"In a mood"

Cmdr. Arel Smith
Ensign S'Dora, npc
Ensign Youngman, npc

****

Arel entered Security humming slightly to herself before noticing that a few of the officers were trembling unhappily in response.

She figured that they most likely didn't know what to make of her good mood other than it would a) not last and b) that they would be the ones to suffer when it failed, both of which were probably true.

Arel smiled (causing a few more weary faces), went into her office, frowned at her desk and its pile of computer PADD's, and replicated herself a cup of coffee while she waited for the first person brave enough to enter the room.

Idly, she wondered how much grief Mitchell would give her if she invited him over again tonight. Probably a lot, she decided with a scowl.

It was S'Dora who finally entered, being a Klingon and therefore unafraid - at least most of the time anyway - of Arel's temper. "Youngman wants to know if its safe to give report."

Arel raised an eyebrow. "It's safer than *not* reporting to me."

The security officer nodded. "I will tell him."

Arel nodded, picking up a PADD, reading the subject line, and then tossing it into the trashcan beside her desk to be recirculated later. The techies usually gave her looks of horror when they saw this practice which, of course, only made Arel toss them harder.

Security training conference on Risa, Arel thought with a snort. Right.

"You seem very ... agreeable this morning, Commander." S'Dora noted.

Arel nodded as she typed a 'NO' to yet another request to store Ferengi energy whips. "I had a lot of sex last night."

S'Dora blinked and then slowly grinned. "I'll tell Youngman to give you a couple of minutes to recover then, Sir."

"Out." Arel pointed before reading another note (this one written on paper) and then responding that the writer was humorous but soon to be unemployed.

"Without even a curse or a threat?" S'Dora asked with very wide eyes.

"naDevvo' yIghoS!" Arel obliged and then held up the computer PADD about to be torpedoed across the room. S'Dora didn't exactly chuckle but there was definitely amusement in her eyes as the Klingon left the office.

Perhaps Arel shouldn't have encouraged the woman to be less hostile.

Oh well.

And anyway so what if Arel was in a good mood? It wasn't like she was skipping around the ship or babbling utter nonsense like 'perfect union,' 'meant to be,' or whatever the hell Slaton had been saying when she'd gone to pick up Korvin this morning.

She liked her ex but she feared for his mental health at times, as having that strong of an opinion on romantic candlelight couldn't be good for a person.

Youngman stuck his left hand in the doorway and waved it tentatively, figuring that it was the one body part that he could, in theory, live without. "Boss?"

"Come in." She said, tossing another note in the trash. "Nice of you to give report so Lamar could go get some sleep."

"Actually we drew straws and... " He stopped at her sudden glare. "Er, yeah ... yeah, it was nice of me."

Arel rolled her eyes. "Let's make this quick. Have a seat."

"Sure thing, Boss." He said. "Can I just ask one favor though?"

"Hmmm?"

"If you suddenly feel homicidal, can I have a five minute head start?

Arel thought about it. "Make it ten. I'm feeling generous."

"Threats In Jest"

Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom
Cmdr. Arel Smith

Commander Jaxom was not comfortable being in Romulan space especially with the Hydrans bearing down on them. Sure, the Romulans asked for help, but their inherent deceptive nature never sat well with the Trill.

So, in an attempt to ease his own mind he was collecting readiness reports from each department head in person. Sure, he could just have them transmitted to his PADD, but on the eve of possible battle, he felt it was important to get in touch with as many people as possible to better gauge the crew's morale.

==Security Office==

Jaal poked his head into Arel's office. "How's married life treatin' ya?" He was, of course, ready to duck out in the event something became airborne and aimed at his head.

"Tolerable." She replied with a glare. "How's the knowledge that you have a minute left to live sitting with you?"

Jaal grinned, "I've been dealing with that longer than you know." He stepped into her office proper. "How's your department holding up with your new homelife?" he asked in a more serious tone but still a joking twinkle in his eye.

The temperature in her eyes dropped a few degrees. "I'm capable of running the department despite anything that may be happening in my personal life. Security is fine."

"So you haven't killed anyone yet for making smart remarks about your marriage to the most eligible bachelor on the ship?" Jaal was half serious and half joking.

"Not yet." Arel said blandly.

"Good, then tell me what plans you've made in the event the ship gets boarded during a battle? I know the are Starfleet protocols and all that but I know you're better than those." The shields and ablative armor would last forever especially in a protracted fight. There were no doubts in the Trill's mind that the possibility of a hostile boarding should be ignored.

"Everyone is up to date about where they should be should the ship get boarded and M'Benga has a small group reviewing where our weakest defense points are." The security officer responded. "Officers who have been in little to no combat are being highly encouraged to brush up on their martial arts and weapons training - "

"*Highly* encouraged?" Jaal asked wondering just what she meant, "Does that mean you're threatening people again?" Who was he kidding? Arel never stopped being a threat.

"My mek'leth can be very encouraging." Arel agreed.

Jaal wisely refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Brigs are secure and ready. Armory is stocked. Security patrol is reviewing evacuation drills with civilians and crew on every deck ... I heard your sister got a field commission?"

"Yes, she did. Captain Summers made her an ensign. She was supposed to make it back to the Academy for her junior year but a snafu in the system kept her onboard. She's been doing so well with her studies here they decided to let her stay for now," the Trill explained beaming with pride.

"Give her my congratulations." She said warmly.

"Thanks, and I will." Jaal answered.

"Is Summers going to give us trouble in the event that we have to evacuate him?" Arel asked.

This was a sticking point with most captains. The "Captain-must-go-down-with-his-ship" attitude. In all honestly, Jaal didn't know Summers well enough to know if he'd be a problem in that regard. "Tell ya what, if it comes to that point and he 'does' give us trouble, you can stun him."

"I'll remember you said that." Arel warned him.

"I wouldn't have told you if I didn't expect you to remember," Jaal replied not quite in jest.

OOC: Takes place at somepoint during the cruise to Romulus

"The Same Page"

Lt Shiarriel t'Khnialmnae
Chief Tacical Officer

LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Officer

Deck 7, Combat Information Center
========================

A few days out of Atlantis, the CIC was abuzz with activity. They were reconfiguring a few of the stations to be set up for fleet control, the original design of the CIC. Stations were being reset to control not just the Miranda's tactical systems, but oversee the big picture of an entire task force.

Chris was in charge at the moment. He had recently gotten bumped up to number 3 in the tactical food chain and was still getting used to his new job...whatever it actually was. Which was the point of the meeting he was due at in 5 minutes.

Crewman Appos brought him a work order to sign off and he dutifully did so, then turned the CIC watch over to Lt. Ripma. He closed out his terminal at the TAG section and walked to the elevated deck at the front of the CIC where Shia's window and quick-access door were. He hit the annunciator and when the door opened, he dutifully walked in and greeted the LT. He really hadn't interacted much with Shia since his shelved "Dust Bunny" idea, let alone the Borg incursion, and his conversations with her since her return to duty had been brief at best, so he was looking forward to getting on the same page as her.

"Morning, ma'am. How are you today?"

Shia looked up from her computer screen and nodded, waving him to the seat aross the desk. "I apologize for not getting with you sooner about this, but you of all people know what our work schedule has been like lately. Elements, but I hate Fleet Coordination," she said, rubbing her forehead with her right hand. "However, the task at hand. As my Second Officer, you will be pulling double duties along with myself and K'aa. I've devised a duty roster similar to the one previously in effect which utilizes the experience and expertiese of the three of us to the fullest. On Alpha Shift I have the bridge, with K'aa on CIC duty. Beta see's K'aa to the bridge, with a rotating Lower Staff officer taking up CIC. That individual will assume bridge duties for Gamma shift, with you at the CIC. For Delta you'll have bridge duty, and I'll round out the night down here in the CIC. Any thoughts so far?"

He thought it over for a moment. "I don't have much problem with it, ma'am. I usually stick around working in Alpha a little bit anyways, so the night shifts don't bother me. Just, if you could, I'd like Lt Veini, Cadet Davoust and Chief Aerk down in the CIC during my shift. We work really well together and I'm sure K'aa has his own team that he would like to have as well. That, and I think with the upcoming situation I'd like the team I've been working with kept together." Not that it mattered, since he foresaw triple shifts coming...again. He looked at the roster. Hammertly was on shift with him which would be a pain, but he could handle him.

Shiarrael made the apropriate annotations on the schedule. "Done. Bear in mind, each of us will have a certain number of proven 'misfits' on our respective shifts. This isn't to undermine performance, rather it's geared towards improving theirs. Work with them as you see fit. Anything else?"

"I really just have one more thing, Lieuteant. Is there any other additional duties you need me to pick up? I want to take as much of the load off you and K'aa as I can."

She nodded. "From you, I need the CIC systems configured to interface with both Romulan and Klingon tactical systems. I have the specifications for d'Deridex warbirds. They may be a bit out of date but it's a good place to start from. You'll have aditional information made available to you as I obtain it."

Chris grinned. He lived for that sort of stuff. "Will do. We've already got 'er about 75% ready for Starfleet interface and should be done within the day. The Klingons were generous to start sending us stuff, so we should be ready to incorporate them within 2 to 3 days. The Romulans...well, hopefully with yours and the databanks' info combined with whatever they give us, we can have them integrated into the system before the Hydrans arrive."

Shiarrael nodded with a smile. "Alright, that's it. The duty roster changes take effect starting not next alpha shift but the day after. Spread the word and make sure apropriate arangements are made for those with drastic schedule alterations. Dismissed."

He nodded and stood. "Will do ma'am." Turning on his heel, he walked out the door back into the buzzing CIC. Now he had marching orders, and he had to get those who didn't agree with him on board.

"Directions"

Commander Arel Smith
Chief Security Officer
USS Miranda

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - Second Platoon
Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

****

He was lost. Plain and simple.

And he had no idea why. Steven was sure he had followed the directions the lieutenant that he had bumped into in the hallway had given him. And yet here he was in some god forsaken area of the Miranda. His first time aboard a Pathfinder class starship and he was fracken lost. Just Marvelous. Unless the directions were deliberately wrong. That would be typical. Naval bastards.

He kept walking... And came upon the nicest ass he had seen in some time. The owner of said ass was bent over as if tying a shoelace or something and the uniform was tightly pulled against her skin, showing the contours of her rear end quite nicely. Steven hoped the owner was female, or he'd have to go wash his mouth out with soap. The long hair, flowing down, from her head, past her mustard colored tunic, kind of leant towards the owner being female.

"Hey, where do I find the One-Oh-One?" He said, coming to a stop behind the woman.

She rose from her hunched position and Steven nearly had a heart attack when he spotted the three pips on her collar. SHIT. He couldn't believe that he'd just spoken so rudely to a Commander, and one so beautiful at that. SHIT."Um, Sorry Ma'am." He quickly apologized. "I didn't realize." He was nervous now. Very nervous. "I didn't think that someone so high up the command chain could have such a beautiful arse." Oh My God! He was insane. Steven had no idea why he had just said that to the Commander. He was an idiot. And so embarrassed. His face must have been bright red right about now.

"It's the main reason I was promoted, Lieutenant." Arel said mildly.

"Sorry about that Ma'am. I don't know why I said that aloud." He paused, trying to get the shame of it to dissipate. "I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the 101st Marine Battalion."

She gave the red faced man a once over. "I'm heading in that direction myself. Follow me."

"Thank you Ma'am. It's my first time on a Pathfinder class ship and I got a little lost."

"Hmm." Arel commented diplomatically.

"I'm Steven, Steven Jonas." He said. "I'm with the Furies on the Galaxy."

"Arel Smith." His name sounded vaguely familiar to her but she couldn't remember why. An ensign she had once tortured perhaps?

"It's nice to meet you." he replied, as they turned down another corridor. "I don't normally greet people like that."

"Do you compliment another part of their anatomy instead?" Arel asked curiously.

God, was he embarrassed still. Steven didn't know if he was ever going to live that down. "No ma'am. At least not the first time I meet them."

Arel narrowed her eyes at him. He didn't look familiar. Why did she know that name....

"You're the guy whose clothes got stolen!" Arel exclaimed suddenly.

Steven felt his face go redder, if that was even possible. Covering his face with his hand he softly shook his head from side to side. "I'm going to kill her." He said almost in a whisper.

"Declaring to kill someone in front of a security officer is a bit stupid." She reminded him. "Who?"

Steven looked over at Arel. "Huh? Oh... Lieutenant Hunter. I'm going to kill her for this."

"Hunter." Arel repeated thoughtfully. She couldn't remember a Hunter but then the last time their ships had met, she'd been a bit preoccupied.

"She's the one who took my clothes." He replied, with a slight frown. "Actually she had help from a p'tahk Ensign. And I'm definitely going to get her back as well."

Arel was impressed by his pronunciation of 'pthak' so she decided that she wouldn't try to warn him again about premeditation.

"I'm curious... Problem Solver or Preservation Keeper?" He asked, after a lull in the conversation.

"What?"

"Sorry ma'am, I was simply asking if you were an Engineer or a Security Officer."

"Do I *look* like an engineer?" Arel huffed.

"No, I suppose not. Though I guess the phaser you have holstered should have given it away." He chuckled.

She cracked a small smile but left it at that. Engineer indeed! Bah.

"This is it." Arel announced when they arrived.

When Arel announced that they were at their destination, Steven could not but stare in amazement at the size of the room his eyes beheld. It was far grander than they had on the Galaxy, and from what he could see, this was only the Marine commons area. he had no doubt that the rest of their area was just as impressive. "It certainly is bigger than the area we occupy on the Galaxy." He said after a moment.

Arel looked and tried to see what the lieutenant was seeing but then gave up an shrugged. "Are you going to be okay here?"

"Yes ma'am. Just doing some recon to determine if there is anything that we can implement back on the Galaxy to help keep us Marines at the top of our game."

"I'll leave you to it then."

"Thank you for your assistance in locating your marine battalion.. And once again, sorry about that comment about your rear, ma'am."

"Stop appologizing and I'll forget about it."

If she did, it would make Steven's day. Otherwise his week from hell would only get worse. Especially so if 8-ball got wind of what had happened. Steven nodded towards the commander. "Have a nice day, ma'am." He replied, before heading off towards a couple of marines busy cleaning their weapons.

"Insane Asylum"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - Second Platoon
Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

***

With the eventful trip to the Miranda behind him, Steven headed back to the Furies Commons. The whole trip would have been an embarrassing bust if not for the few new ideas for the Furies that he had gleaned while aboard the Miranda. Ideas that he needed to get written down before they slipped from his mind.

Steven shook off the effects of the transporter with a shiver. He hated traveling that way. To have one's self broken down to molecules and transmitted across space was, to Steven, wrong. He would have used a shuttle if at all possible, but given their current situation, and the off-duty reason for which he had gone to the Miranda, there hadn't been one available to him, leaving no other choice but the transporter.

And now he was back on the Galaxy, back home.

But for a couple of years living with 'Bella, Steven had never really had anywhere that he could call home, yet, he was finding that the Galaxy, with such a strange and exotic mixed of people, was as close to a home as he was likely to get. Even with the trouble that 8-ball, and her sexy seductress of a friend, were causing him, he felt at home.

Was it truly the 'Insane Asylum' that people called it? Did he really want to call that home? The more he thought about it, the more he knew that it was indeed home. And he was a perfect fit for such a ship. His history proved that that was the case. There weren't many more marines as fucked up as he, that much Steven believed. He was a bastard after all. His mother had had an affair, and he had been spawned out of that, so he was illegitimate and thus, a bastard. At least that's what Katrina had explained to him when he had been old enough to understand.

Katrina... Steven wondered what had become of the only mother he had ever known. His half-sister from his mother's side, she had been the only one there for him after his parents had passed on. It had been her that had raised him, her that had been there when he had fallen, lending her hand to help him rise again. She had taught him everything he knew and what had he done in return? Nothing, that's what. He hadn't seen her in some time and often wondered if she was alright.

She had sacrificed a lot to raise him, and he had turned away from her after joining Starfleet. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the nightmares had passed, Steven could see her in his mind scowling at him for not doing his chores, or his homework. He hadn't known it at the time, but now when he reflected on those times, Steven found himself admiring her for having the courage to take care of him. He'd thank her. If he knew where she was. But unfortunately, at the present moment, he had no idea where she was or how to contact her.

He reached his quarters and entered. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor near some of his other clothes. He knew he should be more tidy, but he just didn't feel like it at the present time. Grabbing a tank top from the pile of clean clothes on his desk, he slipped it on before ordering a cold glass of water from the replicator. Not as big as the replicators that the Naval guys all seemed to have in their quarters, it was only really able to produce beverages and smaller items, but for Steven it was enough. Taking his chilled drink and a PADD from his desk, he headed for the commons. He had some notes to write up.

Despite all that had happened to him in the past week, both here and on the Miranda, he felt some measure of satisfaction at the potential for combat in the coming days... And if that wasn't enough, at least he'd get out of the asylum for a short amount of time.

"Meeting of the Minds"
(Backpost)

Ensign Kolath, Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Shiarrael t'Khnialmnae, Chief Tactical Officer

The USS Miranda was currently docked at DS5, picking up her last assignments of personnel and equipment before heading out towards Romulus. Of the reportees, Miranda's Tactical Department had only one last individual coming aboard at this stop.

Kolath strode down the hall towards the office of the Chief Tactical Officer. The Klingon had reservations about this meeting, not only was he reporting to his new superior for the first time, but that officer happened to be a Romulan. The Klingon Empire had far to many conflicts with the Romulans over the years for Kolath not to have some level of distaste and mistrust come to his mind when he thought of Romulans and now he was going to be forced to answer to one.

"Damn the Romulans," muttered Kolath to himself as he started tugging at the collar of this uniform, "and damn these Starfleet uniforms! Gre'thor must be filled with them!"

Arriving at the office, Kolath pulled down his uniform to straighten it and to adjust his sash. He then strode forward and activated the door chime to announce his presence.

"Enter," Shiarrael called as she stood behind her desk. She had been expecting him ever since she's read his bio but held off her reservations at having a klingon in her department. Not only would he be the first in quite some time, but he would have to get along with a cardassian, an orion male, and a gorn in addition to herself. Making a fist of her right hand, she placed the back of it against her left breast in the manner of the old style Rihannsu Salute and inclined her head down a short measure. "I would greet you in your native tongue," she said in Federation Standard, "however my Klingon is only moderately passable so I'll decline to embarrass myself. I am Lieutenant Shiarrael Lair t'khnialmane."

"Ensign Kolath, Reporting for duty Lieutenant," announced Kolath in Federation Standard as he gave the traditional Klingon Salute.

"It is for the best that you had not," stated Kolath, "for I speak only a few Romulan insults and I would have shown you great dishonor for not replying in your native tongue after you had given me the honor."

"Have a seat, Kolath," she indicated the chair as she sat in her own. "Before we go any farther, I want to know your thoughts and personal feelings about this particular situation we are finding ourselves in. You are a klingon warrior, not in any disfavor within your house or the Empire, yet you have inclined towards service within Starfleet. On your first posting, your Department Head is Rihannsu, the department second a Gorn with less than favorable standing within the minds of a good percentage of the crew, and of your fellow officers one is cardassian and another an Orion. Feel free to speak without restraint; there will be no reprisal."

Kolath sat stiffly in the seat provided to him, still uncomfortable with 'softness' of Federation chairs.

"I was surprised to find that my commanding officer would be a.." started Kolath, but paused as he choose his words, "..Rihannsu. I was not aware of any serving in Starfleet, let alone as the Department Head of the Tactical Department on one of the Federations newer and advanced starsthips."

"I will admit that, as a Klingon, i have reservations about you and your true loyalities." continued Kolath, "After all our people have been at odds for centuries with a rich and bloody history. Such history is not always easy to overlook."

"However, as a Starfleet officer, for the most part you have performed your duties well and risen in the ranks to attain you current position." stated Kolath, "on those grounds, both as a Klingon and a Starfleet officer myself, I am honor bound to follow your lead until such time as you prove to be untrustworthy. Something I trust will never occur."

"As for the Gorn, they are not without honor in their strange brutish way." continued Kolath as he squirmed in his uniform, apparently from discomfort, "There should be no foreseeable problems between your second officer and myself."

"I also see no problems with the Cardassian or the Orion. The Cardassians showed some honor when they turned against the Dominion at the end of the Dominion War." said Kolath, "and the Orion, well, all I can say is that the off-duty social occasions will probably be very interesting and should I require some Blood-wine I know I should likely ask to get my hands on some."

Shiarrael nodded, making various annotations on a PADD as he spoke. "Very well. I'm placing you in the CIC with Lieutenant Daniels, Gamma shift. Report to him for your specific assignments and duties. Any questions?"

"Not at this time." Replied Kolath, "Unless of course you have any further questions for myself."

Shiarrael shook her head. "Then consider yourself off duty until Gamma swings around. Dismissed."

Kolath nodded and stood from his chair as he gave the Lieutenant a salute, "Yes Sir"

The Klingon turned on his heel and stalked out of the Office and headed towards the Turbolift.

"This will be a very interesting tour of duty," thought the Klingon as he stepped into the Turbolift.

"Sight Reading"
Part 3 of 3

Starring:
Commander Rayna Lamar
Flight Officer Jacob Striker

+++++++++++++++++++++
Location: Striker's quarters still

"'tis the truth, m'lady." Jacob said with a slight courtly bow towards her but that didn't hide the fact of the furious blush that was on his face. "Would you believe that I've had that for years, Rayna?" he asked her.

"No, I don't. It's in really good shape." She took the jacket off and looked it over, "Very good shape." She handed it back to him, "I'll have to show you mine sometime" she corrected herself, "next time."

Jacob smiled and nodded as he took the jacket back and left the room to hang the jacket back up in the room. When he came back out, he was still smiling. "So, what do you want to do now?" he asked with all honesty in his voice.

"Go to Disneyland." She smiled, "Sorry, old Earth joke." She glanced around, "Well, you could show me around and show off your stuff or you could always serenade me with your guitar." She loved music and had a quite decent voice herself.

Jacob got a strange kind of thoughtful look on his face for a moment and then motioned for Rayna to have a seat on the couch again while he went over to a spot next to a little corner and came back with a blue and white Rickenbacker Model 620 rythim guitar.

Rayna was tickled when he chose his guitar. She never had anyone play or sing for her. She sat comfortably on the couch and watched him prepare to play.

Jacob's face got thoughtful for a moment and then he looked at her, "You have to forgive me. I'm a tad out of practice and it's a bit of an old song but it's one that I keep thinking of because it's a beautiful little one." he explained before he gently started to play the song.

<Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide>
<Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time>
<The night is my companion and solitude my guide>
<Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?>

<And I would be the one to hold you down,>
<Kiss you so hard->
<I'll take your breath away>
<And after I'd wipe away the tears>
<Just close your eyes, dear>

<Through this world I stumbled, so many times betrayed>
<Trying to find and honest word, to find the truth enslaved>

Jacob then stopped playing and got the thoughtful look on his face again and shook his head, "Not the right choice of songs. Hold on a tic." he asked, the blush on his face growing dark.

She couldn't help but smile, "It's okay. Please, don't stop." She was just enjoying the music and his voice. It was nice and soothing to her.

Jacob simply nodded with the blush still on his face as he started to play again.

<Through this world I've stumbled>
<So many times betrayed>
<Trying to find an honest world>
<To find the truth enslaved>
<Oh you speak to me in riddles and>
<You speak to me in rhymes>
<My body aches to breathe your breath>
<Your words keep me alive>

<And I would be the one
<To hold you down
<Kiss you so hard
<I'll take your breath away
<And after I'd wipe away the tears
<Just close your eyes dear

<Into this night I wander
<It's morning that I dread
<Another day of knowing of
<The path I fear to tread
<Oh into the sea of waking dreams
<I follow without pride
<Nothing stands between us here
<And I won't be denied

<And I would be the one
<To hold you down
<Kiss you so hard
<I'll take your breath away
<And after I'd wipe away the tears
<Just close your eyes dear

When Jacob stopped playing finally he looked up at her with a kind of a cross between a nervous look and a powerful blush on his face. "You're the first person I've sung around in about eight..no, nine years." he said.

She smiled, "Well, I feel honored. You have a very nice voice. I really enjoyed it. And if it is any consolation, I've never been serenaded."

"Really?" Jacob asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Wow, I don't know if I should stand here and blush more or what." he said, said blush growing a mite stronger.

Rayna nodded to his "really." In her playful and flirtatious voice, "I think a pinkish red color becomes you. You know, you just continue to surprise me. You can cook, sing, and even play an instrument. Is there anything you can't do?"

Jacob racked his guitar and then looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "Do you dance ma'am?" in a slightly spanish sounding tone as he held his right hand out towards her with a slight bow at the waist.

Looking up, "I haven't dance in years. I'm a little rusty but if you don't care about getting your toes stepped on, I'd love to." She took his hand and gracefully got up.

Jacob had to fight down a powerful blush as he said "Computer, Godfather track seven please." and then a slightly haunting yet beautiful violin and guitar instrumental started to play as Jacob gently started to dance with Rayna and smiled.

Rayna looked up at him with a smile. This was the closest that they had ever been. The gap between them lessened as she became more comfortable in his arms. Then the thing she hoped that would not happen, did. She stepped wrong which made her stumble.

Jacob quickly moved to catch her as she stumbled by quickly wrapping his left arm around her shoulders so that she even though she was now at an angle-she wouldn't hit the unyielding deck plates of the floor.

But this in turn brought him a little bit closer to her without intending to. But he found himself caught in those brown eyes of her's and everything else just kind of stopped.

Usually, she'd respond with something clever to hide her embarrassment but nothing came to mind, well, at least not about her stumbling. With their eyes still locked on each others, she felt this urge to kiss him and wondered if he was feeling it too. This was the moment of truth.

Without realizing what was happening, Jacob leaned down and gently kissed Rayna on the lips. Not in a passonite way but more of a gentle, compassionate kiss of someone who's kissing someone he or she likes for the first time as his eyes closed just a little bit from the emotion.

Rayna hated for the kiss to end. When it did, there was a moment of silence between them as their eyes locked onto each others once again. Rayna couldn't help but smile at him.

Jacob kind of blinked as he pulled back a little bit, "Um..I.." he started to say but he was blushing even more than he was earlier and apparentally kept tripping over his own tongue as he pulled her up into a standing position.

She could tell that he was quite embarrassed. She brought her fingers to his lips, "Shhh. You don't have anything to apologize for. I'm glad you kissed me. It was nice." She hoped that helped, "Shall we continue our dance? I'll try not to trip over my own two feet again."

Jacob fought the urge to kiss her fingertips and then the two started to dance again, slowly this time so that Rayna wouldn't stumble again. But he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her, "Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Rayna?" he asked quietly as they danced.

"I did. You, the dinner, everything, was wonderful. I haven't enjoyed myself like this in ages." She added, "Thank you." She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss either and was looking forward to the next date already.

"Good, but the question is when should we do this again?" he asked as the two danced.

"I'm not sure but soon. It depends on our schedules and our next mission. You know how much Starfleet likes to mess up plans." She looked up at him as they continued to dance, "I think that we might just have something here and it's worth persuing. I'm serious when I say soon."

Jacob was kind of speechless when he heard that, he honestly thought that he had screwed up everything by kissing her despite her assurances to the contrary. "Yeah, stuff does tend to happen like that. I had a friend on a ship back a few years and he tried to propose to his girlfriend of like six years but right when he did it, the captain announced that we were at war with the Dominion." he said, shaking his head. "I guess it's all about timing huh?"

She nodded with a smile, "Most definately." The song was almost over. She teased, "You don't seem to have that problem though. You're timing was perfect."

Jacob could only smile and blush when Rayna said that, "Wha..what makes you say that?" he asked softly.

She whispered in his ear, "Because if you weren't going to kiss me, I was going to kiss you." She pulled her head back, once again and looked in his eyes. She could swear that he was blushing even more than before she whispered in his ear.

Still with a powerful blush on his face, Jacob looked at Rayna in the eyes and said "Then you won't mind if I kiss you again."

She had this silly grin on her face. She nodded, "By all means." She leaned into him for another kiss.

Jacob gently leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, it was like kissing the softest thing imaginable to him. But that didn't mean his blush was any the weaker.

Rayna felt the second kiss was just as good as the first one. She wished that they could kiss all night among other things but she didn't want the night to end in his bed. She wanted to take things slow. When they finished kissing, Rayna needed to go home and take a very cold shower, "I hate to end this wonderful evening but I think I'd better go. If I don't, I can't be responsible for what happens next."

"I agree, but I can promise you this much, Rayna. I promise never to force you into anything and I promise that if you need me, I'll be there for you." Jacob said quietly to her, while looking her in the eyes with a serious look which then slowly turned into a smile, "But I also promise that you will have more fun with the next date, I promise."

"Well thank you. And I want you to feel free to do the same. You can pretty much tell me anything." She smiled as she took his hands in hers, "I'm really looking forward to our next date. This evening was perfect and I enjoyed myself immensely."

[Backpost]

Ensign T'Jaden Tagra

Deck 6, Ship's Library

TJ was hard at work on his research for the Geodesic Fold Project, which he officially deemed the Star Jump. He'd been staring at the screen for over four hours and was getting a headache. He had at least six PADD's stocked with information ranging from Temporal Mechanics to Applied Phasic Technologies. He finally packed up everything and headed out to somewhere far, far from the Library.

He was able to rewrite ninety percent of the equations from 36-Beta to 52-Iota, with minimal damage to the terminal and the desk it stood on in his and Jacen's quarters. Everything had worked out so well, except for the exit in Sim-star Beta. It consistently killed the Sim-Miranda every time. He had sworn the computer was wrong, but after Tagra Simulation Gamma Six, he caved in to the computer being right.

He grabbed the nearest turbolift and decided that the Cantina would be a good place to decompress. He was in his civilian mode tonight, wearing his earring and finally starting to sport a beard, something he'd been wanting to do for a while, but never went through with it.

---

Deck 20, Cantina

Two hours and several Budweiser's later, TJ's headache was gone. Granted the slight lightheadedness was a distraction, but it didn't stop him from attempting to read over some Temporal Mechanics equations.

Bad idea.

What normally made some sense made none now. "Frag this," he muttered/slurred as he put the PADD back into the case with the other five. He got up, somehow, and made his way to the door and the nearest 'lift. Thankfully a fellow crew-member saw that he left his case and stopped TJ before he got to far. "Thanks. I'll be needing these later," he said. "Your welcome. Get some rest, you look tired," was his response.

TJ noticed the white and figured the guy for a pilot, and a Trill too. He nodded his thanks again and the pilot walked back to his table. TJ noticed something else too, "Nice ass."

The pilot turned and simply stated, "I'm not what your looking for." TJ laughed and covered his mouth. He just turned and walked out without saying another word. Somehow, he managed to find a turbolift and once inside, he couldn't remember where he was heading. He thought for a second and just muttered/slurred, "Deck...14. Any section."

---

Deck 14

TJ wandered around for a while, smelling like beer and looking like he just rolled out of bed. He still had his case with him, though he tried once or twice to leave it somewhere he stopped. Damned crew always managed to get it back to him.

He finally found his quarters, though it was in all likelihood that he was just sobering up. He stood there for a minute and decided whether or not to go in. Why that was, he wasn't sure. He finally did go in and it was empty and dark.

He just shrugged and set his case down by the desk. He came up to the couch and collapsed. He at least remembered to remove his earring and set it on the table. He stared at nothing, while his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

After what felt like an hour, he fell asleep. He stayed there until Jacen walked in. He smelled TJ before he saw him and decided in that instant that he'd just leave him there. He also notice that the barrel of bloodwine was finally gone. "That bitch of a security chief musta finally got off her ass and got everything squared away," he said to himself.

Jacen didn't not like Commander Smith, he just felt that she put up too much of a front. He also saw her as someone who let her anger control her. He figured one day she'd find whatever, or whoever, she was looking for to make her happy. Til then, he and the rest of the Universe would have to tolerate her...violent attitude.

Jacen walked over and kissed TJ on the forehead and went to bed. 'A night sobering up on the couch'll teach him,' Jacen thought playfully, 'I'll cook some runny eggs in the morning and play some of that 1970's Disco he hates so much.'

"Typical Males"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Ensign Eve
Intelligence Officer, Technical Operations

Normally should something unexpected come about, Eve would simply file it into the log, and attempt to circumvent the situation in whatever means was possible - at least, that was the theory taught to her at the Academy. However, with regards to this particular situation, something Eve couldn't pin down told her to take this to Lt Bental immediately, face to face. Therefore she headed straight for the intelligence complex, and the CIO's office.

She pressed the control padd on the side of the door and waited.

"Come in."

Inside, Saul Bental was reviewing one of the few items that the nearest intelligence post has relayed to him. New intelligence was pretty scarce once they crossed the border into Romulan territory, as SFI locals were concerned that anything sent so deep into Romulan space will be compromise.

Saul couldn't blame them, but the fact that his 'feeding lines' were narrowed to the point of stagnation made his job a lot more difficult.

He was proud to see, though, that many of the hottest items were related directly or indirectly to his mission to Vaden. Several old items even mentioned the planet specifically as the source of this or that information. Saul could only guess how much their findings actually helped the guys back on Earth to analyze the current situation or to solve the riddle of 'Chimera's byte'.

It felt good to make a change, and to see the fruits of your labor.

He stopped reading the final paragraph, not wanting to keep his technical officer waiting. "Good day, Eve. How are you?"

"Disturbed, Sir," Eve replied as she entered, tendering him the PADD currently in her grasp. "It appears that the Marine Commanding Officer Arvellion has issued a blanket order to all marine commands of the Joint Task Force in which it is clearly noted that no intelligence gathering devices of any form beyond that which is standard to the armor itself is authorized to be installed into marine gear. I have searched and there does not yet apear to be a similar order issued that similarly affects such operations with regards to the fighters."

The man in front of her fell silent. He unconsciously reached to scratch his nose as his mind raced, trying to comprehend the implication of what Eve just reported to him.

The words, once spoken, came out slowly, as though each one dripped through a dam intended to hold back a much greater flood.

"How did you find out?"

"I had just met with Lieutenant London," Eve replied. "Though not being of a technical mind, she did not see reason to impede my assigned tasks until after she had received the orders, Sir."

"I see. Was any reason for this provided?"

"Lieutenant London permitted me to review the file she had received and there was nothing explicitly stated, nor could I determine any implied reasons," Eve said.

"Anything else about the file I should be aware of?"

"Not that I am currently aware of, Sir."

Saul bit his lower lip in frustration. So much for gratitude. "What do you think is the best way to handle this situation, Eve?"

"Given my lack of experience, I defer to you, Sir." She paused, a calculation coming to it's closure within her mind. "However, I believe the best course of action is to confer with the marine Commanding Officer to determine the best possible course out of this clash of operational orders."

"Sounds reasonable." Saul leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "However, let's view the facts. The intelligence department - namely, me - has given the Miranda's marines their full support, and I even took the effort to come to their ship and brief them. Despite that, the marine CO decided to reject my request without even notifying me. Do you believe that conferring with Arvellion will produce positive results?"

Eve nodded. "My calculations indicate that there is a marked possibility towards more favorable conditions resulting from a direct interaction as opposed to simply 'butting heads' over the matter, Sir." She paused to consider a thought, and then continued. "The Miranda's Marine CO has given offense in neglecting, intentionally or otherwise, to notify you of this measure through more direct channels. Historical evidence clearly shows that two males vying for dominance for anything, even something as 'simple' as a decision, can prove disastrous. The results may or may not include physical damage to one or both parties, and at the least relations between our departments would be unduly strained, thus causing hindrance in possible further interactions and/or missions. My belief that meeting him personally, keeping a calm and level head about oneself, explaining one's own point of view, and maintaining control over the meeting will, at the least, provide both parties insight as to why the other party wishes to operate as they are intending to, regardless of if it does or does not result in the revocation of the standing orders."

"So you're basically telling me not to be a typical jar-headed testosterone-driven male. How... educating."

Saul remained stern for a second, but then broke and grinned at his technical officer. "And you're right, of course. However, let's assume the marine CO neglected to notify me of his decision on purpose. What would be his motives? And is it possible that I would serve them by coming to him and trying to rationally reach a settlement?"

Eve's mind whirled at that. She had been given the standard Intelligence training, to be sure, but her time both in the Academy and at the Intelligence school had focused more on the engineering and later technical sides of each field. 10 years of experience dealing with her species was ... less than optimally sufficient, to say the least. However, after a longer pause than usual, she came to a series of possible conclusions.

"Motives for intentional neglect. To get back at you for a previous offense, of which the initial order to install intelligence gathering devices in marine equipment without previously informing him directly is a possibility. To anger you because he is mentally off. To anger you because he does not approve of Intelligence Department methods of operation. Typical male head butting in an attempt to determine dominance. To attempt to get you to 'see reason,' namely his reason. As I do not know him I cannot come to more precise extrapolations, however as the list continues I shall truncate it here for efficiency."

Saul nodded in agreement. "Viable speculations, all. The truth is probably a combination of these possibilities."

She paused, the second set of calculations kicking in. "In regards to 'serving motives' it depends on the motivation of the intentional negligence. If he is attempting to anger you for whatever reason than returning to him in a calm and rational approach would possibly defuse the situation before it went out of hand. If he is attempting to make you see reason, then his motives would be served as he to is attempting to come to a more amicable solution. However, if such is the case I believe he would have contacted you personally instead. Regardless, the possibilities are as numerous as the motivations behind his actions. Again, I cannot extrapolate more specifically because I do not know him."

"True, but intelligence analysis is all about making deduction based on partial information." Saul told her. "So, assuming my own objective is to collect as much valuable data as possible, do you conclude that the best way to handle the situation is to come to Arvellion and confer with him?"

"I do," Eve stated. "Through my own experienced I have found personal presence to be much more informative than remote viewing and sensor records. In regards to personal interaction it is harder to read body language through a view screen than it is in person."

"Would you like to hear my own opinion?", Saul inquired innocently.

Eve inclined her head. "Indeed I would, Sir."

"Most of what you said is true. Marines often tend to think in the 'masculine' way as you suggested. And, I admit my first reaction was a desire to go over the Miranda and 'cause damage to the other party'. However, I have to assume that Arvellion is expecting me to come to him, and that by doing so I'll give him an advantage to achieve whatever goal he has - whether it is to humiliate me, to prove a point, or to establish dominance. I wouldn't mind either, if it meant I get my way, but I suspect I won't."

Saul's face twisted into a nasty smirk. "Thus, I intend to try and use some leverage on Arvellion before confronting him. Otherwise, talking to him may prove to be simply a waste of energy. Your thoughts?"

"What do you intend to do if I might inquire," she asked.

"First, I intend to take your recommendation under consideration.", The sly grin turned to a cordial smile. "If to be frank, Eve, given your background and demeanour, I was unsure of your ability to handle a situation like this, which requires analysis of emotions and behaviors. But you did pretty well, and perhaps your course of action is better than what I had in mind."

Eve nodded, a slight blush coming to her cheeks from the unexpected praise. "I think I will talk to the Miranda's Chief of intelligence first, and try to use him or her as a leverage on Arvellion. A message from them has arrived while we were talking.", He gestured at his table console. "Also, I'll try to look up more possible leverage that will help me convince him to install the devices. I prefer to confront him only when I know I have the upper hand."

"What would you have me do in the meantime sir," Eve inquired. "I have yet to discover a similar order pertaining to the fighter corp, perhaps I can continue my directives in that venue until a definitive answer can be obtained with regards to the marines."

"Agreed." Saul acknowledged his technical officer's initiative. "I'll update you on the marine issue. Anything else?"

Eve shook her head in the negative manner. "Not at this time, Sir."

"In that case, carry on and keep up the good work."

Saul waited until the door closed behind Eve, then instructed the computer to activate acoustic isolation.

With Eve out of sight and earshot, he finally let his calm demeanor fall off.

"Ya hatichat ben zona efes!!!!!!!!"

"Changed Perception"

(OOC: Occurs prior to Faylin heading down to ch'Rihan with Aerv)

Ensign Faylin McAlister
JAG Officer, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

****

With the Hydran fleet fast approaching, it dawned on him that, before the week was out, he could be, quite conceivably, dead.

And no man should ever die on an empty stomach. So he believed. Even the prisoners on Death Row got a last meal before their executions back in the day on Terra.

With what the Marine cook was dishing up for chow, Steven found himself wanting something more... substantial. So he was heading for Ten-Forward for a decent feed.

The doors opened before him as he entered the main lounge on the ship. The mellow atmosphere surprised him as he stepped into the large room. The decor was still antediluvian, and though Steven had seen a great many bars during his career, this definitely wasn't the worst. Still, he was here for food and the decor wasn't going to change that in the slightest.

Panning about the room, he found a few people scattered at various couches and tables, eating or drinking. From what he could see, most seemed to be anxious about the ever-increasingly likely battle that they now faced, and there was naught but a smile on any one's visage - at least on the faces that he could see.

He saw Erin, the Bar manager carefully packing away some of the more exotic bottles into crates, no doubt due to the imminent battle. He smiled in greeting, but she was too preoccupied to even notice him standing there.

The other barman, turned from taking an order from a customer and headed back towards the bar. When he saw the customer, whose back was to him, he smiled. For it was the nemesis who stole his trunks. Twice! It was Faylin.

He walked over to talk to the bartender.

McAlister sat, focused on the padd in front of her. As usual, the woman was completely mesmerized by the information that was presented.

Steven walked over to Faylin's table and placed the drink down on her table, knowing she was too absorbed with the PADD she was reading to notice that it wasn't the bartender delivering her drink.

"Thanks." She muttered as she brought the Ferengi goat milk to her mouth. Talking a large amount of liquid into her mouth, her face instantly soured as she glanced quickly down to the glass, spitting it back into her glass in a very unfeminine manner. "Gods...that was..........." Looking up, she smirked as she saw the Marine. "That's all you got?" Faylin stated with a grimace, attempting to get the awful taste out of her mouth.

Steven laughed. "Hell no. I just saw an opportunity and took it. That's all." He slipped into the seat opposite her before she could say anything. "I am planning to get you, and 8-ball, back properly, but since I'll be heading down to ch'Rihan to evacuate some VIPs sometime soon, I decided to wait until after I got back."

"Uh huh....sure baby....what ever you say." She stated sweetly.

He motioned to the waiter, who brought over two tall glasses of drink. After pushing the Goat's milk to the side, Steven took the offered beverages and passed one towards Faylin. "Here... I believe this is what you ordered." He smiled. "Or would you prefer mine?"

"Actually, I'd prefer yours. The trust level I have for you has dropped a few points." Faylin winked as she took a drink. "That's more like it."

Steven shrugged. "Suit yourself." He raised her new drink, the one the waiter had brought over with his, to his lips and drank. "Just like yours." He smiled.

"Mmm." She stated.

"So, what do you get to do while we're down there evacuating our pointy eared friends?"

"Don't know. I do have to go to the planet to have a look see.....likely stick my nose in some legal work...that sort of thing."

"Um... like that's a good idea." Had the woman lost her mind? Fancy doing legal work while being attacked. "You do realize that while the Marines are on the planet evacuating the VIP's, this whole system is likely to be swarming with Hydran warships preparing to destroy any defense that we put up. And when they're done with the fleet, the planet is next."

"I'm up for a little adventure. Besides, I have a traveling companion with some clout." Faylin stated with a knowing grin.

Steven nodded. "Fair enough."

"So, got some time on your hands right now?"

"I have a couple of hours before my next briefing."

"Your quarters or mine?"

Steven coughed, nearly spilling his drink in the process. "You're kidding right?" He asked. "Cause after what you pulled the other day, I think I'd sleep with a Tholian long before I'd sleep with you."

"Oh come on now. I just stole your shorts. But, hey that's fine. It's your own loss. I'm sure I'm no comparison for your right hand......so go at it." Faylin arched an eyebrow, awaiting his response.

Steven chuckled. "Let's see..." He started counting on his fingers. "Honesty... Reliability... Dependability... Doesn't try and deceive me. Four strikes, Faylin. And you are... Persistent... Glamorous.... Calculating... And very much a Femme Fatale. Pretty even if you ask me." He joked. "But, I used to be in a relationship with the most amazing woman for three years while in the 7th Recon Unit and during that time I found that having sex before going into combat was one of the dumbest things I could do. Every time it happened, I made mistakes. Mistakes that nearly cost lives. And I'm not going to make that mistake again"

"What happened to her?" McAlister stated softly.

Steven looked into Faylin's eyes. "She died."

"I'm sorry." Faylin kept his gaze, sympathizing with him by the look in her eyes.

"Don't be. It happened a few years ago. I've moved on." Actually he hadn't fully moved on. But she didn't need to know that. She didn't need to know that 'Bella was often in his dreams; that he thought about her daily. No, she definitely didn't need to know that.

He chuckled slightly, when he saw the waiter heading over with the meals they had both ordered, hoping to lighten the melancholy mood that had risen around the duo. Steven grinned. "I hope you like you salad."

"What did you do to it?" She stated suspiciously.

"Nothing." Steven said innocently. "Absolutely nothing."

"If I end up in the infirmary, I'm coming after you with both guns blazing and legal padd in hand mister." Upon finishing the statement, she cautiously took a bite of her salad, nodding her head when she realized it tasted ok.

Steven smiled. "You coming at me with two guns and a PADD in your hands at the same time, now that would almost be worth seeing. However, I haven't done anything to your lunch, so if you get sick from eating it, then it's the Chef you'd have to blame and not me."

"Um...wow. That's a lot of food."

"This could be my last decent meal for some time. So I figured I'd enjoy it." Steven smiled and took another sip of his drink before he picked up the utensils. "I hear you have a daughter..." It was innocent enough, though after saying it, Steven wished he could retract it. No doubt she'd take it that he was going to use her daughter to get back at her. But it was as far from the truth as you could get. Steven loved children, and knew, despite not having had much of a childhood himself, that they were precious. He would never even think of using her to get back at Faylin.

"I do. Olivia. She's staying with a friend while I attend to things on the planet." Her eyes softened at the mention of her daughter. "I just checked in with her a little bit ago actually. Spitting image of her mama....future generations of men better be warned." She stated with a wink.

"If she is anything like her mother, we'd need to set up a subspace network just to warn the male population on every world out there." Steven smiled.

"Do you have kids?"

"Sadly no. Isobella and I wanted to have a child, but we never got the chance." He wiped his teary eyes as an image of 'Bella, on the beach they loved to walk along, appeared to him again.

"Want them some day?"

Steven thought about it for a moment before responding. "I used to think so, but now I'm not so sure. I haven't found anyone that I feel that I could spend the rest of my life with, and I can't see myself having children without having someone to be there as they grow up. The cornerstone of a building, if you will." Steven drained the last of his drink. "I take it by our past little encounter that Olivia's father isn't around anymore... Was it wise to bring such a young child all the way out here?"

"It was the best decision of my life. Keeping Olivia."

Steven nodded. "You're a brave woman, I'll give you that. I don't think I could make it as a solo dad. Not with my job. Maybe if I wasn't a marine, it might not be so bad, but I tend to get thrown into the worst kinds of messes and I don't know how any child of mine could cope with the loss of their dad in combat."

"I'm not brave....I just could not stand not having her beside me. I fear for her safety here, however, I feared for her safely at headquarters. I may not have an action job, but there are people that have their lives effected from my decisions. I have been a marked woman, and barely survived in the past. Honestly, I believe that she was given to me for a purpose."

Steven nodded. "I'm curious... what do you do here on the ship? I know you wear the red, but I haven't the foggiest for which department."

"I'm a Jag officer Steven. I make judgements that have a perverse outcome. Some people do not like decisions that I have made. And, even though I am protected by Starfleet law, it does not change the fact that I have been a marked woman. A lot of species in Starfleet have undying loyalty to their race. Given certain circumstances and pressure from their home worlds.....beings will do what needs to be done....Starfleet be damned." Her tone was serious, unlike most of the playful banter between them earlier.

He noted how her tone had become more serious. It took him by surprise, and he didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded.

"Everyone thinks that I'm a glorified lawyer...what could be so difficult about my life. I'm going to tell you something I've told no one else. Do you know why I act the way I do? The flirty nature? It's stress relieve, pure and simple. My alter ego. While on duty, I am required to be the most professional, stiff, and unlikable person I can be. The law.....according to Starfleet, is black and white. No questions. No one on this ship, can honestly say that they know the real me. The only sides I've shown is the Jag, or the promiscuous girl. Given the chance, given the right man....I'd settle down just like that." With a snap of her fingers, she clarified her views. "However.....seriously....would you take me for more than what you have seen? No. You wouldn't. Because I only showed you a side of me that fed your carnal nature. Once that is fed, men are satisfied. Why would they want to get to know me if I've given them what they truly desire with little effort involved?"

"Wow, I think I've learnt more about you from that one passage than the rest of the conversation and our other encounter combined." He smiled. "I do have a question. Why? Why do you show the different sides? Do you really need to show the different sides of you?"

"Yes, it's a protective mechanism. If no one knows the real me, I can't get hurt."

Steven couldn't wrap his mind around how showing the two different sides could ever protect one from being hurt, so he asked her.

"The hardened side is reserved for duty purposes. If I permitted every sexual assault case, every kidnapping, every murder, and all the torture cases to get to me, I would be locked up in some mental institution. The other side, AKA, slut....does not permit men to get close to me. If no one gets close, I don't end up hurting, or getting hurt. I don't understand now why I'm telling you all this." Faylin responded, with a quiet tone overtaking her last few words.

"You've been so open with me, and despite my reservations as to why you are doing so, I feel compelled to tell you about myself in return. I was a bastard child, the product of the wife of a Trill ambassador and a Starfleet officer. My parents, and the Trill ambassador are all deceased. I was raised by my half-sister on Betazoid before joining the marines."

She nodded, keeping quiet while he spoke to her. His story was interesting. "Where are your spots?"

"My trill spots... Don't tell me you were so enamored with another part of my anatomy that you didn't notice the congregation of dots around my heart."

"Oh yeah. No, I remember seeing those....your chest is kinda hard to miss."

"Just be thankful you didn't see my back when you were in your seductive mood the other day." He chuckled.

McAlister waved it off. "That stuff doesn't bother me at all Steven." With another wave of her hand, she ordered hot tea. The liquid slid down her throat, permitting her to relax somewhat. "Well, it's almost time for my transport down to the planet." Standing up, she walked around to his position. "Be safe....and maybe I'll see you when you or I return?"

"I'm sure we'll bump into each other when we both get back." It was strange. Before their conversation, he thought of her as just a vixen willing to seduce people for a prank, and Nara's reaction at Angel Moon the other day had reinforced that, but now, he could see her as a person. A person with feelings, and passion and compassion and love. A person with a determination and devotion towards her daughter and her job. It was amazing how much of a difference one conversation could make to one's perception of someone, and Steven found himself wanting to get to know the human being that was Faylin. "You take care of yourself."

"K, bye." Out of a soft spirit, she gently leaned over and kissed him softly on his cheek. "Good luck." Faylin whispered as she turned and left Ten-Forward.

"Wandering"
By Ensign Regenna Holmes
USS Galaxy

Starring: Spellbreaker (NPC cat)

Time: One day after "Cats on a Starship"

He lay curled up at the foot of the bed as SHE walked around the room getting dressed and ready for HER shift. He watched as SHE brushed HER hair into a regulation style and he gazed at HER unblinking as SHE attached HER pips and communicator badge. He cocked his head to one side as SHE approached him and ran HER hand down his back. He listened intently to HER as he purred under HER ministrations.

"I have to go on duty now, Spellbreaker, but I'll be back later. You be a good boy. No more hide and seek in the tubes."

SHE left the room and the door swished closed behind HER. He jumped down from the bed and stretched as he listened for any indication that SHE was coming back. When there was none, he shook his entire body and let out a piercing yowl. Then after a brief few moments spent scratching at the bed side, he jumped onto the desk and behind it. On that wall there was an access point to the ventilation system. After the adventure yesterday, SHE had sealed it with extra security measures to prevent him from being able to wander the halls again.

Unfortunately for HER was able to circumvent the measures. However, as he did not want HER to know this, he had decided to limit his wanderings to when SHE was on duty and would be gone for a specific time frame.
He wanted to find that man from yesterday. The one from security who carried fresh claw marks on his back. Spellbreaker sensed that he was going to become a problem and it was one that he hoped to cut off at the pass if he could. Upon entering the shaft, the cat raised his nose and followed his scent trail from the day before to a junction with the Jeffries tube.

Once there he made his way through the tubes to the place where his encounter had occurred with the security man. Then he followed the trail back to the main security office. He made a note of its location in his head and marked it with scratches in the shafts nearby. Perching in the ventilation shaft that led to the office he listened for a while but before he could learn more than the name of Corgan, he realized that SHE would be off duty soon and he hurried back through the maze of tubes and shafts to his home.

When the door swished open and SHE came in, he was once again laying at the foot of the bed, curled in a ball, eyes closed.

"Turf War"
Major Rae Weber
Joint Commander, Miranda Intelligence Team

Major Alex McKeon
Joint Commander, Miranda Intelligence Team

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Commanding Officer, Galaxy Intelligence Team

--

She had, over the past several hours, more or less committed Saul Bental's service jacket to memory. He was an interesting character, his experience in SFI reminding her a little bit of Alex's: he was trained as an analyst and remained an analyst primarily, though he had dabbled in the occasional field work. He was smart and ready, aimed to please and take initiative, had moved up the ranks fairly well. The Galaxy's Intelligence Unit was comprised mostly of analysts, was smaller than the Miranda's and had fewer resources, though that was more because the Miranda's Intelligence Centre had been the base of operations for a director and the Galaxy's was more in line with a standard large Ship of the Line.

He was also a reminder of the continuing restructuring of SFI. Most of the ship-based Analytical Detachments remained part of the greater fleet, which meant they more of less kept the naval rank system and answered more specifically to the ship's command structure, while the bulk of Miranda's intelligence crew answered more directly to SFI Command and had a different ranking system. Again, that was likely because Miranda had been a base of operations.

She didn't need the sensor alert on her desk to tell her when he entered the Intelligence Centre, her telepathy did that far in advance. She'd mentally been tracking him since he beamed over to the ship. It was far from intentional, more a habit borne through years of undercover ops. He was also an interruption in the comfortable din of the standard Miranda crew. She'd grown accustomed to every single one of them, and settling on that didn't belong was enough to prick the hairs on the back of her neck. It was difficult even for most telepaths to understand: she was psi-level 10, far higher than even most typically telepathic species.

When he appeared in the doorway she was already preparing a glass of his favorite beverage in the replicator. With her back to him, she said: "At ease, Lieutenant, formalities are often ridiculous in our business. Please. Sit down."

"Agreed about the formalities," Saul replied. "As you've no doubt guessed," said the other man in the room, the one sitting almost lazily on the couch, "We're the Miranda's CIOs. You've met Major Weber of course. I'm Major Alex McKeon."

"Saul Bental."

It was a good thing Weber was with her back to him, Saul thought. What she took as standing in attention was more a defiant posture. The Galaxy's intelligence chief stood with folded arms, mouth narrowed to a mere slit. He was quite displeased with the recent news, and wanted her to know it before she starts telling him what he already knew.

It didn't get past Alex, of course, but he understood the kid's attitude.

Saul pulled a seat, and landed on it casually. "I agree. This is a misunderstanding, probably caused by the fact that I spoke with Arvellion before talking to you. However, they invited me over to brief them, and I took advantage of the opportunity to relay the specifications."

Having mentioned the specifications, he placed a black PADD on the Major's desk. "My Technical officer was talking with the Galaxy's marine XO's and briefing her about the devices when For'kel contacted her and put a veto on the installation. That's not my idea of... as your yeoman put it, 'Coordinating'."

Rae frowned as she tilted the PADD up slightly, just enough to read a few lines.

"I'm not the one who dropped the ball, here," she said, lifting her eyes to peer over her brow at the man sitting across from her. "It's SOP to consult with your counterpart before dictating policy to officers on another ship. It was a rookie mistake and you should know better -- you've been doing this long enough. My department should have been informed of your intentions before you acted upon them. It's my crew and my jurisdiction."

Alex winced a little at the tone Rae was taking. He'd told For'kel how territorial they all got, but he doubted the Marine had understood.

"Agreed. Although I would say that the Galaxy's marines are supposedly my jurisdiction as well.", Saul replied calmly. "But I'm not here to fight over territory; I'm here to resolve a misunderstanding and get my orders done."

"Mm. What I'm curious about is why you received the order and I didn't. It's just another example as to how hopelessly lost our organization is..." she mumbled. "Command needs to get off its ass and finish the restructuring before we get a lot of good people killed." She shook her head. "And my division's director has no bloody idea what the hell he's doing. Say what you want about Colonel Elaithin, at least she was always on top of things."

Saul heard that name before, and against his better judgment it brought a smile to his face. For him, it was a reminder to a nightmare he had after the battle of Havras, one which he privately named 'The Knights who say Jii'. Too much Monty Python there.

"I never had the pleasure to work with the Colonel directly, but my previous superiors' competency was... very varied." Stom came in mind, of course. His conversation with the Bolian still irritated him, but he would address that point later.

"That's unfortunate," Rae said, "she was a competent field operative but also an excellent Director. She was starting to do good things for our little division of ghosts. She didn't work too well with analysts though, tended to keep it within the family." She watched his silent pause before he took a breath.

"To answer your questions. When the Galaxy was ordered to head to ch'Rihan, My predecessor received standing orders to exploit any opportunities to gather 'passive intelligence' on the system. I don't need to tell you that since we're the first Starfleet presence here since the Titan, this is a golden opportunity to update our knowledge base. I am confident that the Romulan specialist back at HQ will be overjoyed with our scans, as well as with some of the messages we've intercepted."

"I see," Rae murmured, wrinkling her nose. "The problem is, the Romulan sector is already inundated with SFI infiltration, and the Romulans know that, just as we know there's an amount of Romulan infiltration within our operations. Is this a golden opportunity? Certainly, but it's an opportunity to put the information we have and are receiving from our operatives into perspective. My concern is simply this: that adding espionage equipment to a peacekeeping mission offered in the name of friendship and truce is exceedingly risky. Not just to the Marines that would be carrying this equipment, but also to the operatives already inside Romulan society.

"We're coming at this from very different perspectives. Clandestine Ops has recovered a substantial amount of information already; we simply haven't gotten it back to the analysts at HQ. Likely, we will be risking lives and the opportunity for better and more concrete information for redundancy."

"Are you going to ask them to close their eyes?" Saul asked suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"The marines. If and when they deploy on the surface, do you intend to command them to shut their eyes and plug their ears? Because everything they see is intelligence. Everything they hear is intelligence. Most of it unimportant or redundant, yes, but leave it to the analysts to find the diamond in the belly of the mountain."

She narrowed her eyes. "That is not at all what I mean, *Lieutenant* and you know that."

Saul leaned back in his seat. "All I want to do, Major, is to give them better eyes and ears. Nothing invasive, and definitely nothing that can risk the marines or our covert resources."

Rae's jaw tightened. "You said your predecessor received standing orders to exploit any opportunities to gather 'passive intelligence' on the system, correct?" With his nod of affirmation, she continued. "Then I'm going to assume that the orders were nonspecific as to how. What I'm saying it to find a different way. This proposal has already infuriated the Marines. I don't want it to somehow get through to the Romulans as well. I respect your good intentions, Lieutenant, but I don't believe this is quite the right way to accomplish it."

Across the table, Saul Bental was far from ready to yield.

"We've been given a wide range of guidelines, and I do think that my proposal falls within them. As for the marines being infuriated - I don't care, as long as by the end of the day we know more. Now, if you have another proposal that will gain us the same amount of intelligence without causing so much 'distress', I'm all ears. Otherwise, I'm going to see to it that at least the Galaxy contributes to the general knowledge pool."

Honestly, all she wanted to do was stand up, grab him and throw him across the room. But she had a feeling that wouldn't do much for her case so instead, she pushed her true feelings deeper and paused a moment while she mentally regrouped.

"The Marines already carry a tremendous amount of equipment for operational preparation and their own surveillance. It is high tech and useful. I've discussed it with the Miranda's Marine COs and they have agreed to share all information that they gather within their pre-existing operational structure and are willing to submit to intensive debriefings. I urge you to reconsider your methodology and allow them to work within their SOP. I believe we will get better information that way and we will protect the integrity of our Marines and their operation. Saul. They're not trained as Intelligence Operatives. 99% of them are freaked out by the 'spooks' and are anxious about being requisitioned by SFI. However unobtrusive we might see this? That's not how these people are going to take it. They see it as an invasion of their autonomy and it could serve as a distraction for them on the field. I'm asking you to please have faith."

"Are you listening to yourself?", Saul responded sharply, not losing his temper despite his harsh words. "You're treating a trained military force like they're kindergarten kids. And given the battalion's CO's response to my request, perhaps you're not far from the truth. Their opinion of SFI is irrelevant, and the proposed augmentations to the equipment are autonomous and do not cause much overhead. And even if they would, this isn't the issue here, is it?"

He had many similar conversations before, with people much less decent than the Major. However, debating with a colleague or a fellow merchant had very much in common. There were times when you knew you couldn't convince the other party to see things your way, and that's when you had to consider the alternatives.

"I think we'll go with BATNA at this time, Majors.", Saul quickly added, letting whatever angered emotions within him fade and dissolve. "Best Alternative To Non-Agreement. My BATNA is to return to my ship to continue my work there, and consult with my superior officer regarding the marine forces' hierarchy for this mission. That said, I fully intend to regulate outgoing intelligence from the Galaxy from now on."

"Hold on there, bucko." Alex said from the side of the room. He'd remained largely silent so far while Rae and this Bental kid verbally duked it out. "Let's not be hasty."

Saul slanted his eyes toward the other man, who remained silent for the most part up until now. He suppressed cynical comments like 'My department needs only one chief.' "What I'm saying, is you need to slow down a little bit, friend." Alex interjected. "Look, we're not the bad guys here. And we're not saying you are either. You get that, right, Lieutenant?"

"I think that goes without saying.", Saul replied simply, bracing himself for a game of good cop, bad cop.

"Okay." Alex nodded. "And I get what it is you want to do. It's a good idea. But you're not taking the politics into account. Not just the Federation politics, but the Romulan ones."

"I beg to differ.", Saul protested, but kept his attention on Major McKeon nonetheless.

"Hey, I hate fieldwork." the dark-haired Major replied, pointing a thumb at Rae. "She just keeps dragging me into it. Analysis - especially political analysis, is my speciality. You worked much with Marines?"

Saul wondered if kissing Branwen or getting slapped by her it enough to be counted as 'working with the marines'.

"Occasionally."

"They're the real straight-laced types. Hate change. Big on orders, and paperwork. Shake anything up with 'em, and ten more green-shirted weirdos have to shout "Yes, sir!" before they do anything. They're just touchy. And most 'em aren't real good at sneaky, either. They like a straight up, stand up fight. And for 'em, I say - somebody's got to do it. Me, I'd rather go in the back door and shut off the bad guy's power or something. What about you?" Alex explained, and hoped it got the kid to smile a little bit, too.

Saul just smiled thinly, still waiting the Major to reach his point.

"Allright then." Alex grinned back. "Same thing then. The Marine's gear that they have is pretty impressive already. Forget trying to give 'em upgrades - Arvelion won't sign off on it, and he's senior Marine for the task force. Far as the other grunts are concerned, he's God. Doesn't make you s.o.l., though."

"Perhaps, Major, Arvelion should lay off the god complex and recall that without quality intelligence, his goons can easily be butchered. Now, what do you suggest?"

"We've got a tap into the Marines uplinks. Our predecessor and Arvelion's set it up. I don't even know if he knows about it, and I don't really care. It's been s.o.p. here long enough he can't make a deal out of it. And I've got no problem sending an encrypted bounce of that feed over to you."

"If you're willing to settle for that, I suppose that it will have to do. I'm not happy with it, though, and I think both you and the Arvelion are making a mistake. Haval."

He inhaled deeply. Now came the question which was the main reason for him not too burn the bridges between him and the Miranda's intelligence crew.

"That issue aside, I'd like to know if SFI have any fresh intel on the second galae's defeat. HQ hinted me that they know something I don't, but they don't dare to transmit it where the Romulans can intercept the message."

He hoped that the irony of the final line was obvious to the two officer in front of him.

He saw McKeon and Weber lock gazes for a moment, as something unsaid passed between them. Weber just shrugged, and then McKeon pointed towards the monitor on the wall. "It's unverified." Alex said. "But if somebody faked this.. they've got a hell of an imagination."

"Show me the money.", Saul replied, mildly curious.

"Computer, activate recording from file RHK-Judaris3281. Authorization McKeon Delta-Nine-Two-Seven-Delta." he said aloud, and leaned back.

The screen flashed to life as the recording - not of pristine quality, but good enough - came to life. Identifiers at the bottom of the screen registered it as the sensor capture of a civilian Federation craft, it's registry identifying it as a merchant freighter of some kind.

The Galaxy's chief of intelligence smiled to himself. His first post was a ship marked as a civilian Federation merchant freighter. He had no doubt that the ship was part of the 'Special Observations taskforce'.

On the screen, Judaris Prime shone in the night. The Romulan second fleet decloaked to meet the pitiful Hydran advance force, the Judari fleet drawing up in support. They began to cut in the Hydran force..

When the Hydrans did something no one had known they could. Hundreds of Hydran starships decloaked.. and starting firing on Judaris.

They didn't even acknowledge the Romulan Second Galae.

They didn't have to.

With them had decloaked a massive.. creature of some kind. Alex didn't know how to describe it. It was huge, and, apparently, completely under Hydran control. And it tore apart the duranium hull of warbirds like they were tissue paper.

Alex had seen the recording a dozen times, he'd analyzed it every way he knew possible. He didn't speak again till it ended, letting Bental absorb it. "If it's a fake..." he started quietly. "It's the best damn one I've ever seen."

"Elohim adirim.", Saul murmured. "Major, if this is some kind of a prank on my account, I swear the next person to hear about this is Captain M'Kantu."

It was Weber who replied that time. "I think that's something we can all agree on, Lieutenant."

The Dutchman still gazed at the frozen imagery of the monster. "We... a marine from the Galaxy came to me, after visiting planetside. He heard two Romulans talking about the fleet, one mentioning 'Nightmare from fairy tales' or something along those lines."

Alex rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Then maybe what we need to be doing is asking the Romulans about their nightmares."

"Smokin'"

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineering Officer.

Dr Susan DelAmico (NPC)

EMH Tayra (NPC)

And

Nurse Hana Indelica (NPC)

(All NPC's written by Dru and Rob Snow – all medical jargon exclusively written by Rob Snow)

(Continuation of 'Eyes of a child' set after Open Fist; when 'Marine Team One' returns)

***Location USS Galaxy, Sick bay****

Waking up in sick bay had never been one of Dhani's favourite things. Sick bay itself usually, if not always, filled the junior officer with dread and fear.

Its not that she didn't have good reason to dislike the place, Sick Bay had been the stage for so many unexplainable things in the young woman's life.

With every visit the medical staff became more intrigued by her, and more afraid. The general consensus was to lock her up and begin tests straight away. How Dhani had escaped this fate was beyond her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she had been bumped up to acting assistant chief of engineering and was there for *almost* as important as a department head. Maybe it was that she was just good at dodging them. Or maybe none of them really gave a toss.

Could be luck.

Though luck was the one thing Dhani believed she didn't have. After coming aboard the Galaxy so may things had happened to screw with the once sane officers' mind. The first encounter she had had with the staff in sick bay other than the routine check up when she boarded had been when they resuscitated her. It seemed such a long time ago now, though it had only been a couple of years. She remembered being utterly peeved that they had brought her back. She was technically dead, she had crossed over to the other side and they brought her back kicking and screaming. She hadn't wanted to die, but when it happened, however brief it was, it had been such a relief. She remembered the counselling sessions that had followed, describing what she felt, what she saw, how she preferred the place that she had seen rather than this existence.

And that proved to be the first of many unusual counselling sessions she was to have with Karyn Dallas.

Any counsellor would have a field day with Eshe. In fact one of them could take great joy in writing a book about it; how many techniques could they fit into one session?!

Dhani wondered if they were going to send one this time. She had flatly refused to sit on a bio bed, snatched the tricorder that the nurse was using to scan her and threw it across the room and refused any further medical assistance. In fact she refused any help of any sort and sat firmly encamped on the floor in sick bay, smouldering!

*Fifteen minutes previous*

"So what have you planned for tonight?" Dr. Susan DelAmico asked Tayra grinning slightly.

The EMH blinked in response, "Plans?" it replied curiously.

"Stop teasing the EMH Su!" nurse Hana Indelica interjected from across the room as she restocked the instrument trolley with supplies.

Susan sighed and rolled her eyes, "Some people take everything far too seriously." She told the EMH.

Tayra again blinked, her protocol not set up for chit chat and banter, her forehead creased pensively, "Please state the nature of the medical emergency?"

Susan rolled her eyes once more, "There isn't one, unless you count me being extremely board a medical emergency?"

"No." Tayra replied, there was a slight pause as she consulted her data banks, "Boredom of a medical officer does not constitute as a medical emergency."

"Figures." Susan muttered.

"Please explain why I have been activated."

For the first time since her shift started Susan actually smiled, "Upgrades!" she announced producing a data rod from the draw. Turning from the EMH Susan inserted the data rod into the computer consol and began the necessary start up routine to begin the download to the EMH mainframe.

Once the procedure began she sat back and watched amused as the EMH appeared to be slapped in the face several times over as it digested the information, its eyes flicking back and forth as if it were reading a book, jolting as new medical procedures were uploaded.

And that appeared to be all the excitement Susan was going to get tonight.

"What are the updates in aid of?" Hana asked over Susan's shoulder.

Jumping slightly as Hana had an uncanny way of just appearing behind her, she turned with a slightly annoyed look on her face. It diminished quickly as she answered the woman's question, "Just new procedures. A lot of it is about the Rishanu." she replied courteously.

Hana nodded thumbing through a padd, "I thought that our data banks were quite comprehensive." she countered naturally surprised.

Susan shrugged, "You know how secretive they can be." she said, "I guess they thought that we didn't know enough. Maybe with this information they will be more comfortable letting us treat them when the need arises."

"Perhaps." Hana said handing Susan the padd, "These are the stats of the patients we have in at the moment."

"Let's see who have we got?" Susan said taking the padd with mock excitement.

"Lieutenant Jiiles and Lieutenant junior grade Eshe." Hana confirmed before Susan had time to read the padd. "Jiiles is still in the isolation ward, in the decontamination suite, and Eshe is currently sedated. I have administered her latest dose of anti rads." she informed Susan proudly.

Susan frowned, "Eshe is sedated, why?" she asked puzzled.

"Burton ordered it. She said that it would be easier to administer her treatment if she were under."

Susan looked across the room at the slumbering form of the young engineer, "She's probably right." she replied sliding the padd onto the desk without further examination of its text.

"Rounds are due in three minuets." Hana stated with all the warmth and accuracy that a Vulcan could be proud of, that of course would be if they admitted to *feeling* proud!

"Grab us a couple of coffees, I'll do it in a sec." Susan replied delaying her task for as long as possible to stretch out the excitement of the evening.

Hana nodded once in acknowledgment and disappeared from Susan's side.

Susan sighed and looked down at the notes Hana had brought her. She supposed that it would be prudent to actually look at them, perhaps even read them! Picking up Jiiles file she leaned back in her chair stifling a premature yawn and began to scan the information it contained.

Her eyebrow quirked up and she found herself sitting up straighter and rereading the previous paragraph. "Hana?" she called out, "Why is Jiiles still in the decontamination ward? The transporter biofilter didn't pick up any problems…." her question was lost, ever to go unanswered, at least for the next hour, as the bio bed across the ward began to chirp, alerting the medical staff.

Dropping the padd Susan jumped up, poking her head out of the door, "What happened?" she asked Hana, noting that she was next to Eshe's bed.

Hana didn't move her eyes from the bio beds readouts, "Her blood pressure is dropping." she replied flatly, her brow furrowed.

Matching Hana's expression Susan jogged the ten steps or so across the room to the bed. She was quite informal most of the time, she liked it that way, if she wasn't she would have been promoted or something else just as annoying. But when the preverbal hit the fan she was the first into the fray.

"Get me 10 cc's of Formazine, quickly!" Susan ordered assessing Eshe's condition. "Damn her hands are cold." she muttered as she brushed passed the engineer to get into a better position to treat her.

Pulling over a recently refreshed medical cart Hana fulfilled Susan's request, but before the woman had time to administer it Eshe flat lined.

"Code blue!" Susan shouted as she stared up at the readouts from the bio bed. "Get me a crash cart, inform Dr. Mathieson, now!" she added urgency and surprise laced in her tone.

Slapping the bed controls Susan brought the bed up to emergency status and ripped the blanket of Eshe with a practiced flick of her wrist, looking at Eshe's readouts above her head she also grabbed the PADD at the end of the bed and swiftly re-read the notes there to check on what Eshe was being given.

"Load a hypo, 15 cc's of Inaprovaline," she ordered Hana as she dropped the PADD and raised the surgical shroud over the patient. Checking the bed readings again she adjusted the cardiac stimulators on the bed, "She's gone tachycardic! Clear!" she ordered, setting the defibrillators to a standard 200J to start with.

"Clear," Hana replied, taking a half step back. Watching as Eshe convulse slightly as the charge passed through her, she looked up at the bed readouts.

"Inaprovaline!"

"15 cc's," Hana acknowledged, holding out the hypo.

Administering the drug Susan watched the bed readouts for a moment then upped the settings on the bed, "Clear!" she ordered again. Checking swiftly she shocked Eshe again with a slightly higher charge. "5 cc's Cordrazine!" she ordered as she reset the bed again.

"Wait," Hana interrupted suddenly, leaning over Eshe slightly, "Doctor, she's breathing."

Checking the bed readouts once again Susan shook her head, "She's still showing as tachycardic, could be simple muscle spasms."

Checking for Eshe's reaction to the 300J charge Susan looked around for Mathieson, or anyone, mixed species medicine wasn't exactly her forte. "Cordrazine," she asked, holding her hand out. Feeling the hypo being gently pressed into her hand she flipped it over and checked the device, even in the rush of a code blue she took her time with the dangerous medication.

"It didn't look like muscle spasm's Doctor, it looks like regular breathing," Hana said urgently.

"Damnit Hana, this isn't the time or the place!" Susan muttered, still getting no reaction from Eshe she carefully injected the powerful stimulant into Eshe's neck and glanced up at the biobed readouts again, "Get me a cortical stimulator," she ordered, "and get a ventilator set up… Clear!" she added checking the bed area was clear then triggering a 360J charge into Eshe, completely unprepared for what happened next.

There was a sudden and extremely loud crack as the shroud covering Eshe shattered into a myriad of shards that went flying all over sickbay, followed immediately by the sound of a powerful electrical detonation as the circuitry on the biobed shorted out, sending a spray of sparks all over the bay. Ducking instinctively Susan saw Eshe convulsing on the bed as the bed shorted out through her, sending her spasming roughly onto the floor, her back covered in an array of small electrical burns where she had been in contact with the bed.

~ Ow! ~ Susan muttered to herself, partly at her own injuries and partly at Eshe's, realizing that the engineer would be standing for dinner for the next few meals. Rolling over to Eshe she flipped her over onto her back and reached up to the crash cart for a tricorder, "Hana, get me that cortical stim…" she started just as Eshe's eyes snapped open. Either side of the prostate engineer the two medical staff were treated to the full view of Eshe's jet black eyes. All black as if two miniature black holes had suddenly appeared in her head and sucked the light out.

"Oh, crap!" Hana muttered.

Dhani looked up, or rather just stared in a totally dazed state ahead; she could feel her heart hiccupping in her chest, an irregular and unsteady rhythm. She tried to swallow but there was no moisture inside her mouth, it was more like trying to dry swallow a large golf ball sized pill, she began to choke, the stale air inside the room catching on her parched esophageous.

Looking up at Hana, Susan tried not to let her concern show on her face, eyes like this were never a good sign as far as she was concerned, "Get Doctors Burton, Mathieson and anyone else who'll answer a page!" she ordered quietly. Looking down at Eshe she gently touched her shoulder, "Lieutenant, can you hear me?" she asked in a soft voice, hoping to whatever god was listening and feeling benevolent that instruments wouldn't start flying again, "how do you feel?" she asked as she raised a tricorder with her other hand.

After a few seconds of coughing/choking, Dhani took in a deep breath to re fill her lungs, snatched the tricorder and threw it as hard as she could in any direction opposite to herself, before raising her head just a bit so that her darkened eyes were level with the 'thing' before her, as if that gesture was answer enough.

Surprised, and letting it show, Susan backed away a little, "Lieutenant," she cautioned her patient, "you've just had a very nasty shock, I need to make sure you're all right. Now, I'm not going to hurt you, but I do need to check you are ok!" she said softly, but firmly. Picking up another tricorder of the crash cart she placed a hand on Eshe's shoulder, "Just lay back, and well get some orderlies to lift you onto a bed in a moment."

"Nah." Dhanishta whispered, her voice still week from the electrocution, "I ain't *ever* getting on one of 'em again." she stated as firmly as she could with a breaking voice.

Looking at the still smoldering bed Susan could understand Eshe's reluctance, "Lieutenant, as an engineer I'm sure you're familiar with the law of averages when it comes to system malfunctions, but I can't treat your burns on the floor. Please?" she asked.

And so this is where Dhanishta found herself, sitting on the floor in sick bay, her arms, legs, back and bottom reddening by the second, her vision so distorted that everything around her was a mirage of colors, with a medical person insisting that she get back up on to the bio bed. And all she could think about was six year old blond haired, black eyed little girl, Ilumina.

Ilumina, the name rolled over her tongue as she silently contemplated where it had sprung from. The face loomed above her as she sat on the cold floor; porcelain features, rose-bud lips, golden hair…

"I'm sure you'll find a way." Dhanishta mumbled rolling carefully on to her front. The burns hadn't registered yet, no doubt the pain would kick in soon. As she rolled on to her stomach she could feel her skin begin to tighten across the back of her legs and bottom. If anyone had a holocamera….!

"Narcoleptic Insomniac"

LtJG Chris Daniels
Tactical Officer

Chris' Quarters Deck 6
===============

'Dammit, I'm so tired...I need to get some sleep...Working 20 hours straight sucks...I need to...to...I need to work more efficient. Get stuff done in less time so I don't have to drink so much coffee. Is my hand twitching? Yup, it is. Damn caffeine. That's why I quit the first time...now I can't live without it. When was the last time I got to play soccer? Two weeks?--No, Four? Yeah, Four's more...more like it...Why won't my hand stop--stop twitching? I..zzzzzz...can't believe Janie got promoted....zzzz...maybe I have a guardian angel...soo glad she's here...zzzzzzzzzzzzz'

This was how sleep had started for Chris lately. Caffeine induced shakes and a torrid of random thought strings and in and out consciousness eventually led to something resembling calm sleep. He had been working like a madman and had just gotten off a particularly stressful day where they had discovered a gaping hole in their tactical knowledge of the Hydrans and then he had summarily gotten ordered to go to sleep by K'aa. Deep down, he was thankful for it, otherwise he would have kept working until the problem was resolved, or he collapsed from exhaustion. He had slumped back to his room and tossed off his uniform into a heap on the floor and then fell into his bed. Now, he slept...and then came the dreams...

The dreams were fairly simple. Which is what the problem was. Normally, his dreams, when he remembered them, were a crazy smattering and recombining of thoughts from the past day, week, whatever his mind was concentrating on when he slept. It was something that he had ultimately turned into a study tool...he would study right before he went to bed, sleep, and it would help him do better on tests. What had been seen as others as laziness was actually a tool that helped him do better in class.

But his dreams lately were focused on one thing. Work. And tonight, with the developments of the past day, his mind went to work digesting the bad news. It was pretty simple, he saw the battle; their fleet versus the Hydrans and their weapons. And it didn't go well for the mighty Starfleet in their silver-white starships. He watched it happen over and over, each time waking him from what seemed to be a less than blissful slumber.

The third time it woke him up, he was sweating and had kicked most of his sheets off. This was torture. He sat up in bed. He HAD to sleep. It was now his job to build a tactical information file out of nothing in a few days, and being dead from sleep wouldn't help.

'I gotta get this crap out of my head...Aahhhhhhhh!'

About 20 minutes later he surrendered and fell back to his pillow. Whatever he did, it worked, as he finally drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. And boy, did he ever need it.

One Wild Night - Part One – "To Remember"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Assistant Chief Engineer, USS Galaxy

(Set two months after "Catalyst"/"Open Fist" ends, during the first week of "Barbarians at the Gates")

***Deck 36 - Near Main Engineering - USS Galaxy***

Wandering the bowels of the massive starship Kimberly found herself torn between the desire to try and forget what happened, or go and find Eshe and find out just what did happen. There were a multitude of reasons why her memories of the event were sketchy, the most logical being the most likely, but did she 'want' to know?

Mulling over the choice she realised her mind was half made up as it was, her being down here in the heart of engineering territory, sooner or later someone would ask her if she were lost, Medical blue not normally being seen down here ambling around the corridors aimlessly.

Making a decision she turned and headed to main engineering, before she got there though she found herself wavering, ~ Damnit girl, get a grip! ~ she muttered softly as she stopped by the doors to engineering, pausing there she hesitated indecisively again, this time though the choice it seemed was not hers to make. Before her, the doors to engineering opened and out stepped the very person who was currently the core of Kimberly's thoughts, "Lieutenant," she greeted Eshe cautiously.

For a moment Dhanishta felt and looked like the dear caught in the head-lights. It took a while for her brain to engage her mouth into actually replying.

"Doctor." she replied with a curt, if not slightly delayed, nod.

Inside there were warning bells, alarms and sirens ringing loudly. She didn't know how to react! Should she smile and be jolly with this woman? Should she side step and continue on her way? Should she just ignore her, and avoid her at all costs like she had before?

Just a few weeks ago she had killed a man in front of Burton; the woman that now stood before her. She had then taken Burton's memory and manipulated it to make her believe that she had killed him herself. Instead of a witness, Burton believed that she was a murderer.

Had Burton, the CMO, realised what Dhani had done? Did she remember what actually happened? Was she going to tell anyone? Had she already? Dhani felt the panic rising within her. Still not knowing how to react to Burton, or even interact with her, she just stood there like a lemon.

Feeling more awkward then when Chris had asked her to the Sadie-Hawkins dance in-front of the whole year of students, Kimberly stood there in dumb struck silence as well. Swallowing several times she tried to talk but found her voice caught in her throat.

"Hey," she got out after a moment in a weak voice, "how are you?"

Dhanishta shifted slightly, uncomfortable in the Doctors gaze. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine." she replied, trying to sound calm and together and at the same time trying not to be too friendly and also not too cold. Dam-it she wished at this moment she was still the vulcanised woman that she used to be. She could have gotten out of this situation a hell of a lot easier if she could still control her emotions and her outward mannerisms. But instead she fidgeted and flinched, wondering what was going to happen next. She knew that she could take a peek inside the Doctors head and find out what was going on, but paranoia had already set in. What if she remembered? What if she had already told someone and had mind probes or something? Maybe she had some sort of tracing and tracking device strapped onto or into her head, hell she might even have a Vulcan round the corner ready to pounce and mind meld.

Why the fuck weren't her feat moving very quickly in the opposite direction?

Why the hell was she still standing here?

Why on earth wasn't her com badge going off with some engineering emergency?

"How are you?"

Why, in the name of all things holy and every other expletive that one could imagine, was she *still* making conversation?

"I'm okay," Kim replied, still in the same soft tone, feeling a little numb as the memory of what happened returned she tried to smile to cover her nervousness, ~ Oh Goddess, this wasn't a good idea! ~ she decided. Too late to run away though! Feeling a little light headed she leant casually on the wall by her, deciding that it as vastly more preferable to falling over.

Trying to dismiss the image of the body on the floor that had haunted her sleep recently she started counting Eshe's spots to try and keep her mind on something else, "So... Uh, I was in the area," she said lamely, "wondered if you had a moment?"

Dhanishta's eyes scanned the faces in the hall quickly as people passed by them. Right now she wanted anyone to intervene, hell even Jiiles would do! It was at times like these when she wondered why she didn't have any friends that could just pop past, smile, and bail her out. And then the depressing realisation hit that she didn't have *any* friends. Well apart from Michael, but he was not always going to be attached to her hip.

She waited for a moment until enough time had passed that it seemed she was mentally checking her schedule, but not too much so it looked like she was hesitating and working out how to say 'no' diplomatically, which in fact she was!

Why the hell couldn't she think of something? Anything? Like sorry I'm having dinner with a friend, oh yeah she had already established that she didn't have any friends… bugger.

"Yeah, sure… I'm free."

"Can we, uh, go somewhere else maybe? Grab a drink?"

Dhani once again scanned the faces in the hall, hoping that by some miracle someone wanted or needed her for something.

No such luck.

She wiggled her toes to get some life back in them, and also to make sure that they were still there, pretty much everything from the waist down had lost sensation. She could have quite easily wet her self and not noticed! "Sure" she replied forcing a smile.

Pushing off the wall Kimberly headed to the turbolift, still shaking somewhat inside. She checked Eshe was still with her as she got on the lift, "You, ah, got new boots then." She asked a little sarcastically, "mine don't fit properly, replicated ones never do." she griped absently as she directed the lift to Ten-Fore.

Dhani looked down at her feet and frowned, "Yeah I guess." she mumbled remembering how she had woken up in the cell with no shoes or socks. Inwardly she sighed at her inability to make and appreciate small-talk. That was probably the one and only thing Sark had 'taught' her that had really stuck. Lets face it, she griped, everything else, restraint, emotional control, ethics of mind reading had all long since been thrown out the nearest air lock and left to implode in space. It's the really useful things that stuck! She added sarcastically.

"One Wild Night - Part Two – "Ethics of Tongo; Confront, evade, acquire…"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Assistant Chief Engineer, USS Galaxy

***Turbo lift…. Somewhere - USS Galaxy***

Watching the lights on the wall flash by Kimberly felt a knot in her stomach grow, deck by deck she felt as though someone were tightening a spring in her back. ~ Do I really want to know what happened? ~ she contemplated silently, ~ Girl, it's only gonna linger, ~ she reminded herself.

~ And talking to myself like this isn't helping either! ~

~ True! ~

"Computer, halt turbolift!" Kimberly called out suddenly. Turning to Eshe she found herself babbling suddenly, "We need to talk and I need to ask you a whole pack of questions, ever since that whole messed up jaunt in the runabout I've needed to know. What happened! I mean... I don't 'KNOW'!" she almost cried in frustration.

Dhanishta shat a brick as Burton called out halt. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, her mouth dry out and sweat flood from their pours all over her skin. She jumped as Burton turned on her, backing up to the wall she coughed, choked and almost fell over as the woman's stream of questions rushed out all at once.

Bewildered she stared at Burton, wide eyed. Unable to form words she shook her head, trying to think but there was nothing. Her face contoured into a mixture of half completed expressions as she tried to think about what to say and how to say it. But alas she couldn't. So she just stood in silence, not knowing what to say, what should she say? What should she tell her..?

"I... I killed a man!" Kimberly admitted suddenly with an anguished twist to her voice, "but I don't know why! You said I hit him. Why! Tell me... What happened, I can't remember! What was he doing?"

Just like a blow up beach ball with a puncture (similar to the one that had miraculously appeared in Main Engineering one day) Dhani deflated; relaxed, the tension flowed out of her. But just as quickly as she relaxed she tensed again. The Doctor still thought that she had committed the crime, even though that got Dhani off that hook, she still had to deal with the guilt. And what made it worse is that she had to tell Burton what she did, even though she hadn't done it! And there it was all over again, guilt. And more guilt for continuously lying. And to top it off Burton was a pacifist, and was no doubt going to have to talk it through over and over again, more and more guilt. Dhani's head felt like it was about to explode.

"He was trying to hurt me." she said suddenly, "He was taking me away for interrogation. You saved me." Lies, all of it lies. But if Burton thought that she was helping someone then maybe she could deal with it better. It made more sense for her to kill someone whilst protecting another.

Hell none of it made sense cause the woman was a dam pacifist! She would die upholding that, protecting no one, not even herself!!!

Dhani made a sudden move forward and hugged Burton, it was stiff and forced and a shock to both of them.

"I should have thanked you before, but I didn't know how." Dhani said as she rested her head on the woman's shoulder, "I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't stopped him!" Dhani began to cry, slowly at first, just the odd sniff. And then she buried her head in the nape of Burtons neck and began to shake sobbing hard. Why the hell didn't say just say she was having dinner with a friend? If she could lie about all this she could sure as hell lie about having friends!! ~Bollocks~

Surprised, especially after their last encounter in sickbay she returned the hug after a moment, and found herself beginning to cry also. Holding Eshe close she found herself torn though, she had once sworn never to again take a life, but here was someone grateful to her because she had.

It was confusing the hell out of her. ~ I shouldn't have hurt him, ~ she repeated yet again to herself, a thought that had become very frequent lately, ~ but then they would have taken Eshe... ~

~ And then what! Could you have let them interrogate her, she was your responsibility! ~

~ So is the protection of life! ~

~ gos-se! Is your conscience more valuable that the life and wellbeing of your friends! ~

~ Goddess help me! ~

Holding onto Eshe tighter she found the tears flowing faster now, and her breath coming more in sobs like Dhani's, "I didn't mean to kill him though," she got out after a moment, "I never 'meant' to kill! I don't, I don't even remember what happened exactly."

~For crying out loud~ Dhani thought, ~How much is she going to cry? She is ruining my uniform!~ sighing Dhani spat out a mouth full of Burtons hair in an attempt to say something comforting to the woman. She wondered for a moment when did the role reversal happen!? At least someone could have memo'ed her the day before or something, at least then she could have prepped!

Pulling back gently from the embrace Dhani held Burton's shoulders in a firm grip, "Look," she began now that her mouth was hair free, "It was an accident." She searched her mind, talk about on the spot! "He came in, he tried to take me and you stopped him. I don't care how, and Starfleet doesn't care how either. No one does." She paused trying to wrack her mind for something else comforting… ah; "In the heat of the moment we all do things that later on we wonder how the hell we did it." ~and why~ she added to herself. "Situations can never be planned and our reactions can't either. So when the shit hits the fan, you pack a Klingon worthy punch! Is it your fault that the guy pops an artery or whatever? Hell no! He should already know not to mess with Starfleet. We are after all the best." She smiled trying to lighten the mood. "And ya know what?" she added, "Screw Kol, I'd have you covering my back any day!"

Feeling her lower lip actually quake Kimberly let Eshe's words sink in, then with another sob she buried her face into Dhani's other shoulder and cried even more. ~ Oh Goddess, she thinks… ~

~Oh you have to be kidding me!~ Dhani griped as Burton went for round two, and of course shoulder number two. ~Well at least I'll have matching tear streaks on my uniform~ Dhani though scathingly, ~wonder if she will pay the dry-cleaning bill!~

Gently she patted the Doctor on the back and wondered how long she was going to keep this up. If she didn't stop crying soon Dhani would have to start with the tough love, maybe marine style. ~ Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit. Get the fuck off this ship. Get the fuck off! Now. Move it. What is your major malfunction, numbnuts? Didn't Mommy and Daddy show you enough attention when you were a child? It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress.~ She mused on how the doctor would take to being called a maggot and a puke and referred to as the lowest form of life in the universe, an unorganized grabastic piece of amphibian shit. Feeling Burton vibrating in her arms…. she deliberated…humm, maybe not.

Behind the two, muted somewhat by the sobbing of the Chief Medical officer, the computer, blithely ignorant of the ongoing drama was trying to get someone's attention, [Warning. Please resume normal function of the turbolift. Disruption of the turbolift network for longer than sixty seconds will cause congestion of the network.]

Hearing the computer Kimberly sniffed loudly a couple of times and pulled back slightly, "I'm sorry," she apologised, "it's just." Falling silent she looked confused for a moment, "did you still want that drink?" she asked suddenly, brushing her hair out of her eyes and wiping the tears from her face, "before Ops tells us off for loitering in a turbolift?"

Dhani smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes, "I think a drink is in order. Computer Deck eight." she called out.

Letting the lift resume its journey, Kimberly wiped her eyes and sniffed again, "Mind if we stop by my quarters first, I should clean up," she asked.

"Sure." Dhani replied glad that she had stopped crying. She wondered if perhaps she should act more upset and humbled that Burton had 'saved' her life. Maybe she should start some sort of hero worship…. Nah she concluded, too much effort.

"Thanks," Kimberly said as the lift stopped she got off and led the way to her quarters.

Ensign Krel Voral, Security Officer, USS Miranda
Commander Felicia Khaatroweena, Second Officer, USS Miranda

Ship's Lounge, USS Miranda
-----------------------------

Finally. It was over. Voral had been counting the minutes to the end of his first shift on the Miranda like a child waits for permission to unwrap a gift. The day had been routine and protocol. He would never argue that security not being needed to respond to anything was a bad thing, however, the boredom that can be inspired by a day like this can be epic in scale. With the shift over, there was one thing he needed more than anything else: a drink.

The newest addition to the security department sat down and the bar, and ordered one of his favorites, a Long Island Ice Tea. He swiveled the stool to face the floor of the bar to take a look at his new crewmates. In standard Krel Voral fashion, it wasn't long before he had met a few people, and had them laughing and singing.

Cat was glad for the end of the day, with coordination with a lot of the minor functionaries and bureaucrats in the Rihannsu government, she was almost ready to kill someone. They asked the Federation for help, but the way that they were acting, you would think that it was some great honour for Cat to be in their presence. But she just kept her normal closed mouth smile, reverting back to her pleasant looking, 'I am not going to show any reaction' doctor's face and did her best to work with the Romulans.

She noticed the laughter coming from the bar as the double headed Zaphod was serving drinks. She noticed the green bubbling sight of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. With a noticable difference in the green at the top and the bottom, he was serving her version of the liquid version of getting hit on the back of the head with a starship at warp speed. The slight smile on the right hand head, Cat knew someone was in trouble.

Sitting down at the bar, she waved her hand to Zaphod who came over, "What'll it be Commander?"

"Yttrium Water just for the moment Zaphod."

Zaphod's right head nodded as the left continued to watch the small group farther down the bar.

As Zaphod was getting the drink from the replicator, Cat asked, "So who getting the surprise?"

"The what," returned Zaphod.

"P Double G P." said Cat, nodding her head to the bubbling green concoction.

Both of Zaphod's heads looked at Cat and gave slight smiles, "One of the newbie security, says he can hold his liquour. Thought I would try him out. He's off shift...and I've got Sickbay on notice," he finished with a smile.

Cat just shook her head as she looked over. Grabbling her glass, she headed over to an empty seat next to the small group, as she sat down, she took a sip from her glass - "Ensign, I'd drink that slowly if I were you."

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm........." He turned toward this person offering their advice, and brought his speech to a halt immediately upon seeing who it was. "Of all the people on this ship that would give me a warning about consumption, I'd figure it wouldn't be someone who's seen some of my best work first hand." The odd reply had obviously puzzled her as she was giving him that "where do I know you" look. "Quark's Bar, Deep Space Nine, back during the Dominion War, and by the way, I still feel badly about you losing those 5 strips of latinum."

Cat's feline eyes still showed the lack of comprehension, "Quark's Bar??? Five strips..." Finally it dawned upon her what the ensign was saying. "By the Fates, Ensign...Five Latinum strips? Try twelve! But that was a good few years ago, you must have an excellent memory."

"I've been told that a few times Commander," Krel replied with a smile. "Those were dark days, and I always find it easier to remember what good times I had."

Cat shook her head in wonder, the ensign's face was familiar now. Back during the Dominion War on the few RnR that the Galaxy could and did take, Cat watched a drinking contest between a younger Krel and a Nausicaan. Cat had her money on the favourite...she lost it.

Giving a slight chuckle, "I'm amazed you remember anything at all. I think you toppled over about half a second after the Nausicaan," Cat commented on the competition.

"What memories I have are quite few," Voral said with a hearty laugh. "The full chronicle of the contest was patched together from accounts by Quark, a few dabo girls, and you, after coming by Sick Bay to check in on me. I never did get the chance to thank you for that by the way."

Cat nodded, "That's ok. I was doing my job," she smiled. Cat looked at Krel, remembering the way he collapsed to the ground and considering the amount of alcohol he had imbibed, she was sure he had poisoned himself. She got him to sickbay and under Bashir's care, he did wake up, but it must have been a couple of hell mornings. "It's nice to see that things were ok."

Voral took a sip from this "mystery drink" the bartender had mixed for him and winced. "Wow! This is strong, but quite good." He directed his full attention to the lovely Caitian, "Look at you! A commander, and ship's second officer no less. It looks like you've done quite well for yourself!"

Cat nodded, "Thank you." Cat looked at Krel for a few moments, waiting. She noticed Zaphod looking at the Ensign as well as the small group around the bar looking on in interest. It was if, everybody was frozen in time - just waiting

Voral noticed most of the occupants of the bar had their collective gazes fixed upon him. "What?" He said with a bit of nervous laughter. And then.....it happened.

A small fusion explosion went off in Krel's stomach, the shockwave moved up the oesophagus, it delivered the scortched earth policy to the lining. His eyes opened wide as a single tear trickled down his left cheek and with a whoosh of exhaled air, Krel looked at the glass in his hand. The innocuous green bubbling drink certainly held a few surprises.

The group around him tittered lightly as Cat just gave her normal closed mouth smile. Zaphod placed a glass of buttermilk right next to the other glass, "Here - you might want to drink this!"

"As a doctor, you might want to do as the two headed man says," Cat added.

"Of course Commander." Krel frantically reached for the glass of buttermilk and downed the contents. "By the Prophets, you could substitute that for drive plasma" He held up the glass containing the bubbling, green concotion and asked the bartender, "What the devil is in here?"

"That is one of the most toxic and poisonous concoctions ever created by the Federation Medical Community, designed explicitly and efficiently to inebriate any Federation citizen in the shortest amount of time, after taking their money of course," Zaphod lectured, with his other head laughing silently. "Designed by the Commander here!"

"I shouldn't be surprised that I find this "mystery drink" in my hand then. I suppose that this laugh at my expense covered the cost of those lost strips of latinum," he said as he began to laugh heartilly. "If I couldn't laugh at my self, I'd be in a sad, sad state. I bet the ___expression on my face was priceless."

"Pretty normal in fact," returned Cat, but her eyes twinkled. "But no, it wasn't my idea to get back at you, it was Zaphod who wanted to test out your ability to drink. Actually, originally that drink was for another person. It was just before I had left the academy, an operations ensign played a trick on me and got me to drink an innocent looking drink and...well, I was drinking vitamin c and water almost continually the next day. So me and my room mate, spent two days concocting the nastiest thing we could imagine. Worst thing, I developed a taste for it. Awful stuff - but every now and again, it helps kick start the system. I got him back though, he guzzuled my version of the P double G P and hit the floor like a meteorite. The trick is in the delayed reaction." Cat smiled as she thought back to that time, she gave a slight chuckle as her tail slowly swayed, because of the memories.

Voral looked inquisitively at the Commander, "Someone you met while at the Academy? If you don't mind me asking, who was the intended victim?"

Cat sniffled as some of the Yttrium Water threatened to move up her nasal passages as she tried not to chuckle, "Oh you might hear about him. An Ensign Jaal Jaxom - on the Operations stream of the Academy, well, he was an ensign at the time."

Voral's eyes widened with surprise, "You mean Commander Jaxom, the ship's first officer?? I've yet to meet the man, but I have heard a few rumors from people I've spoken to while on shift. He narrowed his eyes slightly and smiled at Felicia, "I take it that his practical joking tendencies didn't stay put at the Academy."

"Mostly they have stayed at the Academy. He is a good Commander." Cat took a breath as she looked at her glass and then took a sip, "So mostly what I know about you, is that you lost me twelve strips, " she smiled. "But besides that...What have you been doing in the last few years?"

"Well, I stayed at my post on DS9 as a combat engineer with the SFMC through the rest of the Dominion War, and left for Starfleet Academy for the Fall '76 semester." Voral smiled as a wave of memories hit him like a flood. He had made some good friends, and had some great times at the Academy. Those 4 years were some of the best of his life. "I graduated as part of the class of '80, went to an advanced school for forensics for a year, and spent 2 years on the Constitution before coming here." Voral gave Felicia a sheepish grin, "And that, Commander, is the abbreviated 'Chronicles of Krel Voral, Vol. 3;"

Cat nodded and as she sipped from her glass, there came the familiar chirp of her comm-badge, her face showed the distaste of the idea of being called, she was sure it was some irate Ri'Hannsu bureacrat that needed to be appeased, again. She tapped the badge and her face got harder and her tail froze as she heard that she had been right. Telling the comms-officer to transfer the call to Cantina Conference Room, she smiled at Voral. "I'm sorry ensign, but it looks like I have to go."

Voral shook the second officers hand, "It was nice to see you again, and I look forward to serving with you." He took his seat back at the bar, and breathed a silent prayer to the Prophets for Felicia. He had a feeling that she'd need their guidance.

"Those Pesky Terrans"

LtCmdr. Anjoli D'Bari, CMO
Lt. Mark, Counselor
USS Miranda

==Holodeck 2==

Anjoli held her breath to keep the slightest tremor in her hands from causing disaster. With exquisite concentration, she carefully moved her instrument of choice into position...drew back....and connected solidly.

The small white ball whizzed through the blue sky, but immediately began to arc away from the target, a small flag on a distant patch of green.'

"Slice? Dammit!"

Anjoli wanted to throw the club, but then remembered that her counselor was waiting for his own shot. With a grumble, she thrust the wood into the leather bag and stood stewing out of the way.

Anjoli's white skirt and matching polo shirt with the small green Gorn on the Pocket stood out with the background of Pebble Beach, one of the most scenic golf courses of Terra. The beautiful scenery--blue ocean, lovely cliffside greens, and clouds the consistency of cotton candy--did nothing for her bad humor today.

Mark chewed on his cigar as he analyzed her slice... and her legs...but he concentrated on her swing.

Honest.

"You need to turn your club counter-clockwise a little next time you drive," he commented in a helpful tone. He approached the tee off area, put a tee with a ball on it in the ground. "Watch, see my hands? Here's what you just did." Mark lined up the shot holding the club just like Anjoli had.

When he hit the ball it sliced exactly to the same place the doctor's ball did.

Anjoli, arms crossed over her chest and surly expression firmly in place, watched the ball spin away from the target. "Yes, yes....."

Mark pulled a ball from his pants pocket and placed it on the tee. "Now, watch my hands." he held the club just like Anjoli had, then rotated his grip in the suggested manner.

This time, when the ball was hit it flew straight and true down the center of the fairway.

"See the difference?" Mark asked.

"I see that you're knowlege of this thrice-cursed game exceeds mine by several levels of magnitude...." she sighed. Mark was trying to help, and she knew her anger was misplaced in any case.

"I appreciate your sharing your knowledge of the game...."

"Not a problem," Mark replied smiling, "How else would I get some decent competition if I didn't train up some of the others aboard?" He gave her a playful wink.

This time, she duplicated his swing to her best of her ability, and the ball went much better.

"I think I would do better if these..." pushing her shoulders forward to highlight her chest, "were not in the way...."

Mark did his best not to stare at the cleavage. "A common complaint amongst many female professional players... although... on seocnd thought... most of the professionals don't have the uhh, bounty you do in that department." The counselor blushed as he realized he was staring at the said 'bounty'. He cleared his throat and focused his attention on where Anjoli's ball landed. "Looks like a half-way decent lie under that tree over there." He indicated an elm on the edge of the fairway. The branches were high enough to not interfere with a shot to the green.

"All right....let's go." Anjoli took a breath to try to relax. This was supposed to be fun, not work. She picked up her bag of clubs and looked over to Mark with a rueful smile.

"You know, I used to be able to relax better than this...."

Mark chuckled. "'Golf is so popular simply because it is the best game in the world at which to be bad,'" the counselor quoted. "I think a famous author once said that." He took a hearty puff on his cigar and blew an absolutely fabulous smoke-ring which linger a moment before dissipating in a sudden, light breeze. He looked to his emerald companion, "Once you a better knack for driving the ball you'll be able to relax more. I suspect you're a little tense because you aren't catching on as quickly as you think you should."

"And that's your professional opinion, Counselor?" she asked with a smirk.

Mark tilted his head in thought, "Yes, as a matter of fact, it *is* my professional opinion."

Anjoli finally let loose a generous laugh. "I suppose the frustration does get the best of me. I thought the game was supposed to be relaxing, when it's just the opposite...."

"It IS relaxing," Mark replied with a knowing smile, "You're out in the sun communing with nature," he spread his arms out to indicate the wooded areas surrounding the fairway, "The walking is good exercise, not to mention taking out your frustrations on a little white ball. Every aspect of the game is relaxing," he argued.

Anjoli shook her finger at Mark in mock annoyance. "Doesn't anything bother you? You're more calm, poised, and happy than a Zen master who just won the Galactic Lottery...."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Mark's brow furrowed in confusion.

Anjoli gave the counselor a warm pat on the back. "No...I am just envious of your casual ease in all things. I used to feel that relaxed, but then I started kindergarden. Since then, it's been one damned thing after another."

"It's hard for me to imagine you tense," Mark remarked, "You hide it well."

"Oh well...if it wasn't for golf, I'd never get you to teach me how to swing the little metal cudgels...."

"One of the best parts of the game. Striking something always appeals to everyone's inner barbarian." Anjoli chuckled darkly, selecting her next cudgel.

"Then I'm suprised that Maivia or Arel Smith aren't on the professional tour by now....."

"Smith has been on a couple of outings with me. She could be really good if she practiced," Mark evaluated the Miranda's security chief from memory. "Maivia... golf won't help him. He needs a trip to the Tokyo Health Spa," he winked, "if ya know what I mean. That boy is way, WAY too high strung."

Anjoli nodded, agreeing with the opinion of the counselor. "And as much as I personally dislike the man, I would not mind helping him.... relax. Oh, who am I fooling? He's probably so tense his equipment would fail to function."

"That's for you to find out and not tell me about," Mark chuckled.

Anjoli just waved off the idea, addressing the ball carefully.. "I really don't have the inclination for casual encounters amongst the crew these days." That casual comment was akin to a Klingon swearing off battle or a Vulcan surrendering logic to join a circus.

Mark blinked a few times. "Ya know, that sounds akin to a Romulan swearing off ale or a Tellarite deciding to act nice for a change. Gwen getting the better of you is she?"

Anjoli didn't answer at first, using her wedge to get the ball out of the rough onto the green. "You tell her that, and she won't be able to fit her head through the doorways."

"Your secret is safe with me," Mark grinned, "Nice shot too, by the way."

"Thank you...." she said with a playful curtsy.The emerald woman returned her club to her bag. "Perhaps I am happy with what I have at the moment. Besides, my father once taught me a story by a wise Terran named Aesop. One cannot hold onto too much too tightly without letting good things slip between the fingers."

"Your father is a wise man," Mark commented while blowing a magnificent smoke ring.

"Quite. Besides that, my recent forays off the Miranda have been less than...satisfactory. One recent encounter reminded me that not all Terrans are sophisticated enough to appreciate a once in a lifetime experience with an Arrin'Haleri."

Mark laughed, "Don't feel too bad. Not all Terrans are sophisticated enough to appreciate other Terrans."

Anjoli shrugged eloquently. "Sad, but very true."

"Brother and Sister"
Lieutenant John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda
Lieutenant Diana Ramirez, Chief Operations Manager USS London
John Ramirez Sr, Deceased

Diana Ramirez wandered the corridors of the massive Pathfinder Class Starship, amazed at just how big the ship actually was. By a lot of Starfleets standards, the Soveriegn class starship that she herself served on was no small ship. At 680 meters long, the London wasn't a small ship, but everything seemed bigger on Miranda. Infact, it surprised her that it'd taken this long for her to visit her brother. And it had taken the Hydrans to draw Starfleet to ch'Rihan.

John sat in his office, a space where he was permitted to enjoy his solitude, a place where he was able to get away from enough of what was going on outside to allow him to concentrate on the dullest part of his duties as a Senior Officer of a Starship such as the one that he served: - Paper Work. The mission ahead did not look great, infact, it looked terrible. He'd had the feeling right off the bat that this wouldn't be good. No matter what was ahead, something didn't smell right. And it wasn't his new deoderant.

Looking up from the stack of PADD's that decorated the Helmsmans desk as the door chime went off, John called out "Enter." He actually wondered who it was. No one had ever come to see him in his office before.

The elder sister of Miranda's Chief Flight Controller walked into her brothers office, knowing that it had been some time since they'd seen each other. The two had been close as kids, but now, they'd grown distant. More so since their father had died, just under a month earlier. Infact, Diana had been more surprised that she'd not even heard from John. Infact, to look at him, he showed no signs that he'd even been grieving for their dad.

"Dee" John said grinning widely. Most people had always called Diana either Di, or Diana, but John had always called her Dee, because that was his first word, or so his parents had told him. His first word had been calling out for his sister. In many ways, that was exactly why they'd been close. He stood up out of his chair, walked round the desk and hugged his sister. "Its so great to see you."

Diana hugged her brother back, "and you." When they broke their embrace, she asked, "why don't you call me anymore. I've not heard from you for ages."

"Miranda just spent 4 months out of contact with the Federation. We were flung to the Delta Quadrant, and have been trying to get our buts back here. And now there this." John replied, as if that answered his sisters question.

"D'you get my letter?" Di asked, wondering if John had even known that their Dad was dead. Maybe that would explain why he wasn't grieving.

John simply nodded, sitting back in his chair.

"And?"

"And What?" John replied, "what do you want me to say?"

"That your sorry. That you wish he wasn't dead. That you wish you could do something about it. Say something." Diana said, almost screaming at her younger brother.

"What difference would it make? Would it bring him back?" John asked.

Another voice entered the fray, "Probably not" the elder - eldest - Ramirez muttered.

"I don't know." Diana replied, clearly not able to see her father present in the room. "But at least say something."

"She wants you to explain the way you feel son" Ramirez Sr muttered. "How can you make her understand."

John looked to where their father sat on the edge of his desk, still wearing the Dress Uniform that he always appeared in. Looking back at his sister, it was clear to him that she just couldn't see him. "What if I told you that I can't grieve for him. That I don't even think he's gone. I don't even think he's ever gonna go."

Diana approached her brother then, and put her hand on his shoulder, "but he is gone. And he isn't coming back."

"Maybe" John muttered.

The older, dead man, watched as his kids spoke to each other. He found it interesting that he was only able to appear to John. He decided to take an opportunity that he may never get again. "John, tell her that I'll always be there. Tell her that I loved her."

John looked to his father, then back to Diana, "Dad will always be there, I know that for definate."

"You can't kno..."

John interupted, "I do know that. Dad loves you very much."

Diana smiled, a rare sight these days. "Your very good at cheering me up John. Do you know that?"

"I do."

"John, tell her that she has to give Logan more time. She has to allow him to be the kinda of man he's got the potential to be." Ramirez Sr knew that his daughter wasn't taking to his own replacement.

The younger Ramirez stared at his father, wondering just what the hell he was talking about.

"Just tell her."

Diana wondered what the hell was going on with her brother. He seemed to be acting very strange. She was about to say something to her brother when he turned to look at her.

"I want you to do something. Don't do it for me, and don't do it for yourself, but do it for Dad." John said with a straight face.

Di was curious what her brother was about to say, so just nodded, saying nothing.

"I want you to go easy on Captain Logan. Dad would want you to go easy on Captain Logan." Seeing his father, whether it was really him or not, whether it was a ghost or an apparition, or something else completely had changed John.

Di could tell her brother had changed, but unlike her brother, she had no clue what exactly it was that had changed him. "How did you know that I had a problem with him."

"I Just know." John replied, "and I know your older than me, and I have no right to tell you what to do, but you have to listen to me now. Don't give him a hard time. He's a good officer. We picked him up from the Delta Quadrant, and bought him and his crew back with us. And I'm sure you know as well as I do that with the Hydrans knocking on our back porch its important that those who have to make all the decisions have nothing else to worry about. Logan doesn't need you, or anyone else on the London getting on his case."

"What are you trying to say John?" Diana asked.

John was about to reply, when Diana's comm badge went off. "<London to Lieutenant Ramirez>"

"Go ahead" Diana replied.

"<Captain Logan's just left for the Galaxy, he's after a situation update.>" Came the voice from the other end. "<Commander Mellor wants all Senior Staff back on board in five minutes.>"

"Understood, I'm on my way." Diana replied. She tapped her comm badge, "I've gotta go."

"Just think about what I've said, alright."

"I will John, I will."

"Interception"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Galaxy

Saul didn't have any recollection of his journey from the Miranda back to the Galaxy's CIC. Since he left Weber's office, all he could think of and see was the footage of the second Galae's defeat. He visualized the enormous star beast, its limbs flailing and shattering one Romulan ship after another as in the background the Hydran hellbores scorch the surface of Judaris. The carnage was beyond comprehension.

Vaden began to make sense.

The Hydrans were known to harness and even manufacture space beasts, but nothing at this magnitude as far as Saul knew. The beast needed to be controlled. Something, someone, must've harnessed it. Otherwise, it would damage the Hydran and Romulan fleets equally.

Now, Saul wasn't a neuroxenologist, but it was safe to say that the interface between such a humongous beast and whoever controlled it was complex. When he infiltrated the Olor 50 research center at Vaden, he saw a wide variety of aliens inside tanks... perhaps the Hydrans were experimenting on achieving an effective interface. Perhaps, the cybernetic parts were somehow modified to act as mediators between the mind of the operator and the mind of the beast.

"Saul? Everything all right?"

Saul blinked out of autopilot mode. Without realizing it, he made his way into the CIC. Ensign Dupont, one of his officers, was looking at him in a very strange way.

"Yes, Philippe. Just pondering something. Where's Raynor?"

Ensign Dupont shrugged, as if saying 'Who knows where the nutcase might be?'

"There weren't any underground ship-wide radio broadcasts today, weren't they?", Saul glared.

"Nono... everything is as usual."

How I wish this was the case, Saul thought. Out loud, he said, "If you see him, I have a package for him - tell him to talk to me ASAP."

Saul wondered how Raynor will react to the space beast footage he was now carrying on an Isolinear chip, which rested in false safety deep inside his pocket. He'll probably make some commentary about god's mother, for starters.

"Will do.", Dupont replied, not commenting about the strange smile that formed on his department head's face. "Oh, and Kwntz wanted to talk to you."

"Is that so?"

Saul thanked Dupont, and proceeded to find Petty officer Kwntz. As he suspected, the Tellarite was stationed by the systems control station, surrounded from three sides by screens, control panels, and holographic projections which let him direct all of the Galaxy's intelligence gathering systems with his two chubby hands.

"Ah, Saul."

"Good day Doragli." Saul greeted the Tellarite in his native tongue. Tellarites were the second most common species on Utrecht III after Humans, and it was only natural for him to catch their language and later study it more thoroughly on the academy.

"We intercepted and deciphered an encoded transmission." Doragli replied, switching to standard as he reached technical terms. "It was a wide modulated broadcast, but I'm pretty sure its recipient is on board the Galaxy. It's in standard... terrible quality, because the decryption algorithms lose several layers in the translation. Here."

Saul took the earpiece which Kwntz offered him, and placed it in his ear. Doragli touched one of the many panels at his disposal, and immediately static noise filled Saul's hear.

With effort and lots of teeth-gritting, he was able to understand some of it.

*"--her schedule?"*

*"She's planning --- volunteered to do the duty that she asked me to do. That will give me the opportunity I need to do what needs to be done."*

*"Are you clear as to the method?"*

*"--st to insure a non painless death, then "*

*"Make sure you get what we tal--"*

"Non-painless death." Saul repeated. The rest was incomprehensible. He put down the earpiece next to Doragli's snack box.

"I knew it would interest you."

"Yes. Let's try to clean up the conversation."

"Already on it. Want me to consult with Engineering?"

Saul shook his head. "No, I'm sure you and Ch'itah are more than capable. If you can't improve it, see if Eve can help you."

The Tellarite nodded. Saul gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "I'll contact security. Let's see if we can save someone from 'painless death'."

* * *

FROM: Lieutenant Saul Bental\Intelligence\USS Galaxy
TO: Commander James Corgan\Security\USS Galaxy
SUBJECT: Suspicous broadcast

Commander,

Attached is the audio recording of a message intercepted by my department. I apologize in advance for the horrible quality, let's say that decryption didn't exactly improve it.

My men are pretty sure that the message was intended for someone on the Galaxy. If so, I believe you'll agree that it falls under your jurisdiction. I'll let you know if we manage to clean up the recording.

Behatzlaha.

"Here's To Life!"

(OOC: Occurs the day before "Changed Perception")

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineer, USS Galaxy

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - Second Platoon Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

*****
Angel Moon
USS Galaxy
*****

A scowl crossed her face as she slammed the glass down. She opened her eyeswhen she could finally breath, but then that only brought choking. This was the first time she tried Andorian Whiskey. It was about five times "hotter" than any earth whiskey. She smiled and nodded in approval catching her breath before getting courage to take another swig.

She sat in the new bar, Angel Moon. It had become her favorite place. She wasn't going to have another shore leave for awhile, and a weekly bar vacation never hurt anyone. She wasn't an alcoholic. It was just a weekly thing and usually while Saia was in school, and she was back home in time. She was still being a responsible parent.

Parent. At that thought she took another swig in honor of wondering how she was screwing up Saia and if she shouldn't send the girl off to her grandmother.

It is amazing just how much can go wrong despite all the endless training sessions, the repeated tests and trials where only the best were warranted, the best equipment Starfleet could offer, and a strong leadership team. He hadn't been there, on that seemingly lifeless planet, and he didn't have all the facts, even after speding two months in orbit since Cheron, just scattered reports and gossip, but from what he had managed to find out, he was glad that he had requested a leave of absence and headed down to ch'Rihan.

Stepping through the doors to the bar in full Marine gear, including his pack and sniper rifle, probably wasn't the best move he could have made. The looks on many of the faces that turned to look in his direction gave credence to that thought. The unit, having been back only a few days, were doing double the number of training sessions each day to make up for their disastrous mission on Cheron, and having not been there, and having not gone through the mess that they had, Steven was getting a little pissed at the extra training - technically he was leading one of the teams in that training, but that wasn't the point - he was being made to do.

So here he was at Angel Moon, for a large stiff drink to quench his thirst and drown away the pain of the long march they had just done through the deserts of some god forsaken planet that existed in the Marine Training holodeck. A couple of drinks would be good, more would be better, at least it seemed that way at present.

Scanning around, he noticed a familiar face, the only person, save the bartender, that he knew. He made his way towards her, seeing her deep in thought, with a drink in hand, as he approached.

"Huuuuman, you are my prisoner again!" He said in his most 'Ferengi' like voice, which truth be told, wasn't a very good impression. The look that appeared on her face showed that it had been good enough. He grinned like a Cheshire cat as she turned towards him.

She looked up glaring, but the grin was contagious as she shook her head, "Please don't ask me to travel with you again."

"Fair enough, but I was thinking of visiting Kronos when we are next in the Klingon region of space. Keen to come?" He jested.

"I wouldn't go if you promised K'Erin would be there." Nara figured she'd go anyway. Well, no. Not with Saia how she is.

"May I?" He indicated the seat opposite her.

She nodded, "Go ahead."

Stripping the pack from his shoulders, he placed it on the floor, along with his rifle, and took a seat.

"How has your day bee... oh..." He spied the glass before her. "Andorian Whiskey? That's pretty hard stuff."

"I'm trying to burn my tongue off." She smiled, "No, just felt like something strong today. It's as much adventure as I can take without killing myself. Well, we'll see." She looked at the pack, "Didn't even go home to change first? They must had pushed you hard today." Nara remembered training. There had been days she wouldn't strip off the gear till she went to bed. Sometimes not even then. It just required more energy than one really had after such rigurous exercise.

"Pushing us hard is a huge understatement." Steven chuckled. "With the defence of ch'Rihan from a potential invasion upcoming, we've been hard at it, trying to figure out where we can improve. Still not sure how a ten mile run, carrying close to sixty pounds of weight in our packs helps in that regard, but orders are orders." He smiled, "It was long, hard and very, very tiring work and I needed a stiff drink. So here I am."

Taking notice of the nearly empty glass in front of Nara, he pointed at it. "Do you want another?"

Nara shrugged, "Sounds good."

Steven looked towards the bar, and after a a short time managed to gain the attention of the bartender. "Two Andorian Whiskeys please."

"So, how have you been?" Steven asked.

"Well, shore leave wasn't exactly relaxing." She tried not to sound bitter. She had wanted to go. She just sighed, "I'm exhausted."

"Sorry about that. But how was I to know that two Ferengi were going to try a stunt like that?"

"To be honest, I was expecting to be pitchforked out of that village. Ferengi are more evil than the Romulans. Imagine that."

Steven smiled. "We've been in orbit around ch'Rihan for a couple of months now. Did you think to head down again. Without the Ferengi this time."

"What would I do there?"

"Have you never wondered about what kind of people they really are? You know, when you get past all their aggression and distrust towards us, they may turn out to be wonderful people. What about their customs, religion, culture and history. There is so much we don't know about them. Isn't that what Starfleet is all about? Exploring new cultures and civilisations?"

"They're bastards who..." Nara stopped, "I'm a bit distrusting of them as well."

"Oh... Is it something you want to talk about?"

"Just prejudice. If it's to change, it'll take time."

"True enough. I've had several instances where I had ill feelings about a group of people. Had to keep reminding myself not to get too worked up about it. As to the Romulans, oh wait, we're supposed to call them the Rihannsu now aren't we, I went back again the other day, to check out their culture and different religions. It's pretty fascinating stuff. Even heard a rumour about the Romu, eh, Rihannsu Second Fleet being destroyed. Passed it onto your man. Hope it helps him and his team out."

"They'll get it. They're good at their job."

"How are you doing with O'Shea back?"

"She's gone again and good riddance. I mean good luck to the woman, but for me she's a sore reminder."

"Fair enough. I never met her though, and knowing now that she wasn't the one who actually caused the holodeck incident, I do feel a little sorry for her."

Nara looked at him, "Her? Why?"

"She's been hard done by in all this. It wasn't her that tampered with the holodeck, or the other systems. And yet everyone bags her for it. Must be tough on her. That's all." He took a sip of the brandy. It was strong. Though not as strong as the Romulan Ale he had stashed away. But it would do for now. "You said she was gone... Has she left the ship or something?"

"Maybe it wasn't her, but she looks like the clone." A beat. "I mean the clone looked like her. Anyway, it's a target for anger. Can't help it. She was told to leave."

"Everyone needs a punching bag at some point. It does neither of our moods any good to continue this line of conversation. Though I think that we should look to change the subject. Seen any good vids lately?" Despite his thoughts on the subject, neither of them came here to discuss the antics of the clone of the former, as it seemed, chief engineer. He was here to drink away his sorrows, and dredging up further thoughts on the harrowing situation on the holodeck wasn't going to help it that regard. Raising his glass to his lips, Steven took a swig, feeling the liquid burn as it slid down his throat.

"Hadn't seen any. Waiting to be forgiven for a minor misconduct-aka a joke-with the dolphins before they let me back in their pod. But punching bag...I think I'm still allowed in the gym. Unless someone saw the busted bag." Nara smirked remembering having a punching session and all of the sudden, the powder burst out and streamed out. No one else was in the gym, so she just turned and walked out.

Steven's jaw dropped in surprise. "Dolphins.... We have dolphins onboard?"

Nara nodded, "Oversensitive ones at that. Star's the only one that didn't swim off in a huff."

Steven sighed. "What will the Admiralty think of next? Household cats in Starfleet?"

She smirked, "Le'on."

"You're kidding right? There's a housecat named Le'on in Starfleet? Damn we miss a lot of strange stuff being down in Marine country."

"I wouldn't CALL him a housecat unless you want your eyes clawed out. He's on the Miranda."

Steven winced, as he thought about having his eyes clawed by someone that resembled a housecat. "I'll have to remember that." He smiled.

"Did I tell you what happened when I went swimming a couple of days ago?" It seemed word was spreading like wildfire through the female population of the Galaxy, and the Miranda for that matter, so she was likely to find out eventually.

Nara shook her head. Odd he even asked. They hadn't spoken in a long time. "What happened?"

"You were bound to hear it on the grapevine anyway... 8-Ball had some tramp seduce me in the pool, only to run away with my clothes. I gave chase, but found her and 8-ball and some others waiting for me. Seems she thought I had modified the replicators to only give her tea when she asked for anything alcoholic."

Nara raised an eyebrow and looked at him, "That's 8-Ball for you. Who was the woman she used for her revenge?"

"Her name was... Faye or Faylin... I think."

"Faylin McAlister." She scowled and turned away, "The JAG Officer."

"Yeah, that's her... Wait, do you know her?" The way she reacted after saying her name tipped him off to some sort of history between them.

Nara nodded, "She's working on a case for me. I think. Not sure if..." She sighed and cleared her throat, "Yes, I know her."

There was definitely some history and since Steven was Nara's friend and not a counselor, he wasn't going to probe the point any deeper, unless Nara wanted him to. "Sounds like you guys have some history. If you want to talk about it, I'm here for you... Or we can just raise another toast to the *great* lives we have aboard the ship."

"A short history, but could turn to a lot of high school drama real quick." She looked at him and added to the toast with the same sarcasm, "To the great life."

"I never really liked high school dramas, but that was probably due to me being raised on Betazoid by my Trill half-sister."

Steven continued. "Still, I feel the need for another drink." He waved at the bartender for another round.

OOC: Takes place four days after the Miranda gets back from it's "Trip" and takes place a few hours after "Strange Views"

"Gotta have Faith"

Featuring:
Flight Officer Jacob "Gryphon" Striker
Renegade 11, Rogue Group of the SFFC

and Ensign Rebecca Faith Striker
Operations Officer, USS Typhon -ONPC

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

Location: Personal quarters of Flight Officer Jacob Striker, USS Miranda

Jacob was sitting in his quarters reading a copy of "God is my co-pilot" by Colonel Robert L. Scott when the terminal at his desk started to beep at which point he marked his place and walked over to his desk and sat down before activating the terminal.

On the screen an attractive redheaded woman with bright green eyes stared back at him with a kind of quirky smile. "Well, here is a first. Usually dad has to call you to call me." said the slightly accented voice of Rebecca Faith Striker, Jacob's niece.

"Nothing much, aren't you curious where I've been for the last few months though?" he asked, the first thing out of a couple of his family's mouths was basically "Where the Frak have you been?!" but then again, this was Faith.

"Eh, dad already filled me in on what happened and he got it second hand from Aunt Katrin and Uncle Kris so eh." Faith said with a slight shrug.

"Okay..at anyrate I need to ask a big favor if I can of you, Faith?" Jacob said.

"Sure, but I'll have to hear it out first." the redheaded woman responded.

"I recently entered into another relationship and it's working Faith but the problem is trying to help my girlfriend's eldest child with some stuff. She's kind of like you, highly intelligent but the difference is that she's lost two fathers." Jacob said, hoping that he wouldn't have to go into the details with Faith.

Faith leaned back in her chair on her side of the screen and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I can tell from the look on your face that this isn't something you want to explain in full, uncle Jake, but I can't do much right now. The Typhon is helping to test the new mark three Valks at the moment but I do have some shore leave coming up and I want to goto the Miranda to slug you for missing my graduation!" Faith said with a smirk on her face.

Jacob winced at this, while the Miranda was stuck outside of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants due to a strange galactic occurence which had sent Federation, Cardassian, Klingon, and even a ship belonging to the Hive thousands of light years away from home, his brother's only child had graduated from the academy and posted aboard one of the ships of the line. She had threatened him for months before the whole situation that she would slug him if he missed one of her biggest moments and it was something that she fully intened on doing apparentally.

"Alright, you come and help Nikki and I'll see what I can do about letting you get alot of punches in on me, cool?" Jacob offered.

"Wait a second, isn't the Miranda where my friend Janeen is?" Faith asked with a raised eyebrow, her memory catching up to her on that one.

"Yep, she's been on board for a bit now since before we got suck in another quadrant, why?" Jacob asked.

"Because she's a friend of mine and I'm wanting to compare notes with her duh!" Faith said rolling her eyes like any teenager would sometimes do. "I'll check with my department head and see when the soonest I can get some shore leave or at the very least I'll give your lover's kid a call." Faith said with a smirk on her face.

"Alright.." Jacob was about to say before a comm channel opened suddenly that said "All Rogue Group pilots report to the briefing room for roster rotation, out!" came the familiar voice of the fighter group's cordinator. "DREN! I'll have to talk to you later, Faith. Someone's got a bug in their bung if you get my meaning."

Faith simply nodded, her smirk gone. "Trust me I understand, I was able to squeeze in calling my favorite uncle before I had to report down to the hanger bay and help Cam and Ally get some of the new fighters operational systems online. I'll catch ya later unc!" Faith explained before she terminated the link and Jacob grabbed his flight jacket and rushed out of his quarters.

"Seat of your Pants"
Cmdr. Jaal Jaxom, Executive Officer USS Miranda
Lt. John Ramirez, Chief Flight Controller USS Miranda

"So how do you feel about flying by the seat of your pants?" Jaal asked Ramirez. It was an important question to the Trill. The answer would tell alot about the flight controler's readiness in the event the Hydrans made it as far as the Romulan homeworld.

"Seat of the pants piloting has always been considered an art form Sir" John replied "but I think I'm learning to master it." The starships Helmsman smiled. "Seriously though sir, I think I'm about as ready as I'll ever be. We've been through a lot of battles in the past year, I think I can handle it." Ramirez was right of course, there had been the four months they'd spent in the not quite alternate reality, the Battle of Vulcan, and there was the battle with the Borg in the Delta Quadrant. It had been a rough year for Miranda.

"Good," Jaal nodded. The Trill had heard just what he needed to. Ramirez started out as the chief helmsman after Taalis left. There were rumblings among the crew that Jaal would have a hard time accepting anyone else in the pilot's chair but in the end, he proved them all wrong. "The fancy new ablative armor will only take us so far. With your expert piloting it will take us that much farther."

"I'd hardly call myself an expert sir" John replied, "but thanks all the same."

"He just paid you a compliment son" another voice chimed in, "and you just threw it back in his face."

John turned towards the sound of the voice, but saw nothing.

Jaal watched Ramirez for a moment before saying anything. "Everything all right?"

"I'm fine sir" John replied, "I thought I heard something. It's been happening alot lately."

"Oh?" Jaal asked curiously, "Anything the rest of us should know about?"

"I think its just me sir" Ramirez said eventually, "I'm not even sure if I'm just imagining it, or whether its actually real. I guess my fathers death is getting to me more than I thought."

Jaal nodded, "I understand." He patted the pilot on the shoulder, "Keep up the good work. I'm sure he is very proud of you."

John nodded, "Thanks sir." He watched Jaxom walk away, before settling back in at his console.

The elder Ramirez appeared infront of his son once more, "He's right you know, I am proud of you..."

ooc- Slight backpost due to operator error

"Coffee"

Faylin McAlister
Paulo DiMillo

*****

Paulo sat in the lounge of the Galaxy looking out over Romulus. It had been a long trip back, and he had not talked with London since coming back. He really wanted to know what had happened. After all, she was the counselor he saw more often then not. Not to mention a friend.

But instead of going to find her, he sat looking out over the green planet. He really didn't know why, but he found himself doing it a lot. Most likely he missed earth. He got up with padd in hand and went to get a new cup of coffee

Faylin McAlister concentrated on the PADD that rested before her. Looking to the side, her view was obstructed by the stray strand of long dark hair that came to rest on her shoulder. Blowing it gently didn't help, so, the woman sighed as she reached up and tucked the hair behind her ear. Lifting the warm cup to her lips, she drank to try and calm her nerves. Olivia had been dropped off earlier at T'Rei's quarters, and she had some spare time before she was to depart for the planet.

Paulo had gotten up and walked over to get a fresh cup of coffee and walked back to a table not realizing it had been taken over by someone new and sat down and continued to read the padd.

She carefully watched the shadow approach and sit down. His attention was obviously somewhere else as Fayling slowly raised her head. "Hi?"

Paulo looked up, "oh... hello," he said. "I was sitting here before but got up... so I guess I lost it... I can go find another table," he told her.

"Why don't you join me? Faylin McAlister." She stated, holding out a hand in greeting, shaking it lightly when he offered it. "Are you from the Galaxy?"

Paulo nodded and smiled. "Pilot Paulo DiMillo, and yes, I am with Vanguard."

"I see." McAlister brought the coffee mug up to her lips. "Me? I'm waiting to transport to the planet for a while. Call it...a working vacation so to speak."

Paulo nodded. "Sounds fun," he said as he took a sip. "I hear it's nice down there."

"Have you been there yet?" Faylin motioned to the planet with her hand.

"No, not yet. I did a fly over this morning, but it was nothing special. Just needed to get the layout of the place for some Marines over on the Miranda.

"Now, that sounds fun." She stated with a smile. "It is unfortunate that I do not handle space travel well. I admire you guys."

"It can be... interesting," he told her.

"So, what's your story Paulo? What do you like to do, you know...that sort of thing." McAlister's gaze conveyed a mild curiousity about the man across from her.

"Well I was originally Intelligence but after I started dating the Chief at the time, I asked for a transfer to Vanguard, then promptly got myself suspended by SFI. So I now usually just fly the AWACS runabout and act as an Intelligence Liaison between command and Major Rex."

"A bad boy eh?" Faylin chuckled. "Are you still dating the Chief? Um....wait...Saul's the Chief now...right?"

"She is flight control now, and yes," he told her. "Its going good, though I haven't seen as much of her as I would like recently, with all the shit that has been going on."

"That's nice to hear. An actual relationship that is going great." McAlister paused. "It can be difficult on relationships.....this environment."

"Yes it can be," he told her. "What about you... seeing anyone?"

"What's your definition of 'seeing'?" She stated with a coy grin.

"You know, someone you see, have fun, go on dates and such."

"Well, in that case no. I'm what you would call...a free spirit." McAlister chuckled. "I'm sure one day there will be someone who will knock me off my feet, or get me drunk enough to wake up married to them. But until that point....." She stopped, taking a sip of her coffee and letting her information sink right in.

Paulo took it at face value, not thinking much into it. "It's nice you should try it. Someone to always talk with and such." Paulo paused remembering something. "Any family?"

"An aunt and uncle in Scotland. That's it. They did not have any children, and after my mother and father were murdered, I went to live with them." She kept a stoic face as she spoke.

Paulo nodded. His childhood had also been touch. He had lost both his younger siblings, and they had never found out who had kidnapped his younger sister.

"I am a judge advocate. And, as you can likely deduct, I wanted to find justice for my parents. However, it's a cold case. It was never solved...I never solved it." Faylin paused. "I'm an only child as well."

"I lost both my younger siblings when I was younger, and you could say I also lost my parents. That is why I went into intelligence. I thought I could use those resources to find out who had taken my younger sister, but that is what ended up getting me suspended."

"I am sure that everything will be resolved some day. I just wish I knew........" McAlister trailed off, her voice quiet.

Paulo nodded in agreement. He had lost all hope of ever finding out what had happened that dark day.

"Phew. Okay, new topic...." Faylin smiled. Looking down at her padd, she frowned. It was going to have to wait for another time. "Sorry....I gotta run. Duty calls. It was nice meeting you Paulo. Perhaps we will meet again soon!"

Paulo nodded. "I look forward to it."

"Getting Up to Date"
Captain Kent Logan, Commanding Officer USS London
Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Intelligence Officer USS Galaxy

Captain Kent Logan roamed the corridors of the Galaxy, a starship so familiar to him, yet also so distant. The Sarajevo had been Galaxy Class, but something about this ship was special. The Galaxy, now a Mark III class seemed a lot different on the inside, and looked alot different on the outside. He'd arranged a meeting with the Galaxy's Intelligence Officer, he hoped to get a complete update on the present situation down on ch'Rihan.

A young, tanned Human cadet intercepted him thirty meters from the transporter padd, and escorted him to the intelligence's CIC although there was no need. He couldn't avoid noticing her occassional mischevious glances, which some Captains would consider as bordering disrespect.

The Galaxy's chief of intelligence was standing outside the intelligence center. He was young, in his mid-twenties, and of medium build and height. His brown hair appeared as though it was hastily combed, and the smooth chin suggested he recently shaved.

"Welcome aboard the USS Galaxy, sir. ", Saul greeted him. " I'm Lieutenant Saul Bental, CIO. How may I be of service?"

"I'm Captain Kent Logan" he said, extending his hand, "USS London. We've just arrived in system at the trailing end of the task force. I was hoping to get an up to date situation report. How are things on Romulus."

Saul shook his hand. "Not too well, sir. Let's come in."

They entered CIC, then immediatly turned left into a small conference room. The cadet - whose name, Logan learnt, was Lali - was dimissed with a glare from Saul. Then, the doors closed on them, and a wide 3D projector flickered to life on the conference table.

The first imagery to appear was a boulevard, packed with Romulans. Their shouts couldn't be heard, neither could the screams and the yelps when armored Romulans - policement? - brutally broke up the riot.

"That" Saul said grimly. "Was an anti-Federation riot. Several of those took place on Ki Baratan since the Galaxy arrived with Councillor Omar's corpse. And they only seemed to intensify after what happened to the second Galae."

"I can Imagine" Kent muttered. "I take it that these are all Civilian?" the Captain asked eventually.

"Yes. The government's official stand in the matter is that we're allies, and I see no reason for them to covertly incite the riot. If anything, these riots contribute to the destabilization of the Romulan government."

"And what of the Military presence on Romulus. How are they reacting, both to the presence of Starfleet ships, and the Second Galae's slaughter."

"The Romulans are proud.", Saul replied, "'The Declared' and such. But except for the incident where the planetary passive defense grid was activiated against the Galaxy by a trigger-happy grunt, we had no problems with the Romulan navy. Regarding the massacare... the Romulans are very tight-lipped about it. Right now we at SFI are trying to find out as much as possible on the defeat, in case whatever crashed the galae comes for us next... all of the COs will be updated once we have something concrete, I gather."

"Sounds good." Logan replied. "Anything else to report, that isn't in the official brief Lieutenant."

Saul bit his lower lip. While McKeon and Weber didn't say it specifically, it was obvious that the 'Space monster' footage shouldn't become public knowledge... yet. Nonetheless, he couldn't just let the London's CO live in ignorance. Some would say that it was bliss, but in reality it could mean the demise of Logan's ship.

"Two things." Saul said once he decided what was the correct way to deliver the information. "First, we suspect that the Hydrans may posses cloacking technology. It's not verified, far from it, but if true it could explain the second fleet's defeat."

"Cloaking Technology" Kent repeated.

"The other thing is... the Hydrans are known for preferring organic-based technology, even when it comes to space flight. If they indeed assault ch'Rihan, we'll probably see some of that in action."

"Are we prepared for that" Kent asked. "Are our defenses up to it."

"We can't be sure." Saul admitted. "SFI's estimates did not predict the decisive defeat at Judaris. We don't know the entire contents of the Hydrans' surprise bag, but we do try to get the most accurate estimation. However, I'd like to think that a significant stellar power like the Star Empire is capable of repelling an assault against its core worlds."

"So basically" Logan replied, after a moment, "is we've gotta cross our fingers and hope for the best."

The Galaxy's intelligence chief shut down the holographic projector. "Switch the finger crossing with 'prepearing for the worst', and that's exactly what I'm saying, sir."

Kent nodded, "I understand Lieutenant. These are trying times we live in."

"Speaking of preparing, I got a request to make, if it's not too bold.", Saul suddenlly said. "Normally I would direct it to your Intelligence officer instead of bothering you directly, but since you're already here..."

"Fortunately then, the London doesn't have much in the way of Intelligence Officers. So I guess you'll have to make do with me." Logan replied, smiling. "By all means, lets hear it."

"Do the London have a marine detachment or a fighters' squadron?"

"We've got a Hazard Team" Kent replied, "nothing big. I don't think Fleet Captain Ramirez was fond of either divisions. Perhaps though, I'll be having words with someone at Command when this is over. It seems like a really good idea right about now."

Saul picked up a PADD which until now rested undisturbed on the table. "This contains the specifications for several semi-autonomous devices which can be installed on suits or duty attire used by the Hazards. Basically, they allow us to acquire intelligence in a passive way - picking up transmissions from the air, automatically mapping the surrounding terrain, and so forth. In case the London's hazards deploy on ch'Rihan's surface, I would greatly appreciate it these could be used. The direct and indirect revenues could be considerable."

Logan took the PADD, looking at the specs, "Things down in Intelligence really have changed alot in the last ten years" he muttered. "I'll give this to 'Commander Mo'bar, I'll make sure we get all the data we can."

"Thank you very much." Saul beamed. "And please let me know if there are any problems."

"Will do Lieutenant" Kent replied. "Is there anything else you think I'm in dire need of knowing. Things of important obviously, I don't want to know what the Preator had for breakfast."

"No sir, that's the bulk of it. I'm sure I can work on the little details with your Hazard team."

"Do you want me to send 'Commander Mo'bar your way then?" Logan asked.

"If he requires details beyond the specifications, then definetly."

"Well" Logan extended his hand to the Galaxy's Intelligence Chief once more, "You've been a great help, I think I'm about as up to speed as I can be. Thanks"

"My pleasure sir.", Saul took it. Finally, after his bumpy start with the Miranda, he succeeded in collaborating with another ship on the fleet. The positive points he must've gained with Captain Logan would also prove to be useful in the future, he reckoned. All in all, things started looking brighter for the Galaxy's Intelligence Chief.

Walking out of the Intelligence Centre of the Galaxy, Kent felt in a much better position to protect the Londons crew from whatever was to come. They weren't quite his crew, not just yet.

"History Repeats Itself"

Ensign Faylin McAlister, JAG Officer

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

NPC:

Ensign T'Rei, Security Officer

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

Location: McAlister's Quarters: USS Galaxy

"Okay. Let's get this crap organized." Faylin muttered to herself. She was a little battered and emotionally bruised, but happy to be back on board. It was the last time she'd ever head for any planet, especially with a Romulan Ambassador.

In the midst of unpacking, she brought out the small fairy she had purchased for Olivia. The little girl adored fairies of any kind, and once Faylin had seen it, knew she had to get it for her. As she held it, the chime to her quarters rang out.

"Enter!" She chirped.

This was his first time doing this particular duty, and the Bajoran wasn't sure he liked the feel of it at all. He knew, as every counsellor did, that sometimes you had to help people through bereavement and various similar pains, but that was usually something that happened only in the aftermath, once somebody had died and the individual client you were helping through it had taken some opportunity to both comprehend and perhaps come to terms with the event itself. This time, however, he was going to witness the reaction one had on first learning the news firsthand. He wasn't alone, however, since one of the security officers had volunteered to come along. He wasn't quite certain why, but sometimes it was best not to ask such questions.

In one hand, Miramon was carrying a small clear plastic bag containing a necklace that Faylin's daughter had been wearing around her neck at the time of the accident. Most people tended to disbelieve claims of bereavement at first, so he figured it might be more convincing if he carried the necklace with him, since there was really only one place he could possibly have obtained it from.

As soon as Faylin called out for them to come into the room, the doors hissed open and Miramon stepped into the room, closely followed by the security officer, neither of them looking like they were in particularly good moods, which was true enough. Somehow it was always more difficult to face the deaths of other people when you were the one that had to inform their families of just what had happened. It had, he reflected, been easier when he'd been a pilot, and death was something that happened to other people. Now, the same was true, but there was that extra burden that hadn't been his before.

"Hey guys! I'm just about to go pick up Olivia…wanna come along?" Her face instantly fell as she saw the solemn expressions on T'Rei and Miramon. Faylin knew the look; she knew it all too well. A lump rose in her throat, nausea over came her in one fell swoop. "Miramon, what's going on?"

"Faylin, you should sit down," the Bajoran said, his tone about as light as his expression, which was to say not at all. He reached up and put his right hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but not intending to cause any pain. He intended to guide her over to the sofa, since people did seem to take bad news better when they were sitting down. But she refused to budge, instead staring at him with suspicion in her eyes. Understandable, he supposed.

"Fay, there's been an accident." Miramon didn't know the exact details, but according to the security officer that had accompanied him, some piece of heavy furniture had fallen on the girl and the trauma had been responsible for her death. How did you convey that to a parent without sounding as though you were reciting a mission report? "Olivia was hit by heavy furniture and, well, there was really no way she could have survived the impact. I really am sorry, but there was nothing anybody could do."

Faylin shook her head, her voice lowered, with a sense of pure evilness in it's tone. "Don't touch me!" Reaching up, she shoved the Bajoran's hand from her shoulder. McAlister started to back up, still shaking her head, her eyes glowing with anger. "You're a liar!"

The Bajoran nodded in understanding, his expression still one of sympathy, despite the fact that he knew that sometimes sadness easily provoked anger, and as a result, he was quite possibly in physical danger of his own. He hesitated a minute, then raised his left hand, proferring the small bag he had brought with him, containing the necklace that had been worn by Olivia at the time of her death. He handed it over to Faylin, his eyes not leaving her face for a second, watching for any warning signs in her body language that he might have to react to.

"I brought this with me, so you'd know I was telling the truth. You know what it is," he said.

McAlister slowly moved over to the couch. "Look….look at this." She lowered her gaze, caressing the fairy with an obsessiveness. Raising her eyes, a single tear left a glistening trail down her cheek. "I bought this for her…..I did." She stated, nodding her head, attempting to convince the counselor. "I have to give it to her. I have to see her."

"You can't do that right now, Faylin. She's in no condition and neither are you," the Bajoran stated gently but with an undertone of durasteel. He had been expecting this particular reaction but, well, he'd seen what Olivia looked like after they'd moved the furniture that had been responsible for crushing her. The doctors were going to do a little work on her body before Faylin could really see her. Bad enough that she'd lost her child. But seeing her in the condition she'd been found would not have helped in the slightest, and thus, the need for a delay.

He stepped in front of the door, blocking her way, with T'Rei behind him, although of the two, he was the physically stronger, so more likely to be able to restrain McAlister than the security guard he'd brought with him. He continued watching Faylin, his posture relaxed but one that would allow him to brace himself if he needed to.

Apparently, he did.

She moved towards the door, attempting to shove the counselor out of her way. "MOVE!"

As the human woman moved towards the door, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, restraining her from walking forward, his knees bent slightly against the pressure of her momentum. He wasn't going to move. But, then again, he was quite aware of the fact that the energy she was having to waste trying to get away from him was going to help slightly in letting some of the huge amount of emotional energy she was containing dissipate. And so, he wasn't letting her go anywhere, despite the fact that he honestly did sympathise with her feelings.

"Miramon, please move NOW! My daughter needs me." Tears freely flowed from her reddened eyes. Her strength was weakening every second he contained her.

"She's beyond needing anything now, Faylin," he said softly, not budging for a second. "Please, stop."

"No." It was the word she had used time and time again in the past. "NO!" Breaking free from his grasp somehow, she looked up at him with furious abandonment. Striking him, perhaps that would make him move so she could run and get Olivia. Balling up her fists, she struck out, hitting him squarely in the chest. "Move Miramon. PLEASE!!!!" Faylin continued to barrage him with punches.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, the Bajoran reached up and grabbed the human woman's wrists in his hands, wrapping his long fingers around them firmly, holding them just in front of his chest, ensuring that she couldn't hit him again, even if she intended to exert all of her strength into trying. He was stronger than her, and also taller, which helped distribute the pressure of her resistance.

"I can't move, Faylin. You know that. You can see Olivia later. You need to stop this. What would your daughter say if she saw you in this state?" he demanded, albeit gently. She was already in a fragile emotional state as it was. He really didn't want to say anything that would push her over the edge.

McAlister paused. A snarl crossing her lips, evidence of the pain that she had no way of expressing other than in anger. "She can't see me, can she Counselor?"

That was true enough, but most of the recently-bereaved were too caught up with grief to consider a technicality like that one. Besides, most people maintained a belief in some sort of afterlife (not that he did, personally), so they tended to think that their deceased relatives could 'see' them after they had passed on. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but if it gave them some comfort, why not?

"You don't know that, Faylin."

Walking, more like wobbling over to the sofa, she sat, the fairy still held in a death grip by her right hand. Dropping the fairy on the cushion next to her, she picked up the wrapped necklace with her index finger and thumb. Perhaps, it was all an illusion, just like the marriage was to Aerv. Her eyes fell downwards, it wasn't her he needed to protect, it was her daughter. It was too late now, too late for another last goodbye. Too late to hold her alive once more. Too late to look into those deep dark brown eyes of hers and tell her that she loved her more than life itself.

McAlister caressed the necklace, before throwing it against the wall closet to her. "It's cursed. It was around my mother's neck when she died, and it was around my daughter's neck when she died." Sagging deeper into the couch, she placed wrists on her knees and her palms supported her chin. "The thorns and the blood." Faylin muttered. The tears had stopped for the moment, leaving behind a crystal trail of saline. Her eyes, swollen and red from anger and grief, bore into the counselor's gaze. "I have a RIGHT to see Olivia, no matter what condition she is in."

"You do, but not now, Faylin. Seeing her as she is now won't help you, and she is beyond help herself," Miramon noted with his usual calm, although it was difficult to maintain a sense of equanimity when you had a human looking ready to floor you with a moment's notice.

"I will not take no for an answer." Her demeanour still exhibited hurt, yet was pushed by anger and ice. "Where is she?"

"I can't take you to see her now. You need to stay here."

"Where is she?" Faylin repeated in a venomous tone.

"In sickbay. The damage was...extensive." He'd hesitated to say that, but there obviously wouldn't be any way to restrain her from walking out that door unless he was inclined to stay there for a few days. "The doctors are doing what they can to minimise the damage so you can conduct whatever funeral rituals you prefer."

Silence accompanied her as she stood, making her way back to Olivia's bedroom. Her hands flew up to her mouth as the tears presented themselves yet again. "Oh." Walking over to Olivia's little bed, Faylin gently lifted her favorite blanket to her face, inhaling the sweet, innocent scent of her daughter. Just a few days ago, she slept peacefully and securely not far from her mother. Her dreams of far off lands, pink and bright, with fairies dancing would occur no more. Sitting on the bed for a moment, Faylin wept for the loss of her baby girl. Emerging from the bedroom, she held the blanket, cradling it in her arms. Looking up at the security guard, she spoke. "I brought her home......in this......I want it with her...."

"That's okay, Fay. We can arrange that easily enough," Miramon said, softly. He had a feeling that the brazen anger that had existed a moment ago had dissipated now. All that would be left was grief, which was natural enough. Neither he nor T'Rei moved, but instead simply remained standing there, waiting to see what Faylin would do next. Even if she didn't notice them, it would be better, to his mind, if they remained. Certainly he wasn't going to leave her alone in this state.

Turning, she let herself truly feel the loneliness as it invaded her quarters. It's harsh darkness swept the little girl's laughter and delight from the rooms, leaving the atmosphere barren and desolate. Faylin's breath left for a moment as well, as she felt the cold breeze leave the room just as it came in. The air of death was about all of them, wrapping itself around McAlister and violently squeezing the joy, happiness, and contentment out of her. It left her a shell of the woman she just was a few moments before.

"Life is but a Lovely Tolken"

Ensign Faylin McAlister, JAG Officer

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

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

She attempted to comfort herself by wrapping her arms around her chest. Miramon followed closely behind, as she led him to the sick bay. Faylin felt cold, empty, and hollow inside with nothing to warm her except her daughter's small pink blanket. Stopping short of the doors, she turned to the counselor, offering a look of uncertainty.

The Bajoran gave her a soft nod of reassurance, indicating that she should go in. Once he'd checked with Sickbay that everything was done, he'd agreed to allow Faylin come down here, since he knew fully well that they'd never be able to stop her and, frankly, he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He had just wanted to make sure that Faylin had a little time to let the news sink in, and to give the medical staff some time to repair, cosmetically, what they had not been able to repair in time to do Olivia any good.

Not that he would have agreed to let Faylin come down here on her own. Despite her usual tendency towards being cheerful and offhand, at the moment she was anything but flippant, and most people reacted unpredictably in grief, so he wasn't going to leave her alone until he could be sure that she wouldn't try to do anything particularly dangerous - either to herself or to others.

The heels on her shoes clicked softly as she slowly entered the back area where they were keeping Olivia. Her little girl was in the middle of the room, presented on a steel table. Her clothes had been stripped away, revealing her little body as it rested underneath a plain, crisp white sheet. Everything faded at that moment for Faylin, except the table and the girl that rested upon it. She froze, tears starting once more as she photographed this bitter scene into her memory.

Biting her lip she advanced to the table. Reaching out, she retracted her hand violently as it flew up to cover her open mouth. The realization had set in that her daughter, her baby was gone. Grabbing the table for support with one hand, she shakingly brought the other under the sheet touching her daughter's lifeless hand.

"She's so cold." By the time that Faylin was able to see her daughter, riga mortis had set, not permitting Faylin to feel anything but a stiffness from her once very loving little girl. "Oh my god, she's really gone." McAlister whispered. "Oh baby...."

Turning to Miramon, a lost desperation presented itself to him. Her soul crushed, and she was seeking his help in what to do next.

"You have to let her go now, Fay. There's nothing more anyone can do for her now. You won't forget her, and she'll always occupy that space in your heart and that, I think, is all she could ask for," Miramon said, gently, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze, as though he would have imparted some of his own emotional strength to her. This was going to be the difficult thing now, learning to live in the aftermath of tragedy. But when one had no choices beyond to live life the way Faylin had wanted for her daughter, or to simply stop living because one couldn't handle the pain...well, it wasn't much of a choice, at any rate.

Turning back to her daughter, she softly laid the blanket over the sheet. "To keep you warm." Grasping her hand, once more, she sang a song that she had song to Olivia every night, obvious to any person in the room. Faylin's airy beautiful voice rang out clear and uninhibited. She was saying goodbye to her daughter, the only way she knew how.

"Holl amrantau'r sêr ddywedant, Ar hyd y nos, 'Dyma'r ffordd i fro gogoniant, Ar hyd y nos. Golau arall yw tywyllwch, I arddangos gwir brydferthwch Teulu'r nefoedd mewn tawelwch, Ar hyd y nos.

O mor siriol gwena seren, Ar hyd y nos, I oleuo'i chwaer-ddaearen, Ar hyd y nos. Nos yw henaint pan ddaw cystudd, Ond i harddu dyn a'i hwyrddydd, Rhown ein golau gwan i'n gilydd, Ar hyd y nos."

English Translation: All through the night Guardian angels God will lend thee All through the night Soft the drowsy hours are creeping Hill and vale in slumber sleeping God his loving vigil keeping All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping All through the night While the weary world is sleeping All through the night Through your dreams you're softly stealing Visions of delight revealing Time with you is so appealing All through the night

You, my God, a Babe of wonder All through the night Dreams you dream can't break from thunder All through the night Your dreams Olivia cannot be broken Life is but a lovely token Your name will always be softly spoken All through the night

Placing her daughter's hand under the sheet, she stood silent as she watched her lay on the cold steel. Her heart felt heavy, as did the rest of her body as she leaned over, gently placing one last kiss on her daughter's pale forehead. "May you play with Angels Olivia Monet McAlister. Mommy loves you."

"Alternative Sources"
By
Colonel James Mitchell,
CAG, USS Miranda
Major Amuramia mel Thora,
Rogue Squadron CO, USS Miranda
Major Veronique (Deuce) St. Melisande
Renegade Squadron CO, USS Miranda
Major Rena (Spitfire) Starburst,
Rebel Squaron CO, USS Miranda
Major Corran Rex
CAG, Vanguard Squadron CO, USS Galaxy
Major Kol
Sabre Squadron CO, USS Galaxy

***
CAG's Quarters,
SFFC Country, USS Miranda
***

He'd given it as much time as he could before he could ignore it no longer. He'd buried his head in work, hit the gym, spent hours upon hours in simulators... but still the damn thing would not go away.

Hemorrhoids. He smeared some ointment over them, sighing as the pain faded and he could sit properly. No way in hell was he going to sickbay again. D'Bari probably transferred one of her STD's to him while she was fisting his prostate last time he dropped by for a physical. And people wondered why he railed against annual checkups for anything?

He had two of the buggers, and they were named For'kel and Gwyin. They were both being burrs on his ass that wouldn't go away, so it was fitting to give them something in common.

Anyhow, the other reminder of such was the blinking message on his terminal, reminding him that if he did not retain legal counsel in the next 48 hours, one would be assigned to him and he'd be suspended from duty pending an initial hearing. Great timing, morons! We're only just about to defend one of the largest powers in history's homeworld from the biggest threat to face them in eons.

The Bajoran shook his head. He had enough work to do trying to assemble a cohesive fighting unit between all the ships in the Task Force, plus the Romulans. Changing leadership in the middle of it all would do wonders for morale.

Did I say morons, yet? MORONS!

He didn't have time for this. No one was going to defend him on this ship. They were a pile of pansy girls in tutus who had issues with authority getting them off their asses and working for a living. This is STARFLEET, not a rousing rendition of Rent or Hair. Are they in a union? Interstellar Defense of Incompetent Oafs and Twits? I.D.I.O.T for the vernacular and mentally challenged.

He shook his head again, calling up a list of those with legal licenses on board. Panning through the gargantuan list of over two hundred individuals, it was frustrating to find someone with any sense of impartiality, removing those from the list that were too useless to give him any sense of seriousness in fighting this one off.

Delete. She left crumbs in his bed, and they didn't eat crackers at all.

Delete. He had an IQ less than the combined mental mass of a thousand monkeys.

Delete. He slept with his mother. Tolerance means nothing when it was done in the guy's bed. Vaseline can make a real mess.

Delete. She worked for Spa'an. He'd be damned to give that twinkle-toed elven man-baby any advantage. Spa'an can go wave his rusty dagger at some wanton AIe-whore for his personal shits and giggles.

Delete 167 in a row. All Vulcans.

Delete, delete, delete. Hogs Gone Wild. No way he'd end up in a court room with lumberjills, piglets, or Gamorrean Guards as counsel.

So that left six. Sigh. But then one caught his eye, and he smiled. Perfect. A little intimidation would hurt no one and only help his case.

Hurriedly, before anyone else tried to fix the hearing by assigning his choice elsewhere, James selected the individual and blocked out the counsel's schedule for the next few days, and events permitting, put him in for roster relief after the mission was over.

They were going to make something happen.

-----

After the confirmation came back of his selection, and he'd forwarded it to the proper authorities to get them to stop harassing him James turned back to the matter at hand.

Soon, he'd have to depart the Miranda for the Galaxy to tour their facilities with the other Task Force squadron CO's - it's been a long while since he'd been on his old ship, and lots has changed since he was there -but first he had to take care of business here.

Leaning past the pile of PADDS on his desk, and switching his terminal over to a tactical grid, he keyed the in-house intercom to call his squadron leaders. They needed one last pow-wow before heading out into the shitstorm. They'd likely not be seeing each other again for some time, and unless the Prophets step in and perform another bout of magic for the unworthy, it may be the last time they're together at all.

"Mitchell to Majors Starburst, mel'Thora, and St. Melisande, report to my quarters immediately."

["Starburst here. Rex and Kol just made it over from Galaxy. Want them too?"]

"More the merrier, Spitfire."

-----

Deuce was still in her flight suit, she still had the padd in hand, with a full mobilisation of her squadron left her little time. Especially when it was for Mitchell. He was a pompous ass, but he could handle a stick and made a good showing - and ignoring his ranting, you could sometimes actually see some jewels of actual thought. She'd had worst CAGs, worst CAGs were the whole reason she was on the Miranda and not on the Arizona. Mitchell hadn't been busted in the chops yet and Deuce didn't see any reason might cause her to hit him.

She was glad that he hadn't made an attempt to hit on her, Melisande actually liked the Miranda. Punching him out, would get her TX'd again. She didn't want that.

The door was already open as Deuce went through the the CAG's office, "Lazurus, can we keep it to the essentials? I've got twelve hours of work and only two hours to do it in!"

"Oh?" James looked up from his mound of paperwork, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.

"Sorry for tearing you away from your spa session, Major. I didn't realize I had to ask your permission to have an impromptu briefing with my senior staff." He gestured towards one of the empty chairs as he swung his own around to face the glass table centering the informal seating of a smattering of chairs tightened together in the compressed room. Opposite the chairs was a beaten-up couch that had seen better days, courtesy of a certain Security Chief's cat.

"That spa was very relaxing, thank you, Lazurus," returned Deuce as she headed in, sitting in the better of the seats. This one only had a single spring failure.

The Bajoran had long ago decided to take up residence in one of the junior officer quarters; he'd no desire to ensconce himself in luxurious penthouse digs. That does crap all for morale. Though, he had flexed his privilege as CAG and elected not to take on a room-mate.

Major Starburst arrived shortly thereafter, with two other officers in tow. Major Corran Rex, the Galaxy's CAG and CO of Vanguard Squadron, and Major Kol, a seven-foot tall Klingon who didn't look like he could even fit in a fighter, let alone be the CO of the Galaxy's new Saber Squadron.

This was a homecoming of sorts for Corran - he'd been one of the Rogues, back during the Dominion War. Of course, that had been the old Mir, the -A. But still, he and Rena were talking quietly between the two of them while Kol trailed not too far behind - and tried to avoid hitting his head as they came through the door.

Kol was the first of the three to speak loud enough to be clearly addressing everyone. "Are breifings typically conducted in quarters aboard this ship?" he asked with a derisive snort.

"Typically, no," a soft voice replied from behind him. "But given the atypical circumstances in which we find ourselves, it is not wholly unexpected."

Kol gave a respectful nod to the Andorian.. woman? Andorian sexes were confusing. She looked female, so that's what he'd call her. Andorians made excellent warriors, however, so mel Thora would have no problems form Kol.

Major mel Thora stepped deftly around the massive Klingon and moved forward into the room. Giving each of the assembled pilots a respectful nod she then turned to Mitchell and assumed a parade rest posture. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

"Same here." Corran replied. "Pleasure to meet you, Colonel."

Kol grunted.

"Have a seat, everyone." The Bajoran stood up, if not to give movement to allow the officers some elbow room in cramming into a spot. He eyeballed the giant Klingon curiously. He lowered his voice for the Andorian XO as she drifted close. "Relax, Major." Before she could respond, he raised his voice for everyone so as to not have any mistake he was addressing them all. "I'm having this briefing in my quarters for two reasons. One, as I'm sure you're all aware of the scuttlebutt, our esteemed Marine CO and the ship's JAG have had charges drawn up against me. If I were to have this briefing anywhere further than fourteen feet from the flight deck when we come under attack by a rare form of pygmy ninjas bent on assimilating my dashing good looks, they'd be all too happy to throw another ridiculous charge on me.

"Second," He turned on his heels, reaching behind him to move a stack of PADD's aside to wrap his hand around one bottle, then realizing there were a couple more guests, slid open one of the drawers and withdrew another.

"I believe in the power of bonding before going into a fight." He dropped both bottles of Saurian brandy down on the table. "Deuce, your crew are as ready as they're going to be. You're already a damned good pilot," squatting down under the table, he began pulling out colored glasses for each officer present, the scars on his palms still red from the torture at the hands of the Cardassians a couple months ago - he'd had to have reconstructive surgery and major regrowth therapy, but things were getting better. "You don't have to drink if you're not inclined to."

"Single half shot, Lazurus. That'll move the blood but not slow down the nerves," returned Veronique. "Which ensign you swipe the Saurian off?"

James nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"We'll go over the tactical reports and Intel operations momentarily. I just first wanted you all to take a good long look around the table. Whether we want to hear it or not, the odds are that one or more of us aren't going to come out of this one. We need to remember that when we go out into the shit. We need to absolutely trust one another out there. No hotdogging, no pretty moves. Just get the job done, and leave no man behind, dead or alive."

"Here, here." Corran replied, raising the glass that had been passed to him.

Kol regarded the entire statement simply as obvious, but Rena had a solemn look on her face as she accepted the tumbler.

There was a price to being the longest-surviving member of Rogue Squadron - now Rogue Group.

She'd seen far too many friends die.

James raised his glass in mid-toast. "I just want to say that it will be an honor to fly with you all, and I drink to those that will fall, but they do so in the ultimate sacrifice - defending their values and their wingmen."

"The Price of Freedom," echoed Deuce.

"To the ones who don't make it." echoed Starburst.

"To the ones that do." Rex countered meaningfully, catching the expression on his friend's features.

"Let's get to work. What's this business about installing surveillance devices on our ships? Is the Galaxy CIO retarded? Who wants to put him in a Rogue with his own disposable camera? We'll start a betting pool on how long it takes before the Rommies spot Mr. Tourist flashing his bulb at the ladies."

"We've got the Corsair extended with the second seat, if he don't mind doing some wizzo work, well take him along for a ride. He can take on first hand the sensor jobs, I'll be able to concentrate on flying," offered Deuce.

Corran chuckled. "Bental's not a bad kid, just a little eager." he advised.

"Is Cowboy actually working with the Marines, or is he too busy trying to mack the Janes? I've been waiting on his report all day."

Rena winced at the mention of Cowboy. "He's working with Tactical on the analysis of that Hydran fighter we picked up."

"Someone give me an update on the status of the Tactical analysis of the Hydran fighter in the bay. What do we have on it, and do we have effective countermeasures?"

"We don't know a lot more than what we gleaned from fighting them at Havras two years ago." Starburst spoke up. She'd been working with Lieutenant K'aa on the analysis of the data from Cowboy and Lt. Khatrowen's test flights. "They're still outfitted with gattling phasers, and this ship isn't as fast or as powerful as the ones from Havras. This ship's actually only a year older than that, but it's still not going to help us if they've got something we don't know about."

Corran picked up then. "And we're still getting no information on what the Romulan Fleet's facing out there. They're being tight lipped about it, but I've got an.. associate on Romulus. He tells me they don't have a whole to BE tight lipped about."

"Romulans are a double planet of spooks. They'll keep tight lipped about the rising and the setting of the sun," commented Deuce.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Rex muttered below his breath, beginning to pace as the wheels started turning.

"Oh?" Mia said at last. Her antennae craned forward, an obvious sign of interest in what Corran was telling them.

"I mean I think the Romulan fleet is getting the living shit kicked out of it." the Trill Major clarified.

Mia frowned. "Regardless of the outcome of the initial conflict, the lack of shared intel fails to inspire confidence in our new alliance with the Rihannsu."

"Well then, what we need to ask, is how much confidence can we have in any of the intel that they pass along. If they are keeping their mouths shut on some of the more obvious things. Then what are they hiding on the more 'subtle' things." Deuce shook her head, "I've been on the sharp end when the spooks have decided I didn't need to know something and that something has bitten me in the ass. I've lost people, because of their games!"

"What if that's not it?" Starburst said, the wheels turning in her head.

Deuce frowned, "What's not it?"

"We're all used to Intel dicking us around - ours and theirs. Goes with the territory. But what if they're not telling us anything, because they don't KNOW anything?" the redheaded pilot asked. Truthfully, she found the idea pretty frightening. But for some reason, this time, it FELT right.

Deuce's frown became deeper as she considered what Starburst had said, her head shook slightly as she considered the fact that their intel was a bust. "But damn, I don't get it. I mean the idea fits, the Rommies wouldn't want anyone to know that they don't have a clue. It be like a Klingon admitting they didn't know how to use a weapon. They wouldn't want anyone to know that they have a weakness. But..." Deuce shook her head more, "The analogy still fits, why don't the Romulans have that intel, coz who'd believe a Klingon couldn't fight?"

Deuce paused as she considered more what she said, "This could be worst than being dicked around. Rommies work from a position of strength. If they are behind the eight-ball, they could become unpredictable. And that is dangerous to us!"

"Then maybe we need to get some Intel of our own." Starburst suggested. "We've got a Hydran fighter. Let's send it and some backup - the Hazards maybe, or those ARCS the Galaxy has. Let's send it in and take a look. That's what we've been saving it for, right?"

James turned the idea over in his head. "Okay, it's a plan. Consider it a go for now - get things rolling." Conscious of his circumstances, he amended the statement one more time. "I'll run it by Summers - and M'Kantu -, since they're in charge of this whole ball of wax. Get it done. Dismissed."

"Freaky, Naughty"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - Second Platoon
Furies 188th Battalion, USS Galaxy

****

It was looking like it was going to be a beautiful day. The sun was just starting to crest the hills on the horizon and the air had that annoyingly hazy look to it, the one that only occurred, albeit briefly, just as the sun rose or set. A slight dew lay on the grass verge, some foot prints were visible where booted feet had disturbed the dew. A fantail could be heard off somewhere chirping away. It was a typical early Spring day. Not too cold, and not too hot.

Limp Bizkit's 'Greatest Hits' was playing in the CD player, the track 'Behind Blue Eyes' currently pumping through the sound system, driving away the quietness of the drive. There were few cars on the road at this early hour, most were likely to be still snuggling in bed with loved ones. His arm rested on the window sill, the wind blowing in gently as the car made its way downtown.

The sole occupant sang along with the tune softly, not afraid that someone might hear his woefully bad singing attempt. There was no one up at this time to hear it anyway, save for the birds in their trees and they, as far as he could tell, didn't give a hoot.

A few minutes later and he was sitting at his desk, powering on his computer. As he waited for the old PC to boot up, he looked around at the empty office. It was so quiet and peaceful at this early time of the day, which he was thankful for as it usually turned out to be the only time he could ever get any work done these days.

He had a broad job description, one that hadn't been updated for almost a year and a half, and he generally did anything that the other managers needed doing. Report generation, Script Programming, Web Based projects, Installation guide overhauls, tool management, and anything else that the programming house he worked in needed. It was rewarding enough, for he got to do new things often. The only downside he saw was the constant barrage of questions for the developers who couldn't grasp the simple jobs that the team he once leaded used to do prior to the round of redundancies a 18 months before. They would literally be lining up to see him at some points in the day, and often he got less than 10 minutes of his own work done at any one time before being interrupted.

Julianna DeMarco paused to greet him as she was making her way to the small kitchenette that the level they worked on had. "Morning".

"Morning Jules," She preferred to be called that rather than Julianna, "how are you doing?"

"I'm sick to death of this place." She replied. "No one ever seems to take any responsibility for anything."

"I know what you mean." He responded, sighing. "I never get time to do my own work. Everyone and their dog has a hundred questions.... Most of which they should already know."

She nodded at him. "Maybe the buyout will chance things. Though I doubt it will." "We can dream." He smiled at her. "Hey, you up for coffee across the road today? Molly, John and I are all heading over in a few minutes." "Sure, just let me fill this up," She held up her empty water bottle, "and grab my handbag." **** An hour later and he was hard at work. The current problem, the release process for the software one team was working on. Of course, they had to be difficult and develop a new way of releasing, ignoring the long established, and successful, way that everyone had been using for the last three years. And now he had to figure out how to integrate it with the setup that everyone used. And boy was he pissed because of it.

It was his job to manage the software release process, to develop new policies and improve the existing ones, and did they even think once to consult with him before doing their own thing? No. They just did what they wanted. And who got lumped with the mess when they couldn't get their code released... Them? No. Of course it was him. No one else ever did anything to help out. They were all stuck in their own little worlds, working on what they wanted to care that he had some cool ideas for things that could improve the experience for the client, to make it easy to locate and download the software they needed to install, to improve the knowledge within the development team. They were all too busy hounding him with a hundred questions a day. Oh look, here comes another one. A young man, an employee who had been here for three years, walked over. "I can't start my database. Can you help?" "Sure" he replied, the helpful smile on his face belying the anger that seethed under the surface. "What server and environment are you using?" The man told him and he logged in. After confirming which database it was, he ran the command to start it up and what do you know, it worked first time. "Seems to be working." The man nodded. "Thanks." He turned back towards his desk. And now he had forgotten what he had been doing prior to the interruption. He was going to have to look at every open document again to see which one he had been using. God how he hated these interruptions. He switched to his backlog of work and saw that it had grown once again. His boss had a tendency to add stuff to it at whim and had he printed it out, it would have filled several pages of A4 paper by now. And of course, that didn't include any of the urgent work that kept being thrust at him. That stuff always left him with a less than happy feeling with respect to the number of items he would be able to complete from his backlog of work during any given week. The backlog of work, or rather the completion of work from the backlog was no doubt a riding factor when it came time for the annual performance reviews. So whenever he could, he added all the urgent jobs to the backlog. If they were going to measure his performance that way, he'd be sure they got the full picture. Gazing out the window, he could see people walking past the office, enjoying the beautiful sunny day that existed outside of the dreary walls that imprisoned him at the present moment. How nice it would be just to take the rest of the day off and head down to the beach. To enjoy the sunshine, and gentle breeze, perhaps a Mochachino or an ice cream while watching the boats and kayakers in the harbor. How nice it would be. He sighed deeply. It was going to be a long day. Looking back at his computer, he saw the document he had been working on, and re-read the last paragraph he had written, before beginning to type again. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another developer making their way over, likely with another question. SHIT! Not again!!!!!

****

"YES!" He shouted to the empty room, as he lay in his bed.

Combat!

He was going to see some form of combat today. The dream had told him as much.

And he was thrilled at the prospect. It had been almost three years since he had last seen combat, and despite the outcome, Steven was eager to get into battle again. He lived for it and it couldn't come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

Most people, quacks included, usually associated dreams with unconscious desires or memories that the mind picks up on and develops - or some such mumbo jumbo - but with Steven it was different. His nights were, for the most part, filled with nightmares, horrible gut wrenching nightmares; the kind that you wake up from in the middle of the night shivering heavily in fear, where you find it almost impossible to get back to sleep afterwards. Dreams for him were rare and as far as he could recall, there were only two situations where he had something other than nightmares. The first, when he had just had sex, which in recent times had been a lot more infrequent than he would have liked, although, this, he attributed to his strong memories of his lost love 'Bella, whom he was finally, slowly, letting go of. And the second was the night before he went into combat. And it wasn't just some of the time when he was going to be in combat, but rather every time.

He couldn't explain it, nor could any of the people he had told about the strange ability. And since he had not been with a woman the night before, it meant he was heading into combat. And he relished the chance to deal pain to his enemies.

He tried to analyse the dream. Where were the guns? The violence? The women who seduced men for a joke, or even the Security chief of another ship with whom you make a complete ass of yourself when you talk about her, eh... arse, to her face? It just wasn't the same, and despite the foolishness of some of the things he had seen and done, Steven knew that the setting in his dream held nothing when compared to his life aboard the Galaxy. Heck, even Lieutenant "I'm so cool, I have to try and embarrass Steven" Hunter was more interesting than the mind-numbingly boring people he had dreamt about.

He lay in his bed, the sheet a mess down by his feet as he breathed deeply. Combat. He was going to see combat.

It would only be a few hours before they would be departing the Galaxy for ch'Rihan. And, unfortunately, like clockwork the anxiety kicked in, much to Steven's annoyance. Would he survive? Would his unit survive? Would Ward? Or Baile? Would any of them make it out? His mind raced at the various thoughts that crossed it. Would he make it? Was there anything for him here? All his family were gone. His parents and Isobella were no longer alive. For all intents and purposes his sister, whom he hadn't seen in over four years, was also gone. There was no one left in his life. And what of the people he had met on the ship, Bran, and Nara, John Morris and Saul. Would any of them really care if he failed to return from ch'Rihan. Would 8-ball or Faylin even notice if he didn't come back to get them back for the prank they played on him?

A realization hit him then. The plain and simple truth. The guy in the dream had more friends than he, more of a life than Steven had aboard the Galaxy. And it frightened him... Deeply. All he ever did was train, work out and train some more. Apart from the drinking sessions with Nara, or the odd card game with Kimberly, Richard North and the others, he had no life, no friends.

So right there, as he lay on the bed, he made a decision, that, despite what could happen, if he managed to survive the battle that he knew was coming, he'd change. He'd start meeting other people, trying new things, getting out more and doing more things. No more excessive training sessions in the Gym or the pool; fewer long runs in the lower decks; no more after hours work for the marines, well, maybe not 'no more' but he'd reduce the amount of extra work he was doing. Some hobbies could make the world of difference. Perhaps rock climbing or painting, or even cooking.

He made a vow to do all of it. And more.

In a few minutes the anxiety would wear off, past experience had told him, and then the adrenalin would start flowing as the hour approached and he'd be ready to fight.

He couldn't wait.

"The Standard Protocol"

Lieutenant Ella Grey
Chief Engineer, USS Galaxy

Major Corran Rex
CAG, USS Galaxy

---------------
Turbolift 14/B
USS Galaxy
---------------

Maybe she was overdoing it, Ella thought as she awkwardly wrapped her bleeding hand.

Her hand stung like it was on fire and Ella thought that it was indeed a possibility. But then again, anger and frustration on her part tended to express themselves in ways that she regretted later on. So maybe in the end it really was better to vent in the Holodeck.

She'd just have to remember in the future that she was not a superhero, bad ass, or even a stealthy evil ninja so disengaging the safety protocols was probably not such a smart idea.

The lifted halted and Ella automatically move her injured hand behind her back. Her lie wasn't prepared yet (since the program, unaltered, would never have allowed the rowdy patron with the broken bottle to connect with her flesh) and once you told a lie, you had to commit to it. She wanted to say that it was a work injury but since she wasn't working today (and she had been into Sickbay a lot recently), she didn't think that the nurses would buy it. And the last thing she needed was to get into trouble for flipping an off switch, Ella had decided.

Luckily the couple who had entered were more interested in each other than the slightly frazzled engineer in the corner so she only had to endure their company for three decks or so before they left.

"What to do." Ella muttered to herself, holding her hand in front of her again. She had limited medical knowledge and doing this left handed was definitely out. 8-ball was probably used to injuries like these from her youth but she doubted that her friend knew anymore than she did. Indigo's program would log the information somewhere and Victor would most likely report her for disobeying the numero uno rule of the Holodeck.

She sighed. There was only one person she could think of and she wondered very briefly if a one-handed engineer was more of a phenomenom than a willing mute.

Ella tapped her comm badge. "Grey to Rex."

It was a moment before a reply came over the open comm. The pregnant silence was finally pierced by the Trill major's reply, perfectly flat and professional. ["Rex here. How can I help you, Lieutenant?"]

Ah, she thought. It was going to be like that. Well, it wasn't as if she wasn't used to being called Lieutenant by now...

"You, um, got a free moment?" Ella asked.

There was a small sigh over the comm. ["I had a meeting on the Miranda, and then I just came off a six-hour CAP run, Lieutenant. I'd dearly like to get disconnected from my suit's umbilicals. Meet me in my quarters in ten if it's important."]

Having only ever had one boyfriend before Rex, she wasn't sure what the standard protocol was for how long you should ask a favor from your ex. Especially one that you had essentially played bop and run with.

"It's important." Ella replied, going for breezy and sounding more like winded. "I'll meet you at your quarters."

["Noted. Rex out."]

****
Rex's Quarters
Fighter Country, USS Galaxy
*****************

"Hi." She said when he got there. "I'm sorta hoping Esanza's medical knowledge covered nerve damage."

His hair was still slicked back with the sweat from his helmet, though Corran had changed into PT gear in the flight-deck locker room before heading back over two his quarters. He took in the way she was holding her hand, and the flinty gaze softened slightly. "It did." he replied. "Come on in."

It had been a week since she'd last been in his quarters but she was glad to see that it hadn't changed. There were no anti-Ella posters anywhere at least. She sat down at the table, holding out her hand while he got a medkit from somewhere.

As she looked around again, she noticed the quarter were actually different - there was more "junk" laying around. His workbench was almost overflowing with small bits and gadgets, clothes were all about the place, that sort of thing. It looked very much, in short, like a bachelor pad.

He started moving the medical scanner over her hand. "What happened?"

"Do you want the truth or a lie?" She said with a slight wince as he carefully removed the bandage.

"That'd be a switch." he muttered under his breath. "Truth." he replied, louder this time.

"I disengaged the safety protocols on my fight program."

Ella looked away as he began to pick pieces of glass out of the wound. His eyes narrowed but didn't meet hers as he began running a basic tissue regenerator over the injured hand. She'd pinched a nerve, along with some minor lacerations. The nerve damage regenerated first, with the muscle and tendons healing next, and the skin after it. It wasn't pleasant, but it'd work. "That's was stupid." he remarked.

"I wanted to see if I could."

"And now you know." he said, giving the regnerator another pass. "And I'm sure the fact that sickbay would have to report this injury to Security - and how you got it - has nothing to do with why you came to me."

"That's not -"

He looked down. "Your hand will be fine. Be easy on it for a day or so. And next time you want to keep something from Victor, don't come to me. I'm not playing in that game anymore." Corran said, all the words cold as ice.

"Thank you." she simply said, quietly.

"Don't thank me." he said, turning around. "Just get out. I need to sleep."

He didn't wait to see her response, if she even had one.

"Setting up Shop"

Lt. Col. For'kel Arvelion
Maj. Peter Shaw
2nd Lt. Branwen London
2nd Lt. Steven Jonas

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

(The Firebase)

For'kel chuckled as a comm-line between the HQ unit and the Romulan military offices closed, making his way over to Pete. "Spent an hour talking to the secretary to the General in charge of defense for the Capitol... apparently we're not important enough to have the 'honor' of speaking to him in person."

"Oh, I am hurt," Pete said sarcasticly. "Romulans, they want our help, but they never give us help to help them. So how the hell are we going to help them if they wont help?"

"That's for us to figure out." For'kel shrugged it off. "I was given orders, and I intend to carry them out. We're going to aid them in fortifying the city as much as possible, augmenting their police forces, and evacuating the government structure in the event of invasion."

"Sounds like a suicide mission to me." A familiar voice boomed in the background.

For'kel smirked, only then turning around to see Lieutenants Cougar Johnson and Dana Collins watching them. "Havn't you figured out by now Cougar, under my command 'every' mission is a suicide mission?"

His white teeth contrasted with his dark skin as Cougar laughed. "Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie companies are all down sir. Delta will be planetside in force shortly."

"Sounds good," Pete replied. "Get them to start setting up. I want to get everything setup by the end of the day."

"Aye sir." Cougar gave a nod in understanding of the orders.

"Dana, I want you to reassign Corporal Dar'Jok and Sergeant Fek'lhr to Bravo Company here before you leave on patrol. Last thing we need is for Klingons to be quelling Romulan arguments."

"Aye sir." The Terran woman smiled before leaving.

For'kel spoke over his shoulder to Pete. "We should make sure the rest of the mission is set up... especially the Galaxy's detail.

Pete groaned at that. "Sounds good. I am not having a lot of faith in that detachment, but lets go." Pete then waited for the rest of the people to leave and then spoke, "and on a different note, I heard through the rumor mill that the charges have been tabled."

The Stagnorian growled. Mitchell really didn't have much of a chance... either the Hydrans would get him, or one of his own pilots would. "I'm beyond caring at this point. I don't pretend to understand why Starfleet allows so much politics into it's organization."

Pete nodded. "Just thought you should know before you found out from someone else. But your right, we need to work out the final details, so lets go."

The Senior officers of the detachment, and NCO's, were gathered around for what was going to be the final briefing before all hell did or didn't break loose. "Good afternoon everyone. Nothing much has changed... Bravo Company under Major Shaw will be responsible for defending the base and the outskirts of the city around the main road. The Galaxy's detachment will be responsible for securing the main road from Bravo's flank up to the city center. ARCs will be responsible along with our Charlie company to locate the VIPs and help them get ready to go. The more of them we can get off the planet now, the fewer we have to evac under fire. Delta company will be responsible for helping the Romulan forces prepare their defenses, and Alpha company under yours truly will begin battlefield preparation and peacekeeping duties in the center. Make sure you stage your operations to afford your men some rest inbetween shifts. Last thing we want to do is work to exhaustion now and get attacked afterwards. Thral, we can use your expertise with Alpha. Questions?"

He had a thousand questions, yet didn't speak up. It was highly unlikely that any of them would have any real bearing on the situation, least of which was the seemingly, though not verbally addressed, hostility towards the Galaxy marines. So what if they had a Lieutenant Colonel leading them. The Galaxy's marines were just as capable, Steven had no doubts about that. So he had chosen to stay quiet. As long as they did their job, and Steven was sure they'd be able to do so, then it would more likely be one of the other teams that faltered.

Though if their leadership did hold a certain distrust of the Galaxy marines, and it seemed that way, Steven knew just who would be the last team to be evacuated at the end of the mission, when casualties would be higher. He'd wait and see if that was going to eventuate.

Branwen kept silent. She didn't like the way the Miranda marines wre treating them. She had the feeling that they were making fun of them behind their backs, and they were getting the most boring assignments. Bran didn't think it was fair, her people worked very hard, and it felt like they were being punished because the Miranda officers were higher in rank.

"Aye sir. I came loaded for bear, but I guess that'll be sufficient for lizards." Thral replied with an eager anticipation. The Tellarite had brought with him a good size arsenal of charges, grenades, and other exploding things so much so that the private he'd handed his pack too winced as he put

it down. Though he'd much rather be sticking with his own unit, his new unit, at least this way he'd be with a squad that wasn't getting over the embarassment they'd suffered on Cheron.

"I also want to get ahold of as many emergency rations as possible and dispense them out to the poorer areas. Other then being the right thing to do, it will hopefully quell some of the rioting and win us a few friends. Volunteers?"

Steven didn't think much of dishing out supplies to the Rihan people. It just wasn't him. He wanted combat, not quelling riots. So he just stood there, looking at his rifle, eager to get to use it somewhere other than the firing range and training sims again.

"Sir." Branwen said. "Lieutenant Baile is going to lead the Galaxy detachment. The Galaxy is my first posting, and I would like to observe how things are done on other ships. Would it be all right if I followed you around for part of the assignment?" She did want to learn, also she really didn't think the high-ranking Miranda officers were any better than their own. And she wanted to see that with her own two eyes.

"Sure Lieutenant, more than reasonable." For'kel gave a nod and a smile, even though it was obvious he was on his own as far as the Civil Affairs aspect of the mission went. "Remember, no heroics. Success is going to be measured by getting the Romulans out, and ourselves off the surface. Let's move out."

"Yes sir." She said and then prepared to follow him.

"Contact"
Elaithin Jii
K. Jordan Elaithin

-------------------------
Ki Baratan,
Romulus
------------------

No matter how many times he'd used them, Elaithin Jii was beyond glad for the portable holographic emitters that were now used for short-term infiltration missions. They fooled scanners better, were more realistic looking, and had one particular feature that the former Starfleet officer found to be very, very useful.

They didn't itch.

Prosthetic disguises had often had that result with Jii, and he'd therefore almost always favored avoiding them. Infiltrating Romulus - and making contact with the underground Unificationist movement - wouldn't be possible that way, however.

Slipping the binoc scanner addon over his shades against the harsh Romulan sun here on the southern continent, he scanned the crowd below for an old.. friend.

Jordan took a sip of the tea she had purchased from one of the carts in the marketplace. They were masquerading as tourists of sorts from one of the provincial worlds; mild-mannered Romulan civilians, nothing special or remarkable about them. She had been relatively quiet for most of the day, honestly a little unsettled. They'd seen a few Starfleet Officers, presumably from the Galaxy or Miranda or one of the other ships. They were simply walking around as though there was nothing at all unusual about their presence there. It was unnerving. And strange. Here they were, on Romulus, in disguise like humans on Romulus should be. And yet, she'd watched a Betazoid woman with a Starfleet communicator buy some flowers just moments earlier.

"I still want to know where you found these toys," she said, resting a hand on Jii's back. "Though I could probably hazard a guess if I tried very hard; they're not something we keep just anywhere." Of course, things could have changed she reminded herself; more than a few things had. Six months was a long time.

"I went shopping." he answered slyly, giving her a grin that would have looked wildly out of place on a Vulcan, but suited his holographic Romulan features just fine.

She lifted an eyebrow. "That's funny," she said, "when I was alive, you hated shopping." She returned the sly grin. "Who are we looking for?"

"Kerec." he replied quietly. "Name he goes by these days, at least. He helped me out last time I was here, with Price. We kept in touch since, did some favors. Kept a back channel open. That kind of thing. He's the Military Advisor to Senator tr'Vraek these days. I left him a note in a pre-arranged digital drop that was set to notify him. Comes up as a loan offer, but he'll recognize the "bank" and know to come here."

"Proud of you, husband," she said softly, discreetly looking over her shoulder. She'd been doing it since they landed, more nervous every moment, it seemed, though she'd offered no explanation. Really, it was likely just nerves; espionage wasn't something one forgot how to do. It was like sex or preparing a peanut butter sandwich. Some things were simply instinctual. But sometimes, if one pulled far enough away from it all, it was almost disturbing how easily one slipped back into old habits. And these old habits, Jordan wasn't necessarily sure she wanted to slip back into.

Death happened every microsecond. Resurrection was quite a bit more rare. She had been given the opportunity to start over, to fix some mistakes, to change her life by walking a clearer path. Honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to fall back into her old habits, her old method, her original life.

Some things though, were impossible to deny. She was as much a spy (nay, intelligence operative) as Jii was a Starfleet Captain. They would never be able to pull away from it, not completely, no matter how hard they might try. So they might as well give in.

"That him?" she whispered.

He tracked over to where she was looking, and nodded. "That's him." he said, offering his arm in the traditional Romulan manner of respect, one that extended his hand in front of him, and would allow hers to lock with his from below. {"Let's go say hi, beloved."} he said, switching to Romulan. If nothing else, his mastery of the language had certainly improved since the last time he was here. He didn't even have an accent, now.

She smiled softly as she accepted his hand and moved with him through the market place in silence, listening to everything going on around her. Underneath the day-to-day noise of the marketplace, however, many were speaking about the current events; some spoke of them in code, others in reverent whispers, others still with irreverent hisses, their mouths often concealed and their voices garbled out of fear. The main topic was the Starfleet personnel. After two days on the surface, Jordan still couldn't say how the Romulan people felt about the development, but she had a feeling they couldn't either. Everyone it seemed had a different opinion and she doubted it was much different on the other side of things.

{"We should be careful,"} she murmured softly, her lips unmoving and voice simply a low hiss of breath, {"there are several Tal'Shiar observers."}

{"Not Tal'Shiar"} he replied, having spotted them, too. {"Too military. Looks like RNI is handling Homeworld Security these days."}

{"Agreed,"} she said, {"but look deeper in the crowds. The watchers are being watched. There may be Starfleet on the streets, but it's still Romulus."}

They'd passed through the main square, were only a few metres from their target now. He was a tall man, trim and strong, wearing traditional Romulan service garb befitting someone who was a Senator's advisor. He wore his Romulan military service like Elaithin Jii wore Starfleet. How much of it was posturing, Jordan couldn't accurately say, but frankly, she was surprised he was on their side.

Appearances were tricky things.

{"You might be right."} he said as the got close. As they got near Kerec, Jii adopted an air of astonishment. {"Kerec?!"} he exclaimed. {"By the Elements, boy, I haven't seen you in years!"}

Kerec was smooth, he'd give him that. Years of work for the Unificationists had taught him how, no doubt. {"Jissek!"{ he said in the warm tone reserved for soldiers who'd served together. {"It's been some time. Since Chin'toka, I believe?"}

{"The very same."} Jii replied, putting a little more 'yokel' into his accent. {"I settled on Phoenicius after the War. My wife here, J'dana, has never been to the Capitol, so I thought I would show her the jewel of the Empire.}

{"Jolan tru, my lady."} Jerec said, taking her hand in a greeting of respect.

She smiled softly and offered the corresponding signs to her new acquaintance. {"I'm amazed by all that is going on around here,"} she said, shyly, {"there's so much to take in."}

{"This is Ki Baratan, my lady. There always is."} he replied. {"You must come with me for eveningmeal in my home, of course. Your husband saved my life on Chin'toka. At the least, mhen'sei demands I offer you my hospitality."}

{"We accept, of course."} Elaithin said, ever conscious of those watching the watchers.

------------------
Later that Evening
Kerec's home, Ki Baratan
-----------------

"The fact that you've got a privacy shield in your study isn't going to cause suspicion?" Elaithin asked, having dropped his holographic disguise. "I'm the military advisor to a Senator, Jii. It's expected. Sensitive data, after all. And thanks to your last little.. gift box, I believe you called it, not even the Tal Shi'ar could pierce it - if they had the resources to threaten anything more than a stiff breeze anymore."

Jordan raised an eyebrow, though not at Kerec's comment. Jii was sending gift boxes to a contact on Romulus? Starfleet gift boxes, no doubt. It made her a little nervous, quite frankly, but she reminded herself that it wasn't her place and what was she going to say anyway? So instead, she focused on the items displayed along the study's walls, remaining silent as her entire body listened to their conversation. Jii knew this man, she didn't; her husband would lead the conversation, would ask what they needed to know, and would get the answers if they were to be gotten.

"Relax." he whispered, seeing the eyebrow. "Kerec, this is my wife, Jordan Elaithin. Jordan, Kerec's one of Spock's inner-circle in the Unificationists. Spock still holds the rank of a Starfleet Admiral, after all. I was just. .processing a requisition."

"A pleasure to meet you, Colonel, I believe it is? I'd heard you were dead." Kerec said, extending his hand in a human fashion this time.

"Your sources weren't mistaken," she replied softly. "And I assure you, the pleasure's mine. Jii's told me what you did for him and you have my sincerest thanks. Please though, forgive me, I'm still a little... off kilter."

"Understandably," he said, raising a remarkably Vulcan-like eyebrow. "I'd love to here about it some time. "

Kerec turned back to Jii then. "I assume you're with Starfleet Intelligence now, then? That resignation of yours was a cover?"

The Bajoran shook his head. "No cover. Long story though, and we don't have time for it. I need to know where Vartek ar'Triae is."

The Romulan's eyes narrowed then. "You mean your Commander Johnathan Keller, of course. The man who, unless I'm very much mistaken, caused the deaths of the First Galae."

"It has to be done."

J. Andrus Suder
Science crewman (acting)

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Some times, one had to do things one did not want to. You know it has to be done; You know that sooner is better than later; You know you can't avoid it. But still, you try to intentionally forget it, or find lame excuses like 'A huge Hydran fleet is probably approaching and I better do something about it.'. But eventually, excuses run out.

This is why Saul only came to Cargo Bay 2 now, instead of the moment he set foot on the Galaxy after returning from Cheron.

"Show me container 815c." He asked the first bustling Operations crewman who slowed down enough to be talked to.

"Yes sir!" The man changed direction, galloping toward the relevant location. Saul followed.

The crewman stopped, next to a three-meter-high cargo container, with dark green exterior and baring no markings. He glanced at the PADD he was carrying, and his brow furrowed.

"Umm, sir? This cargo belongs to one 'Andrus'. It says any inspection should be done with this Andrus present."

Saul resisted the temptation to order the man to inspect it anyway. The worst thing that could happen is to draw attention to the container. He didn't know what Andrus stored inside, but he knew what HE stored inside and he didn't want any other Galaxy crew member to set their eyes on it.

"Contact Andrus and tell him to report here at once, then.", Saul ordered, although deep inside he wanted to see Andrus as much as he wanted to see the ship's dentist.

It was about twenty minutes later that Andy strolled in. "Sorry, Lieutenant, I was just getting the grand tour and orientation packet."

Saul just stared back, knowing well enough that the Betazoid must've caught his surprise before he managed to hide it. There was no point in pretending now that Saul wasn't startled by Andrus' attire.

"Lovely uniform.", He muttered dryly.

Andy smiled at the waves of obvious dislike directed towards him. "I'm going to be working for Starfleet for awhile. So, was there something I could do for you, Sir?"

"Of course. I am interested in inspecting your cargo hold. Just a random check, to make sure our allies didn't add any gifts to the cargo that came from the surface. Shall we go inside, then?"

"Of course." Andy said brightly. "I would never interfere in an officer's duty."

"Excellent."

The Betazoid resisted the urge to laugh but just barely. Once they were inside and out of earshot, however, he got down to business. "Everything is here."

"You've got to be shittin' me, Andrus.", Saul snapped broadly gesturing at the man's uniform. "You want to tell me M'Kantu actually let you work as a crewman? With access to databases and such?"

"Yup."

Saul shook his head sideways, muttering something in Hebrew. This was unbelievable. It also meant that getting rid of Andrus would become several levels more difficult. Although, he began to suspect that the Captain might be supportive of his intelligence officer doing his dirty work for him. Yes... that could actually work.

"You must hold him by the beitzim.", Saul snickered, as he began scanning the walls with his tricorder. "What did you do to the poor man?"

"What anyone like us would do to get what they wanted." Andrus replied, suddenly serious. "I found something important to him and threatened to take it away. Not my finest moment but ... oh well."

Had to be done, He told himself.

"If our eggs weren't in the same basket, I'd tell you I hope they get their hands on you. As it is..."

Saul's voice trailed as he located the mechanism that unlocks the hidden compartment where his goods were. Part of the container's inner plating shifted, revealing a small crack. Saul knelt, and crawled inside.

Several moments later he came out, stood up, and straightened his wrinkled unform.

"I want to check your compartment too, Andrus. I don't think you brought on board anything dangerous, but there's no telling what our Romulan 'friend' may have planted inside."

"I checked before we left but you're welcome to it." Andrus said.

"Good."

Saul located the other hidden compartment without Andrus help. Once you knew how t'Noir worked, it was easier to notice the slight nuances in the tricorder scan that indicated the presence of such compartments. t'Noir's strategy was based on the - often correct - assumption that the inspections the containers may undergo weren't as thorough.

He glanced inside. The narrow space was empty. If there was anything -anyone - here, Andrus took it out already.

"It's too bad." Andy mummered suddenly.

"What's too bad?", Saul asked without thinking, without looking at Andrus.

"I wish I could have seen his face when he found what I planted in his storage." He said before walking towards the door. "I especially wish I could have seen his face when the police saw what he'd found."

Saul stepped away from Tae'ben's compartment, the plating automatically closing behind him. What was Andrus saying?

"Why, Lieutenant," Andy said with a small smile. "You look positively homicidal."

And he probably did, Saul thought, as he realized what Andrus was saying. The man just told Saul that he burnt his primary contact on ch'Rihan.

"Are you dumb?" Saul snapped, waving his hand in front of Andrus' face. "Why did you draw attention to t'Noir?? What if they find some evidence at his office that connects him to you and me, you fool?"

"You think t'Noir had stuff lying around to connect us to him?" Andy said with wide eyes.

"You mean you didn't see the six foot tall poster with your face on it in his office?", Saul asked innocently, then scowled at his companion. "Give me a break, Andrus. I'm not one of those vacuum-brain border guard officers you're used to bribe. Of course t'Noir had 'stuff lying around' which may connect us to him. And even if not in the open, trust the Rommies to dig them out."

"Why then it was probably a bad idea for me to tip the police off!" Andrus exclaimed.

"Y-e-s-!" Saul imitated Andrus' tone.

"Oh, well, good thing I didn't then." Andy said and then turned and walked out of the container whistling.

That, he figured, had to have been done too. If only because Saul was such a stick in the mud.

Saul narrowed his eyes, his face turning to one huge exclamation mark.

"Lovely."

This is what you get for ignoring your problems for too long, he noted to himself. The same will happen to his agenda, if he concentrates too much on the day-to day troubles provided by his Starfleet career and less on the... other thing.

Only a handful of people on board the Galaxy knew that Saul served, for several month, on the Utrecht III Domestic Guard.

When, after excelling at boot camp, he wanted to be released, his squadron leader told him this: 'The door to being discharged is locked, Bental, and the key is in the bottom of a bucket full of shit. If you want out, you need to dip your arm in shit.'

And so he did.

As he stepped out of the container, Saul resolved that it was time to dip his arm in the bucket full of shit once more. There was no clean way to handle J. Andrus Suder; He could ruin Saul, just as easily as he pretended to ruin t'Noir. Saul had no doubt that Andrus will do just that if it served him.

Saul could not afford such a possibility.

Andrus had to go, and every way was legit to that end.

"Contractual Obligations, Part 1"

Lieutenant Cole "Wraith" Slaton, Renegades XO, USS Miranda
Lt (jg) Naranda Roswell, Engineer, USS Galaxy
Pilot Taev "Stubbs", Vanguard Squadron, USS Galaxy

Shuttle Bay One, USS Miranda
======================

~Ah, oo-mox, sweet decadent oo-mox~, Taev thought dreamily as he made for the shuttlecraft that would take him to his new assignment. Thinking fondly of the deceptively young trill female whose acquaintance he had just made, the Ferengi Pilot reflected that oo-mox from a female who had performed it several times over several lifetimes just may have jaded his epicurean tastes. The experience almost made him regret not being assigned to the Miranda, but too much of a good thing may distract him from life's other pleasures. Still, he couldn't shake the memory or Rule #97 from his mind.

~Enough... is never enough. Ah... oo-mox...~

In such a state, Taev's sensitive lobes didn't notice his trailing luggage-case slightly ajar, or that the contents, supposedly clothes, rattled.

Walking along the corridor deep in the ship of the Miranda Cole couldn't help but shake his head, crewmen stepped out of his way seeing the determination in his gaze and his purposeful strides. "Your serious?" Cole had asked in his office leaning forward. "If your wrong, its my ass you know!" Cole knew the young man on the other end of the channel was too scared, and stupid, to lie, which left only one certainty.

The matter of that call was the reason Cole was heading with such decisive intent, like a bullet from a gun, stopping for nothing. Not even pausing to utter the words of hello as crewmen spoke out to the lieutenant. "Shuttle Bay One!" Cole called out stepping into the turbolift, the door hissing closed behind him. The low whining increased in pitch as the lift's speed rose, it didn't reached the fevered pitch of its maximum speed not having the distance required, and within a few moments the whine became a low moan announcing its impending arrival. Cole didn't even wait for the door to full open before jumping through.

~Bloody Ferengis~ Cole thought shaking his head, though a part of him admired the little muskrat for attempting this.

Mesmerized by the memories of long, delicate, graceful fingers, Taev nodded and smiled at those passing by, oblivious to the maintenance workers, shippers, hoverlift drivers, mechanics and pilots who dodged and weaved to avoid killing the short Ferengi. It was only as he started to board the shuttlecraft that something managed to jar him from his reverie.

A large shadow fell over the Ferengi. "Ensign Taev." Waiting for the small man to turn Cole continued, "I think it would be in your best interests if you and I talked, privately." It was clear it wasn't a suggestion in any sense of the word.

The diminutive pilot turned to see a tall, blonde officer tower over him. "Of course, Lieutenant", Taev replied happily. "If it bears interest, my time is your time. Please, lead the way."

There were plenty of Shuttles in the Bay, Cole nodded for the pilot waving him off, knowing those already waiting within would quickly become nasty with anger. Tempers were already fraid with the impending battle. Two Shuttle were in various states of repair - the furthest with its guts for all to see - so Cole took the young ensign to another. Stepping up Cole waited for the Ferengi to follow before closing the door behind him. "Are you aware of what your currently carrying ensign?" he asked, quickly getting his suspistions thrown in his face. The Ferengi didn't know! "Taev, I think you'd better empty your bag, though I suggest you do it carefully."

Despite the fact he knew the Ferengi didn't know what was conveniently hidden within his bag Cole's hand still hovered close to his phase-pistol, habits died hard it seemed.

Shrugging, Taev opened the case and his eyes bulged wide when eight graceful bottles of vintage Romulan ale came into view. "I... not... never... that old... no... not mine! Not... mine! I swear on my mother's lobes, hew-mon! I've never seen these before in my life!" Wide eyed, the Ferengi's mind raced with the possibilities the Great River had just provided. ~Contraband? Surely. Negotiation?~ he looked at the tall pilot who had picked him out. ~Possible, but doubtful.~

Taev continued to sort through his personal belongings with increasing panic when he noticed something important missing. "This is a disaster! They're gone! GONE!" He started rigling through the empty case, vainly looking for something that may have gotten lodged within.

"Gone?" Cole frowned in confusion. What hell could be more important that suddenly finding illegal ale in your bags?

"My Captain Capitalism action figures! In their original packaging and very rare!" Taev wheezed as the sense of panic squeezed the air from him. "GONE!"

"Action figure?" Cole hid a broadening smile of shock behind a hand, rubbing his chin as if in thought.

"But one of them had the portable ATM feature with adjustable interest rates!"

Cole shook his head not knowing what the hell the Ferengi was talking about. Could he be trying to get out of this by killing Cole through confusion? or boredom? - knowing Ferengis it was a distinct possibility.

"Another had a kevlar-duronium capt. That was the "labor negotiation" model! Only two hundred were made!"

"I'm sure--" Cole moved to offer come comfort, but thought better of it his hand snapping back from the Ferengi taking a step back.

"I even had the trading-floor playset complete with the functioning real-time day-trading feature! And it worked! IT WORKED!"

"Really, working?... Impressive..." Cole was lost for words, running his hand through his hair, what was he supposed to say? Bad luck old chum?

On the verge of hyperventalating, the Ferengi took a few munutes to calm down, taking the opportunity to contemplate his profit/loss. Taking one of the bottles, he finally looked up to the tall El-Aurian pilot. "So... what do you intend on doing, Lieutenant?"

"About your missing... figures...? Or that?" Cole asked nodding at the bottle now tightly gripped in his hand. "I'd suggest speaking with Commander Smith, I can introduce you if need-be. She's chief of security on the Miranda, she'd be my choice in trying to find... the items... On the matter of the bottles?" Cole took a few moments to think on what to do. A few bottles of Romulan ale *could* come in handy, for the right occassions of course.

"I'm open to suggestions."

The words "Security" added to the particularly ulcerous feeling Taev was developing in the pit of his stomach, but the burning faded when the tall pilot made his last statement. He looked at the cobalt-blue bottle in his hand and listened to the charming, and possibly profitable sound of the liquid as it gurgled in the thin neck. "How do we even know it's what it appears to be? Maybe it's someone's idea of a joke? Hew-mons can be a funny bunch at times - we should sample the wares before we talk of consequence, shoudn't we?"

Cole looked around the shuttle, shrugging to himself seeing as there didn't seem to be any harm. "If we *were* to get security involved, would make sense to make *sure* it is what we believe it to be. I mean it wouldn't look very good it it turned out to be *not*... the ale in question..."

"Exactly", Taev chimed, feeling misfortune sprout the wings of opportunity. "Any nobody really needs *that* kind of embarrassment." The Ferengi and El-Aurian both took a quick glance towards the shuttle's door and out to the bay. With a sense of relative, secure isolation Taev wrestled the thick, purple wax off the top of the bottle.

A sweet effervescence filled the small shuttle and both felt a moment's panic, fearing the seductive aroma might spill out into the surrounding area. Cole took a quick look out for Caitains and other olflactory sensitive species while Taev activated the shuttle's still functioning atmospheric filtration. Another monent as the Ferengi listened for approaching footsteps, then the panic ebbed.

The blue liquid beckoned a sampling as it danced in the bottle. "After you", Taev offered with a grin.

Taking the bottle Cole took one second to think of what he was doing, before lifting the bottle to his lips feeling the liquid. There was that moment of numbness before he felt the tingling liquid running slowly down into his gut. It was only a moment but it could have lasted a lifetime, or a nano-second, either way it was over far too quickly with Cole pulling the bottle away. "Damn..." he said licking his lips. "Almost forgot what this tasted like, a toast?" he asked handing the bottle over.

~Ah, not poisoned at least! Possibly genuine!~ The Ferengi gave Cole a sidewise glance. "That depends - with whom am I drinking?"

"Cole Slaton, but Cole will do."

"Yes, yes - that's just a name", Taev answered. "But *with whom am I drinking*? An agent of Security? Or a business partner? Surely you can see the possibilities, the *opportunities* these bottles represent?"

"Must have got the wrong end of a metaphorical stick, I ain't no agent of security, not for a while anyhow. And as for business opportunties..." Cole eased himself into one of the chairs turning to the Ferengi. "... what did you have in mind?"

A crooked, toothy smile lit on the Ferengi's face. "Firstly Cole, a toast of course. 'To profitability' and a successful business partnership!" Privately, Taev had the image of Captain Capitalism performing a merciless tax audit on Fauf, Miranda's Quartermaster and the man responsible for the current economic crisis.

"Ah yes," the Ferengi pilot muttered. "Economic revenge will be mine!"

One Wild Night - Part Three – "The Galaxy Way of Life; weird and confusing"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

(Set two months after "Catalyst"/"Open Fist" ends, during the first week of "Barbarians at the Gates")

***Deck 8 crew quarters***

Only a short walk later and they were outside her quarters, "Have a seat," she offered as they walked in, "I'll only be a moment."

Dhani took a brief look around, though she was too preoccupied thinking of what was going to happen next to take any relevant stock of what Burtons quarters contained. She perched rather precariously on the edge of an arm chair and stared at the floor.

"Hey," she called out, "I have a good vintage back in my quarters if you fancy something stronger than synthanol?"

In the bathroom just off her bedroom Kimberly looked in the mirror as she quickly tried to clean her face up, ~ Damn it girl! Pull yourself together, what are you! CMO of this ship or some green cadet! ~

~ But. ~

~ No Bloody but's! Just. Let's talk about it, deal with it, and move on! It's happened, as Jack likes to say, 'Shit happens. Hopefully to other people!' It's happened, and to someone else. You may not like it, but deal with it! ~

~ @*&%$@#&! ~

"That actually sounds like a good idea, I may even have a bottle around here myself," she offered in return after a moment, as she washed.

"Really?" Dhani asked surprised, looking around the room she frowned at the rather large teddy bare on the sofa. She was slightly bewildered why a grown woman would have such a thing, epically in clear view. It's probably a Terran thing, Dhani concluded.

"I was beginning to think that I was the only on board that like Klingon beverages." She added eyeing up the rest of the room.

"Klingon?" Kimberly called from the bathroom, "never tried any, I usually stick to something less, ah, robust. I have Tarellan wine, and some Risian ale I think."

"Oh." Dhanishta replied with disappointment. Standing up she wandered over to the bookshelf and began to peruse the selection. "So I am still the only blood wine drinker aboard, I can handle that." she said absently whilst her fingers ran over the spine of real leather bound books.

"I said I've never tried any, didn't say I wasn't prepared to try any." Kimberly replied as she stepped out of the bathroom, looking a lot better than when she had gone in, "I'm always curious to try new things," going to a cabinet under part of the bookshelf she started rooting around, "see anything you like?"

Dhanishta smiled, "Like isn't the right word." she replied, "Love, would be more accurate." She looked back at Burton and smiled, "Oh you meant alcohol!" She giggled at her mistake, "Anything as long as the percentage is high." she grinned wickedly at the Doctor.

"You do know that…" Dhani paused herself and thought over the line she was just about to say. She was going to inform the Doctor about the fact that she grew up on the Klingon home world and her capacity for holding liquor was extremely high, though that had been before the coma had diminished her tolerance to practically everything. For all she knew she could very well get roaring drunk from a thimble full.

"Never mind." Dhanishta said waving off her previous comment. "Shall I get some glasses?" she asked trying to be helpful.

Pulling out a clear flask filled with a lavender liquid Kimberly nodded, "Please, over in the kitchen area," nodding to the enclosed area, "so do you like real books?" she asked as she set the flask on a shelf and continued to rummage, pulling out another flask she looked at it for a second, ~ What's this? ~ she thought in confusion. Opening the flask she sniffed and looked at it again, ~ Ah what the hell! ~

"Love them." Dhanishta replied wandering across the room to the kitchenette. She took a moment to look around before her face broke out into a smile. "Growing up we had a huge old farm house, and the hugest kitchen you have ever seen." She paused in contemplation looking back fondly over the memory. "My dad taught me how to cook, can't remember much now though. I have a feeling I'd be a terrible at it, though Turan didn't seem to mind it when I cooked for him… but that was a life time ago, or a possible one…" she frowned at the muddled memory. Shrugging it off she opened a cupboard and smiled at the neatly organised glasses, ranging from wine to port. "These do?" she asked holding up the largest two she could find.

"Perfect," standing with the two large clear flasks she set the lavender filled one down and looked again at the purple filled one, "I have no idea what this one is though, but it smells nice," she admitted, "if you ever want to borrow a book, feel free. Most are replicated, but the ones on the top shelf are originals, I just like the feel of a book," she admitted.

Thinking for a moment she shrugged mentally and decided her Counselling and CMO hat's could stay outside for the moment, ~ Been a while since I just sat down, had a drink and a chat with someone, ~ she realised, "to be honest, I don't cook, never really learned. The cook around here is Sara-Jayne, she loves to cook."

"Sara-Jayne?" Dhanishta asked curiously handing her the glasses.

"My ward," Kimberly explained, indicating one of the holo's on the desk, "fifteen going on twenty-one, she been with me a little over a year now," she said with a broad smile, "and boy do teenagers keep you on your toes, but she's a lovely girl," accepting the glasses she poured two generous shots of the lavender Risian ale and sat down, taking off her boots she curled her feet up under her on the sofa, "sit, no formalities here."

Dhanishta did as she was told. Kicking off her shoes in an orderly fashion she grabbed a cushion and sat down on the couch.

"What did you mean?" offering Eshe the other glass, "when you said 'that was a life time ago, or a possible one.'?" Kimberly asked as she took a sip of the flavourful ale.

Dhani smiled again, "A year or so ago the Galaxy encountered a time loop type thing. It was all very complicated really. But I had the joy of seeing what my future held, well a possible one." Dhani sighed, she wasn't explaining it very well and she hadn't even started drinking yet. Accepting the glass she took a sip and tried again.

"Basically the Galaxy crashed on a planet, everyone died, except me. I met a native of the planet and lived with him for the next 30 odd years. And when the Galaxy crashed I met myself, older and much more twisted." She smiled, "Confused yet?" she asked with a grin.

"Yup," Kimberly admitted, "but then this is the Galaxy, weird and confusing seems to be a way of life here, I think I'll have to start reading 'all' the past mission logs, find out what's been happening here." Taking another sip of the ale, "Uh, I ah, don't think I said thank you by the way."

"For what?" Dhanishta asked surprised.

"When we were locked up I kinda lost my focus there for a while, just before. Just before that guy came in when we were talking, I never said thanks for the verbal slap you so gently administered, I kinda forgot for a bit, I was in command and I needed to act like it."

Dhanishta choked on the wine startled. "Um, what … what did I say?" she stammered flustered.

"It was just after you mentioned skipping the Miracle Worker 101 class for an afternoon of good sex," Kimberly reminded her with a sly grin, "though to be honest I have to admit to doing the same once or twice," she added openly laughing now.

Dhanishta sat back slightly and smiled seemingly laughing along with Burton. She remembered the argument they had had, but she couldn't remember when it was. Was it after the guy was dead? It must have been 'cause the argument was about killing him, and taking responsibility. So what did she say that made the Doctor sit up and take notice… what had she said after she mentioned the sex..? Dhani shook her head and actually choked on the wine, "I said what about sex?" she stammered in-between gasps.

"It was just after you woke up, ah, we were looking at the door, and I mentioned something about needing a miracle worker, and you said you'd skipped that class," Kimberly recited, her memory of that part of their incarceration fairly clear, "you just mentioned you'd decided to skip class in favour of good sex if I recall," emptying her glass she poured some more and offered the bottle to Dhani, "More?"

"Ah….yes…please." Dhani replied trying not to show that she was shaking slightly as she held out her glass. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought when they threw in the shock grenades." she smiled trying to hide the raging flashing warning lights in her head. Swallowing hard she asked, "So what else did I say, I'm at a loss to remember."

"Well you mentioned that your first command of engineering resulted in the ship needing rescuing by the Relentless, which has me curious, but then you asked me what I wanted to happen next, and that was about the time I realised I needed to be thinking about 'doing' something, not just moping around in a cell, wasn't long after that the Neanderthal walked in."

Dhanishta sat back on the couch and brought up the glass to cover the huge smile of relief that crossed her face. She felt all the muscles in her back relax once more and the knot that had suddenly formed in her stomach dissipate. "Yeah," she said "I have been through some rough times on this boat." she patted the wall affectionately. "And just to clarify it was me rescued by the Relentless not the ship. The twelfth fleet saved her, but I wasn't on it. I was running down a corridor on my way to deflector control, I think, when a helbore cannon let rip and hit the ship. The corridor I was in was severed from the Galaxy. I was lucky that the emergency force-fields came down followed by the bulkheads. There was enough air in the corridor to sustain me for a brief time. I remember beginning to suffocate and hallucinating. I still have the inhaler I was given afterwards, my lungs were damaged slightly." she paused in her tale as is came to an end and sighed realising that she was droning on.

She lent forward and rested her elbows on her knees, "So tell me about you, a great tale of escape or something. With enough wine I could tell you my life story and well… then I would have to call medical with you slitting your wrists 'n' all. And believe you me the blood is a real pain to get out of the carpet. I remember that I had to scrub for days…." Dhani frowned and coughed, "I'm gonna stop talking…" she smiled and sat back taking a sip of her drink.

One Wild Night - Part Four – "Home"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

(Set two months after "Catalyst"/"Open Fist" ends, during the first week of "Barbarians at the Gates")

***Deck 8 crew quarters***

Topping her own glass up Kimberly frowned a little, Dhani was being quite open here, more than she had ever before with her, and fair was fair. ~ Besides, I 'like' her, ~ she realised. "Well, tales of great escapes, ummm, well I'd have to think on that for a moment, or be much more drunk," she decided, and drained half her glass in one swig, "I was at Havras as well though if that's what you're referring to, I was on the Arizona then. Or I could tell you about how my big brother rescued me from the Dominion during the war?" she offered, a touch of pride in her voice.

Dhanishta noticing that the doctor was piling away her drink, followed suite, would be bad for to lose her reputation now. Downing the drink, getting a refill and swiftly downing that (always gotta be just that one step ahead) Dhani grinned wildly, "Why don't ya tell em both?" she questioned her eyes gleaming. For a brief moment she felt like she was back on Qono'S reminiscing with the old timers in the local bar. The sound of their laughter roaring from the pit of their bellies echoed in her mind and filled her with nostalgia. She remembered how easily the bloodwine went down, how much she had laughed with them. It was strange to look back at the person she was on Vulcan and how she was on Qono'S and then how she changed again to fit in on Earth.

"Sure." Looking at the now half empty flask as she contemplated where to start, and just how they'd gotten onto this subject. Shrugging, "We may need more booze though," she cautioned Eshe, "this might take a while, thought there's little to tell about Havras really, I was on the Arizona and I spent the whole time in Triage on the holodeck, it. took a lot of work there to keep as many alive as we did."

"You know, when I was growing up, I spent a lot of time going from one planet to another with my family on our freighter, and I loved the exploration, the seeing new places, s'partly why I joined Starfleet," Kimberly admitted as she topped her glass up again, "when I signed up that's what I'd hoped to do more of."

"Why did you pick medical then?" Dhani asked curiously, "I mean to explore… you don't get to do much exploring as a medical officer, I would have thought science would have given you more of a chance."

"Well, I originally wanted to be an engineer," Kimberly admitted wryly, "but one of my student advisors sat me down one day and asked me if I'd ever considered an alternative, I still don't know if she meant I'd make a lousy engineer or a better Counsellor, 'cause that's what I ended up training for, my Medical Doctorate is a slightly more recent addition to my repertoire. At the time though, I figured that whatever I trained for I could find a berth on an explorer, and counselling and medicine appeal to me. I like to help. How about you? Why engineering?"

Dhanishta shrugged, "Don't know really." she replied frowning, "I guess it just fit ya know? Tanson, my father, is a scientist, he's pretty dam good too." Dhani remarked fondly, "I remember him teaching me all sorts of things when I was growing up, though I was mainly raised by a Vulcan." she smiled slightly, although it was one of regret. "It wasn't until we moved to Trill, dad's homeworld, that he really started taking an interest in me, and I would sit in on his science projects. I remember listening to him talk about what he was doing with such passion. I don't have half of that passion for my job. Not any more at any rate."

She half chuckled, "He didn't know this but I used to go and listen in on his lectures." she leaned forward and refilled her glass, "It was amazing listening to him talk, everyone took notice when he spoke, ya know? And the enthusiasm... he could make a lecture about moss exciting." she smiled at the memory. A glazed look washed over her face a she remembered their next assignment; "Then when I was eleven dad took up a post on Qono'S." Dhanishta sat back in the comfy sofa cushions and let that last comment sink in, hiding her grinning face behind her glass.

"Qono'S? What took you guys there?" A trace of surprise in her voice, "Klingons are a little wary of offworlders on Qono'S if I recall?"

Dhanishta smiled, "A little wary…." she repeated her voice pitching to emphasise the absurdity of that statement. She shook her head, "There more than that."

"As I said my dad was good, real good. He got to pick and chose. Kerenza, his wife, is a scientist too, so they got two experts in their field for the price of one. Me and my sister didn't have much of a say in where we went. We were only eleven after all. It was difficult, and such a contrast from Vulcan and Trill. But we coped, took us a while but me and Kala looked out for each other, we are really close me and my sis. And after what seemed like a long time, we were accepted. Don't get me wrong it wasn't easy. We had to be the best at everything from combat to academics and drinking, and then if we were too good we were Starfleet brats, it was hard, challenging but I loved it there.." she trailed off realising just how much she had loved Qono'S.

For a long time she sort of felt as if Vulcan was home, after all she was born there. But all she could remember from the place that she spent her early years at, was Sark. There was little else. Qono'S was full of life, full of memories. She was alive there, she fought hard every day to be accepted and yet to stand out and be an individual, never running with the pack unless they were going where she wanted to go. She remembered Kala being so full of life with them, and that's probably why she stayed serving with them, forgetting that she banner she really adorned said 'Starfleet'.

Looking at Eshe as she talked it wasn't hard to realise that Qono'S had been somewhere she liked, the look on her face and the tone of her voice gave a lot away, "I envy you," she replied after a moment draining her glass again, refilling it with the unknown purple liquid she took a cautious sip and coughed for a moment as the fiery brandy worked it's way down, "I spent most of my childhood roaming the stars on a freighter, and while I loved to explore, it might be nice to have a place like that you can call home, or at least somewhere you feel comfortable." ~ Though there's something to be said for not being tied to a place, ~ she mused, realising that the loss of the original Arizona hadn't been nearly as upsetting as she'd been expecting, it was after all a place, and a place can be rebuilt or replaced, people cant.

"But it wasn't home." Dhanishta replied softly after a moment. Staring before her as if she were looking at a picture, one dredged from the depth or her past, her face filled with emotion, flowing from happiness to sadness and then regret and many in-between as she contemplated how she felt about that, "No where was home… no where *is* home." She looked at the doctor, a slight pleading expression in her eyes, "I wasn't a Vulcan, and I wasn't a Klingon, and I wasn't a Trill or a Human either. There isn't one place that will accept me, or one that did. Not truly, not completely."

"Humans have a saying Dhanishta, home is where you hang your hat. I never really understood that until I went to the Academy. I guess Starfleet is all the home the two of us have really, they've accepted us, we're starting to accept each other." she added tentatively as she offered the purple liquid to Eshe.

Dhanishta nodded towards the bottle and held up her glass to be refilled. A pout formed as her eyes welled, "But I don't have a hat!" she wailed beginning to cry. "And I don't think of this place as home." she cried harder, "I mean I did when I came back out of the coma. I thought I was making a fresh start. I even began to unpack and then I saw O'Shea and she treated me like a monster." Her sobbing came harder making her words indistinguishable, "She sa, id that I couldn't.. couldn't come back …. Not from the dead. And I …" she began to hiccup too, "I tried so hard, I …. Fought for every… breath and… …" her words were lost as she put her head into her hands and sobbed, only the occasional syllable was audible between the high pitched hiccup squeal.

Putting the bottle and her glass down gently Kimberly slid across the sofa and enfolded Eshe in a reassuring hug, saying nothing for a moment she reflected briefly on how open Dhani was being, and on some of the things she was saying. Letting her cry for a moment she waited for the hiccups to subside a little before speaking, trying to keep her voice as level as possible, and wishing she hadn't been so fast with the booze, "Hey, you're not alone though," she reminded Eshe gently.

Dhanishta looked up, her hair falling across her face. She made a parting with her hands and peered out from it. Sniffing she wiped her nose on the back of her hand and stood up. "We need more alcohol." She announced.

One Wild Night - Part Five – "Onions"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

(Set two months after "Catalyst"/"Open Fist" ends, during the first week of "Barbarians at the Gates")

***Deck 8 crew quarters***

Dhani walked over to the replicator, somewhat embarrassed about her outburst. She had never talked to anyone like the way she was talking to Burton. So open and honest. She was sharing anecdotes about her past, and more specifically about her child hood and her parents. It was almost as if she had forgotten that the woman sitting with her was a counsellor. She was probably taking detailed notes and filling them away in her brain for dissection at a later date. Or was paranoia creeping in now? She suddenly remembered when Sark had mentioned her mother all those years ago, and how violently she had reacted to it. So violently that the day after she was dead, for all of a few minutes until the doctors revived her. She glanced back at Burton and wondered why now? Why was it now that she was able to open up and talk to her? Was it because she knew that she could make her forget?

Dhani shuddered, "You want anything?" she asked her voice was low and serious. Her demeanour changed as she walked across the room, gone was the care free Eshe of just five seconds ago. Back was the caged up woman that looked out at the world with pent up anger.

"Just some wine thanks," Kimberly asked, wondering briefly what just happened, by the time Eshe had gotten to the replicator she was rigid and tense again, draining her glass absently she briefly regretted the fiery rush the purple brandy ignited in her throat as it worked its way down, "Whaa." she started to say then coughed involuntarily as the liquid finished its journey to her stomach and exploded, wishing she had a drive right pill handy she shook her head, regretting that impulsive action she let the room stop spinning as the replicator hummed.

~ Is it me? ~ Kimberly wondered, ~ I don't think I said anything insulting? ~ trying to review the conversation they'd had she came up blank as to why the sudden reversal, "Are you okay?" she asked finally.

Dhanishta turned from the replicator and for a moment glared at Burton. "No." she concluded flatly. "This," she indicated the discussion, "its.." she struggled for the right words, "It's not me. I don't do this, it's strange. I'm sitting here talking to you as if you were my best friend, and even my best friend - the only one I have on this ship - I don't talk to like I'm talking with you. And I don't even like you!"

She paused momentarily to get her drink from the replicator and take a rather large swig of it. "Don't get me wrong you're a nice person and all that but you encompass two of the things I hate; doctors and counsellors." she clarified ticking off the offences on her fingers and taking another swig of the wine.

"I just don't get it, why the hell am I pouring my heart out to you. You will probably dissect it and then bring it up months later when you demand again that I take a million testes that you think I need. And here look, I'm doing it again!" she almost shouted in frustration gesturing wildly to the air.

Again she took another large gulp of the reddish brownish liquid; emptying the bottle. "And what's even stranger is that I never did mind doctors or counsellors before I came to this stupid boat. And again I'm pouring my heart out. And I could probably stand here and argue with myself all night and look like a complete nut case. But then I think most of the ship already thinks that I am a nut case. It's only a matter of time before you take me off work for some reason or other. And I'm beginning to care less about that, hell I was signed off duty for months and made to talk to a counsellor, and hell I didn't even tell her half of the things I have said to you. Hell even talking to the psycho marine was a doodle; like he was reading a book. All the counsellors here seem to ask the wrong questions. Maybe it's 'cause I never went to them when I was in the academy or something. Ya know there should really be a course on 'talking with the counsellor room 101' at the academy, really prep you for when you ultimately have to talk to one. 'Cause lets face it you can't take a shit in the fleet without someone asking you 'so how does that make you feel'!"

Dhanishta abruptly stopped only after biting her tongue! She winced and frowned at the metallic taste before turning and ordering another two bottles of Bloodwine. Walking back over to the seating area she passed one to the gob smacked Burton and sat down heavily with a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders.

A little confused Kimberly was wishing desperately or a drive right pill, her mind was lagging about five to ten seconds behind the conversation, processing the words a little slower than usual. Letting Eshe's words sink in she blinked for a moment and slid over so she was sat next to Eshe. "Okay, first thing, I'm off duty. So that means Doctor Burton and Counsellor Burton are out thataway somewhere," she tried to reassure Dhani, waving a hand in the general direction of the doorway, and managing to spill bloodwine over the two of them as she used her full hand, "what you say in here, stays in here. I can keep my professional and pershonal lives separate, honest." Taking a swig of the bloodwine she broke into an involuntary coughing fit as the raw drink destroyed her taste buds and voice box.

Dhanishta raised an eyebrow and smirked at the Doctors reaction to her favourite drink, she tried desperately to keep her expression neutral as Burton continued.

"wow!" she got out in a hoarse voice after a moment, "very smooth!" she added before she set off coughing again.

Recovering after another moment she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the bottle, "Is this antimatter fuel waste?" she asked sarcastically, "Never mind. Look, up to now, we've been having a drink, relaxing, chatting, and I promise you even if I do remember this in the morning, it's unlikely you'll be hearing any of it in my office. I can only promise you that, and hope you believe me." She asked with a small smile, "friends and shipmates are here to help each other, and while we're already shipmates, I sincerely hope we can become friends as well."

"And I don't think you're a nut case, different yes, but not a nut case," she offered with a smile and a raised bloodwine bottle, "cheers."

Through her confusion Dhanishta smiled back in return, "Cheers." she followed suite, clinking her bottle with Burtons and taking a swig.

"Ya not that bad, ya know. Not really." she told Burton, looking slightly sheepish.

"Tell me honestly, though" Dhani asked pausing to wipe her mouth, "you did think I was a nutcase, didn't you? I mean right when ya first met me? And don't worry I aint offended, after all I couldn't stand you!" she half laughed, that slightly drunken laugh that came out almost like a grunt.

"Thanks," Kimberly replied with a smile, "I guesh I have to be honest back and say I really wasn't sure, but, the thought was definitely there, especially after I got that knife in the back!" she reminded Dhani with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

Dhani shot her a confused look, "A knife in the back? What's that supposed to mean?" Dhani replied defensively shifting on the couch to faceBurton, "I have never bad mouthed you, not to anyone!" Dhani paused, obviously trying to think of any occasion where she had spoken about the doctor, "Well I have but not in a really nasty way." Dhani back peddled, "Kelden and Michael, they both know that I don't get on with you, but then that's not just you, that's the medical profession in general. Me and Kio go way back but ya don't see us hanging out in Ten Forward now do you?"

Hiccupping for a second Kimberly looked a little apologetic, "Uh, no, not 'knifed' in the back, I meant it literally. When you came in for a check-up a while back, your, ah, talents kicked in while you were there and some of the medical equipment went flying around the room," she reminded her without thinking, "a surgical scalpel and me got acquainted."

Dhanishta blinked once, and then a second time. By the third her mouth was beginning to move, and finally in conjunction with the fifth blink she stammered out; "What talents?"

Well, it was either you or the A/G went really screwy there for a while and only affected my instruments," Kimberly quipped, tapping the side of her head, "I undershtand you have a mix of talents?"

Dhani stared at Kimberly for a moment before her gaze passed the doctor turning to one of pondering. She shook her head wondering how to reply, wondering just what the doctor knew. Wondering how much she was willing to divulge. Slowly her eyes refocused on the Doctor, "What have you seen me do?" Dhani finally asked in a voice that was so straight it was unbelievable that any alcohol had passed her lips in the last 48 hours let alone the last 10 minutes.

Shrugging as she braved another slug of the bloodwine, "Well, there's th' stuff what's on y' file, and wha' happened in sickbay," she added, starting to sound more and more distant, "y'know, this stuff kinda grows on you, th' more you drink, the less y'can taste!"

Dhani frowned deeply, that knot in her stomach returning.

"Hey, I heard a joke today, wanna hear it," without waiting for a reply she carried on, almost oblivious to the fact her glass was empty now, "Ther'r two guys in a bar, and one turns to the other and says, 'You know, the worst thing about being a clone? When something goes wrong you've nobody to blame but yourself!'" Laughing at the weak joke she tried to take a drink and only managed to spill the remaining drops over herself.

Dhani actually smiled at the joke, even though it really wasn't well executed given the situation Engineering had been in the last few months. "You got real bad taste in jokes." Dhani replied solemnly, "Remind me to tell that one to O'Shea next time I see her. If I ever see her again that is." Dhani added seriousness to her tone. Smiling weekly she filed Burtons disclosure of her 'talents' away for later, deciding that she would have to follow that up and turned her hand to the bottle once more.

"So," Dhani began refilling her glass and Burtons, "You hate the captain huh. What's that all about?" he eyes gleamed deviously.

"Th' Captain," blinking for a second to let her mind catch up with the shift in the conversation she muttered something unintelligible for a moment then nodded, "Henderson, damn right I do, stuck up military minded jackass!" she got out around her glass as she took a deep drink, "I'm a doctor!" she exclaimed with some passion, "so I don't carry a weapon, nor does my shuttle, yet that…. person," remembering that she was discussing a Captain after all, "insists my shuttle, which is 'mine' has to have weapons on it…. asshole!"

Dhanishta sat back, eyes wide. Truth be told she had no idea that Burton didn't like Henderson; in fact she had forgotten that he was the official captain. She always thought of M'Kantu as captain even though he wasn't here! Shifting slightly Dhani readjusted herself and giggled slightly, "Yeah I know, total ass," she commented, "and that XO of his too, Kol. Mr. 'I'm a Klingon and don't you forget it'," she said in a faux male voice, "he's a total ass too!" Dhani added, seeing what reaction that would rise out of the Doctor.

Visibly shuddering Kimberly drained her glass and grimaced at the taste, "Him…. I had to serve with 'him' on the Arizona, he was an ape then and he still is, making me jump like I'm shome damn cadet, thinksh everyone should be a bloodthirsty soldier like him. Jus' caus I skipped phaser and hand t' hand recert for a while…. Not like they're skills I need!" she snapped, "or wan't to know!" she added softer.

Dhani giggled slightly, unable to contain her amusement. She nudged Burtons arm and flashed her a grin, "You're like an onion ya know."

"Huh…. Onion?" Completely confused by the non-sequitur she looked the Dhani with complete confusion.

"Yeah." Dhani nodded, "The first layer crumples like a piece of paper and the second is tough as old nails. The third makes you cry like a baby and then it just goes on forever, one layer after another. Each one unique and totally different. One second you're crying and the next you're laughing so hard that it hurts…" Dhani trailed off wondering just how much she had piled away tonight. Miraculously she wasn't slurring her words but she sure as hell was chatting shit!

Still totally confused Kimberly tried to make sense of what Dhani was saying, deciding after a moment that it didn't really matter she waved her half empty glass, "So 'f I'm an onion, 'n I have layers," pausing a moment to try and generate a coherent continuation to that line of thought she shrugged, "why're we talking 'Onions!'?" she asked suddenly, "I don't like onions!"

Dhani shrugged, "I," she paused. She was going to remark how she didn't like onions either, but she did. And now she was stuck trying to think of another vegetable that she wasn't fond of; yet none sprang to mind. After a moment of silence she closed her mouth, relaxing her vocal chords that had been ever-ready to holler out the distasteful, and began to chew her bottom lip; temporarily subdued.

After what seemed like an extremely long silence Dhani turned to Burton, "If I can't think of anything that I dislike, does that mean that I like everything?" she asked quietly puzzled.

"You don't like me do you!" Kimberly muttered accusingly.

Dhani cocked her head and looked Burton in the eyes, "No." she replied simply. "I hate you. I think you are a complete disgrace to the Fleet, to the Federation and all it stands for." she continued in a serious tone, "I don't know how you got that uniform you are wearing and what's more you SMELL!" she giggled and poked Burtons' ribs. Smiling she wrapped an arm around the medical officer and pulled her back to rest in the comfy foam of the couch cushions. "You stupid!" she mumbled as she began to tickle the chief medical officer!

Surprised at what Dhani was saying, and also considering that she was nearly completely drunk, it took Kimberly a moment to realise that Dhani was not as serious as she sounded. Realising that Dhani was attempting to tickle her she realised just what she was doing and burst out giggling, "You are evil!" she decided around fits of giggling.

Dhani's reply was to make two little devil horns with her fingers above her head and poke her tongue out at Burton.

"Counselor on Loan" -- pt. 2

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

Cpt. Margarethe Vogler (NPC)
CO, USS Exeter

Crew Lounge, USS Exeter

Maggie Vogler was proud of her ship and crew despite any misgivings about their relative newness to the fleet. They were still young and inexperienced, but she knew time would be enough to remedy that situation. What really mattered in her estimation was dedication and a certain . . . spark. And that they had plenty of.

"Get ready," she said under her breath as she led her temporary ship's counselor to their after-dinner destination. "They're still in that 'Captain on the bridge' stage, and even here they'll come to attention the minute they see me."

Brian smirked slightly at the revelation, not because of the crew's reaction, but because of the Captain's. Whether she'd admit it or not -- and he was pretty certain she would -- she got a charge out of it.

"Do you think they might feel more at ease in general if you made it clear it wasn't necessary?" he suggested as they stopped at the lounge doors.

"What, and spoil all the fun?" she retorted with a chuckle. "No, I'll know when it's time to let them relax a little, and we're not there yet. You know the what they say, Counselor, 'Never smile in the first semester.' It's gospel with a lot of instructors at the Academy and for good reason. School's just started on this ship as far as I'm concerned, and a little unnecessary snapping to attention won't hurt 'em."

The Exeter's lounge wasn't quite as spacious as the Galaxy's, but it was large enough to hold a reasonable cross-section of the crew: men, women, some in uniform, some not. Brian immediately sensed the assortment of personalities as he and Vogler entered the room.

And sure enough, her prediction was dead-on.

"Captain!" one dark-haired ensign loudly declared, being the first to sight the CO. It was as much an announcement to the rest of the room as it was a greeting. Conversation immediately broke off to silence as the rest of the young officers responded. They weren't at full attention as the counselor was sure they would be on the bridge, but they came close -- close enough that Brian almost felt wrong for not straightening up right along with them.

For just a split second, Captain Vogler enjoyed the fanfare, then continued on toward the bar, her pace unbroken. Releasing them from the formality with a hearty "as you were" and a wave of her hand, she surreptitiously glanced to Brian and winked.

As the conversation resumed and the mood lightened -- somewhat -- Brian could tell that their response had been genuine. It wasn't merely a semi-required gestured offered out of duty, but a sincerely felt show of respect for a woman they all felt a certain loyalty toward -- it was "Duty" with a capital 'D'.

"Terran whiskey, straight up, Ensign," Vogler declared to another dark-haired young man in uniform, this one behind the bar. "Counselor?"

"Oh, uh," Brian stammered, lost for a moment in his own processing of the mental notes he'd been taking, "just some Altair water for now."

The Captain's face wrinkled in disbelief. "Bah! You're part of the Exeter's crew now, 'Commander, live a little! Make it two Terran whiskeys, Ensign!"

Knowing he'd been overruled on his own choice of beverage, Elessidil simply raised his eyebrows and acquiesced with a nod. As the man behind the bar acknowledged the order -- it was definitely something more than a request -- and "yes ma'am'ed" himself away, Brian turned to the Captain with a look of curiosity.

"I know what you're thinking," Vogler replied before he even spoke a word. "Counselors weren't the only thing Starfleet didn't supply us with. When the crew learned there were no civilian bartenders on board, they set up their own volunteer bartending and wait-staffing duty roster. Told you they were an enthusiastic bunch."

"Where it really counts too, apparently," Brian laughed.

It took only another few seconds for the bartender to return and set the drinks in front of them. Receiving hers with a nod, Vogler looked at Brian for a moment. "I suppose you're going to nurse that." She sounded disappointed.

"It'd probably be a good idea. I don't often indulge in the strong stuff."

The Captain shook her head, astonished. "You think *this* is the strong stuff?" Then without another word, she downed the whiskey with in one gulp, finishing it off a hearty smack of the lips.

Brian took a small sip from his glass as he mentally prepared himself for an "in my day..." soliloquy.

"See the lieutenant in yellow back there," she said, turning around and gesturing toward a table in the far corner of the room where about six or so young officers talked and laughed over their drinks. "Brendan Mullen, my Ops chief and second officer. Still too young for the position if you ask me, but he's my highest-ranking officer after Marc," she revealed, referring to her first officer who was currently manning the bridge. "But at least he isn't fresh out of the Academy on his first assignment, and he's got a strong personality. Bit of a hothead at times, but the rest of the crew look up to him."

"Sounds like someone I should meet," Brian said.

Vogler handed her empty glass to the bartender and nodded for a refill. "Yep, exactly what I was thinking. Lieutenant Mullen!" she suddenly called out, silencing the room and taking Brian completely by surprise as she motioned for Mullen to join them at the bar. "As you were," she again instructed the rest of the crew, who promptly resumed their various conversations as if it had been a direct order.

As the young man rose from his table and left his friends behind, Brian could immediately tell there was something different about him. Any other member of Vogler's crew would have peed themselves if she'd summoned them to her like that, but Mullen strode across the room as if it were an everyday occurrence; which, for all the counselor knew, it was. The kid had flaming red hair, no doubt a characteristic of the Irish heritage his surname suggested, and he was a good two or three inches taller than Brian. The physical features made him stand out in a crowd but not as much as the aura of self-confidence he projected.

"Ma'am. 'Commander," he said, acknowledging them as he arrived.

"Mullen, this is Counselor Elessidil, on loan to us from the Galaxy," Vogler introduced.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant," Brian said as he extended his hand.

Mullen accepted the handshake. "Likewise."

But the Betazoid counselor knew immediately that all was not as cordial as it appeared. The lieutenant had gotten used to being outranked by only two other people on the ship; he was not eager to welcome a third.

"The Bubblegum Apprentice"
By Commander James Lionel Corgan
And Crewman Recruit Allison Jimsdottir

Location: Security Central, USS Galaxy

"Well if it isnt good old Allison no-last-name from Iceland," exclaimed Ensign John Riley as he looked up from the Security desk to see who had just walked in.

"Yah..In the pink." beamed the sunny-faced girl with a 'pop' of her gum.

Smiling, Riley leaned forward appreciating the cuteness of her. She wasnt what you'd call a classical beauty, or a bombshell, or anything.....there was just something incredibly.........cute ...about her. "Well what can Security do for our sisters down in Armory today." he asked.

"Well...." Alli began glancing about the office, as if she was about to reveal a conspiracy, "Im not here on like....o-fficial business or anything," she said making little quotes with her skinny fingers, "...but I was like hoping if you could like get me in to see the....you know....like to see Corgan?"

"The Boss?" Riley frowned and glanced behind him at James Corgan's office door. Riley was rather hoping she'd come up to visit him, but..... "Err...ummm do you have an appointment or anything?" he asked flipping through the screens in front of him.

Alli shook her head, blond hair dancing lightly at her shoulders. "Nope."

"This isnt some sort of outside the chain-of-command thing." he asked, "Becasue he's like at the very top of the Department, and you're...uh...you're"

"I'm little piggy tail." Allison finished the thought. "No......Im still reporting to Clarence for Official stuff," she said making a face, "I just thought...I dunno...." She shrugged helplessly....in truth she hadnt come up with a good excuse as of yet.

"You just want to meet the Boss." Riley nodded. "Well Kiddo....no promises, but i can certainly give him a buzz for you....." he lifted the commlink on the desk.

"Uh---not a kid."

******

"Sir, that is highly illogical. One cannot travel through time that way." T'lan counterargued.

Commander James Lionel Corgan waved off the point, saying, "That isn't it, T'lan. Forget what's possible in the realm of space and time as of today. I'm talking about the capabilities of this ship."

"It would be illogical. A one sided fight." She persisted.

"And i'm saying no it wouldn't." James shrugged his shoulders, speaking as calm and seriously as a man set in his convictions, "I'm telling you, the TARDIS would blow the USS Enterprise to smithereens."

T'lan's raised eyebrow looked unconvinced. "Explain."

"Real easy, Lieutenant. All he would have to do is phase the TARDIS into engineering, shove his sonic screwdriver into a plasma manifold, hop back in and warp into another spot in space and time to watch the Enterprise go critical. Ten seconds. All he needs."

T'lan shook her head, "The creation of a tool that has the capabilities of a sonic screwdriver is impossible. A spaceship that can travel space and time as easily as we walk is impossible. A ship that has more space inside than outside is impossible. A being that can change appearances and bodies ten times is impossible. One that can shove a tool that defies the laws of physics into a crucial subsystem without getting shot is impossible."

"And like I said, that's not the point." James cajoled, "Come on, T'lan. Join us on thursday. It will be fun."

T'lan said flatly, "Vulcans do not have fun."

"They derive satisfaction from participating in social activities. We already went through this; lets not do this again. We need someone to play The Master. You're the smartest person outside my significant other pairing that I know. Come on... please?" James begged.

Giving the idea some thought, T'lan replied, "May I be Sara Jane Smith, the assistant?"

"Sorry compadre. Mika's already got the position."

"Then I will consider the position of The Master."

"Oh good! The group will be at the holodeck at 20:00 hours. Be sure to dress like a dapper gentleman!"

T'lan looked perplexed, "A... gentleman?"

=/\=Ensign Riley to Commander Corgan.=/\=

"Oh bother." James grumbled, fumbling for his comm.-badge, "Not Ensign Riley again. That annoying little toady has to be the worst addition to my crew since that slack ass Amish meat truck I b*tchslapped back to Bangkok awhile back." His hands finding the badge, he held off on activating it, "Still, if he didn't have potential, he wouldn't be here." Pressing the badge, he snarled in his best impersonation of a surly commanding officer, "Corgan here, what is it, Ensign? I'm in the middle of an important meeting."

=/\="Sir!" Quaivered the voice of Ensign Riley. James had to laugh. The poor ensign put up a brave front on those that were lower than him, but tended to crumble and go into suckup mode when higher ups were involved. "Sir... I hope I am not inconveniencing you... and I know you're a busy man..."=/\=

"Oh for f**k sakes man, out with it. Time is gold pressed latinum." James snapped back with a little impatience.

=/\="Ok sir... it is Crewman Recruit Allison. She... wants to talk to you."=/\=

"Allison? Who the hell is that?" James Corgan asked.

T'lan was there to answer, her Vulcan mind quick and vast as the computer's data banks. "Crewman Recruit Allison Jimsdottir. She is an Armory officer, an administration specialist sir."

"Ah! Armory! Guns! I understand guns! Bring her in, Ensign. And go polish the phaser mortars if our 'administration specialist' will allow it."

=/\="Ummm... yes sir! Riley out!"=/\= The comm winked to nothingness.

James crossed his hands, spreading a devilish grin across his face. "That will keep him busy for hours. So, where were we?"

******

Back outside Riley replaced the Comm in its cradle and considered the girl before him. "Well my friend, looks like he's got a few minutes.....he's just wrappign up with Lieutenant T'Lan, but go on inside.

Nodding her thanks, Allison nervously smoothed down her uniform and ran a quick set of purple fingernails through her hair. "Right...thanks......Ok ....here goes."She seemed to be more pumping herself up than actually talking to anybody.

Taking a deep breath she steped forward and thumbed the door open.

The office was..... retro, going as far back as the 20th century. It had a framed movie poster of an animated film called 'The Wall' to the left wall, and a promotional poster for something called 'Family Values 1998' on the right. On his desk was a pile of padds dispropotionately piled in the 'in' basket, while beside it was a coffee cup, now empty of its morning contents, with a symbol that looked like a set of thick lips with a tongue cloyingly lolling out of it. A kendo shinai and body armour rested in the corner, and looked to be well used. Inside, a blond man had his back turned to Alli and was going over some points with a generously well proportioned Vulcan female. (Logic dictated that all Vulcans had to be close to physically perfect.)

Under normal circumstances Alli would have been tempted to scan the office, seeking out all its hidden treasures.......was that the 'actual' poster for "The Wall"..........but this time.......the first time......well, all her attention was focused on James' back, his strong shoulders......the smooth sound of his voice as he spoke to the Vulcan most of all.

~~~What a nice voice.~~~

Ready to make a good first impression, Allison opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly found it quite dry, managing only a squeak instead. Snapping her teeth shut she swallowed seveal times before managing a weak, "Uh....hey."

~~~Oh brilliant opening line.~~~ she gritted her teeth while somehow maintaining her smile.

The welpling wheedling from behind was enough to catch his attention. James Corgan spun his chair, his hands masterfully crossed together, appraising the unfortunate crewman to come his way.

He was young, but authoritative, a man in his early thirties and clearly in the prime of his life. His hair, wavy and thick like strands of wheat, had a slight flick to it when his head moved. His eyes, slate gray with the rare sparkle of brilliant blue, were intelligent but probing and intense, and his thin rimmed glasses gave him an intellectual air. Even sitting down, he looked to be a ready man, his body muscled but not massive, his frame lean and agile.

His smile was cunning and warm at the same time. He spoke with a clipped accent of a spaceborne Starfleeter, a cross of British and North American that was precise one moment, then long and drawling the next. He said, "Hello, Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir. How may I help you?"

The first thought Allison had when she saw Corgan's face was ~~~Whoa..~~~

Her second thought was, ~~~Whoa.....whoa...He looks.......he looks 'Wonderful!'~~~ It was the only adjective she could come up with at the moment ~~~.........no wonder.....~~~

She felt a thick lump rise in her throat. Normally Allison was a headstrong go-getter that didnt take guff from people twice her size......in this instance however she was quite unprepared for the effect James Corgan's inquisitive face would have on her. Akwardly her braincells attempted to rally themselves for more coherrant action, but it was clear not all was well in neuron-land

There was a long and awkward pause. Clearly at a loss of what to do, James looked up to T'lan. T'lan raised her eyebrow again; she was going to be no help. So James cleared his throat. "Ahem." With Allison still lost, he coughed again. "AHEM. Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Feeling her eyes mist up a bit, Allison blinked them back to clarity had to tear herself away from James face and focussed on a small object on the shelf behind him. ~~~Like oh-my-gawd~~~ she thrilled, ~~~He is like........the most perfect....wow~~~

Some sense of duty reminded her that she ought to be saying something intelligent "Oh....my name...Crewman Recruit Allison....Please call me Allison....reporting .....uh...sir."

Nope that wasnt quite right.

Alli wasnt sure what to call James, and was inwardly kicking herself for acting so goofy.

~~~Pull yourself together girlfriend.....just like you practiced.~~~ Allison shook herself visibly, and through force of will plastered a trademark winning smile across her pale cheeks. "Hey....Sorry about that Mr. Corgan" she giggled inwardly, "Just a little nervous meeting.....the Boss for the first time ever."

Bravely she stuck a tiny hand out, a tiny trembling in her purple glitter fingernails betraying the inner turmoil, "Please call me Allison....Jimsdottir is more of a title than an actual last name. I'm new onboard but wanted to meet you and tell you that I'm ready to be the best part of your Department ever!"

~~~The best part of your Department? Oh thats just zarky....anything else goofy you want to say?~~~

Having the art of being taken aback perfected from years of practice, James extended his hand to reciprocate the handshake. It had to be firm and businesslike for a man of his status and power, commanding for a man greeting his subordinate, but not rough and overpowering, a dastardly way to greet a lady. Or a girl. Or a girl that was being treated like a lady.

Most definately a girl. He'd never seen an actual woman melt this fast in one handshake alone. And melt she did, a nervous giggle escaping her as he touched her. James own hand nearly engulfed her own, and Alli had to repress the urge to jump across the desk and hug him.

~~~Wow...I mean wow.........like......wow~~~

James withdrew her hand, which was reluctant to go. ~"My god, she's an odd bird."~

Totally disgusted with her performance thus far, Alli began to worry a bit about other aspects of herself....appearance and the like.

Pushing back a stray lock of her blond hair, Allison seemed to noticed T'Lan for the first time. Somehow the fact that james was alone in his office with a gorgeous Vulcan seemed......wrong......to her. Looking up and down T'Lan with obvious suspicion she asked unconsiously, "Like.....Whats SHE doing here?" The question was meant more for herself, but James heard it all the same.

~"An odd bird that's oblivious to seniority. She's an NCO alright."~ He motioned to T'lan, stone straight, her lack of emotions only causing her to look more stern, "She is Lieutenant T'lan... my deputy, the best administrator in my department, and the most indespensible and versatile security officer I know." He then turned to T'lan, his grin wolfish and forboding, "Lieutenant T'lan, this is the unproven Crewman Recruit that is under your jurisdiction."

T'lan said, logic drenched and haughty, devoid of emotion but filled with the chill most certainly not from her homeworld, "Greetings, Crewman Recruit. We were discussing ship's business. I apologize if our meeting inconvenienced yours."

"Oops....right....ships business....Sorry bout that lady." Alli bobbed her head, though her eyes still betrayed a bit of suspicion.

~~~Uniform a little tight across the chest huh you pointy earred hussy? ~~~ she thought evily.

T'lan tilted her head subtlely, shaking the hand of the Crewman Recruit more firmly than James, or at least firm by Vulcan standards. On a human, it was a vice grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold fast without escape.

She said, a cautious and dry warning, "I was unaware that Commander Corgan relaxed the rules on military etiquette again. It is always proper to address your superior officers as 'sir' or 'ma'am', and to use their ranks as well."

"Relax T'lan." James shucked off his worries, waving the Vulcan off of her vice grip on the Crewman's hand. "Relax, will you? You Vulcans are too uptight about protocol. But seriously young lady, I'm Commander Corgan on duty, or just Commander. She is Lieutenant T'lan, or just Lieutenant. Stick with that and you'll do fine. Understood, Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir?"

"Ummm....its actually just Allison...." Alli began shaking feeling back into her fingers, "Um...and yes sir....sorry sir.....really I'm sorry" She felt like a heel. Nothing was going correct during this visit....jeez.....she could cross half the galaxy to the heart of the Romulan empire without blinking an eye, and the sight of one man turns her into a mush-brain. "Really really sorry." she repeated staring at the floor

"Good to hear." James warmed up to a smile, "So, what brings you in, Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir?"

~~~Al-E-son~~~ Alli screamed in her brain......using Jimsdottir as a last name....was just wrong, but she held her peace this time.

"Anyway," Alli popped her gum nervously although she had promised herself earlier not to do so, she hoped nobody noticed. "I was like wondering if you needed anything for me to do....or if there was something.....anything we could work on .....Together....?" Alli flashed her ice blue eyes at James, the glitter on her cheeks sparkling prettily, "You know....just you and me?"

~"Huh?"~ Not knowing what to do, James looked up to T'lan, his last bastion of hope in a rather confusing situation. All she could do was arch and eyebrow. All seeing, all knowing T'lan wasn't going to be much help. James had the feeling that this time, T'lan was doing it on purpose.

~"Two can play at that game."~ James Corgan decided, "Ok, if you really want to do something... you can help take care of some of the paperwork."

"Paperwork...Like..." Alli searched for another word, failing. "Like paperwork?"

"Sir?" T'lan spoke up; it was as close to astonishment as her kind could feel.

"Sure!" James piped up, "She can be an intern of sorts. T'lan, you take care of so much work around here that I feel guilty about leaving it all to you. I try my best, but nobody organizes it like you. You know that. That's why you're indespensible, Lieutenant."

"Sir... I..."

James cut T'lan off in mid sentence, "Tut, my dear Lieutenant! You work too hard and do too much. It is very unfair! If the Crewman Recruit wants to help out a little, abeit by adding those tasks on top of her usual duties in the armory, then I don't see why you can't at least let her take a share of the workload."

"But sir, I don't mind..."

"Nonsense, Lieutenant!" James Corgan scoffed, "I know you're a Vulcan, but even Vulcans have to hate administrative tasks after doing them for so long. Let the little scamp take care of a bit of it! It gives her an opportunity to learn that it's never wise to volunteer. Keep her busy T'lan!"

The Vulcan assistant surrendered, "Yes sir. I will comply."

"Very good then! Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir, you'll be my assistant, on top of your other duties. Lieutenant T'lan will show you what to do."

"Assistant?" That changes everything, "You mean like a secretary? Zarky!" Maybe things hadnt gone so badly afterall.....she could make him Coffee....bring him uh.....coffee...and what else did secretaries do?

Relaxing a bit, and wondering if she knew how to make coffee Alli took the time now to glance around the office, looking for something else to talk about.......anything. "Oh....hey......Nice 'Wall' poster" she bobbed her head towards the far bulkhead, "...got one just like it back home."

James admiringly looked at his antique poster. "Why thank you. Very few survived World War Three. Nicely portrays the entrapping nature of a primitive industrial complex on the human spirit. Leaves one with unsettling questions. So, where is home for you?"

"Lake Myvatn, Iceland." She smiled, wondering what an 'entrapped nature, or an industrial complex was, "I'd love for you to see it sometime if you like....I could show you the lake, and the lava fields.....and mom could cook us a picnic lunch.....and....."

~~~And there goes your mouth again brainiac~~~

~"What the f**k kind of blue moon did she pull that one out of?!"~ James alarm bells rang, but on the outside he played it cool, "I'm flattered, but meanwhile... enjoy the stay at my home. I'm a spaceboomer, and ships and starfields are my home. I hope that in time you'll find this your home as well. We are a tight knit community here on this ship, much like the small towns of Mother Terra. You will find this a great place to live."

He concluded with a smile, "Don't you have work to do, Crewman Recruit Jimsdottir?"

As if on cue, T'lan snatched all the padds from the in box, and plopped them on Allison's lap.

"I will be checking the reports for errors." T'lan assured.

"Blast off of the Rocket Queen"

By Crewman Recruit Allison Jimsdottir
And Commander James Lionel Corgan

Location: Holodeck, The Henry Rollins Memorial Dancehall, Caldos IV

*plunkplunkplupluplunkplunkplunkplupluplunk*

The past week had been a reawakening of James musical talents of a sort. For too long he was mired in the tasks of being the perfect security officer, the perfect security chief, the perfect anything whenever he saw a flaw, and buried it by perfecting it at the exclusion of all else.

This was not one of these times.

For one, he was already near perfect with his guitar. The sounds he made with the instrument, running the gamut of human emotion from soul rending anger to unleashed joy, were best conveyed in his guitar rather than his words. His hands could create works more beautiful than himself, with but one tool.

His guitar.

A Fender Stratocaster 2038 Special Edition, or the '38 special, a weapon of the gods with a white meet cherry red glossy body, and a long oaken neck with brassy strings the tone of a half klingon's skin. His instrument was him, as surrogate personality and confidant.

He was at peace with his guitar.

In the old Henry Rollins Memorial Dance Hall on Caldos IV, one of the birthplaces of the Scottish Highlander's punk rock resurrection of fifty years past, James Corgan became himself through his music, mindless of the historic setting. The old dance hall was empty; James wanted the scenery without the crowds. With a cornerstone from the old Scottish highlands in each corner, this brick and quarried stone building held excellent, reverberating acoustics. The old polished timber floor, marked and pitted by age and thousands of feet but still as shiny as the day the planks were varnished, held the weight of dozens of massize wooden tables used in the community's social events. On the walls were tapestries of old scottish clan patters, and the coat of arms of a handful of prominent families. The dancehall had a old world feel; it was the purpose of the original designers when the colony was first made, much less the building itself.

But at the moment, James thought, "Maybe I should have replicated a blues bar. They tend to be more confined and intimate."

He shrugged off the tiny note of disatisfaction over his choice. It was no big deal, and the song would play no matter what background. He sang, his guitar plucking chords experimentally, as if to get an elusive sound right.

"Computer, play background music minus guitar, file Corgan Epsilon Track 1. Add piano sampling track at key points, titled 'Concerto of the Endtimes, Act 3', add slow soul hum sample on repeat, and play."

As the music played, he felt the flooding of emotion that came with the song he composed. It had a mixed batch of uncertainty, loss and unfulfillment. Like the aftertaste of a velvety scotch, acrid after the burn, so too did the song feel when it played with his heart. It was oddly harmonious, but it was the undertones of a not quite reached goal and the sadness it brought that was remembered.

He started slow, his voice a hushing croon, his fingers yet to fly on the guitar.

=/\="I... have not the clues to see it all But.. some.. how I should have seen the coming fall Give me no more chances, no point if I can’t understand I will see or stay blind, both ways I’ll die a stupid man"=/\=

He then let his guitar loosen an angry wolf's snarl, snapping up his outstretched, guitar pick weilding hand up into the air as he let loose his chord arching back as if howling his own litany to the moon. He then hunched over, his music returning to harmony with the rest of the track, a rocksteady thrum and ratching sound that grew a soul of its own. His music and guitar joined to be one when all the sudden... the guitar stopped.

=/\=I... stopped and lone with a persistent lie Life's.. just.. livin', time to kill before we die I can see no more chances, no bother it's a growing list Tell me to grab all I can, but how do you hold onto mist?=/\=

He started up the guitar's howl, and launched himself with furvor into his song's stanza.

=/\=Heaven knows I can’t see past present tense My ignorance measured is so immense Cannot tell if I’m trapped or if I’m free Either way it’s been one strange night for me...=/\=

A sound alerted to a presense nearby. Halting his fingers in mid riff, James Corgan blushed, his face frozen in a picture frame of embarrassed panic. "Christ!" He managed to hiss weakly before ordering the computer to halt the song. The music ceased, his amplifier's echo the only sound left. From a man who was used to performing incognito, to be seen making music at all, and on such a scale of personal feelings as to be an open score sheet into himself, it was a breach of privacy that sent rivulets of fear down his body.

If the Galaxy crew ever heard a track of this...

From out of a darkened corner came a soft etheral voice picking up the last rousing chords of Jame's aborted stanza and softening it into a new stirring verse:

=/\=Oh I, not sure how to see past the clouds To see a completed dream, I’d have to tear all my shrouds But I’ll miss past today, I want to move but I must stay Can’t see what will happen, so how can I win this fray?=/\=

It came softly, barely over a whisper at first, but solidified into something strident, and yet ghostly at the same time. Where Jame's own voice was harsher, the feral cry of a wolf on the prowl, the unseen voice was more elemental, breathing harsh words over a honeyed tongue, conveying sadness and triumph somehow at the same time.

~"Wow."~ James thought privately, admiring the seamless interaction of her voice and the guitar with the song, as if she had an intimate knowledge of the song. But there was something off about the music. She played it with a gentler singing voice, and the lyrics, similar to what he had, were slightly altered, not to mention it was from a stanza a minute or so away from the track.

But other than the slight inconsistencies, it seemed to work better with the song. James admired her immediate skill, but still had to wonder how she knew about a song he just started working on a few weeks ago. She didn't sing it like an incomplete, rough track, but sung it in a way that seemed like a natural evolution. It sounded... better.

Her voice trailing away to nothingness, young Allison stepped nervously into the half light of the Dance hall. Her uniform was gone, and in its place she wore a soft leather jacket over a Denim miniskirt lined at the waist with small metal studs. Her long skinny legs were sheathed in soft purple pastel hose slipping daintily into black heeled boots, one of which twitched a bit nervously.

"Uh....Yo," Alli began, adding, ".....uh sir." after a moments thought.

"Ummm... hey." James said uncertainly at the intruder. Retro clothes, when compared to James still in his uniform, made him look a bit of a fuddy-duddy. He did like the touch, even though the 1980's look wasn't really his favorite.

Give her a red kilt miniskirt and a Dead Kennedy's t-shirt, and she would fit perfectly.

~"Jailbait fantasies to the wayside, how did she know the song?"~ James kept wondering.

"So...." James sheepishly questioned, unsure how to handle himself, "So... what... brings you here?"

"Uh...I guess I sorta like.....y'know heard the music y'know?.........Y'know?"

"Oh yeah, yeah! I know, I know!" Nodding profusely and agreeing like it was about to go out of style, James then said, "But the song, how did you know?"

"The song?" Alli looked confused, "Well Duh...its like....we like everybody knows Strange Nights....uh right?"

Confused, James replied, "Ummm... not really. It's still new." ~"And unless someone's been breaching my privacy , nobody should have heard of it."~

"Whatever....." Allison was slowly making herway across the hall towards the stage. Her heels clicking rhytmically on the coarse wooden floors beneath her boots. "Point is, its a rocking song daddio, and I just like hearing your vesion of it." She cocked her head to the side smiling brightly from behind pink-glitter lipstick.

James cocked his head, but not playfully, but more like a confused man. ~"What other versions of it could there possibly be?"~ Rather than wrapping his head around a problem too complex for his male brain to handle, he fobbed the problem off on his subconscious to deal with. ~"Forgetaboutit."~ He concluded, ~"Next time i'll make sure the holodeck is locked, and find whoever leaked the song and flush them out the airlock."~

The thought of flushing Alli out the airlock, however, refused to call itself a viable option. ~"Oh, come on! Look at her. See that cute dusting of freckles on her face, or that pert little nose on her head? And those crystal blue eyes that water and well up with admiration when she looks at you, or the blush of her cheeks when she sees you, or that not quite there but still quite good silouette of her that's has the potential of turning heads but is still stuck as being adorable? She's cute, she's blonde, she's young and she looks up to you. How can you tell her to f**k off when she obviously thinks you are the man?"~

He answered his own question, ~"Easy, by bringing out another rock and roll classic. Hit the Road, Jack!"~

His mind had other ideas, ~"OH, just play along you stupid cock! You don't have to like her. You just have to figure out what the f**k is going on. Cowboy up, broken head!"~

~"Fine, but it will end up in disaster. I know it."~

"So..." James' voice trailed, searching for a question to throw out, "Ummm... you're... into music, right?"

Allison gathered herslf onto a nearby wooden chair, crossing her purple legs and bouncing her foot lazily. "I've been sung to all my life actually.......mostly nursery rhyme stuff because uh....my mother didnt like rock and stuff, but I sorta inherited my dad'd love for the stuff, or so I've been told. I was given a guitar when I was still too small to hold it, but had great fun laying it across my lap and making it squeal." Alli smiled at old memories, "Drove mom crazy."

"Are you kidding me? Dad wanted me to play country and folk music. Drove him nuts when I got into rock and roll." James chuckled retrospectively, "And just when everyone else listens to plain, boring old classical music or some latin piece of crap, I was clearly a rocker. But man... I remember my first time on an electric guitar. Sounded like f**king hell! How good are you at it?"

"Now? Oh.......yeah I play better now."

"Oh yeah? How good?"

In responce Allison merely smiled an evil smile. The expression was all that was needed to convey the thought.....oh yeah....Im good.

James handed his '38 Special to Alli, "Prove it. What's the most complicated song you know?"

Alli grinned as she took up the guitar handling it in an easy familiar manner, tossing the strap across her thin shoulders. "Most complicated? That'd be 'Flight of the Bumblebee' by Korsakoff, but something tells me thats not what your looking for." She gave him a knowing wink. "But I think I can come up with something more...appropriate."

"Alright." James beckoned her to take the stage, "Lets hear it. Show me what you got."

Unconsciously she reached up to adjust the tuning keys of the '38 Special, but catching a worried look from James, decided it was not nice to muck up his tuning. She thought for a moment while she shortened up the strap to a more comfortable level, caually holding the pick between her pink lips. James didnt want to touch the imagry of that one. "Ok.....this one's a little old but I thik conveys the right message.......keep in mind its just a snippet" Droping the pick to the strings she felt the humming of the electronics vibrating within as she summoned up the right 'feeling' from within her.

I see you standing Standing on your own It's such a lonely place for you For you to be

~~~Guns n Roses....Rocket Queen~~~ James mind automatically identified the track. Allsion's voice was a bit too soft to imitate the patented Axl yowl, but the feeling was there.

If you need a shoulder Or if you need a friend I'll be here standing Until the bitter end

It wasnt really a 'complicated' guitar piece from a techinical standpoint, but her fingerings were precise and exacting. Maybe too exacting compared to James more improvised style......the vocals however.......whoa

No one needs the sorrow No one needs the pain I hate to see you Walking out there Out in the rain So don't chastise me Or think I, I mean you harm Of those that take you Leave you strung out Much too far Baby-yeah

Tearing into the guitar solo Alli popped the pick back between her lips, flashing James a sly smile as she assaulted the strings with her nails. It made for a unique....faster rhythm, and a sharper sound. And she did have the most ....interesting lips he had to admit. Freeing her mouth again at the end of the solo, Alli wailed into the emotional finale, her voice both soft and strident at the same time........

Don't ever leave me Say you'll always be there All I ever wanted Was for you To know that I care

"To know that I care......." Alli softly whispered the final verse letting the guitar slowly hum itself back into silence.

The void left by the end of the piece had Alli a bit unsure of herself for a moment, "Uh...like I said its hard to come in mid-song......you kinda have to like build up the emotion and......y'know its hard to imitate Axl....because....Hel-lo its Axl!.....and...." she bit her lip to stop her silly babbling.

Her diatribe about the legendary Axl Rose went through both ears. The end of the performance left James with a sense of awe, a jaw dropping amazement that wouldn't let go. The performance left no doubt as to her obvious guitar talents, but with that one question put to rest, many more sprung up. ~"I had to take years to learn how to play like that."~ James Corgan thought enviously, ~"Holodeck trainers, listening to hours upon hours of tracks, imitating the works of hundreds of great musicians before me, and most of their skills were lost by the early 22nd century. I had to come up with most of that crap myself. But her? She's either a natural or she had a very good teacher, and not even the holodecks can teach like that. How did she do it?"~

"Wow..." James breathed his admiration, "You're good. You had everything right. How in the hell..."

Allison seemed to falter for a moment, looking at her the guitar and frowning, "Oh....i like...well it seemed like the natural way to do it like that?"

"Well, it was natural. It was very good." James praised, "Your dad taught you, correct? Who was he? I really have to know!"

Alli dropped her gaze a bit, examining the tips of her little boots sadly. "I.....uh.....Its like this. I never said my dad Taught me........I just said I like inherited his talent and love for the genre. " She looked up blinking back the misting in her eyes,promising herself she wasnt going to cry......"Dad wasnt around to much growing up.......well he actually wasnt around at all......"

"Oh..." And James didn't add anymore. A Starfleet brat himself, James hadn't had the quiet family life with his father and mother either. When they weren't away on assignment, they were jostled through one ship or another, working long hours and leaving the kids to the care of the community. On their off time, mother was kind enough, but her easygoing ways were eclipsed by his tough, disciplinarian father who dreamed of ultra bright, ultra talented children. It was to come at the cost of their personal relationship. James and Matthew Corgan parted on sour terms, and were never able to reconcile when the Odyssey was destroyed.

But James had the luxury of parents who cared in their own strange ways. Was it worse to not have that constant presence at all?

"Sorry if that was a touchy subject." James apologized.

Alli waved away the sympathy, "No biggie...." she lied, "I always heard ther was a tradition on the Galaxy to be raised by a single parent, or have your parents die.....guess I'm just following in yalls footsteps." She plucked a few random chords unconsciously lost in thought. "Sorry thats not what I wanted to come here to talk about."

Whatever secret meaning she was trying to get across, James missed it (or refused to believe it, to acknowledge its existence was to do so), "Well..." He tried to change the subject again, "I suppose I should get back to my orignial question. Who taught you? What kind of technique was that?"

"Technique?.....oh," she brightened. "I thought with my fingering it was kinda obvious that I had classical training.......once mom figured out I wasnt going to leave 'that darned guitar' alone she brought in some of the best classical guitar tutors around. I guess she was hoping I'd play somthing nice and quiet if I was going to play at all.......she....uh...we were sorta rich growing up so she could afford the tutors."

~"Who could be possibly rich when we don't have money?"~ James had to ask, but knew better than most that even in the 24th century, there were still haves and have nots. Just because everybody's basic needs were meet, didn't mean everyone was rich. Some really were more equal than others, their contributions to society giving them greater access to resources. Not many people were 'rich' in the 24th century also because other than outside the Federation, one had what they needed outside their basic needs.

James didn't know many rich Icelantic families. He knew one in the universe, and the breadth of his heart was the spectrum opposite of his material wealth. He crammed the memory of that annoying turd somewhere else, going back instead to the conundrum of Allison.

She was rich.

She seemed interested in James.

She showed all of his interests.

And she showed up at a convenient time, out of nowhere.

~"Yeah right. One more sign and I might start believing that I have a rich, crazy stalker."~ James scoffed the idea off.

Handing the guitar back reluctantly, Alli examined her nails, inspecting them for damage from the picking. ~~~Hooray for the wonders of modern manicures~~~ she thought.

Stretching lazily she gazed into his eyes. "So whats a Crewman Recruit got to do around here to get a Department Chief to buy her dinner?"

Her proposal was enough to recant his last thought.

~"Awwww... f**k. Not again."~

Rather trapped by his surroundings, and with his voice unco-operating to the point where he could only speak in stammers and stutters, James Corgan tried his best to formulate an escape plan. He had the reason to escape. Not even two encounters into their working relationship and for reasons unexplained, she was already asking him for dinner. She could not stop him cold any better even if she offered herself to him on the bar tables. Never having to worry about an expeditious retreat before, he was now seriously considering a great swallowing of pride by fleeing like a screaming little girl.

Not helping matters much if he resorted to the screaming little girl defense. If he was to retreat with honour, he was to let her down without breaking her heart.

"Well... it is odd for a young woman like yourself to dine alone with an older man like me." James Corgan said gently, "You know, others may see it the wrong way, think that it's unprofessional. They may even think that we have an interest in each other that goes beyond our security duties or our music. I don't know. But just to tell you, even though I think you are good and engaging company, that I think it would look inappropriate."

"Innapropriate?" The confusion was evident on Allisons face. What could possibly be innapropriate?

"But i'll tell you what." James said, "I'm not the only person on this ship. I hang out with my department all the time. My staffers and I go to the holodeck, have pizza, go on patrols... hell, we even camp out on M class planets whenever we get the chance. Try hanging out with the rest of the department before you exclude yourself to me. There are others in Security that would love to know you... like Lieutenant T'lan. She speaks highly of you... as far as Vulcans go... and I suppose Ensign Riley has worked harder ever since you became part of his team. Either way, i'm saying you shouldn't just try to hang out with me exclusively. There are other people. Get to know a few of them too."

Crestfallen, Allison stred at the floorboards again, shuffleing one of her boots awkwardly. She was being brushed off, that was obvious....it didnt take a genius to figure that out.

Lifting her head agian to look James full in the face the mix of hurt and anger were evident, her bottom lip quiverring and jaw set tightly in frustration.

She wanted to say something snappy to show him he hadn't hurt her.....but ther was nothing to say.

Spinning on her heel she bolted from the Holodeck heels clicking on the dance floor until she hit the carpet of the starship outside. crumpled on the floor behind her lay the black leather jacket she had worn in. Stitched across the back were the worn faint letters....

The San Francisco Sessions, 2375. It was one of his band's last shows.

James was crestfallen himself. What he thought was very diplomatic turned out to be a crashing disaster.

~"So... I suppose that while you let your imagination run wild about what she wanted... it never occurred to you that she is a fan of your work and she just wanted to know more on a professional level?"~ His mind enjoyed the spectacle, thought it was a great laugh too. ~"You thougth she was 'interested' in you. How vain. Next time, try not to be so blunt."~

James sighed, saying silently to his own conscience, ~"Shut the f**k up. Like f**k I knew what to do with her, and I don't know what to do now. So f**k off and let me think for a bit."~

~"But James, I am a part of your dodgy thought processes."~

~"And I know what phaser setting I can use to change that. Shut up."~

Ending the holodeck program and collecting his guitar with a defeated sigh, James still couldn't come up with a way he could have salvaged the situation. Thinking the scenario over again, he concluded there was nothing he could do based on what he knew, but it still bothered him that it went so badly. He didn't want to hurt Allison's feelings, and he was bothered about hurting them. What worried him further was that he was bothered in the first place over an elisted crewmember, a minor part of his staff worth a tick's fart in the grand machinery of the security office, but still Allison mattered.

The little teen was in a way, his apprentice.

"How do I make it right?" James Corgan pondered, to no avail. "I'm going to need help on this."

"Another Favor"

Ella Grey
Corran Rex

*****

She closed her eyes and listened to the noise around her

She felt the vibrations of the cars as they sped by.

She wondered if perhaps she was going a bit mad.

But then decided, if she were, then she wouldn't have thought to ask.

She sighed but it couldn't be heard over the noise.

*****

He'd watched in silence after the doors opened, saw the hovercars speeding by on the busy street. In the middle of it, he saw Ella laying on the concrete, narrowly being missed by the low-hovering vehicles.

A quick check of the Arch confirmed that the safeties were, in fact, still running. "Computer." Rex called out. "Freeze program."

Ella's sigh deepened and seemed to roll out of her chest as she felt the world seem to stop around her. "The program directs the cars around me when the safeties are in place."

It was surreal almost, to see all the vehicles simply frozen in place. The detail of these programs still surprised Corran - well, not really Corran. Corran had grown up with them. They surprised Rex.

The man in one hovercar was yelling at his comm screen. In another, a mother was lecturing a toddler in the back seat. A third had a man using the autopilot and had his feet up on the dash. A fourth - well, that couple was using the autopilot, too, but their feet weren't up.

"I get that." Corran commented, weaving through to stand over where she lay on the concrete, his arms folded. "Not getting the why, however."

She looked up, slightly surprised that he was there. Maybe even slightly surprised that he hadn't just let the cars continue, in appearance, to roll right over her.

~~Don't know myself~~ Ella signed to him.

He frowned as he read the signing. "Retreating farther back now? You've got a voice. Even if you've purposely kept the sound fake and mechanical. Use it."

It wasn't his fault that he didn't know what program this was, Ella told herself firmly. Which was why she would not tell him to go to hell. "An impulse, I guess."

"Hmm." he said, taking another look around. "So what is it, then? An attempt to conquer fear? Or do you just plan to deactivate the safeties and take stupid chances with your life again?" As Chief Engineer, she had the authority to deactivate those protocols on her own. A regular crewman wouldn't do it. Without an engineering reason for it, she could still be reprimanded, however.

"Being rundown doesn't even nudge at the top three ways I would chose to die." Ella said calmly. "Was there something you wanted? I'd like to continue my program."

Corran closed his eyes. "I need to borrow a team of engineers. Some sort of infestation got into the bioneural gelpacks of Sabre Squadron's three-flight, and now I'm short four fighters with no replacements. I need those fighters rewired with pak replacements and an isolinear back-up system installed. My techs are all busy just keeping the rest of the fighters running with all the patrol flights we're running on a daily basis."

Ella's lips quirked slightly. "Testing whether you can ask the bitch a favor in person, are we?"

His teeth gritted. "Your assistant didn't want to make the call. Something about how busy all of you are cleaning up after the clone."

He paused a moment before shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind. I'll just contact Mitchell or Reynolds. I'm sure the Miranda or the Concorde can spare a tech team or two."

"Don't be stupid." She snapped suddenly, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her hand pressed hard against the pavement, the other was making a fist.

And then she took a deep breath. "Of course we can send you some engineers. How many exactly do you need."

He stopped mid-turn. "Eight. Two for each fighter. They'll need a good grasp of microsystems - these fighters are lot smaller than the scale they're used to working with."

She went through the roster in her head and nodded. "I have eight but you may want seven instead."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the eighth." Ella replied. "You can now feel free to bluster about your professionalism and such but I'll understand if you don't want me there."

"I need the fighters fixed more than I need my pride." he replied.

"We'll be there in an hour." Ella said tonelessly as she lay back down. "It might take us awhile, depending upon the damage."

"Allright." he replied, feeling he should make some kind of effort to be nice. "Enjoy your.. program. And.. thank you." The last part was honest, at least.

She was quiet for a moment, giving him enough time to leave the room if he wanted. "I didn't know any other way to leave you but I know it was... cruel."

He was still half-turned, his hand on a frozen hovercar. Part of him wanted to avoid this, to stay angry, to play the wronged ex, but he knew it wasn't really right, or justified. "No.. it wasn't, actually."

She moved her head to look over at him, the rest of her body remaining so rigid that she probably did appear to be in rigor mortis at first glance.

He didn't really want to go into the rest of it, though. Another time, maybe. But not right now. "I'll see you around.. Ella."

"Okay." She replied, moving her head to look back up at the sky. "Computer, resume program."

The cars unfroze on cue, speeding past her like torpedos. The sounds of laughter, voices, machines, and man in general filled the air.

Ella wondered if she'd be able to hear his retreating footsteps over all the noise.

OOC: For those of you who have no idea what this is; The Icarus is our little Miranda-Galaxy simverse plot device, the little ship taht zips around the Federation and from time to time, shows you all what's going on in parts of the galaxy that neither game is in at the time. At present hower, the ship is part of the task force. If you wish to see previous missions, and details about the ship, the website is: http://www.geocities.com/icarus68954/new.html

"Lament for Icarus, Act II, Scene 2"

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes
Commanding Officer, USS Icarus

Captain Damon Greyheart
Ship's Master, SS Auriga

with passing mention of
Lieutenant Commander Elaithin Lena
Operations Manager, USS Icarus

Among the fleet of ships that orbitted ch'Rihan, the Icarus was a barely-noticable speck, a seemingly insignificant vessel that to the casual observer had the sole purpose would be to vaporize when the Hydrans arrived.

The casual obvserver was a moron.

Of all the vessels in the task force, none save Miranda and Galaxy and Miranda themselves were so well-travelled, nor did they have so experienced crews as that of the Icarus. Indeed, of all the ships in the area, of any race, none came close. With one small exception...

"Captain, I'm picking up an unusual transponder signal. It's not reading as any known government or independant agency."

On the abnormally-large yet overly-crowded Icarus bridge, Juan Holmes glanced up from the report he was reading to look at his Operations manager. To this day, he still wasn't used to the marked resemblance she bore to her brother, and he was hard-pressed to look at her without his mind wandering to his grieving old friend.

He shook off the reverie and replied. "That's hardly a surprise, 'Commander Elaithin. Romulus is surrounded by 'independant traders' these days."

Elaithin Lena nodded. "Yes, Captain, but most of them aren't passing right through the middle of the fleet flashing Starfleet recognition codes at us."

There was a pause while most of the bridge crew contemplated this. Holmes had a sneaking suspicion that Elaithin had set him up for that. He sighed inwardly, and turned to the communications board. "Signal Captain Summers, tell him that we have an unidentified vessel..."

"Sorry, Captain," Elaithin interrupted, "but I was a little unclear. They aren't flashing the fleet. They're flashing US."

Again there was a brief lull, which was quickly broken by Holmes. "Pardon?"

"They're trying to get our attention, Captain."

Holmes walked over to the Ops station and looked over Elaithn's shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Rather outdated Starfleet recognition codes, at that."

"I had noticed that, Captain. What do you want me to do about this?"

Holmes pondered for a moment, and then smiled as recognition struck. "Signal our acknowledgement, and tell Transporter Room Two that I'm coming down. You have the bridge, 'Commander."

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

Transporter Room Two was empty save for the half-breed captain of the Icarus. The petty officer behind the console had been somewhat perplexed when he'd been chased out, but knew better than to question his CO. Holmes stood now behind the console, blocking the computer records for this room and the diagnostic subroutine for the console, before activatingthe transporter. Another half-breed appeared on the platform, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

The Caitian-Human Master of the independant freighter Auriga, Damon Greyheart, stepped off of the transporter pad. "You know, that's part of the reason I left Starfleet in the first place. I still don't like the idea of being torn into billions of pieces and flung across a void."

"Yes, because the Auriga is so much safer these days, what with appearing in every corner of the Galaxy doing Murdock's errands for him. Why are you here, Damon?"

Greyheart was a little taken aback at his former crewman's hostility, though he realized that it wasn't entirely unfounded. This was the forth time the Icarus had arrived somewhere to find Auriga already there, though, in Greyheart's defense, it was only the second time it had anything to do with Starfleet, even if only peripherally.

"Hey, cool your jets, there, Juan. If I'd had it my way, this isn't high on the list of places I would have come, but I owed an old friend of ours a few favors, so I gave him a lift."

Holmes' eyebrow went up. "Unless it's a former crewmember, I can't really see you doing that without something in it for you, Skipper, and I doubt that Romulus has anything in it for you these days."

Greyheart chuckled. "Yes, well, you're right about that. But, then, I guess, "gave him a lift," is a relative tem, being as he was kind enough to resume his old duties. He did most of the flying."

Holmes' eyes widened - at least, his real one did. The bionic one didn't show emotion terribly well. "Jii is here?!?"

"Yep. I just dropped off him and the missus about an hour ago."

Disbelief crossed Holmes' face. "I know he was frakked up, but there's no way Jii would have remarried this soon."

"I didn't say he was remarried." For the first time in Greyheart's experience, Holmes was confused. The freighter captain was loving it.

"Um, Damon, Jordan is..."

"Alive and well, newly resurrected, and I swear, if you tell a single living soul, I'll go back in time and tell myself to leave you stranded on that rock where I found you."

It took about a minute for Holmes to stop staring and break the silence. "If I were any other man, I would think that impossible, but for now, I'll go on a little faith. What the hell are they doing here?"

Greyheart shook his head. "Whether I know or not, I wouldn't be able to tell you. I've already pushed the limits of confidentiality, but Jii wouldn't mind me telling you. Just remember, you can't tell anyone."

"Not even Becky?" Holmes asked, "Or Wolfson? Or Rae?" He smiled mischeviously. "Heh - or James?"

"Yeah, don't think that would go over so well. Speaking of which, I hear certain things about you and this Slim...?"

Holmes looked distant, but happy for a moment. "Yeah. Seeing Rae again. Hell of a trip, that..."

There was no change on Greyheart's face. "Have you, um, spoken to her recently, Juan?"

"Well, no. Haven't had the time, really. Things are a bit hectic lately, if you hadn't noticed. Why?"

The skipper shook his head, "Oh, no reason really. I just, um, rather think you should give her a ring, that's all." He checked the wall chrono. "Listen, I've got to run. Auriga has a job to pick up, and frankly, I'd rather not hang out in Rommie space too long, allies or not. So if you could just scatter my atoms across space again...?"

Holmes laughed, motioning to the pad and taking his place behind the console again. Activating the controls, he watched as Greyheart smiled and waved, disappearing like the Cheshire cat.

The Icarus Captain shook his head and just walked out, returning to his bridge. He had a lot to ponder.

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