"Ascension to Power"

Sotha, Az Shiber second in command (Saul Bental)
Eela, Assassin (Ella Grey)

***
Shuttle Bay
Talvalen
90 years after launch (during their time at the Water Planet)
***

The shuttle stood in the center of the huge bay, alone. Its sisters were down on the planet, and it left them just temporarily to unload raw materials and bring rations and equipment back to the landing base. The technicians, still adjusting to the change of pace after decades of idle maintenance work, briskly moved the crates around and inspected the shuttle for any hidden damage.

The commotion made it harder for them to leave the shuttle unseen, but Sotha and Eela were both experts in sneaking. They exited the shuttle without being noticed, and mingled in so quickly that the technicians could've sworn they've seen the middle-aged couple around at night shifts now and then.

"I will need your help." Sotha told her as they casually exited the shuttle pad. "But I'm not going to hire you. Because it's not an assassination, and because it is too risky. So I am going to ask instead. Will you come with me to face the person who sent T'Nyo after us?"

Eela considered. "No profit except your life. Hmmmmm ... I suppose you might be worth it."

Sotha leaned forward, and did something he abstained from doing the entire flight home - kissed her.

"The man we are looking for." Sotha said after their lips parted, "Is called Semeck. He is my direct commander. Only a few Rihanssu on this ship know what he looks like, and fortunately I'm one of them. He constantly changes his schedule, but in one hour I expect we can find him in the botanical gardens, mediating, with at least two guards hidden in the scenery."

Calling that confined, mold-spotted room a 'scenery' felt odd after seeing the far horizons of the water planet.

"Here's how we'll do it then," Eela said and then proceeded to lay out the plan for him. "It shouldn't be too hard."

***
Botanical gardens
Talvalen
90 years after launch (during their time at the Water Planet)
***

The man that leaned against the Siah bush had his short sword and pistol well hidden inside his robe, not to raise suspicion. He stared blankly ahead, apparently taking a rest after a long day. In the corner of his eye, he kept watching another, older person, whose life were entrusted in his hands.

Leaves rustled. Arms came out of the bush, grabbed his throat, and pulled him inside.

On the opposite side of the garden, Sotha paced toward the older man. The man stopped his practice and eyed Sotha with curiosity, as though expecting something. When that something did not take place, he returned his training sword to its sheath.

"What is it, Sota?" You know better than to interrupt me here." Director Semeck demanded.

"Your guards said I can come and talk."

"Did they." The director slanted his eyes toward the now abandoned bush. "I hope not all three are dead."

"They won't be, but I'll sack them as soon as they wake up." A ray pistol appeared in Sotha's hand.

The director did not seem impressed. "Put that down and politely wait for your turn to become a director, Sotha. I know many of this ship have the nasty habit getting promotions by removing those above them, but when you're high enough you can't get killed without that being noticed by the Captain and the lord. If I die, whoever kills me is going to suffer the same fate."

"So I can't kill you. But I can't let you live either."

"Is that so?"

"Because you know. And you blackmailed T'Nyo for it, and forced her to kill me."

Sotha rarely saw the director satisfied. He seemed so now. "Sotha, did you think you could keep your secret forever?" He asked, using Sotha's real name for the first time in four decades. "You hid it well, but when I decided to make the Masked Merchant an objective for the Az Shiber, it was bound to come out eventually."

"And if I let you see another day, everyone in the commonwealth will know who I really am."

"A problem." The director nodded. "One you surely thought about. What is your solution?"

Sotha frisked his belt, and took out a tiny flask. "Drink." He told Semeck.

The director held the flask against the artificial light. "Poison can be identified forensically. You know our abilities here are far beyond what we admit."

"I don't want you dead. You'll be given an antidote every week, until the week where you decide to double cross me."

The director brought the flask close to his mouth. Sotha quickly moved forward and grabbed the flask by surprise, emptying it into the director's throat without giving the latter a chance to spit some of the liquid or hide it beneath his tongue like they were taught to handle swallowed poison. Semeck's eyes bulged, but he said nothing.

"The second thing I want happenning," Sotha said as he stepped back to his previous position, "Is that you recommend me to the Captain and the Lord for Directorship. We all know that the Director's days are numbered, and that all of the candidates are either incompetent or too old like yourself."

Another person would say 'Son of a bitch!' or something along those lines. The director simply grinned. His direct superior, who was dying, was also named 'Director'. What he directed was the Talvalen's entire intelligence and secret policing community, effectively acting as the Talvalen's Chief of Intelligence. That's what Sotha had his eyes on. From the very start, Semeck reckoned.

"Done." He said. He had no ambition to get another promotion. He was too old, too dug in within his own position. He intended to keep it until his death or until they reach their new home, whatever comes first. And Sotha... Sotha might just have the guts to do that job right, and Semeck preferred a superior which had sense of respect toward him like Sotha did.

"I will make the recommendation." He said firmly. "You just proved yourself worthy of it, young Sotha. But silencing me is not enough. What of T'Nyo?"

"Let me worry about T'Nyo."

***
Ocean of Valen
Water Planet
90 years after launch (during their time at the Water Planet)
***

The last shuttle took off, streaking toward the sky. Below, the endless Ocean of Valen stretched to every horizon, and only one thing remained above the surface - the stripped out skeleton of the landing base, which remained there because it was too much to carry back to the ship.

Two hours later, long after the shuttle's engines' echoes faded, something wriggled its way out of a locked maintenance closet.

T'Nyo rubbed her wrists, cursing and swearing. She stepped up to the main deck, and made only a few meters before collapsing on her knees.

There was no one else there. She was abandoned, stuck forever on this elements-forsaken wet slimeball, doomed to never see another living soul again. She was smart enough to store her Katra on the Talvalen before coming after Sotha, but what good did it make when the corporeal body and remnants of her soul are going to be tormented by eternal loneliness?

T'Nyo shrieked in sheer horror. And on the USS Galaxy, Nyoko Yuuri shrieked in unison with her.

OOC: Since Ian said the misison was over..........

"Do not pass Go......"

starring

Crewman Allison Jimsdottir. (argueably the cutest darn member of Security)

USS GALAXY
Recreation lounge

With a sudden whooshing of air as 1000 people took in a great gasp at the same instant........the minds and bodies of the Galaxy crew were restored to their rightful places.

For the members of the Tuesday night Monopoly Club, the effects were no less traumatic as three of the four players slammed themselves back into their chairs violently with the sudden shock of returning to reality more than 150 years after they had departed.

"Oh.....dear......G.....g....god......" One stuttered in horror.

"The hell......" another breathed in disbelief.

"I'm......I'm alive?.......I'm really alive?" a third babbled, the memories not quite sorted their way back to normal.

The fourth's reaction was quite different....... "So then, like I said to her.......'Excuse me but if your gonna like charge so much for a pair of matching skirts, you could at least do a little alterations' " she chattered merrily, "I mean Hel-Lo, my butt is so not that big, and I need a little tailoring here right?"

Crewman Allison Jimsdottir happily rearranged the Monopoly property cards in her hand ordering them by rent, not noticing how her friends had suddenly broken out into chills and cold sweats. "I mean like, I know that if I eat dairy, I get like bloated and all, but I am so not as big as a size 8.....Hel-lo moo-cow and all."

"The horror.....the horror......" the person to her right mumbled, the memory of 150 years trapped aboard a rusty starship overwhelming his sences.

"Yeah totally," Allison bobbed her head, her blond hair dancing around her shoulders as she examined her properties......another six spaces and she could land on Marvin Gardens......."The horror of having to pay retail......Hel-Lo thats what semi annual sales are for am I right?"

"Alli....." the player across the table mumbled.

"Yeah Bill?" she answered expectantly.

"Shut.... the hell.....up."

Allis jaw dropped in shock, as around her the other players slowly recovered their wits.

"I....I was a soldier.....a Centurion for Lord Valen.......was it real?" a three headed alien asked blearily.

"It had to be," Bill, an ensign from hydroponics replied, "I was an orphan.....a street rat."

"A r....r...romulan." the third player sobbed. "My children...my children are dead."

Allison stared open mouthed at the other three players as if they had lost their marbles.

"You're children?" she scoffed, "Hel-lo Earth to Nancy......you arent even married....you dont have any kids."

"My children....." was all the other woman could moan.

Alli glanced down at her array of properties and the big stack of yellow $500 dollar bills in front of her. Obviously this game was going to be called on account of general looniness.....and just when she was starting to kick some major tooshie.

Across from her Bill fixed Alli with a suspicious gaze. "Wait a minute Allison.......are you trying to tell us you dont remember anythng that just happened?"

The blond haired girl rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Well duh....im not like a total airhead. Frank there just rolled a six and moved his little 'shoe' token to Park Place, and he was all like 'oh poor me....im like totaly broke now...boo-hoo.' and before that Nancy landed on Community Chest and had to pay everybody ten dollars and...."

"No no no." the man interrupted her in frustration "I mean after that.....150 years ago....." his eyes glazed over a bit as the memories returned, "On the Talvalen....so long ago."

Alli just looked at the other three as if they grew another head........except for Frank the Halcorian (since he already had three heads) "What the boof are you guys talking about." she tsk'd. "Im sitting here and trying to tell you about this little skirt I almost bought and you're acting like I suddenly grew pointed ears."

"The katras." Nancy exclaimed wiping tears from her eyes....it...it had to be the katras....we have their katras in our head."

Frowning Allison was wondering if her friends didn have rocks in their heads......whatever the heck a katra was.

"Are you telling me......" Frank the three headed alien quizzed her, "that you dont remember anything about reliving the memories of ancient Romulan astronauts and almost 200 years worth of their lives trapped between the stars aboard the Talvalen fighiting for our lives?"

"Oh....."Alli paused, "Is that what that was? I thought that was just some bad pepperoni talking.......oh which reminds me, I so should not have had that slice of pizza......Hel-lo moo cow! I am never like getting into my jeans if I keep that up."

The other three players stared at the blond girl incredulously for several moments before buryng her under a shower of playing cards, fake money, and little plastic hotels.

Suddenly alone in the lounge and picking a tiny metal sports car out of her hair Allison examined her pile of play money glumly. "Sad." she commented to herself, raising a single eyebrow. "Logic clearly indicates their assessment of the situation is based merely on flawed emotion and self deception."

"Amusement of a Sinner"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister

Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. — Author: Oscar Wilde

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

It had been a morning like any other, yet as she peered out of her heavy eyelids, the headache assaulted her head and teased her with memories of what a head felt like free of pain. Moaning slightly, her eyebrows instantly hardened into a downward position. Cementing her features into a scowl, McAlister knew that she needed coffee. Black and strong, much like her taste in Klingons. Pulling herself into an upright position, she glanced backwards, noting Steven's sleeping form and huffed out a breath of frustration towards him.

Standing and wrapping the silk robe around herself, she immediately puffed it out around her as she stepped into the other room. Her opinion at herself was apparent as the snobbish look peeked out through the angered one that graced her features.

Eight ounces of warm goodness in her belly, she still held that scowl that would make the devil run for cover. Faylin was not known to be a morning person, yet her mood defied explanation this particular morning. It appeared to be permanent, with no whisper or hint of moving and being replaced by a cherry disposition. Well, that thought of a perky mood in itself made her want to throw up a little. McAlister is a good mood equaled a trip to the insane asylum. It just didn't happen.

Getting dressed in her uniform, she shook her head. That familiar old feeling was back, wrapping itself around her mind and soul. The scowl lifted, replaced by a slight smirk that was sinister, yet deadly in nature. Standing silently in the corner of the bedroom, her dark, brooding eyes caught the Marine sleeping still and narrowed. People were so damn vulnerable when they were sleeping. An arched eyebrow cut through the dimness of the quarters. Glancing down at her ring finger for a moment, she executed a swift movement and held the ring in the palm of her hand.

Exiting her bedroom, she extracted a pen and paper, sat down and started to write what was on her mind. It didn't take much to imagine his reaction to this letter. He would end up protesting like a cat over water.

Steve,

I'm the one your mother warned you about. Hell, I'm the one everyone warned you about. Yet, did you listen? No. And that's where you made your first mistake...wasn't it? You can admit it now, after everything has transpired, that you would have been better left well enough alone at the pool that day. But, you didn't. One look at my legs and you were sunk.

I took your trust with my gentle smile, I listened to your stories for hours on end and I laughed when I was supposed to, I shed a small tear when I was supposed to, and I made you believe that I cared for you. I was and am the ultimate deceiver. I made you believe that I would die for you on the battlefields of eternity. I would, or so you thought, lay down my life for yours, sacrifice myself just to save a humble Marine if the need ever rose. Thank god, at least for your sake, that it didn't. Cause, truth be told, I would have left you lying on the blood soaked ground, surrounded only by your weapon of faith that failed to fire and protect you. Bam.....your dead and I'm still here. Heart wise, you will be....soon enough and my pleasure in that fact is causing me shivers.

I got to know every nook and cranny that composed Steven Jonas. It was not a requirement, it was not a mission, it was for my own demented amusement. The experiment? My personal experiment? To see how sappy you were, and believe me.....you have to be one of the sappiest men I have ever had the pleasure to know.

You would have laid down your life for mine, to save the woman of your dreams. Yet, as you are going to soon find out, I'm not the woman of your dreams, I am the stuff that is your nightmares. That's the truth...or...is it? You never know with me....you never did know my true intentions. Hell bent you were on finding out, yet you never quite did. Oh, you attempted many times to make me pure, washed white as snow, attempting on numerous occasions to make me your perfect princess. But honey.....there's not an ounce of princess in this soul.

I knew you physically...and yet...you didn't know me at all. I change like the shift of the wind. And, at the point it turned you on, it turned you off. Deep within you, you knew I would never settle. For, you can't settle a wild animal. Yes, you can cage it, train it, reward it, punish it, love it and hate it. Yet.......it is still wild, still yearning deep inside itself to free itself from the cage of love. What ever the cost, it will be free, even if that means nawing off it's leg for that sweet taste of freedom. Fortunately, I didn't have to do that to myself.

By now, the realization has hit you that I'm done pretending to be the sweet lovable Faylin. People, such as Nara, Saul, Dhani, and Zev know me....for some....I can not fool no matter how hard I try. I'm sure you'll shed a few tears, run to Branwen for TLC, moan for a few days and wallow in your own self created pool of pity. Get over it. You got fooled...you were a pawn...after all...it was all about who could play the ultimate prank wasn't it?

I. won.

Sincerely, Fay

Clearing her throat, she placed the ring down on the table by the letter. Done with the drama, done with the on and off again relationship, something within her had caused her to feel dark once again. Pushing the chair back, she left him and her quarters, hell bent on finding something or someone to amuse herself with until duty called.

"Everything's Better with Yamok Sauce"

Lt. Cmdr. Erastus Ampete
Assistant Chief of Operations
Starbase Atlantis

=======
Atlantis
=======

Stepping off the dock-side corridor on the fourth deck of Atlantis, Era seemed to suddenly leave the base that was home to over a million Starfleet officers and crewmembers. Most of the shops and restaurants that Era had encountered in her first few week aboard had decorated the bulkheads. She'd seen coloured strands of lights, wall hangings, pictures, in-set aquariums, feed displays, bookshelves, even a giant velcro mat up-ended. Always, however, the bulkhead had remained. Even when repainted in a more festive colour, the cold metal was an inescapable part of the decor. Le Chat Noir was different. As Era's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she felt as though she'd just entered what the scent of fresh baked bread must look like. The walls were a terra cotta cream colour, abundantly lacking in sharp angles. No clear separation marked the movement from wall to ceiling. Two chandeliers with mock-candles hung from the apex of the dome at either end of the room. To the right of the doorway stood three small round tables, four chairs a-piece in wrought iron and wicker. Across form them a luscious green couch sang its siren song, inviting the weary to rest but withholding a promise of ever letting them go. Here and there were scattered arm chairs and foot stools and long low tables. A base stood in one corner, a Zaldan prayer horn hung from one wall. For what had been a small and unobtrusive doorway out in the corridor, the cafe was packed with what must have been regulars. They lounged and chatted and sipped steaming coffee that came in mugs the size of cereal bowls with decorative handles that only hindered the fingers.

Treading carefully on the soft carpeting, Era made her way to the far end of the room where the bar stood. A barista squirted a mound of whipped cream onto a latte and handed it to a short Andorian man. "Haven't seen your face before, lieutenant. What can I do for you?" He slid a menu across the counter helpfully.

"It's quite a place you have here. Where'd you get the materials for redesigning the space?" The bar stool was surprisingly comfortable and, though she hadn't intended to, Era found herself reading the menu.

"I came here with more than a hope and a dream, as they say. I came with a business proposal. And a brother with a silver tongue who convinced Ops that we should be given the resources to do a little creative wall-breaking. What would you like, lieutenant...?"

"Ampete. New Assistant Chief of Operations. And I'll try your house blend. How long have you set up shop here?"

The barista turned aside, filling a fresh mug. "Oh, about seven, eight years now I guess. Thought about moving on once or twice, but I've got myself my regulars and don't feel quite as footloose as I once did. You ain't fixing to shut me down are ya?"

The Kaelian shook her head with a small smile, already warming to the man's affable nature. "Depends how good your coffee is. Claiming it'll wake you up faster than a Nausican blade in your back... wonder what the focus groups for that looked like."

"Oh, you know, we had our range. Nausican blades. Targ bites. Mugato gorings. Some S&M. Gwar." He set the bowl-like mug in front of her. "Cream? Sugar? Yamok sauce?"

"Yamok sauce? In coffee?"

"I swear Cardassians will put that on anything," an impish man one stool over leaned forward to say. "They use it for preference in bug eating contests."

A dribble of coffee escaped down Erastus' chin. "Bug eating contests?" With the back of her hand, she wiped away the liquid. "Gross."

"Don't knock it, lieutenant. It's how I make my living."

"You make your living hosting bug eating contests? I hope you're not planning on holding one here."

The man shook his head and pulled out a long wooden box that he placed on the space of counter between them. "I don't do the hosting, no stage presence. But what I do is by far more important." He slid back the top of the box to reveal several large beetles - all quite alive. "It's my job to collect the bugs, sanitize them, and give them a neural inhibitor so they feel no pain when their time comes."

Era shrank back, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. "Eating live beetles..." She shook her head with a grimace at the thought. "I suppose it's no worse than gagh."

"Oh, and I remove the toxins." At Era's look, he continued. "It's one thing to eat a moth or a roach that's just generally wriggly. But that's for the amateurs. Anyone who's serious about the sport go for the rare, the dangerous. Those spiders who can kill you with one bite. Venoms that paralyze the whole body. What I do is make sure that the venom isn't actually there."

Intrigued in spite of herself, Era set down her coffee mug. Though a scientist by training and at heart, she'd done her share of exobiology - and on bugs at that. "Isn't doing so removing that very challenge, then?"

"That's what the purists say," he nodded. "And there are plenty of fringe contests that don't take the precautions. But our champion eaters are like gods to the fans. And no one wants to see a god die. Besides, everyone knows it's fake, that's not the point. It's watching some three hundred pound Klingon blanche and squirm on the verge of eating one of these babies." At the comment, he lifted out one of the beetles. Its brown exoskeleton gleamed in the dim lighting, flecks of blue peppering its legs. "Here, hold her."

"No no no!" Era nearly fell over herself getting up off the stool. The man looked a little crestfallen and she tried to explain. "I'm sure that's a very nice beetle, it's just I really don't like bugs. They give me the creeps."

"If you ask me," the barista, who'd up till now been filling other orders and keeping his station in order, intervened as he came to a halt across from them, "that was a lot more than the creeps."

Era gave an inward sigh, but nodded. After all, if she was going to truly break from the PTSD cycle she'd been experiencing the past several months, she had to admit to what she'd gone through. "You ever see the T'Kith'Kin? I have, up close and far too personal. If you want a real bug eating contest, get someone to eat one of those."

"T'Kith'Kin are different. They may be insectoids, but their sentient. We're very careful not to cross that line."

Era gave a noncommittal "hmmph" and went back to her coffee. In her mind, they were still giant bugs in need of a giant shoe. The conversation sank into silence. The barista picked up a newspaper and began to read. The bug collector closed up his sample case and proceeded to try to read the back page of the barista's newspaper unobtrusively. Around them, the noises of the cafe continued. A pair of ensigns were animatedly discussing the problems with their department head. A Bajoran was testing the strings on the base in the corner, making an out-of-tune twanging sound as she plucked them. An apologetic-faced Trill was wandering from patron to patron, handing out fliers. After a moment, she was at the counter and tapping Era on the arm. "...and first time's free."

"What?" Era shook her mind awake and turned to face the girl. She couldn't have been older than twenty.

"Hair styling and Sara's. First time is free," the girl repeated, as though by rote. Then her eyes widened and her face became animated. "You really should go. With your markings and jawline, you really need something that will pull the hair back from your forehead, show you off a little more." She pushed a flier into Era's hand. "You have a man?"

Caught off-guard by the girl's sudden change in demeanor, Era found herself answering before having thought about it. "Yes, Jaal, he-"

"He'll love you all the more if you do this. It'll be such a great surprise for him. Trust me." With that, she pressed on, offering fliers to everyone else at the counter, the apologetic half-smile firmly in place once more.

Era glanced down at the flier, then at her reflection in the mirror hanging above the El-Alurian espresso machine. Her blond hair had grown long, hanging past her shoulders now. Straight and smooth, it wasn't a bad look, and Era had always liked how it framed her face, but maybe it was time for an update. Experimentally, she pulled her hair back with one hand, turning her chin this way and that to note the effect.

From the corner of the cafe, the Trill watched with a satisfied smile.

off: Takes place as everyone "wakes up"

"Hello, my name is ... "

Lt. Ella Grey

****

USS Galaxy

To say what had just happened to her ... to them all apparently ... was weird would have been a gross understatement. To say that she had just woken from a dream would have been wrong.

Ella didn't know what to say.

"I'm ... fine," She finally replied. Her voice sounded wrong, not only because of her implant but because she had expected a husky timbre to come out of her mouth.

That's not my voice, she thought. This isn't my ship. My name ...

The other officer looked like he understood; he attempted to run his hand through his hair, seemed to remember that he was bald, and then announced he was going to continue checking on everyone else. Ella nodded, not trusting her voice.

I'm fine, she thought. I'm Ella Grey, this is the USS Galaxy, and I am not a ninety plus year old assassin on a ship called the Talvalen in search of a new home. This was never a conversation she'd envisioned having with herself.

The captain came over the comm a few minutes later and she wasn't surprised to hear his voice waver slightly as he explained what they thought had happened. Ella imagined all over Galaxy people were trying to convince themselves that they were who they were, that they hadn't just died on an unknown planet, that ...

God, Ella wanted her knives. She wanted the assurance of cold steel in her hands. She almost could see the comfort that killing a target could have.

But they weren't her knives, they were Eela's knives, and Eela had long since died.

And she was not Eela.

"I'm Ella Grey," She said slowly. It still sounded wrong but she pressed on. "I'm a pilot, an ex-engineer. I used to sing but I don't anymore ..." Ella paused. That was a long story and she didn't feel up to repeating it. "My dad's name is Thomas, not Mardek. I love Victor Krieghoff, not Sotha ..."

Ella trailed off, thinking of Sotha before she shook her head. "I mask my voice with a vocal implant and do not kill people for a living. I hate a man named Jeremy Flint. I thought that I was screwed up *before*. I'm ... "

Ella paused again, the need to find a knife almost over whelming. She unclenched her hands and sighed.

"I'm so going to need a shitload of therapy."

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Eight: “Decadence”

Captain Darren M’Kantu – Captain of the USS Galaxy
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer
Ms Livana Ulani – FCO Internal Investigations Rep

***USS Galaxy, Conference Room 3***

“Well,” Sounding extremely hesitant and embarrassed Kimberly looked to Dhani and Branwen for some support, “When we got back my room was pack with gifts, anything I’d seen throughout the day and expressed an interest in was packed and wrapped neatly waiting for me. I can only assume Sir that our guide had been keeping his eyes open and reporting back somehow, and someone had followed long and purchased everything as we moved on. It was unexpected.” She added in a now highly embarrassed tone.

~*** The Holy City, New Rhea ***~

Following their guide at a steady and comfortable pace, Kimberly was glad of his presence. Not that they hadn’t been welcomed wherever they went but because the city was huge. The amount of walking they had done today, even with the transit system the city had was more than she had done in a while. Partly regretting refusing the vehicle they had been offered she made a mental note, next time accept the car.

It had been insightful though, wandering around, looking into places and meeting people. There had been a variety of encounters, from curious to scared, to what amounted to day-to-day encounters with ordinary people. All in all, unless there was some mass conspiracy going on, this seemed like a pretty friendly place to visit.

There were a few things of course, like with any new world, questions that she’d love answered, like, who were the massively armoured knights, nine foot plus tall who kept wandering around in pairs. So heavy their foot falls shook the ground. And why were there so few children?

These and many other questions filled Kimberlys mind as they ascended the stairs to the entrance of the guest quarters. Pulling her bag up onto her shoulder again she regretted not getting another bag somewhere along the way. She hadn’t really purchased much; a few books, a couple of intriguing trinkets, there would be time for personal shopping another time she had decided. Turning to her two friends behind her she smiled, “Get everything you wanted?” she asked curiously with a slight grin. She had considered offering to help carry things, but the thought had evaporated while she spoke to Prospero, discussing the day to day life in the city.

"For now I think so." Branwen smiled happily. She had bought 3 dresses, a skirt, two blouses and in the other shop two pairs of shoes and a pair of boots. Normally she was never this wild with shopping, but she had decided it was good therapy against grief. She had to learn to spoil herself on occasion.

Tapping her tricorder that was clipped to her belt Dhani smiled, “Got everything I need.” she replied as they walked up the steps to their ‘quarters’. Unlike the girls, Dhani had bought nothing. There was a time, back when she was on Earth, that she had displayed personal items and mementos around her quarters. But since being posted on the Galaxy she hadn’t. Her quarters were still barren and empty in that regard. No paintings hung, no pictures on the counter tops, not even a bright cushion on her couch. Everything was still Starfleet standard shades of grey. Her personal effects still sat in cargo crates, lined up behind the couch and stored in her bedroom – the one that Kala was now using. All the personal effects that were dotted around were mainly Michaels. Dhani remembered clearly the day she came back after the coma, how at peace she had felt, how comfortable she had been in her own skin – how complete. That day she had begun to unpack and spread her individuality around her room, expressing herself. But very few items made it out of the container before she spoke with O’Shea, and no more came out afterwards. And that complete feeling didn’t stay for very long.

Pushing those thoughts aside as she rose over the horizon of the top step Dhanis jaw dropped as their guide opened the door to their ‘apartment’. From the corner of her eye she saw him smile softly – that was the first emotion he had shown throughout the entire day – that knowing smile. But Dhani was too preoccupied with the sight before her to begin questioning him.

Slowing to a near crawl she stepped forward tentatively onto the marble floor that sparkled reflecting light. The main room of the apartment was spacious. In the centre; a frosted glass table stood on a beautifully molded golden pedestal, the intricate design carved into it wound from its tiger claw feet all the way up the legs, complementing the etchings in the glass top. Around the table four elegant chairs matched, upholstered in a cream fabric with gold highlights that shimmered in the light from the chandelier above.

A few feet directly behind the table a huge bowed window curved gently into a semi circle along the entire length of the wall with a low cushioned bench beneath it, framed with chiffon nets and heavily tapestried drapes. To the left there was an enormous mahogany desk with a green leather swivel chair and to the right four large ornate lounge chairs and a side board in matching wood to the desk, stocked with crystal-cut glasses and what appeared to be several bottles of liquor. Four overly carved wooden doors, two on each side of the room, lead to the bedrooms and rest room - Dhani assumed. The walls were covered with beautiful tapestry depicting, what Dhani could only guess, was man’s ascension to ‘heaven’ and on every surface available, including the floor, a mass of beautiful flower arrangements. There were so many that it made it near impossible to step any further into the room.

Looking past Dhani into the room, Kimberlys mouth formed a small ‘Oh’ of surprise, the room was without a doubt, extravagant, and perhaps even that didn’t do it justice. Stepping into the room tentatively behind Dhanishta she walked slowly across the smooth marble floor, dimly aware of the tap tap her boots made on the stone floor. Pausing she turned a slow circle to take in the whole room, savouring the elegance of the furniture and the décor.

~ This is like… Wow… ~ was all Kimberly could think. She had in her career as a Starfleet officer spent nights in frozen caves, torrid jungles and scorching deserts, comfortable rooms on ships of a variety of makes and models plus meagre hotels on dingy planets. This had to be the highlight of room and board so far in her whole career. Seeing on three of the doors a neatly written slip of paper she edged over to the nearest one slowly, wary of slipping on the smooth floor and looking like a complete tourist.

As she got closer she saw on the slip her own name, handwritten in a beautiful flowing script that must have taken someone several hours or more to draw in several exquisite shades of gold and silver ink. ‘Lieutenant Kimberly Burton’ was spelt out neatly indicating obviously this was hers. Pausing before opening the door she turned to look at Dhani and Branwen who were admiring the room behind her, holding up the slip of paper carefully she raised an eyebrow, “Girls, I may be back her for my next R’n’R!” she informed them in a decisive tone.

Dhani smiled slightly, still in shock. Something about this felt wrong. She turned back to their guide hoping for some sort of explanation. He smiled once more, again that slightly aggravating knowing smile that said ‘I know more than you do, but I’m not going to tell you anything’ and once Branwen crossed the threshold he nodded to them and closed the door behind him; leaving the three girls to their own devices.

Perplexed Dhani stared at the door a moment longer before returning her gaze to the room. The view from the window was glorious. She could see the entire city from that one spot. The glow of the sun as it set touched upon the buildings below warming them with its orange hue. She smiled softly and wandered to the bench perching on the seat, afraid to imprint it with her backside. As she looked out she realised how high up they were in this building, it must have been the top floor, and it defiantly covered the entirety of that level. Gently she reached out and touched the curtain. It felt like a combination of suede, silk and velvet. Her eyes lit up, she could get carried away here, but for some reason she felt beneath this sort of extravagance. It just didn’t sit well with her to be treated like some sort of Royalty; it was alien and made her extremely uncomfortable.

Taking Kimberlys queue Dhani went to investigate ‘her’ room. Opening the door that she had been assigned she cringed, unsure of what to expect. In the centre a double four poster bed was the main focus. To the right a large wardrobe and a small desk, to the left a chest of draws and a bedside table with a modest vase full of fresh flowers. Upon the bed was a set of towels, pressed and folded along with a rather unusual flamboyant dress and a card.

Stepping forward Dhani picked up the card, noting the beautiful handwriting and admiring it greatly. Opening up she smiled softly. It was a personal invite to the dinner they had been told about, a dinner in their honor. It was a lovely gesture, yet even that didn’t sit well with her. She did not like being the centre of attention.

Branwen was too shocked to say much. She had grown up in very humble circumstances herself, and she was not used to so much opulence. After she escaped home even the simplest rooms seemed decadent to her and this… this was just too much. So it took a while before she noticed the invitation on the desk by the window. Gingerly she opened it and her eyes wide and even more at the formal letters of the invitation. "Good thing we bought new dresses." She whispered to herself.

Opening the door to her room, wondering just what she would see inside, Kimberly paused for a moment as she peered in and a look of confusion crossed her face. The room beyond was decorated much as the main room, a massive curved window filled one entire wall, with an impressive view of the grounds beyond. A huge four poster bed that could easily accommodate all three of the Starfleet officers with room to spare occupied one sizable portion of the room, and the canopy and drapes around it were a deep crimson red, stitched in golden threads that sparkled in the afternoon light from the window. Tapestries and fur carpets were adorning the walls and floor around the bed, and a selection of carefully carved furniture was neatly placed around the room.

What confused Kimberly though was not the opulence of the room, but the numerous boxes, packets and wrapped bundles that seemed to occupy almost every available surface in the room save the bed. Add to that a huge rack of clothes that stood by the window with what appeared to be enough shoes underneath to outfit half the Galaxy crew.

Stepping into the room carefully, so as to avoid stepping on anything on the floor she stared around the room in confusion. Pausing at the end of the bed she finally noticed a gown of a similar colour to the bed cover laid out neatly with a simple note on it that read ‘For the reception tonight’.

“Uh, Dhani, Branwen?” she called out, needing desperately to ask someone if her mind had finally gone out to lunch without telling her.

Hearing Kim calling Dhani closed the door to the wardrobe in her room, a puzzled look remaining on her face. It was full. Brimming with beautiful clothes in a verity of fabric, all of them however in spot prints. Shaking her head she pushed the door closed till she heard it click and then went to see what Kimberly was yelling about.

Branwen came out still wearing a slightly shocked expression on her face. She hadn't opened any of the drawers yet, the room itself was shock enough.

Nodding to Bran as she came up along side her Dhani pushed open the door to Kimberly’s room, “What are you yelling ab… oh!” Dhani let out a stunned ‘huh’ as she surveyed the mass of boxes in a melody of shapes and sizes. Blinking several times she frowned. “What the…” she trailed off.

TBC…

"Performance Evaluation"

Starring
Crewman Allison
And
Unauthorized use of Lt T'lan (Npc)

USS GALAXY
SECURITY OFFICES

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.......

If Allison Jimsdottir was a fictional character in a made up story, the preceding line would make a grand tag line for the latest chapter in her life.

.......plagerized though it was.

However, Allison was a real person

.....a real life space girl from the 24th century who flew around on starships zapping bumpy-headed aliens with ray guns, and as such deserverd to be taken quite seriously.

"Thats my problem, nobody takes me seriously." the blond haired teenybopper mused to herself as she sucked on her lollipop with a loud SLURP. " I'm a respectable...SLURP....proffesional with an important....SLURP.... job and as such I think I derserve to be given a little lattitude in how I run my life."

The security offices of T'lan, the Vulcan assistant to Department Chief James Corgan were as spartan and well ordered as one would expect form one of her heritage. While at first one might question the rationale of a member of a pacifist race dedicating her career towards what was inheritantly a violent proffesion, T'lan of course had a logical arguement. "Security is about orderliness and bringing peace to what is a dangerous universe." she might argue, "Logic dictates a life in pursuit of establishing order is the very definition of non-violence."

Unfortunately for the raven haired Vulcan, the young human lounging in the chair before her was the very definition of disorderliness and conflict. Crewman Recruit Allison Jimsdottir seemed to bring chaos and confusion to everything she touched, including unfortunately T'lans beloved Security Department. This performance review was her latest effort in bringing the young firecracker to heel.

"Lattitude in how you run your life crewman is yours for the taking. Logic dictates that the possibilities for how one determines one's destiny are virtually limitless." "However.... as a member of Starfleet, certain rules of obedience and....ah....decorum....need to be adhered to." T'lan paused, her eyes flicking towards Allison's earrings. "Your jewelry for instance...."

"Whats the big deal with my earrings, " Alli protested, her dainty hands flashing towards the huge sparkling loops with little cartoon skeleton heads grinning from her earlobes. "They're like totally cute."

Cuteness being the key determining factor in how Allison arranged her daily wardrobe.

"Gaudy, perhaps." T'lan allowed, "Irrespective of personal senses of aethetics.....or the lack thereof....personal jewelry is govenerned by Starfleet dress code while on duty. And besides...." T'lan eyed the grinning heads doubtfully, "Halloween in still six months off."

"Halloween?" Allison was scandalized, "These are not mere run of the mill halloween earrings. These are officially licensed 'Nightmare Before Christmas' Jack Skellington collectors items." She shook her head daintily causing the grinning skull to dance merrily on their little silver dangles.

"Besides....." Alli indicated the new all-black starfleet uniforms that had become the rage in the past few years. "Its not like Starfleet hasnt been going for the dark 'Emo' look itself recently....switching uniforms from bright colors to sheer black. Im just accesorizing"

"One does not 'accessorize with the Uniform of the Day'." The Vulcan sighed, and then paused as something sparkly caught her eye. "Crewman," she began curiously, "What is that that you have on your face?"

Alli beamed. "Like it? It something new I picked up on our last layover, moisterizes and exfoliates letting your skins natural tones shine through.......plus it has purple glitter in it."

"Glitter...." T'lan repeated.

"Purple Glitter." Alli corrected.

"Why......" The Vulcan began already dreading the answer, "did you feel the need to sprinkle your 'natural skin tones' with glitter this morning."

Allison frowned, a bit confused. "Uh....because its cute." T'lan sure did ask silly questions. Again 'cuteness' was the foundation of Alli's outlook on life.

Sighing inwardly, T'lan reflected on how the strange little human known as Allison Jimsdottir had proven to be the perfect exercise in obtaining patience and inner peace.

After all....repressing the emotional need to beat the annoying little girl into the bulkhead was great training in tolerance.

"And the sugar coated pacifier device.....?", T'lan asked changing the subject slightly.

SLURP...."Like what?" Alli popped the lollipop out of her mouth with a quizzical look. "Oh you mean the sucker.....I dunno.....just hungry I guess. Want a lick?" she proffered the candy under the Vulcan's nose.

Multiple hygenic taboos notwithstanding, T'lan exhibbited perfect control of her twitching facial muscles when she politely refused.

"The issue at hand crewman, is your frequent and flagrant disregard for a number of esablished starfleet doctrines." Picking up a PADD from her desk, T'lan thumbed her way down the list of Alli's achievements in Starfleet so far. " Improper uniforms....and accesorizing. Eating while on duty. Applying nailpolish while on duty. Improper address of a superior officer....."

"Now hang on...." Alli protested, "That last one was not my fault. I didnt know who the heck he was...."

"You told him 'get the zark out of the way dude'.....I beleive that was the direct quote."

"He was in my way....I was carrying a heavy box."

"He is the Captain of this ship."

"Well....." Alli waved her arms expansively, unable to think of a comeback for that, "Well....y'know."

"You may recall crewman....that you have already served a brief time in the ship's brig for insubbordination to a superior."

The girl from Iceland rolled her eyes, "Well duh....I toally almost missed the Christmas party because of that silliness."

"The Christmas party yes." now T'lan actually did frown, "If I recall that was the occasion you decided to wear a pair of fake vulcan ears....."

"Elf ears! I was an ELF!" Alli stamped her foot, "How many times do I have to explain.....you know what an Elf is right?"

"A mythical creature from Terran folklore," T'lan replied. "They live in trees and produce baked goods..."

"Not a Keebler Elf....a christmas Elf.....Santa's little helpers.....oh forget it."

"Indeed." T'lan went back to studying the PADD.

Alli had a sudden thought, "Speaking of my time in the brig, like do you guys still have my diary that you confiscated?"

"If by 'diary' you mean that little electronic organizer protected with state of the art military-grade encryption codes that you steadfastly refuse to provide access codes for.......then yes, 'we still have it' pending an investigation."

Disappointed Alli slumped down in the chair with a 'hrumph' "Geez.....whats the big deal anyway.......bet nobody tried to steal your diary Lieutenant."

"Vulcans do not keep a diary crewman. We may keep scientific journals in which we record impartial observations and measurements. We do not however have the urge to write down notes on secret crushes or who is going to ask us to the Prom."

"Y'know....for a race with no emotions, you sure so have a sarcastic sense of humor."

"Beleive what you may crewman." T'lan replied, "My job however is to attempt to mold you into an effective member of this crew. Commander Corgan has made you 'my personal project', and I do not intend to fail in this assignment." She studied the girl with an unwavering gaze." Now what I beleive is that you have an date with the bathroom mirror to tone down that makeup and to remove those earrings."

Allison opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. "Whatever," she said feeling for the tiny metal backings, "You'd think with al the loonieness that goes on on this ship, a simple pair of ear bobs wouldnt cause such a fuss. Besides," she said in parting, "It's not like you couldnt use a little color in your cheeks too."

Afterward, T'lan sat alone in her office for long moments afterwards going over her notes. It was only later when she thought nobody was looking that she stole a glance into the mirror to study her own face. "I do not...."

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Nine: “Why didn’t we get a box?”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

~*** The Holy City, New Rhea ***~

Nodding to Bran as she came up along side her Dhani pushed open the door to Kimberly’s room, “What are you yelling ab… oh!” Dhani let out a stunned ‘huh’ as she surveyed the mass of boxes in a melody of shapes and sizes. Blinking several times she frowned. “What the…” she trailed off.

"Whoah!” Branwen again said.

“Agreed.” Dhani said simply stunned.

“Did you get any boxes?” she asked Bran after a moments pause.

"No." She shook her head.

“Me neither.” Dhani said in a slightly dejected tone feigning disappointment.

"Strange." The Welsh woman circled the boxes.

Stepping into the room Dhani tiptoed between boxes to get to Kimberly who was by the bed, “Why does she get boxes?” Dhani asked Bran sporting a mock pout of indignation.

"I don't know. Maybe because they think she is our leader or something."

Dhani simply laughed at that, making sure she was out of punching range from Kimberly as she did.

Giving Dhani a look that was only partly annoyed Kimberly lifted a box from the pile near her bed and carefully shook the small package, wondering just what in the name of the Goddess was going on here, “Now, would that be such a bad thing?” she asked with a grin.

“So go on then, open one.” Dhani said jumping on to the bed and lying down, noting just how comfortable it was, ~wonder if I could get one of these for my quarters on the ship~ she mused silently as she let her hand flow over the fabric. “Or would you like me to scan it with a tricorder?” she asked grinning as she propped herself up on her elbows; “Ya know, to make sure it’s not a bomb or something?” she teased.

“If it’s a bomb, this is the very definition of the word, ‘Overkill’,” indicating the mass of boxes and packages around her, “cause if these are all bombs, I think we’re about to make a sizeable hole in the planet.” Carefully opening the package she lifted aside the wrapping paper inside and felt her breath catch slightly as she saw the delicately crafted necklace she had seen this morning in the jewellers. “Isn’t it beautiful.” She asked the others, “but I’m sure I saw this earlier today.” She added with a frown.

"Oh my. We definitely did, we passed it up as too expensive." Branwen said awed.

Inching forward Dhani nosed the box with an expression of admiration mixed with indifference. She looked up at Kimberly noting her uncertainty and hesitation and frowned.

Looking around the room Kimberly put the necklace down and opened several other boxes swiftly, quickly glancing at the contents, then rifling through the rack of clothes, “In fact, I vaguely remember seeing ‘all’ of this stuff today, while we were exploring the city.”

"It does look familiar." The marine agreed with her.

Sitting up now, feeling the worry emanating from Kimberly Dhani followed in her wake checking out the packages, looking for any indication of where they had come from. “You didn’t give anyone the impression that you intended to purchase any of these did you?” she asked absently as she riffled through the boxes and their contents. “Cause you’re gonna have one huge tab to settle later.” she joked.

Confused, Kimberly dropped the book she was holding back into its box, “Well, ‘I’ certainly didn’t order all this... When did I have time?” she asked indignantly, “There’s been some sort of mistake here that’s for sure!”

Branwen giggled. "You might have a secret admirer."

Dhani chuckled at that, making sure to keep her amusement to herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Kimberly was attractive or anything, it was just that she didn’t believe in love at first sight, or infatuation for that matter, and the only person that Kim had really spoken with was their guide. She looked back up towards the door, ~No..~ she thought perplexed, ~surely not?~

“Secret admirer, yeah, right. Less than twenty four hours on planet, that’d have to be some sort of record.” Kimberly retorted softly, looking around she shuddered slightly as she wondered just what the Captain would say about this… Or the FCO. Looking at Dhani who was still glancing around the room she wondered just what in the name of the Goddess she should ‘do’ with all of this!

As her eyes refocused on the room Dhani noticed a tag hanging off the rack of clothes. Back on her feet she scrambled over the bed to the rack, realising now just how wide the bed was, ~crikey you wouldn’t end up rolling on to the floor in this room in your sleep! I defiantly want one! And sod the sleeping!~ Snatching the tag she read it quickly and then held up her hand to silence the others.

“I think Branwen may be right.” she informed them in a sombre tone, unsure how Kimberly would take the revelation. “Look,” she said handing the tag to Kimberly. “complements of HRH.” she repeated the simple inscription from the tag for Branwens reference.

“HRH?” Kimberly repeated in confusion. As cryptic notes went, this was right up there with an anonymous ‘Look out’ you found shoved under your door one morning. “What’s HRH? ‘Who’s’ HRH?” she asked, starting to get a little frustrated.

Dhani shrugged, “I have no idea.” she replied just as perplexed. Sliding off the bed with the mystery only half solved she tagged Branwen, “Come on, lets go. We have a dinner to prepare for remember?”

Turning her back on the packages Kimberly grabbed her travel bag and the dress on the bed and made for the bathroom, “Good idea, let’s get to dinner cause one I’m hungry, and two, it’ll take my mind off this.”

Branwen looked back once more over the room filled with boxes and than followed her friends to prepare.

Walking through the lounge area Kimberly entered the one door they had yet to explore and paused. The opulence and grandeur of the bedrooms and suite as a whole had prepared her for the possibility of a bathtub she could park her shuttle in. As a result, when she opened the door she stopped, brought up short not by what she expected, but by the neat and not so opulent space that was before her. ~ Obviously décor is not to be wasted on trivial rooms. ~ she realised, eyeing the compact space before her. Certainly comfy for one to use at a time, but with the rush they were now about to face.

~ Well, Starfleet tries to prepare you for challenges the likes of which you could never imagine, let’s see how well training holds up. ~ she thought to herself with a silent laugh. Draping her dress over a nearby chair she started to unpack her travel bag and laid out what she was going to need.

After about half an hour in the compact space, and still struggling to complete the complex task at hand by nothing more than touch, Kimberly sighed. In all her years in Starfleet she had faced many trials and been asked to do many unpleasant things. Decisions she had made that had affected lives had been done quicker than this.

In all her years in Starfleet she had faced many trials and been asked to do many unpleasant things. Decisions she had made that had affected lives had been done quicker than this.

Giving up for a second she lowered her arms and nudged Dhanishta who was stood before her, blocking her view, “Do you mind?” she asked as patiently as possible, “I need to use the mirror as well.” Gently pushing Dhani’s raised elbow out of the way she once again tried to manipulate her hair into some semblance of order. For all the luxury they had been accorded here, there was one real complaint right now. For a suite of rooms that was comfortable for the three of them, the bathroom had a severe lack of mirrors. The one small mirror over the sink was right now the centre piece of a frantic and crowded attempt to get ready.

“I told you two we should have come back here hours ago.” Kimberly muttered as she reached for a pair of hair straighteners. Knocking something into the sink as she blindly groped for the device she heard a sploosh as something vanished under water.

"It would be helpful if we went in the bathroom one by one." Branwen observed from the hallway. Naval officers just didn't know how to organize. Being a marine you could dress anywhere and make yourself presentable.

Dhanishta surveyed her attire with suspicion. “Of all the things they could have picked out for me to wear, and I get this!” Dhani moaned as she desperately tried to zip up the ‘thing’ they had put out for her. The dress rustled as she jumped up and down trying to catch the zip that had once more eluded her grasp. “You have to be a contortist to get into it.” she griped. “And what’s with the colours?” she queried, knowing full well that neither occupant in the room could answer. Once adorned in the abominable dress Dhani groped for the mascara and began to paint her face, “I mean come on,” she continued whilst applying, “you get that beautiful crimson red that brings out your eyes, Bran in that stunning electric blue and here I am in pink and yellow polka-dots!”

“Look, those layer cakes they’ve provided weren’t my idea, okay. Some damn local formal fashion. Since none of us had the foresight to pack a dress uniform I guess we wear the damn things.” Continuing to grip silently to herself Kimberly nudged Dhani’s raised elbow out of the way again and tried again to sort her hair out.

Dhanishta sighed and glared at Kimberly for a moment. Returning her gaze to the mirror she realised that the ‘accidental’ shove had caused her to slip in her application of liquid eyeliner. She was now sporting a large black line across her upper cheek. Shaking her head and groaning audibly she moved to get some tissue paper, losing her spot to Branwen who was rearranging her bust into a rather striking deep blue meringue dress. If it wasn’t for the fact that all three of them were hastily getting ready for this formal dinner Dhani would have paused to inform Bran just how beautiful she looked, however the bathroom in the apartment the three had been given during their stay was like the Serengeti’s watering hole, and their decorum was quickly matching that of wild animals.

"I don't see anything wrong with these dresses." Branwen mused looking at herself. "Actually I find them rather pretty." Her long hair had been piled neatly on top of her head without the aid of the mirror.

Looking out the door at the mass of frills and ruffles that awaited her in the shared common area Kimberly shuddered and uttered a low curse to whomever had devised such a thing. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against dressing up when the occasion calls for it, but these things have more damn layers than an onion.” Letting her griping fade into a mutter she continued with her preparations, aware of the need to rush, but not wanting to go before she was ready. Fashionably late certainly did not apply tonight she realized.

"Guys. We do have to get going." The marine urged them. "You both look fabulous, now let's go!"

Looking at herself in the mirror after a few more moments Kimberly declared victory over her stubborn hair and went to work on the next phase of preparation. Make up. “Anyone seen the foundation?” she asked, sounding a little perplexed as she rooted around the sink, shuffling random items aside in her hunt for the elusive tub of cream, it had been right before her a few moments ago.

"For heaven's sake!" Branwen rolled her eyes. "Navy women!"

Ignoring Kimberly’s hunt for makeup Dhani took one more look at herself and shook her head. “Bran, help me out of this thing would ya?” she asked, already reaching for the zip, “I’m sorry guys but I can’t go anywhere looking like this.” Apart from the fact that the spots clashed with her own, the colors just weren’t her. The room had been filled with many dresses, in fact every dress that Kimberly had seen and said ‘wow’ to. There was bound to be something more… fitting, Dhani decided, and in her humble opinion it was better to look good and perhaps put someone’s nose a tad out of joint that to go anywhere looking like this. It was bad enough that Bran and Kimberly had a mental picture of her in this dress; she didn’t want any real ones floating around. Running into the main room Dhani began to root through all the other garments in a frenzy.

Impatiently Branwen helped Dhani out of the dress. If she went to take another one at this late date they would never get to the dinner.

With all three women finally made up and properly attired they left with their escort, who informed them that ‘fashionably late’ was not in their vocabulary. Luckily for the offworlders technology was at their disposal. And what an entrance they would make as they beamed into the grand dining hall in a shimmer of blue light?

TBC…

Summer's Son's ....
.... And Daughters

Featuring LtJG Eve

~~~~~~~~
Vulcan.

Eve hadn't thought she would have ever visited this particular planet, but being in the employ of Starfleet one often did things and visited places one never would expect. After a brief communication with Starfleet Command, which was attended by the Vulcan Ambassador at Captain M'Kantu's request, the Galaxy had been directed to Vulcan post haste. The Katras within the minds of the Starfleet crew would be handled only by the highest of the Vulcan orders. Gven the nature of the proceedings, participation - as always - was voluntary.

Eve had chosen to allow for the Katra of V'tana to repose in whatever storage the Vulcans had prepared for such events. More than a few were quite worried given her array of neurological components and as a result her case was put to serious debate. Starfleet Intelligence had voiced their concerns loudest: there was no doubt of vulcan's ability of discretion but there were always exceptions. In the end, it made no difference. Eve desired for the Katra to be removed, and Vulcan did not have many to choose from to perform her special case.

Sometimes the Cyborg wondered if she should have simply elected to leave it be. Certainly no harm had come to her, mentally or physically, in the transit time between when they had awoken and their arrival at Vulcan. Prolonged inhabitance wouldn't be harmfull, otherwise the katra removal would have been declared mandatory. She pondered the question as she lay sprawled on the couch in her quarters, one hand idly rubbing her stomach. It didn't take long for the answer to surface, and it wasn't surprising. Eve already had three personalities meshed together to form her current que.

A fourth so soon upon the heels of her recent transfiguration would have been bad ju-ju.

And so she lay on her couch, right arm and leg hanging over the cushions, left leg hanging over the back, left arm along her side, hand on her stomach. It was an interesting pose, if a touch akward and/or uncomfortable at times. Despite the Katra having been removed, Eve still remembered things. Having children. Cooking food. Enjoying the simple snuggle of a husband in their bed as they acknowledged the lack of a need for intercourse. The simple things that made Life so much more enjoyable than many would care to admit.

Eve closed her eyes, children playing in her mind's eye as she drifted off to sleep.

Vulcan, Vulcan colony, doesn't matter. First person to refer to
> the setting
> in a post gets to choose it, I guess.

USS GALAXY
In orbit over Planet CAMELOT!!!

"We're where?"

"You are on the Planet of Camelot. Home of the Kight of the Round Table......."

"Riiiiiiight........and who are you again?"

"I am master Sorek, of the Val'shoth Monastary from the Vulcan embassy. I have been tasked with preserving the katra you are hosting."

"The what?"

"Katra, my child.......the spirit of our long dead ancestor that you carry in your head."

"Zarky.....so you're like the exorcist or something?"

"Child.....?"

"The power of Surak compels you......the power of Surak compels you!!!"

"It is not polite to mock child. I am but here to serve."

"Serve.....riiiiiight. So thats what you're doing on a planet wher eevery body jumps around and dances in armor?"

"Its a silly place child.......They are in need of logic."

(OOC: yes its just a joke)
(OOC: couldnt resist since Kat said whoever posts first could pick our destination...
I had to beat Joe to the punch before he came up with something worse......LOL)

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Ten: “The Formal Dinner”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

~*** The Holy City, New Rhea ***~

With all three women finally made up and properly attired they left with their escort, who informed them that ‘fashionably late’ was not in their vocabulary. Luckily for the offworlders technology was at their disposal. And what an entrance they would make as they beamed into the grand dining hall in a shimmer of blue light?

Looking around as they beamed in near the entrance to the great hall Kimberly had to suppress a smile as she saw the looks on the faces of the people around them. Transporter technology was apparently not unknown to the locals, but their systems were hideously outdated compared to the pad on the KittyKat, and the fact the girls were talking to each other while in transit was something that seemed to create quite a commotion. Perhaps not the most elegant entrance to a formal function, but one that had impressed nicely on everyone present; they were most definitely from somewhere else.

Smiling openly as a smartly dressed courtier approached them she watched as he paused and gave a polite bow. “Ladies,” he began in a stiff and formal tone. “His Eminence Pope Pious XIVII, ruler of New Rhea welcomes you and thanks you for accepting his most gracious invitation. If you would follow me please.” He asked as he stepped back and indicated the main table with a sweep of his arm.

Branwen was certainly impressed, and she was very silent as they followed the courtier.

~Wow~ Dhani remarked silently nodding politely. “This place is amazing.” she whispered to Bran and Kim as they were ushered forward. She couldn’t help but look around the huge hall they had beamed into. Apart from the fact of its sheer size, everything was laced with gold. The gilt mouldings, the inlays, the pillars and plinths, the structural beams – all of them had been carved or moulded with striking detail. It must have taken them ‘years’ upon ‘years’ to build this.

Walking across the hall Kimberly tried not to openly stare at the hall and the people who were sat around it. There must have been upwards of two to three hundred people stood around chatting as the beamed in, all of whom were now silently watching the three ladies walk slowly up to the main table. As they approached the table the dignitaries there save one all rose politely, the only one who remained seated was the pope himself. Smiling at the three officers he indicated three vacant chairs scattered across the table, “Ladies, if you would be so kind as to join us.” he offered.

"Of course." Branwen gave them a low bow. "We are very honored to be here in your presence and to meet you, Holy Father."

Noting that even their seats had been marked out, in the same calligraphy as their doors in the apartment, Dhani made for hers and was surprised as the gentleman next to her pulled the chair out for her. Nodding politely Dhani sat and watched with growing curiosity as all the men in the room waited until the ladies present were seated before taking their own. With an ‘okay then’ tilt of her head Dhani plastered a polite smile across her face, to hide the growing uncertainty she felt, and looked around the table, noting the amount of dignitaries they were sat with, and not to mention the fact that the ‘pope’ was right in front of them, eyeing the offworlders with admiration and healthy suspicion. Looking down at the plates she was taken aback at the amount of cutlery next to it. ~Oh crap!~ she inwardly swore, ~born on Vulcan, raised on Trill and Qono’S, attended the academy, serve on the Flag Ship of the Fleet, rose up the ranks to a Chief Engineer on that same ship and yet through all that I have never been to a formal dinner… what the hell am I supposed to do with all these forks?~

Walking around the table Kimberly sat in the offered chair and smiled at the man next to her. A giant of a man over seven foot tall, his chair was obviously built to accommodate someone of his size. Feeling a little uncomfortable at the smile he gave her in return she looked up and down the table. Everyone was sitting now, all save the Pope who had stood and was indicating that everyone else should sit. As he began to talk she tried to focus on what he was saying and ignore the penetrating gaze the man next to her seemed to be focussing on her. As she listened to the talk of new eras, boundless frontiers and new friendships Kimberly felt her breath catch in her throat. ~ Oh… Gos-se!!! ~ she suddenly though, ~ What if he asks me to say something… In front of all these people! What do I say? ~ Frantically trying to remember everything she had learned at the Academy about first contact she tried to formulate something, anything, that wouldn’t make her look like a complete and total idiot!

“Don’t you just hate these speeches?” a voice whispered beside Dhani.

Turning sharply Dhani frowned, “I’m sorry?” she asked slightly annoyed that someone had broken her concentration on the speech. The guy was like a politician, always going the long way round to say the simplest of things.

“Me too.” the man replied. He kept his face towards the Pope, and with a gracious smile nodded attentively as his leader spoke, yet he was not paying attention in the slightest. Dhani could see a slight twinkle in his eye as he looked towards her.

With the speeches finally concluded, taking up a good portion of the evening – or so it felt, he turned towards Dhanishta fully, that fake smile breaking out into a real one, full of sincerity as he held his hand towards her in a common human greeting, “Albrect Pious.” he introduced himself.

Returning the smile, Dhani responded in kind, “Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe.” she took his hand and was surprised when he took only her fingers in a half grasp and then kissed the back of her hand.

“Something wrong Miss Eshe?” he questioned as he let her hand go, noting her confused expression.

“No,” Dhani replied shaking her head, “Sorry, I am just used to hand shakes is all.” she replied, cringing at her lack of eloquence.

“Shaking hands, with a lady? Seriously?” he questioned his eyebrows raising.

Dhani nodded.

“How uncouth!” he replied slightly disgusted reaching out for his drink with an air of indignation.

~Oh crap~ Dhani thought again, ~what a way to make an impression. I’m an engineer damn it, not a diplomat!~

Focussing on the plate before her Kimberly hoped the flush of embarrassment she felt across her face wasn’t too obvious. The well rehearsed speeches from the various dignitaries had gone on for quite a while, and then all eyes had turned expectantly to her. Never having felt so under pressure in her life she could only hope the polite applause that had followed her somewhat off the cuff remarks had not just been that, polite.

She hadn’t quite rambled on as everyone else had, and had tried to be as brief as protocol would allow her, the end result had been ten of the most nerve wracking moments of her life. ~ Oh Goddess please, don’t make me do that again! ~ she prayed fervently.

Nibbling at the food she looked up and down the table and saw her comrades engrossed in conversation with their neighbours over dinner, figuring that was probably a good idea, first contact and all that, she looked to her left and right and remembered the introductions that had been passed around earlier. To her right was an elderly gentleman who was already deep in conversation with the lady to his right, to her left was the monster of a man who was apparently the youngest son of the local ruler.

As she took another look at the prince he smiled warmly at Kimberly and leaned in her direction, “Did you like the gifts I sent you?” he asked quietly admiring her. “I see you are wearing the dress I picked out.” His eyes cast over her form briefly before he turned back to carve up the rather large piece of steak on his plate.

Feeling her eyebrows crawl over her scalp and down her neck Kimberly coughed slightly on the bite of food she had just taken, swallowing hurriedly she put her knife and fork down and turned to face her dinner companion, “Uh, you picked out?” she enquired as politely as she could, noticing his glance at her dress.

He nodded slowly, staring straight ahead and chewing his food in an even rhythm, his head tilted from side to side almost unnoticeably as he silently counted out each grind of his teeth.

Watching him eat for a second Kimberly struggled to think of something, anything to say. She'd been expecting the dress to have been provided by some local fussy protocol officer, not a junior member of the royal household. "It's beautiful. Thank you." Deciding on a simple yet sincere answer she looked to her plate and nibbled on an unidentified vegetable, “So ah, what position do you hold your highness?” she asked, curious, so far most of the members of the royal household she had met held some government position or another.

He turned to face her, “Kimberly,” he paused and lowered his head towards her, “I may call you Kimberly?” he asked with trace amounts of concern in his sparkling blue eyes.

Nodding, "Of course," she agreed amicably as she sipped her wine. Savoring the taste she smiled, the coffee without a doubt 'sucked'. The wine though definitely made up for it.

A small smile curved the corners of his lips for a moment as she consented. He regarded her for some time before he spoke again. “I am a Knight of the Church. From what I understand of your...” he paused to find the right word, “’rank’ structure, I am what you would call a Major.” he told her in a low voice.

Raising an eyebrow slightly Kimberly looked at the Prince again, "If I recall, someone told me you are just seventeen, is that correct?"

He nodded, “That is correct Kimberly.” He smiled inwardly, enjoying how her name rolled of his tongue, how beautiful it sounded in his head, kim-berly, kim-berrr-ly, kim…

"Seventeen, and already an officer with troops to command," sounding a little surprised Kimberly ignored her partly eaten dinner for the moment and turned to face the young prince, "Is it normal for one of your family to hold such a senior position, or have you worked up to the post?" she enquired tentatively.

Returning to the conversation he simply smiled softly, “Please Kimberly, let us not discuss such matters at the table, distasteful as it is.”

“My apologies, I meant no offence,” putting her curiosity aside she decided to stick to safe topics for a while, while the fleet and the FCO would want to know as much as possible, best leave the prying to the experts she decided. ~ I’m a doctor, not a diplomat.~

Nodding at the server who was swiftly removing the dinner plates and neatly replacing them with dessert she eyed the bowl before her with some trepidation, she had eaten many strange things in her life, but normally liked to know what they were first, ~ Oh for a tricorder! ~ she wished. Taking a hesitant bite of the greyish meringue like substance she found herself pleasantly surprised at the taste. Noticing a silent orchestra sat on a balcony at the far end of the room she nodded slightly in their direction. “Is the orchestra going to play this evening?” she asked curiously, feeling that music should be a safe enough topic for now.

“They will.” He replied, “And when they do we shall dance.” he told her.

Coughing as he mentioned dancing Kimberly looked to him, trying to keep the look of horror off her face, ~ Dance! In front of all these people! Oh Elements help me. ~ she prayed silently. Looking down at the partly eaten dessert she let the spoon slide from her hand into the bowl. ~ Perfect, speeches and dancing, now I remember why I never joined the diplomacy corps. ~

Frowning after the news of dancing had sunk in she remembered the wording the young Prince next to her had used, 'we shall dance.' No, would you like to, or, care to join me, but 'we shall'. For some reason, the statement of fact he had uttered unnerved her a little.

Across the table Cardinal Simon Matther Pious XIV began talking with Branwen, “So what is it you do on this starship of yours Miss London?” he asked as they tucked into their next course.

TBC…

On Board the USS Carthage

Acting Ensign Aina Mason - Communications Officer
Captain Jaal Jaxom - Commanding Officer

USS Carthage, docked at DS 5

***** Bridge *****

Aina was in the turbolift, heading to the bridge - there was an issue with the systems that controlled the repeater functions in the Captain's chair, and even though she had been on the ship for only a couple of days, she was already given the 'hard ones' to solve. She was looking over the diagnostics on a padd as the doors to the Bridge swished open.

Letting her hand drop, she paused as she noticed Lieutenant Vam'wa in front of her. Aina waited to let the Operations Chief out of the lift, and then she -Show quoted text -headed out onto the Bridge of the Carthage. Compared to the Miranda, the Carthage was tiny. Almost small enough to fit in the Miranda's Main Shuttle Bay. The bridge was a lot smaller than the Miranda's, almost claustrophobic.

Moving through the empty bridge, her occupied mind was working on what routines and systems that she would start on for her diagnostic review, she didn't recognise the familiar form that was sitting in the centre seat.

"Excuse me sir?"

Jaal turned to face where the new voice was coming from. He easily recognized who she was. "Miss Mason! Welcome aboard. It's good to see you again."

"Commander Jaxom...uh, Captain Jaxom," Aina face went slightly red with embarrassment at her mistake.

"You know the Midshipman? Sir?" Vam'wa asked curiously.

"Miss Mason is responsible for bringing down one of the biggest Orion Syndicate Cartels in the Gyndine sector," Jaal stated proudly even if a little exaggerating. On the other hand, everyone knew Klingons liked exaggerations.

The fact that Vam'wa wasn't quite sure what to make of her new captain's explanation showed clearly in her expression.

Aina's red face started to glow a little more, at her Captain's exhortations. She looked at the floor with embarrassed smile. "I did a little bit of it," she said quietly. "I smashed the stack with a vanilla spike and shimmed myself in. The security system was besodding before they knew it and the assault team was ready to attack the bad guys."

"Impressive for someone so young," Vam'wa commented.

"Indeed," Jaal added proudly, "You'll have to keep your eye on her, she's a fairly good hacker too."

"Hey," Aina called out - "I promised never to do that again." She swallowed, "Umm, sir."

Jaal gave a slight smile and a chuckle and looked at the Klingon Operations Chief who was looking at Aina carefully. Vam'wa turned to look at her captain, "What in particular am I looking out for?"

"Breaking Mission Security and listening in on a High Level Staff Meeting. And it probably would have gone unnoticed, if Miss Mason hadn't voluntarily admitted that she had done it," explained Jaal with a smirk. He wouldn't admit it, but he was rather proud to have such an enterprising cadet aboard his ship.

The previous look of confusion on Vam'wa's face returned, this time with a vengeance. Aina was kneeling on the floor, and access panel to the back of the captain's chair had been removed. She had decided to stay out of this after her outburst and maybe she would become invisible if she started working.

"Admitted to it?" started Vam'wa.

Jaal gave a slight nod as he stood up and looked over the back of his chair to Aina. Vam'wa followed his gaze and Aina felt a distinct burning on the back of her neck. The captain was enjoying this too much.

But you'd never get Jaal to admit it. He'd taken a liking to Aina because she reminded him of what he was like at her age.

"I...ahhh...listened in and heard that..." Aina looked up at Jaal and then back to Vam'wa, "Another Starfleet Officer was in trouble." She back to Jaal, who just gave a slight nod.

"Well, I...ah...couldn't just not do anything. They were talking about going in and look for information, but it was plain that no-one really understood what they would really go against..." Aina looked up at Jaal and realized who was watching in case she said too much, "except for maybe Captain Jaxom, of course."

"Of course," echoed Jaal with a hint of mischief in his tone.

"I just came from Santa Clara, from Data Assault...and well...I had to help, but the obvious thing would be, how I knew about it. And...well, it sort of proved I could do what was needed," finished Aina.

"See there?" Jaal asked Vam'wa.

"Indeed," the Klingon woman seemed duly impressed. "There's something to be said for fighting with brains and data instead of brute force once in a while. I will be able to expect you to keep this ship's computer systems in the 'very' best working order."

Jaal nodded in agreement to Vam'wa while giving Aina an approving glance, "Yes, I sure you can as well."

Aina nodded, "Yes ma'am, yes sir. I will." She felt a little more confident and happy that both Captain Jaxom and Lieutenant Vam'wa had been so positive. Reaching in, she connected an ODN cable from her padd to a data stream router in the chair. Aina stood up and looked at Jaal sitting in his chair, the captain's chair. "Ummm, excuse me sir?"

"Yes Miss Mason," Jaal returned.

"Sir, I need to get, umm do some checks on the functions of the chair," she said.

Jaal nodded, "Certainly go ahead."

"Umm, it would be best if...I...uh. Thank you sir." Aina reached over and started programming some diagnostic routines from the chair and the data was being collected by the padd.

Jaal give a slight smile, "Miss Mason, would it be more efficient if you were in the seat. The central seat from which the whole ship is commanded."

"No thank you sir, I am fine," returned Aina.

Jaal smiled. He remembered the first time he was offered the center seat as a cadet. He'd been gun-shy as well. "The center chair is nothing to be afraid of ya know. You'll end up sitting in it at one time or another if you stay in Starfleet."

Aina nodded, "Umm...thank you sir."

As Jaal stood up, he straightened his uniform with a tug, and with a an extended arm, offered the center seat to Aina.

With an unsure smile, Aina sat in the seat, she felt the warmth of the chair, but the thing that she felt the most was the responsibility. It was if the chair itself connected her to the ship. Slowly she rubbed the upper corners of the hand rests, as she looked at the main screen, showing a closeup of a part of DS5.

Jaal noticed the slightly distracted expression on Aina's face. It was the same expression everyone gets their first time in 'the chair'. The feeling that sitting in it somehow makes you part of the ship and the weight of responsibility that comes with command.

"Yes sir, sorry." Very quickly, calling up routines and protocol access menus, Aina tested the whole chair. She gave it a full level five diagnostic, with a couple of her own, just to get as much data as possible.

Sliding off the chair as the last diagnostic had finished running, Aina looked at the Jaal, "Thank you Captain."

"So long as my chair keep working the way it should... anytime."

Aina nodded, moving to the back of the chair, she disconnected and gathered her padd from the back. Heading out, she was wondering where she was going to start. Most of the diagnostics were normal, with a couple of glitches here and there. This was going to be a difficult one to pinpoint, just the way she liked them.

Jaal watched the cadet go. She was something else for sure. She also had a lot of potential. He was glad she was aboard his ship.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Eleven: “Shared Faith”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

~*** The Holy City, New Rhea ***~

Across the table Cardinal Simon Matther Pious XIV began talking with Branwen, “So what is it you do on this starship of yours Miss London?” he asked as they tucked into their next course.

"I am a soldier, father. But at the same time I take care of the emotional needs of the crew." Branwen was actually pretty impressed. She was still a very religious woman, and she had never mingled with such high patriarchs of the Church.

He nodded attentively, “A soldier indeed.” he repeated perplexed by the notion that such a gentle creature could possibly raise arms. “Do you find that you are called into action often?” he asked.

"Unfortunately yes, Father. It's usually in defense of those who are weaker. And I always hear mass before I go and confess afterwards. We have a priest on board." She explained.

“So,” he said slightly impressed, “you are a woman of faith?”

"Absolutely. I am a devout Christian, Father. That's what we call the faith; it is very close to yours. And I try to live as a good Christian in everything I do."

He paused for a moment whilst he chewed his food and swallowed. “Is the world beyond our skies in such turmoil that a woman of the cloth must rise up to meet it?” he enquired, a trace of worry behind his aged eyes.

"Father, I'm not a priest. I have been trained to protect the innocents, like an old crusader." she said gently.

He smiled again, one that emitted warmth in abundance and placed his hand on hers, “You do not have to be a Priest to be considered ‘of the cloth’, at least not here.” he explained, “On New Rhea we all abide by the word of God. It is what has kept us going all these years. Our ancestors were abducted and brought here with nothing, nothing but their faith. This world has been built upon that foundation. If you believe in him,” he pointed to the ceiling and the heavens beyond, “then you are of the cloth.” he smiled warmly at her and pulled back his hand. For a moment he seemed taken with her, yet reminded himself of what she was. With a soft smile of regret he returned to his dinner.

After a moment of silence, filled by the flow of conversation around them he turned to address her once more, “What can we expect up there?” he asked quietly prodding his food with his fork absently.

"Good and bad, Father. Like there probably is in your society. I will not hide that truth from you." She was very touched by his words. In her Conservative church there wasn't really a big role for women, and she really liked the society she saw here.

He mulled over her words some as he stared at the remnants on his plate. He was troubled by her, by what she represented. Of course they had known that there were other beings ‘out there’; that was a fact of their existence here. But still, with the arrival of these three it would not be long until others came. He looked up at the faces around him, all deep in conversation, conversations that centered on their guests, he smiled with regret. Just a few days ago they had lived with the possibility that there were more out there, more humans that would one day find them, and, he sighed; more aliens like the ones that had taken his ancestors. But now that possibility was fact. Were his brothers truly ready for the task at hand? Were there enough of them to purify all that had been tainted?

“So tell me more about these great battles in which you have participated.” he enquired in a lighter tone, “My brother was born a warrior.” he cast a glance over his shoulder and indicated the giant talking to Lieutenant Burton. “I have heard all his tales of battles, listened with great interest I might add, I wonder if any of yours stories would appose his ego.”

Branwen thought for a while. "I cannot give many details yet, Father. The First Contact Officials are trained for meeting people from new planets. There are rules for this sort of thing; they are there to make it easier for you. So I had better not tell you too much. I hope you understand, it is nothing personal. I like and respect you a great deal, Father."

He nodded, slightly disgruntled, but he understood. While he wished she could give him all the answers he had questions for, he could sympathize that she was not allowed to expand on detail. He himself was not at liberty to discuss certain issues with her. “Well then perhaps you could tell me more about yourself?”

She looked a little sad. “Mostly father I live for my work. My fiancée… he died just weeks ago. It is difficult for me. I miss him dreadfully. He was the first man who was ever interested in me. I don’t think that will ever happen again.” she looked the other way to hide her emotions.

The Cardinal tilted his head in contemplation. He was silent for some time before he spoke, allowing the woman to deal with her memory of grief without interruption. Gently he took her hand in his. Lowering his voice to a decibel that only she could hear in her position next to him he began, “People are brought into our lives for many reasons Miss London,” he said slowly, the wisdom of age and experience carried in tone of his voice and the expression on his face implied that he knew far too much about loss himself, “and it often seems as if they are taken without one.” His eyes were full of compassion and understanding as he looked upon her and the gulf of pain she carried inside. “It is a difficult time that you face ahead of you. Even your life as a soldier can not prepare you for the pain and guilt that follows such a tragedy. But you must understand that God works in mysterious ways.”

He reached out and gently swept her face with the back of his hand, his index finger coming to rest at the base of her jaw, lifting her chin up slowly so her far off gaze centered on him, “You will be loved again Miss London.” he told her with a steely resolve in his eyes, “For you are not without love, not ever.” he said potentially.

He drew back his hand and smiled with admiration at her as she held herself high without his support. “Remember that. Even in our darkest hour we do not walk alone. God is with you Miss London, always. If, and when, you fall; he will catch you, and carry you. Do not be afraid to grieve for your loss. The Lord has greater plans for your love Miss London, take comfort in that if nothing else. For there is no higher calling than that now, is there?” Once again he smiled gently at her, watching how she reacted to his words, seeing the slight pain relief in her eyes.

"Thank you father." She whispered. It helped, his words helped so much. Like her own priest back on the Galaxy did. This was a wonderful magical place with kind and understanding people. She was so glad they had come here.

Looking around the room he gestured to the musicians to play something up-tempo. Standing up he straightened his coat and tails and held out his hand to her, “Miss London,” he asked bowing from the waist, “Would you care to dance?”

"I would be honored too, Father." She managed a real smile now.

The question was echoed across the table where Dhani sat with Cardinal Albrect Pious XIX. Since, what Dhani had perceived to be an atrocious start to conversation due to the fact that she felt extremely out of her depth, things had turned brighter. As her conversation with ‘Ali’ continued she learned that he was far from a conformist. In fact he was quite liberal and his sense of humor was wicked, literally.

Having discussed the architecture of the City, the abduction of the ancestors, the foundation of religion, all of which Dhani had prompted, much to Albrects delight – he did love the sound of his own voice. He, in turn, had instigated a detailed enquiry to the finer points of just what an engineer did on a Starship, warp theory and ship design. Whilst Dhanishta had endeavored to keep her replies within the boundaries of what she was permitted to divulge, she was excited to be able to discuss her role with someone as keen as Ali.

Smiling brightly she took his hand in response to his gesture. Straightening out her frills as she stood up she placed her napkin on the chair and followed him out onto the dance floor.

TBC…

"Tiny New Office, Pt. I"

John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Ensign, Starfleet Liaison Corps
Diplomatic Officer, U.S.S. Galaxy

&

Mary-Grace Stuart
Yeoman 2nd Class, Starfleet
Aide, Diplomatic Officer, U.S.S. Galaxy

*Federation Embassy, Vulcan & U.S.S. Galaxy*

"Dr. Richardson, we are standing by for transport, sir."

Marine Sergeant Jix Anatol looked at the transporter controls oddly, his right eyebrow slightly arched, before he slowly began pecking at the control pad with his index fingers . The transporter room itself was nestled inside the beautiful Federation Embassy on Vulcan, an old structure that dated dated back to the first days of Human/Vulcan relations in the late 2100s.

John Richardson stood on the transporter pad with his own right eyebrow arched, uncomfortably watching SGT Anatol play with the system's controls. Richardson had a large black duffelbag slung over his left shoulder and held a few choice plaques and framed certificates under his right arm.

Sergeant Anatol didn't need to be a Betazoid to sense that Richardson was feeling uncomfortable. He tried to break the awkwardness with some light conversation.

"So sir...what brings you to the U.S.S . Galaxy?"

Richardson realized the Marine's effort, and responded by displaying a large grin for the frazzled young man.

"That's a great question Sergeant. See, I spent twenty years in the Marine Corps, but decided that -"

The control panel began to make loud chirping noises, and Sergeant Anatol jumped back in shock. He looked up at Richardson apologetically.

"I'm sorry to interrupt sir," said SGT Anatol "and it was really great talking to you, but transport will commence in 5, 4, 3-"

Richardson's view of the Federation Embassy fizzled out of existance, and in it's place was the all-to-familiar view of a Galaxy-class transporter room. Richardson surveyed the room from left to right, remembering vividly the emergency medical treatment he had received in one just like it only 10 years prior...

"Good Morning, Docta. It is a pleasura to have you aboard. My name is Petty Offica 2nd Class Mary-Grace Stuart, sir. "

Startled, John eyes widened, and he jerked his head violently to the right. The sight that met him was a totally unexpected surprise. A beautiful young woman smiled at him, her perfect white teeth gealming under the dim lights of the transporter room. Petty Officer Stuart had her blond hair tied tightly in a bun, and her green eyes gleamed like bright jade stones.

She was tall, maybe 5'8, and she had the lean body of runner. John smiled, and shifted the plaques from under his right arm to his his left. He extended his hand towards Mary Grace.

"A pleasure, Miss Stuart, a pleasure. Did the higher-ups send you to fetch me "

Petty Officer Stuart's smile grew larger as she shook John's hand. Richardson handed Stuart his framed certificates and nodded politely at the transporter chief. The two began walking swiftly out of the cramped transporter room.

"Yes sir." Mary Grace stood a bit taller as she looked up to address Richardson. "I'm your personal Yeoman, sir."

John instantly stopped walking in the middle of the passageway, and looked at the young lady quizzically.

"Really? I have a yeoman?"

Stuart smiled cordially

"Yes sir, all Diplomatic Officas are assigned Yeomen, Docta." She chuckled lightly. "You can't be expected to do all that research alone, sir. Certainly you had one on your last assignment?"

Richardson smiled wearily, and began walking again. He adjusted his uniform coat mid-step, and physically felt his single Ensign pip shine with exceptional brightness. He cleared his throat, and looked at Stuart with his best 'Professor-lecturing-Cadet' face.

"Well, this isn't my first Starfleet assignment, Miss Stuart. I've been in the service for WELL over twenty years, and, um-" Richardson paused mid-sentence, and again stopped walking. John looked around the empty passageway, realizing he had no idea where they were.

"-hey, where in the hack are we going?"

Stuart stopped as walking as well, and looked at Richardson innocently.

"You seemed like you knew where you were going, sir. I was just following you."

They both stood in the empty passageway for a moment, awkwardly silent, before again clearing his throat. He grinned at Petty Officer Stuart and shrugged his shoulders theatrically.

"Well, we should try not to do that again. Let's head to my office and drop some of my stuff off. I do have an office, right?"

"Yes sir, deck 17" Stuart responded.

"Wonderful, lets go." Richardson looked at his Yeoman sympathetically, and was well aware that he wasn't making the best first impression. John decided to start some light conversation.

"So, that's quite an accent you've got there, Miss Stuart. Tennessee?"

Stuart feigned shock, and said "Not Tennessee sir, thank goodness." She then smiled as the two entered the turbolift." Deck 17. I have the pleasure of being born and raised in Oxford, Mississippi, Docta."

John nodded his head in recognition. "Oxford, eh? That's a beautiful town. My cousin actually went to Ole Miss for college-"

"My alma matter, sir" Mary Grace interjected proudly as they exited the lift on deck 17.

"-oh, uh, wonderful." said Richardson. "Yeah, I visited once. Loved the town. I'm actually from Concord, New Hampshire myself. Sort of ironic, isn't it, a 'Yankee' and a 'Rebel' working together like this?"

"Oh yes sir." she responded sarcastically."I wonder if Starfleet'll send ten Yankee Diplomatic Officers to try and overwhelm each Rebel Yeoman. That was the ratio of 'Northern Gentleman' to 'Rebels" during the War of Northern Aggression, right sir?"

John smiled broadly at Stuart. "That was a good answer, Miss Stuart. I really respect your passion-passion that, of course, can never replace historical record."

Stuart sighed loudly and shook her head. They walked in pleasant silence until they reached a set of double sliding doors titled 'Liaison Corps Offices'.

"Welcome to your office, Docta"

To Be Continued...

"We All Have It In Us"

Vir'Dinia (Renora)
Torin (NPC)

Talvalen, The End (AL)

******

Vir'Dinia could feel the general panic in the ship around her, the swarms of people rushing towards the computer core. People trying to find their loved ones within the chaos as the planet slowly began to rapidly die around them…this would be there grave…and for what?

She stalked through the halls of the monastery where several of her fellows were giving silent prayer to, as far as she could see, anyone who would listen. Others were quietly preparing to make their final journey….Vir'Dinia dreamed of such peace.

Torin, her mentor, he had been the one, he had made her promises of the future away from Surak, he had been the one who had convinced her to join this catastrophic voyage, he had brought her into this clan…and she hated him for it!

It was not that she had been lied to, distrust was inherent to their species but she had…done things…for him. She had always believed that the clan was all and she was determined to prove herself, prove that she was worth of her position here, of her place with these pioneers. She had vowed to purge all traces of Surak from Talvalen and in that task she had been highly successful.

The first was the hardest, a member of Surak's followers…all she wanted was the information on where the next meeting was, but she couldn't take the risk that they might betray her mission...she still remembered the look in his eyes as her blade slid between his ribs and the last of his life drained out onto her hands.

She had cried that night but Torin had comforted her, told her that she was serving a higher power and that these acts, while trying, were for the greater good of Talvalen…how could she have been so naïve?

'The Marshal' that was her title…a glorified assassin, nothing more. Her voyage over the last century or so had honed her skills to a fine art but she had lost so much for such a miniscule gain.

She paused in the darkened corridor as another couple hurried past, paying her no attention. Another blast shook the ship as the destabilizing atmosphere caused more stress on the hull. She was going to die here, but she would not be alone…and she would choose when.

She pushed open the doors to Torin's chamber and found the man ready to begin his download , to preserve himself forever in the world.

"Greetings, Child." He spoke in a far away voice, the blindness that had come with his age not seeming to hinder his movements. "I knew you would come, you always were…thorough."

Vir'Dinia stepped to one side; she knew that certain floor panels had been replaced in his quarters, different acoustics so the man could tell where people were and almost how they were moving. "I would have thought that you would have been better protected in that case. If you knew I was coming then you know that you are about to die."

Torin turned to face her, his blind eyes staring out of his withered face. "My dear Vir'Dinia, I have no fear of dying, in a few moments I will be within ship computer core and free to live as an immortal. Your threats are hollow and meaningless, you foolish girl!" His smile spread across his face to show his evil glee at the situation.

Vir'Dinia had tears in her eyes, she felt so hurt and betrayed. She watched as Torin turned away from her began to start the suicide sequence of transferring his being into the ships core.

Vir'Dinia concentrated, pulling every ounce of her being into her body, fortifying her muscles and bones with the power of her mind. Slowly she unsheathed her sword and threw it across the room. The blade sailed like a comet, smashing though the computer console and causing a huge feedback to throw Torin across the room. He landed some ten feet away and twitched as the current left his body.

"You know nothing of Death." Vir'Dinia hissed, the tears in her eyes now dry with the cold blooded rage that ebbed through her. "You have not done what I have done, you have not seen people who knew they were going to die and watched them smile at you as they look into your eyes. In that moment you know you are damned and that they are free."

"It was…for…the greater good…of the clan." Torin gasped his breathing shallow.

"The Clan?! Murder, deceit, censorship; why were these things so necessary if we were righteous and true, what harm could they do to our cause? No, we have followed the piper and he has led us to the gates of oblivion, and you…and I…have prevented anything that may have altered his tune."

"Please…allow me...to live." Torin raised a hand towards the shattered console.

"You…who are without mercy are now pleading for it?" Vir'Dinia asked, stunned. "You shall be judged, dear brother, by your own standards…you have shown no mercy and so you shall receive none."

Vir'Dinia flicked her wrist and an evil, curved blade swung into her hand. She stepped forwards and thrust the dagger into Torin's chest, impaling him though and pinning him to the wooden floor of his chambers.

"You will know the meaning of Death." Scolded Vir'Dinia. "Even if it kills you."

Another blast rocked the ship, she knew her was too frail and frightened to escape, he would die here suffering and alone and he would still only know a fraction of what he had placed on others.

Vir'Dinia now climbed the stone tower from Torin's chambers. She looked out from the top as fires raged and oceans boiled and the sky was thick with screams and debris. She knew she did not belong here, her spirit had made it this far but this was now the end of the line.

She smiled, for she saw, maybe for the first time in her long memory, the sun rising and cutting through the chaos. She felt it was shining just for her. She saw the shockwave coming, caused by the planets orbit finally decaying, held out her arms…and embraced sweet oblivion.

*****

Renora was on her knees, her body was clammy and she was exhausted. The world slowly came into focus and she put out a hand to steady herself. She found one of the bunks in the enlisted crew's quarters. She pulled herself up and clung onto the top bunk…these thought's…these feeling's…what had happened.

She staggered across the room, aiming for the head. Once there she collapsed onto her knees again, the retching as she vomited echoing through he empty room.

The bodies…oh Prophets what had she done?! All those people killed. She looked at her hands but saw nothing but the sweat glistening on them. She stood, a little less shakily this time, and put her head under the faucet, trying to wash off the memories and the sensation and the smell of death and searing skin and screams.

Her hair now sodden, dripping down onto her sweat soaked uniform. She stood to look into the mirror; and she saw that her reflection was not her. She was face to face with a Vulcan woman.

Another strange sensation the woman and Renora met eyes across the vastness of time and space, in the second Renora felt she knew everything about her apparent reflection, and about herself. Everything she had done, everything she was capable of, everything she might do. The Vulcan held out her arms and Renora punched her fist into the mirror letting out a visceral roar that was more like that of a Klingon than a Bajoran. She puched both fists into the shattering picture until it was destroyed.

She slumped to the floor, her back against the wall. Looking down at her hands she saw the broken shards sticking out of her knuckles and her blood seeping between them.

She placed the palms of her hands against her face and began to sob uncontrollably.

Off: Yeesh Allison, never seen such Conduct Unbecoming a Starfleet Officer... wheres JAG when you need them? And here I thought sexual harrassment was eliminated in the 24th Century. lol

Base Officer's Quarters, Starfleet Research and Development, Tokyo

From the darkness of the small room came a resounding groan of disapproval. To an outside observer, it sounded like a nest of Cardassian Voles was being erradicated, rather than a junior officer in Starfleet failing to get up.

Sighing heavily and pulling the Bolian Silk sheets over his head, Ryan blurted out "Oh Christ ok computer, lights! Dim!"

With a dim hum of power ramping up, there was a glow throughout the room. Ryan rolled over onto his back, wrapped up in his sheets, feeling VERY comfortable. One would have imagined that once one graduates Starfleet Academy, one no longer has to wake up at ungodly hours. But, here at Starfleet R & D, that was not the case.

Ryan's section leader, Lieutenant Vetrano, was a slave driver and would tear Ryan's hide if he wasn't reporting in on time. Vetrano was a cocky son of a bitch who thought he was the Great Maker's gift to humanity, or at least to the female population of humanity. How he ever managed to get posted to a weapons research divison was beyond Ryan. Of course, Ryan wasn't sure why he was at R & D either. Two years at Command School, another year at the Wolf 359 School of Advanced Tactical Training and graduating Starfleet Acadmy with Honors, and yet there were no open positions on any high profile starships.

Sure, a few science vessles needed good tactical officers, but with his grades and qualifications, Ryan should have been posted to a big ship like a Sovereign or a Nebula at least.

But here he was in Tokyo, Japan, looking at new ways to improve starship combat effectiveness through ACM, or Advanced Combat Meanuvering... with Lieutenant "AssMouth" as his section leader. Pushing himself up, Ryan slowly walked into the bathroom of his quarters. Taking a quick sonic shower and a shave, he slipped into his uniform trousers and zipped up the top.

Taking a quick moment to look himself over in the mirror, Ryan couldn't help but admire the uniform. He loved the latest rendition of Starfleet uniforms, black with grey shoulders, and division color undertunic. It looked sharp, very militaristic. His solo gold pip glinted every so slightly in the light of the bathroom.

As he walked back out, flexing his arms ever so slightly in a somewhat shallow mannor, he noticed an incoming transmission waiting on his desktop monitor. "Computer, access incoming message authorization Davidson 2-2-Bravo."

On the monitor, the face of Commander Dev appeared. The Tellarite squinted at Ryan through his beady eyes. "Ensign, I have good news, you are shipping out. Pack your things and beam up to the orbital yards by 2200 hours tonight."

Ryan stammerd, barely able to form a sentence. "Wh.. wh... where to sir?"

The Tellarite folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "Your first deep space assignment Ensign. You got the USS Galaxy. Your specific orders and travel information have been uploaded to this terminal. The Galaxy is en route to Vulcan, so you will be billetted abord the USS Endeavor for the trip there."

Ryan smiled slightly at Starfleet's choice of transport to Vulcan. Captain Amasov was a good friend of Ryan's father, and spoke at his sister's funeral. Pulled from his reverree, Dev continued. "I understand your parents maintain a domicile on Vulcan."

"Yes sir, thats correct. Actually they are vacationing there now."

Dev snorted ever so slightly. "Well then, you'll have a chance to visit them before you ship out. The Endeavor should be arriving at Vulcan a day or two before the Galaxy."

"Understood sir."

"Best of luck Ensign, Starfleet out."

With that the channel closed, displaying the specific orders of transfer to Ryan. He whooped in adulation, it was time to start packing!

OOC: WARNING (as per request) Elements of this post may cause you to chuckle.

Also NUDITY herein. (whoa)

"Bathing Beauties"

Starring
Crewman Allison Jimsdottir (Face it....she's cuter than your PC)

DECK 11
GYMNASIUM

~Bubbles are a wonderful thing......~ Alli sighed to herself as she sunk deeper into the frothing warmth of the Deck 11 Jacuzzi. Little superheated bubbles of sizzling goodness jumped and danced across her skin as she stretched and twisted her limbs allowing the aches and pains of everyday life to bubble away into nothingness.

Sonic showers may be good for getting oneself clean, and true the tingling sensation they produced was mildly pleasant, but for sheer warmth and relaxaztion, nothing beat a quick dip in a genuine hot tub .

Of course, there was the unfortunate inconvenience of having to walk all the way down to the Deck 11 Gymnasium with its attached swimming pool complex, but for mere crewmen like Allison who didnt rate a real bathtub like officers did, there wasnt too much other choice.

"C'est la vie....." she sighed lazily allowing the heat to unkink the muscles in her skinny legs. "So young and so full of stress already......"

There had been plenty for the swimsuit-clad girl from Iceland to be stressed about recently.

Foremost of course was the recent and rather undignified transforming of the entire Galaxy crew into Vulcans....Romulans....or whatever.

It had been a trying time for the fashion-conscious girl.

~~Ive had the occasional skin blemish or pimple,~~ she mused, ~~~but having to live 100 years with a GREEN complexion!?~~ She shuddered in spite of the heat.

There was also the three-ring-circus that had popped up over Allison's little pink electronic planner that had been confiscated from her weeks ago. Despite her best efforts to retrieve her property, she had been stonewalled by everybody from Security to Engineering as they struggled to take the tiny device apart and learn its secrets.

As far as Alli was concerned it was nothing more than a govenment conspiracy to read her Diary.

~~~Deep breaths Alli....deep breaths.~~~ she consoled herself to remain calm.

Finally, there was the everpresent frustration in dealing with her boss Mr. James 'Poopy-head' Corgan, Chief of Security. Why the man insisted on chasing around that little blue-skinned skank despite Allisons most strident protests was beyond her.

~~Honestly, the man is just dense.~~~ she huffed, wiping a splash of water from her eyes. ~~He cant see who's standing right in front of him.~~

~~Sometimes I just wish men would open their eyes and see us for who we are. I wish some guy would walk up to me and say....~~

"Hello sweetcakes.....Tell me is it hot in here or is it just you?"

Alli yelped in surprise as the strange voice cut into her thoughts bringing her back to the present.

Lieutenant Bob Blather stood before the Gymnasium Hot Tub with a stupid leering grin staring down at the scrumtious little cupcake lounging in the frothing water before him.

"W...who the zark......" she stammered before he cut her off.

"Blather......Bob Blather." he oozed with a wink, "Just wondering if I told you, you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?"

Alli's jaw dropped, and in spite of herself she crossed her arms protectively over her swimsuit.

Blather had seen enough already though.

From the moment the lithe little sweetness had walked into the gym dressed in naught but a towel and a little blue one-piece, Big Bad Bob had vowed that 'oh yes....she will be mine.'

"So then sweetheart," he began sucking in his gut slightly to emphasize his physique, "Havent see you around these parts before....just stopped in for a swim?"

Recovering her composure, Allison frowned at the disgusting little man who was hovering over her trying to peer down the front of her suit.

Short, dumpy, and with a considerable body hair problem, Bob's skintight Speedo unfortunately did nothing to hide his other rather obvious deficiencies. "Dude....Are you for real " she scoffed.

"Yup baby." Bob smiled and 'posed' ridiculously. "Its all real sweety." he wiggled his pelvis a bit. "And from what I can see of you, you're all real too."

Gasping in shock, Alli immediately sank into the water up to her chin concealing her exposed skin beneath the steaming bubbles. "Like, get out of her pervert!" she squeaked "I'm not that kinda girl."

Bob was not impressed however as he attempted to make out what was underneath the swirling waters. "oh come on. Its been a long time since old Bobby Boy's seen a sweet young thing like you come in here. What do you say I get in the jacuzzi with you and we make our own bubbles?" He leaned forward as if to step into the tub.

"Make our own bubbles?.....what the zark is that supposed to mean." Alli said as he dipped a toe in testing the hot water, "And hey....you cant sit there that spot's already taken."

"Taken?" Bob grinned his shit-eating grin. " Aint nobody here but you, me, and the people over on the parralel bars. Whatsa matter, dont trust yourself with Big Bad Blather?"

Alli watched the man dip his hairy little foot in the jacuzzi again with a strange expression on her face. "Look twinkle toes, I dont know where you get your delusions from, but I'm telling you that spot is taken and you are not welcome."

Bob considered the skinny little girl briefly weighing his options. Still....she was a scrumptious example of creamy skinned goodness that he could not in good conscious pass up.

"Look out sweetums....here comes Papa Bear." he oozed, stepping deep into the bubbling jacuzzi depths.

His foot struck something hard just beneath the surface, and within a half second his brain registered severe burning pain running up his leg in molten rivers of agony.

"Yeeeee-Outch!!!!" he screamed yanking his foot from the bubbles, horrified to see how the sole was reddened and blistered in rapidly developing 3rd degree burns.

"Holeeeee-Crap. Blather swore falling back on his hairy ass clutching his maimed foot. "What the f-ck did i step on!??"

Across the tub, Allison allowed herself a slight smile and shrugged. "I told you that spot was taken.....you just stepped on Mary."

"Mary? Who the frak is Mary?" Blather rolled around on the deck grimacing in pain.

"Like-Duh She's my roomate." Alli rolled her eyes. "Cant a couple of single gals sit in a hot tub alone without some freakazoid coming up and hitting on one of them?"

"But....."

"She's a Horta." Allson explained "A rock Alien from Janus IV that has molten lava for blood.......why do you think I'm sitting all the way over on this side of the tub? The heating coil is on the fritz, so all the bubbles and all the hot water is just coming from Mary's skin temperature."

"You're using a frazzing alien to heat the jacuzzi? Whats it doing hiding under the water?"

"Well duh......she's not hiding she's just sitting there. She's just short. Besides, since when do rocks need to breathe?" Allison leaned forward a bit considering Blather from behind a mocking gaze. "Whats the matter.....has Big bad Bob lost his nerve?" she hunched her shoulders a bit teasing him with a bit of yummy cleavage.

Blather had had enough however and hobbling on his injured hairy foot, beat a quick retreat for the exit.

Behind him unnoticed, a medium sized lump of grey rock crawled its way out of the jacuzzi and sunned itself on the edge of the tub. "Your mother would frown at your teasing him like that luv." an electronically reproduced voice chided Allison from a device on the back of the Horta's body.

"Serves him right for stepping on you like that." Alli replied stretching a bit in the now crsytal clear calm waters. Now that Mary was no longer boiling the water in her immediate vicinity, all the delightful little bubbles had disapeared.

"Perhaps." Mary allowed, steam rising from her superheated body. "Still I fear I shall never understand you humans and your mating rituals.....how wearing a bathing suit excites the male of the species."

Alli scoffed. "This from the alien thats been skinny-dipping all this time, wearing nothing?"

"Im naturally beautiful." the rock sniffed. "It you've got a hardbody like mine luv, you flaunt it."

"The Ways of the World All Will Change" Part 1 of 2 [Backpost]

(Takes place in the weeks following 'Waking')

Chulak Vardek, Prime Engineer (Victor Krieghoff)
Sakonna Vardek, Chulak's Wife (Tarin Iniara)
Sulaed Vardek, Retired Prime Engineer
Maren Vardek, Vardek Family Physician
Hardek Gethok, Engineer
Delvok, Sub-Centurion

****
Talvalen
In the weeks following the Fire
****

Victor:

He had, Victor remembered suddenly as he stared into the mirror at the face he would be wearing for a long, long time, once wondered what it would be like to be green.

This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind at the time.

The doctor, Chulak's... no *his* - he had to think that way now - cousin Maren had finally been persuaded to let him out of bed. He'd gotten up before, but having her permission meant that there weren't monitors and tubes and all of that to get in the way... and there wouldn't be any more arm-waving and raised voices after he did it. He was tired of lying there, looking at the ceiling, looking at the walls, looking at Sakonna and other family members as they came in to check on him, tired of the bland food, tired of the sponge baths, tired of the bedpans, tired of... tired of being tired.

At least Sakonna had sided with him and gotten Maren to stop the damned pain medication. He'd started to worry that he'd become addicted to it as much of it as his cousin had pumped into him, and it made thinking difficult. He'd lost entire days drifting on the mild euphoria the drugs had filled him with, his thoughts drifting away after a few seconds continuity, forcing him to restart a train of thought again and again, only to fall asleep before he could ever really get started.

Once the drugs were gone he found thinking and accessing Chulak's memories to be easier - much easier. There were still gaps, things that he ought to know or be able to do that he was going to have to relearn, but all-in-all it wasn't as bad as he'd feared. He did, though, have a tendency to start speaking in German if he didn't pay attention to what he was saying and make sure to speak slowly and in Vulcan. He had no idea why it was always German - maybe it was because he thought in German or something - but it was. He'd even tried to speak in one of the other languages he knew, just to see, and had gotten nowhere - it always came out in German.

Fortunately everyone seemed to think he'd had a stroke and difficulties like that were normal in such cases. In fact, Maren had seemed actually relieved when he'd explained that he had to think about speaking in Vulcan otherwise it came out as gibberish. Maybe that was the sort of thing that happened to Vulcan stroke victims, or maybe it was just that he could speak at all, and still knew who everyone was and remembered his past. Sakonna had told him Maren was worried that the clot that had caused his stroke - he had to think of it that way, as opposed to 'waking up' - might have done other things, but none of them seemed to be happening, which Victor thought was a good thing. A century of life trapped in an immobile body, with blinking the only way to communicate, was not something that he wanted to experience. He'd be ready for someone to put a phaser to his head in a few months, and after that... well, it was easier to just not think about it.

The damage to his lung would get better, but wouldn't completely heal - Maren thought that it would always be weak. Victor could live with that, given the transplant odds that she'd gone over with him. Even the cheap lung Starfleet had given him in the War was better than the medium success results she'd outlined. The worst-case results didn't bear thinking about. On the plus side, Chulak had believed in keeping fit - not as fit as Victor was used to, but fit - and continued exercise would help him to develop the wind to compensate for some of the damage. He just wouldn't be running any marathons for a long, long time.

Now all he had to do was to learn how to walk again. Just like with speaking, when he wasn't paying attention, and tried to move or react as if he were in his real body instead of Chulak's, things went awry. He still had bruises from the fall he'd taken a few days before when he'd tried to catch a falling chair he'd bumped into and wound up rolling across the floor because his feet went one way and the rest of him went the other. Today, it had taken almost four minutes to cross the room to the bathing chamber, but he'd made it without incident - a first.

He spent some more time looking in the mirror, growing used to the face there. It wasn't, he supposed, unhandsome, although he was hardly a judge of such things. His hair needed cutting, and he needed a shave - he thought he'd leave that last to someone else rather than risk decapitating himself - but other than that, Chulak - no, *he* - wasn't bad looking. His eyes were green, though - that was taking some getting used to. That, and the fact that they seemed to shift in color more than he was used to, the exact shade of green varying with his mood, or changes in the light.

Reflexively, he glanced down, checking to see what kind of equipment he'd inherited along with everything else. He wasn't certain why it mattered - it wasn't as if he'd used his original issue more than once, but it just seemed to be something that he was supposed to do. After a second or two of study Victor decided that while it wasn't what he was used to, no one was likely to laugh at him, either. And, unlike one man he'd worked with back on DS9, women weren't likely to scream and run away when they saw it.

Some embarrassments, even God wasn't prepared to inflict, apparently.

A memory of himself and Sakonna flitted through his mind and he blushed green in the mirror, turning away until he could force the images out of his mind. How was he going to do that? Could he do that? Should he? Sakonna was going to expect it - they were married, after all - but....

Maybe, he realized, God was crueler than he'd thought.

***

Sakonna:

"How is he?"

It took a few moments for the words to register in Sakonna's mind, and another moment more for her to think of a proper response. "Better. He's...better."

"'Better.' Is that it, Sakonna?"

Sakonna looked up, finally stopping the incessant inspection of her hands, and of the mottled bruise which after several days had refused to completely fade. It still colored her hand, barely darker than her natural skin tone, snaking across the flesh like some translucent grub worm. The pain had faded long ago; all that remained now was a dull ache and the persistent bruise, serving for the time being as a reminder of her perceived shortcomings.

What could she tell the woman, Sakonna wondered as her thoughts finally drifted back to the topic at hand. Maren was their family doctor, not her confidante. Would she understand if Sakonna began to detail how she and Chulak's home life had changed since his stroke? Would she be able to prescribe some medicine or offer up some miracle of science that would magically cure her husband? Something that would make him say more than the absolute bare minimum of slowly enunciated words? Something that would make him want to look at her for more than the briefest of moments? Something that would make him want to touch her more often than when they both reached for the same thing at the dinner table?

"He..." She paused, the word hanging in the air between them for one long moment. He's not the man I married, she wanted to say. But now, as it had always been, it seemed she still lacked the courage to come out with it. "His speech is still slow, deliberate," she substituted instead. "Sometimes I hear him speaking in that not-language, but I don't think he knows I can hear him."

Maren nodded slowly as Sakonna spoke, jotting down notes on a nearby data pad. "And are these episodes frequent?"

"About once a day. Sometimes I don't hear it at all. He's also still having some trouble moving around. Sometimes it seems like his mind and his body aren't exactly in agreement." Despite herself, Sakonna chuckled slightly. The sight of her husband repeatedly tripping and falling wasn't very funny, but Sakonna felt like if she didn't laugh just a little bit she might very well go insane. What a lovely pair we would make then, she thought to herself: the crippled engineer and his insane wife.

"Is there anything else?"

Sakonna looked at Maren, realizing that the doctor had paused in her writing and was now peering over those tiny square eyeglasses perched on her nose and looking expectantly at her. Thoughts of Chulak's behavior shift came to mind again and she opened her mouth to speak. She could tell Maren, right? Well, she could, but would Maren understand, or even care? It was no secret that the younger woman occasionally studied and maybe even practiced the teachings of Surak. With her close-cropped short hair, drab grey unisex robes and stoic expression, Maren very much looked the part of a person who had forsaken emotion for the pursuit of logic.

And therefore, it was only logical that she would not be able to fully appreciate the range of emotions that Sakonna felt because of her husband's changes in personality. So when she finally realized that she had been staring back at Maren for several seconds with her mouth hung slightly open, Sakonna merely shook her head. "Those are the major things I've noticed," she replied. At least it wasn't an outright lie, she told herself. She hated lying.

****

Victor:

They weren't afraid of him.

Victor had expected a lot of things from his first day back on what Maren called 'light duty' - but not that; never that. Based on the things he'd found in Chulak's memories, he'd been ready for hostility, concern, indifference, irritation, resignation, and even amusement - but not a lack of fear. In fact, he was so used to people being afraid of him that it had never even occurred to him that they *wouldn't* be afraid... and consequently he'd spent the first half of his first shift back on light duty - which really meant 'sitting at a desk and being called at erratic intervals by Maren to make certain that he was still there' - wondering what was wrong with everyone around him before he'd realized what it was.

They weren't afraid of him.

Chulak's wife and family - no, his wife and family - hadn't reacted to him in that way, but then his own immediate family didn't, so he'd just assumed that familiarity had carried over, or been subsumed in their worry over his 'condition.' But the crew in Engineering... they'd had no reason to be immune or acclimated to his presence. He'd spent almost an hour savoring that thought, trying to really comprehend what that meant. Which, of course, had resulted in a string of Chulak's subordinates - his subordinates now - coming up to him to make certain that he was all right, which had, in turn, only served to reemphasize the whole issue that they weren't afraid of him and started the whole process over again. He supposed that he'd get used to the idea eventually, he'd have to given the length of time he might be trapped living Chulak's life, but for right now, it was still a novelty and he decided to allow himself the luxury of enjoying it.

"Sir?"

Of course, if he kept sitting here like a zombie, they'd never stop checking on him either. Victor looked up at the engineer standing there, Chulak's memories obligingly providing the man's name - Hardek Gethok. "I'm fine, Hardek," he assured the man. "Or is something else wrong?"

The crew and the rest of the ship only knew that he'd damaged a lung fighting the fires, and that was why he'd taken the time off to recover from, as opposed to the stroke that his family thought he'd had. His moments of 'disconnection' and the speed at which he spoke were, he was told, to be explained away as the side-effect of the medications that he was taking to keep infections down and relieve pain. That had sounded reasonable to Victor, although any drug regimen that would have impaired him to that degree was something that he would have refused to take if he were himself and not Chulak. The engineers all seemed to think it was reasonable, though, and that was what was important.

"Yes sir," Hardek offered him a datasheet. "We have a shortage of the circuits necessary to complete the repairs to the agro-deck systems. Specifically the GH-4567-KAL and GH-4570-KAL."

Victor looked at the sheet for a moment as Chulak's memories supplied the specifics on the circuits - they were power relays used in the environmental control systems. There was really only one solution to the problem - even Victor knew that without checking Chulak's memories. He nodded, and looked up, becoming aware that more than a few of the engineers were watching him, waiting to see what he was going to do about the problem. Waiting to see if he was really capable of being the Prime Engineer. Victor wasn't Chulak, but he knew what Chulak had known... and he had two advantages that Chulak had never possessed: one, he knew how to delegate problems; and two, he knew how to manage people, even if he'd never been able to do it back in the Real World

"Then we substitute for the remaining 4567's and 4570's until we can get replacements fabricated." That was the easy part. Victor let Chulak's memories tell him the rest. "Use GH-5124-SDF's to replace them."

Hardek frowned and said hesitantly, "The 5124-SDF's can't handle the load, sir."

Behind Hardek, some of the other engineers were exchanging glances that Victor took to be a mixture of concern that he was giving the man bad advice, and worry that he would deliver one of Chulak's curt dissections of his staff's abilities for questioning him. "Really" Victor asked, knowing that his initial answer wasn't going to help their peace of mind. "Where does it say that?"

"Ummm... In the specifications, sir?" Hardek answered slowly, and a bit timidly.

He'd looked already to see if something met the specifications, which was a plus mark in his column. He didn't know that specifications weren't worth the paper they were written on, though - something that Victor knew was true when it came to weapons and Chulak knew was true about circuits and other parts - which was a minus mark in Chulak's column.

Victor took a breath, noted that at least three engineers winced in anticipation of what he was going to say, and started to speak. "They do say that," he agreed, trying not to look and see what the wincing engineer's faces were doing now. "But you need to understand that beyond a certain point, specifications aren't worth the energy needed to set them on fire. Try and look past individual components, and see the systems the components are part of. For instance, the 4567's and 4570's are rated for a maximum load of 41 and 44 golans over 120 maxams - but the wiring that connects them to the relay regulators only carries a load 35 over 110 - the maximum load for the 5124-SDF's - unless there are only three of the regulators online, carrying the load of all ten." He raised an eyebrow and waited.

Hardek looked at him for a moment, apparently having trouble realizing that he wasn't being chewed out, and then realized abruptly that Chulak was waiting on him. "So...." The light dawned. "We can use the 5124-SDF's, since we'll have ten regulators running."

"Exactly," Victor nodded. Handing the inventory sheet back to Hardek, he added. "Now go make that happen."

Hardek stared. "You want me to...?"

Chulak would have done it himself, but Victor wasn't Chulak. "I could go and do it," he agreed. "But that's a lot of crawling around and wrestling with hatch covers. If I did it," he tapped his chest on the left side, "then I'd be out for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow. That's a poor use of resources, don't you think?"

"Oh." Hardek said quietly. "I mean, yes, yes sir. I'm on my way now sir." He turned and started for the door rapidly, as if afraid he would be penalized for staying.

Victor let him get it open before he spoke. "Hardek," he prompted gently. "I think you'll find it easier to do if you take your kit with you, don't you think?"

The laughter that suddenly erupted was somewhat alien to Chulak's ears, but possibly the sweetest music ever to touch Victor's.

They weren't afraid of him.

"The Ways of the World All Will Change" Part 2 of 2 [Backpost]

(Takes place in the weeks following 'Waking')

Chulak Vardek, Prime Engineer (Victor Krieghoff)
Sakonna Vardek, Chulak's Wife (Tarin Iniara)
Sulaed Vardek, Retired Prime Engineer
Maren Vardek, Vardek Family Physician
Hardek Gethok, Engineer
Delvok, Sub-Centurion

****
Talvalen
In the weeks following the Fire
****

Sakonna:

"I don't know if I can do this."

The words bounced around the empty room, reflecting off the unadorned walls for a split second before fading away altogether. It was an odd acoustic feature of the kitchen, one which normally didn't bother her. Sakonna had long ago ceased to apply much conscious thought to the steps involved in food preparation, so normally when she cooked she was preoccupied with a million other tiny little thoughts. But today...oh, today was different. Today she was completely unable to focus on anything but the food which she was about to prepare.

As she stared at the smooth steel surface of the countertop, Sakonna felt her lip curling slowly upward, an unconscious response to what would be their dinner this evening. So far, she had managed to unwrap it and get it onto the countertop. The thick white paper in which it had been wrapped had almost masked the strange squishy feeling she felt when she held it, and the unfamiliar smell had up until that point been well concealed. But when she had undone the ties that held the package closed, it had slid from the paper and impacted the countertop with a wet slapping sound that had made her jump in surprise.

That had been nearly five minutes ago.

And now here she was, leaning against the opposite countertop, staring at their upcoming meal, a pair of round things she had been told were called "steaks". They bore a vague resemblance to some sort of red marble: a dark, almost crimson base with bits of pink and even white streaked throughout... and to her, they didn't look the least bit appetizing.

How in the name of the Elements was she supposed to eat this?

Sighing, she pushed herself away from the countertop and crossed the kitchen, critically examining the food. From her perspective, it didn't seem worth all the searching and expense. The profession of 'butcher' was an alien one to Sakonna, and it had taken her quite some time to track one down. And as it had turned out, the one she had found had been only one of three aboard the entire ship, and the other two were his apprentices and just happened to have the day off. He'd been surprised by her request, mostly because his clientele aboard the ship was very small, and because those who purchased his goods usually knew what they were talking about. Having never partaken of any sort of animal product in her life, Sakonna of course had had no idea what she was talking about.

At least the man had been friendly and patient with her, she mused. After figuring out what it was she actually wanted, he had given her a pair of what he called a "center cut filet", claiming that it was one of his finest and rarest cuts of "meat". It had a soft, smooth texture, he'd said, and a flavor that was complemented by any number of herbs and spices. He had then given her precise instructions on how to cook the things without turning them into bricks-- something he had specifically warned her about. And through it all, she had listened attentively, smiling and nodding in all the right places, while in the back of her mind she wondered just how she was going to do this. It was what her husband had requested, so somehow she would get through it, but the thought of roasting animal flesh on a grill and then cutting it, putting it in her mouth, then chewing and swallowing it seemed like the last thing she would ever want to do. But somehow she would.

"Not going to cook itself," she muttered at last, poking at one of the small steaks experimentally with a finger. It responded by squishing slightly and oozing a bit of bright red juice onto the counter.

"Oh... now that's really not appetizing."

****

Victor:

His father was staring at him.

It was Chulak's father actually, but, as Victor had to keep reminding himself, it wasn't, not really. Sulaed was his father here and now, as much as Klaus was his father back in the Real World. Regardless of the mental gymnastics involved, though, the issue really boiled down to the thought he'd already had: his father was staring at him.

To be honest, the why was probably more important than the who; and, since Chulak hadn't been a telepath - and wasn't Victor glad of that - the only way that the reason for the staring would be revealed was one or the other of them actually saying something. Since Chulak's memories hinted that his father wasn't likely to say anything about it, especially while the two of them were working out on treadmills, Victor slowed down his pace on the treadmill he was currently jogging on and asked. "Is there something wrong, father?"

Sulaed blinked, slowed his own pace on the treadmill he was using, and nodded. "I... I was talking to Kalled earlier today," he said slowly. "And he..."

Ah, Kalled was one of the Senior Engineers, so this was about the way Victor was acting in Engineering. "...said something to the effect that I wasn't... myself... in Engineering recently?"

"Yes," Sulaed nodded, apparently relieved that Chulak was willing to talk about it openly.

Victor let the treadmill slow to a stop - it wasn't running at top speed anyway, since his control over Chulak's body wasn't perfect yet he felt no need to try anything like that - and stepped off to pick up some water and take a swallow. "That," he finally replied, "would probably be because I'm not."

Sulaed stared at him.

"I can't be," Victor continued before the older man could say anything, "because I'm not the same." He offered Sulaed some water. "I can't do all of the things I used to do the same way I did them any more." He tapped his chest over his left lung after Sulaed took the water. "No more running all over the ship, trying to do everything myself. I'll wind up back in a bed recuperating again, and that's not going to keep the ship running. That means I have to change, have to do things another way." He nodded towards Sulaed. "More, I think, like the way that you did them." Then, although it wasn't strictly true, he added, "That's what I'm trying to do anyway; think what you would do or say and try that."

His father was quiet for a time, and then nodded, relieved - and a little pleased. "Well then, if you have any questions about something, just call me and ask. Trying to change things so suddenly is... difficult."

"I will," Victor promised. There was no danger of breaking that promise; even if Victor knew - intellectually - how to manage people, he'd had little actual experience in doing it. Which, he supposed, would look pretty much the same as if Chulak had abruptly switched from his own management style and was trying to copy his father's to an outside observer. "It's not too bad though, at least not so far. So many other things are all changing at once that one more didn't seem to matter."

"You're still doing all right?" Sulaed asked, concerned. "No more problems?"

There were hundreds of problems, but none of them were anything that Victor thought could be solved by explaining them to Sulaed. Or maybe not; maybe there was one. "I get frustrated because I can't physically do all the things I used to do," he admitted. "I don't fall down all the time while walking, and I don't sound like I'm trying to gargle instead of speak except when I'm very, very tired... but I'm still not as coordinated as I was. I know from talking to Maren that I've got to change the kinds of exercises that I do, switch over to ones that demand more coordination and fine motor control, so I'll be training that as well as doing physical conditioning."

Sulaed thought about that for a moment, nodded as if it made sense to him, and asked, "Is there something that I can do to help?"

"I think so, yes," Victor agreed. "That is, if you don't mind teaching me the family style of ahn-woon?"

Victor had thought about that for a long time, just as he'd thought about what he was doing here and what he *could* do here. He was acting outside the parameters of the communal katra experience, he knew that. And if that were true, then because he wasn't living a predestined past he had the power to change everything, to alter things until the katra fell apart. If he killed someone that wasn't supposed to die at that specific place and time, then that person was gone and the katra collective would either have to adjust to their absence or collapse; and that didn't address what would happen to the person he killed. Would they die as well, since the katra was dying earlier than planned? He couldn't be sure... and he couldn't risk it.

Sulaed's practice of the ahn-woon offered a way to avoid that, though. The weapon could kill, but it wasn't designed for that - it was designed to restrain and capture. Victor wasn't sure that he could fight anyone the way he normally fought and not kill them, but by learning this... he might be able to defend himself without killing someone. If, that is, Chulak's memories were correct and Sulaed's response was the one he considered likely.

His father's smile was almost painful in its sudden joyful intensity. "I'd be glad to, son."

****

Sakonna:

There was some reason she had to be here.

Sakonna slid onto the narrow bench in the narrow room, trying to wrap her brain around that idea. It was an odd one, and one she wasn't wholly comfortable with. Was there a reason she had to be here? She felt almost certain that there was...for after all, why had she had this pressing need to head to the lower decks to satisfy some vague, cryptic desire of her subconscious?

And why to this room of all places?

Situated nearly twenty meters above the main agricultural deck, the observation room was in a similar state of disarray as the deck below. It had been built on a bridge that crossed the center of the expansive deck, and was intended to be a place where supervisors and commanders could look out upon the vast fields and supervise...or command. In truth, Sakonna wasn't quite sure why the bridge with the room had been built. Perhaps so the various levels of agricultural overseers could stand on high and feel self-important, as was usually their way. Or perhaps it had been built simply as an observation area, a place where one could gaze down upon the largest open space aboard the vast ship they called home. Perhaps it existed solely as a place where those who wished to could come and marvel at a room that had taken years, possibly even decades, to bring to life.

Whatever the reason, it now offered the most expansive and uninterrupted view of the destruction that had been wrought upon it, and upon Talvalen. What hadn't been sucked out when Chulak had vented the entire area to space now lay broken, twisted and blackened. Char marks streaked the walls and even the ceiling in places. The moist, black soil which had covered the deck in neat, regular squares of land had all but vanished; now all that remained were scattered bits of earth held together by ruined plants. Several large trees lay uprooted in the wide aisles that crisscrossed the deck, leaving behind them a twisted mass of roots and dried dirt.

Down below, Sakonna could see workers moving between the piles of detritus, slowly trying to return order to the chaos of the deck. Even her unskilled eyes knew that such a process would take a very long time, and in the meantime very many people were going to die. Yes, many would survive, but would it be enough?

And why was she thinking about this now? Was this the reason she had to be here?

No, there had to be something more. Shifting nervously on the bench she looked left, then right, her gaze trailing down each side of the long expanse of bridge that led to this room. The lighting was only at half power, but it was bright enough to show her that she was still alone. Nobody was coming, at least not immediately.

But wasn't she supposed to be meeting someone here? And if so, who was it?

So many things had changed since the fire, and not just between her and Chulak. Something was changing in her as well. Sakonna now found herself experiencing a weird sense of deja-vu, and not the normal I-feel-I've-done-this-all-before sensation. No, this was more of a this-isn't-the-way-it's-supposed-to-happen sensation, which was weird, because how was she to know how life was going to unfold for her? She wasn't supposed to know that...was she?

If that was the case, why did she feel she'd done this all before, but that this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen?

"My lady?"

Startled, Sakonna jumped off the filthy bench, nearly knocking over the solemn-faced centurion standing in the doorway. The polished metal of his helmet gleamed brightly even in the low light, the reflection throwing his face into shadow. "My lady, are you all right?" he continued after a moment.

"Oh...yes, yes I'm fine," she replied, drawing herself up to her full height as she regained her composure. She noticed he was barely half a head taller than her...which made him a little short to be a centurion. Was this the man she was to meet here? He had been a little taller...hadn't he? A name drifted through her mind, and she struggled to hold onto it, but the letters drifted away before she could make sense of them.

"I apologize, but this location is off limits to civilians. Please allow me to escort you to a safer area." The centurion stepped aside, gesturing towards the direction from which he had come.

"I'm sorry; I didn't realize..." She allowed her voice to trail off, affecting the demeanor of a clueless housewife. It had been stupid to come here, she now realized; whatever meeting was to take place here (if such a thing was even going to happen) wasn't going to occur. But there had been someone...someone tall, a bit thin, and his name was...

"Centurion, what is your name?" she asked, careful to keep her voice level.

The man hesitated for the briefest of moments before replying. "Delvok, ma'am. Sub-Centurion Delvok."

No, that hadn't been the name...it had been shorter, more fluid than that. She tried one last time to grasp it, but the thought faded into the blackness. She sighed inwardly, wondering if perhaps she really was going insane. "Thank you, Sub-Centurion. Please, lead the way."

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Twelve: “The Dance”

Captain Darren M’Kantu – Captain of the USS Galaxy
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton – Chief Medical Officer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer
Ms Livana Ulani – FCO Internal Investigations Rep

~*** The Holy City, New Rhea ***~

Smiling brightly she took his hand in response to his gesture. Straightening out her frills as she stood up she placed her napkin on the chair and followed him out onto the dance floor.

“Now that I have heard what you can do with your hands, let’s see what you can do with your feet, shall we?” he said with a sly wink.

Dhani bowed her head slightly with embarrassment at the innuendo.

“Come, come now Miss Eshe.” he said as he lead them into the centre of the dance floor and took up the formal posture of the ‘couples dance’; one hand behind his back, the other held aloft, “Don’t be shy.” he smiled at her again, there was a twinkle in his eye as the corners of his lips curled into a lopsided grin before he hastily replaced his expression with a much more serious one, “I’m sure a talented Engineer such as yourself knows how to dance?” he covered up his innuendo so perfectly that if Dhani hadn’t been half Betazoid she would have begun to question her own ‘dirty’ mind.

Taking his hand, she curtsied slowly, bowing her head slightly as she did. “As a matter of fact I’m quite good on my feet.” she informed him as he took the lead in time with the music. The style of dance was similar to several that she had studied on Earth. Her eyes darted around the room glancing at the feet of the others on the floor memorizing their steps and how they held their posture. She noted how they all kept their distance from each other, only palms touching. Encircling each other, clockwise and then anticlockwise, curtsy…

“Oh really?” he inquired snidely, throwing her into an unexpected twirl.

Gasping for air as he pulled her back into his arms with force she couldn’t help but smile up at him slightly giddy. His frame was firm and his hold on her solid. She felt secure in his grasp, and even though his words were harsh she could see the smile behind his eyes.

“Yes.” she replied bluntly once she had gathered enough oxygen to breath. “I studied marital arts since the age of four,” she began as he moved her swiftly, expertly across the dance floor, so effortlessly that it appeared as if they were gliding across it, “from several species.” she added. “When I attended the academy I took up gymnastics and contemporary dance in addition to training others in martial arts.” she informed him with a smug smile of her own as he whisked her round once more, her tousled hair wrapping around her face as she spun.

He smiled at her as he once more pulled her in from the twirl. His stiff upper-lip façade cracking slightly as he regarded, with repressed admiration, at just how well she handled herself. He had never met a woman that could stand his pace on the dance floor, or hold her own in a debate, or actually respond with the slightest amount of intelligence. His eyebrows raised slightly as a mischievous glint lit up his features, “I take it by that statement that you are quite flexible Miss Eshe” he said penetrating her with his icy blue eyes.

Dhanishta looked back into his face slightly shocked by that statement, her brow creased as she stared into his eyes, searching for the double meaning.

He smirked at her, throwing her into another twirl, faster than the last, a slight aggression to it. And then he stopped her dead, pulled her close so that her body was pressed up against his and she could feel his breath across her exposed skin. Startled by his actions her breath caught in her throat she felt him lean forward, her back arching as she moved in reaction. Gently he lowered her, till her long dark hair touched the ground and gathered there.

Understanding, yet only in part, Dhanishta let her hand slip from his shoulder and gracefully extended out above her head in line with her body, her chin followed till her neck was arched back, her eyes level with the leg of a table behind them.

“Very good Miss Eshe.” His silky voice flowed across her neck, the warmth of his breath lingering in the mass of curls tucked behind her ear. Holding her in that position slightly longer than necessary, and desired for that matter, he looked up and said in a slightly louder voice for the orchestras benefit as well as hers; “Now for the Alaz Trot!!”

For the remainder of dessert and the subsequent horror of after dinner 'coffee' Kimberly managed an occasional polite comment in reply to questions directed to her, mainly though her mind was trying to find a tactful way out of dancing. However, by the time the servers had begun clearing away the remains of dinner and people had begun congregating on the far side of the hall where a clear dance area had been left she couldn't for the life of her think of one reasonable excuse to get out of it. As the prince stood she smiled wanly and stood as well.

Having lingered a little longer at the table than most Kimberly found herself walking slowly through the small groups of people that had gathered. Pausing once in a while to politely answer a question or be introduced to someone she still found herself though inching towards the dancers, a mixture of lively tunes and slow numbers that she had absolutely no desire nor idea how to dance to.

Finally, after several moments and three different tunes she found herself looking over the colourfully dressed dancers, weaving around each other and moving to the music as if born to it. Looking down at her two left dancing feet Kimberly sighed, there were just some things she had never really mastered, giver her a client to counsel, injury to heal or shuttle to fly and she was in her element, Diplomacy and Dancing, ~ This is wrong! ~ she muttered as she heard the melody end and felt her arm lifted as the prince, without even asking gently eased her on to the floor.

“I should warn you,” she admitted finally as he placed one hand on her shoulder, “dancing is a skill I’ve never really mastered.”

“Do not worry Kimberly, all you must do is follow where I lead.” He replied smiling at her.

Wondering whether he meant more than he actually said there Kimberly placed her arms, with some difficulty around her dance partner and let herself be led as the next piece, fortunately a slow one started up. "So," she said a little awkwardly as she tried to follow him around and not step on his huge feet, "How is everyone taking our arrival, what is the feeling from the general population? Is everyone taking our arrival well?" she asked casually.

“The general population have accepted the news. Since my father has said this is how it is, that is what they accept. As it has always been.” sounding confident and assured Peter maneuvered himself and Kimberly around the dance floor with an ease that she would have assumed difficult for one of his size.

Looking up at his face, no mean feat considering how close she was and how tall he was Kimberly was surprised to see him gazing down at her with a very odd smile on his face. Looking away she cast her eye about the room trying to find Dhani or Branwen, hoping to catch an eye and silently plead for a rescue. There was something about the prince that unnerved her, the look in his eye, and the tone of his voice. ~ The sooner we get off this rock the happier I’ll be. ~ she declared silently.

Letting herself be led around the dance floor Kimberly tried to make polite conversation a few more times, but his attention seemed light years away, and his answers were vague and brief, and every time she risked whiplash to look up she saw his face gazing down at hers.

“Do you like our world?” Peter asked a little later, still guiding her slowly around the dance floor. With the exception of a one dance that she had declined to emulate he had kept her dancing now for over twenty minutes, and every time someone else had approached and asked for a moment with her he had simply glared at them, no matter her reply, until they had left, typically stuttering an apology.

“From the little I’ve seen your world seems a pleasant place,” she admitted. The people had been welcoming, the atmosphere was generally quiet and sedate, and the hospitality definitely first rate.

“Excellent, perhaps we could persuade you all to spend a little more time with us?” He asked, hope evident in his voice.

Shaking her head and trying her best to sound regretful, “I’m sorry, but I have a prior arrangement to honor, meeting your ship and people, while most definitely worthwhile has made me late. After your father presents us with the formal invitations for the Federation diplomats tomorrow me and my friends will have to say our farewells I’m afraid.” Looking up again Kimberly saw his face flicker momentarily, a strange expression crossing it before he assumed a somewhat downcast expression.

“Will you return?” he enquired, sounding almost hopeful.

“That will depend on where our starship is assigned next,” she admitted, “It may be some time before we’re back this way again.”

Simply nodding at the news he ceased gazing down at Kimberly and looked thoughtful, gazing into the distance for a while as he continued to dance slowly.

Glad to have his eyes off her for a while Kimberly sighed and tried to relax. ~ It’s going to be a long evening! ~

***USS Galaxy, Conference Room 3***

“Dinner was, well, dinner. There were speeches by over half a dozen people, and then I was asked to say a few words.” Looking mildly terrified at the memory of having to get up and talk before all those people she swallowed and continued, “I spoke briefly,” ~ For perhaps the first time in my life! ~ she added silently, “and then we had dinner. We gleaned a little more information about New Rhea during dinner.”

“Each of us managed to spend time chatting with a variety of people, from the cardinal who was the head of their planetary council to officers in their, army I suppose would come closest.” Thinking back to the conversations that she had endured over and after dinner she sighed, “they were the usual questions you’d expect really, almost like something out of a first contact class at the Academy, ‘What’s it like out there’, ‘Who else is out there?’ ‘Where is Earth?’ was also a big one, as well as ‘What is Earth like today?’, since they were kidnapped from Earth a long time ago I guess that one was sorta to be expected.”

“And what may I ask did you tell them about Earth?” Livana asked in a deceptively soft tone.

“Me, as little as possible,” Kimberly admitted, “I kept reminding myself of something Professor Hauger told me at the Academy, ‘When unsure what to say, just say the Minimum Necessary Thing’,” shrugging, “so I kept it brief, told them the world was peaceful now compared to centuries ago, and the seat of the Federation government.”

“Anyway, after dinner, was a big social function and everyone there wanted to meet the off worlders. During the whole thing I found myself followed around by one of the pope’s sons. For some reason, this massive guy, and when I say massive I mean it, he was over seven and a half feet tall, this guy had taken a liking to me, I couldn’t shake him all evening.” Still remembering the look on his face every time she turned around, and the look of happiness when she ‘finally’ agreed to dance with him she shuddered lightly, ~ Next time, run away! ~ she reminded herself. Shaking her head she continued.

“There was one incident at dinner though that really spoilt the evening,” Turning to Dhanishta Kimberly raised an eyebrow, “Turns out they’re not that fond of the idea of aliens among them,” she added cryptically.

TBC…

"Sorry Seems To Be The Easiest Word"

(Occurs after departing Vulcan)

Principle Characters

Ella Grey
Victor Krieghoff

***
Arboretum
USS Galaxy

She found him in the arboretum, not that she had been looking for him.

For a moment Ella thought about just walking away, pretend she'd never seen him -never even met him maybe, but then she shrugged. Life was too damned short or maybe her ability to pretend just wasn't what it used to be.

She waved hello - not overly cheerful or too timid - and then sat beside him. ~~ I'm always surprised to see you in here. But then again it makes perfect sense. How are you? ~~

"Here. Alive. Purportedly sane." That last might be an exaggeration, but Victor decided to go with it. "Better than many of the crew, I suppose. Is there something I can do for you?"

~~ I want to talk ~~ Ella replied. ~~ I know I don't deserve it after the way I treated you and ... I'm still sorry, by the way, not that you believe me ... but I need to talk to someone. And there's no one else to talk to before you ask. ~~

She was wiggling her fingers and not really talking, but this didn't seem like the time to mention that. Besides, he could understand her, and what more did anyone really want out of speech? "Talk about what?"

~~It's just I .. ~~ She paused and looked at him critically. ~~You look tired. Have you had a hard time adjusting? I think the Counseling department is flooded with calls right now but I know Branwen would make some time for you.~~

Was he tired? Victor thought about that. He'd spent a lifetime living someone else's life, had been married, had children... and watched his family all die in the end. That was probably enough to make anyone tired, but he didn't feel tired, just... old. Talking about it to Lieutenant London though... now that would be tiring. Too tiring. And she'd file a report and people would be poking around inside his head, looking at Chulak and trying to figure out what happened, and.... No, he wasn't going through that. "I've already talked to the Vulcan mystics, the Starfleet and Vulcan counselors, the Starfleet, Vulcan and Romulan historians, and three religious officials." And lied to every one of them. "I think that's enough for anyone."

~~Yes, you've been very through.~~ Ella signed. She was quiet for a moment, looking at her hands and feeling like they were empty. Maybe she could replicate herself a knife later. ~~It's strange. Remembering this other life and trying to separate that it isn't ... wasn't mine.~~

She frowned. ~~Given the life she lead, I feel almost ... at peace with the things that I've done. I'm not sure that's such a good thing.~~

"She wasn't you," Victor observed quietly. "No matter what it feels like, you have to keep remembering that. She may have been *like* you in some way - maybe some way that makes you uncomfortable - but at least some part of you was enough like her to resonate and lead to her selecting you." He shrugged. "At least that's what everyone keeps telling me."

~~Yeah, I've heard that too ~~ Ella replied with a "roll" of her fingers. ~~I guess I should be thankful that I drew assassin and not a garbage man or something worse.~~

"Would that really have been worse?"

~~Can you really imagine these hands having to touch garbage?~~ The ex-engineer exclaimed with wide eyes. ~I mean yuck, Tiger.~~

"They weren't your hands," he corrected. "They were the hands of someone that died centuries before you were born." He looked out through the large windows at the stars streaming by. "I think that the counselors were probably right when they said that we just borrowed them for awhile."

Ella gave a noncommittal type of nod. They may not have been her hands but they had felt like them all the same. She could close her eyes and feel the knives in them - the metal warmed by her touch, the grip of the knife....

She sighed; as always it didn't sound human. Eela had been happy towards the end and Ella missed that. ~~Would it be too personal to ask who you were?~~

Would it? Victor pondered that. Did he want to share any part of his life as Chulak with anyone? Whose face had the woman sitting next to him worn? An assassin, she'd said, which meant that she'd not been someone that Chulak had known well. Should he tell her the truth? He hadn't told anyone yet except Angelienia, and she'd agreed that telling the truth would mean tests and reassignment for him, something neither of them wanted. "The katra I was possessed by... fell apart. It didn't survive to be transferred." That wasn't a lie. "The memories that haven't faded tell me that I was an engineer." That wasn't a lie either. It felt like one though.

~~Really?~~ Ella replied with interest. ~~Do you remember what kind of engine they used, what kind of power source?~~ She smiled and decided to stop before she really started getting technical. ~~A Romulan ship would have been fun to get my hands on. As it is, I remember everything about Eela's profession but I think if I tried any of that fancy knife throwing I'd just end up hurting myself.~~

Eela? She'd been Eela? Memories, both Chulak's and Victor's, flitted through his mind; scenes of the slim female assassin standing over a succession of individuals that had tried to kill them both. That explained some things, and made her comments about being an assassin more comprehensible, but... she'd know Chulak. Should he... no. One person sharing the secret was already enough. Don't talk about Chulak, talk about engines - that was safe.

"The ship used a type of ion drive; something that we would call..." Victor tried to translate the terms correctly "...dual-field magnetoplasmadynamic thrusters for the main drive. Huge ones, powered by an array of fusion reactors, with both applied -field and self-field magnetic field generators. It switched between then them depending on the needs of the ship; the applied filed generators were for slower, in-system maneuvering, and the self-field generators were to accelerate the ship to interstellar travel speeds. There were chemical rockets for actual landing and launching and some orbital maneuvers and the ship had a magnetic 'scoop' field to draw in stray ions and space matter for use as fuel for both the reactors and the ion drives." He stopped and sighed. "I obviously remembered that, anyway."

~~Sounds like a real beast,~~ Ella replied, although it also sounded like a challenge and that in turn sounded like fun. ~~It must have been hard for you when she was on fire.~~

"No, it handled better than you'd think," Victor returned, as memories of the fire slipped through Victor's mind and he nodded slowly. "The fire... I remember... We tried so hard to beat it, tried so many things and then invented a few more. And when that wasn't enough, when everything else failed... I remember him looking at the fire at the end, roaring through the vents and corridors on it's way out into space, and thinking that the rush of venting atmosphere and fire as it passed out over the hull looked like a dragon set free to soar over the hull and into space."

Ella smiled warmly. ~~I always had a soft spot for Chulak.~~ She shrugged at Victor's surprise - a blink - and then explained that she had always suspected that the Romulan would only be able to wax poetic when discussing engineering or the ship.

Victor frowned, trying to decide what to say that wouldn't reveal that he remembered everything as opposed to the almost nothing he'd told everyone else. "Did you... strangle someone with... a pink bow? Or something like that?" he asked finally. "I remember a pink bow and a dead man."

She shook her head. ~~It was attached to the knife I threw. Like a present. I think I ... she had a little crush on him, not that she understood it.~~ The pilot frowned. ~~She was messed up. For a long time.~~

"How did things turn out for her? Do you remember that?" Victor hoped that she'd found some measure of happiness - despite the tragic ending, he knew that he had, and he wouldn't wish anything less for Grey, despite the way they'd turned out.

~~I do. They turned out okay.~~ Ella replied. ~~I had just started a relationship with this guy. ~~ She smiled at that. ~~It was nice. The nightmares had stopped by then and Loras had stopped screaming in my head...~~

Ella stopped. ~~Sorry, that probably all sounds like gibberish to you. Tell me what happened to Chulak. How did he fall apart?~~

That part he was safe on. "I think I killed him," Victor said slowly, "just like I killed the Diparthu that tried to possess me all those months ago. When everything was said and done, I don't think that Chulak's katra was strong enough to hold itself together inside my mind; he wasn't supposed to be there, so I... tore him apart. Like tissue paper. There was nothing left of him; just memories." Both his and Chulak's.

There really wasn't much one could say to that. Ella made a fist and then rotated her hand over her heart clockwise.

Victor shrugged. "I'm sorry too. He wasn't the best person to walk the universe, but he didn't deserve to be just... eradicated... like that."

"Not many people do," Ella said. "I'll miss him."

"He would find that odd, I think. The memories I still have tell me that he found anything but engineering topics odd." Victor looked at the stars for a moment. "I think he might appreciate it though, for whatever that's worth."

"Thanks for letting me talk to you, Victor."

Considering that they hadn't said anything other than casual conversation, Victor wasn't sure that he understood how that had helped. Perhaps it was because he'd given her a connection to the memories she had remaining from Eela. Maybe it had been because she'd just talked to someone that she'd known before. Perhaps it was because of something else. He was better at reading people now - a century of living another man's life, where people weren't afraid of him and he could talk to them had made that easy for him - but he still wasn't certain why she thought that this had helped. He thought that he ought to offer some real advice, though, since he actually knew how.

"You're welcome," he finally responded without looking away from the stars. "I know this isn't easy for everyone; we're all walking on eggshells, trying not to step too hard for fear something - or someone - will break. But you'll get past this. The memories will fade, and become a part of you, like your own memories: some good, some bad, most just sort of there. Just remember that it's all right to scream and jump up and down and wave your arms if you need to. Holding things inside won't do anything but make things slower to return to what passes for normal around here."

She wanted to ask what she should do when holding things inside was, for her - for most people she imagined, what passed for normal but decided instead to focus on Victor. He had changed a bit from this ordeal, it wasn't very noticeable but she hoped it was for the better. It seemed to be.

Ella gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ~~Don't forget to take your own advice, Tiger.~~

Victor frowned at her, both in response to the unexpected kiss and the advice. "Don't be silly," he replied. "Everyone knows that people that give advice can't take it. Have you ever seen a happy, well-adjusted Counselor?"

Ella blinked and then laughed. "Silly? The word 'silly' has entered his vocabulary. What an amazing thing."

"It's always been there - I just didn't use it often."

She liked the change in him for the most part but it made her sad that she wasn't close enough to him to see it more often.

"Take care, Victor," Ella said with a smile.

"You too," he nodded. "And think about the arm-waving and all that. You might find it helps."

"Sure," Ella replied as she left.

Victor listened to her go, wondering with each footstep if she knew that he'd lied to her, that he recalled every word of every conversation between Eela and Chulak, and wondering if each step would be the one where she turned and called him a liar. What would he say then? What would he do? What could he do? What should he do? Why was this so much harder than he'd thought it would be? Was it because he wasn't broken anymore? Was it because he was - finally - whole inside? Was it... was that the door opening?

"Incidentally," Ella said as she stuck her head through the doorway. "I'm still sorry." And then she was gone.

"Getting To Know The Carthage... and other things"

Captain Jaal Jaxom
Commander Arel Smith
Lieutenant Vam'wa (npc)

==USS Carthage, Captain's Ready Room==

The new Trill captain was getting the latest update on the refit schedule the Carthage was undergoing... 'and' listening to the latest gripes from his Klingon Operations Manger.

"... Well, we can just make the best of what we have for now," Jaal was telling Vam'wa when the door chime rang. "C'mon in."

'What now?' the Trill thought. It seemed to be Vam'wa and Soduk verses the rest of the senior staff. The group had been together only three weeks and they were still getting the feel for each other. They were trying, but they weren't quite the well oiled and experienced machine that the Miranda's staff had been. Jaal was surprised he was struggling so hard to get used to that fact.

"There's no reasoning with the ko'tal," Arel announced as she stormed into the office. "Permission to reason with more force, Captain." She looked over at the Klingon woman and scowled. "And don't get me started with you, Vam'wa."

The Klingon woman stared d'k tahgs at Commander Smith but managed to hold her tongue for the time being. It would do no good to anger the new captain.

Jaal was oblivious to the looks Vam'wa was giving Arel as he asked her, "Uh, just who are we using this extra force on? And why?" Having Commander Smith as an executive officer had turned out to be extremely interesting.

"That smegging idiot you have for a Security Chief," The former security officer spat. "He's a complete moron."

"And I suppose 'you' know how to be a better one?" Vam'wa couldn't hold her tongue anymore. She had to say something. The woman was just being a crybaby.

Arel gave a tight smile and then started to move towards the Klingon.

Jaal pinched his nose before answering. "Arel, stop," he said just as his XO was about to let Vam'wa 'have it'.

"Lieutenant," Jaal addressed Vam'wa, "Commander Smith was the Miranda's security chief before being assigned here. So, yes, she does know a thing or twenty about the job. I'd also be willing to bet a good chunk of latinum she knows more about it than Ensign Allen. Now, would care to make any other stupid remarks?"

Vam'wa looked properly chastised but no less angry.

"You're dismissed for now Lieutenant. Have a good day," Jaal told the Klingon woman.

"Aye Captain," Vam'wa said through gritted teeth. She spun abruptly and stalked out the door.

Jaal shook his head, "Nice bunch so far, eh?"

Arel surprised him by laughing. "I like her. And her sister. I may have to beat the shit out of them before this is over but they're good officers." She then crossed her arms. "Your security chief however ..."

"Don't hold back Arel. Tell me how you really feel," Jaal chided as he stood and headed for his replicator for a coffee refill. Once that was done he walked back and sat on the sofa near the windows of the room.

"I will."

The Trill shook his head and laughed, "Ya know, I never dreamed of you being my exec. I was totally surprised to find out."

"It's not something I would have thought myself," Arel replied. She wasn't exactly thrilled about the placement herself but decided that it was something she'd keep to herself. Jaal was going to make a good captain; she just didn't want to be anyone's executive officer. "I hope it wasn't an unpleasent surprise."

"Not at all," Jaal replied emphatically, "One of the best surprises I've had of late." He paused and rubbed his chin in though, "There's others of our rank that should have gotten their own ship too... " He wondered if Arel would get the hint at where his conversation was leading. Admittedly, he was curious as to why most of the Miranda's senior staff didn't have their own ship's by now. Arel's vocabulary, unfortunately, didn't include words like 'subtle' or 'hinting.' "Oh?"

Jaal laughed remembering how subtle hinting careened right over Arel's head. "Well, for example, Spa'an could have his own ship, Lamar, Dawson, hell, even Mitchell had his own ship for a while. I'm sure he could get another."

"Maybe they got offered ships and turned them down," Arel said with a shrug. "Or maybe Starfleet has other plans for them. Either way it doesn't mean that you shouldn't have a ship, Captain."

Jaal laughed again, "I 'still' have to get used to being called that."

"Mating Season"

By Petty Officer 2nd Class Benedict "Max" Maxwell,
NCOIC Emergency Medical Response Team (Current Status: Prisoner #8813-E419M25)
USS Galaxy

Crew Quarters, U.S.S. Nobel Medical Ship

"This is the best movie I've ever seen," Crewman Norman had proclaimed. "You've got to see it!" Crewman Benedict "Max" Maxwell had grudgingly taken the holo-vid and made a note to take a look at it after the shift. They were treating a group of colonists who had somehow contracted an opportunistic infection which caused large amounts of pus to be secreted through several orifices. Max had it in mind to have a very long sonic shower with the setting on disinfect/sterilize.

After his double shift was over and he performed said task of showering, he headed down to the ship's lounge and had a snack with his Jack Daniels. He toyed with his drink for better than a half hour before he decided to head down to his quarters and take a look at this 'great' movie.

He scanned the case that the holo-vid came in. 'Mating Season' was the title which was inscribed. Max already had a mild sense of dread about what he was about to watch. In fact, he had put the movie down and got changed for bed. He had another double shift coming up and needed his rest.

As he laid in bed, he started looking towards the table where the movie was sitting. None of his bunk mates were around as they all worked the Alpha and Beta shifts. He was the only one of them that worked a Gamma/Delta double, and rather enjoyed the privacy (what little there was) he got out of the deal. Which is why he gave in to the curiosity that was by this point strangling him to check out 'Mating Season'.

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

Five minutes later...

Satisfied that he had the requisite amount of popcorn, caffeinated beverage, and his blanket just in case he fell asleep on the couch, he tapped the remote control to start the movie. Apparently, 'Mating Season' was an old Terran horror flick that was centered on strange mutated insects that took human form and forcefully mated with humans to propagate their species.

Max was fascinated with the story, even found it humorous in it's near absurdity. It was approximately ninety minutes long and full of action, with the culminating event being the complete and utter destruction of their 'hive'. Taking the movie out of the player, Max ordered up a warm milk from the replicator, drank it and headed back to his bed. About five minutes later, he shot up bolt right as he heard a buzzing sound...much like that of an insect flying around. After a cursory check around the room, he returned to bed and chalked it up to his imagination.

A couple of minutes later, he heard the buzzing sound again. "Computer, lights," he ordered. Again, nothing was present in his field of view, but the buzzing sound continued. He got up, grabbed the first blunt object he could find, and stalked about the room, ready to kill the first thing that wasn't recognizable as a member of the ship's crew. As he neared the wall directly behind one of the couches, the buzzing sound got louder, then stopped. Max carefully pulled back the couch and was rewarded with a sudden sizzle and snap sound that made him jump back.

He looked at the source of the offending sounds and noticed that it was an access panel with intermittent flashes, which corresponded with the buzzing sound that had returned. Sighing, he tapped his CommBadge. "Maxwell to Engineering," he called out.

"Munoz, here," came the response after a moment.

"Could you send someone up to my quarters to check out an access panel with a possible malfunction?"

"Sure, I'm free," she said.

About ten minutes later, Crewman Yasmin Munoz entered his quarters and nodded in greeting before getting right to work. She opened up the access panel and after a few waves of her engineering tricorder, turned to present Max with the results. "It seems that you've got some kind of parasitic infection in here that caused the circuitry in here to malfunction."

"What kind of parasitic infection," Max asked, curious.

"Well I don't know how," Munoz replied, "but a bunch of Altairean Tiger Flies have somehow made a nest here and fouled up the works. I can have this cleared out in about ten minutes."

"Of all the weirdest things," he said out loud.

off: I think this technically takes place on Miranda before everyone leaves/transfers for Galaxy/Atlantis/DS5

"Party Time [excellent!]" - part one

Gwen
Anjoli
Roger
Arel
Cat
Zhi'dar
Shiarrael
Katara
TJ
Jacen
Janeen
Spa'an

****

After an hour in front of the mirror Gwendolyn finally declared herself ready. Make up was applied, her hair was piled on top of her head, and she had selected a dress, shoes and accessories.

"You are running late as usual!" She yelled at the closed bathroom door and Gwen made her way back to the living room. Guests would begin arriving any moment now.

Anjoli stuck her head out of another room. She was already dressed and coiffed for the extravaganza.

"Why are you yelling at Spa'an? He just got in there!"

She giggled. "Sorry Spa'an." Poor guy she thought, it wasn't easy on him. "I just hope they have not hired male strippers, or female strippers. But our friends are classy, right? Do you know if they are going to separate us? They wouldn't even tell me that much, lousy lot." Gwendolyn grumbled.

Anjoli held up her hands in surrender. She was wearing a clingy dress that seemed to be made of metallic dragon scales. The scales glittered in the light in iridescent patterns. Her toned back was exposed save for thin linking chains.

"I am oblivious to all plans. As for our friends being classy....what does that have to do with the sweet debaucheries for tonight? Class usually means restraint...and tonight, I have no restraint at all....."

"Speak for yourself. I like to remain in control at all times. And I can't drink alcohol, doesn't make it more fun. Maybe I should just stay home. These things make me very nervous."

Anjoli shook her head ruefully at her partner's attitude.

"Bah! I won't be drinking alcohol either, because I want to remember all the fun I'm going to have......"

She moved over to Gwen and softly chucked under her chin.

"As for you and your legendary grip on your attitude.....I do so enjoy robbing you of that from time to time. But remember, tonight your friends are coming to have fun with you. It would be rude not to indulge them this one special time."

"All right I will promise to behave. Good thing I am an excellent actress." Her eyes were starting to twinkle again.

Anjoli went and poured a large goblet of something from a bottle.

"I don't want you to behave, Khadamia. Break the rules, this one time. It will surely be your last chance."

She took a sip and made a sour face.

"What is this?" and she handed it over to Gwen.

"Prune juice. You know I can't have anything with alcohol right now. And I'm not going to break that rule."

Anjoli made a sound like a cat coughing up a hair ball.

"Prune juice? If I wanted to be regular, I would bleach my skin and throw out my wardrobe...."

The emerald woman gave Gwen a slightly pleading look.

"Gwen, I love you with the intensity of a thousand stars....and I would never ask you to do anything tonight that would be dangerous in any way, shape, or form. I just want you to enjoy the camaraderie of your friends on your special night. If we want sticks in the mud, we'd invite more Vulcans."

"They are late!" She said looking at the clock. "I'm just a bit frightened for the babies. We haven't even told anybody yet, although I did tell the Commodore."

"You did?" Anjoli said, reaching for a more promising bottle of beverage than that vile prune juice. This time, she took a pull directly from the bottle.

"Yes, I could see in her eyes that she was already guessing, so it was the polite thing to do." She did not mention the other facts that had come into that conversation.

Truly a sight, Roger Vernikoff ignored the glances and giggles as he approached their living quarters. He wore a big grin around the monstrous Brazilian cigar which seemed to be growing out of his maw, coupled with a sombrero, an antique Hawaiian shirt from Earth, and a pair of khaki shorts. He completed the ensemble with a pair of Terran boat shoes.

Still smiling, he arrived at their suite and braced himself.

Shit, I haven't been to a wedding since Max Maxwell got married, he thought to himself. He put down the large aluminum case he was carrying and touched the announciator. His smile got wider as he thought about the contents of said case...

In the living room, Arel was directing the party. "Put the present over there. Get your refreshment here. For Kahless sake, what is that contraption?" She listened to the other party before snorting decisively. "I don't see how vying for colored spots could be any fun but put your 'Twister' over by the game section."

Commander Felicia Khatroweena or Cat to her friends was very happy to see all of her friends from the Miranda. More than happy that many of them had been promoted to responsibilities on the huge station of Atlantis. But this would be the first time that many of them would see Kammie, her daughter.

She wondered if Ryley Kincaid was going to be there. She hadn't had a chance to talk to her for a long time, and it was her that helped to save Kammie's life with some of her genetic material. Cat wanted for Ryley to see what a wonderful child that was a part of her.

After hitting the doorbell just outside of Gwen's and Anjoli's apartment, Cat bent over the baby pram, with a purring sleeping Kammie.

Standing up as the door slid aside, she gave her greetings to Arel who was acting as coordinator and headed in to the start of the celebration.

Receiving no answer, Roger decided to try the annunciator again. I hope I put enough ice in here, he thought. His concern was rather rhetorical, as the aluminum case was self cooling (or heating depending on what was contained in it at any given time). The door finally slid open and he was treated to the sight of Arel, Cat, Anjoli, Gwen...and a child. His cigar almost fell out of his mouth as he wondered if it was such a hot idea to bring that case to the party.

Katara appeared beside Roger, she looked sideways at the man and taped his jaw back closed around his cigar, winking at Arel as she did so. She stepped past the man set a bottle of something green and cloudy looking onto the table beside Arel.

Arel's eyes widened slightly at Roger. She could not recall hiring a clown for the party.

Cat looked at the cigar hanging on Roger's lip, it was such a sight, she couldn't help but giggle. "Come in Roger - you look like you have seen a ghost."

"Life is Beautiful.... NOT!"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas (APC)
CO, Second Platoon

Sergeant Samantha "Pitbull" Beckett (APC)
Marine

****
Occurs A couple of hours after Michal's "Amusement of a Sinner'
Marine Briefing Room
USS Galaxy
****

He leaned back against the bulkhead, the cool metal sending a shiver down his spine through the thin material of his Marine uniform. He hadn't been in the right frame of mind earlier to put on an singlet and was now paying the price. Not that he really cared; at the present time, his mind was elsewhere.

The disinterested look about him failed to show how he truly felt at the present moment. Steven tried not to think about it too much, trying instead to focus on Lieutenant Baile and the morning briefing that he was giving to the Marines. He wasn't having much success in keeping his mind on the task at hand.

Life had kicked him in the groin, and no amount of meetings or briefings was going to change that. He just hoped it would be some time before the damned rumor mill that was the USS Galaxy got around to spreading the news.

In his misery filled state, he failed to notice one of the Marines watching him.

Sam had started the day happy. Portman was finally getting along with the men, and following orders to boot. Her new novel had arrived. Admittedly, it was in an electronic form but for once, she was willing to not worry about the lack of a hard copy in paperback form. Especially since it was going to be ages before they got resupplied.

Thanks to those damned Katras getting into their heads, Sam had had the consciousness of a writer stored up in her head. And not some reporter type, but a writer and an historian to boot. She was going to be saddened greatly when they finally got to their destination and had the Katras removed. His memories had given her a lot of insight into the mind of a writer and she wished she could do stuff that good.

But despite all the goodness that had occurred, one look at the Lieutenant and she could tell something was wrong. In the past few days, she had seen him being the happiest person on the ship. He always had a smile, always greeted her with a 'hi'. Never a bad thing was said, not even when Portman had used toilet paper to block up the head.

Over the couple of days, she had worked out what it was that had caused him such happiness, and seeing him like he was, she had a fair idea of what was now wrong. She felt bad for him. Sam had heard the rumors about the woman, about how she was a nasty spiteful woman, who had hurt a great many people in her time. And that she slept around more than anyone onboard the ship. And she felt bad for him to have fallen for such a woman.

Steven sighed; he was so depressed. Much like the sham that was her death, he felt like the world was pressing down upon him. What he wouldn't give for a battle, or even a fight. But no. They were still in the middle of nowhere, and no one was going to come and help give him some relief from his broken heart.

The CO's voice spilled out over the Marines, yet Steven heard none of it. All he heard was her voice, reading out each line in that blasted hand written letter. He imagined her laughing her little evil laugh, plotting how to destroy his life any further. Coming up with sick and twisted ways to stab the knife in deeper. It made him sick to his stomach.

His eyes downcast, the Marine rested there in silence. Not wanting any part of the briefing, yet wishing not to be alone, he was a bundle of confused nerves; like a bomb waiting to go off. He knew it and he was sure Faylin would think the same thing. If she was thinking about him at all, and Steven highly doubted that she would.

It didn't matter that he would have given anything for her, that he had watched his father die trying to protect her. No, none of that mattered, did it! Steven delighted in the realization that no matter what she would do in her life, she was never going to be happy, never going to be content. Sure she might find happiness or be content for a week, or even a month, but in the end, that woman was going to be alone. No one to be there for her, no one to hold her when she falls. No one!

Pitbull half listened to Baile, her attention divided between his briefing and Jonas. She wanted to pay attention, but something inside her wanted to make sure her old friend was okay. Having known Steven since before he joined the Furies, Sam was the closest to family he had on the ship.

The briefing was going to be over soon and she'd be able to see how he was doing then. Until then, she was going to turn her attention to Baile.

Baile finished and the Marines started filing out for chow, the cooks having whipped up last night's leftovers with several other dishes. Steven stood there, ignoring them as they filed out. Training was on the cards today. Heck it was always on the cards. Not that it mattered. He didn't feel like anything.

Seeing Beckett heading his way, he thought about talking, but felt that it wasn't going to help. This was something he was going to have to do on his own. He shook his head in her direction.

Sam paused and tilted her head ever so slightly. Seeing Steven shake his head again, she nodded, smiling weakly and turned for the Mess.

Steven watched her go. She was a good friend, and loyal to boot. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to be alone. To be able to drown his sorrows; that's what he wanted to do.

His pain too great, he slid down the wall, coming to a rest on the deck. Too exhausted to get up, he sat there as the tears began to flow freely down his cheeks.

"Tiny New Office Pt. II"

John C. Richardson, Ph.D
Ensign, Starfleet Liaison Corps
Diplomatic Officer, U.S.S. Galaxy

&

Faylin McAlister
Lieutenant (j.g.), JAG Corps
Staff Judge Advocate, U.S.S. Galaxy

Well now, that clears things up a bit, doesn't it? Not!" She muttered to herself as her presence was forced upon by those in the department. Her duties as acting head of the department had took time out of her overwhelming personal life and that put a cramp in her style so to speak. Glaring at a Yeoman in the hallway, she smiled with satisfaction as the blond skittered away down the corridor with a look of discontent on her features. Swooshing into what she thought was a spare office, McAlister neglected to see the man that was standing beside the desk as she talked to herself.

"Cardassian law.........damn.....why can't people alphabetize around here?" Her manicured index finger shot out, lightly touching the disk cases with a growing frustration. Flipping her chestnut hair over her shoulder, the scowl on her face deepened. Tapping the needed disk, still with that index finger, she sighed. "Carrrrrdassian with a 'c', not a 'k'. Good god....." Spinning on her heel, she nearly jumped out of her skin when her dark eyes locked onto the man just staring at her.

"Hello?" Fay retorted. "Can I help you with something?"

"You look like you're the one having rough time, Lieutenant" shot Richardson, a look of utter amusement in his eyes. "I'm John Richardson, Galaxy's new Diplomatic Officer. Maybe can help you? I wrote my doctoral thesis on the the Cardassian electoral system, or their lack thereof." John smiled and paused briefly, slightly turning his head towards the empty office PO2 Stuart skulked into. "Oh, and that young lady you just terrified is Yeoman 2nd Class Mary-Grace Stuart. She works for me."

John's wide smile betrayed the initial sense of...irritation...he was feeling with the JAG officer sitting in front of him. She seemed intimidating, and John spent too many years in the SFMC dealing with people who thrived on the intimidation of others. 'Hell John, you're not being fair' Richardson thought as he extended his hand towards the Lieutenant. 'You don't even know her yet.'

"I'm Lt. Faylin McAlister, JAG and acting Chief of the Liaison department." She stated with a slightly arched eyebrow. "As far as the Yeoman, she and you will grow to get used to my presence. Mr. Richardson, I welcome you to the diplomatic core of the Galaxy, as well as this department." She paused, eying him and taking a sip of her luke warm coffee. "That being said, I should let you know that I run a very tight outfit. Weekly reports need to be on my desk by Oh 800, the first day of the week. Having sensed your comfortableness with your Yeoman, I'm positive that she will assist you if you have any minor questions. Major questions, however, should be addressed to me either in message form or in person. Another note, we will have departmental meetings every morning before duty shift resumes. I expect you to be present and accounted for. So......do you have any questions?" Her dark eyes froze on his again, observing his every movement.

'Well' thought Richardson, 'Maybe I wasn't wrong after all. Ok, Hardball time.' He clasped his hands together in front of his face, and forced a slightly pained look before speaking.

"Actually, and I don't mean to be rude Lieutenant, but its 'Doctor' Richardson. I'm Sorry, I don't mean to be picky or anything, but having some legitimacy goes with the position, you know? And of course, you can expect all those reports and whatnot to be taken of. Now let's take a look this Cardassian puzzle you're working on here."

John walked over to McAlister's desk, making every effort possible to impose on her personal space as he peered over her right shoulder to read her notes. He nodded once, tilted his head slightly to the left, and then nodded again. He began to chuckle lightly.

"So, what trouble are you having, Lieutenant? This looks pretty straight forward to me."

"I....my good *doctor*..." Fay paused as the last word of her sentence floated through the air like a bad belch. "Have no problem what so ever." Pivoting on her heel, she offered him a false, yet warm smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me.....I have a Cardassian to fry....."

John returned his best 'politician' smile, and pointed his right index finger at LT McAlister as he turned to walk towards his new office. "You go get 'em Lieutenant. Make us all proud." Leaving the office with her back turned from him, McAlister rolled her eyes with exaggeration. "Diplomats....." She muttered warily.

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