OOC: Takes place on Earth, prior to Saul's return to the Galaxy and the Manslaughter series.

For the new guys' sake - Saul and Fay were lovers when both served on Earth; They met when Faylin was assisting Saul's attorney after Saul's first assignment went bad and he was subsequently trialed and nearly lost his career.

"A Picture of Us"

Lieutenant J.G. Faylin McAlister
JAG

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

* * * San Francisco, Earth * * *

Another morning had presented itself, complete with the light fog that wrapped around her legs as she strolled through the cemented ground that defined the JAG headquarters.

Getting away from the Galaxy crew was offering her a period of self reflection that she needed. Glancing to the left, she noticed a Monarch butterfly resting on a cluster of small flowers on a swamp milkweed plant. Stopping, Faylin found herself studying the complexity of the black and orange pattern on the butterfly's wings. It was enough to draw her into her own little world, obvious to the person that was walking her way.

He watched her in silence, observing her much like she was observing the little winged wonder in front of her.

"I wonder, Fay-Fay, if you're admiring its beauty or considering the best way to pluck its wings."

Without moving anything other than her lips that curled up into a slight smile, she studied the small insect for a moment more before straightening her posture and pivoting on her heel. "As much as I hate to disappoint you Panther, I was admiring its beauty." Taking a few short steps over to his position, she stopped just short of bumping into him. "And what were you doing just a moment ago? Admiring my beauty? Or figuring out a way to pluck *my* wings?" Her light chuckle floated through the air.

"If I'll pluck them, you'll just grow a new set." Saul replied. "I was actually thinking about the first time we met, I think it was in that building over there."

"Yes.....yes it was...." Fay's expression grew soft for a moment before locking her gaze on him. "What specifically do you remember?"

Saul grinned. "I don't know if you recall, but when we finished the meeting and I left, a Bolian friend of mine from the academy was waiting outside the door. I never told you, but when after I shut the door, I told him that as a compensation for losing my commission, I'm going to be defended by the hottest chick in JAG."

"And, while you were talking to him, I was still attempting to catch my breath from being knocked over by your charm and good looks." Fay responded quietly, letting the memories wash over her. "We made a good team....in and out of the court room."

"We did. Probably because my expectations from you were more realistic than others. You're a butterfly - with a rather impressive lifespan."

"Okay Bental...spill it." She stated playfully. "Why are you acting so charming towards me?" She couldn't let herself get her hopes up again after all this time, especially after she had told herself that it was time to move on from attempting to get him back into a relationship. Taking a step backwards, she distanced herself a short way from him as she looked down and noted his polished shoes with amusement.

"Hoping to use my charm and find out why are you here. Believe it or not, I didn't expect to find you. I just thought I'd visit our old flat if I'm already here on Earth."

His residence while he was an intelligence analyst on SFI HQ was close to the JAG HQ, and not by coincidence.

She lowered her head, shaking it slowly back and forth before she reached into her pocket and extracted the key card. "I'm revisiting the past as well. I still have the place for use when I come here....and I haven't touched it....care to join me for a walk down memory lane?"

"As long as we don't get carried off-road." Saul replied. He wasn't too submerged in his own ego to assume that Fay-Fay will try anything - if she would, it would be just for fun, like how she was handling other men - but his loyalty toward Naranda was tested twice already since the Galaxy left the Talvalen's planet. Not that a Bental was ever fully loyal, but he cared enough about his princess not to fool around.

"I will respect your wishes Saul." She stated simply as she entered the flat. Looking around quietly, Fay pursed her lips and sighed. "It was so simple....back then."

It was. Once his career was secured, mostly thanks to Faylin's legal prowess, the two of them settled into their career tracks and in each other's arms. Saul's job as an intelligence analyst wasn't too demanding , and Fay-Fay continued to represent other problematic Starfleet officers in the court of law. They may have lived together, but there were no real bounds, and both were free just like they loved it. Just wake up every morning next to the other, and enjoy the pleasures of Earth.

"I thought you were already knee-deep in trouble when we were together." Saul replied. "But yea. At least for me it was probably the most peaceful time of my life." She snorted with a nod. "I'm always in some sort of trouble." Her mind wondered somewhat as her body sat on her.....their couch that they had shared many an evening. Patting the spot next to her, Fay motioned for him to sit next to her. That's how it always started, innocently sitting close to each other, than one would catch the other's eye and it would all spiral downwards at a moment's notice.

Usually, it was Saul who caught Fay studying him with that curious gaze of hers as he poured over the information on that little black padd of his. She would raise one eyebrow, then the other in a mock look of innocence that would draw a particular growl out of the Intelligence officer before he ended up pouncing, making her shriek outright with a long string of girlish giggles.

However, instead of watching him this time, she had her attention turned to the large window that rested on the left wall. It lead no where in particular, but when the attorney was deep in thought, she would loose herself in the concrete view of the neighboring building.

"The people outside more interesting than the people inside?" Saul, who took her offer and sat next to her, taunted.

"Huh?" Her head swung around as her day dream disappeared. Slightly blushing, Fay's head lowered. "I'm thinking of making a trip.....to my homeworld soon. My father.....biological father....he wrote me and wishes me to come home."

Saul didn't know how much Faylin THOUGHT he knew about the recent events in her life. The truth was that the intelligence chief had little to none new intelligence on her. They did not really talked in length since she returned from the dead.

He decided to take the direct approach, knowing that Faylin was as reserved about her private matters as he was.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Shifting slightly to face him, McAlister blinked slowly. The platinum bangle that he had sent that was a family heirloom hugged her wrist tightly, as a shackle would. The inscriptions upon it told the story of her clan. Each generation carved an intricate design into the thick cuff, symbolizing their hopes for future generations.

Running her finger along the indentations, her finger stopped short when resting upon her father's contribution. Her words would be next. What advice would she give? What symbol would she leave behind for her......children. Her head lowered slightly. Olivia would never see this....the way she was supposed to. Rubbing her left eyebrow with her index finger, she offered a false smile attempting to hide the sudden rush of pain that still presented itself from time to time.

"There is unrest currently. Long ago, our world was lead by one tribe with a mighty wise leader. The leader, had a son who was rebellious of tradition and believed that his new thoughts and ideas would lead our people into the next phase of life with hope. As you can imagine, the one tribe split into two. One being led by the elder, one being led by the son."

"I still find it hard to think of you as someone... not from Earth." Saul confessed.

"I know." Fay responded quietly. "Let me continue..... The elder and son, although they did not agree on their views, were respectful of each other and the two tribes lived in harmony. However, through the years, the respect has dwindled to hatred between the leaders of tribe. I am a descendant from the original tribe, my father.....governs the group of people that believed in tradition of our ancestors." Faylin bowed her head low. This was a gentle side of her, rarely seen by others.

"My father, has asked that I visit in an attempt to meet with the leaders of the other tribe and negotiate an agreement....a treaty for peace. It is a very large responsibility, one that.....I am obligatedto complete. I have requested leave so that I may do this task. I also hope to find out who I am, take time to properly mourn my daughter, soul search, and perhaps to look at things the way my ancestors did. With a grace that I have been lacking.....I am next in line to lead my tribe after my father departs from this realm. Yet, I am not ready to do so. Events in my life have hardened me, made me callous. A quality leader can not be so. I am hoping to gain the wisdom it takes to be a proper woman for my people.....and return to the Galaxy with the respect of my ancestors. The way....it should be."

"Amazing." Saul murmured. How much of it was the truth? Probably all of it. Fay wasn't the type to make up such a story merely to get extra vacation. "Have you considered telling them to bugger off?"

"We, as Chameloids, have a loyalty to each other that is difficult to explain to beings that are not of our race. To tell them to "bugger off" would be of great insult. And with my father in the position of Elder, it would be treason not to fulfill my obligation to the tribe. Many have misconceptions about us. We are merely not giant lizards running around hissing at each other." She paused, biting her lower lip. "Well, at times we've been known to do that..." Permitting a slight chuckle to escape, she patted his hand and stood, walking over to the window and looking out of it.

"You never had a problem in the past to turn your back on something that supposedly mattered to you and leave." Saul indicated.

"True. Perhaps....I'm changing." Fay stated quietly. "Although, the chances that I'm going to get hurt again in some capacity are great. It's just the way things are with me. I truly give my heart, and it gets crushed. It happened with you, with Olivia.....how many times am I supposed to try, knowing that in the end I'll be left with nothing? After a while, the heart grows cold....as I'm sure you are aware."

Yes, he was aware. He was battling it since childhood.

"Did it happen with Jonas? No, don't answer that. That's none of my business and it was unfair of me to say. BUT you of all people know you have control, Fay-Fay. You owe no one nothing, and I'm sure there's more than one Chameloid in this universe who can handle the negotiations. No one's truly irreplaceable."

"I am." She stated with a slight playfull arch of her eyebrow. That drew a chuckle out of Saul. "Maybe it's about time that I do owe people the respect that they deserve on a basic level. So, on that note....." Fay turned towards him, moving closer, leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry if I hurt you by leaving you." She whispered. "You didn't deserve that."

His fingers brushed through her hair. "I appreciate it, Fay. But I knew one of us would leave. I saw it coming, us being us, so when I woke up that day and you weren't there... I wasn't mad at you. Just sad that it was over. If you really want to thank me, don't stick your neck into certain trouble... and don't pick on Nara. She doesn't have Fay-Fay-antibodies like I do. Neither does Jonas, I suspect."

She nodded, exchanging that look of sadness with him for a brief moment before continuing to stare at him. "I should go.....I just wanted to get something from the back room...sentimental item because I don't know when I will be back here."

"Item?"

"A picture of us." She smiled before disappearing into the bedroom. Grabbing the frame and plopping down on the bed, she felt lost yet again.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Eighteen: “Dark Ages”

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

***Somewhere on New Rhea***

Dragged backward out of the room Kimberly tried to get out an objection, a question, a statement, even a simple threat about the Inquisitors’ balls and a pair of pliers, but she found her airway somewhat hindered by one of the knights massive hands.

~ Tested! ~

***USS Galaxy Conference Room 3***

"Well Sir, Ma'am, as I said, that's when things went downhill.” Having stood now for the better part of an hour relating the misadventure that had become their vacation Kimberly paused a moment and cleared her throat. There wasn’t really any need to rehash exactly what had transpired after her silent meeting with the inquisitor, not yet anyway. And certainly not here!

Looking to her companions again Kimberly continued with a shrug, “Basically Sir, they didn’t like me, or more accurately, they didn’t like what I ‘was’.”

“A Witch?” Ulani asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Basically, yes. Witch, Heathen, Pagan, pick one, in a way they are all appropriate. It turns out their old laws are still around, as evident by the bride raid tradition. Though not really the done thing, it’s still apparently law.” With a sigh at the thought of so many outdated laws, and a brief thought about what other laws they could have inadvertently broken she shuddered, things could have gotten ‘really’ nasty.

As Kimberly came to the end of her chapter about her incarceration Dhanishta finally began to realize just what the woman had been through. It was ironic that just a few months ago she was detailing the persecution that her ‘people’ had suffered centuries ago on Earth. Kimberly had been so irate that a fellow officer on this ship had a similar view point to the archaic notion that Pagan’s were ‘devil’ worshipers and would not make it into ‘heaven’, whatever the heck that was, and would spend all eternity in damnation. Dhanishta had thought at the time that Kimberly had been a tad over dramatic.

Kimberly had never suffered injustice of that sort, no one had for centuries and yet she had spoken and made her argument with a voice filled with united pain and rage of one who had indeed suffered such humiliation, disrespect and torture. Fighting her own ‘good fight’, totally forgetting that to dredge up those views of the past, to base her argument on the facts of history, was to unwittingly continue those same hatreds. Dhanishta did not wish to belittle Kimberly’s outrage, she had every right to feel passionate and to express her own view point, however so did Branwen. Neither of the women were wrong in that instance, and neither were right. However both of them should know better, especially seeing as both of them were counselors. Xenophobia was by all accounts ugly; conduct unbecoming of a Starfleet officer. How both women had made it through as counselors with such a chip on their shoulders about their own faith was just proof of yet another crack in the system.

“Not everyone on New Rhea ‘believed’ that Witches were evil.” Dhani interjected distantly. “Cardinal Pious was just as angered as me and Bran were.” Dhanishta frowned recalling the events, totally oblivious to the slip up she had made in referring to Lieutenant London by her abbreviated first name. “I think he was upset.” she continued staring across the room as if she were watching the Cardinals expressions unfold on the far wall. “Devastated, shocked, greatly so…” her gaze trailed to the floor as she remembered what he had told her.

She felt her eyes sting slightly, the emotions were still tangible. At the time she had been infuriated, exasperated and totally bewildered. What they had proposed was so preposterous especially for a race that had achieved warp capabilities. How a race, a race of humans no less, could move forward with technical advancement and still use methods written, in what humans from Earth considered their ‘dark ages’, was unfathomable. Why no one had countered these … tests… was … Dhani sighed again, there were no words to describe accurately how she felt about it all. And what’s more, words could not accurately describe what they did to her best friend. They were just words after all. They did not, could not, convey the fear or pain or terror…

Dhanishta blinked slowly and looked up into the captains eyes. “Cardinal Pious agreed to help us. Me and Bran knew nothing of their world, while we were allowed to act as Kimberlys ‘family’ following what we believed to be her best interests, we didn’t have the knowledge of the planet; where the Prince would have taken her. Pious was gracious enough to stay with us through the night. He helped us to create a rescue plan, even called round a few of his associates to get any hints on where she was.” She smiled softly, “We had our rescue plan all but finalised, and then the call came through…”

***Holy City New Rhea***

Outside the elongated windows the dawn was beginning to break, casting shadows along the walls as it stretched out its warm orange tendrils of light. The large frosted glass positioned atop a golden pedestal had become the centre of their rescue operation. Across the shimmering surface an array of padds and maps stifled the view of the etching in the glass, around the table sat in one of the ornate chairs Branwen peered over the information before her. Behind, pacing from left to right, Dhanishta wore a hole out in the marble floor, “…Okay,” she continued, “the sensors in the KittyKat have been recalibrated and we should be able to start active scans in half an hour.”

"Are you sure it will work?" Branwen asked. She was so worried about her friend.

Nodding Dhani carried on, “From what Cardinal Pious has told me about the Order of the Protectorate, I think I have found a way to disarm them.” coming up behind Branwen she presented her rather rushed counter measure to the overbearing guards that walked the city hourly and were no doubt guarding the Princes prize. “If we can get the KittyKat within rage, we should be able to set up a dampening field that should take care of any weapons they have. Now I know there isn’t supposed to be bloodshed n’ all that, but we are totally unarmed, at least this way, so will they. Now from what I understand, it is quite possible that their motor functions will…” Dhanishta stopped explaining abruptly, the atmosphere in the apartment had changed dramatically. Staring pensively at the door opposite she watched with trepidation as the Cardinal appeared.

He shuffled across the floor as if he were wearing shoes that were too big for him. The marks of age on his face showed through, gone was the warm smile that seemed to light up a room as quickly as the rising sun. His eyes appeared hollow, his features gaunt and troubled.

“What is it?” Dhanishta asked quickly anxiety rising by the second.

For a while the Cardinal was silent, unable to speak. He knew what had to be done, but he couldn’t, he shook his head and stopped several feet away from the table. “You must leave.” he said without looking up, “Now.” he added although there was not the urgency in his tone that would naturally accompany that request. Rather he appeared to be questioning the order himself as he demanded their departure.

"Father?" Branwen came to her feet.

“Your friend, she has been branded….” he paused unable to believe what he was saying, what he had been told. Looking up with questioning, pleading eyes; praying with every ounce of his being that what he had been told was a great misunderstanding. They knew so little about the world beyond their skies was it possible that they had misinterpreted what Miss Burton had said? “Your friend has declared herself a Witch!” he blurted out.

“So?” Dhanishta frowned completely oblivious to what that word meant in his culture, “She is Wicca I think, a sub sect of Paganism.” casting a brief look towards Branwen she added, “An old religion from Earth, if I’m not mistaken.”

Pious looked mortified, “So it’s true.” he said solemnly his mind a whirl. “You must leave now.” he stated again with urgency, “They will be coming for you too. Consorts of a Witch…” he shook his head and grasped his chest eyes widening in terror, “What if they try me too?” he questioned himself more than the girls.

“Leave?” Dhanishta repeated, reading between the lines, “You don’t mean here, do you?” she said, “You mean the planet.” What had changed in the last half hour for him to be ordering them to leave completely? Surely he knew that they wouldn’t leave without Kimberly? ~Oh my god! What’s happened to Kimberly?~ a voice inside aroused hysteria.

TBC…

"10 Victor, Part IV"

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

East 74 Street & Second Avenue, Heading Southbound, Manhattan, NY, Earth, 2370, 0119 Hours

With all the advances of modern medicine, nothing could beat good old fashioned CPR...which was exactly what Max was doing as the ambulance sped downtown towards East 70 Street. The dead guy was intubated, received the full series of resuscitation medications, and still there was no change. Now normally Max would have called it on the spot, but with the patient in public view it was much more prudent to transport the body...and of course Transporter Protocols were unavailable...again. Typical NYC EMS.

He lurched back against the wall as the unit took a sharp left, silently cursing yet another rookie partner for driving like an asshole. We're not saving anyone today, stupid, Max seethed. He's already dead, and has been dead. This is just for show. Of course Max kept his mouth shut, especially after what happened with the last rookie. He went and complained like a little bitch to the Borough Commander and cost Max a day's pay. It just wasn't worth it to tell people what you really thought anymore.

Max checked the bio readings on the translucent vitalboard. Asystole. In all leads. No cortical activity, cardiac enzymes present in the blood stream, necrotic toxins already rampaging throughout the body. They were now heading up the ramp to the ER bay, Max stopping once again to check for any change. Nothing. As they pulled up to a stop, Max pushed Sodium Bicarbonate, as he had been working on the soon to be totally stiff for about ten minutes now. There was nothing else to do but continue CPR. The nurses' heads turned as the maglev gurney passed enroute to the Critical Room with Max on top giving compressions, the gurney's build in ventilator providing the necessary number of breaths that corresponded with the natural human rate.

They, of course, knew not to say anything as Max had frequently ripped them to shreds over questioning his actions...and won. He answered to anyone with an MD, DO, PA or NP after their name...not RN. Speaking of which, the MD on duty was none other than 'Old Razorback', Dr. Mortimer Halloway. Halloway felt that all patients should just request transporter availability and have Paramedics done away with, but he was never going to have his way. And Max needed someone to torture every once in a while.

"Hey, Doc," he began. "Adult male, sixty-one years of age as per his identification, found on street corner after he clutched his chest and complained of severe pain. Bystanders state he was down for approximately seven or eight minutes prior to our arrival-"

"What took you so long to get to him," snapped Halloway. A couple of staffers took notice of yet another Maxwell-Halloway confrontation. They were always enjoyable as long as none of them were on the receiving end of the venom that would spew.

"Well, if you took your head outta your ass for a moment, I'd tell ya," retorted Max, clearly miffed about being interrupted in his report. "We were actually on the other side of town, and the only unit available. This is a busy city, you know." He paused to move the patient over to the biobed and made way for the ER staff to take over care. Then he continued his report. "CPR initiated by us, full round of Vasopressin, Atropine, D50, Novaloxone, Sodium Bicarbonate. Patient remained in Asystole throughout entire treatment."

Now Halloway looked at Max with some measure of respect, despite the insult he heard just prior.

"CPR? You actually performed manual CPR?"

"Yes, sir, I did. I like a hands on approach. I treat the patient, not the machine. Anyway, no spontaneous respirations, no return of pulses, patient remained cyanotic, cardiac enzymes and post mortem toxins clearly present. Any questions?"

"No," replied the doctor. "Call it, time is-" he glanced at a chronometer on the wall "-0127 hours." As he began to walk out to care for the living that crowded his ER, he turned to Max.

"Nice job, Max." Max nodded and walked out to join his partner in getting the unit ready for the next call.

"What did Ol' Razorback say?" Max's partner asked.

"He actually paid me a compliment. Can you believe that?" Max's partner just shook his head in disbelief, as the on board Comm came to life.

"10 Victor, for the assignment?"

TBC..................................................

OOC: This post occurs on earth before the Manslaughter series

"There For You"

Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineer

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer

LOCATION: Earth

Nara blinked as the older Trill woman took her into a hug. Nara felt obligated, but not regrettably so, to keep contact and update Saia's Grandmother. At least as often as Nara updated her own parents. Upon learning that Nara and Saia would be going to Earth, she decided to meet them there. So Nara took the opportunity to talk to the woman about what the counselor said.

As expected, there was no move to take Saia since it would seem emotionally detrimental. Nara also took the chance to let the two visit while she went to meet Saul. They agreed to meet at a sushi bar in San Francisco.

Pier 39 was easy to locate. San Francisco's old bay attraction was reconstructed more than once over the ages, most recently after the attack on Earth during the Dominion war. The Sea Lions tanned in the sun, filling the pier with their voices. Saul's directions were easy to follow, and she quickly located the decorated red arch leading into the bar.

"Arigato Gozaymas... ah! Konnichiwa Hime-sama!"

The universal translator transformed the odd syllables coming out of Saul's mouth into comprehensible speech. He was sitting on a stool, leaning over the bar and nearly drooling over the fresh cuts of Salmon, red Tuna and Shrimps which waited to be chopped by the Japanese cook.

She smiled at Saul. "Good morning." She sat down looking at the cuts, then at Saul again. "I'm guessing you know what you want already."

"I could eat their entire stock if I weren't so considerate." He said, mindlessly patting her back as she came near. "Greed aside, I recommend the Sushi and Sashimi special. How are you?"

She thought about that a moment. Her stomach had been in knots. Her whole trip to Earth was full of things she really rather not do, but felt the need to for her career, her family and her sanity. She smiled, "I'm better now." She kissed his cheek.

"Me too, then."

Saul recognized the slightly furrowed face, and knew that Nara was uncomfortable with her errands on Earth. What he had to do here, however, dwarfed her business. There was no retreat for him now; His encounter with Devoss' men on DS5 while the Galaxy fought the Borg was evidence that he no longer operated beneath the Radar. So he just went to Zalman & Zalman's and opened an account.

Poor princess, he thought. At this pace we'll lose each other faster than you think.

"I love you." He said simply.

The words held so much. She smiled and held his hands, "I love you, too."

There was a long silence as the couple gazed into each other's eyes. Then, the cook came to the counter and interrupted them, asking Nara to make her order.

Nara made her order. She stuck with the basic tastes, but included some exotic looking one. It was a "why the hell not" kind of a day.

Saul shifted in his stool as the cook turned away. "So, which errands did you finish and what's still ahead of you?"

"We talked to the counselor. I took the exams. I'm scheduled to visit the Brig that they're holding Marks in tomorrow. They gave me the option of a two-way mirror." She looked down a moment considering that. The only reason for seeing him in there was for closure. Saul was right. She didn't want to actually interact with him. Not unless she had the option to cause him some serious pain.

"Two way mirror, eh." Saul considered this. "You want me to come along? I promise to leave my ion pulse pistol outside the compound."

Nara looked at him seriously a moment. She gave a small smile, assuming it was a joke. Partially anyway. "If you don't mind."

"Don't have anything better planned for tomorrow." He smirked.

The plates arrived. Saul drew the chopsticks with his left hand, and lifted a juicy slice of Yellowtail.

*****The Next Day*****

Nara crossed her arms with a deep furrow in her brow watching Marks fidget in his brig cell. If there was any pity it was for the officers who would have to deal with him.

She felt Saul's hand on her shoulder. Up until now, he intentionally did not involve himself in the Marks affair. But that was merely because he was a patient man. The man on the other side of the mirror was bound to spend at least some amount of time in prison, at least until his influence within the fleet will lead to his release, probably substituting his time in with 'community service' or that sort of crap.

Saul already resolved not to allow the man to leave the prison in one piece. But actual measures could not be taken until it will become known where the scumbag will be locked up.

Thing was hovering happily above Saul's shoulder, switching from left to right every now and then. Saul was glad he brought the furry creature along; He wouldn't want a telepath to pick up his thoughts, and Thing managed to squeeze a smile or two from Nara on their way to the compound.

"So where is this case standing now?", Saul inquired.

"Interviews with students, staff. Long waits between court dates. The usual." She didn't look away. She tried to determine what would make him do something like that. She'd encountered truly evil beings. The problem with this was, Marks was not an evil man. Just a sick one.

"And he's detained between court dates, I hope? Wouldn't want the rat to flee."

Nara nodded, "Of course. As far as I know."

"Good. Good. You're still working with Faylin on this?"

"The file is with the JAG. She's the JAG officer on the ship. I say I'm not sure when she's 'die' again, so..." She sighed and looked at him, "I've been sending messages, the few of them that I do send, to the JAG office in general. Personal contact with her has been kept minimal."

"You do need a specific JAG officer to deal with your case, not the entire office, or your case will fall between the chairs. But I think it would be better if it wasn't Fay, for obvious reasons. Do you want me to go talk with some people I know over at JAG HQ and see if I can arrange something?"

Nara sighed, "If you think it'll help things." She reached over for his hand as she took another glance at Marks and made her way out of there.

"First-Hand Experience" [MANSLAUGHTER]

(Follows Immediately After 'Right Man For The Job' and 'Who Are You?')

Principle Characters
Lt. Commander Corran Rex
Commander Brian Elessidil
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

In the time since they had left the planet, the Keeper had not awoken.

Or rather - Corran Rex had not awakened.

The Vulcan doctors hadn't known what to make of it at first. The mind and body of the joined Trill hadn't contained a single katra, like his shipmates. Instead - he'd carried thousands. The senior Healer had actually dropped his jaw in astonishment, in a most un-Vulcan-like display of a lack of emotional reserve.

In the end, it had taken nearly a hundred healers the better part of a week - non-stop - to ... "clean him out."

And still, Commander Corran Rex had not awoken. No one - not Vulcan healers or Starfleet doctors - could say with any certainty whether he ever would. Or what his state would be when and if he did. The psychic trauma of such and incident could have completely wiped the Trill's mind. There was also the matter of the Trill species largely unstudied psychic abilities - the low-grade telepathy that made symbiosis possible. What effect would this have on them?

It was all new territory.

So Doctor Frinch, a young Bolian Lieutenant Junior grade on his internship tour, exhibited an eminently understandable extreme degree of surprise when, while he was checking his comatose patient's vitals, the brainwave monitors suddenly spiked.

And Corran Rex woke up.

His steel blue-grey eyes snapped open, and for just a moment, Frinch could see something behind those eyes - something that frightened the ever-loving hell out of him. There was madness there, and he intuitively knew that it was a form of madness that would never completely fade.

He was also clued into this fact that, as quickly as Rex had awoken, the Trill's arm had shot up and fastened itself rather rightly around his own blue neck.

"What." Corran growled, his words thick, slow, and very deliberate. "Happened. To. Ella?"

****

Counselor Elessidil was a mere twenty or so minutes from wrapping up his shift and heading off to do something -- anything -- that didn't involve psychological analysis when the call came. His schedule had been overflowing for the past few days to the point where he could feel it starting to get to him. After all, even counselors -- perhaps *especially* counselors -- needed some down time.

As he made his way through the corridor, he reviewed in his mind the information he'd been given so far. There'd been an attack, the ensign had said, revealing little more of substance other than Lieutenant Krieghoff had requested Brian's presence in the investigation. But as business-like as her tone had been, there was an edge underneath it, something that indicated that there was something more to this, something unusually unsettling.

His sense of the situation was only heightened when he finally arrived. A couple curious on-lookers were being quickly shooed away by the security officer on duty, an understandable sense of unease about her and everyone else nearby.

"Lieutenant -- Counselor Elessidil. I was asked to meet Lieutenant Krieghoff here."

"Yes sir, he should be along shortly. I'll have to ask you to wait."

Her tone was no less professional than that of the ensign who'd contacted him earlier, but Brian could sense that she was obviously affected by what she'd seen.

"Are you alright?" he asked. The well-being of those aboard the ship was his stock in trade; inquiring when someone appeared less than comfortable was practically an automatic habit for him.

"I'll be fine, Sir." She seemed intent on focusing on her duty to help keep herself settled, a reaction that made plenty of sense to Brian under the circumstances.

****
USS Galaxy
Scene of Second Attack

Victor noted that both Corran (an unexpected flash of guilt ran through Victor at the sight of the Trill as he acknowledged that he'd not kept up with his friend enough to know the man had been in Sickbay in a coma) and Commander Elessidil had arrived before him as he reached the scene, primarily because he'd felt the need to stop and call Angelienia. She'd seemed a bit confused about it, since he never called her while she was on duty, but had seemed pleased - and curious - when he'd explained that he had wanted to make sure she was all right.

And that had been the core of the need to call, he'd realized as they talked and something inside him had seemed to loosen and relax. He'd needed to hear her voice and know that she was all right, needed it on some level that he'd not really recognized until he'd heard her voice. Angelienia was fine, and that meant that a part of him was fine, that it was alive and well. The knowledge that they were connected like that was such a profound moment that Victor had missed his floor on the turbolift and had to come back down once the lift car reached the Bridge, hence his arriving last.

"Sirs," he nodded, as he approached. "Thank you for coming."

As soon as he'd heard Corran was awake, Krieghoff had called Sickbay. With the few details Frinch had supplied, Rex had informed the young Doctor he was returning to duty. He signed out A.M.A. - against medical advice - (Something he'd only gotten away with because all the senior medical officers were currently dirtside at that particular moment) and told the Doctor to inform the Bridge of his reawakened status. Victor had briefly answered his few terse questions over the comm, and Corran had headed to him as soon as he got a uniform on. Corran could feel the differences in himself. He was holding onto himself tightly under control because there were voices in his head again - and not the usual ones.

Victor studied Corran for a moment, acknowledging the flash of guilt that ran through him as he did so, the knowledge that in his own joy and sadness at no longer being Chulak, he'd neglected to check on everyone that he knew, and had failed to realize that his friend was in a coma when he'd summoned him earlier. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?" he asked Corran quietly. "It's not going to be... easy." Something was wrong with Corran still - he wasn't standing right, wasn't acting like himself. He was certainly here against medical advice (not that Victor was free of committing that particular sin himself); had he come too soon? He'd only awakened an hour ago.

Corran, for his aprt, brushed the concerns off with a forced "I'm fine." It was a mark of his stress that it didn't even occur to him that the words coming out of Victor's mouth - the way he was displaying his concern - were highly unusual to say the least. The Trill was extremely distracted - a buzzing rang in his brain everywhere he went, and as his eyes made contact with Brian's in increased greatly.

He saw the Counselor wince at the same time as he did, but Corran missed the significance of that.

"I'd rather not have had to call either of you for this," Victor explained to the two men, "but there isn't any choice. It's a murder, and it's bad, very bad. We have no suspect yet, and while I have my own ideas, I want both of you to look at it and tell me what *you* think. We can talk about what I think afterwards." He nodded to Elessidil, "I owe you an apology first off, Commander. You're here because you were unlucky enough to catch the rotation spot, sir. I'm sorry about that - I'd rather it wasn't a Betazoid who caught this one, both because you've got to work with me, and because given the nature of the crime this is going to be hard for you. If you decide that the case might be better served by someone else, or if my presence is too distracting, I'll understand if you want to hand it off."

"I'll be fine," Brian succinctly replied. He knew he'd likely have to work with Kreighoff nearby, and he'd been mentally preparing himself for it.

Victor nodded. "Not unexpected, but I had to offer, sir." He turned to Corran. "I also owe you an apology, both professionally and personally. Professionally because this isn't your field and you shouldn't have to deal with it... and personally, because I was so wrapped up in my own issues after the last mission that I didn't even know that you were ill and in Sickbay until I tried to call you in for this. Friends don't act that way to each other."

"It's not my field now, you mean." Rex corrected with a single finger. "I've been a cop in my time. And the first.. victim.. is a friend. I'll do whatever I need to for her." He paused a moment, considering his next words. It was difficult to think - the buzzing kept coming and going, stronger and weaker, at seemingly random intervals. It was though there were voices in his mind...

Well, that was hardly new. Granted, he probably wasn't anywhere remotely fit for duty, and he wondered if this katra incident hadn't finally driven him all the way around the bend.

Well, this was the Galaxy. Who'd notice?

"As for the other.." Corren continued after a moment "...don't worry about it."

"Thank you," Victor nodded. "I'd send you back to Sickbay now if I could - but I can't. I need your help with this, and I'm sorry for that, too."

His eyes narrowed. "Why me, specifically?" though the sick feeling in his stomach suggested he damned well knew the answer already.

"Because," Victor answered and he turned to the door and keyed it open, "you're the only person that I've ever known that has ever done something like this; the only one that I haven't killed, anyway."

Old host-memories flitted to the surface at the words. A frightened woman's voice, a cold and cruel man's taunting. Blood. Pain. A cold, calculating rage that Rex knew all too first hand. The thrill of the kill, of being both the hunter and the hunted. To hold another life so comletely in the palm of your hand - and then to take that life!

He said none of this in reply to Victor, of course, but he did not doubt that the other was able to read some of it in his eyes. "Then let's get started." Corran said simply.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Nineteen: “The Trial”

1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

***Holy City New Rhea***

“Leave?” Dhanishta repeated, reading between the lines, “You don’t mean here, do you?” she said, “You mean the planet.” What had changed in the last half hour for him to be ordering them to leave completely? Surely he knew that they wouldn’t leave without Kimberly? ~Oh my god! What’s happened to Kimberly?~ a voice inside aroused hysteria.

The young marine Lieutenant knelt in front of the Cardinal. "Help us one more time, father. Help us leave with our friend. Right now she thinks our faith is barbaric and we are all some kind of monsters. Help her see that there are some people who put the individual before the doctrine. Please, father. I will do anything if you just help us."

“Child you don’t understand.” he replied shell shocked. Taking her hands he clasped them tightly, “Your friend has confessed,” he explained “vehemently so. She will be tried as a Witch, convicted even. She will be cleansed of her sin and born anew in the house of the Lord, for that is how it is written and we must obey.” He shook his head once more and stifled a tear, “Forgive me child, for you are right. We must pray for her soul.” Kneeling quickly before Branwen he closed his eyes and began to chant, “Pater noster qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum, ad veniat regnum,”

“What are you doing?” Dhani asked bewildered.

“Praying,” Pious replied without breaking his patter, “Join us,” he continued, “Fiat voluntas tua in terris sicut in coelis, panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,”

Dhanishta blinked, “Praying! Praying? At a time like this?!” Oh boy could she swing for him right about now! “What about Kimberly?” Dhani questioned.

“Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus,” his chanting continued in a gentle rhythm.

“What about Kimberly?” Dhani tried again her voice edged with frustration. She tried to hold her temper and ignore the inappropriate timing of his worship, “You said she will be tried? What does that mean?”

“Nostris et ne nos inducas in tentationem,” he didn’t stop, his eyes were firmly shut, lips moving his prayer but a mere whisper.

“Cardinal Pious?” Dhanishta demanded.

“Sed libera nos a malo,”

“FATHER?” Dhanishta shouted totally loosing her control slamming her palm down on the table.

Yet he didn’t stop, didn’t even flinch, “Quoniam tibi est regnum et potestas et gloria in saecula.” Once finished he slowly opened his eyes, smiling softly at Branwen refreshed and strengthened he let go of her hands, “You need to explain to your friend now.” he said gently. Standing up, his bones clicking and creaking as he did, he began to move around the apartment gathering his things.

"Father, no!" Not touching him she stood before him. "I have lived the doctrine my whole life. Kimberly and I were fighting before we came here, because I had problems with her religious believes myself. I was worried she would not get to heaven, and I told her. This hurt her deeply. Father, she might be different from us, but she is a good person. Her religion is benign. It strives for the same goals as we do. On my planet people like her used to be burnt at the stake centuries ago. We have come to see it is wrong, there are other religions in the world, in the universe, and we can all coexist. Your world is changing Father, and you will have to move with it if you want your civilization to survive. Please, take this first step. She is a good person deserving to live. And her beliefs and faith are just as valid as ours." By now she was crying. "Father, don't make me lose faith in the goodness of the Church."

“Oh dear sweet child.” Pious cooed, reaching out to wipe her tears and comfort her he pulled back restraining himself. He felt her discord and wished with all his heart he could remove it, “I feel your pain Miss Branwen. I understand your philosophy, I am in agreement with you, but there is nothing that I can do.” He felt his chest swell with the grief Branwen displayed. Such misery, such pain for a loved one, and here he had been worried about himself; worried that he too might be tried as a Witch for being in the company of her consorts, how selfish of him to think such thoughts. But this youth before him, this vision of beauty and grace, heart and faith; she was no consort. She was just a woman, a striking woman with a passion of reverence to match her kindness and she was suffering. Suffering because of him, his world, his beliefs and practices. But there was nothing that could be done. His hand could not twist fate to his own desires, let alone hers.

“Miss Eshe,” he implored turning to her, “you have to understand, you both do. There is simply nothing that I can do. Your friend has confessed. The Inquisitor has been assigned and no one can stop him. Not even the Pope himself. The wheels of fate are turning, and nothing but the hand of God can change that now.”

“Then be the hand of god!” Dhani interjected ridiculousness with ridiculousness.

“Blasphemous!” he hissed stepping back in shock at her statement. He eyed the alien cynically. That was strike one, he decided. She was not of his world, not of Miss London’s world, she, perhaps, should be allowed a slip up or two - maximum. He looked to Branwen for a moment, although he was unable to hold her gaze for any length of time. Her tears continued; silent rivers of pain and sadness that streaked her cheeks. Oh how trying it must be for her, he thought, to live with heathens on a daily basis. To have her beliefs flaunted by others regularly, to have to mix with aliens that had no respect for the Lord or the word of God; it was a hard life to imagine. His respect for her was growing into a great admiration. But yet here, now, she was begging for the life of heretic, willing to go against the word of the Lord. Either she had been tainted by all her years serving in such conditions or she was a better Christian than he.

Dhanishta eyeballed him, “What do you expect?” she questioned flatly.

“I expect you to understand. To at least be tolerant of our faith, if comprehension is beyond your abilities. You are after all on New Rhea soil, you are our guests and from what I have read of your ‘Starfleet’, you respect all cultures, all species and all life.” he countered.

Dhanishta nodded. “Indeed we do.” she replied folding her arms across her chest. “Can you say the same?”

The Cardinal bit his tongue, she had a point. “She is a Witch.” he said trying to find some upper ground in this growing debate.

“And what exactly is a Witch?” Dhani asked seriously.

The Cardinal paused, choosing his words carefully. “A Witch is a practitioner of dark magic. They cast spells against man. They kill children and sacrifice them to the Devil. They conduct and participate in indecent sexual activities. They turn mans will to their own. Malevolent creatures. The Devil’s spawn.” His tone rose as if he were preaching to a crowd, raising their disquiet. But there was no crowd to stir and his sermonizing did nothing to turn the love of these two women against their friend and colleague.

~Dark magic?~ Dhani questioned, ~what the heck is that? And where’s the proof? As for spells, unless he is describing a ‘funny turn’, again, never happened. Killing children, nope that’s my gig. Indecent sexual behaviour? I don’t think she has had a romp in the sac in years, could be a major factor of her frustrations. Unless she has been wiping the memories of all the men she had seduced, that was most defiantly not true.~ In fact the only character on the Galaxy infamous for that sort of behaviour was 8-Ball. Dhani had never met the woman but her reputation preceded her. As for turning mans will and the latter two accusations, well they could be true of any female species that Dhani had come across, however, putting those allegations in the same box as Kimberly???? No way! Dhani shook her head, “When has Kimberly used this magic? And when has she murdered a child? She has been here for two days, firstly she hasn’t had the time and secondly we have been with her that entire time, as has our guide. So tell me Cardinal, where is your evidence?”

TBC…

"Manslaughter Revelations--Part 1"

(Everything you wanted to know about Ms wbut was afraid to ask....)

In the vast reaches of space, a silver ghost moved silently at speeds that would have made Einstein blush.

It was infinitely small when you considered the vastness of the universe, a mere metallic bubble of air and light amidst the hellish cold of eternal darkness

Somewhere in this darkness a voice was calling........ "USS Galaxy, this is Federation Marshal Scout ship 294...respond please."

There was a pause with only the slight crackling static of background radiation hissing.

"USS Galaxy....USS Galaxy.....The is the Federation Marshal Service....please respond...."

***MARSHAL SCOUTSHIP.....THIS IS GALAXY.....CAPTAIN M'KANTU SPEAKING PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF AND STATE YOUR INTENTIONS.***

Nodding, blond haired Mel Daughtery leaned back in the worn flight seat of the tiny two person pursuit shuttle and keyed the mic.

"This is Marshal Melissa Daughtery, Captain. We are following up a Police scanner report of some homicides you've had on board and their relationship to an ongoing Federation Investigation.......We are requesting permission to come aboard for the purposes of examining the crime scenes."

There was a longer pause this time on the other end, no doubt as Captain M'Kantu was discussing options with his trusted bridge officers.

Next to Daughtery, Marshal Bin Hux stretched his long muscled limbs and opened his mouth to grumble only to have his partner 'shush' him into silence.

Affairs between Starfleet and the Marshal's service were touchy at best. The latter held universal jurisdiction over interstellar crime investigations.....however Starship Captains were masters of their own domains and rather sensitive about being pushed around.

Mel felt the best policy was to ask nicely.

**** MARSHAL DAUGHTERY...THIS IS CAPTAIN M'KANTU AGAIN. SORRY FOR THE DELAY, BUT WE WOULD WELCOME YOUR EXPERTISE IN SUPPORTING OUR SECURITY INVESTIGATIONS.****

"Supporting their inves......" Hux sputtered angrily, "Its OUR gawddamn investigation!"

Mel wisely held he mute button down over her partners outburst.

"Uh....Galaxy....much obliged....transmitting our transponder code now...we are vectoring for intercept. Scoutship Out.....Shut the hell up Bin.....you know how touchy these fleet weenies are."

Marshal Hux idly rubbed his permanent five o'clock shadow, replying only with a mocking grin.

Sometimes it was so easy to tease Mel.

---

Aboard Galaxy, Captain M’Kantu was similarly shaking his head ruefully. Despite all the polite words, the Marshal Service could be damn pushy, but he did have a bit of a crime drama on his hands. Two dead...three horribly wounded........

"Number One..." her said turning to his redheaded second, "Switch the Marshals over to approach control and assemble the Command and Senior Security Staff in the briefing room as soon our guests are aboard.....and everybody put on your game faces."

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

The large, auditorium style briefing room was crowded. Members of every department from Security, to Command, to Medical, to Counseling were present muttering to themselves in the half-darkness.

After a brief introduction by Captain M’Kantu, Marshal Bin Hux rose lazily from his seat and stood tall and hulking in his deep black trenchcoat stood frowning at the assembled officers. At his breast glowed the golden badge of a lawman, and at his hip hung a massive .88 Magnum slugthrower which caused a few eyebrows to rise from over in the security section.

Behind Hux a large holographic screen flickered to life casting strange shadows across the room.

"I am Senior Marshal Hux of the Federation Marshal Service." he grated. "The lady against the wall is Marshal Melissa Daughtery....if you're feeling brave you can call her Mel."

Shrouded in her own black coat, the slender blond nodded slightly to the audience.

"My thanks to your Captain for having us aboard, but now lets cut out the monkey shit and get down to business." He turned and pointed...

"This is Master Sergeant Slaytir Mann of the Angosian Special Infiltration Command."

On screen was a blurry image of a thin red-haired youth of approximately 20 years of age wearing a camouflaged military uniform.

"Born in 2345 on Angosia III, Slaytir volunteered to serve his planet during the Tarsian Wars of the early 2360's. Like many of us......he was selected for special psychological and chemical conditioning that enhanced his physical and mental abilities beyond what could be considered normal for a human.....Next slide Mel."

From her station at the back of the room, Marshal Daughtery dutifully advanced the machine revealing a set of charts detailing physical conditioning testing results.

"Like all Angosian soldiers, Sergeant Mann possesses superhuman strength, endurance and agility." Hux paused, "He may look like a skinny little runt in the photographs, but this asshole can snap bones in two or smash through walls without breaking a sweat."

"His endurance is well nigh limitless, able to survive weeks on things that would make a billy goat puke, and as for agility........let me tell you this is one squirrely little prick."

The screen shifted revealing a new photo of the same red-haired youth standing alongside another group of soldiers whose faces had been blurred out by military censors.

"Sergeant Mann performed extremely well during the initial stages of the Tarsian conflict, receiving commendations for gallantry under fire and deeds above and beyond the call of duty." Hux frowned at the Fleet officers. "He was a good soldier...he did what he needed to."

Hux paused for a moment scanning the faces in the audience. "All of the above is well documented, public information for anybody who takes the time to research the history of the conflict. Unfortunately for you schmucks there is another side to our friend."

"What I am about to tell you is considered highly classified information by the Angosian Government. Now since Angosia is not a part of the Federation, I could give a shit about what they think, but if you reveal what I am about to tell you some very good people in high places who got us this info may loose their figurative heads saavy?"

Another pause to make sure his point got across.

"Now....natural telepaths are rare on Angosia, but they do exist, as they do in most societies. Sergeant Mann was identified early on as possessing a fairly high natural telepathic talent, and was selected for some specialized training above and beyond that of the normal Angosian Soldier."

A photo of the red-haired youth strapped to a chair with various wires attached to his head. The youth is smiling and giving a 'thumbs up' sign to the camera.

"It's all well and good for us to be invisible to sensor scans, but that talent lost its usefulness when a normal pair of eyeballs on an alert sentry could pick us out. What we needed was somebody even more stealthy......."

"Mann's natural telepathic talents were enhanced, and refined to closely coincide with his ability to be invisible to sensors."

Hux was fingering his massive .88 Magnum, making the security officers in the front row nervous.

"Whereas a normal telepath focuses on the brains higher functions, like thoughts, communication, and reasoning.......Mann was trained to be able to single out the more basic of the brains functions....namely the five senses of sight, sound, taste, etc etc."

"Where a normal telepath can implant a thought, or a message in your head.......he can implant a false visual image....or sound.....or touch sensation."

He paused. "In essence he can make you see an empty room when he is really standing right next to you.

The next slide zoomed in on the grinning redhead, hair cut close in a military buzz cut. His smile lopsided and welcoming.

Hux was all business, his voice low and dangerous, "This is the face of one of the most dangerous mothers to ever walk out of basic training I shit you not."

"He is invisible to sensors and scanners of all sorts......highly resistant to phaser blasts unless you vaporize him......able to shield his thoughts from telepaths at will, he has the ability to hide anywhere on this space going barge and strike at will.......any stupid questions?"

.....TBC (with stupid questions)

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Part Twenty: “True to Nature”

1st Lieutenant Branwen London – Furies Psychologist
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe – Chief Engineer

***Holy City New Rhea***

~Dark magic?~ Dhani questioned, ~what the heck is that? And where’s the proof? As for spells, unless he is describing a ‘funny turn’, again, never happened. Killing children, nope that’s my gig. Indecent sexual behaviour? I don’t think she has had a romp in the sac in years, could be a major factor of her frustrations. Unless she has been wiping the memories of all the men she had seduced, that was most defiantly not true.~ In fact the only character on the Galaxy infamous for that sort of behaviour was 8-Ball. Dhani had never met the woman but her reputation preceded her. As for turning mans will and the latter two accusations, well they could be true of any female species that Dhani had come across, however, putting those allegations in the same box as Kimberly???? No way! Dhani shook her head, “When has Kimberly used this magic? And when has she murdered a child? She has been here for two days, firstly she hasn’t had the time and secondly we have been with her that entire time, as has our guide. So tell me Cardinal, where is your evidence?”

“But, but… she confessed!” he stammered. “She said that she was a…”

“A Witch” Dhani finished, “a person of the Wicca faith that follows the traditions of celebrating the cycle of life, the seasons and reverence for nature. That is what Kimberly has admitted to. That is what being a Witch amounts to in this day and age.” In all seriousness the Klingons had it right, kill your gods and get rind of the overbearing wrath right at the start, this intolerance over which god to worship and which not to was beyond stupid. The amount of year’s mankind had spent in conducting ‘Holy wars’ in the attempts to sway one group or another into their own way of thinking was beyond a joke. And what was even more unfathomable was the fact that when you studied the origins and looked closely at the main points each doctrine was detailing, it was all the bloody same! Dhani sighed and blinked slowly, ~Yup the Klingons had it right. Combine that with Vulcan Logic and you may just have a winner!~

Pious stepped back, his frown lines deepening. Wide eyed he turned to Branwen. “Is this true?” he implored her.

"It is true, father. She practices no black magic; her faith is about helping others and doing good. I should know, because I have done a lot of research on it lately." Her voice trembled. "I once doubted like you, but we are wrong, father, we are wrong. If we let this happen, none of us is going to heaven either. Because this would be killing an innocent. Father, it is wrong, we have to help her. I trust in your righteousness."

For a moment he stood unable to speak, wondering if the alien were lying to him. Perhaps Miss Branwen was too. But she wouldn’t, not to him, would she?

“Okay, okay, enough!” Dhani said holding up her hands. There was only so much ‘righteousness’, ‘church’ and ‘word of god’ crap she could handle. “What is the ‘trial’ and how long will it take? Can we interject? If it’s a trial surely we can represent her, or stand in as witnesses?” she asked quickly. If the Cardinal thought any longer about their sincerity he might just think himself out of believing the truth.

“It is not that sort of trial child.” Pious said slowly.

“Then what sort of trial is it?!” Dhani asked biting back her frustration. They could be doing all sorts to Kimberly right now and she deserved none of it.

“The trial begins with the accused being injected with Veritastaum,” at the girls puzzled expression he elaborated, “It’s a truth serum. Then the accused is checked by a MedPriest for ‘Dark Marks’. These are marks that do not bleed when cut.”

“You said there was to be NO blood shed!” Dhani hollered angered.

He raised his hand to quell her anger. He could understand it, given if what they had told him were true, but her anger should not be directed at him, he was not at fault for this turn of events. “That was in Bride Raid.” he informed her, his tone apologetic, “This is a trial now. A heathen can not marry a prince.”

Dhanishta leveled her gaze, “Go on.”

Nodding he continued, “The accused must then recite the Lords Prayer.”

“But Kimberly doesn’t know the lords prayer, she *isn’t* a Christian.”

“Ignorance is no excuse.” Pious replied instinctively, only realizing the absurdity of that statement afterwards.

“*I* don’t know your lords prayer, does that make me a witch too?” Dhani asked clipped.

Ignoring her question he continued, “The fifth test. The accused is bound and gagged, weights are strapped to the accused and then he or she is placed in holy water.” he said as fast as he could. He could feel her temper rising as the dawn outside. In all honesty as he recited the tests he began to understand why. He hated to admit it but they were incredibly barbaric.

Dhani blinked over her folded arms, “How does that work then?”

“Should she sink she is innocent and is reborn into the house of the Lord.” he replied quietly.

“You mean she drowns?” Dhani questioned already knowing the answer.

He nodded, “And should she float she is guilty and must be cleansed by fire.” He couldn’t look at her any more, just stared out across the floor.

“So you kill her either way?” Dhani questioned enraged. “It’s damned if you do damned if you don’t! Is that it?” she shrieked.

“Do not be vexed with me, Miss Eshe, I am not the executioner!” he pleaded.

“Do you have any idea how ludicrous that all is?!” she asked him, “Your people are going to murder an innocent woman!”

He shrugged still staring at the floor. Slowly after a few seconds of silence which seemed like an eternity at that moment he turned to leave, there was after all nothing he could do to stop what was already in motion.

“Don’t walk away from me!” Dhanishta screamed. “You have to know how stupid this is.” Exasperated she turned to Branwen, “Bran, please! You have to stop this. I know you feel a kingship with these people but this is beyond a joke. They are going to kill her. And for what?”

“It is not murder, it is Gods will.” he replied flatly firmly sticking his head in the sand.

“Don’t give me that bull!” Dhani yelled back. “No god would entice his people to commit murder.” she seethed.

“I know that!” he shouted back at her displaying for the first time what Dhani considered to be true emotion. She could see it rising behind his eyes, gone was the formal ‘dear child’s’ and the holier than thou airs and graces that he adorned. There was anger in that voice, in that stance, in his eyes.

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Dhani screamed back at him hooking on to his emotions and pushing back equally.

TBC…

"MANSLAUGHTER : REVELATIONS II"

(continuing the briefing from part I)

Hux was all business, his voice low and dangerous, "This is the face of one of the most dangerous mothers to ever walk out of basic training I shit you not."

"He is invisible to sensors and scanners of all sorts......highly resistant to phaser blasts unless you vaporize him......able to shield his thoughts from telepaths at will, he has the ability to hide anywhere on this space going barge and strike at will.......any stupid questions?"

"I got one... why didn't you make him blonde with blue eyes and teach him German while you were at it?" Raynor asked jokingly from the back of the room.

Eve couldn't help but giggle at that question.

"Speaking on behalf of the victims who aren't here to speak for themselves," a quiet voice that was unmistakably Victor Krieghoff's spoke up from the darkness, coming from the center of a circle of empty seats near the far wall, "both I – and, I believe, they – would appreciate it if you refrained from making any more jokes during the briefing. The killer, his motivations, and the things he did to our crewmen are not, in any way, funny." There was a pause, and then he added, "On a purely personal note, as a German I find your Nazi reference to be in somewhat poor taste, Lieutenant. I'd consider it a favor if you'd not make any more jokes of that nature in my presence.

Verstehen Sie?"

"If you can't get over something that your ancestors did over 400 years ago... If you still take that personally... you need your head examined..."

Raynor shot back, obviously not afraid of Victor's aura.

"Enslaving populations and spreading disease among others to take lands that never truly belonged to my ancestors in the first place, that is my heritage. I've gotten over that... why haven't you over your ancient heritage? Also I didn't know we were exchange personal favors... we haven't even exchanged any sort of formal or informal introductions yet... so lets get that out of the way... Zev Raynor..." he introduced himself with a smile on his face and a hand held out.

Victor looked at him for a moment before appearing to decide that humoring Raynor would end the disruption faster, “Victor Krieghoff, and…”

Hux interrupted the debate with a low growl. "Ok if Adolph and Goldberg are done debating 20th century politics and social engineering , or how having a mass murderer on board affects your inner-child maybe we can get on with something more productive."

"Anyways, Second stupid question.. does a universal translator work with him?" Raynor asked, his face blank.

"A translator? Are you gonna sit down and invite him to play paddy- cake with you? He'll being playing paddy cake with your head against a bulkhead."

~~If you're lucky~~ Ella signed as she entered the room. She waited for Victor to translate before waving a small hello and then sitting in an empty seat. She was tired and sore, and the tissue generator was itching like crazy, but she also had to know what was happening.

"How about establishing that we can in fact communicating with the target is the first step in waging Psychological warfare..." Raynor suggested mildly as if it was obvious.

"I mean if his mind is as unstable as you claim then he is more open to such verbal attacks then he would normally be. His mental disciplines are obviously failing... he's giving into many temptations he would never have done while being a living weapon for his government. Forcing communication between ourselves and the target. Its a weapon that we can use that may force him to lower his guard for a second... or maybe even disarm him... so answer the question... does the Universal translator work on him or not?"

Hux glanced towards the back of the room at Mel who merely rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He speaks Standard dipshit.....you dont need a translator." he replied. "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" Hux leaned his impressive build over Zev, "Good....because this guy grew up 150miles from my backyard.....his school played ZipBall against my school about 20 years back.....he's not a fucking alien got it?"

"There other reasons to know this but lets start with a simple yes or no answer... or is this impossible for you? Especially since the Federation Standard language almost everyone is speaking... not Common... which would fuck up anyone's brain unless they were taught that as a baby and it was designed to fool universal translators into thinking your speaking gibberish... and it is only employed by the Terran Coven because their the ones who invented that language... so I'll ask you for a yes or no answer this time... try it... it might actually be useful for you to know. I'm not going to stop asking til you actually answer me..." Raynor said looking him straight in the eye, not blinking, with his head tilted a little sideways...

Hux shrugged and walked back to the podium, "Fine, if you want to play Tokyo Roseover the intercom for him be my guest......at least we'll have some good music to clean up the blood spills to."

“All right then,” Victor spoke up. “Why does he do this? What motivates him? How does he decide to let this person pass by and make that one a victim? What does *he* think about the world around him? How does he see it?”

"Excellent question....." The Marshal nodded at the (second) scariest person in the room, "In short....not a fucking clue."

"That's obvious... How could you not know that?" Raynor asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"All right all right...." Hux threw up his hands, "This stuff goes back to the Classified Angosian files though."

"If you guys took history back in the Academy you'll already know that after the Tarsian Wars, there was considerable differences of opinion in how to reintegrate the ex-soldiers into a peaceful Angosian society."

"At length the powers that be decided to lure us to the Luna V complex to 'detain' us indefinitely. Not a bad place.....Comfy beds....good suds....boring as hell."

"Back about 17 years ago Colonel Roga Danar managed to break out of Lunar V and contact the USS Enterprise. Thereafter he gathered up a bunch of his buddies and we decided to go knock a few heads together in the capital."

Hux paused a half smile passing his lips at the memory. "At any rate we persuaded the jerks to give rehabilitation another try."

"In short....it sorta worked." Hux spat. "Treatments were marginally effective allowing some to reenter society, but for some.....well..."

He gestured at the smiling redhead on the screen.

"Sergeant Mann, was one of the initial batch to undergo treatment......we figure that his latent telepathic talent, and the way his mind is wired differently than the average psychic botched the treatment and fried his noodle in the process. Hallucinations...mood swings.....distractibility...forgetfulness....and temper tantrums are all common"

Hux glanced back at Victor. "To answer your question in short.....he's a homicidal five year old on an acid trip."

Victor nodded. “All right then, two more questions. One, how much of his military training does he retain access to, even if only reflexively and not consciously?”

The big Marshal nodded.....this fleet weenie was asking some good questions.....might even make a halfway decent lawman..." In regards to training, all of the above mentioned physical disciplines are 100% intact. Strength, speed, reflexes and the like. He knows how to handle weapons, although evidence seems to indicate he is easily distracted and may not take the time to operate complicated ranged weapons."

"Hand to hand skills, and melee weapon skills are fully intact......oh and while we are on the subject....for a guy this strong, melee weapons are not just knives and clubs.....they can include things like bookcases and filing cabinets so watch out."

"For other military training.....mental discipline.....tactical planning...things of that sort are intermittant at best. He does not tend to think things through, and has not shown any evidence of stalking his prey over a long period of time despite being trained to be patient and strike when most prudent. That said, his survival instinct is intact and there is nothing saying he cant pull a wild idea out of his ass and surprise us all."

Victor nodded, “Second question is this: How did you catch him the last time?”

Hux actually balked at that question, and for a moment looked more annoyed than usual, "Well." he replied, "Truth of the matter is....I didnt catch him......She did." he jerked his chin up at his partner against the back wall.

TBC.......

"Rocky Road"

Cmdr. Arel Smith, apc

****
DS5

Arel Smith had waited (a reasonable) ten minutes before deciding that she hated the station.

She hated the layout, the people, the shops, and even the ice cream - she decided as she poked at the sundae with her spoon - sucked. Sure, computer replicated desserts were obviously inferior to the real thing but this tasted like frieze dried essence of targ piss served with a tiny spoon. Klingons would have spat it back out and, as they were relatively undiscriminating about their food, that was really saying something.

The new ship wasn't so bad. Arel liked working with Jaal and the other people that had come over from the Miranda and some of the new crew were decent enough. In her heart though Arel felt that she didn't belong as second in command and that left her feeling tense and idiotic which in turn made her feel very cranky.

And, of course, Jii had made her promise not to kill or seriously maim anyone.

Not for the first time, Arel wished she hadn't listened to - or rather seen - Jordan's crap about the future. She would be on the Miranda now, in Security where she belonged, not on some damned space station under the thumb of a qoH of an admiral in a job that made her feel nearly homicidal.

Needless to say, her job satisfaction was at an all time low.

"baQa," Arel swore and tossed down her spoon. "This really is a shitty sundae."

Of course she knew that it wasn't just the job. Korvin was traipsing all over Qo'nos with his grandfather and great-grandfather, doing some Klingon male bonding crap. She also felt the absence of her friends and family - James, Rena, For'kel, Jordan, Jii ... hell, even her golf loving pthak shrink - and couldn't even count on getting a proper ice cream sundae to console herself with.

Well, smeg that.

"You," Arel yelled at the nearest waiter. She fixed him with a glare when he finally sauntered over. "I'm a very well trained security expert with a Klingon temper. The staff in Miranda's Sickbay could attest to that - "

The waiter suddenly paled. "You're *that* Commander Smith?"

Arel blinked and then grinned with pleasure. And Cat had said that breaking the doctors would never get her anywhere. "Yes, yes I am. So are you going to send me something that doesn't taste like fermented Kolar beast snot or am I going to have to get ... unpleasant?

The next sundae was ten times better but still not as good as it had been on the Miranda.

[Manslaughter] "The Princess, The Con and the Angel"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell
Engineer

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin
Chief Astrophysicist

LOCATION: Corridor

Naranda walked down the corridor responding to an alert that there was some damage done to a few wall consoles. Engineer alerts were different than security or medical alerts. It lacked a sense of urgency if it didn't involve life support or the warp core. All that was wrong was a few replicators would be down in some crew quarters.

So, not knowing what caused the damage, just that she needed to fix it, she was in no urgent hurry. As far as she knew, it could had been two crewmen stupidly brawling. It would also become sadly ironic that the unhurried engineer got there first.

Unfortunately, what she saw when she turned the corner horridly disproved the mild theory. She hit her commbadge for medical and security. At the sight of Saul, she would had dropped the engineering kit, but seeing the gore, she gripped it and looked around. Her adrenaline pumping, she moved toward Saul being prepared to fight whatever did this to them. At the same time, hoping Security already caught him or her.

She heard heavy breathing and sobs as she came near. Saul lying on his back, tried to turn toward whoever was coming. His left cheekbone was purple and swollen, but otherwise he looked undamaged.

That is, until she realized he was trying to hide his left arm from her. The limb was still somehow attached, but it was just a mix of torn flesh and shattered bone now, not reminiscent to the gentle hand that patted her hair delicately so many times.

She had seen somewhat similar or worse scenes, but never on someone she loved. She had to force sentimentality to the back of her mind as she checked to see if he were alive, which helped because Saul's breathing was audiable, like someone who screamed until exhaustion. Which he did.

"Hurt..." He managed to blurt, and moaned. It burnt. It seared. He cursed himself for staying conscious, but that wasn't going to last long, he reckoned. Already, he was seeing things. That couldn't possibly be Nara.

"Officer!..." He attempted, the pain from his broken jaw diminished only by that from his mutilated arm. "Call m'dical... help Cutt'r..."

His mouth twitched, teeth gritting. The pain was overwhelming.

"Shhh," She touched his hair, the keeping emotions at bay failing her, "I called security and Medical." She said this as she reluctantly moved away to survey the other victims.

She looked over at the other two bodies that lay in the small hallway alcove. One was a Vulcan. He was clearly dead. He had no head. Nara didn't see the missing body part anywhere nearby, and was thankful. The third body was a different type of alien, a member of a winged, avian species - someone she recognized. He was on the floor, propped up against the wall, perfectly still. One wing was open, laying on the floor along the length of the hall, the other was laid out parallel to his legs, its white feathers stained crimson from the puddle of blood he sat in. His shirt was ripped open, the left side of his chest painted with thick, red ooze. He was clutching his left arm with his right, trying to hold closed a deep, shredded gash along its length. And his eyes were closed, his mouth hung open in a frozen gasp of pain.

In the back of her adrenaline rushed mind, she wondered how Cutter ended up like this. From the short spar she had with him, she figured he could take on anything and survive.

It looked like the blood had stopped flowing, and his chest was not moving. Nara approached him and placed her fingers against his neck, hoping that his anatomy was similar enough to her own so she could find a pulse. But, she felt nothing. His skin was warm, but there was no pulse. She moved her fingers around, in case his arteries were in a different position, but she still felt nothing. She was about to give up, but then she felt a small surge throb beneath her finger tips. A slow moving 'thub' inching past like a worm, then a weaker 'dub' following behind moments later. She held still, but felt nothing else after that. Nothing. Nothing for almost ten seconds.

And then came another 'thub,' and then a 'dub.' Two beats in ten seconds? But, then she felt a third, almost five seconds later, and fourth, coming quicker, then a fifth and sixth and then a seventh. All of a sudden, his pulse was coming faster than once per second. And then he woke.

"K'aaaa!" his throat erupted, followed by pained moans and whimpers. His body convulsed, and he jerked his arms up to his chest, the six fingers of his right hand wrapping tightly around his left forearm. He looked at Nara, who at this point had jumped back in fright, his eyes wide and wild. "Help me!" he said, his voice low and hoarse, expelled from his throat like a loose rock from underneath a tire.

She blinked and she moved closer as a hand hovered unsure as she was still a bit shocked, "How?" She looked back toward Saul. Where the hell were the medical teams. "I'll try to get you both transported to sickbay." She moved over to the wall console and remembered that's why she ended up there in the first place. "Damn it."

Behind her Cutter grunted and whimpered once more, "Ah k'a! I'm going to die because you're an idiot."

Nara glared at him as she tapped her commbadge, "Emergency site to site beam out for Lts Bental and Cutter. Send them to sickbay. And damn it, get security here to check this place out."

[They're on their way. I don't appreciate that tone.]

"Screw tones. I've got two men here who could die, now get me the beamout!"

[That has to be cleared by the chief or assistant chief engineer.]

"Damn it. Fine." Nara cut out the transmission and opened a new one, "Roswell to Engineering, I need emergency site to site beam out for two men who are potentially fatally injured." She grumbled in her head about damn red tape as she worked on the console.

Before she could talk to whoever was around at the time, she had the console working enough for a site to site. "Never the hell mind. I got it." Her tone was cold and bitter, but to hell with it. She turned as she watched the two men dematerialize. She hit her commbadge once more, "Roswell to Sickbay. Do you have Bental and Cutter?"

[We have them. What the hell?!]

"Yea, just make sure you don't have to an autopsy, ok?"

As she was closing that communication, a medical team rushed in. They looked at the blood, horrified and then at Nara confused. In a deadpan tone, Nara stated, "Oh, my heroes. Just in the nick of time." In a more serious tone, "Get back to sickbay." She really had no authority to say it in such a demanding way, but she was cranky.

When she finished fixing the console well enough, but leaving it for evidence, the security team showed up. She just gave them a killing look and made her way to sickbay to check on Saul and Cutter.

"10 Victor, Part V"

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

EMS Captain Morgan Sauer, Commander NYC EMSC Station 13 (NPC for the purpose of this story)

NYC EMSC Battalion 10, Station 13, Harlem, NY, Earth, late 2370

Finishing up his unit checkout, Max walked over to the vending machine to get a well caffeinated drink. He had a long day with interviews and such for the University of Stony Brook to finish his Paramedicine degree. He was thinking about going the Paramedic Practitioner route, but decided it would get in the way of Medical School. He did, after all, want to become a doctor.

Selecting a Mountain Dew, he proceeded to try and find his partner when he was accosted by the Station Commander, one Captain Morgan Sauer. He had a reputation for being a micromanaging ball breaker, but that normally didn't bother Max much as he didn't have to interact with the man. Until today.

"Maxwell, my office, now," commanded Sauer. He wore an expression of utter distaste and annoyance. "Sure, why not," muttered Max. While he loved the job, he couldn't stand micro managers. They made the job crap, and thus, unenjoyable. He followed the boss into the office and shut the door. He figured that whatever it was that needed to be discussed needn't be heard by the general populous of the station.

"What can I do you for," Max had asked.

"That's exactly the reason why I called you in here, Maxwell. You're unprofessional, disrespectful to people, and apparently have an issue with authority. When you come into my office, you will address me as Captain or sir!" Sauer's face had gotten a tad bit red by this point, and looked as if he were ready to scrap.

"Um, right, guy. Like I said, what can I do you for?" Max almost smiled when the redness factor increased by fifty percent.

"You need an attitude adjustment, Paramedic Maxwell," Sauer finally got out, keeping his cool as best as possible. "You never sit at your assigned corner, you're always giving the dispatcher an attitude, and I just plain don't like you at this point. You give me a good reason why I shouldn't transfer your ass outta here or worse, put you in for dismissal?"

Max's eyebrows arched ever so slightly as he took the challenge head on.

"Well, for one, the Union won't let you and you know that. Unless I've been written up for specific infractions, you can stuff all that garbage you're trying to feed me right now. Two," he continued after a swig of Mountain Dew, "I don't much like you either. You're unnecessarily heavy handed, you smell, and could use a vacation. May I suggest Risa or Wrigley's planet? Or maybe a trip to Qo'Nos would give ya the revitalization you need."

"Oh, a freaking comedian, eh?" Sauer growled. "Since you want me to put shit on paper, let me start by writing you up for insubordination, and then-"

"No," Max interrupted.

"Excuse me? What the fuck you just said?"

"I said no. As in you will do no such thing."

"You must really have a career death wish, Maxwell," Sauer retorted.

"No, not really. You see, you cursed at me, and that's against the G.O.P. You know all about the G.O.P. being a supervisor and all, right?"

Sauer blinked. "What?"

"You seem to be forgetting that as a supervisor, you're supposed to be professional and courteous at all times in all matters regarding EMS. I believe this is an EMS matter, and you're bein' rather unprofessional," Max finished.

To his credit, Sauer managed not to spontaneously combust, but his skin tone indicated that he was just about cooked in a few more minutes. Max took the opportunity to stick it to him a little more.

"And while we're on the subject of regs, I need a new equipment kit."

"What?"

"You keep asking that," Max replied coolly. "My equipment kit is not up to specs and I've been requesting a new one for quite some time now, and in writing."

"You're shittin' me, right?"

"See? There you go again, cursing. How did you ever become a Captain? Never mind, I don't think I wanna know-"

"Out! Get the fuck outta my office, you douchebag Medic! Get the fuck out before I decide to forget that I'm wearing this uniform!"

As he was leaving, Max stopped to offer a final comment. "Speaking of uniforms, you may want to get an upgrade in uniform size. I've noticed that you've been putting on a few pounds, and well...what you're wearing doesn't become you."

Max barely avoided a PADD that was hurled at him from the desk.

TBC......................................................

"Rebel Forces"

Negotiating the Future Series

Commander Mixamilion
Sargeant Ritchi

Location: Sargentinio Compound-Rebel Territory-Planet of Pollux 8
Chameloid Home World

Known to few, the room was exclusively for those that led the faction known as the 'Rebels'. Placing a scaled claw to the security device, the second in command patiently waited for the heavy click that gave him access to the inner realm.

Rolling his inner orbs, greenish in color, the being sighed with a frustrated satisfaction as he entered the abode. The room was kept cooler than normal, due to the heightened body temperatures of the beings that occupied it. That fact, still caused the reptile to shiver somewhat as he ran an extracted claw along the smooth surface of the black granite table top as he found himself yet again waiting for his superior.

She entered, and his eyes shifted sideways to take in her form. Always inwardly pleased at her appearance, this time was none like the other. Her pheromone levels had been driving him insane lately. He admitted freely that the attraction he felt was purely biological, for she gave new meaning to the word 'bitch'. For Ritchi, the attraction had to be mental as well.

Clearing her throat, she offered him a slight look of un-satisfaction as she sat at the head of the oblong table.

"Commander......"

Nodding silently, her eyes focused on the Manila folder that he clasp in his grasp.

The angle that the folder hit the desk caused it to slide forward, the contents spilling forth exposing the negotiators face, rank, and some unclassified history.

"That.....she....is a problem."

Her snout remained still as her eyes initially scanned the information she already read. His actions bordered on insubordinate, yet he was loyal. Loyalty in times such as these was difficult, no, nearly impossible to come by. "She is not a problem."

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." He responded quietly.

"As lovely as that analogy is Sargent, and as true as it might be concerning this 'woman', fancy words will get us no where. We need her on our side, she has to view her father as the enemy he is. She is the catalyst to the civil war that we have been waiting for. Suggestions?"

Instinctively, the claw that gained him permission to enter the room raised up and scratched the nostril that had been itching him since earlier that morning. His scales were dry, due to lounging too long in the sun orb. It was a stupid thing to do....but what was done was done. Picking a flake off of the inside of his nostril, he caught her frowning at him and instinctively straighted his slouched posture with a hint of innocence.

Her tongue lashed out, tasting the stale air as she regarded him for a moment. "Suggestions Sargent?"

"Blow something up."

Mixamilian ignored his statement before offering one of her own. "We have to get to her, make her believe that her father is not the man that she believes he is."

His eyes narrowed dangerously before his outer lids blinked twice. "Sabotage......."

Standing up, she leaned closer to him, touching the end of his snout with hers, hissing with an evil whisper. "Do it........."

TBC...............

~Rivals~

Nathan Everett
Thyago Carneiro

The doors to the 'Hanging Noose' slid open and Thyago Carneiro walked inside. He gave his arm a quick shake so the leather straps around his wrist would fall back down as he slid his hand into the pocket of his black jeans. Confidently, he scanned the room, tossing suave smiles at the few women who caught his glance.

Then his eyes landed on someone he knew, someone unexpected. Someone who, unfortunately, was not a woman.

He was talking to a woman at the bar. Thyago moved through the crowd until he was behind the guy, and he slapped him hard on the back, and draped himself across the man's shoulder. "Oi, Trigger! Meu cumpadi, tudo bem? Oh, and who is this?" Thyago asked, eyeing the lady.

"Trigger" let out a quiet, apprehensive sigh as he recognized the interloper's voice, his shoulders slumping. ~God help me,~ thought Nathan Everett as he lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hi, I'm Diane," she said warily, "Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah! Trigger and I go way back. My name is Thyago," he smiled.

"Dammit, Thyago, mah name ain't Trigger!" Nathan complained, glaring over his shoulder at the annoying engineer. "Trigger's a horse!"

"So? There're worse things to be than a horse," Thyago shrugged, then he looked to Diane, "And, mina, this dude is like a horse."

"Uh-huh," Diane evaluated, "And how do you two know each other?"

Nate started to speak but, Thyago cut him off. "Oh, from jail. We were cell mates. I was on top."

"What the fu--!"

"I see," Diane said. "Well, I think I should let you two get reacquainted. Nice meeting you, Trigger," she smiled, and then walked away.

"Dude, she's cute!" Thyago said, still hanging off of Nate's shoulder behind him.

Nathan watched Diane walk off, scowling, and knocked Thyago off of his arm. "What the *hell*'d you do that for, you sunuvabitch?!" he growled as he whirled to face him. He grabbed Thyago's sleeve, angrily shaking the smaller man.

"Dude, lay off the shirt, mano. It's new, I just got it," he said, swiping Nate's hand away and rerolling up the long sleeve.

"Ah'm two seconds from knockin' yer scrawny little ass all the way back to Brazil!"

"Ah, come on, I was just trying to help you out."

"How could any of that've possibly helped me out?!" Nathan demanded.

"What? I lied and told her you were hung like a horse. How was I to know that would scare her off?" Thyago defended, throwing up his arms. "Although, she was kinda petite, maybe she's afraid of large men..."

Nathan rolled his eyes at that. "What the hell're you doin' here, anyway?" he finally asked, relaxing a little. "Ah didn't know you left the Miranda, too."

Thyago perked up at the question. "That's a funny story. Let me get a drink and I'll tell you. Could you be a darlin' and fetch us a table?"

Cowboy frowned at Thyago's choice of words and made as if to go after him again.

The Brazilian flinched and snickered good-naturedly as he turned to the bar tender, "Cachaca and vermouth, por favor." He turned back, leaning against the bar to see Nate still standing and frowning. "What, are we going to stand all night? Come on."

"What? Ah was just fine right here. Why don't *you* go find a damn table?"

"Well, I'd get it, but you're the one who already has a drink," he explained. Nate rolled his eyes again and then went to find a clear table. Thyago watched for a few moments while the bar tender made his drink, then he followed behind.

"Okay, so here's the story," Thyago began once he had sat down. "I didn't think I was going to leave the Miranda either, but once every one else left, pum, then a transfer order comes down the pipe. Atlantis. I'm supposed to take over Ops there or something. But, the Miranda's already left the station. Like, we're way far away, sacau? So, I have to take a shuttle to the USS Abigail Adams which takes me to the USS Some-River-in-Europe, which took me to Little Armenia. The colony planet, not the place in Los Angeles. I spend two days there until the USS Some-Astronomer picks me up and takes me to Atlantis."

"Interestin'," Nathan replied dryly before taking a sip of his drink. He looked back up at Thyago, who was just sitting there looking at him expectantly. He frowned and gestured to the Brazilian. "Please, do go on."

"Well, so, I get there, and I go over to where ever they assign you quarters, sabe? But, they don't know who I am, they don't know what I'm doing there. And quite frankly, they were very rude, I don't think they even wanted me there."

"Those bastards."

"Thank you," Thyago said sincerely, even though Nate clearly was not. "Anyway, I'm not supposed to be there. So, I check, and apparently, the transfer order to Atlantis had been recended, somewhen along that huge trip there, se ligou? Bam, back on a ship, the USS Some-Vulcan-Chick, which brings me here to DS5. But, this is the best part. I'm supposed to be on the USS Hapshetsut, which is some Gypsy queen--"

"'Gyptian."

"What?" Thyago asked, confused.

"She was Queen of Egypt, blockhead, not a Gypsy. And her name was Hatshepsut, not Hapshetsut," Nathan smugly clarified. Who knew having a history geek for an Academy roommate would come in handy some day?

"Who cares?" Thyago shrugged, "Not the point. The point is I'm supposed to be on the USS Hapshetsut--"

"Hatshepsut."

"The USS Hatshepsut, NCC something-something-something-five-five-something-something, ta ligado? But Hapshetsut--"

Nathan thought about correcting Thyago again, but instead he just shook his head and took another drink.

"--Coincidentally, happens to be the name of a river or a lake or something on Andoria--"

"Andor," Cowboy said as he set his drink back down, smiling. His former wingman would have been proud. "Wait, how can there be lakes or rivers on Andor? Ain't it all pretty much one big ball of ice?"

"Okay, Captain Geography--"

"Hey, Ah ain't the one who's makin' himself sound lahk an idiot, here..."

"Whatever. So, there's this other ship, named after the river or lake or something on Andor, the USS Hapshetsut, NCC something-something-something-five-SIX-something-something, where all the somethings are the same, of course. This is actually the ship assignment I get. But the thing is, this ship was decommissioned four years ago! Someone made a typo, and now I'm supposed to be on a ship that doesn't exist! So, now, I'm here, waiting for this ship, which'll never come, goofing off and getting paid for it!"

"Ain't that pretty much what you were doin' before?" Nathan wondered.

"Yeah, it's just like being on the Miranda, except I don't have to delegate all my work off to Cesar before goofing off. It's awesome!" Thyago exclaimed, then, as he calmed back down, asked Nate, "What about you? What are you doing here?"

"Contemplatin' suicide," Cowboy muttered before finishing the rest of his drink. Setting down his empty glass, he shook his head. "Unfortunately, mah story ain't nearly so interestin'. Ah thought about transferrin' over to Atlantis, since that's where the Rogues were goin', but then Ah got an offer from the Galaxy to be their new Deputy CAG."

"I don't know what that means."

Nathan sighed. "It means Ah'm the XO of their fighter wing, sand-fer-brains. Honestly, how'd you get to be Chief Engineer of the Miranda? You don't seem lahk Admiral Elaithin's type, but Ah s'pose anythin's possible nowadays..."

Thyago shrugged, and hummed the tune to 'I don't know.' "I've wondered that myself a couple times. I think I look good on paper. I mean, I look good in person, too, obviously," Thyago said, then waved his hand to display his face, showing off his physical looks, "but I agree, I definitely shouldn't be in charge of anything."

"Well, at least yer aware of yer limitations," Cowboy responded with a laugh. He flagged a waitress down for a refill, giving the attractive woman a charming smile before she walked off. He looked at Thyago again and noticed the Brazilian following the waitress with his eyes as she walked away.

He raised an eyebrow at him. "What, you ain't satisfied with just scarin' one woman away from me tonight?"

Thyago slowly pulled his eyes away and looked back at Nate with a cocky smile. "Please. I do them a service by scaring them away from you," he said, then turned his gaze back towards the waitress, "And I do me a service by sending them running into my arms."

Nathan snorted derisively as the waitress returned with his drink. "Thank you, darlin'," he said, smiling up at her again. His hand brushed against hers as he took the glass from her.

It was then that Thyago leaned in towards her, delicately sniffing at the air. "I love your fragrance," he said, "Is that Narciso Burberry for Her?"

She looked at him, surprised, "Wow. Good nose."

"It fits you beautifully," he said and leaned back in his chair. She made a quick, surprised, self-concious, but flattered face and turned to return to the bar.

The pilot watched her go, then he glared across the table at Thyago. "Would you stop that?!" he demanded. "Find yer own gawddamn women!"

"I heard no call of dibs. There were no dibs called on her," the Brazillian said, "You have no justification for your upsetness... upsettedness? Upsettitude?"

"How did yer brain even learn human speech?" Nathan asked, bewildered.

"Dude! I speak four languages," Thyago defended. "Standard is, like, the last one I learned. I don't know all your fancy words, te ligado?"

"Huh?"

"Well, its too late now, we've both staked a claim. Now she must choose the better man. The smoother, suaver, more exotic, olive skinned man."

"And what makes you think yer the better man?"

"Olive skinned," Thyago repeated, once again holding his hand up to display his face. "Radiant olive with amber under tones," then, indicating Nate, "Pallid white. Perhaps a slight ruddiness in the cheeks. You should get more sun."

"Ah grew up in space," Cowboy pointed out. "Ah'd prob'ly burst into flames'r somethin' if Ah stood under the sunlight fer too long."

"Seriously?" the Brazilian asked. Seriously. "I didn't know you spacers were vampires! Well then, I really should scare her away from you. You're liable to 'thuck her vlood,' and that would be no good. She clearly shouldn't be the suckee," he said lewdly, looking back towards the waitress who was now across the room.

"And she never *will* be now, thanks to you."

"Fine," Thyago said, throwing his hands up in surrender, "You can have her. I didn't know you were going to get all girly over it."

"Nah, too late, she's already tainted," Nathan answered before taking a sip of his new drink. As he set the glass back down, he suddenly broke out in a grin and shook his head, chuckling quietly.

"What?" Thyago asked at Nate's laughter, then rattled off, "That wasn't a joke. You can laugh at your own jokes, but that wasn't funny. What are you laughing at?"

"Nothin', it's just...believe it or not, Ah actually kinda missed this. Yer alright, Thyago. Fer a skinny, dim-witted, girl-stealin' little runt, that is," Nathan said, smiling at the engineer.

Thyago frowned slightly, thinking over the back handed compliment. After a few moments, he shrugged, "I'll take the girl stealing," he said, and raised his glass.

Nate laughed and held up his cup, clinking it against Thyago's before taking another drink. "You know," Thyago said, "I think the problem is that we're always after the exact same women. We both have too good of... too good tastes.... our tastes are too good, sacau? And we're too good. So, its impossible for her to choose between us, so she chooses neither."

"A no-win situation all around," Nathan agreed.

"It would be no problem if we just pursued them together," Thyago said, and Nate immediately nodded without thinking. But then, once the ramifications dawned on them, they both stopped, and looked at each other awkwardly. "Except," Thyago began, needlessly spelling it out, "that would mean we'd have to do a three way. With each other...."

"Uh…"

"There'd be a girl," Thyago offered.

"Right," Nathan said slowly. "But uh...that still leaves us with the problem of, y'know, both of *us* bein' there." Cowboy fidgeted nervously, wishing desperately for someone to come along and scrub the highly disturbing from of his brain.

"Yeah," the Brazilian agreed, looking at Nate once more and miming vomit at the thought. "Okay, then, we just have to agree to not chase after women when we hang out. What do you yanks say? Bros before hos?"

"Sounds about right," Cowboy said. "And fer the last tahm, Ah ain't a gawddamn Yank."

It was that moment when the doors to the Hanging Noose opened once more and perhaps the hottest girl in the quadrant walked inside, wearing a slinky, black dress which did wonders for her cleavage (and, it was already wondrous without the dress' assistance). Nate whistled under his breath, and Thyago muttered something in his native language, their eyes locked to her body like compass needles to magnetic north.

Slowly, the two men looked at each other, realizing their new deal had already been ejected out the nearest airlock. Now, it was a race.

"Dibs!" Nate called out.

"Di-- Damn! Porra!" Thyago cursed.

"Ha!" Cowboy exclaimed, grinning triumphantly. "You might wanna work on those reflexes, Don Juan." He picked his glass up and drained the rest of it, then stood up and made sure he looked presentable. "Hold mah calls, it looks lahk Ah'm gonna be busy the rest of the evenin'."

He turned and walked off to join the woman at the bar, casting one last victorious smirk over his shoulder at Thyago.

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