than enough to do, and in the wake of the negotiations on Cheron he hadn't yet had a chance to enjoy it.

"Saul told me of your interest in cooking, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone," he said, taking a sip of a glass of Chardonnay before starting to chop the assortment of Betazoid herbs that sat arranged in neat bunches around the perimeter of his cutting board. "I didn't know if you had any interest in Betazoid recipes but I thought I'd make the gamble. I hope that's okay."

"Never trust an Intelligence Officer to keep their mouth shut, sir," Miramon said, his expression hinting at a smile to show that he wasn't serious, although it was relatively obvious from his tone that this was so. "But, yes, I happen to enjoy Betazoid cooking. I had a roommate at the Academy that was a Betazoid. She was very amenable to the notion of actually cooking herself, so I picked up a few things there."

Never mind the fact that he'd been one of the oldest students at the Academy at the time, aside from the Vulcans. He'd enjoyed it, nonetheless, but he'd had to work harder at it, since he was working bereft of the experience of Starfleet that Federation citizens had had. His life experiences had consisted of the Occupation, beyond those few short years once it had ended.

Certainly, he'd never expected to find himself being invited for dinner by one of his senior officers - certainly that had never happened before, even when he had been a senior officer aboard ship himself. The experience was a tad awkward, but at the end of the day, they were both Counsellors and both avid fans of cooking (as was quickly becoming apparent). Seemed an appropriate way to melt the ice, and the Bajoran was thankful for the opportunity.

He was very much impressed by the kitchen. The Bajoran had a somewhat smaller set-up in his quarters, but nothing quite like this one. It was almost as though it had been designed for the other Counsellor, which, on reflection, it probably had. Certainly he doubted anyone else could quite seem to revel in the ritual of cooking as could the Betazoid did.

"Do you cook often then, sir?"

Brian chuckled. "Please, you can just call me 'Brian' here. And no, I don't get to cook as often as I'd like, but I'm hoping now that I have easy access to a more functional facility there might be some chance of doing better about that. Could I impose upon you to start the sauce?" he asked, interrupting himself. "There are beranth eggs and some light p'rii in the refrigerator. I don't know though, it might be wishful thinking that there will ever be enough time, especially with a ship this size and now with the unique nature of our current mission. But I guess all we can do is try," he said, smiling again.

"So I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that I'm very interested in how you came to the decision to get into counseling. We refugees from Navigation and Flight Control are a rare breed in this field. I served with an officer the first time I was assigned to this ship who'd gone the other way, left Counseling to become a pilot, but that's as close as I know."

Miramon could well understand that. It seemed almost a contradiction in terms - a hot-blooded, impulsive pilot becoming a relaxed, calm counsellor. Well, stereotypically so, anyway. He'd never quite been too far along the opposite end of the scale, even when he'd been younger, but he could see why few people made a similar transition. It was probably, he supposed, that working as a pilot was a possible step towards command. It would be very rare for a Counsellor to ever reach the rank of Captain. Indeed, he certainly couldn't recall one.

He headed for the fridge and removed the eggs that the Lt.Cmdr had indicated, in preparation for making the sauce. Compared to Bajoran meals and even some Earth meals, Betazoid cooking tended to be somewhat complex, using unusual ingredients in strange ways to produce delicious results. Which was all to the good for people that enjoyed cooking as an art, as the two Counsellors did, but even so, it took some doing.

As he began whipping up the sauce, according to his 'orders' for the evening, the Bajoran eyed the other Counsellor, pausing a moment before answering the unspoken query.

"Well, I transferred over because, in the end, my career didn't feel as high up on my list of priorities as it used to. Frankly, I'd be happy to reach your rank, Brian. Most of the others in Flight Control think it was a bad move, since I lost my position as a Senior Officer, but I'm more comfortable talking to people as people, rather than as subordinates to be given orders."

"It is an adjustment," Elessidil agreed. "I gave up being Chief Counselor and Second Officer in my previous assignment and I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes wonder if it was a smart move; I've certainly seen my share of raised eyebrows over it. But being happy with what you're doing is far more important than title or rank; those will come with time but satisfaction and fulfillment in your career aren't as predictable." Inwardly, he had to remind himself to heed his own words in the face of his recently re-emergent thoughts about getting that third full pip. "You could have gone into civilian practice if you wanted to avoid the orders and hierarchy altogether. What made you decide to stay in Starfleet?"

A soft little shrug accentuated the reply, which was, realistically, both obvious and simple, at least as far as Miramon was concerned.

"I joined Starfleet once the Occupation was over to work for something bigger than myself, bigger than any of us. Four years of Academy training, several years aboard starships. I can't give that up, any more than I can stop being a pilot by wearing a teal uniform." He paused for a moment, thinking about it. "I guess I don't mind the idea of command, and maybe one day I'll consider it further, but when I joined up, I wanted to do the job, and enjoy it for what it was. I didn't like the paperwork that came with being a Department Head."

He stirred what was rapidly becoming the sauce for the meal, using even-handed motions of the wrist, stirring it anti-clockwise and moving some of the outer sauce into the middle, mixing it together slowly.

"And you, Brian? What made you transfer?" he asked, continuing to stir the sauce with a languid, relaxed pace.

"You didn't like the paperwork as a department head so you decided to transfer to Counseling? That's kinda like becoming a fish because you don't like water," Elessidil joked. "What made me transfer . . ." he echoed, thinking out loud as he retrieved a pan containing two prepared game birds that looked a lot like Terran Cornish hens but significantly paler. "Well, both times -- I went back to Flight Control for awhile, held the same position on the Miranda that you had here -- I had decided I wasn't finding much sense of purpose or meaning in plotting courses or steering a starship. I wanted to make a difference in people's lives that at least had the possibility of being more substantial than moving them from one place to another -- physically, anyway," he added with a smirk.

"Here's to Priorities" -- pt. 2

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Lt. Miramon Terrik
Counselor USS Galaxy

"Okay, now there's a trick to this sauce," he continued, shifting topic for a moment. "These herbs have to be stirred in in the proper order. It's strange, but there's actually a series of chemical interactions that if they don't happen in the right sequence will leave you with your spoon permanently set in a block of what looks like green amber," he said with a laugh as he handed Miramon the first of several small glass cups filled with finely chopped herbs of various shades of green. "Stir each of these into the sauce in the order I give them to you."

As he passed the herbs to Terrik one at a time, he went back to their previous discussion. "It might be the nature of the job, it might just be my personality or some combination of the two, but there are times when I feel a sense of 'sameness' creeping up on me in this job. That's why I like to try to find things to do that take me beyond the session-after-session routine, like the mission on Vaden, the negotiations at Cheron or even my command rotation on the bridge. I think that's ultimately why I remain in Starfleet; there are a great many possibilities that just wouldn't be available in a civilian situation."

Miramon complied with regards to adding the herbs, although he was somewhat dubious to the Betazoid's claim that the sauce wouldn't come out right if they varied the order of herbs. In his experience, if you didn't play around with a recipe, you'd never gain the potential benefits of a different taste.

"If you think there wasn't some serious paperwork involved with being a Department Head, you're simply not using your imagination, Brian," the Bajoran said with a wry smile. Frankly, he found there was an awful lot less of it within Counselling, and at least what there was would inevitably prove more relevant to the job than having to pour over duty rosters, personnel evaluations and the like.

"Still, I agree with you in regards to not feeling a sense of purpose when it came to piloting. It might have been different if we had manual steering, something that can really make the deckplates shudder beneath your feet. But I never did truly enjoy steering a skip with warp nacelles. Might as well try to consider a building as being maneuverable."

In honesty, most of his ire towards piloting, at least at the helm of a starship, was simply how restrained it all was. You pushed a few buttons when the Captain or XO ordered you to. The only real time you got any freedom at the controls was during combat or the like. And by that point, you were too busy considering the many different ways in which your console could explode if you made a single wrong move, so enjoying the experience was hardly top of the list.

"Oh I'm well aware of how much paperwork is involved with being a department chief, but in my experience there's been a lot more in counseling; there are just a lot more people to deal with. But maybe that has something to do with being the assistant chief. You might be fortunate enough to be spared that part of it," he said with a laugh as he handed over the last cup of herbs. "And you're right about starship piloting often being rather mundane. On the positive side though, I have to say that if it weren't for some of that during my first assignment, I might not have had the chance to daydream about being a counselor," he said, laughing again. It felt good to talk with someone with such a similar experience and viewpoint.

He extracted two plate that had already been lined with a bed of greens and took them to the table. "Once the sauce becomes a very pale yellowish color, it's ready to go on the birds and they'll be ready for the oven. Osri are small and thin-skinned birds fortunately, so they won't take long at all to roast."

"Do you go back to Bajor much?"

"I have to admit to have never having tried this particular dish. It should be interesting," Miramon admitted, despite his dubious look with regards to the two 'birds' being prepared for the oven. He wasn't vegetarian, certainly, but some days he thought he might manage just as well if he were.

"Although, to answer your question, I haven't been back to Bajor in some time. The last time I was there was when several of us went aboard the USS Valkyrie to try and track down a rogue officer. What was her name again? Pennington? And that was back when I was an ensign, not long after I'd first been assigned here. And you, do you go to Betazed often? I'm told it's a lovely planet."

"It is," Elessidil readily agreed, sipping again from his Chardonnay. "I go back occasionally to see my sister and her family, and some other relatives, but my parents still live on Earth, so I go there at least as much. I'm a bit overdue for a visit to either but that's obviously not going to happen for awhile."

"I take it you're not optimistic about the upcoming mission, then?" Miramon asked, curiously. He personally had no thoughts on the matter either way - after all, his job now was to deal with the psychological aftereffects, and he was no longer privy to the senior officer briefings, so he had little idea of what to expect.

"Oh no, I'm almost always willing to given even the most difficult circumstances a chance," he answered, though he reminded himself that as the negotiations on Cheron testified, this area of space was fraught with massive hurdles that even just their presence made worse.

"I just meant that there will be a lot going on and that it's going to take time."

"Ah, yes, as always. Fortunate, I suppose, that our job is always consistent, in a sense. We just deal with people's psychological problems or, rather, help them find a way to deal with them of their own volition. I must say, though, I don't envy the command staff this one."

"Nor do I," Brian concurred. "Hundreds of years of multilateral antagonism and mistrust? Doesn't set the stage very well at all. But, the chance that our presence could help foster some much-needed stability to this region and possibly improve relations with Romulans is a strong incentive."

"It needs to be, given that we run the risk of destabilising things there with our presence. And of course, even if we succeed, that success will be with the current Romulan administration. If they were to be replaced later with hardliners that oppose what we do next, we could very well find this was all for nothing," Miramon noted, pessimism significantly tinging his intonation. He wasn't normally so inclined towards that level of cynicism, but it was always there when it came to Romulans and Cardassians. Neither race could truly be trusted, in his opinion.

"Let's hope it doesn't play out that way." Brian filled two water glasses and placed them on the table next to their plates. "This could put a lot of strain on the crew, especially the senior staff. Ready to dive in head first, Counselor?"

"Oh, absolutely," the Bajoran affirmed dryly, partially because the thought was an amusing one and also because, as far as he was concerned, it wasn't as though they really had a great deal of choice. "But food comes first. Then we can worry about the workload, yes?"

Elessidil grinned and raised his glass. "Then here's to priorities."

"Just When You Think..."

Ensign Faylin McAlister, JAG

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer

Location: Ten - Forward

Faylin sat, with a mild buzz of emotion enveloping her senses. It was peacefull in some aspects. Time was going slowly for her as she sat waiting for her transport to the planet. It was not very long until a face that had grown a familiar entered the room.

Nara walked into Ten Forward. She basically only came here for lunch anymore. She saw Faylin and wandered over. "May I?"

"Sure, sit." She paused, taking a sip from her cup. At this point, with things going slowly, the fun way to stir things up was to start some major drama. Inwardly, her mind spun with possibilities. "Drinking?"

"Not till tonight. Just came for lunch." Nara's mood was...indifferent at the moment. She was in duty mode. She had her emotions and temper and excitability tied up in a closet so she could focus on work.

"Same. Plan to sample some things on the planet. Have you heard anything that's spreading around the rumor mill lately?" Curiosity bit at her as she waited for a response.

After ordering a meal, Nara shrugged, "I try not to pay attention to rumors."

"Understandable." Faylin paused for a moment, taking another sip of her beverage. "How have things been? Have you seen Star recently?"

"She's been busy with a project. The others are still sore at me, and I've been officially rejected from the pod until further notice." She added in a mutter, "Damn sensitive."

"Yipes." Faylin muttered. She wondered what to say next. "How's Saul?"

An excited look crossed her face before she cleared her throat, "Fine."

Knitting her eyebrows, Faylin observed how the look on her face did not match the monotone voice that accompanied it. "Are you sure? You don't sound fine."

Nara smirked, "Believe me. Last time I saw him, he was quite fine."

"Okay, what's going on? The attitude is showing." She stated firmly.

Nara laughed, "What attitude?"

"The happy attitude. Things looking up lately?" Faylin stated with a serious glance.

"I do have some good days."

"We all do I suppose...just depends on how far apart the good days are spaced." She stated absentmindedly. "Okay, I'm just gonna come out and say this. I'd like to be friends with you, but there is something in the way of it all that I need to tell you."

Nara furrowed her brow, "Uh, ok?"

"Saul and I know each other....and by that...I mean really know each other."

Nara shrugged, "We both had lives before meeting." Then she realized, "I have to admit, I never expected to meet anyone he's been with. Never thought to ask about his past lovers. I never had any."

"Three years ago we had one of those torid, short, passionate little affairs that was nothing but sex." Faylin felt a weight lift off her shoulders. "It was nothing really....but I just thought you should know."

Nara nodded, still unsure what to do with the information. "Ok." After an awkward silence, she sounded a bit worried, "You're the JAG officer."

"Yes, that I am." Faylin stated with a hint of venom to her tone. She waved off concern, inwardly content that she heard worry in Nara's voice. McAlister knew she was a bitch, but, she didn't care. The true essence of the woman started to surface. She did not just earn a reputation as a vixen, she earned a reputation as the lowest, sneakiest, backhanded, most vicious attorney of the bunch at headquarters. Emotions meant nothing to her, except where her daughter was concerned. Men and women both were to be used for her pleasure, advancement, and disposal when she was finished. Her eyes flashed as her mentally switched. Standing, she nodded to Nara as she still sat. "I have to get going." Turning to leave, she permitted an evil grin to cross her features. She paused, turned to face Nara and spoke. "If Saul seems a little more passionate these days, you can thank memories of me for that." With a confident step, she exited Ten-Forward.

Nara's face fell. She looked crestfallen and then put her head in her hands, "Can't trust anyone."

"Between a Cat and a Hard Place - Part 1"

Lieutenant Commander Spa'an, Sciences USS Miranda
Lieutenant Th'Kh'ss K'aa, Tactical USS Miranda
Lieutenant Nathan "Cowboy" Everett, RogueSquadron USS Miranda
Lieutenant jg Chris Daniels, Tactical Analyst USS Miranda
Lieutenant jg Nara Roswell, Engineering USS Galaxy
Lieutenant jg Le'on "Victim" Khatrowen, Security USS Miranda
Ensign Shaav, Engineering USS Miranda

Shuttle Bay Three, USS Miranda
========================

It was beautiful in an alien, non-euclidean way. The cobalt blue craft's smooth, rounded lines were in sharp contrast to the flat planes and angles of the shuttlebay. Except for the communication relays that were still hooked up to Miranda's network, the Hydran fighter had remained untouched for weeks - everyone on board too busy dealing with the fifteen thousand refugees Miranda had brought back from the Delta Quadrant.

Arms crossed, Th'Khiss K'aa had to admire the engineering and design of it from a distance; the vessel was graceful, efficient... and small - there was no way in the universe a Gorn could possibly cram into the cockpit. "There it isss, ladiesss and gentlemen -a Chevalier class tactical fighter. Not quite the current model of the Hydran fleet, but still in use from what Intel sssugggessstsss", he hisssed in a deep rumbling basso. "What do you think?"

"The aesthetics are not unpleasing." Shaav conceded with a nod.

A subdued *beep* suddenly sounded from the ever-present tricorder in his hand. Frowning slightly, the Vulcan's fingers darted across the small device's display. "Fascinating..." he murmured, stepping closer to the fighter.

"Agreed," Spa'an added, concurring with his fellow Vulcan's initial assessment, though from a different angle. "The molecular density of the vessel's hull is point-four-eight-eight times greater than even Starfleet's most heavily-armored ships," he observed. "Yet it appears that each molecule has been altered on the subatomic level to form a structure that is far lighter than the laws of physics suggest it should otherwise be. I cannot yet explain how this was achieved. 'Fascinating' indeed . . ."

Nathan couldn't help whistling at the sight of the Hydran fighter. Its organic, alien contours gave the craft a certain elegance...a gracefulness to it that the Starfleet fighters he was used to lacked. "Yeah, she's a right pretty-lookin' ship, if y'ask me," he admitted with a slight grin, glancing over at the rest of the team.

Chris strolled in from the CIC, two PADDs in his hand. He and K'aa were teaming up on this project. It wasn't too often the Tactical guys actually got to explore the stuff they studied. He walked up the Gorn and handed him the PADD. "Here's some more stuff from my friends at the Battlelabs in the Springs." Surprisingly to Chris, there were a lot of files available on Hydrans, one just had to know where to look.

"So, when do Ah git to take her up?" inquired the fighter pilot as he followed the Vulcans, stepping closer to the fighter. He wasn't too concerned with technical details, all he wanted was to feel what it was like to fly this thing.

Nara walked into the shuttle bay carrying her Engineering kit. So, she was the only person here not assigned to the Miranda. She was given the chance to see a Hydran Fighter, and she would take it. She would be back in time to be overwhelmed by Saia's nasty attitude. Not to mention it was a ship her mother served on. Not long enough for anyone to really remember Allas Tris, but still. She approached the already gathered group.

"I would assume, Lieutenant, that once we have a reasonable understanding of the vessel's structure and operations, and have determined that it is indeed safe to fly, you will be the first to know," Spa'an said matter-of-factly, still engrossed in the data his tricorder and his own eyes were receiving.

"Alright, what the hell're we waitin' fer, then? Let's git to work!" Nathan exclaimed, turning to look back at Spa'an. As he turned, he noticed an attractive woman in engineering gold approaching, and he quickly shifted gears.

"Well, hello there, darlin'," he said, welcoming the newcomer with a charming smile.

She couldn't help returning the smile, "Hello, Lieutenant." She kept her posture and tone professional, but wasn't going to be a stick in the mud if things on the Miranda were a bit looser. After all, it wasn't everyday an outranking officer called you darlin. If she had been a stick in the mud she could had added him to the list of men she was getting arrested for harassment. But he was harmless enough. So it seemed for now.

The smiles were interrupted by a deep, basso hissing. "There are a number of problemsss to overcome Missster Everett", the Gorn Tactical Officer remarked dryly. "In addition to the problemsss in understanding the Hydran fusssion technology, there'sss the matter of growing you an additional arm and eye - Hydranssss have three of each, and they're all needed to fly the fighter." The reptilian's yellow eye rotated to fix on the boomer pilot, and his lips seemed to recede to expose more fangs. "Fortunately, I've taken sssstepsss towardsss a posssible sssolution."

Shaav raised an eyebrow. "'Steps', Lieutenant?"

At that time, Le'on had finally arrived after briefing Arel on the situation on the bridge right before being relieved for the Away mission. He didn't like it when he entered a room and everyone stopped their conversation to look at him. It was even worse when there were knowing glances and smiles being traded as if there was a joke going around that he didn't know about.

Le'on had a sinking feeling that he was going to be in for one hell of a time, much like when he took the 'bobsled' run through the Galaxy's ventilation systems that one time. The presence of the Hydran fighter here didn't do much to quell his anxiety as it was the Hydrans who were responsible for said trip.

As he approached the group, he saw his former roommate almost smiling. "Vat?" he said finally. "You call for security officer, da?"

Nathan stared, dumbstruck, as the diminutive feline entered the shuttle bay. His mouth opened, then closed, and he looked over at K'aa. "Aw, hell no..." he complained, shaking his head as he started to realize what the Gorn was proposing.

"Hell yessss, I'm afraid", K'aa replied to the boomer's evident dismay. "Room on the fighter issss at a premium and conssstruction on a prosthetic would take too much time and occupy too much space. Lieutenant Khatrowen, er, ah... fitsss the bill quite quite adequately. In addition to being of a sssuitable sssize, he constantly achievesss Miranda'sss top ranking in marksssmanship."

Nara blinked seeing the small ... Caitan? She'd never seen one so small, nor one so much like a house cat. It talked, and she'd had debates over which standards for diagnostics should cause concern with the dolphins, so in essence it really wasn't all that strange. She was the guest on the ship, so just stood there at ease.

Le'on ignored the stares from Nara, he was used to it by now. Instead, he was focused on what K'aa had said. Suitable size? Le'on really didn't like the sound of that one. Last time someone said 'suitable size', Sinjin Kirk took great pleasure in using an old fashioned plunger in order to shove him through a really small hole in a wall back on Andor. He eyed the Gorn warily. "Just what you have in mind dis time friend?" he asked with suspicion.

K'aa's expression bore no sign of the trepedation he felt. "A sssimple application of the correct... talentsss to the proper usssse", he hisssed. A talon claw pointed at Everett, "pilot", and another to the Caitian, "gunner. It'ssss the only sssolution we have given the time available. If we had monthsss, some auxiliary control could be rigged, but...." he ended the sentence with a shrug.

Nathan frowned. "Dammit, K'aa, ya didn't tell me Ah'd have the damn furball ridin' shotgun with me," he grumbled. He glanced down at the Caitian again. "No offense."

"None taken..." Le'on replied nonchalantly as he pulled out a small nail file from under his belt and sharpened a claw. "Just don't go sticking hand where it don't belong." He said with an evil smile at Nathan.

Completing his initial examination of the fighter's exterior, Spa'an turned to Everett. "The arrangement Lieutenant K'aa suggests is the most logical utilization of attributes and abilities. As we do not yet have sufficient knowledge of Hydran technology it would not be advisable to attempt any kind of modifications of our own. We will, as humans like to say, have to make the best of it."

Nara looked at the fighter and wondered why she was called. She looked among the people for the highest ranking officer. She made a step closer to Spa'an. "Lt. Naranda Roswell, reporting from the USS Galaxy." She gave a salute.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Spa'an replied, raising an eyebrow at the uncommon display of formality. "I believe you are an engineer, are you not?" he queried, recalling the name from the Galaxy's officers manifest he'd virtually committed to memory in advance of their rendez-vous. She nodded and stood at ease, "Yes, sir." "Lieutenant K'aa has been given responsibility for this task. He will undoubtedly want you to confer with Ensign Shaav, one of the Miranda's engineering officers, regarding his findings thus far." Not looking up from his tricorder, he pointed efficiently to the other Vulcan similarly occupied.

While Nara reported in, Le'on passed by the Vulcan and entered the fighter himself. "Damn this is small..." he said as he got a view of the interior. His gaze settled at the pilots chair and where HE would be sitting at for this little trip. "Aw NYET!" he shouted out. He then let out a sting of curses in full Caitain that sounded like a mixture of hissing, growling, meowing, and a hairball coming up.

The Gorn offered no audible reply, but exposed more teeth as he saw Le'on peer into the Hydran craft. Le'on reappeared at the doorway. "You want me to crawl in WHERE, K'aa?!" he called out to the Gorn while pointing back toward the cockpit.

Spa'an again raised an eyebrow. "Do you suffer from claustrophobia, Lieutenant?" The continuous sounds of spitting and growling from the feline Security Officer made K'aa realize that more than rhetoric would be required to get the fighter combat ready. Fortunately, he had planned for such difficulties...

"Homework, Heroes, and Horses"

Gwen
Korvin, age 5

*****

Even though he knew that it wasn't going to matter, he pointed out to his SoS again that he hadn't needed a babysitter in the jungle.

Mommy shrugged. "You didn't need ice cream in the jungle either. Perhaps we should get rid of that as well."

Korvin pouted his lower lip and received a flicker of a smile before his SoS told him to behave himself and left for work.

He turned to his new babysitter.

"Hi Korvin." Gwen said. "I am Gwendolyn, and really sorry that Jenny had to study today, and you are stuck with me." She flopped down on the couch. "So what do you usually do?"

"After I finish my school work, I play." Korvin said. "K'Laudia and I were going to make a tree house; do you want to help?"

"Sure." Gwen said. "I like to play as well. Do you have to do homework at your age?" She pulled a face.

"Uh-huh. I'm writing a story." Korvin said. "And drawing pictures."

"That's nice homework. Can I watch?" Scuttlebutt was that the little boy was difficult and headstrong but Gwen thought he was cute and adorable.

"Sure." Korvin said as he pulled out his papers and crayons. "Here's Kahless, see?" The little boy held up a large headed Klingon warrior (complete with bloody bat'leth) surrounded by several disfigured stick-figure enemies.

"That's... interesting, honey." She stared at the bloody picture. "Why did you draw this?"

"It's from my story." Korvin said proudly. "It's when Kahless the Great fought the army at Three Turn Bridge. All by himself!"

"My! All by himself, he must have been very strong. And is he your big hero, Korvin?"

"Well," Korvin said with a frown. "He was very strong but I've never met him so I don't know if he can be my hero."

She watched him. "Do you have to meet somebody for them to be your hero? When I was your age I had loads of heroes, from books and vidprogrammes."

The child's frown deepened. "But those aren't real."

"Well some were. Some were people from history just like Kahless."Gwen explained.

Korvin gave the matter some thought before asking Gwen if she could pass the red crayon. "What do you like to draw?"

She handed him the crayon and thought for a while. "I guess I like to draw horses. Arabian horses." She said honestly. "But I don't draw very well."

"I'll show you how." Korvin said importantly. "Watch me."

"Okay, you teach me." She couldn't understand why some people said this child was difficult. He was a total sweetheart. But then she loved kids.

"See?" The little boy said pointing. "That's his tail."

Gwen watched with interest. "Yes I can see. Very good, Korvin."

"Do you want a BOY horse or a girl horse?"

"Well...." Not really wanting to see him draw a boy horse she selected girl. "I think a girl horse will do just nicely."

Korvin snorted but did what she asked. "No peeking!"

"Okay." She closed her eyes and even put her hands before her eyes to show him she was playing along.

When he was done, the horse had a long pink skirt on. "Here you go, Gwen."

She opened her eyes to look at the painting.

"You're supposed to say if you like it." Korvin informed her.

"Of course, stupid me. It's wonderful, Korvin." She said. With some imagination she could make out it was supposed to be an animal.

Korvin nodded. "I know. You try now."

"All right." Gwen started to draw enjoying time together with the delightful little boy.

“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall” (Part 3)

Lieutenant Nara Roswell
USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
USS Galaxy

Nara smiled. "Like I said. I can see you’re a telepath by how you organized this. E...." She frowned and slammed a wall over a part of her mind. Only one other mind was so organized to have a greeter. That one tried to kill her.

"I was afraid that, excuse me a moment..." Pariah bowed, before taking flight... and vanishing. When suddenly a disturbing image appeared before her... but it wasn't Pariah... it was herself.

She gasped and stepped back, turning away. "ZEV!"

"ZEV! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!" Seeing one's self in someone's mind was unnerving. Seeing one's self that was there as a result from almost dying was downright horrifying. ~When the hell did I end up in here? ~ Then she recalled. The moment the Dithparu duo left her mind, she collapsed. Her body was spent, used up. Ready for eternal rest. It was a time when one is thankful for modern medicine.

They had kept her body functioning until she regained the strength. But she didn't want to see an echo of her pre-death self. Hell, who would?

----

Meanwhile...

Pariah put his hand on Madden's shoulder. Madden's avatar was very different from Zev's, he looked more wolf-like in an appearance... he wore a white robe. A black crystal hung from his neck and darkness seemed to draw into it and there were no weapons on him other than a small Kris knife. His eyes were blood shoot, but their irises glowed an intense green.

"What are you doing?" Pariah asked, already knowing the answer.

~Trying to get into HER head... you know what they say... all's fair in love and war...~ Madden answered.

"Yes well, not going to happen today..." Pariah said, then digging his fingers into Madden's shoulder and flinging back into his own mindscape. It began to thunder there, and rain started to fall.

----

She was startled by the thunder and looked at her hands, watching the rain drops fall there a moment. Weather in a mindscape wasn't so new to her. She muttered, "Least I'm not freezing." She sighed impatiently, and with a bit of fear and called out again. "ZEV!"

She turned and startled again seeing herself. She could almost see through her. She gasped as the person before her suddenly blinked. She gulped and waved a trembling hand and tried to sound demanding, but what came out was little more than a shaky suggestion. "Off with you now."

"You’re... me?" the shadow stated. "But I thought I was the only... unless I'm truly dead now..." the shadow Nara's face lit up a bit. "That means the speaker can perform the ritual... and I can be me again."

Nara looked at the faded dupe of herself, "What the hell?" She could never imagine herself talking like that. If she believed in any rituals it were the Sakarian ones and only one she imagined she'd follow were the marriage ones. "Listen here. I'M ME! You're...I don't know what the hell is going on in this man's mind, but you're not the real Nara. I am and I really wish you'd go away now.

"Of course I'm not you... I'm empty inside... a mere collection of memories with no consciousness or soul... manifested into this through a unconscious process... but since you’re here... the speaker can perform the ritual, join us... make me whole... I'm just a mere shadow of you, but a shadow that is in some respects aware..." shadow Nara explained.

"But now your here... I can be me again..."

Nara shook her head annoyed and extremely unnerved, "Again? You wouldn't even exist if it weren't for the damned Dithparu."

And then another sight appeared as if on cue... ~Did you have something to say to us? ~ A bodiless form spoke in the distance...

Nara looked around and clenched her jaw and called out. "Can I just say I hate disembodied voices? I rather see that Pariah guy!"

----

Meanwhile...

Above Nara... in the sky of Raynor's mindscape.

A battle between Madden and Pariah was taking place... each time thunder struck. A blow was landed... each combatant separated from each other once again, both panting.

"We watch too much Dragon Ball Z," Pariah commented, catching his breathe.

~Yes, yes we do, but that's okay... it one of the few shows that you can actually get away with watching too much~

"Were not even real, were just clever visual metaphors used to personify the abstract concept of thought. This isn't actually happening... we can't fight in this manner."

~We both know this yet you had to bring it up..."

"Yea... It's in my nature. Shall we?"

And so the battle continued... Back on the ground...

----

All that could be seen was brilliant flashes of light in the distance that stopped and started every now and again.

Nara called out again, "Zev!" She sighed and decided she had enough. This was just a jumble. She was about to ease out when she saw a familiar body. It was a fizzle, transparent thing like her shadow-self. She looked at her shadow-self, "Do you talk to him?" She nodded over to the one with the likeness of Saul Bental.

"I try... but he's even less complete than me... he was just formed in a moment of fear... so he’s not really..." shadow Nara began to explain when Saul seemingly faded out completely for a moment... before reemerging.

"I learned things from him... but I didn't like it... I started to hate him... but I love him, I can't do this but I must..." she seemed to get distracted, as if she had lost sense of where she was...

"Yea. Sounds about right. What caused the fear?"

Shadow Nara, became aware again for a moment and answered with one word. "Zev."

"What about Zev and you spaced out. I don't space out. What's going on?"

---

Meanwhile, out in the 'real' world, Eve wandered the ship, this being a period of her time when she was 'off duty.' Entering a public lavatory, she stopped, regarding the forms of Nara and Zev bellow her, Nara kneeling down and the two looking straight into each others eyes. "Curious," Eve said, kneeling next to the pair. She recognized similarities between this and when Nara had entered her mind ages ago, and so the cyborg didn't attempt to touch either individual.

“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall” (Part 4) AKA Crowded

Lieutenant Nara Roswell
USS Galaxy

Ensign Eve
USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
USS Galaxy

USS Galaxy Washroom
==============

All that could be seen was brilliant flashes of light in the distance that stopped and started every now and again.

Nara called out again, "Zev!" She sighed and decided she had enough. This was just a jumble. She was about to ease out when she saw a familiar body. It was a fizzle, transparent thing like her shadow-self. She looked at her shadow-self, "Do you talk to him?" She nodded over to the one with the likeness of Saul Bental.

"I try... but he's even less complete than me... he was just formed in a moment of fear... so he’s not really..." shadow Nara began to explain when Saul seemingly faded out completely for a moment... before reemerging.

"I learned things from him... but I didn't like it... I started to hate him... but I love him, I can't do this but I must..." she seemed to get distracted, as if she had lost sense of where she was...

"Yea. Sounds about right. What caused the fear?"

Shadow Nara, became aware again for a moment and answered with one word. "Zev."

"What about Zev and you spaced out. I don't space out. What's going on?"

---

Meanwhile, out in the 'real' world, Eve wandered the ship, this being a period of her time when she was 'off duty.' Entering a public lavatory, she stopped, regarding the forms of Nara and Zev bellow her, Nara kneeling down and the two looking straight into each others eyes. "Curious," Eve said, kneeling next to the pair. She recognized similarities between this and when Nara had entered her mind ages ago, and so the cyborg didn't attempt to touch either individual.

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to account for a stray cat jumping out of an air vent above her. Her world went white as her hands connected with both Zev and Nara's shoulders. It just as soon went black.

Meanwhile in the Sky of the Mindscape...

There was a huge brilliant flash of light, and suddenly two figures could be seen falling... One had a huge cleaver of a sword drawn and pointed downward in a stabbing motion; the other was in free fall... A small crater was made near by... Madden was pinned by the massive blade running through his stomach into the ground. He gasped and began to cough up an unsightly amount of blood.

"And stay there..." Pariah told him. Before wandering off to find Nara...

Nara nervously poked the shadow, "Hey."

Pariah saw what was going on... "Oh crap... um... Nara... meets Nara?"

Nara glared at Zev, "Ok, according to her, she's going to be made whole or something and you scared Saul to death almost literally. And what the hell was that storm?"

"I had to deal with...Madden; storm is bound to happen..." Pariah explained. "As for Saul... umm... oh crap... one second..." He vanished again.

"Madden, who..." She let out a growl seeing him go off again. In frustration she turned to talk to...well, herself. "Does he do that a lot?"

"Not usually, unless he performing his duty as speaker for the dead..." shadow Nara answered. "But this is the first time during a mind link."

"His duty? Speaker for the dead?"

Meanwhile in the dark waiting room...

"Eve what the hell are you doing here?"

Her avatar was there, taking the form of a young woman, gray feathered wings emerging from her back. The only recognizable features to her were her eyes - violet in color. "I am the Avatar for the individual you know as Eve. You may refer to me as Misha. A slight mishap elsewhere appears to have occurred, causing the joining of minds we are now experiencing."

"Okay... why does Eve have an Avatar?" Pariah asked. "Do I even want to know?"

"I believe the Primogenitors believed it would one day be capable of active mental assaults upon the Borg collective. As such, it was deemed to dangerous to allow her mind to enter others directly. Instead, I was created to serve as the access program. All inquiries into Eve's mind must pass through me," Misha said matter of factly.

Nara roamed a bit trying to locate the part of Zev's mind that would communicate. "Zev, I didn't come here to talk to myself. Where did you go off to?"

In her roaming, she felt someone familiar and called out, focusing on the new person, "Eve, get out of here."

Next to Nara, a duplicate of the Avatar Misha formed. "Technically, Eve is not 'here' though she can control this avatar if she so desires."

Nara turned and jumped, taking a breath. She furrowed her brow, "Well...I don't think it's safe in here for her."

She looked at the crater and went toward it, muttering. "Damn boy's completely nuts."

"That is an accurate assessment of this mindscape," Misha commented. "As for the mental veracity and stability of this mind, however, I cannot comment: I am not equipped with such sophisticated psychological information."

"Yea well..." As she came closer to the crater, she saw someone pinned with a sword. "Awfully violent."

A grunt and cough later... ~ Hello there... wenches... care to remove this thing from out of my gut? I'll give you a lolly if you do...~

Nara held out a hand in case Misha had any intentions. "Who are you?"

Misha looked to Nara. "I have no intentions of manipulating this mindscape, despite any requests to do so. My only objective in such an instance would be pure and utter destruction, as was my original purpose. Your mind would not survive the shockwaves while these minds remain linked."

Nara turned and looked at Misha in utter disbelief. "Destruction. Yea. Uh."

~You would think wouldn't you... but your system doesn’t exactly calculate for a subject with literally infinite memory... capacity, and whose consciousness can respawn itself even if all this mindscape is destroyed...~

Nara looked back at the man, "Zev is older than the body?"

"You are not Borg, therefore the argument is invalid," Misha countered. "Once you are assimilated, the proper calculations will be processed for maximum effectiveness."

Madden couldn't help but laugh... ~I'm not Borg, but you certainly sound like them...~

"Borg? How did THEY get in this conversation?" Nara looked back and Misha and called out again, "ZEV!"

Looking back at the man, "You never answered my question. Who are you?"

~I'm Zev's death wish personified...~ Madden grinned.

"Death wish? Yea, that helps." She spoke it dripping in sarcasm.

"And why are you like this?"

Misha knelt next to Madden, looking straight into his eyes. "Be thankful this is non-reality. I doubt Eve holds as much restraint as I am capable of."

"What happens if we release you?" Curiosity rears its ugly head. Just like Eve in the garden.

Madden laughed at Misha... ~Your a weakling posing as some all powerful mentality... your nothing but mindless software... like a Borg. Eve is weak, she can't even defend her own mind... from silly nanoprobes...~

~As for what happens when you release me... I go piss on some graves... that's what happens...~

"Then that's not going to happen. Are you an echo like the rest?"

The Avatar's eyes began glowing a soft red light, and the features altered, enough for one to visually recognize Eve. She produced a pair of razor sharp knives and slowly began pushing them into the chest of this ... thing.

Nara blinked, "Hey now....What...ZEV GET HERE NOW!!!!"

~Oh that's nice... deeper... deeper... harder... harder! HARDER! FASTER! Come on... let it all out... yes... yes! YES! ~ Madden couldn't help but laugh...

Nara kicked his head, just because it seemed the right thing to do.

With what appeared to be a rather experienced flick of her wrist, the altered avatar sliced through Madden's throat, with the intent of silencing this abomination.

The sky began to echo with his voice... ~OoO... a classic... but you know never quite complete without being able to hear your victim scream... if you release me I could give you a few pointers...~

Meanwhile in the lobby...

"Yea if you could come back Thursday... that would be a better time... just you know your kinda interrupting something..."

Misha paused, tilted her head to one side. Her image wavered, and reformed itself. "I believe Eve and Nara require your presence. Madden is toying with them. I shall attempt to reassert control over my avatar from the Source." With that, Misha vanished from the lobby.

"Why do I even have a lobby again?" Pariah asked himself before vanishing to the scene...

Pariah appeared at the scene... "Jeez... what’s going on? What did I miss?"

Nara looked at Zev, "I have a million questions myself. First off, who is he and how did Even get in here?"

The avatar's form altered, returning to its previous incarnation. The red light faded, her eyes returning to violet and Misha stood. "Eve is not here, only her Avatar."

"Still. WHY are you in here? And who’s the nasty man?"

"I told you Zev has a split personality... meet other half... otherwise known as Daemon Godfree Madden, or Madden for short. And shes here because she managed to walk into the stall somehow... who the hell decides that to walk into a stall occupied by two people is beyond me..."

"Curiosity, perhaps. Or the fact that the two of you have not been moving for quite some time, nor has Eve since entering this mindscape," Misha commented.

"Eve lacks some social skills. Curiosity likely got the better of her."

"Well, I think my mother would likely better help you. She understands split personalities better being a counselor."

"Right... like I said... not trying to scare away all the counselors in the galaxy... anyways you said you had a million questions... do you need to ask them here or have you seen enough..." Pariah asked.

And then a monkey walked by fucking a coconut...

"Saul..." She furrowed her brow seeing a monkey enjoying a coconut entirely too much. She shook her head deciding that was the least of worries, "How did Saul get here?"

"I do not mean to intrude, but I wish to inform you that I am attempting to break Eve's connection. This may take some small amount of time, after which I will no longer be present." Misha closed her eyes.

With that, the Avatar faded from view.

"Okay... you have the worse timing..." Raynor said looking over at where Misha had been standing, then turning back to Nara.

“Mirror, Mirror on the Wall” (Part 5)

Lieutenant Nara Roswell
USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
USS Galaxy

USS Galaxy - Washroom
===============

Raynor turned to Nara, and began to explain, "A contact of his had some information I needed... but she wasn't cooperating... so I had to scare the shit out of her, Saul tried to get in the way and I had to be convincing so I got a little rough..." Pariah explained. "Remember that table in the Intel office you had to fix?"

Nara narrowed her eyes, "Yes." It was a cold tone.

"That was involved... I told I was a monster..." Raynor spoke quietly.

"Interrogations are harsh. I've lived through one. Sometimes it's just something to be done."

"Were justifying violence now? I didn't have to do it... I could have been the annoying brat or the manipulative lover... or whatever... a million ways to get the information out..."

She looked down at Madden, "Do you make him hurt people?"

Madden giggled... or gargled... it was hard to tell... ~I don’t make him do anything... I haven't been in control for a long time...~

"Why do you exist?"

~Why do you exist? You’re too weak to exist... you can't even get over a simple rape~ Madden laughed.

She frowned and looked at Zev, "Do you know what he knows?" She checked her walls.

"We both have access to the information collected when people go through those moments of fear of death... so yes..."

She clenched her jaw and swallowed, "Lovely." She bent down and pressed her knee against Madden's neck, just to feel better, "And you've NO idea what I can handle."

~You're so predictable so easy to set off... its pathetic...~ his sky voice was booming again.

She stood up and kicked his head again, looking over at Zev, changing subjects, "What did she mean by being her again?"

"What? Oh that... yea... I can merge shadows with their true selves once someone actually dies... it allows them to be whole in a sense... or as whole as you can get for being a dead person... kinda a highly sought after experience for mere shadows..."

"Well, tell her it ain't gonna happen." She kicked Madden again just because it was a fun, therapeutic activity.

"You shouldn't kick him so much... he is part of Zev..." Pariah commented. "Anything else?"

She stepped away, "Fine. Sorry." She looked at Pariah a bit more, "He made mention he was your death wish? And something about ... Something that makes me think your consciousness can go from one body to another or something?"

"Okay death wish is a exaggeration more like kill him once and for all wish... but to do that I sacrifice what’s left of my sanity... not sure about the other stuff though..." Pariah pondered for a moment. "Nope got nothing."

"Why is he...like this?"

"Umm... he was trying to invade you mind while we were linked... I kinda had to pin him..." Pariah explained. "Hence my first vanishing into nothingness."

Nara was confused now, "If he's..." She let that one go and glared at him, "And what did the mighty anti-man want to do."

"Get everything you had on Baile and Kreighoff... essentially..."

"Why?"

"Pretty much to increase that evil aura he gives off if I had to guess..."

She shook her head, "I don't have enough for you."

"No one really does, it about taking what you have not how much you have..."

Glaring at Madden, making no move telling herself he was part of Zev, "You intended to mind-rape me." She clenched her jaw.

~More like mind pillage but if you prefer rape then find that works too... I like to get nasty...~

"God, you really are a pig." She gulped, her nerves becoming frazzled. She held out longer than she had when she was in Baile's mind, but still she wasn't strong enough to handle such a complex, psychotic mind.

"Lets go" Pariah offered.

Nara looked at him, "You're aware of all this all the time?" She started walking with him.

"Pretty much" Pariah told her. "I mean occasionally I'm not when I'm really sleeping, but otherwise... yea..."

She paused and looked at him sadly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it..." Pariah told her, and suddenly they were back in the lobby area... She sighed and looked around, "Even a lobby. Nice."

"Well I guess this is where we separate and what not..." Raynor suggested with a shrug.

"Meet you on the other side. I think...I may need to just sit a bit. I forgot how these things wear on me." She closed her eyes and eased away from his mind.

Raynor woke up... "Why does my shoulder hurt suddenly?"

She took a breath and blinked, sitting against the stall wall, looking up, "Huh?"

"Oh right... Eve..." Raynor said after realizing. They must have been a fairly deep mind link.

Nara nodded, rubbing her head, "Did a panel fall?" She looked up.

"Yes... Yes I think it did..."

She moved to stand, still leaning against the wall. "How do you feel?"

"Hot and sweaty... tired... how do you think I feel... We just had a very intimate encounter..."

Nara smirked a bit, feeling the same way. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

Zev his eye brows... "Uh huh... you were inside me, and that's not intimate for you? You’re a cold, cold woman..."

"I've had a really hot intimate encounter with your boss recently. Believe me, this was wasn't anything like that."

"Uh huh... well do you want to get out, you kinda blocking the door..."

"Sorry." She walked out the door and saw a young male crewman gawking. "Shoo!" The crewman ran out and she walked over to lean against the fountain.

"USS Rumor Mill here we come..." Zev sighed shaking his head...

She wasn't concerned about that, "You know now. It's likely to be public knowledge soon but you know from my own mind."

She stood up straighter, "And your anti-self is wrong. I'm handling it quite well."

"You sure look like it... but he was trying to get under your skin so... he used whatever ammo was afforded him."

She took a deep breath. "Well one of you has a bit of sensitivity. Thank you."

"No problem, so I'm going back for more beer... what about you?"

She shook her head, "I think for once, I prefer sleep." She looked at him, in the eyes. It was intimate. His mind was more organized, and this experience was more intimate. She gave him a small smile, "You hide well Zev Raynor."

Nara left first... Zev looked at himself in the mirror one last time, before leaving. "This is who I am." he told himself and exited the door. There a crewman was waiting for him...

"Dude... two chicks at once in a washroom stall? You HAVE to teach me..."

It was going to be a long week.

“New Commander”

By Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

Location: Quarters

Soundtrack: “John Henry” By Bruce Springsteen (random background blues playing)

James hadn't remembered the last time he had a free moment to himself. Being the chief of security, he was always forefront at whatever emergencies arose. Being a father, he had to respond to the long distance trepidations of his ex-girlfriend, even going so far as to visit her and the child (Not to mention the legalities he was tied down with, child support, trust funds, and having to find a happy compromise between two diametrically opposing legal systems! Frightening! Utter bedlam!). Being a boyfriend to a shy yet precocious Andorian, it meant that the rest of free time was devoted to her (A task well worthwhile in benefits; since Romulus they couldn't stop having 'free time' without a security team setting a riot suppression hose on them both!). In the end, it meant that out ten to fourteen hours of security duties, six or four hours for sleep with the occasional cat nap, and the rest taken up by personal commitments, it was harder for him to keep up with his hobbies.

James loved his music. When there was nothing else, there was always his music. Music to express what he couldn't say to anyone else or induce emotion that was otherwise felt only on the surface, music was his expression and his window to the world outside.

What he really loved, above all else, was old fashioned rock and roll. Techno Industrial, Blues, Emo, Metal, Heavy Metal, Black Metal, Scandinavian Death Metal, Rap Metal, Hard Rock, Soft Rock (but not so much), Prog Rock, Pop Rock, Punk Rock, Funk Rock, Love Rock, Hippy Rock, Preppy Rock, and every other Rock in between. James loved his rock and roll, had followed the archaic form since his father said no to the latest Scottish Slamtastics Rock Revival Album (A multi platinum seller in 2370!). Rock and roll was his swinger, his lover, his savior and his redeemer. It was also his herald and doom, a tune in his head or on his antique music player while hovering over warzones or planning ship defenses.

For awhile, he even played his own music, and as an expression of his traumatized soul after the incident in Sector 001 on his cadet cruise, became a best seller in its own right. His band's anthem for the war and the album in general sent his sister's media company their first big break, and became a icon for the war touched generation.

James loved his rock and roll, so well it treated him over the years. Four relationships, two failed attempts at such, and from Ensign to Commander on the Galaxy. Rock and roll was there.

But something was missing in his expression of music. Since the Hirogen, his antique Fender Strat was smashed apart. Since then, he had no worthy weapon of music to call his own. Of course, James could have replicated his own, but the replicator could not create soul in its brass strings, beauty in it's faked cherrywood polished surface, or the precision in its chrome knobs or levers. The replicator could only create an instrument.

A guitar had to be more than an instrument when wielded by an experienced axeman.

So it was one night, as James was relaxing on his couch, soaking in some Bruce Springsteen when a ring came to his door. He was quick to respond, already knowing who or what it was that came. He had known since a cargo shuttle came by hours ago, delivering the monthly mail call.

It had finally arrived!

The poor pencil necked Ensign on delivery was lucky not to be shoved aside and watched aghast as James, in a more impetuous state, would have torn into the package like an untamed child at Christmas. James kept his cool, signed for two packages and two letters in PADD form, helped the ensign carry them both into his living room, and waved him goodbye very eagerly.

With the ensign gone, James could be himself again.

“HAHAHAHA!!! ALRIGHT!” James cheered. The two packages looked back at him, wrapped in brown paper and tied by string for the one half as tall and wide as he, and the other a neat plastic shell stamped with Starfleet Command's seal and an 'Urgent: Open Immediately' stamped in red on the case, James knew exactly what was more important.

He tore into the papered up package. Starfleet was an ever expanding and constantly shifting organization spanning a multitude of worlds. They could wait one night. The other package was for him and him alone. It was torn into with savagery, its paper, then its Styrofoam, spilled like artificial guts on his floor. He had the box opened, and could only look in awe as he saw the sight that beheld him.

It was... 'it'.

The axe of legends. The best of all axes in all generations.

The Fender Stratocaster 2038 AD Special Edition, or the '38 Special as known in the rock and roll circles.

This was an axe for all ages and all rockers, the best that ever was and, even with 24th century technology, could ever be. James held the rock and roll equivalent of Excalibur, and he felt good just to be with it.

When it was in his hands, he felt the tingle a hero had when they handled their first real weapon, the promise and the power flooding in as it came to him. The guitar felt cool to the touch, smooth as polished visual sensor lenses on inspection day. Its neck and head shone in the dim light of his quarters, polished oak and plastic not assembled, but melded with metal neck bars and ivory tuners. The body, thick with more oak encased in a cherry red and white centered plastic shell, had the appendage of a chrome and pearl distortion bar as bright as the sun they orbited on the ship. A small metal hole, sized to fit a ¼ inch stereo plug, shone as if freshly polished.

In the corner of the box was a small black amp, perfect for practicing, but even during 2038, was advanced enough to fill a small venue with sound. Snapping up a cord from his old guitar, James plugged the guitar in, powered up the amp, and gave the instrument a try with something basic.

His fingers flew as if possessed, his sound not a song but a series of impromptu melodies broken up by ratcheting, machinegun warbles and thumps. As if a stallion denied the ability to run for years then being told to cut loose and be free, James played, his heart tied to the music, nothing in particular but to play and enjoy.

This was truly the best guitar he had, like it was crafted by Vulcan himself and handed to him its metal still warm from the forge. Switching from automatic setting to automatic setting, a feature common with the late Stratocasters to play almost any form of rock and roll the demented axeman could fathom, James belted out his own tune, then a song he knew, a snippet of another, a wailing, engrossing activity that swallowed the passage of time.

By the time James finished, he didn't know how much time passed, but felt more complete than he had in years, spent, finger weary, sweating, his Starfleet uniform clinging to his back and chest, but very complete. It was as if he chronicled his life into one song, and found a happy ending.

He spied on the letter that was attached to the package. Picking up the PADD and seeing his sister's address, he activated the note.

=/\=

Dear Big Brother

I hope all is well. I am doing great on Earth, managing the business. So far, I was able to incorporate a holo-entertainment company this year. Soon, my company will be a complete package. Who would have thought that I would become this successful? But other than business, life is busy. Life is business, so it is expected.

As agreed in our settlement when you sold your shares of Corgan Media Incorporated to me, I was able to find a replacement for your old guitar. I wish you could keep your investment into the company, for I believe that our growth will continue, but it is what you wish. I don't suppose you're putting it into trust funds for your friend's children again, are you?

By the way, how is my niece? Is she doing well? I did tell you that I meet her mother on Earth. She is a... scary person, Tal'Shiar and all. Even Guido my bodyguard couldn't have taken her down. You attract dangerous company, big bro. Be careful, for the sake of my niece and yourself. And tell Mika to call! I miss her pizzas, and I miss her company.

Treat the guitar well. You're a rich man now (unless your habit being such a nice guy got you broke), but it doesn't mean you can go smashing this priceless artifact. There was a bidding war between myself and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum in New Orleans just to get that instrument. There are only two others in the universe, and the other two are owned by despotic tyrants in the Beta Quadrant! Treat it well!

Ta ta, big bro! Come visit sometime.

Courtney Fiona Corgan, Corgan Media Inc.

=/\=

“Thanks sis.” James whispered, switching the PADD off.

His eyes strayed to the once neglected second package, its red urgency label calling still for his attention. He looked back at his guitar. His hands weren't so cramped now and he really did want to play until the end of dawn. The music called to him. He wanted to rock out.

He was also curious about the next package.

“F**k.” James swore under his breath. He discarded one PADD for another, and read the contents.

=/\= To: Commander James Lionel Corgan, Chief of Security, USS Galaxy. From: Commodore Sha'ze ch'Trantal, Starfleet Command Officer's Candidate Training Program, Starfleet High Command, San Francisco, Earth. =/\=

At once, Corgan's heart ceased to beat, his knees turned to butter, and his blood flooded with reactor coolant.

It was 'the call', the reason for having his Commander's pip, the reason for being and the dream of many officers that did not take Command in the academy. This was the dream James didn't think he could achieve from academy onwards, one he was assured not to get when he fell from grace with the Atole Tekri scandal. As an officer with a stigma both for being a proficient killer and a man lacking judgement, he never expected the third pip. Even when he got it, he didn't believe he would ever be trusted with a command, content to keep the safety scissors Starfleet Command handed him and go with whatever he could.

The letter, and the contents of the box, said something different. He nonetheless bravely submitted his application for Command training. This was his answer.

He still read it, even with his heart compensating for the lack of beating a minute earlier, knowing it was pass or fail.

=/\= We have received your application for the Starfleet Command's Executive Officer Training Programme, as well as thousands of applications from hundreds of systems and starships. We would like to extend our thanks in advance for your application for SCEOTP. This program, with all the applications, can only pick a limited amount of applicants so those considered are elite among Starfleet Command. It is no small accomplishment to qualify for the application process. =/\=

“Jesus f**king Christ, enough fluff. Get to the good stuff.” James grumbled.

=/\= Therefore, it is with great joy that I welcome you into SCEOTP. We have reviewed your qualifications, including officers grades and ratings (OGR), past actions and reports, Starfleet Special Forces (SSF) credentials as a member of the USS Galaxy's Hazard Team, and marks in both Starfleet Academy and the Starfleet War College, and found your qualifications acceptable for our programme. Congratulations, Commander James Corgan. You are now officially in SCEOTP training.

Your application has been selected among fewer still that qualify for distance learning on our programme. Enclosed with this letter of acceptance are the training modules and holodeck test programs needed to complete your qualification as an Executive Officer. Submit these tests at the earliest convenience so that they may be graded and your credentials confirmed. You will not gain Executive Officer status without it.

Once again, congratulations for this honor. Do well and be proud, Starfleet Officer.

Commodore Sha'ze ch'Trantal, Starfleet Command Officer's Candidate Training Program, Starfleet High Command, San Francisco, Earth. =/\=

“Holysh*tsholysh*tholysh*t...” James repeated, reading the letter over and over to confirm that his eyes weren't playing tricks. This was it. The letter.

He was to be a commanding officer. With it he could be the second in command of a ship of his own. Without it, he would never reach the rank of Captain, never have his own ship, never have a command that really made a difference.

It wasn't supposed to be possible, he told himself. Kissing Atole Tekri's lips was enough to damn him to Ensign status, years of being an old mustang with nothing better than musty old war stories for bored ensigns to ignore and even more years of lonely, mundane duty on rustbucket starships with nothing better to do than patrol halls with nary an alien hostile in sight, whistling the same ancient tunes he played on his guitar.

Rather by blessing alone, he was to be a commanding officer.

Of course he was happier than he had ever been, but there was also a looming feeling of dread filling the pit of his stomach. The next level, as he saw it, the one he thought could never be climbed, was higher and more intimidating than he ever thought. To have it in reach... he couldn't help but feel he was not ready.

~”Somebody thinks i'm ready.”~ James Corgan turned over the PADD, setting it gently down on the case with the training modules, ~”And I have to prove them right.”~

The mood struck him to play more guitar, lazily savouring each slow note.

Anjoli shook the container of food additive into the tank. The alien crustaceans in the bubbling water happily devoured the particles before they could reach the bottom.

The emerald woman tapped gently on the glass with a happy grin. "There, babies...eat up....grow nice and fat on Momma Anjoli's batch 42......"

Kisha showered and dressed. It was time for her to get to work and get to know some of the medical crew. She wasn't sure how they'd react to a Klingon half breed. She remembered people's reaction to her when she walked into the Miranda's sickbay. No one could see how a Klingon could have any kind of bedside manner. She surprised them all. Oh, she had, has a temper but she learned how to keep it at bay.

She left her quarters and made her way to sickbay. It seemed like it took her forever to get there. As usual, she got the same stares from her new colleagues that she used to get when she walked into a medical facility.

When Kisha stopped off at the darkened CMO's office, a frazzled looking Ensign looked up from a overflowing pile of PADDs on his work desk. Her unusual appearance didn't seem to face the fellow. "Can I help you, Mamm?"

"Yes you can. I'm looking for the Chief Medical Officer. Do you know where she is?"

"This time of shift? Doctor D'Bari is in her research lab. I can take you if you like?"

"I'd appreciate that, Ensign?" She liked knowing who was who even if they weren't in Chief positions.

The young man smiled shyly as he got up, carrying along a large PADD. "Bigelow, Algernon Bigelow.....but everyone calls me Teep. Right this way, please."

"Okay Teep. Thank you."

Teep kept looking back at the new doctor, talking as he went. More than once, he ran into the wall.

"You're our new Surgery Chief....Doctor D'Bari was quite anxious to get you aboard before our mission....."

Ignoring his clumsiness, "Oh? I didn't know that. Hmmm, I guess you were in desperate need for one."

"Just ones that aren't too mean....." he said, blushing. "We've got Dr Grace, who's nice...but we also have Dr Tymm....who's a bit of a crab."

As they continued, "Been on the Miranda long?"

"About a year, mamm. Doctor D'Bari traded two bottles of tranya for the rights to me from my last posting. She's nice...."

"I'm glad you like her. That helps a lot when you work closely with someone."

Teep nodded, his shy grin widening. "She makes us want to do our best....rather than have to....."

"I served on the original Miranda but that was a long time ago."

"Really? Wow...back in the last century? That's amazing. I wouldn't have guessed you were that old....did they freeze you?"

Kisha gave him a look, holding back a growl, "Freeze me? Of course not. I'm only 40 years old. If that is considered old where you come from, I'm glad that I don't live there." She was now getting a little annoyed with him.

Teep backed up into the wall, his eyes wide. A bit of a stammer began to come from him. "No...please...I thought you meant the first Starship named Miranda...that was a long time ago...and you don't know what to expect these days....."

"Oh, did I say the original Miranda? Actually, I meant I served on the second starship to bear the name Miranda. It was one of the initial experimental Starships of the Kelvin-Class line." She looks at him, "You really need to..." she paused, "Oh never mind. Just don't say another word, okay?"

The poor yeoman nodded, keeping his head down as he lead the surgeon the rest of the way to the labs. An emerald woman stood staring into a tank of small creatures swimming about in bubbling water.

"Good night, babies....keep making lots of delicious babies...."

"Doctor D'Bari....." Teep started....

"You've brought me my Chief surgeon....." Anjoli interrupted, wiping her hands on her labcoat as she approached. "I am Anjoli D'Bari....welcome aboard."

"Thank you. It's good to be here. So you're the Chief Medical Officer. I'm Commander Kisha Ventar but I'm sure you already know that. I've already taken a look at where I'll be working. I have to say that I am impressed with the way you have the sickbay arranged. It's much like the way I had kept my sickbay except for a few differences. But I'm sure that can be corrected."

Anjoli chuckled as she motioned for Ventar to follow her.

"I will be more than pleased to listen to suggestions. My sickbay is a team effort. I listen to all constructive criticism, from all my staff. But ultimately, my name is on the CMO door. It's my responsibility to ensure that all patients are treated to the upmost of our ability. That's why I wanted you here."

"I need surgeons of unusual quality. The Miranda always is in the middle of bad news, and I like to keep our crew as intact as possible. When I saw you were available, I didn't care that you'd been CMO here before. I didn't care that you outrank me. I just wanted to keep as many people alive as we can."

"That's very interesting. It sounds like that no matter how much things change, things stay the same. The name Miranda has always been associated with the word trouble. I see that hasn't changed." Anjoli nodded, guiding the striking woman through the complex.

"We have the medical facilities of a starbase aboard this Miranda, and they're constantly in need. We maintain high standards--our patient mortalitiy rates are the lowest in the fleet. I also take pride in my team's attitude. We get the job done, but we do our best to stay as light and sane as we can." Kisha assured her, "That shouldn't be a problem."

Kisha smiled, "And I'm glad you don't care about my rank. I have never focused much on rank. As far as I'm concerned, we are all doctors. Rank is just a formality in my opinion. I just hope that I live up to your expectations." Anjoli nodded with satisfaction. "I'm certain you will. In our line of work, skill is far more important than the number of pips on your collar or the number of letters after your name. Now, join me for lunch? We'll discuss your team and any concerns you might have."

"Okay, sounds good." She followed her.

"Murphy's Law of Duty"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO 101st Battalion

Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum- NPC Transporter Operator USS Miranda

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

(Near Holodeck 3- 09:30)

Berilyn had just been relieved of duty... strangely enough, a couple of hours earlier than she would have anticipated... especially given how busy things had been since they'd arrived at Romulus. Stranger still, the petty officer that relieved her handed her a note from For'kel, suggesting she meet him at holodeck 3. It was obvious that her husband had a part in her being relieved early... question was, why? When she finally arrived, the doors opened to give her an answer. Inside was one of his recreations, a small cafe she recognized from the time they'd spent on Al'Klei'sh. Although there were some... creative adjustments. And a whole lot of people in Marine green. For'kel, ofcourse, had been waiting for her. She couldn't help but smile. "What's all this?" "I thought we could use a chance to relax before we deployed in... two and a half hours." For'kel smiled. "So we're having a bit of a breakfast ball. The Battalion's Officers and Company NCO's that is. Sergeant Major Drake is running something similar down on the Drill Deck for the enlisted... was going to head there before we left, but I thought I could steal you away for a song, some food, and perhaps a dance?" She giggled. "Going to tell me how it is you got that Petty Officer to show up two hours early?" "Well there was a particular lady he was trying to impress, I merely corroborated some of his recollections." "You lied?" "I exaggerated." For'kel stuck his tongue out. "Now're you going to join me or did I embelish for no reason?" Chuckling, Berilyn shook her head and, after For'kel removed her chair for her, sat down. "You still surprise me." For'kel raised an eyebrow. "You say that as if it were a bad thing?" As they talked, the singer in the background changed, a Terran woman by name of Sara Evans singing a song recorded for ears centuries ago. Not that the background noise mattered too much.

(Lying here with you, listenin' to the rain. Smilin' just to see, the smile on your face...) "So, what's on the menu?" Berilyn never bothered looking in the direction of the open buffet. (These are the moments, I thank God that I'm alive. These are the moments, I'll remember all my life.) For'kel took her hands. "Whatever you'd like." (I've found all I've waited for, and I could not ask for more.) Berilyn squeezed his fingers. "And if I'm not hungry?" (Looking in your eyes, seein' all I need. Everything you are, is everything to me.) For'kel shrugged. "Then enjoy the atmosphere." (These are the moments, I know heaven must exist. These are the moments, I know all I need is this. I've found all I've waited for... yeah... and I could not ask for more.) "The atmosphere is fine, but I prefer the company." (I Could not ask for more then this time together, could not ask for more than this time with you!) For'kel blushed, even if they were married, it was one of those responses that one couldn't help but have. "And why is that?" (And every prayer has been answered, every dream has come true! Bery grinned in a far more intimate fashion then before. "Let me show you." (Yeah, right here in this moment, is right where I'm meant to be!) They drew closer, to within a hairs bredth of each other's lips. (Here with you, here with me!) And then, just as they managed to meet, leave it to fate to intervene. "Colonel Arvelion? Sorry to disturb you sir, but your presence is requested for a meeting with Major Weber concerning the 'darker aspects' of your mission sir. Your XO and Intelligence Liason are also invited. She'd also like to pass on the fact that she's on your side." (These are the moments, I thank God I'm alive. These are the moments, I remember all my life.) Of all the damned times... For'kel sighed, reluctantly withdrawing one of his hands to tap his combadge. If he hurried, perhaps he could make it back. "Thank you, I'm on my way. Arvelion out." (I found all I've waited for, and I could not ask for more.) "I should get going, I'll try and make it back here before I have to go." He kissed her on the corner of her mouth. (I could not ask for more than this time together, could not ask for more than this time with you! And every prayer has been answered, every dream has come true!) "For'kel?" (Yeah right here in this moment, is right where I'm meant to be! Oh here with you, here with me...) The Stagnorian stopped to listen. (No I could not ask for more than this love you gave me...) "Be careful." Her words had an urgency he hadn't felt come across her lips, not in a while. (Cause it's all I've waited for!) "I'll see you later." For'kel promised with a smile. "You have my word." (And I could not ask for more.)

"Yanking out My Hair"

LtJG Chris Daniels Tactical Analyst

Tactical Offices, Deck 7
========================

The magic number was currently at four.

That was how many cups of coffee Chris had blown through during this shift. It had been one of those days again, which seemed to come with increasing regularity since his promotion and subsequent appointment to the #3 in the chain in the department. Before, as an ensign all he had to do was analyze and once in a while pull a bridge shift. Now, he had..gah!..paperwork and CIC chief duties to handle. It was all a little much for the kid. Thankfully, the climate in the department was one of civility at least.

Then there was this issue of the damn Hydrans. Chris and Eianne had been tasked with primary information gathering and analysis on this one, and it was one of the most frustrating tasks he'd been given. The simple matter was that Starfleet Tactical had very little good information about the bastards, and a lot of it was out of date. The Hydrans were historically quiet, making it hard to gather any real data on their weapons and tactics.

One of the best chances they would have would be the fighter they picked up in the Delta Quadrant last mission. That examination was scheduled for later that day. Their other chance was the request he had put in an hour ago back to the C. Springs Battlelabs. Captain Arneson had access to stuff that no one else could get, so hopefully there was some good info that he could pass on. But for now, he had to keep siphoning through the volumes of garbage that had little pertinent information about the oncoming invaders.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes, relieving the pressure that his frustration headache had caused. He allowed himself a few moments of non-work. It had been just a day ago that he had looked out his window and seen his home of ten years, the Galaxy. It was a lot different looking now, with all the modifications done. Part of him wanted to find his away aboard and search all the old places and see if anyone was still aboard that he knew. It was doubtful, and it was barely the same Galaxy that he had been lugged around on as a child, but the reminiscing took his mind off the holy grail search on his desk.

Then there were the Romulans. He wasn't a particular fan of the culture. His boss was a different story. OK, maybe it was more of the fact that he had been targeted for assassination on the last mission by Romulans and he still had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about that, but he felt for good reason at least. Those jerks should be back on Romulus by now, and if he got a chance to get down there, he'd try and find that rat V'Trex and they'd discuss it over phasers and sledge hammers.

The tactical situation was not in their favor. The Rommies and their ships plus a small task force of Federation ships versus a Marauding Hyrdan fleet and a mysterious super weapon. Typical doctrine said attackers must have a 3 to 1 advantage before they succeeded. Chris looked at the numbers, and with the mystery weapons as force multipliers, it looked like it would be close if the Hyrdrans decided to go for the kill.

The only cool part was seeing Miranda's CIC function for what it was designed for: Fleet Command and Control. Tac officers from the various ships in the fleet had arrived onboard to coordinate their efforts, several stations had switched into fleet control configuration, and the CIC was humming with activity as a range of topics were discussed, from enemy tactics, to friendly formation attacks, to integration with the Romulan ships. At least the growing pains would be done with before they went into combat.

Finally, he went back to sifting. Hours later, when the magic number had reached six, a file from Capt. Arneson arrived. With only a "hope this helps" note, Chris opened the file to reveal a few more up to date documents on Hydran activity. Still not enough to complete a full report, but good enough to get a general idea. Which was better than the previous lack of any idea whatsoever. He forwarded it to Veini and then settled in for a long day of reading, broken only by a CIC shift in about two hours.

~So this is the tip of the spear...~

"Jam Session"

Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion- SFMC Commanding Officer/ Alpha Company CO

Major Peter Shaw- SFMC Executive Officer/ Bravo Company CO 101st Battalion

Second lieutenant Branwen London – SFMC executive Officer/ staff psychologist Furies

SFC Thral - Furies Demolitions Specialist

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

With the field officer and NCO input from the training simulation, and the latest projections in hand, For'kel had spent most of this shift working on a possible operation plan... incase the worst case scenario did happen. His wife's nightmare was still fresh on his mind... he couldn't help but allow himself to fall into repetively recalling her description of events. Stagnorians were quasi-superstitious... meaning that it definitely shook For'kel up to see Bery in her current state. At least she seemed to be handling it well...

Yawn.

Oh hell, it was only 11:00... it was going to be a 'very' long day. "Suum to Arvelion."

For'kel's weary facade cracked for a brief second with a smile. It was always good to hear her voice. "Go ahead Bery, what is it?"

"The Galaxy is signaling it's ready to transport over two Marine Lieutenants and an NCO, apparently on your authorization?"

"Yeah, don't worry about an escort, I'm sure Thral still remembers the way down to the Drill deck."

There was a melodic laugh over the comm system. "Understood."

Pete walked around the corner with a pot of coffee and set it down on a warming stand. "It's the fresh stuff, none of that replicated crap. You can thank Jenna," he said as he pored the two men a cup each. "I was thinking I was going to go ahead and talk with the Galaxy Intelligence team about having them do a few fly overs. That way we can leave the turmoil of ours untouched and we don't have to deal with our fun loving CAG."

"Good idea." For'kel replied, taking a sip of the offered coffee and scowling at the bitter taste. He was grateful for the thought, and probably needed the caffeine boost, but coffee was not his drink. "Especially if they can manage to shoot down some of the landing craft before they hit the deck."

"That is what I was thinking," Pete replied taking a sip of the fresh coffee. "We are going to have to send some kind of mission plan to the fighter group so they know what we are doing and where we are located incase we call in for a strike or cover." Pete knew what the meant, talking with James Mitchelle...

"Well we know where the landing zones around the capitol is likely to be, feed them those coordinates, and we're going to be engaged in a mobile defense, people advancing and falling back like crazy... might be a good idea to assign a flight to each company and let the CO's call for support as needed."

Pete nodded and made a note of it. "Will do," he told him. "Any other orders you want to give them for the moment?"

For'kel pinched his nose. "Yeah, tell them if they do crash we'll come and get them if possible. I'll get a couple of SAR teams together. Hopefully medical can loan us a doctor."

Pete nodded, knowing them telling them that SARs would be sent out, it wasn't a high chance. If the shit hit the fan, it was going to really hit the fan and any SAR mission was most likely going to be labeled to dangerous.

"Other then that... I think that's about it. We'll make sure all the Marines know to be careful to stay out of the firing arcs of our cannons and any close support craft we might have... oh, make sure they know our evacuation plan."

Pete again nodded and set the padd down and took a sip of his coffee. "This isn't going to end without a high lose rate," Pete told the other man. "This isn't Vulcan, but we don't have a giant cosmos reset button ether," he told him.

"There's still hope the Romulans repel the invasion in space, before any troops set foot on the planet. As for losses..." For'kel bit his lower lip. "Our job will be to get VIPs out... not hold the Romulans' line for them. If their troops run, I'm not keeping ours there to be slaughtered. At the moment, our mission objective is simple, maintain an LZ for evacuation of VIPs, collect them, and keep them safe until they get to one of the Starships. Anything else is inconsequential."

"That will help cut down losses some." Pete liked nothing about this. "I never thought I would say this, but here is to the Romulans," he said holding up his coffee cup. "I know, but you use what you got, and this is what I got."

Use what you got... ain't that the truth. "To the Romulans." For'kel raised his glass to Pete's. Hopefully their salute wouldn't be in vain.

***

It was not Branwen's first visit to the ship, although she was still trying to forget the recent other visit. That is why she appeared a little bit nervous as she walked besides Baile and the sergeant towards the meeting. She had no idea why one of the NCO's had been invited.

Thral wasn't sure if it was good to be back or not, but he was interested in talking to the Stagnorian CO he'd left behind. Something about that guy was interesting and for some reason he liked him. He usually didn't deal with officers in any other way but professionally, but Fork as he liked to be called was different. How was hard to say.

"Should be just about there kids" Thral said matter of factly even though Baile was along.

"That is still ma'am and Sir to you, sergeant." Branwen said remembering Baile's words that she she shouldn't let the troops walk over her.

"Actually Lieutenant, your rank should suffice. I assure you mister Thral has earned his place in the Corps." For'kel called out as they entered, having picked up the retort when the door opened. He spared his old Tellerite companion a cursory smile. "Blow up anything interesting as of late, Sergeant?"

"Same old same old...colonel it is now I see. Lets just say things on Cheron weren't conducive to my craft. " Thral said with a toothy grin. "Lieutenants, For'kel D'Arvilion. I had the pleasure of being his platoon Sergeant before I came to the Galaxy. Colonel, First Lieutenant Baile our detachment CO and Branwen London, number two and our resident shrink."

"Pleasure was mine, still yet to see someone assemble a satchel charge as quickly as you did." For'kel offered his hands to both the officers. A counselor in the Marines? 'Poor bastards.' was all he could think to himself. "This is Major Peter Shaw, my Battalion executive officer and Bravo company's CO. Shall we get to it then?"

Pete simply nodded and took a sip of his coffee. Something didn't feel right, though Pete would have to look into that later.

Branwen shook the hand. Already she was not expecting anything from these officers. The commanding officer had just told her off in front of an NCO, he was obviously quite fond of. Not a good beginning.

Once the introductions were over, For'kel turned his attention to the holo-model. "The plan is fairly simple. We're going to establish a landing zone and firebase here which will be defended and staffed by our Bravo Company under Major Shaw here. All other units will be given zones of occupation, in which you will be responsible for keeping the peace and, in event of an invasion, collecting all the VIPs from for immediate evacuation. Our job will be to hold the force back long enough to get these people, and get out. The enemy LZs will be bracketed by our artillery, mine fields will be set up at their landing areas, and we'll hold out on the edge of the city, using a mobile defense strategy as long as possible. The Urban terrain should give us the advantage as the defenders, but we have to be careful about civilian casualties. You're going to have plenty of job opportunities Thral... Questions?"

Thral simply nodded through the detailing of the plan. Seemed simple enough. "Tell me where you want the hole sir and I'll make one. I'll be ready."

She would need to hear more details later of course, but so far it sounded good. So Branwen nodded she understood.

[OOC -- Takes place 1 day after "Here's to Priorities".]

"Truth Between Friends" -- pt. 1

Cmdr. Karyn Dallas
Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Deck 5 -- Counselor Elessidil's Quarters

"Here," Brian said, leaning over Karyn's shoulder to serve up what looked like the highest, thickest and most flavorful square of lasagna ever to grace a plate. "This is from a recipe my mother got from a woman who lived down the street from us on Earth. Mrs. Rosini was one of those tough old women who did everything the old, old fashioned way," he continued, taking his seat and smiling at the memory as he set the pan of lasagna on the table between them. "Talk to her about modern conveniences like replicators and such and she'd just wave her hand at you like you were talking jibberish. 'My mother,' she'd insist, squinting and pointing at you like she was scolding a naughty child, 'my mother always told me God gave you two hands so you could *use* them.'" He laughed, his dark eyes sparkling at the images of a fond childhood. "She was a short, crusty old woman -- the kind who looked like she could take on a band of Klingon marauders with nothing more than her scowl and a wooden spoon," he said, letting the laughter fade as his smile and his voice softened just a little. "But if any of us kids in the neighborhood fell and skinned a knee or something, she was right there to clean it all up -- dirt, blood, tears and all." He sighed, realizing that he actually missed this person who'd been a kind of 'super mother' to the whole neighborhood and who'd touched more lives than she could possibly have known. "She's been gone a good twenty years at least. I cried at her funeral like it was my own mother who'd died, and I wasn't the only one," he recollected, a warm smile spreading across his lips.

"So here's to Mrs. Rosini!" he said, hoisting his glass of chianti into the air. "May we always have the memories . . . and her lasagna."

Karyn held up her water glass and smiled in return. "To Mrs. Rosini and her lasagna," Dallas echoed before taking a sip. She had chosen water so she could have a clear head, but she was starting to wish for wine. Hearing Brian discuss memories from his own childhood was pleasant for her, because for a brief moment, she could imagine that she too had somehow been there. The reality, however, only reminded her that life hadn't been so carefree.

It didn't take long for her Betazoid friend to realize that Karyn's thoughts were on more than good Italian cooking. Brian set his glass down and looked at her for a moment. "Okay, I know you said you like lasagna, so there's got to be something else on your mind," he said casually, raising his eyebrows slightly as he began eating.

Karyn cut into her lasagna, but before putting it into her mouth, she said, smiling wistfully, almost sadly. "I was actually thinking of my own childhood, how nice it would have been to have a Mrs. Rosini."

"No tough old ladies where you grew up?" he asked with a grin.

Dallas smiled wistfully, "Just tough young or middle aged ones. My older sister did all the cooking in my house, but we had replicated food mostly." She didn't add her father was either at the bars or passed out at home.

There was something about her words that seemed sadder than the sum total of their meaning, Brian thought. "Tell me about you sister," he asked. "I know so little about her."

Karyn frowned. "Kate? There's not much to tell really. She was my second mother growing up because my mom died after I was born. She took good care of my father and I. She went to medical school before I left for the Academy. She serves on the USS Padua now, it's a medical frigate. She seems happy, but you know how it is, Starfleet Officers don't see each other much."

"Hmf . . . yeah, I do," he replied, thinking of Quinn before stabbing his lasagna with a little more vigor than he intended. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"

Karyn bit her lip. "About nine years now." She dismissed his surprise. "Lots of old family baggage." She took a bite of her lasagna. "This is truly delicious, my future *Commander* and friend." Dallas smiled coyly.

"Have you been talking to Cass?" Elessidil asked, snapping his head up again in surprise.

Dallas smiled mischieviously. "The grapevine around here is faster than warp, you know that. Besides, you're long overdue and I happen to agree with Cass."

"Thanks," he replied, grinning self-consciously and momentarily averting his eyes. "Guess we'll see if BuPers agrees." Pausing, Brian sipped some more chianti, his eyes never leaving Karyn's face. "Are you okay?"

Karyn took another bite of her lasagna and used the time to think. She couldn't lie to her friend, and his Betazoid senses would have prevented that even if she wanted to. She swallowed, took a sip of her water, and met his gaze. "No," she said finally, softly. She smiled in embarrassment and shook her head. "I have to tell you something and I'm not sure how to start. It's...it's personal, and could get the two of us in serious trouble if anyone else knew."

Dallas bit her lip, and was surprised to find tears behind her eyes. She cleared her throat. Hard. Then she tried to speak evenly. "I told myself I wouldn't tell anyone else."

Brian looked at his friend carefully before speaking. It was unusual for her to be so closed and myserious with him, especially with something as seemingly important as she'd just indicated. "Just talk, Karyn, you know you can do that with me," he said with gentle support.

Dallas nodded, staring at her plate for a moment, trying to find the words. "It happened a year ago, long before you arrived." In truth, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Karyn met his gaze. "Do you recall hearing about Harry Mudd and his fembots?"

"Harry Mudd?" he echoed, scrunching his face in thought. "I think I've heard the name, I'm not sure. Am I correct in assuming 'fembots' are some kind of female androids?"

Karyn nodded. "Harry Mudd had discovered these female androids and was intent on selling them to the highest bidder. These weren't your ordinary machines. These women were beutiful, real in every way, and programmed to fulfil any straight man's sexual fantasies. They were designed to be high end sex slaves." The distaste on her face was evident.

"Okay . . . how does this connect with you?" he asked, his concern still focused primarily on what was causing Karyn so much distress rather than on some guy's peculiar fantasies.

Karyn sighed, afraid the memories would come flooding back if she gave them a voice, but also afraid not to continue. "He came aboard the Galaxy, requesting rescue. Cardassians were after him for not fulfilling an agreement hhad with them to sell them the androids. We didn't know it then, but the reason Mudd's fembots were so popular was because they emitted pheromones which were irresistable to the straight men aboard. Male crew members would have sexual encounters with these women and not remember a thing afterward. It was as if they were drugged. And then...the men under the influence began to desire female crew members."

Between logical assumption and Betazoid empathy, Brian started getting a sickening feeling where this might be headed. His concern reflected in his face, he quietly set down his fork then reached across and gently put his hand on Karyn's forearm, hoping the gesture would somehow give her a little more strength. "Go on," he softly encouraged.

Karyn relaxed somewhat under the warmth of his touch, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. "I didn't know all this until later. I was confined to quarters after experiencing a bad allergic reaction, and I just wanted to be useful again. When I showed up for my nursing shift, I learned Victor had been badly injured and had not come in for a follow-up exam, so I volunteered to go to him." Karyn bit her lip hard, nearly drawing blood.

"Lieutenant Krieghoff?" His interaction with the security officer had been minimal, but the man had had the strange effect of inducing nausea by nothing more than his mere presence, at least for him. If he was right in his assumption about how this involved Karyn it was all the more distressing.

Dallas nodded. "All I had read were the reports of this happening, and quite frankly, it all seemed a little unbelievable. And I...even when I came upon his locked door, I...I just overrode it. I was scared for him. I was a nurse, and I pictured him bleeding, in pain, and stubborn enough not to see a doctor."

Brian wasn't surprised by what she'd said so far; he understood his friend's caring nature better than almost anyone. "What happened, Karyn?"

"Truth Between Friends" -- pt. 2

Cmdr. Karyn Dallas
Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor USS Galaxy

Karyn looked at him with a sideways glance. "Physically, yes. He and I fought for what seemed like hours." She described how he'd slammed her head repeatedly on the ground, every punch, every slap, and every grope she endured. "He managed to drive my chair to the ground after he couldn't free me from it. I..." Her voice caught on a sob as she continued. "I knew if he got me out of my chair, it was all over, so I fought as hard as I could. He was on top of me when I remembered I still had the hypospray from before. I managed to jam it into his neck, and knock him out cold on top of me. I lost consciousness shortly after calling for help."

A thousand thoughts flooded through her dinner companion's mind at once, but he managed to set them all aside for now except one. "Karyn . . . I'm so sorry . . . " he managed in barely more than a whisper as he gently squeezed her arm. "Have you... have you told anyone else about this? Does Lieute-- Victor -- even know this happened?"

Dallas nodded, and she found herself wiping away tears she didn't recall falling. "There were moments when Victor came through, Brian. He begged me to run, to go. Even after I jammed the hypospray into his neck, he begged me to kill him. But I couldn't." She sniffed audibly. "Waiting for help before losing consciousness was the longest minutes of my life. I felt like I was dying. Legate Curran came looking for me awhile later before help arrived, and he began taunting me. I helped him earlier, but he was embarrassed by it and came to berate me for it. He found me and nearly strangled me for my efforts."

"What??" Brian asked, incredulous that even someone as generally ill-tempered as Curran could have reacted in such a way. "Did you report him?"

Dallas shook her head. "To report him would mean discussing why he was angry with me in the first place, and that would mean breaking his confidence. He was vulnerable at the time. I promised I wouldn't. But seeing me like that, vulnerable and weak set him off. He's always thought me weak and inferior, and the prospect I saw him in a vulnerable position has made him hate me all the more."

For all his training, Elessidil hardly knew what to say next. "Karyn, not only did he not help you in a dangerous and potentially life-threatening situation, he followed by assaulting you himself," he said, trying to keep the mix of outrage and frustration out of his voice. Despite wanting to remain the understanding listener, he found his protective side coming to bear. "Has he threatened you in any way since then?"

Dallas understood where Brian was coming from. It was something she had gone over and over when she was debating what to do about it. "No. At the time, there was no proof that Kylar had attacked me. He stopped as soon as help arrived." She bir back a sob, but the tears came anyway. "The worst...the worst part was I had lost consciouness several times during the assault which was obviously sexually motivated, and I couldn't recall much." Softly, so softly he could barely hear her, she said, "They completed a rape kit. I was unconscious and would have offered little resistance."

Brian wanted to insist that they go and file a formal report that very minute, but he knew he couldn't convince her to do anything she wouldn't have done herself, at least not now. As difficult as it was, he had to set aside his role as a counselor and a Starfleet officer and just be her friend for the time being. He left his chair and walked around the table and knelt next to her. "You've been keeping all this to yourself for a year?" he quietly asked. "How did you finally get out of there?"

Karyn squeezed his hand and convinced herself to look at him. "They beamed me out. A Vulcan doctor completed the exam and agreed to keep matters quiet. She couldn't rule out rape conclusively, but at the very least we know Victor attempted to rape me. I asked her not to report it, Brian. Even now, I know a large part of Victor was not responsible for this because he was under the influence of the pheromones, which he didn't ask for. I stayed in my quarters for the time it took me to recover, and that was that. Julia knows, but the records were sealed." She felt the bumps where her eye socket and her nose had been broken, now fully healed, but still there as far as Karyn was concerned. A sprained back and wrist, a concussion, two black eyes, and scrapes and bruises still stuck in her mind's eye. She had still not looked at the photos.

"Karyn, you know as well as I do that if Victor had no control over his actions he wouldn't be held responsible, especially if you didn't want to press the issue. But it's Curran I don't understand. Something about his actions seem to me to be more than the result of pheromones. Why do you want to protect him?"

She looked at him with a sense of desperation. "I saw him in a very vulnerable position and I promised him I wouldn't break that confidence. If I reported him, I would also have to report why he was looking for me to begin with. I would have to report why he tried to hurt me. As much as I dislike him, and believe me, I've thought about screaming it over shipwide comm every time he belittles me in front of people, what sort of counselor would I be if I betrayed his confidence?"

It took considerable self control for Brian not to begin sobbing himself, not only from his own feelings about what Karyn had told him but at least as much from the depth at which he could empathically sense what she was feeling. "*He* crossed that line, you didn't," he insisted, trying his best to be supportive despite how much he wanted to change her reaction. "Your professional responsibility to him ended when he consciously violated you in a very personal way. No counselor can be expected to ignore their own well-being -- and potentially the well-being of others in the future -- over professional responsibility."

"I understand why he did it, and I don't believe he'd do it again. He was humiliated then, and he was angry not at me, but himself. It's too late now, Brian. I have no proof. I'm telling you this, not for sympathy, but because I can't work with Victor or Curran professionally. I didn't think it was fair of me to hand this off with no explanation, but will you see to it their needs are met? Curran and Victor are required to see a counselor regularly. I can observe, but I can't be present. I'm not objective."

He looked at her in silence for several long seconds. There was no point in objecting, he knew; when Karyn made up her mind forcing the issue was not an option. But as much as he wanted to, Brian couldn't agree with her decision, and he wondered if even he could be objective on the matter anymore. He would have dismissed the notion of working with them entirely -- particularly Curran -- had it been anyone else who asked. But Karyn had supported him through a lot and he was more than willing to do the same for her, even if for no other reason than to spare her from having to go through the whole narrative again with another counselor.

Setting his jaw and swallowing his objections literally and figuratively, he finally answered in a tone tinged with hoarseness as even his voice resisted the distasteful notion. "Alright. I will -- but only on one condition: you promise not to try to bury this incident with me again. Now that you've told someone who cares and who will listen you need to keep that channel open, especially if anything further comes out of this either in a session with one of them or in your own thoughts and reflection on the incident."

Karyn smiled. He was taking care of her the way she would if their positions were reversed. "I did talk to someone for awhile from the Channel." The Channel was a reference to the secure link all counselors had access to in cases where counselors needed to speak with colleagues privately, and weren't in a position to speak to colleagues at their current posting because of conflicts or chain of command issues. It was Starfleet Medical's answer to "Who counsels the Chief Counselor?"

"Are you still?" he asked, interested in making sure it wasn't just a one-shot deal.

Karyn shook her head. "We both felt it was time for me to terminate. I'm much better now. I still have the occasional nightmare and I don't like being around Victor or Curran, but I can look at them without wanting to launch myself at their throats, so I suppose that's progress, right?" she asked with a weak smile.

It was, Brian had to admit, but it still didn't feel good enough. "Are you sure you don't want to pursue this further, Karyn? You know I won't say anything to anyone if you don't want to, but I'd be lying if I said I was happy with your decision to just let it go like this. I still think the victim here was you, not Kreighoff and certainly not Curran."

Dallas was taken off-guard for a moment upon hearing herself labeled a victim. She would be the first to acknowledge she was unjustly attacked, and as a child she had definitely been an innocent victim of her father, but something about the label for the person she was today bothered her. The last thing she wanted was to be perceived as a helpless disabled woman. "Even if I wanted to pursue this, what would I say? It's been a year, not to mention the fact I had records sealed and asked medical personnell to stay quiet. If I report this, it would be lanjep all over again. That crippled counselor couldn't hold it together again."

"I don't know that counselor or what she could or couldn't do. I'm interested in what *this* counselor *can* do. You aren't . . . " Elessidil stopped himself mid-sentence and looked down for a moment, taking a breath to rein himself in. This was about what Karyn wanted and needed, not about what *he* wanted. "Alright," he began again in a calmer voice. "I'm not going to push you on this. For what it's worth, you know my opinion on the matter and you can do what you want with that. But as for what you've asked me to do, I'll do it. I'll see to it that they both continue regular counseling . . . and I'll be here for you if you ever want to talk about any of this again." For his friend's sake, he managed a half-hearted smile. "Fair enough?"

Karyn looked down and nodded, feeling tears come to her eyes again. She looked up at him with regret. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Brian. I just...someone had to know the whole story even if you have to delegate to someone else. I...appreciate your anger and concern for me. It's been a long time since I had a man in my corner."

This time he smiled for real and reach over to hug her. "I'm always in your corner, you know that."

"Discussion"

Major Peter Shaw- SFMC Executive Officer/ Bravo Company CO 101st Battalion

Second lieutenant Branwen London – SFMC Executive officer Galaxy Furies and Furies counselor

*****

Pete walked down the corridors of the Galaxy. He had a mission to complete before they where to be deployed, not to mention he needed to make the presence of the Miranda Battalion known.

He walked towards Marine country and was actually stopped by the Marine guards. "Sir, you are not allowed in here, only Galaxy Marine Detachment."

Pete looked at the guard. "Who gave that standing order Private?" Pete said making sure to use the rank.

"Lt. Bailie," he replied.

"Good, as of yesterday I am his superior, and you will let me in or you will spend time in the brig for disobeying an order from a superior. And if you really want to make sure I can always call the Lt. Col. over on the Miranda and I am damn sure he will make you know where we stand. Am I understood Private?"

"Yes sir," he said backing down and moving so that Pete could walk in.

Bailie seemed to have this place on lock down. Something like that would have never happened on the Miranda, not to mention that Commander Smith had some of her security officer running drills with the Marines and engineering was always in and out for one reason or another. The only people that always got challenged was the Fighter Group, and that was most likely due to James Michelle being it's CAG. Not to mention Pete had never seen such a large group of arrogant SOBs in his life... till now.

Pete walked onto the drill deck and looked around. There where a few marines running drills, not as many as Pete would have liked to see, but it was better then nothing. He stopped the first Sergeant he saw walk by, "Sergeant, aten'hut!"

The sergeant snapped to attention and saluted.

"Major sir!" Doug Berry stood to attention. Waiting to see what the marine officer from the Miranda wanted from them.

"I was wondering if I could ask the Sergeant a few questions, off the record of course," Pete said as he took up a walk and waited for the Sergeant to catch up.

"Sir, yes sir." Doug said and easily kept up with the major.

"I want to know more about London and Bailie. There seems to be something between them, something they are not telling anyone, and I figure that the Sergeant may know some details."

"With due respect sir, we keep matter internally." He didn't like the situation he had somehow gotten himself into.

"I really don't care your feelings Sergeant," Pete replied in a stern voice. "And do I need to remind you, that I am a Marine, and I have been shooting things longer then you have been sucking down air. Now you will tell me what is going on, or this entire detachment will be reported to Command and every last god damned one of you will report back to Mars right fucking now! You then can really keep it internal when you are up against the Marine JAG. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir yes sir." He said driven into a corner. "What would the Major like to hear?" There wasn't too much to tell.

"The Major wants to know why London seems scared out of her fucking mind when Bailie is around, and why the hell Bailie seems to be a psychopath."

"Because he is... Well he is good he has experience but he is tough. And she is too sweet for her own good. And a few weeks ago he broke her arm. Didn't do wonders for their working relationship, sir."

Pete stopped in his tracks and looked down at the Sergeant. "He did WHAT!? And he is still in Command?" Pete yelled. Half the room had stopped to look at the yelling Major. Pete lowered his voice. "He did what and he is still in Command?" This is what he was looking for. He more or less had enough to take the entire command team out and replace them. The only problem was that they where so fucking far out it would be a week before they got replacements, and Pete couldn't reassign any of the Miranda Battalion. They had to many people that didn't have command experience. "And where is London. I want to talk to her myself."

"It's Tuesday, social today she should be in the counseling wing. Did they tell you she is also a shrink, sir." Doug was beginning to enjoy this. "Gossip has it that she did disobey a direct order to leave him alone. She went to the brig to help him, guess he didn't appreciate it, sir."

"Well they both deserve to not wear the uniform. Thank you Sergeant, I will go find her myself and talk with her. Dismissed." Pete then walked off not caring if the Sergeant would salute or not and headed for this counseling wing.

"Pompous ass." Doug thought when the Major left.

***

Branwen was not seeing patients at the moment. The last one for the day had just left 10 minutes ago, and she was working on his evaluation report.

Pete walked into the doorway and waited to be noticed. He didn't want to come straight out with what he had found out, but wanted to give her a chance to come forward with the information.

Finally she looked up and came straight to her feet. "Major, what brings you over to the Galaxy, sir."

"I thought I would look into a few things," he told her as he stepped in and let the door close.

"You are not here for therapy, sir?" She asked him still standing at attention.

"At ease before you pull something," he told her. "And no, I have my own counselors on the Miranda, and a few I am sure want to hang me from my nuts," he told her. "I thought I would look into this feeling I get when I see you or Bailie, like something in this Detachment isn't right."

"We are doing fine, sir." She stood at ease. And strangely enough she and Baile were working together better than they had ever done. And he was actually teaching her something now. Not that she would tell him if it was otherwise. Branwen understood loyalty.

Pete nodded. "You do realize I am empathic and I can tell when you are full of shit Lt.?" Pete asked. "So, if you are telling the truth about now, you are not about the past."

Branwen might be naive and inexperienced but she was not falling for this. "With respect, sir. In the first place you are not allowed to use powers on somebody without their permission. In the second place, sir, begging your pardon, it is none of your business if there has been anything between my commanding officer and myself in the past. We are working together well." She looked him square in the eyes, beginning to wander if all I am Marine officers were bullies.

"With do respect Lt., it is my concern when said commanding officer broke your arm and you failed to report it. Not only that, you visited him against orders." Pete paused. "You somehow have the respect of this detachment, and I am not about to go to command and get you two removed. They for some reason even respect Bailie, but when this situation is Romulan crises has been resolved questions will be asked."

"Sir, I don't think it is your place. My captain knows what is going on, and he has not acted." She said. "Lieutenant Baile is a good Marine."

"A good Marine would not break your arm cause you tried to help him. I hardly know him and can tell you something is up with that man. Even psychotic. Why are you protecting such a man? He needs to be at Starfleet Medical, not out here getting ready for war."

"Actually we have never gotten on better. And as you pointed out, I should not have been there. We will solve our own problems on this ship, sir."

Pete wasn't happy still, but he would let it got for awhile. "Fine, but if it interferes with operations I will take action, and it will be supported by the Colonel. I am trusting you on this, so don't screw me over."

"Thank you sir." She exhaled noisily. With all the problems in a private life she couldn't use this as well. "We will not let you down, sir."

"Good to hear," he said as he gave a quick salute and turned and headed out of her office, but before leaving, "take some time off," he told her. "Meet new people. You look overwhelmed" He then left her with that.

She snorted. ~That had worked so well last time, meeting new people.~ "Thank you, sir." She said outloud.

Ensign T'Jaden Tagra

Holodeck 4

TJ was finally at the stage of a working model for his Geodesic Fold Project. After his meeting with Pharos in Engineering, he changed a few more equations that dealt with the phase variances that surrounded the opening to the Stellar Corridor. Afterwards, everything fell into place.

He decided to use the Miranda as the model, which was not such a bad thing, considering her size and shape. He actually incorporated his Vulcan Science Academy Thesis, which was based on a theory of alternative to warp travel. It surrounded the use of a shield generator he designed that used gravimetric harmonics which tied into sub-space resonances within a specific geometric 'bubble'. He named it a Sub-space Linear Impeller Perpetuation Shield, or more simply, SLIP Shield. The 'bubble' shape dictated the speed a ship traveled. His old models had ships going faster than Transwarp without going outside the Space-Time Continuum.

The combination of the two actually increased the effectiveness of the project, which is always a plus.

In front of TJ was the sim of the Miranda and a typical G-Type star, to his left was a screen with the equations scrolling past and to his right was a screen ready to let him know the outcome, good or bad. "Computer, begin simulation Tagra, Alpha One."

The computer complied and the sim-Miranda model moved around the sim-star. A blue beam came from the Deflector Dish to the star's northern hemisphere and an opening appeared. It wasn't overtly huge, but large enough to allow the Miranda in. The screen to his right informed him that the opening was stable and that a connection had been made to a nearby star, which appeared at the far end of the room.

"Computer, pause simulation. Create a display identical the the previous two, but have it display the Stellar Corridor on the right and a topigraphical map of the Corridor on the left. Also, have all three displays follow me throughout the Holodeck."

The requested screen appeared above the sim-star with the requested information. "Restart simluation," he ordered the computer. In an instant, the sim-Miranda moved closer to the opening as the SLIP Shield came on-line, glowing a slight tinge of green. TJ moved to get between both sim-stars so to see both the entrance and exit of the sim-Miranda.

The sim-Miranda entered the sim-star without much of an effort. Within a few seconds, both sim-stars exploded. Thankfully the safeties where on, so the bright flash didn't hurt TJ's eyes or throw him back into a wall. He really didn't have time to react in any case.

"Shit," TJ yelled. He took a few steps back before getting his bearings. He started to paced, completely ignoring the displays following him around. He stopped and turned to look over the the display on his right informed him about a graviton spike while the map screen showed him where it happened. The sim-Miranda got ripped apart and lost all molecular cohesion, causeing a cascade affect in both stars, essientially making them go nova.

He tapped the sceen on the left and looked over the equations. Nothing could be changed, so he looked what could be changed on the shield design. While the overall design was sound, the versitility and adaptation needed to be worked on.

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

2 hours later

Well, after a design change, the simulation was ready for another try. TJ retook his place between both sim-stars, "Computer, run simulation Tagra, Alpha Two."

This time, everything went as smoothly as it did before. TJ held his breath when the sim-Miranda entered the first star. He moved closer to the second sim-star as the sim-Miranda exited...in several big pieces. His head just fell as he walked away. TJ rubbed his templed and ran his hands through his hair.

The map screen showed no abnormalities that could cause the outcome. The info screen showed TJ that the Corridor was not to blame, the exit was. It had an unstable gravimetric field which pulled the exiting starship in several directions at once.

"Computer, what is the probability of this type of gravimetric field forming at every Corridor exit?" he asked, not knowing where to look for the problem. The computer wasted no time answering, "Probability exceeds 78.956 percent." "Great," TJ said to himself, "Computer, which part of the projects' equations need to be improved upon to eliminate the gravimetric fields' effects on the exiting starship?"

"Equations 36b through 52j." "Ok...what type of changes need to be made?" "For best possible outcome, Temporal Mechanics, Applied Phasic Technologies and Transwarp Theory maximize a stable and successful completion with the least probability of starship failure," the machine replied.

"OK, you win. Computer save both simulations Tagra Alpha One and Alpha Two." He saved the information to his PADD and walked out. At the very least the sims gave a huge insight into what needed to be done. TJ just needed to brush up on several subjects he was either not overly familiar with, or knew but tried to avoid on principles.

Along with his project, TJ was thrilled to be in Romulan space. It's not everyday that Romulus is just out the window. He had to admit that it was a beautiful planet with very beautiful cities. The layouts and architecture where breathtaking, yet simplistic in thier complexity. Maybe this mission will foster a more open Empire and more friendly relations with the Federation.

Well, he could hope. And he also hoped that the Romulan Fleet could stop the Hydrans, but knew enough of how things worked in the galaxy. While he wanted the best to happen, he was prepared for a full out fight over Romulus. He actually expected it, even though he knew he shouldn't.

Well, only time will tell.

"A Nerve"

Cole Slaton *cough* Dead Guy
Arel Smith *cough* Mitchell

Sitting with Webber, a Hazard officer, and a veteran marine, borrowed from For'kel, much the man's annoyance - he still couldn't get over what happened between Cole and Arel, the boy really held a grudge - they were going over training sessions for the coming week. They had already thought up suitable scenarios to test the Hazards, from arctic combat to search and rescue operations located in the heart of an urban city, a nightmare in itself.

If you had any experience it would tell you combat in the confines of city streets was hell, plain and simple. Windows. Roof tops. Street corners. Shops. Homes. Ambushes could come from anywhere and at any time, and depending on your enemy's resources could rank from small arms fire to battle Titans and tanks.

"Looks good," Cole nodded having retrieved the PADD from Webber and looked over what the marine had added.

"A start..." Cole smiled up at the marine, a man who wanted perfection from his soldiers, something Cole could familiarise with.

The table across from both Cole and Webber was occupied by two security officers, hard at work eating their dinner knowing how Arel would skin their hides if late returning to duty. A young woman of 34, curly blonde hair in a pony tail sat closest to Cole, the man opposite stuffing his face with a hot beefburger. "You should eat some veg!" the woman said digging her fork into her salad tutting with disappointment at her companion.

"Hey," the man replied smiling as he picked up a chip, covered in HP sauce. Cole's mouth watered at the sight. "In my opinion, the cow that made this beefburger ate enough greens for the two of us..." The man shrugged taking another large bite, ripping the bun strange tougher than the beef itself.

"Its replicated!" the woman retorted rolling her eyes in disgust.

"H-eard about the ch-ef?" the man asked in between chews. "Married to that ass, Mitchell..."

"Don't call him that!"

Burger poised beneath his mouth Cole stared at his friend, acting at being confused. "What, Mitchell? Its his name darling?"

"No not Mitchell, ass."

"That's his name too---"

By that time Cole had risen having slid the PADD over to Webber making an excuse to leave. How the hell did this happen!? Mitchell! The man was more than an ass! It was one thing both he and For'kel had in common, or so it seemed with the marine pressing charges against the CAG, that Mitchell was a waste of space and should be fired out the nearest airlock, without a suit.

What infuriated him more was the fact she hadn't told him herself. What was she thinking! Must be a mistake, or she's been taken over by some alien, head trauma?

***

Arel looked up to see Cole storming across Security and then shrugged and went back to her computer PADD. She thought it was amusing how the door, which opened on its on, seemed to almost slam open as Cole stomped in.

Storming in Cole instantly started looking. Stepping up behind her he starting running his fingers through her hair, which she instantly reacted to, unsure what he was doing she starting yelling for him to stop, which he ignored for the moment twisting any arm that came in the way as he searched.

"The fuck?!?" Arel snarled, starting to aim her punches for his midsection. Not only was he acting like a lunatic but he was also messing up her bangs, which had taken Arel longer than Samantha Widdlestein had said they would.

"I'm looking for signs of alien infestation! Or head trauma!" he answered allowing Arel to back up against the wall, she was panting, not because she was out of breath but for the simple reason she was pissed off. ~That makes two of us!~ he thought happily.

"Infestation? Trauma?" Her hands were at her hips, not because she was posing angrily but because they were a heartbeat away from her phaser and hidden knife #4.

"Logic reasons why the fuck you married that asshole!" he demanded. "And secondly, for why I had to learn this from anyone else but YOU!" His finger point accusingly in Arel's direction.

"Oh, Kahless sake!" Arel shouted. "Is that all?"

"Is that all? Yes that's all!" shaking his head spitting a curse in Klingon. "I'd think that was more than enough."

"I figured that you'd already know." The security officer said. "News flies fast around here, I thought you would hear it anyway... and why the hell are you just hearing this now. You burried your head in a torpedo chamber for the last month or something?"

"I've had alot on my mind! A certain trial for murder, and with the paperwork you left on my desk for Hazard I've not see anything but datapads for the last month! With my duties as Renegade XO I've been slightly busy, so excuse me for not being up to date with the latest news and gossip!"

Arel grunted. "Fair enough. It was a misunderstanding but something that worked out to get Koloth and the other Klingons off my back."

Cole's expression of anger quickly changed forming a smile. "I *did* hear about that," he said sniggering. "Why not just break a few noses, or arms, worked on me. Saves on divorce procedings."

"Because I liked Koloth." Arel said. "Apart from a few weird ideas he had, he was a good man. I didn't want to embaress him or cause him dishonor."

Cole shook his head. ~Never stopped you before~ he wanted to say, feeling as though she never took that into account while they were together, but kept his jaw tightly shut. "So... this Mitchell business... it serious? You staying married to the ass, or what?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She said, turning back to her computer PADDS. "It's just temporary."

"Right..." he shook his head. "Strange though, don't you think, that the first person you think of is *him,* that you always seem to go back to him." The door hissed open in front of him, but he paused glancing back at her over his shoulder. "Just something to think on." Stepping forward, leaving Arel to think on it, not that he thought she would, the door closed behind him.

Five minutes went by before she called him over the comm. Her voice sounded a bit tight, like she was trying not to grit her teeth, but at least she wasn't coming after him with a bat'leth. "He interrupted our fight. It's not like I sought him out *looking* for a frelling husband."

["Any excuse isn't it, can't wait to hear the next one. Strange how quickly a month has passed, not found the time, just like this month, and the next."] There was a slight pause before Cole's voice came up through the comlink. ["I am impressed though, five minutes, must be a record. Was half expecting a certain chief, bat'leth in hand, seeking my blood. But then depending on the circumstances, and what's said, that may be taken the wrong way..."]

A barage of Klingon curses filled the channel before she ended the call with an order to shove his impressions somewhere painful.

Cole laughed, recieving a few glances both from the curses coming through the channel and him laughing at them. It was hard to tell if anyone actually understood what Arel had said, but the jist was easy enough. "Obviously hit a nerve."

"A Friendly Chat"

Second lieutenant Branwen London - SFMC Executive Officer Galaxy Furies and Furies counselor

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas SFMC, Furies Detachment, USS Galaxy

****

Branwen was still doing debriefings with her officers about the last mission. These talks helped the middle between a chat with a senior officer and a counseling chat. Jonas was one of the last to be called to her. And today it was his turn. While she was waiting, London was reading some reports.

The target practice session done and dusted, the unit were getting some much needed downtime before the next training session, leaving Steven to catch up with the XO. Not that he minded her debriefings. She was doing a bang up job as XO. Always lending an ear when needed, guiding and mentoring the weaker members of the unit and generally taking care of the Furies. Pretty much the complete opposite of Baile. Which, Steven believed, was a good thing. The unit needed someone to counteract the rough abrasiveness that Baile brought to the unit, and she was the perfect foil.

He just couldn't see her leading the troops full time. It wasn't due to her being a woman, far from it. Steven had in the past had a couple of CO's who had been of the fairer sex, it was just that both had more than a decade in the trenches before they took the reins. Bran had had what, one mission in command, and a pretty big disaster of a mission at that. She was still too green. So he couldn't see her leading the Furies, at least not yet. She was a damn fine XO though, and still his boss.

"Hi Boss." He called out cheerfully as he stopped at her open door.

"Baile is back, so I am no longer the highest boss." She smiled. "Can you spare me some time?"

"Yes Ma'am. My afternoon is free until 1800 hours. So I've got all the time in the world to talk." Steven replied, politely, all the while praying that this wasn't going to be a counseling session. God how he hated those.

"Good. Because we haven't talked in while. How are you holding up, Steven?"

Steven smiled, despite his feelings towards what he could clearly see becoming a full blown counseling session. "Everything is good. Ma'am. Yourself?"

She smiled. "I'm fine. You really don't like talking about yourself do you, or is it that you don't like talking to me?" She asked.

I'm happy to talk about myself. I just hate bringing up memories of the things I've had to do in the past as a Marine." He paused, his mind filled with thoughts of a battle a few years before that had been ugly. "As for the second part of your question, I have no problem talking to you at all. It's just your counselor hat I don't like. I find you to be a beautiful, funny, intelligent woman whom, overlooking your counseling role, is a damn fine Marine and XO."

She burst out laughing. "Thank you, Steven. You say that after the last mission, and I was thinking I should stick to counseling. It's not personal then that you don't like my counseling?" She was still laughing.

"No Ma'am. I just hate seeing shrinks... And quacks for that matter." He grinned.

He took a seat on the chair opposite her desk. "And as for that mission, from what I read in the reports it would have happened to anyone leading the team. It wasn't your fault."

"Thank you. Are you sure that goes for Lieutenant Baile?"

"You're right. Baile would be the exception. He would have kept on fighting them, and the Furies would probably have been wiped out to a man. So the way I see it, you saved their lives by being there. All of their lives."

"You are not a fan of our commanding officer?" She was a little surprised. Baile was a soldier's soldier she would have thought.

Steven shook his head. It wasn't what he was trying to get at. "What I meant, ma'am, is that I get a weird vibe from him. I wouldn't call it a superiority complex, but..." It was harder to explain that he thought it was going to be. ".... I just can't see him taking any shit from nobody, especially the locals of some long past battle ground. He does seem to be a good bloke though."

"You are very much contradicting yourself, Steven." Branwen said. "First you said he would have gotten everybody killed. That is quite something to say."

"Ma'am, I don't think I have contradicted myself. I don't see him as the sort of leader who would surrender to a bunch of sand people, even if they had managed to disable the majority of your weaponry. And if he didn't surrender to them, then it would have been likely that he and a large number of the men would have been killed during the brief battle."

"You might underestimate him, Steven." She said hoping she was right.

"Ma'am, I think one day, that he will get a lot of marines killed. But that's just my personal opinion. He *is* my CO though and I'd follow him to the gates of hell if he so ordered." Steven decided not to add that with the many horrible things he had done and witnessed in his ten years as a marine, the gates of hell would open before them, and the denizens within would look upon Steven and cower in fear that he had returned. And with friends this time.

"Good. I am glad to hear it." She smiled. "How are you otherwise?"

"I'm doing well. All the work you and Baile have assigned me is sorted. The men are trained and rearing to get into some combat. As am I." He smiled. "I've cleaned and re-assembled my rifle three times today already in anticipation of the battle that could be to come. And the men have been packing the gear they need. All we are waiting for is the green light to deploy ma'am."

"From what I understand, that will come quickly enough."

Steven cleared his throat. "There is one thing Ma'am..."

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Well, with the Miranda and the rest of the fleet here, I thought it might be a good idea to pop over and check out their setup. You never know when we will get another opportunity to see how the other ships' Marines live and train. Might find a few ideas to improve things over here."

"You can do it in your spare time. The Lieutenant and I have already been over. And I approve your initiative." She smiled at him. "Is good to have dedicated people like you around, Steven."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, ma'am." He smiled back. "Have you heard anything more about what attacked the Second Fleet?"

"Not yet. We are staying in touch with the Miranda Marines."

"The men are itching to get back on the 'winning' side again." SHIT. Steven mentally swore at himself. He'd probably just made Bran feel a whole lot worse about Cheron with that one bloody statement. "Eh, sorry ma'am. I didn't mean it like that. It's just, the men are itching to whoop some ass."

"It's all right." She managed to smile. "So, what is this about your new hobby, it was you, wasn't it, that I saw a few hours ago?"

"Oh shit. You saw that?"

"So it was you." She tried not to sound too disapproving.

"Are you sure you want to hear about it?" He asked, he face turning a nice light shade of red.

Branwen didn't really say yes or no, not really knowing what she wanted.

"Na, that's okay. It is good to talk to someone about this." Steven paused, thinking if he should explain what he meant or tell the story first. He chose the latter. "A few months back, I became acquainted with Lieutenant Hunter. Do you know her?"

"Yes, I do, she is a very nice woman." Branwen said.

****

"And that's what happened." Steven finished.

"Right." And a marine Lieutenant didn't really know how to respond to this being not a fan of nudity and sexual exploits herself. Especially not at the moment. "What you do in your spare time is your own choice. But I would like to ask you not to do it in public any longer, Lieutenant Jonas."

"Yes Ma'am. Though I generally don't make a habit of it. I guess my pent up frustration got the better of me. I haven't seen any combat in almost three years now so I'll have to make sure I redirect it towards the Hydrans when, or rather if they come this way."

"That's still no reason to walk through the corridors of the ship naked. We are Marines, behave like one!" It was as angry at him as he had ever seen her.

"Yes ma'am." He nodded solemnly. Begging your pardon ma'am, but if it had been you in that situation, what would you have done?"

"I wouldn't get in that situation, Lieutenant." She said still cold.

"I realize that ma'am, but if you *did* somehow find yourself in that predicament, what would you have done?"

"I would find clothes as soon as possible, and later atone for what I had done." She said honestly.

"I tried that, at least the first part. But no one seemed willing to help out a Marine with a little spare kit. Heck, even the Transporter chief declined my request for a site to site transport." Steven replied.

In all his time here aboard the Galaxy, and it had only been a little over six months, Steven hardly knew anything about Branwen. Sure, he knew about how she commanded people, and even a little about her counseling technique, but as a person, she was still a blank canvas to him. She never seemed to talk about herself, or what she liked or did when off duty, so when she mentioned atoning it might offer a little insight into what made up Lieutenant Branwen London. "I didn't realize you were religious Ma'am. Do you have a particular denomination?"

"It will not be something you are familiar with. It falls within the Christian faith. My family form a small community with their own rules and priests." She said uncomfortably.

Steven nodded. "No offense ma'am, but somehow I doubt God would ever be able to forgive me for my sins. I've made too many of his people suffer while a Marine."

"And yet it is something you did to help others, God is not against a righteous war, Steven." She said gently.

"Some of it wasn't during times of war. Some of it was borne out of necessity during undercover work. I doubt I'd get much absolution for those." He replied, hoping he hadn't given too much of his past away.

"Have you tried to speak to the chaplain? To try and find absolution, or are you not religious?" Branwen asked kindly.

"I do believe in God, ma'am. I just don't believe in the church, and priests and absolution and all that." Steven thought about saying that he felt this way due to the things he had seen that God should never have allowed to occur, but decided against it. "I used to think about it often while on the battle field, but nowadays I think he and I have an understanding... I stay out of his business and he stays out of mine."

"If that works for you." She said. "By the sound of it you went through a lot, though I haven't seen much therapy in your record."

"And you're not likely to either, Ma'am." He replied. "The surfacing of the deeds of my past has, without fail, always lead to a lengthy drinking binge, which in turn leads to many of the common problems associated with alcohol, and I'm sure, given our current location and the impending conflict, that you'd prefer me to be functioning at peak efficiency and not lying in bed with an almighty hangover."

"Not really. But I am here if you want to try talking. Is my job, you know, and I am a good listener."

He nodded. "I know you are ma'am, but if that Hydran fleet makes it here, then the listening to one's issues is going to be the least of our problems."

"True. Just don't forget my offer, Steven."

"Yes Ma'am."

With that she let him go. Although Branwen did make a note to keep an eye on him.

"Thinking of a new friend"

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies XO USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Man'darr Maivia
Chief Operations Officer USS Miranda

+ Now +

Sitting in her office feeling sorry for herself, Branwen was looking hard for ways to lift her spirits. And then suddenly she thought back to the meeting she had on the station with another Miranda Officer. Somebody who really had a reason to feel sorry for himself. She found herself thinking back to that occasion.

+ about a week ago +

Branwen was still on the Starbase looking for furniture for her new quarters. Not an easy thing, as she had not even decided on a colour scheme and she was definitely running out of time. The ships would be leaving soon, and her roommates would have a good laugh if she hadn't sorted something out before then.

Man'darr had been moping around the starbase, wanting to get off the Miranda for awhile and try to clear his mind about his sister's death before the launch of the Miranda. He hadn't been paying attention until he felt a bump and looked down at the woman on the floor with a somewhat suprised look on her face at having been knocked down. "I am sorry, miss. I should have been paying attention to where I was going. Are you alright?"

"I am fine." With one agile movement she came to her feet. "I should have been more careful as well probably. It's just difficult to pick furniture and paint colours."

"Why are you picking out furniture? Is something wrong with the issued furniture you have in your quarters?" Man'darr had never been one for fashion and could never understand why many people wanted to change their furniture in their quarters or buy lavish clothing.

"Because the issued furniture is very boring. I want to do something else, make it a little bit more personal. From your reaction I gather you are also in Starfleet?" She smiled. "I am Branwen London by the way."

Man'darr shook the woman's hand. "I am Man'darr Maivia, and yes, I am in Starfleet. I am the Assistant Operations Officer aboard the Miranda. What do you do in Starfleet?" Man'darr admitted to himself that the woman was very attractive and rather striking.

"I'm a marine. I am XO over on Galaxy, and I am a psychologist." She smiled at him.

"I see...a marine and a psychologist? Thats quite a strange combination of careers, isn't it?"

"Why do all navy types say that." But she did give him a grin. "I am the first, an experiment."

"It is just that I've never met a marine and a psychologist in the same person. Usually they are one or the other." Although Man'darr wasn't really in the mood for it, he decided he should at least offer her something to eat. Man'darr found it strange that he was talking with this woman. Normally, he would have just pased the woman by...but he wanted to take his sister's advice and try to be more social. "Would you care to get something to eat or take a walk somewhere?"

"Something to eat would be nice." She said. "I am hungry, shopping is hard work." She smiled at him.

"I did not know that shopping was considered work. I thought many species, especially the females found it relaxing and enjoyable." Man'darr then spotted a nearby restaurant. "We could eat there," he said, indicating to a resaurant called 'Brel's'.

"Not if you are running out of time and you don't know what to buy. Then it can be extremely stressful, even for females of the species, any species." She grinned. Branwen looked inside. "Seems nice enough, sure." The marine followed him in.

Man'darr and Branwen entered the establishment and sat down at a nearby booth. The place had a cozy feelto it as the lights in the place were dimmed somewhat with a person on the stage playing a piano. Man'darr was willing to try anything to get his mind off his sister. "So, tell me about yourself, Ms. Branwen."

She giggled a little. "Usually that's my line. I am the XO of the marine component, and that is a busy job in itself. On the side I am also the first marine shrink on the ship. It's an experiment to see if marines open up more to a fellow marine. And what about you, what do you like about your job?"

Man'darr was silent for a moment, as he had not chosen to be in Operations, but he made the best of it, or at least tried to. "Operations is a busy job, I guess you could say. Keeping inventories and effiecent use of systems aboard the Miranda can be...time consuming. However, I am also a member of the Miranda's Hazard Team."

"Oh? And what is that exactly? Is that a branch of security?" Marine and security matters always interested her professionally. "What do you do there exactly as an operations Officer?"

"Hazard is a special operations unit aboard the Miranda. We carry out missions that are typically too tough for Marines," he jested with a grin. I'm pretty much a simple operative, though I do hold a specilization in computer systems. So if they need a system over-ridden, I could most likely do it."

She raised an eyebrow at his remark about marines. "What's the need for a hazard team if you already have security and marines? We have specialists as well. And we are trained to do all kinds of missions."

"Hazard personnel are trained in small unit tactics, sabotage, recon, hostage rescue--things that most Starfleet Security and Marines aren't trained for."

"My..." she said joking a little. "I hope I get to see the opportunity to see you guys work. Not an emergency of course. We are all hoping this will be a quiet mission." At least she was after the last disastrous mission she had led.

"What made you want to join the Marines?" Man'darr asked. "Why not Medical where other psychologists are placed?"

"Uhm several reasons. My sister is in the navy, and although I really love her and she is my second mum, I didn't want to be known as the little sister off. And it was a challenge for me to be one of the first marine shrinks."

"That is admirable," Man'darr commented as a waiter approached. "I will have a Krellian Steak."

"I will try the same, and some local juice." And Branwen handed back the the menu with a smile.

The waiter nodded and left. Man'darr looked back at the woman who sat across from him. He was suprised at how much better he was feeling, talking to this woman, and not thinking about Jill. "So, I find it suprising that you are sitting here and talking with me. Most people find me intimidating...or that I will get angry at them."

"Why? You don't frighten me, and so far you seem amiable enough. Do you get angry with people easily than?" She watched him closely now, curious."

Man'darr sighed. "I try not to...but my life has not been an easy one. Most seem intimidated by the fact that I tower over them and posses a strength and speed greater than a vulcan or Klingon. However, yes, I have been known to have a short temper," he said, hoping to not drive this woman away, but he could not lie to her--lying was considered a dishonorable trait among Capellans. "But losing everything in your life that you cared about will do that to a person I suppose."

"I don't find you overbearing at all. And so far you have only been friendly to me." She said. "Do you want to tell me what happened to you?"

'Ah, crap,' Man'darr thought. The psychologist now had him hooked. "Not really...but I suppose it would help to talk about it with somebody, as I have no one aboard the Miranda to talk to. Before just recently, I had never even seen my homeworld of Capella Four. My father joined Starfleet after being banned from by the former Teer of the Ten Tribes. The Teer had falsely accused my father of dishonorable acts. Just after being assigned to the Miranda, the Teer had sent warriors to earth to kill him. They suceeded in killing my father and mother before I was able to finish them off. About three weeks ago, my brother was asissinated with a Kligat. It was then I was contacted by a former friend of my father, who informed me that I should travel back to Capella Four as a civil war had broken out between my people. I did so, with my sister. I killed the Teer during the battle...but he had dishonorably used a disruptor during the battle and had killed my sister with it. So now, I have no one left...I am alone."

Instinctively she put her hand on his big one. Tears glistened in her eyes. "I'm so sorry for your losses. But you are not alone, Starfleet is a family. We take care of each other. You will make friends on the Miranda, and they will help you through this. How ever difficult it sounds now."

"Thank you for your kind words, Branwen. You appear to be a good person, but making friends is not one of my strenghts, as many do not understand the Capellan Culture."

"Have you ever tried, Man'darr?" She was still looking at him intently.

Man'darr nodded. "Yes...and I was lied to and betrayed by her."

"You're talking about one person I think. Don't judge the rest of us by the reaction of one person."

Man'darr was quiet for a moment as the waiter brought them their food and drinks and left. "Perhaps, but it is a historical fact...especially of terrans, that they do not make friends with people they do not understand or fear. Which most people have no reason to fear me. However, I will not go out of my way to make friends like Terrans do. If they fear me, then so be it. If not, then I am glad that they don't."

"I would like to be your friend." Branwen said on impulse. She felt sorry for him, but she also really liked him.

Man'darr looked at the woman for a moment and saw that she was serious. "You appear to have a good heart, therefore, I will consider you my friend, Branwen."

"Good. I hope I can help you get over the death of your family. Eventually." She squeezed his arm.

Man'darr nodded, eyeing her hands on his arm for a second. He liked this woman for some reason, as he gently placed his hand on hers. "Only time will heal those scars...but I believe you would be able to help."

+ Now +

The ships had left shortly after that, and anyways she had been s caught up with her own troubles and that she had not contacted her new friend yet. It was something she planned to remedy very soon.

"Healing Factors"

Padma
Ella

A couple of the nurses in Sickbay gave her good natured scolding smiles as Ella limped to the nearest bio bed and that in itself made her feel ten times better.

Routine was a beautiful thing, she decided, even her routine now seemed to be getting her ass kicked in her fighting program whenever her personal life took a turn for the worse.

"I almost had that guy behind the bar this time." Ella said as she showed her impromptu bandage to her nurse. "But I am getting very good at improvised splints."

"That's nice, dear." The nurse said.

Ella Grey's voice was impossible not to place; no one sounded quite like that, and as the orderly helped Padma limp through the room she felt a bit of dread creep up. As he settled her on the bio bed she couldn't help a soft "Hell No" from creeping through her lips.

It was bad enough she slipped on a puddle of water and broke her ankle. Bad enough that she had to call an orderly to come down, see her in nothing but her robe with wet hair, and help her through the corridors. Bad enough that she had to go through bone knitting, which wasn't fun. But now she was stuck in sickbay next to the last person on the ship she wanted to see?

Hell no.

"Just gets better and better," she mumbled. "Don't suppose I could move, could I?"

The orderly shook his head. "Breaks, sprains and strains go over here. Policy ma'am, nothing I can do about it."

She was about to tell him where he could put his policy when he turned on his heel and walked away.

"Well when am I going to be seen?!" she shouted after him.

If Ella didn't know she was there before, she certainly knew now.

The look on Ella Grey's face couldn't have been put into one expression. It was equal parts 'Oh, great,' 'Why me,' and 'I hope you're happy' with a small bit of 'I hope it hurt a lot, bitch' thrown into the mix.

But finally Ella settled on cold detachment, nodding in acknowledgment at the other woman before resolutely looking forward.

Life was cruel. As if she needed another reminder of Corran, Ella thought. And here was the person who had told her that their relationship would never work, not in a million years.

She wondered if she could get a Holodeck free later this afternoon. Ella felt the need grow again to kick something hard.

"So what're you in for?" Padma asked, attempting to be cordial as she looked over at the other woman. The memory of their not-so-pleasant encounter some time earlier (involving Rex, unchecked jealousy, and just a little bit of egotistical bitchiness on both sides) stung sharply and she tried, hard, to keep the distaste out of her expression.

Ella raised an eyebrow and then showed Padma the splinted arm.

Mm. So that's how it was going to be played.

"Slipped in a puddle of water," Pad replied. When she received no response, she set her jaw. "Look," Padma said, the painkillers taking off the edge of not only her ankle but her emotional discomfort, "for how I said what I said... I should have been a little more diplomatic or, you know. Kept it to myself. I'm just not very good at stuff like that, keeping it all internalized and everything, and you sort of found me at the wrong time. Not that it's an excuse, more an explanation I guess. So… I'm sorry for how I said it."

The engineer's lips twitched. She liked how Padma didn't apologize for what she had said, not that Ella wouldn't have believed her anyway. "Alright."

"Alright? That's it?" she asked. "Geez, Ella."

"Geez, Ella, what?" The engineer asked with a frown.

"Well… Powers only know how long we're going to be sitting here, and frankly, your negativity isn't good for my healing factor. There's documented, medical proof that positive energy… and besides. My painkillers aren't approved for this usage…"

"Amp your dosage then." Ella snapped. "It's not my problem."

"Maybe you should amp your dosage," Padma said, forehead creasing as she stared at the petite engineer. "Might help that mood."

"My mood is fine. One of the benefits of not being with Corran anymore." Ella said sweetly. "Is that I don't have to pretend to be cordial to you."

"Whoa sweetie. If that, before, was you pretending to be cordial? You're a pretty shitty actress."

"Hey, I was perfectly cordial. UNTIL you started acting like a harpy from hell." Ella pointed out angrily.

"I don't have to sit here and listen to this," Padma stated, before realizing that, oh wait! She did. "Where the hell is the doctor?"

Ella was tempted to say something nasty but was distracted by a sharp pain in her arm. "Probably as far away from us as he or she can get."

"Look. You're just pissed because I'd told you what you already knew. If I wasn't right, the two of you won't have just broken up! And you know what, the two of you are both going to be happier for it. You both know it. And it's not because I'm pining away for Rex or because I was jealous of your relationship or any of that, it simply wasn't meant to be for either of you." Padma's amber eyes held Ella's gaze. "And I'm sorry for that. But you know who you were meant to be with and Rex… well, who knows with Rex." She shrugged. "Not either of us, I'm sure."

Ella scowled. Her mother would have told her not to do that because her face would get stuck that way. Plus it wasn't pretty. She broke eye contact with Padma and looked around for the nurse. "This sucks."

"Yes. Yes it does," Padma agreed. "A lot of things do." She looked down at her feet and sighed. "Break ups suck. Relationships suck. Men suck -- believe me, I know, I've been one a dozen times over. Just… stop taking all the stuff that sucks out on me. There's nothing I can do about any of it."

She didn't want to do that. Ella knew that deep down she had a very 'me vs. my enemy' mentality and there was no one left to be her enemy, since open warfare with Angie would mostly likely end with Ella in a body bag. And here was Padma, who had been a walking example of her consciousness.

Life *was* cruel.

"I can do that." Ella relented. "I've got a program just waiting for me to kick its ass."

"Holograms are good for that," Padma said, offering a small smile. "Of course, it's all fun and games until someone slips and breaks their ankle. The safeties can only do so much against the laws of physics."

Ella let a tiny hint of a smile cross her lips. And then fervently hoped they didn't have to be friends now.

"Oh thank God," Padma said, breaking her attention away from the other woman to look at the Doctors approaching. "What have you been doing? Practicing your golf swings?"

(Backpost to Open Fist)

"Sleeping Beauty, In Reverse"

Ensign Rob Crestine (written by Kylee)

Lt. Gianna Crestine (written by Lori)

Rob did not want to be evacuating people. He did not want to be responsible for anything. He didn't care that he had been waiting for advancement in Starfleet for two years now. He was ready to say the hell with Starfleet and just find his wife.

But he couldn't do that. He had to finish this.

Rob safely saw a group of children into their escape pods and went back to make sure he hadn't missed anybody on that deck. As he ran, the ship shook hard (convulsed was the only word that seemed fitting for the strength of the shake) and Rob suddenly found his feet somewhere in the air above his head. He didn't remember slamming into anything but he must have hit something because one second he was flying and the next he was lying on his back and something was trickling was trickling down into his eyes.

~This must be what the meant by seeing red~ Rob thought and tried to sit up, tried to figure out what was going on.

Then the Challenger crashed onto the surface, and that was one convulsion that Rob felt when it hit.

****

"AH!" Gianna picked herself up. There was such a jolt as to knock her against a wall and then down to the floor. She stood back up, running toward the pods, looking for Rob on her way. Though, she had a sick feeling in her stomach she'd not see him.

Rob's eyelashes fluttered at the sound of someone yelling. It was a faraway sound, something he couldn't even begin to tell was real, but it stirred him from the depths of unconsciousness to the much less pleasant depths of semi-consciousness. He pushed himself up with both hands until he was sitting with his back to one wall of the ship. He could feel blood trickling from his head and when he went to wipe it away, he caught sight of the back of his hands. The skin was more than just burnt. It was peeling away, as easily as the skin off an orange.

His arms looked the same, burnt and disfigured. There was blood pouring out of his nostrils and the side of his lips.

~Radiation~ he thought hazily. ~It's the radiation.~

Then he heard himself calling for Gianna and cursed himself for hoping that she'd answer. He didn't want her there. If she was on the ship, she was likely sick. He wanted her nowhere near this. . .except he wanted her with him.

He called for her again, praying that she would and wouldn't answer.

Gianna stopped and leaned on a bulkhead. "Rob?" She turned and headed toward the voice. If a magnetic field could be used to describe anything, it would be this. No thoughts of death could keep her from finding a way to him. It was an undeniable pull for the love of her life. The man who she'd taken for granted for the past several months and would give anything to just be in his arms at this moment.

Rob heard Gianna's voice and tried to frown and grin at the same time. The grin won out. . .old habits die hard, and Rob was a smiling man through and through. He knew, though, that the smile was dark---blood dripping through his teeth made it impossible to think otherwise.

"Gianna," he called out again, and tried to push himself to a standing position. It didn't work, and he fell facedown on the floor. He got to his knees and tried again---and again he fell, this time against the wall. Finally, he gave up trying to walk and managed a slow moving crawl across the broken ship's deck. Crawling might have been an embarassing sort of thing, but he was dying so he figured it was forgiven. Besides, he had worked under his wife for too long to get easily embarassed over things that didn't matter.

Crawling didn't matter. Blood smiles didn't matter. Last words didn't matter---he could never think of any good ones, anyway.

Radiation didn't matter. Or it did but not as much. Dying certainly mattered---it just didn't matter the most.

"Giana," Rob tried to say and the word got lost somewhere in his throat. He crawled around a corner and there she was, running towards him.

He wanted to run towards her too, wanted to pick her up and twirl her around. He wanted to pretend they were on a beach, on their honeymoon, with the future ahead.

But there was too much debris all around them to pretend they were on a beach, and there was certainly too much of his blood to pretend there was a future.

And he couldn't crawl anymore, not even that, not anymore. He collapsed and he waited and he knew that she'd be there.

In not even a second, but still it felt like it took forever for her to be down beside him, gently picking him up. She gulped, hoping to swallow the sick dread that caused her eyes to water. "Rob..."

"Hey babe," Rob said weakly. "I bet I look real sexy now, huh?" The laugh he hoped for didn't come and Rob made himself open his eyes to focus on Giana's face. "You're okay, right? No. . .no radiation yet?"

She was only able to shake her head in answer as she looked into his eyes. She managed a smile and weakly spoke, "You're always sexy, my love."

"You know it," Rob whispered. Then, after a long breath, he said, "You need to get off the ship. Don't look for anybody else. Don't try to take me with you. Just go."

She gulped the tears and tried to joke, "Since when does Ensign outrank Lt?" She took a ragged breath, "I'm not leaving you. Not now. Not ever."

Rob smiled softly. He wanted to fight with her, scream at her, physically force her to go, but he couldn't force a squirrel off a ship right now, so he didn't even bother. "I had to try," he said, smiling. "Anyway, I don't think it'll be very long now. Not that---" He started to cough and turned his head away as he breathed in burnt carpet. "Not that I've ever. . .done this before. . .but I think. . .I think it's coming soon."

He felt tears slowly trickling down his face and he wished he could say they were for her but they weren't because he didn't want to die. He coughed and laughed and coughed again. "Dying with dignity. . .it's harder than it sounds."

She found it an incredible struggle to talk as she realized she couldn't wish him to live. She had no superpowers. She had nothing for him but to hold him. She finally managed threw her sobs, "I'm sorry. I love you."-

"I love you too," Rob said weakly. He coughed for a long time, turning his head away as to not spatter her with blood as he did, and then finally turned back to face her, exhausted and out of breath. "D'ya. . .d'ya think a last kiss is out of the question? I know I'm kind of. . .gross looking right now . . .all bloody and stuff. . .but I thought that something. . .something corny like that. . .might be nice."

She leaned down and kissed him. Kissed him as if they were alone and healthy. The reality struck as in a second she tasted the blood.

Rob's eyelids fluttered as he felt Gianna's lips against his. He wanted it to be a magical kiss, a Snow White kiss, where Gianna got to be the prince and save his ass and make him live again. He wanted that but it wasn't like that because his lips were still bloody and everything hurt just too much. And he was afraid---he didn't be, but he was. He was terrified---

---but at least it hadn't been her.

Radiation mattered. Never making it to Lieutenant mattered. Never eating a pancake again, never hugging his mother again mattered. Never learning the violin mattered. Never going swimming in a non-holographic ocean mattered. Dying mattered. . .

. . .but not as much as her.

So he was as grateful as he was terrified in those last few moments, and the Snow White kiss he had wanted was more like a Sleeping Beauty kiss in reverse. Because when Gianna let go and moved her face away for his, Rob had fallen back to sleep, never to wake up.

"For the Sake of a Child"

Lt JG Naranda Roswell, Engineering Officer

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

Second Lieutenant Branwen London, Marine Psychologist

*****Counselling Offices*****

Nara sighed looking at the PADD. The man in the other chair in the foyer beside her was talking. "Just take a look over that. We can talk about it a bit later if you want. Mainly you need to talk to Saia."

Returning from his brisk walk from his quarters and back to his office, having stopped in to ensure that the cat was fed so he could take an extra hour or so to catch up on the mounting mass of paperwork on his desk,Miramon was surprised to encounter Nara in the foyer. That in itself was unusual - after all, Naranda lived with Branwen, so hardly needed to go to others if she needed someone to talk to, or even a shoulder to cry on.

"Hello Nara. Something I can do for you?" he asked as he stepped into the foyer fully. He noticed the other man close by and raised an eyebrow. "And, indeed, is there something I can do for you?" his voice slightly more reserved than it had been when he had greeted Nara.

The man stood, "No. I'm done." He turned back to Nara, "Lt., from what the counselor said, it's something to be concerned about." He nodded to Terrik and made his way out.

Nara looked up at Miramon. "One of the teachers called me down here."

The Bajoran didn't need her to elaborate on that one. He was fully well aware of Saia's behavioural mannerisms, probably being the single most stubborn child he'd ever met. He smiled inwardly. Picking some things up off her stepmother...

"And yet, nonetheless, here you are. Had a good day?" he asked. Of course, it was possible he was just inquiring out of politeness, but that was always his way - indeed, he'd likely be polite to the Klingon heading his way with a Bat'leth to hand, ready to disembowel him. Something along the lines of "I fear I must apologise for marring the shininess of your blade with my blood. Do forgive me..."

Nara raised an eyebrow turning the PADD off. "Until now. But...," She sighed as she stood, "I think they're getting better."

"Sounds to me like some shore leave is in order, Lieutenant," he said, exaggerating her rank a little as though he were giving her a direct order, even though he wasn't. He knew that, most of the time at least, Nara could appreciate dry humour.

"Still, if something's bothering you, you should talk about it. Specifically, with me. In these offices, I can be a Counsellor easily enough."

Nara looked at him. "I don't have an appointment." There was none of the giddiness when she came to see him the first time.

The Bajoran restrained his lips from curling into an amused smile and quickly walked over to each of the offices in turn, poking his head into any of those that had open doors, making sure nobody was around. Within a moment, he stood at the door to his own office, turning around to half-face Nara, the ghost of a smile crossing his expression.

"It appears that my appointment schedule is open. I shall blame T'Reev for that as soon as he reappears. But until he does, my office is your office."

Nara looked at him, assessing. Dallas was her counselor. Though, it seemed she was more comfortable with Miramon. She sighed and perked an eyebrow up, "I warn you. Saul is the least of my problems."

Miramon couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him that time. Since he'd first come aboard the Galaxy, he'd met the two of them separately, then watched as they proceeded through lots of turbulence to end up together as a couple. Sometimes he wondered how they kept on going but, somehow, they always managed it.

"Saul has always been *a* problem. But he's your partner, so it's expected that you weather a few storms now and then. What could possibly be the larger problem, though?"

Nara held the PADD up. "Saia."

"I could have guessed," Miramon noted, all amusement gone from his voice. Clearly Nara wanted another of their serious conversations. "What's the issue?"

Nara turned the PADD back on and went to an image. Saia's art had gotten better in the past few months, but darker. Disturbingly so almost. She handed the PADD to Miramon to show the image of a flower. Once she surmised only grew on Trill. It was bleeding from what she could tell and beside it lay a Sakarian blade Nara had hung in her room. "The symbolism isn't hard to catch."

The Bajoran stared at the PADD for a moment, the slightest hint of a frown appearing on his normally relaxed face. He knew exactly what this sort of thing indicated, but he'd never expected Saia to start acting in this way - inevitably, most post-traumatic stress reactions occured early on after the events themselves. That such a thing could have taken so long to get to her was surprising - although perhaps it was the simple manifestation of an altogether different issue. Homesickness likely played a part, as did the fact that everyone she'd even known back on the Trill homeworld were either, dead, missing or very, very far away. And, as a child, she didn't have the mechanisms to deal with that appropriately.

"I can see the issue. Would it help if I had a talk with her, do you think?" he asked.

Nara nodded, "I sure don't know how. I feel like we don't connect like we used to. We seemed to communicate so much better when I wasn't talking. When we had to take care of each other on Trill."

At that moment Branwen came out of her office. When she saw the two together, she blushed.

"She's growing up, and she's curious about her home and her people, I would think. After all, her memories of her world can't exactly be very fond. And life aboard a starship is never exactly easy at her age. Heck, if I'd spent my formative years about a starship, I swear I'd return to Bajor and never step foot of it again," the Bajoran remarked with his typical half-smile.

Nara looked over and saw Bran, "Hi."

Miramon noticed Branwen emerging from her own office, and his posture straightened noticeably, a sudden amount of tension finding it's way to his shoulders, which followed the example of his posture. His expression was unreadable, something he'd learned to do at the Academy years ago, but he held his tongue and refrained from speaking any words of greeting. Last time the two had encountered one-another, it had not exactly ended on amicable terms. He had no wish to provoke her ire again and waste time trying to extricate himself from yet another tricky situation.

She took a deep breath and came forward. "I'm sorry." She said to Miramon.

The Bajoran nodded stiffly, although his expression didn't change in the slightest with the apology. "Accepted."

Branwen could see he was still angry. "I won't keep you guys." She mumbled.

Nara looked between the two, letting herself turn her mind to this situation as she smirked. "Whatever I missed must had been interesting."

Miramon turned briefly to raise any eyebrow at Naranda, his expression losing some of the tightness that had been imprinted upon his normally serene features. "Interesting does not describe it appropriately."

"I was very unkind to him the other day." Branwen explained.

Nara raised an eyebrow slightly surprised, "I'm not asking for details." Then the air got very awkward.

"I know. I don't want to hide that I behaved very badly." Branwen explained.

Nara furrowed her brows, "I'm not a priest, Bran."

"Excuse me." Branwen grumbled and again started to walk away.

"Wait." Nara looked at Miramon and back to Branwen, "Branwen knows Saia pretty well. Maybe we can figure this out with her help?"

Immediately Branwen became concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Saia. You've seen her. I was hoping we could figure something out. The three of us."

"I am more than willing to help out with her. You want me to do it professionally?" Branwen asked.

Nara looked between them, "I'd say we're making that line fuzzy, but yes."

"All right. We have already been talking a little. I think I can help." She gave Nara are quick hug. "I know this is very difficult for you."

"Well, perhaps I should be the one to do this from a professional level. She knows Branwen better than she does me, so I can stand off to one side and watch things from a more objective position," Miramon suggested. "Would that work for you, Nara?"

Nara waved Bran away, "I guess. I have a hard time understanding you counselors. Selective hearing, mayhaps."

Branwen was a little bit confused now. "You have now said yes to both of us. The thing is, that she is beginning to open up to me."

"Good." Miramon's voice drifted through the air with the undertone of his usual calmness, but the sound of it was sharper than most would be used to, at least as far as was true with regards to him. "If she can open up to you, she'll be more likely to tell you what is troubling her. That at least enables you to obtain some potential for resolution. I can help more with the therapeutic aspect anyway. That's what most of my training consisted of, as it happens."

Branwen took him slightly aside from Nara. "I can hear you are still angry, what more can I do but apologise?"

Nara narrowed her eyes, "Ok, I figured out of the three of us, you two would be most able to put aside whatever it is you fought over for awhile." She looked at Miramon, "Whatever happened to the Bajoran that might as well be a Vulcan? Psychology gave him feelings?" She winked to show she was only kidding. "Can we just figure out how to fix Saia please?"

"More than happy too." Branwen said.

Miramon's eyebrows raised slightly, and her flippant words did absolutely nothing to improve his already darkened mood. He gave a sigh to indicate that Nara was simply being tiresome now, and turned his eyes back to Branwen, his tone returning to his polite, professional intonations.

"Well, what shall the plan be, then?"

"Like I said I am starting to get through to her a little. She hasn't worked through an in what happened to her, and for some reason she's finding it very difficult to show her emotion. Best thing would be for her to find an avenue to do so, and to talk about it. Right now I fear she's suffering from PTSD and probably depression as well." She told her new colleague.

Nara just crossed her arms, listening. She'd talk to Bran about what she meant by getting through later.

"That sounds like a reasonable conclusion. Any suggestions as to a course of action?" Miramon affirmed.

"I'm not sure. I don't know if the idea of counselling will scare her. Or if it would be better if we both tried to help her as friends. She knows us. What do you think?" She asked him.

"No reason why we can't do both. She doesn't have to know that we're counselling her if she would be more comfortable without us doing so."

"Sounds good. We will have to work together." She smiled at him. "As friends."

Commander Jack Dawson Chief Engineer

Ensign Pharos Engineering Officer

Ensign T'Jaden Tagra Engineering Officer

Ensign Shaav Engineering Officer/Warp Core Specialist

Lieutenant Junior Grade Jenna De'Dro Engineering Officer/Xeno-technology Specialist

Lt. Jg. Thyago Carneiro Assistant Chief Engineer

Cadet Ezri Daniels Engineering Midshipman

"Who Spiked the Punch? Part 1"

There was a well known phenomenon amongst Starfleet's chief engineers that occurred on the eve of an important mission. Inevitably, something went wrong. Jack remembered reading something about it in the Engineer's guide written by the Miracle Worker himself, Montgomery Scott. So, it was no surprise to himself when Jack was forced to call an emergency meeting of his engineers given the nature of the mission they were about to embark on.

Pacing, he waited impatiently for them to arrive.

Ensign Pharos was among the first to arrive as he hurried in from the turbolift, still dripping. He hadn't been caught in the shower per se, simply resting in his quarters, but for an Aquan the result was more or less the same, and he gave the Commander a respectful nod as he approached and took his place, still sealing up the collar of his wetsuit.

T'Jaden was in Engineering a bit early when the call came. These types of meetings where never good. Not that one always got bad news, it was just that things tended to 'hit the fan', as Jacen was fond of saying. If TJ was lucky, then the craziness that has followed the Miranda lately will stay on the sidelines this time around.

Shaav arrived next, bringing with him a faint smell of grass and flowers; he had been meditating in the arboretum. Since he always worked gamma or delta shift, this was one of the first times he'd actually seen the chief engineer or some of the other officers there. It was of little consequence; junior officers and enlisted crew often got lost or ignored in the shuffle, and the Vulcan didn't exactly have a sense of pride to be hurt. Out of habit, he glanced at the status-display for the warp core (all normal), before turning to the people there to exchange greetings and wait for the others to arrive.

Jenna was a little later than she might ordinarily have been. Usually she easily would have been one of the first to arrive, but she'd been busy finding openings on a transport to get the kids out to the relative safety of Pete's parents' place. Wow, trying to even thing that was a tongue twister.

In either case, she'd been able to arrange them passage on a transport heading for a Federation starbase, and potentially connecting transfer to their final destination. They had a couple of people from the Mir going with them, so it would be okay... so she kept telling herself.

And then there was this emergency meeting. She less walked and more strode to her seat at a pace that was one step below running. To say she was nervous was an understatement. "Sir." She offered a smile and nod in Dawson's direction, hoping she hadn't been keeping things held up.

Ezzie, the new girl in town, was in one of the back offices doing in-processing paperwork when one of the few people who knew she existed had the courtesy to tell her that there was a meeting. She bolted out of the room to the assembled mass, with Commander Dawson up front and a mass of people whom she hadn't met yet. An ~Oh crap, I'm late~ passed through her mind.

Thyago sauntered in last, wearing, as usual, only part of his uniform. This time, it was the jacket, worn open over a blue and black patterned button up. He first walked past the open conference room door, leaning his head back casually to peer in as he passed. At first, he seemed surprised to see people gathered, but he stopped and quickly glanced at his watch. He made a quick moan of realization and entered the room, shooting Jack Dawson a gun finger, clicking out the side of his mouth, as he sat.

Jack looked over the engineers assembled and satisfied that everyone who needed to be there was, proceeded. "I'm sorry to call you all here. I know many of you were off duty and understandably would rather be, well, enjoying your off duty time. Hopefully we can wrap this up and you can get back to what you were doing. This morning at eleven-hundred hours, we lost about three-quarters of our phaser capacity. Thinking that is was probably nothing more than a sensor glitch or a relay malfunction, I gave Ensign Tattaglia the assignment. Only problem is, he didn't come back.

"When I tried to contact him, the computer told me that he was no longer on the ship. Transporter and airlock reports have come back negative. There's nothing on the internal sensors either. So, I can only think of one of two things: either he's dead and his combadge has been destroyed, or he's somewhere on this ship still and his combadge is malfunctioning. I'd like to know for sure before reporting this to Security. So, I'm going to ask for volunteers to look for him before I start assigning people since there's the chance that there might be a dead body involved.

"For those of us who are not going to search for Tattagila, I checked the phaser relays myself and it's for real. There were no sensor glitches and there are six relays out. I'm not a big fan of having the phasers down at anytime so this is a priority over any projects you may have going now. So, do I have some volunteers?"

Jenna bit her lower lip. This did 'not' sound good at all, either way it was sliced. She almost swore it had to be some kind of sick inter-departmental joke, but no such luck. Never a fan of dead bodies, she tried to make herself discrete, staring down at the PADD in front of her, at least until the nagging realization that she'd want someone to come after her kicked in. "I'll go."

T'Jaden was shocked by the events presented to him. He didn't know the Engineer in question, but his answer didn't hesitate in escaping him mouth, "I volunteer for the search, sir."

"I don't know who this guy is, who are we talking about?" Thyago whispered, leaning to speak in Shaav's ear.

Shaav blinked.

Rather than play off it, Thyago leaned to his other side and whispered in Jenna's ear, "I don't know who this guy is, who are we talking about?"

"Ensign Tattaglia." Jenna whispered back, repeating what she'd heard earlier.

"Do you know what I call him?" Thyago whispered again, then, upon receiving a blank look, "Maybe I should work on the phasers."

"I can organize the phaser repair," Thyago volunteered.

"I shall assist." Shaav added, casting a sidelong glance at Thyago. Carefully Vulcan-neutral, his expression still managed to imply that he thought Thyago would need more help than any missing ensign could possibly hope for.

"Sir," Ezzie raised her hand nervously. She wasn't sure if she should be talking, but it didn't stop her "We could try rerouting all the power through one modified relay and use it as a distribution point to bypass the bad relays." She looked confident, but the truth was she prepared for a swift "You're an idiot, sit down and shut up" from someone.

Jack regarded the young cadet for a moment and suddenly remembered his first staff meeting as a cadet so long ago. He decided not to be as cruel as the chief engineer back then had been to him. Jenna beat him to the punch, though.

Jenna thought Ezzie's proposal over for a minute. "It would definitely work as a short term fix, but we'll run into problems if we go into combat. That one relay gets taken out, and we're worse off then we are now. It would at least buy us the time to explore other options."

"Agreed," Jack said. "A good suggestion though. I'd still like us to replace the relays while we have the time. Those of us who have been aboard the Miranda for some time now know that those moments don't happen very often. Any other volunteers before I start making assignments?"

"I'll check the sensor logs for his last recorded location," Ensign Pharos suggested thoughtfully as he stared unblinkingly at the CEO. "Then begin a tricorder sweep from that location. Between scents, airborne chemical markers, lost hairs, and shed epithelials, it is very difficult for a human to take a step without leaving some sort of a trace. With your permission, I'll requisition a medical tricorder to aid in the search." Pharos didn't bother to mention that his tracking skills were so acute, he managed to lose a three-hundred foot long Black whale from five hundred feet away back on Argo, feeling that little tidbit might not put the Commander's heart at ease. Of course, being an engineer, his first desire was to jump in fins first and get to work on the relays, but they were all engineers here; they had to look out for their own. TJ liked Pharos' suggestion, it made the most sense. Then a thought hit him, "Sir, we may also want to scan Tattagila's last known location for sub-space, interphasic and chronotron energy signatures, just to be sure. Given the recent history of this area of space and the overall history of the Miranda, I think it unwise to leave any stone unturned." Dawson nodded in agreement. "A good idea. I want you to head that up. Pharos and De'Dro will be one search team, Cadet Daniels and I will be the other. Thaygo and Shaav, you'll head up the phaser repairs. Hopefully, we can have this all over by lunch time. Dismissed."

"No intel allowed"

Ensign Eve Intelligence Officer (Technical Operations)

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London XO and staff psychologist Furies Galaxy

Eve strode through the corridors of the USS Galaxy, PADD in one hand, secured container slung over her other shoulder. The computer had indicated that Lieutenant London was on the marine deck, though it wouldn't give her any more detailed information. Stepping into the supposedly formidable and inhospital to outsiders territory, Eve began to go about the task of locating the Lieutenant's specific location.

One of the NCO's was friendly enough to point her in the right direction. She was lucky that the Lieutenant was working in marine country today, and not in her position as counselor in the counselling wing.

Branwen came to her feet when the young woman entered. "What can I do for you?"

Eve presented the PADD in her hand to the Lieutenant. "I have been tasked with coordinating and acomplishing the instalation of a specific selection of passive sensing devices into the Furries epidural protective equipment."

"Sorry?" Branwen said, not very technical herself. "Come again?"

Eve paused, thinking for a moment or two before speaking again. "I've been tasked with installing passive sensors in the Furries battle armor, Ma'am."

"Ah! I'm sorry, I am just not that technical. And you don't have to call me ma'am, we are the same rank. What was your name again?"

"My designation is Eve," she replied.

"Aaaahhhhh." Branwen said now. "That explains some things."

Eve quirked her head, yet diregarded the statement. She had work to do. Unfortunately, just as she was about to resume her dialouge, London's terminal bleeped, clammoring for attention. Incoming Message, a priority aparently.

"Go-ahead. "I have to take this.

Eve nodded and started for the door. However, she didn't get to far. Branwen read the order from her commanding officer. "Eve, wait a minute," she said. "It seems there is no authorization for what you plan to do."

The young Intelligence officer turned about, perplexed. "May I see these orders?"

Branwen gave them over. "To be honest I don't understand the problem. But this is not a good time to go against orders."

Eve looked them over and nodded. "Then I shall not waste further time, I must now report this to my superior."

"I understand. But I would like to get to know you a little better if you have time one of these days." Branwen suggested.

Eve nodded. "Perhaps, one of these days," she said, and with that she departed.

"Lessons Learned" Part Two

Commander Na'sav Lorem Commanding Officer
Lieutenant Commander Sorena Executive Officer USS Vigilant

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

(Alien Freighter, Immediately following first post)

The team materialized, as was the norm, on the flight deck of the vessel. Around them appeared a control center that was far from the 'state of the art' level of technology one might expect for a ship bearing a cargo of highly refined, and conveniently shielded, Nicasarate ore... a valuable commodity unique to the ship's point of origin that had a few dozen practical applications.

Their place of origin had also been the departure point for at least half a dozen other vessels proven to be smuggling or pirate ships over the course of the last five years. Naturally, Na'sav was a little on edge... his fingers never dangled too far away from his holster. There were eight different crew-members occupying the fairly spacious, if obsolete control center. One of them, who seemed to speak for the rest, approached. The deliniation of his species clearly came from aquatic lines, evident by the gills that ran across his comparatively long neck. Already there were alarm bells going off left and right, the whole situation from the begining seemed to be the art of an inept liar.

Clearly, as Na'sav would discover on his modern day mission, no Romulan.

Marena gave him a nudge, her saphire blue eyes only casually meeting his before returning to their place, concentrated on the fish-man before them. Cetrians were a sort of disorganized power, famous for all things trade, mostly legitimate, but there was a great deal of it that wasn't. It was more than just his background that was suspicious however. Her whispered voice was so low that even he had to strain to hear it. "See anything... fishy?"

Na'sav couldn't help but smirk at the bad joke. "It's a freighter. They're not supposed to have access to the greatest technology, I don't see..."

"Details, Na'sav. Details." Marena pointed to her eyes, taking the opportunity generated by the Tenente and the skipper's conversation to alert her younger comrade on the finer qualities of observation. "Given the cargo they're holding this ship is wholely inadequate. It's 'amazing' they haven't come across a pirateer yet. The screens at their security console seem to be carefully calibrated to avoid looking too deeply into the cargo bays... and then there's the skipper."

"The skipper?"

"His pulse rate is up, he's breathing more quickly... he's even beginning to sweat. Clearly he's nervous."

"He's hiding something?" Na'sav asked, trying to affirm he was following.

"Indeed." Marena smiled and gave a small nod. "The question is, what?"

"Okay, listen up." The Tenente stared at his party, the skipper watching on a bit flustered. The conversation had been heated, to say the least. "Marena, you and Na'sav here start inspecting the crew compartments and adjoining areas."

"Yes sir." Marena gave a quick nod, pulling on Na'sav's uniform while the Tenente started issuing orders to the other remaining team. "What ever you do, stick by me. Never step more than 3 or 4 meters away, and definitely don't go into any rooms on your own. Understand?"

Na'sav gave a nod as they left the control room. "Why the crew spaces though? The crew are required to be in the corridors outside of their rooms, and all weapons are secured anyway."

"Because that doesn't mean everything is what it seems." Marena offered a reply. The ship was small, really only about 4 actual decks on which crew were located. Everything else was maintanence or cargo space. There wasn't need for extreme indulgences... after all, the ship was old and probably couldn't handle anything akin to a holodeck, and the money they got for each shipment was more than adequate to sponsor a fairly lavish lifestyle outside of the ship at each port they came across. It was a way of living that Na'sav still didn't 'really' understand.

They'd spend some time, searching 'everything'. Marena's eyes never seemed to leave her applique, save for last ditch visual inspections of anything that seemed out of place. For his part, Na'sav was much more at ease as they progressed, and it became less likely that anything would be found. As peculiar as their first observations were, they hadn't yet found any corroborating evidence to match with Marena's accusations.

That was, until, they came upon 'the' room. Deck 3, section 5. The 'crew' had always had a dead, almost pleading look in their eyes. As if desire for something greater had been broken from them. But now... now it seemed as if there was a strange mix, one of fear and anger along with the usual dread.

They were ofcourse closer to engineering, on the deck with larger rooms where the more senior staff were. There were a whole lot of crew for a ship this size, far more than they had anticipated, and their clothing was, by and large, haphazzardly arranged. Far from a professional looking bunch.

This particular quarters belonged to the first officer, and his 'family'. His wife, who seemed no older than Na'sav, and two 'children' who seemed to act much more like strangers than what one would expect brothers to act like. Yeah, Marena had done a good job in keeping him on his toes... details seemed to be making themselves more ready.

He kept his eyes on the group... if they could be called that. No, the kids looked nothing alike, and bore no resemblance to the woman next to them. The man who was the XO looked nervous, and continued to glare, almost angrily, at the others... as if keeping them in line.

Marena for her part had just completed the sweep, finding more than a few items of interest... including gems and jewels hidden in a supposed maintanence hatch that was 'conveniently' shielded. "Sir, wait outside please."

"Why should I..."

Before he could finish she gave him the old Stagnorian 'why don't you do what the woman with the gun tells you to do' stare.

Simone watched all of this through half veiled eyes. She'd been told to be silent but gracious, and so she'd fully intended, but the exchange between the two strangers had put her off. There was some kind of communication between them, an exchange she couldn't read but that made her nervous. To hide it, she summoned a smile and inclined her head to the guest that remained. "Bavly, Flynn, fetch our guest some refreshments."

The two children went about doing precisely that. All too happy it seemed to get away from the man, who was in the process of being 'escorted' by Marena out of the room. Her fingers were perilously close to drawing her weapon... just in case. If there was nothing else Na'sav remembered about that woman, it was the fact she was the quickest 'draw' that he'd ever seen.

His eyes however remained fixed on the woman... mostly. He wasn't about to be stabbed in the back by a pair of munchkins. She had an olivine, almost sandy complexion, and a particularly engaging stare, one that exuthed authority... there was no other way to describe it. Frankly, she didn't have the attitude one would believe someone in her current state should have... she seemed to hold herself to a higher standard than the environment around her. Exactly how he managed to come to that conclusion was something that even now remained a bit of a mystery to him. In the end, Na'sav offered a smile. It didn't kill to be polite, right? Besides, something didn't seem right about the situation. "If there's something you need... now's the time to say so."

"Lessons Learned" Part Three

Commander Na'sav Lorem
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Sorena
Executive Officer
USS Vigilant
==============================================

Simone wished she'd been more insistant on knowing who these people were. She might have been able to use that knowledge now. Instead, she was left groping blindly in the dark, hoping to come across a lamp that would reveal the truth of her situation. She didn't answer immediately, taking a moment to direct the boys and correct Bavly's posture when he scuffed his way from one end of the room to the other. Children, honestly. Her hazel eyes eventually returned to her guest and she smiled, gesturing with her right hand to the spread of food. Behind her back, her left thumb rhythmically worried the underside of her little finger. "I would be pleased if you would be seated. As you might guess, company men are always busy on company business. I do not like to talk about company business." Ever so briefly, her eyes met his.

His first instinct was to sit down, forget everything, and indulge himself in the company. That, however, would have been stupid. "I'm afraid I can't... regulations." For all he knew, it was poisoned or something... wouldn't be the first time. "Anything you say, he won't hear, you know?"

The kids looked at each other, before glaring back up at Simone, wondering what to do.

"I will say nothing against my husband." Simone seated herself on the edge of one of the chairs, her gaze swiftly darting around the room. "Children, return to your studies," she ordered, sparing a half-nod at a corner table hapazardly strewn with a few books and papers. "You may sit, can you not? You shall give me a crick in my neck otherwise."

Now he was begining to see why they gave you all those classes on interrogation and information gathering before they let you on your first tour. "Ofcourse, nobody's asking you to." He watched the children leave... hesitantly. They weren't too enthralled about the prospect it seems. "I'm sorry, what's your name?" Na'sav took a seat opposite her.

There was a moment of hesitancy before she answered. "Simone." Her left hand came up to, it seemed, run through her hair, yet the thumb continued its jerky motion. No rings adorned her fingers, but as she lowered her hand onto the table, it fell in the light and the smallest hint of tone differentiation showed in a band around her smallest finger. "I did not catch your family name."

The Stagnorian shook his head. "That's unimportant, ma'am. Though I would be interested in knowing your family name?"

The question appeared to distress her. "I lost it." For a split second, a pleading look came over her face, then her expression settled back into its calm facade.

"I'm sorry." Na'sav gave an apologetic grin, though he knew he was on the 'right' path now. Marena was definitely right... there was something fishy here, and it wasn't just kilos of unexplained precious stones either. "Why don't you tell me about where you're from? How long ago did you get... married?"

"Four months ago. It was a small ceremony. Close friends. My husband, he doesn't like making a fuss. Not even my own family was in attendance." Simone leaned back in her chair, relaxing into her role as her eyes slipped shut. "The ceremony was beautiful. Under a waterfall where the blue water turns purple as it cascades into the pool of red sand far below." Her tongue darted out, licking her lips, buying her time to recall more of the painful details and recast them as hints. "It was a sign, that night we were read - a double eclipse of our two moons, two heavenly bodies joined as one." Darkening the sky, blotting out the sun, but destined to separate, she could hope. Although that was a desire she could not risk voicing.

"I see." Na'sav was greatful for the details, it would make finding her homeworld that much easier. "You're not wearing the requisite ring that's traditional among your husband's people."

Oh thank the gods. I thought he'd never get it. "You have forgotten one of our ways - the groom's man keeps it for a year in surety, a means for the bride to prove her worth."

Now that much he 'knew' was a lie. "And how is it a bride typically proves her worth?"

"She serves her husband diligently, without complaint and so as to earn no reproach. She obeys him in all that he requests, supports him in all he does, and washes away his cares at the end of the day."

"And the children?"

"To serve the husband's household," she explained, fighting a constricting feeling in her throat as she voiced the arrangement. "And when ready, to emerge from the home to make the husband proud."

"I'm afraid, given what we've found, that we'll require you to come with us for further questioning." Na'sav looked around, wondering if there was a listening device, and quietly reached for his applique.

Her hand immediately shot out and grabbed his wrist. "An invitation to dine with you and your staff would be welcome."

Now if that wasn't a thinly veiled cry for help, Na'sav didn't know what would constitute it. "You're not looking well, afidav. Why don't we take you and your... children... back to be checked out? We have an infirmary on our cutter."

Simone withdrew her hand, but slowly. "My husband would not approve. He is a jealous man." "I'm sorry to hear that. He would ofcourse be permitted to visit... once you were treated. I'm afraid you represent a health risk to the Confederacy in your current state." So he was lying through his teeth, but a lie to spare a life was certainly forgivable. "We can't allow your ship to pass without at first guaranteeing your health." "And that of my children? I spend so much time with them, I fear whatever I may have could have spread to them." He nodded. "Like I said, I would never dream of separating a mother from her children." "Then yes," she nodded, looking up at him through her lowered lashes. "Please."

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

They beamed back to the ship... the children and alien woman with them, as well as several other 'inflicted' individuals. Already two other cutters were being requested to respond, and were approaching quietly, stealthily, looking to spring a trap before the alien ship escaped. "You should be the one to question her." Marena stated with no lack of demand in her tone. "Why 'me'?!" "Because you've already established a raport with her, 'and' you are the newbie! Now get in there before I kick your ass!" He sighed, but Na'sav did as ordered. Those were pretty good reasons after all, and she had a temper to match. The infirmary was really two general beds and assorted equipment. Their medical officer was more or less a paramedic, but he really wasn't required. They weren't sick after all, that was just the standard line. Na'sav entered the room that was empty other than the children and the woman. Marena remained outside, recording the events. Na'sav, having never done this before, was blunt. "You're not his wife, are you?" Simone flinched at the abruptness of the question, but converted it to a smoothing of her garments halfway through. "No, I am not." She drew her shoulders back and looked at him squarely. He was her rescuer, but to what fate she still didn't know, and so she could not trust him fully. "And they're not your children, are they?" Na'sav pulled a bar of chocolate from one of his uniform pockets, and handed it to them to share. They didn't look like they'd eaten in a while. "You don't need me to tell you what you already know." He took a probing step forward. "Why the story then?" "It is a convenient fiction when strangers come aboard." She held her ground, watching him warily. "Oh well..." he looked away, towards the one-side glass, obviously having a deal of difficulty with this. "You could just have said you needed help." Simone gave a derisive snort. "Not if I desired to live another five minutes, or have a life worth living. Not if I thought to see these children survive." "We would have protected you, you know." He backed up a bit, unconsciously. That snort certainly didn't make him think any better of her. "Hungry?" Her mouth instantly began to salivate at the suggestion, but her pride inhibited her. "How do I know you're trustworthy? I am equally prisoner here. You could hand me back, or take me with you, and what say have I? So why should I rely on your protection?" Oh that was it. "Exactly what other 'options' do you have at the moment?!" In three strides she was in front of him. Her hand swung up and landed a stinging slap on his cheek. "You will remain civil, whether you are my captor or savior." Ow! He could just hear Marena laughing it up outside at the moment. In an act of defiance that she was unlikely to be accustomed to, he grabbed her by the wrist, pushing her arm back towards her. "However I'm treated is the manner in which I will respond." There was, after all, only so much derision one person could take. Releasing her slowly, he took a deep breath. "Now, what do you eat?" His actions only served to confirm her suspicions and cement her dislike. "I will take bread and water, nothing else. The children shall be given meat with their bread." "This is ridiculous." Na'sav fumed. "You're going to trust the kids to us before yourself? Suppose we 'were' out to harm you! Which, by the way, we could have done more easily on that barge then on our own ship!" He really wished he had his side arm with him right now, some people just... grrrr!

"Lessons Learned" Part Four

Commander Na'sav Lorem
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Sorena
Executive Officer
USS Vigilant
=======================================

"Computer, three bowls of Al'trenni and chopped steak, brown gravy, with glasses of ice water."

A crowded tray with the specified items appeared, and in turn he set it down on a table top in between the two beds. The kids, hands and face still smudged with ration grade chocolate, eagerly took their servings. As sort of a peace offering, Na'sav handed her a bowl. "Where are you from?"

"Sariya." Simone took the bowl from him, her eyes watching the boys spoon up the food eagerly. They didn't seem to be suffering any immediate adverse effects. "Thank you."

"Sariya?" Na'sav didn't know off hand where that was, and as such brought over a personal digital aide, on the screen a stellar map of the area displayed. "Can you point it out for me?"

Simone's cheeks flushed. Her world was barely space-literate, as they called it, and her education had not included stellar geography. She spent several minutes examining the map, chewing her lower lip in pensive thought as she tried to picture all those dots as stars in a sky above her head as she lay on the expansive lawns of home... but she just couldn't do it.

Na'sav sighed. "It was worth a try. Do your people have ships? Like this one?"

Simone shook her head no. "We have nothing like this. We have satellites," she put in defensively, as if to prove that she was not some galactic bumpkin. "But our efforts simply have not been in this avenue."

Okay, that limited things some. Na'sav pulled over a stool, setting down on it by the foot of the bed she was sitting on. At least now they were getting here. "How did you end up out here? Was 'that' ship the one that took you?"

"Yes. I was on an excursion. An up then down viewing of our world in a rocket." She felt uncomfortable using the word suddenly, encased within this huge ship filled with startling technology that, after months, she still hadn't entirely come to terms with. "We had just reached our apex when his ship appeared. We never came back down."

Na'sav nodded, a look of genuine concern on his face. "The others... prisoners, are they all from your world?"

"No. There were some there before, others came later. Not all are there now. He took a liking to me, his mate to the two boys. So he kept us longer." Simone shuddered at the recollection.

His first instinct was to give her hand a squeeze, and he'd come pretty close before thinking better of it. No way of knowing how she'd react to it after all... instead his eyes found the deck. "I'm sorry... we'll look for your planet, and try to return you, as soon as our reinforcements arrive."

Simone ate up time by eating the food Na'sav had provided. "How long will that be?"

"Tough to say, likely a few days at least. You'll be safe while you're here... are you injured in any way?"

"No," she lied. There were some hurts a lady did not mention, particularly not to strange men. "And when you find my home, you will return me, no strings attached?"

Na'sav replied with a single nod. Prophets be blessed for small fortunes. "That's why we're looking for it. Are you an explorer?" It was the only reason he could guess at for a society with limited space capacity to send up someone.

She was surprised by the suggestion. "No, certainly not."

"A colonist perhaps?" Maybe some intra-stellar trip would explain it.

"What would we colonize? We have broken orbit only twice."

"I'm curious as to what the purpose of your trip was?"

Simone set the bowl down on the bed and stood up, folding her arms across her chest. She had succeeded, more or less successfully, to keep her identity safe from the slaver, protecting her family and reputation. But this man was bringing her back, to return her home. Would he change his mind about free passage when he learned what she was worth? "How can I be sure of your trust?"

"Same way I'm sure of yours." Na'sav replied flatly, glaring upward at her. "No reason to lie."

"I am the first daughter of Rundamie. Our largest state." She turned and raised her chin, looking down her nose at him. "I am worth more than this ship and all its crew combined."

Prophets help him he tried... but Na'sav just couldn't keep a straight face. He started laughing. Her cheeks motled in anger at his reaction.

He stopped... eventually, unable to look at her without smiling. "Well that... that explains a lot. I don't suppose you know where the jewels we found come from?"

"I do. Several are my own and I would have them returned."

"I'm sorry... had I known I was addressing royalty I..." he started chuckling again. "I would have worn my dress uniform!" he managed to get out before laughing all over again.

Simone's lip curled in fury. "You insolent, barbaric boy! You will not speak to me so!"

"Oh lighten up, Princess." He used the term loosely. "Your people 'do' have a sense of humor, do you not?"

"Not where the royal family is concerned. Certainly not when in the filthy mouths of.. of.." she sought for an adequate word and bumbled into a new one, "subferiors."

Na'sav stopped, a bit of fury evident in his voice. "Subferiors? Who rescued who?! There 'is' such a thing as humility, lady... perhaps you should learn some."

"I will not be lectured. Escort me to my rooms." And to make her point and release the indignation she felt, she stamped her foot.

"Rooms?" Oh 'this' was going to be great! "Ofcourse." He held out his arm, she 'did' ask for an escort after all. "Follow me."

Her fingers just touched his elbow as she allowed him to escort her. She did not even think about the children. Now that they were out of harm's way, they were no longer her concern. What she desired now was a hot bath and a soft bed.

Culture shock in 3... 2... 1...

That's all Na'sav could think as he hit the chime to the bunk room. inside was a large room, with several sets of bunks, enough for 10 people. "Here you are... those six bunks are normally occupied, but the four against the far walls are open berths."

Simone came to a full stop, eyes wide. She stammered momentarily, then drew away her fingers and turned away. "That is a poor jest."

"No jest." Na'sav said flatly. "I don't know what kind of accomodations you are used to, but this ship is fitted for inter-stellar missions. Much of the room aboard is taken up by electronics and mechanical systems. 'This' is the room allotted for sleeping."

"But these are servant's quarters!"

"Yeah, well, to protect and serve, that's us. Just be glad you don't have to live here for the next several months. The synthesizer can provide you with additional bedding supplies and any sleep wear you might want."

Simone blanched. At least the captain of the other vessel had given her private quarters. Granted, they were with him, but not so many others at once. She pursed her lips, trying to find a bright side to this. "These are the women's quarters?"

"These are everyone's quarters." Na'sav was doing his best not to laugh, the look on her face was priceless though. "Larger ships have individual quarters, but this isn't a larger ship. Here we understand there's more to life than the pursuit of the opposite sex." Exactly what did she take them for anyway? "You will be safe here, you have my word."

She put no store in his assurances. Stepping past him, she entered the room, a clear expression of dislike on her face. "You may leave," she dismissed him.

"Gee, thanks." A sarcastic grin on his face. "Oh, by the way, there's a communal shower in the adjacent bay should you wish to wash up. Breakfast is at 06:00."

"Lessons Learned" Part Five

Commander Na'sav Lorem
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Sorena
Executive Officer
USS Vigilant

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

It was hot, so hot she couldn't breath. The air smelled foul. She tried to move, but something was pressing her down. Her head twisted - right, left, back. She could see nothing but blackness. Then that blackness took form and it had texture. Coarse hairs stood out, tickling her face, her neck, her chest. The follicles were embedded in a rough brown skin. A cold, harsh laughter filled her ears. At first she thought it was from the xo on top of her, but then she realized his mouth was covering hers. He couldn't be the one laughing. So who? Her eyes rolled back and she caught sight of a man standing in a doorway. Six feet tall. Brown hair. Strange markings along the sides of his face. It was Na'sav. And he was laughing at her. Simone screamed. Na'sav was the first one up. Clunk.

"Ow, son of a..." the Stagnorian reached for his forehead as he raced to the bed from which the sound eminated. His eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of lighting, and before he knew what he found himself kneeling next to Simone's bed. "Hey, what's wrong?" They weren't the only ones up. Marena stumbled from her bunk to make sure everything was okay, while the Tenente could be heard mumbling something. "I've got it, sir." Na'sav replied to the inaudible groaning, his eyes rather quickly turning back to Simone. She did not look well. "You okay?" As the dream dissipated to be replaced by reality, Simone found herself starting at the looming figure of her antagonist. She shied away on the small bed, drawing the bed clothes up to her chin, as though she feared he would take advantage of her. Her face was bathed in sweat and tears. The regal lift of her chin from earlier had been replaced by a quivering one. "Don't touch me." Whatever sarcastic reply one might have expected from Na'sav was notoriously absent. "All right." Marena eased him aside, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "Do you remember where you are?" How could she forget? The last five months had been one nightmare after another. "On a ship. A star ship." Simone's eyes focused on the woman. She vaguely recalled her taking the XO aside yesterday. What had she said to him? She must have been brave, braver than Simone, to stand up to him.

"Right." Marena gave her a pat on the arm. "You're safe here, try and get back to sleep." Marena followed up the first pat with one on Na'sav's shoulder before heading back to her bunk. To say Na'sav was confused was an understatement. He still had no clue why she reacted the way she did, or what was going on. At the time he was genuinely concerned over it. "Umm... want something to drink? Water?" "Right." Marena gave her a pat on the arm. "You're safe here, try and get back to sleep." Marena followed up the first pat with one on Na'sav's shoulder before heading back to her bunk. It was an odd moment for Simone, seeing this woman whom she implicitly trusted using the same gesture of comfort for both herself and the man. Prone to confusion and not thinking clearly, her mind could only come up with two possibilities: either the woman was like the man, and untrustworthy, or the man was like the woman, and could be trusted. When the tone of his voice registered along with his question, Simone made up her mind for the latter. "Yes. Please." Wow... she said please? Whatever it was that was bothering her, it had to be big. He didn't even think to mince words, giving a simple nod before bringing back a glass from the synthesizer. "Here... you okay?" Must have sounded like an idiotic question, but it was the only one he could think to ask. The woman wetted her lips with the water before answering. "A bad dream. I will be fine now." "Mind if I asked what happened?" He'd seen a lot of bad dreams, but never that kind of reaction, atleast not up to that point. At first she thought he was mocking her, but when she looked again, she saw just how young he was. Hardly more than a boy. And then, before she knew it, the tears came silent but steady. How was it kindness could hurt so much more than cruelty? Forcing her voice to remain steady, she told him. She told him of the first night, and every night after that. How she hadn't had a night of solid, uninterupted sleep in months. How every boot tread, every whisper of fabric, made her heart pound in anticipated fear. How she had heard the children cry, and how her own cries had mingled with theirs. And how, any time a visitor had come aboard, she had to play the loving wife to the same slime who nightly ruined her back.

By the time she finished, her tears had stopped, the skin feeling cracked and strained from the salt residue. She looked up at Na'sav. "That's what happened."

Na'sav was left in stunned silence. It was one very daunting... very graphic... story to tell. At some point during it he'd taken her hand, though now that it was over it was difficult to even look her in the eye. "Prophets... I'm sorry." He really was just a boy. The story seemed to upset him in the hearing more than it had her in the telling. She patted the top of his hand with her free one, then rubbed it in a more consoling manner. "It is not your burden to bear."

He should say not, and offered a small smile. Here he was trying to make her feel better, someone no more than a year or two older who seemed to have a world's worth of experience more than he thought possible in a life time... and she'd ended up comforting him? Talk about role reversal. "I know, but still..." nah, best that he leave it at that. "I should probably let you go back to sleep... you sure you're okay?" Simone released his hand and fixed the braid that held her hair back during the night. "I am fine," she affirmed. Her fingers paused long enough for her to meet his gaze and add, "Thank you."

"Thank you." He echoed the sentiment with a smile. "Sleep well." His thoughts now turned to another, important memory.

OOC: Takes place sometime during the pickup of Captain M'Kantu for reference.

"Questions of Family"

by Flight Officer Jacob Striker Renegade Squadron, USS Miranda

with 'ech Katrin Commanding Officer of the IKV Odyssey -ONPC

Sogh Terok Communications officer, IKV Odyssey -ONPC

ra'wI Kol'Hos Executive Officer, IKV Odyssey -ONPC

Lieutenant Christopher "Katarn" Striker Second Officer, IKV Odyssey (Starfleet OEProgram) -ONPC

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Location: The Imperial Klingon Vessel "Odyssey", currently assigned to the Klingon side of the Klingon/Romulan border.

The sinister yet elegant form of the IKV "Odyssey" drifted through space on her attended mission to patrol the empire's borders even though the so called "Triad Alliance" was more the Federation's thorn at the moment, rumors were abound of other things.

Then again a klingon warship on patrol is akin to a boxer waiting for his match to begin.

On the dark bridge of the Odyssey, Terok sat at his post while the ship's first in the form of Kol'Hos sat in the captain's chair, going over what ever it was when Terok heard a beeping at his station and then brought up the infromation on it at which point his lips drew back into a snarl. "Ta'wI, we are receiving a message from the federation starship Miranda." Terok said.

"Bah, what do they require other than plead for the great sons and daughters of Kahless to help them in their battles, Terok. Put the message through." Kol'Hos said with a bit of pride and as Terok then let a sound which was simply "Frak" escape his lips made Kol'Hos ask "What's wrong?"

Terok turned to regard his superior, "The one would like to state that it is not from the captain of the Miranda..but an honorable warrior that wishes to speak to those of his house." Terok said in a solomn voice and then he looked past Kol'Hos towards the stocky figure that was dressed as a member of the Imperial Klingon Military but was in fact, not even remotely klingon.

"Ah, so the One wishes me to acknowledge the question?" asked Lieutenant Kris Striker with a smirk on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Very well, the one may put it up on my screen and mine only."

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

A few minutes later, both Kris and the ship's captain in the form of 'ech Katrin were looking at the face of their family member in Jacob Striker or as some knew him as Malek.

"You honor us cousin, we thought you were dead these few months." Katrin said in a solomn tone as she inclined her head towards the human pilot. "How fares your life?"

"The one humbly offers many apologies as the one was stuck in the delta quadrant for many days but I have brought much honor to our family though being stuck in another quadrant due to mishap." Jacob said and then he gave a gallic shrug. "Eh, same as always."

"I know you and your looks cousin, what is on your mind?" Kris said as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the screen.

"I am a father but by Sil'vana of Vulcan it seems." Jacob said in a serious tone which made Katrin's right eyebrow go up.

"The harlot who stripped you of your honor? You rutted with her again after she did this?!" Katrin said, her tone filled with dark anger that he own family would do such a thing.

"No honored aunt, the one now knows why Sil'vana disappeared prior to her..actions against me. It seems her people forced her to undergo a treatment of which part was to put my child up for adoption without me knowing." Jacob explained, his own tone filled with frustration about the events that had happened.

"Ah." was all that Katrin said as she leaned back and then felt her husband's hand on her shoulder which helped to calm her down somewhat. "What do you require from your family, honored nephew? Is there plans to take your child back from those who have claimed it?"

"Yes, I fully intend to take my son where he was given up for adoption. But I need help to do it, it is one thing to ask for help of starfleet's JAG corps but this is also a matter of the family." Jacob said in a calm tone. "I will also need Antaak's help in this if he is still medical officer aboard your ship."

"Antaak is indeed still medical officer of this ship and you will find yourself amused to know that he still feels himself honored to be named for the healer of the past despite what his namesake did in the name of science." Katrin said with a smirk on her face.

"Heh, true. I look forward to seeing you in person again the both of you after the Miranda's dealings with the Romulans and the things here are over." Jacob said with a smile. "By the way, Katrin, you are glowing."

Katrin snorted back a laugh as she looked up at her husband who simply nodded. "It is because, Malek, that your cousin and I are expecting our first born in several months. We hope that you can attend the ritual of Sa'to'Ra when the time comes." Katrin said, she had been the one who oversaw the Sa'to'Ra or "Warrior Naming" of Jacob when he chose to join her House even though she married his cousin.

"I will make every effort to be there, honored family. Not even the PetraQs that stand before me will keep me from it. What do you think of naming the child if this one may ask?" Jacob said.

"We are thinking a name with a historic twist to it due to Kris' love of history. If it is a boy, we shall tempt fate with the name Kurge." Katrin said with a proud smile on her face, "And woe to those who believe that those of House eptKesek cannot tempt fate like that!" she said, the smile on her face growing even larger.

Jacob let a chuckle escape his lips, "I am proud and honored to hear that, Katrin. I will speak with you again soon for it is soon time for me to perform my duties. Qapla!" Jacob said bringing his fist to his chest and then giving a warrior's salute to his family.

"QAPLA!" both Katrin and Kris said, returning the salute as the connection terminated.

OOC Note:
Klingon Ranks here are:
'ech is the SFFC eqv of a Major General
Sogh is the Fleet eqv of a Lieutenant
ra'wI is the Fleet eqv of a Commander

"A three hour cruise" Part one in a series

Ensign T'Ashaya, USS Miranda
Ensign Robert Mathieson, USS Galaxy

ch'Rihan
The Port City of Mhiessan
= = =

T'Ashaya felt a degree of disappointment when she learned that the government considered scientific study of the sea life on ch'Rihan and ch'Havran something less than essential, and thus provided little to no funding to members of the scientific community who focused on such things. Instead, such studies tended to either be pet projects funded by the odd eccentric Rihannha interested in such things, or funded commercially, as ways of increasing harvests or improving the profitability of fishing ventures. Fortunately, T'Ashaya's still had some connections within the Federation Cetacean Institute and she would be spending her limited study time with one of the former types, a certain Llaiir Aieme, who, according to T'Ashaya's source, was member of a noble house allowed this eccentricity because his own personal money funded it, as much as for the fact that he currently held a certain amount of political favor.

That was the good news.

The bad news, to T'Ashaya's way of thinking, was that part of the way he encouraged interest in the sea was by chartering "whale watching tours" to divert the rich and, well, given that they were Rihannsu, likely infamous, as well as the occasional favored visitor to the planet. When she came aboard, Deihu Aieme warned T'Ashaya of that fact.

"Do not let them alarm you. I let them behave as they please. It gives me a certain advantage that others have not yet thought to exploit." He explained. He looked as if he might pat her hand, but refrained. "I imagine they will behave themselves, but I would keep to the bow areas, just the same. It is one of the more quite areas of the ship."

As T'Ashaya leaned over the starboard railing to see the passengers board, she noticed a short figure wearing a khaki field hat amongst the thin line of tall, black-haired Rihannsu. He was a stout, stark contrast to the natives and received more than the usual back glances from those ahead of him in the queue. She couldn't quite hear his voice as he dealt with the ticket-clerk, but heard the grumbling, gruff tone. As they crossed the gangplank, she caught a flash of a blue collar behind the man's khaki gear as he headed out of sight to the boat's stern.

She could tell the man was human even with the drops she took to dull her sense of smell. His demeanor gave it away. What she hadn't expected was the flash of blue in that particular shade that denoted Starfleet Medical. Intrigued, she made her way around to investigate.

Deihu Aieme warned her when she came aboard that she would make less a spectacle if she abandoned her uniform for civilian dress. To that end, she'd replicated something that Deihu Aieme deemed completely unsatisfactory. Fortunately, he had planned for the contingency and graciously offered her something less conspicuous, and to her way of thinking altogether less suited for her purpose aboard the ship. It was made of a subtle patterned translucent silk material in a shade of sea foam green that flattered her blonde hair and pale complexion , as if it had been selected expressly for that purpose. Still, it covered adequately and Deihu Aieme seemed to think it would stand out less than her own gear.

Perhaps the officer in question hadn't been warned about the possibility of meeting with trouble because of his uniform. Perhaps he didn't care. Either way, she might be able to help him blend in better. At the very least, she wondered what kind of Starfleet officer would take a pleasure cruise for its own sake.

Heading aft, she saw that the human had settled in a bench on the starboard side as close to the stern as possible. He was reclining against the rails almost comically, arms folded over his stomach and the khaki hat completely covering his face as he basked in the morning sun's warmth. As T'Ashaya approached, a gravely voice grumbled from beneath the hat in broken Rihannsu. "My ticket is properly…mortgaged. Please, allow me some... tractor and leave me orange."

T'Ashaya blinked twice, struggling to remember her father's early lessons in Havrannsu. They were mostly academic, talking about the linguistic difference between the artificial language, constructed as yet another means of separating the Rihannsu from the followers of Surak and the reformed language which evolved into the modern Vuhlkansu. Still, her father had thought that having a basic ability to communicate in the language might prove useful, so T'Ashaya was not entirely without practical knowledge.

The memories came back to the surface, but she was uncertain that the the human man was making any sense. "I did not follow all of that," she stated in Federation standard with an accent that suggested that she came from somewhere on the West Coast of Sol III's North American continent. She the wind blew a blond curl free from the twist holding it away from her face and she tucked it behind the slender point of her ear in an unaffected way.

"I am certain your ticket is fine, but I am not certain why you would care for a tractor, nor do I understand why you would care to be left the color orange. Admittedly, I have never had much occasion to practice my limited Havrannsu. If you were seeking peace and to be left alone, you might find the bow of the ship a better place to rest. The view is stunning, but I have been assured that most of the other passengers are not here for the view."

The hat was tilted back to reveal a pair of bloodshot eyes, complete with dark circles beneath them. "'At's a funny accent, lass. Positively reeks o' Orange County. So, are ye RNI or some other sort o' spook? Didn't think an overworked physician merited two of yer."

The bleary eyes peered over to a greying Romulan male in his fifties who seemed most uncomfortable under the short human's gaze.

She shrugged. "That would be because I was born in San Francisco and raised in Malibu. I am a cetacean biologist from the Miranda, not a 'spook,' as you put it." She followed his gaze to the Tal Shiar agent assigned to the physician. "To what ship are you assigned?"

The red eyes snapped back at the blond young woman before squinting against the glare. "Miranda, eh? Lucky you." The human's tired face cracked a lopsided grin. "I'm on Starfleet's great nuthouse in frikkin' space, luv. Three guesses wot that one is."

"I do not need to guess. Given my understanding of the Miranda's current mission and your statement of my 'luck' at being assigned to the Miranda." The yacht lurched slightly, cutting off her sentence. T'Ashaya realized it had been quite some time since she'd been aboard any type of aquatic sailing craft. T'Ashaya steadied herself with a hand on his chair, next to his shoulder.

"You must be from the Galaxy," she concluded.

The yacht began to pull away from the dock. Deihu Aieme started making his way among his guests. He seemed casual, and to the untrained eye, it would have seemed perfectly accidental that he found his way to the pair of Starfleet officers among his guests.

"Ah," he folded his hands together and looked particularly pleased. "I see you found Doctor Mathieson. I was told you'd be joining us today. I am Deihu Aieme. Please, think of me as your humble host." The Romulan gave a small, formal bow. "The people are quite indebted to you for your service. What hospitality I have is yours. You need only ask."

He turned his attention to the woman in the pale green dress. The woman seemed oblivious to the way Aieme eyed her form. "T'Ashaya, a'rhea. You did not tell me you knew the good maenek."

Mathieson, on the other hand, couldn't help but see the Romulan's darting eyes and smooth demeanor. "She don't, lad", he said, the grin widening at the young man's discomfort. "We've jus' met, an' we'll be headin' off t' the bow, t' avoid th' crowds, Mister Aieme."

Aieme nodded, smiled and bowed as the two Starfleet officers left the stern seating area. "So, was that Vulcan emotional control, or are you jus' like makin the lad squirm?" the doctor whispered as they went along the starboard walkway.

"I'm afraid I don't follow?" She sounded as oblivious as the words normally implied. "What lad?"

"Aieme over there", Mathieson grunted. "I'm surprised his eye's didn't pop out o' his head an' roll along the deck." He gave the young Vulcan a quick, curious glance. "Ye've got no clue, do ye?"

"The senator?" T'Ashaya quirked an eyebrow up in classically Vulcan fashion. She gave her appearance a surreptitious once over, checking for obvious faux pas, like toilet tissue stuck to one of her sandals. "Do you think I have done something to offend or embarrass, Doctor?"

"Senator?" The doctor's sunburnt face quickly darkened to a more purple shade. "I thought 'e was the fekkin' tour-guide! Christ no - the 'offend or embarrased' bit's all mine!" His whispering became quieter as he became all too aware of the sensitivity of Vulcanoid hearing. "Nah - I jus' think th' old boy fancies ye, that's all."

"Fancies me?" she repeated softly, the edge of incredulity in her voice. She thought of Sef, her childhood bondmate, and of Spa'an. Neither one could be said to have 'fancied' her in any sense of the word. Of the two, Spa'an stung her Vulcan pride the most, though the Tsunami would never admit such a thing. To be rejected by Sef as a bondmate because he was gay was one thing, even if his traditionalist parents would have considered it illogical for him to do so. To be turned down by an allegedly straight male on the edge of pon-farr was another entirely. "That's rich. As I understand it, I'm not exactly the head turning type. At least not for males of my own species."

She shrugged. "What brings you here, Doctor?"

"A bit o' R an' R, lass", the short human replied. "Rest an' Ressurection - I'm bleedin' dead. Four weeks o' treatin' Thalaron radiation victims from th' Cheron fiasco. Th' last terminal case passed away las' night - the others'll live, but scarred fer life. I'm here t'ferget fer a bit, an' I'm too much the doctor t'look fer peace in a bottle." Looking up at the Vulcan woman, he had to squint against the growing light of the morning sun. "Cetacean biologist, eh? Well, no need t'guess what yer doin' 'ere - d'ye think we'll encounter any on this thing?"

T'Ashaya considered. "It seems likely. The Senator assured me that there are cetacean like sea-creatures on the planet."

Mathieson looked back at the beaming Romulan senator. "I'll bet 'e did, lass. I'll bet 'e did. Well, let's see how the fish swim in th' sea."

"They are mammalian, Doctor, not fish."

The short human shook covered his eyes with a broad palm and shook his head.

"A Tear Shed"

SCPO. Renora Loret, Tactical Analyst, USS Galaxy
MCPO. Jacob Mueller, Chief Of The Boat, USS Thunderchild

Botanical Gardens, USS Thunderchild

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

Renora had walked through the botanical gardens for some time, taking in the sights and the smells. It was nice to have a break from her regular duties, it was only a shame it couldn't be under better circumstances.

Wearing her number one dress uniform she'd received a few strange looks from the officers she'd passed, wondering if they'd missed something, and some junior enlisted personnel had stood to attention as she passed, thinking she was some new senior NCO. They'd all been surprised to see someone so decked out at what was technically first thing in the morning, the environmental controls had a thin layer of mist and a light dew on the ground. The truth of the matter was that she was here to pay her respects.

She heard the water before she saw it, the sound of the water cascading down the side of the monument. She stood before the stone structure and scanned her eyes across it and read the inscription.

..."For Those Who Fell: Battle Of Sector 001, 2373."...

Ten years. Ten years since the massacre at 001, thirteen since 359. She must be one of only a handful of people in the fleet who was at both...and an even a smaller number who survived. She heard the feet on the wet grass behind her.

"I always thought we should have had more of a tribute." The voice said with it's thick German accent. Renora turned and faced the man.

"Master chief." She held out and took the mans hand, he grabbed her forearm and she grabbed his in return. It was strange the way the enlisted personnel seemed to band more closely than the officers, maybe it was just tradition, maybe it was just that being enlisted and sharing bunk rooms and basic training made it all feel more like family...which was why it was harder to deal with things like this. "Good to see your keeping your eye on me." Renora said with a smile.

The German blew out a breath through his grin, the man wore an eye patch. He'd been wounded during the dominion wars and had had an implant fitted to restore his sight but he felt it added something to the 'salty old dog' image he'd always tried to maintain. "So tell me," he said, taking a seat on the stone plinth beside the fountain, "why is one of the Galaxy's' senior enlisted personnel roaming around my botanical gardens in full dress uniform first thing in the morning?"

"It's too close." Renora said.

"What is?"

"This...our reason for being here. A whole fleet wiped out and with no apparent losses to the other side, it's just like before." She bit her lower lip. "I'm not sure I could go through it all again chief...I'm really not." She sat down beside the man.

"Loret..." The man began. "You have always been a fighter, from the day you were born, now I'm not sure about the prophets and pah and all that but you seem to have a survival streak in you most don't. If it does come to that you'll get through it or, and I know you'll be like this, you will take as many of them with you as you can."

"I've taken so many lives already..." She began.

"We all have, but we do it to protect others. I'd kill a man to let ten innocent survive, but I wouldn't do it happily. We shouldn't have to do this but as long as there are wars people like you and I will always be needed to make difficult decisions and do things which are greater than rank, or title, or reward. When you take a life and it means nothing to you...well...that's when you have to worry."

"There's so much at stake..." Renora began but was once again cut off.

"There always is. The trick is to not let it overwhelm you, lots of little steps rather than great big strides will get you to the end just as fast but maybe in few pieces."

The two sat in silence for a minute reflecting on their surroundings before either of them spoke.

"I hear Corgan is chief of security on the Galaxy now?" Mueller said turning to look at the wall.

"That's right." Renora stood and looked at it with him her eyes scanning down the names. "Haven't had any stuff stolen from my quarters so he must be doing something right." They shared a smile.

"Oh and say hi to Jayce for me. Tell her not to be stranger while we're here, it'd be good to see her again." Jacob added.

"Will do." Renora said, a tear slipping down the outside of her face. She let it fall, hoping that her former superior wouldn't see it. Strange thing was, if she'd have tuned and looked at the rough, one-eyed, old sailor...she'd have seen one on his face too.

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