"Negotiations"

Lt. JG Juliette Rinaldi JAG
Major Corran Rex, CAG

OOC: Prior to "The Easy Way"

Location: Flight Deck
-------------------------

'Still cocky.' She thought to herself as Jules approached the CAG. His manner was easy as she viewed him leaning up against the wing of one of his fighters, with a nonchalant air about him. Still hot too, but he likely knew that already. In fact, one look at him and anyone could tell the 'pilot' arrogance was notable.

"Excuse me? Are you Corran Rex?" She knew darn well he was, but it was all with keeping with appearances.

Corran looked up from the PADD he was plugging away at - an inventory checklist he was reveiwing. The Deck Chief had reported missing parts from Vanguard Two's - the little Ferengi's - parts stores, and Corran had thought he'd best check it you himself first. He looked up at his visitor, and couldn't help the momentary appraising. "Even if I wasn't, I'd tell you I was."

"Lt. Juliette Rinaldi." she introduced in a no-nonsense manner. "I was wondering if you had some time to spare to talk about the charges concerning... a..." Rinaldi glanced down at her padd, just for good measure. "Lt. Steven Jonas?"

"Ah." Corran said, extending a hand. "You're the new JAG, then."

"Yes, I am. And I'm here concerning your charges." She stated simply as she took his hand gently. With the other, she brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her left ear, revealing her markings that were usually hit by her hair style.

"Well, it concerns your predecessor. She.. passed away the day before." Corran informed her. "But I'll be you've heard all about that. The Lieutenant was upset with me for reasons having to do with her, and decided that walking out onto a flight deck and slugging a Major was a good thing to do about it. Naturally, I disagreed."

"I am aware. However, I am under the impression that you hit him back, is that true?" Her eyes narrowed someone as she released her grasp of his hand and placed hers on her hip.

"Instinctive response, Lieutenant. Little thing called self defense." Rex replied.

"He hit you, and then you...being the upstanding officer you are, decked him back. Interesting. Major, are you aware that he could bring charges against you? Or I could for conduct unbecoming an officer....."

The pilot looked incredulously at the presumptive younger officer. "Don't play games with me, Lieutenant. A charge like that wouldn't stick, and you know it."

"There are ways around that....tit for tat as we said back at the academy. Let me be perfectly straight here." Her stance stiffened. "Drop your charges, or I'll bring my own against you to even the playing field."

"I don't see a whole lot of reason for me to do so, Lieutenant." Rex came back, emphasizing the woman's junior rank. "And watch yourself. I don't take orders from you."

"It would mean time in the brig, a mark on your permanent record, and anger management counseling if I deem fit." She leaned closer. "And that's if I'm in a good mood."

Rex just laughed openly. "If it'll make you feel better, Lieutenant Rinaldi. And just so you know - I am joined, and about four thousand years old. If you think empty little threats are going to intimidate me, then you've got another thing coming. Captain - or your superiors at JAG - would overturn charges against me in a heartbeat. You're a JAG officer, Lieutenant, not God."

"Didn't you know that JAG officers are God's right hand?" She stated gruffly.

"Mighty self-confident though, I'll give you that." Rex chuckled. "I'll make you a deal, however."

"I take certain deals under certain circumstances."

"I'll drop the charges on one condition."

"And that condition is?"

"Tell me what your interest in young Mr. Jonas is, and why you're bending the rules to protect him. The real reason."

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you, or sleep with you." She paused before speaking again. "And rumor has if I did either one of those activities, it would be a waste of my time." She paused yet again. "However, I am not protecting Lt. Jonas, I am making sure the playing field is even......we all can't play God you know." The light sneer on her features was apparent.

Corran's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, Lieutenant Rinaldi. I don't like it much."

Her eyes narrowed back in response. "And I don't like superior officers who believe that they can hit back due to a momentary lack of intelligent thought, then blame it on self defense. You could obviously tell that Lt. Jonas was under emotional duress, yet you thought it best to hit him before you found out the whole story. As a superior officer, you do need to be aware that you set an example for the crew underneath you. I'm sure you are aware of that fact. How do you think it came across to other people when your first reaction was to deck him?"

"Given the current climate, I'd expect it was a signal that I'm ready for anything."

"Uh huh. So, let's cut to the chase, are you dropping the charges or not?" She leaned over just slightly, enough to let her perfume drift over. Whether or not it was a strategic move, or just a move in general, only she would know.

"Depends on how much truth I get out of you, Lieutenant." the Trill replied evenly. He was calm on the outside, but in his mind, the wheels were turning.

Sighing at his boldness and stubbornness, she thought about a softer approach. "Okay, what else would it take for you to drop the charges? There is nothing else other than concern for another officer that is causing me to fight so hard for this Major. He's young...and under a lot of emotional stress due to the death of his wife. Can you at least understand that?"

"I do. More than you know."

"Good, I'm glad. Now, the charges......what do I need to do?"

He tapped a finger absently on the wing of Vanguard One. "Drop 'em." he said with a nonchalant shrug. "I think Mr. Jonas has likely learned his lesson. Kid was grieving, after all."

"Thank you." Rinali replied curtly, and left the premises.

"You're welcome." he replied as she walked away.

Her protests, of course, hadn't influenced him in the slightest.

But what very keenly interested him now was the mystery of one Lieutenant Rinaldi. New to the ship, with no ties to anyone among it's crew.. and yet, fiercely protective of one young, recently widowed marine.

*That* was a mystery.

And that, Corran Rex found deeply interesting indeed.

"In or Out?"

Ella Grey
Corran Rex

OOC: Also prior to "The Easy Way"

================
Flight Deck, Deck 38
"Fighter Country"
USS Galaxy
================

There was nothing so nerve-wracking as asking for favors from an ex, or at least that's what Ella thought since he was the only one of her ex's she'd ever had to deal with.

~~And you want to put him into a position to be your boss ~~ Ella signed to herself. She'd been doing a lot of that lately, for some reason. ~~Sadist.~~

Corran was all eyes on a PADD in his hands as he headed out of his office - a report he was composing for his superiors about fighter unit strengths, and projections of future performance against the Triad threat. Consequently, he didn't notice Ella approaching as he exited.

The result was predictable, of course, and the collision knocked both of them down to the deck.

Ella was the first to recover. "Wow, my head. Look at all the spots!"

"Funny." Rex replied sarcastically. "What're you doing down here, Ella?"

"To see how you're doing?" She replied in an equally sarcastic tone.

"I have good days and bad days." he replied bluntly. "What do you want?"

"Vanguards."

The Trill frowned. "Umn.. no?" he said hesitantly. "I'm not in the habit of just giving my command away, Ella, sorry. Don't know that you'll find many officers willing to take you up on an offer like that."

Ella gave him a look.

"Ah, the transfer." he acknowledged. "Didn't think you'd still want to do that."

"I do."

Corran set the PADD down on the side of a couch, and then propped his knee up so he could rest his arms on it. It gave the illusion of being relaxed, but hell, Ella's mere presence just made him tense as all hell these days. "Well..." he started, drawing out the word. "That's the real question, isn't it?"

"I'm a good pilot, Corran," Ella told him. "I can become even better. I've even resigned myself to having 'Mouse' as a callname."

"I know that, Ella." he replied. "Or I wouldn't have said yes the first time, no matter how I felt about you."

Ouch - past tense.

"That's good to know," She said evenly.

"But that's not the issue." the Major clarified. "The real concern here is just how well you're going to follow my orders. There's history here, and much as we might pretend otherwise, that's going to be hard to ignore. Out in the black's not like on this cozy little ship. This isn't something you can just diddle around in. You do this, Lieutenant, you better be damn serious about *wanting* it. That's why the SFFC attracts the pilots it does. We have to be dedicated, we've got to love flying, we've got to be damned good, and we've got to know it. And the biggest thing we have to do is trust in each other."

Ella looked him square in the eye. "I am dedicated. I love flying. I am damned good and I know it. And despite our history, I can take orders and I trust you. Let me prove that you can trust me."

"Allright." he replied grudingly. "Pending the Captain's approval, you're in.. for now."

"The Days of 8-ball: Episode 2: Killing with Kindness. . .and Sex Appeal"

Lt. 8-ball Hunter

(takes place before we get to Barzan)

"Death's not the end," Azra said. "It's only the beginning."

~That's what they always say~ 8-ball thought ~when they don't want you to be afraid to die.~

But she was afraid, desperately afraid, as Azra tore open 8-ball's stomach, stripping her of her entrails like casually discarded, bloody ribbons. Azra used one stretch of intestine to tie her long, dark hair back. Then she sucked the blood off her fingers, like the remains of a melted chocolate bar.

"Death's not the end," Azra said, "and THAT is what should scare you."

***

8-ball woke up gasping and clutching at her stomach before she remembered that one didn't survive being disemboweled. An absence of blood and pain and the little fact that she was lying in her bed led to an easy conclusion: she had been dreaming. When she closed her eyes, 8-ball could see Azra's fingers, pushing their way through 8-ball's skin.

This also led to an easy conclusion: there would be no more sleep for 8-ball tonight.

Still . . .she was so tired. When you had nightmares of dead kids every other night, your sleep tended to be a little fragmented, and 8-ball was definitely behind on her beauty rest. The other night she swore she saw a wrinkle. This could never happen.

8-ball wouldn't be able to sleep. . .but maybe she could just lay here for a little while, close her eyes and rest. . .just for a little while before. . .

"IT'S RAINING MEN! HALLELUJAH, IT'S RAINING-"

"Oh, for the love of Christ!" 8-ball rolled over in her bed. "Computer, shut off the damn alarm."

The computer shut up. 8-ball closed her eyes. Just another five minutes. Just another-

"IT'S RAINING M-"

"ALL RIGHT! I'M UP! I'M UP!" 8-ball cursed herself for putting in the second alarm failsafe. She knew herself too damn well, and it was getting in the way of her war against wrinkles. Grumbling, she got up and glared at the ship around her.

"I hate my life," she muttered and stomped off to the sonic shower.

****

When you were being haunted by the ghosts of children you had accidentally murdered, you had to have a plan to salvage what was left of your sanity. For 8-ball, this included a Mission of the Day. Today's Mission: Retain control over gossip on the Galaxy. In particular, get everyone to stop talking about the Borg. . for at least five seconds.

She couldn't blame them; God knows she couldn't blame them. When 8-ball had found out that they were going to risk life and limb to rescue a freakin' Borg. . .well, she thought it was a joke. Literally. The guy who always seemed to run in on her when she was half-naked was the one who had told her. This time she was clad in only bra and undies when the Ensign in question burst in. Immediately he closed his eyes. "Did you hear about the Borg who got kidnapped?"

And maybe it was just because she was only half-awake and tired and slightly hungover, but honestly 8-ball thought her mind just refused to understand the concept, because she said no and waited for the punch line. And after a minute, the Ensign realized what 8-ball had heard: Did you hear THE ONE about the Borg who got kidnapped?"

"No," he said. "There really was one. A Borg got kidnapped, and we get to go rescue it."

8-ball stared at him. "Seriously? That's what I woke up for? Rescuing a BORG?"

The guy nodded, his eyes still closed. "Pretty much."

8-ball had thought for a minute. Then she said, "Get out. I'm going back to bed."

After a period of some adjustment, 8-ball had (sort of) gotten used to the idea. Sure, she still thought rescuing a Borg was dumb as shit, and she certainly didn't appreciate having to put her life on the line for a freaking DRONE, but she never appreciated all the stupid missions the Galaxy got pulled into that put 8-ball in harm's way. She'd just have to deal with it, and that was that. If rescuing a Borg was the biggest problem in her life, 8-ball would be the happiest motherfucker this side of the galaxy.

Unfortunately, it wasn't, and not all of the crew seemed to be feeling 8-ball's go-with-the-flow attitude. It seemed to be particularly bad in Sciences, where she had already heard every lame joke about the futility of Borg rescue missions fifteen times over. Usually her department could manage to juggle both gossip and work with no real problems, but this time people were too frustrated, pissed off, or just freaking incredulous to really focus on anything. And, dammit, she was the Chief Science Officer. It was her job to make sure people were at least PRETENDING to work.

So she could do the stern lecture thing, discipline people and circle her fellow officers like a hawk, just waiting for someone to make an inappropriate Borg joke. . .or she could control things her way.

Obviously, 8-ball was going to do things her way. The problem was, her way usually including both drinking and lying on her back, and while screwing some officers in the astrometrics lab would surely cause a stir, getting thrown in the Brig wasn't exactly what she had in mind. No, she had to do something that was exciting but not illegal, something that would scream attention but not call for a court martial. Something that was fun, something that was sexy. . .

"Oh!" 8-ball exclaimed. "Oh oh oh!"

Then she ran over to her bed and gave Eptgac a kiss on his furry little head, grinning all the while.

"I SO got it," she said.

****

Twenty minutes later and 8-ball was standing in Sciences with practically her entire department in front of her. She had called a department meeting, and everyone was standing around, staring at her. This was not because she was the Chief Science Officer, or because she had just made some life-changing announcement. This wasn't even because she was amazingly hot, although, of course, she was.

No, everyone was staring at her because 8-ball had decided to show her support of the mission in a time-honored symbol of Starfleet pride: a to-the-roots, classic, very FEMININE uniform. Specifically, the Starfleet uniform that started with a mini skirt and ended with knee high boots.

Some of the men, 8-ball noted, were actually drooling a little.

~EXcellent.~

"Now, listen up, everybody," 8-ball said. "I know we've got kind of a weird mission here. Some Borg delegate person got himself. . .or herself, I don't remember which. . .kidnapped, and we're off to find them. I know that's kind of lame. I know everyone here is feeling like we shouldn't care about some freaking Borg, and I'm not asking you to. I don't care what you FEEL about the matter. What I care about is WORK."

"Now, I know I've always kept things kind of loose around here. I'm not into the whole iron-fist approach to leadership, and I don't expect a 110% from you all the time. You are people, after all, not machines, not. .. .drones, heh. I know *I* don't put in a 110% all the time, but come on, people, you've got to give me at least 75. I need you to be focused. I need you to work, and it doesn't matter if you like the assignment or not; it has got to be done. So I don't want to hear any more about resistance AND rescues both being futile because, honestly, people? It's a lame joke. Was lame the first time, was lame the fifth HUNDREDTH time. And I expect more out of you. In matters of both humor and integrity."

"If you need to blow off some steam, if you need to talk about something other than this weirdo wormhole or everything else that's going on, I expect it to be about NON-Borg related matters; like, for instance, my new outfit. You may have noticed this cute little thing I'm wearing." Here 8-ball swayed her hips with an innocent little smile on her face. "It's pretty adorable, isn't it? And gosh, if productivity around here increases, it might even get a little. . .shorter."

The men, and a few of the women, eagerly watched as 8-ball hitched up her skirt just a little bit. The rest of the officers either rolled their eyes or looked affronted. 8-ball smiled at them all.

"And for those of you not interested in that kind of incentive, let me offer you another one." 8-ball let her uniform, and her sweet, little smile, drop. "I will THROW your asses out of the nearest airlock if the work and the attitude doesn't get better around this joint. We all have way too much to do and not enough time to do it than to hear your bitching about how the Borg killed your Auntie. This is our job. We're going to do it, and you're not going to shame this department anymore than it already is. Anyone doesn't like that; you can take it up with me. Now. Any questions?"

The room was silent. Finally, one ensign, Ensign Williams, tentatively raised his hand.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Were you. . .were you serious about that whole shorter skirt thing?"

8-ball resisted the urge to grin as she gave a curt nod.

~OH yeah~ she thought to herself. ~I've still got it.~

"Hope Doesn't Come Easy"

Ensign Artim Shivar - Orion Captive
Ensign Iana A. Et`Kal - Orion Captive

With
Lenat - Orion Mercenary Captain

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

<<USS Bonestell - Brig>>

It took a few minutes for Artim to fully come to after he'd been deposited on the brig floor. He had no idea how he got here though he figured it had to do with the fact he was near the Admiral when the klaxons went off and the emergency beamouts started. The forcefield and magnetic restraints on his wrists were also explained rather quickly by the presence of the Orion thug that had activated the forcefield and walked down the hall. He...or rather they as he realized he had a cellmate, someone he didn't recognize, had been taken by the syndicate. Why he had no idea, but the reason was usually because they wanted to sell them as slaves. At least it was the last time.

He looked up the person he was sharing the cell with as he curled up in one corner of it. All the Miran could manage to say, in a rather meek and scared tone was,

"Hi."

About fifteen minutes ago, Iana decided it probably was a good idea to stop asking herself how her day was going to get worse. It was one of those invitations of fate she thought would be best left unspoken. Not to mention, she could hear her father saying that it wasn't logical somewhere in the back of her head. Of course, if she had listened to her mother somewhere in the back of the Betazoid part of her head, she probably would have tried to sleep with the Orions as futile was it is... from her understanding Orions knew that con as well as they played it. Right now, it was about survival.

Did she fear her situation? No. Fear wasn't logical. Extreme disdain for her captors was in Iana's goofy little way of sorting things out. So for about five minutes after being tossed into the cell, she stared at the guards with a look that would kill if it had the opportunity. When she realized that would do her no good, she went into her listening and observant mode. There would be a way out of this situation eventually whether it sprung up eternally or Starfleet came.

Sitting on the ground, she leaned against the wall with her knees up and her fingers tapping against her legs. She gave the impession of calm, and that was the way she intended it to be. When the guards weren't in her sights, she focused on her new companion in the cell. He was young looking, very young. She couldn't outwardly see what race he was knowing there were some humanoid races that looked young so no assumption could be made. Caulking her head to the side, she heard him speak rather softly and rather scared.

"Hello," She responded in her 'counselor' manner: calm and reassuring. She listened for anybody outside before she spoke. The last thing she wanted was to give their captors her real name, "I'm Iana Et`Kal... what's your name?"

Artim looked up, though his face looked less like that of a Starfleet ensign or a 420 year old man, but really did look like that of a scared 10 year old. Oddly that's exactly how he fealt right now as well. Maybe not oddly, but it was unusual for him. Normally he would of ignored someone with Vulcan features asking him questions like a shrink as they tended to be horrible counselors. However, now might be the one time he needed one.

"Artim. Are we going to be ok?"

Pursing her lips, she wanted to tell him 'yes, everything would be fine.' He had such a child like quality that she just wanted to be a guardian of some kind. Of course, she knew it would be wrong to give a false hope in this situation when she knew just as much as he did about it. Even as a counselor when the natural instinct would be to comfort and nurture, and possibly give a false hope here or there, Iana was not raised to blatantly lie by either of her parents: Betazoid, Vulcan or whatever. Often times, she had the reputation of being a little too cold to be a counselor.

"The one thing I do know is that I will do everything in my power to make sure we are," She answered truthfully, and then turned her attention to the sounds outside hearing people coming and going. At the moment, she thought a good goal would be to help calm Artim down. If they had to defend themselves, a panicked mind would not help them,

"Are you an officer too or were you just visiting the station?"

OK, he looked 10, he was acting 10, and yet she somehow thought he might be an officer? Well that meant she was either part Betazoid, was very well informed, or had met a Miran in starfleet before. Then again, it was an all officer party. Well, no matter which way he looked at it he had been found out. Even though he was still a scared little kid inside, it was time to start acting like someone who walked around in a uniform. Straightening up a bit he replied, this time without the wimper in his voice,

"Yeah, I'm a microbiologist on the Galaxy, no pun intended" he added the last part when he realized the potential humor in that statement. " I was at Admiral Proctor's party when, well I had no idea what happened really. I was caught up in the panic and must have been kicked in the head and passed out. I woke up in here."

"The Galaxy, eh?" She nodded at the sound of that name. Nice little coincidence there. And it was also nice to know that her first instincts not to assume Artim was as young as he looked. Smirking a bit, she answered, "That was my next assignment. I got forced to transport out after helping a few folks to the emergency 'porters."

Not taking too long to think on it, she commented, "Being that these guys don't really know our background it seems thus far... maybe playing to our appearences would be a good thing." It couldn't hurt. Not that being partially Betazoid was an advantage. The only thing they could not count on was emotional decisions rather than logical ones from her. But Artim hiding his age could be beneficial if things played out that way.

"Oh I think I could top you for dangerous ways of getting to the Galaxy but I don't think we're having a contest. As I recall procedure, by now we should already be figuring out how we're going to get out of here, starting with these." Artim's eyes indicated the rather elaborate restraints that bound his wrists. As he studided them closer he recognized something, they seemed oddly familiar in some way...as if...it couldn't be. He should still be in prison somewhere, or a splatter on some Klingon's floor if they'd gotten to him first. There's no way he could be here. True, someone could have taken over his ship and equipment, but, well noone was quite so thourogh. Might as well share his knowledge.

"Ya know, I think I might have some idea who our captor is. I hope I'm right...at least he'll try and make a profit off us rather then just kill us. At least that gives us some time."

"Well that's always reassuring," She answered. In a hallow way, it was. Time was time, and it was better to have more of it than less in this situation. In this situation, though, she wished she had more knowledge of current Federation situations. The Horizon had been out patrolling borders for four years and their databases were always slightly out dated.

She stood up and walked near the forcefield holding them in trying to see how many guards were in their general area, "I've noticed two individuals already in this area. Haven't heard anybody switching shifts. Neither were the person who struck me when I transported over here. I know at least one other person transported here the same time I did."

Looking back at Artim, she shrugged and responded for lack of better ideas at the immediate moment, "Can always do the old... please come unlock my arm restraints, I'm really ill, and it's going to cause you to lose profit on me if it doesn't get taken care of right now trick. Sometimes that never gets old."

"Except when your captor has heard it fifty times before and it hasn't worked before." An eriely familar voice, at least to Artim said from the door. The Miran looked up and saw the tall and rather pudgy Orion at the door. "And besides dearie, you both look perfectly healthy to me. Artim! Oh I was so hoping they were right when they said they saw you on the pad."

"Lenat, wish I could say it was a pleasure. So, you managed to escape from that Pharosian prison and evade the Klingons. You know how they take being taken prisoner." , Artim replied non-chalantly.

"Oh the Syndicate busted me out a few years ago. Even kept the Strahl for me. However Artim, don't think its going to be so easy to escape this time and I wouldn't expect a platoon of rangers to be nearby this time. So, who's your friend here.", Lenat replied with a great big grin and then turned to Et'kal.

Right, like that information was going to come easy. Did he really expect her to give him that answer? Probably not. This Lenat seemed to have been around the galaxy a few times and has probably heard every answer, excuse, and seen a majority of standard escape attempts. Maybe it was a mixed blessing that this person knew Artim... or the blessing would be more along the lines of Artim knowing their captor. It probably would give them some aid in their course of action. And how did she not hear this guy coming down the hall? Her ears usually never fail her. Maybe stress... maybe.

Arching her eyebrow and doing her best to appear totally Vulcan, her voice lost most of its expression that she retained with Artim in their conversations, "Star Fleet Crewman 721791005. Anything more has a price, but I do not expect it to be that valuable to you."

"Vulcan, what did you expect?" Artim said grinning to Lenat. "I doubt even your toys will get much more out of her and something tells me you'd rather play with me."

"Oh the temptation is there old man, beleive me it is, but as of now my contract doesn't allow it. But don't worry, I'll get enough amusement out of you to get due compensation for Pharos. For now, sit tight, I doubt you're going anywhere." Lenat replied getting a devilishly amused look on his face as he turned and walked away.

Artim then turned back to his cellmate and sighed as if his enthusiam was entirely false the last few moments. Mainly because it had been. He saw what Lenat was capable of, he could be remarkably cruel to those he didn't have a grudge against. To those whom he did, well he didn't want to know. He slinked back into the corner of the cell and pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his bound wrists on top of them. A slight wimper escapted his mouth and a tear or two slid down his cheek.

Her serious and smug expression faded almost as fast. Seeing how dejected Artim was drew a deep pang of sympathy from her. Her heart wanted to think him as a child, but she knew better in her mind. Even as he was feeling despair, Iana still couldn't help but feel there was hope out there somewhere. She was not one to believe her fate was sealed by men like this.

Instinct made her want to say things like: "Star Fleet will come for us" or "We'll be okay." But she couldn't make those promises in good faith. Walking away from the bars, she slide down the wall and sat next to Artim almost mimicking his stance. Trying to catch his line of sight, she pursed her lips and then said, "Artim, I have faith that Star Fleet will be looking for us, and I know that might be hollow... but we can't lose our hope, our fight, or our drive... My husband was in Star Fleet, he was kidnapped during a fight with some offshoot Klingon group. He came out of it a month later... That man, you know him. What happened between the both of you?"

Artim used the side of his restraints to wipe the tears from his cheek as he looked up, still with the same scared look on his face. His voice was hesitant and scared sounding as he replied,

"Twelve years ago I was a civilian mission specialist on the Eintstien. I was part of a survey team that was dropped off on Pharos V. Lenat and his band attacked us and took us as slaves to sell. He 'amused' himself with more then one of us before he set us off to leave...I can barely describe some of the things he did. There I managed to get out of my holding pen and managed to get to a com unit before I was recaptured. Fortunately there was a ranger company nearby and before we could be moved, the rangers rescued us."

Artim slunk some more and dipped his head.

"I'm afraid Lenat probably has a grudge against me for that. Some how I'm not sure I'll survive his...fun..."

"Well, my new friend, I can't stop you from looking at this in a dismal manner. I understand why you would," She was starting to move away from her counselor mode for a moment and more into a survival mode. Yes, the odds were against them, but she's known that before. And she's succeeded in the diversity. Iana wasn't trained to fail, she wasn't raised to fail. Despite everything in her life working against her, she was alive and she was here... and these bastard Orion slave traders weren't going to be her end, "But as I said when we first met, I will do everything in my power to make sure we walk out of this. It might not mean much to you, but one of the things I retain from my Vulcan heritage is the unwillingness to lie and the willingness to keep pushing forward."

"Don't lose hope yet, Artim. We have a long way to go and this is just the beginning," She hoped some of her optimism would wear on him. If anything, she didn't want him to give up. He didn't have to believe they would be rescued, but she needed him not to be willing to give up and succumb to whatever this Lenat had for them.

Artim composed himself enough to respond in his usual way to such things, which was with an even tone and a serious expression.

"I spent three centuries pretty much alone on a nearly dead world, hope is not something I lose easily my pointy-eared friend."

With that he stretched out against the bulkhead as if he was going to try and get some sleep.

Smirking at his response, she stood up and leaned against the wall next to their forcefield. There would be an opportunity presented. There alway was. For lack of better things to do, she stood there and studied their captors down the hallway. Sleep was not going to come to her easy so there would be no logic in wasting time. To herself, quietly, she said, "Patience..."

"More Than a Hunch"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

[Occurs during and immediately following "The Easy Way..."]

"Tactical, fire at will! Target the warp drives and shield generators of the Barzan cruiser. M'Kantu to Corgan, as soon as the shields drop, get your Hazard team aboard and find that drone!"

The bridge shuddered several more times from the onslaught of enemy fire as everything and everyone sprang to action in response. Holding onto his chair to the captain's left, Counselor Elessidil had followed Cmdr. Corgan with his eyes as the Security chief left his seat and exited the bridge. The olive branch or the sword: their attackers had made the wrong choice. Had M'Kantu's initial diplomatic overtures been accepted, it might have been Brian who left his chair, joining the captain in a face-to-face meeting with their new "friends". But instead, they were going to get the commander who had been seated to the captain's right, and he would be much less pleasant to deal with.

Karyn's request to swap shifts with Brian had resulted in his being in the right place at the right time -- or rather, maybe the wrong place at the wrong time, given the circumstances. Now that their arrival at Barzan had taken a decidedly unexpected turn and the captain had dispatched his fighters and security team, the Betazoid was determined to be more than ornamentation on the Galaxy's bridge.

Rising from his chair, Elessidil gripped its back to steady himself as he focused on the large cruiser off to the side of the viewscreen's field of view. Damned tetrion particles were interfering with the ship's sensors, making Ensign Morganth's attempts to confirm that she had indeed found the missing drone somewhere on the vessel; so a little additional help wouldn't hurt. It had been a long time since he'd tried this tactic, and there was no guarantee it would yield any results. Focusing all his concentration, Brian projected telepathic tendrils out into the void, bypassing the battle and its disruptions, cutting through the energy particles that rendered the sensors out of focus. It was, even for a telepath of his strength, a decidedly difficult task given the distance and the surrounding empathic "noise" from the crew's response to the unexpected attack...but if he could do anything to help...

It took few moments, but soon the counselor found what they were looking for. Or at least he was reasonably sure he had. He couldn't confirm with absolute certainty, but he could at least lend some support to the science officer's evidence. Borg drones were, from a telepathic perspective, very unique, so picking up on one outside an actual Borg cube was possible, even if not beyond question.

"Captain," he finally said, turning to M'Kantu as another hit from the enemy's phasers rocked the ship. "I think Ensign Morganth is right . . . the drone is on that cruiser. No, I'm not a hundred percent certain," he added, seeing the question in the other man's eyes before he formed the words. "But I'd say I have more than a hunch."

With nothing further, Brian sat down again, hoping he was right, that he'd been of some help.

"Nara in Charge...Again"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell, Acting Chief Engineer

Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist

Lt. Savant, Fleet Logistics Officer

*****Main Engineering*****

There she was again. In charge. No pips to go along with it, but there was the duty, the responsibility, the power, and the authority. She barked at the rambling twins and checked the duty list. She had to smile seeing her listed to do some lame petty job. She switched it to some random ensign. She'd feel bad, but she paid her price. It was the way of it. She'd work on that sometime if she had time.

She glanced at the twins and saw them hard at work as she moved to a console at the core and started checking readings. Then the day was consumed with repairs and maintenance. With an overlaying edge of urgency. DS5 was less than whole after all.

But after so many times like this, you learn to use the calm of the storm to prepare for the big winds.

She worked well past her scheduled shift, but there was too much to do and figured Chiefs just did that. And got away with it...sometimes.

"Lieutenant," Michael said as he was within hearing range of Nara. "the Structural Integrity Field in Section 28 on Deck 1 is working at full capacity again. Finally, I might add."

"Yea. Finally. What about Deck 2 and 4?"

"Two teams are still working there. It's estimated it will take three hours more for those locations." He looked at the PADD while telling Nara the current state of affairs concerning the SIF.

She continued checking the readouts, "Something is hogging resources. Contact Operations and ask why Stellar Cartography is using so much resources. Not like we're lost in space or anything. We know exactly where we're going and going to meet and greet the borg, I'd like to have as much power to shields and weapons."

"Will do." Michael stepped away and tapped his Combadge to contact Stellar Cartography. Meanwhile he walked towards the 'Pool Table'.

Stellar Cartography had a good reason. They thought anyway, and so answered with, "We're studying an anomaly. It could be a breakthrough of scientific greatness!"

Although Michael could understand the enthusiastic person on the other end of the com-channel, he nonetheless explained in clear and simple terms that now was not the time to indulge into Astrophysics. "I'm really sorry, but we need every resource to our exposal."

Nara walked over and stated quite angrily, "The anomaly can wait! Those resources will be rerouted back to where they should be in fifteen minutes whether you're ready for it or not."

"We'll report this to Operations," was the sharp reply.

"Do that."

As the situation with Stellar Cartography was being dealt with, Nara caught another extravagant use of resources. Sighing, exasperated, she checked to see who was using the holodeck and shook her head as she hit her commbadge, "Lt. Roswell to Lt. Savant."

The response was surprisingly positive - cheerful, even. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"What are you doing in the holodeck that is so terribly important at a time like this?"

Should she reveal the entirety of her project to the Lieutenant? Somehow she doubted Narandra would understand what she was doing and would likely disapprove. Better to veil her activity a little. "Using my duly alloted portion of replicator ration, power consumption and holodeck schedule."

"This is bad timing, Lt. We're about to go rescue, for some scewed reason, the Borg. I'd like all non-essential systems off line or at the very least using minimum resources."

"Won't be another moment, Lieutenant," she replied in a sing-song manner - still cheerful. "Shouldn't be a problem. The probabilities of this level of consumption in this area actually interfering with the mission are infintessimal."

"And makes for one very edgy Engineer."

Some decks away, within a holodeck, a nascent pseudo-Savant smiled, coccooned in a silvery-grey womb as its organic body took form. Her voice floated into Engineering, "Put yourself at ease, Lieutenant. I'll be done shortly."

"You have 15 minutes."

Right up to her estimates- Federation citizens liked doling out small tasks in fifteen-minute increments due to their standards of timekeeping. Narandra fit right in. Savant replied with equal cheer, "I'll be done in five."

"Thank you."

The AI didn't close the line or submit a goodbye, however. Instead it did a bit of an about-face and asked out of the blue, "So how's Saul?"

Nara was dumbfounded a moment before she answered, "I imagine very busy."

"Well, yes, I'm aware of that much," she cajoled in a friendly manner, "I mean how is he *doing*."

After a moment, Nara answered a bit sadly, "Hard to tell."

"Oh?" Then a bit of a pause from Savant as well, though she didn't end up sounding nearly as despondent, "He *is* a little hard to read sometimes, isn't he."

"Especially since he won't LET me read him. I've been in the creepiest minds on this ship and I have no idea what's in his."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"No need. He's an intelligence officer. Funny thing is, two minds I've explored work for him. I may tell him that. I know no more than I do about Star Trek Intelligence. All I know more about is those people."

She added after a moment, "He would say no."

Savants' tone became a bit moer serious, almost concilliatory. Prolonging the discussion was a good idea - it would distract Narandra from that creeping rise in power consumption. "You should try to confront him on it. He knows you - you deserve to know him too. Other intelligence officers have made relationships in the past. He's trying to play a lone wofl."

"He's also a merchant. Not sure why that's got to be such a mystery." Actually she had a vague idea.

"I know," she murmured over the intercom - low enough to make Narandra strain to hear it, so that she'd be doing that instead of looking at the sudden spike in power use. Then it dropped considerably as Savants' work neared a close. She continued, louder, "Confront him on it. Not on him giving all of his secrets to you, but on him using it as an excuse to hide himself from you."

If she heard it, she ignored it. It was part of the deal. "You're suggesting he and I bust our pudding skin and likely ruin a relationship that's doomed to end in ten years anyway?"

She shook her head, "I rather enjoy the time I have."

The rather gloomy dismissal was to be expected, and utterly typical of so many. Savant offered cryptically, "Of course. I think you'd be happier for it, myself." then another pause, and "I'm done. Say, Lieutenant, I don't suppose you could recommend a good meal? I'll admit i'm not much of a connoiseur."

"Try lasagna. Has most of the food groups right there. All the good ones anyway."

"Thanks!" She offered cheerily, "Savant out." And then the line closed.

Nara looked down and saw the previous spikes. She couldn't help but smirk, "Well, isn't she conniving."

"The Future is Unwritten"

Andreus Ral - Juliette/Faylin's Biological Father
IS Trainer (Teacher)

****

Location: Starfleet Headquarters - Earth

****

"Are you sure this is a wise course of action?" Teacher asked as the elder man entered his office. Small and compact, the office was filled with shelves of books and papers, none of which were relevant to the operations he performed for the organization. In fact there was very little in the way of things that he did use regularly, save for what lay in his top most drawer.

"It's the only course of action. We need her back, and you know that." He tilted his head to the left, then to the right, cracking his neck as he sighed. "This organization is dead, we are dead if we do not act now. You know that. We've all sacrificed for our vision through the years. I more than anyone else." Bringing his hand up, he ran it through his soft dark brown hair. A hint of gray was showing at his left and right temple at his hair line. Yet, it distinguished him as a gentleman who had seen and done much through the years of his life.

Lines stretched across his face, showing Teacher's age. A scar, one he received over thirty years before marred the underside of his chin. The patch of grey, thinning hair, partially covered the bald patch that had been expanding over the crown of his head for years. Rubbing his hand through his hair, he motioned for the other to sit down. He was wrong though, Teacher knew it first hand. The man before him may have lost his daughter, but the Teacher had lost more; he had lost everything. He had lost everything that day thirty odd years before. Back when he had the stupid idea that he could leave the Sanctum. And it had cost him. "We can find another way. We don't need to do this."

A slight irritated look crossed the other man's face and mind as he sat down. His telepathic ability told him that the Teacher was having reserves about what he was asking him to do. It was a simple request. "We need her back, and you know that. It's not open for discussion. She loves him, and it's the only way to get her here. We are running out of time. The trials are coming up...and we need her on our side yet again."

The Teacher, as he was known to those he taught, stood up. The leather chair creaked loudly in the quietness of the office. Walking over to a bookcase, he pulled a bottle of Brandy and two glasses from one of the shelves and returned to the desk to pour them both a drink. "There is always time to find a way. Always." His bottom lip whimpered slightly as he spoke. He knew exactly what the ramifications, of what the other was proposing, would be. He couldn't do it. There had to be another way. He had already lost too much.

"Damn it! This is not open for any more discussion. The Marine will be bait for my daughter, period. If he gets hurt in the process, it's for the greater good. She is a priceless commodity....we have to get her here....you know better."

"But..." Teacher's shoulders sagged. He knew that despite his objections, that this was going to happen. There wasn't anything he was able to do it.

"It's done. Arrange it and get over it. You will do what you're told, period. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir. Though I don't see her complying for long. She is her father's daughter after all. She's just as likely to kill us all if her husband is hurt at all."

"Look, it's an attempt to get her back. This is the last ditch effort. If she refuses, she's dead....and so is he."

Teacher nodded. He knew better to argue when the case was closed. He just hoped it wouldn't come down to that outcome. I will make preparations and make contact with our agent to ensure everything is ready on that end."

"Fine." He stated quietly while taking the first sip of his alcohol.

"I will say one thing. I'm glad that Rameirez is soon to be out of the picture. He is too hotheaded." Teacher said as he sipped his Brandy.

"I still can't believe Fay had a child with him....." He shook his head, then looked up at his drinking partner. "I miss her..........."

Teacher nodded. "I do too. She was my best pupil. Couldn't get enough of the training on offer. And Olivia was the cutest little angel."

"God, she was stubborn for such a little thing, when I had a chance to sneak a peak at her in the center while Faylin worked at legal." He paused, chuckling. "Fay.....was a good student, but she had something with the law....she attacked it with passion. She still does..or so I'm told."

"Indeed. That's why this isn't likely to go well."

His eyes darkened. "Prepare for the worst in this situation. I know Fay." He paused. "I must know, though. Why are you so adamant that we leave him alone?"

Teacher closed his eyes and drew in a long slow breath. "Because," He said after opening his eyes to look directly at the man seated opposite him. "The Marine in question, Steven Jonas... Well, he is my son!"

He cocked his eyebrow in a manner familiar with her daughter. "You don't think I know that?" The air around him reeked of superiority. "I have the best intelligence agents in this area, a hell of a lot better than what's contained on that damn ship Fay's on. Why did you think you could hide him from me?"

The Teacher sighed. "I won't apologize for hiding the fact he was alive from you. I did what I had to to keep him safe... from all this. It's quite ironic really."

"How so?"

"Well, I tried to leave and paid the price for it. Yet when I knew I couldn't leave; when I watched my wife struggle against the poison your agents gave her; when I found that my son, still in his mother's womb might survive, I knew I had to give him up. To ensure he lived a full, healthy life, away from all this. And yet, here he is, in the middle of it all." He took another sip of the Brandy.

"Not for long....it will be over soon."

He nodded. It was pointless to refuse him. Everyone knew what would happen if they did. "I'll contact the agents asap and let you know when everything is in place. One thing. I need your promise, that you won't do anything unnecessary to him. Please... I can't lose him too. He doesn't need to die."

"That all hinges on Faylin..........." Her father stated simply.

"Apologetic Behavior"

1st Lt Steven Jonas
Lt (jg) Juliette Rinaldi

**** (Occurs before the Galaxy reaches Barzan) ****

Against her better judgement, she placed the picture and note in a secure place. The old feeling that surfaced told her that she needed no one, not even Saul Bental. She was independent, and capable of killing people, so why did she need to run to someone? Juliette didn't. However, she did feel the need to apologize to someone for her rash behavior.

Steven heard the buzzer and thought about telling the person to go away. After a moment, he called out "Enter" and returned to the report he was reading.

Upon gaining permission to enter, she looked him squarely in the eye. "What I did, it was uncalled for. And, if I could, I really would ask you to help. This is far bigger than anyone, and I only feel comfortable with a few select people knowing Steven. Can you forgive me?" 'Please...for all my past transgressions as well......' With tired eyes, she patiently waited for his response.

Steven looked up from the couch to see Juliette standing in his doorway, the doorway to his, and formerly Faylin's quarters. "I'm sorry, but I don't really know how to do that... I'm only a worthless, dumb Marine who should be in the barracks, if I recall correctly. I couldn't possibly know how to forgive anyone."

"I'm sorry." Her head fell downwards then rose slowly to reveal crystal blue eyes full of intensity. "I'm sorry if what I said hurt you in any way. I wish I knew how to make it up to you." She did know, however, she didn't know how he would react. Taking a step forward, she outstretched her hand to him. "I know you're hurting....I just shouldn't have said that."

"I should be used to it. That's how Fay treated me after we got back from the war."

"She didn't deserve you....." She stated quietly before reaching out on her own and grasping his hand. "You need someone that can love you the way you deserve to be loved Steven."

"That may be," Steven softly shook his head, "but I loved her more than I thought possible. I miss her so much. It's hard, trying to cope with her being gone. I guess I wasn't important enough for her to be with." Steven rested his head in his hands, elbows pressed firmly into the flesh of his knees as his thoughts turned to Fay again.

'Ug...' She thought. 'Didn't he pick up on that?' Sighing, she came to sit beside him on the sofa, gently bringing her hand up and rubbing the width of his back in an attempt to calm him.

Steven felt her hand rubbing against his back, no doubt in an attempt to comfort him. He rose his head up to look at Juliette as she tried to sooth his raging soul.

"Hey...." Jules stated softly as she slid very close to him. Reaching up, she caressed his face with her hand, then moved it down to rest it on top of his hand. "It's going to............."

Rational thought slipped out the window as Steven felt Juliette's touch. Reaching up he placed a finger over her mouth, signaling for her to stop talking. As thoughts of their last kiss filled his mind, her name escaped his lips softly, "fay".

"Yeah Steve?" 'SHIT!' She thought as she leaned in to receive his kiss.

Reaching over, oblivious to the words she had just spoken, Steven kissed her like he hadn't for ages. Though very pleasant, something was different. It wasn't like the last time he had kissed her. It wasn't the same. His eyes opened and he saw why. It wasn't Faylin.

It was Juliette!

Breaking away from the kiss, he looked at the Trill JAG officer. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that. In my mind Faylin was sitting there next to me. I... I can't believe that's twice I've done that. There must be something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you." She muttered, her head low again as she looked to the floor.

"It was a nice kiss. Don't get me wrong. I just... God this is hard. I... I like you. I like you a lot. It's just that my mind is pulling me in all directions.. I want to move on, but I don't want to." Steven stood up and walked over to the bookshelf. It was lined with pictures of Faylin and her daughter. Strangely there were none of he and Faylin. It was likely not of importance at the brief time they were together. He carefully picked up a picture of Faylin's daughter, whom he had never gotten the chance to meet. Why he still had them sitting on the bookshelf, he didn't know. Perhaps it was his way off honoring Faylin's memory. Whatever the case, he traced her face with his fingers, as he tried to determine what to do. Placing the photo, an image of a young Olivia sitting on a swing in a little green dress, back in it's place, he turned back to Juliette. "Do you like me?"

She watched him take the picture down off the shelf, with it almost to much for her to bear. Closing her eyes, she shielded herself from the image of him staring at her daughter. Opening them, she focused back on his question. "Yes." Standing up off the couch, she came over and stood very closely to him. "You don't have to move on you know. You just have to ask the right questions." She stated, reaching out to hold his hand, her eyes were sparking, pleading with him to make connections that she had forced herself to leave. The last straw was the rings, which rested in her pocket. "Can I borrow your restroom?" With permission, she shut herself in the bathroom, slid down the door, and wept silently all the while grasping at the rings that she had removed from her pocket.

Steven thought he heard crying from within the bathroom. Knocking on the door, he spoke, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine." She sniffed. Placing them on her ring finger, she wondered if this might drop the biggest hint without saying anything. Coming out from the bathroom, she smiled, wiping the last of her tears away from moistened eyes. "Been a long life time." She muttered.

Nodding, he stood there, unsure what to do. "It's so hard to know what to do. I don't even know which are the right questions to ask."

"You just have to ask them...what ever pops into your mind Steve." She blinked once, letting her left hand come up and wipe a stray tear away from her face. "Can I get a glass of something to drink? Water?" 'Notice' She mentally threw his way.

Steven was about to reply when Kronos padded in from the bedroom. "Hey girl," Steven called out as he reached down to give the dog a rub behind the ears.

Jules smiled at first, then seeing the condition of her precious baby girl, smirked. Reaching down as Steven was watching, she pet the puppy with her left hand yet again.

"I'll just go and get you a drink." Steven said, before turning for the kitchen.

"Okay." Watching him disappear, she meandered over to the wall and forcefully hit her head against it out of sheer frustration. "God...." She muttered. Upon hearing Kro whine, she reached down and picked her up, whispering in her ear. "Has he brushed you yet?"

Taking the glass of water from Steven, she spoke. "You are aware that this dog is a Pomeranian....aren't you?"

"No. I know practically nothing about dogs."

"It's just that...their coat needs brushed..or it gets matted. She also should have a diamond collar around here somewhere." 'HELLO!!! Another hint' She thought.

Steven sighed, not noticing the reference to the collar that sat in one of the drawers in the bedroom. "Fay did brush her regularly. I just didn't realize that Kronos needed it. I thought she was just doting on it since Olivia wasn't around anymore." Feeling miserable, that he had been reminded of Fay again, he lay down on the couch.

'Oh, this can not be happening.' She thought. Coming up beside him, she kneeled beside the couch brushing some of his hair out of his face. "Let me hold you........."

Steven just nodded.

She raised his head up gently, the slid herself underneath him. Caressing his hair as he spoke.

"Why is it that I feel so comfortable around you? With most people I feel on edge." Steven asked after a minute.

"We have souls that have known each other for a long time."

Steven looked up at Juliette. She had a kind soul, that much he could see. That she understood what he was going through seemed to ease the pain in his heart. "Is it wrong for me to want to kiss you right here and now?"

She moved her head in a negative manner, wanting this more and more as time passed with him. She did miss him...terribly...and just wanted to feel his arms around her yet again.

Steven leaned upwards from where his head had been resting on her knees and kissed her lightly on the lips. It felt electric, the little electrons and neutrons firing off in his mind, nerves sparking like crazy. Pulling back ever so slightly, he looked up into her eyes, a slight smile on his lips, before kissing her again.

'There's my baby....' She thought with contentment as she reached out and pulled herself closer. Slightly groaning with pleasure, she continued to be kissed. Her true identity could wait, this was what she really wanted. "Be with me...." She whispered. "Now..."

"You know... Ever since I met you, I've wondered just how far down those spots go." He grinned before his lips sought out hers again.

"All the way..." She muttered in between kisses.

Steven sat up, and pulled his uniform top off before pulling her in towards him again.

This was it, in a round about way, Faylin McAlister was claiming the rights to her husband....once again.

"The Call of Duty"

Lt. (jg) Juliette Rinaldi
1st Lt. Steven Jonas

**** (Occurs before the Galaxy reaches Barzan) Steven's Quarters ****

Steven awoke refreshed and rearing to get on with the day's activities. For the first time in ages the haunting nightmares had been absent from his sleep, and to have had a full night's sleep was refreshing. Looking over at the clock on the wall, one of the few possessions of his that adorned the walls, the majority belonging to Faylin, he saw that it was a full half hour before he had to get up and get ready for the day's work.

Feeling movement to the side, he swiveled his head around, spying a swath of blonde hair and some trill spots peaking out from under the covers. Sighing, he lay back on the pillow and looked up to the ceiling. What had he done. 'I am so sorry Fay. I don't know what I was think...' Steven stopped trying to apologize to his departed wife. It was stupid. Apart from the fact that she was dead and couldn't likely hear him, it was her who had left. Why was he trying to explain what had happened. He liked Juliette after all; liked her a lot. He shouldn't have to justify his actions to someone who took their own life, rather than be with their husband. Besides, it was kinda her fault. If she hadn't taken her own life, it'd be her lying there next to him instead of Juliette.

He resolved himself to the thought that if Fay didn't like it, she would have to try and find a way back from heaven to tell him off. Rolling over onto his side, he lay there taking in the beautiful sight before him as she slept soundly.

Blinking her eyes open, she turned slight and grinned. Taking in the view of her husband....at least, she knew it was her husband, he had no idea. "Hey."

"Morning yourself." Steven said with a smile as he gently caressed her chin. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay, but you like to steal the covers...." Jules responded with a sly impish grin. Popping up her head, she ran a finger through the disheveled mass and scowled. Her previous hair was so much easier to take care of...it was shorter, and didn't tangle as much as this blonde nest did. Pinching the bridge of her nose with her left hand, she opened her eyes and looked cross-eyed at Steven. "What?" She posed as she looked at him staring at her.

Steven pointed at the wedding rings on her hand. They looked similar to the rings his wife had worn when they had been together before her death. "You still wear your wedding rings?"

"Yes...out of respect. But, what we did last night wasn't very respectful." She stated quietly. "Can I check my messages on your console?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks." Wrapping a single sheet around her body, she padded over and pressed a few buttons. "Wow, cool. I'm on hazard duty...."

Steven breathed deeply. Something similar had happened with Fay back before the war on ch'Rihan. The similarities between the two situations were freaky. "I didn't know you were part of the Hazard team."

"Me? Oh, I have many, many hidden talents."

"Some of which I found out last night." Steven grinned.

"Yep." She blushed playfully.

"When do you have to report in?"

"Few hours." Her lazy tone followed her body back to bed.

"You up for a little breakfast before then?" Steven asked.

Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she yawned and spoke. "What...whatcha have in mind?"

"Well, I was gonna offer me, but if you would prefer, I'm sure I could try and whip up some actual food. Though I have to warn you, I'm probably the worst chef on the ship."

She grimmaced, then actually made it look like she was thinking seriously. "I'd rather....have you honestly." A slight giggle broke through the air.

Steven looked over at Juliette, standing at his desk, draped in the bed sheet, still looking at the console. To have found love with Bella all those years ago had been amazing. And upon her death, he had thought that he'd never find that feeling again. And then Faylin had come along and changed all that. Yet now, as he lay in his bed, looking over at the blonde Trill, he had to wonder whether he had been blessed. For upon Faylin's death, he felt for sure that he'd never find happiness again.

Yet somehow, he felt that, given enough time, perhaps he and Juliette might be able to find that which he had so wanted to have with Faylin, but was cut short by her death. Steven's brow furled slightly as he contemplated the turn of events of the past twelve hours. Of course, that all depended on what Juliette wanted out of it all. And who knew just what women wanted these days. But then again, what did he want? That was the real question, wasn't it? What did he want?

"Oh! I meant to tell you something."

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"I was able to get Rex to drop the charges against you. Ta da!"

"You got Rex to drop the charges? Thanks.' Steven looked down at the bed for a moment. "Um... please don't take this the wrong way, cause I'm very grateful, but why? Why would you, as someone who is supposed to be impartial, do that?"

"I'm not impartial. Judges never are, although they are supposed to be. It's a trade secret we keep to ourselves. Sort of an inner sanctum code....if you will." A slight ever so coyish grin crossed her features. 'That was good.' She thought to herself, slightly chuckling, surprised that she could still amuse herself from time to time despite her circumstances. "What are you thinking?"

"What am I thinking? Well, apart from how thrilled I am at not being demoted, I was thinking about how gorgeous that sheet would look in a pile on the floor." he grinned as he patted the bed next to him.

"I see we are as amorous as ever Steve?" She responded quietly before dropping the sheet and gracefully returning to bed.

Steven shrugged and pulled her towards him for a long kiss. "Jules, I have to ask you something." he said after the kiss ended.

"Sure, go ahead."

"What do you want out of this, eh out of us? Are you looking for something long term, or just a night of pleasure?"

"I haven't really thought about it." She reached over, playing with his hair, the way she used to do. "What do you want?"

"I don't know." Steven replied as he looked down at the deck. "I like you a lot. You make me happier than I've been since... well since Fay passed, yet I still love her. And I don't know what to do. Sure she's gone, but I..." His mind was a giant mess of tangled thoughts. "I'm supposed to be able to make quick decisive decisions in the heat of battle, yet here, right now, my thoughts are so chaotic I'm at a loss as to what I want." He looked up at Juliette. "I sound like an idiot, don't I?"

Her eyes softened. "No, you sound like a man, who's still madly in love with his wife that unfairly left him. It's very endearing....and it makes me want to knock her out for treating you like that babe." Leaning in, she offered him a gentle kiss, wondering if it was indeed possible to knock yourself out.

Steven chuckled. "I wouldn't know who to support in the ensuing cat fight."

"Ohhh, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be much of a fight."

"Um.. Is it alright if we take each day as it comes?"

"Of course it is." She lied her ass off. If telling fibs were a competition on the galaxy....two people would be tied for first place.... Rinaldi and Bental.

He rolled over, coming up beside Juliette and kissed her lightly on the forehead. It didn't take long for him to follow it up by tracing a line down her body with more tiny kisses, his lips grazing the many Trill spots that adorned her beautiful body.

Shivering, Jules really wished she could get into it the way she wanted. Yet, something in her told her to hold back. That inward protection she found herself having now was more of a survival instinct. Then it hit her, why in the world was she here now? 'They' found out, and they would be after him, it was only a matter of time....after Steven and after her. There was one possibility, to go back.... go back to IS and she would be totally safe and he would be safe, or risk it all .............

"War is Coming Again"

Lt. (jg) John Morris
Security Officer

**** Security Office ****

John sat at the desk, reading the latest reports. A lot had happened in the last month or so, and he was catching up on it all. With the boss heading up the Hazard team, John had been spending more time sitting in the main officer, rather than patrolling the halls or ensuring the replacements were getting to grips with the Galaxy way of life.

With Alison having spent a little time in the brig, the nice weekly reports had stopped and she had yet to take the reigns back up in that regard. Not that he didn't mind. Having her not collating the report meant he got to catch up on all the reports, and not just the ones she deemed 'important' enough to include. Events such as the misuse of the Holodecks on over a dozen occasions probably wouldn't have gotten a mention, nor would the missing panels in Section 15 of Deck 4. At least in his mind anyway.

The fact that three crew members were listed as unaccounted for upon departure from the station was frightening. Two crewmen and the Intelligence Chief. He could understand the crewmen leaving, had they done so willingly. There were many opportunities out there for those willing to take a chance, and what with the low paygrade for Crewmen, it wasn't surprising to say the least.

The Intel chief, on the other hand was no doubt on some secret mission somewhere. It was what those guys did best. Gathering information and doing undercover work all over the place.

John placed the report PADD down on the table and picked up the mug. Bringing the vessel to his lips he savored the smell of freshly brewed coffee, before taking a sip. To some people, there was a clear difference between the replicated coffee and the freshly brewed kind. And John Morris was one of those people. His day couldn't start without a nice hot mug.

As the coffee mug came to rest on the coaster, John's thoughts drifted to the young Marine that had spent a couple of nights in the brig almost a month previous. The poor bastard had just gone through the nasty ordeal of watching his wife die in his arms. John felt for the man. He too had lost his wife, though he had known her for much longer than the Marine. Still, losing someone so close was devastating, whether you had known them for a month or thirty years. It still hurt every bit as much. And so, John's prayers went out to the young man as he struggled forward with his life.

John leaned back in the chair as he scratched his thinning head. Closing his eyes for but a moment, he pictured her in his head. Years had passed, but the image of her was still crystal clear in his mind, burnt forever into the very core of his brain. He sighed with sadness.

The red alert klaxon brought him out of his revere, and straight to his shaky feet. Gulping down the last of the coffee, he started towards the small weapons cabinet that lined one wall of the office.

=/\= Brace for impact =/\= The Captain's strong, powerful voice called out, before the ship shook wildly.

Reaching out, he steadied himself upon the corner of the desk until the ship settled down.

Finally he reached the weapons locker and keyed in the sequence of keys to open it. As it hissed open, John pulled out a Phaser rifle and slipped the strap over his head and shoulders, letting the weapon rest against his back. A spare power cell and a small medkit slipped from the cabinet into pockets on his belt, next to the phaser he had sitting in it's holster, before he closed the locker, without locking it, - some of the other security officers and crewmen would be returning for more powerful weapons - and went back to his desk to check in with the watch supervisor.

Something had come their way yet again. Whether it was War or not was still to be decided.

off: backpost

"Welcome Wagon"

Flight Officer Angelienia
Flight Officer Ella Grey

***

USS Galaxy
Deck 39
Vanguard Flight Deck

Ella centered herself, meaning that she took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale it, and tried to switch into 'nice Ella' mode.

'Nice Ella' was usually not all that hard to move in to, especially when there was a sale at a department store involved. But there were exceptions to every rule and today she was finding it hard to get there, having to bypass 'bitchy Ella' and 'bitter Ella' and firmly stomp down on 'I hate you, you Ktarian bitch Ella.'

She wanted to sigh. Old habits certainly died hard.

"Hi," Ella said to Angelienia, wondering if she could now avoid having to talk to the other woman for the rest of her life.

Angelienia paused in her zigzag course between the fighters on the hangar floor, flight helmet in one hand and flight bag in the other. She'd known that Ella was transferring in - even if she didn't make or pass on as much gossip as she used to, she still heard it all - but hadn't expected it to be this soon.

"Hello," she replied, aware that there were mechanics and a few other pilots watching to see how long it took for them to descend into a fistfight. She didn't want one - in truth, she felt that she owed the shorter woman a lot for all the things she'd done to help Victor - and hoped that Ella didn't want one either. She swapped her helmet over to her left hand and offered Ella her right and a smile. "Congratulations on the transfer - I hope you'll like it here with the Vanguards."

Ella shook the other woman's hand, reminding herself yet again that this woman made Victor happy and that was a good thing. "Thank you. I hope so too."

Then she looked at a few of the people who were trying their best not too look too obvious in their eavesdropping, smiled, and told them to 'shoo.'

Angelienia shook her head slightly as she watched the others retreat with varying expressions ranging from a pout, to irritation that they'd been spotted, to amusement at the whole thing. "I'm afraid that we'll both be putting up with that for some time to come," he admitted. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you've got that to look forward to walking into a new job."

Ella shrugged. She'd expected it actually. In fact, she'd considered putting herself down for two months in the 'when will Rex and Ella start screaming at each other' pool but then decided against it. "There are worse things."

"Yes," the Ktarian agreed softly, "yes, there are." She hesitated a moment, trying to decide what to say, or if she should in fact say anything at all. Finally, she asked, "Have they started leaving things in your locker, or redecorated the cockpit of your rescue shuttle yet?"

Ella smirked. "Not yet. Do I have mouse-traps and little pieces of cheese on strings to look forward to, Angie?" She realized that one rarely ever got to choose their own call-sign but she hoped yet again that it wouldn't be Angie's favorite nickname for her.

"Um... no," Angelienia said with am embarrassed blush creeping onto her face. "Not from me - and not from anyone that I can convince or bully into not doing it. I don't think I can stop everyone, though. Especially Kettch - the little furball is relentless with his practical joking. And that still doesn't mean that they won't think of something else, like the ever-popular 'fill the shuttle with expanding foam insulation' gag."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Great. I suppose as long as it isn't during a mission..."

"No, not then," the quick and sure response came. "No matter how bad the jokes get, they won't do anything then. You're their - our - lifeline in a battle, the one that comes in to get us when we can't get out ourselves. No one's going to mess with you on a mission when their life could depend on you being there."

"That's good," Ella said with a smile that she hoped wasn't too bright. She couldn't help but feel awkward around the woman that had been her enemy. "Well, I should get back to work."

Angelienia nodded, and then, prompted by a feeling that she should say *something* more even if the what of it escaped her completely, offered a soft, "I'm sorry."

Ella tilted her head and regarded the other woman. She did appear to seem regretful in some way. It was something she was unused to seeing on Angelienia, actually it was damned weird to tell the truth. "If it's for any future decorations to my locker and such, don't sweat it. If it's for anything else ... I'm not sure I'm really up for that conversation yet, Ang."

"Fair enough." And oddly, it was. As terrible a person as she'd been to Ella, after all the things she'd said and done, expecting her to just forget that and move on was ridiculous. This was a start, though, and that's what mattered. "If... if there's something I can do to help you get settled, just ask - even if it's stay away from you - all right?"

The ex-engineer smiled and found that it was genuine. "You could always give me a heads-up before an expanding foam day."

"I will - and if I miss it, I'll be there with a can of solvent to help clean it out," the Ktarian promised.

"Marine Briefing"

First Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile, CO
First Lieutenant Branwen London, XO
First Lieutenant Steven Jonas, CO - 2nd Platoon
Second Lieutenant Greg Ward, CO - ARC's
Staff Sergeant Leonard Church , XO - ARC's
Sergeant Samantha "Pitbull" Beckett, Squad Leader
Private First Class Lavernius M. Tucker , Infantry - ARC's
Private First Class Amy VanDuren , Infantry
Private Jonathan " Rabbit " Portman , Infantry
Private Michael J. Caboose , Heavy Weapons- ARC's

**** Marine Briefing Room ****

Branwen came in to the briefing room. She was looking radiant. It was her first day back and although she would be mostly an observer it was a big step up for her. That's why she was so early. Steven would be leading the morning briefing like he had been doing for the past couple of weeks.

Putting down a cup of hot tea she sat down behind her desk and waited for the others to come in.

Greg and the ARCs entered the room next, each one of them sitting down with Church sitting next to Greg as the SAS-779 XO. At his spot next to Church, Tucker placed his booted feet up on the table as he leaned back with a smirk on his face before Church shoved the younger marine's feet off of the table.

"Oi, Lieutenant London. Is the skuttlebut true about the chance about running into the borg ?" Tucker asked with a wide smile on his face.

"Isn't that what they say always?" She joked back. It was good to see that they welcomed her back without any fuss about her health. "Lieutenant Jonas will explain everything."

Amy walked through the doors, her face displaying the frustration she felt at having to put up with Rabbit. The man wouldn't shut up. Even threatening him had done nothing to stop the incessant dribble that came out of his pathetic little mouth.

"So there we were, just me and my mate Poncho, with these three Orion slave girls..." Portman followed her into the briefing room.

"I don't care, Portman. Shut the frak up!" She was going to kill the el-tee for this. Friend or no, he was a dead man.

Taking a seat, she watched with dread, as Portman moved to sit next to her. The evil look she gave him seemed to change his mind and he moved off to sit next to, and no doubt bore stupid, some other Marine. Not that she minded. She'd at least get a little peace and quiet, if only for the duration of the briefing.

She looked around and nodded to a couple of the Marines. The ARC's were here already, which wasn't surprising. They were never the last to arrive for morning briefings. Then she spotted Lieutenant London sitting off to the side. It was good to she her up and about. Too long she had spent in the sickbay, and seeing her looking well brought a smiled to her face. Not the Jonas had not done a fine job, just that with what had happened to him, she wondered if he was capable of leading the men. And she was trying hard not to think about what he was putting her through by having her babysit Portman.

Steven was feeling better than he had in a while. He still couldn't believe what had happened, but wasn't going to complain about it. Suffice to say that he had had a better sleep than he had had in over a month. Stepping through the doors, he made his way down the steps to the small podium at the front of the briefing room. The large screens behind the podium were dark save for the Starfleet Marine logo being displayed prominently in the middle of each screen.

"Morning" he said as he reached the podium. His tone, commanding yet friendly, hid how he was truly feeling. Though truth be told, he wasn't even sure just what he was or should be feeling. Dressed in his standard uniform, much like the Marines before him, Steven smiled briefly as his thoughts drifted to all that had happened in the last day.

Steven placed the PADD upon the dais and pressed a couple of buttons changing the screens behind him to a large map of the area of space they were in. The Galaxy stood in the center, marked by the small Galaxy class ship shape, with the major systems and regions depicted. "In case the map isn't clear enough, we are currently heading through the Barzan Sector towards the Barzan homeworld. Command has seen fit to have the Galaxy follow up the kidnapping of an attaché from Starfleet's Headquarters."

Caboose raised his hand, "Question, Mister Lieutenant Sir. Is the lady we have to save really a borg attache?" the Hoffman native said in his usual slow but honest voice.

Steven nodded. "The attache is indeed a borg . Her name is Three of Four and we are heading to Barzan to rescue her. I know you aren't going to like this, but the Hazards are getting first crack at getting her back. We are in reserve. Questions so far?"

"Sir, with all due respect-why are we saving a borg from hostiles?" Tucker asked, his usual cocky and snide tone was not in his voice but instead it was something honestly curious.

Steven and Branwen had discussed this before of course, and now she watched her Marines to see what the reactions would be.

Another set of eyes watched the gathered marines as well. A pair of alien eyes that had been closed for far too long. Leaning against the wall in the far end of the room he stood, sipping the coffee he had brought. Still he felt uncomfortable, out of place. His last memory had not been particularly pleasant and his abrupt awake in sickbay had been almost as unpleasant. But here he was none the less.

Branwen noticed him first and quietly made her way over to her boss. "Good to see you sir. It seems they let us back to work at the same time. How are you feeling?" She asked softly.

The headache was still there, pounding mercilessly, but it was manageable. "Groovy.. " Baile replied, folding his arms across the chest.

Steven nodded in Baile's direction before turning his attention to Tucker's question. It was good to see him up and about. "The attaché was a guest on *our* soil. We had a duty to provide adequate protection and failed in that task. As such, it is our duty to ensure the safety of the attache, whether she is borg or not. Besides, would you prefer that the Borg ignore the peace treaty we have with them and come in force?"

"That would be a bad thing." Caboose said in a slightly quiet voice at which point Tucker just rolled his eyes but nodded at the Hoffman native's assesment.

"What little intel is available on the planet itself is sketchy. It's available online, so look it up and familiarize yourselves with it. It may be that we won't be deployed, and if that is the case, the NCO's will filter the news down to you." Steven looked around at the men and women of the Furies detachment. A lot of them were new, fresh out of boot. It was unlikely that they had seen any combat so far.

"Hopper crews, you need to continue preping for potential combat drops. Squads One, Four and Five, Insertion and Retrieval. I want those insertion times down by five percent by the time we get to the planet. The rest of you, PT run at 0830, Water Survival Tactics at 1000, and in the afternoon, Weapons Training, Fitness Evaluations and Lecture. Questions?"

Greg sat there quietly with a raised eyebrow for a second before he elbowed Church in the ribs at which point the ARC XO raised a hand and asked "What do you need from SpecOps sir?"

Steven looked over at the ARC's. He hadn't forgotten them, he was just expecting them to continue their normal training regime. "Continue the current training regime. You'll likely be going in with the three squads if we are required. It all depends on what role the Captain sees us fulfilling."

Bran was still next to Baile at the back of the room. "Are you back on full duty, sir?"

The bald marine didn't reply for a few seconds. He was still trying to get his bearings. A few hours ago he had been in LaLa-land, happily sleeping in a coma. Well. Sleeping anyway. He idly scratched one of the tattoos on his arm and took another sip of the coffee. Finally he nodded.

"You're luckier than me then, sir. They still have me on light duty." She would break it, but that would mean victor on her back, and that Branwen did not want.

"Now, before we go any further, I've been hearing rumors that some of you have an urge to try and integrate more science specialities into the unit. Now, I don't know if it's because you're all suddenly keen to expand our knowledge base, especially after none of you volunteered for the similar Medical training last month, or if it's in response to the Chief of Science's new uniform, and policy concerning the shortening of the length of said uniform, but as it currently stands, no one here is getting a pass to join Science for training any time soon." Steven chuckled. He hadn't been surprised when he had heard about 8's new policy. Mind you, he wouldn't have been surprised if she had chosen to wear a see-thru skirt instead. "You'll just have to do with your NCO's in their Marine uniforms."

Portman sighed. He had heard about the mini skirt faster than some would have thought humanly possible and had chosen that afternoon, during his downtime to pay a visit to the Science lab, to inquire about a herb that he had, convienently, found in the kitchen. So what if it had been to determine the validity of the story. He had gotten a good eyeful of the red headed woman and her short skirt. Sufice to say, he had left that copy of the magazine, with the JAG woman in it, alone for some time, having found a new object of interest.

Sam saw the private's head droop and and chuckled. That'd be right. Portman would have been one of the first to find out. He could always be counted on to be the sleeziest creep around. At least they hadn't put him in her squad. The disgusting pleb would have found it tough going after the shit he had put her through during the trip to Deep Space Five.

Though, thinking about it, if he kept his focus on some hussy in Science who thought it cool to wear mini skirts to get the productivity up, and less focus on her and the other female Marines, the better it was for everyone. Besides, rumor had it the woman had been through a large number of the male crew members and was still charging her way through the manifest. And if that was the case, she'd eventually see the large number of testosterone-filled men in the Furies and start a new list. And that, Pitbull had no doubt, would spell major trouble for the unit. Productivity wise that was.

Steven was satisfied that he had covered the things he needed to. He looked up at Bran and the CO, who were talking quietly. "Is there anything you wish to add Boss?"

Watching Baile shake his head, Steven continued. "Okay. We are scheduled to arrive at Barzan sometime tomorrow, so we have until then to get ready. Time for chow. But remember... PT run is afterwards so don't pig out. We don't want another incident in the holodeck like last time do we, Yankovich?"

Steven let the laughter die down before continuing. "One last thing. It seems that it is Private Bates ' birthday today. So, happy birthday Bates! Come and see me, or Lieutenant London, afterwards and we'll see if we can get chef to whip up something special for dinner. Dismissed."

Bran walked towards Steven when the marines filed out. "Great job, Steven. Seems like you hardly missed us." She was justified in not pulling him off duty.

Steven shrugged. "Just doing my job. Though I'd prefer to be looking through the scope of my sniper rifle. But if this is what I need to do at present, then so be it."

"And it is annoying that the hazards are getting the first go." It was no secret that she was no fan of the hazard teams. "I'm going to see one of the doctors later today, to try and get permission for full duty. I don't want to miss this." Bran smiled. And she wanted to be with the troops especially now that there were so many newbies.

"Roomies" or "Blue Man Blues"

Ensign Miquelan Dar'de
Ensign Tobias Anders

Miquelan Dar'ce brought his carry-all down the corridor and stopped outside the new quarters assigned to him. Deck nine, section 5, Compartment 102. Starboard, forward facing. He input the temporary code that would let him in. It was fairly simple, and he could change it later.

Miquelan dropped his bag in the common room, looking around the place. After the academy's quads, this place was absolutely palatial. 'And don't get me started about the Vigilant,' he thought, referring to the Defiant-class ship he had served on during his cadet cruise. 'Those bunk beds were ridiculous.'

There was little indication that another life-form actually lived in this room, though the computer had said that the roommate was on Tobias Anders, Human, 24 years of age. Good for him. Now, where did he sleep? It would be awkward walking into his sleeping area.

"Computer, which bunk room is occupied on a permanent basis in these quarters?" he asked, waiting patiently for a reply.

The pleasant tone of a human female returned to him, "Bunk room one is occupied by Ensign Tobias Anders. Bunk room two is unoccupied."

"Thank you computer." Miquelan went to the second bunk room and dropped off his carry all. The rest of his effects were in the cargo bay, waiting to be shipped up here, as soon as he went to the quartermaster and let them know where he was now living.

When he came back out of the bunk room, Ensign Dar'ce noticed that there was a man standing in front of the food replicator. When he heard Miquelan's door open, he jumped and spun around. "Computer, lights."

As the lights came on, the human shielded his eyes. "Ah, crap, not that bright. Hey, who are you?"

The human was acting a bit hung-over, if Miquelan was any judge, but that was to be expected occasionally. Better not let the man get too ill-tempered. "I am Miquelan Dar'ce, your new roommate. You must be Ensign Anders. Nice to meet you." Miquelan stuck out his hand, in the age-old human tradition.

"Dude, you have horns." The human was staring at Miq's head like it was going to explode.

"Um, yes I do. Every Xenonian gets a pair of horns when they hit puberty. Just like you humans get hair on your......legs, or whatever. I am also blue. Is this going to be a problem for you?" Miquelan noticed how the human had not yet taken his eyes off of the horns.

"Well, it's just that, I've never seen a blue man with horns before. Even at the academy."

"There are several Xenonians at the academy, and have been for a few years. I suggest you get familiar with all of the horned species within the Federation, as you will no doubt be running into many of them. It would be untoward to stare at all of them in such an ungracious way." The blue ensign was getting more annoyed by the second.

"Look," replied the Human, "we Terrans are sometimes a little startled when we see something new. Get used to that. Besides, if I recall, Xenon only joined the Federation about six years ago. It's not unlikely that I've not seen one of your kind."

"Right, Ensign, and that gives you the right to stare at me as though I were a freak. Good logic. Next time, why don't you go get a holo recorder. The image lasts a lot longer."

Miquelan stormed out of the quarters. 'Frymming idiot. How did I get this one, Hyewn? Is this a punishment?'

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