"First Impressions"
Ensign Krel Voral, Security Officer
Commander Arel Smith, Chief of Security
Security Chief's office, USS Miranda
---------------------------------------
There was a line waiting outside her office of security officers that she hadn't met yet.
Arel figured to just get it over with and have them all meet her (one at a time of course) today, figuring that by the end she would be more than enthusiastic for her workout.
"Next pthak!" Arel yelled as a lieutenant quickly scampered for the door.
Having heard such an interesting call to enter by his new commanding
officer, Voral thought to himself that this meeting should prove to be
quite interesting. With PADD in hand, he pressed the door chime and
entered. Sitting behind the desk in the office was a Human female.
Quite attractive, yet at one look could tell by the way she looked and
carried herself, that she commanded respect.
Voral snapped to attention and saluted his new CO. "Ensign Krel Voral
reporting for duty as ordered sir."
"Sit."
One word, a simple command. She seemed to be direct and to the point,
and that was the way he preferred those in direct command of him to
be. Voral sat across the desk from Commander Smith, and gave her his
undivided attention.
"I'll keep this short, Krel." She said. "All I ask is that you do
your job, which is keeping the ship and its crew safe, not doing
anything stupid, and trying your best not to piss me off. Think you
can do that?"
"Yes sir. You'll have no trouble out of me."
"Good." Arel said. "Any questions for me?"
"Aside from where I will fit into the duty roster, I have no questions
Sir."
"You'll be on Beta shift as a security patrol for the time being."
Arel said. "Your supervisor will be Lieutenant Khatrowen. Have you met
him yet?"
"No Commander, I've yet to meet him."
"He looks like a child's stuffed animal." The security officer told
him. "He'll rip off something you'll miss if you treat him as such."
Voral couldn't help but give a slightly puzzled look. "Very well sir,
I'll keep that in mind."
"Then we're done here. Welcome aboard." She told him. "Next pthak!"
"Thank you sir." He quickly left, as he figured that the standard
farewell handshake usually done in this situation would be less than
appreciated by the receiver.
"Child's stuffed animal???" Voral seemed quite puzzled by this
unusual description of this Lieutenant Khatrowen. A security chief
with the warmth and social manner of a Cardassian labor camp guard,
and now a lieutenant that resembles a toy in some fashion. If nothing
else, serving on the Miranda would at least prove to be quite interesting.
"Gut-Wrenching Sight"
Elaithin Jii
K. Jordan Elaithin
------------------
SS Auriga
On approach to Romulus
----------------------
Jii was sitting with Jordan - and Damon - on the Auriga's small bridge as they came out of warp. They weren't cloaked - Damon had been planning a run to Romulus for awhile, and secured a delivery of some computer parts to some Romulan engineering firm. It was actually an above-board standard freight run, of course.
Minus the two passengers he was dropping off, that was.
As they drew close enough to observe the orbital traffic, Jordan felt Jii tensing up under her arm, and noticed his attention was suddenly very, very focused on something.
She cocked an eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder at him as she rested a hand on his lower back. "What's up?" she murmured softly, a myriad of explanations going through her mind. His experiences on Romulus, with Romulans, weren't exactly the things of warm fuzzy memories.
His gut was busily twisting itself into a tight little knot of guilt and surprise as he pointed out a particular vessel. They'd known Starfleet had dispatched a task force, of course, but..."It's the Miranda." he said quietly.
Jordan had no response but the gentle rub on his back as the Auriga began to angle down into the atmosphere.
"Where are we setting down?" she asked softly.
"Outside of Ki Baratan." he responded absently. It was clear he was still distracted by the presence of his old ship - his eyes had yet to leave the vessel's hull.
Just seeing the ship for the first time in six months... he knew he'd have to settle things there, eventually. Apologies were owed.
Friendships that might have been shattered - he hoped not beyond repair, but it was impossible to say.
Jaal had never replied to his message that Jordan was alive, after all. It didn't really fill Jii with confidence as the type of reception that he was apt o receive if he tried to make contact.
"Hey." She touched her hand to his face and pulled his gaze to hers.
"It's okay. It'll work itself out."
"Yeah." he replied. "Yeah, I know. One way or the other."
He shook his head to clear it. They had a job to do. And while the Miranda's presence might have been an asset other under circumstances, it wouldn't be here. The mole they were after was a Starfleet Intelligence agent, after all. He'd have his own pipeline, and Batanides had been very careful to make sure nothing had come to down to lead him that he might be under investigation.
Right now, Jii and Jordan were off the grid, after all. Jii, because he'd resigned from Starfleet, and as far as the political or intelligence communities were concerned, he didn't enter into the equation anymore. Jordan because, well, as far as most every one knew, she was dead.
So, all told, Keller wouldn't even see them coming.
"I suppose it's just luck that the Tal'Shiar or the RNI haven't turned up Keller's presence yet." he muttered aloud. If it was discovered that a Federation agent had been the one to betray the Romulan 2nd Galae...
Well, there probably wouldn't be much of an alliance after that.
"Yes... the Tal'Shiar isn't what it used to be," she said. "Of course... my information is six months old." She rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes as she rested her head against his shoulder. "We just have to make sure they don't find out. Search and containment."
Jii leaned back, rubbing the beard that he'd now had for the past six months. "There's another possibility, you know."
"There's always another possibility."
"Well, I'm thinking. What if the Romulans already know about him? And they've chosen not to act on it?"
"Crossed my mind," Jordan said, but shrugged. "But if so, what're they trying to gain from it? Lull the Federation into a false sense of security before they strike? They've taken heavy losses. And if they're still... We'll find out soon enough, won't we? And we'll have to get to him before they decide to do something about it."
"Or things are bad enough they don't want to jeopardize their relationship with the Federation." Jii concluded. "That's the only other thing I can think of. And if that's the case..."
"We knew it was coming, Jii," she said, "we knew it six months ago, we knew it six months before that and a year before that."
"I know." he nodded. He felt.. helpless, to an extent. "Not what I thought I'd be doing when it all went down, though."
"Well. Destiny leads us down strange paths. We just have to have the faith that we'll get to where we need to be." She smiled softly, natural sunlight coming through the windows and running over her face as Damon guided the ship into the planet-side port. "And we'll get there together. Nothing's impossible that way."
"Sounds like a plan to me."
"Bad Judgement "
Commander Arel Smith
Major Rena Starburst
***
Arel rarely ever ordered things from the ship's replicator banks but an interest in seeing what kind of toys they had for young children, plus an conversation with Samantha, had her deviating slightly from her plan and looking under women's clothing.
And then Arel had found something that had made her grin so wide that the other people in the room had backed away from her slowly.
"I'll take that." Arel said. "Send it to Major Starburst"
***
Major Starburst was in her office, filing reports from Rebel Squadron's afternoon CAP flight. There'd been a minor incident with a civilian Romulan transport that hadn't been broadcasting any ID, and she and the Rebels had almost been forced to open fire.
Luckily, one of her pilots was a Betazoid, and has been able to determine from reading the crew that something had taken out their entire transmission array. The Rebels had then escorted the freighter to the massive space station that was in Romulus upper orbit, and gone about their business.
She absently told whoever it was to enter when they arrive with the package - some crewman from QM's office, by the looks of it - and looked in puzzlement at the package.
Opening it, the expression of puzzlement shifted to a rather hefty frown, and she muttered several select curses under her breath as she looked to see who the sender was.
"Arel." Rena growled, and scooped up the package and stalked out of her office.
***
Arel and Korvin were playing his new toy, some sort of memory device with flashing lights that caused Arel more curses than amusement, when Rena came storming in. "Hi."
Rena's eyes darted over to her nephew, first. "Korvin, go to your room." she said flatly.
Korvin got up and grabbed his new game. "You're going to yell loud enough for me to hear anyway." But at a look from his mother, he left.
"Should I have bought the spurs instead?" Arel asked innocently.
"Those looked interesting."
"It. Never. Happened."
The security officer lifted an amused eyebrow. "Is that pilot code or something?"
"No." she replied. "And where do you get off finding this so goddamn funny? Look who you're married to, for Christ's sake."
"Mine was an accident." Arel snapped. "Yours was all you, Sister."
"Accident?" Rena laughed. "Accident? A Klingon divorce takes like, four seconds, Arel, but you're still married. Explain that one to me."
Arel glared. "Conflicting schedules."
"Bullshit."
"And your supposed distaste for this cowboy person isn't?" Arel snorted. "From what I heard 'It never happened' quite loudly. All night."
"I don't remember it, therefore, it never happened." She replied with a completely straight face.
Arel just shrugged. "If you say so."
Rena let out a deep sigh and flopped down on the couch next to her sister. "Okay, seriously. No idea why I did it. The little toad drives me insane. He's a pathetic little womanizing fuckhead. So below my standards."
"Yeah." Arel said. "But maybe you just thought it would be fun."
She just snorted at that. "That why you're still married?"
She shot her sister a look. "I told you. I've been busy."
Rena just lifted an eyebrow.
"There's a lot to think of." Arel said hotly. "There's the wording and everything. And just where to hit him. It's... important."
"Mmhmmm.."
"Don't Mmmmhmmm me." She snarled. "Its an important ceremony. I can't just rush through it."
"Of course not." Rena replied innocently.
"Exactly." Arel said with a nod.
"Especially since you like being married to him." she continued.
"I do NOT!"
"She does too!" Korvin called from his room.
"Hush!" Arel commanded.
Rena grinned widely as Korvin piped up. "Come on out, Kor!"
Korvin ran out with a grin; Arel remained seated with a scowl. "Hi Auntie Rena!" *
"Hey, kiddo." she replied, tousling the boys hair as he squirmed up into her ap. "So, brat, has your Mom been making moony-eyes at Mr.
Mitchell?"
"Moony-eyes?" Korvin asked, looking at his SoS. Arel replied in Klingon and he looked back at his aunt with puzzlement. "Why would Mommy stare like a va-pid cow?"
Rena just laughed. "Because, Korvin, your grandfather was a horrible father, and so neither me or your mother have any ability whatsoever to exercise good judgement when it comes to men."
She didn't have to look to know her sister was glaring at her again.
"Dumb Luck"
Captain Christopher Summers, CO USS Miranda
Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO USS Miranda
Captain Vaaren Bek, Head Tactical Analyst, Starbase Atlantis
Two Weeks Ago...
Tactical HQ Atlantis Sector, Starbase Atlantis
=================================
Large, yellow eyes peered closely at the pieces on the chessboard - white had black in checkmate in six moves, five if the black player was careless. Th'Khiss K'aa looked at the game board's ash and walnut surface as a break from constant pacing. The Gorn would have given several fangs to have remained back on the Miranda, but the circumstances didn't conspire to allow him the relative leisure - he was in charge of Tactical during Commander Hammond and Lieutenant 'Khnialmnae's... convalescences.
Captain Christopher Summers looked askance - quickly - at the young Gorn Lieutenant. He wasn't sure - it was hard to read reptilians, after all - but the young man seemed unaccountably nervous.
The figure that briskly entered the office was a small, grey-white blur. Barely over five feet tall, the Tellarite captain unceremoniously shook hands with both K'aa and Summers. "Lieutenant, well met. Chris, you're looking well. Good to be back from behind a desk?" Vaaren Bek grinned from behind a salt-and-pepper beard that flowed mid-chest.
Honestly, Chris was still of mixed feelings on the matter. Still, that wasn't the sort of thing one admitted to a casual acquaintance like Bek. "Of course it is." Summers grunted at the Tellarite. "Some of us just don't have the.. mental fortitude for it like yourself."
"Mental fortitude or padded posterior... I suppose it doesn't matter"
Bek replied, settling into his chair and adjusting it so he was more or less at eye level with the Miranda officers. "I'm here.
Gentlemen... Miranda's Tactical Department's had an interesting time of it in the Gamma Quadrant. I think we can quell the planned exodus of thirty-seven percent of the Department's personnel, after all", he said smirking at the Gorn, "as some one's pointed out, Starfleet's not a democracy. Commander Donovan's injury and Lieutenant t'Khnialmnae assimilation and de-assimilation notwithstanding, they've performed quite well under the circumstances."
"I've certainly got no complaints." Summers nodded. After all, any misgivings he had about the Miranda's last mission laid squarely on his own shoulders - no one else's.
"What I'd like to discuss are the scans you took of the Hydran carrier, the T'Kith T'Kin attack cruiser, and the Hydran fighter you've got rotting in Miranda's Shuttlebay Three", the old Tellarite chimed. "What possessed you to bring that thing on board?"
K'aa stopped figiting in the painfully uncomfortable human-designed chair. "Captain Sssummersss made it clear to ssscan the debrisss field thoroughly, and we acted accordingly, sssir. The CIC's new ssssensorsss allowed for a more thorough and refined ssscan than previoussssly posssible and we had the time and persssonel to make besssst usssse of it. Asss for the fighter, the decisssion wasss mine asss the Captain wasss planetssside - I'll accept any reprimand for it."
Chris chuckled quietly a bit. "Mr. K'aa, I don't believe any reprimands are in order."
Bek grinned underneath his white beard. "Agreed. Actually the circumstance presents some unique opportunities I'd like to propose, but first Lieutenant, can you give me an overview of Hydran fleet tactics?"
"Hydran attack tacticssss depend on two formsss of weaponsss unique to their arsssenal", K'aa began. "Small, quick, heavily armored shipsss and fighters attack swiftly with fusssion cannonsss at close range.
Once initial damage to enemy shieldsss issss inflicted, larger capital shipsss follow up with fire from Hellbores. The unique propertiesss of the Hellbore makesss maneuvering to protect a crippled shield practically usssselesss - the dessstructive energy of the weapon sssimply skimsss the shield'sss outer circumference and penetratesss the weakened one. Defensssively, Hydran shipsss are very well engineered - their framesss can take an incredible amount of damage, and they've pioneered a rapid-fire phaser to deal with incoming enemy fighters."
"Impressive", the Tellarite observed. "Excellent observation."
"It should be noted, of course," Summers interjected, "That their fighters are hardly an exclusive advantage anymore. And correct me if I'm wrong, but with the recent upgrades to our shielding technology from Project: Atlantis, won't the Hellbore be less of a concern?"
Bek slid a padd towards the human Captain. "Intel sources hint that Hydran Hellbore development has been as significant as our own progress in shields - nothing concrete, but I'd be willing to bet their R&D haven't been idle over the years. As for the fighter, initial research shows that the model you have on Miranda's about two to three years old - not the most current, but not the oldest either."
"What about ablative armor generators, then?" Summers frowned. "The Borg Treaty's expired now, and if their behaviour in the Delta Quadrant was any indication, they've no interest at all in renewing it. So we're no longer bound to not use that technology."
"If there's to be any silver lining in the forming stormclouds, that's it", Bek offered. "The ablative armor generators are to be re-installed immediately - that should take some of the bite out of the Hydran arsenal."
"There'sss more..." the Gorn continued. "Their weaponry and offensssive tacticsss make large shipssss like the Miranda more vulnerable in fleet operations. She'sss a large target, and can eassily be the object of multiple Hellbore cannon fire."
"Suggest a defence."
K'aa quickly glanced at his own Captain before replying. "Range.
Fusssion cannonsss, while more powerful at short range than phaserssss, are limited to an effective range. Hellboresss, while comparable to phasersss in range, are not very effective againssst undamaged shieldsss. Long range phaser and torpedo fire on the incoming Fusssion armed warshipsss would be the best tactic to pursssue."
"Do we have any data on the effectivness of transphasics against Hydran vessels?" Captain Summers asked, leaning back in his chair as the thought occured to him.
"None, and I'd like that ace to remain up our sleeves for as long as possible" the Tellarite suggested. "The only intel they would have on the transphasic torpedo would have been from the T'Kith T'Kin, and they have a radically different technology. The decision to use thems in your capable hands Chris."
Bek's grin faded when he asked his final question to the Gorn lieutenant. "And if they have Scimitar-level cloaking technology?"
The question gave the reptilian cause to pause, and he narrowed his eyes at the short Tactical Analyst. "I underssstand prayer can be comforting in difficult timesss."
Nodding from behind his desk, Bek offered each Miranda officers a padd. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. My people abandoned religion three centuries ago."
"Then you're bound to be out of practice." Summers murmured as an aside.
Bek snorted. " The files I've given you contain all the tactical intel we have on other Hydran fighter craft we've encountered - unfortunately, we've never had a working model to examine. I'd like to keep the fighter on Miranda for you to work with."
It was the Captain who replied, rather than the Lieutenant. "Excuse me, aboard Miranda? Not here, on Atlantis?"
The Tellarite's gave Summers a grim smile that suggested no humor. "I have people here lined up to offer vital parts of their reproduction systems to get a crack at it, but Intelligence believes that in addition to Tactical and Scientific analysis the fighter has a... how was it put... 'covert operations potential that would be unrealized on a Starbase'. It would seem that SFI's rhetoric bore more weight than Admiral Westmoreland's, so Miranda will keep the fighter. My
*request* is that you try and prevent the 'intel-weenies' from wrecking it so we can take a look when you return."
"That sssshould be posssible, sssir."
"Excellent," the Tellarite Captian beamed. "We have a deal then."
"Sandboxes"
Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion
Major Peter Shaw
Major Rae Weber
Major Alex McKeon
===================================
For'kel wasn't exactly enthralled by being called away, but if one had to, they had to. He was fortunate in a way... Berilyn understood. She always understood.
Pete however might be less forgiving. None the less the Stagnorian gave him a wake up 'slap' on the shoulder. "We've just been called to Intel."
"Last time I did that Intel thing I was creeped out, I am staying asleep. Fuck that."
If it were anyone else Colonel Arvelion would have simply said 'that's an order', but given it was Pete the words "Who the 'hell' do you think you're talking to like that!" came out automatically. "Get off your ass, on your feet, and let's go!"
"Fine, but I am getting hazard pay for this," he grumbled as he got up.
"You'll get a kick in the ass if you don't. Get your uniform on, we'll go in 5."
Pete grabbed his jacket and looked at himself in the mirror before standing at the door. "Lead on."
-- Miranda Intelligence Centre, Deck 1 --
The Marines didn't have access to anything beyond the public area, a small room with a front desk not unlike a private doctor's practice.
She had to come up to get them temporary access and escort them through the checkpoints (the gamut of paranoia). As she stepped through the doors she smiled at them, offered a hand.
"'Colonel, Major," she said in tern, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Rae Weber, the CIO with Alex McKeon. I don't believe he'll be joining us, but he might stop in. You've been given temporary access provided you stay with an escort. Otherwise our safety systems will stop you.
That being said, welcome to the Intelligence Centre, the most high tech and up to date ship-based IC in the Fleet. Please, follow me through."
They moved through the doors, scanners visibly moving over them as they passed through a short hallway. It opened into a wider room, the panels and displays flickering off as they passed through. Everything was very clean, the lights down low to heighten the display capabilities. Their footsteps echoed on the polished floor. Turning into one of the offices to their left, the doors closing solidly behind them.
"Please sit," she said, motioning toward the two chairs set across from her desk. "If you want anything from the replicator, help yourself, but I find it to be disruptive for meetings." She settled in her chair, sitting forward with hands laced together on the desk.
"Wait... Rae Weber?" Pete asked as he sat down after the shock. "Then who the hell was the person that was here before?" Pete really now hated Intelligence people. They had more faces then a changeling it seemed.
"A woman called Slim," Rae replied. "She was a… stand-in of sorts.
Anything more is classified."
"Figures," Pete muttered. "Weber... USS Texas... one of the ships in the fleet is captained by a Captain Weber. Any relation?" Pete asked.
"She's my sister. But we don't know one another. Extenuating circumstances." She offered a grim smile that translated more
appropriately: I can't talk about it and even if I could hell if I'm going to share the sordid story with you. "I've heard of the order from the Galaxy's ICO and your... issue with it."
At the beginning For'kel offered a polite smile, one that was easier to keep when Major Weber went on about the office. One could almost swear she was looking to sell it with that introductory pitch. At the very least, it was a disarming presentation.
As he sat down, For'kel tried not laughing. The Major was going out of her way to be polite, which is something he quite honestly didn't expect. The word 'issue' was the perfect example, and diplomacy probably deserved a chance. He nodded before speaking.
"As I'm sure you could imagine Major, such a provocative move would be at odds with out designated mission. The two aren't compatible, and as such no Marine under my command will be engaging in espionage of any kind."
"I know. And I agree completely," Rae stated, observing the two Marines closely.
To say they weren't expecting that response was an understatement.
"I don't believe that it's the place of a peacekeeping force to gather intelligence. That's our job. And we shouldn't be enlisting you and your team to do our job for us. You are individuals under a different jurisdiction with your own missions, not the tools of Starfleet Intelligence."
Pete sat there and studied the woman. She was an odd one that he couldn't read, and that really annoyed him. "Well, here is the information that was transmitted," Pete said as he set down a padd. "I am sure a lot of this is supposed to be over my pay grade."
She accepted it, glancing it over. It wasn't much more than she'd already acquired, but at least now she knew for sure they were all on the same page.
"You'll have to forgive me Major, but if we're on the same side, why is the meeting necessary?"
"First, I wanted to express my support. But second, I wanted to discuss with you some way to try and talk Lieutenant Bental out of
this. In order to do that, I need some bargaining chip. I'll tell
you exactly what I plan to tell him: this is not your expertise, you were not trained to gather information beyond that necessary to conduct your mission quickly and efficiently with minimal loss of
life. However. That information is useful; it is accurate and
detailed. We usually are able to obtain it to some degree anyway, but
it's always incomplete. If you and perhaps some of your team would
be willing to be debriefed by SFI, I might be able to get the Marines out of this. Bental has no jurisdiction over the Miranda, but he does over Galaxy -- if they carry this, it still weighs on your team."
"Major, forgive me if I offend or sound... naive, but shouldn't your rank being higher than his be sufficient leverage? To be blunt, orders were given preventing 'any' Marine participating in planetside security operations that in any way collaborates to conduct any form of espionage against the host government will be dealt with. Whether Intel wishes to debrief us or not 'after we're comfortable our mission is complete is a matter to be settled by people higher up than us I would think... though I have no immediate objection."
"Yeah.. you'd think, wouldn't you?" came the new voice from by the door. Even the doors up here were so quiet you couldn't hear them open.
For'kel looked over his shoulder, a bit of sarcasm leaking through.
"Normally drop in on conversations?"
"Sorry," Alex said with a smile, sticking his hand out to the two Marines in turn. "Major Alex McKeon. I'm Major Weber's partner in crime."
"Pleasure to meet you."
"And to answer your question, 'Colonel... it's.. complicated." At the look on the Marine's face, Alex had to chuckle. "I know, what isn't with us spooks? While what you're suggesting is very much s.o.p with the Marines, in Intel it'd be considered.. rude."
"Rude?"
"Well, REALLY rude." he clarified.
"Strange, where I'm from it's rude to ask others to do something you're not prepared to do yourself." For'kel raised an eyebrow. "I believe the Terran saying goes 'frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.'" His eyes turned back to the first Major. "Major, the orders have been issued with my authorization. If you're worried about loosing face, I'll be more than happy to bear responsibility for the decision. Scape goat is the term, right?"
"It's not so much a matter of losing face, 'Colonel." Alex shook his head. "The Intel community is a very small one. It's also an exceedingly informal one - especially more so than the SFMC. We're all real sensitive about our particular sandboxes. But I'll tell you right now - you're senior Marine in this Task Force. What the Marines do is up to you. We'll take care of things with Bental.. even if we do have to make it an order. Sounds good?"
The Stagnorian Marine simply gave a crisp nod in reply.
"Angels and Demons" - Part I
Cpt. Amelse Brodey, Commanding Officer
Cdr. Valer ch'Thevan, Chief Tactical Officer/Executive Officer
Cdr. L'rr,res, Chief Medical Officer
LJG Uuyus, Chief Navigator
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Captain's Ready Room (Deck 1), U.S.S. Thunderbird, NCC-68108
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"And another thing, Ames--"
The dark-skinned Terran behind the desk stood abruptly, silencing the black-furred Caitian with a fell swoop of her left hand. "Enough, L'Ress! I won't hear another word of it!" her central-African voice resonated richly. "We are less than a day from Romulus. We don't have time for this. Plus, do you know what the Colonels would say?!" She paused a breath, then quickly continued before L'Ress could offer an interjection, "They'd cry 'mutiny'!"
"Amelse..." the Caitain growled in annoyance while rolling her large green eyes and flicking the tufted end of her long tail.
"No, Lera. Not now. Beside, the new CNIs can do all of this anyway, right?" the large Kenyan woman folded her arms to signal her end of the discussion. After all, Amelse Brody was the Captain, wasn't she?
"Not necessarily, Ames," Lera badgered on as she plopped her diminutive frame into one of the opposing chairs. With a sly upturn of her muzzle, she lifted a paw, slightly extending her claws for inspection. "It doesn't rule out mechanical error on the interface's own part," she purred softly.
Amelse found her resolve faltering, ever so slight. Damned her! she swore in her mind. Captain Brodey swore that the only reason the felinoid could purr was to seduce others to her point of view. Then again, they had grown up together since they were both twelve--Amelse was well aware of this cat's charms.
Sitting down, the Captain of the U.S.S. Thunderbird relented, just a little bit. "Alright, Lera," she sighed, sinking into her own high-backed chair.
The CMO's grin widened even more, threatening to push up her face and past her ears. Amelse rolled her eyes, now. It was that same stupid look L'Ress always got when she had won--yeah, it seemed to happen more often than not.
"Great!" she rowled, bouncing out of her chair onto her bared feet. Being Caitian--like most digitigrades, or 'toe-walkers'--L'Ress didn't wear standard duty boots. She didn't even wear a standard uniform, preferring the form-fitting unitard and medical officer's frock approved for felinoid service-members.
"But," Amelse warned with an emphatic finger punctuating the air between them, "passive scans only. Like you've said countless times, Lera, these things are still semi-experimental," she said, rubbing at the back of her neck where the transceiver antenna was subdermally embedded.
L'Ress squinted her eyes in annoyance, flapping her triangular ears back and forth a couple of times. "Oh, alright, Captain Sir," she said in a mock-serious tone, bringing her right fore-paw up square in an old-fashioned Naval Salute.
Amelse couldn't help but laugh at her old friend, always bubbly and playful. Or bitchy and dangerous, if in a foul mood. Still...
Ames fired off a lackadaisical salute of her own, turning in her seat to exit from behind her desk. "Now, about our 'guest'," she started, changing subject.
"Bridge to Captain Brodey," the intercraft blurted, interrupting her train of thought.
Amelse sighed, looked at L'Ress with a now-what? glance (L'Ress merely shrugged her own shoulders), and spoke aloud to the in-room audio pick-ups. "What is it, Number One?"
"Romulan Neutral Zone border estimated in twenty minutes, Sir. As per your request--"
"Yes, yes, Valer," she said quickly, curtailing him before he launched into one of his typically-detailed explanations. For an Andorian, Amelse swore that Valer ch'Thevan was raised by Vulcans. "Any signs of our escorts?"
"No, Captain. Then again, they are chethlet-haas--" Amelse quickly translated the Andorian word to Standard; 'sneaky-bastards' was a close approximation, "--who knows if they are waiting for us, or not?" the chan asked rhetorically.
"Indeed," Amelse responded, pausing a moment to weigh her options. Of course, she had her orders, and would follow them. She just didn't like playing 'brain-games', as Colonel Maruva had called them, botching the human aphorism.
"Shall we proceed, Sir?" Valer prompted.
"Yes, yes," Brodey responded, a little too quickly. Lera's ears perked forward, the look on her face silently asking what's up with you?
"Have Lieutenant Keo inform Starfleet Command that we are entering the Neutral Zone, per orders. Also, have hir send the encoded message on the specified signal."
"Aye, Sir," Valer responded.
"Mister Uuyus," Amelse said.
"Yes, Captain Brodey," the Arkenite navigator's strange, dual-tonal voice rang over the intercom.
"Lay in new course for the pre-arranged coordinates, Warp 7. Do not execute until Lieutenant Keo has received affirmation on the encoded channel."
"Understood, Captain," Uuyus responded.
"Valer," Brodey addressed her XO again, "Have Salomon contact all the department and division heads, I want a full meeting in the Chess Room in thirty minutes. Notify me when everyone is assembled. Until then, I will stay here," she ordered.
"Aye-aye, Captain," Valer responded, then clicked off the comm link.
"What is your Earth-worlder's saying?" L'Ress chimed in, after the comm exchange, "Going where angels fear to tread?"
"Yes, Lera, yes," she said reflectively, staring out at the stars as the mighty Akira-class starship jumped to warp.
"His lips are sewen..."
Captain Christopher Summers,
Commander Jaal Jaxom
Lt. Commander Gwyin Narim'Malyki
****
Gwyin had sent a request to Jaal and the Captain for a meeting. She wanted to lay all the evidence at their feet and see what they would say. She now stood waiting outside the ready room of Captain Summers awaiting to be called in.
Commander Jaxom was already there, of course, as this was the time that the Captain and First Officer usually went over the daily briefing.
"Enter." the Captain called out, after the JAG requested entrance.
Jaal looked up from his PADD to the door to see who was coming in. He and Captain Summers had been discussing the ship's resupply schedule for the things that were nearly depleted with all the extra passengers.
Gwyin entered calmly her hands holding two PADDS. "Captain. Commander"
She said calmly. She gave Jaal a friendly smile though when her gaze hit the captain it was business as usual. "Captain. I have in my hands all sorts of evidence. Against Colonel Mitchell."
Jaal looked at the PADD for a moment. 'No good is gonna come of this,'
was his first thought. That Mitchell shmuck was like frikkin teflon.
Out of all the complaints that ever crossed anyone's desk about him, nothing ever seemed stuck to him. One thing for sure, he was a fighter and the commander respected that.
Mitchell had gained some respect back when Admiral Ramsey had taken over the ship. He managed to escape from their brig cell when the captain was beamed to sickbay. The respect was largely lost when Mitchell started the unnecessary violence in the Delta Quadrant with the Cardassians. Everything would have been fine until he started beating the Cardies up. 'Then' the wanker got tortured for his trouble. The Trill figured he'd gotten what he deserved and never reported the bad behavior that led to that result.
Jaal looked up from the PADD at Captain Summers deciding to let him make the first remarks.
"Allright then." the Captain replied, setting his PADDs down and picking up the tea in front of him. "Lets hear it."
Gwyin nodded and said "First let me state, that I barely know the colonel and this investigation was in no way personally motivated" She paused and took a breath. "When Lieutenant Colonel For'kel Arvelion came to my office, he laid a lot of charges against the colonel. Among them, Officer unbecoming, Mutiny, Misbehavior before the Enemy, and many more, the most server of them being the Attempted Murder of Colonel Arvelion during the borg incursion."
Jaal frowned. That was some pretty serious shit.
Summers frowned as well at the notion that the JAG officer felt the need to clarify whether or not her investigations were personally motivated. "And have you found anything more than circumstantial evidence?"
"Yes, I did. Major Peter Shaw is willing to testify that Colonel Mitchell tried to intice a mutiny while he was absent from his assigned post and with the Marines. He was not, Colonel Mitchell, that is, in charge of the Marines and should not have been with them, but he actively tried to un dermine the CO of the Marines." She paused.
Her eyes fell on Summers. "I did Send the captain a copy of my draft Indictment. I believe that with the testimony of those present, I can prosecute Colonel Mitchell affectively. Though the man has a very bad habit of slipping through peoples fingers. I have read his file. There are many instances where he should have been court marshalled but was not. And I can only think of the reason being that Mitchell's lips are sewen to some admirals rear end."
"I suppose you can prove that, can you?" Summers asked, his eyebrows raised.
"No Sir i can not prove that Colonel Mitchell has his lips sewn to an admirals rear Sir." Gwyin did not step back nor did she cower from the Captain as he spoke.
"Then, Commander, I suggest you recall that you are speaking of a Starfleet Starfighter Corps Colonel, a man who carries the rank equivalent to my own as a Starfleet Captain. You would also do well to recall that until any such charges are proven, he IS due the respect of his rank. Anything less - such as your continued displays, are bordering on insubordination. Are we clear on that, Lieutenant Commander Narim'malyki?"
Gwyin had to stop herself from glaring. "Yes" She said icily.
"Good." The Captain replied. "Now, continue your briefing, 'Commander
- and without editorializing, if you please."
She stiffened. "Most of the crew are not comming forward sir. But, with your premission I would like to be allowed to supena those in the group with Mitchell to testify before a court Marshall. The charges are sound Sir."
"It's your call, 'Commander." the Captain replied. "One more thing, however.."
"Sir?" Gywin asked wishing again for the hundreth time that Elathin was standing there and not this stranger.
"We need to table all of this until the current crisis is resolved.
I'm certain we can all agree that, in the middle of what is soon to be a war zone, the last thing we need to be doing is trying the commander of this vessel's fighter wing. We've got enough on our plates right now, and this is just going to have to keep until it's all over."
"Yes Sir." She bit back her comment that she wanted to make and saluted Summers, nodded at Jaal and left the office. Once the door closed behind her she growled something uncomplimentary about the whole situation and stalked off the bridge, casting a baleful glance at her old spot at ops. As the lift doors closed the tactical officer clearly heard her say "Sometimes I wish I had died in the battle of Havaras."
"Captain Chat"
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer
USS Galaxy
Captain Margarethe Vogler (NPC)
Commanding Officer
USS Exeter
****
USS Exeter
Captain's Log
"Captain's Log, Stardate 60104.9 . . . . We've arrived without incident at the rendezvous point with the rest of task force. I have to admit, part of me almost misses the bad old days when even thinking of crossing into Romulan territory was an act of war; it certainly added excitement to an otherwise mundane trip.
I've arranged to meet with Daren M'Kantu to get caught up on the current situation and perhaps for some personal catching-up as well...."
****
USS Galaxy
Deck X
Transporter Room 2
"Captain M'Kantu, thank you for taking the time to meet with me."
The Exeter's captain brandished her hand as she stepped off the transporter pad. Vogler was a solidly compact woman, standing no taller than 5'4" but presenting a firm bearing and a voice that resonated well into the alto range; a combination that with her Teutonic heritage and comportment had over her many years as a CO earned her the sobriquet "The Iron Frau".
"Maggie" as her friends addressed her, was generally well-liked but also well-respected. Among her colleagues the blend tended to inspire equal measures of hope and dread that she would one day rise to the rank of Admiral, a suggestion that usually sent her coughing and sputtering in revulsion. Without a doubt she could be irrepressibly demanding, both on herself and on others, and her German confidence and efficiency were almost legendary. But as much as possible, the silver-haired woman preferred to be less by-the-book than many Starfleet captains and was not above belting back a few beers and exchanging hyperbolized tales well into the wee hours with the best of them. She had even earned some notoriety for besting most of her male counterparts in the typically masculine domains of arm-wrestling, power drinking and belching.
"An impressive ship you have here," she declared, assessing its interior with as much scrutiny as she had its exterior. "Not surprised it took nothing less than a promotion to pry Bhrode's fat ass out of The Chair."
"Oddly enough," Daren replied as they started for the turbolift, "I've never spent much time considering the size of John Bhrode's butt for any reason whatsoever. Obvious a failing on my part."
"You're not missing much," Vogler harrumphed. "No, on second thought, you're missing an awful lot."
"So," he chuckled. "How have you been?"
"Well enough, thanks. Dealt with my share of crap from the Brass and challenges from within the ranks, but I managed to command a few starships and still keep my wits about me." She paused for a moment, her thoughts waxing nostalgic. "Made it through the War too. A lot of us didn't."
"No, they didn't," Daren agreed quietly.
"Still walkin' too," she said, shifting to a lighter topic, "after that match in '44." She threw a sideways glance in M'Kantu's direction and unsubtly cleared her throat.
A smile flickered across his face at the memory. "I recall that individuals on both sides warned you that body checks were legal in Null-Gravball, and that we were playing without pads. Besides," he glanced at her sideways, "if I'd pulled that hit you would have spent the next forty years complaining that I was taking it easy on you.
Since I knew I was going to hear about it for the rest of my career, I thought it was better to at least win the game."
Maggie got a hearty chuckle out of it. "And you? I hear you were in a bit of hot water recently."
"A bit, yes," he nodded. "Livia Proctor decided that I was unfit for command and called a hearing to pull my command status."
"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," she muttered. "Looks to me like you weathered that storm pretty well. Got your ship back and entrusted to oversee one of the most delicate missions Starfleet's seen in awhile."
"No, it didn't work out the way she thought it would," he agreed. "I can't complain about the way the hearing came out, but this means that I'll be filling out seventy extra forms to get basic supplies for the ship until Galaxy is assigned to another Admiral's supply chain." He shrugged. "But that's the way things work out sometimes."
Vogler simply smirked and slowly shook her head as they continued.
"Amazing what you learn after a lifetime in this business. Sent me out here with a ship full of greenhorns -- and not even enough of them. A Captain's better judgment is only 'better' until some paper-pushing Admiral puts in theirs. Eh, but enough grumbling. What are we looking at out here? The Romulans being good hosts so far?"
"Better than expected," Daren admitted. "We're not exactly at the top of their list of trusted and valued friends allies, but we're here, willing to defend them and not really asking for anything in return for that help. They might not understand the motives that prompted our arrival – but they're not likely to forget that we came and stood beside them despite our centuries of animosity."
"Let's hope so. We all know how alliances can shift in the blink of an eye -- often with nothing more than a blink of an eye as the cause.
What's Summers got to say about all this?"
"I think he – like the rest of us - wishes that someone else had caught this photon torpedo," Daren admitted. "Losing Jii was tough on the Miranda, and replacing him is being tough on Chris. Not so much that I'm worried about him, but more than he needs with this situation staring at us. As far as the situation itself… he thinks that we're sitting on an unstable warp core and banging on it with a quantum hammer." M'Kantu shook his head. "I can't say that I disagree with him." He nodded towards her. "What about you, Maggie?"
"Between you and me, I'm a little worried about my crew, Daren," she said, shifting to the more familiar mode. "They're young, inexperienced. They'd never admit it, but over the years I've learned how to read a crew and they're nervous. Some simply because it's their first assignment out of the Academy; some because of the significance of where we are; and others aren't sure whether they can trust the calm. I don't think I can say much that would be of help, especially when I don't know that I trust the calm either."
"Hmmm…" Daren thought a moment. "Have you tried talking to your Chief Counselor about ways to help ease the crew's anxiety?"
"HA! Chief Counselor? You're lookin' at 'er!" she laughed. "And besides, I'm just another *cause* of their anxiety. Even if I knew what to say or do I don't think it would be received as intended. No, I'm on my own on this one, Daren. Counselors were a luxury Starfleet apparently couldn't afford when they sent us here. Got any loaners?"
she asked jokingly.
"Yes," Daren replied calmly. "As a matter of fact, I do. Our Counseling Department is staffed fully enough that we ought to be able to send you at someone to help out. Provided," he added with a smile, "that you don't invite them to join any Null-Gravball games."
The Exeter's captain stopped and looked at M'Kantu, taken a little off guard that her mostly humorous request had been taken seriously. "You know, I'm gonna take you up on that, Daren -- no Null-Grav clause and all," she said with a grin. "You make the arrangements on your end and I'll have fresh sheets and towels put out in the guest room," she teased before they resumed their walk to the turbolift. "Now, let's get back to talking about the situation with the Romulans before you change your mind."
"No Such Thing As A Free Ride" (slight backpost)
Principal Characters:
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Andrus
Tae'ben
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room
Andrus waited outside the captain's ready room with more confidence than he actually felt. He'd blackmailed his way onto M'Kantu's ship and he was willing to bet a thousand bars of gold pressed latinum that the man wasn't too happy about it.
With a soft 'shuh' the door slid open. "Come in." The words were a command, not a request.
"Captain M'Kantu." Andy said, inclining his head politely before taking his seat.
Daren looked at the man opposite him for a moment in silence and then began with a simple, "Explain yourself."
"Nothing much to explain, Captain," Andrus said easily. "I needed a way off of Romulus and you were it."
"Most people," Daren observed, "would have just called a cab."
"Most people aren't up to their elbows in Romulan defectors."
"A situation," Daren continued, "which is amazingly easy to correct, given that we are currently in orbit around Romulus at the moment. All it takes is thirty seconds and a transporter, and one can suddenly regain the ability to walk without tripping over said defectors. Other Romulans, however, may be a different story." He regarded the Betazoid for a moment. "Since we may be operating under different rules than you're used to at the moment," he continued, "I'll sum the situation up for you if you like?"
"By all means," Andy said dryly.
"This," Daren continued, "is the point where you start coming up with reasons for me to not invest those thirty seconds. Your clock is running and I'm finding that my patience isn't what it used to be."
Andrus raised an eyebrow and then cracked his knuckles. "Very well.
You have something I want- safe passage out of this hell hole. I have something you probably don't want let out: information about your daughter. Let's deal."
His daughter? Bahiyah? This man had... Daren stopped that train of thought. If he was going to protect Bahiyah, getting mad wasn't a good thing. Without a word, he reached into his desk for the scanner that he'd gotten from his new Intelligence Department Head and activated it, waiting with more calmness than he felt for the 45-second scan to complete and pronounce the room clean. Three keystrokes on his LCARS disabled the automatic recorders and erased the last two minutes of recordings, and a final flip of a switch enabled the jamming function of the scanner. Only once all that was accomplished did he turn to Andrus and say one word: "Talk."
From the sense of sudden fear and anger that Andrus had sensed from the Captain, he knew at least that he was actually in a position to deal.
"Not a chance. Not until I'm hell and gone from Romulus."
The older man looked at him for a long moment, and then said in a carefully-controlled voice, "Not unexpected. Is that it? Nothing more?
Just transport for yourself out of the system?"
Andy raised an eyebrow. "And no detention cells awaiting me, of course."
"I'm not going to shield you from any crimes you commit," Daren said in a flat, even voice. "I will not throw you in a cell to rot once you've given me the information based solely on that. If you are wanted for crimes committed before arriving here or committed after, you're on your own... and if you commit any while you are aboard this ship, then feel free to start talking if you think it will save you.
It won't, but perhaps you'll feel better about yourself for having tried."
The Betazoid laughed. "Ever the negotiator."
"I'm not negotiating." Daren met Andrus' gaze. "Negotiation presupposes that both sides have room to give and take in their positions... and that isn't the case here, is it?"
Andrus sighed. "I don't plan on committing crimes, Captain. I just want to go home."
"Everyone wants to go home at some point in their lives. Not everyone gets their wish - or should. Is there anything else you want before we move on with this conversation? If so, speak up now. I will not alter this agreement after we're done here."
Andy looked thoughtfully at the Captain. Sure, he could hold out now and hope that M'Kantu didn't shoot him out an airlock later when he found out but the thought of being shot out into space like a projectile had never really appealed to Andrus.
He cracked his knuckles; wished he were capable of cracking his back. "I snuck a Romulan defector onboard Galaxy. I'd appreciate if we could
*both* have safe passage out of Romulan space."
M'Kantu's face didn't change expression. "A Romulan defector. I see.
And where is this defector now?"
"The mess, I imagine."
"Get him here. Now."
Andy nodded. "Okay."
A few minutes later they were joined by a very suspicious looking teenager.
"This is Captain M'Kantu, Tae'ben." Andrus informed him. "Be nice and tell the good man why you're here."
Tae'ben crossed his arms. "Romulus is oppressive."
Daren looked at the young man for a moment, seeing in that moment, someone else - a girl with darker skin and longer hair, but the same defiant stance, the same crossed arms; his daughter. "Granted," he said evenly. "Many societies are when viewed through the lens of Federation culture. But even in the most permissive cultures, it isn't uncommon for young men and women at your age to feel that way. Why, specifically, do you wish to leave?"
"My father ordered the deaths of many people," the young Romulan replied.
"His father is a senator." Andrus clarified.
"It was..." Tae'ben replied slowly. "Unjust. There was no crime other than opposition to our government."
"A senator. Of course. It lacked only that," Daren observed with a sigh he didn't bother to suppress and a glance towards Andrus that suggested he'd been right in not holding this information back. "May I ask your family name, Tae'ben?"
The teenager told him after a reluctant pause. Daren wished, briefly, that he had chosen a different profession all those years ago. Andrus gave him a look that said 'told you ignorance was bliss.'
"And it goes without saying that he would be... upset... at the course of action that you've chosen to follow, I suppose?" Daren asked the young man. He already knew the answer, but this was one of those times that things needed to be said out loud despite that knowledge.
"The order for my execution was probably approved about five minutes after they found I had disappeared, Captain." Tae'ben replied coldly.
Andy felt sorry for the kid. It was a hard thing to know that kind of information and harder still to believe that you couldn't show emotional reaction to it.
"Not the way that I would have handled the issue," Daren conceded, "But then I'm not your father, either." He waved a hand at the chairs.
"Please, sit down - both of you," he included Andrus. "There's no point in standing up while we sort this out."
They both sat down.
After everyone was seated, Daren frowned in though for a moment. It really had been much easier when he was just being blackmailed and the young man glaring at him wasn't reminding him of his daughter. "Tell me, Tae'ben. "I my position, what would you do?"
"Decide if you were a viable threat." The young man said immediately.
"Decide what you were really after. Act accordingly. But I have no hidden agendas, Captain M'Kantu. I just want off this planet."
"Amen to that." Andrus muttered.
Daren looked at the boy for a moment, spent a futile few seconds wishing he were a telepath so he'd know whether either of the men were lying, and then made his decision. "Provided that you understand two things, I think that I can arrange that for you."
"Yes?" The boy said impatiently.
"The first one is the same condition I imposed on your companion: If you are wanted for crimes committed before arriving here or committed after you leave, you're on your own - and if you commit any while you are aboard this ship, then you can expect a rapid transit back to the planetary surface. Understood?"
"I am not a criminal." Tae'ben announced. "But I understand."
"The second...." Daren smiled, favoring them with the special smile he normally saved for drunken ensigns caught dancing naked on his wife's table in the mess hall. "The second is simple: this isn't a free ride.
You're both going to have to work while you're aboard Galaxy. I don't care about intelligence information - if you tell my Intelligence Chief anything useful I'd appreciate it, but that isn't a requirement for passage. Doing something useful - as opposed to sitting in a cabin and watching back episodes of 'Survivor: Rura Penthe' - is."
Tae'ben smiled, the idea of working for the Federation apparently being the ultimate idea in saying 'screw you' to the old man, Andrus decided.
Andy was decidedly less happy about the idea. He was ready for a vacation, not more work. But what the hell, it was only until they were out of Romulan territory. A few days of work wasn't going to kill him.
"What did you have in mind, Captain?" Andy asked.
"That depends on what you're qualified for, gentleman," Daren returned.
"What skills do you have?"
The Romulan frowned. "At home I excelled in mechanics."
"Mechanics? All right" Daren thought a moment. "Any particular branch or field of mechanics?"
"Not as such, Captain." The boy said. "I merely excel at fixing broken things."
"And you?" Daren looked at Andrus.
Andrus shrugged. "I teach a mean history, Captain, but I doubt you'd want me around your precious children. I suppose something mundane and a little demeaning is in order?"
"What kind of history?" M'Kantu asked. He wasn't ready to let Andrus loose in a room with the children aboard, but that didn't mean that there weren't other ways he might be useful.
The Betazoid shrugged again. "Betazoid, Terran, Federation, Klingon... I even know a little Romulan history that might amuse you, Tae'ben."
The boy grunted.
"Then I think we have a spot for in the Sciences Department - if that's not too menial for you?"
"Why not?" Andy said with a smile. "It's only for a few days, right?"
"Not exactly," Daren returned.
Andrus felt something like cold lead try to settle in his stomach.
Better than coming up like bile, he imagined. "What?"
"The Galaxy has been ordered to remain here and assist the Romulan government for an indefinite period," M'Kantu explained. That wasn't the whole truth, but it was certainly true as far as it went.
"That's... unfortunate." Andy managed. Tae'ben looked as horrible as he felt.
"I suppose that depends on one's point of view," M'Kantu observed.
"Whichever point you ascribe to, however, it is the way things are; complaining about it won't help either of us.
Andy wasn't above looking in the Captain's head to see if there were any nasty surprises waiting for him. It was hard, though, because Tae'ben was projecting his thoughts loudly - not that one couldn't tell what the Romulan was thinking after looking at the terror on the boy's face.
"No one," Daren said quietly, after only a second's glimpse of the young man's expression, "is going to take either of you off this ship unless you go back on your word to me. I don't care whose son you are, who you've offended, or what they have to say. Once I accept you as political refugees, the rules are quite clear on that. Understood?"
"Understood, Sir," Tae'ben said automatically.
Andy would have smirked at the Romulan but he found he was supremely pissed off. Of all the ships, fate had to throw him the Galaxy. He knew the information about M'Kantu's daughter had been too good to be true.
"Understood," Andy said flatly. One thing was for sure, he had definitely served his time and then some for what he had done to Tekkie.
He'd be sure to remind her too, if he *ever* got away from this place.
"Indictment Papers."
By
Gwyin Narim'Malyki
JAG
USS Miranda
Yeah so Summers said Table it. But that was not going to Stop Gwyin from filing the paperwork needed for this. She finished outlining her case against Mitchell with a smug smirk. She sent it to the head JAG office On Earth.
Case 2346 B-Mitchell, James
Full Name of Accused: Mitchell, James
Rank: Colonel, Starfleet Star-fighter Corps
Position Held: Commander, Aerospace Group (CAG), CO, Rogue Group
Posting: USS Miranda
Complainant: Major For'kel Arvelion- SFMC, Battalion Executive Officer- USS Miranda
JAG Officer Present: Lt. Commander Gwyin Narim'Malyki, JAG officer,- USS Miranda
Specific Complaints:
892. ART. 92. FAILURE TO OBEY ORDER OR REGULATION
1. Any person subject to this chapter who
1. violates or fails to obey any lawful general order or regulation;
2. having knowledge of any other lawful order issued by any member of the armed forces, which it is one's duty to obey, fails to obey the order; or
3. is derelict in the performance of one's duties;
shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.
893. ART. 93. CRUELTY AND MALTREATMENT
1. Any person subject to this chapter who is guilty of cruelty toward, or oppression or maltreatment of, any person subject to one's orders shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.
894. ART. 94. MUTINY OR SEDITION
1. Any person subject to this chapter who
1. with intent to usurp or override lawful military authority, refuses, in concert with any other person, to obey orders or otherwise do one's duty or creates any violence or disturbance is guilty of mutiny;
2. with intent to cause the overthrow or destruction of lawful civil authority, creates, in concert with any other person, revolt, violence, or disturbance against that authority is guilty of sedition;
3. fails to do one's utmost to prevent and suppress a mutiny or sedition being committed in one's presence, or fails to take all reasonable means to inform one's superior commissioned officer or commanding officer of a mutiny or sedition which they knows or has reason to believe is taking place, is guilty of a failure to suppress or report a mutiny or sedition.
2. A person who is found guilty of attempted mutiny, mutiny, sedition, or failure to suppress or report a mutiny or sedition shall be punished by life imprisonment or such other punishment as a court- martial may direct.
899. ART. 99. MISBEHAVIOR BEFORE THE ENEMY
1. Any person subject to this chapter who before or in the presence of the enemy
1. runs away;
2. shamefully abandons, surrenders, or delivers up any command, unit, place, or military property which it is one's duty to defend;
3. through disobedience, neglect, or intentional misconduct endangers the safety of any such command, unit, place, or military property;
4. casts away one's arms or ammunition;
5. is guilty of cowardly conduct;
6. quits one's place of duty to plunder or pillage;
7. causes false alarms in any command, unit, or place under control of the armed forces;
8. willfully fails to do one's utmost to encounter, engage, capture, or destroy any enemy troops, combatants, vessels, or any other thing, which it is one's duty so to encounter, engage, capture, or destroy; or
9. does not afford all practicable relief and assistance to any troops, combatants, vessels, or aircraft of the armed forces belonging to the United Federation of Planets or their allies when engaged in battle;
shall be punished by life imprisonment or such punishment as a court- martial may direct.
917. ART. 117. PROVOKING SPEECHES OR GESTURES
1. Any person subject to this chapter who uses provoking or reproachful words or gestures towards any other person subject to this chapter shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.
910. ART 110. IMPROPER HAZARDING OF VESSEL
1. Any person subject to this chapter who willfully and wrongfully hazards or suffers to be hazarded any vessel of the armed forces shall suffer life imprisonment or such punishment as a court- martial may direct.
2. Any person subject to this chapter who negligently hazards or suffers to be hazarded any vessel of the armed forces shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.
933. ART. 133. CONDUCT UNBECOMING AN OFFICER
1. Any commissioned officer, cadet, or midshipman who is convicted of conduct unbecoming an officer shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.
Attempted :
918. ART. 118. MURDER
1. Any person subject to this chapter whom without justification or excuse, unlawfully kills a human being, when he
1. has a premeditated design to kill;
2. intends to kill or inflict great bodily harm;
3. is engaged in an act which is inherently dangerous to others and evinces a wanton disregard of human life; or
4. is engaged in the perpetration or attempted perpetration of burglary, rape, robbery, or aggravated arson;
is guilty of murder, and shall suffer such punishment as a court-martial may direct, except that if found guilty under clause (1) or (4), they shall suffer imprisonment for life as a court-martial may direct.
Against : Major For'kel Arvelion, Battalion Executive Officer
Indictment Submitted by Lt. Commander Gwyin Narim'Malyki, JAG officer USS Miranda
"Between a Cat and a Hard Place" Part 2:
"Leave Your Dignity At The Door"
Lieutenant Commander Spa'an, Sciences USS Miranda
Lieutenant Th'Kh'ss K'aa, Tactical USS Miranda
Lieutenant Nathan "Cowboy" Everett, Rogue Squadron 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
========================
Spa'an again raised an eyebrow. "Do you suffer from clautrophobia, Lieutenant?"
The miniature caitain looked miffed at that remark. "Nyet, Comrade Commander." he said defensively. "I not suffer from claustrophobia since I was, how you say? Kitten?" he glanced back at the pilots chair that looked more like a human torture device. "I just wondering which hole you plan on stuffing me down, that all." He let out another string of Caitain curses under his breath.
Nathan appeared next to Khatrowen, looking inside the fighter. He winced. "Good thing Ah ain't allergic to cats..."
Seeing the diminutive Caitan's reaction to his theory, Th'Kh'ss K'aa hoped that Le'on's evident displeasure didn't cause him to shed - Hydrans lacked hair, and he was uncertain how Khatrowen's dander might affect the craft's delicate instruments. Still, the Security Officer's anger was more verbal than physical, and seemed to be ebbing.
~And that was the good news. I wonder how he'll react to the bad.~
Despite the cursing, the scientists and engineers seemed to be appreciating the experience. "Lieutenant Roswell", K'aa hissed at the Galaxy Engineer. "Galaxy'sss logsss show that she'sss encountered the Hydransss more frequently and more recently than the Miranda - have you any familiarity with Hydran controlsss or communication?"
"Unfortunately." Nara replied. She mainly read reports, and started a holo-simulation that never got completed.
Chris returned to the group with a curious look on his face. He had been running over the fighter's weapons systems with a tricorder. "Funny you guys should be talking about this stuff. I just scanned the weps on this tub and they got some mods since our last intel file was made. Are we gonna get to fire these things so we can see what they might do to our shield mods?"
"Hrnnnnssss...that'sss the plan", K'aa replied, eyes still fixed on an irate Le'on. "I'd like you and Lieutenant Roswell to focusss on the Fusssion Cannon and commsss, while Misssster Ssspa'an and Ensssign Ssshaav concentrate on propulsssion and manoeuvering. We'll alssso be working with the Klingonsss when and if it'sss ready to fly - the Captain would prefer we keep the Hydran craft hidden from our Romulan hossstsss for now."
In typical Vulcan fashion, Spa'an and Shaav went to work on the craft's poropulsion and manoeuvering jets in silent efficiency.
Daniels and London went to work on the fighter's Fusion beam weaponry, more animated than the Vulcan team but no less enthused with the prospect.
~And now the bad news~, K'aa thought as he headed to the suttlebay's industrial replicator.
The Gorn curled a clawed index finger at the concerned pilot and his outraged gunner. "Missster Everett, Le'on - here, if you pleassse. To accomodate a human pilot, we had to modify the cockpit ssslightly, and to fit Missster Khatrowen in, we've had to make a sssignificant alteration to your flight suitssss. Although the resssult was unorthodox, and may be, ah... dissstasssteful to wear, I'm sssure you'll get passst your... er, reservationsss for the opportunity the Hydran fighter can provide." From the replicator, K'aa hauled out what seemed to be two flight suits stuck together by the static electricity in the shuttlebay's dry air, but when he shook the bundle to straighten it out, the siamese seals joining them became visible.
Le'on, at this point, was sure that someone somewhere (namely Q) was getting a huge kick out of this with Le'on being the... butt... of the joke. His eyes narrowed at K'aa. "You getting kick out of this, Da?"
he said accusingly.
"Quite the contrary", the large reptilian lied, thanking his Maker that the Gorn generally had no facial expressions. "I laud you for your professional attitude given the difficult posssition we're putting you into, Le'on." K'aa could taste blood as he bit down on his tongue to quell the rising tide of unbridled mirth within him, reminding himself that the small Caitian bore a phaser, and was a remarkably good shot. "I'll be certain to make sssure your dedication isss known to the Captain asss sssoon asss we can put thessse difficult timesss... ah, behind ussss. The fighter mussst be fully operational in order to be convincing, and in the end - you're our bessst sssolution given the time conssstraintsss."
"Well, Ah sure as hell ain't gonna wear that damn thing!" Nathan griped. "Ah mean, just look at it! Ah ain't gonna fly around with a freakin' cat stuck to mah backside." The unhappy pilot shook his head, looking at the Gorn. "Can't y'all come up with somethin' a little less...y'know...conjoined?"
"I'm open to other optionsss, but ssso far thisss isss all that could be engineered in sssuch short notice", K'aa offered. "Ssstill, I appreciate your misssgivingsss Missster Everett, and would underssstand completely if you'd like to back out of the project. I'm certian another, though lesss qualified pilot could be found."
The pilot gave K'aa a sideways, dirty look, then split his time between the graceful fighter and the fuming Caitan. He tore the modified flight suit from K'aa's claws and made some muttering remarks about the reptilian's mother as he stalked out of the shuttlebay followed by a hissing, spitting Khatrowen.
Seeing the odd pair leave, the Gorn was quire pleased with the exchange. ~So far, so good... at least there was no blood shed, that's promising.~
==================================
Nathan Everett came out of the changing room with as much grace and dignity as he could muster, clad in the environmental flight suit made for this specific test. From the front, he appeared completely normal as he looked at each member of the team to make sure they were occupied with work.
He then waddled to the fighter as quickly as possible.
It had to be a waddle - the extra mass on his back end made normal walking impossible - and it was an ackward, swaying waddle at that, K'aa observed. It was noisy as well, with the friction of the suit and the muttered curses about reptiles, snakes and anything else cold blooded. As he passed the Tactical Officer, K'aa could now see a silent, cross-armed Le'on Khatrowen glare icily at him looking like a perverse, suit-clad squirrel's tail on the human's posterior.
Le'on didn't make a single noise, even when Everett struggled to cram into the Hydran cockpit, but kept his brown eyes squarely fixed on the Gorn.
Could the propulsion systems be made to operate? Can the Fusion weaponry be made to fire safely? Could Everett manage to fly the alien craft? The possibilities were hampered by many variables beyond Th'Khiss K'aa's grasp - but there seeing Khatrowen's narrowed eyes dip below the edge of the cockpit's opening, there was only one inescapable conclusion to the experiment...
Sooner than he would like, K'aa would face a short order of cold, Caitian revenge on the menu.
"You can leave your tags on!"
Lieutenant 8-Ball Hunter
Chief Science Officer, USS Galaxy
Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Battalion, USS Galaxy
Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG Officer, USS Galaxy
****
Swimming Pool
Deck 11, USS Galaxy
****
The water felt cool against his skin as he glided through the water with powerful, even strokes. Lap after lap he swam, his arms pulling, legs kicking hard, propelling him through the water. Propelling him to his goal, the same goal he set himself every day. 20 Miles. A simple round number.
Long enough to give his body a good workout, but short enough to not tire him out completely.
It was just one of the ways he kept fit, but Steven found it to be the most rewarding. It was so enjoyable to just swim, allowing all the day's aches and pain to wash away, while having the time to think about whatever troubles the day had brought forth. Many a time he had come up with solutions to problems while he swam. But not today. There were no problems, no puzzles, nothing that needed thinking about. Today was just for the enjoyment of swimming.
So into maintaining the rhythm of the fluidic strokes through the water was he that he almost failed to hear the door open and someone enter the deserted, bar himself of course, room. They were likely just another swimmer, so he paid them no heed. Though he did change his breathing to the other side of the pool to allow him to observe the newcomer as he took a breath of air every ten strokes or so. Not that the person would have noticed the change.
As he swam, he heard booted steps along the side of the pool. And then they stopped. On Steven swam, for a couple more laps while he waited to see what the person was doing. Seeing her kneeling there at the top of the small ladder that allowed easy entry and exit from the pool's deep end, Steven slowed to a stop. "Can I help you Ma'am?"
"Um....I'm just checking out the pool. New to the ship. It's a shame though, I don't really know how to swim." She stated sheepishly. "Do you know anyone that can give lessons?"
"I think I might know someone who could help. But it doesn't look like you are dressed appropriately for swimming lessons." He replied.
"I thought about that. And, I have come prepared." That's all she stated, simple in form, yet straight to the point. Standing at the edge of the pool, the young woman smiled a little sinisterly as she wiggled out of her uniform to reveal a rather skimpy two piece bathing suit. The suit itself was white, which highlighted her tan. It's strings and small pieces of fabric left little to the imagination. "How's this?" Faylin spoke in a raspy voice.
Steven coughed. "Wow!!! I think that outfit might just work." Steven looked her over, despite the rudeness of what he was doing. She was hot, of that he had no doubt. She was well toned, and her curves were perfect. Her lightly bronzed skin gave off a beautiful glow in the flouressant light, and that bikini, Steven doubted that there was a bikini anywhere in the quadrant that was smaller.
"Have you ever been in a pool before?" he asked, after finally getting his eyes away from the sight of her amazing body and back to eye contact with her.
"Not unless you count hot tubs. I usually just lounge out by the pool."
Faylin stated with a somewhat satisfied look on her face. Walking over, she sat by the ladder, gently testing the water with a manicured toenail, polished in dusty coral color. "It's cold." McAlister pouted.
"It generally is to start with." He replied the grin on his face not fading away, "But as you move about, it feels warmer."
Gingerly, she lowered herself into the water. In honest truth, Faylin was an excellent swimmer. However, her goal was sinister. Arching her eyebrows as she held on to the edge of the pool, she turned slightly.
Leaning her head back, McAlister let the water rinse over her hair. This pulled the length of it down to the lower part of her back. It was a technique she had used many times. The site of the wet bikini and the slicked back hair was enough to drive most men looney. According to her mentor, this was exactly what Jonas would go for.
Steven watched, gobsmacked as she slipped into the water. She was a vixen, placed in the universe to tease men. She had to be.
When she had stripped down to the bikini, he had gotten hot under the collar, as people were wont to say, but the sight of her as her head broke the surface of the water had a more dramatic effect, such that Steven was tempted to excuse himself and rush to his quarters for a little tension relief. Still, his stupefied mind wasn't going to allow him to leave, so he dived into the water to cool off.
Breaching the surface of the water, he swam over to her. "Give me your hands." He said, reaching out.
Her look reeked of insecurity, as fake as it was. One at a time, she gave him her hands.
"Okay, first thing we will do is to practice kicking. All you need to do is hold on to my hands and keep kicking in an up and down motion. Ready?"
"I think so." Faylin stated. "But, I don't really feel supported."
"Would you feel more supported if I held your stomach while you kicked?
There'd be less chance of you slipping under the water."
So, McAlister permitted herself to be supported around the middle, with her stomach in the water and her bottom straight up, perfect for viewing by a certain Marine.
Steven almost had a heart attack then and there. "Okay, kick." He said after a moment as he eased himself away from the wall, while still supporting her.
Supressing a chuckle, she had to wonder what 8 was thinking at this moment.
The ease at which she kicked, and the shape of her quads gave an indication that she wasn't telling the truth about her lack of swimming experience. She likely had an unterior motive, and with the sexy outfit, Steven had a pretty good idea what she wanted - sex - and lots of it. Still, if she was willing to play these games, so was he.
"How's the view?" She stated with a snicker.
~ No... Must... Resist.... The Urge!!!! ~ Steven resisted the temptation to reach out and grab her sexy behind. As tempting as it was, and as obvious as it seemed that she wanted him to, he resisted. "That's it, you're doing well."
Faylin sighed. "Okay, I think that's enough for the lesson today. Roll me over." She stated in a sort of demanding, yet seductive tone.
Steven felt sad that the great view before him was going to slip under the water, yet as he thought about it, the more the rest of her was just as enticing. Gently he turned her over.
Biting the corner of her lip, she kept her dark eyes on his gaze. "This is calming." Releasing the corner of her lip, she slowly closed her eyes and let a small, yet audible soft moan escape her mouth.
"This is anything but calming." Steven replied. He wanted her. Every inch of her. He couldn't take it any more. "Is there something you'd rather be doing?" He asked, as he toyed with his dog tags.
"I can think of a few things." McAlister stated softly. Easing up from her position, she grabbed the side of the pool for 'support'. She watched as he edged close to her. 'Part of the plan' Faylin told herself. Bringing her hand up, she rested it casually on his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him.
Steven wasn't suprised at her actions. She had been teasing him the whole time. He passionately kissed her back. He let his hands roam over her back as they leant against the edge of the pool.
"Let's get comfortable." A small, yet playfull expression crossed her features as she brought her hand down and appeared to be taking off her suit bottoms. Having them in her hand, she chucked them over the pool's edge, watching with delight as they wavered like a badly injured star ship before carreening into a small pile on the floor. Eyeing him, she waited for his response.
A wicked grin spread over his face. Now this was more like it. He stepped back in the water, and beaconed her over.
"Okay....now.....hon...move back a little....there....let me help you with those." She held his suit in her free hand, while now holding on to the ladder for support. "Close your eyes...." Faylin stated in a teasing, fun tone. "And don't open them until I say so. It will be well worth the weight, promise you."
Steven closed his eyes, eagerly awaiting her next move. His mind was racing, and his hormones were going wild. Having never really done it in public before, the anticipation was almost too much. She spashed about in the water a bit and then it was silent. As the seconds slipped by, he got anxious. He opened his eyes to find the pool empty. Looking around, he saw her standing there looking at him, his trunks and hers in her hand. She was wearing a little black thong. "What the hell...." He rushed towards the edge of the pool to chase her.
Easing stealthfully out of the water, she still held her prize in her left hand. What he thought was her bottoms, were actually a coverup for a tiny thong that covered just the essentials. Grabbing her bottoms that were discarded and turning, she caught his expression as she headed quickly for the door. Rounding the corner, she offered 8-ball and a bunch of her newly acquired girlfriends the 'prize.' "He's coming...and he's pissed!" She stated laughing. "See you guys later."
Steven busted through the doors in a hurry. He screeched to a stop when he spotted a gaggle of women standing there, waiting. He spied the redhead heading round the corner, but the women were blocking the corridor. He had no chance of catching her. Then the reality of the situation hit him. He was standing in front to the group of women, a lot of whom he had never met before, naked, but for his dog tags, which, sadly wouldn't have covered anything anyway.
He thought to cover up with his hands, but they had all gotten a good look and, thanks to the sight of his sexy seductress' beautiful body, there was definitely nothing for him to be ashamed of, he decided against it. "I might have known, that you'd be here!" He stated when he spotted 8-ball standing off to the side.
8-ball grinned easily at him, twirling Steven's trunks idly in one hand.
"You're right," 8-ball said. "You should have known. . .what were you thinking, trusting a beautiful woman like Faylin? You ought to know that the pretties can not be trusted."
She stepped back quickly as Steven advanced, holding his swimwear out of reach. "Now you know I've always liked you, Steven," 8-ball said, still grinning. "You're a decent guy, good in bed, fun to almost get murdered with, but what you are not is the prankster of all pranksters. That title currently belongs to me, and while you might have thought your little stunt with the tea was cute. . .oh, how funny it would be if everytime 8-ball ordered some alcohol from a replicator, she'd get TEA. . .you might have thought that was good, but you have no idea how much the joke is gonna be on you. Trust me, leaving you naked is only the beginning. Now. . .you sure you wanna play around with me?"
It was obvious that she wasn't going to give him his gear back. So he was going to fight back. And he was sure that it was going to sting... both of them. But he felt up to the challenge.
Pulling on some spare shorts she had brought with her, Faylin rounded the corner with sparkling, playfull eyes on the Marine. Arching her eyebrow, she coyly grinned as she now saw him in all his glory. Joining forces with 8-ball, she stood silent by the other woman's side as she continued the questioning. Crossing her arms, she still grinned. "Well, I do have to say that I'm impressed. Marine's are known for their weapons....aren't they Steven?"
"That has been known to be the case, and as you can see, at least this marine has nothing to worry about."
"The question is...does the boy know how to use it?" Faylin stated with a light laugh.
"I haven't had any complaints so far. And most definitely none from your co-conspirator." He directed his next statement towards 8-ball. "Of course, I wouldn't play around with you again if you were the last half-Vulcan left in the galaxy." Steven smirked.
He waited patiently for the retort that he knew was forthcoming.
8-ball rolled her eyes at Faylin. "And here I thought I was supposed to be the woman who healed his soul or something," 8-ball said drily to her before returning her attention to Steven. "What, you don't love me anymore? I'm hurt. Really, I am."
"I do. I really do." He replied in a sarcastic tone. "Why is it that you think that I changed the replicator to give you tea instead of alcohol?"
8-ball shook her head. "I don't know. To keep me away from my wicked, wicked life of sin?"
The sinister look on McAlister's face said it all as she kept her gaze straight on Steven. "8-ball, there are just those of us who are born to be bad girls. And....there are those that are meant to be the butt of practical jokes." She paused. "Oh, it's not fair 8-ball....two against one. Let's say we even the odds and make it every person for themselves.
That way, it won't be so difficult for Steven here to seek his revenge. Is that fair to you?"
8-ball raised one eyebrow. On one hand, she thought Faylin was a much more dangerous enemy than Steven. . .although it was never a good idea to underestimate your opponents. . .or ex-boyfriends. But then again, every man for themselves made it all so much more fun. "Fair to me," 8-ball said.
"Okay... Enough of the jokes. Hand them over." Steven said, putting his hand forward for his trunks.
8-ball sighed. She had actually considered keeping them as a trophy. . .at least for a few days. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she had made a man run around the ship stark naked. But instead, she tossed them over to Steven, blew a kiss at him, and turned to leave.
"8, don't walk away... I haven't finished." He waited for her to turn back.
~Oh no~ 8-ball thought. ~Here come the witty threats.~ "Do try and make it quick, darrrrling," 8-ball said. "I've got a schedule to keep."
"You do realize that I'm going to get you back for this, right? And that goes for you too." He directed the last part at Faylin.
8-ball glanced at Faylin. "I think we already figured that part out."
"Just you wait and see what I have *cooked* up for you!" The emphasis wasn't really needed, but if it got them thinking hard about what he was going to do to get them back, then it was worth it.
A wicked smile graced his face after he spoke. He had just had the best idea to get back at them both, at the same time. He just needed the right time to put the plan into action.
8-ball considered mocking him mercilessly for how Steven had used the word 'cooked' . . .he might as well have rubbed his hands together and twirled his evil mustache (if he had had one, that was). Instead, she decide to go with the standard, if slightly cliched, "I'll be waiting" and winked once at Faylin before sauntering out the door.
Watching her dissappear, he called out to her one last time. "When I finish all the things I'm going to do to you, you'll be begging for me to stop." He didn't hear any response, and wasn't sure if she had replied, but that, it turned out wasn't the problem at that particular point in time. Being distracted by 8-Ball's receding form, He failed to notice that Faylin was reaching out for his trunks, which at that point still lay on the floor where 8-Ball had thrown them.
"What the? Not again. Come back here." He started after her, but was stopped in his tracks as several of the women, who had witnessed the original event, were slowly making their way back to whatever they would normally go back to, three abreast in the corridor. All he could do was watch as Faylin slipped into a turbolift and dissapeared.
"SHIT!" He shouted. "I'm so going to get you." He called out, knowing full well that she couldn't hear him.
Standing there, in the middle of the corridor, naked as the day he was born, Steven contemplated what a shambles the day had become.
After a couple of minutes, Steven started the long walk back to his quarters. If he was lucky, he might see someone who could lend him some shorts. Somehow, he knew that luck just wasn't going to be on his side.
“Enemy Lines”
Takes place after Web's "The Job"
An NPC post starring Commander Sotar, Captain of the Romulan warbird Ramiius and its crew, just because ol' Joe was inspired.
Also including appearances by Lt. Raven Darkstar, High Chief of the GALAXY Navigation Department and Captain Leo Streely (GALAXY PAIN IN THE BALLS) plus a mention of Ensign Soval of the Miranda Security staff just for giggles.
Previously: With the Hydrans stomping a mud hole into Romulan space and walking it dry, the decision is made to call Starfleet for help. They responded by sending the USS Miranda and a fleet of ships to rendezvous with the USS Galaxy, currently orbiting Romulus.
Location: Romulus
“We could shoot them both from the sky right now and neither one would be aware of us until they were reduced to smoldering embers and gazing at us from the hereafter.” Commander Sotar said coolly, his fingers steepled and elbows resting upon the arms of the main chair, centered on the bridge of the Romulan Warbird Ramiius.
His dark eyes focused intensely, slicing through the thick gloom in the air around them and locked upon the image approaching USS MIRANDA.
To his immediate left, Sub Commander Gaius shifted uneasily in his seat.
He had served with Sotar for nearly a decade. The elder Commander had come to tolerate the viewpoint of the more diplomatic second officer to compliment his more aggressive, hard line attitude allowing Gaius to speak freely even contradictory to the Commander without fear of repercussion.
Nevertheless, Gaius now tread with caution.
“Honored Commander, may I remind you that Starfleet were invited here. To attack them, while a glorious blow for our people, would be in direct violation to the will of the Praetor” he said.
“The Praetor be damned.” he said almost too loudly. “He seeks to neuter the Empire. Bringing in the Federation sends the message that we are nothing more then toothless babes who cannot survive without suckling the Starfleet teat. We are Romulans. We have thrived for centuries and have done so without the help of these pathetic pin skins."
On the curved viewscreen, the Pathfinder class starship decelerated and pulled into a defensive orbit with its sistership, the USS GALAXY, while the remainder of the fleet ships fanned out, awaiting the Romulan Navy.
Sotar thought they moved gracefully, despite their sluglike shape and bulk, yet his contempt and scorn were unbridled.
“Look at them. Bloated and overripe with their hypocrisy. They fly through the universe under the flag of their vaunted Prime directive, yet they seek to subjugate every word they come to and force them into living under their twisted way of thinking. In that respect, they are no different then the Borg, although the Borg do not bear false pretense.” Sotar said, his voice nearly dripping with venom.
“If it is your will, Commander, with one stone we can strike down two of the Federation's most storied vessels. The rest of the feet…” Sub Commander Gaius trailed off.
“My father and my father’s father, and every Romulan before us dating back The Sundering itself forged the Empire into what we are today through sacrifice. When we fall, every ship in the fleet would turn upon the Federation invaders. The twisted wreckage of their fleet would serve as a warning to every race who would dare challenge the Empire. Our sovern boarders would continue to be respected."
“Commander! We are being ordered to rendezvous with the Federation fleet.” the communications officer announced crisply.
“We would be alone against the Hydrans.” Gaius said, daring to press his point further.
“We can annihilate the Hydrans.”
“In time yes, but at the cost of many Romulan lives. Consider this,” the Sub Commander said sagely, “With the Federation in our frontlines, the road to victory over our new enemy would be paved with the bodies of Starfleet Officers rather then Romulans.”
Sotar's face tightened almost imperceptibly.
"We are being hailed a second time..." the communications officer said matter of factly.
From the Weapons station, a very thin officer spoke with a harsh rasp.
"The GALAXY has suddenly shifted it's position fifty-five degrees. They have narrowed their broadside and have shown us their bow. As a result, their target profile has now narrowed."
The Commander steepled his fingers again in brief thought.
The time to act was now.
“HELM, order the Warbirds to decloak and rendezvous with the Federation ships. WEAPONS, power down your phasers and close torpedo bay doors before we decloak.”
The tactical officer removed his hands from the firing key, ordered the stand down and watched as the targeting solution faded from both the Miranda and the Galaxy.
"We have just given them back their lives, Gaius. We can always take them back later." Commander Sotar said.
Gaius just nodded solemnly, knowing full well how close the Empire had just come to a full scale war on two fronts.
***** USS GALAXY *****
Lt. Raven Darkstar sat, legs folded, before the gyroscope like command chair in the Navigation Department and gazed the three dimensional holographic representation of space outside of the ship. (OOC: I revamped the Navigation office, remember? I'll submit details of this for the website soon.)
He had watched as the Federation fleet arrived but found himself feeling a nagging sense of malice.
From the well worn leather bag slung around his torso, he had removed a small hand full of a fine blue powder. He focused on his feeling, brought the fist to his lips and blew releasing the fine powder across the raven's feather that he held - palm up - in his left hand.
He studied the feather as it fell, the powder dissipating as if it never existed.
Calling the bridge, he recommended the ship change its bearing to match the direction the tip of the feather was pointing at.
He stood upright as the doors to the Navigation Dome slid open, revealing Captain Leo Streely, bedecked in his classic Captain's uniform complete with a medallion that was embossed with the face of Captain Pike.
The overpowering smell of high karate aftershave assailed the Indian long before Leo even spoke.
"OK! OK! OK!! IS THAT THE MIRANDA?!?!? THE MIRANDA?!?! THE JII MIRANDA?!?! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH......" the little man started in his typically nasal whine before he registered his surroundings and the vertigo typically associated with ones senses telling them they are on the nose of the Starship hit.
And hit hard.
"JESUS CHRIST ON A CHARIOT DRIVEN CRUTCH!!!" Leo screamed then physically turned a shade so green it would make an Orion proud. "WE'RE ON THE....I'M ON THE...OH SHIT...OH..."
He slapped his hands over his mouth and ran for the door.
The massive Indian followed him briskly, reassuring him that he was not dying and could breath since there was air around him, leaving the ebon feather lying on the floor.
Had Darkstar not been interrupted, he would have seen the empty area of the universe that the feather's tiny tip was pointing to suddenly fill with decloaking Romulan Warbirds.
Next Up: The Leo Streely/Ensign Soval Saga begins!!!
Ensign Faylin McAlister
Judge Advocate
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= dohhae Laehval =
= ch'Rihan =
Aerv tr'Ahalaen did not deny that deception was the life blood of the Rihanna. He understood that it was part of the nature of his people, part of his own nature. That fact - combined with his own interest in art and artifice - should have made him completely comfortable with webs of lies and tapestries of illusions.
However, on this night, Aerv found himself listening to that quiet voice in the back of his mind that he had so painfully and deliberately learned how to ignore...that beautifully exquisite voice, of that exquisitely beautiful woman. That soft voice, that thunderous song that always made him wonder if he should reconsider this whole business of not having a soul....
Even for demons, after all, some things are sacred.
He sat up in bed, sleep still eluding him. His head hurt in that special way that only the best ale could make one hurt - and he was naked. Of course, neither one of those was entirely unusual, especially not over the last few days. Faylin - who was sleeping next to him - had wanted to see ch'Rihan and Aerv had beamed down with her.
They had finally managed to leave his personal home last night and then there had been deception....
Faylin groaned next to him. Aerv had no doubt that she would soon remember what had happened...at least the part that she was supposed to remember.
She groaned again...not the pleasurable type of groan either. It was one of extreme pain that accompanies a night of passionate abandonment, alcohol, alcohol, and more alcohol. Blinking several times, she forced her eyelids to remain open, groaning yet again. "What in the hell did I do last...." Stretching, she let her left hand flop, hitting Aerv directly in the chest. "Sorry." The flash made her eyes hurt.
"Ow...what?" Bringing her left hand directly in front of her swollen eyes, Faylin paused.
"SHIT!" McAlister bolted right up in bed, ignoring all the pain.
"What the hell did we do last night Aerv?" Panic rose in her voice.
"Yes," Aerv murmured in a tired, thoughtful manner. He rose into something approximating a sitting position, and managed a slight frown.
"We may have had a little too much to drink."
"Do you think so?" McAlister responded in an utterly sarcastic tone.
She paused. "Fuck"
"Well...and we did that too...." tr'Ahalaen replied with a soft chuckle.
Faylin swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing somewhat wobbly. Her mind was working over time, attempting to figure out how to get out of the mess she now found herself in.
"It's not legal. We were drunk. Anything that we did under the influence doesn't count." McAlister stated, pacing and nodding her head up and down. "I'll annul it. I'm a judge. All we have to do is sign the paperwork, and we can both go our own separate ways.
Yeah....that's what we'll do." She turned towards Aerv. "Does that sound good to you?"
Aerv laughed, "Does it matter?"
"Excuse me? Why do you say....does it matter?"
tr'Ahalaen shrugged easily, "You do not need my consent. You can always file for a divorce."
"You wouldn't fight it? You would sign?" She stated out of curiosity.
Faylin appeared to be calming down, but would not completely calm herself until she heard his response.
"I am confused...how do human marriages work? If one partner does not wish to separate, then...the other is obligated to stay married?"
"Well, yes and no. Say that I wanted a divorce, and I came to you and said that. I could file for divorce, yet if you did not want a divorce, you could drag it out, and basically create hell for me. It would be a lot easier to just sign the paperwork. Divorce among our race can be sticky. Why? What is the procedure for a Romulan divorce?"
Aerv gave her a wry smile, "It is...less sticky."
"Yes, less sticky. Can I get an answer please Aerv?" Faylin stood, a short distance from her new husband with her hands on her hips and mouth pouted in frustration.
tr'Ahalaen rose to his feet. "You can do what you want."
"It's nice to know that your not the oppressive type of husband." She stated with a sigh as she started to gather her clothes from various positions around the room. "I'm going to get a shower."
"Fine," he replied absently, then he looked up, "However, it occurs to me...does this mean there won't be - what is the word - a honeymoon?"
"No honeymoon." Faylin called. Turning around, she smiled coyly at him. "However.....since I can't technically do anything until we get back to the Galaxy.......I do not see anything wrong with having a small, teeny honeymoon."
Aerv pretended to consider it. "Well...I do need a shower myself...."
"Oh you do? Do you?" She stated. All would be fine after they were back on board. She would draw up the annulment, sign it, and hand it to him.
He would sign it, she would file it, and it would all be wrapped up neatly. "Do you want to take yours first? Or should we conserve resources and take a shower together?"
Aerv smirked. "In the interests of the Empire, I think the latter option is more desirable...."
She slowly walked out of the bathroom, coming within inches of Aerv.
Her body, still naked from the trysts the night before, shivered from the cool breeze that danced with the sheer curtains before it caressed her curves with it's freshness. She held his gaze, her brown doe shaped eyes captivated his. "I believe...that we must do what is best for the Empire...don't you agree...my husband?"
That voice, that song, rose inside him again. He ignored it...and the old, dull pain that came with it. For Faylin, he smiled. "As always...I stand for the Declared...."
= End Log =
OOC: The following takes place the morning/day after "Chance Meetings" parts one and two.
"Chance Meetings"
Part 3: "That Next Day Oh Shit moment"
Featuring:
Staff Technican Kaylee McGreggor
Technican, Renegade 11, USS Miranda
-PPC
Ensign Marcus Slayton
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy
-PPC
"He drinks a whiskey drink"
"He drinks a vodka drink"
"He drinks a lager drink"
"He drinks a cider drink"
"He sings the songs that"
"Remind him"
"Of the good times"
"He sings the songs that"
"Remind him"
"Of the better times"
--Tubthumping by Chumbawamba
=========================
Location: the quarters of Ensign Slayton aboard the USS Galaxy.
The first thing that came to the man's mind was pretty much the first thing that he also said.
"Oh, did I get drunk or did I get drunk?" he said as he wrapped his arms around what he thought was a pillow or something equally comfortable when suddenly it hits him that what he's holding is alot more softer than any form of bedding.
"Oh, did I get drunk or did I get drunk?" Kaylee said as she pulled her head out from underneath the blankets of the bed and then she realized that it was alot more comfortable than her bunk usually was...wider too. At that point she turns over and looks across at Marcus and the conversation went like this:
Marcus: "Hi"
Kaylee: "Hi"
Marcus: "Listen, did we, ehm..."
Kaylee: "I can't remember."
Marcus: "I remember betting you I could climb up the cantina wall using only me lips. And then... Oh, prophets, I juggled the goldfish, didn't I?"
Kaylee: "Blindfold"
Marcus: "And then... oh, hey, we did, didn't we?"
There was a brief moment of utter well, awakwardness until Kaylee simply held her right hand out to the other and said, "Hi, I'm Kaylee McGreggor, Nice to meet you."
Marcus took the offered hand and shook it, "Marcus Slayton. Nice to meet you too." and then he noticed Kaylee's eyes go wide. "What's up?"
"Um, this may sound strange but do you have a sister named Alexa? Well meaning but kind of a real pain in the ass who's getting married soon?" Kaylee asked, while still holding Marcus' hand.
"Yeah, why do you..." Marcus started to say and then his eyes got wide and said "Oh frak, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"
"That your sister had somehow managed to more than nine sectors away arrange a hook up in a cantina on the eve of a large counter offensive in Romulan space between her close friend and her big brother?" Kaylee said filling in what Marcus didn't say. She then nodded and said "Yep, that would be Alexa."
The two then leaned back on the bed at which point they both realized that they were holding the other's hand and they let go with a corresponding blush on the other's face and neither spoke for the next few minutes until.
"You know, your sister has got the weirdest ability to time things I think." Kaylee said with a smile on her face at which point she leaned on one elbow and looked at Marcus, the blanket shifted a little to reveal some of her torso to Marcus which he allowed himself a moment to trace the features of Kaylee's body before he caught her eyes.
"You're telling me?" Marcus said and without realizing it at first, he reached over and gently cupped the side of her face at which point Kaylee did something and pressed the side of her face that her cupped into his hand.
*God, why do I feel so damn strange right now?* she thought to herself before she realized they two of them were kissing, it wasn't a hot, yielding kiss like the vague memories that came up reminded her of that happened the night before but it was a simple, tender kiss which she equally returned. When it broke, she looked at him and said "You know, right now...I have no problems with anything." Kaylee said.
"No regrets either?" Marcus asked with a small bit of hope drifting into his voice but he wasn't able to ask anything more as Kaylee gently kissed him and it slowly turned into something more as the two went back under the covers.
======================================
Meanwhile in the Loncorda sector of the Federation, a small girl-like entity wearing a starfleet uniform with the command/tactical/flight control branch color and the rank insigna of a captain walked into the office of the Head of Starfleet's Office of Strategic Service's commander and activated a terminal to bring up the Rear Admiral's list of messages so that she could see which ones to give to him first when she saw one from the USS Galaxy care of the Admiral's eldest child..which was attached to another one...
Marked "Congradulations on the wedding of your son Marcus to his new wife Kaylee."
At which point, Captain Ruri Hoshino simply said one phrase that was renown throughout the entire galaxy.
"Oh shit."
"Surprise Surprise..."
Captain Christopher Summers
Commander Jaal Jaxom
Cadet 3rd Class Janeen Jaxom
----------------------
Ready Room
USS Miranda, Deck One
-----------------------
Chris nodded to his XO from behind his desk. "Call her in, son."
Jaal gave a curt nod and stepped into the door's sensor range. It slid open to reveal a nervous Trill female, namely, Cadet Janeen Jaxom.
She peered into to the ready room with darting eyes scanning back and forth before she walked in. The cadet entered the room after her older brother gave her a non-challant, prodding nod.
Janeen stepped in with her confidence building. She had no idea why she was here. Typically her brother had chastised her when she'd done something wrong. Thankfully, he'd been no harder on her than any other cadet aboard the ship. While on duty Jaal carefully treated her exactly the same as anyone else in her position so that no charges of nepotism could be even thought about by others.
Now Janeen stood before Captain Summers at attention. "Cadet Jaxom reporting as ordered Sir."
Jaal took up a position behind and to her right. A small smile showed through his stern expression. He knew why she'd been called to Summer's ready room but he didn't tell his sister. Truth be told, he had some reservations about what was happening but at the same time he was proud of his sister.
Since she'd come aboard he'd seen her grow from a gangly, pig-tailed sixteen year old to an Academy cadet and from there into a beautiful young woman who could be graceful under pressure.
"Take a seat, Cadet." the Captain said, almost absently, indicating the seat across the desk from himself.
Janeen sat immediately keeping her emotions in check.
After a minute or two, Summers looked up across the desk from where he was working. With great show, he stopped and leaned back in his chair, resting both hands on the arms. "Tell me, Cadet, do you know why you're here?"
Janeen glanced real quick back at her brother. Damn him. He knew and didn't tell her. The smirk on his at least gavea away the fact she wasn't in trouble. Her attention was now riveted to Captain Summers.
"No sir," she answered.
"The Commander here and I have been reviewing your grades for the past year and a half that you've been serving your Academy time here aboard the Miranda. We've also been reviewing your progress reports and personell reveiws from your various superiors. Do you have anything you'd like to say for yourself?"
Janeen blinked. No new news there. She knew Jaal kept a close eye on her and even offered help and advice in a way that didn't make her feel stupid. "Only that I do the best I can sir... and I've been told I'm not afraid to ask for help when I need it."
Behind her, Jaal nodded in agreement more to himself than to anyone else present.
"Words to live by, Ensign." Summers nodded, and then waited for the newly-minted officer's reply.
Janeen went on to ramble nervously about something or other then she stopped in mid-sentence. "Sorry sir. Did you say something?"
The Captain smiled broadly. "Owing to the performance of your duties, I am issuing you a field commision to the rank of Ensign.
Congratulations, Ms. Jaxom. You've just graduated to the majors."
Janeen's jaw dropped open. "Are you tellin' me the truth?" Then remembering decorum and recovering from the initial shock added, "...Sir?"
Jaal had a broad grin on his face now as he tried not to laugh out loud. Instead, he just cleared his throat and held his hand over his mouth to hide the smile.
"Yes, I am. Your promotion is owing to the fact we're short on qualified operations officers at the moment. You've proven you can handle yourself well under stress and above it. Continue your good work," the Captain Summers replied evenly. "Good luck and keep up the good work."
Janeen closed her mouth finally. "Thank you sir," was all she could think of to say.
"You can thank me by proving I made the right decision today."
"I'll do my best sir," Janeen replied not sounding so dumbfounded as before.
She stood and turned to her brother. "Commander, permission to speak freely?"
"Of course," Jaal answered.
Janeen gave her brother a big hug.
"Counselor on Loan"
Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor
USS Galaxy
Cpt. Margarethe Vogler (NPC)
CO, USS Exeter
various other NPCs
USS Exeter
"I think waiting for an assignment was the hardest part," the bright-eyed young ensign confessed. "I mean, I knew it might take some time, but from the minute I got out of the Academy I was ready to go and even a day would've seemed like forever." His hands seemed to move many times faster than his feet as he continued down the corridor, escorting Counselor Elessidil to his meeting with Captain Vogler.
The guy was cheerful and excited and all the things newly-minted officers on their first assignment were. He was also a fellow Betazoid and Brian like him already; even though this temporary re-assignment to the Exeter wouldn't last very long, the counselor hoped he might get the opportunity to get to know him a little better.
"Well, you're starting out with a bang, that's for sure," Elessidil chuckled. "It's not everyday you get to see Romulus first-hand. And the Exeter's not a bad ship, either."
"Oh no, she's a great ship!" he readily agreed.
Brian always found it quaint when people referred to ships as "she", but while it somehow seemed natural coming from salty old veterans toughened by years of command, it was almost amusing to hear such a young officer use the expression.
Seeing his first opportunity to get a sense for how the officers felt about their CO -- one of the most important factors when assessing the general state of a crew and their morale -- Elessidil glanced at the ensign with curiosity.
"And Captain Vogler?"
The young man's reaction at the name, while not in any way jarring or especially harsh, was amusing nonetheless.
"The Captain? Well, she's...she's a little spooky sometimes."
"Spooky?" Brian echoed. "I don't think I've ever heard someone call a Captain that before."
"Well, it's not that she's bad or anything, though I haven't been with her long enough to say how good she is as a CO. But it's the way she likes to just kind of appear unannounced to observe," he said honestly. "It makes a lot of the crew pretty nervous and as for her, I can tell she enjoys it."
Brian smiled. "I think most people find their first captain to be a significant source of stress until they get to know them better; but I don't know her yet either, so who knows? Maybe she really is 'spooky'," he said with a sideways glance and a wink. "Ah, but don't worry. While there are exceptions to every rule, every captain I've ever met has the good of their crew as priority number one, no matter what kind of veneer covers it at the surface." Without stopping, he leaned in toward the ensign just a little to give a little conspiratorial advice, sotto voce. "You've got a pretty useful advantage compared to others. Stay tuned in to what you can pick up from her when you have the chance; it'll make staying one step ahead of her that much easier."
Ensign Fexil chuckled in response.
When the two men arrived at the turbolift, the younger man paused.
"After you, Sir."
Brian kept his thoughts well to himself, but inwardly, amusement and nostalgia both tugged at his heart. Ah, to be that young again.
----------------------------
"They're a good bunch," Captain Vogler said as she seated herself behind her desk. She gestured for the Galaxy's counselor to take the chair opposite her. "Young, energetic...full of potential. They're pretty much what most of us were when we first stepped out of the Academy. I don't fault a single one of them for that."
"But you're concerned about their collective ability to handle a mission as delicate as dealing with the Romulans," Elessidil suggested for the sake of confirmation.
Vogler gave a short nod. "That's a reasonably accurate statement, Counselor, but there's more to it. Yeah, this is an unusual mission, fraught with all sorts of potential missteps and hazards, but this is more about them as a crew than about the mission. With only a few exceptions they're all pretty new to life aboard a starship and certainly to each other as crewmates. They haven't had time to 'gel'
or to really get the feel of the ship. Or to get used to me," she added with a slight chuckle. "Oh I don't claim to be the nurturing type, but I guarantee you they'll know how to work as a focused and efficient team after some time under my command."
Clearly, the seasoned captain held a clear understanding of her role and possessed a good measure of self-confidence in her abilities.
Brian envied the certitude in her sense of self as he listened and observed.
"And the potential I see in them isn't simply limited to the crew as a whole," Vogler continued, her whole body language suggesting that her skill in this aspect of her job was exceeded only by her enthusiasm for it. "There are some...'personalities'," she said, arriving at the best term she could think of. "Individuals who may seem a little rough around the edges right now, but in ten years? Who knows? Could be one of them sitting in this chair while I'm sitting in the old captains' home on some remote world eating pureed mangoes or something."
There was both humor and wisdom in her voice, traits that Brian wondered if her crew had had the time -- or the opportunity -- to see beneath the demanding and strong-willed exterior.
"I think I understand your perspective on this, Captain," the counselor responded. "I don't think I'll be here long enough to get to know each and every member of your crew, but getting to know some of those 'personalities' could give me a chance to get a feel for how some of the leaders, present and future, are reacting to the situation. Helping them figure out how to positively deal with it will likely enable them to pass it on at least by example."
"Agreed," Maggie said succinctly. She leaned back in her chair and scrutinized the man before her for a moment. "Betazoid . . . that'll be good. Could give you some insights that I may have missed. Alpha shift'll be ending soon, so a lot of them'll be congregating in the lounge in a few hours. Let's get some dinner and then I'll take you down and introduce you around. Sound good?"
"Dinner and introductions both sound good to me, Captain," Elessidil answered amicably.
"Trials and Simulations"
Lieutenant Th'Khiss K'aa, ACTO
Beta Shift - Tactical Department
Main Bridge, USS Miranda
===================
Amongst the klaxons and alarms, throught the thin ozone-tinted smoke of a small electrical fire, Th'Khiss K'aa felt quite at home.
"Adjust heading to two-ssseven-zero mark one-five-three with erratic manoeuversss. Prepare quantum torpedoess, concentrated trajectory on Target Three, firing on my sssignal."
"Aye sir, bearing to two-seven-zero mark one-five-three ."
"Torpedoes loaded and armed sir - awaiting your order."
Lieutenant K'aa, comfortably in the Captain's chair, waited as the Miranda was positioned to the weakened aft-starboard shield of a Hydran attack cruiser. "Fire torpedoesss! Follow with a sussstained
burssst from the fore phasssser array. Fire port torpedo launcher at
Target Four and ssstrafe with the port phassser array."
The Miranda shook as her main weapons fired at the Hydran warships.
Target three was struck and crippled by a half dozen well-aimed quantum torpedoes, then turned to a bright, crimson bloom as the phasers scored a direct hit on the warp core. Target Four was hit by two torpedoes, and banked sharply to prevent Miranda's phasers from penetrating her weakened starboard shields.
Target Five was far luckier.
Again the Miranda shook, this time as the third Hydran warship fired at her aft shields at close range with overloaded Fusion Cannons. Ops barked that the aft shields were down to twenty percent, and K'aa immediately knew exactly what was to follow. "Adjussst heading to ninety-five mark two-thee-three, increasssse speeed to two-thirdsss impulssse, fore weaponsss on Target Four." His last command was issued as light flared from four Hydran Carriers thousands of kilometers away. "BRACE YOURSSSELVESS!"
Only four of the twelve Hellbore volleys struck the Miranda's fore shields, inflicting almost no damage; the energy of the Hellbore, however, was not designed to damage the strongest shield. The main viewscreen flashed a bright orange as the Hellbore energy cascaded along the outer surface of the Miranda's shields, eventually congregating on the weakened aft which quickly collapsed. Pieces of armor floated behind the Federation warship like glittering dust blown by a fey wind.
"Ablative armor is at eighty percent!"
~Lucky~, K'aa thought as he hissed his next series of commands.
"Hrrrsss...increase speed to three-quartersss impulssse. Fire main phasssser cannon at Target Four and aft torpedoesss and phassserss at target five. Bring fore phassser array and torpedoesss to bear on the firssst Hydran carrier - code Target Sssix. Fire!"
Targets Four and Five were left to drift, crippled by the Miranda's firepower. The Pathfinder-class warship shook violently as three more Hellbore volleys stuck her shields and cascaded to further damage the weakened aft armor - but it still held. K'aa risked a brief glance over the bridge - a small fire at Sciences, but no injuries. Good so far, but the day wasn't over yet.
Before them, the space between the Miranda and the Hydran carriers seemed to glimmer as hundreds of fighters sought to swarm her. K'aa signaled the CIC as from port and starboard, her own Rogue, Renegade and Rebel squadrons raced forward to meet their enemy as the Miranda concentrated on the capital ships. "Bridge to CIC - fightersss away.
Give the wing commanderssss whatever tactical data they require."
A shaky voice answered "Aye sir, CIC out" as the Miranda rattled from another Hellbore strike.
The Federation vessel weaved quickly towards the line of Hydran carriers, crippling Target Six at long range with fire from the phaser cannon, fore arrays and fore torpedoes. Target Seven met oblivion in the form of a single transphasic torpedo, leaving Targets Eight and Nine to abandon their fighter craft and retreat to warp.
The Gorn ordered the Miranda back to the fighter engagements to help mop up the abandoned fighters, who had inflicted heavy losses on their Federation opponents. Still, despite the carnage and damage, an inescapable conclusion crossed Th'Khiss K'aa's mind. ~Too easy. FAR too easy. We're missing something.~
He rose from the Captain's seat and looked at the bridge personnel, all in Tactical uniforms, as they looked back at the reptilian.
"Computer, record and end sssimulation."
Command Information Center, Deck Seven, USS Miranda Beta Shift
==========================================
"Opinionsss?"
"We should do that more often!" Deny Darmajava replied, a broad grin on his face. "We kicked some serious ass!"
The quiet laughter helped Beta shift to ease the tension from the combat simulation. New personnel and cementing the new command structure had helped to significantly improve Tactical's morale.
These team-building excercises also helped to improve the department's environment.
"Agreed", K'aa hissed. "But why?"
Ensign McGrath made the more critical observation. "The fighter squadrons didn't enjoy themselves - estimates show a forty-percent loss. It would have been much larger if the carriers hadn't cut their losses."
"Numbers", McGrath offered. "Their carriers are jammed with fighters.
Odds were three-to-one against going in. We had them with superior
range, but at close quarters the Hydrans seemed more manoeuverable and their Fusion beams had more power than our phasers. We also had a hard time keeping track of them - there were jussst too many."
The Gorn nodded. "Yesss. Hrnnnn.... there will be more in a full-sssscale fleet engagement - far more. Tomorrow we'll repeat the fighter sssupport drill. We also need to be able to provide the sssquadronsss with sssomething more than jussst phassser support.
Let'ssss work on that assss a pimary project. Anything elssse?"
"Ablative armor held, and the transphasics seemed to work as projected", Lieutenant Daitaal offered. "If our estimates are correct, we've drastically reduced their Hellbore efficiency with the armor, and the transphasic torpedoes function like the simulation we have a significant firepower advantage."
"Projectionsss only", K'aa hisssed. "Our tactical intel on Hydran weaponry isss sorely lacking. I would doubt they have been idle with their R&D. What elssse worked to our advantage?"
Darmajava replied quickly. "Speed and maneuverability, as well as a lot of ECM. The Mir's big, but she can move - it helped to keep the Hellbore strikes to a minimum. Using the main deflector dish to put out a lot of Electronic Counter Measures helped in making their weapons-lock slower."
"And what are we misssing?". K'aa had crossed his arms and started to drum his claws on his bicep - it was agreed in Tactical that this was never a good sign.
After a moment's silence, Daitaal came up with one of the items the Gorn was looking for. "Allies. I'm assuming the Klingons and Romulans would be defending the planet as well - the Romulans in particular, naturally."
K'aa nodded slowly, but the claws continued to drum. "Naturally. We are supporting the Rihansssu Galae of courssse, but we should remember that they are not alliesss. We may find ourssselves alone with the Klingonsss for some circumssstancesss - it's bessst to be prepared either way. Anything elssse?"
Beyond the usual sensor alarms and background noise, a silence fell on the CIC as each member of the department speculated what the reptilian was fishing for.
"Hrnnnn... very well. Work on developing sssomething for fighter sssupport - and sssomeone needs to volunteer to liassson with Colonel Mitchell to get hisss input; if no-one volunteersss, I'm certain Lieutenant t'Khnialmnae will suggessst one", he offered in a deep, rolling basso. "And consssider humanity'sss Sun Tsu over the next day
- esssspecially the lassst verssse in Chapter Three."
Darmajava gave the reptile an odd look. "On Waging War?"
"That'sss Chapter Two, Deny", K'aa corrected. "Chapter Three concernsss Attack by Strategem, and the last verssse isss thuss...
'If you know both yourself and your enemy, you will come out of one hundred battlesss with one hundred victoriesss.' "
Looking at the assembled Beta shift, he concluded the meeting.
"We're misssing sssomething with the Hydransss. I want it... sssooner than later."
"New Market Potential"
Ensign Taev "Stubbs", Vanguard Pilot, USS Galaxy
Quartermaster Fauf, USS Miranda (NPC)
Cantina, USS Miranda
================
"I'll bet she gives great Oo-mox", the short pilot grinned crookedly as the waitress left, having left behind two goblets of meriador and a plate full of jellied gree-worms.
The older Ferengi craned back to look at the departing female.
"Hmmm... a Trill. Well, I suppose - if you like the long fingered sort. My own preferences are for our own kind. Remember Rule of Aquisition number Ninety-Four: 'Females and finances don't mix.'" The Quartermaster returned his attention to Taev as the younger Ferengi sipped his Gorn liqueur. "Now, we were talking buininess of you reca..."
A wave of Taev's hand dismissed his companions commercial line of conversation. "Don't be absurd, Fauf! What they lack in technique, they make up for in dexterity. The Bajoran lady who gave me Oo-mox last week was a yeoman for a Captain back at Atlantis - fingers as graceful as an Orion bank note dancing in a profitable breeze." The pilot's smiled openly as his eyes glazed over at the memory.
Fauf shot forward in his seat. "A Bajoran female gave you Oo-mox?"
The expression on his face was an unpleasent mixture of greed and envy.
"They're 'ladies' if you wish the opportunity, Fauf", Taev replied, descending unwillingly from his reminice. "But given your description of them, I take it it's been a while. You'll have to change with the times, my friend - unless you can wait for leave to return home. Tell me, Fauf - do you *pay* for your Oo-Mox, or settle for the fakery of the holodeck?"
The Quartermaster's sour look answered Taev's question without the need for words. "Back to business....?"
Putting the goblet down, the younger Ferengi straightened himself in his seat. "Very well, - what's your proposal?"
Fauf smiled, relieved that the change of subject was agreed to.
"Firstly, what's your new posting? Your not stuck on the Miranda, are you?"
"No - the Galaxy, under a Major Rex. Know him?"
"Only that he's not a Ferengi", Fauf offered while thrusting a finger at the pilot. "Thank your lobes the River didn't cast you in the direction of Colonel Mitchell! Unprofitability has followed him around like rain back home - that's changing now, thank the Exchequer!"
"Changing? How so?" Taev asked before scooping a few gree-worms into his mouth.
The Quartermaster smiled. "Charges. Rumor's are flying he's being brought up on some serious charges for events concerning Miranda's encounter with the Borg a few months back. Very serious charges.
Odds favor dismissal, but the betting prospects range from a slap on the wrist to an extended prison sentence." He leaned forward to hover over the plate. "Bets are flying - do you want in?"
Taev shook his head, his mouth being full of slimy succulence. No.
"Disappointing", Fauf shrugged. "Anyways, good that you're not under his yoke for the moment. I need some product moved to the Galaxy.
Small. Inconspicuous. I need... discretion, and will pay for it.
Thirty strips. Interested?"
The pilot swallowed, and took a quick draft of the blue liquor to wash the worms down. "No offense, but I wouldn't bear your best wishes to the Galaxy for only thirty. What's the cargo?"
Fauf's voice quieted to a whisper. "Beetle snuff! Dried sligs!
Slug-o-cola! It doesn't matter! Are you interested?"
Taev frowned at the other Ferengi's unwillingness to provide a manifest for the shipment. "Not blindly, Fauf. And not cheaply.
What's the cargo?"
The Quartermaster shook his head. "Both manufacturer and cosignee wish the shipment's nature to remain as confidential as their identities. How about ninety strips?"
The younger Ferengi raised an eyebrow at the offer. ~Triple? So soon? That's can't be good.~ Taev drained his goblet. "Ah...I think I'll pass. That waitress is smiling at me, and I think I'd like to meet her acquaintance. I'll keep my mouth shut about your offer, Fauf
- but if I were you, I'd keep out of something you might regret sooner than later."
Fauf made no attempt at hiding his displeasure. "You have Oo-mox on the brain, Taev! What do you think they see in you?"
The pilot offered a shrug and a grin. "I make them laugh. Haven't you heard of the seductive power of laughter?" He rose from the booth and made his way to the bar and the pretty Trill waitress.
"The riskier the road, the greater the profit Taev!" Fauf yelled the sixty-second rule at the younger Ferengi.
The waitress squarely in his sights, Taev admitted that Fauf was probably right. Still, he shook his head, and reminded himself of number two-hundred and twenty three.
~Beware the man who doesn't have time for Oo-mox~
“Enforced Counseling”
(Occurs shortly after ‘Spoilsport’ at the end of the CATALYST cycle – My bad – apologies for the late out on this)
Principle Characters
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant (J.G.) Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer
Lieutenant Branwen London
Furies Counsellor
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 14
CMO's Counselling Office
=/\= "Krieghoff to Doctor Burton." =/\=
Looking up from the PADD she was reading Kimberly raised her eyebrows in confusion, ~ Something tells me he doesn't want to chat about recent events! ~ she thought quietly, thinking back to their recent mission.
Shaking her head she raised her voice, "Burton here, go ahead Lieutenant." She replied flatly.
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff’s Quarters
"No, I'm not." His voice shifted tonally, the words almost those of someone, something, else, that was simply using Victor as a puppet to speak them. "If I showed you the only thing I'm good at, you wouldn't see anything else, ever again."
“Show off!” Bran growled playfully. “Remember I am the marine. Now stop being a nuisance this minute!”
=/\= "Burton here, go ahead Lieutenant." =/\=
”Do you have a minute, Doctor?” Victor asked. ”I have information regarding one of your patients I need to pass on, since they appear unwilling to do so.”
Sat in her office Kimberly let herself look and feel confused, =/\= "If you feel it is important Lieutenant, please drop by my office on Deck fourteen, I have some free time." =/\= she offered, not really wanting to spend any more time than needed with him, but if he wanted to discuss the health of someone she wasn't really in a position to say no.
"Ignore him." Branwen shouted into the commbadge. "It's just Victor being difficult. We will talk tomorrow."
Victor frowned at the shorter Marine. “I told you what I was going to do, Lieutenant. If you failed to understand that I’d do it, or chose to ignore it, that is your failing, not mine.” He turned his attention back to the commbadge. =/\= ”I’m on my way, Doctor.” =/\=
"I am definitely coming with you," Branwen said. "We can't have you telling a pack of lies about me." She walked next to him. "Damn, why are you so tall."
“Genetics.”
"That's a big word for you." She said as she walked next to him. He was definitely not going to talk to Kimberly on his own.
“Words aren’t big, Lieutenant – they’re just words; anyone can use them. Ideas are big.”
"Sure thing, Victor." They had reached sickbay where a lot of nurses turned round to look at small Branwen London trying to keep up with Victor. They passed the medical section to where the counselling offices were.
Victor stopped at the CMO’s door and buzzed for entrance, ignoring the eyes – patient and staff alike – that were fixed on him in horrid fascination and tensed anticipation of flight.
"You are going to make yourself ridiculous," Branwen tried once more to making change his mind.
Victor wondered how many times he needed to repeat himself. “I always do what I say I will, Lieutenant. Always. It’s easier that way.”
“Nonsense. You just think it is, you big teddybear.” She heard one of the secretaries giggle nervously at that.
Hearing a conversation grow louder outside Kimberly raised her voice after a moment, wondering why no one had hit the chime, “You can come in if you want to?” she offered to the closed door.
Branwen immediately walked in. "Don't listen to a word he has to say. He has no idea about what goes on in my mind, really."
Victor followed the smaller Marine in. “Doctor,” he nodded to Kimberly. “As the Lieutenant did not tell you herself as I told her to do, I have information regarding her mental condition that I have to pass on to you.”
Looking at the two of the Kimberly took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Okay, you,” pointing to Branwen, “wait outside, you,” pointing to Victor, “sit!” indicating a nearby chair, “I’m not going to have you two debating this here and now, so I’ll hear you both out separately then we can sit down together and talk. Okay!”
Branwen grumbled. "I don't think it's fair that you will listen to hearsay. I think you should talk to me first. Or give me a chance to hear what he has to say. He is the one behaving like a big moron." She actually pouted.
“All right, Doctor.” Victor sat down and waited for the Doctor and the Lieutenant to finish.
“Hello we are still talking. Don’t follow her orders like a robot, I could still kick you out first,” she growled at him hands on hips.
Victor turned his head to look at Bran. “Possibly, Lieutenant, but I think it unlikely. This is the Doctor’s space, and here she outranks you. Were we in your office, you might be able to do so, but not here. And which one of goes first is unimportant. I will tell her what I promised you I would regardless of the order we speak in.”
“I told you that Commander Dallas said I could take my time. So you don’t have to tell her. You are breaking my trust, you moron! Don’t you dare listen, Kim.” He was the only male on board she felt safe enough with to treat him this way in a big brother sort of way. “How about I start interfering in your private life, oaf!”
That was, Victor had to admit, the oddest threat he’d ever received. “There’s nothing to interfere with, Lieutenant, making that a pointless threat. And no matter what you were told, or by whom, I repeat again: no one and no thing hunts in my territory without coming through me first. As for breaking your trust, I at no point promised to keep the information a secret.” He tilted his head to the side slightly. “I did tell you that wasn’t a good friend – repeatedly – if you recall.”
“Victor.” She tapped his forehead. “Wake up, nobody is hunting here. You are my best friend and you can’t do this to me. I have to fight this battle myself. I need you to be my friend, my rock, hell my big brother. I need you to just be there so I can shout at you and kick you when I need to.” She threw her arms around him and trembled.
Watching the two of them with a mixture of emotions Kimberly sat back and waited, there was obviously more going on here than met the eye initially, so for now she watched.
"You impossible male..." Branwen turned around and realized that Kimberly was watching them. "Sorry." She mumbled.
~ Hallelujah, she remembers I’m here. ~ she thought a little wryly, trying not to visibly smile, “Okay Branwen, first, Victor is right, this is my office, so my rules. Two, Victor is again right that whichever of you speaks first is unimportant, you both have something to say here and so I’d like you both to have your say, and as I said, once you have we’ll ‘all’ sit down and discuss whatever is going on here. Okay. If you’d like to continue discussing it privately there’s a free room next door if you like, I’ll still be here when you’re done.” She offered.
“Oh, and Branwen. It’s Kimberly, please.” She added quietly.
"Whatever." At that moment Branwen seemed like a puppy somebody had just stepped on. "Whatever happened to supporting your colleagues? You obviously worship every word he says. I will be outside." If she could have slammed the door she would have.
Victor watched the office door slide closed and expressionlessly turned back to face Kimberly. "I am certain that you do not worship the ground I walk, sit, or do anything else on, Doctor," he offered.
"Of that you can be certain," Kimberly assured him, "but you'll probably say what you want and go," ~ Quickly I hope! ~ she added silently "whereas Branwen will undoubtedly want to talk for longer, so it makes sense to let you have your say first then Branwen and I can speak for as long as we need without you having to wait around unnecessarily! We'll call you when we're done talking and you can come back then."
"Now, before she explodes out there, perhaps you can tell me what this is all about?"
Perhaps this would be as easy as the Doctor believed it would. “The Lieutenant is being hunted,” Victor replied quietly.
“Hunted?” she asked simply, “by whom?”
“No, if that were the case, I would have simply killed them, as I did the Hydrans that were responsible for her condition when we rescued her. Her hunters are in her mind.”
“Her mind…” she prompted, already having an idea of where this was going, but wanting Victor to speak his mind without her comments influencing what he wanted to say.
“The Hydrans are there, but there is another hunter, an older one, that also hunts her: her father. Because of the things he said to her as a child and as an adult, she now believes that, after the Hydrans performed the procedures they did on her, she will never find the One, much less engage in sexual activity with them or anyone else in a consensual manner, because she is tainted and unclean. In her mind, no one will want her now. She believes that these things happened to her because she disobeyed her father and left her home world to join Starfleet. I offered to kill him for her, but she refused, saying that would not stop the hunting in her mind. As my killing the Hydrans didn’t, I assume she is correct.” Victor paused in his toneless recitation and blinked once. “I told her to tell you these things before we left on the survey mission because I do not permit hunting in my territory and I cannot kill these hunters; only you and she can do that. I further told her that I would tell you if she did not. Since she did not, I am inflicting my presence on you to do so.”
Thinking for a moment Kimberly looked at the stone faced security officer before her and tried to suppress the urge to leave, quickly. Thinking over what he had said she mulled it over for a moment and then nodded, “Okay, first, before you offer to kill anyone again, please make sure that if anyone actually takes you up on that offer ever that you speak with either me or the XO first before actually killing anyone. Clear!” she said in a flat no-nonsense tone, “I don’t care who you are, or what you can do, but you can’t arbitrarily go around offering to kill people who have offended your shipmates. You are not an assassin for hire you’re a Starfleet Security officer, your job is to protect, not to murder.” Trying not to look at Krieghoff in disgust she move the topic on swiftly, her opinion of him descending rapidly by the moment.
“Two, I understand your desire to help a friend, and I have to admit this is more that I was expecting you to say… I asked Branwen to step outside so she wouldn’t be embarrassed by what you said, which if I guess right she will be very upset you have told me, so that is something you’ll have to deal with her. I suggest you speak with her soon. She’s obviously trusted you and told you this, she might not appreciate you breaching that trust to me.”
Quickly reviewing Branwens file mentally she frowned as she recalled the general details, there wasn’t a huge amount about her home life. “Okay, before I speak with her, is there anything else you’d like to add? I’m not going to ask you for any specifics you might know though, I think it’s best we leave that to Branwen.”
“Her family follows a poor version of the Divine.”
“The divine?” Assuming Victor meant religion of some form she raised an eyebrow quizzically, “in what way?”
“Because from what she told me, the version they follow demands total obedience to their father’s will – but gives them nothing in return. She believes that when her sister defied their father and left with the One for her, that his subsequent death while her sister was pregnant was divine punishment for that disobedience. She believes that what the Hydrans did was her punishment for doing the same. Any aspect of the Divine that would encourage its worshippers to believe things like this is… poor. Broken. Wrong. No aspect worth believing in – or following – would, as the Lieutenant believes has been done to her, damn her for seeking the stars.”
~ A strict and rigid religious intolerance from parental figure? ~ “Okay… is there anything else?” she asked simply, preferring to hear details from Branwen for a variety of reasons.
Victor thought about that for a moment. Was there? No, not really. The Doctor wasn’t interested in the music made by things falling into the void within him as they vanished into the blackness. “Nothing of relevance to this issue, no.”
"Okay, well I'll probably want to have another chat with you about this later, but I think I should speak with Branwen now before she worries herself sick about what you've been saying, or not saying in here. Let me chat with her for a while, but if she want's you to come back in a while I may call, okay?" Privately hoping it didn't come to that she indicated the door, "if you could ask her to come in, thank you Lieutenant."
With a nod, Victor stood and turned to leave. “All you have to do is call, Doctor,” he said quietly as he reached the door and it opened.
****
Outside Branwen was wearing a hole in the carpet. She had been walking is little circles the whole time the other two had been inside talking. And she was pretty upset. Victor had no right to break her secrets.
With a ‘shush’ sound the door opened to reveal Victor. “The Doctor would like to see you now,” he said without preamble.
"And what did you tell her? Everything I told you as a friend." She looked at him angrily.
“I told her what I told you to tell her, Lieutenant, nothing more. Just like I told you that I wasn’t good at being a friend… and just like I told you that I didn’t permit anyone to hunt in my territory. Except me.”
“You are doing this on purpose, I know you are not stupid.” Her eyes narrowed. “But don’t think you and I are done, Victor. Oh no. Absolutely not.” With that she marched into the office.
Listening to the two of them talk in the outer office Kimberly sat back and waited, not really sure of how long they were going to take she picked up her coffee, took a sip and waited patiently for them to finish.
“What ever he said it was a lie!” She growled.
Raising an eyebrow Kimberly put her cup down and indicated the seat opposite her, "A lie?" she asked simply, "which bit exactly?"
Branwen watched her. "I don't know exactly what he told you, so I guess everything. Victor is doing this to be spiteful. He doesn't want people to be his friend, and he thinks this will push me away. He had better think again." Her mouth set stubbornly.
“Actually, if I read the Lieutenant correctly, in his own strange way he wasn’t trying to be spiteful, just do his duty and try to protect you from what he perceives as a threat. In this case, a non physical threat he cannot help you with, so he’s brought in a specialist. Me. Memories are something we all have to deal with, repressed trauma, emotional scars, these seem to be the sort of things he mentioned, so would you like to tell me more, or should I call the Lieutenant back so we can have a group chat and you can tell him he’s lying to his face?”
Branwen shook her head. "I don't want Victor in here. But you know I also don't want to talk about it. It's finished, I have even been on another mission now and it did not interfere with my performance. Although things couldn't have gone any worse really."
“Mind if I ask why the Lieutenant seems so sure you’re still being…. how did he put it, hunted?”
“Because I told him some things in confidence.” She gritted her teeth.
“Which he’s told me in confidence, and which I might add you’re not denying either.”
"Don't you think they made me work through my differences with my father at the academy? And don't you think it's a bit unprofessional to threaten me with Victor."
“Well, firstly, I’m not threatening you with Victor, I said at the start we might include him again so we could all discuss what he said if you like. Also, I never mentioned your father, so why do you mention him?”
"I. never mind, that is not important. We can talk about all this some other time, I don't want a feel pressured by you. It is not a very nice thing to do to a colleague."
"I'm not trying to pressure you…. I'm just asking because of what Victor said, he is obviously concerned about you and I'm curious as to what you have to say about what he said?"
"Just that he is a nosy bastard and I don't want to talk to you about it."
"Fair enough, for now. But should you want to talk you know where I am, though I get the impression that Mr Krieghoff is not going to let the matter lie, you do realise that, he seems the persistent sort."
"Tell me about it." She mumbled.
“Shrink vs Shrink”
(Set a short while back)
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer – USS Galaxy
Lieutenant Branwen London
Furies Counselor – USS Galaxy
Chief Medical Officers Counseling Office – Deck 11
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Branwen came in for her next counseling session. She didn't really want to do it, but she was realistic enough to know that she would be an a lot of trouble if she didn't come at the appointed hour. If she had a patient not showing up herself, it was what she would do. So she would just have to talk her way out of this one.
At the appointed hour she entered Kimberley's office. "Here I am." She said with a smile.
"Branwen," Kimberly greeted her with a smile, "it's good to see you,” ~ At last! ~ “can I get you anything?" she asked, indicating the replicator.
"Just some water, please." The Welsh woman said.
Getting some water from the replicator she set a jug and a pair of glasses down on the small low table between the comfortable chairs by the window and indicated the seats, "Have a seat," she offered, "since you familiar with the standard protocols for a ship board session we can skip the usual formalities if you like," she suggested, sliding a PADD on to the table, "the basics are here though, nothing you probably haven't explained many times before though," she said with a small smile, "do you have any questions?"
Branwen sat down. "No, I don't have any questions." It felt so unfamiliar being the client. Sure she had supervision talks, but that was somehow different.
"Okay then, well we've got an hour today, where would you like to start?"
"I thought we could use this time together about the issues I have with my boss." Branwen said with a completely straight face. "It is important to me."
Nodding Kimberly raised an eyebrow, "That would be Lieutenant Baile?"
"Yes." Branwen said.
"What issues would you like to discuss?" she asked simply.
"That he scares me. And that he doesn't think I am a proper marine. He even said that he only kept me on as his XO because he doesn't have anybody better at the moment." She admitted.
“A, proper marine?” Kimberly prompted softly, sitting back slowly and relaxing.
"A proper marine, you know one that doesn't think counseling is useful."
“He doesn’t think counseling is useful? How does he give that impression?”
Branwen gave some examples of the words Baile had used to describe therapists and their effects on Marines. "Basically he thinks it makes them weak."
“How so?” Kimberly asked curiously, making a mental note to have a very strong word with the Lieutenant in the near future.
"Old school marine. What doesn't kill your makes you stronger. Talking about it is a sign of weakness. Don't ask me how he thinks. It is a big victory that he allows me to do my job." Branwen actually was glad they could talk about this, and not about her other problems. This ruse was working very well.
“Well, perhaps I’ll ask him about that at some point,” Kimberly mused aloud, “but for now, I guess I should be asking, how this makes you feel?” she asked.
"Frustrated." Branwen looked at the clock already more than half the session gone, very good. She seemed cooperative and yet was not talking about what really bothered her most. Very well. "I feel like he doesn't appreciate me fully. And that I have to work even harder, and I am not allowed to make mistakes."
Nodding slightly Kimberly paused a second before replying, "Work harder? In what way?"
"Trying to make sure that I make no mistakes. So I work slower." She admitted.
Remembering that this was an initial session, Kimberly filed the information away for their next session, or the one after, this was probably going to take a while… “Okay, so you have some concerns about work and your superior,” Kimberly recapped briefly, “but if I may, there’s at least a couple of other things we were going to discuss,” she reminded Branwen, “primary amongst them why you took it upon yourself to strike a superior officer…”
"We were both off duty. And I was not striking a superior officer, but a would-be boyfriend. Let's leave it at that, it was private." Branwen stated firmly. "Let's get back to talking about my job."
"Sure, but I would remind you that the very reason you're here is 'because' you struck a senior officer, on duty or off, this is still an active duty ship of the line, and the rules and regulations are quite clear. If it was a personal matter, fine, but as you know, everything in here is confidential, so...?"
"It was a mean trick on Saul's part to do that. He insulted me, and that was a very private thing. I was very tired and I was not thinking straight. Believe me when I say that I have my feelings under control better now. It will not happen again."
“But it did happen,” Kimberly reminded her, “what did he say?”
"That is private, Doctor." Branwen muttered.
Nodding a little, "Okay, for now we can move on if you like but I should point out, things obviously aren't under control if you struck the Lieutenant. While you might assert that it won't happen again, what happens the next time you're tired and not thinking straight? And don't say it won't happen again because it does, and it will."
"It will not. I keep my promises, Doctor. I can promise you it will never happen on duty again." She said through clenched teeth.
“Why does discussing this make you so angry?” Kimberly asked curiously.
"Because of the way you both manipulated me in there the other day. That makes me very angry."
"I wouldn't say I manipulated, more reacted to the situation you presented me with, though the Lieutenant did give me an opportunity to help you avoid a formal hearing," she reminded the counsellor, "surely a few anger management sessions are better than a formal hearing with Commander Kol?"
Branwen grumbled something again. "You are doing it as well. You both perfectly know it was something that happened in an off duty situation between friends. And you are both taking advantage of it. I would never do something like that to a friend." She looked at Kimberly accusingly.
"Branwen, as I’ve already said you may have both been off duty, but remember this is an active duty military starship. Certain rules apply on or off duty. You know that. By bringing it to sickbay, which under the circumstances you had no choice really, you made it official. Now I am here to help, if I wasn't going to help I’d have filed a report with your superior and the XO and made it formal, rather than agree a compromise," sighing to herself she wondered about this girl, most people would be happy to avoid going to see the XO, "unless you'd rather this were official?" she asked suddenly.
"No ma'am." She said. "I would like for none of this to be official."
"I didn't think so. You know, counselors really do make the absolute worst clients, we all don't want to share and we all just want to help," she admitted with a smile, "and you're no exception, and neither am I," she added, hoping to lighten the mood a little, "but I know there are a few things bothering you at the moment, but I’m not going to force you to say anything you don't want to, but I will be here if you do want to talk about anything and at anytime," she assured the marine.
Branwen was relieved. "Thank you. Does this mean we are done?"
Checking the chrono on the wall Kimberly shook her head, "We still have about twenty minuets," she replied, "as I said though, I'm not here to force you to talk or do anything, but, I would like to see you, once a week perhaps for the next few months, how does that sound?"
"Every week, a few months? We don't know what to talk about any more even today." Branwen said, her eyes wide.
"Today perhaps, but in time I’m sure more will come to you, or you'll discover things you want to discuss. And then I’ll be here, you've only touched on a few job related concerns today, with your superior mainly, and dismissed the incident in sickbay completely. You can't tell me that that is 'all' there is to your life right now? Or all that 'has' happened?"
"Can't we just be friends? Do something girlish together one of these evenings? I think that would do me much more good, Kimberly."
Thinking for a moment Kimberly considered the rules and regs, “I don’t see any reason why we can’t,” she agreed, “but we’ll still get together here once a week for a while, okay.”
"If you say so." Bran smiled. "But let's concentrate on going out together first."
"No reason we can't think about both," she suggested back, "I’ll schedule some time for you once a week, and in the meantime, you can think of something to do outside of work, how's that sound?" she asked, based on previous experiences in the cantina, she was curious as to what she'd come up with.
"Definitely, I will let you know. Can I go now?"
Smiling slightly, "So eager to get away from me?"
"Professionally definitely." Branwen smiled. She was glad to get away without them even discussing the medical part.
"Well, for now, you can go if you wish to, though we will meet again next week, and then we can chat about a few other things as well if that's okay? Perhaps there are a few things that you might like to think about before then, that we can chat about next week, mainly your relationship with your superior," ~ A topic for a few months probably, ~ "as well as recent events," ~ Hydrans, cracking superiors jaw bones, broken arms, family, and so on, ~ she thought to herself, there was 'quite' a list, "does that sound okay?"
"Yes. And when we go out and have fun you will not try to shrink me then, okay? I will notice." The redhead grinned.
“We’ll see,” Kimberly said with a small grin, nodding to the door, “we’re almost done, if you really have a bursting desire to escape I’ll not stop you, but in future we’ll stick to the hour, okay.”
"Yes ma'am. I will get back to you about fun things to do." Branwen smiled and then left, very grateful to be out of there.
Picking up a PADD from her desk Kimberly began making a few notes, “We’ve a lot of work ahead of us Ms London,” she mused to herself.
"Fool's Overture"
"The oldest hath borne most: we that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long."
-King Lear, Act V, Scene III
Captain T'Riele, Commanding Officer
Commander Ranjit Singh, Executive Officer
USS Sao Paolo - Defiant Class Escort
The old man raised his staff as the storm lashed his long hair and grey-white beard.
"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!"
Unsteadily against the gale, he staggered forward as the young man with him clutched the old man's bare feet as he cringed.
"You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, and germens spill at once, That make ingrateful man!"
Lying on his bed as he watched the performance in a terminal in his cramped quarters, Ranjit Singh modestly admitted that it was one of his best performances. Lear is usually reserved for a more mature, experienced thespian, but the Sikh believed he had pulled the role off convincingly - the reviews at Starbase 5 had been complimentary at least. Not being vain enough to watch his own acting for its own pleasure, Singh screened the play for ways of improvement. Speech, clarity, motion, presence - each possible flaw was scrutinized.
~Othello would be next, and he's the hardest, most unforgiving taskmaster.~
He was immersed in the old king's madness when his comm badge chirped with an expected message.
=Bridge to Commander Singh. We're approaching the ch'Rihan system sir.=
"Acknowledged. I'm on my way. Singh out."
Sighing, Ran contemplated the fading image on the monitor screen - a blind Gloucester encountering the insane Lear by the cliffs of Dover.
~Ironic~, he thoght. ~We are blind in a mad situation, and the storm is near.~ He adjusted his turban, strapped his Kirpan to his belt, made a quick prayer to Vahiguru and made for the bridge.
===
T'Riele didn't have to move her head to know the person who entered the small bridge was her first officer. "Hamlet, Commander Singh? Or the Scottish Play?"
The tall Sikh took nodded in greeting and took his place next to the Vulcan. "Neither, Captain. Lear this time, and the reviews were quite promising - you missed a good play."
"I've seen King Lear before Number One", T'Riele answered, focusing on the display of the ch'Rihan system on the main viewscreen. "An excellent, logical piece of drama."
Singh paused before looking at the PADD given to him by the Captain's yeoman. "Logical? It's one of Shakespeare's more emotional works!
The range of feeling goes from the warmth between an old man and his daughter to many shades of dispair. How is that logical?"
"You're missing the 'big picture', Number One", was the Captain's calm observation. "Lear shows us the consequences of making emotional decisions. If he had not divided his kingdom, he would not have suffered. If he had not played emotional games with Cordelia, his misfortunes would have been avoided and he would have lived to a more tranquil old age."
Ran have the Vulcan Captain a look of mild bewilderment. "But Captain
- there would be no pathos, no drama!"
"Do you enjoy the misfortunes of others, Commander Singh?"
"Of course not, but..."
"If the purpose of Lear is not to promote logical thought, what is it's purpose?" T'Riele looked from the viewscreen to her first officer, expecting a quick answer.
"To offer... something to ponder", he replied at length. 'To entertain' would have been the wrong answer for his Captain. Fifty years in the Fleet amongst humans and other races, T'Riele was famous for her cold, flawless logic - something the Sihk was having some difficulty adjusting to.
"Agreed. Something to ponder. The question is - what lesson?"
Ranjit Singh was going to offer a suggestion when the Sao Paolo dropped out of warp in sight of the Rihannsu homeworld. "That'll have to wait for another day, Number One", T'Riele observed as the blue-white planet came into view. "How many ships are in the system, Commander?" She asked without looking at any of the displays.
"The Galaxy, the Miranda... the Arizona... the IKS Darchak - a Vor'cha class... an unnamed Valdore warbird... that seems to be it", Singh replied as the tac data scrolled off his tactical display.
T'Riele rose from her chair and pondered the image of ch'Rihan before her, absently moving a lock of silver-streaked hair from her right ear. "Hmm... unlikely. I would estimate that the Klingons have at least a half-dozen ships of various sizes in the system, and the Rihannsu at least triple that number - all cloaked. Bring us alongside the Miranda and Galaxy in an escort formation Number One, and patch us through the Miranda's CIC network."
"Aye, Captain."
The Vulcan calculated the permutations and combinations of the various Rihannsu Galae in her mind, estimating fleet presence and possible strengths. The numbers were disturbing as was the fact the Federation had only three ships in orbit, although more were on the way. "Let's hope this doesn't end like one of Mister Shakespeare's plays", she muttered.
Singh looked up from his console. "What was that again, Captain?"
"Your Shakespeare had an unusual skill at killing off the main characters in his tragedies", she observed.
"Quite violently."
The Hawk and the Nightingale
na Verelan (The Beautiful)
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= dohhae Laehval =
= ch'Rihan =
Aerv tr'Ahalaen had not married Faylin. Certainly, a ceremony had taken place...when the Starfleet JAG Officer was entirely too intoxicated to realize that she was a participant in a very elaborate holographic program. Things had gone exactly as Aerv had been instructed they should go. For other men, there would have been some satisfaction in that fact. tr'Ahalaen, however, did not appreciate being a pawn in anyone's game. Even more than that, he resented being a blind pawn.
In this situation, however, Aerv had little choice. One of his father's old friends (the kind of friend only a former Tal Shiar operative has) had called in an old debt. A very old, very heavy debt.
Now Aerv found himself bound to follow the will of a mysterious stranger. This was mnhei'sahe...and this time it left a bad taste in tr'Ahalaen's mouth.
Originally, Aerv had simply been ordered to keep an eye on Faylin, to protect her...a task tr'Ahalaen had made a lot simpler for himself when he had taken the woman to his bed. However, Aerv's puppeteer had not been satisfied, quite afraid that something was going to happen to Faylin. It had been the puppeteer's idea to stage a wedding, to give Aerv a chance to be closer to Faylin on a regular basis. Aerv's protests that some birds were too beautiful to be caged, had fallen of deaf ears...and he had done as he was told.
If Faylin was in any danger, Aerv had not seen any sign of it...nor did the human woman seem at all concerned. Just now, in fact, tr'Ahalaen himself could not bring himself to care. Last night, he had said for the first time - even if as lies - the simple words that bound two destinies. It had been so easy that old wounds had opened and old doubts had resurfaced.
"What kind of creature are you, tr'Ahalaen," he whispered to himself bitterly, "That the few words you will speak as lies for honor, you will not speak in truth for love?"
There was no answer with him...just the echo of a beautiful song that once again would give him no peace.
= Nine Years Ago =
= dohhae Kal =
= ch'Rihan =
"Ah - Aerv tr'Ahalaen. Pinhere - your attention - pinhere. The guest of mine - the newly minted Erien tr'Ahalaen. Our daehlen - our greatest friend. Without him - Reh wouldn't be here. So this celebration is for him. We salute him."
It had been an accident really, Aerv reflected, as he returned the salute the men around him gave. The plump, short host of the party, more like a human pig than a Rihanha, had been exceptionally lucky to have been spotted by Aerv's chauffeur as the man's own glider had malfunctioned and begun a deadly descent into a canyon. Laehval did not think he would attempt a rescue now that he actually knew the repulsive creature.
In all fairness, however, tr'Kal certainly had his uses. The sleazy character was a wonderful source of all kinds of recreational drugs - especially a new one called Akhssar (Poetry) that heightened physical sensations exponentially and was designed to increase sensual pleasures dramatically. It was quite thrilling to use in the company of a woman.
Aerv made his way through the crowd of revelers and found no one he knew, although there were plenty of people who wanted to make his acquaintance. With his stylish garb, long hair fashionably tied back in a high ataemon (ponytail), and cultured bearing, he stuck out in the place like a flame in the darkness. He spotted several Gai'Shian it had been his misfortune to meet once or twice at certain disreputable markets - he would have ignored them if they had not saluted.
In fact, he was getting quite sick and he had just stepped into the room. Everyone here reeked of cheap perfume mingled with cheaper sweat, the air was stale and the ceiling low. He began devising a plan to step away from the party - it would be difficult to do without being rude, especially since it was supposed to honor him.
"Your attention," tr'Kal demanded in a loud voice suddenly, "Reh has a gift for you all," an approving mummer went through the twenty odd men gathered there "But first au, tr'Ahalaen. We have all heard of your raon (accomplishment) in the ways of the flesh. How many broken hearts for one man?"
Aerv bowed slightly but said nothing - his conquests were in a class of women these fools would never know - nor could they really know the extent of them. However, acknowledging the comment seemed the polite thing to do.
"And tonight, and we will all have a turn with her, Reh has acquired for our pleasure," he paused dramatically, "A Thaessu."
Sienovan frowned. A Vulcan woman? On ch'Rihan?
"Yes - Reh paid some Orions a lot for this - but they never touched her, tr'Ahalaen - such a great beauty and they never touched her foe they were afraid she would rip apart their minds." Laughter echoed in the hall, "So she is yours, tr'Ahalaen, unsoiled, untouched - we made her shower and had to whip her - she is difficult to control but is tied up. Not that it would make a difference to you. Do not take too long - the rest of us are waiting." The portly man held out a pill to Aerv - it was Akhssar.
Laehval took the drug and entered the room he was shown to with his eyes a dark violet.
And everything stopped.
She was exquisite - certainly the most beautiful woman, perhaps even the most beautiful creature that Aerv has ever seen. In his current state, even looking without touching her was painful. Her elegant ears, the flat of her stomach, the curve of her spine. He shivered and drew closer.
A part of his mind was still analyzing the situation in a calm manner - it was a most curious sensation - like feeling hot and cold at the same time. Her raven hair had grown long - not the drab style in which Vulcans insisted on wearing theirs till this day. It was also damp, and there were beads of water on her body which were causing her to shiver. A torn dress was in the corner near empty buckets of water.
There were red lash marks all over her beautiful form. Gashes, deep and cruel. She had been beaten brutally - and when he looked at her rare blue eyes - did he see redness there? Had tears tried on her cheeks? How much fear and punishment does it take to make a Vulcan weep?
He swallowed. His throat was parched dry. Every pore of him wanted to seize the woman - he told himself to wait. "Your name?"
"Tinuviel." The woman answered softly, "Why does it matter? Will it increase your pleasure?"
"Not Vulcan," he rasped, "Human. Tolkein."
"I was raised by a human."
"Ah. The tears. Yes?"
She was silent for a moment. "How much shame," she asked quietly, "Will you bring upon me tonight? Be done with it."
He stepped closer. Her smell was intoxicating.
"You are verelan."
"That term means nothing to me."
"Beautiful," he whispered, "So beautiful. And lovely. And graceful.
My youngest sister's second name."
"Then you can tell her about me." Tinuviel replied bitterly.
His hand reached for her and touched her silken hair. She trembled.
With a painful cry, Aerv spun away and stepped back. It did not help.
He could still sense her behind him. "I will not do this," he told himself in what came out as a whimper, "I will not do this." He had never forced himself upon a woman before. He was not going to start now. Slave or not. Drugged or not. It was not honorable - it was not beautiful - it was not mnhei'sahe.
"Your eyes speak differently."
"Drug. Enhances desires. Senses. But I will not harm you - loveliness such as yours is not meant to be owned or dominated but given. Birds are not so beautiful in cages." He looked at her for a long moment, sighed and shook his head. "The Elements be cursed. They had too much time when made thee."
"What does it matter what you do?" The girl whispered, "There others waiting, are there not?"
"Yes. Nearly twenty."
She closed her ocean blue eyes and hung her head, her black hair falling about her like satin drapes disturbed by the wind.
Aerv reached behind himself and unsheathed his honor blade.
"Yes," the girl whispered, "Please end my life. My mind will not survive them."
"They cannot appreciate you - not the way you are meant to be appreciated," Sienovan told her quietly - his confidence was returning, the hold of the drug over him was still strong but now that his course of action was clear, he felt more controlled. Or at least, he thought to give the illusion of control - a way to reassure Tinuviel. "And I insist that art not be wasted on philistines."
He cut her bonds and then, walking to a bed, pulled off a bed sheet.
"A skirt," he said with a small smile and pulled off his own jacket, "And a tunic."
Tinuviel gripped the clothes fiercely, clutching to them with desperate hope, disbelief and distrust. "I do not understand. Why are you doing this? You are a Romulan."
"You have answered," he replied, "Your own question. Besides, I worship beauty. I consider it the Arch-Element. Get dressed."
"We have no way to leave."
"You obviously have no idea who I am," Aerv drawled, "Or you would know that as long as I have a weapon, there will always be a way."
"Against twenty men?"
"No. Against as many savages. There is a difference." He turned way from her and added harshly, "But if you do not dress yourself, there will not be one for long."
In the pale moonlight, his dagger sparkled. With ragged breath, he watched her reflection on the cold steel....
= End Log =
The Hawk and the Nightingale
na Teelis (The Song)
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= Nine Years Ago =
= dohhae Kal =
= ch'Rihan =
The universe was a blur of color and sound. His mind fought against the overload of his senses, flooding him, ravaging this thoughts and searing into his memory. Aerv knew he had to think - the mind was supreme. An escape. He had to find a way to take the Vulcan woman away from this place. He closed his eyes trying to concentrate. Her scent, her breathing - no - thought, clear thought.
He crawled over to one of the buckets that had been used to drench the girl. Water. He ran some over this face. Suddenly he was cold. Not the water - the wind...he could see why Tinuviel had been shivering.
Something clicked in mind.
The wind. Air.
There were no windows. Then....
He rose to his feet straining to hear where the wind was coming from.
He looked up. A trapdoor leading to an attic - no doubt where the window was. A storm was coming. Aerv whispered a quick prayer to Jaeih.
"Divine intervention is unlikely," his Vulcan companion said dryly.
Laehval simply pointed to the ceiling.
"I...how...logically that must have been there before. I simply must not have seen it in my...emotional state. Miracles are not possible."
"Then how do you explain your existence? Or perhaps more importantly, how do you explain mine?"
She raised a pert eyebrow at him, "Your egotism," she said softly, "Is most irrational."
"I'll take that as a compliment." He answered dryly, "The plan is simple - you will go up the attic and climb out." Aerv picked up her torn dress and tossed it her away, "Run east. The walls are short.
Use this as a rope - I will come around the other side and hold it so you can climb it."
"And you intend to simply walk out of here as if you have done everything exactly as you were supposed to?"
"Ie (yes). I am tr'Ahalaen. I do not slink away like a thief."
She shook his head, "You will get yourself killed."
"I do not die either."
"Be prepared then, tr'Ahalaen, for someday you will most unpleasantly surprised."
"Always liked you Thaessu," Aerv muttered cupping his hands together to offer her a boost, "So very optimistic."
She stepped up effortlessly and slowly opened the door above them.
Then, seeing everything was clear, she hoisted herself up. Once there, she turned back and peered at him. "What will you do?"
"I will lie. And I will lie well."
She nearly sighed but said nothing and disappeared from his sight.
Aerv waited a few minutes to give her a lead and then, drawing himself to his full height, he forced images of the red marks on Tinuviel's body into his mind. Some people had no appreciation for art - the thought brought a scowl to his face. Then with his manner imperious, he marched outside.
The men were waiting. Kutaie tr'Kal laughed as the door opened, "Done so soon, tr'Ahalaen? Perhaps the stories about au are exaggerated."
That was when he noticed the look of anger on the young noble's face, "Rekkai, did she not please you?"
"She is verelan, Kutaie - but like a bud eaten from the inside by a canker, she is rotten. Emaifha. Obviously au have not been with Thaessu women before - the Orions fooled au."
"Diseased?" One of the other men demanded.
"Yes. A Thaessu sickness that comes upon women - it is sexually transmitted and rots away the partner's...equipment. I trust," he added coldly, "That Kutaie did not know this. Other branches of his family are very honorable."
The fat man had begun to sweat, "I had no idea, tr'Ahalaen, I swear it...."
There was a deathly silence for a minute. Then Aerv turned arrogantly and strode purposefully towards the exist, many of the guests - and most profusely the host - pleading and begging forgiveness - insisting that no offense was meant.
It was at his glider that Aerv even bothered to acknowledge them. "I am not angry but wary. I thought with au the heir of Ahalaen would be safe. But that is not the case. You must excuse. I must leave." He nodded at Kutaie, "I am certain we will not meet again, tr'Kal.
Farewell."
The diversion was enough. Before the trick was discovered, an escape had already been made. And for a Vulcan woman he did not know, Aerv tr'Ahalaen had become a fugitive from the law. The things men will do for a pretty face....
= Later =
Aerv doubled over with pain before a pond, pressing the sides of his abdomen with his elbows in an effort to make the pain tolerable. A terrible sickness was upon him. Akhssar was not a drug to be taken on an empty stomach - nor was it a drug after taking which the senses could be harmlessly deprived of pleasure. But tr'Ahalaen had done both
- and now he was suffering. His entire being burned, bile kept rising to his throat but he could not make himself vomit. His vision had blurred and his muscles seemed to have become liquid like molten lava.
He wanted to rise and run, away from the pain, but his sense of balance was gone - he could not stand.
He had led Tinuviel to a small secluded clearing near a small lake in the woods. Aerv had come here before a few times to watch ancient Vulcan rituals had been all the rage and the authority had attempted to crack down upon them. They had been a great fad then. Now, a few years later, there was no sign of those rites remaining.
The Vulcan woman who had been hovering behind him, stepped closer.
"Let me help," she offered.
"Au can't," he growled though gritted teeth, "Leave me be. I fear I shall lose control yet. Then all this will have been for nothing."
"I trust you."
"Then you are a fool."
Tinuviel said nothing. Instead she raised a pert eyebrow at him and retreated further back. "Perhaps you should go home."
"No. The...authorities." He winced in pain as a spasm ripped through his compact frame, "He - Kutaie - the first thing he will do when he realizes you are gone is contact them."
"He will be arrested then."
A cry of pain broke from Aerv's lips.
"Are you okay?"
"No. And no. He'll tell them...that I was the one you bought you.
They will have no reason not to believe him."
"You can explain yourself to them."
"Not if they use a disrupter first."
"Without a trial?"
"Guilty," tr'Ahalaen gasped, lying down on his abdomen, still clutching it, "Until proven innocent."
"Of course. How could I forgotten about such a logical system of justice?"
Sienovan was about to make a reply when his stomach turned and he threw up into the sand. Pain ripped through his gut. Green-blood dripped from his mouth.
"You are not feeling well."
He nearly laughed despite his condition, "And you are making classic Vulcan understatements." He paused, "I am a little better now. I will be fine in the morning."
"The morning is several hours away."
"Thank you for that cheerful reminder."
Tinuviel was quiet for a minute. Then said, "I regret that this has befallen you because of me."
"Not your fault."
"Tell me," she said, "For I am curious - what would you have done if you had not found me as aesthetically pleasing as you do?"
"I do not know. Maybe you do not want to know either."
"I speculate," the lovely alien went on, "That you would have done exactly the same thing for any other woman."
"Now you are overestimating me. You Vulcans - always a little off the mark."
"I have seen that you enjoy to pretend you are a worse individual than you really are. It is curious - not to mention insincere of you."
"'Style is more important than sincerity'," he looked at her with violent eyes, "Besides - I am probably a lot worse than you think right now."
"Does it give you pleasure to pretend to be a villain?"
"It gives me detachment. Which is just as important. It allows me to experience many things."
Tinuviel nodded and seemed to understand. "Indeed. I will admit that I do not know you, tr'Ahalaen. However, I do not think that it is a meeting I shall regret."
"Go to sleep."
She inclined her head questioning, "Are you sure it is wise to remain here? If your theory about the authorities is correct...."
"It is correct," tr'Ahalaen snapped, "Did you not see the cheap imitations that tr'Kal uses for art in his home? He will do what better men would as best he can. And contacting the authorities is exactly what I would have done."
"You know him better than I do. But if this is so - should we not keep moving?"
"No. The internal authorities are looking for a Romulan man and a Vulcan woman on the run - not two citizens out in nature enjoying themselves. For now, at least, the less we move, the less attention we will attract. Only when they have given up on us running do we begin to run."
"That is...surprisingly logical."
Sienovan said nothing and simply lay down to sleep. Only he could not.
His senses were still aflame with desires, with the need for simulation.... And that was when Tinuviel began to sing. He listened.
She had the most amazing voice he had ever heard. It was pure music.
No wonder her human guardian had given her the name Tinuviel - the singer of an immortal song in the Earth epics by a writer called Tolkien.
He did not remember falling asleep when he woke the next morning but the haunting Vulcan song still filled his soul and memories of visions of beauty were still burning in his eyes.
= End Log =
The Hawk and the Nightingale
Aihsa Heis'he (Young Love)
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= Nine Years Ago =
= ch'Rihan =
= Romulan Star Republic =
"We have to get to Latasalaem City. While my father's influence may protect me, I do not have the resources to get you out of the Republic and safely back home. There is someone who does - if we can convince him."
"I am certain that we can put together a logical argument."
"Right. Logic." Aerv muttered under his breath, "That will help."
"How would you suggest we reach our destination?"
"We should cross the forest to the east - the will bring us close to a temple."
Tinuviel raised an eyebrow in surprise, "You intent to ask priests for help?"
"No. I intend to steal their food and robes. It will be the perfect disguise. At least for you. I would never wear material that coarse - so I will have to think of something else...."
"I suggest your ignore the dictates of your vanity for now."
Sienovan sighed. "I suppose you might be right. Besides - as the humans say, it is not what you wear but how you wear it."
She nodded once. "I must also congratulate you on your mastery of Federation Standard - and the literature of Earth. I have known humans who have not recognized the source of my name - to do so in a drug induced state is...remarkable."
He looked at her for a long moment. Then smiled and rose to his feet.
"Eik-veshtaya to'ovau kau - lu veshtaya ri glazhau goh na'kastorilaya t'kashan," he answered in cultured Vulcan. (Wide experience increases wisdom, provided the experience is not sought purely for the stimulation of sensation.)
Tinuviel sat where she was too surprised to move. Then she raised an eyebrow at him archly, "You can quote Surak?"
"Of course. As humans say - the devil can quote scripture for his own purposes."
"You are full of surprises, tr'Ahalaen." Another Vulcan would have never admitted as much - however, as Sienovan has learned recently, because she had spent most of her life among humans, Tinuviel was not yet fully trained in the ways of logic. She tried hard - but sometimes fell short. It was wonderful when she did.
"Call me Aerv. Come - we must go. And Tinuviel...."
"Yes?"
"If I find the right plants, I will see if I can ground out a poultice for your wounds." He did not mention that he had heard her whimpering in the night, unable to sleep because of pain. Instead, in response to her surprised look, he said, "I...saw you bathing in the lake this morning. Your wounds are still inflamed."
"Yes," she answered softly, turning a deeper shade of green, "I know."
"Oh - well...um - come along. And you really must tell me - how did you end up in the care of humans."
"Very well," Tinuviel said rising, "Only if you agree to tell me about your sister - this...Verelan."
"How delightful. A Vulcan who proposes trades positively like a Ferengi."
"Do you also know the Rules of Acquisition?"
"Ah, Tinuviel. I see you do not yet understand me. Don't you see? I know everything...."
= Later =
They had to find a source of food. Unfortunately, it was autumn and there was little edible on the trees. Aerv said as much. Even though they had spent most of the day walking, talking with Tinuviel had been enjoyable enough to keep thoughts of exhaustion and hunger away from him. She had told him about her life, her philosophies and ideas - her history - how she had been recovered by a human after her parent's ship had been destroyed by some alien force. He had seen her and had been struck between the resemblance between and elf and a Vulcan - and so he had named the child Tinuviel the Elven-Fair.
He enjoyed telling her about himself. She never judged his actions, merely listened. Every once in a while she interrupted when he pretended to be particularly heartless or uncaring - or when he got what she called 'snobbish'.
Tinuviel nodded and looked around. "What would you suggest?"
"I am not really sure. I suppose if I get really hungry then I could just eat you."
The lovely Vulcan raised an eyebrow him and replied dryly, "Perhaps if we consider the situation more carefully we can find something more pleasing to your appetite than myself."
"Now I'm afraid that just won't be possible, now will it?"
"Excuse me?"
He grinned. "Nothing. I suppose that there should be enough small game to feed us until we reach our destination. I could use stones as weapons and my honor blade to skin...."
Tinuviel looked away in disgust.
"Oh. Right."
"Please do not kill."
"We will starve you know."
"I would rather starve than shed the blood of an innocent."
"That has to be the stupidest thing I have heard you say."
"Please. For my sake."
He sighed. "I'll go see if I can find some vegetables."
After half an hour or so he returned carrying a meager handful of berries with him. Tinuviel shook her head, "Those will not be enough to sustain us both."
"I have already eaten. Found a...well - it is like a human rabbit."
She said nothing and took the food he offered - but she could not keep from smiling when he rolled around restlessly at night, his stomach rumbling....
= Day Four =
Tinuviel laughed. Aerv still could not get over the wonder of it - or how good the sound made him feel. It was like the first day of the universe. She was embarrassed, of course, and apologized. All he said was that this was one transgression he hoped to see repeated over and over again.
He could not understand how he felt about her - though he knew that what he was feeling was wrong. He was a Romulan. She was a Vulcan.
They were separate people. He could not fall in love. He could not.
He was determined that he would not allow it. Besides, he did not believe in love at all. There was no such thing.
But then she spoke in that shy, soft manner of hers and he began to question if they were really different. She was as gentle as anyone he had seen - as passionate as anyone he had known in her own subdued way.
The most bright flowers often got the greatest attention - but there were things in nature not as loud. That did not make them less beautiful.
Sienovan looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she gracefully tucked a stray strand of her black hair behind an elegantly pointed ear. Not less beautiful at all....
= Day Five =
Aerv woke in the morning to see her about to cut her hair that had grown long in her captivity with his honor blade. He cried out, startling her into dropping her the weapon.
"Don't you dare."
"What?"
Sienovan stared at her. "Do you have no conception of how absolutely perfect you are? You cannot cut hair. I will not allow it."
"This is not how Vulcans wear their hair."
"Perhaps. But you practice the principles of IDIC - you told me that is why you became are going to join Starfleet - to study psychology, understand people and the masses, to eventually become an ambassador - to supposedly bring peace and tolerance to the universe. Well, Tinuviel - begin with yourself - Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations - make your own self its living image. Then preach it.
Be beautiful. It not a crime."
She looked up at him. "If the self is where IDIC begins, then you are already an image of it. A man who can quote Shakespeare and Surak, the Nagus and Kahless, Barator and S'stak and who knows what else - you should be the one trying to bring peace."
"I am warrior."
"I hear a Klingon once said that 'a warrior for peace is no less a warrior'."
Aerv turned away. "Klingons say many things. Most of them are worth forgetting."
"Is there no one," Tinuviel asked in a whisper, "Who makes you sometimes wish that things were different between our people? Is there nothing you desire that you could have if there were peace?"
His obsidian gaze met her deep blue eyes.
"Come on," he said, "We should get going."
They walked in silence that day - but it was a comfortable silence.
She did not again think of cutting her hair short for as long as she lived.
= Week Two, Day Three =
The journey to Latasalaem was perilous even when made in the disguise of priests. Word of there being raids on their previous locations sometimes reached them, letting them know that the authorities were close. They kept moving, taking false routes that Aerv planned out - sometimes there were close calls, but he predicated the moves of police perfectly. They were never caught.
But now that they were so near their destination, Sienovan found himself praying to the Elements that something would go wrong, anything to keep him from completing his mission. And then he would tell himself that this was the only way - the only way for Tinuviel to be safe - and he would tell the Elements to cancel his last request. Only he would do it again. And again. Whatever gods there were in the universe were probably very confused.
Night came. He stood before her and for all his studies in the arts of so many cultures, could not find the words to say what he wanted to say. For all his ancestry and his blood, for all this military training, he did not have the courage to say what he wished. And even if he could do it, he knew he did not have the strength to live with the consequences of the words that kept coming to him.
For the first time in his life, tr'Ahalaen realized his own limitations and felt truly humbled.
"We must be more formal to each other when we appear before the head of the clan AAnikh." He told her lamely, "We should say our goodbyes now."
Neither one of them knew what to say. Then Tinuviel stepped forward and touched his lips with her fingers lightly. And then she kissed him softly breaking all the rules she had been trained to live with. This time it was he who trembled for he could not do as she had done. It
was not where his true duty lay. It was not mnhei'sahe Trembling
because with that touch she knew his desires, his love, his wishes and that he was craven....
But a kiss is a kiss and for a brief second in eternity, the Elements smiled.
"Forgive me," he whispered hoarsely, "I wish I were stronger. I wish...I were someone else."
"You are who you are. Remember me, Aerv. If someday I call - do come.
Maybe after your military service is over you might consider diplomacy
- just as I intend to do someday. Something."
"Our people are different. Separate."
She shook her head. "No," she answered in her beautiful, melancholy voice, "No they are not. And that is the real pity." There was a silence. "I thank you for everything."
"And I thank you. I feel I am a better man for having known you."
"I also feel, Aerv."
"My name," he told her gently, giving her the fourth name that Romulans hid from all but their closest ones for it was believed to give the speaker power over them - but then, she already had everything.... "Is Sienovan."
"I am still Tinuviel. And as long you remember me, I shall always be."
"Come. I will see you safely home...as I promised."
= End Log =
The Hawk and the Nightingale
The Elven-Fair
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= Nine Years Ago =
= dohhae Ahalaen =
= ch'Havran =
The sky was bleeding. It was dusk and the beginning of a beautiful night. Aerv tr'Ahalaen lay contemplating it from the windows of his vast chamber, a book bound with black sheepskin leather upturned on his knee. Across from him, in a large glass cage a bird alien to the skies of ch'Harvan was singing in a sweet, melancholy tune.
"Before now," he quoted to the Sun in a whisper, "When men said they were fond - I smiled and wondered how."
"So who is she, Dianvm?"
Startled, Aerv turned around to see his two sisters standing in his doorway, smiling. He motioned for them to enter. "Who is who?"
"This woman for whom the heir of Ahalaen so pines that his smile is dead and his laughter unheard." S'harien teased with a grin, "For whom this exquisite bird sings this exquisite song."
Ael, like any child, ran straight for the new animal. "What is it?"
She whispered, awe in her voice.
"It from Earth. It called a nightingale."
S'harien frowned, "Are you certain it can survive here, Dianvm?"
"Reh do not know," Aerv answered quietly, "But Reh intend to find out."
"So," Ael piped up sitting down on the floor in front of him, "S'harien says you have a new girlfriend. Is that true?"
"Yes."
S'harien seemed genuinely surprised, "Really? What is her name?"
"Tinuviel."
"Tinuviel? That is not the name of a Rihanha."
"No."
His sister frowned, "Then what is she, Dianvm?"
Sienovan was silent for a moment and then smiled. "An elf."
"An...what?"
Ael blinked up at him, "Never heard of those."
"An elf, my dear Verelan," he said leaning forward to kiss the child on her ridged brow, "Is not real. They are a race created by a human named Tolkien for his epic novels."
"Ooh - a story," Ael giggled, "What happened in it?"
"Well - the elves were an extremely long-lived race on Earth - they lived where humans now live. Exceptionally graceful and noble, they were also considered very beautiful. They had pointed ears."
"Like us?"
"Hmm...maybe a bit more pointed," Aerv continued as picked up his book, "I will read to you. Now this is the story of Luthien Tinuviel, the daughter of Thingol, an Eleven Princess of great beauty who enchanted and loved the human wanderer Beren the Son of Barahir. Beren came before Thingol and asked for his daughter's hand: 'My fate, O King, led me hither, through perils such as few even of the Elves would dare.
And here I have found what I sought not indeed, but finding I would possess forever. For it is above all gold and silver, and beyond all jewels. Neither rock, nor steel, nor the fires of Morgoth, nor all the powers of the Elf-Kingdoms, shall keep me from the treasure I desire.
For Luthien [Tinuviel was the name Beren gave her for he had fallen first in love with her voice which was like the voice of a nightingale], your daughter, is fairest of all the Children of the Earth. (195)
"But," Aerv said quietly, "Such is the nature of love that it binds two fates together and Thingol knew that were his beloved child Tinuviel bound to Beren, then she would lose the immortal life for the destiny of men is doom. And death their is their patron. So he plotted to have Beren killed by posing to him a challenge - that were Beren to penetrate the heart of all evil - Morgoth - and bring back the a powerful gem from the jewels called the Silmarillion, then only would the marriage be possible. Until such time as Beren might return, Tinuviel was imprisoned by her own kin. However, she would not be parted from her love and disobeying her father and king, throwing off the immortal life, she followed Beren into the very soul of evil."
"Such was the beauty of Luthien Tinuviel that it is said that where she went 'time was joy...winter came but it hurt not...flowers lingered and birds sang beneath snowclad hills' (206). It was from her voice and song that spring was summoned back from the jaws of winter. Together, Beren and Luthien accomplished the task set forth by her father and were wed. When Beren was wounded seeking to protect Thingol's kingdom, he would not die until he looked once again upon the eyes of Luthien Tinuviel - the Elven-Fair."
"And when she too forsook her body, and went before the lords of the Underworld, she sang 'the song most fair that ever in words was woven, and the song most sorrowful that ever the world shall hear. Unchanged, imperishable, it is sung still.... And as she knelt before him, her tears fell at his feet [Maondos, the Ruler of the Otherlife] like rain upon the stones; and Mandos was moved to pity, who never before was so moved and never after' (220)."
"She was given a choice between a new, immortal life with none of the sorrows of her past life or another mortal life with Beren - and she chose a second death if it meant that she could once again be with the one whom she so loved. It is said that the Elves still seek within their children, the beauty of Luthien Tinuviel. Some say she has been born again and in her eyes which carry oceans there are waters above which the winds still sing of Beren and weeps for the joys of love."
There was a long silence. Night was upon them now. The night bird pick up its weeping song once more.
Ael sniffled. S'harien smiled sadly, "That is a beautiful story, Dianvm."
"Yes, Dianvm," Ael confirmed, "You tell the best stories."
"No." Aerv answered quietly, "I just know them."
"I would have liked to meet this Tinuviel." Ael said.
"Yes. I think you would have liked her. She was gentler than a summer rain and had more courage than some Romulan men."
"Reh have to admit though," S'harien commented with a frown, "Reh am a little disappointed. Reh had thought for a minute that perhaps au really were in love."
"Love," he laughed, "How utterly ridiculous," Sienovan lied, "Au do know that reh does not believe in it."
"Yes," S'harien admitted, "I should have also known that there is no Rihana woman who can capture the heart of Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen."
"No," Aerv murmured softly as he stared at the shining stars of the clear night sky, searching for a distant light with his intense, raven eyes forlorn. "No Rihana...."
= End Log =
The Hawk and the Nightingale
The Old Home
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
And tr'Aanikh
Senator
hru'hfirh
Aanikh Clan
(Written by Algerian*)
(*A friend who is not a simmer here)
= Nine Years Ago =
= Latasalaem City =
= ch'Havran =
Aerv and Tinuviel were led into a tastefully decorated chamber where an aging figure in a hooded robe. The servant did not make any introductions. None were needed for the Head of the House AAnikh.
tr'Ahalaen saluted the man and then went to a knee to bow to him.
Tinuviel inclined her head out of respect of the man's age but refused to follow any of the elaborate greeting her companion had just given.
The old man looked at both of them. "Look up young one, allow arhva to ninte face...." The old Rihannsu was sitting on an old wooden chair, as he leaned forward to get a look at the man the chair creaked.
Aerv rose to this feet smoothly and met the wizened gaze of Senator.
"Reh apologize for disturbing how this late, Lhhai."
Aanikh looked at the Rihannsu's face... "Aerv? Reh have dhat since au since au were a small boy... how are ninte mother and father doing?" He purposely side-stepped the main issue.
Sienovan smiled wryly and bowed slightly, "If au will pardon reh for saying so, Lhhai, reh too has not seen au since au was a younger man.
With au blessing, all Ahalaen prosper."
Aanikh nodded... his eyes turned to the woman... he instantly noticed she was Vulcan... her ears more refined and she lacked the common ridges of the Rihannsu people... "Please introduce arhva to ninte friend... and explain why au have come here..." he hid the concern like an excellent politician...
"Lhhai, reh present Tinuviel. Tinuviel, Senator AAnikh, the head of the clan."
Tinuviel held up her hand in a traditional Vulcan greeting, "Live long and prosper, Lhhai."
"Reh asks au pardon, Lhhai, but time is of the essence. Tinuviel is...is about to be a cadet at Starfleet Academy and a student of the Vulcan Academy of Sciences - she was attending a conference on psychology on Rehim Five - near the Orion borders. Her ship was boarded and she was made a slave. A certain young man of my...acquaintance purchased her for his...perversions and offered me time with her in return for having saved his life. Her honor is intact. I would see it so."
"Time is something we all have young one... Now explain to arhva exactly what happened... and what au will ask of arhva." The Old Rihannsu furrowed his brow slightly... he was a little tired but he just sat still allowing Aerv to speak.
"As au know, it is illegal to make slaves in this manner - the young man I speak of has, to avenge himself, informed the internal police that I was the one who secured Tinuviel. They are after me. I can deal with them - but Tinuviel must be sent back home. She cannot remain here. Hru'hfirh - it is not in reh power to do this. They are watching every port. Reh plead with you - take her under your wing and see her to safety."
He sat back... "Does ninte father know?" His tone was very stoic... he just stared at the young Rihannsu before him.
"No. There has not been time and he is probably being watched. Reh had no options. I saw her and I knew what I had to do. I could not force myself on her and I would not allow anyone else to do so either.
It was mnhei'sahe."
The old man nodded... "Reh will take care of it... Reh will also take care of ninte problem with na authorities... Reh suggest au return home... and stay out of trouble..."
"No," Tinuviel cried out with a hint of desperation in her voice. When Aerv turned to look at her the Vulcan woman looked away, "I mean...Lhhai - would it not be possible if Aerv were to stay here - or with me, wherever I am to go, until I am close to Federation space.
He...." The Vulcan woman struggled to find words and then simply inclined her neck gracefully to cede that she could not, "He makes me...feel safe."
Aanikh shook his head at the Vulcan, "No, Au will be a guest of arham house... Aerv must return to home and explain his actions to his father." He looked at Aerv scornfully "We will need to find a way to keep au out of trouble..." he turned back to the Vulcan female.... "Reh will be making a trip into loann'mhrahel space... au will accompany when the time comes and reh will make sure au arrive safely... au have nothing to worry about." He slowly stood up.
"It is not logical for him to leave. He cannot go back home anyway - the authorities are watching it and...."
"Tinuviel," Sienovan said gently, "Enough. Lhhai has spoken."
The old man broke a small smile at the Vulcan "Au will learn that not all things revolve around logic... he will be safe as will you." He called one of his servants over... "Clean her up and give her a meal if she in hungry..." The servant nodded and moved over to the Vulcan...
Aerv bowed deeply to Tinuviel, formally - as if the past twenty days had not happened. The pretense hurt him more than he cared to admit.
"I take my leave of you, Tinuviel." He smiled and added, "Elven-Fair."
"And I of you," she replied softly, "Perhaps we will meet again, Rihanha."
"I do not think so." Sienovan whispered back, "The universe is vast and we are very small."
"But you are bigger than most?" Tinuviel almost joked, "If we indeed do not meet, then it will be my misfortune. You a rare man, Aerv tr'Ahalaen. A better one that you give yourself credit for. It is not everyone who can make a Vulcan feel." She held up her hand and parted her long, slender fingers, "Live Long and Prosper."
"Jolan'tru." He whispered - a strange sensation had come over him.
His throat was constricted, his eyes beginning to burn. "May your songs always echo in the deserts of the old home."
She smiled ever so slightly and just nodded as she was lead away. Aerv said nothing, watching her leave.
Aanikh turned to Aerv "Reh will speak with you privately now..." He gazed around the room... the walls were adorned with symbols Galae decoration and clan symbols... "What do au see?"
He turned to the hru'hfirh and smiled wryly, "The past of the Rihannsu.
And, if we are fortunate, our future."
Aanikh nodded... "Our past is our future young one... Reh hope au shares that thought... " He turned to Aerv "You have many things to learn..."
"I do not doubt it, Lhhai." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "Did I do wrong, Lhhai? Would au have left her with those men - to be raped? To have her beautiful mind stripped away with unintended bonding after bonding?"
He shook his head "Reh would have not... but au must understand there are other ways, other options... Reh know a Galae Leih... I consider him a son... Reh will recommend to ninte father... that au serve there.
It is time you experience life beyond Eisn...beyond your collections."
Aanikh smiled slightly.
Aerv bowed, "Your wisdom is my direction. I was recently assigned to the Aylhr but if au objects...."
Aanikh grinned "Then your father listens well... Bedah young tr'Ahalaen." Turning around the old Rihannsu made his way to the stairs... heading back to bed.
Aerv stood for a long moment in the empty room to look at the Romulan emblems and medallions gathered in the place. In the silence he fancied he could also hear the haunting Vulcan ballad that Tinuviel had sung to him on the first night they had met. He smiled. What was it that the hru'hfirh had said? 'Our past is our future'?
"If only it were, hru'hfirh - then this sudden burden on my heart, I suspect, would be lighter."
But Tinuviel was not for him. He had probably spoken truly when he said that he would never see her again. They lived in different worlds
- quite literally - and there could be no union between them, as there had once been.... Aerv walked out into the burning rain, knowing all this, yet feeling strangely empty and confused. There was nothing to do but to continue walking forward and never look back - for he feared that if he did ever glimpse the Elven-Fair again, his legs would turn to stone, and his wax heart would melt....
= End Log =
The Hawk and the Nightingale
"The Feather, the Mountain"
"Duty is heavier that a mountain, while death is lighter than a feather." - First Precept of the Imperial Rescript to Japanese Soldiers and Sailors.
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= Seven Years Ago =
= Mount Seleya =
= Vulcan =
In the heart of Mount Seleya, Tinuviel sat faced by her mentor and a practitioner of the Kohlinar who was a healer. Candles lit the stone chambers as the two elder Vulcans continued to attempt to reason with the young woman who had come seeking their aid. The healer who had been largely silent though disapproving, finally spoke. "The pon farr is not a disease. The suppression and of it is not proper. It would be logical for you to take a mate."
"I have no wish to take a mate yet."
Tinuviel's mentor seemed remarkably close to loosing his temper for a Vulcan. "You have not yet given us a reason for you continued insistence your...wish."
"I wait for the one I love." Tinuviel blurted out, frustrated.
There was a shocked silence.
The healer raised an eyebrow.
"Love?"
The young woman hesitated. "I mean...to say that I have found an individual compatible with myself. It would be illogical to commit to a relationship with another."
Her teacher eyed her with cold distaste. "I would suggest that you choose your words with care, young one. Your logic lies thin."
"I beg your indulgence. I am not myself."
The elder looked skeptical but did not reply.
"If you persist in this foolishness," the healer picked up sounding resigned, "Then I shall attempt to delay the plak tow as much as I can."
"I am prepared."
Shaking her head, the healer rose and left the chamber. Tinuviel's mentor rose as well and looked down at her. "How long will you wait?"
"As long as there is hope."
The elder was silent for a minute and then shook his head. "You bring me great shame."
Tinuviel lowered her gaze and said nothing until her mentor left - then she turned to the bright stars of the night sky. "There is only one,"
she whispered softly, "And he will come. There no barriers you have erected that even love cannot cross...."
= Later =
The animal cries that had been ripping forth from her throat had just died away - the cold sweats, the sickness, the gripping pain had all begun to subside. The pon faar was upon her and, despite this respite,
it would return. She had not eaten anything that her body had not
thrown back out for the past two days and suddenly a weakness that she should have started feeling earlier was upon her.
The next time the fever claimed her, however, the young Vulcan woman would not be able to fight it off. With each occurrence it became more powerful - beyond the control of an adult Vulcan to fight. The healer had been with Tinuviel constantly, making sure that she did not harm herself, melding with her to ease some of the pain that invariably came with the path that she had chosen. The disciple of the Kohlinar did not understand that choice that Tinuviel had made and yet the healer was seeing her through it. Tinuviel's human guardian had taught her to say 'thank you' but as the Vulcans were fond of pointing out - one does not thank logic. Compassion, part of c'thia, was logic as well.
Under the blazing red eye of T'Khut as it peered at her through a small window, Tinuviel thought about the actions she had taken - not all of them, she had to admit, coming from logic. She had been approached several times and asked to bond - proposed to, as the humans would put it. Each time, she had refused. She was waiting for her t'hy'la - the mate of her soul. Lust had a strange pull on her - the needs of the body...but she was waiting for love, determined to not let a stranger into her mind. The only place where she could truly be, truly live....
The door to her chambers opened. Her mentor walked in, a small letter of real paper in his hand. Tinuviel instantly knew the source of it and stepped towards the old Vulcan. when she spoke, her beautiful voice was rasp and hurt.
"Does he come?"
"No."
Tinuviel slowly sank to her knees.
"Who will you accept, Tinuviel?" The elder asked, nearly gentle. "You must take a mate."
"I...I do not care. Use your discretion."
There was a long silence. Then the elder nodded and left, with the healer behind him.
Alone under the unforgiving, bloody gaze of the T'Khut, a Vulcan with a broken heart wept.
= End Log =
"The Honeymoon"
(slight backpost)
Lieutenant Cole Slaton
Colonel James Mitchell
Cmdr. Arel Smith
Rena Starburst
*****
"Hi Spits..." Cole said finally, finding Rena where he'd been directed which was seemingly under a pile of paperwork. Something he knew a great deal about, as Hazard XO and Renegade his social life had plummeted. "You got a minute?"
"Spitfire, Cole. Spitfire. 'Spits' just sounds pornographic."
Starburst corrected absently, simply scowling at the pile of PADDs on her seldom used desk. She was convinced Mitchell was filtering paperwork down to his squadron COs. She hadn't had this much paddwork under Holmes.
It was a good idea. She wondered if she could get away with shifting some of it to her own XO..."What do you need?"
Smiling Cole stepped through. It was obvious Cole was up to something, by his grin and the way he checked the corridor for any eavesdropping.
"You're a friend of Arel's..."
"Well, sister is a kind of friend." She interrupted.
Cole acknowledged the point and continued. ".. and being a woman."
"Last time I checked."
This time he just kept speaking. " I'm sure Arel tells you more than she would others. Trust me this *is* leading somewhere, I just need a little confirmation. Arel is in love with the colonel... isn't she."
Rena raised an eyebrow, and had to keep from laughing. "What was your first clue, genius? She married him and had his kid, after all."
"Thought as much." Cole nodded sighing.
"I know you two had a thing," Rena said, displaying a compassion in her voice that was seldom heard. "But Cole, she's pretty tightly connected to Mitchell. For everything he is, he's got a very.. Klingon sort of personality. That appeals to Arel. She gets off on it. You're an El-Aurian, and you've got ties to the Klingons, but at the end of the day, you're not one of them. And think about it - what would it really be like, if you got back with her? You won't age. She will.
She'll get old and infirm
eventually, and you'll look almost exactly like you do now. You want to do that to her? To yourself?"
"If you think I've not thought about that, every time I find myself falling for someone, why'd you think I've been been with someone for more than a few weeks, before Arel that is." Cole shook his head smiling half heartedly. "To know you'll live a dozen lifetimes, to know you'll watch everyone you care about grow old and die. You know there's been no El-Aurian on record to have died from natural courses, none. But I digress. Arel is the reason I came here and knowing her she's too bone-stubborn to do anything, yeah must run in the family, her - your - father was just as the same. So the question... What could two cunning pilots do to stir things up, push them both in the right direction. Theoretically speaking, of course."
Starburst leaned back in the chair. "Slaton, I think those are the smartest words I've heave heard come out of your mouth. What d'you got in mind?"
Cole smiled.
------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in the upper gantries where the Rogues hung in their harnesses, the Bajoran CAG was taking the opportunity during the furlough he'd given the squadron to further hone his skills in the mechanics and recognition software the small craft where being upgraded to. Deciding that in the future, he'd have to throw the fighter crew into a scenario where they'd need to make some hard decisions of their own if ever their craft were forced down, he took the quiet time to dismantle one of the out of service craft, and get to know the internals of the fighter to better understand what was supposed to be an extension of him.
It was during an intense study of the electronics schematics that he heard murmuring from down below. Cocking his head to the left, he listened intently to determine the source, as there weren't supposed to be anyone else in the bay during the shift.
Pushing himself up to his knees, he put aside the manual and craned his neck over the side of the gangplank, seeing a pair of shadowy figures hovering around one of the refueling tanks. Powering down his port-a-lamp, he lay down flat on the grated plating, knowing he was unlikely to be seen in the dark unless someone was specifically looking for him. And even then, he'd probably be mistaken for a piece of equipment a technician hadn't put away.
******
Later...
Arel dropped the gym bag and looked around the room before making a 'huh' noise.
She had expected to find Korvin and Jenny deep in a conversation about their favorite topics, frogs and astrometrics, or at the very least about what was going to be for dinner. She had thought that maybe she'd find K'Laudia guarding her latest kill from Arel's wardrobe.
She hadn't expected to find the room full of candles.
Well, at least she'd taken a shower before coming home.
Arel went into the room half expecting to find more candles or something even more interesting. Instead, she found three outfits layed out on her bed as if there had been a difference of opinion over what she should wear. The first two looked like little more than skimpy lingerie and Arel snorted before turning to the third one which was her drawstring black pants and white tank with the words 'Kahless is my homeboy," another gift from Samantha Widdlestein.
"At least someone has some sense." Arel muttered before she heard her door ring. She yelled at them to come in and then started to change into the pants and shirt.
"Hey," She said as a greeting as Rena entered the room. "Got any idea where my kid is? Given the whole being spirited away by Q thing, I think I'm taking his absence rather well but I have my limits..."
"I've spirited him away, in the interests of provided you a much needed night of.." her red-headed sister said slyly. "Though I'm sure you figured that out, with those keen Security Officer's instincts of yours."
Arel looked out at all the candles. "Your warning is a bit late, don't you think? And whose bright idea were those flimsy scraps of cloth?"
"Never know what you might be in the mood for, sis."
"Your obsession with my sex life is kind of weird, you know." Arel stated as she went into the bathroom. "Anyway, call it off. I'm not in the mood to be sociable. Especially to my husband."
Rena said something under her breath about Arel and her social skills.
"I heard that." Arel snapped.
-----
The two voices in the lower levels of the hangar deck had faded away several minutes previous, and even though nothing could be made out between the two, nor was he able to discern the owner's of the voices, something bother James about it. It shouldn't have. They were just two people, probably doing a little homework or downtime themselves. What did he care?
His mind kept drifting back to the clandestine conversation, the third time it happened occurring shortly before he realized he had replaced the port nacelle manifold and noticed three bolts and a module still on the maintenance sheet beside him. Looking at the spanner, then the extra parts, then the resealed manifold, he grimaced, grunted, and reached for the stembolt that would open the manifold cover again.
His commbadge chimed out, instantly emitting the voice of Major Starburst. It made him drop the spanner, hearing it clang against the deck plating and over the side. He peered over the railing, scanned the dark lower level with his port-a-light, but couldn't locate it.
"What is it, Major? I'm a bit busy at the moment." It didn't take long for James to pack up his gear after what Rena had to say. He was needed elsewhere.
*****
Cole lay on the sofa an odd smile on his face. "Why r'you smiling?"
Cole frowned at Korvin. He would have to speak to Arel about brushing the lad on his grammar, it was all well and good teaching him Klingon but it came through far too much.
"Just thinking..." he didn't elaborate on what he was thinking about.
The laid out plans for Arel and James, damn he wished he could have been there to see their faces. Chuckling Cole glanced over at the large picture his brother had made him. "Have I told you about how I saved the great General Mitgar? No?" he asked asked getting a shake of the head in response. "It's rather violent, not sure your mother would approve---"
"She would! She would approve!" Korvin exclaimed wide eyed mouth open.
"Well... I don't know." He was teasing and Korvin, squinting up at him, seemed to be trying to puzzle this fact out. Finally, caving in, Cole went into the story. Half way through the El-Aurian found himself lying on the couch, with Korvin lying beside him, and Nieja lying with them her head on Cole's stomach. Both Korvin and Nieja's eyes were closed, the wolf snoring softly, but not seeing any point in stopping his tale he continued. "... we were pinned," he was saying. "Bullets whizzing overhead, there was no way out, but staying where we were meant our certain doom."
****
Arel poked her head out of the bedroom to where the candles were still blazing. That had to be against a dozen Starfleet regulations, she decided.
"Rena?" Her sister had gone into the living room to get rid of the candles and had suddenly disappeared. Arel narrowed her eyes and then narrowed them further as the door rang again.
The door opened to reveal James Mitchell.
Traitorous bitch, Arel thought.
"Hey," She said.
"The Honeymoon, part two"
(slight backpost)
Lieutenant Cole Slaton
Colonel James Mitchell
Cmdr. Arel Smith
****
James shouldered his way past Arel, coming to a confused stop when his check of the room revealed no danger. And no Slaton being an ass.
"Ummm... hi." He hadn't changed from the grime-coated coveralls; since Starburst had made it known it was an emergency of dire import.
Obviously the candles flickering around the room didn't entail a blazing fire of any sort. He dropped his toolkit on Arel's eating table - the same one he, Smith, and Korvin had shared a peace meal not too long ago - and continued his recon of her quarters without visually making contact with her.
"What the frack is going on here, Smith? Starburst told me there was an emergency, and you'd asked for me." She didn't have a mark on her, when his gaze finally fell on Arel. "What's with the tricks to get me here? You could've just asked."
"It wasn't exactly my idea..." Arel started. She hated her sister right now.
A lot.
"And the candles? It isn't like you to go and be all romantic on me.
It's not like you. Maybe embedded dikhtaghs or whatever you call those little knives, with burning eyeballs on top, but not this. It's too...
girly for even you."
Arel snorted.
"I'm almost afraid to see what you have in the bedroom for me, Smith."
With a glitter in his eye, he took two steps towards her personal quarters.
"I don't have anything in there for you!" Arel protested as she followed him in. Of course he made a beeline for the lingerie on the bed and started smirking. "Those aren't mine."
"Oh, really?" He lifted the thread of something he couldn't quite figure out with his forefinger and peered at it. "Then why don't you go try it on and see if it fits, Cinderella?"
"You said it yourself, I'm not this... romantic." She said, spitting the last word out like a curse. "For some reason, Rena set this whole thing up. I can go kill her, if you want. She's not that good a pilot."
"You'd do that for moi?" Still holding the... whatever it was in one hand, he used the other to cover his heart. "How romantic."
"Yeah, well," She said with a shrug and then wrinkled her nose at the lingerie. She wouldn't even begin to know how to get into that kind of thing. "Want some dinner? I think there was a computer PADD out there with food codes for the replicator."
"I think I'd rather skip to dessert." He arched his eyebrows. Twice.
"That's in the replicator too." Arel said sweetly, ignoring his waggling eyebrows and heading back into the other room. She glared at the candles, as if daring them to drip wax on anything, and then picked up the computer PADD. The food looked mostly edible, that was good.
"Frack the replicator." He followed her out of the room, twirling the lingerie on one finger. It sure was a small, frilly thing. "You know the food lacks soul, unlike a home-cooked dessert steamed to perfection in edible undies. Now, that's enough to fill a man's appetite for hours, depending on the quality ingredients the cook puts into it."
"Mitchell," Arel said in a reasonable tone. "the only way that thing is getting worn is if you put it on."
"Since when have you gotten interested in role playing, Smith?"
She glared at him and then went over to the replicator.
"Well..." The lacy garment flew off his fingers and onto a chair knob, "I'm all for trying something different, but I don't think this will fit me, if I even knew where to put it."
"I'm sure you'd find somewhere." Arel muttered.
"So, if you're not keen at doing the real thing, wanna make something up? I can't see you wanting to keep that purity thing going on the grapevine. Or are you planning on entering the seminary?"
"I know this whole damned ship has better things to do than talk about my sex life." Arel said with an edge to her voice. "And if I have to remind every single one of them, so be it. There's plenty of work for people with no legs, hands, or intestines. Besides, I didn't say I wasn't interested. I'm just not interested in wearing that. I never saw the point in wearing lingerie if you re just going to have it ripped off you anyway."
She looked over and grinned at the expression on his face. "Something to drink?"
"Yeah, I will." When he'd regained his composure, somewhat, he purposefully marched across the carpet, reached behind her, and pulled her hair back, grinning at the wince she made before kissing her deeply.
The kiss was violent, and, as Arel had feared, awoke a feeling of need in her that she had wanted to do without. She found herself moving into him without thinking. But just as soon as she had, he pulled back from the embrace, wiping his bleeding lip with the cuff of his sleeve.
"That remind you enough of what you're missing?"
She tried to catch breath and really failed. "I still want to eat dinner later."
"Now... later... whatever." Under the words, a rumbling growl came up from somewhere in his torso, grabbing her arms to draw her close to his body once again.
Arel pulled back this time. "James, it's been awhile for me and, er...."
"It's like riding a bike, but in this case, I'm the seat. You'll get back on if you fall off, I'm sure." He cocked his head, and releasing one of her arms, he caressed her cheek.
She smiled. "Actually, I just wanted to warn you to keep up."
"That's my girl. Now, prove it."
*****
He knew she'd rip his throat out and shit down his neck, or at the very least try, but it was worth it. He could see it now. They were meant for each other, and Korvin needed a father, who better than his real father? It wouldn't have worked. "It wouldn't..." he repeated staring at his reflection in the mirror. "You're a damned fool..." he smiled. There was one good news to come out of this entire mess.
He was now free and single.
"I'm back ladies."
"Links in the Chain"
Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer
THE PICKPOCKET
She tip-toes her way across the Romulan vessel's shuttle bay, crossing crates and spare parts laying on the sterile floor, like a blue rodent traversing a labyrinth in some obscure lab.
Ahead, the Cheron system's sun was visible through the forcefields. The planet itself was out of sight, and at this distance it was so small she probably couldn't distinct him from the other bright points in the dark sky.
She located her shuttle, but then something beckoned her to turn left instead of boarding the vessel. She paced briskly toward the control tower embedded to the wall, more and more confident that she'll find him there.
"Chava."
Saul Bental leaned against the wall, arms folded. She noted that his simplistic taste for cloths hasn't changed – a T-shirt and a jacket, nothing fancy really. As though he still couldn't afford something better.
"I contacted the Klingons, and they're giving me a ride. I'll get off when I reach the Klingon border, and proceed home on my own.", She told him before he asked the question.
Saul just looked at her.
"So how does it feel to get left behind?", She asked him.
"You know how it feels."
"At least you got an explanation.", She frowned at him. When he left Utrecht III – no, fled Utrecht III – she stalked him as he sneaked to the transported that took him off planet. He never offered her an explanation for that, not even now.
"No you didn't.", He spoke up. "Why do you leave, Chava? If you want, this mission gave you an excellent opportunity to enlist. You can have an interesting life without having to ever suffer hunger or unwarranted danger ever again."
"And be bossed around by some asshole in uniform?"
She was a free-spirited person, much like him. He, too, had a hard time being a subordinate. Only that he didn't view it that way, but instead considered his superiors as another constraint put forth by reality, which with correct handling could not be so constraining.
"It doesn't fit everyone, I agree. But even if Starfleet doesn't fit you, why go back home? You could start anew in one of the core worlds. I don't mind lending you some credits or pull some strings so that you won't start from nothing."
She smiled faintly. "You called it 'home'. It is, isn't it?"
Saul shook his head. "It's shorter than saying 'Utrecht III, the most stinking outhouse on the rim. Come on, you don't need it. I don't know who employs you nowdays, Chava, but he or she think you're dead. You owe nothing to no one."
"And certainly not to you. But I prefer it that way. It's part of me, as much as it's part of you. I know the rules of the game. And you know what? I even like them. And you don't start a new game when you're part of the winning team, Saul."
"No one wins on Utrecht III. You're all in the gutters. It's simply that some of you stand on top of the others, that's all."
She pouted, and then did something very unexpected.
She hugged him.
All of the sudden he realized how fragile she was, how gentle beyond the rough exterior hardened by a lifetime in the gutter that was his homeworld.
"When you left home? When I followed you?", She whispered in his ear.
"Yes?"
"I didn't want to stop you. All I wanted is a hug."
He tightened his embrace. The two shared a moment of silence before she slipped away from his hold.
She took a step back, observing him. The, she landed what she thought was the bomb.
"And to answer your question, I work for Devoss now. Lehitraot, Shaul."
He gazed at her, stricken, as she strode – no, ran – toward the Romulan shuttle.
He tortured her for this exact information, hating himself every moment for it. All of it could be spared. If only he knew she'd use it just to hurt him.
And although he knew it already, it hurt him like the first time he found out.
THE PILOT
"Le-la."
Saul entered ensign Beral's office, beaming. The Trill OPS officer was one of several Operations personnel who dealt with the Galaxy's personnel, BUPERS, and anything revolving around the subject of what used to be 'Human Resources' in the pre-first-contact era.
He returned to the Galaxy along with the expedition to Cheron shortly beforehand, and one of the top things on his list was to check that no one meddled with his personnel requests while he was away.
He half expected to find all of his experienced officers transferred or moved to security and intelligence, and was grateful to see that Tactical didn't change much in his absence. Now, all that remained was to ensure that his requests for new personnel were treated well.
It was always good to be in good relations with Operations, he mused, thinking of Iniara. Too bad he wasn't best friends with Jamson, following the events on Vaden.
After the mandatory chat with Lela, he asked to take a look at the transfer requests. She protested at first, but the protests turned to giggles, and she let him take a sneak peak on the lists.
Saul was glad to see that his requests were all respected, despite the fact that Tactical was quite big as it is. Then, out of curiosity, he scrolled to the next page, to watch other candidates.
The sixth name on the list caught his eye.
"We want him."
"Excuse me?"
"We want him on the Galaxy.", Saul pointed at the name.
"Who, Ensign Walker?"
"David Maximillian Walker, pilot extraordinaire. Trust me, we want this guy on board."
"I think that's for the Chief Flight Controller to decide.", Lela wrinkled her nose. Saul found that expression to be enormously cute.
"I happen to know the 'Chief Flight Controller' quite well, Le-la. I'd appreciate it if you forwarded my recommendation."
"Will do, but… in risk of damaging the Ensign's privacy, let's say he has his bag of problems. I'm not sure he's the best candidate."
"Mr. Captain wannabe is one big problem, and I'll regret my recommendation the moment I step out of your office.", Saul half-joked. "But put in my recommendation anyway."
THE TELLARITE
Saul stormed into his quarters, the conversation with Captain M'Kantu still running over and over in his mind. His request for leave was granted. He's not going to make it back in time for the REDISTRIBUTION. Years of careful planning and endless efforts thrown down the drain.
He landed on the bed, his uniform shirt already crumpled to a ball on his pillow. He won't need the red undershirt anymore, at least that was a relief. Some would consider moving from tactical to intelligence as a demotion, since intel was a smaller department. But it was his home court, the one spot that fit him like a fine glove.
He stood up, and turn on his quarters' computer console. There would be time to feel triumphant later. Now he needed to get down to business.
He drew a device, removed a panel next to the console, and attached the device to the circuitry. It would allow him to keep privacy and conceal his identity even here, in ch'Rihan orbit.
It took a long time to establish the line. Eventually, the wrinkled face of a Tellarite emerged. He was holding a paint of beer, as expected.
"Ah, Mr. Dauwberg.", The Tellarite hailed.
"Mr. Zwart." Saul knew the Tellarite only knew him by his name and by the insignia that appeared now on his console, a mountaintop and a spyglass. It didn't matter, since there were good chances that the man behind the mountaintop – namely, Saul – probably financed the paint 'Mr. Zwart'. Was no handling.
"I need to ask you to do a job for me. You already know the details, and the rate."
Saul leaned forward, and instructed his primary contract on Utrecht III to execute his plan to delay the redistribution.
When he was done, the Tellarite emptied the paint into his throat. "I don't think the event was delayed once in the past two centuries, Mr. Dauwberg."
"Two hundred and thirteen years, if to be precise.", Saul indicated. "So yes, Mr. Zwart, pulling this off will require a liberal amount of Huzpa."
"Ups and Downs"
LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Officer, USS Miranda
Ens Janeen Jaxom
Engineering Officer, USS Miranda
Turbolift One
=============
Janeen was still awestruck with what just happened. Now she had to find Chris and tell him!
As the turbo-lift brought her to the lower decks, she tapped her commbadge, "Computer, locate Lieutenant Daniels!"
[Lieutenant Daniels is in the cantina,"] the computer dutifully responded.
That's where Janeen told the lift to take her...
==Cantina==
"CHRIS!" she called once she saw him at a table apparently taking a short break. "Guess what!"
The yelling girl behind him startled Chris out of his trance. He had been there going over Hydran weapon efficiency with Ensign Marcos, but when she had went back to work, he had stayed, enjoying the view of Romulus and his old home ship for awhile. He turned and smirked. "Umm, the Borg created Santa Claus?"
"I got a FIELD COMMISSION!" the Trill was clearly excited. "I'm Ensign Jaxom now!"
Chris' eyes went wide is mock surprise. "What, are we short on Ensigns now? Or did the Academy just not want you back??"
"Ha ha you wanker," she teased back slapping his shoulder.
He smiled and hugged her. "I'm kidding. That's awesome! How'd it happen?"
She took a seat next to him at the table and quickly told him of the conversation in the captain's ready room. "I tell ya what I'm totally surprised!"
"You and me both girl." He just smiled. "I'm really happy for ya..you go from getting shipped back to the playpen on Earth to getting Ensign's rank pretty much overnight." ~Guess it pays to miss the bus~ he thought to himself. Needless to say, Chris had been ready to accept life without her...now he'd have to shake his reality back to one with her...at least for awhile. "So how long do you get to stick around now?"
Her brow knitted in thought before she answered. "I... I don't know...
I hadn't thought that far ahead," Janeen answered looking out the window for a moment. She looked to Chris again, "I guess I have to go where I'm told... wherever they decide to assign me after our current mission."
He nodded. "Well, that's not such a bad outlook. No use worrying about things that haven't happened yet. At least we get more time together." He sighed. It looked to the rest of the world like he may not have been as excited as he should have been.
Janeen's expression took on a highly seductive quality. She linked arms with Chris, "Yeah... we 'do' don't we." Her eyebrows wriggled up and down a few times.
He nodded, looking out the window. "Yeah.." He smirked, finally letting a little bit of the air of apathy go away and looked up at her. "Too bad the Hydrans have other plans that may be getting in the way of our romantic rendez-vous." The look he gave her finally revealed the profound bags and sunken eyes that indicated his fatigue level. Almost on cue, the waiter brought him a big mug of coffee, placing it next to his stack of PADDs.
Janeen examined his face. "You've been working too much overtime again mister. You need to learn when to take a break now and then." She was almost scolding him.
He turned his head away in a moment of frustration. He wasn't too fond of talks like this, and his fatigued state didn't allow him to hide his feelings. The part that got him was that she was right. He was going on 16 or 17 hours straight...again...not counting working in his quarters.
"There's a fleet of bad guys boring down us, and we're here with a bunch of shady allies and a scant few friends, they've got a weapon we haven't seen before, and oh yeah, our best data is three years old...we might as well go to a boxing match with our arms tied together right now..."
"Look, I know what we're up against here but still, you need to rest once in a while. You'll be no good when the Hydrans get here if you're dog-dead tired either."
He stood and thought for a moment of a good response. Devoid of one, he turned back and looked at her in her new uniform. It looked good on her, and something about her was different, but he couldn't peg what. Admitting defeat, he let a tired smile finally slip over his face.
"Janie, where would I be without you to keep me honest?"
"We officers have to stick together ya know," she replied looking into his eyes.
He laughed, and moved a stray streak of her hair out of her face. "I don't thank you enough for it. Tell you what. I've got 2 hours left till I can leave since I'm actually on shift. I'll get Eianne to watch my next shift. Come by, say around 1900 and we'll celebrate your promotion the way it should be done?"
"Mmmm sounds good," Janeen answered obviously pleased.
He kissed her on the forehead. "But now I have to get back to the CIC. I'll see you later. And congrats again." They said their goodbyes and went back to their business. When he was done with work, he slept gloriously for 4 hours. Come 1900, they met as planned, and the next few hours didn't help Chris' fatigue any.
"The Devil's New Advocate"
T'Rei
Security NPC
Olivia McAlister
NPC
(writen by Michal)
Location: T'Rei's Quarters
She sat at the console, years of staying under the radar had come to fruition. The face that looked so innocent was actually a farce. Red hair, bobbed short, swayed gently at her shoulders as her crystal emerald eyes bore into the screen before her. Seconds were drawn out, as she waiting patiently. 'At last' She thought as the display flickered, revealing his face. The features had seen years of hardships that were displayed in each deep crease of his forehead.
"Is she there with you?"
"Yes."
"Have you done it yet?"
T'Rei's eyes narrowed, clearly indicating her irritation. "No. It is not time."
"It will be soon."
"I feel that it is. Tensions have turned high on this vessel." Her eyes resumed their normal position, less irritated somewhat.
"Where is McAlister?"
"Planet side…..involved with the Romulan Ambassador." T smirked. Her disdain for the woman had grown from years before. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her mouth drew itself into a straight line. She had been but a youngster, when they had employed her to carry out the deed. Trained for months, under the facade of an adopted child, T'Rei had excellent skills. Her talents as an assassin had been excellently hid, during her time after her enlistment with Starfleet. If Faylin even had the slightest idea that is was actually T'Rei and a comrade that murdered her parents, the woman would go into a downward spiral beyond belief.
"Any hint of any trouble from Intell?"
"We went through this already….this is getting rather redundant." She hissed.
He backed off slightly from his position. She was right, she knew what she was doing. If she did not, they would not have bothered with her. However excellent she was, she was still expendable. It would not be difficult to drop information here and there, tidbits that would have her put on the farthest penal planet known to the universe.
Sighing, he pinched his nose with his index finger and thumb.
"Get it done." The screen blacked out ominously as T'Rei turned to view the sleeping child that rested on the sofa. It was such as shame, to end a life such as this little one. Standing, she walked over, gently swiping a curl away from the girl's porcelain face. The security officer's face was overly soft, yet her eyes exhibited evil that only the devil could appreciate as she kept her gaze on Olivia.
"Soon…baby. Very soon you will meet your grandparents for the first time……….."
Olivia, upon hearing the delicate vocal cords of T'Rei, slowly turned and opened her dark innocent eyes. Blinking twice, her mouth curled upwards. "Hello….."
Staying silent, T'Rei leaned over, placing her hands under Olivia's arms, lifting her upwards from her resting position into same position
Faylin carried her. T'Rei carried her back to the bedroom, shutting
the door with one free hand behind them. 'Goodbye sweet one…………..'
"New Challenges"
Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer
USS London (Soveriegn Class)
Kent had barely had time to settle in aboard the Soveriegn Class Starship before he'd been given his first Assignment from Starfleet.
The London would be one of many Starships dispatched to ch'Rihan, to aid the Rihannsu in defending their world. For Kent, this was an odd act indeed. He'd been lost to the Delta Quadrant since the beginnings of the Dominion War, and despite all that had happened to him, and all that he'd read from the intervening Decade, he couldn't believe that a Federation/ Romulan Alliance could be in place.
But there it was.
The Captain had been back in the Alpha Quadrant a matter of days when he was promoted to Captain by Starfleet. And it'd been not much longer after that Starfleet had appointed him Commanding Officer of the London. Some of his staff from the old Sarajevo had come aboard with him, but the majority of his old crew had chosen to retire from Starfleet. That suited Logan in many ways, it gave him all new challenges. This crew for a start.
They'd not that long ago lost there previous Captain, a respected Officer whom Kent had known even before the Sarajevo had been pulled into the DQ. Fleet Captain Ramirez had quite the reputation, despite the fact that no one seemed to be able to find out what exactly he'd been involved in. This crew seemed to find it difficult to accept him as their Captain, particularly Lieutenant Diana Ramirez, the Fleet Captains Daughter, who served as the Londons Operations Manager.
As much as his own crew had him marked as somewhat of an outsider, he felt every bit as much the intruder on this vessel. The crew had been together for some time, give or take what appeared to be a hell of a lot of Executive Officer reassignments. Kent sometimes felt their resentment, and in many ways, he understood it.
Sat in the Command Chair, the Soveriegn Class Bridge was different to what he'd been accustomed to over the previous 20 years. The Galaxy Class Bridge of the Sarajevo had been bright, and relatively cheerful, and the buildings that the Sarajevo Colonists, or survivors, depending on how you looked at it, had been plain and simple. Logan prefferred to think of the Sarajevo's old crew as Colonists, but he'd been the happiest to have been returned home, to the Alpha Quadrant.
He'd looked up his family, but had decided against actually getting in contact with them. It turned out his wife had remarried, and he was happy for her. He figured that he was better off leaving her be.
So, perhaps a mission to Romulus would get him back on track, perhaps things could go better for him now. The chance to work with Captain Summers and the Miranda crew not withstanding, Kent was looking forward to it.
"Helmsman" Kent asked, breaking out of his silence, "time to arrival in the ch'Rihan system?"
"Eleven hours and Thirty Two Minutes" came the response. Didn't sound pleased. Obviously not all of the Londons crew shared Kents feelings about the mission ahead.
"Excellent" the Captain replied. "Excellent."
"Hydrans and Romulans Have Never Been a good Mix"
Commander Henry Mellor, Executive Officer
Lieutenant Jasmine Carrington (Thanks Jill for the help), Chief Medical Officer
"I don't like this Doc" Mellor said as he sat in the Lounge with the Londons CMO. "The Captain thinks this could be good, but I don't.
Hydrans and Romulans have never been a good mix."
Jasmine sipped her hot chocolate and shrugged. "We go where we are ordered to. Logan probably feels the need to prove himself. Besides The old captain would not want us not doing anything."
"I guess so" Henry replied, "from what I've read about Logan, he lead his crew for five years in the Delta Quadrant. So yeah, he's got a lot to proove. I still miss Captain Ramirez. I'm glad I got the opportunity to serve with him." Picking up his drink, he took a sip, before putting it back down. "I actually feel honoured."
Jasmine nodded. "A lot of people around here feel the same way, though Diana needs to let the new captain earn his place. She seems to be determined to give him a hard time."
"She was the mans daughter for christ sake. I've had a chat with her, and she's trying."
"I know that," Jasmine replied calmly. "But she holds it against Logan like he murdered the man himself."
"Your right about that" the Commander said grimly. "Did you ever meet the Captains son? Captain Ramirez' son anyway."
"No" Jasmine shook her head. "I have only been on the London for 2 years."
"He was here for a few months when the starship Miranda was refitted after Havras." Mellor replied, thinking fondly of the young man, realising that that had been two years earlier. "You must have come aboard just after he left. In any case, when I called him to offer my condolences on the Captains death, he didn't seem to be taking it to much to heart. Infact, the things he said sounded alot like the Captain."
"Was he close to his father?"
"They were getting closer" he said, drink in hand once more, "but they'd never been as close as Diana was to her father."
"Which explains her attitude" Jasmine sighed. "It will take a while for the ship to become a team again but I think things will work out."
"Me too" Mellor replied, "and I think that this will be a test all situation for Captain Logan. He's got big shoes to fill."
She watched his face. "Did you want the post?"
Henry shook his head, "No. Not yet anyway. I'd hoped to learn a little more from a more experienced Captain first." Sighing, the Exec slumped his head downwards for a few moments. Lifting his head back up to look at the Doctor, he said, "I guess the Captain is just that. He's been doing this sorta thing for a lot longer than I have."
Jasmine nodded. "Indeed." She touched Henry's shoulder. "Your turn will come. And who knows, You might just get the London as your command."
"One day maybe" he replied with a small smile, "for now though, we've got bigger things to worry about."
"yeah. Like Romulans and Hydrans" She smiled. "Like oil and water they maybe. But we can handle them"
Henry nodded, "Your right Doc. Are we ready for this? Have you got everything you need down in Sickbay?"
"Sickbay is fine." Jasmine smiled. "You worry about the guns and stuff Henry, Medical is well taken care of."
"And what about your new ACMO?" the First Officer, "I know Logan pulled some strings to keep his old crew with him. How's she fitting in?"
"She is doing well. Quiet though but doing Ok. She has to get use to some of the newer Tech but other then that, she will go far."
"Good to hear" the Commander replied, finishing his drink. "I best get going, I'm due on the bridge in fifteen minutes."
"Lucky you" She smiled. "I think I will go for a walk through the ship.. see if there is anyone else I can try and cheer up."
"Maybe Lieutenant Ramirez would be a good place to start then" Henry replied smiling, standing up. "I'll see you later Doc."
Jas waved him off, and finished her drink before setting out to find Diana Ramirez.
“Only So Much”
Shuya (npc+)
Renegade Pilot, Uss Miranda
The engines of her fighter screamed, though the sound was muffled in her ears through the cockpit and helmet. The Miranda loomed in front of her, a predator sleeping, though she knew it had one eye open at all times ready to fully awaken and strike with unflinching cruelty. She was a beast. A beautiful beast.
One Shuya called home.
The spinning world of Romulus stood behind the mighty starship, with what seemed a dozen more ships of equal prowess in matching slumber. USS Galaxy and other ships formed a protective shield around the planet. A moving, breathing, thinking wall of steel and blood.
But will this moving wall hold?
Time can only answer.
Shuya had her doubts, especially with elements working against them. The always deceitful Romulans always looking over ones shoulder, the situation with the CAG. Everyone knew of the court-martial charges against him, which only served to distract at a time where distractions cost lives.
She had nothing against the Colonel, she didn’t know much about him except the rumours and half-truths whispered aboard ship. In any case whatever charges were brought would be dealt with in due course, of that she had no doubts. There were only four things that mattered at this point, so close to the storm of battle. Her life. The life of her fighter. And those of her fellow pilots and crewmates.
~Everything else... will have to see to themselves~ she thought, momentarily thinking of Romulus and all the people the planet held.
But she did not correct herself.
There was only so much one person can do.
“In the Interim”
Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineering Officer.
(Set after Open Fist; when ‘Marine Team One’ returns)
***Location USS Galaxy, Sick bay****
It had been a while but not long enough. The grey still encapsulated everything. The stench of cleanliness offended the nostrils and that sound penetrated even the dead’s eardrums.
For a time everything had been still, everything had been silent and dark; no conscious thought. But that time was un-measurable, at least to the unconscious.
It always started the same way, weather sleeping or awake, or in the interim period. Always the lights came first, *always*.
They could be described as beautiful, the way in which they existed. They were just ‘there’, like the grass beneath your feet, or the sand between your toes, the water caressing your skin as you bathed in the stream. Just like the stream they flowed, unending, continuously, until the end of time; nothing could break them, nothing could make that energy cease to exist. They were timeless.
But one could bend them and one could cause them to unravel.
Like fingerprints, each was individual. Each cord was a unique tapestry of experience, finely woven into an existence based on the coming together of two others to create a new being, a continuation of what was before; procreation.
Yet no matter how far one strayed from the confines of ones ‘nest’, they were still connected by an umbilical cord of energy from the creator to the created. And each created had an infinite amount of threads to weave. If once could see ones existence in the form of a piece of string, it’s thickness would be un-measurable, its length unending and each thread would be attached to another entities cord; one thread attached to each entity that it had ever encountered, either by physical means, acquaintance; the stall holder that you had been a regular at for years, word of mouth; through stories and legends. One exists through the memories of others; simply through the telling of one’s fond memory of another from childhood. And when one entity crosses over to the next realm, it blends with all that it has ever touched before.
In essence we are all immortal.
~*Beat*~
After the lights, the entities surrounded in the beauty of their experiences, came the sensation; feelings, emotions.
Like radiation, invisible and dangerous to those not protected, they emit particles. To those susceptible, it chokes; like being stuck in a sauna, the humidity rises and there is no escape – confronted by the overwhelming stench of others, one too, begins to sweat; begins to drown. And once the flood gates open, it only stops when there is nothing left.
Death by emotion.
Not a pleasant way to die.
~*Beat*~
Memories change over time. They become distorted, indistinguishable from reality and fiction. Things begin to cross over…
~*Beat*~
“Cross Over”
Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineering officer
(Continuation of “In the Interim” set after Open Fist; when ‘Marine Team One’ returns)
***Location: USS Galaxy, sick bay***
The nameless spring up from the dirt that confines them. Their faces haunt, hollow and gaunt. Soulless they scream for retribution.
Their voices can be heard in that darkness, that darkness which consumes one’s slumber.
For only when the body and mind are silent can the demons of the subconscious be heard.
~*Beat*~
From the depths of the mind, the memories locked in a tower of torture, fight back. Fingernails scratch the mortar, till it crumbles. Loosened bricks fall to infinity and the preverbal light filters through; touches upon a withered soul.
~*Beat*~
Withered soul is nameless no longer.
~*Beat*~
He is unheard no longer.
~*Beat*~
His screams flow through to consciousness and his pain becomes my pain.
~*Beat*~
His feelings are my feelings and now it is I that is screaming.
~*Beat*~
For the darkness is hunting *me*.
~*Beat*~
It is I that is running, running for my life, running for my sanity. But I can no longer hear the voice of reason, I can no longer see the light! The darkness and all its horrors consume me.
~*Beat*~
And now it is me.
And it is all I can see.
And it no longer matters.
Because I no longer matter.
~*Silence*~
I am it and it is me.
~*Static*~
And I bathe in the glory of its demise.
It fills me, makes me whole, makes’ me stronger, faster and better. Like a tiger cub honing its skills, I am ready for the kill. It flows through my veins, as does his blood.
It drips from my hands and I am smothered in its light, its energy, its life force.
OOC: All the tac types on both ships may want to take a look at this...
"Bearers of Bad News"
Part 1: "New Found Problems"
LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Analyst, USS Miranda
LtJG Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineer, USS Galaxy
Shuttlebay, USS Miranda
=======================
Chris had gotten his marching orders from K'aa and turned back to the engineer. "Roswell, right?"
Nara looked at him and nodded, seeing them being the same rank, "Right."
"Well, we haven't been introduced yet. Chris Daniels, Tactical dude. What say we try to figure out how the toys on this bucket work?"
She couldn't help but shake her head, "I'm an engineer on the USS Galaxy.
Not much for formality around here, I see."
Chris just gave her a look, the "No, not really" eye. To him, even though he was probably a younger JG than she was, it didn't matter. When they worked, rank had no application except in adding a sir or ma'am if it was a Lieutenant Commander or higher.
They walked the few steps over to the Hydran fighter. To Chris, it wasn't an entity in itself, it was a weapon, a part of a larger, much more dangerous system. The fusion weaponry was pretty advanced, and Starfleet shields weren't perfectly suited to block them, even from a small fighter like this. Figuring out how its fusion powered weaponsystems fit into the larger system as a whole would be his mission for the time being.
"So..you're an engineer, and I'm an analyst...which means you probably should take the lead on figuring out how this thing actually works so I don't kill us and blow a hole in the shuttlebay wall...IF...it works."
"If it doesn't work, we'll make it work." Nara ran her hands over it. A bit roughly, actually. A bit angrily. She was tempted to smack it a few times for good measure. But it would be used as a lovely ironic slap in the face.
But past experiences caused her to be paranoid and suspicious. Err toward safety. She looked at him, "First off, I think we should be sure there's no anti-theft devices on here. Nothing that they installed against such as we plan to do."
He nodded. "Agreed. You do tricorder scans and I'll get the CIC to shank us some of their passive sensor capabilities. Anything specific I should be looking for in the scans?"
Nara had started her scans so mumbled as she answered, "Anything that could explode, jam controls. In essence anything bad." Yes, she was snarky, but she had had a bad experience with bad things happening.
Chris walked to a nearby console and ran the shuttlebay's passive sensor systems over the machine while she started to orbit the fighter with her tricorder. "Ever worked against the squids before?"
"Squids? Is that what you call them?"
He walked back over while the sensors took a minute to spin up and run the scan. "When I hear Hydrans I think of Hyrdas..sea creatures. Apprarently back in the day a derogatory term for members of naval services was "squids." So that's what I thought of...plus they kind of look like sea creatures.." He shrugged..it made sense to him.
"All clear." She looked over the vessel as if not believing the scans.
He checked out his scans, which showed much of the same. Which, if two sensors were saying something, that was good enough for him. "Let's see if this works." He walked straight up to the fighter where the computer had said the maintenance hatch for the cannon was, and found a switch. Quickly enough, the hatch popped and opened up to reveal the innards of the cannon.
"Let's see what secrets we can squeeze from this thing, eh?" He said with a quirky smirk. This wasn't normally the type of analysis he did, so he might as well try to enjoy it. It was a bit of fun he probably wouldn't have for awhile.
She gave another weary glance over the thing before opening her kit.
He moved and went to help her set up the scanning equipment. "So, you go by anything other than Roswell, Lt?"
"Nara." It wasn't that she was rude, but she was in work mode.
He shrugged. "Alright, Nara. Now I guess we wait until this thing bares its soul."
An hour later...
Deck 7, Combat Information Center
=================================
With the scans finished and the data collected, Chris took Nara down to the CIC's Analysis Center to explore the data. Basically, all they had was years old data and what the Romulans were willing to divulge, and hopefully, what they found would help to show what they would be up against.
Chris put his PADDs down at one of the work tables and then went to one of the holotables and plugged another PADD in. Dutifully, a schematic of the cannon and its power readings appeared in three dimensions.
"OK, soo...what does your gut tell you?"
Nara furrowed her brow looking at it. "My gut tells me that this isn't the same stuff that can tear our shields up."
He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"
"It's too old. We wouldn't have any problems if they all still had these."
He turned and looked at her. Suddenly the color drained out of his face.
"Too old?" He rubbed his face and sighed deeply. "It was built three years ago.
The best data we have is six." He looked at the schematic, a very bad sensation coming over him.
"The old system is pretty much an impulse engine that energizes its output into a weapon source.
This has added a refinement coupler here--" he pointed to a can shape on the drive assembly "--and what looks like some sort of enhancement mechanism there. And earlier I picked up a modulator..did you see that?"
Nara was following him and nodded, "Yes."
He bit his lip. "Can you do a quick simulation of what effect this'll have on our shields?"
"I think we already know, but..." She began typing in the data for a simulation.
10 minutes later, the data was exactly what they thought it to be. Chris sat and steamed at the table for a minute. How could Starfleet have let this happen? Grousing about it wouldn't change anything, so he looked back up. "Alright..well, first off thanks for all the help. I'm gonna go send this up my chain. I suggest you go back to the Galaxy and tell your tac people and start trying to devise a way to counter this. If this is what we're up against..." he kicked the table lightly. "...might want to start praying too."
Nara just looked over the data again and nodded finally. "Will do." She turned and made her way back. New job title: Bearer of Bad News. This should be fun.
"Bearers of Bad News"
Part 2a-"Our pants have been down"
Lt Th'Khiss K'aa
Asst Chief Tactical Officer
LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Analyst
Combat Information Center, Deck 7
USS Miranda
===========
He had sat on the data for a day, rereading it seven times. If this was true...they were in deep shit.
Chris stalked out of his office and across the CIC floor, a noticeable stomp in his step, which attracted the attention of the CIC crew. His crew...who had never seen him like this. When he got to the Gorn's office door. Without waiting for their customary pre-work BS, he tossed a PADD at him and plugged an isolinear chip into his viewer.
The schematics of the cannon popped up.
The only other thing that was clear was that this wasn't the typical Chris Daniels.
"Hrnnnnsss... yessss." K'aa muttered, looking at the PADD's data.
"That doesss make it more difficult, doesssn't it." He looked up at his agitated friend, not used to seeing him in such a state. "Did you find anything?"
Chris looked back at him. "I found what you were missing." He put the comparaison of the data in Miranda's memory banks next to the data they had retreived from the fighter. "Our Goddamned data is six years old!"
~Bad. Very bad~, the reptilian thought. ~The "new" Chris wasn't exactly good either. Bloodshot eyes. Hypercaffienated. Bad.~
He went on to explain. He paced in front of the room making emphatic hand gestures as he did. "We did a total scan of this thing. This is three years old, and everything, power output, discharge and recharge rates, range, all have been increased by a factor of 4 or more. Plus, somehow they did a mod which negates about forty percent of all our shield mods. No wonder these bastards tore through the Rommies, K'aa, they've been making all sorts of new toys. And this data." He emphatically pointed at the 'new' data on the screen. "Is three damned years old and its a fighter! Who knows what they've done with their capital ships!"
Dreams of bloody, raw filet mignon flew from K'aa's mind as Chris' news ruined his appetite. The data scrolling before him did make previous estimates of Hydran firepower seem perilously low.
"Disssturbing... hrnnnn...." the sound of claws drumming soon echoed in the small office. K'aa suddenly put down the PADD and accessed the ships manifest. "Hrnsss... yess... Miranda's picked up two new Intel officersss; Major McKeon and... hnnnsss... another Major Weber?
Interesssting... one of usss should meet with our new ssspooksss and check if they have more recent data - I don't think it's any coincidence they're here at this particular time. I'll give you the choice - checking with Intelligence, or the other 'little chore' from Lieutenant t'Khnialmnae.
Chris eyed him, a tinge of the fire that had taken the place of his abject fatigue still in his eyes. "What little chore?"
K'aa peered over the display. "That would be meeting with one Colonel Mitchell, the CAG, to dissscusss better waysss Tactical can support the ssstarfighter wingsss."
He gave him a death glare and shook his head. "No way. I can handle Intel. You won't get me within 500 yards of a fighter pilot. I'd just as soon cut my arm off with a dull chainsaw."
"Sadly, the Arboretum stocks only sssharp onessss", the Gorn replied in a pathetic attempt to infuse some humor in the conversation. "Good choice - I'd take Intel over haggling with fighter jocksss any day.
Good luck... but before you go, there'sss sssomething that needsss mentioning."
He eyed him. He had calmed down a little bit, but he was still on edge. "Yeah, what is it?"
K'aa caught himself about to drum his claws on the tabletop, which already had a packed pattern in a small, isolated area. "Thisss may sssound... ah, hypocritical of me Chrisss, but I'd be remisss if I didn't mention it - both asss an officer and a friend. You need to throttle down." Seeing a cautious look appear in the human's eyes, the Gorn decided a more refined explanation was in order. "Chrisss...
one perssson in Tactical putsss more hours in here at the CIC than I do, and that's you. I have a four hour sssleep requirement and exissst asss the ship'sss social pariah - you require eight, and are universssally liked. Thisss isss important work, but eassse the pace
- delegate more of the resssearch and sensssor work."
Chris put his hands on his hips and looked down to his left. He rubbed his face for a moment. That made two people telling him to chill out. He couldn't deny it, he had been working like crazy since the ship had left Atlantis. He had barely made time to catch up with his sister, or Janie, who had been granted a reprieve from returning to Earth. Finally he sighed.
"Is it really that noticeable, or did Janeen put you up to that?"
The reptilian shook his large head. "No. It'sss jussst an unusssual sssituation when the CIC persssonel are complaining to *me* how much
*you* are stresssing them out. The change isn't asss refreshing asss one would asssume."
He grunted a concession. K'aa was his boss after all. "Alright. I just don't want this to go down without us having all the info we can.
I'll let McGrath handle the sensors and give Marcos the data processing for the rest of the day. And I'll go get some sleep and then find our Intel folks. Is that kosher?"
The Gorn stood and slapped an enthusiastic claw loudly on the table.
"So Kosher, I'll warn Rabbi Rabinowitz that you're threatening to put him out of businesss! Thanksss Chrisss - and good luck with Intel.
Hopefully you'll find sssomething more ussseful than ancient hissstoy."
Chris grunted again. He would enjoy the rest, even though it would no doubt be disturbed by the myriad of thoughts and ideas racing through his head.
K'aa picked up a blank padd and made for the office exit. "Ssspeaking of luck, time to find a 'volunteer' for the fighter sssupport project."
Chris head K'aa's prior statement and looked around. "Have fun with the CAG. I've heard he eats young yeomen and children for breakfast and is a real prick to deal with."
The two left the office and looked over the railing to the CIC which had become suddenly vacant, staffed only by a skeleton crew manning the sensor net. "Hrnnnn... thisss 'volunteer' busssinesss may be more challenging than firssst anticipated."
“Eyes of a child”
Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineering Officer.
(Continuation from “Cross Over” set after Open Fist; when ‘Marine Team One’ returns)
***Location USS Galaxy, Sick bay****
In the stillness of the night I see them. I don’t know how or where they came from but I can see them, clear as day. Their faces follow me all the time. I don’t know their names, but I know them. All of them. I know how they felt at that moment when I took their life. Yet I don’t remember doing it. All but one that is. I remember him. Remember what I did. I don’t know how I did it though; one second was all it took. It was like a switch in my mind was flicked on and it just happened. But I know that I made it happen. Yet at the same time I don’t know how. Do I make any sense? I wonder that. I wonder about so many things now. But what I think about most is why do they haunt me? Why can I see these faces?
Most of them are older than me, but one… one of them is a child, maybe more of them are. But the one that haunts me most… she … She, she reminds me of a porcelain doll, so fragile and slight. I see her slender frame buckle and break – every time it’s the same. She stares up at me with doe eyes; she is afraid of me but also intrigued. Like she can see me in a way that no one else can. She *knows* what I am going to do to her, but she doesn’t run, she doesn’t scream. She just stands there. Staring at me with those eyes. She knows.
But I don’t. I don’t even know her name but her face… it’s with me all the time.
And she scares me.
She looks right through me.
She see’s something in me, something that I have been running from all these years.
I can feel it now.
Stronger than ever before.
I can hear it; sometimes I think it takes me over, but I don’t remember.
When I look into the mirror I can see that face, that face from the dust cloud, the one that came to take me. And I know it’s me.
"Joy of Socks"
Crewman Allison
Mary Poppins the Horta
Deck 10
Enlisted Crew Quarters
Sucking lazily on a peppermint lollypop, Allison flipped her way through the glossy pages of FASHION NOW! Magazine.
"Booooring.....so yesterday......hel-lo....Like grandma- gear......ancient.......," she critiqued the displayed wares lamenting the fact that the universe at large did not share her highly refined fashion sence.
Of course this was coming from a girl currently clad in an ovesized Care-Bears T-Shirt, and a pair of rainbow colored socks with little individual 'toes' included.
~~Not everybody can pull off the toe-sock look~~ she thought to herself taking a big lick of her sucker.
It was after-hours and things had settled down in the small cabin she shared with the Horta crewman known affectionaltely as Mary Poppins.
The silicon based alien had been considering the multicolored socks in curiosity as Alli uncosiously waggled her feet in little circles as she read.
"Ye'll be pardoning me for saying so Dearie," began the rocky lump curled up in the bottom bunk, " but doesnt Starfleet require uniforms to match in colors?"
"This from somebody who looks like a big pile of riccotta cheese and isnt even required to wear a uniform?" Alli replied, flipping a page.
"I do so wear a uniform Dearie." the Horta shrugged (which is
admirable for something that has no shoulders) "If ye'll look along my dorsal strata you'll see a proper little Communicator pin wedged in amongst the rocks."
"Whatever..........and how can you tell what color my socks are anyhow," Alli asked wiggled her toes lazily, " You dont have any eyes."
"Spectral Heat signatures Luv." Poppins sighed, "Your footwear cuts bloody well right across the spectrum, and is quite frankly, giving me a headache."
"A 'headache?'.......I'm sorry 'lumpy'....I musta missed the part where you had a head."
"Now luv, no need to go and get racial on us." Poppins sulked a bit, or at least her/its computer generated voice did so.
Alli sighed and pulled the lollypop out of her mouth with a smack. "No.....sorry Mary....my bad. My new boss is like a total wack- job.......Besides, we dont get too many aliens in Iceland.....specially ones that look like big cheese monsters."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder dearie."
"Yah.....and as the only person in the room with 'eyes'.......trust me."
Poppins sat silently considering that one while Alli finished her fasion magazine.......Honestly not a single thing to wear that wasnt 20 years out of date!
Hopping down off the top bunk, Allison strode across the room in her rainbow toe-socks, to consider herself in the mirror. Seeing as Poppins was kinda hopeless in the beauty-care department, Alli had claimed the mirror as her own, and had strewn about her own large supply of cosmetics across the counter.
~~~Ugh......whoever invented pores ought to be like.......dead......or something.~~~
She dabbed a bit of lavender scented cream onto a fingertip, and gently worked it into her pores. Scrunching her sharp nose slightly she examined her handiwork.
~~~Exfoliation is next to godliness.~~~ she mused licking her lolly.
Idly she wondered what a rock-monster would use for exfoliation......a power-grinder?
"So which one are you Dearie?" Poppins asked from out of the blue from the bottom bunk.
"Huh?" Alli turned from the mirror to face her.......it....whatever.
"I was once told that Human females spend half their life trying to look older, and the rest of their lives trying to look younger.....which are you Dearie?"
Alli narrowed her eyes and applied more cream. "Ok....enough picking on the poor human....tell me about yourself rocky. How's a....whatever you are....get into Starfleet?"
"Sent in an application Luv.......self addressed stamped envelope."
"Hillarious."
"Seriously though Dearie.....while most Horta are bitten by the mining bug, some of us are feel called to the service usually in the geology departments. Besides....its a lovely way of sampling new tasty rock tid-bits."
"You eat rocks?"
"But of course Dearie," The Horta chortled, " You are flesh and you eat meat....we are silica, and eat rocks.....sort of a job perk as it were Luv."
"Ugh..." Alli frowned, "I like...so do-not eat red meat. I dont eat things with faces."
"Pardon?"
"Veg-E-tarian, "Alli powdered her nose, frowning at the pale freckles that still shone through. "Meat bad....Veggies good."
"I dont suppose I've ever eaten a rock with a face....." Poppins sighed, "Although those Tholian crystal-beings look tasty."
"There!" Alli put down her powder puff and struck a pose for her roomate, "Like how do I look?"
"Bipedal?"
"Duh....Like am I totally cute or what?"
Poppins paused to consider the skinny girl. Not seeing in the visual light pectrum, the concept of cosmetics was beyond the Alien. To her, Allison was just a complex rainbow of skin temperatures and mineral spectra......She did note that the cream applied to the face had increased the surface skin temperature by a half degree....
"Er....you look...hotter?" said the Horta, meaning it quite literally.
"Rocking!" Alli giggled and scruched her nose. She whirled to face the mirror again considering her features....."Im like a hot mama."
My progenitor was a "Hot mama." Poppins exclaimed brightly. "She had a body temperature of 200 celcius and had 30,000 children. How many little ones have you?"
Alli held her pose for a long moment while she tried to decipher what the alien had said. Finally she stuck the sucker back in her mouth and muttered, "Zark off pepperoni blob."
She could almost swear the pile of rocks was chuckling at her.
"We're all here for you"
Lieutenant Jasmine Carrington, Chief Medical Officer USS London
Lieutenant Diana Ramirez, Chief Operations Manager USS London
Jasmine Carrington, the Chief Medical Officer walked casually down the hall to Diana Ramirez's cabin. She pressed the chime and then leant against the wall and waited to be let in.
Lay on her bed, throwing a ball against the bulkhead, Diana Ramirez wasn't as happy as she could've been. "Enter"
Jasmine entered and followed the sound of the ball hitting the wall.
"Hello Di." She said calmly. "Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing much" she muttered. The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk to anybody.
Jasmine caught the ball. "Ok. But you need to start treating Logan a little better." Jasmine was not going to beat around the bush.
"The Captain?" Diana replied. In all fairness, she was trying, she tried not to see him as the someone who'd ended her fathers life. That was the T'Kith'Kin. She tried to put that past her. But to see Captain Logan sat where she should have seen her father was hard for her.
"yeah the captain." Jasmine placed the ball on the floor. "He did not kill your father Di. But you treat him as if he did. Its not fair and its affecting the rest of the crew in thier dealings with him."
"The rest of the crew aren't dealing with the loss of their father"
"No but they are dealing with the loss of their captain." Jas sat beside Di on the bed. "Your father was greatly admired and loved by his crew. You are not the only one hurting in this. We are all missing him."
"I know" Diana replied, "I know." She thought of her father again.
"but its hard to try and go on as normal when someone close to you leaves this world. You should know that Jas." She sat up next to her friend, "the Captains not giving us a chance to get over this. He's throwing us headlong into danger. Danger with known allies of those that attacked us, of those that killed my father."
"Yes I know. But how about you see it as a chance for the crew to get over it by taking their feelings out on the enemy. May not be the T'Kith'kin, but they are close enough and will weaken the T'kith'kin if we strike hard enough. Besides, there are others out there who are loosing their fathers and mothers as well. Battle is not restricted to the officers of the fleet you know."
Diana sighed, "I know. But this is really hard."
"hey thats what your friends are for Diana. We are here for you. "
She hugged her friend, "I know. And I always know that you mean well."
"Good." Jasmine hugged her back. "You owe the captain an appology By the way."
"Maybe" Diana replied, "perhaps I'll talk to him soon." Diana pulled her hair back into a pony tail. "Any word on the ships we're meeting when we get to ch'Rihan?"
"Miranda, The Galaxy.." Jasmine screwed her face up in thought. "After that... i can not remember"
"Miranda" Diana replied. "I feel a little better knowing that. John's on that ship you know. He's my brother."
"So the Xo told me. You should go see him if there is time."
"I plan to. Assuming we get time."
Jasmine nodded. "Ok. Well I shall leave you to your thoughts. I have to get some sleep." She smiled
"Ok" Diana replied "and thanks for the chat. It's good to know I have good friends."
"Revealing the Real You"
Ensign Faylin McAlister
Judge Advocate
Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador
= dohhae Laehval =
= ch'Rihan =
Glancing down at her feet, Faylin noticed that her shoes had experience. They had accompanied her down the corridors of JAG headquarters as she nervously took her seat behind her bench the first time she over heard a case. They had kept her company, as she cradled her new baby in her arms for the first time alone in her quarters. They had heard the sounds of two becoming one, patiently waiting for her at times at the end of the bed as a couple, or at various separate places throughout the room where ever they had landed in haste. Her eyes softened as she glanced at them now, accompanying her to a garden that Aerv had spoke of the morning that she realized she was now a wife. The soft ground welcomed the worn soles that carried and comforted the worried soul above them.
Aerv tr'Ahalaen had worries of his own...he knew, of course, that he was not married but this new deception was not sitting well with him.
It was rare for him to think about the past, about regrets...and yet, his mind could focus on little else right now. At least his secret was safe...if Faylin noticed how quiet and subdued he had been, she would probably attribute it to their hasty 'marriage'.
McAlister found herself reaching for his hand, partly out of a need for security, partly out of a need for feeling wanted as more than a piece of flesh. They were married. It was something that was difficult for the woman to comprehend. She had always been cautious in her encounters with the opposite sex. Do not drink too much that you don't remember his name. Always waken first, slip out quietly, and leave the night's passions to the night. Rules. The rules were meant to be followed, with results expected. However, Faylin had broken all the rules in regard to Aerv. Time and time again, she found herself silently chastising her self for her decisions concerning the Romulan Ambassador. It got her here. She desired his approval, yet rebuked him for letting his rash judgement get the better of both of them.
A battle raged on with her. The side winning was the emotional side as it slaughtered the rationality within her. Sighing, she also stayed silent as they walked along. The garden's foliage did nothing to lighten the mood between them. She had made a mistake. A grievance mistake of the most heinous kind. It did not take a counselor to sense the overwhelming shame that Faylin felt. Her head hung slightly, confidence exuded this morning from the young woman.
"Aerv?" McAlister stated quietly.
He looked at her, startled that the gentle quiet had been broken, "Yes?"
"How do you feel at this moment?"
The dull rage of past wounds that he had so long suppressed swelled to the surface. That was exactly the kind of inane question Tinuviel would never have asked, he thought, exactly why she was who she was....
And yet here he was, with this human woman - and what did this woman want of him? This human woman who was so Romulan in so many ways....
He thought about what he could say to spare her feelings, though he was surprised to find that he really had no desire to. So, without much thought, he gave a her a cruel little smile and said, "I do not remember the human word for it but...it is like looking back upon your life and...seeing what was and what would be. your Robert Frost, I believe, summed up the feeling well: 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference'."
"And that has made all the difference." She looked over at him, with softened facial features as she spoke in unison with him. "Robert Frost....had such a way about him."
"I wish I could remember." Sadness rushed her, her mouth lowered at it's corners slightly. "Was...it nice?"
"I was as drunk as you were. And I doubt it was any nicer than these things are when done in haste."
"Was....it really what you wanted? I suppose, I'm asking if you have regrets about it."
tr'Ahalaen frowned, his tired mind struggling to understand what the woman was thinking. Was it what he had wanted? Did he have regrets?
How could she not know the answers to those questions? How could she think that *this* was what he wanted? He who had not given up this duty for actual love, would he give it up for a human with whom he had spent a few nights, whom he knew so little of? True - he liked her well enough, but he knew nothing about her...and before last night, he would have wanted to know more. Yet now...now she had somehow become a constant reminder of his own old cowardice and he hated her for it. To remember after having tried to hard to forget....
"Why do you want to do this, Faylin?" He asked wearily, "Two people who are very soon going to be divorced should not be having this conversation."
She steeled her gaze. "It's conversation. It's better than just standing here staring at freakin flowers all day long. I do believe I deserve an answer....common courtesy at least."
They walked along, with a twinge of light yellow silkiness caught the corner of her eye. Raising her head with a slight angle, her eyes filled with remembrance. Breaking free of his warm grasp, she separated from him entirely, her focus intensified by what she viewed.
With stillness, Faylin brought her index finger and thumb to the flower, caressing the largest outward petal with a delicate touch.
"It's the Elina Hybrid Tea Rose......I never thought I would see such beauty, so amazingly delicate." She turned to Aerv, her demeanour instantly changing before his eyes. "This rose was introduced to the World Society of Roses in 1983. It was hybridized by Patrick Dickson of Northern Ireland. The rarity of this rose....there are no standards to compare it by Aerv."
This was better...this was a conversation that he could deal with.
tr'Ahalaen smiled, "You appreciate fine things as much as I...that much, at least, we have in common."
"Not enough to base a marriage on." She narrowed her eyes at him, studying him for a few brief moments. Her years of experience had made her a pretty good judge of character among other things. His quietness, lack of physical contact since they had 'woke' up, and mannerisms had suggested that something was running amok. "What's going on here exactly? I have never gotten drunk enough to get married. Why would I do so last eve?" She retracted her fingers from the rose, narrowing her eyes even more at him.
"I cannot answer for your indiscretions," tr'Ahalaen replied coldly, "As for this 'marriage'...you made it quite clear that it would end soon. I just do not understand why you are not content to leave it at that?"
"I just want answers." The harshness bit into the words she spoke.
Exasperated, tr'Ahalaen snapped. "What kind of answer do you want Faylin? What would you have me say? That you are incredible fuck toy and little more? Or do you want me to tell you that I love you? You already know neither one of those is true."
"Nice. Boy, I tell ya what....your true nature is coming to the surface Ambassador. You were good, but I've had way better. And, it is true what they say about Romulans ears in relation to their dicks.
Small and pointy. See you around." She turned to leave, knitting her eyebrows in sheer frustration.
Aerv, despite his momentary, crude lapse was not the kind of man who bothered responding to that kind of barb. He ignored it easily. "Very well. I will have an escort arranged."
"You don't need to babysit me while we wait to get back on the ship.
I'm capable of taking care of myself and walking around this rose garden alone. I'm married, I'm not a child."
tr'Ahalaen was tempted to point out that, as far as he was concerned, she was acting like one now. It was actually surprising how irritating this whole thing was...especially since he knew it was based on an illusion and nothing more. "Walk away then. As I told you last night, you may do what you wish - I will not stop you."
She spun on her heel. "An escort? Why?"
Was every subtlety to desert him? He sighed, suddenly weary and no longer capable of playing games. "Because you are on an alien world...and you have no idea what is going on."
She just shook her head, the anger raising to the surface. She had no idea really who this man was. And at this point, she didn't want to, she just wanted to get away from him. He had charm, and he actually was great in bed. Yet, those two factors combined was not enough to draw her to him any longer. "Alien world. Big deal Aerv. I've been on plenty of other worlds, and you think a little skirmish between aliens is enough to frighten me into desiring to keep in your company for any period longer than is necessary to feed our carnal natures? I don't need anything from you. I don't need your hounding and I don't need an escort. I need to get to my daughter. She's the only thing that matters to me. You are just a fling.....fling is over....marriage or not. Do not feel obligated to follow me around like some Cardassian gaurd dog. I majored in law, yet know my way around a weapon and know how to defend myself if needed. I also have diplomatic experience.....and have a talent for talking myself out of a situation if necessary. You don't know anything about me, so stop acting like you care so much and leave me alone."
Mnhei'sahe or not, debt or not, there was nothing more that Aerv could do - nothing he had the desire to do. He had already told the puppeteer that this was a bad idea - he had learned, when a nightingale had died, that some birds are too beautiful to be caged. Faylin was one such creature. However, they had not listened, and he had little patience for the 'real' Faylin who was before him now: crude and defensive, yet somehow insecure - this woman who misread everything about him now, a stranger in daylight, irritated him.
"Enough games," Aerv growled, "The truth is, Faylin, that we are not married."
"Excuse me?" Faylin stated, knitting her eyebrows with a look of miss understanding in her eyes.
tr'Ahalaen told her the truth then - the mysterious Romulan who thought that Faylin was in danger, the honor debt of his family, the stranger's idea of the 'pretend marriage'..... "However," Aerv finished, "I have seen no sign of any danger to you. This ridiculous sham is...opening old wounds and that has made me irritable, especially towards you. For that I apologize." He laughed softly, "It was not logical."
Faylin stayed silent, but keep her eyes bolted at his. She permitted herself to swallow the bile that had risen into her throat, her eyes misting over somewhat. "They are after something. Something that my family has possession of, and I do not know what it is."
Aerv, of course, had no idea who 'they' were - so he simply raised an eyebrow in a gesture classically associated with Vulcans.
She continued her story. "My parents were spy's, that's all I know. I do not know to whom they worked for, or what the exact story is. This is proof that these people are now after me again, attempting to find out something that I do not know." She grew silent, the color instantly draining from her face. Glancing downwards for a second, she glanced up, trying to hold his attention. "I never should have left Olivia." She stood, turning to Aerv. "Thank you for your attempted help. I will always be grateful to you for what you tried to do. I am sorry that old wounds were opened up for you, honestly I am. However, this is a battle I must face alone. Anyone around me has a chance of getting hurt."
Spring and Autumn, Autumn and Spring - Elements, was there no predictability to this woman's emotions and thoughts? Whatever was going on, however, Aerv had no desire to be more involved than he already was...he had his own intrigues to deal with. So he simply nodded, "It seems we are both to answer for the debts of our parents.
If you need anything, you know where to reach me."
"It appears so Aerv." Faylin turned, her emotional state had exhausted itself. The woman left the Romulan Ambassador to his thoughts in the garden as she left to return to the ship.
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