"Conduct on Becoming an Officer"

Ens. Leronem Risdanach
Medical Officer

Leronem still felt vaguely ridiculous about the whole affair, and suspected that his discomfort was precisely why Admiral Iskossala had insisted on it. She had of course claimed that there was a P.R. benefit to having a formal commissioning ceremony for him, that people would be interested in the advancement to officership of a 40-year Starfleet veteran. But there was only one reporter present and his complete lack of enthusiasm indicated he thought it was some sort of punishment. Frankly, Leronem could relate to the feeling. He would have much preferred to just take the oath somewhere private with whatever flag officer was available and be done with it. But he could hardly refuse the Admiral her opportunity to make a fuss. Besides being his dramatically senior officer, he owed her personally.

So, there he stood in his dress uniform at the front of a large room at Starfleet Medical, looking out at the friends and comrades who had managed to attend. He was actually surprised how many had showed up, especially several people whom he had lost touch with years previously. The Admiral had probably pulled a couple strings to get so many of the old Ahwahnee crew back together. He had to admit, even though he hated the fanfare, it was good to see them. Admiral Iskossala was reading a summary of his service record and it brought back memories with each of them. It also made him look to the empty seats, imagining there the faces of comrades whom he had seen fall during his long career. Inevitably, though, before his thoughts could become too morbid, someone would catch his eye and smirk or pull a face, reminding him how little he liked to feel on display.

The Admiral then pulled out a very formal looking piece of paper. "Prior to commissioning as a line officer, Chief Warrant Officer Risdanach must be discharged from his current warrant." Then, reading from the paper, "Honorable discharge from the armed forces of the United Federation of Planets. This is to certify that Chief Warrant Officer Leronem Risdanach was honorably discharged from Starfleet on stardate 60703.05. This certificate is awarded as a testimonial of honest and faithful service." She handed Leronem the paper and during the brief applause whispered with a grin, "Now's your chance to get away with an honorable discharge." He remained expressionless.

"Seeing as Mr. Risdanach has been discharged from Starfleet," continued the Admiral, "his jacket along with all Starfleet insignia will now be removed. I believe his long-time friend and colleague retired Master Chief Petty Officer Rakin will do the honors."

A tall Rigellian in the front row stood up and walked over to Leronem. The two embraced briefly before Rakin removed Leronem's warrant officer jacket and returned to his seat.

"I will now administer the officer's oath," said the Admiral.

Putting his left hand above his right, palms up, in front of him, in the Efrosian gesture of adjuration, Leronem repeated the oath of office: "I, Leronem Risdanach, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Articles of the Federation against all enemies, foreign or domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of office on which I am about to enter."

He returned his hands to his sides as the Admiral turned to retrieve the white dress jacket of a Starfleet line officer, which she then helped him to put on. She then opened a small box and retrieved the single golden insignia of an Ensign and affixed it to his uniform. Turning him to face the others, she announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present Ensign Leronem Risdanach, Starfleet."

After brief applause, Admiral Iskossala continued, "Although the salute has been dropped from the day-to-day protocol of Starfleet, there are traditions to be maintained at times of ceremony. And it is an honored tradition that the newly commissioned officer give something of value to the first non-commissioned officer to salute him. Master Chief Petty Officer Rakin, front and center."

The Rigellian again stood and moved to the front of the room, but this time much more rigidly and formally. He stopped in front of the Admiral and briskly saluted her. When his salute had been returned, he lowered his hand and turned to the new Ensign. Again, he briskly saluted, adding a crisp "Sir!" Leronem responded in kind and when they had released their salutes, pulled a brass coin from his pocket and handed it to his comrade. The coin was a rare one, centuries old, from his home planet of Efros. Rakin recognized this and thanked him before returning to his seat.

"Ensign Risdanach, the floor is yours," said the Admiral, and then took her seat.

A slightly uncomfortable pause.

"All I wanted was to become a doctor, and they had to go and make me an officer too," said Leronem finally to some chuckles. "I want to thank Admiral Iskossala for making sure there was sufficient pomp and ceremony for this illustrious occasion. She knows I wouldn't have it any other way. And it's nice that she was able to bribe or blackmail so many of you into coming. But honestly, it's great to see so many old familiar faces. It helps make mine seem less old. Not that I really mind the age. I may not be the youngest Ensign in Starfleet by a few decades, but I sure am the prettiest. And I still have some fight left in me, so the next one of you to call me 'sir' better know what you're asking for. I never know how to end a speech on the rare occasion that I'm forced to give one, so I'll leave you with an Efrosian benediction: Ris-tol vuthl mos, 'May your heart never freeze.'" Finished, Leronem sat down.

Admiral Iskossala rose and said, "Thank you, Ensign Risdanach. I have been asked to invite you all to join Ensign Risdanach for the traditional wetting-down party at the Iecur Club. He will be shipping off for his next assignment, so let's make sure to make it a night he'll either never forget or never remember. Dismissed."

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

The events of the wetting-down party were memorable, if a bit hazy. There had been drinking, and stories, and drinking, and singing, and drinking, and some harmless fighting, but mostly drinking. He even thought he remembered Myren, that is Admiral Iskossala, trying to kiss him; but he couldn't be sure. Maybe he had been trying to kiss her. Maybe it had been someone else. Maybe it had been a dream.

When he woke up the next day, he found himself suffering the classic symptoms of excessive alcohol consumption. He kept his eyes closed until he could get a handle on it. There was an odd humming or buzzing that he didn't remember being a standard part of the hangover experience, but nothing too troubling. Carefully, he got out of bed and moved to the door. He found it and it swooshed open much more quickly then he had expected. He found himself face to face with a young crewman who looked as though he had been about to call on him. "What are you doing here?" asked Leronem, a little too bruskly. "Did I do something last night that got me in trouble?"

The crewman looked at him apprehensively. "As to that, sir, I can't say."

"Don't call me 'sir!'" barked Leronem. "'Doc' will do fine; or 'Doctor' if you're feel the need."

"Yes, si..., um, Doctor. That is, I was told to give you a few hours notice before the rendezvous to, um, freshen up." At that moment, Leronem realized he was still wearing his dress uniform which smelled of all the alcohol that had been poured over him the previous evening.

"I don't have any rendezvous planned; I'm leaving Earth on a runabout this afternoon. That hardly leaves time for a rendezvous." It took a couple seconds, but before the crewman could respond Leronem's mind was finally able to catch up to the situation. "Except the whole schedule got shot to hell, as is customary in Starfleet, and I was unknowingly put on the runabout already. We've been flying for several hours now and the rendezvous you're talking about is with the USS Renegade, which will take me the rest of the way." The crewman looked relieved not to have to explain all that. "All right, fine. I assume that my gear also got stowed here and that I'll find a shower in the back."

The crewman nodded, "Yes, Doctor. Let me know if there's anything you need."

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

The trip to Deep Space Five was long and uneventful. Fortunately the Renegade was well-equipped to keep its crew and passengers occupied during its long voyages. Leronem spent a lot of time talking shop with the ship's medical staff and was able to use the holodeck to break in the Nausicaan sword he had recently received as a gift. Given the famed lack of Nausicaan subtlety, he had expected it to be a simple blade. But it was slightly cork-screwed and double-edged which made for unexpectedly interesting and engaging swordplay. When he reached the station, he had some hope of finding a Nausicaan to spar with, but there were none passing through the station while he waited for the arrival of the Galaxy.

When it did arrive, it had come from what sounded like a fairly intense encounter with the Borg. As his orders did not become effective for a few days, he elected to allow them some time to recuperate before making them deal with a new officer. The day before his orders were to be effective, he sent a communique to the XO of the Galaxy, requesting permission to come aboard and assume his post. He also sent one to the ship's chief medical officer, letting her know he was anxious to join the medical staff and requesting the appropriate lab space. He then sent a final message to the chief counselor to let him know that there would be one more psychiatrist on board, should the counseling department ever benefit from his help.

~Cutting Open the Universe~
The Return of Cutter Kara'nin

"Part III: The Descent"

Dr. Virgil Maro watched through the cockpit window as he and Bertrand Crow descended down the gravity well towards the black hole in a specially designed shuttle. Virgil was not much of a 'spacer,' as the term was commonly applied. He grew up on a planet, and he lived on a planet, but he had spent a great deal of time in space, in transit from on place to another. He specialized in the psychology of people stationed in the long term aboard far out space bases, among other places, so he had experienced a number of bizarre, lonely corners of the galaxy. He was comfortable in space.

But this black hole made him anxious in a way he had never felt before.

Out the cockpit window, there were no stars. There was no light. There was no warmth. There was only cold blackness. Deep and dark, blacker than any black he had ever seen. He had never before felt so separated, separated from the galaxy, separated from all other life. Never before had he felt so separated from God.

To his left, Bertrand Crow was humming softly, a cheerful tune.

"What do you think about living on a black hole," Virgil asked suddenly.

Bertrand stopped his humming, "Huh? Oh, y'know. Fine, I guess. It's just another job."

"You're not afraid?"

"Of what?" Bertrand asked sincerely.

"Of," Virgil started, then paused for moment to think. "Of the anti-grav generators failing and you falling into the black hole?"

"No," he laughed. "No, the chances of that happenin' are the same as the life support failin' in a Starbase. It's possible, I s'pose, but unlikely."

"What about the research? How do you feel about that?"

"I don't understand it," Bertrand said.

"You don't understand the point?" Virgil asked. He didn't. He didn't understand why these scientists were so obsessed with something so dangerous.

"No, I don't understand what they're researchin'. It's over my head. Well, I guess I don't understand the point, either. That's also over my head. I'm just here to make sure the computers run good."

Virgil and Bertrand sat quietly after that and they continued on their shuttle ride to the main station. And Virgil prayed again. Another simple prayer, assuring God he loved him and respected him and politely asking for his protection if anything should go wrong, and begging, if nothing else, to not be abandoned. He wondered if any of the scientists prayed.

He also wondered why he couldn't yet see the station. "Does the station have external lights?"

"Yeah," Bertrand smiled. "You wonderin' why you can't see it?"

"Yes."

"The lights get red shifted, 'cause of the intense gravity. If you had infrared eyes, you could see it, probably," he explained, surprisingly clearly, considering his claims to ignorance earlier. "It's fixin' to be visible in, oh, five minutes or so."

So, they sat quietly once more, and once more, Virgil stared out into the black. After several minutes, he could begin to see a slight red blur. And after a few moments more, he could begin to see detail - subtle shadows and highlights in the crimson haze. Slowly, before his eyes, the main science station was born from a pool of blood, and then it caught fire as the light wavelengths shifted to orange, and then to yellow. It was a remarkably demonic image, and the anxiety Virgil felt suddenly hardened to a stone of dread in his stomach.

"We call it the 'decent into Hell,'" Bertrand said suddenly.

"What?" Virgil asked, startled.

"The trip. We call it the 'decent into Hell,' 'cause of the way the station starts off red. Corbin's name, really. I kinda like it. It's pretty."

"Ah," Virgil said, silently, but strongly disagreeing. It most definitely was not 'pretty,' he thought as the station cooled and the light that illuminated it became white. It wasn't much longer before the station filled the cockpit window, sitting solemnly, as if ignorant of its bloody and violent appearance.

"SSAlpha, this is the Acheron," Bertrand spoke into the comm as they made their final approach, "requesting permission to land."

"Granted, Acheron," the voice spoke curtly. Before them, on the station, the docking bay door opened, and Virgil wondered if they would have to wait for repressurization again before he could leave. But, as soon as the shuttle touched ground, Bertrand reached up and flipped the toggle to open the shuttle door.

"Welcome to the 'hole, Doc," Bertrand said as he climbed out of his chair.

They exited the craft, Virgil had to get out first because the door was on his side, and Bertrand immediately walked around to the back to begin unloading the supplies they had brought down with them.

"Welcome, Mr. Maro," a short Indian man said, approaching them slowly. He walked with a heavy limp and a cane in his right hand. He was bald, but for a thin ring of wispy white hair around the side of his head. His eyes were deep set and mildly squinty. "I'm Dr. Rudra Brahman."

"Dr. Maro," he corrected. "Dr. Virgil Maro. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm sure," the old man said, though there was no courtesy in his voice. They stood in awkward silence for a moment while the old man considered the visiting psychologist. "You've come at an interesting time," he eventually said, the words slow and steady, but spoken seemingly with considerable effort. Virgil could not recall any speech impediments listed in the scientist's file. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall a limp either. Rudra Brahman was supposed to be in excellent health, but it was obvious that this was no longer the case.

"Oh?"

"We are about to initiate Dr. Kara'nin's personal project. We will be the first living things to peer inside a black hole."

The announcement struck Virgil with considerable dread. There was a reason why no one had ever done such a thing before, why it was so difficult. God had forbidden man from this part of the universe. To peer inside a black hole, to defy nature in such a way was an affront to God. "What do you hope to see?" he asked cautiously.

"That is the question, isn't it?" Rudra replied, turning. It seemed the welcome party was already over. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something that will force us to rewrite the laws of physics. Perhaps we'll even see God himself."

That was what Virgil was afraid of.

"I've arranged for you to meet with Dr. Kara'nin in two hours," Rudra said. "He is eager to get this 'examination' over with so he can concentrate on the final preparations. Once Bertrand is finished unloading the shuttle, I'm sure he will be happy to show you to your temporary quarters, so that you may rest."

And then Dr. Brahman slowly limped out of the docking bay.

"Tradition." Part One

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck Five***

Looking around the holographic re-creation she had selected for her ritual and prayers Kimberly sighed, somehow it just wasn't the same she decided. Holodecks, while okay just didn't seem to be the best of places for her occasional devotions. While there was the arboretum, there were times privacy was preferable and the arboretum always had someone wandering through it, day or night. The holodeck at least offered a measure of privacy.

The simulation was a simple one, a woodland glade set in summer time on Earth with a fresh clear stream running along one side. The trees around were all tall solid oaks, and their canopy around the glade would provide a cool shade from the warm sun above. Checking the position of the sun Kimberly guessed she had a couple of hours before the sun set, ~ Perhaps a bit too long. ~ "Computer, adjust local time, reset to half an hour to sunset," she asked. With an acknowledging beep the sun shifted in the sky until it was below the canopy of trees and the light in the glade dropped to a near twilight level.

Satisfied Kimberly walked over to a large flat rock that sat in the exact centre of the glade and started unpacking her bag. Placing candles, incense and other items onto it she turned to the nearby brook and carried her pack over. Carefully undressing she folded her clothes and tucked them under the pack then laid out some soap and oils and stepped into the cool stream.

Immersing herself in the stream she relaxed and let the cool water flow over her. After a moment she held her breath and slid under the water, floating in the gently flowing brook she tried to let the water wash away her tension and worries. Staying under for as long as was comfortable she drifted in the gentle current for a moment, emerging slowly she took a deep breath and stood in the waist deep water, then started to bathe at a slow and unhurried pace.

After she had finished washing she stepped out of the stream, picked up her towel and carefully dried herself, slowly combing her long hair back so it was flat against her scalp. Picking up the oil she had brought she started to gently apply it. Spending several minutes she relaxed in the simple ritual and let her mind wander as she rubbed the cool liquid onto her skin. Realising just how long it had been since she had relaxed this way and had the chance to actually pray properly she sighed and tried not to wonder what would happen next. Losing herself in her preparations she closed her eyes and worked by touch alone, letting her hands work the oil in slowly and gently.

Opening her eyes once she had finished with the oil she realised the sun had set and she was now in near total darkness. Looking up she saw the glow of the full moon illuminating the tops of the trees, an eerie and ghostly sight in the darkness, made even eerier due to the absence of woodland sounds, the only noises to be heard was the sound of her breathing and the breeze in the treetops, gently rustling the branches. Guessing she had perhaps half an hour before the moon rose enough to illuminate the glade entirely she packed her oil and soaps away by touch and walked carefully over to the stone in the middle of the glade. Again by touch she arrayed the candles and incense on the rock, as well as the other items she had brought with her. As she worked she shivered slightly as a cool gentle breeze caressed her bare skin in the darkness

Reassured by the feel of the familiar items before her she felt the symbols carved onto the candles and arranged them around the edge of the top of the rock and began the rest of her preparations for her devotions. Looking up she smiled as she saw the full moon starting to emerge from the canopy of trees, casting its soothing white light across the far side of the glade. Picking up a wrapped bundle she unfolded the cloth and pulled a dagger with a foot long blade from the folds of the material. Carefully polishing the silver blade, the jet handle and the icy blue pommel stone she set the cloth down on the altar and picked up a bowl. Stepping away from the stone she began to speak, walking deosil around the rock as she chanted, dipping the dagger into the liquid in the bowl and flicking the water on the ground as she went.

For the next five minutes the only sounds that were heard in the glade was the wind in the trees gently whispering in the darkness above and the sound of Kimberly's voice chanting and praying softly as she cast her circle and called upon the Elements and her Goddess.

After completing three circuits of the stone she returned to the rock and placed the bowl and the dagger between the candles and slowly lit all five, and with each lit candle came a prayer to each element and her Goddess again, softly but passionately intoned she immersed herself in the ritual, forgetting work, Starfleet, the ship and all other concerns she thought only of the here, the now and her faith.

Once each of the candles were lit , the incense was burning and an invocation had been said to all Kimberly stepped back a pace and knelt, crossing her arms and placing her hands on her collarbones she bowed her head and prayed.

"Hecate, I call thee, Witness this rite, Bless me with wisdom, Bestow me with light." "Hecate, I call thee, From underworld to sky, Mistress of all realms, Crossroads, to storm's eye."

"Hecate, I call thee, Wolf, dog and snake, Guardian of instinct, Titan, awake." "Hecate, I call thee, Witness of life, Keep the ways clear, In peace and through strife." "Hecate, I call thee, Witness this rite, Bless me with knowledge, To balance day and the night."

Falling silent she remained kneeling, listing to the beating of her heart and the soft gentle rhythm of her breathing. Thinking of a simple meditation she relaxed, illuminated only by the flickering light of the candles and the moon now overhead. Meditating for some time she lost herself in her thoughts, letting her mind drift where it would.

"What person in their right mind would leave the doors unlocked whilst running a program?" Dhani muttered to herself as the large doors closed behind her with a slight clank. ~Will have to get that looked at too!~ Dhanishta thought scathingly eying the door with a look of distaste. She had only been on board a short while and had already noted several systems that were in dire need of repair. In fact after the tenth major thing she added to the list followed by fifteen minor violations of health and safety protocols she stopped compiling said list, she was going to need a padd to do so properly and a month if not more to scour every part of the ship, and that month would be without sleep!

"Kimberly are you in here?" Dhani called out as she made her way through the holographic shrubbery, pushing low hanging branches out of her way as she walked blindly down the moon lit woodland track.

She couldn't help but tut as she walked, her head was full of future conversations she would be having soon. Every time she came back to the ship lately it was screwed in some fashion. True, she didn't know what the ship had been through but she was dammed sure in all her time serving as acting chief she never let it get this bad. Another prime example of why she should have been *on* the ship given the nature of the mission instead of on some poxy training mission to rescue a bunch of random people. Leaving a junior officer in charge Engineering when the odds logically lead to a confrontation with the Borg no less was … well it was so utterly *stupid* it was beyond her comprehension. She sighed, she had already been over this, and at the end of the day she was just an officer and officers had to follow orders - no matter how ridiculous they were.

After narrowly missing a fallen tree stump Dhani grinded her teeth. "Kimberly!" she hollered again her aggravation increasing, "Where the…" she paused as the tree line opened up to reveal a secluded glade. If she hadn't been so pissed off she would have taken a moment to stare in wonder at the beauty of the holo recreation, however her mind was firmly set upon finding her friend and taking out all her frustrations in a huge command griping bitch session about Proctor the dumb ass mission, Victor von death… (possibly omit that verse) the ridiculousness of Thral's pig, the confines of the ship she had to endure the utter indignation of meal times….

Oblivious to the approaching engineer Kimberly opened her eyes after a while and looked on the glade that was now almost completely lit by the high moon. Full in the sky it cast its soft light over the glade, leaving only the edge that was covered by the tree branches still in shadows.

Standing, Kimberly returned to the stone and picked up her dagger and bowl and again began circling the rock, chanting and casting water as she did so again with her dagger, but this time in a widdershins direction. After another three circuits she paused at her starting point and bowed to the stone and said clearly, "May the peace of the Goddess be in my heart and in my mind always. Blessed be."

~Goddess!?~ Dhani questioned silently as she watched her friend from the tree line, all thoughts of a major bitch session put on hold as she regarded her. ~Alrighty then!~ she said to herself upon seeing Kimberly waltz round a rock, chanting no less! She shrugged ~each to their own~ she mussed. She had to admit this was the first time she had seen Kimberly like…. this… Perhaps this would add a new depth to their friendship, as long as Kim didn't expect her to take part that was all fine. Dhani may have Betazoid blood in her veins yet nudity wasn't her thing.

It struck her then, when she realised she hadn't averted her eyes, nor had she made any attempt to shy away and leave, as would be the polite thing to do, that perhaps she had more Betazoid in her than she would like to admit. ~an analysis for another time~

"Kimberly?" she questioned taking a step closer, and only now, keeping her eyes away from Kim's exposed flesh, "Er… what ya doin?" her voice sing-songed with curiosity from the shadows.

"Marine Style"

First Lieutenant Branwen London
Marine XO

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine

**** Steven's New Quarters ****

"Hi," Steven said as the door opened. "Come in."

"Thanks." She gave him a quick hug. "It's good to see back in one piece." Branwen have been afraid to lose him as well on top of all the other veterans that had died during the mission. It was something she had not come to terms with completely yet. But she had to be strong around the troops.

"Oh, nothing much. Just thought that I should move back here. For the men. They need their command team close." It was all a lie, and he was pretty sure she knew that. It was too much of a coincidence that she was here for her not to know.

"I know. It's been tough on them again." She looked at him. "I just spoke to Faylin."

"Gee, what did she have to say for herself?" he asked as he indicated for her to take a seat in the lone chair in the room.

"I understand you guys are having trouble." Branwen said Hesitantly . "How are you?"

"You could say that. But if you've talked with her, you probably know more about why I'm in the dogbox that I do."

"Not really know. I thought you guys were so much in love." Bran was not completely honest but some things should not come from her.

"All I did was be a pawn in her sick game to capture the leader of some fanatical group." He didn't want to say too much as he wasn't sure just what he was allowed to say. "Suffice to say, after finding out she was alive and her saying she was back and wanting me in her life, she pushed me away faster than a speeding train."

"Maybe she is afraid you will be angry for using you?" She offered. "Have you really talked to her since you came back?"

"I can't tell what she really thinks. She doesn't seem to think I'm good or important enough for her to confide in. Besides, I told her I didn't care who she really was, or 'what' she was, that I loved her and wanted her in my life. And she tossed me out." He sighed as he sat on the bed, not noticing that the duffel bag moved as he sat.

Branwen sat next to him. "Give her some time. But we must make sure that you cope, okay. I need you, Steven."

"I gave her all the time in the world. Heck, she had the whole month or so that I thought she was dead, and yet the moment she pops back into my life, she bails."

"She might have some issues. I hope she speaks to someone." She had promised to. "Are you going to cope?" She remembered too well what had happened last time.

"She has more than a few issues. But I doubt she'd ever speak to someone. She barely gave me the time of day when we last saw each other. And no, I doubt I'm gonna cope well. I've been thinking of getting away fro a while. Not sure where, but I think I need to leave the Galaxy."

"Steven!" She said shocked. "Please no!" Was all she could say.

"I don't see much choice. She doesn't want me. And I can't get her out of my head. She haunts my dreams. She is in my thoughts when I wake up and when I go to bed. I don't know what else I can do."

"I.... I understand." Bran swallowed. She needed to be professional now and not think of her own needs. "Maybe... yeah some time away is good for you."

"Do you ever think about transferring to the Miranda? To be with him?" he asked, having heard a rumor ages before that she was in a relationship with a guy over there. "Would you do anything for him?"

"I... I guess so. I do miss him."

"He's a Marine right? Maybe he might transfer over here if you need someone to fill in for me. Just a thought."

"He is a superior officer, but it is a thought." She smiled. "I would still miss you."

"Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to do than talk to a Marine who was stupid enough to think that the woman of his dreams actually cared about him."

"No, that is my job remember." She said softly. "And you are my friend."

"We are still married as far as I am aware. I think that is something I'm gonna have to correct." Steven said with a shrug.

"Oh Steven." She ached for him. "I am so sorry, I know how much you love her."

"Yeah but how I feel doesn't rate with her at all. I guess I'm not very good at picking the right people to fall in love with."

She rubbed his shoulder not knowing what to say and how to help. "Don't forget you have friends who love you as well."

Steven squeezed her hand. "I know. I just thought she was the one." He sniffled, trying to fight back the tears that he knew wouldn't be long in streaming down his face.

"It's okay to cry." She whispered holding out her arms. She found it very hard not to cry herself.

Steven sighed. He didn't want to cry any more than he wanted to leave the ship. But given that he had been finding it hard to cope without her, and then to find her alive but wanting nothing to do with him had made his mind up for him. So when the tears began, he didn't resist. He just let them flow.

She just held him biting back her own tears and slowly rocked Steven back and forth so he could vent his emotions.

"You... might want... to look at finding... someone to... lead second platoon." His mind was made up. He was leaving the ship. There were too many reminders of her for him. Heck just seeing Saul or Zev in the hallways or in Ten Forward would send him off the deep end with his feelings for her flooding back. He had to get away; get a fresh start. It was the only way.

"yeah." No point in telling him there was no one else. "We will find someone."

Steven knew the pickings were slim. They had been managing with no one 'officially' leading First platoon for a while. "There are several good candidates from the senior NonCom's that could probably transition up to Lieutenant with little ease."

"Sure." He had no idea how many they had lost down on this last mission, how many 'I am so sorry to let you know' letters she was writing again. Bran didn't want to pressure him into staying against his will.

Steven tried to smile. "I hope I'm not putting you in a bind by leaving?"

"Of course not." She put a brave face on it. "Don't worry, we will be fine."

"Good. I don't want to make things worse for you." He smiled somewhat.

"It's okay. I am a tough Marine, remember." She tried to smile as well. But they both were not really up to it.

"As am I supposed to be. But here I am blubbering to you about something that I should have seen coming from day one and avoided. I guess we both need to toughen up a bit. Marine style, of course. Get in there with the men and go through some of the drills we make them do every day. It's been a while since I had a turn on the obstacle course." He grinned and patted his ever so slightly overweight belly. "I think I am in need of it."

Branwen certainly wasn't fat. After she was injured she had lost a lot of weight. But it had been a long time since she had been allowed to do practice full out and she was looking forward to it. "We will do that before you leave." She promised.

"Sounds good to me."

"Severing Ties"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas

Lieutenant Junior Grade Faylin McAlister

**** A Hallway ****

Steven walked along the hallway with a PADD in hand. Having spent the better part of an hour chatting with Bran, he had decided that what he was about to do was the right course of action. A few days before, when he had found out Faylin was alive, he wouldn't have dreamt of doing what he was about to, but given that she obviously didn't care about him anymore, and that she seemed to be sleeping with Raynor, he had chosen to sign the divorce papers that had been delivered and finally be free of the whole mess.

Even though it pained him to do so.

He stopped outside her door and raised his finger to press the chime. He paused, having second thoughts. Shaking his head a moment later, he pressed it.

"Yeah...enter." She called out as she came around the corner. The area on her shoulder still stung a little from the operation, but the prize sat in a jar of liquid on her desk. A constant reminder of just how much her father *loved* her.

"Hi," he said as she opened the door. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her standing there in that JAG tshirt of hers.

"Hey. What's up?" She responded.

"It seems we have different ideas of what 'needing to sort out the IS mess' means. I assumed it meant you needed to take a break and focus on that. I didn't realize it meant you wanted to take another man to your bed."

"What?" She stated between a few giggles. "Who did I devour this time without my knowledge?"

"So you didn't invite Zev Raynor to your bed the other night?" he asked.

"WHAT?!?!" She coughed out through a fit of laughter. "Zev??"

"So you haven't slept with him?"

"Oh honey no......He's as pure as the day he was born." She contained herself for a moment, then the thought struck her again and she chuckled. "Oh god...."

Steven shook his head. "Cause after the way you keep kicking me away it sure seems like you're eager to bed him."

"Oh yeah...I really want to add him to my list...right up there with you and Rex." She stated in a sarcastic tone.

"Gee, way to rub it in. I believe you wanted this back." He handed her the PADD.

He let her look it over while he reached up and took off his dogtags. Slipping the wedding ring from the chain, he placed his dogtags back on and held out the ring. "Since you obviously don't want me in your life anymore, this is also for you."

"I don't need it....do what you want to with it. Good day First Lt. Jonas." Faylin stated icily as she crossed her hands over her chest and waited for him to depart.

"Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to make you this way?"

Her head tilted slowly to the side, blinking once, her eyes resumed their nature yellow color. "It's the way I am Steven." Her voice was different, more natural to her species with an almost exotic accent to it. "You want to see what I really am? You never have?" She was tempting him, wondering if he would take the bait. "It's really quite disturbing to some races.....a hairless being, with large yellow eyes."

Steven sighed. "It doesn't really matter what I think or what I want. You've already decided that you don't want me in your life. That's pretty obvious with the way you kicked me to the curb the other day. So quit with your pathetic games Faylin. I gave you everything I had and you toyed with me, torturing me before throwing me away. If you really loved me, you would have been a little more loving and a little less heartless bitch."

"I am heartless and yes, I am indeed a bitch. However, what do you expect when I have the soul of a killer Steven? I don't change, I never will."

"The only reason you can't change, is cause you're too fucked up to want to try and change."

"Oh, thank you Mister Counselor." She spat.

He ignored her snide comment. "So what was the month or so before you faked your death? I thought you loved me. Was that all an act? Cause if it wasn't then why can't you try and be that Faylin again?"

"Cause I don't want to be that Faylin again. She was soft, weak, and especially so after Olivia died." Her voice became gravely with a sinister smile cemented on her lips. "Anything else?"

"Just to say thank you for completely wrecking my life. I won't wish you happyness , and a good life. You don't really deserve it." He dropped the ring onto the small table since she didn't want to take it and walked to the door. "Oh and if you want your mutt back, he's in the ship's kennels."

Resolving himself to what he had planned to do next, he smiled. "Goodbye Faylin. I'm leaving and I doubt we're going to ever meet again."

With that he turned and walked out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

"Girl Gone Wild!!"

With interstellar man of mystery Leo Streely, last seen manning the Captain's Chair on the USS Akira. (Two missions ago.) Two friggin missions ago? Has Joe really and truly slacked off that much? It's too cold for strip clubs! What the hell has he been doing, eh?

Also included are some wacky NPC's from the Navigation Department:

Lt. Otis "Hambone" Bisbee, Terran

Lt. Guff Rahkow, Dwarf

Lt. John Burton, Terran

Ensign Gydian, Hermat

Time: Just before the official kickoff of the next mission: "Road Not Taken"

Location: The Navigation Dome, Main Navigation, USS GALAXY

"If your Indian pal catches us in here, he's gonna tack our scalps to the wall of his wigwam. You know that, right?" Lt. Burton said, flipping the brim of his ever-present baseball cap.

Leo Streely simply waved his hand at the four officers, his golden pinky ring gleaming in the warm, ambient light of the Navigation Department's main office.

The ring, a 1/116th scale replica of Admiral Kirk's face, was what he though to be the perfect accessory to the ruby sequined Captain's uniform that he wore - open at the neck naturally to properly display his ever present medallions.

"Me and Raven are like this, OK?" the little man said embracing Ensign Gydian tightly, while not so subtly resting his hands upon hir behind.

The Hermat wrinkled hir nose at the nearly overpowering scent of "Hai Karate" that Leo had seemingly bathed in.

"Are you…policing a feel?" Gydian asked curiously.

"It's copping a feel, babe." Leo said with a sloppy grin. "Policing a feel takes two hands."

"I think I'm going to be sick." Rahkow grumbled, holding his stomach.

"I hate to break up the little love fest here but before you two start swapping spit, shouldn't we get down to business before someone catches us?" Burton said waving a strip of latinum.

"Besides that, I'm getting hungry again." Bisbee said.

Streely winked at the Hermat as though he had a hunk of Paklid fir caught under his eyelid and pocketed the latinum.

"I told ya, OK? You got nothin to worry about. I'm an official Starfleet Captain now. If anyone walks in, I'll just tell 'em that we're involved in a TOP SECRET training mission or something." He said confidently.

The Hermat squatted down on hir haunches.

"That brings up another point. Last anyone saw you, you were acting Captain aboard the USS AKIRA, systems shut down, playing dead while surrounded by Hydrans. Would you care to enlighten us a little as to how you managed to get out of that little mess?" Gydian asked.

Leo looked at his feet, suddenly humble.

"We'll I don't know. I don't like to brag and you know, there ARE matters of Fleet security…"

"I'll give you another strip of latinum." Burton said. "This should be good."

Leo's hand shot out and latched onto the money.

"So there we were, all systems shut down. Death and doom were eminent. Those damned Hydrans were slithering all around us. There was no way we would be able to fight our way to the safety of what was left of the fleet. It was at that moment, I uttered a two-word plan of escape. Two little words that my crack crew were able to turn into an ingenious maneuver that will forever be taught at the Academy as "The Streely Maneuver." He said, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Forward torpedoes?" Burton asked?

"Warp Nine?" Gydion said.

"Escape Pods?" Rahkow snorted.

"Lunch time?" Bisbee said, more reminding them of the time of day then anything else.

"Not even close. Instead I told them: OH SHIT."

The four stared at him in silence

"OK, OK, OK. When I gave the "Oh Shit" command, my science officer knew that I wanted to purge the waste matter replicators. As you know from when you were kids, shit can be set on fire, so we let loose the biggest bag of flaming dog doo that the galaxy had ever seen and when the Hydrans scrambled to deal with this unknown weapon, unsure of what effects it would have upon their ships, we hit the thrusters and got the hell outta Dodge."

"Flaming dog doo…" Burton said shaking his head. "Amazing."

"The Fleet thought so. They were so impressed with the way in which I saved over 700 lives that day that they made my Captaincy permanent. Held a big parade and everything. Now I'm here in my new position as Starfleet Heroism In Tactics Specialist. I'm sure they have an acronym they use but I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Even have my own official quarters in the Ambassadorial wing." Leo said.

Gydion put hir hand over hir mouth and suppressed an amused giggle.

"Sounds like a dirty job." S/he said.

"I ain't in it for the glory, toots. Now then, if you have no further questions…" Leo said gesturing to the open doorway leading to the unusually darkened Navigation dome. He took a strip of latinum from each of the four for admittance fee and then walked them all to the chairs he had set up.

They all took a seat and faced Leo who stood before them as some sort of perverted master of ceremonies.

"Gentleman and Hermats," he said winking again, "You have all seen her. You all know how god damn hot she is. Umm. Umm. Umm. Booya!!! Now I offer you a chance to see Chief Dakota Willis in her most intimate setting! Her very own room, where anything and everything can and WILL happen!! I give you…GIRL GONE WILD…brought to you by the one and only Captain Streely and the universe's largest IMAX Theater!!!"

With a press of a button, the Navigation dome, which usually was filled with a dizzying three dimensional holo-projection of space around the ship was now replaced with a larger then life holo-projection of Dakota Willis' bedroom.

And there, standing in nothing but a towel was a 16-foot image of the Navigation Departments buxom mechanic. She turned towards the adjacent doorway of the shower room, dropped the towel to reveal a perfectly tanned backside and sauntered casually into the steam.

"Do I deliver or what?!?!" Leo said with a smile, tucking the latinum in his pocket, eyes focused on the screen.

"Tradition." Part Two

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck Five***

"Kimberly?" she questioned taking a step closer, and only now, keeping her eyes away from Kim's exposed flesh, "Er… what ya doin?" her voice sing-songed with curiosity from the shadows.

Turning at the sound of the familiar voice behind her Kimberly smiled, pleased that Dhanishta was finally back. "Hey Dhani, welcome home," she greeted her friend as she saw Dhani's vague form in the tree line. "This?" she replied, indicating her surroundings, "I just felt the need to relax, pray and try to centre myself. I had a rather unpleasant chat a little while back with someone and it upset me a little." She said, running her hands through her drying hair to loosen it up.

Folding her arms across her chest Dhani kept to the tree line, there was a certain amount of foliage that, if she positioned herself just right, and Kimberly stayed where she was, prevented Dhani from seeing Kimberly's entire birthday suite and thus protected her modesty - at least a little… Dhani wouldn't tell her that she had stared at her in the buff for at least three minutes, that would be reserved for confessional or her last dying breath... although she failed to imagine a situation where she would want to confess that small morsel of information during her last moments in this existence… saying that she had never really though about 'how' she was going to die, nor when or who would be with her when that happened, again. After all lets face it - she had died several times and … she paused, bugger! Each time she had failed to give any memorable last words…. That was something that defiantly needed to be worked on for next time…

Tilting her head she looked at the leaves before her, twiddling one absently between her thumb and forefinger, "So, who do I have to kill this time?" she asked before realising that was an incredibly stupid thing to say given what happened on their last away mission together, quickly she rephrased; "Er who ticked you off?" she asked in a louder voice to cover for the earlier infraction.

Carefully picking up the dagger on the altar Kimberly wiped and polished the blade as she spoke, ensuring no moisture was left on it. Unconcerned at her state of dress, or lack of it, she continued talking as she cleaned the knife. "Well, no names I'm afraid, but I'm still kinda upset after a chat with a crew member a while back before Barzan. Some rather archaic attitudes toward my Faith that I thought our people had left behind a few centuries ago. It made me wonder if we are actually as tolerant to the unknown as we like to believe."

"Ah… I… see." Dhani replied slowly her focus not on the explanation at all as she kept her eyes trained on the dagger Kimberly so expertly handled. It gave her pause, she couldn't deny; this woman that, as far as she was aware touched no weapon of any sort, had her hand clasped around a rather large, rather sharp and extremely pointy dagger... or was it a small sword? She strained her eyes in the light to read the glyphs on the blade. Her head tilted as a frown of concentration and puzzlement crossed her features. She didn't recognise the writing style, nor did she recognise the construction of the ceremonial tool. How bizarre for a pacifist to handle such a thing, even if it was purely ceremonial, it was still a weapon, it could still harm someone, she shook her head. ~Totally hypocritical~ although she would perhaps share that thought another time; when Kimberly wasn't the one holding the dagger!

"Yeah, so anyway," Dhani began shifting her weight against the tree she was leaning on, "that 'training mission'," she air quoted, "I went on was …."

"It's, it's, Arrgghh!" Kimberly suddenly burst out.

Dhani flinched slightly. Pushing herself up on tiptoes she peered out from over the foliage screen and stared at Kimberly with raised expectant eyebrows.

"I wish I could tell you everything," she complained as she sat down on the grass with a thump and folded her legs under her, "but it was a counselling session so I can't say who. But someone said something very insulting about my Faith…." Taking a deep breath she started talking without waiting for an answer, gesturing occasionally with her arms and hands (and dagger) as she spoke to emphasis certain words. "On Earth, a long time ago people who believed as I do, Witches and Pagans, suffered because of ignorance and religious intolerance for centuries. But the reaction I got from he… this crew member belongs in the Dark Ages, I mean, we're supposed to be better than that right?" she asked, her voice rising somewhat at the end of the statement.

"Er... right." Dhani replied glad that she had kept her distance; Kimberly was waving that knife around as if it were an extension of her hand! Crikey she could have her *own* eye out with that!

Looking at Dhani's confused face as she rambled on she realised she was making no sense whatsoever to the perplexed looking engineer. "On Earth, over two thousand years ago a religious group emerged that slowly spread, becoming one of the dominant belief systems on the planet. It's called christianity. But the followers of this faith at that point were not as pleasant as most are today. There was a time on Earth, called the 'Dark Ages' which were actually caused by these early christians!" Sounding angry at the mere memory she started playing with her hair as she spoke, twisting one lock violently as she continued, wrapping it around one finger so tightly it seemed to cut the blood supply to the unoffending digit. "A time where anyone who spoke out contrary to their religious beliefs was persecuted, mutilated or out right burned at the stake. Science was suppressed; followers of different beliefs were persecuted and killed. Anyone who spoke out against their Frelling misogynistic views was hounded until they recanted or they died. Frequently the latter"

Dhani stepped forward and out from the shadows. The frown still etched across her face, her focus still on something other than the words. Tentatively she stepped forward, still wary of the knife that her pacifist friend possessed. Crossing the green she knelt beside Kimberly, "May I?" she questioned reaching out to take the knife from her.

Looking at Dhanishta with a raised eyebrow Kimberly thought for a second as two things passed through her mind. One, was that the Athame was a blessed and consecrated blade she used for her devotions, and there were those she knew who would let no one touch their consecrated tools. But this was her friend, and if she couldn't trust her, whom could she trust. The other thought was less of a personal debate and more one of ~ What 'has' she done to her hair! ~ as she finally got a good look at Dhanishta in the pale moonlight, ~ A 'nose' ring? What the… ~ Carefully reversing the blade she offered the large knife to Dhani slowly, her eyes though briefly taking in the recent changes in her friends appearance.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she gently took the blade from Kimberly she closed her eyes as she set it down on the rock that Kim had been using for what she presumed was an alter, thankful to 'whoever' that Kim had relinquished the blade without a fight. For a moment she took a second to regard the inscription upon it, memorising it for analysis later. She wondered about the prejudice Kim spoke of. Had she been anyone else, she herself may have balked at the vision she had entered into, turned and left with her impression of the CMO tainted. After a second she shook her head - that would never happen. Well maybe if she walked in on a ritual sacrifice… again she shook her head, ~nope done that once… wasn't an issue really…~ she shook her head and shrugged. She had seen a great many things in her life, there was little that surprised her, or offended.

"What happened?" Dhani enquired further as she sat down next to Kimberly offering her hand in support. This topic clearly agitated the normally serene and calm CMO. Dhani felt a small smile appear across her face, it was nice to see Kim talk with such passion. Even if the topic made her angry and upset, still she had a faith. Dhanishta had never known this. And while Dhani bequeathed to no 'God', she understood the nature of belief in a 'higher power'; faith could be good, if used correctly.

Taking the offered hand Kimberly held onto it as if it were a lifeline, gripping her hand tightly. "Before catholicism was adopted as the official religion by the Roman Empire, one of the major powers on the planet at that point, there were earlier empires like the Egyptians and the Greeks, and they were the source of a veritable wealth of knowledge, and many infamous people from that time are looked up to as visionaries and the founders of their fields of study in today's society. People like Hypatia, Pythagoras, Thales, Eratosthenes, Hippocrates, Pergamom, Aristarchus, Copernicus, Theodoras, Epicurus, Zeno, Anaximander, Anaxagoras, Empedocies, Democritus, Archimedes, Ictinus, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Quintillan, Galileo.... to name just a few. Each of them was branded as a heretic, and some of them were even murdered."

~Murdered?~ Dhani raised an eyebrow. Again though, she smiled, she had studied several religions in her time, being raised by Vulcans, Trill's, Klingons and having immersed herself in Terran cultures when she was at the Academy she understood the history of many faiths. All of them had that same trait. It wasn't new, it never would be. Religious persecution was rife throughout the history of so many worlds she wondered why it insulted Kimberly so now. These were the faults of her forefathers, her ancestors, they were not relevant in this age, except to learn from she supposed. It was defiantly wise to keep in mind the horrors of the past to make sure that they never happened again. Though she had to be honest, she was slightly lost as to why Kim was dredging up these crimes of the past.

Oblivious to the look on Dhani's face Kimberly continued, letting all her pent up frustration flow out. "But these are the founders of such things as mathematics, geometry, philosophy, and medicine on Earth… Yet these people were seen as heretics?" She asked with no small amount of confusion and frustration in her voice.

Dhani nodded along as Kim talked, still slightly confused to the nature of the conversation. Was there something she was supposed to say at this juncture? She shrugged for a moment compiling some sort of reply. "Kim," she said gently taking her hand, "I understand, in part. Yet you have to remember that these things are in the past. The persecution that your people suffered was centuries ago. In the 24th century people don't think like that anymore. Terrans have come a long way from those routs of barbarianism; open-mindedness is part of the core ethics of the Federation."

"These things you describe," Dhani continued softly, "they happened so long ago, and you have to remember that Terran opinions at that time were vastly different. Ignorant to a point, there was a time when the greatest minds of your world thought that your planet was flat, that it was the centre of the Sol System!" she paused to let that ridiculous fact sink in.

"I studied Earth's history when I was at the Academy; I was enthralled with its diversity and the many religions that sprung out from one race. Every continent had its own way, each denomination separate from the next. Earth was a savage place. They had no concept of the universe that surrounded them, they can not be faulted for that, they didn't know what they know now. There was a time, if I recall that the human body was sacred; a temple, a work of 'god', to cut it open to see how it worked was an abomination. There are still cultures through out the galaxy that still believe this. The things that were unexplainable were work of the devil for they had no comprehension of it and that scared them. Rulers of such disjointed lands have to find some way to bring the people together, to unite them as one, to that end some became sadistic dictators, others used religion to repress the population, to keep them from revolting, Kimberly," Dhani paused for a beat, looking into Kim's eyes, squeezing her hand to attract her full attention, "these are all in the past, you know as well as I do that no one within the Federation still thinks like that."

Dhani reached up and tucked a lose strand of Kim's hair back into place, "And especially members of Starfleet. For crying out loud diversity is like integral to Starfleet! Unbiased tolerance is well, it's part of the Academy Code of Conduct for crying out loud. 'Cadets respect the culture of all beings. They are not prejudiced.'" she quoted from memory, "How many mornings did we recite that in front of the UFP flag. Eh?" she asked with a smirk combined with a gentle nudge.

Looking about as angry as Dhani had ever seen her, Kimberly sat there on the grass and angrily started tearing up the grass and tossing it into the breeze, "But that's just it, it was some 'fahrbot' on 'this' ship who called 'me' a heretic, and accused 'me' of practising black magic, and actually having the affront and the frelling 'gall' to say that 'I' will go to 'hell'!" she snapped hotly as she started digging up the roots of the holographic grass, seemingly intent on destroying the hapless simulation out of sheer frustration.

Dhani's eyebrows raised and her lips formed a perfect little 'o' as she stared at the grass that flittered to Kimberly's feet in a stunned silence. "Huh!" was all she could reply with as her frown deepened.

"business affairs" part 1
by captain Trulan aka Turan Trelar
Ortuk aka sgt Thral

npc Julian, servant and guide grand marshal Agatha

with an unauthorized appearance of Sanguinus Ephral Templar aka Lt. JG DarkSky
and Utopia Lain aka Lt. Savant

The two traders, their bodyguard, and of course their private servant followed the guide through several hallways, obviously designed to fulfill one purpose - to intimidate. Those hallways were indeed impressing pieces of interior architecture. At least two times the height of Trulan - the tallest of the three visitors, the walls covered with ornaments, borders and frames made of a transparent yellow-orange stuff did its best to make those halls a really impressive experience.

The guide stopped in front of a door and knocked.

"Come in!" a female voice ordered.

The guide opened the door and entered. Compared to the halls the visitors walked seconds before the large office room was rather barely equipped. The room was empty besides a group of chairs, a room-high shelf and a giant desk in the rear edge. A uniformed woman sat behind the giant desk doing some paperwork.

The guide cleared his throat. To make the woman look up from her work.

"What's the matter, Julian?" she asked the guide.

"Visitors, Ma'am Grand Marshal" declared the guide "Captain Trulan of the Novela brotherhood and his partner ..." Julian stopped in mid-sentence. How was his name? Nervously the guide turned around to glance at the three visitors.

"Templar" whispered Trulan.

"... and his partner Mr Templar" Julian continued the introduction of the three visitors. "they requested to meet you in business affairs they didn't further explain."

The Grand Marshal closed her pen and laid it into a rectangular coffer on the right side of her desk.

"Send them in!" she ordered Julian.

Without waiting for the guide, Trulan stepped in.

The Grand Marshal gracefully waved her hand to point at the group of chairs. "Take a seat" she offered.

Thral grunted and took up a position behind the desk all the time looking for hidden security measures, extra guards, and that sort of thing. He had a feeling this Agatha was the type to take such precautions and he was dead on. It didn't take him long to find the sniper in the building across the street. Clever, but not clever enough.

Movement in the shadows to Thral's left caught his attention next. In the corner, half hidden behind one of the room's billowy curtains, a man reclined against the wall, arms crossed nonchalantly. Most of his body was hidden by the draped fabric, but one could easily tell he was tall, muscular, and carried himself with quite a bit of self confidence. The ridges on his nose and the silvery glint from his right ear clearly marked him as Bajoran.

Seeing that he had been noticed, the Bajoran turned towards Thral and grinned, then abruptly disappeared behind the curtain. The fabric rustled and a second later a soft click could be heard, the sound of a hidden door being closed.

Trulan sat down on the center chair and pointed at his feet to make Lain kneel. The movement behind the curtain hadn't been unnoticed by Quentite captain. Glancing at Thral he found a pair of eyes pointing at something outside the office window. Trulan decide to try a shoot in the dark.

"As I realize you have taken measures to avoid being the fooled one in the end. I must admit I prefer business partners who handle things with a certain degree of precaution. I myself use to take out an insurance, too, before I meet a new customer or supplier for the first time." he declared.

The grand marshal laughed. "I excuse for the incompetence of my staff. They were ordered to be vigilant not to behave like a targ in a pottery manufacture. As they say: 'don't distrust you neighbor but lock your door." she replied, crossed her legs and continued "So you are here to found a business relationship with Ivor? What kind of business?"

"My partner Mr Templar and I run a recreational facility on Pendara II. Our Customers come from virtually all edges of the known universe. The project is steadily growing so I was forced to acquire new suppliers for our business' most needed good. We are searching for manware - I don't like the word slave - to meet my customer's extraordinary needs and wishes." explained the Quentite giant. "I was told you sometimes sell surplus manware."

Agatha stood up from her chair to walk over to the office's window. For an instant she seemed to search for something or someone outside then turned around to ask: "May I ask who told you I could provide you with the ware you search for?"

"Sorry, but you may understand It's essential for my business to protect my informants" Trulan excused. He tried to look cool and superior. It was essential not to leave the narrow path through the swamp of unknown answers. Sometimes it was much easier not to answer than to cause further questions by giving answers not satisfying the interviewer.

Agatha sat back down. Obviously she wasn't able to read Trulan's facial expression. Even if she was - the Quentite trained hard to provide the expression needed.

"Assumed I would possess the ware you search for. What kind of manware are you searching for? Which race? Which gender? Any special requirements?" asked Agatha.

"It's not a question of race or heritage. There is a market for almost every race you may think of. Our Bajoran guest for example enjoy to be served by Cardassian servants. Some females like to be treated rudely by Klingon males. Terran males love to be massaged by Betazoids. I ... we are searching for individual with a certain degree of intelligence and eloquence. There is no special need for them to be of special physical strength." Trulan answered.

Agatha thought for a moment, took the padd from her desk and scrolled over the display. "Probably I can offer you some interesting recently arrived life stock. I have to make a few calls so I can present you the best choices tomorrow." she offered.

"Maybe we can cut long things short, Grand Marshal" offered Trulan "give us a list of the manware you can spare and we well choose the candidates who meet our needs."

"As you wish" answered Agatha, again manipulated the padd then handed it over to Trulan who immediately passed it to Templar. "I prefer to relay on your experience and instinct to choose the best ones"

Templar scrolled through the catalog of profiles and occasionally marked entries. He nodded - satisfied with the choices he made - and of course the fact all the 'life stock' they were here for were on the list.

"So what do you think about this offer?" asked Trulan, took the padd back, wrote digits put it back on the desk and pushed it back towards the grand marshal.

Agatha thought for a moment, then nodded. "Most of the slaves of your choice are somewhere nearby. There are three of them employed on a far edge of then planet. It will take some time to get them here. To short your waiting time I would like to invite you for dinner."

"Healing Hands"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine

Lt.Cmdr Vladimir Malgin
Chief Surgeon

**** Sickbay ****

Steven cautiously entered sickbay. He was tingling all over and his heart was racing a hell of a lot faster than normal. And it wasn't because of a loss of blood, but rather his fear of Sickbay's. Of course, had he not been so stupid as to do what he did after leaving Faylin's quarters, he wouldn't have needed to be there in the first place.

Clutching one hand in the other, he was trying not to let the blood drip to the floor. Spotting an empty biobed, he walked over and climbed onto it awaiting someone to come and repair the damage he did to his hand.

He should have been alarmed, by the silence amongst the personnel, scattered in sickbay, in which he could easily hear his own breath. But feelings didn't serve the marine well. If they did, he'd keep off the sickbay in this shift's time even with his spine torn off or head disembodied. One of nurses, have shot a quick glance on the newcomer. And when Steven intercepted that glance, he could swear, there was a pity in it. Pity for him.

"Oh, very fine!" came a strong voice from the back, "Should have guessed, that shift won't pass smoothly. Marine!"

"Steven Jonas, sir" he said identifying himself.

"I am really very happy to get to know your name," Doc replied quite mockingly, "Now, if your would please, state the problem, which brought you here..."

Steven held out his hand in response. Bloodied and swollen, his hand looked more like ground beef than anything else. "I kind of slammed it into a wall." he said in way of explanation.

Chief Surgeon took a few examining glances at hand. "Perhaps, you'd inform me WHY have you been slamming your hand into a wall? Wall is made of tough material and is not recommended for boxing sessions. Thought marines know it..."

Despite the same mocking tone, Vladimir made few barely identifiable gestures to nurses, which nodded and walked away.

"Um... It's kinda personal. Someone made me mad, and I lashed out at the wall." He tried to smile weakly, but the pain was too intense. "I think the wall came off second best."

"Next time, when you are too angry at something, better go to holodeck or via airlocks to the open space. Saves engineering from repairing walls and medical from repairing people's appendages." Russian accent sounded quite definitely here. Both in tone and the style. Nevertheless, actions, which Doc applied, were swift and professional. As if hands belonged to other person, than voice. Few quick passes with tricorder, strangely careful palpation...

Steven nodded. "I'll try and remember that next time." He doubted that there would be a next time seeing as he wasn't likely to ever see her again. Though, to Steven, never was too soon a time for him.

"It is gonna hurt a little bit," announced Vladimir in a little more kind voice (apparently because marine didn't argue), then made a quick move on the hand with some little machine.

It hurt like hell already, so Steven doubted that he could inflict any more pain. He was wrong. The intense pain shot up his arm sharply. He drew in a sharp breath but forced himself to hold in the growl of anger that threatened to escape.

"Just sit back and relax! Breathe deeply!" sadistic doctor commented, his hands doing all the magic, "Just few more times, and the painful part is done with! Well, almost..." Few more of those actions (hell, Doc seemed to get pleasure!) and squeech of the machine ended. Moment later a hypospray injection let hand celebrate the end of the torture. Pain receded. "Well, just few more non-painful actions, and you are done with. Say, didn't you enjoy this session, marine?"

"Not particularly, but then, I hate sickbays... Just an old phobia." He lay back, waiting for the repair to be done.

"Marine afraid of pain and patching up wounds? Nonsense....... Well, try to use this hand of your as little as possible in nearest few days. And even if you use it, try to direct actions not on a wall, but on something softer."

Steven smiled. "I'll try and remember that. And no, I'm not afraid of pain. I just hate needles and being poked and prodded un-necessarily."

"Unnecessarily? We never do anything unnecessarily. If you didn't want yourself to be treated, you just might have not came here!"

"Eh... In this case I needed help. But I guess I'm just nervous seeing needles and the like enter my body."

"Let's just agree, that you won't let bullets, knives or energy-based weapons into your body in future, and count, that you've payed the bill." Vladimir patted marine on the shoulder and added with almost the same tone as in the beginning. "Now get moving!"

Steven nodded as he looked down at his repaired hand. "Thanks. I'll try and not get wounded in the future." He turned and walked out, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't wanted to know more about why he had smashed his hand against the wall.

"Tradition" Part Three

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck 5***

Dhani's eyebrows raised and her lips formed a perfect little 'o' as she stared at the grass that flittered to Kimberly's feet in a stunned silence. "Huh!" was all she could reply with as her frown deepened.

"I should'a let her have it there and then, but managed to stay professional," Kimberly muttered with regret, now digging a small hole in the dirt, picking out stones and throwing them into the nearby brook. Looking up at Dhani she continued, not even noticing, or caring right now if she had been about to say anything, "Let me tell you something, First, there is 'No Such Thing as Black Magic!'." she snapped, "It's a myth on Earth, a fairy tale created by the uninformed who didn't know what they were talking about."

Dhani nodded in reply, there was no point informing her that she already knew that. What Kim didn't realise was that Dhani knew a great deal about the faiths of the quadrant. In fact she had done several papers about the differences and similarities to many cultures and religious beliefs spreading through out the galaxy, in fact one paper she wrote on the similarities between the Vulcans and Klingons was submitted along with her application to Starfleet!

There was a lot that Kim didn't know about Dhani, and for the first time she realised that there was a hell of a lot she didn't know about the CMO. She had spent so long trying to keep her distance from her, so long fighting with her on certain topics that she had yet to realise or come to appreciate the depths of the woman that was sat before her. Mentally Dhani chided her own narrow mindedness and her selfishness to not only deny herself from becoming close to another but for denying Kimberly that as well. For some reason Kimberly had formed a fondness towards Dhani, though she really couldn't fathom why given her reactions towards everything and her still ever changing temperament, yet that bond was there and she would be a fool to walk away from it.

"Next, I have no intention of going to hell, as there is no such place. The concept of a hell where the damned souls go to was another creation of christianity, a means of trying to keep their followers in line by saying 'Be good or you will spend eternity dammed in the pits of hell being tortured for all eternity! Pathetic Tzao gao!" she spat, "as is the fact that this mythical 'hell' is supposedly ruled over by the 'devil'. Another fictional creation!" She snapped with a note of tense disbelief in her voice. "The devil that is portrayed in the christian faith is actually taken from a picture of the Pagan God: Pan. And why! Because the early christians wanted to convert the Pagans to their faith, and so to help do that they made out that Paganism was evil, they took the image of Pan and perverted it into their devil. They set about persecuting and murdering those that continued to worship Pan, and the other Deities, as 'heretics'."

Dhani took Kimberly's hand again, now that she had stopped gesturing widely with it, covering it with her own she clasped it and offered up a smile of understanding.

Taking her hand gratefully she held onto it with both of hers for a moment. "And it wasn't my Faith that turned the word inquisition from its original meaning into something people feared to hear! The word inquisition is from the Latin word inquisitio, it means basically to enquire. But because of 'them', it's now remembered and used mainly in association with the religious zealots who judged heresy against christianity."

Looking around the glade Kimberly waved her arm around to indicate the setting, "Look around." she asked Dhani. "This is a simple ritual I hold each lunar month. I relax, I pray to my Goddess and spend some time meditating and praying. To the strict and blinkered idiots that were around then said it was blasphemous, because I chose to believe differently. Do you know the sort of things they used to do to people? To test if they were a Witch?" She asked, and then continued, again without waiting for a response, "A common test was to tie the hands and feet of their suspect, and sometimes they'd even stick them in a bag, then they'd throw her into deep water. The idea? The idea was that if the person managed to float, then they had the Devil's help. That person was then guilty of witchcraft. If the person couldn't float then she was innocent, the problem there was your innocence was proven by your death by drowning! And if you were guilty! Hanging or burning at the stake. Kind of a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation really." she muttered with disdain.

"Also," Dhani interjected solemnly, "the human body has a tendency to float."

"Exactly, that is the idiocy that my ancestors had to deal with, and it's an attitude that should have disappeared centuries ago. I am a Witch, a Pagan and a Heathen, my Faith is centred around the seasons and the cycle of Mother Earth. I believe in a Goddess, a God and the Elements. The basic rede of my Faith says 'An it harm none, do what ye will', and yet we have to put up with gos-se like her xenophobic, moronic stupidity! Xenophobia is not a trait you should see in a Starfleet officer, we've all been to the Academy, ignorant, backwards, bigoted views like that should be a thing of the past."

"Agreed." Dhani replied turning to envelop Kimberly in a reassuring hug. "No one should ever suffer religious persecution or be tried under the confines of another persons doctrines." she stroked Kimberly's hair gently in an attempt to sooth her. She had to completely agree on every account, and was totally shocked that a Starfleet officer would act in such a way.

Taking a deep breath Kimberly let herself be held in the warm embrace for a moment, trying to stop the shaking she was feeling in the pit of her stomach from spreading, and let her eyes rise to look at Dhani, ~ Dreadlocks??? ~ she realised now she was closer, ~ Girl, what 'have' you been up to? ~ she thought curiously. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't rant at you. It's not your fault, and you're probably not that interested in ancient Earth religious beliefs are you." she asked, a little late. "It just upsets me that someone in this day and age would still have such an outmoded attitude to something that has been generally accepted for centuries. Perhaps I should take some of my own advice and be a little more tolerant of her beliefs, but it just angers me that someone who grew up on Earth, a planet that has pulled itself out of three world wars and is now the seat of the Federation government itself, can still dredge up such an antiquated 'Ai ya' attitude."

Dhani nodded blowing excess air out through pursed lips. She had never seen Kimberly this agitated, this upset, this hurt… "Kim," Dhani called softly, keeping her eyes staring out across the moon lit glade, lest she saw the expression in her face and realised the pain she felt that her closest friend had been insulted in such a manor and there for what she was contemplating doing in retaliation, "who said that to you?" she enquired innocently, keeping her body language submissive and slightly disinterested in an attempt to hide the nature of the question, so that Kimberly would answer without hesitation, before her brain completely processed the question and the possible consequences of answering it.

Shaking her head gently Kimberly found herself wishing for a moment she could let it all out, but there was a part of her, the professional within that reminded her about client-counsellor confidentiality. "I'm sorry, I can't say," she apologised. "Though believe me when I say I truly wish I could!"

"Kimberly!" Dhanishta said in a low tone, her dark eyes turning towards her, indicating that she wasn't going to take that as her final answer.

"Dhanishta, I really wish I could." Kimberly replied with a sigh. "But there are some lines I cannot cross. No matter how much I wish I could. This crewmember and I will have to work this out between us. I can't. I'm sorry. It hasn't really been a problem since we spoke anyway, I've managed to avoid her since."

Dhanishta shot Kim a look of disapproval, "You have avoided her since, and that's your solution to the problem?" she rolled her eyes, how many times had she done that and been told that was not the way to handle things? She shook her head, "It doesn't matter." she said with a wave of her hand indicating that question was void. "When did this happen anyway?" she asked instead.

"Uh, a little before the mission to Barzan. Almost a month ago now." She admitted absently. Her mind still on the conversation she'd had all those weeks ago.

"So you have been keeping this bottled up since then?" she questioned standing up frowning, "Not to mention avoiding a fellow officer… for a month!? Kimberly…" she emphasised, "now even I know that's not the way to handle that!"

"Well it's not been difficult. There's been a lot going on, I've had work, she's had her work." Kimberly explained simply, looking up at Dhanishta she shrugged. "It was either avoid her or have an argument about this. I haven't had the chance to relax, calm down and think it through. Gos-se, I'm still pissed at her." she admitted, "So I'm just not ready to sort this with her just yet."

"Yeah, instead you let it drive you nuts!" Dhani chided, then she kicked herself. Okay how come she could dish out the advice, yet couldn't take it herself?

"Thank you for that astute diagnosis," Kimberly said wryly as she stood as well and returned to the altar. Slowly extinguishing the candles she started packing her belongings away she looked over her shoulder at Dhani. "I'll deal with her. Sooner or later," she said flatly. "But only after I've calmed down a bit more, it still irks me, her attitude that is. I'd rather talk to her with a clear head than be totally pissed at her."

Dhani followed Kim with her eyes as she collected her things, ignoring the irony of the role reversal and the somewhat biting comment about the 'diagnosis'! "Ya know what Kim? Maybe you should be pissed at her. And perhaps you should shout at her, let her know how her words made you feel." Stepping forward she grabbed Kimberly's, arm forcing her to stop packing up for a moment, "Kimberly this woman insulted you." she said staring into Kim's eyes, "This woman is a Starfleet officer that should know better. Four years Kimberly, in fact for me it was six, but anyway; four years we spent at the Academy, we all took the oath of a Starfleet Officer and we all made a promise to adhere to it at all times whether on duty or not. I can still recite the dammed thing from memory, cant you?"

"Of course I can," Kimberly replied, looking Dhanishta in the eye. "I memorised it like we all had to, and I understand it. And yes, I know that it's one of the first things we're taught, and supposed to respect. I'll deal with this when I'm ready to, when I can talk to her without wanting to just swear at her. It's been bugging me, yes." she admitted honestly, "But there've been a few more important things to deal with."

"She has violated that…. Report her!" Dhani finished exasperated flapping her arms against her side. For a second she wondered why she felt so strongly about this, why she was getting so wrapped up in a problem that wasn't hers, one that had nothing to do with her. And she was also curious as to why she had the urge to fight this battle for Kimberly. She stepped back from her, blinking slightly, confused over that fact that she was acting incredibly illogically. Then she wondered when the last time it was that she actually followed logic. She sighed, it was an easier time in those days… she longed to be the person she was, missed the simplicity, the certainty and the clarity of her decision making abilities.

"Report her…" Pausing Kimberly let that thought flow through her for a moment, then shrugged. "Possibly, but right now, it'd be far more satisfying to tear her down a notch or two personally and be able to sit there, focus my anger and let her have directly from myself." she admitted with an almost evil grin, "Far more satisfying. And besides, she pissed 'me' off. I haven't had the luxury of dealing with this yet, and when I do I want to be able to say what I feel without her having anything to complain about after."

"Simulacrum"

Ensign Keldan, Operations Officer, USS Galaxy
Ensign Tara Freeman, former Medical Officer, USS Concorde

Location: USS Galaxy, Crew Quarters, Deck 14

"Hello Kel."

Keldan stopped a moment as he entered his quarters. He still wasn't used to having to share his space with anyone, and truth be told he kind of resented it.

Tara lay prostrate on the couch, flipping through Kel's sketch book, the exact same pose that she always greeted him with when he finished a duty shift. She had never made the slightest mention of the numerous sketches that he'd done of her, but then, he supposed she didn't have to. She probably wouldn't be here now if she didn't have some idea of how he felt for her.

"You know, if you are going to insist on hanging around," he said, "the least you could do is tidy up the place while I'm gone." He walked toward the bedroom while pulling his uniform jacket off and casually tossing it toward the bed. Pulling his shirt over his head, he turned around to find Tara waiting at his bedroom door, staring at him as he donned a shirt with a little less starch in the collar. "Where I come from it's a woman's place to make a man feel relaxed and respected when he enters his domain."

"Then I guess I should consider myself fortunate that I was born on Earth, where men pick up their own socks…at least, most of the time." She smiled widely, trying to lighten his serious tone. "But you know what would be really interesting? If you could take Highlord Bolvar of Talaria III, and Mistress Biata of Angel I, and force them to share living quarters for a day. I bet sales from the holorecording would amass a small fortune."

"Unless they killed each other."

"Especially if they killed each other." Her mirth faded. "What, don't I even get a smile today? What's the matter? Rough shift in Operations?"

He wasn't in the mood. "What do you want from me, Tara?" The words had come out a bit angrier than he had intended, but he was tired of her playing games with him. "You've been playing these games with me for months and I tire of it. It has to stop."

She smirked at him. "It will stop. When the time is right." She moved over and sat on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed. "So, tell me. What happened today?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened today that didn't happen yesterday or the day before."

"Lieutenant Jamson giving you a hard time?"

"No, quite the opposite. Taking assignment of all the logistical duties onboard has been thoroughly engaging and challenging. I look forward to my work. You may have noticed I've logged my share of double duty shifts the past few weeks."

"In other words," she replied, "it doesn't leave you a lot of time to think about other things." When he didn't respond, she continued. "The mission is almost over though, is that what is worrying you? Kel, please, talk to me."

"What is there to say? The mission IS over. We'll be returning to Deep Space 5 soon, and I'll be facing a formal inquiry. Several, actually. One by Temporal Affairs to find out exactly what happened when Michael and I took our little trip to the future. And Starfleet Intelligence still has a lot of unanswered questions about how it was exactly that we wound up below the Romulan capital possessing intelligence regarding a threat to blow up Ambassador Spock and the entire Romulan Senate. You will forgive me if I am tired of answering people's questions about my involvement. I didn't ask to be involved in any of those things. I was 'taken for a ride' and didn't have any choices in the matter."

"And what about us? Have you told anybody onboard Galaxy what happened to you on ch'Rihan after you left the T'Kengra and attacked the Hammer of Absolution?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Geez, Kel, you are such a liar."

Keldan smirked. "Well, let's see. Why don't I walk down to Commander Elessidil's office right now? 'Oh, hell-O Brian. I just wanted to come down and let you know that several months ago while I was on ch'Rihan, I suffered a psychotic episode. It was SUCH an exhilarating experience. But not only that, I am happy to report that it has turned into the gift that keeps on giving! Since then I have been regularly seeing the image of a dead medical officer from the USS Concorde. But it's okay, you see, because she only shows up to offer me moral support and encouragement when I'm feeling really depressed. So, you see, I haven't really needed the services of the Counseling Department.' Yeah. I'm sure that'd really fly with them."

"They would be able to help, Kel."

"No, Tara. They would for all intents and purposes be able to end my career with Starfleet, and that's all. Nobody suspects anything yet. Jamson seems pleased with my work performance, and that is all that is important to me. Nobody knows what happened on ch'Rihan after we left the T'Kengra and I was separated except for me, because everyone who was involved is DEAD. I could tell Starfleet whatever I want and they wouldn't know any different."

"But I know you're not that kind of a man. What happened on ch'Rihan wasn't your fault, Kel."

Kel pointed a finger at her, anger starting to boil over. "Yes, it was, and nothing you say or ever will say will convince me otherwise." He wrung his hands and forced himself to be calm. "You know, I still haven't figure out exactly if you are supposed to be some disembodied spirit, a psychotic manifestation, or some hollow reflection of my own psyche. For all I know, you could be some alien life form that has the ability to only make your presence known to me, for whatever reason."

"Does it really matter?"

Kel walked over to her, talking hold of her hands with his and lifting her off the bed. The move had been almost instinctive, and it did not occur to him until later that her hands were solid to the touch. He hadn't actually felt her body against his since the last night they had spent together on Romulus.

"No. No, it doesn't." He let out a long sigh. "Nothing is going to matter once Starfleet starts digging into what happened on ch'Rihan, so I might as well accept it." He looked straight into her dark eyes. "It's also quite probable that I'm going stark raving mad, which means we will probably be together for quite some time. I might as well accept that as well." Continuing to look at her, he added, "And I must admit that the thought is not entirely unpleasant. I'm going for a walk in the arboretum. Care to join me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Killer Heels"

Starring: Crewman Allison , Armory Specialist

USS GALAXY (Arrival back at DS5 after recent misison)

The primary shuttledeck of the USS Galaxy was awash with the flotsam and jetsam of Barzan society. Scattered spacegoing driftwood that was all that remained of a once proud starfaring race.

Peoples that once explored the cosmos, once touched the stars, and once held warp drive in their grip.....now struggled to clutch at thin threadbare blankets and suppress involuntary sobs of grief.

This was the legacuy of the Borg.

The shuttledeckdeck, easily the largest enclosed space aboard GALAXY had been transformed from its usual acres of pristeen steel-grey decking into an undulating sea of multi colored refugees, their coughing and weeping softly mingling into a cacophany of heartfelt misery.

They were the "last out" before the coming of the Borg. In future generations they would be known as the "Lucky Ones", the Last defenders of Barzan, or as the Founders of the New Society in exile. Presently however they were anything but heroic, and none particularly felt like a trailblazer.

They were the wasted wreckage of a society that had washed up on Galaxy's shores as she warped out of system just ahead of the Borg Vanguard into the Alpha Quadrant.

Tired poor huddled masses of forlorn humanity shivered miserably on their makeshift cots, clutching desparaetly at their bawling children, visions of unbeleivable horror dangling before unblinking eyes.

Uniformed GALAXY crewman threaded their way through the sea of cots rendering aid where possible. Binding wounds.....taking names of survivors....lending a shoulder to cry on.

In truth there was little to be done. These precious few.......these hundreds left out of a race of millions........this handful wisked away by emergency transporters suffered from injurys hidden and deep within thier collective psyche as a race. How does one put a bandaid on genocide? Does the bleeding from the death of a race ever stop.

=/\= ATTENTION PLEASE. =/\= The booming announcemnt echoed across the sea of refugees. =/\=NOW COMPLETING FINAL DOCING MANUVERS DEEP SPACE 5. MEDICAL PERSONNEL STANDBY TO EVACUATE BARZAN REFUGEES FROM STAGING POINTS IN MAIN SHUTTLEBAY. TRAFFIC CONTROL, BE AWARE OF INBOUND EVACUATION SHUTTLES ON VECTOR 3-DELTA=/\=

As if on cue, the soft blue glow of the shuttle bays internal forcefields snapped into life, and a klaxon heralded the opening of the outer doors. The inky blackness of space spilled into the open bay, the fragile bubble of air kept in place by the aforementioned invisible shield.

Like a glowing angel awash in the light of the docking spotlights, a large cargo-capacity shuttle drifted into view, plotting an approach between the massive glowing engine nacelles outside.

=/\= SHUTTLE OMICRON ON FINAL APPROACH. WILL DISEMBARK REPLACEMENT PERSONNEL BEFORE TAKING ON EVACUEES =/\=

=/\= AFFIRMATIVE OMICRON, CLEAR TO LAND, CAUTION LARGE CROWDS IN THE ASSEMBLY AREA.=/\=

Galaxy crewman weilding small handheld lights guided the oversized shuttle onto the appropriate landing pad, ever mindful of the large crowds around them. It would not do to have a Barzan citizen escape the wrath of the Borg, only to squashed by suttlecraft at the end of the line.

With a gentle 'thump' Omicron eased itself down. inside the crews were eyeing the massive crowds with somber expressions. This was going to be the first of several evacuation runs this afternoon.

"Right then, we're landed," the pilot announced, "Clear the outer airlock and let our passengers off before we start getting these civilians loaded." Nodding, the Loadmaster cycled the locks and lowered the huge cargo ramp with a hiss of hydraulics. Omicron was one of the larger shuttles stationed at DS5 and had been the first drafted into this operation.

The loadmaster nodded to offloading passengers.....Galaxy crewmen returning from leave who had missed the most recent adventure, and were now returning to the fold. Outside the Last Sons of Barzan shuffled forward watching the offloading crewmen, waiting to take thier places on the shuttle.

The returning crew threaded their way quickly and quietly through the massive crowds, avoiding eye contact with the Barzans as much as possible, each feeling a little ashamed they had missed the last mission.

~~Maybe if I had been there I could have helped....~~~ one wondered.

~~I was off laying on the beach while these people were losing their homeworld....~~ another thought miserably.

~~Gawd these heels are killing my ankles...but they do make my legs look zarky!~~

That last thought came from the adled brain of blond haired Allison who struggled to lift her large Gucci shopping bags off the Shuttle and back onto the Galaxy decking. "Home again home again...jiggity jig." she hummed merrily to herself as she wobbled on her new pink-sequined high-heels.

They were in fact, a killer pair of heels. Limited edition models straight from the hottest Ferengi designers, and purchased at one of the swankiest botiques on Risa. Alli's whole ensemble in fact was one of the lateset designs by L'Damon. Ferengi's most avant garde designers in the last 20 years.

~~Who'da thunk a society that bans women's clothes could come up with such cute little skirt and top combinations....~~she mused happily.

Hefting her shopping bags Alli noted the huge crowds for the first time and wondered what they were all staring at her for.

"Hey yall." she gave the refugees a dainty little wave. "Zarky shoes right?" she turned and pointed her toes to pose. "Totally go with my nails too." She waggled her long shiny pink-glitter sparkled fingernails.

The Last sons of Barzan stared blankly at the sparkly little girl with her stuffed shopping bags. Their shell-shocked minds unable to make the leap from 'end of civilization' to a 'new pair of heels.'

Noticing the lack of reaction, Allison merely huffed and readjusted her oversized 'Visit Risa' Sunglasses. Some people in the Federation just did not appreciate the time and effort it took to put together a good ensemble. Glancing down her nose at the raggedy appearance of those around her she frowned. ~~tsk tsk....some people just dont take pride in their appearance.~~ SNIFF SNIFF ~~Ew...or in taking a bath either.~~~ she wrinkled her cute little nose.

Heels clicking happily on the duranium floor, Alli threaded her way across the shuttlebay to the Officer of the Deck who stood watch over his charges, a clipboard close at hand.

"Hey there!" Alli chirped merrily, "Whats with the big crowd of scruffy people hanging around....somebody die or something?

The furrowed brows and disaproving stare of the OOD was her only reply. "Right...well Crewman Allison, Armory Specialist,reporting back from leave and all that jazz...." she announced snapping of a cute little salute, "Nothing to declare....just some snazzy little outfits, my sunglasses and a whole bunch of tourist trinkets...see like this one."

She pulled out a tiny little hulu-girl from on eof her bags and pressed a button. 'WELCOME TO RISA' the little plastic doll squeaked and shook her grass skirt. "Dunno what I bought it for." Alli shrugged, "Seemed cute at the time......." The OOD ignored her rambling as he flipped though his clipboard "Armory specialist? Crewman Jimsdottir?"

Heaving a sigh Alli bobbed her head. "Yah whatever."

She didnt feel like explaining for the umpteenth time that according to Icelandic naming traditions there were no such thing as surnames. Allison was her name. Jimsdottir was her title. Literally: Allison, Daughter of Jim.

"So whats with all the grumble-puss's today?" she waved a hand nonchalantly at the Barzan refugees. "Somebody's dog die?"

The stern looking Officer considered her somberly. "No Crewman, Their homeworld was recently assimilated by the Borg thus enslaving their entire civilization and ending life as they knew it for all time, and stranding them as the last survivors of their race."

Alli thought that one over a bit.

"Borg who?" she asked.

Episode 23: The Road Not Taken Preface

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

The Longest Journey: A History of the Romulan Exodus Preface

by Jonathan Butler Stephenson, Luna Independent News Originally published in the Luna Independent, February 18, 2382 Reprinted with permission

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

That the peoples of modern day Vulcan and Romulus have a common ancestor is no longer a widely disputed fact. Genetic studies undertaken by a variety of scientific organizations have shown that, with rare exceptions, the members of these two societies are 99.99% genetically compatible. Furthermore, by studying the mitochondrial DNA of study volunteers, scientists have been able to construct matrilineal ancestry charts, even going so far as to conclude that certain Romulan clans are likely relatives of clans that still exist on Vulcan today. Scientists have all but proven as fact the so-called "Common Ancestor Theory".

In addition, a significant number of written and oral records still exist from the era in which Surak lived, known to the Vulcans as the Time of Awakening. Historians have chronicled nearly every detail surrounding this period of Vulcan history. We know that at some point over two thousand standard ago, a great philosophical divide split Vulcan society in two, and this split eventually led to what is now referred to as the Romulan Exodus.

We know that the first settlers of Romulus were originally from Vulcan. We know that irreconcilable differences with the Followers of Surak eventually forced them to seek a new home. However, very little is known about their journey, a journey which would take them over a century to complete, and which would claim over two thirds of their number by the time they reached their new home. The tale of this journey is a story which every Romulan learns as a child, and later passes on to their own children. Until now, it has been a closely guarded secret.

"The Longest Journey: A History of the Romulan Exodus" puts down in writing what has been passed from generation to generation ever since the Romulans left their ancestral home. Specifically, it chronicles their journey through the stars, told from the perspective of the clan Gilgamma, one of the six clans to survive the trip.

The author, T'Lin Odirne t'Illialhae, herself a descendant of the ancient Gilgamma, has chosen a daunting subject for her first book. Nonetheless, t'Illialhae manages to reconcile biased and sometimes conflicting tales of the Exodus and with them forms a reasonably clear, straightforward timeline. Detail is sometimes lacking, as is often the case when working from purely oral records. Regardless, this book should be considered an excellent primer for those wishing to learn more about this period of Romulan and Vulcan history.

Excerpted from "The Longest Journey: A History of the Romulan Exodus"
by T'Lar Odirne t'Illialhae, University of Hawaii, Earth

"Omen"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Flight Officer John Davidson
Fighter Pilot

**** Ten Forward ****

"Her AGAIN? I thought Starfleet only accepted sane people!" Saul Bental protested.

Miramon smiled kindly, the way he always did when his younger friend was making an act. "Even sane people need guidance once in a while, Saul. I'll ask her to move our appointments to another hour, though, not right after lunch."

"Splendid. Take care."

The Bajoran counselor left, and Saul remained alone on the table. He pushed the semi-eaten chocolate cake to the side, and took out a miniPADD from his pocket. The information within was classified as 'Commonwealth', so it wasn't harmful to read it out here in ten forward. He blocked the noises of clinging utensils and chatter around him, and tried to focus on the latest batch on the Borg.

He had only five minutes of grace before a very unexpected interruption occurred.

John stepped into the room. He had needed some directions from the computer, but at last he was here. Given enough time, he knew he'd get to know the layout of the ship well. It was just going to take time.

Sliding up to the bar, he got the bartender's attention. "Give me something strong."

Sitting on the bar stool, he swiveled it around, wanting to see what sort of patronage the lounge held. He saw several couples sitting and talking, a few people reading PADDs and even a couple of drunken Marines. But what caught his eye, was a young man in a black uniform sitting in a corner alone, reading a PADD. He wasn't into guys. Not at all. What drew his attention was that the guy looked familiar. JD just couldn't place where he had seen the man before.

Deciding to let his curiosity get the better of him, he picked up the drink and walked over. "Hi, do I know you from somewhere?"

The voice was unfamiliar, but as soon as Saul's eyes lifted from his PADD he recognize the face. He only saw it several times, but it was imprinted. Nothing like hurt pride to sharpen a memory.

Then, he noticed the pilot's insignia. Revenge was indeed a dish best served cold.

"Perhaps." He motioned to the pilot to sit down and join him, recruiting the kindest smile he could muster. "I am the Galaxy's CHIEF of intelligence, Saul Bental."

"Nice to meet you. I'm John Davidson. I'm one of the fighter pilots. Just transferred here a couple of days ago." JD mulled over the name in his head trying to determine if he knew the guy from somewhere. Finding nothing, he laughed. "Sorry, I seem to think I know lots of people from somewhere."

"Probably the academy." Saul said, a hint of bitterness intentionally creeping into his voice. Either JD was acting stupid, or he really didn't recall. Saul definitely wasn't going to be the first to admit that he did, in fact, recall JD.

"Probably, though I met so many people then that it's hard to remember all of..." His voice trailed off as the memory came back to him. He did know Bental and he was actually quite shocked that he had forgotten him. Their meeting had been such a momentous occasion. It had been the first time in Starfleet Academy's history that such an outcome had occurred and he had forgotten. "My god. I can't believe I forgot you. That was one hell of a contest we had."

"Yes. I remember now too." Saul pretended to recall. His lips angled upwards slightly, in a dangerous sort of way. "One hell of a contest." He repeated.

"We never did get that rematch." JD said before talking a sip of his drink. "Though being Chief of Intelligence, I doubt you get much time in the cockpit. A pity. Would have been good to see just how much I have improved against you."

"Yes, it would, wouldn't it." Saul said in an almost mocking tone. "I bed the instructors who pitted you against us also had the same intention. 'Let's see how much our sophomores improved. I know - let's unleash them against some seniors from intel and tactical during shuttle practice, and not tell the seniors. That would be a good laugh.'."

"I was a young cadet. Flying fighters is what I've wanted to do since I first laid eyes on one. So when I got told to go head to head with someone, I did it. Plain and simple. I'm not going to apologize for that, sir. Besides I didn't win, remember?"

"Sure I remember. I didn't win either."

Actually, after both of them exited their cockpits back at the hangar, one couldn't tell that it was a tie between Saul and JD. Saul barely dragged himself out of the shuttle, his heart still pounding at dangerous pace, just to see the arrogant sophomore surrounded by his admiring squadron mates. They cheered, commended him tapped on his shoulder. Lucky the fans didn't throw flowers and bras at JD for merely staying intact.

And above all of it, that attitude. JD treated it like a sports event, as if the two of them just had a bloody tennis match. It seemed that the attitude did not change in the last five years.

"True. Anyway, Chief of Intelligence... You're doing well for yourself." He said, having sensed the underlying emotional current and deciding to change the topic.

"Yes. It's a good post. Very interesting. Very demanding. I'm doing my best so that your people will know who they're up against." Because WE didn't, he added mentally. "The Galaxy has a fine fighter group, too. You actually joined in a rather unique time - the 'eternal' CAG just shifted to Tactical, so right now a 'friend' of mine is in charge of things, until the new CAG arrives."

It was the first time Saul referred to Ember Lansky as a 'friend'. She'd probably kick him in the groin if she heard, that vixen.

John nodded. "I tried to contact the CAG and found that out. I spoke to one of the senior pilots briefly. I have a training run tomorrow morning. Just the standard stuff. Seeing how the new guy is going to fare in the squadron and all that." He grinned knowing that he was probably better than every one of them. And if he wasn't, well, he'd work his way to the top quickly. It was how it always happened for the young Terran.

Saul didn't miss JD's grin. Confident as always. Perhaps the instructor's should've attempted to reduce the sophomore pilots' false confidence rather than the seniors'.

"Good luck. Just don't get blown out of the sky by some other rookie."

John's face paled at the comment. "Like that's ever gonna happen." Waiting a moment he spoke again. 'It's been nice to see you again sir. Perhaps we could catch up again sometime. I'm interested to see what sort of ship this is and as Chief of Intel, you're probably the man in the know."

"Definitely. And I might take you on that rematch offer." Saul found himself saying. JD's 'Sportsmanship' was probably getting to him, and one of Saul's well-known advantages was being competitive.

John nodded. "Sorry but I do have to go. I need to extricate my Guitar from the clumsy hands of the cargo handlers before they damage it. I'll see you round Saul."

"Watch your six pilot." Saul gave a mock salute, then returned to his intel report without honoring JD with a further glance.

"Poets and Promises"

Jarajen "Quatro" Quaaliu, CAG USS Galaxy

Saturn Station, Sector 001
===================

"There are moments in one's life when one is truly alive, not merely experiencing the effects of the living. When one's nerves sing despite what the eyes see and what the mind knows… and one's heart races despite the nearby caress of death."

The words echoed hauntingly in Saturn Station's main fighter bay which normally rang with the sound of power tools, fuel pumps and the bustle of over a hundred maintenance personnel. The teacher had the place reserved exclusively for his students who were now able to focus on his words in the correct environment, not the sterile setting of a lecture hall.

"Your final tests begin tomorrow, and should fortune smile upon you, the Starfighter corps will assign you a post your merits and skills have earned you. When the time for battle comes, and you are in the cockpit of your fighter - you must remember what I have tried to hammer into you this past year."

"Secure the advantage of space before attacking - know your field of engagement."

"Once you have attacked, finish it! Fight the instinct to veer off once the enemy returns fire."

"Watch your opponent closely! Observe his errors and know his successes!"

"Never forget your own line of retreat. Think in terms of war, not merely of battle."

"Most importantly, never never NEVER - abandon your wingman! This person is the hand to your arm! The best ace in any wing is at a severe disadvantage against even two mediocre pilots who know teamwork."

The teacher's dark eyes scanned at the thirty faces that looked up to him. Some were reverent, others haughty and dismissive. Most were a balance in between. The next day would show which grew and developed, and which remained the same. Excellent fliers all - they had to be just to be there - but being a pilot and being a starfighter were two very different degrees expectations, and each one of them knew it.

At a nod from the teacher, the students formed pairs that had been forged over twelve months of hard work and went to suit up for their final exercise - the last flight before their final exam.

"They're a good class, Quattro. You should be proud."

Jarajen "Quatro" Quaaliu glanced back at the speaker, and his dark eyes widened when recognition came. "General Dex! I am honored". The statement was accompanied by a deep bow with two set of hands facing up.

The Commander in Chief of the Starfighter Corps nodded at the Nassari's formal greeting, knowing that years of living in Starfleet hadn't changed the pilot's habits. "At ease, Lieutenant. You've done a fine job with these cadets - even better than the last group. Your changes to the curriculum have made some pretty significant improvements to performance. I'm curious why you'd want to give that up. Don't the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?"

Coming from the head of Starfleet's Aerospace group some may have interpreted Volon Dex's words as a veiled threat, but the Nassari met the Trill's eyes with equal determination. "The General offers a Vulcan line of reasoning. Amusing. It would hold more weight, sir, if the Vulcans were good pilots. I have one better - 'the falcon's young starve when the hunter soars too near the nest'."

Dex's brow furrowed as he tried to remember the quote. "Well said. Kahless?"

Mock indignation crossed the Nassari's golden features. "Kahless? The General jests, surely. The Klingon soul couldn't understand such concept or write such words. Further, they are generally unimaginative pilots of little skill. The verse is translated Nassari and the words… are my own."

"You do more here Lieutenant Quaaliu." Dex was keeping a close eye on the golden skinned pilot's expression, trying to see in hesitation in the younger man's argument. "You're a damn good instructor, and each class that meets your standards goes out to influence what's already out there. The Corps is rebuilding after Romulus, but it'll take time. I need you here."

Quaaliu had sent requests for transfer to a combat post religiously every month since he arrived at the school, despite serving diligently and without reservation. He made so secret that his proper role was under fire in battle, not behind a lectern or in a training fighter. "The General *is* the Commander", the Nassari observed "but if it weren't a matter of some debate, the General would not be here."

Dex reached into his pocket and pulled a small golden rank cluster, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before holding it forward. "Perhaps this'll give the Lieutenant some cause to reconsider."

A slight grin crossed the Nassari's face as he looked at the small stud in the General's hand, then looked the Tril' in the eye. "The Lieutenant *is* honored, sir - but must, in all honesty, refuse. It would be a lie to each of us to accept it, and I would wish no distrust to develop between us. I will continue to serve… and continue to request reassignment, at my current capacity."

From what he'd learned from Quaaliu's service record, Dex was prepared for the refusal and pocketed the command pip with a sigh. "Then the Lieutenant will get his reassignment. What do you know of Corran Rex?"

"Corran-ji? I have known him for many years, sir - an "Old Rogue" from the Lieutenant's days on the Miranda." It was time for the Nassari's own brow to furrow. "Is he unwell?"

"That depends on your point of view", the General offered, starting to walk to the control deck and motioning for Quaaliu to follow. "He's taken a bridge position on the Galaxy. Tactical Chief." A curious glance back was accompanied by a slight grin. "He's recommended you as his replacement."

The expression of disbelief on Quaaliu's face was quite obvious. "Perhaps if the Major took some leave to reassess? The Galaxy has the reputation of being a considerable test of one's… mental fortitude."

"You'll be able to assess that one for yourself", the Trill observed as he settled into one of the command deck's chairs. "You ship out after finals tomorrow."

Dex expected some form of emotional outburst from the Nassari, but Quaaliu calmly sat down at the monitoring controls and put his four hands to work to observe his students progress. "The General has the Lieutenant's gratitude", he said at last.

A smirk fell on the Trill General's features as the images of the station's attack squadron crossed the monitor before him. "The Lieutenant should save his thanks until he sees his command first", he mused.

"This is the Galaxy after all."

"Tradition" Part Four

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton CMO

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck 5***

"Report her…" Pausing Kimberly let that thought flow through her for a moment, then shrugged. "Possibly, but right now, it'd be far more satisfying to tear her down a notch or two personally and be able to sit there, focus my anger and let her have directly from myself." she admitted with an almost evil grin, "Far more satisfying. And besides, she pissed 'me' off. I haven't had the luxury of dealing with this yet, and when I do I want to be able to say what I feel without her having anything to complain about after."

Dhani stood for a moment bemused. Okay so she wanted to keep this professional, that was fine. Yet she also wanted to take it out personally on the other officer, that again was fine, yet how she was gonna manage the two? Dhani shrugged, this wasn't her fight she should just drop it. "Fine." she replied at last letting the topic slide. "Deal with it however you want." she added, wondering if anyone would let her deal with her own problems like that too. Stepping up to the rock come alter she scanned the remaining items. "You want a hand in packing up?" she asked as she casually picked up a bowl and began to inspect it.

"I can manage thanks," Kimberly replied, filing away the fact that Dhani had been using 'Kim' repeatedly. Shuddering at that she got back to packing.

"Ya know what Kim?" she said distantly as she turned the bowl over in her hands feeling its texture against her skin.

"What?" she asked realising after that that had sounded quite curt.

"This," she said holding up the bowl in a questioning manor, "is something we are going to talk about later." She promptly handed the bowl over to Kim with a slight knowing smile.

Accepting the bowl she packed it and simply shrugged, "Sure, fine." she agreed simply. Raising her voice she snapped irritably again to the thin air. "Computer, exit." she instructed the uncaring computer.

"Uh… Kimberly." Dhani said as her friend finished clearing her altar and made to leave. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well… What!" Kimberly snapped back. Her posture and tone of voice indicating she was obviously still agitated and irritable. Checking all her tools and implements were collected she put her bag over her shoulder and turned to Dhani with a frown.

At her inquisitive look Dhani simply pointed a finger at Kimberly and waggled it up and down briefly. "Er… clothes?" she suggested.

Looking down at herself, Kimberly shook her head and huffed once in slightly embarrassed agreement, realising that throughout her whole ranting speech she had completely forgotten her clothes, having only picked up her tools. Grateful for the concealing darkness she felt her face flush slightly as she turned her back on Dhanishta and returned to collect her clothes still sat by the river.

It was only now that she was close to Kimberly, with the moon light reflecting off her flesh, that Dhani noticed the parallel scars that crossed the small of Kimberly's back. Dhani frowned instinctually stepping forward to stop Kimberly and question her, "Kim, hold up!" Dhani called out her brow knitting together with concern.

Looking back Kimberly frowned. "What!" she muttered darkly. A mixture of embarrassment, anger and frustration was now blending within her. Mixing into a feeling that was edging her to the point where she was actually thinking of doing what Dhani had suggested, seriously tempted now at the thought.

Stepping back from the snappy reply Dhani backed off. Kim was the chief medical officer, for a start she knew how simple a scar was to remove. There for that lead Dhani to one simple conclusion; she didn't want to remove it. That lead to another conclusion, to have left such a mark, one that could have only been caused by another, one that by the looks of it was not accidental, lead to the conclusion that it was deliberate, with malice; and if Kim had chosen not to remove it she had not dealt with the circumstances in which the injury had occurred… and there for with Kim's current state of agitation and highly unstable emotional state caused by the aforementioned grievances - this was not the time to ask the question that sat patiently on the tip of her tongue. ~damn I should have been a counsellor~ Dhani mused.

"Nothing." She said shaking her head, "Go get dressed." she added a soft smile before turning to wait by the exit.

Shrugging at the seemingly pointless call for her attention Kimberly forgot her embarrassment as swiftly as it had arrived and continued her tirade softly to herself as she walked, thinking about all the things she needed to say to a certain crewmember. Bitching to the winds again about the insensitivity of narrow minded people, a low muttered string of obscenities from half a dozen languages flowed across the glade to Dhanishtas ears as she returned to the river.

Tugging her dress on with sharp hurried motions she packed her remaining clothes, shoes and bathing oils in her bag and swiftly rejoined Dhanishta, doing up her dress as she walked. "You know," she said irately to Dhani across the glade as a thought occurred to her, "I have to show compassion and understanding to anyone who walks into sickbay every day of the week. Does it sound so unreasonable to expect a little understanding myself once in a while!" she asked.

Dhanishta simply raised a questioning eyebrow. ~Compassion?~ she questioned, ~yeah cause every time I walk into sick bay I really feel the love!~ she shuddered slightly remembering some of her recent trials under Kimberly's medical care, luckily though her expression was hidden by the darkness of the shadows; concealing Dhani's disagreement with the statement.

In a quieter tone of voice, but one still full of passion and anger she tried to sum up her feelings. "What sort of person would in this day and age, and someone from Earth at that, still hold onto an outdated, archaic, idiotic attitude that was dropped by the rest of the planet centuries ago. Okay, I know we're all entitled to our own point of view. But it just feths me off!"

Calling for the door again Kimberly instructed the computer to end program as she walked out of the doors that were still opening, the gentle sound of her feet on the grass swiftly replaced by the pad of her bare feet on the deck as the program faded and the illusion vanished she looked to Dhani, "Gos-se, if I weren't peaceful by nature, I swear, I'd have hit the gorram T'okhe Str'aave!" she swore, picking the vilest insult she knew. Her passion and anger flowing out of her like sweat from open pores on a hot Vulcan day.

Instinctively Dhani turned and belted Kimberly. Anger arose within the engineer so fast she didn't have the reasoning time to do anything other. For the last half hour she had listened to Kimberly's cursing, she could understand it to a point but to call anyone a gorram T'okhe Str'aave, even someone so ignorant as to insult her faith, well that was just too much. Her right fist collided forcibly with Kimberly's upper left arm sending the bewildered Chief Medical officer stumbling out into the corridor.

Stunned and staggered Kimberly literally fell out into the corridor and sprawled onto the deck. Completely unprepared for the assault she landed badly and the crack of bone hitting deck resonated up and down the corridor. Crying out as she landed she closed her eyes as a wave of pain washed up her left arm from the blow, and from her knees that had landed so badly. Lying on the deck for a moment she bit her lip as the pain from her arm washed through her. Confused as to why Dhani had just attacked out of the blue she tried to push herself up, but found that her left arm now refused to respond, the solid mass of pain was all she could feel, from there down her arm was complexly numb. Pulling herself up to her knees she turned to Dhanishta, a look of abject confusion and pain on her face.

Dhani swiftly followed. Grabbing Kimberly by her shoulders she hauled her up and thumped her body against the wall glaring at her, her own fury emanating like the heat from a plasma fire. "If you *ever* use that expression again, I *will* kill you myself!" she shouted, spittle flying into Kimberly's face.

Completely confused Kimberly let it show, she had a fairly impressive vocabulary of obscenities, half of which she had picked up during the Dominion War. A medley of words and phrases from dozens of worlds and cultures, some she didn't even understand, but could guess at their meanings based on how that had been used. "What?" she asked, thoroughly hurt (literally and figuratively) confused and dazed. "What does it mean?" looking at the rage she felt from Dhani that outstripped her own anger, like a candle next to a supernova, she blanched slightly, unsure why her friend had literally smacked her down for saying something she had only heard a few times long ago.

Dhanishtas raged bubbled over at that, "You mean that you have *NO IDEA* what you just said?" she hollered.

"No." she admitted honestly, "It's just something some Klingon called me when I was in a POW camp during the war." she explained, "I guessed it wasn't polite from his tone."

Dhanishtas eyes widened almost to the point that her eye balls popped out. For a moment she was winded, unable to say anything. Her anger towards Kimberly began to diminish; she had no understanding of what she had said, she there for did not know of the consequences, though that alone brought over another wave of rage. Raising her hand she smacked her palm hard against the wall next to Kimberly's head with an almighty release of tension and anger.

Flinching from the slap on the wall next to her head Kimberly remained still, not wanting to anger Dhani any further. With her arm still numb and her knees still smarting she leaned on the wall for support and sagged a little.

Dhani took a deep breath and tired to calm some. She never realised, until now, how her childhood really affected her. With the loss of the Vulcan Logic she had clung to all throughout her youth she was beginning to act upon other childhood lessons as the teachers had themselves. She finally understood how easy the Klingon temper was to ire.

Taking a step back she gave Kimberly the room to breathe and sort herself out. Running a hand through the tangled mass of dreads she shook her head at Kimberly's naivety. "Kimberly, oh Kimberly," she began slowly releasing her friends name with a long exhale. "You should know better." she said with obvious disappointment in her tone. "Do you understand *any* of those phrases you have been throwing around this last half hour?" she questioned softly.

Shrugging once again she tried to recall just how broad her cussing had been over the last thirty minutes. "Most of them," she admitted. "That's the only one I have no idea about though. What does it mean?" she enquired, wanting to get off this topic, but really needing to know why she had angered Dhanishta so.

Dhani closed her eyes, still quelling the anger within, "The direct translation dose not matter." she said slowly. If Kimberly knew what she had been called it would cause her pain. And she didn't deserve that. "What does matter is the consequences of saying it." She came to stand before Kimberly, to make sure that her words were heard and understood, "Once that line is uttered to a Klingon, the *only* outcome is death." she said solemnly.

"Death." Kimberly repeated back simply. ~ Goddess, how bad can an insult get? ~ she wondered privately.

"Yes." Dhani nodded, "Death. There is *no* other course of action a Klingon will take. That phrase," which Dhani wouldn't even repeat, "is *thee* biggest insult in the Klingon language *ever*. It is a challenge, one that will only be solved with blood shed."

"Oh." Was all she could say at that point. Grateful for the understanding, and realising that her own ignorance could very well get her in trouble one day, as it very nearly just had.

Dhani sighed, "Promise me that you will never, ever, use it again?" her tone was pleading, in fact her whole body language screeched with the need for Kimberly to not just understand but also comprehend this.

Nodding in simple agreement, "I promise," she replied, wondering at a species that could kill over mere words. "I guess that Klingon 'really' didn't like me then." She mused aloud.

Dhanishta smiled softly, "Not quite." she replied, "There is no like or dislike attached to its meaning. It's an accusation." she explained a little cryptically. Partly Dhani wanted to know the exact situation that Kimberly was in to have received that insult from a Klingon. Yet for a Klingon to have said that to her, it was probably something that she didn't need, nor for that matter really want to know about.

Not really comprehending about the Klingon epitaph Kimberly thought for a second and them let it drop. A species that would kill for something so vague confused her. She filed that particular phrase in her little mental box of footnotes never to use and nodded. Pushing away from the wall Kimberly winced as her left arm screamed in agony. "Owww," she got out between clenched teeth.

"Come on, let's get you to sick bay." Dhani said wrapping her arm around Kimberly's shoulders. "I am really sorry that I punched you." she added sheepishly. She shook her head and chuckled slightly at her own reactions, "I have lost a lot of self control over the years, it seems it has been replaced with a Klingon temper instead." She paused in her step before the couple reached the turbo lift, "Forgive me?" she asked with all sincerity.

"Sickbay sounds good," Kimberly agreed. "For us both," she added, looking Dhani up and down in the full light of the corridor, a bemused look passing over her face briefly as she took another look at what Dhani had done to herself. "And now I understand a little better, of course. Of course I forgive you, but, next time, could you explain 'before' you take a swing at me please?" she asked with a small smile.

"The Tortoise and the Hare"

Lt. (jg) Faylin McAlister

Lt. (jg) Zev Raynor

Popping into the intel office was one of the many 'tasks' she had to accomplish that day. She wanted to check and see if Zev was around, more so just to pester him cause she was bored.

Peeking around the entry to the office, McAlister grinned and practically hoped up on the corner of his desk. "Hi! Hardly working I see."

"I will have you know that Solitaire is very hard work. Sometimes there is no way to win. Sometimes your fuck up causes your own defeat. I need a shocky monkey to keep me actually working these days."

"Well, I can offer you that." She snickered.

Raynor simply gave her a look.

"What??? Monkeys are cute!"

He pointed to a Donkey Kong hanging on wall keeping the same look on his face.

"I said monkeys are cute, not gorillas. It would be like comparing you and Saul. And, no. I'm not telling which one of you is the gorilla. You'll have to beat it out of me." Faylin retorted.

Raynor raised an eyebrow and kept looking her in the eye. Waiting... patiently.

Faylin returned the look with her opposite eyebrow perched. Leaning back on the desk ever so slightly, she attempted not to laugh. "Zev.................."

His eyes began to bore into hers, piercing her outer defenses as they were nothing to him. Almost making them hard to look at. He kept it up for a few more seconds, then as he realizing what he was doing, sudden shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the game.

Faylin shivered and blinked, scowling. "Whatcha playing?" Sliding down off of the desk, she glanced over his shoulder. "Your kidding me. All the games in the universe, and you sit here and play Solitaire? Scoot over....your toast."

"I'm bored." Raynor explained moving over. "Yet... I feel to lazy to play any real game, so Solitaire just kinda seemed to fit the bill... so you know... Wait why are you here anyways?"

She stopped for a moment before sitting down beside him. "To un-bore you....of course. That is...." Faylin rolled her eyes upwards in the dramatic fashion that she was known for before continuing. "If you would rather be bored...I can leave." Her eyes lowered, locking on to his the way he had locked on to hers earlier and refusing to let go of his gaze.

Raynor simply farted loudly... in response to her gaze.

Closing her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief, Faylin was speechless. As the smell wondered to her nose, she grimaced. "I'm *never* feeding you seafood again."

"Nothing quite like your own brand..." Raynor laughed. "Solitaire isn't exactly a game for two... I can switch the program if you like."

"Can you switch the air first please. Gods...." She waved her hand in front of her face, still grimacing. Taking a cautionary breath, she blinked twice. "What do you have?"

"Earth game ever made for every system from before the end of the 21st century..." Raynor said causally.

"Need for speed... I need to seriously beat you to get the urge out of my system." She retorted just as nonchalantly.

"I see... and here I thought you would know nothing of that era..." Raynor smiled as he loaded the game and brought out the controllers. "When was the last time you played this game?" he asked.

Without moving her head, her eyes looked at him playfully as her eyebrows arched upwards. "Yesterday....I have it in my quarters...."

"It's a been a year for me," Raynor admitted sitting down. And then the screen came to life with all the sounds that went with it.

"A year? Wow. Okay then, let's place a bet. You name the terms. If I beat you, I get to choose what I want to do and if you win.....what to do you want?" She spoke as she chose the car she always did. A jet black Chevy Corvette.

"One remind me how this is a fair bet you being in practice and me not so much... and second... don't you get to do what you want most of the time anyways? Don't you mean something more along the lines making me your personal slave for a day or something?" Raynor asked.

Faylin giggled. "Spoilsport. I usually get what I want, however, there's one thing that's always out of reach for me for some reason. Anyway...back to the subject at hand. If I win, you can not pass gas in my prescence for a period of two weeks. And, if you win...what do you want?"

Raynor wondered what could possibly be out of reach for her? He'd look into that later, but right now he had to think of something. Having a shapeshifter owe him one could come in handy later down the road, but right now he didn't need or want anything. "If I win you'll have to do something for me later... because I can't think of anything right now," he said truthfully.

McAlister rolled her eyes. "You...are about as fun as a pile of rocks." Turning her attention back to the screen, she frowned. "How did you get ahead of me?" She retorted as she pressed on the gas button.

"You the one who rolled your eyes and me passing you." Raynor replied not turning away from the screen. "Besides a pile of rocks can fun. You just have to throw the rocks at things... like a barn or a lake or a head or something..."

"Yeah, but normally rocks just sit there unless propelled by some sort of energy. Much....like the way you are sitting now." Faylin glanced sideways at him as her car raced past his position on the screen. "Now...this energy can take many forms....but it still takes motion Mr. Sloth."

"Slow and steady" Raynor noted, as he saw the control problems Fay was having at her speed.

"Fast and furious." She muttered in response as she zipped past him only to crash into a police car and flip. "Damn...."

"Well technically... your still furious..." Raynor joked as his car went by hers. He was holding a relatively good pace, but not so fast as to allow him to lose control... he was more trying to ease himself back into the game.

"Zev, if I wasn't such a lady, you would find your ass on the floor in little pieces." Her forehead burrowed as she attempted to straighten out her car.

"Eh... if only... that donkey has been nothing but trouble since the day I got him... seriously if you want to take him off my hands... so much the better..." Raynor joked.

She put her controller down for a quick second and studied him. "Zev, do you ever show your serious side? Or are you using humor to cover your self up?"

"Both... obviously," Raynor joked. "But trust the day you see me get serious is the day many people die. Or you know... at least risk death... its not a happy place. Really its not. Besides most people never expect the clown to be capable of anything."

"The 'clown' is the one that people need to be most weary of." She offered a small smile then sighed as she viewed him winning. "Okay.....you won." Faylin paused. "Well, I have to actually get some work done around here.....so....."

Raynor sensed he could probably have kissed her right there without objection. But Raynor himself wasn't going for it. Instead he simply joked, "Tough case on the Horizon?"

"I'm the best around Raynor, they only send the tough cases to me." She offered him a slight smile and nod while exiting out the door.

Raynor got back to work on his solitaire game... he was still feeling lazy.

"Proper Paperwork"

Crewman Allison

USS GALAXY MAIN ARMORY

"Next."

"uh....Hi....uh I need to turn this in."

"Right, ok fill out this form in entirety....pay special attention to Block B where you need to give a

general accounting of uses, and be sure to press hard with the pen so the carbon paper comes out

legible."

"uh...ok......carbon paper."

"Just deal with it bucko....were trying to save bandwith here....NEXT!"

"Hey there.

"Hey there yourself. Whatcha Got?"

"Oohh wouldnt you like to know what I got honey."

"Oh Puh-leeez. If that isnt the lamest line ever. Ok just fill in Form 27-B, return of Plasma Rifle

Form and place the unused power backs in the return bin.....NEXT!!

"Uh hi...I need to....."

"Geez louise what the zark happened to your rifle?"

"I....uh....I hit a Borg over the head with it."

"Hit a Bo.....Listen up Bucko when we issused you this phaser rifle we made you sign a waiver form in

which you aknowledged that you had read and accepted the Terms and Conditions of use did we not."

"uh yeah but....."

"But nothing. And in those Terms and conditions there is a subparagraph that you had to check off

stating that you enderstood the general principle of 'pointy end goes towards the bad-guy.' This is NOT

a big metal club."

"Yeah but...."

"What did I say...this thing is for shooting...Zap zap....not bashing.....bang bang.....and HO-LEE

Christmas, what the heck is this thing here?"

"what thing?"

"This thing!....This little green and grey mushy thing stuck in the joint."

"Oh...uh that , I think that might be a bit of ....you know Borg Stuff....blood...whatever."

<pause>

"Ma'am"

<uncomfortable silence>

"Uh Ma'am....you okay?"

"Borg Blood?"

"Uh...yeah...or brains or something.....see I hit it pretty hard and...."

"EWWWWWW!!!! Could you like be any more gross? if you're gonna be all caveman and stuff at least run

your club through the shower when your done with it......I gotta clean this crud off before I store it!"

"Uh....sorry ma'am but...."

"Form 45-W Mr Nasty. Form for returning a damaged phaser rifle with Alien gooey bits still

attached......ick....NEXT!!"

Allison shuddered visibly and stamped the Return form with extra special gusto. The sheer ickyness of

some people!

The Galaxy's youngest and cutest crewmember was sitting in the Armory departments Weapons-return cubicle

next to the large return bin.

A large stack of various carbon-paper return forms were piles in neat little stacks infront of her, while

outside a line of gun-toting Marines and Security personnel waited behind the yellow line for a chance to

return their weapons.

Proper Weapons returns was a chrinic problem aboard tha USS Galaxy, with every gung-ho yahoo deciding

that somehow the rules didnt apply to them and they were allowed to keep military grade arms in their

personnel quarters.

Then there was the trophy hunting weirdos that had a habit of cutting notches in the butt of their guns.

Alli couldnt count the nights she stayed up late in the Armory vault with a power sander polishing out

those dumb notches.

"I said NEXT!" she yelled, already regretting being back from vacation. She's have to time her absences

more carefully to get out of these messes.

"Hi there Missy." announced the jovial Marine at her window.

"Yeah yeah Bucko..greetings and salutations." Alli twiddled her finger in a 'hurry up' motion. "Whataya

got?"

"Type II hand phaser with 20% charge left, six plasma grenades, and a Bazooka."

"Photon, disruptor, or phased poloran Bazooka?" Alli yawned and flipped a page in her fashion magazine.

"Uh...Photon ....a Mk VII." The Marine replied.

"MkVII stock, or the Mk VIIa with optional firing circuits?" There were some good deals on

skirts...maybe some boots and a bag to go with them?

"Um..." The marine hefted the Bazooka to check the label.....he knew how to point and shoot, and wasnt up

on all the nitty gritty details of internal circuitry....."Whats the difference?"

"The Stock version has a longer coil of conductors

for the firing circuit. The VIIa makes do with a shorter monofillament loop. Makes for easier

diagnostic tracing.....or something like that." Alli shrugged. "Other than that, they both turn bad guys into sticky goo."

Most of Allison's knowledge of modern weaponry was based on what she read off the back of shipping labels

when things were real dull in Armory. In truth she had no real interest in the subject.

"Uh ...I guess this is the Stock model then...sorry miss."

"Whatever.....Form T-9 and press hard in the carbon." Alli handed over the appropriate form, "Drop the

bazooka in the bin and just slide the grenades through the window......NEXT!!!"

Botanical Woes

Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval

USS GALAXY BOTANY LABS

Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval let out an exhausted sigh and leaned back in his chair pinching the bridge of his nose wearily in an effort to ward off the headache that had been threatening for the past few hours.

~~Madre de Dios but what a job this has been.~~~ he stretched, feeling the tiny knots in his muscles protest. Cataloging the destruction of an entire botanical ecosystem based on sketchy records and even fewer live specimens had been a chore that had pushed the USS Galaxy's Chief Botonist to the limits of physical and mental exhaustion.

Opening his bloodshot eyes, miguel focussed on the blurry LCARS screen in front of him wondering what he had overlooked.

"SUMMARY OF BOTANICAL AND ECOLOGICAL LOSSES TO SCIENCE IN THE BARZAN SYSTEM DISASTER: A BIOLOGIC OVERVIEW."

The title of the report succintly spelled out what was to Miguels mind a shockingly irreplaceable loss. While the majority of the Federation was bemoaning the political and technological ramifications of the recent Borg assimilation of the Barzan homeworld, Miguel and his his tiny Botany department had been drawing up a summary of now extinct plant species that would never again be available for study.

The Barzan Green Oak......the rare Monofilament spider vine......the splendid Barzan double headed rose. All lost forever.

Miguel sighed and stood with a creak in his knees. Although technically a Botanist by training, and still only a mere Ensign by rank, Miguel had been de facto head of the USS Galaxy's Botany and Ecology Departments almost since graduation.

What at first seemed an incredible honor had quickly been revealed for the tragedy it was. The only reason you stuck a raw Academy graduate as Department head was simple......The Department was singularly unimportant and dismissed by the powers that be aboard USS Galaxy.

Walking across the darkened lab, Miguel felt the blood returnng to his legs, tingling and tickling with each step. Time and again Miguel and his tiny Department had made research proposals to the higher ups only to have them categorically denied....or flat out ignored.

USS Galaxy was a warship....pure and simple, and little diversions to study 'mere' flora and fauna was deemed a waste of resources.

Another rueful shake of the head.

Bending down over a small row of glowing incubators Miguel considered the tiny little buds and seedlings struggling for life under the UV lights.

This row of six plants were all that remains of the Barzan Homeworlds arboreal ecosystem. It had been all that he had been able to grab when the sudden evacuation order had been given. Just a few twigs and branches desparately stuffed into pockets, and a simple algae slime that he had been lucky to culture off of his boots.

Miguel watched the tiny green alae under its plastic jar. ~~~Madre de Dios.....imagine the loss if I had simply tossed my boots into the recycler before I noticed the stain?~~~

He offered a silent prayer of thanks to his guiding Saints.

~~~WHich reminds me.......~~~ Fishing in his pocket, Miguel drew out a small medal and placed it next to the struggling plant. St Fiacre. Patron Saint of Gardeners.

~~~Cant hurt.~~~ he reasoned. While Miguel was not given to strict beleif in icons, he was a practicing Catholic and still faith was faith.

Leaving the lab. Miguel made his usual rounds through the Arboretum, checking up on the experimental garden plots, and calibrating growth measurements.

There was also the neverending chore of chasing young lovers out from behind the bushes. Miguel rolled his eyes. The Galaxy was like one big spacegoing singles bar, and for some reason everybody chose HIS arboretum to run around naked in.

A few months ago he nearly had a fit when he found some couple had rolled over on top of a fragile Bolian Daisy that he'd been trying to nurture. He would have shot the both of them out the airlock if he could, but the higher ups just chuckled and waved it away.

~~Estupido!~~ he swore in his native spanish.

Returning back to the labs, Miguel dropped his clipboard and closed out the nightly reports. "Duermate Jan." he sighed to one of his lab assistants. "Get yourself some rest and we'll close the report in the morning."

Jan the young Minaran Empath stared at his boss with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into the soul. True to his species, Jan was a complete mute and seemed incapable of even gestures or written responce. yet despite the fact he never spoke, nor ever even nodded yes or no, Jan always seemd to be able to get his mood across.

"Si hijo. Duermo tambien. I'll be getting to bed as well. Its been a hard....hard week."

Jan only stared. Sympathy in his eyes. He'd been aboard the Galaxy for almost a year now since been saved from Asteroid Pirates by Miguel. The only other known member of his race had been discovered by the Captain Kirk and the USS Enterprise over a centruy ago. Her name had been Gem, and like Jan she also displayed the amazing ability to heal with a touch by taking wounds onto herself.

Miguel had seen Jan perform the same feat on only a few occasions, and it pained him every time to watch. It obviously hurt the empath a great deal to absorb anothers wounds, and Miguel hated to see the innocent boy suffer.

"Buenos noches Jan." Miguel headed for the door. "Turn out the lights when you're done por favor. Operations has been complaining about our power usage again."

A mere flicker of the eyes was the only responce before Jan turned to wrapping up his own project, patting down the soil batch with long delicate fingers.

Thus ended another thankless day in Botany & Ecology.

"Rejoining"

Nara & Saul

*****Corridors of USS Galaxy*****

Nara finally got out of Main Engineering. She was pretty much forced out. Things still weren't up to her standards, but "things would be fine without her until her next official shift," she was told. So she relinquished and left.

She gathered Saia who was a bit shaken and went home. Saia was starting to build a shell of resilience. Yet, she was still a child and Nara just held her for several minutes until she suggested Saia go clean up. Nara got dinner for Saia and went to clean up as the young Trill ate. She then tucked Saia in and tried to eat herself.

It didn't work. She was restless. She ate a little, but couldn't slow her mind down to enjoy it. She ended up sitting at the console with a drink looking at what she could without looking like she was working. She took another look at the EEH. She looked at the information she could find about Eve/Valentina.

She wanted to go check on Valentina. But she had a preteen Trill that would likely wake up with nightmares. So she sat up studying, writing reports and even looked over some holoprogam coding. The hours were long and Saia had been asleep for a few hours when Nara went to check on her. There was a tense look on her face, but nothing seemed to be terrifying Saia in her sleep. Nara sighed and left the room, letting the dream run its course. Saia likely wouldn't even remember it.

She tried to keep her mind from wondering about Saul. He would come back. He always did. Yet, as late as it was, as weary as she was, she had to gulp to keep the frightened sobs at bay. She shook her head and picked up the EEH PADD. The notes Dhani wrote and ones Nara added were lengthy and even given she was a skilled, intelligent engineer, the jargon and detail were giving her a headache. She wanted sleep, but she knew it would be impossible in coming.

Nonetheless, her eyes were closed when the door console alerted her that someone wanted to come in.

Her eyes furrowed at the noise, not realizing she had even closed her eyes. She blinked them open and finally her mind registered at the second beep. She stood and called, "Enter."

Saul stood in the doorway.

He looked thinner than she remembered, a sparse layer of bristles decorating his chin and cheeks. But most notable were the eyes, holding sadness she never saw in them before.

He took a single step forward, and embraced her. The doors swished closed behind him.

"I thought you were dead." He said.

Nara's eyes closed again, this time knowingly. She held him tightly, "No. I'm here, Saul." Her mind was still foggy from the sleep she didn't even think would come. She vaguely wondered if she were dreaming, but being in his arms; she didn't care one way or the other.

"You're warm..." He mumbled softly, patting her silky curls. He didn't realize how much he missed them until now. How much he missed her. "How have you been, princess?"

"In command," she backed away only an inch to hold her palm on his face. "And you came back."

"Ken, ha? I think we had this conversation before." Saul smiled sheepishly. He tilted his head, closing his eyes and just letting the sensation of her fingers against his cheek penetrate. "I really thought you were dead, Nara. After her men 'rescued' me, Proctor told me the Galaxy was assimilated. I am... happy... that she was wrong."

Nara let her hand slide down to rest on his shoulder. "Someone questioned me. Made me wonder if this would be the unlucky time I'd lose you." She brushed her lips against his as she smiled, "And me assimilated? No. Shall I prove it?" She kissed the corner of his lips softly.

The moment lingered. Then, when they finally broke for a momentary gasp of air, Saul smirked. "I still have to inspect you for microtubuls, Lieutenant."

Saul's idea of inspection for hazardous cybernetic implants was, apparently, slipping a naughty hand beneath Nara's shirt.

He bent forward, so that his lips almost touched her ear. "Tell whoever questioned you that I'm not out of luck yet. And this time I can even tell you where I went."

She moved so she could look at him, "Are you sure? Because I don't need to know. I don't know if I said that, but it's part of our deal."

"And I admire you for it. I don't know how you take it."

"I'm good at repressing." Her smile was a little sad.

Saul expression wasn't approving. Both of them knew just how good Nara was at repressing, since she told him about being raped. However, he decided to ignore her hint.

"So, would you like to know?"

"If you're willing to tell me, yes. How about we sit down first. Would you like anything?"

"Yes. That would be - heh." He rubbed the back of his head. "I just missed you. So... I'm still a little overwhelmed. With you."

Nara smiled at him again and took his arm gently to guide him to the couch.

He followed her invitation and sat. As she joined him, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer.

"Saia's on the other room?"

Nara nodded, "Sleeping."

"Tell her uncle Saul was working very hard for her this time around. I was kidnapped by someone I was hunting for a long while now. Christopher McCauley. He was the chief helmsman of the Akula, and the first officer that ben zona Thomas tried to recruit. Starfleet considered him MIA, but me and a handful of others followed some leads that suggested otherwise. I suppose I got too close, so he too advantage of the chaos following the DS5's sabotage and grabbed me in the middle of the market."

Nara frowned. "What did he do to you?"

"Shoved a handkerchief soaking with chloroform into my face. Quite medieval, and quite humiliating. At least he didn't threaten me with a pitchfork." Saul chuckled. Then, he told her the rest of the story, in his typical matter-of-factly storytelling style. He left out only two things - his intention to try and recruit McCauley to his own agenda, and the fact that he knew the people which killed the Trill assailant.

"So now they have him. Station security had to shoot the guy who was escorting him. No one knows to where the other two vanished." No one but me, that is, Saul thought. He hid that thought quickly, never forgetting that his lover was also a telepath. "But I honestly believe he's not a terrorist, just a man who should've hung his uniform and left the fleet two decades ago."

Nara sat there listening. She had her hand on his as she gave another sad smile. She wasn't sure what to say.

This did not go unnoticed by her boyfriend. "You all right?"

"Just very glad you're back."

For a while, Saul let his lips, his fingers, his entire body tell her that he was glad that she came back, too. Daringly, he began tracing complex forms around her curves, adoring them.

"I wanted you so badly, Naranda Roswell."

Nara smiled at him. She couldn't help but worry about Saia. But to push him away? No. Not tonight. Not when their worst nightmares were finally done away with. She cupped his face in her hands as she kissed his lips for a gloriously long moment before she whispered, "I've a nice bed in my room, Saul Bental."

He returned the kiss. "Let's." He said simply.

She stood and took his hand gently, leading him to her room. As soon as the doors closed to grant them some privacy, Saul dragged her to bed, bearly containing his eagerness now. He reached with two hands beneath her shirt, quickly removing it. He took only a moment to admire her body, as graceful and inviting as he remembered it, before he groped at her breasts. She was so beautiful and so delicate to touch that he felt like he could just explode where he stood.

She pulled him to her, kissing him with a passion she's had to hold for so long.

He continued to remove her cloths hastily, revealing more and more of her beautifully toned skin. Her underwear were ordinary whites, and that turned him on even more than the sexiest lingerie could.

He bent over her, kissing her neck. He could feel HER between the two thin layers of cloths now seperating them. She was so inviting.

"May I...?"

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him, "If you don't, I will."

"Pleaaase do."

She smiled and started to remove his clothes at an equally hasty speed.

As the last piece of cloths finally made its way to the floor, Saul felt a sudden chill. He reached to the side, to grab the side of the blanket that remained neglected on the edge of the bed. He paused one moment, to stare admiringly at her entirety, then covered both of them with the blanket.

He felt like he's boiling. His entire body a second away from evaporating completly. He gently parted her legs with his, then descended.

"I love you..." He whispered in a strangled voice, almost a moan.

She could only close her eyes a moment before opening them to find his swallowing her. She took his face in her hands, "I love you too." She pressed her lips to his and began to move, letting the ecstasy of the joining of heart and body consume.

"Fairy Tales of the Twisted Sort"

Lt. (jg) Faylin McAlister

Location: Fay's Personal Quarters
--------------------------------------

Entering her quarters, the woman wondered what had become of her. Her life, simplistic at times had suddenly turned extremely complicated. As she sat on the maroon colored sofa, Faylin spotted the padd that Jonas had dropped off earlier and sighed as she picked it up.

The plastic type exterior felt cool to her touch, much like her heart felt. It was not voluntary, the chill. Perhaps, in a way it was. Used as a protective device, the wall of ice she constructed around her heart had yet to be shattered. True love was not hers for the taking, as much as she longed to discover it's joys as well as sorrows.

An exaggerated sigh escaped her mouth as her eyes darted back and forth across the electronic padd that housed the document that set her free yet again. Free to be a pain, a bitch, a liar, a manipulator, a chameloid, free to be all those except loved the way she wanted to be.

Her index finger pressed gently upon the square box at the bottom. The genetic signature that legalized the document in reality. As the electronic numerals and letters transfered with sonic speed to the file that they needed to permanently rest in, a part of her suddenly found itself depressed at the life that was claimed as hers. What did she deserve? Nothing, in her point of view. The padd came to rest beside her as it powered down and released her mind from it's grasp.

The brown hair slightly leaned back and came to it's new place on the back of the couch. The universal questions she found herself asking lately were, "What if my life were different? Who would I truly be instead of what I am? Would I have my desires? Would I have children at my feet, would I be happy and content, would I be a joy to others in stead of a burden? Who would Faylin McAlister be.....if she had a choice?"

The questions were fun to think about....her ideal life would be simple. The white picket fence, the handsome husband, the two point five children running around in the yard with the dog. Dinner would be served at 5:30 every night, 'father' would have his cocktail presented to him as he grabbed his Federation Newspaper and slippers retiring into the den. She would busy herself to gain perfection in husband and children's eyes as her hair stayed in place, her makeup perfect, and the string of pearls around her neck graced her collarbone. There would be peace in her small world.

"Who am *I* kidding?" Faylin muttered to herself as she stood. That life was one that was lost in a world full of fairy tales and twisted realities. It would never happen to her.........................................

~Cutting Open the Universe~
The Return of Cutter Kara'nin

"Part IV: Interview with an Angel"

If you looked at it for long enough, the black hole wasn't black. Or at least, it didn't seem to be. But, Dr. Virgil Maro knew better than that. That was the frightening part. If he looked long enough, his mind would abandon the lost cause of trying to pick out small visual details in the absence of all electromagnetic radiation, and he would begin to hallucinate various malleable colors and iridescent shapes that would flicker and dance and zoom around his periphery or dart out towards him. His visions disturbed him. He knew there were messages hidden in their randomness, sensible images trying to form from the chaos. Messages from God. Or from something else. He didn't want to see those images, he didn't want to know the contents of those messages, but he knew that if he kept staring at the black hole, they would eventually come.

And, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look away.

"Excuse me! Taka!" a voice behind him spoke, a hand shaking his shoulder, perhaps a bit too violently. He never heard anyone come in. "If I have to subject myself to this, could we please do it now so I can get back to more important things."

"Yes. Yes, sorry," Virgil spoke, slowing turning his head away from the station window, though his eyes remained transfixed on the blackness for as long as possible. "Yes, I'm sorry. I was lost in thou--"

As he turned to face his patient, Dr. Virgil Maro's voice froze and his jaw fell agape. Here, in this place, in this station hovering over the gate to Hell, full of scientists that were defying God's obvious will, licking their chops at the sight of the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, here, in this place, the last thing he expected to see was one of God's legion! An angel! Towering and giant, with fair skin and hair of the color of night, eyes the color of sapphires, and wings, actual pure, white wings rising folded behind him.

The angel was staring at him, displeased. And when he could not speak, the angel's eyes narrowed and it's frown deepened. And as the awkward situation continued longer, the angel sighed and rolled it's eyes, annoyed.

"I hate humans," it muttered under its breath.

"Wh-what?" Virgil was eventually able squeeze out, the angel's complaint more shocking than its sudden appearance.

"I'm Cutter Kara'nin. I'm here so that you may judge my psychological health," he said, the disdain dripping from his voice. "I am Kardi, or as the Federation refers to my species, a Fruna'lin."

"Oh," Virgil said, nearly shouting as his composure returned to him. "Dr. Karanin, I'm...I'm sorry. I've never seen someone from your species before. You're really...quite...impressive."

"Yes, I know," Cutter said flatly as he sat down in one of the chairs in the small room, his large wings flexing gently behind him, their tips resting against the ground. "Could we get this started, please? I have other work I need to attend to."

"Yes. Uh, yes, of course," Virgil replied, nervously moving to the other seat. He was not an angel, just an alien. Nothing divine, just a client. What was coming over him? "So...how are you?"

"Seriously?"

"Uh, yes.

Cutter sighed. "I'm fine."

"Just fine?"

"Ka'is! Are you kidding me?" Cutter snapped, then just as quickly, held out his hand so that Virgil wouldn't speak, breathed in and out once, deeply, then responded, "Mildly annoyed."

"Only mildly," Virgil asked, a slight smile on his lips.

Cutter looked up, a glare ready on his eyes, but when they caught Virgil's jovial face, he caught on and offered a slight smile of his own. "All right. Fine. I'll cooperate," he said.

Virgil smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Okay, Dr. Karanin--

"Kara'nin," he corrected, "There's a glottal stop, like in the middle of your word, 'uh-oh.' In your writing system, you spell it with an apostrophe. Kara'nin. And its mildly disrespectful in my culture to address someone using a title or only by their second name."

"I'm sorry. So, just Cutter, then?" Virgil asked.

"Yes."

"Ok, Cutter," Virgil began again. "Um, why do you hate humans?"

The avian eyed him for a moment silently. He opened his mouth to speak, but then paused again, and then eventually said, "Ask me that again later."

Curious, Virgil thought, but he would play along. "All right," he agreed, "In that case, I'd like to run through a few things in your file."

"Why?" Cutter asked.

"Because, a person's background often has a significant effect on their current personality and overall physical and mental health," he explained.

Cutter sighed, "Fine." He seemed to sigh a lot.

"It says you were an only child?"

"Yes."

"And you were raised by only your father?"

"Yes."

"Did you know your mother?"

"I've met her before, yes," Cutter said, confused.

"What was it like, growing up with only one parent? Did you ever wish your mother was in your life, too? Or, did you ever want a brother or a sister?"

"What?" Cutter asked indignantly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything negative about your father. I'm sure he was a good man. It's just that some children who grow up with only one parent can feel, I don't know, unwanted--"

"What are you talking about?" Cutter yelled. "Everyone in my culture is raised by one parent. Long term mating is exceedingly rare, and viewed as abnormal. And parents almost always raise children one at a time. It's too much trouble to have two at once."

"There's no marriage?" Virgil asked. Now he was the one confused.

"No."

"So, the male and female of your species don't bond under holy matrimony?"

"What? 'Bond under holy matrimony?' What are you asking me? No. There's no marriage. We get together and we mate. Then we move on."

Virgil Maro frowned upon hearing this. Sex was intended to be between one man and one woman, after they have become one flesh in the eyes of God. After marriage. To even look lustfully at another woman was adultery in his eyes, which was a sin against God and against your future wife. "And children?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"When you want a child, you have to find a mate whose willing to participate. Obviously, this is harder for a male than for a female, because a male has to find someone willing to carry the child through five months of gestation, whereas a female only needs the male for a night or so, but its still not difficult. Then, the primary parent takes over and raises the child."

"What about your child?"

"I'm sorry," Cutter asked, his voice dropping low, his wings bending forward slightly at a more threatening angle.

"You have a son, um, Ako Nitelrajek. Is he being raised by the mother?"

"That should not be in my file," Cutter said. It was painfully obvious that he was upset, and the way he shifted his wings made his size seem more threatening.

"I-well, uh, it is," Virgil said. "What happened?"

"Ako is not being raised by the mother. He's being raised by his father," Cutter explained.

"You?"

"No. Arkedi. A friend of mine. Ako is his son."

"I don't understand."

"Arkedi and I have a mutual friend, a former mate. Her name is Zan," Cutter explained, leaning back in his chair. "They came, at first, to visit me on the Galaxy, when I was stationed there, but later began to work aboard ship. Arkedi and Zan had started mating again, because Arkedi wanted a child, and Zan agreed to mother it. However, when I returned from being MIA--"

"When you were stuck on the desert world with three other Galaxy crewmen?"

"Corran Rex, Curtis Geluf and Ella Gray, yes. When we were recovered, Zan and I began to mate."

"She was cheating on Arkedi with you."

"No, in my culture, we don't maintain monogamous relationships. But, since he and she were trying to conceive, its taboo if I, as the intrusive mate, don't use birth control."

"You didn't?"

"Only once, when I first returned from the planet," the avian confessed, rubbing his brow. "We got caught up in the moment, and I forgot to take my pill. And then, later, we discovered she was pregnant."

"And you know it was yours?"

"Yes, because Starfleet regulations insist on filing both parents DNA for children born on starships. So I know it was mine."

"How did Arkedi take it."

"He doesn't know," Cutter said. "This is why it should not be in my file."

"You're friend is raising you're son as his own and he doesn't know?" Virgil asked. These aliens, no matter what they looked like, were not angels. They were not in line with God.

"Yes. No one raises a child that isn't theirs. And I didn't want it, and Zan didn't want it. We would have had it aborted, but when Arkedi found out Zan was finally pregnant, he went crazy. If he knew the truth, he would hate the both of us, so we decided to not tell him. If he finds out at some point in the future, he will have already raised it for so long, I don't think he'll care. I mean, I know he wants to raise several, who cares if this first one wasn't his?"

"I think he might care, Cutter."

Cutter shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure he won't. But, for better or worse, that's what we decided at the time. Then this opportunity came up, so I left the Galaxy, and they, of course, left as well and went back to Kenara. I've only communicated with either of them through mail a few times since then."

"I see," he said, and made a note on his PADD. Cutter mumbled under his breath, but Virgil couldn't make out what he said. Looking at the file again, he asked, "You left your father and went to school at age 11?"

"Yes."

"That's pretty early," Virgil said offhandedly. The comment wasn't even really directed towards the avian.

"No--No, it wasn't," Cutter said, the indignity had returned to his voice again. "Do you-- Do you know anything about my species? About my culture?"

Before Virgil could answer, Cutter continued. "Do you want to know why I hate humans? Because you leave your world and enter the universe thinking that everyone and everything is like you. They're not. You believe and promote equal rights and equal treatment, and that's all well and good, but the problem is you're not even capable of accepting diversity. You can't comprehend it. Its beyond your imagination that anything could have a different view of the universe than you."

"That's not true," Virgil said.

"It is. You come here, to 'evaluate' the people who work on this station - you come here, to 'evaluate' me - how, exactly, will you be able to do that if you don't know anything about me? If you judge me by human standards, I stand no chance, do I? You've formulated opinions already - that my kind are backwards, that our culture is wrong. I can see it in your eyes. But, I can't act human. How could I? I have wings, I am capable of flight. I picture my world in three dimensions. I am not locked in two, like you ground walkers. My eyes, their resolution is almost a magnitude better than yours. I can distinguish at least twice as many colors as you. My ears, I have vertical, as well as horizontal directional hearing. Compared to yours, I have an incredibly weak sense of smell, which is probably fortunate, because as I understand it, humans reek. I have a balance system in my ear, like you, so I am always aware of my local orientation with respect to down, but I can detect magnetic fields, too. So, I am also always aware of my local orientation with respect to north.

"When my sensory perception of the universe is so fundamentally different from yours, how could I be anything like human?"

"Causes of Stress, and Effects"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin

*****Gym, USS Galaxy*****

Nara was on the rowing machine. She was moving rather faster than was generally recommended, but she had a lot of tension to work out. She really wanted to fight something. The punching bags were all in use, unfortunately.

Cutter Kara'nin could not sleep. Not well. Not since the incident on the singularity research station.

Part of it was because he was upset. Two years worth of work had been lost. Two years worth of planning, of designing, of building. He would have been the first, the first to peer inside the event horizon of a black hole. Well, he was the first. He had done it, and he would still be there studying that data if it weren't for that damn human psychologist.

All the data from that experiment had been lost. None of it was uploaded to Styx. All he had was the data from the last update before the incident. Data about matter and energy just on the surface of the black hole, which, yes, was interesting, but, he could have had so much more.

So, he was certainly upset. And he would continue to be upset about that until he had the oppurtunity to try again. But, that was not the only reason he couldn't sleep.

He had also been having dreams. Odd, disturbing dreams since the incident.

But, because he couldn't sleep, he had to do other things. He had been analyzing the data that he did have from the singularity, but he had reached a point where he needed to run smaller experiments in the lab in order to make sense of the numbers. But, his lab wasn't yet setup to his expectations. So, he couldn't work, at least not on his research.

So, instead, he was here, in the gym, taking out his frustrations on a heavy black bag. But, it wasn't helping. The punching was increasing his metabolic rate, making him hot, which in turn made him cranky. He had removed his shirt so that the air could more easily remove the heat from his sweatless body, but human ships had insufficient air circulation, so it did little to help. And the punching was increasing his adrenaline, which seemed to only heighten his emotional state. All his mind could do was dwell on his losses, and so, he punched harder, which in turn, made him more and more upset.

Nara looked at the time. There was a certain person using a punching bag well past the time limit. She got off the rowing machine and briskly walked over and stood a few inches from the man. "Other people need to punch the hell out of something too you know."

She was brave to maintain such proximity. He ignored her at first, as he has grown to do with all ground walkers, and had almost hit her head with his wing as it came in for a blow against the bag. His wings were capable of lifting twice his weight against air. Had it struck her, especially with the force he was using, she could well have died.

He stopped, upon that realization, and turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed, looking down on her form, several inches shorter than he was. "You may have it when I have finished," he said curtly, gently shoving her away with his wing.

Nara then suddenly noticed the wings. How she missed them before was very odd. She blinked at them but was hardly shocked. She reached out to grab the bag. "There's a time limit and you've exceeded it."

He eyed her for a moment. Then he sighed. "Fine. You may have it," he said as he began to remove his gloves and reach down to pick up his shirt from the ground.

Now that she had noticed the wings, it seemed to distract her from her own annoying angry and depressing thoughts. She watched him and blurted, "Nice wings. What angel did you steal them from?" Her underlying jibe that he certainly wasn't one.

"I'm certain I don't know what you're implying," he said as he picked up his shirt. "These wings are my birthright. Your demigods stole them from us."

She rolled her eyes as an evil little thought crossed her mind. Screw the bag. She looked at him then with a strange smile, "Can you fight with those things?"

"I have before, yes. Why?"

"I have the urge to fight."

"No," he said flatly.

She raised an eyebrow, "We're both ticked at the universe right now. Why not take it out on each other?"

"I have not come here to serve as an outlet to your frustration," Cutter spoke as he began to undo the ties of his gloves. "I do not wish to 'spar' with you, ground walker. There is the bag. If you do not want to use it, then leave, so I can continue my session."

"Second consecutive session. Which isn't allowed if there are others waiting to use it. I won't whine if you win. I don't expect you to take it easy on me. The bag doesn't hit back. Use the wings if you want." Nara ignored the clear violation of not using species specific, non-official names.

"Denying the use of my wings would be like denying the use of your legs," he commented quickly. He inspected her quietly for a moment, his left blue-feathered brow cocked high. "Fine."

Then he tossed his shirt back to the ground, dropped his gloves on top of it, and then walked over to the large padded mat in the corner of the gym.

Nara smirked and walked over to the mat and took a fighting stance.

Cutter stood and waited for her to make the first move. After circling one another, she lunged, tossing a tentative punch. He deflected it with his right arm, which she was expecting. What she was not expecting was the crook of his right wing, flung forward under his arm, striking her hard in her chest. It felt like being kicked by a horse.

After recovering from the strike, she jumped to her feet, kicking in the same move. The foot hit his abdomen and she used that distraction to punch his face. It was tempting to grab at the wings, but all she could think to do there is break them.

He glared at her, the metallic taste of his blood on his tongue. He had been expecting the face to be off limits. She lunged once more, but he dodged her, stepping to the side. The move caused them to begin circling each other once more. He only knew how to fight defensively. How to react. He didn't know how to attack, so he had to wait for her to make the move.

She did, lashing out with another kick. He saw it, and leapt up, his wings unfurling and beating down against the air. He soared six feet into the air, and then came back down, his foot aimed towards her chest. She was able to grab it, and twisted his leg, causing him to role. His wings were so foreign to her, she had no concept of how they could move, what they where they would go while the rest of his body spun in the air. She could not predict it would flail out and knock her in the side of her head.

Now they were both on the ground.

~Damned wings!~ But a smile also formed on her lips at the splendid challenge. It was a twisted masochistic relief she had from the stings and pangs his hits and her falls formed over her body. Still resisting the urge to just break his feathered advantage, she kicked again, aiming for the abdomen. As far as she could reason, his wings could do less damage there if they were to block her.

Cutter took the hit and fell back, rolling on the ground to get more distance between them. He recovered from this quite poorly, since he started to rise again to his feet with his back to his opponent. Nara took advantage of this, and ran towards him, leaping at his vulnerable form.

But, just when she was about to hit him, he disappeared. All of a sudden, he had shifted left, and she sailed by him overhead.

Nara's eyes narrowed, surprised, but more determined as she looked around.

On the ground, and before she could recover, he was upon her. His wing was pressing against her neck, pinning her down. "You lose," was all he said.

She shoved him off, or attempted to.

Those wings were powerful. He pushed slightly, applying a subtle pressure to her windpipe. Just to show he could crush it, probably. Then he pulled the wing away, standing, and walking away.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "What the hell did you do?" Her first guess was site to site teleportation, which she doubted he had access to.

"I beat you," he said, then, "but you may have the bag. I'm done, now."

"No no. That...thing where you disappeared. What the hell was that?"

"Where I disappeared?" he echoed, an incredulous look on his face. "Again, I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about."

"Or moved at light speed, either way." She looked at him just as incredulous and also angry.

He looked at her as if she were mad. "I'm sorry," he said, "I must have hit you in the head harder than I meant to. Perhaps you should report to sickbay."

She shook her head, "I don't think so." Her expression showed that she believed he really was clueless. "You -did- do something."

"Yes. I dodged your rediculously slow lunge and pinned you. Really, there's no need to be a sore loser. I said you may use the bag," he said calmly as he walked over to pick up his shirt and gloves.

"I'm not being a sore loser!" She grabbed his arm, not caring how incredibly stupid it was, "I've seen enough to know things aren't as they seem." She hated even kind of quoting Faylin's words. Well, she had the same idea anyway. She just didn't use cliche words, until now.

"Well, it seems like you are mentally ill, because I did not, nor am I capable of teleporting or moving at light speed. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to leave before you destablize further and become dangerous," he spat, jerking his arm from her grip and slipping on his shirt, fastening the buttons in the back below his wings. He glared at her once more before he began to walk towards the door. Under his breath, but just loud enough so that she could hear, he cursed, "Ground walkers."

She did not handle being brushed off easily. ~Well, isn't he all warm and cuddly.~ She went off after him, "-You- should go to sickbay."

He turned, the both of them now out in the hall. "I will call security," he threatened, his hand raised to the wall's comm panel.

She sighed, "Fine, I'll leave you. But I recommend you get looked at." She turned and started to make her way back into the gym.

Once she walked in, she saw someone else had got the bag in her absence. She shook her head and went to the free weights.

"The Mystery Planet"

with...the Beta Shift crew (mostly unauthorized):

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, Shift CO
Lt. Cmdr. Corran Rex, Shift XO
Ensign Keldan, Operations
Ensign Artim, Sciences
Ensign David Walker, CONN

************
Main Bridge
USS Galaxy
1606 hours
************

"Executive Officer's log, stardate 60703.20. It has been nearly a month since our departure from Deep Space Five, and things are finally settling into a normal routine. Our survey of sector 50118 continues without incident. Sciences has completed their analysis of the data gathered during last week's encounter with the trinary star system 50118-31 Delta. The next point of interest on our tour of the Typhon Sector will likely be the pulsar B1257-20.7. It's a fairly stable star, an 'oldie but goodie' as the Terran saying goes. Nothing spectacular, but the encounter should give some of the newer members of our crew a chance to fiddle with our fancy equipment in a fairly predictable setting. Hopefully they won't break anything this time.

"I hesitate to say this, but it feels almost...strange to be on such an uneventful mission, especially when we are patrolling so close to the edge of the Typhon Expanse. Though, given our recent experiences with the Borg, and the weeks of repair necessitated by that incident, it feels good to relax for a change.

"End Executive Officer's log."

Signing off on the PADD, Lt. Cmdr. Tarin passed it to her yeoman, who silently accepted it and then made himself scarce. Glancing over her shoulder the XO shot a look to the Trill standing behind her, already anticipating his comment. "You don't even have to say it. Asking for trouble, I know."

Rex snorted from behind his new position at the Tactical arch. "That's the trouble with you kids today," he chuckled. "Always looking for trouble. It'll find us soon enough."

"No doubt," she replied, crossing her arms across her chest and returning her focus to the bridge's main viewscreen. At the moment they were cataloguing stellar debris left behind from a comet with which they had crossed paths only yesterday. The viewscreen displayed with crystal clarity the very end of the comet's tail, a vaguely iridescent cloud of rock and ice streaking diagonally across the screen.

It was pretty in a way, Iniara thought as she settled deeper into the plush center chair. So many natural phenomena were aesthetically pleasing to the average humanoid, and it was a rare occasion when she actually got to sit down and appreciate them. With all the conflict, and the bloodshed, and the threat of invasion perpetually looming just over the border, it was easy to forget that things like this even existed in the universe.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bored with the whole situation, and she couldn't help but wonder if this mission was somehow punishment for Galaxy's perceived failures at Barzan. Iniara herself hadn't been there, but she felt that the mission reports had been pretty conclusive. There was little Galaxy could have done against an invading Borg fleet...the Barzan were just near the wrong wormhole at the wrong time. Still, critics of the whole fiasco complained that Starfleet's reponse was too little, too late...so naturally they needed a scapegoat.

A pleasant chirping noise from somewhere nearby brought the XO out of her drifting thoughts. She leaned forward slightly, tapping at the small console built into her armrest, squinting at the tiny blinking message at the top of the screen. She grumbled to herself. Whose idea was it to make these consoles so small?

But before she could access the message, another voice from behind her got her attention. "Commander Tarin?" It was the voice of Ensign Artim, the deceptively youthful Miran currently manning the Science console. "I think you should see this."

"Oh?" Iniara was on her feet quickly, suddenly grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs and get the blood flowing before she dozed off in that too-comfortable chair. Coming up behind the science officer, she peered over his shoulder at the display. "What is it?"

Artim quickly zoomed in on a nearby region of space, calling up a diagram of a solar system with eleven planets orbiting a blue star. "It's this system, sir. 50118-137 Alpha."

The system was on their planned route, but they weren't scheduled to arrive there for at least another two weeks. From what she could remember it was a pretty boring system, just like all the others they had seen recently. "What's so special about it, Ensign?"

"The sixth planet from its sun is registering as a Class M world," he told her, pointing to the sensor readouts. "There are no known Class M worlds in this sector. Furthermore, the existing data on this system says that particular planet should be a Class D."

"Interesting. Any life signs?"

"Plenty of plant life, some lower invertebrates, but that appears to be it," Artim replied, watching as more detailed data began to fill one side of his screen.

Iniara tapped her foot against the floor a few times, thinking for a moment. "How far are we from it?" she asked at last.

"Less than a tenth of a light year, at a heading of 018 mark 10." Artim swiveled in his chair, looking up at the XO with anticipation.

Iniara met his gaze. The look in his eyes was unmistakable: he was just as bored as everyone else. The system wasn't too far, and it might be interesting...

She tapped her commbadge. "Bridge to Lieutenant Hunter."

"Hunter here, go ahead."

"Lieutenant, how close are you to completing your scans of the comet debris?"

"About ninety five percent," came the quick reply. Iniara sensed a touch of irritation in her voice: normal for a scientist who's just been interrupted, she had to remind herself.

"Could you do without the final five percent?"

"We could manage, but..." 8-ball paused. "Why?"

"Something much more promising just popped up. I'll have Artim give you the full details. Tarin out." Closing the channel Iniara headed back down the ramp, issuing orders along the way. "Mr. Walker, lay in a course to the system, warp seven. Mr. Keldan, send a note to the captain informing him of our change in plans. Mr. Artim, keep those sensors alert. And Mr. Rex..." She paused, turning to face the man. "Be on the lookout for trouble."

His only reply was a mischievous grin.

************
About an hour later...
************

"Bring us out of warp and go to half impulse," Iniara ordered as they approached the system. Several planets loomed up out of the blackness, the contrast between their day and night sides made even greater by the brightness of the blue star around which they orbited. "Take us into orbit around the sixth planet. Mr. Keldan, let's see this thing."

The display clicked over instantaneously, zooming in on the small, multicolored planet. Even at this distance they could clearly make out mottled green and brown land masses, deep purplish oceans, swirling clouds, and what appeared to be at least one polar ice cap. The bridge was silent for a moment as they took in the sight.

"Geosynchronous orbit established, 'Commander," Ensign Walker reported from his console. Next to him, Ensign Keldan continued to tap at the Ops console, no doubt anticipating the XO's next series of orders.

"Good. I want a comprehensive scan of this planet done by morning." She turned back to Artim. "You know what to do."

"The Haggard Musings of a Lost Soul"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine

**** Ten Forward ****

Steven stared out the window at the stars as they streaked by. As they had done so for almost a month now. What little comfort their streaking mix of colors provided did nothing to shake the feelings of pain that filled him to the core. His body ached all over from the lack of food, having barely eaten in the month since he had handed her the signed divorce papers. He had lost quite a few kilos of weight, and his eyes were two dark voids, clearly showing sleep deprivation to anyone who looked closely enough. Luckily, no one had so far.

He hadn't shaved since that day, having found himself not caring anymore. It did hide, somewhat, the gaunt look his face now sported. Something which he was a little relieved about. If Bran knew the full extend as to how bad he looked, she'd probably have the Marines forcibly take him to sickbay and restrain him on one of the biobeds. And with how he felt at present, they'd be in for one hell of a fight. That was for sure.

A star twinkled over to the left, catching his eye. Turning, he watched as it slipped past the edge of the Ten Forward window. The Galaxy was headed somewhere, yet Steven didn't give a toss where that was. As long as it was over and done with as quickly as possible. Steven admonished himself for being dumb enough to agree to stay onboard for the mission that the Galaxy had been sent on. 'Can you please stay on until we can get a replacement organized.' She had asked and he had nodded in agreement. Damn Bran and her sweet talking ability.

A month or two and his soul would be free of Faylin. 'Heh,' he snorted, 'It isn't like she has a soul.' he mused, 'More like an empty space in her chest where it should reside.' He was tempted to call her an 'Ice Bitch from Hell', but realized that if there were any Ice bitches from hell around, they probably wouldn't take to kindly to him lumping her with them and freeze him with their icy stare or something. Not that he'd have blamed them. 'She' was one of a kind. That was for sure. And, if he thought back far enough, the meanest person he had ever met. That she was a Chameloid didn't have anything to do with it. It was the cold hearted ability to destroy people's hopes and joy and love. She'd done it to him and sure as hell would do it to someone else if given the chance.

Steven had thought of her as his soulmate. But boy had he been wrong about that. Of course, you had to have a soul to be someone's soulmate, so by that logic, there was no chance of her ever having someone in her life that she could truly 'be' with. He had tried and had been slammed to the ground as if by an invisible fist. The one thing about the whole fraked up situation that he was glad of, was that she had no children under her care. To see a young child with a woman as volatile as that, and doing nothing about it, was tantamount to child abuse. At least in Steven's eyes. So it was quite fortunate that she didn't have any to set a bad example for.

Unable to relax in the serenity of the stars streaking past, thanks in no small part to his thoughts of 'her', he turned from the window, and took a seat on one of the couches. He sank into the soft material of the couch, letting his aching muscles relax but for a moment. His head lay back on the back o the couch, his vision staring upwards towards the same dull grey color that lined the ceilings of just about every room aboard the Galaxy. His mind drifted to his new posting, to the 75th Rangers Battalion who were currently based out of Deep Space Nine. It was just about as far from the Galaxy, though more importantly 'her', as he could get, which was one of the main reasons why he had chosen the posting. They had been looking for a Recon Specialist and Battalion XO, and he had decided to grab the opportunity with both hands and let it take him to greater heights.

Of course, there was some weeks of travel to get there, and had he left when he was scheduled to, he would have spent the trip in a ship barely bigger than a tin can. But as it stood, the 'tin can' had departed the before the Galaxy had set off, and given the projected return of the Galaxy to Deep Space Five, the next transportation available was in two months time on a Sovereign class vessel. So despite having to spend more time on the same ship as Faylin McAlister, he was a little thankful that he'd be travelling to his new home in style. Besides, after a little digging on his LCARS terminal, he had found out that the ship was the first Sovereign class ship to get the new improved refit. More room, better amenities, larger bunks for the Marines... Plenty of added bonuses.

Reaching over to the side table, Steven picked up his half full glass and drank the lot before holding his glass up for Erin the Ten Forward manager to notice. He needed a little more before he turned in for the night, and so far Erin had been content to provide him with a bountiful quantity of the strong drink. While he waited for her to come and refill his glass, he thought back to his first day aboard the ship, in what seemed like years ago, but in reality was only a little over a year previous. She had been the only bartender on duty that day, when he had come in for a drink. So what if it had only been coffee at the time. He had fairly quickly changed to a more suitable liquid refreshment as was generally expected in such an establishment.

Erin slipped from behind the bar and carried the bottle over. Smiling softly, she poured the liquid into his glass. "Enjoy," was all she said before turning to return to the bar. Little did the Marine know that she had only served him two glasses of real alcohol and had been substituting synthehol ever since. In a few hours he'd be up and about as if nothing had happened, unlike the sorry state he'd be in if he had just been drinking real alcohol.

"Thanks, hon." Steven said, slurring his words ever so slightly. She was a beautiful lass. Fiery hair and if you got on her wrong side, a temper to match. Strong enough to throw drunken louts out yet a soft caring smile to brighten the day of anyone whose troubles threatened to overwhelm them. She was a bright shining light in a dark miserable world and had he not been fooled by the devil in the guise of one Faylin McAlister, he might have asked the young bar manager out.

Downing the drink in one go, he tried to rise to his feet. On wobbly legs, with his hand having finally caught itself on the back of the couch after two failed attempts, he rose to his feet. He took a step and staggered to one side. He swayed to the left to stop from falling over and overcorrected too much, sending himself staggering to the left. After a couple of attempts at straightening himself, he managed to begin walking in a straight line towards the bar to deposit his glass. Well, he thought it was a straight line he walked, though anyone looking would have seen it as a wavy curved line, with several sharp turns as he over corrected his balance.

Reaching the bar he snaked out his hand and caught the edge, allowing himself to stand in a relatively stable position as he placed the glass on the table with his other hand. Grinning from ear to ear, he looked at Erin and trying not to slur his words he spoke, "Ta. I'm goin' home." before turning towards the door and falling flat on his face with a loud oomph.

Steven felt himself being turned over onto his back by what felt like a dozen pairs of hands. In reality it was a single pair, belonging to the young bar manager. His eyes, glazed slightly from the synthehol, barely registered that the woman was looking down at him and trying to say something. With his mind befuddled by the synthehol, he shook his head. "Don't worry 'bout me shoes. Come to bed hon." he said as he reached up to gently caress her face.

The sight of her hand whipping down towards his face was the last thing he saw before he slipped into an unconscious state. In the morning, when he woke up, he was going to feel like a right dick for what he had said to Erin. That was if he had the ability to remember just what it was that he had said to the young Redhead.

"New Flight"
Ensign Elissa Skylark

-USS Galaxy - Ten-Forward Lounge-

The ship came out of warp like an eagle descending from on high, slowly and powerfully. It was a sight that, no matter how many times viewed, never got boring or old... nearly as beautiful as the first time the blonde-haired science ensign standing at the viewport had crossed the faster-than-light threshold. She smiled, but much of the expression was internal, lips pressed together in thought. Her arms were crossed and she stood straight as an arrow, lost in thought as she often was in moments of great joy. Discovery was her lover, and it's energizing touch could consume the heavens behind her bottomless blue eyes.

Ten-Forward was beginning to fill up as more and more officers arrived from their shift change. The low murmur was a sound she'd missed a great deal, and still different enough. She hadn't served on the Galaxy for more than a few days now, but the feel of a starship under your feet was the feel of freedom.

"Elissa? Elissa Skylark?" She turned to look at the approaching officer. His voice was familiar. A tall man with a pronounced chin and the wide shoulders of an engineer who did all his own heavy lifting. She'd served with him on Exeter for that very brief time, and Elissa was embarrassed to admit she couldn't immediately recall his name. "I haven't seen you in ages! Where have you been?"

"Oh, here and there," she replied dismissively, calmly, while she racked her brain for the man's name. Unfortunately, his Crewman's rank insignia didn't help much. But then her time aboard Exeter felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then. "It's good to see you again," she added honestly. The familiarity was a nice touch when she hardly knew anyone aboard the ship.

"I'd heard you transferred over to Galaxy too." His grin was so expressive, she couldn't help but crack a real smile in return. It was reflexive and all too frequent with her, but not necessarily a bad thing. The engineer looked at her wrist, where an opulent bracelet dangled. He eyed it curiously. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Here and there," she said again quickly. It wasn't really hiding. It was called working, and she'd been away from real science work so much lately that she'd stayed in the labs until her ranking officers forced her to actually get sleep. Then what he'd said hit her. "People... talk about me?"

"Oh, yeah. Totally." His head bobbed after a moment. "Okay, well, I actually asked around."

"Okay," she nodded. "That makes more sense." What was his name?

"So what's the story?"

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell. I was trapped on Romulus, managed to make a friend and get off the planet, only to be somehow abducted by criminals and made to believe I was someone else, returned to Romulus, then traveled to Deep Space 5, spent the next month or so being debriefed and examined by concerned admirals, counselors and intelligence agents, and finally, sent on my merry way to Galaxy where I've spent the last few days making up for lost time."

"Sounds very interesting. Mind if I buy you a drink?"

She laughed a little. "That's a vestigial turn of phrase if I ever heard one."

"Well, okay, replicate you a drink. It's the thought that counts, right? You can tell me all about it if you'd like." He stood waiting for her answer.

"I could tell you, but I'm afraid I'd have to bore you to death." Elissa was starting to feel a little awkward. Not that she'd had many chances to turn down drinks from attractive men, but... "Oh! You're Crewman Ellis."

He looked suddenly crestfallen.

Elissa winced. "Sorry. I had forgotten." She shifted her weight to her other foot. "Look, we just came out of warp near a Class M planet and I'm really anxious to learn more about it. Rain check?" Well crap; another outdated turn of phrase.

"Sure," he recovered quickly. "That's fine." He seemed to take it pretty well, but she was feeling incredibly embarrassed and awkward at the social disaster she'd created by revealing she'd forgotten his name so blatantly. The engineer smiled bravely in the face of obsolescence. "I'll be around."

"Thank you." Elissa smiled. And got the hell out of Ten-Forward.

Minutes later, her mind was on the new world, and Crewman Ellis was once again forgotten. Tragic as it might be, no man could stand between her and her true love. Discovery awaited Elissa Skylark below.

"Scorned"

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Rihannsu Ambassador

= The Hlai'vna =

The Battle of Romulus. That was last time Aerv tr'Ahalaen had been aboard the personal ship of Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu. How odd it was to be back on this Wild Bird now, after what felt like a small eternity, struggling to recall memories burned away by the intensity of those days....

He remembered the fires around ch'Rihan. He remembered weary prayers offered under brutal rains. He remembered holding a shivering, naked Skylark. He remembered being here, kneeling before his young queen. He remembered standing before rulers of men, pleading.... He remembered the dried tears on his sister's face. He remembered finding pride within humility and discovering hope in desperate alliances. The rest...well, it was all prologue as the humans said....

"Aerv?"

tr'Ahalaen turned his striking, dark eyes towards the Empress t'Vriesu, "I...."

"You were not listening."

"I was not, Your Highness."

The young Empress of the Rihan smiled an ever so dangerous smile, "It is our understanding that you have been particularly distracted lately, tr'Ahalaen. Surely being stabbed a couple of times cannot have had so profound an effect on a man such as yourself."

Aerv bit back a sigh. For some time now, he had been away from the Galaxy in order to help negotiate a trade agreement with the Gorn. That diplomatic mission had not gone as expected.... That, of course, was not enough to earn him the displeasure of the Empress by itself - especially given his service to the Throne. He had, however, have made some ill-advised offhand comments about a few of Kaidalin's more draconian policies at a social gathering...and that had not sit well with the new absolute ruler of the Rihannsu. To further complicate matters t'Vriesu seemed to have taken his engagement to Elissa quite badly.... It was sufficient to say that Aerv's star was not rising quite so fast as it had been before....

"I am quite well. "

Kaidalin gave him a dark look. "You are certain?"

"Yes."

"Then why have you not answered our question."

"I am sorry, Your Highness...I must have missed...."

"We asked how you liked the engagement present we had sent to you."

The Empress was referring, of course, to the honor blade she had sent to dohhae Ahalaen. The very weapon with which her beloved grandfather had killed himself....

"It was...a lovely blade, Your Highness."

Kaidalin nodded. "A family heirloom, you know...."

"Ah...yes."

"Keep it close."

tr'Ahalaen managed a smile. "As you wish, Your Highness."

"Very well then...thank you for the update on the Gorn. We will now let you return to the Galaxy and your...human. You may leave." As Aerv knelt and then rose to go, the Empress added, "Am I not merciful, Aerv?"

Well...that was entirely a matter of opinion. The new Rihannsu government under Kaidalin was particularly brutal - there was no forgiveness in the courts, no pardon from the Throne, no kindness from administrators. It was all very efficient and the process of rebuilding what had been so recently lost was going well...but 'merciful' was not a word tr'Ahalaen would have chosen.

Even so, when he turned back to face her, he said. "You are, Your Highness."

"I am rebuilding the Empire with nothing but my own hands."

tr'Ahalaen said nothing.

"And they say I am beautiful."

"You are."

"Then answer me this, tr'Ahalaen...despite all that, despite knowing that if you would but wait you might be an Emperor, why did you choose a human? I cannot understand it." Kaidalin fairly growled at him, then she turned away and began pacing. "You infuriating creature. Every man wants power. How could you not reach for it when it was within your grasp? It makes no sense. I command you explain yourself."

"It is quite simple, Your Highness...I am not every man."

There was a long silence. Then Kaidalin waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. "Go back to your precious Federation, tr'Ahalaen. And see that you do not disappoint me again."

A thousand replies were at the tip of his tongue then...almost all of them impertinent. In the end, he simply said, "Jolan Tru, Your Highness."

= End Log =

"kicking locomotives"

MCPO Madden Jayce
Command Master Chief
Chief of the Boat

--- One Week out of DS5, 3 Weeks Before Arriving at the Planet ---

On the wall of the Command Master Chief's office, there was a humorous plaque taken from the old days of Earth's United States Navy. The plaque ran down the naval ranks, starting at the Admiral on top and going down to the end with the Command Master Chief. An admiral, it read, leapt tall buildings in a single bound, was more powerful than a locomotive, faster than a speeding bullet, could walk on water, and gave policy to God. All the while a Captain talked with God, a Commander was faster than a speeding BB, a Lieutenant Commander barely cleared very short buildings, a lieutenant could sometimes handle a gun without inflicting self-harm, and an ensign would say 'look at the choo-choo'.

The punchline of course was in the description of the CMC: able to lift buildings and walk under them; kicked locomotives off their tracks; caught speeding bullets in his teeth and eats them; could freeze water with a single glance, and that HE IS GOD.

On a ship of the Galaxy's size, where a little over seventy percent of the population was enlisted crew members, this could see was very accurate. The Chief was the line: the Chief could not be bypassed, not by anyone.

Consequently, the office of the Galaxy's Chief of the Boat was one of the most frequently visited places on the ship, putting to shame even main engineering's central head, and second only to the enlisted crew's mess on the lower decks. When she wasn't out walking the ship, the Chief was most often in her office with her door open, doing paperwork and listening to requests, concerns, and telling stories or joking with her people. She was a combination of mother, father, big sister, camp counselor, psychologist, and school yard bully.

At first glance, no one would expect Madden Jayce to be in such a position. She was a petite, soft spoken Betazoid who came from the second highest house on her home planet; she grew up in a situation where she was never left wanting, except perhaps for normalcy as she spent the bulk of her childhood at a school designed for exceptionally gifted telepaths. All in all, she was the perfect representation of a Betzoid woman of her status: calm, collected, almost serene, intelligent and pretty, gentle and kind.

To a certain extent, that was all true. But it would be a mistake to let that color one's approach. Of course, it wasn't hard to determine that: Jayce's reputation always preceded her.

Madden Jayce had the reputation as the proverbial badass. Two years in a Dominion Prisoner of War camp would earn you that notoriety, and despite her attempts to either ignore the gossip or play down the rumors of her actions during this time (all of which were, in honesty, not only true but understated), her reputation was alive and well and festering. She was a war hero, no denying it, and reluctant though that status may be, others weren't too keen in letting it die.

As the Chief, there was a certain level of awe involved. Each one of them had that. It was a requirement of the job. Jayce's reputation inspired a level of awe above and beyond the requirements.

Crewman McDaniel Sullivan stood at the door of her office, silently trying to talk himself into entering. He was lucky: there was rarely a time when she was alone and without a queue at her door. At the moment, she seemed intent at work, shuffling through pads at a remarkable rate of speed, her forehead creased as her head rested against a raised hand. She was prettier than he expected her to be; he'd seen her once before, from a distance when she welcomed the new shipment of crewmembers, but looking up close, it was almost disconcerting-- she reminded him of his favorite aunt. Small. Pretty.

*You're talking about God,* he reminded himself. *Get a grip*

"Chief?" he asked, tapping softly on the door frame.

She looked up at him. Crewman McDaniel Sullivan was one of the Ducklings, one of the youngest Ducklings as a matter of fact. They seemed younger every time, though their ages remained fairly constant. This batch though, they still had their baby fat: the youngest was eighteen and three days while the oldest was almost sixty-- though in his Vulcan terms, that was practically infancy. They were a variety of races, shapes, colors, perspectives, though all were there, most fresh out of basic, because of one specific reason: to replace casualties sustained over the past few missions.

It had to happen. Madden knew that as well as anyone; she saw the turnover better than any officer did, that was her job and it was just the rule of numbers. Her people dominated the fleet, despite how it sometimes seemed, especially by the Academy brats. With the greater numbers living in the fleet, there would be more of them dying in the fleet-- down in the depths of the ship or as cannon fodder. The unsung heroes. It was easy for Starfleet to celebrate the sacrifices of its officers, those who went to the beyond leading the troops into battle or nobly sacrificing themselves for the ship, who signed the paperwork, corresponded with the COs, the people back at Command, what have you. The others though, those without the small black and brass pips on their collars, they were a little different. The bulk of their memory had to be carried by their friends, by the others in the same positions.

"Sullivan," she said, offering a small smile and putting down her padd. She raised a hand to direct him toward the chair across her desk. He settled awkwardly in the seat, was silent. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just..." He frowned, staring at his hands folded at his knee. "I just wanted to meet with you. One on one. I guess. I've heard a lot and I wanted..."

"Don't believe everything you hear, crewman," she said. "In the end, with people like us, it's not the actions that matter."

"Yes, it is."

"No," she said. "Because people like us do what we need to do. We don't have the big decisions to make; we operate on need to know levels. And when we're in situations, we do what needs to be done. It's the end result that needs to be recognized. Not the individual actions."

"I don't know I agree with that," he said, looking up at her. "Since I came on this ship, all I hear are stories. About everyone. About the Captain, the XO, the Marines and fighters. About you. From before and now and I don't know how I'm going to live up to that standard."

"You were assigned here for a reason, Crewman."

"I'm three weeks out of basic, Chief," he said. "I don't know anything. I don't think I belong here..."

"You, Sullivan, are on a ship of the line. That means that the officers in your Basic Training group saw something in you and they knew you would live up to that. They wouldn't put you here if you didn't belong, know why?"

"Why?"

"Because they'd know I'd find out and I'd send you back. You're where you belong, Sullivan, and the only thing that will discredit that is if you start believing whatever nonsense is going on in your head. Got it? So you know what you need to do? You need to open your ears. Open your eyes. Get to your shift early, stay late and learn from the people next to you. Behind you. Some of them have been doing it for decades, since a lot of the Captains in the Fleet were children. We're not officers. We're not here for decorations or glory or advancement or the need to prove something. That's what sets us apart from them. They do the heavy thinking. We do everything else and we do it for all the right reasons: because we're needed, because it's our duty and obligation to keep the ship going, to protect the Federation, to make our officers look good." She smiled again. "Don't worry, Kiddo, you'll do fine."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," she said, "I'm your Chief."

He cracked a smile at this. "Yes sir," he replied.

"Good. Now unless you want to pick up a PADD, I suggest you get outta here. They might start thinking you have administrative aspirations, and wouldn't that be a horrible waste of a life?"

"Solid"
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Major Corran Rex

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Daren M'Kantu's Quarters

Daren hated the waiting. He could do it - he'd learned how many years before and Allah saw fit to give him ample reasons to keep in practice - but that didn't mean that he'd ever learned to actually *like* it. It was, he thought as he looked out through his cabin windows towards the brilliantly lit white spindle and tower that was DS5, because he had too much time to remember while doing it.

Time to remember watching a world and its civilization die under the massed might of Borg. Time to remember how helpless he'd been to stop it. Time to remember how helpless he'd been the last time he'd faced the Borg before this, at Wolf 359. Time to remember what it had felt like when June and Bahiyah had left him. Time to remember everything.

And Daren had a very good memory.

In fact, with June back at her job to deal with some problem that only she could solve (or so the project director had said), and the repair work proceeding well on the new nacelle for the Galaxy, he'd had a lot of time to remember. Too much time.

Time to do something else - before he had a midshipman flashback and did something juvenile like hang a banner up in his cabin that displayed insulting commentary on Livia Proctor's personal appearance and lifestyle - he knew that she used a set of holobinoculars she kept in her office to spy through his cabin windows when the Galaxy was in port. Or maybe loaned his cabin to Lt. Hunter for a wild weekend party - that would give Livia something to be jealous of...

Definitely time to do something else! There was at least one piece of ship's business that he'd put off for a while, better to deal with that now than continue down that thought-train to demotion.

=/\="M'Kantu to Rex."=/\=

["Rex here, Skipper."] the joined Trill replied immediately. ["What's up?"]

=/\="If you have some time, there's something I need to talk to you about."=/\=

["I'll be right up."] the Trill replied easily.

Rex was always good about that, Daren thought to himself as he turned back to the window. He wondered if the Major would feel like being so prompt the next time after this talk.

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

Corran Rex was as good as his word - he always was, of course - but especially when Darren had that particular sound in his voice. Somehow over the last few years, since Daren had assumed command of the starship Galaxy and since Corran had taken command of (and built from the ground up) Vanguard Squadron, the Trill had become the Captain's confidant. Maybe it was because he was the one person aboard who understood the burden M'Kantu shouldered (having been a starship Captain more than a few times, even if he was a few centuries out of practice) or maybe it was because their personalities were just that compatible. Neither really knew, nor particularly cared to analyze it.

Right now, though, something was bothering his friend, and Corran had a pretty shrewd notion of just what that was.

The doors to the Captain's quarters opened at his approach, M'Kantu no doubt having instructed the door to simply allow him in. Corran wondered for a moment if the other man found all those "Enter"s as tiresome as he did. It was why he just left his door open.

He found Darren standing at the transparisteel viewports behind the couch, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the hustle and bustle of Deep Space Five. "That good, eh?"

"That would," Daren replied as he turned around, "depend on how you define the word, I suppose." He waved a hand at the couch and chairs that surrounded a low table in the center of the room - he'd never changed the layout of his cabin from the one June had established it so many years before when they were married and entertained friends many nights. "Have a seat, please. Just because Livia Proctor has to stand to spy through my windows from her offices doesn't mean that we have to stand while entertaining her."

Corran raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"

"Oh no, I'm quite serious," Daren replied with a wry smile. "I've got a set of binoculars in my desk if you'd like to see for yourself." He shook his head. "You'd think that she had something better to do with her time as an Admiral in Starfleet, but..." He shrugged.

"You know, I think I just might." he replied. "Not that I don't believe you, but.."

"..you don't believe me." Darren finished the rest of the old joke while fishing out the binocs.

Corran slipped them up into place, activating the autofocuser by habit. A few moments passed as the pilot scanned back an forth, and finally, there was astonishment when he spoke. "Hunh. Look at that."

Sure enough, there was Admiral Proctor, looking back at him. With a wide grin, he gave the "good" Admiral an excessively cheery wave, and then set the binoc down.

M'Kantu chuckled openly as he set down a teacup in front of the Major, and settled himself into his rather-comfortable armchair. "But talking about Livia isn't going to do anything for my blood pressure - let's change the topic, all right?"

"Doubt it does good for anyone's." Corran snort. "But I'm game."

Daren nodded in return and sat down opposite Corran. "The Galaxy's in a mess right now, you know that. Too many transfers, too many interdepartmental shuffles, too many high-stress missions back-to-back. I applied for shore leave for the crew - denied. I requested a stop to the transfers that are causing departments to hemorrhage trained personnel - denied. I even tried to slip a request for a Class 1 Systems Inspection through, since that would require rotating us back to a full fleet yard for two months, also denied. So..." he sighed, "We've got to make the best of what we've got... and that means making some decisions that I've been thinking of."

"And all because Admiral Murdock's got you here keeping an eye on her." Corran returned with an offhand wave in the direction of Proctor.

Darren's eyes narrowed slightly, but it was tinged with amusement. "Corran, I'd like to know just how you got information that high above your grade."

The Trill raised his eyebrows. "It wasn't hard to figure out, Darren. You served under the C-in-C, and amicably at that. You're one of the best ship commanders in the 'Fleet, and everybody knows that, too. People like you and ships like Galaxy don't draw a crap Admiral like Proctor without a reason." he replied pointedly.

"Mmm." Darren said noncommittally. "I'd rather hoped it wasn't that obvious."

Corran shrugged. "Well, I *have* been around the block a few times," he wryly confessed. "But you sound like you've got something specific in mind to shape the ol' ship up."

"Top of the list is Tactical - I need someone solid there." M'Kantu said frankly.

"I heard about 'Commander Todd getting pulled to work with the liaison teams on Romulus." the Major acknowledged as he sipped at the tea the Captain always provided. . "It's just been a big rotating door on that department."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like you've got someone in mind already, then. Who're you thinking, Skip?"

"You." Darren said bluntly, fixing a level gaze on the Major.

Corran froze, for just a moment, before setting the cup back down on the table in front of him.

And, for a moment, just a moment, it was almost five thousand years prior, and he was on the bridge of the Trill Heavy Cruiser Bek'nala. The world of Kurl turning on the targeting scanners on his board. A poisoned, sick, perverted world. They'd been trying to figure out how to make more of the two-footed Trills capable of bonding with symbionts.... but something had gone so horribly, horribly wrong. The Bond had been perverted, destroyed. Symbiosis, partnership became control - dominance. Destruction. A billion joined Trills... and they were all insane.

The order to fire came, and Jacen, the very first host of Rex, didn't hesitate. He input his targeting solutions, and his missiles streaked forward in conjunction with the rest of the fleet's. And atomic fire cleansed the world of Kurl down to the bedrock.

And a year later, Jacen, the first host of Rex, committed suicide by ripping the Rex Symbiont out of his own belly. Corran remembered that, too.

"Me?" he asked smoothly, considering it a marvel that his own voice didn't betray him. Darren would know why he'd hesitated. The Captain, along with Ella and Pad, were probably the only people who DID know as much about his own past as he did. "Darren - I don't know."

"I know you've got objections, Corran." the Captain said sympathetically. "And I understand them. But really - this is no different than what you do with the Vanguards. The scale's just larger. And my Tac people need an experienced, stable Chief to whip them into shape. By Allah, we're certainly going to need them!"

"That's different. A fighter.. it's more personal. It's one on one, you against them." the Trill explained. "From the bridge of a Starship it's.. cold, remote. Much easier, and that's something it shouldn't ever be."

"And that's exactly why I want you."

Silence reigned in the Captain's quarters as Corran turned the notion over and over in his mind. He'd been feeling restless lately, sure, but.. "Y'know what?" he finally said aloud, deciding not to over-analyze and emote and all that other nonsense. "Yeah, I'll do it. You've got your Tac officer, Skipper."

Rex hoped to the gods his own ghosts would forgive him.

M'Kantu just smiled broadly. "That, Mr. Rex, is exactly what I wanted to hear."

"It's All In Your Head"

LTCMDR Corran Rex
Chief Tactical Officer

MCPO Madden Jayce
Command Master Chief
Chief of the Boat

---

The petite Betazoid Chief of the Boat was standing silently in front of the large window of the observation lounge, sipping her coffee -- strong, extra bold, and black as space: coffee the way it was meant to be. The sleeves of her uniform were rolled up to her elbows, her hair clipped into a bun at the nape of her neck, and her eyes surveyed the mysterious class-M planet drifting in the middle of the starscape.

The Observation Lounge was hardly ever in use this time of day, it was the perfect place to stop and take ten minutes. She liked to stop there after her brief pass through the bridge; she usually started her morning tour of the ship by moving up from her quarters to the bridge, then back down. It usually took about four hours to make it that far, and by the time she got to the lower decks, a bulk of the day will have passed. She pulled sixteen hour shifts: eleven on tour of the boat, two hour-long meal breaks in the enlisted's mess, three in her office. She spent two hours of each day on her own, and always made sure to get at least seven solid hours of sleep. She took one day a week with a shortened day, but her people always came first.

The doors of the lounge opened and she looked over her shoulder as the very tall Trill stepped in. Her mental shields flew up at an alarming speed, her memory of her experiences with the Diparthu-occupied Corran Rex still relatively fresh. It was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it; it was instinctual.

"I'm sorry, there was nothing on the schedule-- do you need the room?"

"Master Chief," the Trill officer greeted her. "Nothing in particular. I was just coming in here for some quiet."

Truth was, Corran had wanted to get out of the Tactical Offices for a little bit. He didn't want the kids to think Dad was always looking over their shoulders his first few days in charge.

"I understand the feeling," she said. "I'm actually glad you came in, I've been meaning to come by a meeting with you, since you took your new position, but I've had the Ducklings to deal with. I think they get fresher every time a new batch comes through..."

"Not to mention younger, shorter, and more and more like children." He chuckled.

"Some of them are," Madden said, scoffing. "I have one that turned of-age the day before he entered basic. I can't believe they let some of these kids in there. They're good kids, but... what a state, huh?" She took a sip of her coffee. "Seems like we've been going from one war to another; here we are, tearing ourselves apart over war and sitting on the brink of another one and our kids are enlisting in droves because they don't know what else to do and..." She shook her head. "Aren't we supposed to be enlightened, in this day and age? Whatever happened to that idea?"

"This?" Corran chuckled a moment. "This is nothing. You should've seen the Vergeran Wars a few thousand years back. Thank the Gods they didn't stick around this region of space."

Madden snorted before taking another long sip from her coffee mug. "You Trills. Always gotta throw that long memory in everybody else's face." She paused. "So. Chief Tactical. Isn't that a bit of a demotion? CAG's coequal with the Captain, now you're below the XO? Or are you angling for a different type of command these days? Get tired of strutting your stuff around the flight deck?" Her dark eyes seemed to dance as she focused on him, the small lines around them creased with a touch of humor, one eyebrow very slightly lifted.

Corran adopted a look of false wounding for a moment. "Master Chief! I'll have you know, an officer of my caliber doesn't... *strut*."

"Uh huh," she said, smirking again. "And on duty, I'm 'CoB' or 'Bo'sun,' no need to stress yourself with a tri-syllabic mouthful."

"I can deal with that, CoB," the ex - pilot said with a quick nod. "Call me Corran. You call out 'Commander', and I'm probably not even going to notice it."

He fingered the gold pips on his collar a moment as he mentioned the new rank. He'd grown so used to 'Major' that he wondered just how long it'd be before he really responded to it.

"I try not to address senior officers by their names," she stated. "Sets a bad example for my people. And other officers? Just don't have much use for, to be honest." She finished her coffee and moved to the replicator, quietly getting a refill.

"And off duty?"

She smirked again. "Probably just more of the same, 'Commander."

Corran acknowledge the verbal hit as though she was a sparring fencer. Then he settled into one of the chairs surrounding the conference room's table and proceeded to get comfortable, settling his hands behind his head, and putting his feet up on the table.

He wasn't lying before - he really had come here for the quiet. Unfortunately, that was a relative term for the joined Trill with forty-one previous lives. There was a chorus of thoughts almost always within his mind. He'd learned to navigate it, bringing the shared thoughts of Corran and Rex to the top, but there was always that mental cacophony.

She hesitated, glancing at the small watch on the inside of her left wrist, and then settled down across the table from him, taking a similar position. He had more going on in his mind than most Trills; the usually dim whisper was more a dull roar of psychic noise drifting inside of him, and if she concentrated on it, it made her want to both cover her ears and push onward. She did neither, but chuckled softly under her breath, blowing softly into the warm liquid of her mug.

"Loud thoughts you got there," she stated, more into the coffee than toward the Trill.

"Some of it's quantity over quality, believe me," he replied. He knew she was a Betazoid, of course. Even if the eyes hadn't been a giveaway, there was their shared... experience during the Dithparu incident. "My bond's not... quite normal," Corran admitted, looking out at the stars.

"No," Madden replied. "There's too much going on in there for that to be the case." She brushed hair from her face, leaning her head back, looking at the ceiling. "I know how you feel. The constant noise. Reliving other's memories. Joined Trills have a slightly different psychology involved, but... I know how it feels, to mix things up. To get caught living someone else's memory."

"Ah," he said, raising a finger. "Except that these memories are mine, except for when they're not."

"Ah. But I have them at least ten fold." Then she smiled softly. "You ever try psychic therapy?"

"Some." He nodded. "There's a staff of Betazoids back at the Institute. They've helped some, but my current condition is... well, uncharted waters. They don't know what to do any more than I do."

"Most of them can only do so much. They're sixes, sevens max. Guidance level. What did they do? Meditation therapies? Directed memory regression?"

"Tried to get in touch with the inner me." He chuckled. "Shoulda seen their faces when they realized there were forty-two 'me's."

"I can only imagine. Betazoids don't like surprises, especially if they're at that level."

"No, not really," he acknowledged. "I'm one of the oldest of my kind. To my knowledge, I'm the only one my age who's even left the planet in a long time."

That we know of, he amended mentally. How many other Trills suffering from T'Rex's syndrome were products of the same memory blocking procedure that had been used on him? How many lives were going unremembered, because of secrets those in power at the time had wanted suppressed?

They weren't questions Corran Rex had answers to... yet.

Madden nodded solemnly, listening to the drum of thoughts surrounding her in that room.

"You are in an interesting situation, 'Commander, that is for sure." She pushed herself to her feet. "I'll leave you to your thoughts; got my rounds to finish, long day ahead of me. Welcome to the Fleet staff, by the way; now you get to deal with me. Treat my people with the respect they deserve, we won't have a problem."

"No ma'am," he chuckled. "After all - I'm old enough to know better."

She almost broke to an honest grin, but not quite. She then paused at the door on her way out.

"'Commander, you ever want to try a psychic approach with someone a bit stronger than the crackerjacks you had at the Institute, look me up. Just an offer. If you ever get curious."

"I'll keep it in mind." Corran acknowledged. "No pun intended."

"Ha. 'Course not." She smirked, then nodded briskly. "Have a good day, then."

"You too," he echoed even as she left. The offer was nice of her, but Corran wasn't exactly sure he'd take her up on it. After all - it wasn't like he was going to get someone else's memories stuck in his head anytime soon.

"Riot"

Starring
Crewman Allison
"Mary Poppins" the Horta

USS GALAXY
DECK 10 Quarters

SO COME ON FEEL THE NOIZE!!!!! GIRLS ROCK YOUR BOYS!!! WE'LL GET WILD WILD WILD!!! WILD WILD WILD!!!

The walls of the small cabin literally vibrated in tune to the famous chorus line blaring from the huge speakers......

SO YOU THINK YOU GOT AN EVIL MIND WE'LL I'LL TELL YOU HONEY!!!! AND I DONT KNOW WHY.... I DONT KNOW WHY.....

On the shelves, tiny curios and knik-nacs danced and jumped in unison to the noise, sending some clattering to the floor unnoticed. posters on the wall started peeling at the edges and drooping precariously

SO YOU THINK MY SINGING'S OUT OF TIME.... WELL IT MAKES ME MONEY!!!! AND I DONT KNOW WHY.... I DONT KNOW WHY.....

In a flourish of dancing madness, Allison, (widely rumored to be the cutest darn crewmember aboard the Galaxy) leapt from the shower wripped in a fluffy white towel belting out the chorus at the top of her lungs.

SO COME ON FEEL THE NOIZE!!!!! GIRLS ROCK YOUR BOYS!!! WE'LL GET WILD WILD WILD!!! WILD WILD WILD!!! TIL DAWN!!!

Boogie-ing her way across her tiny room, the young blond struck a pose in front of the mirror giving herself a smoldering look as she sang.

SO YOU THINK I GOT A FUNNY FACE WE'LL IM NOT WORRIED!!!!! AND I DONT KNOW WHY..... I DONT KNOW WHY......

Still dancing, Alli tore the towel off her head and shook her still wet hair into a wild shaggy mane that would have done Kevin DuBrow proud.

The tiny crewquarers was a minefield of haircare and beauty products. Conditioner and mousse containers vibrated on the floor while long lines of rainbow colored nailpolishes danced on the vanity.

Wiggling her mad way over to the latter, Alli put on a quick coat of lipstick, before giving 'herself' a big kiss leaving a red pair of lips imprinted on the mirror.

ALONG ABOUT LAST WEEK I STOPPED THIS RACE I'M IN NO HURRY!!!! AND I DONT KNOW WHY I DONT KNOW---------"What the heck is that!!!????!!!"

Noticing something in the mirror Allison broke suddenly from the lyrics and peered closely at herself frowning.

~~~....The hell?~~~

"Computer music level to minimal...." she ordered quieting the 'Riot'. "Mary...Im I wigging out or like are my ears looking pointy to you."

"Pointy dearie?"

"Yeah....kinda like....well pointy on top?"

"Bless you luv, but Im afraid Im still learning to tell you 'umans front from back."

'Mary Poppins'....Allison's Horta roomate sat quietly on her stone perch and watched the young blond go through her daily beauty ritual.

To a living rock, the idea of cleansing and exfoliating was somthing of a cultural mystery. Add into that the fact that Allison seemed to attack her face with music blaring and dancing hard enough to wear out an aerobics instructior made it all the more fascinating to watch.

It was a good thing that the rock had no comprehension of loud noises and was undisturbed by the cacophany.

"Now which parts were the 'ears' again luv." Mary inquired in her trademark british accent, (a cruel joke from the technicians who had installed her electronic translator device) "Were those the little sparkly bits next to your ocular organs?"

"Nopers." Alli poked experimentally at her lobes.....seemed normal but for a minute she could swear......"Those are my cheeks silly, and they dont naturally come sparkly....we call that glitter." Alli waved a tiny bottle of equally sparkly liquid that she kept by her nightstand. The liquid was still sloshing from the music.

"Glitter....the little sparkly spots....they're 'good'?

"Yup."

"And the faint little non-metallic spots?"

"Those are freckles....we minimize those." Alli stated matter of factly with a frown. It was a rare day that she even admitted to the having the horrid little spots.

"Ah yes freckles....dearie me." Poppins sighed, "So many parts to remember Luv. We Horta are content just to have a topside and a bottom."

Alli snorted a giggle. "We got bottoms too, only they're up here." she patted the towel over her tush to explain.

Poppins sighed and electronic sigh. "It's too much for me gulliver Luv. Natural spots are bad, but artificial spots are good, your bottoms are located next to your middle you like to shake them side to side while hopping about."

"Dancing ....Dan-Sing......" Alli explained hopping in place as she selected and exfoliant.

"Dancing....yes." Mary repeated , "Next you'll have to be explaining the whole idea of clothing again."

Alli turned away from the vanity grasping her towel tightly with mock horror. "Like total sacrilidgious Mary. Clothing and fashion is like our most sacred religion. Im afraid that on behalf of the human race Im going to have to declare war on your people for your blasphemy."

"Ah dear me.... have I started and interstellar incident again?"

Alli broke into a cute giggle and turned back to the mirror her long legs already dancing again. "Computer....set music level to five thousand......We'll get wild wild wild.....wild wild wild.... Mary was turnig out to be a blast of a roomate, and was quickly picking up on the basics of humor. "You totally Rock Mary!" she screamed over wailing guitars and drums, as she examined her pores carefully.

"I cant help it." the rock observed, "Its genetic."

"0-3-0: Not The Greatest Record"

SCPO. Renora Loret, Tactical Analyst

Renora's Quarters
*****************

Renora pulled her undershirt on and looked into the mirror.

"Three times, by the prophets, will we never be free of them." She said to her own reflection.

War had come to the USS Galaxy and it had come in the shape of the Borg. The all consuming, virulent plague on sentient life across the entirety of known space had returned in spectacular fashion.

An entire planet…consumed. The Barzan race almost wiped out. The only comfort she could take from this was that the similar event at 001 had been avoided…or maybe it had just been the dress rehearsal.

She walked across the room and took her jacket from off the chair where it had been put the night before, slipped it on and then flicked her hair out from under it. Resting on the back of the chair with her hands she knew only one thing.

Things were going to have to change.

In a way they all ready had. Commander Todd had been reassigned and Major, now Commander, Rex had been put in charge of the tactical unit. She couldn't say she was unhappy about that, he knew the ship, it's crew and, as a joined Trill, she suspected more than a few tricks he'd been saving for a rainy day...and if this wasn't the start if the storm season she didn't know what was.

She needed to take some time and look at everything…that was the problem with being an analyst…you could only plan after the event. If you had precognition you'd be top of your class…maybe they should hire Q?

"Whoa…stop that thought right there."

She clipped her collar pin to her uniform. Now wasn't the time for feeling sorry, or scared…she couldn't afford that. They'd lost a few good crew on the last mission and the majority of the new blood from DS5 had a distinctly green colour to it. She needed to show a strong front for them. She knew that they wouldn't be here unless Jayce had okayed it, which counted for enough as far as she was concerned, but there was a big difference between the training ground and a ship at the proverbial 'broken end of the bottle'.

"No time to dwell on that now…stop talking to yourself Renora…people will think your going mad."

She shook her head, straightened her tunic and checked herself one last time. Then she turned and headed for the tactical control suite.

It was going to be a long day.

"Sandcastles and old Mantras"

Flight Officer John Davidson

****
Vanguard Flight Deck
USS Galaxy
****

John sat on a bench in the Vanguard changing room. Filled with rows of lockers, several showers and wash basins, the room looked like it had seen better days. Clothes lined the floor, towels lay about like they owned the place, and the smell of clothes, long overdue for a wash, permeated the room. To think that some pilots wore the same jockstraps every mission and hadn't cleaned them for ages gave JD the willys.

Sitting on the bench, JD's eyes were closed, as he began the preflight ritual he had done for years. With his eyes closed, he forced his mind to focus on the most beautiful place he knew; Club Med Vaulera on Risa. With the most beautiful beach, the best waves in all of Risa, the place was the perfect getaway. Beautiful serving girls in skimpy outfits parading around as the brought you whatever drink you wanted; the most delectable cuisine and the long sandy beach; It was like heaven on earth, as the saying went. With a clance at the rolling waves, John shrugged. He wasn't much of a surfer, though he could hold his own when required. What he loved the most, was the gorgeous sandy beach. It was perfect; perfect for his favorite hobby anyway.

Sandcastles!

He loved making sandcastles. Not little ones that kids make when at the beach with their parents, but huge almost artwork type ones. In fact, the last one he had made was a huge replica of a Hyperion Monestary in the Tallar region of Bajor. With it's tall spires, and grand arches, it had been a challenge to recreate, but he had managed to do it under the timelimit he had set for himself. Well, in reality, there had been three of them doing it, but that was just semantics.

His mind relaxed, John opened his eyes and breathed deeply. Almost gagging on the smell, he rose to his feet, picked up the rest of his gear and exited the room for the fresher air in the Hanger deck.

Walking up to the crewman preparing his fighter, he nodded in greeting, "Hey Aaron."

"JD, ready to get out there?" he replied.

"Always." John replied with a grin.

Walking around the fighter, John let his gloved hand glide over the outer shell of the fighter as his eyes gazed over it. Yet another of his little rituals, he was doing both a check for any problems, as well as getting a feel for how the craft was going to handle during the flight. Most people thought it insane that you could tell how the craft was going to handle by rubbing your hand over the surface of it, but it had served John well in the past.

"Looks good." he called out to Aaron as he lobbed him his helmet. He began climbing the ladder to the cockpit of his fighter. He'd only been on the Galaxy for a few weeks, but he had become friends with most of the fighter crew and many of the pilots very quickly.

"Have a good one, Sandman." Aaron said as he tossed the helmet up to John as he settled into the cockpit. The Terran wondered if the stories about Sandman were all true; about him being a cocky hot shot with no regard for anyone but himself. Shaking the thought away, - it didn't pay to think about that sort of thing when prepping a fighter - he turned to the last minute checks he had to perform.

JD smiled. "Will do."

Slipping the helmet over his head, and twisting it into place, he heard the hiss of the pressurized regulator kick in and begin feeding his helmet with Oxygen. The sound gave him the reassurance he needed that everything was working as expected and that this run, like all the others before it, was going to be a walk in the park.

Indicator lights turned on one by one, each glowing bright green, indicating that everything was working as expected on his expensive fighter. A memory came to him the, as he sat in the cockpit, of one of his lecturers back on Terra. The elderly former pilot, having lost a leg in an unfortunate accident during a routine mission, had repeatedly told them that 'the pilot is more valuable that the fighter'. Plain and simple, the statement was. And he repeated it so often that several of the students had often wondered if it was the old man's mantra.

So it had been quite a shock to John, upon returning to Starbase 212 from his first combat mission to find the gruff middle aged flight deck chief chewing out a Flight Officer for the sorry state his fighter had returned in. Whether it was the fact that he didn't want to be chewed out that way, or that he now knew that the instructor had been a couple of screws loose, he had found himself from that day onwards making sure that he took extra care to ensure not only was he the best fighter pilot around, but that his fighter always came back in one piece.

With the whole board green, he tested the communications system. "Vanguard CIC, this is Vanguard 15, requesting comms check."

"Comms a-ok Vanguard 15. Prepare for launch." came the reply.

"Roger CIC." John replied. He lowered his eyes to scan the onboard diagnostic screens one last time before nodding to the crewman outside that he was ready to launch.

Once he gave him the powerup signal, he started powering up the engine. The ship rattled briefly before settling down into a soft hum.

Aaron took one last look around. Seeing that everything was clear both forward and aft of the fighter, he held up his hand, displaying all five digits. Slowly, he counted down.

John watched as Aaron counted down to one before JD fired the thrusters, sending the craft hurtling out into space. As was protocol, he waited until he was the predefined distance away from the Galaxy before beginning the turn to catch up to his wingman. They had a patrol sweep to do while the Galaxy did whatever it was here for.

"Everything's Made to Be Broken"

Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer

*** One Month Prior to Present Day ***

Life after Romulus was a blur. He didn't put much faith in what he did remember, if that were any consolation. He didn't want to recall any part of it, and that was the fact. His code as a Kelvan had stated he was to fall in battle to regain honor and standing among his people, and he'd failed in that regard. Now, he'd broken his promise to Tamin and left the planet. He'd explained this to the Starfleet people that came to 'rescue' him, but they'd paid him no heed. Their leader, a Colonel Mitchell, had not only denied him his request, but punched him in the temple to knock him unconscious. He would never forgive the Bajoran for that humiliation. Another reason his people would forever turn their back on him. There was no forgiveness in Kelvan society. It was not in their language.

"This isn't over, Curran. You realize that, don't you?"

Kylar closed his eyes, gripping the edges of the dresser. His knuckles were draining of colour, a grisly offset of the redness caused by a lack of complete fingernails. They'd been ripped out not too long ago, a last reminder of his time on Romulus or wherever he was being held. The pain of the regrowing nails gave him a perverse pleasure.

"You can't ignore me, Kelvan. Not forever, anyway."

"You're a nothing, Hydran. Your purpose was served, and now you're done."

Curran bit into his tongue, ingratiating himself with more pain, his body tingling at the flow of metallic iron in his mouth. He needed to bury these facsimiles of memory constantly biting at each other, and have been during his long journey back to Deep Space Five.

"And what are you, Andorian, but something even older than I? Why, you and I represent the Kelvan's great failures, do we not? We're hardly done, I think."

"It hardly matters. You're evil. You forced him to kill. I didn't."

"Of course he did. He killed you. All by himself." The Hydran let out a long, low rumble, which was in all likelihood the methane-creature's version of a laugh.

"Shut up! Both of you. What do you want from me?" Curran release his grip on the desk, and brought a fist down hard on the duranium countertop, rattling the vase of tulips on top. He turned, opening his eyes, and burned the two of them with cold stares.

On his right, standing a meter away, was a Hydran male, no more than six feet tall; small for their species. He wore the insignia markings of the sciences caste, which wasn't all that uncommon for the males of the matriarchal species to accommodate. The females were the warriors in Hydran society. There was something familiar about him, but what it was, Kylar couldn't place a finger on. He'd seen not many Hydrans up close during his tenure in the Federation, so it really shouldn't be difficult. Yet... it was. Why couldn't he remember?

To the left, standing at an equal point and distance away, was an Andorian female, her long white hair tied back in braids that flowed past her bare shoulders in flowing rivulets. Her appearance caused his heart to skip a beat, as it always did when he saw her. His left eye twitched twice in response to the emotion it was stirring up in him. His body began to flush with adrenaline and endorphins, tantalizing him with a euphoria he hadn't felt in years.

"I don't think it's as much as what we want from you as you want from us, Kylar. You called us here, my love."

"Don't call me that, Isha." His eyes darted to the Hydran, who remained impassive.

"Why not? I did love you, Kylar. What is so wrong with expressing feelings?"

"He's Kelvan, Andor! Emotions are a weakness. It's why we were able to break him so easy. Thanks to you." The Hydran bared his teeth; long, purple fangs born visible by the pulling back of green, leathery lips. He bowed in an obscene gesture of an actor at the end of a stageplay. Stranger sight still when the being was tripedal.

Curran closed his eyes and shook his head. He had to deal with this on his own. He had nowhere to turn. He couldn't go back to Kelva II to be Cleansed again. It's ironically what made his mind more fragile and broken, if what the Hydran said were true.

"Kylar, let yourself go. It's the only way to begin the healing process. Allow the emotions to move through you, to flow. You can only learn from them. And perhaps," she took three purposeful strides toward him, arms outstretched. He stepped back into the dresser in response, his red-rimmed eyes losing some of the ice to them, and felt the adrenaline slip away. "Perhaps you can learn to appreciate the human side of you. And understand... experience... love."

Curran shook his head, then threw his arms out to stop her from touching him, only... only, he fell through her. The Hydran laughed again, the deep, basso rumble of rapid-fire impacts on a ships unprotected hull. Curran, having fallen to his knees in a tumble-over, spun on his side, lifting himself up using the one chair in his quarters, and darted back and forth between the two of them.

"I'm not losing my mind. No! I'm Kelvan, not human. We are superior!" The Hydran laughed even louder this time, and Linisha wore a sad expression, of pity, of melancholy.

"No, my love," she settled down beside him, as he curled up between the chair and the bed, trying to escape her. "You aren't Kelvan. Your soul wants to be, but you're human now. You need to accept that. You've not been Kelvan in some time. You're no more one than you are a Romulan. Or a Tellarite."

"I'll never accept that. I *will* be Kelvan again. I don't need a body to be one, I have the heart. I only need to face my trials. I will never lose the faith of being who I was born to be."

"Even your heart is human now, Curran. That is what you were born to be." The Hydran had stopped laughing, though Curran couldn't remember when, and now was standing behind Linisha. "Your kind are conquerors, and your destiny to infiltrating the Federation took you on the path of evolving into a human, which is your kind's programming on encountering new species, is it not? Therefore, this is what you were 'born' to be. This is your future."

Curran minutely shook his head, disbelieving what this Hydran knew of Kelvans. He could never truly understand. "No, Hydran. My future is still unwritten. Being human is a test of my faith, and I'll be rewarded with a return to my true form."

"And what if you die before then? Your own people ordered you to take your life in ritual."

"I'm not dead yet, Hydran. And I refuse to believe I will die as a human, either."

"You tried to kill yourself as a human once, Kylar." Linisha again took control of the conversation, diverting Kylar away from the Hydran's mocking of him and his faith. "If it were not for the intervention of another human on your behalf, you would have taken your own life, would you not?"

"Humans in general don't understand self-sacrifice. I was in the throes of humanity then. I'd been violated, my codes of faith and tenet abused. I was left with no choice." The memory of Karyn Dallas and her humiliating appearance after his sexual assault by one of Mudd's fembots was wholly embarrassing. It was not something he chose to relive, but the Cleansing had elected to show him truth and acceptance of the event in order to move on. He still loathed with all that was holy for her patronizing and holier-than-thou attitude in holding it over him. No matter what the healers had shown him, he knew what she really wanted from him, as she was human. They all thought the same way. Selfishness and insatiable need for power because of their inferiority complexes. "I lived on."

"With her assistance. She showed you the light. She made you bear the emotion of the event, and move on."

"And I came out the worse for it. Unable to perform my duties, daily nightmares, dereliction of duty, unable to retain my form at Havras, the twisting of my spirit by the..." His snapped his eye towards the Hydran, the memory dawning on him as to who he was. "Hydrans." He pointed one emaciated finger at the scientist, who grinned.

"He remembers. Score one for me."

Curran shook his head in minute confusion at the unorthodox response from the being. "It was you. I remember you. At Tru'Haran. You were the one who was experimenting on me." The Kelvan then.. smiled. "I saw you die. I really enjoyed seeing you suffer at the hands of the Jem`Hadar."

The Hydran nodded, crossing two parallel arms on top of one. "And in turn, our programming of you was complete. That memory of my death sealed the deal. You'd never think of me again, as humans tend to believe in death as being final. Especially when you're in little pieces on the floor."

[Vice-Legate Curran to Transporter Room 12. Galaxy is departing in twenty minutes]

"I'm glad to see you're going back to the Galaxy, my love. You have friends there, even if you don't believe so."

"I'm only going back to get my things, Linisha." Kylar pulled himself up using the chair and bed in tandem, then deftly walked around the slowly fading images of his former captor and ages ago past.

"And where would you go, Kylar?"

"Home."

"Bitches and Clowns"

Lieutenant Junior Grade Naranda Roswell
Engineering Officer

Lieutenant Junior Grade Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

*****CIC Offices, USS Galaxy*****

Nara decided to pay a visit to Saul. She didn't often do that. They had a rather unique relationship and being her first, it only vaguely striked her as odd. She was well aware of the lack of commitment and secrets, and she wanted an honest relationship that held some promise of a future, but she couldn't let him go. Why she had decided on a whim to see him during her lunch break did, however, strike her as odd.

When did she become one of THOSE girlfriends. They were hardly clingy with each other. They had very different lives and occasionally came together. They set dates, and occasionally broke them as a project from work (or personal agenda as far as Saul goes) came up. It wasn't a big deal.

In fact, they hadn't had any serious, long term fights since they got together. It all looked so utopian.

Nara wandered casually into the CIC offices and smiled at the receptionist and asked to see Saul Bental.

"He's busy."

The curtness caused Nara to raise an eyebrow. "Mind telling him I'm here?"

"He's busy."

Nara pursed her lips. She refused to use the 'I'm his girlfriend!' as leverage. Knowing it hardly HAD any leverage. Wife, on the other hand... She sighed that thought out of her head. "When will he not be busy."

The woman let out a laugh.

Nara's temper was flaring. "When does he take lunch."

The woman hadn't looked up from the PADD the whole time and still didn't, "He doesn't."

Nara was at a loss. Seeing Saul wasn't this important, but it was the principle of the thing! Still, she kept herself in check and tried something else, "If I leave a message, when will he get it."

"Whenever I give it to him."

"When will that be."

The woman finally looked up, "Who are you...," a quick look at the pips, "Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Naranda Roswell."

"Is something broke?"

~Your nose in about five seconds!~ Instead, "Nothing has been reported."

"What do you need him for?"

~None of your business.~ Instead, she sighed. She had to relent, "Nothing that can't wait. Just...Don't even tell him I came by." It hit her then how childish and wasteful the whole conversation was. Nara watched the woman effectively ignore her by going back to her PADD.

A little dejected and disappointed, she turned and saw Zev Raynor. Maybe not a complete waste. She looked back at the woman, "Is Zev Raynor busy?"

The woman just looked up with a 'Are you still here?' look. Nara gave a small smile, "Sorry." She approached Zev and crossed her arms.

"What did I break this time?" Raynor asked sensing a foul mood. He had been loafing around the office again. "Or did the evil receptionist type lady annoy you... Personally I think she's as scary as hell but you know... I think that's the point."

Nara smirked, "It's no matter really. Was just hoping I could steal Saul for lunch. But he's being held captive. You busy?" She paused only a moment, "Who are we kidding."

"I was about to ask who are you and what have you done with Nara... but you saved yourself some weird questioning... How are things between you and the boss monkey person?" Raynor asked.

"After some fear we may have lost each other, we had a reunion that I don't think I'll entertain your sick mind with the details of."

"Yes... because that would result in tragedy... so how's life otherwise?"

"Rather normal, sadly. Really, I'm hungry. Lunch or not?"

"Yea sure..." he confirmed before he turned to the receptionist. "If anybody is looking for me, I'm going to lunch with the boss' girl friend." And with that left before he could catch the receptionist's "Evil" eye.

"Gee, thanks, Zev. I can imagine the gossip that's going to cause." Not that she really cared as they headed to Ten Forward.

"Just giving them a head start... they're going to do it anyways." Raynor said in response. "We are the USS Rumormill's sibling and all..."

Nara let out a laugh. Lunch with a clown was exactly what she needed.

"One of a Kind"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

"Personal log, Saul Bental recording. Most people underestimate the quiet periods. With the survey underway for... about four weeks now, I started hearing sarcastic comments about routine being the ship's new enemy and so forth on every visit to 10-forward and even when on duty. On other occassions, I heard people say that they enjoy just relaxing for a while, doing their job. It often amazes me how people are blind to oppertunities. Then again, if they weren't, some aspects of my life would be a lot more difficult. I'm utilizing this calm period. Since my department's activity isn't interrupted by unexpected emergencies and demands from HQ, we can finally engage into long-range projects as well as run a full rotation of training for the entire team. I defined several fields of knowledge, and distributed them among my people so that we'll have at least three experts at each field. These experts will research their given field, and form a knowledge center on it. Thus, departmental knowledge will be maintained rather than eroded as personnel come and go. This should prove to be a major multiplier to the department activity the next time we face an unexpected challenge like the Borg invasion. Instead of having to learn everything from scratch, we'll have people who already have a solid foundation and can address the problem.

On a more personal level, the biggest challenge I had to face this month was my new roommate. Though I must hand it to him, his advantages clearly shadow his downsides."

* * * A month earlier, Deep Space 5 * * *

It was clear to Saul, ever since Nyoko made her first move in their game of Startico, that she had something in mind. The cheerfull Japanese was rarely preoccupied with anything that did not revolve around gossip or anime, and her body language was an open book since she was a rather extrovert person. Whatever she was thinking of, it made her lose concentration over and over again. Her Dutch rival did not go easy on her. He spotted every weakness, penetrated every opening, and pretty soon Nyoko's simulated troops were all but defeated.

Only then did he grant her one of his infamous sly grins.

"NOW I'm listening."

"What?" Nyoko's fingertips almost touched one of the holograms, but retreated at the final moment.

"What you wanted to tell me."

"Oh." She smiled, her eyes meeting his. "So transparent?"

He shrugged.

"OK then... I have a friend who needs help. Not a friend really, but someone-- ah, I don't feel comfortable doing this, Saul."

"Why, because half the crew comes to me for favors?", Saul asked. He mentally noticed two really smart moves that Nyoko could do and still preserve some chance to achieve stalemate. She'll probably take neither.

"Hai."

"Nyoko, for me you're not like half of this crew. Come on. I don't need to tell you that."

"Right. I just..."

"How many times did YOU help me?"

"Well..." She began to lighten up. "Yea, I guess you're right."

"Of course I am!" Saul prompted.

Nyoko made her move. Saul knew what his next move would be the moment she touched her piece, but decided to focus on the conversation for a while.

"All right. So there's this person who saved my life back on the planet. And he's looking for some funding. I figured you could point him in the right direction, being an expert of these things and all."

"You are talking about the Barzan who seats three tables from us and constantly look at our direction, of course?", Saul asked.

Nyoko turned her head several times, until she spotted Mahshev Nayad. Indeed, he was sitting several tables down the promenande, gazing at the crowd. When he noticed that both Starfleet officers were watching him, he took it as a sign and approached their table.

"Nayad." He offered his hand to Saul. His voice came a little muffled through the elegant breathing mask he was wearing.

"Saul Bental." Saul shook his hand. "Please join us - your friend is just about to lose."

Nyoko was already used to Saul's annoying attitude when playing strategy games. Nonetheless, she knew he wasn't just bragging. The game will be over in ten, maybe twenty moves. Too bad.

"When I was down at Barzan." She told Saul, "I was certain that I won't reach the runabout in time. Then, Nayad's vessel landed near us, and he offered everyone nearby refuge."

"Smart move." Saul told Nayad. "I don't know if M'Kantu would allow you onboard otherwise. And, cynicism aside, thanks for saving her."

Nayad made a lengthy blink. It was the Barzans' parallel of nodding.

"What do you need funding for, then?" Saul asked politely, making his move without taking his eyes off the Barzan. His Japanese friend was shocked to discover that one of her strongest troops dissolved into thin air without any early warning.

"I require a faster than light vessel." Nayad said. "My own orbital is only good for travelling within a star system."

"Where will you go?"

"Wherever there are Barzans. We're few and scattered now - Starfleet official told me that two percent of the population survived, but these are the two percent that severed their ties with the homeworld. Merchants. Exiles. Travellers. I am not a patriotic person, Lieutenant Bental, but I don't want to see my people extinct. I guess it's imprinted in our... you would call it 'genetic code'."

"The next two generations will probably be the biggest test for your people. If the population is reduced below critical mass, your fear may come true. I'm not even going to ask if you submitted a petition to the Federation council."

"I don't intend to make a political stand. I intend to learn how the rules work out here, make a small fortune, then start gathering THEM."

"And once you have a significant group, ask the Federation to help you find a new home?" Saul asked.

"That's the general idea. I don't have anything better to do."

Saul chuckled. "A worthy cause."

The Barzan did not look impressed. "Just thinking about myself."

"You know." Nyoko spoke up, "Back on Barzan Nayad owned the largest newspaper on Barzan."

Saul noticed Nayad blinking. With McCauley out of the picture, he wanted to find a new ace to slip down his sleeve. The level-headed alien on the opposite side of the table quickly caught his interest.

"I would love to give you some pointers to start. But you'll need an initial capital."

"I was thinking about selling some of my possessions to collectors." Nayad told Saul. "With my planet destroyed, I expect Barzan artifacts' prices to soar."

"Yes, I expect. But don't sell them all at once. You need the market to pick the trend, and THEN the prices will rise."

Nyoko watched the two men debating the best strategy to optimize the profits of selling Nayad's heirlooms. She was apalled. These things Nayad wanted to sell were his only mementos from a home he will never be able to return to. How could he give them away so easily? She suspected that Saul would do the same thing if it was Earth that was assimilated. The very thought made the petite Japanese shudder.

"Come to think of it, Lieutenant Bental." Nayad said all of the sudden, "I have something that might interest you."

"I'm not a collector of art." Saul smiled. He wasn't a collector of anything - always travel light. This way of life proved itself in the past, especially on the numerous times when his quarters were 'redecorated' by the enemies of the Federation and its entire content vented into space.

"Not art. I'm talking about... this."

Nayad opened a pocket in his jacket. Out of it buzzed no other than 'Thing'. Nyoko smiled broadly as the small and furry being hovered toward her shoulder. She called its name joyfully, and began to scratch its tummy.

"You better sell it to Nyoko, I think!"

"This is a very unique animal." Nayad said, in all seriousness. "It was considered holy by my people. So holy that the species is only known by its initials - AWD. The full name is only known to clerics. In fact, it was a crime to take one of these off-planet. Some Barzan did it, regardless of the taboo."

"I wouldn't take that risk for a pet.". Saul wasn't impressed. One could take a plastic bag and say that king Solomon used it when he went to shop for groceries. Never listen to the seller's praise about his stock - a very basic rule for any merchants who cared about his profits.

"Ah, but it is no ordinary pet."

"Yes, it's holy."

"Not only that. This person over there is a Betazoid, right?"

Saul looked in the direction Nayad was gesturing. He recognized the man instantly - it was Ensign Anapolis, a member of Saul's department.

"Yes." He replied, suspicious.

"Call him over and ask him to read your mind."

At once, Saul realized what was about to take place. He called Anapolis over, and asked Nyoko to let go of her new best friend. Reluctantly, she prodded Thing. The AWD floated away from her, looking somewhat disgruntled, and settled a centimeter above Saul's head.

"Giovanni." Saul greeted the Betazoid. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm thinking about a person right now. Could you read my mind and tell me who it is?"

"Are you certain?" It was no secret in the intelligence department that the chief cared greatly about his privacy.

"Please."

Giovanni concentrated. At first, he thought he would just go gentle and see if he can pick something up. But all of the sudden he found himself surrounded by white telepathic noise. He tried to focus more and more, but the image from Saul's mind just refused to become clear, like a broken holoprojector. Eventually he gave up.

"Nice trick, Lieutenant." He said.

"It is, isn't it?"

Anapolis soon left, and as he did Saul drew a PADD from his pocket. He clicked on it several times, then offered it to Nayad. The Barzan reviewed its content.

"I'm willing to give twenty-five percent, not thirty." He said simply.

"It's a very generous offer." Saul retorted.

The two stared at each other for a long while, with Nyoko looking at one and then the other as though she was watching a Tennis match. Eventually Nayad shrugged. "It's a generous offer to begin with." He said.

"I know."

"It's settled, then." The Barzan glanced at Nyoko. "You were right. He WAS the right person to come to."

Nyoko giggled sweetly. "Told you so."

* * *

Saul rolled over, having finished his personal log. Above him, 'Thing' buzzed happily, exploring the ceiling of Saul's quarters. It was cute, required little food that wasn't hard to replicate, and didn't leave too much hair on Saul's bed and sofa.

It could also mask telepathy.

All in all Saul was satisfied with the deal he made with Nayad. He gave Nayad the resources he needed - and more - in exchange for 25% of his Barzan artifacts business, and for 'Thing'. There was another component in the deal, one that would benefit both sides and which was so secret Saul didn't even want to think about.

Instead, he reached out and tried to catch thing with his hand. The furry critter brushed against it, teasing, and darted toward the closet.

Indeed, Saul thought with a smile, this 'Thing' was one of a kind.

"Stuffing the Transporter Room" Part 1 of 2

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin, Sciences
Lt. JG Victor Krieghoff, Security
Lt. JG Zev Raynor, Intelligence
Ensign Elissa Skylark, Sciences
Ensign Artim Shivar, Sciences
Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval, Sciences
Ensign Keldan, Operations

------------------
Transporter Room 3
Deck 6,
USS Galaxy
------------------

Iniara hadn't been all that surprised when, after reading the initial reports, Captain M'Kantu had told her to form an away team. Scans had shown the planet to be stable and remarkably hospitable to humanoids, even with the relatively low gravity. The primary land masses were covered with a wide variety of plant life, and several forms of invertebrate animals called the oceans their home. Further investigation was definitely needed.

Striding through the halls of Deck 6, Iniara silently thanked the Prophets for giving her a commanding officer who didn't insist on leading every away mission. She'd heard horror stories about other Starfleet captains and their frequent disregard for such a straightforward regulation. The planet was almost too good to be true, which of course meant that inevitably something was going to go wrong. After all, this was the USS Galaxy. No, Iniara mentally concluded, despite whatever sadistic desires lurked deep in Admiral Proctor's mind, if someone was going to be infected by some weird organism during a planetary expedition, it wasn't going to be Daren M'Kantu.

The doors to Transporter Room 3 swished open as she approached, revealing the mostly empty room beyond. "At ease, crewman," she called out instinctively, halting the transporter chief mid-motion. Offering the young man a quick smile she took up a position to the side of the transporter pad, adjusted the straps of her field pack, and waited.

Cutter walked into the transporter room and sighed when he noticed that it was essentially empty. All he had been doing for the last week was waiting. He had been waiting for his lab to be set up so he could continue his primary research. He was truly hoping he wouldn't have to wait for the other members of this away mission. He was hoping he could arrive and immediately go work. Alas.

"Tarin," he said. He had of course met with Iniara when he had come back aboard the Galaxy, briefly. However, he had not yet been unfortunate enough to have had to play catch up with the crewmembers he knew from his tenure here two years ago. "I haven't yet congratulated you on your rush upwards in rank."

"And I haven't properly welcomed you back yet," she replied with a slight smile. Iniara couldn't help but remember Cutter; there were few winged humanoids serving in Starfleet, so when you met one it tended to make an impression. Though, it didn't feel like he had been gone that long. Was time really passing that quickly?

"Morning ma'am, sir," Artim said nodding to the two other officers that were in the transporter room when he arrived. As was generally the case when he went on an away mission he was carrying way more gear then someone of his frame should be. A standard field pack was on his back packed to the gills with scanning equipment and other things. Another kit hung off one shoulder and his phaser carbine hung off the other.

The doors opened again and Keldan entered the transporter room carrying what was obviously a non-standard field pack. After exchanging the customary greetings, he pulled his tricorder and with a few deft keystrokes set it to broadcast mode.

"I've downloaded all the new data we've collected so far about this unusual planet, ma'am. It will be available on any tricorder should they need it once we get planetside. Operations also finished running the sensor diagnostic series. There were no malfunctions detected with the onboard equipment. Either the previous sensor survey of this system was inaccurate, or something has changed this planet from an airless lump of regolith into a thriving ecosystem."

"It doesn't look like conventional terraforming," a new voice interjected, as the doors opened to reveal Ensign Elissa Skylark. Like Artim, she was also prepared for the expedition, but being of adult height, her gear didn't seem to be in excess. "Ma'am," she added to Tarin by extension, also making a point to nod to the others.

"We'll find out soon enough," Iniara commented.

Elissa's blond hair was pulled back in regulation pony tail, and her eyes betrayed a thrill at the idea of going on an away mission. Those in science who had briefly met her had thought her to be a bookish, lonely type at first, but clearly Elissa had not simply had the opportunity to prove them otherwise. She stepped aside and glanced around at the assembled team, still shy a few members. Despite her best efforts, a grin formed on her face. She waved to Artim slightly when she caught his eye, the giddy smile contorting as she attempted to bring it under her control.

Normally Artim would have some witty comment in response to her actions though today he just nodded and moved on, not even cracking a smile. This would seem quite...odd to people who knew him. Artim was rarely all business at the beginning of a mission unless something was wrong or he was in a bad mood. Truth was both were true.

"Stuffing the Transporter Room" Part 2 of 2

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin, Sciences
Lt. JG Victor Krieghoff, Security
Lt. JG Zev Raynor, Intelligence
Ensign Elissa Skylark, Sciences
Ensign Artim Shivar, Sciences
Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval, Sciences
Ensign Keldan, Operations

------------------
Transporter Room 3
Deck 6,
USS Galaxy
------------------

Exactly two minutes before assembly time the door opened to admit Victor, a frown on his face and one hand raised to scrub at something that, from its color, was either lipstick or blood at the corner of his mouth. His standard exploratory gear was supplemented by the addition of a Field Survival Kit, but nothing else. He nodded towards Iniara, "Ma'am," and stepped up to the transporter pad, shifting his grip on his rifle to make accessing it easier. "Sorry I'm late." He tuned to the others and nodded, "Lieutenant. Lieutenant. Ensigns."

Iniara's shoulder muscles tightened automatically as Victor's presence slammed against her mental shields. She was getting used to the feeling-- she no longer had the urge to scream, for instance-- but that initial contact with his aura was unnerving as always. Returning the nod she stepped aside, giving him a wide berth.

"Victor," Cutter nodded, acknowledging the man's welcome. When the security officer stepped up to the transporter pad, everyone took an instinctive step back, giving him as much room as possible. Cutter, however, didn't. The avian grunted as he looked at Victor curiously. Victor could see in his eyes that the scientist was analyzing, remembering their previous interactions.

Suddenly, Cutter reached out with his hand, poking a finger into Victor's chest, and pushed him slightly. He grunted again, "Huh."

"Is that a greeting from your culture?" Victor asked, his frown shifting to a slightly different form. "Or is there another reason why you feel the need to jab me with your finger?"

"You're different then I remember," Cutter said. "Have you stopped going around trying to scare everyone?"

"Not a greeting then." Victor shook his head. "I never tried to scare the crew, Lieutenant - it just happened. It always happens."

"When I was on this ship before, every time I was near you, something about you... I always had this incredible urge to fly away, to flee. I don't have that anymore," Cutter said, poking Victor with his finger again.

"Considering that everyone on the transporter pad except you, and all of the people I passed in the corridor on the way here all reacted the way they always do," Victor offered, "I think the one that has changed is most likely you, not me." He paused. "And please stop jabbing me with your finger."

Raynor passed through the door. Late as usual. He looked around... and sighed... "Why do I always get stuck with the kids?" he complained.

Artim again didn't verbally respond and merely curled an eyebrow in a very Vulcan fashion at Zev's comment.

"I was talking about him!" Raynor replied in mock protest pointing to Victor.

Elissa raised an eyebrow. Watching these people was an experience in its own right. She had forgotten what it had been like to be in one place long enough to develop such cameraderie. She guffawed despite herself, tried to take it back in, then hid herself behind a padd to which she'd downloaded all mission information. "Sorry," she mumbled quietly.

"Alright alright, enouch dawdling," Iniara interjected, barely repressing a groan. She could almost feel the maturity level in the room dropping. "Time to get moving."

Last to arrive was Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval lugging his typically huge field kit. The large boxlike container hung heavily from his struggling neck, and from inside the faint tinkle of specimen jars jostling together could be heard.

"Esculpe me Senora," he breathed out an apology as he manhandled his load over onto the transporter pad, "There were some last minute additions I wished to make and considering........ ah..... considering the habit we have in destroying planets we land upon I wanted to get as many specimen jars as possible."

"Oh...kay." Iniara couldn't help but give the young man a strange look as he dumped his gear on the pad, barely missing her feet with the cumbersome load. She backed up to give him some more room, almost bumping into Krieghoff in the process. "Quickly, Ensign," she warned him, now acutely aware of Victor's uncomfortably close presence. She clasped her hands tightly together and stood her ground, refusing to give in to the fear. Weakness was not something to be displayed before subordinates.

Nervous at the others' stares, for Miguel never really felt like a full fledged member of the scientific crew, the young Latino shuffled his way into the back corner. The security guard ......he didn't remember his name..... was asustadizo...... quite frightening as always. The Angelito wasnt much better.

"Bien Senora." he announced as he settled into place. "I am being ready now."

"Chief, we ready?" she asked once all the shuffling had died down. When he nodded she continued, "Alright then. Energize."

"Saddling up"

Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval

Jan the Minaran Empath

USS GALAXY
DECK 17 Botany Labs

The Deck 17 Botanical Labs were a madhouse of activity. At last A true research mission had been handed down to the fledgling department and Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval wanted to prove what his little team could do.

Somehow the planet below had undergone a remarkable change froma worthless lump of rock into a full fledged arboreal paradise.

Trees and vines now hung where there was once only dust and sand. It was a once in a lifetime oppurtunity to see the triumph of plants over desolation and Miguel wanted to be there on the frontline.

"Specimen jars! More specimen jars Jan!" he ordered hurridly as he stuffed his field kit with as much as it could carry. " The last planet we were being on was destroyed, and I do not be wishing to suffer the same losses of samples this time around."

Jan, the mute empath never seemed to pay attention to anyones speech.....indeed didnt seem to realize speech was a form of commuication, but always seemd to interpret peoples moods and desires instinctively. Without hesitation he smoothly handed over an extra cse of tiny jars that tinkled merrily in the jostling.

"Gracias hijo." Miguel breathed wearily and glanced about he lab wondering what he was forgetting. So much to do, so much to do. Normally he'd have preferred to conduct a Botanical survey in a slower more ordered process, but given Galaxy's habit of blowing up planets it was studying, the young Latino figured it was best to gather as much data as possible and sort it out later.

"Ah si.....Photosynthetic calipers por favor." he pointed at the small device hanging on the back wall. Preliminary scans showed the plants below containing a form of chlorophyll and he wanted to test the energy absorbtion rates.

Jan dutifuly retreived the calipers.

Truthfully Miguel rather doubted the notion that a fully formed botanical system evolved so quickly out of absolute nothingness.

His personal theory was that the original expedition had merely displayed the typical disdain of life sciences and focussed on the 'dead' sciences instead.

Basically there was no record of plants because nobody bothered to catalogue them the first time around.

Miguel looked to rectify that oversight.

Hefting the heavy pack, he spent a few moments redistributing the weight so it wasn't quite so cumbersome. Unfortunately while he'd have preferred to take down an assistant to share the load, there was only one slot allocated for Botany and Ecology.

~~Typical.~~

The end result was a solo scientist struggling under a spiderweb of containers and straps.

The last thing Miguel picked up was a simple gardeing shovel with an old worn wooden handle. For all the special gadgets he possessed, there was nothing like digging into the soil by hand and getting a look at things up close. Getting your hands dirty was how discoveries were made.

"Hasta manana Jan….wish me luck."

As always the empath said nothing nor even changed expressions, but Miguel sensed the feeling was there.

Bien….there was work to be done.

"Tradition" Part Five

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - CoE
First Lieutenant Branwen London - SFMC Chief Psychologist and Furies XO.

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck Five***

"Sickbay sounds good," Kimberly agreed. "For us both," she added, looking Dhani up and down in the full light of the corridor, a bemused look passing over her face briefly as she took another look at what Dhani had done to herself. "And now I understand a little better, of course. Of course I forgive you, but, next time, could you explain 'before' you take a swing at me please?" she asked with a small smile.

Dhanishta pulled a face as she mused over that proposal. "I'll give it a try." she concluded grinning slightly as she reached the lift and depressed the call button, "But if I had been a Klingon woman you'd be dead by now, so be thankful for small mercies!" she joked looking back at Kim hoping to see at least a small smile on her friends face.

With a slight grin Kimberly nodded, "I'll definitely keep that in mind." she assured her friend. Turning to walk onto the turbolift as the door opened Kimberly stopped dead for a second as she looked inside. ~ Of all the…! ~ she thought, all the frustration and anger from her earlier rant rising again to replace the pain from Dhani's punch. ~ Oh Goddess, why now?! ~ she asked silently as she saw who stood there in the lift. ~ You are having 'far' too much fun at my expense today! ~ Stepping onto the lift she turned pointedly and looked at the doors, knowing it was childish, but really not wanting to explode at the naive marine here and now.

Dhani couldn't help but note Kim's body tense as she looked upon the form that already inhabited the turbolift. With a flash of understanding all the dots were suddenly connected. Kimberly didn't need to 'tell' her who had upset her, her body language for a start told her everything, sensing her emotions was just an added bonus. With a slight chuckle that Kim's reactions had just caused her to in effect break patient counsellor confidentiality Dhani stepped into the lift after Kim and nodded politely, "Lieutenant London." she greeted her with a warm smile, "Nice to see you. How have you been?" It was difficult for Dhani to keep a straight face as she addressed the First Lieutenant of the Furies, the close proximity to Kimberly's arrant thoughts, still rude in nature, were just too humorous.

"Ladies." Branwen greeted them, she was pretty preoccupied herself. The marines were hard work at the moment. The last two missions they had lost most of their veterans in battle, and it was hard work training the greenhorns, and counselling those who were left. She was tired, and absolutely not in a mood to have Kimberly on her back.

The tension rose in the lift to a tangible level. What surprised Dhani more was the fact that it was coming from both women, and directed towards the other. Dhani covered her mouth for a second and coughed to hide her smirk. This could be way too much fun she thought. "So how have you been?" she asked Bran.

"Fine." She said softly not wanting to think of another mission that had gone dreadfully wrong. When she did she saw all the dead marines parading before her eyes.

"Lieutenant." Kimberly said neutrally to Branwen. Looking at Dhani at her discreet cough she twisted the corner of her mouth slightly, wondering if she had failed to pick up on the atmosphere in the enclosed space. ~ Sure, It's really subtle, ~ she said to herself sarcastically. ~ I'm sure she's missed it, as long as she's deaf, dumb, blind, telepathically mute and 'Dead!' ~ Turning back to face the door she let out her breath she hadn't realised she was holding in a slow sigh. ~ I need a vacation! ~ she decided.

"So how has it been for you?" Branwen turned towards Dhani more or less ignoring the other woman for now.

Dhani frowned and sighed, "Ya know, so-so." she replied. "The Ship is not looking great, but I am yet to be updated on the current events of why exactly it looks like someone has smacked it about like a child's rattle."

"Yes. I was not on board when most of it happened. The marines were down on the planet." She got that faraway look again. "How was your mission?"

Dhani nodded, "Quite successful." she said with a slight smile, "We located the USS Bonestell and the missing crew, during our 'training mission', total stroke of luck!" she couldn't help but bull-shit. She wasn't completely sure what the rest of the crew had been told about why a certain group had been required to go elsewhere while they went on to Barzan. "I have come straight from our de-briefing, haven't even had a chance to step into my office yet." she said with some dismay. Since being promoted to Chief of Engineering she had not been on the ship! What struck her as odd, was that as a junior officer she had spent several years serving on the Galaxy before her first away team expedition, now she was in a position where she really should be on the ship; she was barely aboard!

Wincing almost imperceptibly Kimberly berated herself for a second, she had spent so much time going on about her gripes with someone who now need not remain nameless, she had completely forgotten to ask Dhani how she was, or what she'd been up to. Closing her eyes for a second she took a few deep breaths and calmed herself again. ~ Oh nice one! And… Office? What office? ~ she wondered, her mind catching up with the conversation.

"Good." Bran was warming a little, ignoring Kimberly. "I am glad you are doing well, Dhani." she knew the woman had gone through a tough time in her life.

Dhani nodded, "Yeah, it's defiantly nice to be back on the ship." she leaned towards Bran, "Honestly," she whispered, "even in its current state. Just don't tell anyone I said that." she grinned slightly.

Branwen smiled back, "Definitely not. You know me, I don't break confidentiality. Say, did you ever find a therapist you felt comfortable with?"

Dhanishta froze then. She never did like talking about herself, hated counselling sessions and pretty much any conversation about her and her counselling needs. She licked her lips and wondered how to reply to the question and get off the topic as quickly as possible. Not to mention the fact that she didn't want her personal details to be aired in front of Kimberly.

"I, er… I did see someone recently, counsellor …" she paused, remembering how she had lied to Kimberly about knowing Terrik, ~bugger~ Oh, but then she had confessed a few months later… she shook her head ~life was just too complicated!~ She brushed aside the topic, "Anyway, I found him to be quite astute. However whether I continue to see him, or anyone for that matter is under debate." she smiled slightly turning to face Bran, "There is nothing I need to discuss." she said firmly, "I am physically and mentally fine." She paused and chuckled, "Once I get these dread locks and the fake scars removed…*then* I'll be physically fine." she cast an amuse look to Kimberly, that had been her reasoning to find the wayward doctor, although they had gotten totally off topic.

Not noticing the look Dhani sent her way, focussed as she was on the conversation in the lift Kimberly raised an eyebrow. ~ Nothing to discuss? ~ she wondered. ~ What about that *something* you mentioned a while back, ~ she mused silently. ~ That something inside you? This tendency to shred my sickbay whenever I try to run a scan… Awww Frell… ~ she repeated, wincing at the thought of the upcoming minor procedure to remove the scars. ~ Better call Ops again. ~ she decided in a resigned tone.

Branwen had heard some things, but she decided to give the other woman a break. Also because Kimberly was present. She hated the way Kimberly was recently pushing with her, and she didn't want to do that to somebody else. "If you ever want to talk, to a therapist or just a friend, my door is always open." she offered. Then turned to the other woman, "I guess we have to make an appointment as well."

~What was it about counsellors that made them always feel the need to let you know that they were around if you wanted to talk?~ Dhani wondered. ~It was like it was their only purpose for talking to you socially; here have an appointment!~ She looked between the two women and smirked slightly, wondering who would win out that battle!

"We do." Kimberly replied simply. "Contact my office and we can set something up." she said a little vaguely.

"How's Steven?" Dhani asked Bran suddenly. She wasn't sure if the possible question into her mental state had arisen memories of him and her on the Hammer and her instability there… perhaps he had said something to Bran about her actions, her torture and murder of a pow, freezing up in the middle of battle. She silenced her mind, the other reason was that he was a friend and she hadn't seen him in a long while… that was the more likely of the two. However she began to regard Branwen with a healthy suspicion. ~What if she did know?~ Dhani shuddered at the thought…. ~What would she do?~

"I can't tell you too much. He's taking it bad; I think that much is obvious. He doesn't understand why she wants to divorce him, so it's hitting him hard." Bran looked sad. During daily routine she leaned heavily on Steven's support and the thought of losing him was one she really didn't want to contemplate. There were precious little veterans left as it was.

Dhanishta frowned, "Why who wants to divorce him?" she asked turning towards Bran fully, giving the marine her full attention as well as a confused stare.

"Faylin of course. Since he found out she is still alive they have not been really connecting anymore." She watched Dhani's face. "Oh God, you did not know she is alive."

Dhani stared dumbfounded at Branwen before turning to Kimberly, "Why didn't you tell me?" she almost screeched at Kim, her eyes wide with fury, pain and shock. "What happened?" she demanded. "How, what…. Who… when?" she ranted lurching forward gesturing wildly.

"Ssshhhh." Bran said softly. "Kimberly probably didn't know either. I didn't realize." She tried to calm the woman. "Why don't we go somewhere were we can sit down and I can tell you the whole story?"

Her own eyebrows raised Kimberly shrugged at Dhani's micro rant in confusion. "I think we both need to hear this." she said, shaking her head in response to Dhani's rapid fire questions. Her agitation at Branwen fading at this new information.

"Okay I think my office is closest. Follow me ladies. She said taking firm control and leading them to her office.

Once inside she gestured to the easy chairs. "Tea or coffee?"

Dhanishta looked from Bran to Kimberly and then back again. "Frankly I don't care." she said with agitation, "What the hell happened? How is Faylin back and what's with a divorce?" Dhani was an impatient person, this clearly showed. She had no intention of sitting and chatting nicely over a cup of tea. She was more concerned with Steven and Faylin. She bit back her rising anger. She had been there at Fay's funeral, she had been devastated for Steven's loss, and now apparently she was alive and kicking!!!

The sudden similarities to her own death hit her hard. Without realising it she sat down in the nearest chair, "Tea." she mumbled softly as she rested her head in her hands. Was this the way that Jiiles had felt, her mother and father when she had been declared dead and had then arisen from the grave, or rather the bed, prior to being sent to the morgue?

Shaking her head at the offer of a drink Kimberly stood by the door and waited patiently. Her left arm was throbbing mercilessly, and right now all she wanted was some aerosal for the pain and a dermal regenerator for the swelling. Trying not to fidget the held onto her bag with her good arm and gritted her teeth, gently gnawing on lip as she waited for the explanation. ~ I have 'so' got to keep up on my memo's! ~ she decided.

Taking the tea Dhani warmed her chilled hands around the steaming beverage and stared into it, letting the moist steam rise into her face. In a much calmer voice, laced with regret, although unbeknown to Kim and Bran the regret was not for her outburst, but in regards to her own death she asked Bran, "Please explain, in a nut shell."

She had never given a moments thought to how everyone else would feel when she returned to the ship. Not even taken their shock or fear or anger into account. All she had cared about was herself and how their reaction had made her feel. A very slight smile appeared on her lips as she chuckled bitterly inside; she knew her proclamation of being fine mentally and physically was a blatant lie. And being with two counsellors both bent on her opening up and talking about her feelings was not the place she wanted to be right now. Yet she would endure it for a time, until Bran had told her what she wanted to know.

Branwen waited until Dhani seemed to have calmed down a little bit. Then she sat down opposite the other woman, and calmly started to tell the story. How Faylin had turned out to be shape shifter and had been on board all the time as Juliette Rinaldi. And how she had used Steven in a plot, Steven and Faylin had not told her all the details, but she could piece most of it together. "And now." she finished, "Faylin wants to divorce him out of the blue, and he doesn't understand why. It's pretty hard on Steven. I try to support him as best as I can, but he is not taking it very well."

Dhanishta nodded, taking it all in. ~How could I have been so blind?~ she wondered silently ~To have not realised that all this was going on, right under my nose?~ She sighed deeply, placing her could unfinished tea on Branwen's desk. Running a hand through her hair, cringing as it snagged on a dreadlock and pulled out a strand or two she looked up at both women. "I finally understand why O'Shea was so mad at Nara!" she said distantly.

~ I'm glad one of us understands. ~ Kimberly mused, realising that her knowledge of ship board gossip was nearly nonexistent. ~ I so need to start listening to what's going on onboard this tub! ~ she decided.

Standing up she dusted down her pants and smiled slightly, "I have to go find him." she said, "I have to talk to him, I'm sorry ladies. Please excuse me." Turning before she reached the door she looked back at Kimberly, "I'll swing by sick bay later to get," she paused and looked down at herself, "all this sorted!" she indicated her appearance with a half smile.

Moving to the door as well Kimberly nodded. "I'll be there." she informed Dhanishta, shrugging her left arm slightly, the feeling even now only slightly restored. "I need to get this looked at anyway." With an almost evil, but silent chuckle she added, "You pack a mean right hook when you're upset. Until later Lieutenant." she said to Branwen casually as she left.

"If you think my right is bad you should check out the left!" Dhani called back as she left, "Just refrain from saying things you don't understand and you wont have to find out!" her voice trailed as she walked out into the corridor and broke into a jog.

"No Matter What"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Chief of Engineering

Lieutenant (Jg) Faylin McAlister
JAG

***Location: USS Galaxy***

Dhanishta wasn't quite sure who to go to first. She knew that Steven was in pain, yet at the same time Faylin was probably upset too and no matter what she had done, she must have had good reason, and under no circumstance Dhani did not want to act towards her the same way people acted towards her when she retuned from the dead. She wasn't even too bothered with the 'why' right now. She just needed to let Faylin know that she still cared. No matter what. It was what friends did, right?

Her direction changed several times before she made up her mind as to who to see first. Partly she justified her actions with a possible lie: Steven had friends, Branwen, Kala to an extent, several of the marines: she was sure that he wouldn't be left to wallow for too long alone. Faylin however… she wasn't sure who the woman would or could turn to. Saying that though she may herself have several close friends, closer than Dhani at any rate. Anyway... she was here now!

Pressing the chime with no amount of uncertainty her breath caught in her throat as she wondered 'who' exactly would answer the door. She hadn't met the new JAG, who was in essence Faylin… would she still look like the identity she had taken on? Or would it be the same old Faylin? She was a shape shifter…. That just made Dhani's head spin!

Swallowing the small vial of whiskey, she winced as it slid down her throat. Not that she was a drinker. In no sense of the word was she one. It just felt like the right thing to do, waddle away in self pity for the woman she had become. She wished she could just runaway, go awol, go change and hide into someone she wasn't and start over yet again. Somewhere no one knew who she was, how dark her soul was, how quickly she ran through her men, how she so easily crushed souls with grim satisfaction, and why she could do the above actions without even an aforementioned thought or regret.

It was too late for a 'do over'. Nothing in her life would surely purge all her sins and wash her white. Nothing. The stains of the past and present swirled on her, permanently and invisibly marking her skin. Only she knew they were there unless someone got close enough to her. The true reveal sent people running from her. Or, claiming their everlasting love strong enough that she would have to crush them to dust so she could blow them far away from her.

Her blank stare fixated on the wall in front of her, only breaking and focusing on the door when she heard the chime. "Yeah?"

Dhani hesitated for a moment. She chided herself, she didn't want to hesitate though she had no idea what was going to be on the other side of that door. Taking a deep breath she stepped forward through the door and into the room with confidence in her stride. Looking up she locked eyes with Faylin and smiled. A true smile, one that was full of warmth as she looked upon her friend, one that she had thought dead, one that she had buried and said goodbye too so many months ago. It didn't matter, non of it did, whatever she had done, whatever had happened, non of it. Because by the grace of some god she wasn't dead. She was alive and here. And that was all that mattered.

Her dark side came alive the moment her eyes laid on Dhani's. 'Push her away Faylin...........you don't need her.' Her eyelids covered her eyes for a long moment before permitting her eyes to show themselves. "Hi." As Dhani went to hug her, McAlister stiffened not even raising her arms. They stayed glued to her side, her face expressionless. "Thanks. What brings you by?"

Surprisingly Dhani wasn't bothered by Faylin's coldness towards her. In fact she was surprised herself that she had been so bold as to hug the woman. She was driven by emotion more and more these days, and it showed. Sometimes she wished that she could be the cold emotionless woman that she had been, but then she had begun to realise that there was so much to explore within emotion. The way it drove a person, it was fascinating. She did and said and acted in ways that she never would have. And even though it got her in trouble at times, she was aware of the passion and intensity of emotion. And to a point she was glad. She loved Michael, really loved him, in ways that she couldn't even begin to describe. She knew, really knew and understood love now. Her relationship with Chang back in the Academy was a mere shadow of what she had with Michael. It didn't compare.

Pushing a dreadlock aside Dhani smiled, slightly cockeyed given the facial scars she was still sporting from her fake identity on her last mission. She wasn't even in uniform yet, still wearing the brown catsuite and blue waistcoat that highlighted the reflective blue streaks in her dreads. "I have just returned, and…" she paused and regarded Faylin for a moment.

"Welcome home." Dhani said with all sincerity.

"What home?" She muttered as she turned and downed another shot. "I do have one....by the Romulan border near the neutral zone. But hell, I haven't been there since my birth. However, thanks...for what it's worth."

Dhani lowered her eyes, she debated whether to take a seat or leave. "Faylin, I know that we weren't especially close before you… left. If we had been then you may have told me what was going on, I could have helped. Maybe I couldn't. But the point is this: I don't give a shit why, I am not here to judge you. For what it's worth I still think of you as a friend. You doubt that? Watch your funeral; I'm sure it was recorded." she said a little scathingly.

"I don't need all the details, I haven't come here snooping for gossip." she paused and moved to stand before Fay, to get her compete attention, "I died Faylin." she said locking onto the woman's eyes, "I actually stopped breathing, I was declared clinically dead. I have the memories of dying six times over. I left this existence for real!" she paused again to let that sink in.

"And I came back. And everyone here, in this place that I thought were my friends treated me like some monster. I am *not* going to do that to you. Whatever reason you had to fake your death, to hurt the people around you that loved you, I don't care. I believe that you have more integrity than to do it on a whim. You had your reasons. And I am here to tell you that I am glad you are back. That I missed you. That I still class you as a friend. I don't doubt for a second that you are confused, hurting whatever. But I am here if you want to continue that friendship. If not," Dhani paused not realising that her tone had pitched, her intensity and passion had grown during her exchange.

"If not," she continued in a softer tone, "It's your loss." With that said she instantly turned and began to walk to the door. For some reason she couldn't fathom her hands were shaking!

"Wishing Upon a Fallen Star is Easier without INTERRUPTIONS"

(takes place during "The Mystery Planet")

Lt. 8-ball Hunter

It's not that she liked studying comet debris. Comet debris did not fall under her specialty. In fact, she wasn't a huge fan of comets in general, but it was her job to stare at them and make notes. Never mind the fact that she was an anthropologist---she was here staring at pieces of dead comet because she was Chief Science Officer, and Chief Science Officers were versatile.

Godammit.

The study was going okay---the actual data wasn't all that entertaining---but the workload kept her and the other Science Officers busy, mostly because people kept interrupting them. School children on some kind of crappy field trip, insisting on touching her lab equipment with their sticky fingers ("But it's for a proooooooject, Lt. Hunter. We have to get in your way in the name of education.") Dumb people asking dumb questions that had nothing to do with her department. ("I need somebody to come up here and fix this terminal." "Then get engineering, you MORON!") Not least of all, one of the children watching her was a hallucination and couldn't be shut up with a dark glare. 8-ball wasn't a huge fan of studying comets, but she was becoming a tremendous fan of an experiment involving launching stupid people INTO comets and seeing which body parts broke off first.

"Bridge to Lieutenant Hunter."

8-ball hung her head and attempted not to scream.

"Hunter here, go ahead," she said to Iniara. ~Go ahead, make my day worse.~

"Lieutenant, how close are you to completing your scans of the comet debris?"

~Nowhere! Nowhere near! Not because I'm all that far away but because people freaking SUCK and are trying to ruin my life!~

"About 95%," 8-ball said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. She was pretty sure she spectacularly failed at that, but maybe Iniara would give her points for trying.

"Could you do without the final five percent?"

Oh. Good. Freaking. Christ.

It wasn't that she liked studying comets. But to have come so far for so godamned long . . . 8-ball took a breath and gritted her teeth. "We could manage," she finally said. "But . . . why?"

8-ball tried not to make that 'why' sound like 'Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to SUCK MY SOUL?'

"Something much more promising just popped up," Iniara said. I'll have Artim give you the full details. Tarin out."

8-ball closed her eyes and repeatedly smacked the palm of her hand into her forehead. She was often under the illusion that such an action would stave off the impending headache.

"That's not very bright you know," Azra whispered from the corner. 8-ball mentally told the little dead girl to fuck off and die.

Before Azra could respond with the very obvious retort, 8-ball heard two of her ensigns speculating on what could be so interesting. "Who knows," 8-ball said to them. "Likely it's something dangerous and creepy and absurdly weird. This is the Galaxy, you know." The ensigns nodded their agreement.

There was probably an away mission on the horizon. There was always an away mission before things went to hell.

If they required a Science Officer, she was soooo sending Artim.

"The Hunt Begins" Part 1 of 2

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin, Sciences
Lt. JG Victor Krieghoff, Security
Lt. JG Zev Raynor, Intelligence
Ensign Elissa Skylark, Sciences
Ensign Artim Shivar, Sciences
Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval, Sciences
Ensign Keldan, Operations

---------- Planetside ----------

The familiar tingle of the transporter took a moment to dissipate. Once it had, the team automatically fanned out, some of them shielding their eyes from the unnaturally bright light of the blue sun. Tricorders quickly made an appearance as they took stock of their surroundings.

They had materialized in the middle of a relatively flat and open field. Clusters of short trees stood nearby; farther off they could see the beginnings of a thick forest. The temperature was pleasant, and the humidity was just a little higher than that of a standard starship. A light breeze rustled the leaves and brought the faintest trace of a sweet smell to their noses, but other than that the area was completely silent.

Iniara turned towards Cutter, looking up into the taller man's face. "Lieutenant Kara'nin, as the ranking scientist on this mission, it's your decision as to how we should proceed."

He looked at Iniara, mildly surprised, his wings flattening behind him in reaction. It was clear he wasn't expecting them to defer to his expertise so soon after returning to the Galaxy. But then, the surprise faded and the slight frown of the arrogant scientist returned. "I believe the standard tests and samples should suffice for now. Atmospheric, hydrologic and geologic core samples, botanical samples, microbial scans," he said. "Contrary to all of your hopes, this appears to be an M-class planet like any other. I'm sure there's little of real interest here."

"Um, ma'am," Artim interjected. Normally he wouldn't question orders but in this case he couldn't just sit by and let the Astrophysics officer take command of what was a life science operation. "Is there a particular reason you're putting an astrophysics officer in charge of a planetary survey mission when you have a life sciences officer that has led half a dozen Starfleet ones and a great deal more civilian ones in his career on your team?"

"Protocol," the XO replied simply, tapping a finger against the pips on her collar for emphasis. "The ranking officer leads."

Miguel frowned at this, but as a mere Ensign he didn't really have a say. Still it was typical Galaxy insanity that on a planet surrounded by some of the most amazing plants he'd seen in ages...... to put an astronomer in charge.

"Ma'am, that's not necessarily the case in every situation. Protocol in this particular circumstance would dictate that the more experienced officer would take charge. That's generally how science expeditions work. I've had full Commanders taking orders from me before I had that button on my collar," Artim wasn't going to let this slide.

"Yes, *before* you had that pip on your collar," Iniara repeated, emphasizing the first word. "Need I remind you that civilians are not subject to the same command structure as are Starfleet personnel?" She fixed him with a look that suggested she did not expect an answer.

Cutter looked down at the childlike alien he had encountered earlier in the week. "I'm a perfectly qualified geologist, and an expert on planetary formation. There is more to these surveys then 'life science,'" he said, with a sarcastic emphasis on 'life science.' "Things would proceed faster if we split up," he added.

"Whatever," Artim mumbled in response as he pulled out his tricorder and started scanning.

Miguel added an enthusiastic nod to that. While he thought the idea that there was 'little of real interest' was an incredibly stupid notion, he did agree with splitting up. He worked better without any assistance. Especially in the form of clumsy oafs trampling all over his precious plant specimens. Kneeling down he set about arranging his little jars and containers.

Iniara moved off slightly, turning her attentions to their surroundings as she did her best to keep from frowning openly. Tension within the group had risen quickly, and all because she had followed standard protocol and placed a full Lieutenant in charge of the scientific matters. Her past experiences had taught her that scientists often thought of themselves as the masters of their own little domains, and sometimes they got a little testy when you treated them as anything but the geniuses that they typically were. Still, these were Starfleet officers, not civilians; publicly questioning a clearly defined rank structure should have never even entered their minds. Idly examining a strange multicolored flower poking out from some rough tree bark, Iniara made a mental note to talk to their chief once they got back to the ship.

Keldan watched with some amusement at the squabbling scientists and turned to face Iniara. He didn't envy her responsibility in maintaining order in this particular situation, but in the time that he had spent in Operations under her supervision, he had found her to be a more than capable officer, particularly for a woman. He had quite a few suggestions in mind for what the brainheads could do with their survey-style incompatibilities, but she didn't need to hear it from him and it would have been inappropriate as a junior officer for him to open his mouth. "Lieutenant Commander," his voice broke in over the scientists. "Unless you have something specific for me to do, I'll get to work on a data uplink to the Galaxy to process all the information we'll be getting." 'Eventually', he added under his breath. "Then I'll start scanning for any technological factors on the planet."

Iniara turned back towards Keldan, squinting against the bright, almost blinding sunlight. "Sounds good," she replied, popping open her field pack and fishing out a pair of dark polarizing glasses. Too much time spent under the artificial lights of starships might finally have been making her eyes more photosensitive. She hoped that wasn't the case. "Let me know if you need a hand."

"Before," Victor spoke up for the first time, having been scanning the area visually and with his tricorder since the beam-down, "we separate, there are two things I want clear that fall into my purview as the assigned security for this away mission. One, everyone is to check in regularly, at no more than thirty-minute intervals, and to keep at least one other team member in sight at all times. Just because we scan no life signs larger than an insect doesn't mean that there isn't something here or that we can't get in trouble. Two... and I want everyone clear on this one..." He looked around, meeting everyone's eyes individually. "No one has permission to die."

An unexpected feeling of relief settled in Iniara's chest as Victor's eyes met hers. She nodded in confirmation of his order; that's what it was, after all. In the years she had been aboard Galaxy, she had learned that when they came from Victor's mouth, those six simple words offered more protection than the blessing of a Vedek. Iniara herself wasn't a very religious person, but there were still some things she could put her faith in.

Cutter grunted at the comment. "Yes, well," he said, subtly rolling his eyes, "If anyone needs me, look up." And then, behind him, his large white wings unfurled and he flapped them downward as he leapt up into the air. Each stroke caused a surprisingly strong gust of wind to sweep through the group, kicking up small clouds of dirt and rattling Miguel's sample jars, but by the fourth, he was high enough that they could no longer feel him.

"The Hunt Begins" Part 2 of 2

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin, Sciences
Lt. JG Victor Krieghoff, Security
Lt. JG Zev Raynor, Intelligence
Ensign Elissa Skylark, Sciences
Ensign Artim Shivar, Sciences
Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval, Sciences
Ensign Keldan, Operations

"Has anyone picked up even the slightest trace of intelligence?" Ensign Skylark asked, frowning at her tricorder. "Unless of course, this phenomenon is a naturally occurring one. Cellular regeneration rate may account for..." she started to wander through the thicket, then realized what she was doing, turned, and came back. "Lost myself in the moment," she said by way of apology. Her weight shifted from foot to foot in a mixture of enthusiasm and impatience.

"Sensors didn't detect anything," the XO answered automatically. She flipped open her tricorder, moving in a wide arc that slowly brought her closer to where Elissa was investigating, yet farther away from the remainder of the group. "I'm not seeing anything."

The motions were of course a cover story for her own 'natural' sensors. Technology sometimes failed to detect things it just didn't know how to detect, but powerful telepathy tended to work pretty well. As she put more and more distance between herself and Krieghoff, Iniara let her mental shields drop little by little. If there was some form of intelligence at work here, she hoped she might be able to sense it. Taking slow, deliberate steps through the underbrush she continued to 'scan', waving her tricorder slowly around for effect. The surface thoughts of her team members came through clearly now, and she could still sense the collective consciousness of the over one thousand people orbiting high above on Galaxy, but other than that there was nothing but the same old background noise. "Still nothing," she called out again.

"And nothing resembling any fabricated structure or material," Elissa added, stepping into the same clearing. "I'm amazed this could come about so quickly," she continued in a calm, even voice, but everything about her stance, expression and surface thoughts betrayed a science officer's thrill. "No fingerprints whatsoever. Do you think the original survey team just... screwed up?"

Keldan finished setting up the small console that would link the team's tricorders and relay the information to the ship where it could be analyzed with a bit more scrutiny. Getting out his own tricorder, he set the range to maximum and began scanning. Unlike the scientists of the away team, he wasn't interested in water samples, geological anomalies, or the local flora and fauna. If this had been a Class-D planet at one time, then advanced technology may have been used to give it its current form. Perhaps some trace of that technology...some signature, had been left behind. Then again, if it had just been a sensor malfunction, and the world was both presently and historically Class M, then Cutter could be right and there would be little of interest to be found here. At least from a technological point of view.

"Gespar!" replied Miguel.

"Gespar?" asked Iniara.

"Gespar?" asked Keldan.

Everyone turned to see the Botanist squatting over a small lumpy looking root, gingerly poking it with his garden trowel. "Uh si.....Gespar." he patted the dirt covered...thing. "At least it seems to be some form of it."

Since everyone else either appeared to know what a 'gespar' was, or was waiting for someone else to ask to avoid looking foolish, Victor shrugged and bit the phaser coupling. "What is a 'gespar,' Ensign?"

Miguel shrugged, "Its a vegetable.....sorta bland tasting, but with a few onions and a little cilantro......" he paused sensing the glares. "It's a Vulcan plant Senora......a root like vegetable that's traditional as a breakfast food......Common in the scrub desert areas of the Vulcan Southern hemisphere - its really an incredible find."

"And why is that?" Iniara asked him.

Miguel blinked. "Because we're not on Vulcan." He prodded the root a bit more, turning it over. "The structure seems to be a bit more primitive than the Gespars I've seen, maybe this is an older cousin......then we have to consider the fact we're not in a desert." He pointed out the trees all around them, "But it's basically the same thing.......it should not even be here."

"There haven't been any planned Vulcan expeditions to this sector. Plus I doubt the Vulcans would bother Terraforming a planet this far out unless..." Raynor thought for a moment. Technically he wasn't the expert here but there were two possibilities that did come to mind.

"There is an Exodus from Vulcan that we don't know very much about... We know that part of the Exodus became what we call Romulans... but not every ship that left from Vulcan arrived on Romulus so maybe one of those missing ships passed through here or has settled underground or something... as a first possibility. Second possibility is that this isn't Gespar but something on a similar evolutionary path, that evolved on this planet naturally. Along with all the other vegetation. It wouldn't be the first time that evolution similar to the Vulcans have occurred on other planets. But the fact that this M Class planet wasn't here last time a Federation ship came through tends to argue against that... But seeing as we all serve on the USS SNAFU... I thinking of going with the first and hostile natives..."

"If a ship did land on this planet at some point, we should be able to detect it, or any residue it left behind. Ensign Keldan, are you picking up anything yet?" Iniara asked.

"No, nothing to indicate the presence of a ship...crashed or otherwise...or any kind of colony or settlement. He waved his tricorder in a long, even arc. Odd. I *am* registering a slight power drain in our data console. I don't believe the drain will interfere with our survey, but I will continue to monitor it."

Raynor not wishing to contradict a superior officer noted that if a ship were on say... the other side of the planet they might not pick it up on any of their sensors. Or perhaps had some sort of cloaking device...

"The gespar is proof enough," Elissa added, tucking her tricorder away, "that someone has been here... and may still be here. It is - statistically speaking - impossible to find a genetic match like this. I think Raynor pegged it, ma'am, but that's just... gut instinct."

"Something to consider," Victor offered without ceasing his scans of the area. "If this was a Class D planet previously, how did it become a Class M in the intervening time since the last stellar survey? The last time I'm aware something like that happened was when the Enterprise D encountered a representative of the Douwd species."

"Yes... because no one would ask that most basic question to themselves before beaming don't to this hunk of rock..." Raynor noted sarcastically. "I mean it's the entire reason we rushed here... because this planet isn't supposed to be Class M in the first place... and you know planets tend to develop warp capability on their own and move if you leave them alone for too long. It's just the way of things."

"Genesis", Artim muttered as he looked for an interesting patch of microbial activity. "Maybe someone perfected it." Since they were still in the throwing out theories phase Artim thought he'd put out a slightly more wacky one.

Keldan smirked and let out a slight laugh. "Well, it's impossible to rule out anything just yet. There are always the inhabitants of the Q Continuum as possible culprits, or some advanced alien interference that might explain a *sudden* planetary transformation. However..." he trailed off, theories jumbling through his brain and his Starfleet training coming to the front. "If I were on a Vulcan ship, stuck on an lifeless, oceanless, airless piece of rock, what would be my first order of business? Survival. There was no indication of ship debris in space and none on the planet's surface. That only leaves underground." He began calibrating his tricorder to penetrate deeper into the planet's crust, hoping he wouldn't come across any refractive metals that would screw up his readings. "If it was an 'Exodus' ship as Ensign Sandoval mentioned, it is likely they would have had all they needed to survive in the way of food, medicine, and biological samples. Perhaps all of this," he said, gesturing to the thriving ecosystem surrounding them, "is just the final stages of their attempt to make their home hospitable."

Miguel shook his head at the wild theories being bandied about......Genesis? Super powerful aliens? Spacegoing Vulcan Cavemen? It was just a simple gespar. It was like finding a potato and suddenly coming up with Government conspiracy theories........Couldn't these people just enjoy the discovery for once without ruining it?

"The Unofficial Route - Part 1"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Office

Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Angel Moon Bar - USS Galaxy ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ Gos-se! ~

Slamming the PADD she was reading down hard enough to crack the persplex that covered its display Kimberly got up from behind her desk and paced about her office. Stepping around the piles of PADDs on the floor, she made her way to the replicator and ordered up a coffee. Continuing her pacing she sipped the hot beverage and muttered to herself.

Ever since the conversation with Dhani at the Luau, she had been more than a little confused at its direction and ending. Okay, she'd been working on getting fairly drunk at the time, but even so, there had definitely been more than a little confusion there, 'It's not like I was try to pry, or be the CMO. I just wanted to bloody well apologise!' she muttered as she paced carefully. Subsequent conversations had certainly moved things on between the two of them in the weeks that had followed, but in some regards, the confusion had remained.

Determined not to give up, she thought about what to do next. Flopping into a chair by the door she looked up at one of the holo's on the wall and watched the sunrise over the crystal mountains on Thera as she debated on what she 'could' do.

Recalling the night of the Luau she remembered Dhani's arrival, not only her attire, but whom she was with when she had arrived. Her twin and a man. ~ What was his K'hest'n name? ~ she thought. She had seen him around once or twice, mostly in Dhani's company, once in sickbay, but she had been busy at the time, but the name eluded her. Picking up a PADD at random, she tied it into the computer and called up a list of engineers aboard. Filtering the list to Terran males, she scrolled through the list and checked the file images for each. Having no success she bit her lip and thought for a moment.

Programming a simple search into her PADD, she set the device scanning the ships files for male crew who met the search criteria she had listed. ~ He may be Betazoid. ~ she considered. Letting the search run she sipped her coffee as she flipped through the ships manifest, idly picking names she didn't recognise, putting faces to names she had only read in reports or reviews once or twice. Sighing softly to herself. ~ So many new faces and names since Romulus, and probably a few more new faces after their last mission to the now lifeless Barzan. Not so many, but still… ~ Sitting up as her PADD finally beeped she skimmed the search results. ~ A Civilian engineer. ~ she realised when she finally found the face she was looking for, understanding now why he hadn't appeared in her first search. Skimming the file quickly, 'Okay, Mr McDowell where are you?' she murmured softly.

Checking to see if he was on duty she was happy to see he wasn't, but the computer listed him as currently in the Angel Moon bar, ~ Haven't managed to stop by there yet, ~ she realised. Dropping the PADD casually onto a nearby pile she got up and headed out, ignoring the clatter as the already precarious pile of PADD's collapsed.

Leaving sickbay she got on the nearest turbolift and directed it to Angel Moon, all the while thinking up a tactful way to find out what he could tell her about Dhani.

It was Michael's first time here in the 'Angel Moon Bar'. He'd heard about it a few months ago, but never gave it more thought until he heard about the holographic music projector. That was the main reason why he had come to the Bar at this unearthly hour. Unearthly because it had to be between 5 and 6 am. However, he just couldn't pass up a recorded performance of one of his favourite female Jazz singer, Diana Krall.

So, that's why he sat here at the Bar enjoying the performance. The lighting had been adjusted to give the impression you were in some real Jazz club somewhere in Houston, Earth. Whoever had done that sure had done a good job, at least according to Michael. It was more than good. It wasn't difficult for him to forget he was on the ship instead of a real Jazz club.

Hearing the music from outside Kimberly walked in and paused just inside the door to let her eyes adjust. The dim light and music leant an atmosphere to the place that was oddly relaxing she decided, even though she wasn't a serious jazz fan, the music wasn't too bad. Looking around it wasn't hard to see McDowell, he was one of only a handful of crew in here at this hour. Walking over to the bar she waved to the server. "Coffee, Terran, with extra sugar please." she asked.

Waiting for her drink she listened to the music for a while, still debating the best way to broach the subject of Dhanishta with Michael. She hadn't really spoken to him much, only in sickbay really while she had been patching him up and she really wasn't too sure of the relationship between the two, were they friends, co-workers, what?

Nodding her thanks as the coffee was delivered she walked over to where Michael was sat she noticed his rapt attention to the holographic performance, mentally shrugging she paused by his table and gave him a pleasant smile as she stopped beside him. "Good morning," indicating a vacant chair by his table, "mind if I join you."

The sudden voice pulled Michael's thoughts away from the mesmerizing concert. He noticed the woman that stood alongside him. A smile from his side and a gesture to the chair next to him made it clear that he hadn't any problem with her request. "Of course not, Doctor. Please, sit down." The invitation was followed by a question coming from himself. "Do you like Jazz?"

"To be honest, I'm not a huge fan." she replied as she sat, "Don't get me wrong I don't dislike it, but I've always preferred more classical music." listening for a moment she shrugged, "Though it's not bad," she admitted.

Michael acknowledged her answer with a slight nod. "Classical music. Interesting. Which composer? Bach? Beethoven? Mozart?" He grinned slightly. She probably wouldn't know but he did like Classical music. "Perhaps Elgar, or maybe even Prokofiev?"

"Beethoven certainly, and Rachmaninoff definitely, but one of my favourites has to be Jacopo da Bologna." she explained as she sat, "But more recent classics are nice as well."

"Nice. I haven't heard about 'Jacopo da Bologna' though. Maybe you could tell me about him sometime? I'm always interested when it comes to classical music." Michael said. He briefly looked at the holographic version of Diana Krall, who was singing 'A Case Of You', before looking back at the good Doctor again. "Anyway, something tells me you didn't come to talk about classical music or jazz. Am I correct?"

"You can see why I don't play poker!" she admitted humorously, "And yes, I have to admit to an ulterior motive." Looking around she was gratified to see only a handful of patrons in at this hour, all of whom were well clear of them and listening to the music, lowering her voice slightly so the music would be loud enough to prevent anyone from overhearing she continued. "Actually, I was hoping to have a quiet chat with you about a mutual friend, Dhani."

The mention of Dhani instantly had a visible effect on Michael. Now his attention was fully focused on Kimberly. "Dhani? What about her?"

A little surprised at the intensity of the question Kimberly continued softly. "I was hoping to have a chat with you about her. Nothing official, or on the record. I'm just here hoping to speak with someone who can help me help a friend."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Is something physically wrong with her?" He stared at Kimberly, waiting for her to answer. His concern was growing by the minute. "Is she in Sickbay?"

"The Unofficial Route - Part 2"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Office

Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Officer

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Angel Moon Bar - USS Galaxy ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Is something physically wrong with her?" He stared at Kimberly, waiting for her to answer. His concern was growing by the minute. "Is she in Sickbay?"

"No, no. Nothing like that, she's fine," Kimberly assured him, ~ At least I hope she is! ~ She added silently. "But, I was hoping to speak with you, as a friend of Dhani's. She and I have, well, sort of started getting to know one another. We have our ups and downs, but I hope we're becoming good friends. After seeing you two in sickbay I was hoping to just chat, not official, off the record, as someone who's worried about her friend." she explained, realizing that she was rambling she took a sip of her coffee to slow down, "

"Alright," Michael said after a minute. "why are you worried about her?" He wondered what Kimberly wanted to share with him. Dhani and he were open towards each other about everything as far as he knew - it was hard not to with the telepathic bond they shared - but she could block her thoughts and emotions far more easily than he.

It was not that he distrusted Dhani in any way, but she could be struggling with something she'd kept from him for some unknown (but from her point of view, valid) reason. Truth be told, lately there were moments where she was not herself. He couldn't really tell what was different about her at that time, but he sensed it via their telepathic link - be it ever so slightly. It felt a bit like cold waves of emotion emanating from her. Until now Michael had assumed that it could be related to PTSS but had refrained from talking about it with her. He wasn't sure if he should start about it and force the issue.

She had had this speech all laid out, nice and neat, step by step. And now she was actually here it had all just gone completely out of her mind. Taking a sip of coffee to stall for a moment she looked thoughtful. "How much do you know about her past?" she enquired tentatively, "before Starfleet?"

"Not much, only that she was born on Vulcan and from there moved to Trill and Qo'Nos. That and her history with Starfleet." Michael pondered over her question. He never really had talked with Dhani about her past, or his own past for that matter. "We just haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Neither have we," Kimberly muttered with a trace of irritation. "Every now and then she'll come out with a comment, or some little quirk that is either so intriguing or really worrying. I have a mental file, this long," indicating a span of about a meter with her hands, "full of little things that have caught my attention since I started getting to know her. But there's not a huge amount on her file. I could ask her, but based on earlier conversations she'd likely either not answer, or throw knives again."

A grin flashed around Michael's mouth. "Oh yeah, she can be like that. That's one side of her. But she's not always like that, although some people might think so." His smile vanished. "You know, you still haven't answered my question. Why are you worried about her?"

"Because I'm her friend." She replied simply, "And I worry. There've been a few things she's said since I got to know her that have raised my eyebrow, and I've been putting them all together lately, things she's said that just either don't make sense, or seem, well, wrong."

"Now, you have to admit, that is a bit too cryptic. You can't just expect me to tell about Dhani's private life without giving me a really good explanation. It's a strange enough request as it is already." A frown on Michael's face made sure Kimberly would understand that he was being serious here.

Nodding in agreement Kimberly shrugged as well. "True, and a point well made…" pausing a moment she considered the best way to phrase this, fortunately since there was no confidentiality to silence her on this one she could say what she wanted, but 'how' to say it was another matter entirely. "This happened a while back, before the recent Borg thing. We'd had a sort of argument and I went to look for her to talk and hopefully patch things up. There was a party, and, I have to admit I'd had a couple of drinks before I found her. We got to talking and mostly patched things up, but there's something bothering her."

"She wouldn't say much, but it started with her first physical in sickbay, and she mentioned it again at the party. She has this almost terrified reaction to sickbay, and I'm not sure even she knows why. Her file is a novel of adventures, mis-adventures, mishaps and tribulations that would make any seasoned officer a gibbering wreck, yet throughout it all she's still going. But now, every time she steps into sickbay I have to lock away the scalpels and call a maintenance crew to fix the damage her mind inflicts almost unconsciously." She felt safe talking about this to him, as an engineer she had no doubt the stories of the mayhem that ensued during one of Dhani's infrequent visits she was sure had already hit the gossip column on the ship. "I've told her I just want to help, but she's said she's not ready. Which as her friend I can accept. But I also have a duty as the CMO of this ship."

Sighing she slumped back into her chair. "I'm prepared to give anyone the time they need to work things out, and more than happy to give someone a little leeway, especially when their work isn't suffering. Gos-se, on this ship who doesn't need a little time?" Pausing she took a sip of her coffee again as she gathered her thoughts, random quotes from conversations with Dhanishta flashing through her mind. "But, I need to fill out things like medical evaluations, and these are the sort of reports that hit desks at Starfleet command, and when a senior officer's file has blanks in it, questions get asked. I can stall things for a while, but not forever."

Silently considering whether or not to mention the cryptic 'There's something in me' comment Dhani had made at the party she had a debate race through her mind in a matter of seconds. Deciding to hold onto that one for a moment, after she recalled the look on Dhani's face after she had said it she filed that one away for the moment and looked at Michael. "I worry, as a friend mainly, but also as the CMO. And I need some help here." She admitted with a resigned sigh.

Michael let it all first sink in before he answered. He'd heard about the damage in Sickbay after Dhani had come there. He'd even tried to talk about that some night, but she wouldn't want to hear about it. Said that she was feeling tired and wanted to go and catch some sleep. It was true, Dhani's behaviour had become somewhat strange, even for her (and he was familiar to quite a bit when it came to Dhani). But through it all Michael had decided not to do anything yet. Maybe that had been a wrong choice. True, they had a relationship, but that didn't mean he could just start to pry and see what exactly Dhani was doing all the time. So, all things considered, he didn't know if something was really wrong with Dhani or not.

"I've heard about the damage she caused in Sickbay. I'm sorry about that." Michael let his elbows rest on the table as he continued talking. "Dhani never has been one to like Doctors and the like. I must say, after her time in the Hospital on Trill, I can't really blame her. And that is only one experience I know of. The damage, well...she has telekinetic powers, but I'm sure you knew that already. It's only in the past year that her abilities in that area have increased. Don't ask me how, I just know it happened. Maybe,...maybe she can't control her telekinetic powers whenever she has to go to Sickbay? It could be that she is too anxious and because of that loses control? I'm just guessing here, but it's a possibility. I can't imagine she does it on purpose."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Kimberly said simply, wondering a little why he felt the need to apologise for the chaos that Dhanishta had caused. "And an unconscious reaction is my guess too, especially when one of the incidents occurred while she was asleep." Rubbing her brow tiredly she thought for a second. "This is staying between us for now, because I'll be damned if I fill out any paperwork that might get her in trouble. But I do need help here. I'm not exactly sure where to start, though I have an idea, but I could use some help. Personally, not professionally." she admitted, "as one person worried about a friend."

Michael understood where the good Doctor was standing and was convinced she meant good. The problem was that he wasn't sure if he would be doing good by helping her out. If he could trust his instincts on this one then he feared it would be something like spying on Dhani. Maybe 'spying' was not the right word, but still... But if there really was something wrong with her then he had no choice.

"Alright, I'll help you. But, before we go on, are you really sure there's no other way? 'Cause something tells me that your idea involves spying on Dhani... and I don't want to do that unless _absolutely_ necessary."

Shaking her head Kimberly frowned. "I'm loathed to say spying. In fact I'd rather it not come to that, but she is stubborn, so want's to solve things on her own. I don't have a problem with that, and if she can so much the better. I just want to be sure that I'm not missing something blindingly obvious. All I'll say is I'm here if needed, so don't hesitate to call me of you need to. She's a wonderful person, but as I've said, she's mentioned some things which raise my eyebrows more than once. Perhaps it's the counsellor in me that worries too much, but I do worry." Draining her coffee she sighed. "Or am I being excessively concerned?" she asked with a shrug.

Michael thought for a moment before answering that question. He then slightly raised his brows and pursed his lips for just a moment. "Could be. Dhani can display extreme behavior. At least, when compared to the average crewmember on board. One day she can be as cool and logical as a Vulcan, the next one as passionate and battle eager as a Klingon."

He debated if he should tell Kimberly about the telepathic link Dhani and he shared and about the times that he'd felt like something wasn't quite right with her. He dismissed that thought. There wasn't enough reason to do so. "However, I've got used to that over the years..." ~And I even love her for that to a degree.~ Michael added in thought. "...and it's possible that I missed something."

"Me too." Kimberly agreed, wondering also if she had missed things. Standing she shrugged. "Anyway, as I said, please, call me if you need to, anytime. I hope I'm worrying over nothing, but as I said, after recent conversations, I'm just a little concerned. If I can help, I'd like to."

Courtesy demanded Michael to stand up too the same time as Kimberly stood up, so he did. "Thank you Doctor. I'll know where to find you when things will go wrong. But I sincerely hope it will not come that that."

"Agreed. And… Thank you." Kimberly said sincerely, grateful that someone else was keeping their eyes open. Now all she could do really was hope it was completely unnecessary.

"Looking Out For One Another"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief of Engineering

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Marine SFMC

***Location USS Galaxy***

Having left Faylin Dhanishta made a 'B' line right for the Marine barracks; she figured that this was where Steven would be. Her head was spinning, she didn't know what to say, how to say it, hell she didn't have all the details. But that didn't really matter. All that did matter was making sure that he knew he still had her support. A few years back she didn't have friends like this, she wouldn't be running through the ship, dodging people to get to another, to make sure that they knew she cared. For a long time she didn't. If emotions were truly illogical then she wouldn't feel this need, and right now no matter how it ate her up, no matter how much pain she had been through and *felt* since being on this ship, right now she pitied the Vulcans for repressing this feeling. There was so much they missed out on.

Rounding the corner she held on to the wall to steady herself before running head first into a marine, they were a touchy type, territorial and fierce in their regards towards 'fleeters'. Smiling politely she side stepped the burly man and continued on to Stevens Barracks, at a much calmer pace, she was in marine country now after all!

Steven heard the chime ring out. Someone was at his door. "I'm not in the mood for another counselling session Bran." he called out.

Dhani couldn't suppress a chuckle at that given that she had just been with Bran! But she wasn't Bran, nor here to make him pour his heart out, so she rang the chime again.

Steven sighed. He had tried to avoid his friends for too long. "Come in." he finally said, having weighed up the pros and cons of letting Dhani in.

Stepping into his room, his small, tiny, pitiful excuse for a room, she wondered briefly why he didn't join the Fleet, you got *much* better quarters. "Hi." she said meekly, refraining from asking 'how are you?' cause that was obvious!

"Sorry," he said when he saw that it wasn't Lieutenant London again."I figured you were Bran."

Dhani looked down at herself, she still had the dreads and fake scars from her away mission, part from that she was the same old Dhani, "Nah, sorry to disappoint." she said with a small chuckle.

"How are you Dhani? We haven't talked in ages. Not since..." he stopped, not wanting to remember the events that had occurred down on Barzan or the aftermath. It wasn't everyday your wife came back from the dead, told you she was back and she was all yours and then turns around and kicks you to the curb quicker than you could say "Jumpin' Jack Flash".

"I'm okay." Dhani replied softly. She looked at Steven with sorrowful eyes, "I heard about Faylin. I went to see her." she couldn't keep that from him, he was her friend.

"Oh? And what did she have to say for herself?"

Dhani shook her head, "Nothing." she replied. "Well, I didn't wait around for her to say anything." she took a second to look around for somewhere to sit. Opting for the small deck to the right she gently moved some of his cloths aside and took a pew, "I said what I had to say and then left." She looked at Steven and swallowed hard, "No matter what she has done I still," she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, "I still think of her as a friend." She held up a finger to quell Steven's natural objection and disagreement. "She hasn't done anything to me Steve. I know she has hurt you, and that you are my friend. But at the same time she is going through shit too. I don't claim to have a clue what it is, what you or she has gone through." Dhani closed her eyes again, pushing back the similarities to Chang, "But I am not about to toss her on the scrap heap, not yet. I have told her that I am still here for her, and it's up to her now to change that or take me up on it."

Steven sat there looking at Dhani, yet looking well beyond her. In his mind he saw the moment when his world burst, when she had told him it was over. He let his shoulders sag, much like his heart had.

Noting his lackluster response and the way his shoulders sagged Dhani slipped off the desk and came to kneel before him. Taking his hands she tilted her head to get his attention and eye contact. "Steven I died, okay? I came back, now I know this is not the same situation, far from it. But when I came back everyone treated me like a lesser being because of it. I am *not* going to let someone I care about go through that. Can you understand that?" she asked him in an almost pleading tone.

"I never treated her like a lesser being. I told her I loved her, that I didn't care that she was a..." he trailed off, not sure how much Dhani knew about what she truly was; that she was a Chameloid. "I was willing to do anything for that woman and she tossed me aside. I feel so empty; hollow all the way to the center of my being."

She smiled slightly and bounced their hands, "I'm here for you too. Don't ever forget that."

Steven smiled, though it was hard to tell through the beard that was growing. If only she knew what the thick hair was hiding, she'd probably knock him on his arse and drag him back to see Mortan.

"And what's with the new look? Going punk on me are ya?" he said with a chuckle.

Dhani giggled slightly, "Nah, just a cover for my last mission. Had to be covert and sneaky, ya know… the things I'm good at." she added with a soft snort of laughter. "Though," she began pensively, "I am thinking about keeping the dreads…. Wha-d-ya think?" she asked bobbing her head to and fro watching her dreadlocks bounce from side to side.

Steven rose a hand up to play with the dreads. "It's nice, but I don't think they quite suit you. Though to be honest, I hardly know you, so maybe it does suit you." He wondered if he should mention that Faylin was born and bred to be covert and sneaky. But then, she didn't want him in her life, so he was going to stay out of hers. "What does Kala think of it?"

Dhani smirked, "Aint got a clue!" she replied, "I have literally just got back. Went to find Kimberly to get 'this'," she indicated her hair and the scars on her face, "removed, bumped into Bran, she was the one that told me Fay was alive, explained a bit but I think I tuned out after a while. Then I saw Fay briefly, then came straight here." she smiled and took his hand, "To see you and make sure that you were okay."

Steven faked surprise, though truth be told, he wasn't very convincing. "I didn't know you cared."

Dhani punched him playfully on the arm. Given her recent right hook to Kimberly she toned to down a lot, didn't want someone else going to sick bay with a bruise from her, it would add to her 'record of assaults', not becoming of a senior officer at all. ~Opps~ she added mentally.

"I was kidding Dhani. Just pulling your dreads, so to speak." He grinned.

She tagged him again, this time on the cheek, with a soft, 'contact only' punch. Smiling gently she stood up. "You going to be okay?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's been a month now, and I still can't get her out of my head."

"You wanna get out of here for a bit?" she asked, "I gotta go see Kimmie and get myself back to normal. You can come with, stretch you legs. Show the rest of the ship that you *are* alive and not down here wallowing." She kicked his foot and pushed his shoulder gently, "Come on. This place is depressing! Also you can stop Kimberly from giving me a full physical, she has been eyeing up those rubber gloves. I know, I can read her mind!" she joked tapping her temple with a mischievous grin.

"Sure, I guess so. It's not like I'm doing anything worthwhile at the moment. Just moping around. Though if she tries to give me a physical, I'll hold her down and let you use the gloves to give her a taste of her own medicine."

Dhanishta laughed loudly at that, the sound of her amusement carrying through the door and down the hall. Taking his arm she linked hers with his and pulled him up. "If you're not careful I'll help her give *you* a full colon flush!"

"Gee thanks. I've always wanted to have one of those." he said with a laugh.

For a short time, as the two friends made their way to sickbay, all thoughts of Faylin slipped from his mind and he found himself not feeling quite so depressed as the sorry state his life had become.

"The Unexpected Second Date"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Chief Counselor

J. Andrus Suder, apc
Librarian

****

The whole situation might not have been nearly as embarrassing had Brian not gone to the trouble of dressing up. As he stood before an apparently equally bewildered Andrus Suder, the fact that the counselor had on some level been excited about a second date felt painfully obvious now. Very painfully.

"So, uh....you really *didn't* tell Madden you wanted us to get together again?" he asked in an awkward tone for what was probably the third time, still shocked that even someone as devious as Madden would have set them up without either of them knowing.

Andy felt like rubbing his temples. Or perhaps bashing in Madden's head. Devious was a good word, he thought. Dead was another. "I didn't."

He hadn't told her that, no, but Madden must had guessed anyway. "I didn't but it's not unwelcome, just unexpected." Andrus couldn't help let his eyes roam a bit. "I feel a bit under dressed."

"Oddly enough, so do I," Brian muttered, though in his case it was emotional, not physical, exposure that was causing him discomfort. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that Madden's evil deed was a fait accompli. "Look, maybe I should just go so things don't become any more awkward than they already are," he said, already starting to turn slightly.

Truth be told though, it wouldn't have been his first choice.

"Don't," Andy started and then shook his head. Damn that woman, he thought. She *knew* that he was planning to leave, that dating wasn't anything that he wanted to do .. still, he could deny the appeal of seeing Brian again. And that worried him somewhat.

Andrus gave a lopsided smile as Brian turned back to him. "Ever seen a Klingon attempt a reading of Betazoid love sonnets? Now *that's* awkward."

For the first time during this exchange, something in the situation was actually funny, Brian thought as he laughed out loud. "No, but I have to admit I think I'd like to," he chuckled. Humor was such a great way to defuse a tense environment. "Listen, I don't know of any Klingon poetry readings scheduled on board, but I do know of some great places to get a meal," he said, thinking of any of the umpteen holodeck programs he'd created just for that purpose. "It, um, looks like neither of us has any other plans at the moment."

"Pick one and I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes," Andy replied.

*****

Holodeck Two

Twenty minutes later ...

~Over here,~ Brian sent, looking up when he saw Andy come through the holodeck doors. To his pleasure, though not surprise, the Librarian cleaned up well.

The holodeck had become an open air patio, drenched in sunshine and surrounded on all sides by trees, flowers and a lush carpet of greenish-blue grass. The sky was blue, dotted with big, fluffy clouds and the occasional sound of a far-off bird harmonized with the soft trickling sound of nearby brook. A few brightly-dressed waiters and waitresses made their way among the tables, chatting with the guests as they took orders, refilled glasses or delivered plates brimming with concoctions made with exotic fruits, nuts, legumes, vegetables -- staples of a Betazoid vegetarian diet. Brian himself was not vegetarian, but he was well aware that many Betazoids were; which camp Andy fell into he wasn't sure, so he decided to err on the side of caution. Of course, the menu could be changed easily enough if necessary.

"It's been awhile since I've enjoyed a meal on a bright sunny day on Betazed. Thought you might like it too." Across from his place at one of the small round tables was an empty chair, and in front of each setting, a tall glass filled with a lavender-colored drink. "Endaara cocktail?" he said, gesturing to the other glass. He grinned. "I took the liberty of ordering you one, just in case the walk down here made you thirsty."

Andy laughed. "Thank you. I haven't had one of those in years." He looked around in amusement. He hadn't been to Betazed in years ... when was the last time? Probably his parents' anniversary, he decided.

"Makes you wonder why we ever leave our planet at all."

"I've heard that in some form from my extended family for as long as I can remember," Brian replied, smirking in recollection. "I think from the first day that my parents decided to move to Earth, the rest of my family thought they had lost their minds. Guess in the end I was lucky -- gave me two places to call home." A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took in the idyllic beauty that surrounded them. "But Betazed...I think it's in our blood."

"But you left all this too," Brian noted, shifting focus back to Andy as his curiosity about the man waxed anew. "You could just as easily be a librarian among all this as you can on the Galaxy," he said. There was still something about this whole "librarian" angle that didn't seem to fit, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to just ignore it.

Andy's lips quirked. "I wasn't always a librarian, Brian." He could sense the other man's curiosity about him and he wondered just how much he should reveal. "I've had many trades over the years."

"Such as?"

"Let's see .... I've been a teacher and a bouncer," Andrus replied. "I had a very short lived career as a garbage man. There was two very lovely months as an attendant on Risa. Two less than lovely months a waiter. No one ever tips."

The counselor looked at him again for a moment. Try as he might, Brian couldn't shake the fascination he felt toward this guy, and reciting his resume only seemed to heighten the intrigue.

"Teacher, bouncer, garbage man, waiter.... Sure, makes plenty of sense that the captain would want to keep you on board."

"He owed me a favor, Brian," Andy said with a small sigh. "And that's all I'd like to say on the subject."

If nothing else it explained the heavy psychic armor Andy always seemed to carry around. Self-revelation was obviously not something he was used to, personally or professionally, whatever the latter meant in his case. But so far it felt to Brian like he was doing all the driving here, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Andy feel like he was trying to beat his life story out of him.

"This place," he said after a pretty good pause, shifting the topic as his gaze moved somewhat nostalgically to the natural beauty that surrounded them, "it's not far from where I grew up the part of the year we were on Betazed. Even this restaurant -- not made up, just a re-creation of the real thing." He fell silent again for a moment, reconsidering Andy's earlier words -- why did they ever leave their planet? There was a metaphor in there somewhere, something comparable to why people in general left the comfort of their own thoughts and company to seek a connection with others. With a PhD in Psychology he figured the answer should be easy enough for him to come up with, but even if he did, it would be too sterile, too clinical. In the end, there was mystery in everyone. Not just Andrus Suder.

"True," Andrus murmured.

Brian slowly turned his head, raising an eyebrow. ~Oh, so we're reading thoughts now?~ he sent. "I can put up my guard too, so you need to start playing fair, Mister Suder."

"You're right," Andy replied and then opened his mind before he thought better of it. He smiled at Brian's sharp intake of breath - adding the sound among the mental images of tangled limbs and blue-green grass - and then abruptly put up his barriers again.

The image itself was not the kind of thing that would generally upset Betazoid sensibilities, but the shock of going from complete silence to virtually full disclosure was enough to cause the counselor to almost knock over his drink.

"*Not* fair," Brian finally said. "But if you'd care to elaborate..."

(OOC: I figured I'd post some stuff from the views of various NPCs throughout the ship. Hope you all enjoy.)

"Our Stories"

Private First Class Amy Van Duren
Marine

Petty Officer Sean Boston
Waste Management

Petty Officer Eric Rodis
Operations Officer

Lieutenant Katherine Holmes
Trauma Counseling

Staff Technician Aaron Wallace
Flight Deck Crew

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
CO - Second Platoon

**** Marine Gym ****

Amy lay on the bench, motionless. Her breathing was ragged, and a thick sheen of sweat covered her face and upper torso. Her arms, sore from the continued exercise, rested on the bar above her. Every inch of her ached from the intense workout. She highly doubted she'd be able to walk, let alone train with the troops in the morning. So hard had she worked out. But then, when you've got something to prove, you generally have to try harder. And being a woman in a "man's" world, you had to continually prove yourself.

Her deeds down on ch'Rihan had strengthened their loyalty and respect, but seeing as she hadn't seen combat since, she knew that she was going to have to prove herself again. Especially now that the new bunch of raw Privates had arrived from DS5. Heck, it only seemed like yesterday that they had taken on the last lot. Yet that had been a couple of months ago, and here they were again taking on a slew of raw cowboys who thought they were god's gift to the women of the ship.

Sighing at the thought of having those punks trying to cheapen her role in the unit, she pushed her hands up, lifting the heavy weights off their rack. With the intense pain gnawing at her, she began the next set.

For she had to prove herself once again.

**** Waste Management Office Lower Decks ****

Sean was nervous. He had been back onboard for a month, having delivered the assassin to her father and then gotten the hell out of there. He was nervous and it was showing. He had slipped up in his work twice today as strange noises had caused him to have panic attacks. She had returned as had the Marine, though from what he had heard, something wasn't right between them. They had not returned as the couple he figured they would. Even the fact that she had returned didn't bode well for the Sanctum operative.

If she had returned, then her father was most likely dead, along with any chance of advancement in the organization. If she found him here, he was a dead man. That much he knew. He knew, of course, that she'd kill him quietly, making it look like natural causes, or an accident, but every little noise made him jump out of his skin. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had to go and fix some blocked waste receptacle in the Marine barracks later. If he was there.... Sean Boston shuddered at the thought of what the Marine would do if he saw him.

At least McAlister was a stealthy killer. The Marine, however, was less likely to care how he died, as long as it was painful. And Sean knew which he'd prefer. Of course, the Marine had never seen his face when he had targeted him with that transportation lock dart, so his identity was more than likely safe.

A strange banging noise scared Sean from his thoughts. Looking around, he saw a bucket on the deck, it's contents, a concoction of chemicals that were better off not being smelt by any sane person, having spilled onto the floor. He sighed, and reached for a mop.

God he hated this job.

**** Trauma Counseling Office Sickbay ****

Having seen his best mate and roommate be assimilated by the Borg, Petty Officer 3rd Class Eric Rodis sat on the couch in one of the small offices branching off the Main sickbay as Katherine Homes sat on a chair next to him gently patting him on the shoulder.

"It's okay," she said in a calm manner. "Let it out."

Eric nodded, his whimpers raising in tempo to match the increased flow of tears. "He's... dead."

"I know." she said softly. "There was nothing you could do."

Eric raised his head to look at the auburn haired woman. With soft wrinkles creasing her brow and cheeks, he figured her to be in her early fifties. "Yes, there was... But I couldn't move."

She nodded. "You were scared. It's understandable. Anyone in your position would have been."

Eric shook his head. "I'm a coward."

Kathy sighed. Two hours and she had gotten nowhere with Mr Rodis. They kept coming back to the same point. Eric thought of himself as a coward and no matter what she tried, she couldn't get him to think anything else.

"It takes a strong person to admit they are a coward." she said changing her tactics once again.

"You think I'm a strong person?"

"In here," she gently pressed over his heart. "In there you are the strongest person on the whole ship. All you have to do is believe in yourself."

Eric whipped the tears away as he changed into a sitting position. "Are you sure?"

Katherine nodded. "Yes. Belief is nine tenths of the solution. You believe in something hard enough and nothing can deter you."

"And all I have to do is believe that I'm not a coward?"

"Exactly. Just tell yourself, 'I am a strong person. I am not a coward'. Try it!"

"I am a strong person. I am not a coward."

She nodded. "Now, louder."

"I am a strong person. I am not a coward." he said with a little more gusto.

She shook her head. "Say it like you mean it. I want the Nurses out there to be able to hear it."

"I AM A STRONG PERSON. I AM NOT A COWARD!" he shouted.

Katherine smiled. It wasn't a conventional way of handling the situation, but having tried a number of avenues, all having turned up empty, she had found that she needed to think outside the box. "Now, Eric, are you a coward?"

"No." he said. "I'm not."

Standing rapidly, he reached over and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, ma'am."

"You're welcome. I'd like to schedule a followup in a couple of days to see how you are going." she said before rising to escort him out.

With the last of her patients finally out of her hair, she slumped onto the couch he had occupied for the last two hours or so. She was exhausted and within moments had fallen into a light slumber.

**** Vanguard Hanger Deck ****

Aaron stood leaning against the side of the last fighter ship still sitting on the hanger deck. The rest were either out on patrol or sitting in the maintenance area getting repaired. It had been one crisis after another. The Fraken head office had deemed their requests for new parts and materials as non important and they were struggling to keep the birds in the air. They had already had to canablize one of the highly damaged fighters for parts to get two of the fighters back in the air.

Not that he blamed the old CAG. He had built the Vanguards up from nothing. It was those pencil pushers back at HQ who deemed the ships on the front lines as being worthless of much needed supplies. Bloody Doves, he thought angrily, sitting in their cushy chairs in the warm offices while we stand on the front lines protecting them with paperclips and toothpicks.

Aaron had not yet had the opportunity to meet the new CAG, though he had seen him walking about a couple of times, and in a couple of all hands meetings, but he had yet to actually 'meet' the man. So as it stood, he barely knew what to make of him. Rumor had him as quite a good leader, and Aaron hoped that Carl Stalansky, the Flight Crew Chief might be able to get him to put in a good word with the CAG to kick some pencil-pushing ass.

Being trapped on a ship so far from home was also disheartening. Not being able to see your beloved, or be there as your first born is brought into the universe had cause him grief. His girlfriend had given birth a week ago, and while becoming a father was grand, not being able to be there for her ate at him. At least his folks had been able to take time off from their huge dairy farm to be there for her. Aaron had been very glad when they had offered to take her in.

He spoke to her every day, and was eagerly looking forward to the month of leave that he had coming. As soon as his replacement arrived and was trained up.

Of course, the damn pencil pushers had neglected to tell him that they had canned the replacement and that he was stuck there for another three months.

Cracking his neck from one side to the other, feeling the knots working themselves out, he sighed in contentment. At least his day was nearing completion. Only another ten minutes and he was off duty.

Several shouts broke the silence in the bay and Aaron blinked a couple of times before running to find out what was happening.

"We have a Priority one SAR mission. One pilot down, another with an uncooperative ship. One minute to prep." the chief called out.

Aaron nodded. Was the day ever going to end?

**** Ten Forward ****

Steven stood at the window once again. Like every evening since giving her the divorce papers, he stood here watching the stars. Only this time, they weren't moving. And a giant planet sat filling a large proportion of the window. It was supposed to sooth his hurting soul, yet without the streaking stars, it did nothing for him.

Bran had found out about his passing out the night before and had spoken to Erin about not giving him any alcohol at all. Blasted welsh woman. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone. While the tiny rational part of him tried to reason that she was trying to look out for him, the rest of his psyche was telling him that it was the only thing keeping thoughts of her at bay. And while the latter part was winning the battle, he now wasn't even able to get any alcoholic beverages. Only Iced Tea and water. Damn her.

What he couldn't understand was why they were here. From all he could see of the planet, it was all vegetation and huge forests. There didn't seem to be any cities of any significant size. So why were they at an empty dead planet? Shrugging the thought away, - there wasn't much point thinking about it. It was just going to lead his thoughts indubitably back to 'her'. - he turned to look out into space.

His eyes, focused on nothing in particular, just the blackness of space, punctuated by several small lights here and there that were, obviously, stars or large planets. His mind found itself thinking back to a happier time; before Faylin had dumped him; before she had faked her death; to when he had been the happiest man in the universe. God how he missed that time. To be able to hold her, love her, cherish just being with her; laughing at her jokes. It had been a magical time and now it was all gone.Lost in the annuls of time. Never to return. And he felt deeply saddened by that fact.

A bright light broke in through his closed eyes, forcing them open with a start. There in the distance, too far for his naked eyes to determine exactly what had happened, he could see some sort of explosion. "Did you see that?" he called out to no one in particular.

"Give it a rest you drunk bastard." someone replied.

"No, I'm serious." Steven said as he pointed towards the explosion. "Ah, frak it..." he said as he realized no one believed him.

Little did he or any of the other patrons know that at that very moment, at the source of the explosion, a young fighter pilot was struggling to stay conscious while he waited for the SAR team to arrive, his fighter having been ripped in half by the out of control fighter of his wingman.

"we regret to inform you"

Branwen London

Yawning Branwen walked over to her communication array. It was the middle of the night, but the damn thing would not stopped beeping. And she did not want her roommates to wake up, so finally Branwen got out of bed to answer the call.

"Yes." She said a little irritably.

A serious faced elder commander appeared on the other side of the screen. "Sorry to wake you, Lieutenant. I am addressing 1st Lieut Branwen London, am I not?"

"Yes you are." She continued to rub the sleep from her eyes. "What is so important it cannot wait until morning, sir." She asked.

"It is morning here on earth, Lieutenant." The man still looked serious. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Symons, XO of the marine training facility here."

Suddenly Branwen was paying attention. That was where Man'darr was. He was going through his training to switch from Navy to Marines. As far as she knew he only had a few weeks to go before he could return to the Miranda as a marine.

"I am familiar with the facility." She whispered.

"Lieutenant... Branwen." Even experienced officer like Stephen Symons found messages like this difficult. "Lieutenant major Maivia listed you as his girlfriend."

"Yes." She whispered.

"As finishing touch to his training, we send our trainees out on a mission. We regret to have to inform you that your boyfriends shuttle has been missing over 72 hours now. There is not much hope."

"I see." She blinked totally numb. "Thank you... thank you for telling me."

"Branwen, is anybody on your ship I can contact to come and be with you?" Symons asked gently.

Somewhere she found a smile. "Thank you, sir, that is not necessary. Thank you for taking the time to tell me in person instead of sending a letter. I am counselling officer, I know how to take care of myself.

The elder man seriously doubted that, but he could not force her. "My condolences, Lieutenant. If there is any more news I will inform you."

Branwen disconnected the unit and went back to bed. She just sat there arms around her knees. There were no tears, no emotions at all just numbness.

Ooc if anybody wants to JP about this, feel free to contact me. I have time for some quick ones.

OOC: Took place prior to the away team post.

"The Puzzle"

Elissa Skylark
Science Ensign

Michael McDowell
Civilian Engineering Specialist

-USS Galaxy, Deck 8-

How long had he been walking around the ship now? Two hours? Three? Michael didn't know. What he did know was that he was bored beyond believe. Since that busy period at DS5, where they got the ship repaired, he'd been doing mundane routine tasks in Engineering. It had to be done but after having doing a level 2 or 3 diagnostic for the umpteenth time on one shift - and that for days on end - you start to long for something else.

It was kind of ironic that right now he wished that something, somewhere, on the ship was broken and had to be fixed while not so long ago he'd wished the opposite was true.

What to do. Back to his quarters? Nah. Maybe to Engineering again? No way. He already had a scary vision of another dozen requests coming his way asking him to perform a diagnostic on some system. Ten Forward perhaps? Maybe, if it wasn't too crowded. At this time of day it could be just that.

He greeted a Science Officer with a smile and a nod as she passed by. If he remembered correctly, then the Main Science Lab should be here somewhere. To his satisfaction that was precisely the case. Curiosity made take a few steps inside the Lab, forgetting the fact the he was a civilian. Finally, something interesting had come his way... or rather the other way around.

Elissa stood at the main console puzzling over the data of the planet below. Having seized the opportunity to work on it, she found it difficult to let go, like a bulldog. A really smart bulldog that was trying to reconcile the conflicting data that had arisen since Galaxy had started scanning when compared to the original system survey records. Intuitively, she suspected outside involvement in the planet's development, but with no real facts to support it, locked the feeling in the back of her head, leaving room only for the facts at hand.

She heard someone walk in behind her, but didn't immediately look up, eyes glued to the screens. Elissa found herself hunched over the console, pulling up data and tabulating new sensor readings as they filtered in from Operations. She was able to ignore the presence until enough time had passed in silence that she ventured a gaze behind her. Smiling, she turned from the station with great difficulty and nodded to him, noting the lack of rank pips on his collar. She sized him up quickly, figuring he was in Engineering and curious as to why he'd come into the science labs.

"You've got," she tapped her left shoulder and nodding toward his, "umm, a little animal hair on your uniform."

"Huh?" was Michael's first response, then looked on his left shoulder and noticed the white/grey patch of fur. He grinned. "Oh, that! That's undoubtedly coming from my cat, Twister. I had not noticed it 'till now."

She smirked lightly. "I figured." The Ensign started to turn back to her station, then remembered her manners. She closed the distance between the two of them. "I just recently transferred here, but I'll do what I can to help you." She thrust her hand out, palm sideways. "Elissa Skylark."

"Michael McDowell. Pleased to meet you" He answered, smiling as he did. "And sorry for barging in on you this way. It was not my intention to startle you."

They shook hands, and she smiled generously. "Not at all. I'm always off in my own little world. Planets to puzzle out." When they broke the friendly grasp, she plucked the cat hair off his shoulder and flicked it to the side. "I hope you're not here to collect the telemetry data. We've barely got half of it compiled."

"Ah, no. I'm not here for that. I was just walking around the ship when I happen to notice this Lab. I've always been interested in Science so I couldn't help taking a peek inside."

She raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "And of all the science labs on all the decks in this ship you walk into mine," Elissa jested. "Not that I own this lab, or even run it, but... I like to think of myself as a steward." She turned and pointed at the work station she'd been at. "I'm searching for answers to our mystery planet, but more than likely it's going to take an actual team and scientists more practiced and learned than me to even begin to solve it."

"Why think that? You might surprise yourself sometime if you systematically cover all aspects of it." He looked at the data the station displayed. "Besides, if you´re here on this ship then there´s got to be more to you then meets the eye. I bet you´re not short on brains, right?" He flashed a grin when he looked back at Elissa.

"I'm a mental giant," she said simply, her eyes dancing and the corners of her mouth upturned. "But in the land of giants..."

"Yeah..." Michael tried to finish the phrase, as started by Elissa, for himself but failed. It did sound familiar though. He sure must've heard it sometime. "What have you got so far?" he asked with interest. Helping out someone was so much better than just wasting time.

"At this point, it's all binary to me," she admitted. "I've been looking for fingerprints, trying to chase down the hypothesis that the change in this planet since it's last survey could only have been made by intelligent design. Whoever did this, they covered their tracks very well."

"They certainly did. Assuming, of course, that this did happen by some intelligent species. Though,...there's chance 87.6 percent chance your hypothesis is right." Michael looked away from the screen and looked utterly surprised. "Did I just say that?"

"You did," she smiled, "and you're right. I had roughly the same idea, though not quite so specific. Still, scientifically speaking, the simplest answer is almost always the right one. Hence, my pursuit."

Michael nodded. "Makes sense." He was still thinking about what he'd said a minute ago. He never was so specific in statistical information like that. Heck, he used computers to come to such an answer so quickly. "Have you been able to establish when this planet changed from class D into a class M?"

She shook her head. "We're going to need to take in a lot more information." The door to the science lab opened once more, admitting a blue-collared Bolian with petty chief's pips. "Here to join the party?" Elissa asked him with a smirk.

"Better. I just looked at the duty roster. You're assigned to the away team."

Elissa blinked. "Wh-when do we leave?"

"Just under an hour."

She smiled and nodded. "I need to gather my things..." she started to walk around the station, then walked back to it. Typing in a few commands, she put the terminal in standby and started making a mental list of what she needed.

The Bolian shook his head and walked to the exit. "Typical. No 'thank you, Babo', 'so wonderful that you took time out of your busy schedule to tell me, Babo'," he muttered as he marched outside.

"Thank you, Babo!" she yelled after him. She turned to look at McDowell, a mixture of excitement and apology. "Just under an hour," she explained.

"I understand. No apology needed, Ensign. Maybe now you will be able to solve to the puzzle once you're down on that mysterious planet." Michael smiled. "I bet all are eager to know what happened there. I know I sure am."

"It was nice to meet you," Skylark said. She dashed out of the science lab in essentially a sprint.

"Yeah... nice meeting you too." Michael said but to a now empty Lab. ~How typical. Well, guess that mean 'Hello Boredom' again.~

"Xenonian Physiology and Charm"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer
Ensign Miqu'elan Dar'ce - Tactical Officer

Main Sickbay
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ensign Dar'ce, orders in hand, walked into the sickbay of the USS Galaxy. The largest Starfleet ship that he had been on to date was the USS Republic, a Lexington-class ship used for training cadets at the Academy. The Vigilant, the ship he took his Cadet Cruise on, was just a Defiant-class, the facilities of which were nowhere near as expansive as this.

Finding the nearest nurse, Miqu'elan handed off his orders so that he could get this thing over with. As with most people, Miq disliked going to a doctor when there was nothing wrong with him. It was bad enough when there was something wrong. The nurse disappeared and came back a few minutes later ushering the blue man to a biobed.

"The doctor will be right out, Ensign."

"Thank you, nurse....?" he asked with a slight grin.

The petite nurse smiled shyly and said, "Nurse Draven. Bella Draven." She leaned into him and whispered, "My shift ends at 1600."

Just then a doctor walked up looking at Miqu'elan's orders.

"Ensign," the Zaldan doctor stated curtly, "Doctor Burton is waiting for you in side bay two, cease your chatter and see to your appointment." Holding out the PADD he indicated the direction to the bay with a tilt of his head, "Go, now." He added with no attempt at courtesy.

'Well, then,' thought Miqu'elan. 'I guess that's that.' He made a mental note to see the nurse before he left the sickbay. He walked over to the side bay the Zaldan had indicated and found the CMO looking at a computer screen, either checking out his physiology, or maybe catching up on paperwork.

Waiting in the side bay Kimberly sat refreshing her memory on yet another physiology the Federation had to offer. ~ Xenonian, ~ she mused to herself silently, ~ Cobalt based blood, we'll need samples for a synthesizer and clone bank cross match. ~ she decided. Adding a note to the growing list of things she had to do she called up a physiological chart for a typical Xenonian and scrolled through the highlights again while she waited.

Miqu'elan walked into the bay and addressed the doctor. "Good day, Doctor Burton. My name is Ensign Miqu'elan Dar'ce. I'm here for my medical evaluation." He stuck out his hand, knowing how humans loved that custom. "Where should I sit?"

Sliding off the biobed Kimberly smiled and shook the offered hand, looking up at the figure that, like most aboard towered over her by nearly a foot. "Pleased to meet you Ensign," she replied. Indicating the bed she had just vacated, "Hop on the biobed and we can get this done fairly quickly," she promised. "I have to admit you're the first Xenonian I've actually met in person. Read about but never met." Watching the blue skinned Xenonian sit on the bed she opened her tricorder. "So, anything I need to know about that isn't on your file?" she asked/.

Miqu'elan thought about it for a few seconds. "Probably not. I've not had that much in the way of medical trouble. Just that bout with Locrinitis, and the allergic reaction to cordrazine. Other than that, I'm as fit as a fiddle, as the humans put it." Miq leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs. "And a bit of cabin fever from the facilities on DS5."

"Now that I can understand," Kimberly agreed, "I was on Jupiter Station for a while out of the Academy, and it can be so boring stuck in one solar system for too long. There may be a lot to see, but it can't beat being out among the start exploring. Your file mentions the Locrinitis and the Cordrazine, we'll follow up on the former in a month or so, and I'll try not to use any Cordrazine, I promise." Paying attention to the tricorder she let the device slowly move around him as she talked, "How about you?" she said with a touch more curiosity than before, "Medical notes aside, how about you or your people? You can't sit there and tell me you're standard issue humanoids?" she asked with a touch of amusement, "tell me a little about Xenonians?"

"Well, generally we're the same as a lot of humanoids. Heart, lungs, liver. Respiratory, Circulatory, neural. Our skin is a bit thicker, with a thin layer of fat beneath. Cold planet and all." Miqu'elan took a breath and then continued. "Our planet has mostly a cold surface, below freezing most of the year. The equatorial areas actually stay quite temperate, but we can't really live there. Mostly animals, and a few resorts. A single landmass, with a large ocean, a few inland seas.

"One thing we have over many cultures, though, is the fact that we've had a united government on our planet for thousands of years. The last wars were fought over religion, and when it was over, I guess nobody wanted to fight any more. Telepaths are generally passive societies, but not ours. Even without wars between cultures, we maintained an impressive armed force, just in case.

"We reached the stars about eight hundred years ago, and just as Earth was getting warp, we had already established the Xenon League, a planetary alliance between the Xenonians, the Man'de'har, and the Lidrons. It lasted for two hundred years, not spreading very far, because the Romulans and the Klingons were always after our space. We defend ourselves fairly well."

"Sounds like you have a pretty active culture, and you're right about that layer of fat, though you might want to watch that," she added with an impish grin. "So what happened to the league?" Kimberly asked curiously as she clipped the scanner back on to her tricorder and tapped the bed controls, "is the alliance still active?"

"Well, the Xenon League was dissolved and replaced by the Xenonian Empire, after a group of corrupt Xandar Warriors led a revolt and conquered the capitol. The member systems capitulated immediately, mostly because Xandar are almost impossible to defend against. But, with the help of my late great-grandfather, a group of loyalists managed to begin a rebellion and the Xenonian Alliance was formed, about fifty years ago. We're somewhat unique in the Federation, because the entire alliance was admitted as a single governing entity, instead of separate planets, though we have plenty of representatives from every planet in the alliance."

Inwardly vowing never to visit his planet if she could avoid it, Icy worlds being something that brought back too many unpleasant remembrances she shoved the memories aside brusquely and focused on the bed controls. Tapping the controls with precise stabs she raised an eyebrow, "Okay, so far so good, you're looking well enough to put me out of a job. Try and keep it that way please," she asked with a grin. Nodding towards an alcove she motioned Dar'ce off the bed, "I'd like to take a blood sample in a moment, but first we'll run you through the basic hand eye stuff, and then I think we can leave it there for today. Your scans show nothing at all to worry about so I'll update your file shortly."

Miq breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the previous mission had no lasting effects on his health. His shoulder still hurt once in a while, but the Xenonian guessed it was more psychological than anything.

Hopping off of the biobed, he followed the doctor to the small alcove.

Leading the way to the alcove she configured the device based on his last test and aimed a thumb at the gadget on the wall as she turned to face him, "Nice and simple, keep your eye on the lights," waving at a circle of lights on the wall, "when you see one, hit it with the scan beam as quickly as you can," she instructed him, handing him a small device. "You might want to do well on this, being in Tactical a bad coordination test may harm you job prospects," she teased humorously.

Hand-eye coordination had never been a problem for the Ensign, and every time he saw the circle of light, he was dead on, except once, when it went too fast even for him.

As he progressed through the levels on the basic coordination test Kimberly scanned his file once again, "How have you been feeling since you're last visit?" She asked as he continued, "You were patched up after Barzan I see. Any complaints? Tingling? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"No ma'am. The shoulder gets stiff now and again, but mostly when I'm tense after a long shift. The sonic shower works wonders."

"You may notice that occasionally, until it's fully healed." Kimberly explained, "If the sonics don't help at anytime, just swing by sickbay, we can have a look." She assured him. "In the meantime, it doesn't seem to be impairing your coordination a great deal, so you should be back to one hundred percent soon." Checking the scans she had run to make sure the other injury he had sustained to his hand was healing she nodded approvingly. "Okay, I think we're about done. Come back in a week or so for a follow up on your shoulder and hand, but otherwise you're fine. Try and keep it that way please." She asked with a grin.

Miqu'elan smiled back at her. "I'll try, ma'am, but you'll have to convince them not to send me on any more dangerous away missions. But, to keep your mind at ease, I will refrain from entering your wonderful establishment any more than necessary."

"The Potato and the Government Conspiracy, Part 1"

Hyped Up Greedy Engineer (AKA HUGE)

Ginger Haired Engineering Lackey (AKA GEL)

(OOC: Takes place while the Galaxy is still at DS5, prior to the Mission starting)

****
Some Seedy Establishment
Lower Decks
Deep Space Five
****

The Hyped Up Greedy Engineer paced back and forth, wearing a hole in the already tattered carpet that made up the floor of the seedy establishment he now found himself in. The bastard was late as usual. He was always late. Never giving a thought about the Heroes of the Federation, like he himself was, though he applied that moniker to himself; never caring that they were anxious to get the party started. Turning sharply, he began pacing again. Where the hell are you?

Stepping cautiously through the doors, the Ginger-haired Engineering Lackey had just come from a double shift in Engineering onboard the famed USS Galaxy. And boy was he tired. He had been too exhausted to even bother changing out of his uniform; too tired to notice the large grease stains that covered the once clean uniform. Not that it mattered. He was here to meet his life long friend, Hyped Up Greedy Engineer, or HUGE for short. And as history had shown him, whenever HUGE was about, trouble surely followed.

Not watching where he was going, HUGE bumped clear into the Ginger-haired Engineering Lackey as he entered the crowded room. He fell to the ground with a groan, splattering onto the floor in a pile of arms and legs. After detaching himself from a Bajoran trader and a Talaxian mercenary, whom he had somehow managed to drag down with him, he appraised his BFF.

Now, it wasn't usual that a grown man would have a Best Friend Forever, or rather would ever use the term to describe their best friend, HUGE, was no normal man. No, he was a shrewd man. Never one to get into a fight, or call attention to himself, he often found himself clinging onto others. As had happened initially when the two of them had met. But that was another story for another day. Today was going to be fantastic, if he did say so himself. "Where have you been?" he asked, his voice showing only a fraction of the irritability that he felt.

"Some of us actually work for a living." GEL replied. "Now, I'm tired... So what's the big idea dragging me down here?"

HUGE smiled broadly. "What if I told you I had found a place where any fantasy you could ever imagine could happen instantly. Would that appeal to you?"

GEL nodded. "Course it would, but you're talking about a holodeck. We already have those on the Galaxy."

The Hyped Up one shook his head. "Not like this you haven't. Come, I'll show you."

With that, he lead his ginger haired friend up the stairs towards a small back room, the establishment's secondary holodeck. As the doors closed behind them, HUGE turned to his friend and with his voice tingling with excitement, he spoke. "This program is a recreation of an ancient Vulcan monestary." HUGE saw the expression on his friend's face change to displeasure. "Wait, let me finish. But, replacing all the Monks and the most gorgeous Orion women who will do anything your dirty little mind can think of."

"Yeah, but what about Penny?"

HUGE looked over at his friend, "Who's Penny?"

"Penny is my girlfriend you knob. I told you about her last time we caught up."

A smile broke on his face. "What Penny doesn't know won't kill her."

GEL just nodded. "Go on, load it up."

****

The grey walls shimmered away as the program kicked in. Bright sunlight streamed down upon their faces, while a gentle breeze blew from the east. Thick bodies of grass grew over the plain before them, broken up with clumps of brush or daffodils. It looked like the most pleasant day.

"And the Monestary should be right behind us...." His mouth dropped open as he turned to find a barren patch of dirt where the Monestary should have stood. "I... Eh... What the... Noooooooooooo!" HUGE sank to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. He had been so looking forward to getting a couple of Orion girls to tie him up and spank him silly.

GEL just laughed. Nothing ever seemed to go right for HUGE. "Nice program, HUGE!" he said with a smirk.

HUGE looked over the empty space.. No, it wasn't quite empty. There was something in the middle of the barren dirt. Something that looked strangely familiar. He began walking towards it at a trot, eager to prove his theory as to what it was.

Sliding to a stop, he looked down at the object and sighed. It wasn't a double headed, king size vibrator like he had envisioned it to be. Not by a long shot.

"What is it, HUGE?" GEL asked as he came to stand next to his friend.

HUGE looked over at GEL, a look of great sadness evident upon his ugly face. "It's a stinken Potato!"

"The Potato and the Government Conspiracy, Part 2"

Hyped Up Greedy Engineer (AKA HUGE)

Ginger Haired Engineering Lackey (AKA GEL)

(OOC: Takes place while the Galaxy is still at DS5, prior to the Mission starting)

****
The Holodeck
Some Seedy Establishment
Lower Decks
Deep Space Five
****

HUGE looked over at GEL, a look of great sadness evident upon his ugly face. "It's a stinken Potato!"

"A potato?" GEL asked. He was just as confused as HUGE, no strike that, no one could be that confused.

"Yes." he said as he bent down to pick it up. As his hand passed near it, he felt a tingle in his fingers, warning that he should stop. Ignoring the feeling, even as it spread up to his elbow, he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it off the ground.

The world flashed bright pink for a moment and then slowly faded away, leaving behind what initially, to HUGE anyway, seemed to be the Monestary, but was in fact actually a large courtroom.

HUGE was going to speak, but stopped and stared. He was sitting in a courtroom of some sort, armed guards standing nearby with two young men, both wearing military uniforms. A judge and a jury sat to his left and right respectively. They too were all wearing uniforms, though the jury had a mix from the different branches of the Military. His BFF was wearing a full Naval uniform, with Ribbons and Medals and the works. He looked quite smart with his hair so short and looking so proud in his uniform. What was going on? Was this some dream? Was he going insane? No scratch that. He couldn't be. He was the sanest person on the planet. He knew that. What he didn't realize was that he wasn't on "the planet". Saying the first thing that popped into his head, he found himself to be shicked by what he spouted off. "You want answers?" Answers... What answers...

GEL looked from the other two officers at the nearby table to look right at him. "I think I'm entitled to them."

HUGE smiled and with his own voice, yet no control over what he was saying he replied. "You want answers?"

GEL gestured with a fist like a school boy bully demanding money from his friends. "I want the truth!"

"You can't handle the truth! Son, we live in a universe that has chocolate. And that chocolate has to be guarded by men with tulips. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Sillypants? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for the Cocoa Bean and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that the Cocoa Bean's loss, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my exisence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives... You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me guarding that chocolate. You need me guarding that chocolate." HUGE paused for a moment. "Why you ask? I'll tell you. If I didn't do what I do, you'd be stuffing your face full of chocolate right now. You'd be gorging yourself. Filling yourself to the gills with the chocolate goodness. And then what? You'll get sick and throw up everywhere. And then we have to call in the janitors... And of course, they are gonna want more pay for cleaning up your disgusting mess. I won't subject myself to listen to your drivel any ...." he paused spotting a Potato sitting on the lecturn.

GEL spotted it at the same time. "Someone stop him." he called out seeing HUGE making a move to pick it up.

The Marines were too slow and HUGE picked it up, filling the air with a bright pink light.

As the light cleared, HUGE found himself sitting on a beach leaning up against something as he read a book. All around him paniced people were running around like headless chickens, frantically scrambling about trying to save each other from the disaster that had just hit.

Someone ran by too close to him, flinging up a little sand at his face. "Watch it tubby," he said to the overweight man dawdling past. "Can't you see I'm trying to read here?"

GEL turned and stared a hole through the asshole for a moment. How could anyone just sit there and read while people were crying out for help. Selfish asshole.

HUGE returned to his book for a moment, before sighing. The fat man wasn't moving out of his light. He was gonna have to make him move. Carefully marking the page in his book, he closed it and rose to his feet. "Why don't you get out of my light, Staypuff?"

GEL just stood there. "Why don't you help these people man? Are you that much of a dick that you'd read and let them all die?"

HUGE looked around. "I don't see anyone else helping. They're all just running around like headless chickens."

Sighing, he shook his fat head from side to side. "We crashed you... you... man... We fricken crashed. There are people hurt out there," he waved his hand around, emphasizing the fact that a huge 747 had just crashed onto this strange island which was making some weird sounds. "There are still people trapped in the body of the plane dude."

HUGE looked at the plane for a moment and nodded. "You're right Staypuff. I'll help." Help myself to their things anyway, he thought as he made his way over to what was left of the plane. Maybe I'll find some beer in there... Or maybe some dirty magazines.

GEL initially smiled that he had managed to get the lazy.... man... to help, but then, as he saw him rummaging through their stuff while they dangled there trapped by their seatbelts, he sighed. Sick bastard. It was then that he saw a potato sitting next to the man's foot.

Man was he hungry.

With his eyes watering at the thought of the meal that was to come he crept forward as quietly as he could, though it wasn't that quiet since he was a huge man. He reached out, barely a few inches away. He almost had it.

"That's mine, Lardo" HUGE said as he snatched the potato up. "Find your own potato." he said as a bright pink light filled the area.

Jagged rocks and razer sharp crystals lined the rocky landscape as far as the eye could see. A haze filled the air above them, a mix of gasses and small bits of rock and crystal that had broken off eons ago. Up through the haze, one could see what looked like the Earth.

"Yeee haw" HUGE said as he sat upon the back of the Nuclear weapon. He was riding it like a cowboy rides his horse.

"Get OFF the Thermonuclear Warhead." GEL said from his position next to the lead driller.

"Nuclear warhead... I thought it was just a prop."

GEL scowled. "No you geeky jackass. It's a bomb. Now get back to work."

HUGE laughed his comment away. "NO NUKES! NO NUKES!" he protested.

"What's wrong with him?" Someone asked.

GEL shook his head in his space suit. "He has space dimentia... Let's duct tape him to a chair in the ship, so the Russian Cosmonaut can pull off the tape covering his mouth and he can continue to make smartalec wisecracks for the rest of the mission."

As they advanced upon HUGE, he took a step back. "I just wanted to feel the power between my legs, brother."

As the drama around HUGE was unfolding, they failed to notice that the drilling machine was in trouble. There was little they could do but watch as the Armadillo blew upwards, hurtling into pace.

"Guess what guys, it's time to embrace the horror! Look, we've got front row tickets to the end of the earth!" HUGE had found a spot and had his Raybans on, blocking out most of the harmful sunlight.

"End of the Earth? Are you insane?" GEL said after a moment. "We're on a fricken soundstage in the Badland National Park in South Dakota."

"Oh sorry." HUGE replied. "I lost my mind there for a moment.

"CUT" a voice shouted from behind the camera. "Let's try that again. From the Top!"

Just then, HUGE spotted a potato in the middle of the food cart and hurried over, picking it up and feeling it through his gloves.

A bright pink light filled the stage and he lost his bearings for a moment.

"The Potato and the Government Conspiracy, Part 3"

Hyped Up Greedy Engineer (AKA HUGE)

Ginger Haired Engineering Lackey (AKA GEL)

(OOC: Takes place while the Galaxy is still at DS5, prior to the Mission starting)

****
The Holodeck
Some Seedy Establishment
Lower Decks
Deep Space Five
****

When the light cleared, HUGE and GEL found themselves back in the barren field that should have been the Monestary with the beautiful Orion slave girls.

Sighing, HUGE dropped the potato. He jumped three feet in the air when he heard it yelp in pain upon contact with the ground.

Both friends turned to look at the Potato.

The Potato wriggled a little before the top popped off and they could see a small creature, no bigger than a mouse sitting within. To their keen Engineering minds, it looked like the Potato was a small ship of some sort, though nothing the likes that they had ever seen. HUGE bent down to poke a stubby finger at the creature who had a frightened look about him.

"I wouldn't do that. He bites." A voice said from behind them.

Both jumped again, and narrowly missed landing on the creature and his ship.

"Wh... Wh... Who are you?" GEL asked.

"My name is J. And I'm here to clean up this mess." The dark skinned man replied. His black suit was clean and tidy, his shoes slightly scuffed from the walk over the dirt.

"What mess?" HUGE asked, curious.

A second man dressed smartly in black appeared next to the first. "Peremiter is contained. Have you 'spoken' to these two about the explosion they caused in the Monestary?"

"We never did nothing. It was like this when we got here." GEL complained.

"I see that you haven't yet. You deal with that, and I'll get the Ambassador back to headquarters where he'll be safe." The second man said before picking up the creature and his small craft with a pair of what looked like barbeque tongs and walked away.

"Ambassador? Headquarters? Who are you people?" HUGE asked.

"That's none of your concern." J replied as he pulled out some black sunglasses and put them on.

"What's that thin..." GEL started to say, but stopped as a bright flash filled his vision.

****

"And that gentlemen is quite a story. I didn't know that anyone could satisfy five Orion slave girls that easily. I'm impressed." J said to HUGE.

HUGE smiled. "Well, it takes a certain kind of man to be able to do that."

GEL looked over at his friend and then back at the black suited man. "How many did I satisfy?"

J smiled. "None. You were too concerned with what your Penny would think."

GEL beamed like a star. "I told you I loved her. See. I could have had six Orion girls but I chose Penny."

"Good day gentlemen." J said before turning to go. "Oh, one more thing," he said as he turned back. "Watch the smoking. We don't want to lose another Monestary due to a smouldering cigarette, now do we?" he said as he waved his hands about showing the barren spot where the Monestary once stood.

HUGE and GEL just nodded.

Once the man was gone, they looked at each other. Neither of them smoked. So what drug was the Man in Black on?

(The End)

~Cutting Open the Universe~
The Return of Cutter Kara'nin

"Part V: ...A Fallen Angel"

God created man. Other than angels, this was the first creation on whom God bestowed the soul, a piece of his divine presence. Therefore, all man was a part of God. And like the hand must obey the will of the greater body, even if it must sacrifice the integrity of every one of its bones in battle to save that greater body, all of mankind must obey the will of God. God's will, for the most part, is simple. God is a being of pure love. His one simple command is that you believe in him and love him, and love others as he does.

Two hundred years ago, mankind met people like them, but from other worlds. Here were people who walked like man, and talked like man. They had achieved things as great, or greater, than man. They were capable of thought, reason, logic and emotion. And love. They were capable of doing the things that man could do, and man could only do these things because God had blessed him with a soul. A naive person who was weak in their faith might have viewed such a revelation with despair. Mankind was no longer unique. Did that mean God had abandoned them? This was the same jealousy and fear felt by the angels when man was first created. This was the same jealousy and fear that caused Samael to rebel and denounce God, and it is well known what happened to him.

But, a person who was confident in the love for God would think back to the moments mankind was created. God created Adam, the first man. And when this was done, God looked down and realized poor Adam was alone. So, he created Eve, the first woman. Today, now that man knows there are other creatures in the universe with souls besides him, it is clear that God looked down on his creation and realized poor mankind was alone. So, he decided to fill the cosmos with life.

This is what Dr. Virgil Maro believed.

The creature sitting before him was, at first glance, one of God's blessed. Some might even claim that he, and his kind, are closer to God than even man, because, before even the universe, God's first creation was the race of angels who sit with him in Heaven. This man and his species were made in the image of angels.

But, this creature did not seem to love God or love others in the way that one of God's blessed should. Nor, it seemed, did his kind as a whole. The men and the women of their kind did not join together in the way commanded by God. He did not love his children. He did not respect his friends. He showed no love. He was filled with hatred and contempt.

And, long ago, when mankind had forgotten the love of God and had grown full of hatred and wickedness and contempt, he brought forth a great flood, to wash all evil flesh from the earth. Dr. Virgil Maro looked on his client in pity, for if he and his kind continued on this path, God would surely wipe them out.

"You're right," he said, "I don't understand your species or your culture."

Cutter Kara'nin looked at him with piercing eyes. A look of smugness came over his features, and he nodded, confident that he had made his point. Then, behind him, his great wings relaxed, and fluttered as he sat back in his chair.

"Perhaps we could concentrate on the events you endured during your time in Starfleet?" Virgil said.

"Very well," Cutter said with a sigh. It was clear he was hoping that his explosion about cultural misunderstandings would allowed him to escape the rest of the session.

"You were assigned to the Galaxy six years ago. Did you like that posting?"

"Sure," Cutter said, barely listening.

"Shortly after you were posted there, the Galaxy was attacked by Hirogen hunters and you were sent down to a planet and hunted?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a moment. "Any thoughts on that?"

"Are you asking me how I felt about being hunted? My life was in danger. I was shot, my left wing was injured and I crashed into a tree. Then I was dragged around by a bunch of testosterone high security officers. It was an experience I could have lived without."

"Okay," Virgil nodded, hesitantly. "Shortly after that, the Galaxy was pulled from service and you went back to your homeworld to teach."

"Yes, that was pleasant."

"And when the Galaxy was relaunched, you came back as its Chief Science officer. On one of your first missions, you encountered the old USS Defiant, lost in 2268. You were in charge of figuring out what had happened to it."

"That's right."

"What happened to it?"

Cutter looked up, his eyes glazed over as he retreated into his memories. Eventually he said, "I don't know."

"As I understand it, it became trapped in another dimension--"

"Yes, it was lost in interspace, in an external universal layer. Our universe and the universe the Defiant fell into come very close to one another in Sector 8, near the Tholian border. The vibrations of the two universes bring them together aperiodically, and when this occurs, a bridge forms. Matter and energy, and space itself, can then pass from one universe to the other over this bridge. This is what happened to the Defiant. When the Galaxy encountered the Defiant, it was because the bridge had reformed and the ships automated distress call was still functioning. I wrote three papers on this phenomena," Cutter explained.

Virgil began to open his mouth, but the avian cut him off. "What I don't know is why the away teams on the Defiant experienced what they experienced."

"Hell," Virgil said, the word catching in his throat. The man in front of him had literally taken a stroll through Hell, conversed with Samael, Satan himself, and sits here, talking about it as if it was a daily occurrence. But then, here, over this black hole, it may very well be.

"Some involved called it that, yes," Cutter said. He disapproved of the description. "It is expected that the laws of physics differ in other universal layers, and because it remained in one for so long, it is expected that the matter and energy composing the Defiant would have taken on some of the properties of this alternate universe. And once the Galaxy's away teams, the matter and energy composing them would have begun to shift as well, creating the 'hellish' effects reported. But, I have not ever been able to define those laws, based on the evidence gathered by myself and the Galaxy and her crew."

"What did you experience there?"

Cutter thought for a moment, then said calmly, "Water tension defying gravity, the apparent disintegration of plant matter, sound in a vacuum. A scientist on my team, his face was melted by a burst oxygen tank because its contents had instead become ozone. Hallucinations of people were not there. I spent a month trying to figure out that water tension thing. I could never get the numbers to come out right."

Virgil squirmed in his seat. Only those in league with Satan were not afraid of his horrors. He began to ask Cutter how he could remain so calm in the face of such terror, but the man had retreated into his head, no doubt rethinking how the tension between H2O molecules could be so great that it held a room full of water against the pull of gravity. Virgil looked down at the other points in the bio he wanted to discuss. Cutter was seduced by an android brought on board by Harvey Mudd. Of course such a creature would be weak against temptations of the flesh. The incident on the Gryphon asteroid colony, how he let so many people die when the dome was destroyed. Of course such a creature would not help his fellow man. When Cutter began to scribble on the arm of his chair with his finger, Virgil made a stronger effort to reassert his presence. "You missed the battle of Havras?"

"Yes. I was marooned on a desert world for a month."

"You developed a curious ability."

"Yes," was all he said.

Virgil looked at him a moment, trying his best to remain professional. After being stranded with four other Galaxy crewmen on a desert planet, surviving only on the pulp of the native cacti and the fluids contained in them, and developing the astounding ability to foresee the future, even if only two seconds ahead, all he had to say about the matter was 'yes.' "What was it like seeing into the future?"

"Incredibly annoying," the avian replied. "Look, this ridiculous exercise is, well, ridiculous, and a waste of my time. I have work before the experiment this afternoon."

"Why do you want to know what lies inside a black hole, Cutter?" Virgil asked as the alien stood up.

"Do you want the scientific reasoning?"

"No, I want your reasoning."

"My reasoning is the scientific reasoning," Cutter said.

Virgil let out a breath, rethinking the question. "Do you believe in God?" he asked, though he knew the answer would be no.

Cutter raised an eyebrow, and adjusted his wings behind him awkwardly. "What does that have to do with any--"

"Black holes are objects no one in the universe can see inside. You can look, by crossing the event horizon, but if you do, you'll never come back. Don't you think there's a reason God created them in that way? Don't you think man was never meant to know what lay inside?"

Cutter shot the psychiatrist an incredulous stare. "What?! That's the most ridiculous--," he started, then quickly calmed down, "Look, maybe you're right. Maybe God made them impenetrable for a reason. Maybe mankind wasn't meant to know what lay inside."

But, before Virgil could sigh in relief, he continued, "But, as I've already made perfectly clear - I am not part of 'mankind.' And I don't care about the wishes of your God."

OOC - Takes place before the away team JPs

~Cold Welcome~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Ens. ArtimShivar

Lt. Daniel Scarborough

Normally Artim had no business going down to Astrophysics since they often had little to do with bacteria and the like. However, he'd heard there was a new but old guy down there and he had wings. In his travels he'd seen all kinds of beings but never an avian. So after his duty shift ended he headed down there.

Artim entered the lab, or what he thought was the lab. Apparently, he had walked into a foyer of sorts. There were two chairs and a table, and a small kitchenette in the back. On either side of that was a small hallway, each had three doors. Heading left, he saw that each of the doors had a label. On one side of the hall, there was one door, marked 'Simulation Lab.' On the other side, the two doors read 'Particle Accelerator: Main,' and 'Cochrane/Gravitation Field Generator.'

The other hall, on the far side of the foyer, the doors read 'Main Collision Lab,' 'Laser Excitation,' and the last read 'Offices: Kara'nin, Scarborough.' It had slots for two more names, but they were currently empty.

He pressed on the door access button, but the doors did not open. They were locked. Perhaps he was in one of the labs.

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

"No," Cutter said, handing the PADD back to the gold vested man.

"Sorry," the man asked.

"Its not right. You're calibration is flawed," the avian said, pulling a stylus from the side of the device and using it to highlight various figures in the table. "These values don't make sense. You adjusted something in the middle of your tests. Run them again."

"How do you know that?"

Cutter looked at the man, an arrogant look in his blue eyes. "I'm among the top ten smartest people in the Federation. I know what the calibration numbers for the gravitational field generator, that I had specifically built for me, are supposed to look like. These are wrong."

He pushed the PADD back into the hands of the engineer and turned to his assistant lab director, Daniel Scarborough, a mousy brown haired human who stood a few inches shorter than him. "Daniel, how long until the cochrane generator is up?"

The man looked up at the Fruna'lin through his thick glasses, "Um, uh, wel-- uh, it, it'll be tonight, I mean, the calibrations, uh, the calibrations, um, won't be finished until tomorrow morning. Um, uh, um, then, then, then, uh, of course, then we have to run, um, standard experiments and analyze--"

Daniel was a very intelligent scientist, and an excellent lab manager, but it took longer to get a word out of his mouth than the mute Ella Grey. "Yes, I know," Cutter said, "How long?"

Daniel nodded, trying to spit out the information, "Um, right, um, well--"

At that moment, Artim walked into the lab, interrupting Daniel's stutter and drawing the stares of both men.

"Good day sir. I thought I'd come down and introduce myself. I'm Artim Shivar from life sciences.", the Miran said with a wide grin and a friendly voice.

Cutter eyed the small child, his left blue feathered brow cocked high on his forehead. Then, slowly, he directed his gaze at his lab manager. "Daniel, who is this?"

Daniel's eyes widened as he looked between Artim and Cutter. "Um, this is, this is, um, uh, um, this is, uh--"

For someone he heard was a rather bright guy apparently the winged man wasn't terribly well informed. It wasn't like the story of Juram IV was that much of a secret. It generally came up in classes that were frequently taken at the academy to start with. However, Artim decided he'd let the birdman figure it out for himself.

Again, Cutter looked down at the boy, his large wings shifting awkwardly behind him. And again, he slowly directed his gaze back to Daniel. "Daniel, why is there a child in my lab?"

"Well, um, uh, uh, he, uh, um, he, he isn't a, uh--"

"Kid", Artim said completing the sentence that Scarborough was having trouble with. Hopefully he was making progress towards figuring it out though Artim was beginning to get mildly annoyed.

The avian's eyes shifted down once more as Artim spoke, and when he had finished, they moved back to his lab manager, who, shaking his head in agreement, said, "He, he, uh, he isn't a child, Cutter. He, he's actually, uh, he's actually quite, uh, quite, uh, quite old."

"Four hundred twenty-three next month actually.", Artim added in a matter-of-fact tone. Either this guy wasn't as bright as he seemed or he'd been to deep in his work to look at the department manifest.

Cutter did not reply. He only stared at Artim for another moment, nodding slightly as if in thought. Then, suddenly, he turned, "Daniel, seriously. Why is there a child in my lab?"

"I'm Miran sir. Ya know, virus killed all the adults on the planet left all those who hadn't reached puberty aging at about 1/100th normal until they reached puberty where they died a rather horrific death. Found by Kirk, virus half-cured by Bones McCoy. Ring a bell?", Artim was doing his best not to sound rude but many would consider his tone to come across as rude.

"No," Cutter said flatly.

"He, he, he's, uh, a microbiologist, um, in the department," Daniel explained, then turning to Artim, added, "I, uh, I read, um, I read your paper on, um, on the, uh, the, uh, Altairan, um, Psudomonas. I have a, um, uh, um, a, uh, side interest in, uh, microbiology."

"Won the Limera Medal for that one." Artim added in. If he was half as bright as he was made out to be THAT should ring a bell.

"Excuse me. Why are you here, again?" Cutter asked before Daniel could respond.

"Just wanted to say hi. Thought you'd be smart enough to know that they wouldn't give a 'kid' access down here." , Artim replied matter-of-factly, his growing annoyance poking through his usual calm demeanor.

The avian snorted. "Not on this ship. That Widdlestein girl used to break into my lab all the time and wrap my cloud chamber in holly and tinsel."

"That was, that was, that was, um, that was only on, um, around Christmas," Daniel explained

"Widdlestien could break into the Bank of Bolius if she wanted to. Well, if you're doing something that's too pressing for you to check the department manifest then I should go. Its a pity though that a kid has more degrees then you.", the Miran said as he turned to leave.

Cutter watched Artim leave, his eyebrow cocked once more. When the lab door had shut behind him, Cutter looked over at Daniel. "Daniel, did that child just imply he was smarter than me?"

Daniel Scarborough's eyes widened at the question, and he shifted awkwardly, more awkwardly than usual, his mouth opening and closing in a futile effort to form words. "Uh, uh, um, well, uh-- um, maybe?"

"Office Chat"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer - USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Junior Grad Zev Raynor
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer - USS Galaxy

===

The intelligence CIC had been cleaned up fairly well since the battle the place had been a mess when Raynor got back from his little excursion, apparently Eve had gone bonkers at the sight of the Borg and tore the Cubes a new one. One thing was clear from that information... the Borg were never a real threat to Eve's creators... ever, judging by the amount of damage she was able to do modern cubes.

She was built over hundreds of years ago... before the Borg even had the ability to assimilate entire planets, before their nano-probes, before anything that made the Borg a really formidable enemy had been assimilated by them. Questions into why build Eve at all when she was clearly overkill to the Borg non-threat of their time was still something to ponder on... and maybe more.

He had the memories of over a thousand dead in his mind, able to call up their knowledge at anytime, and in that crowd more than his fair share of engineering knowledge. He wondered if or when they would ask him to take a look at Eve. But right now... he was just leaning back in his chair, playing some ancient Super Mario Bros. waiting for an assignment.

"There's a secret invisible cube after the third turtle."

Saul grabbed a sit and joined him. "We actually had antique video games like this back where I came from; Not enough resources to waste on modern technology and isolinear chips."

"So you used priceless hundred year old artifacts as toys?" Raynor raised an eye brow and turned his head towards his boss monkey, if only for a second." And aren't you supposed to be telling me to do something right about now? Welcome back by the way... you missed a party. Oh and I think Eve lost a few screws somewhere... I have people looking for them but you know... their kind of decaying."

"I know about Eve." Saul said solemnly. "She's back on active duty now, and I told her I'm going to make sure that her screws remain where they should be. And hey, I read the report you sent on the way home. You earned an hour of SMB fair and square. Just don't do it while the cadets and ensigns are around, they'll get the wrong picture about 'sense of duty'."

"Aye... So where have you been anyways... usually I like to get a bit of warning when things are being left in my hands..." Raynor asked.

Saul had to make a quick strategic decision. Did he want the members of his department, and Raynor first and foremost, to know what happened between him and McCauley? He already told Nara, but she was not someone who needed to take orders from him, and her opinion of him wouldn't shift so easily. Not that Saul was concerned about Raynor's attitude toward him - it would remain as amusing as always - but some of the junior officers may look less of him after finding out that some old renegade managed to grab him.

"Let's just say I never got the chance to alert you or M'Kantu, and keep it at that." He said.

"I'll take that as you were abducted by an old enemy who has no life, but you were able to escape somehow..." Raynor stated sarcastically as Mario got a flower and began showering fiery death upon his enemies. "You know I bet somebody came up with this game while they were high..."

"Explains the mushrooms." Saul chuckled. "How did our people handle the Borg onslaught? I read your report, of course."

"They did well... from what I hear..." Raynor reported. "Apparently something in the office blew up... a couple injuries but nothing serious... this time... and Eve went psycho... that's about it... I had people searching through our databases for break ins relating to wormhole research but so far nothing on that front... Personally I find that part scarier than the fact they were able to break into SF Command."

"Not our problem." Saul shrugged. "And as for Eve, listen, we're obviously keeping an eye on her status after what happened, but she's a member of this department just like you or me, so don't undermine her. Keep in mind that she's quite capable of kicking your ass."

"Anyone can kick my ass... I flaunt it in front of them often enough... defeating me on the other hand is a little bit harder..." Raynor joked. "Besides if I was really trying to undermine her... I wouldn't be joking about i-" Raynor stopped a moment, thinking about Proctor. "I wouldn't be joking about it in conversational way. I joke about everyone in conversation... especially myself."

"Much better than certain flag officers who are overly serious about themselves when they really shouldn't." Saul agreed. His 'debriefing' in Proctor's office was still fresh in his memory, mostly because of the false news she gave him in the end. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow then. Department briefing about the developing Borg situation at 17:00. Go get 'em turtles."

"Oh that will be fun..." Raynor said with only a hint of sarcasm.

"That depends on the participants." Saul concluded. He gave the screen one final glance - the plumber character was traversing some sort of a sewer right now - and called it a day.

"The Downfall of an Entire Perspective"
By Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

Location: Detention Facility, Barzan

Three of Five's betrayal came so fast, James couldn't stop it in time, and when it came to be it was late to reverse.

Already on the surface of Barzan, the Borg invasion force was landing. He could feel the rumble of discharged disruptor and torpedo hits on the planet's surface, each hit a weapon of mass destruction wiping out a settlement, pulverizing sections of cities, laying waste to landscapes and ecosystems that lived millions of years without a galactic war to interfere. He could see on the monitors of the assimilated detention centre that drones were walking through the devastation, their relentless march never halting, not even slowed, by the feeble local defenses. Civilians fleed while defenders panicked, and the Borg, void of emotion or individuality, marched in perfect formations, running over opposition and introducing them to The Collective by assimilation.

James was watching the last moments of the Planet Barzan, and it filled with with a hollow dread he had never felt before. It was different than the fight or flight fear that he felt with the Borg before, the jackhammer pounding of the heart and the overdose of adrenaline that demanded he stand and die or fight and die, for it at least gave him the comfort to know he could let go and do something.

This was different.

He was watching a world die, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He was so helpless in the face of The Collective bearing against the planet that there was nothing to relieve the pressure of his own fear. It was the first real sense of being too small and insignificant to do anything.

?I could have done something.? Corgan uttered, finding the resolve to aim his rifle at Three of Five, ?Could have killed you. Could have taken you out, could have collapsed that wormhole prematurely, could have done a lot of things. Should have, big difference.?

He heard the footsteps of his team head to the exit. He didn't blame his teammates. He ordered the team to go to the exit and get out of the facility. Somehow he could feel T'lan, the most loyal, hesitate at the exit, her eyes locked onto the scene, begging for James to follow.

James didn't want to go. Seeing a world die, he wanted to do something, even if it was small. He focused his aim on the drone's ocular implant. If her shielding came up, there was a small chance she would be blinded.

He had to wait for his time.

Three of Five spoke, ?It is hopess, Commander Corgan. The Borg have already landed on Barzan. We are assimilating its technology and its people. Six billion more voices will join The Borg or die, as will you.?

?Just why?? James asked, ?Why? This action will kill any semblance of a truce between us. You're declaring war on us.?

?We are.? She said, as tubes were snaking down to join her. They connected, bonelike clacks and cracks as they fused to her exoskeleton, ?As of now all diplomatic relations between The Collective and The Federation are over. We are enemies again.?

?No...? James uttered, ?It's useless. It's stupid! We were getting along fine not being at each others throats.?

?It was a matter of convenience.? Three of Five explained, ?We are more powerful than the Federation, and it was by our whim that there was peace. Now it is our decision to break that peace.?

Three of Five turned her attention away to the assimilated facility, her soulless eye and technological piece were locked onto James like a spectre with a penance stare. She faced him with the confidence of an entire civilization arrayed against him, and spoke in a haunting echo as if her entire civilization was speaking in unison. The entire facility joined her chorus, it surrounded him and nipped like flights of ghosts.

?SURRENDER TO US! WE ARE THE BORG! RESISTANCE IS FUTILE! YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN!?

?Not his distinctiveness, not today!? T'lan declared. Releasing the safety of her rifle, she let fly with a flurry of bright white flares of poloron energy from her rifle. The bolts of energy struck, and shuddered uselessly against Three of Five's shielding.

Three of Five, bemused by the exercise of resistance, blinked a mental command. The blast doors that were their exit closed rapidly. T'lan had precious few seconds to roll out of the way, but in shutting the door locked herself and the Hazard Team out of the control centre.

James was too far away. He was alone with Three of Five.

?YOU ARE ONE AGAINST MANY!? Intimidated The Collective, its echos booming in his ears, the bass vibrating in his ribcage, ?YOU ARE INSIGNIFICANT! YOU HAVE ALREADY FAILED! PREPARE FOR ASSIMILATION INTO THE COLLECTIVE!?

It was a tempting offer. Against an entire civilization, James was out of his depth and felt it all around him. It was a feat of his sanity to keep frozen in fear while all around Borg he hated and feared more than anything. He felt his doubts sapping his resolve. He could pull the trigger, end the drone's life, he could escape. But what was the point? Barzan was already dying, and not being able to help the planet with the death of one drone, it hardly seemed worthwhile. He was one against many, soon to be one of many, maybe even damning his friends and mates to assimilation along with the rest of the planet. One death wouldn't matter. One assimilation wouldn't matter. Resistance wouldn't matter. It was futile, James knew it, a drop in a tidal wave that was to crash on him.

There was no point.

Was there?

He didn't want to be part of the collective, even if it seemed inevitable. If there was a small chance, he would take it, and if he didn't have a chance at escape, he could do something. Kill one drone, it was one less, a drop denied in their ocean. Kill himself, deny the borg another. Kill other drones, deny them some more.

Every drop counted for something.

Ever the opportunist, if James had his hands on an entire bucket...

He looked at the assimilated console of the array.

?Aye, it is hopeless.? James confessed.

The Collective said as one, ?THEN YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED.YOU WILL BE ONE WITH THE COLLECTIVE. YOU WILL KNOW NO PAIN, NO SUFFERING, NO LONELINESS NOR LOSS. YOU WILL BE ONE WITH US.?

His shoulder sagged, the rifle falling into the grip of his hand on its shoulderstrap. As it sagged uselessly, a barrage of thoughts went through his head. ~?Don't do it. Give up. FIGHT! KILL! What about your friends? Mika? They're all dead! I should be dead! Join them! Kill!?~

His head was a jumble of conflicting ideas.

What he felt all along was right casts his doubt aside.

James cockily said, his hand taking a surer grip on his rifle, ?I thought it over for years. Assimilation is death. I've wanted to die since I first meet you people. Death, assimilation, didn't matter. It was the same to me, I would be gone and I wouldn't have to worry about anything. But you now what??

His shoulder snapped and his arm flexed, flipping the rifle to a more comfortable level. It was in an instant aimed back at the Borg's ocular implant.

?I think The Collective can go take a flying fuckleap to hell, m'kay??

His one hand showed the sum of his feelings for the Borg, a recording for the entire Collective to log and watch over, his attempt at a lasting legacy against his enemy. He raised his middle finger with one hand...

...the other finger squeezed hard against the trigger.

The phaser in his hands whined, the energy discharge streaking red against her green Borg shielding. He had an inkling that the Borg was already adapting. He sprinted after the Drone, a reckless charge as he raised the butt end of his rifle over his head, a bloodcurtling scream uttering from his throat, his strength going all into the blow.

The strike was dead on, cracking against the drone's ocular implant. There was more resistance than he thought, it was as if her feet were part of the ground. Superior Borg physical strength kept her on her feet when his blow should have been strong enough to unseat a Klingon. He heard and felt the butt of his rifle crack and splinter, its impact plastics breaking apart like a cheap eggshell until the metal fixtures of his rifle caught into the Borg's face. He felt the softer punch of small metal protrusions dig into the Borg's skin and scrape against her technological eyepiece, dismayed that his physical strength wasn't bringing her down.

He wanted to try again, and so he did. The weapon, with the remains of the rifle stock, was less balanced for a hand to hand weapon than before, and the second swing whistled like a axe in the hand of a lumberjack, arching like a scythe. It smacked the side of the drone's head, causing her to slightly twitch.

Her speed and reflexes were almost impossible for James to measure. Before he could see it, he felt the palm of her hand punch at him. He felt an explosion of pain ripple through his ribcage, his feet confused as to wonder, 'what happened to the ground'? His back would answer a second and three meters later, awakened by shooting pain as his ribs buckled and his lungs vacated. The rifle squirmed out of his jarred fingers and spun away, out of reach.

The swirl of this hit still flashed and dizzied his vision, James was slow to get up.

?Go ahead... finish me.? Croaked James as he fumbled for handholds, his world turning into a nausea inducing blur. ?Do it... come on, you want me don't you??

Wordlessly, Three of Five had him by the neck, her grip a fraction away from crushing his windpipe. She lifted him without effort, James astonished at her strength, thinking how foolish it was to fight hand to hand with a drone that picked him up with the effort of a plucking a kitten out of a litter.

?It was foolish to fight you.? James said to her.

Three of Five upraised her arm. He saw the twin assimilation tubules coil and ready to lunge at his neck. ?THEN YOU WILL BE PART OF THE COLLECTIVE!?

?No....? James laughed openly, ?I mean I should have fought DIRTY! Look at my hands! Come on! LOOK!?

?YOUR ATTEMPT TO DELAY THE INEVITABLE IS USELESS! YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED!?

Three of Five, James, The Collective, heard the brass ping of a released trigger. His arms screamed when he lifted his hand up, but he showed it to Three of Five, to The Collective for all to see.

?It's a photonic grenade.? James Corgan confirmed, ?And it is set to blow. Assimilate me and the nervous reaction I'll have will force me to drop the grenade. The beauty of these things is that with a flip of the thumb...? His thumb rubbed against the smooth metal surface of the weapon, ?...I can set it to implode to a square centimeter radius, or set it to destroy a two storey brick house. I'll blow myself, Three of Five, this entire room away. Instead of gaining a new drone, you'll lose one and a potential assimilate. You'll lose the latest in Federation infantry tactics and technology by killing me. You'll lose your liason to us. You'll lose this facility and whatever weapon it has. It would be inefficient.?

Three of Five looked unconvinced, ?WE ARE TRILLIONS STRONG. A HANDFUL OF INDIVIDUALS IS NOT ENOUGH TO SHAKE OUR RESOLVE. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ONE WITH THE BORG OR DIE.?

?Heh heh hehhhhhehehe...? James laughed, ?Oh my god... no wonder we'll kick your ass every time you come in. Put us in a corner, and we'll do crazy things like kill ourselves to kill you. Only it won't be me with a grenade. It'll be starships filled with antimatter, or the supernovae of entire suns, or the destruction of our own planets. We will use those last resorts to deny you everything as long as there is something left. And you, in your rationality, will see it inefficient to stoop to such lows. You won't be able to counter us with such a limited mindset. We're going to win in the end.?

?INCORRECT! WE ARE MANY! YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED.?

The idea of embracing his death wasn't that hard when he saw no other alternative. He was used to being reckless with himself, from years of the most dangerous combats the universe tried to fob off on him. He had his regrets. Mika and T'lan, the two women of his life, his sister on Earth, his friends in Starfleet and on the USS Galaxy, his little lifes contributions, even the little pain in the asses of his life like Allison Jimsdottir and Lysander Hawksley, he would miss them as they would all come to an end. Their lives would be affected somehow. His death would leave a vacuum, leaving many to cry and dispair. It wouldn't have occurred to him to sacrifice his life so needlessly because of that alone.

Then again, there was no escaping this time. He was defenseless against The Borg. The grenade was his only choice.

And it was worth it, to show The Collective what to expect when fighting humans.

?Sorry Meeks.? James smiled, ?I tried to get home...?

He made the conscious decision to let his hand go limp.

That was when he felt an energy bathe all over him.

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

Chief Security Officer's Log, Supplimental

As forementioned in the last log, my Hazard Team was unable to retrieve the Borg Ambassador to The Federation. She made it quite clear, with the assimilation of Barzan, that she would not be coming back with us.

For this I have to apologize, for my team has not done well enough, and I have myself to blame. I was not in the right mindset to lead this mission. I wanted revenge, or I wanted to prove that I did not want revenge. Both were motivations that hampered the mission and compromised my leadership. I take full responsibility.

But for now, I have the prospect of Borg hostility to look forward to in the future, and for that I would wish anything to change it back. I know the Borg well, my multiple brushes with The Collective during my career as a Starfleet Security Officer gives me an insight that the planners at Starfleet Command do not. I have seen what they can do, what they want to do, and I would not wish it on anyone.

What changed now is my perspective. It was selfish before. Once I wanted revenge against them, then I wanted to distance myself from what my hatred for The Borg did to me, turning me depressive, suicidal, insubordinate and reckless.

Now my perspective has changed. I had just witnessed an entire world get assimilated. Billions of lives are now part of The Borg, which might as well mean death. An entire world assimilated, and then just left barren. Compared to my own experiences, one man who was scared of being laid so vulnerable by The Collective, it is nothing compared to those same experiences, only The Borg got their prize and won, and it was done a billion times over.

Only now do I realize how lucky I really am to be here, alive, able to be an individual when so many others have not. Therefore, I owe it to those assimilated to make the best of my life, and maybe someday stop trying to avenge myself.

From now on I'm avenging Barzan and many other worlds that fell to The Borg.

That is how it should be.

"Psyche Me Out"

Counselor Brian Elessidil

Ensign Miquelan Dar'ce (Pronounced Dar-chay`)

After having been cleared by the Medical Officer, Miquelan headed for the Counselor's office. He had plenty of time, due to the fact that he always left extra time between appointments, just in case something went wrong, or went long for some unforeseeable circumstance. The medical eval had gone right on schedule, though, so Miq was left with half an hour, and nothing to do.

Since there were plenty of crew lounges on the deck with the counselor's office, Dar'ce stepped into one to grab a glass of water and a small snack. He had a short conversation with another ensign that had just transferred on board, one Ramey L'Karn, an Engineer. She wasn't busy tonight at 2000, so she wanted to see him. As luck would have it, Nurse Draven had been asked to work an extra shift this evening, and had had to postpone their date.

He wasn't busy tonight either.

With ten minutes left before his appointment, Miq walked the corridor back to the Counseling Center. At five minutes til, he rang the buzzer.

"Ensign Dar'ce," Brian greeted, shaking the other man's hand after he entered. "Here for the usual? I promise, it'll be pretty quick and painless," he said, smiling. He gestured to the couch and cluster of chairs at the other end of his office. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thank you, but no. I was just at the lounge down the way. I must say, this is a fine ship, Counselor. Lot's of interesting people, plenty of places to relax, I've noticed." The Ensign sat in the proffered chair and put his right ankle up on his left knee, the way he always did when he was trying to 'act' comfortable.

"Heh, plenty of a lot of things around here; it's a big ship. I'd been away from a starship or four years before I came here and it took me awhile to get used to it," the counselor said, seating himself across from the chair Miquelan now occupied. The statement was especially true for a Betazoid. "You're just off your cadet cruise if I remember correctly?"

Miquelan thought back to his first Cadet Cruise, and how rough it had been with less than 200 minds to pressure his. It was easier this past winter, when he had been a last year cadet. The Vigilant was no smaller, but he had been better prepared for the psychic onslaught. The minds on board the Galaxy were already threatening to give the blue man his worst headache in a decade.

"Yes, sir. Actually my second. The captain of the Vigilant wanted me back for the final tour of my training. When this posting came up, though, Captain V'len didn't try to stop me. The Galaxy has quite a reputation, and she was proud that I'd been accepted for this post."

Brian smiled, glad that Miquelan seemed excited to be here. "So, I don't recall seeing any major issues or incidents in your past that we need to address unless there's something specific you want to talk about. What I think we might want to touch on though, given your Xenonian heritage, is how you're handling the psychic strain of being onboard. It appears that you adjusted well when you were assigned to the Vigilant, and you seem to be doing well enough now. What do you think?"

I can assume you're far too professional to be reading my thoughts without my permission, so I'll give you that one. Yes, I was ill-prepared for the psychic onslaught. The sheer number of minds, plus the fact that we're headed into a dangerous mission, it's all working to break away my psychic blocks. Fortunately, I've managed to keep them up to this point. I think with time and a little practice, I can manage."

"You assume correctly," the counselor re-assured. "Do you have some specific methods for helping yourself make the adjustment, specific meditation or such?"

"There are certain meditation techniques that the Xenonians have been employing since our first contact with aliens. Even another telepath can sometimes be too 'leaky,' if you will. I use a Xandar technique known as Girash, and I've found the Terran art of Yoga to quite effective as well." Miquelan stretched his arms.

"Are there any techniques that you have found particularly effective, Counselor?"

"Well, like Xenonians and other strongly telepathic species, Betazoids have developed an extensive array of techniques to strengthen our mental shielding as well as to focus and control our own telepathic energy. Some are especially effective in relatively close-quartered large group settings, like a starship. If you're ever interested, perhaps we can share some methods that we've found helpful," Brian said with a friendly smile. "I think I've heard of Girash, but I have to admit I know nothing about it."

Miq thought about how best to explain the meditation technique. "It is actually a meditative form taken directly from our Holy Book. The Patriarchs created it before the Ragian Captivity. Now, I won't bore you with a history lesson, but basically it was used by the first Xenonians to ward off actual psychic assaults from the other tribes on Xenon that had taken the Holy People captive. It uses recitations from the Holy Book itself while you focus your energy on an abject of great value, or a person of great interest. When the assault comes, the psychic energy is absorbed to create even greater concentration. It can really help when people are unintentionally battering you, because you can redirect their energy to help your concentration on almost any matter, once you become proficient in the use of it."

"In any case, if you wouldn't mind showing me one or two of your techniques, I would be more than happy to show you how to start out with Girash. It doesn't take long to get the basics."

"Alright. I usually do some meditating in the evening. Come by my quarters around 2200 hours if you're free. I can introduce you to some Betazoid centering techniques."

"Very well, counselor. I should be free by then. I must say, it's been a pleasure meeting someone that understands this problem, and has a solution for it." Miq stood up and shook the man's hand.

"I shall see you this evening."

"Crossed Wires and Broken Ships"

Flight Officer John Davidson

**** Vanguard 12 On Patrol ****

Five hours; Five long hours; That's how long he had been out patrolling. Moving from sector to sector, scanning for anything unusual. And yet nothing had shown up on the scanners. Which, to a man who prided himself on his flying ability, meant five hours of boredom. Oh what he'd give to find something. Even something as simple as a rock or meteor. Anything was better than nothing.

And if he was this bored, he couldn't fathom how this was affecting his younger wingman. Barely out of flight school, the young upstart had been onboard the Galaxy for a whopping 3 days longer, and from what he had seen of him in the past month, the Bajoran had an innate ability to find himself completely bored within a minute or two. He'd already been admonished several times for falling asleep during briefings and then once during chow, only to wake to much laughter and having fallen into his lunch bowl, a face covered in leek soup.

"How's it going AC?" he asked over the comm.

"Oh, you know. Everything's just peachy." he called back.

John chuckled. The poor kid, he had to be at his wits end. Trying to concentrate while flying in formation, searching for something, anything. It had to be tough on the rookie. "Hang in there AC. There's only another hour of this before we're done."

"Yeah, I know." the response came through. With that the young rookie moved his fighter closer to John's; a move which the more qualified Flight Officer was not too impressed with.

"What are you doing AC? Do you want me to come knock some sense into you?"

As AC moved back into position, John breathed a sigh of relief. He hated when other pilots moved into his airspace. It made him irritable. And at his previous posting the other pilots had quickly learnt not to make him irritable. Besides, if it hadn't been for his slugging a fellow pilot for that exact situation once, and 'that' issue on Starbase 212, he would have been a Lieutenant long ago.

"CIC, This is Vanguard 12. Sector 7 is clear. Doing Planetary sweep now." JD called through the comm unit.

"Roger Vanguard 12." Came the short reply.

The two fighters turned in near perfect synchronization as they descended through the atmosphere. At least they'd see a little more during this sweep, even if it was only foliage and the like.

Twenty minutes passed as they covered the first quarter of the sector sweep. It had been two minutes of excitement at the scenery below, and nearly twenty of boredom once again.

Something snapped. At least that's what it felt like to AC. One minute he was flying the fighter and the next he had lost control of his yaw and pitch. As the fighter lurched suddenly, it was all he could to to keep from spinning out of control. "Sandman, Need help. I've lost my yaw and pitch controls. Struggling to keep this beast in a straight line."

John snapped his eyes from the sensor screen, to look at his wingman. He was right. He could see something dangling from the bottom of the fighter. A broken pipe or something. Though what it was, he had no idea. "AC, you have damage to the underside of the fighter. Keep her steady and I'll take a look."

"I'll try my best JD. Can't promise anything. She's handling like a dog." came the reply.

John backed off, letting the youngster take the lead as he dropped his fighter below the damaged vessel. As he drew upwards towards it, he could clearly see that a panel had come loose, and several bundles of wires and pipes were now exposed to the vacuum of space. One pipe was broken at an odd angle, and he could see something being dripping out. If memory served, that was the lubricant line, feeding the pitch controls. Hence the issues his wingman was encountering.

"Galaxy CIC, this is Vanguard 12. Come in." He called over the comms to the Galaxy.

"Vanguard 12, CIC here."

"Galaxy CIC, Vanguard 11 has damage on the undercarriage of his fighter and has severely diminished pitch and yaw control. Indeterminate cause as yet. Requesting return to base."

"Roger Sandman, return to the ship. Will relay approach vectors momentarily."

Looking back up at the fighter, he couldn't help but wonder just what had cause the panel to blow off. "It looks bad, buddy. Ready to bug out back to the Galaxy?"

"Affirm JD. Will take your lead... Shit!" The fighter lurched suddenly downwards, hurtling towards John's fighter. Reacting in a pinch, John thrust the flight controls forward, sending his craft downwards away from the damaged fighter. Having been only a couple of hundred meters above the ground at the time of their sweep, John was dangerously close to the tops of the trees now, and narrowly avoided a branch that was thrusting above the forest canopy. His wing clipped the tip, sending leaves to break off and drift to the ground below. Phew, that was close, he thought, before looking up to see AC's fighter still coming towards him. John tried to pull his fighter up and away, hoping to avoid both his out of control wingman and the tree canopy. As if in slow motion, he watched as AC's fighter slammed into his, smashing through the wing of his fighter, before careening off.

John's fighter lurched suddenly, with the loss of the wing. Despite the steep climb the fighter was now in, it began spiraling out of control. John knew he had to radio in before he lost consciousness. "CIC, Vanguard 12. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! AC clipped my wing. Lost sight of him. We're both going down. Sector 3. Need..." Static filled his ears as the line went dead. He had no time to contemplate if the Galaxy heard the message. He was going to crash, and hard. If he wanted to survive, he was going to have to act fast.

With the planet's gravity pulling at his craft, he fired the thrusters in the left wing to stabilize the craft somewhat. He was still being jostled about, but that couldn't be helped. He felt, more than heard, the main engine cut out. And then the nose of his craft dropped below the horizontal and he knew the inevitable descent towards the surface of the planet was at hand. With no time to even think about how AC was faring, he checked one last time to see if there was any landing zones. Not that he thought there would be, given that this was all forest. There had been a clearing to the south west, where the landing party had beamed down to, but that was quite some distance away. And definitely too much for his broken fighter to make it. Giving in on the survival of his craft, he took one last look at his location on the sensors and hit the eject lever, sending the cockpit cover hurtling up and away from the fighter. Seconds later the emergency thrusters on the underside of his seat fired, sending him hurtling into the air.

With no hand to hold the controls and thus the fighter steady, the craft began an immediate roll, sending the side of the craft slamming into John's leg as his seat rocketed upwards. He felt it snap, and screamed in pain as a result, but could do little about it given his present predicament. As his ejection seat spun about, he lost track of his fighter, which slammed through the canopy of trees and into one of the large tree trunks. While not being able to see the resulting explosion, John heard it, but only momentarily. For the parachute of his ejection seat deployed sharply reducing the speed of his freefall and his senses went into overdrive.

As he drew closer to the trees, he saw the smallest of gaps and aimed the tiny parachute for it, hoping to get as close to the ground as possible. He didn't really want to get stuck in the trees while awaiting rescue. The ejection chair slipped past the branches, and slid towards the ground. His momentum stopped and he was whipped upwards briefly as the groping branches managed to snag the parachute. John struggled with the seat, hoping to get a little closer to the ground. He was still a good 5 meters above the ground, and falling from that distance wasn't such a good idea. Especially with his leg in the agony that it was. He was pretty confident it was broken and any extra pressure on it wasn't going to be good.

Looking about, he found nothing to help him out of the predicament. The nearest branches were several meters away from his grasp, and there was little but open air below him. The one saving grace, at least it looked like it was to John, was that there was a decent layer of leaves upon the ground, meaning he might get a slightly softer landing. He pulled his helmet off and let it drop to the ground. He wrapped a hand around the arm bar at the side of his ejection seat. After a few moments fretting about what he was going to do, he closed his eyes and depressed the seat belt release mechanism.

John slipped from the seat, falling towards the ground, only for the arm holding on to the seat to go taught, wrenching hard against the side of the seat. Swearing in pain, he looked down, judging the distance to be a little under 3 meters now. It was going to have to do. Lifting his injured leg up towards his chest as best he could, given the pain that he felt, he let go of the seat and began his descent to the terra firma below.

Despite trying to land on his good leg, both hit at the same time and he crumpled to the leaf covered ground in agony. his hands clutching at the injured leg immediately. John rolled about on his back, trying to fight off the pain he felt. It had coursed up through his leg as it had crumbled under his weight and now it throbbed worse than before. If he got out of here, he was going to take back every nasty, misguided thing he had ever said about the Medical profession. He promised.

Several snapping sounds drew his attention upwards. With his eyes widening, and the pain unbearable, he dived into a roll, narrowly avoiding the falling ejection seat. It slammed into the ground, right where he had been laying. As he looked back at it, he could see a good two inches of the corner was now embedded in the ground. Damn that had been close.

All he could do now was activate his emergency beacon and wait for rescue.

Crawling over to the trunk of the tree, grimacing all the way, he leaned against it, settling his back against the huge wooden base, and used his hands to scoop as many leaves as he could under his injured leg. He pulled his small medical kit out of the zipped pocket and searched through the contents. Finding something that resembled pain relief, he touched the hypospray to the top of his leg, through his pants and let the chemicals do their job.

Pulling the emergency locator beacon from another pocket, he switched it on and jammed it into the ground next to him. The telltale flash gave him a little reassurance that someone would come looking for him. Not that he paid it much attention. His mind was starting to fall asleep, the drugs doing their job way too effectively. He tried to fight the drowsiness that was hitting him hard. His eyes closed, and it took a few seconds before he managed to open them. That lasted a couple of seconds and they were closed again. As he drifted off to sleep, he had this nagging feeling that something was amiss. He was just too damn tired to figure out what it was.

"Making It Mine" Part One

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Chief of Engineering

Lieutenant Michael Jamson
Chief of Operations

***Location: USS Galaxy Main Engineering***

After having her surgical implants removed, and therefore any traces of her last mission Dhani made her way down to Engineering. It was about time to see the damage. She wasn't looking forward to it. She would have much rather spent several hours relaxing, catching up with Michael, dam she missed him so, but duty called and she had to answer it.

Having been promoted before her 'training mission' and the Galaxy's quick departure to Barzan the same day, she didn't have time to check in with anyone, didn't have time to make sure Nara understood what was expected of her or anything. The ship was in tact. That itself lent towards Nara's capabilities in handling the situation, however there was a 'lot' more to running Engineering other than making sure the ship was in one piece after a dangerous mission. Dhani knew that Nara had no previous experience in dealing with all the other crap that went with leading a department, this wasn't an error on Nara's part, she couldn't do something unless she knew she had to do it in the first place. Yet even so, Dhani's shoulders slumped with each step as she got closer and closer to Main Engineering, her mind consumed with how to deal with the vast amounts of crap (roughly translated to; 'paper-work'!) that would have accumulated during her absence.

Smiling politely to the staff on duty as she entered Dhani went straight to the office; her office. All the way down here she had been focusing on what she had to do, her job her role as it was now. But as the doors opened she balked.

So much had happened in that very room. She remember when O'Shea had begun her reign and Grey after, no matter how many times she had been in that room, no matter what conversations, good or bad, had happened since Suder: it was always him she thought of when she entered that room. That night, that morning, waking up on the cold floor with him beside her. She couldn't shake it. She couldn't escape that memory of violation. Backing out of the office as a cold sweat enveloped her body she tapped her com badge.

=^= "Eshe to Jamson, do you have a moment?" =^= she asked over the conn trying to keep her vice from shaking as her body did now.

~*~

"I want it done...and I want it done yesterday!" Jamson roared at Ensign Cartwright. He was the shuttlebay operations chief in the department. When Michael came back from the mission on Barzan, right after he set foot at the main shuttle bay, leaving the runabout, he witnessed an unbelievable mess, first hand. Fighters and shuttles alike, in need of some maintenance and repairs were lying around, lifeless. Cargo containers, equipment, debris and junk, all stood still, scattered all over the big hall. He was gone only for a brief time, and still, if the entire ship looked like the shuttle bay, then he was in trouble. It's been a few days since he barked at Kelly Cartwright to bring order to chaos, and it did not happen. In Cartwright's defence, OPS were working double shifts to complete all their duties prior to their arrival to the DS5, but they were overdue.

"Consider it done Mike" Kelly frowned, knowing he had no saying in this matter.

"For you Eshe..." Michael replied and turned away from the Ensign before continuing the conversation. He didn't want anyone to hear him say "Anytime."

Dhanishta smiled and gently sighed closing her eyes for a moment. It was nice to hear a friendly voice, especially now when she suddenly felt so vulnerable.

=^= "I was hoping that you could give me a hand with something… I want to refit my office." =^= she replied cringing slightly wondering how he would take that, opps were stretched as it was.

'Refit her office???' Michael was baffled. He wasn't an interior designer!!! He had things to do! Stuff to take care of! In fact, looking back, he couldn't find one occasion he was in charge of decorating someone's office, even the skipper's. He usually passed the order down the pipe of hierarchy, and someone else took care of it. Thinking quickly, he tried to decide who to tame for this event. His heart beat quickly as the pressure was threatening to overwhelm him, he couldn't find anyone that wasn't doing anything important. Turning back, he vigorously looked around for Kelly, hoping he was still there, but to no avail. 'Damn...' he thought. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he painfully gave up, she caught him unprepared. 'Maybe it wouldn't be that bad...' the thought crossed his mind a few times, it was Dhani after all. "Hmmm....I'm on my way?" he replied.

=^= "Thanks Mike, I'll have a coffee waiting for you." =^= Dhani replied before closing the channel. For a moment she contemplated waiting for him in 'there', but as her skin crawled every time she went in there, she decided better of it. To pass the she wandered over to the 'pool table' and quickly checked some of the repairs. They were behind schedule, but going well. She sighed somewhat, maybe she was going to have to be an uber bitch to get this lot back to the grindstone. Though they had been through a lot of late, she felt for them. She hadn't been here, she didn't know, but at the same time she couldn't appear weak. This was her department now and she was just as much on trial. She had to prove herself capable of the trust M'Kantu had placed in her. Pottering over to the replicator she ordered herself and Mike a coffee and waited for his arrival with baited breath.

**** Engineering, a few minutes later ****

Engineering was, as always, very impressive. Michael slowly paced into the large scaled room, his eyes focused on the long master systems display in the center. How he loved that so called table. Crew members were attracted to this 'marvel', caught while simply standing next to it for long periods of time. Close by, was the matter antimatter chamber, with the familiar humming noise, and flickering lights. The upper level, surrounding the warp core, always seemed unsafe in Jamson's point of view, since people had the tendency to fall from there every time the ship shook. He didn't like Engineering as a profession, and usually, made fun of them, but even he never doubted their contribution to the ship. "I should come here more often." he found Dhani waiting for him.

Dhani pushed herself away from the wall she had been leaning against, "Yeah, the coffee is replicated, the lighting flickers, there's always something to listen to," she pointed to the warp core, "it's the only place to be for a good time!" she smirked and held out the coffee to him.

"How have you been Mike?" she asked smiling at him, crikey it had been a while.

Michael returned a smile and took the cup of replicated coffee "I wish I could say I was doing great, but with Proctor's new regulations, coming from her deep dungeon on Deep Space 5, I feel helpless." In-fact, since being promoted to Operations's Chief, he was doing alright. Not as he expected, but some pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting in together for the stubborn officer. "How about you? I haven't seen you in quite some time." Jamson lost the smile, and switched to the usual 'I don't care' facial expression while he examined the chief engineer. He couldn't help it, it was embedded within him. Smiling at Eshe was considered a progress on his behalf. She looked exactly as he remembered her. They used to spend some time together at the holodeck and the mess hall, but as of late, time was short, and he couldn't afford any 'luxuries' as he described his free time.

Dhani smiled soulfully, "I am okay." she replied skipping over how she truly felt and her inner turmoil as she always did, "Apart from *that*." she said indicating towards the office. "I know that you are busy, and this is probably not your area, but…" she paused looking at the office with dread, "I, it needs to be changed for me to use it." she looked back at Mike, "Personal reasons." she added knowing that would surface and that he wouldn't pry.

As Eshe turned to point her office, Michael suddenly minded some strange looking surgical traces on her neck and head, quite close to the Trill markings. Was she assimilated by the collective during their last mission on Barzan? He didn't have enough time to go through all the reports, but this was odd. He would have expected to hear about it by now, since rumors onboard never remained such. Most of what you've heard in the corridors of the big ship, was in many situations, if not all, true. Still, he didn't want to put her in an awkward situation and ask.

(OOC - Set after "Making It Mine" Pt 2 - slight delay on that one, wont be long till its finished, just don't want to hold up Lori any further with her plans.)

"Assessing Potential" Part One

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Junior Grade Naranda Sol Roswell - Engineering Officer

***USS Galaxy: Main Engineering***

Once the operations officer left, Dhani sat back down at her desk. Calling up the last missions report on the desk top computer she began to skim through the details. After about six minutes she arose and went to the replicator, "Coffee, strong, black, double sweet." she ordered through clenched teeth.

Returning to her desk with the beverage in hand she sat and returned her gaze to the screen. The coffee helped her to relax slightly, yet the report countered its effects.

=^= "Lieutenant Roswell please report to main engineering." =^= she ordered.

Nara had just been eating and already in uniform, so it wasn't much in the way of dropping what she was doing. She was on her way out the door as she replied, =^= "On my way." =^= She had a good guess what it was about. If it were a good or bad reaction was another question.

Nodding, although no one could see that, Dhani sipped her coffee and sat back in the chair. She had to admit to herself she was slightly nervous of this meeting. This would be the first time she would be addressing Nara as her superior officer instead of a colleague; this was going to be an interesting transition from friend and respected co-worker to boss and therefore assumed tyrant. She rubbed her chin while she waited, keeping in mind diplomacy, the command course's she took at the Academy, tactfulness and well… her mind began to boggle after that.

As the door chime sounded Dhani immediately set the coffee mug down and stood up, tugging down her rising tunic as she did so. "Enter." she called out.

Nara entered and stood at attention.

Dhani smiled and walked round the desk so that there was nothing between her and Nara when she greeted her. Offering her hand in the usual human greeting she smiled warmly, "Thank you for coming so promptly." she said. "Please take a seat." she gestured the chair opposite her desk. "Would you like a drink?"

Nara gave a polite smile, "No, thank you." Nara sat, antsy to get whatever this was over with.

Returning to the desk Dhani reactivated the screen and paused to scan it. Sitting back in the chair she looked across the desk to Nara. It was obvious from her body-language that she was nervous and hesitant. Dhani remembered all to well Naras regard for their previous boss: O'Shea, and she did not ever want to be regarded in that way, however if that was the outcome, so be it. This was as much a transition for Dhani as it would be for Nara, Engineering and the Department as a whole.

"Please, Nara, relax." Dhani said smiling softly, "This meeting is to be three fold in nature. To help relive your anxiety I will explain the areas I whish to cover before we begin. First off I would like to talk to you about the last mission. I have here your after action report, yet there are items that I feel as your Commanding Officer need to be brought to your attention. To that end I would like you to begin by telling me what happened, in your own words." She paused for a moment, letting the first point of conversation sink in.

Nara nodded.

"After that I wish to talk to you about the Assistant Chief position that is currently vacant in this department, and from there, what I expect of the officers under my command." she reached out and took hold of her coffee. Before taking a sip she looked back up at Nara, "Do you understand?" she asked.

Nara gulped to keep the smile from forming, "Yes."

"Good." Dhani nodded, "Please begin." She sat back once more, taking a sip of her coffee as Nara began her first hand report of the debacle that was the Barzan mission.

Nara gave an oral report detailing how everyone worked together, how she treated them. She didn't sugar coat her attitude. She also explained why she felt it necessary to have such an attitude. "Everyone did a good job. I admit I was pretty hard on everyone, but it seems necessary in such situations to keep the task and mission in mind. Can't be clouded with emotions and sentimentality. We did everything we could to keep things running, and I think considering the situation, everyone went beyond the call of duty." Nara also gave a detailed report on major repairs made. "We unfortunately couldn't repair the nacelle out here on our own. Savant helped considerably." There were further details how the tech-angel worked her miracles.

Dhanishta nodded throughout Nara's recital, occasionally her eyes flittering to the screen ticking off the written report against the oral. As Nara came to an end Dhani leaned forward, placing her mug on the table before addressing her once more.

Taking a breath she began, "Considering the challenges that you faced during this mission I have to report that your handling of the situation was, in some cases satisfactory and I would even go so far as to say exemplary." she paused and regarded Nara for a moment.

Nara kept her face neutral, even though she was inwardly beaming. It was only natural. She gave an even, almost Vulcan-like, "Thank you."

"However," Dhani continued, "Your attitude towards other members in this department and other departments on this ship is so far below standard I am ashamed that you are part of this team!" she said as calmly as she could.

That hit like a brick, but on the other hand, she expected this. She knew the consequences, and before hand, she decided she'd rather this reprimand rather than have any immediate adverse effects because time was wasted as she was trying to control her temper and be nice. "Understood." she spoke the words as flatly as her earlier 'thank you.' There was no point in trying to justify the matter.

"I do understand that at certain times, during stressful situations that tact and diplomacy goes out of the window. But you have to remember Nara that you are a member of Starfleet, not just that but also, a member of this department. What you say, what you do and how you act reflect directly upon me. And I can not have an officer under my command acting the way in which you have. If this had been a one off, I could let it slide. But it was not. I have several reports on your behaviour from crewmen in this department and from others." she raised an eyebrow, signifying the extent of her actions.

Nara had wrongly assumed the others let it all slide, especially seeing how she went back to herself after the crisis was over. She wasn't quite sure how to break herself of this. She nodded, "I'll work on that." She paused, not really wanting to say the next part, "Any recommendations would be appreciated." She was willing to change to be a better officer, but there was a huge screaming inside of her. Her face still held it's neutralness and her voice was still level and calm.

Dhani licked her teeth before speaking again, tasting the residual coffee in her mouth. She had drunk so much in the last few hours that her tongue had become fuzzy! She continued in a softer tone, she understood all too well how situations could get the better of people. Hell it had happened to her many times since she had transferred to the Galaxy. "I know that you have served in the Sakarian Military, I have been in combat situations myself and I understand how it works. Diplomacy is not something used when barking orders. Yet this is not the Sakarian Military, and even while in a combat situation we have to uphold Starfleet ethics and protocol. That includes the way in which you address other officers aboard this ship."

Dhanishta paused for a moment, yet decided to follow through on her next question before giving Nara the chance to reply to that, "If you were me Nara, would you honestly promote such an officer as yourself, given your recent display of character, to the position of Assistant Chief?"

Nara kept the taken back feeling deep inside, never once knowingly letting her facial expression show any emotion. It was rather a loaded question. She gave an answer she knew wasn't quite what was desired, but it was all she had, "I'm not sure that's a reasonable question, in all due respect. Likely only by my own ego, I am willing to say yes." Nara paused and decided reasons would be good, "In spite of my previous attitude, which I have shown a willingness to change, I have shown myself skilled and willing to submit to the chain of command." She rather hated the self-promotion, but the opportunity was given. She would be cheating herself if she didn't take it.

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