"Work"

Lieutenant Savant,
Fleet Logistics Officer
and Quartermaster Jacian Maro

She ran her hand along the casing; slim fingertips brushing along the plastic surface like the shivering whisper of silk upon skin or the murmur of a thin wind through white tree branches. The crate cared little for the caress, but to its master the long stripe which her fingers played upon the row of containers outlined her immediate domain and her sworn responsibility. It was an act of ownership, of possession - these things were hers to safeguard for their eventual and rightful owners. They offered her silent worship for her services, while she in turn offered hers to them.

The cargo bay was silent save a pair of footsteps. The lights were somewhat dimmed as well, as it was a late shift and there was no reason to conserve power for eyes that were asleep. Only the towers of supplies bore witness to the two as they traversed the bay.

The Quartermaster spoke to her traveling companion as they walked; her tone was hushed and sibilant while synthetic lips slowly spun each word as a potter's hands might sculpt a vase. "You don't like me." It was less a question than a statement, and one which caught the Bolian beside her by surprise.

He opened his mouth to reply, turning to look at the taller android, but when he met a pleasant and benign smile instead of a confrontation his words failed to form. Jacian Maro closed his mouth again.

"I can understand it, Mister Maro. You were here first, I'm new." Her fingers continued to brush along the row of crates as they turned the corner, almost absently. "You're enlisted, I'm an officer. You're organic. I'm not. I can understand the resentment." Still she spoke slowly, enunciating each word fully and completely; she was acutely aware of each motion required of her mouth and tongue to form each sound - even though she had no need to masticate the words that fled from her.

He grunted and scowled - Savant cut right through to the heart of the matter and left him with little to say. Still, he had a voice of his own and found enough of it to respond. "I'm my own boss," he spoke sourly, "always have been."

Savant stopped in her tracks, as did the Bolian quartermaster. It was no co-incidence - Savant had spaced and timed the pace of her steps to allow exactly enough time for the conversation, allowing them to stop when it was the most dramatically appropriate, to lend enough force to her words. Organic minds were chemical machines, and if one knew how to activate the proper controls they could be steered as much as any ship could.

"I don't want in your way, Mister Maro. I don't want to interfere in your work. I'm a computer program - I was designed to help people do their work as smoothly as possible." She placed her hand upon the crate they had come to inspect to accentuate the statement following, "Let me do that. We can make this work, I promise."

He seemed doubtful, but Savant knew better. She could see the shifting chemical states in his bifurcated frontal lobe and understood them as a decretion in the acetylcholine pathways that stood between him and her.

He would come to appreciate her in time - she knew this to be a fact.

The android smiled again, triggering a minor dopamine path activation.

Puppet on a string. "Let's get this to the lift."

The two set to work, growing silent once more. Labour superimposed itself upon their thoughts. For Maro, the time was enough for him to mull over what his new superior officer had to say, and decide that maybe she was worth giving a chance. For Savant, the time was an infinity with which to ponder her new position upon Galaxy, and to plot her next move. There was work to be done after all - great works. The sensors of Galaxy turned outwards and looked upon her clean and broad canvas, as she pondered where to place the first point of paint.

"Hate Me!"

2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine and resident Drunk, USS Galaxy

****
Steven's Quarters
Marine Country
USS Galaxy
****

(The lyrics are from "Hate Me" by Blue October)

The blue liquid swirled around in the half full bottle. It sparkled brightly in the dim light that bathed the room in creepy shadows. His eyes were drawn to it like moths to a flame. It drew him in, mesmerizing, attracting, drawing him into the warmth and comfort it provided. Like a child's safety blanket, he held the bottle close to his chest. It was his and no one was going to get it off him. Taking a sip, he let the strong liquid roll over his tongue and down his throat. It burned with a strength not unheard of in such a drink, but it was welcoming none the less.

Leaning back, he cradled the bottle in his hands as the music played, filling the room with a sadness seen many times since he had returned from ch'Rihan. The sadness of loss lay like a stench upon the drunk Marine, filling his pores with everything that was wrong with the universe. From the murders of innocent Romulans, to the secrets people carry, to the love lost forever, to the death of a young marine upon the battlefield. It wound about him, enveloping him in its tight web, tightening around him, suffocating him as he lay there up against the bulkhead.

The man spluttered, droplets of drink and spit splattered down his clothing and onto the floor below. He was killing himself with the amount he was consuming and he knew it. He just didn't care anymore. His love had left him. Not wanting anything to do with him, preferring to treat him like dirt rather than deal with the man who was in love with her and so here he was, drinking from yet another of the many bottles that littered the floor of his 'home'. He had nothing left to live for. He had given her his heart and she had stomped on it like there was no tomorrow. Taking another drink, he spilled some onto his bare chest and wiped it up with his hand, before raising the hand to his face and licking it, savouring every drop of liquid.

"I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain An ounce of peace is all I want for you. will you never call again?

And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?

And will you never try to reach me? it is I that wanted space

"Hate me today

Hate me tomorrow

Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

"Hate me in ways

Yeah ways hard to swallow

Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you"

He blinked as a jet black cat walked through the closed door and jumped up on the bed next to him. He rubbed his eyes trying to clear the vision from his eyes. Forgetting that they were covered in alcohol, his eyes stung like hell and he nearly dropped the bottle at the pain. Yet as he finally managed to open them, there it sat, staring up at him, it's beady eyes boring twin holes into him. He threw a hand in its direction hoping to scare it away, but had no success. It just sat, blinking occasionally, staring up at the marine holding the bottle.

"Goes awaysssss....sshhooo" His words were slurred, and his head bobbled around a bit as he spoke, but the cat just stayed right where it was, watching, staring, freaking him out.

The cat stared as the man closed his eyes and counted to ten out loud. He missed the number seven and said the number four twice, but when they opened, the cat was gone and he breathed a sigh of relief. Taking another sip, he saw a shadow cross behind the bottle and lowering it slightly from his mouth, the black cat was now sitting on his legs, pulling at the bottle with a paw. He reached up and swatted the paw away. "Itttssss miinneee. Gets yourss own bottless."

With a wave of his hand, he swiped at the cat, his large hand passing right through the dark feline. "Whats the fuckkkss?" He slurred. Repeatedly he swiped his hand through the mist that formed the black cat. He smiled at the thought of such a creature and he took another sip, despite the cat's strained expression. Closing his eyes, the man lay in a stupor, ignoring the purring that emanated from the feline sitting on his knees.

"I'm sober now for 3 whole months it's one accomplishment that you helped me with

The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again

In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night

While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight

You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate

You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take

So I'll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind

And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

"Hate me today

Hate me tomorrow

Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

"Hate me in ways

Yeah ways hard to swallow

Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you "

The cat purred and he reached out to rub it under the chin, inciting a louder purr from the black beast. "Nissseee kitttyy" he slurred before taking another sip. Intent as he was to get the liquid in his mouth and not over himself, he failed to hear the cat stop it's purring. He was ignorant of the feline, until it bit into his hand, drawing blood. Still clutching the bottle, he yelped and jumped up off the bed. His foot slammed into an empty bottle on the floor, shattering it, and sending shards of glass into his foot. That sent him hopping around on one foot as he clutched at the newly injured sole of his other foot. Bottles rolled away as he knocked them about.

Reaching the wall of his quarters, he released his hurting foot and clutched at the wall for support. As his foot throbbed from the pain, he looked for the damn cat, but found his bed empty of the damned feline. Cursing his stupidity at falling for a trick of his mind, he hopped into the small bathroom that hooked onto his small home. Leaning against the wall, he placed the bottle on the sink and began feeling around the sole of his foot, trying to get the shards of glass out. As he found one, he pulled, and stifled a yelp as it tore at his skin some more on its way out.

The sink was now filled with over a half dozen pieces of glass and blood pooled on the floor beneath his feet. Hobbling into the shower, he turned on the taps. He had always hated the concept of the Sonic shower and had asked, and had received permission to have a water based shower installed. Letting the cool water run over his leg, he hiccuped. He spotted the cat running towards him and threw up his hands to protect himself. The cat flew at him, landing square on his arms as they blocked his face. He slipped on the blood soaked floor and fell backwards, landing with a thump against the wall. He shrieked like a drunken school girl as the cold water fell onto his face and bare chest.

"And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave

Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made

And like a baby boy I never was a man

Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand

And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away!"

Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be

And then she whispered "How can you do this to me?"

"Hate me today

Hate me tomorrow

Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

"Hate me in ways

Yeah ways hard to swallow

Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you "

Finally, he managed to rise from his splayed out position in the shower. He reached up and turned the tap off, before using the door frame to help him into a standing position. Despite the warm temperature of the room, he was shivering badly. Picking up a towel, he began drying himself off. As he was preparing to take his wet trousers off, he heard the cat and looked up. Spotting himself in the mirror, he moved closer to get a better look at himself.

His eyes were all puffed up, with dark marks under them. He looked worn out and tired. ~ No wonder she hates you. You look like shit! ~ Feeling sorry for himself, he reached for the bottle. Grabbing it by the neck, he raised it to his lips, catching his reflection in the mirror as he did. ~ No! No more! ~ Turning, he hurled it across the room. He groaned in satisfaction, and also heartache, as the bottle shattered against the wall, sending the liquid, and fragments of the bottle to the floor below.

The man turned back to the mirror. "Thisss eeennndss nows." he slurred at himself, "Noo mores drinkis. Issse wants her backs." With that, he slipped in a pool of blood again and fell to the floor below, knocking himself unconscious.

"If Only..." - Part I
by
Nanietta Bacco,
President of the UFP

Esperanza Pinero,
Deputy Chief of Staff

Admiral Jas Abrik,
Chief Security Advisor to the President.

******************
Ra-Ghoratreii Room
******************

"Did this air on the public networks, Jas?"

Nanietta Bacco's eyes had widened beyond their natural boundaries once the transmission had unfolded in all its un-natural glory. Her features had aged a little more since taking office four years ago; a few extra wrinkles, her hair a bit more streaked in grey, but her eyes never lost their sharp focus. And Jas Abrik, the current top Security Advisor to the President was the unfortunate target for them.

Abrik had been in office through two Presidents now, starting with Min Zife, who abruptly resigned office after the Tezwa Incident in 2379, triggering an emergency election that resulted in the current administration. The Trill was the last remnant of that less-than-stellar administration, but not because of any particular reason, other than the fact that if he wasn't continued on as Security Advisory, he'd expose the former government's duplicity with the Kinchawn government on Tezwa, and spark a war with the Klingons that would've resulted in nothing less than decimation on both sides, and changing the face of the quadrant perhaps permanently.

Not that he didn't want to, but wanting to be a part of the solution of moving the Federation towards a more 'enlightened' yet dominant presence and ideology was more preferable than allowing the Dove pacifists to destroy his UFP while he languished in a windowless cell, or worse yet, suffer the same fate as Min Zife and his senior staff, wherever they may be. Since the former President's resignation, not a single soul has seen them on any world, anywhere, in the Federation.

"If I had been part of the Security Council session that decided on the course of action that brought us to this point, it might have been avoided.

Military decisions should not be committed without your Security Advisor present." The older unjoined Trill returned the hardened look Bacco had burned into him with equal determination from across the conference table.

The same table that had, several days ago, unilaterally decided to accept going to war with the Hydrans instead of staying out of other system's affairs and negotiating a non-aggression treaty. At least until their military capabilities could be evaluated. Now, Starfleet Intelligence had lost an invaluable amount of information. What was gathered at the battle was only a scratch on the surface as to what could have been. And a duplicitious race like the Romulans would have been subjugated to a minor power in the quadrant, removing them as a threat. Having the Hydrans as a border government was a lot less troublesome. The lines were far more clear when it came to their foreign policy.

"I asked you a question, Admiral. I suggest you answer it, or I'll find someone that will." Ther was no denying the iciness of Bacco's tone. She'd not wanted or asked for the bitter advisor in her cabinet, and been working behind the lines for the last three years to get him out with minimal fuss.

It wasn't proving easy. As a hawk in the political arena, he kept the council in balance, knowing both sides were represented in the upper offices. This was election year, and Bacco needed as much support as she could muster if she were to win another term.

The Hawks had begun growing in number since Havras and Federation Day. Her recent falling-out with the Damiani representative during the emergency Security Council session had been indicative of that. She knew what route the Federation would take with Rach B'ullhy at the forefront of politics.

It was not something she and the other Doves desired. Too many motions were stalled or defeated by B'ullhy's opposition, and it needed to end. Keeping Abrik around appeased most of the opposing council representatives and pushed through critical bills. Like continued support to the Cardassians.

That one was difficult, but Councilor Garak had not lost his charm over the years. It was the voice of Krim Aldos of Bajor that had carried the motion through, though. The one-two combination had swayed enough representatives over to carry the vote 77-74. The Ontailians, as usual, didn't show up again, and two other worlds, Pacifica and Triex, had declared neutral status and began boycotting the Council sessions in protest over the current state of affairs. Bacco's Foreign Policy offices and the former popular Ra-Yalix of Jaresh-Inyo's administration were working overtime behind the scenes to settle other representative's concerns. Currently, the Doves still held an advantage in council, but that could change at any time.

"It's time you started listening to my advice, Madame President. This is the third major incident in two years. In case you haven't noticed, each one is getting more costly. Our forces can't sustain the continued assault by the Hydrans, Breen, and T'kith'kin. If you continue to commit Starfleet forces at the uninformed impulses of Admiral Murdock, you're going to make us as vulnerable as the Romulans were. It's no longer about pride, Madame President, it's about economics and resources." He paused only long to take a breath.

"Before you ask again, only a portion of the assassination attempt made it to broadcast. My contacts on Romulus forwarded me the rest."

"Jas," Esperanzo Pinero, the senior Deputy Chief of Staff amongst the four, interceded the heating up tension between the two opposing ideologies. She sympathized with Abrik, but did not share his extremist views of complete isolationism and slow annexation. She also couldn't ignore his concerns of Bacco's doctrine of peaceful exploration through expansionism. She felt, at that core, a great many of the council representatives own advisors advocated the same sensibilities to their councilors as well. That brittle balance could - and did - shift often.

She'd known the President for most of Esperanza's life, as the former had visited her parents often when they all still lived on Cestus III, when Nan was governor.

Life seemed so much simpler then. And it was.

"Jas," she continued, "what are the Rihannsu thinking on this? Neither the Empress or Proconsul have made any public statements." She made the effort to not emphasize the proper entitlement of the Romulan people, but it was difficult when it came to Abrik. He was the epitome of blunt.

"Nor are they likely to. The last thing they'd want is for the public to realize their Praetor is dead, let alone cause an incident over Federation conspiracy. Ambassador-General Mol is right now herself negotiating a diplomatic solution to the mess. I need not remind you that if this is released to the media or public," the particulars of the Battle of Havras from last year had been leaked to the media, which in turn has still yielded protests and the occasional riot on over a dozen worlds, including the permanent sit-in at the gates to both the Palais du Concorde and the Starfleet grounds in San Francisco.

"Then don't, Jas." Bacco finally broke the stalemate between her and Abrik, taking her hands off their leaned-in position she was prone to taking when faced with contemplative and serious considerations. She turned her back on the two advisors, and gazed out upon the promenade for a long moment before speaking again. The crystal clear blue skies shone down into the reflecting pool lining the greenspace landscape. Amongst the tourists and those taking a break from the rigors of politics down below, a group of perhaps one hundred beings had holographic displays protesting the current government and their 'warmongering'.

"I won't come about-face and promote an isolationist policy, Admiral. It'll make us appear weak."

"You mean it'll make your administration appear weak, don't you, Madame Presidente?"

Bacco tapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other as they tucked into the small of her back. She ignored the Trill's remark, but she wouldn't forget it. He only had so many strikes against him before she threw him out. And she vowed to do just that come her election win, hell or high water be damned.

"I accepted this position and swore an oath to protect the Federation and its morals. If that means taking the blame for what decisions had to be made, then so be it. The people elected me to be the voice that speaks for all; that means I take the blame for all when it goes awry. Today, right now, our very existence hinges on what we do next." A child threw an anti-grav ball at her father in the field. It rolled lazily into the protestors group. One of them stopped, picked up the ball, and threw it gently back to the girl. "Do we just give up on our alliances when we need each other the most? The Rihannsu have been our enemies for two hundred years. We've suffered through an atomic war with each other, broken treaties and came close to more wars than I'd like to take comfort in. Yet, we came to terms with each other twice now. We hammered out a truce. We became allies! And like they did for us during the Dominion War, we returned without thought. Even if it means weakening our lines and defenses, for that is what we stand for. We stand by our commitments. There will be no turning back. Or inwards."

Tearing her gaze away from the pleasant images arrayed out before her, to come about face with the complications of a Federation incarnate in the two standing before her.

"What are the Rihannsu up to at the moment?" The moment the last shots were being fired, Praetor Hitan had issued his final command to the Starfleet Task Force ensconced around his planet, ordering their immediate withdrawal as Federation assistance was no longer required. It was shortly after that he was assassinated by the Federation Liaison to the Rihannsu, Kylar Curran.

The comm-board at Abrik's chair chirped before anyone could answer. "Just one moment." Bacco gave him a haughty glare, daring him to be gone long.

"What do you think, Esperanza?" While Abrik had gone off to answer his emergency call - as Bacco had left orders they were not to be disturbed except in outright emergency, or details relating to the situation on ch'Rihan since Starfleet's departure - the President took the time to let down her guard somewhat and discuss the issue with her closest confidante.

"I think with all Starfleet and Federation personnel off ch'Rihan, it doesn't look like they want our help. I'd be surprised if Intel can come up with anything tangible. The situation with Curran is too touchy for my liking. I hate to say it, but I think we need to sever ties with him. Say he went renegade. I'm sure we can get Holly to lay the groundwork."

Captain Holly Hostetler was the current liaison to Starfleet Intelligence, and been so for the last three years.

Bacco shook her head. "No, I'm not turning my back on our people. Plus, he didn't act alone. He couldn't have, Esperanza. This job was too important.

He had help, and I want to know who it was. The Rihannsu don't care about our needs. They just want someone to answer for the crime, and he'd be a good enough excuse for the military to rise to govern on ch'Rihan again by blaming us. No, we need him out of there."

"It'll be tricky, Madame President. He's only one finger pointed at us. If we send anyone in to get him out, that increases the likelihood of being blamed. Imagine it... they're holding him prisoner in a maximum security facility most likely. We send in an insertion team to extract him and they get caught anywhere along the way. Actually, only one needs to be captured.

That will look worse on us. We caused the invasion, the assassination, the destabilization of the government to such the degree that the military is able to seize control. We culd push the Rihannsu right out of our stable and into the hands of neutrality, or worse yet, the Triad. Is one man really worth it?"

"Yes, he is." Abrik had returned from his call, and placed a PADD upon the table.

"If Only..." - Part II
by
Nanietta Bacco,
President of the UFP

Esperanza Pinero,
Deputy Chief of Staff

Admiral Jas Abrik,
Chief Security Advisor to the President.

******************
Ra-Ghoratreii Room
******************

"It'll be tricky, Madame President. He's only one finger pointed at us. If we send anyone in to get him out, that increases the likelihood of being blamed. Imagine it... they're holding him prisoner in a maximum security facility most likely. We send in an insertion team to extract him and they get caught anywhere along the way. Actually, only one needs to be captured.

That will look worse on us. We caused the invasion, the assassination, the destabilization of the government to such the degree that the military is able to seize control. We culd push the Rihannsu right out of our stable and into the hands of neutrality, or worse yet, the Triad. Is one man really worth it?"

"Yes, he is." Abrik had returned from his call, and placed a PADD upon the table.

"That was Ambassador-General Mol. The remants of the Romulan Senate is in closed council sessions. Word is, Curran is going to be openly interrogated and executed in public."

"Looks like Starfleet Intelligence is more than capable while still on ch'Rihan, Esperanza."

"Um-hmm... Sounds like the Tal Shiar haven't been decimated after all. The Intel leading up to the invasion had their favor waning with the Senate.

Hitan was openly against their policies and established the RNI to police them. I can bet they were waiting for a moment just like this. It wouldn't be surprising if they had a part in the invasion itself, knowing we'd be there to assist. I can't believe they'd go to such lengths to regain their power-base."

"Believe it, Ms. Pinero." Abrik keyed a sequence on his PADD, raising a holographic display from the table projector. An image of Proconsul Omar emitted, and he was wearing the sash of Praetor. "Omar is a known Tal Shiar operative, with unconfirmed intel that he's actually the Chairman." Abrik shrugged. "With the death toll on Romulus, he could very well be the head of the Tal Shiar by default. No definitive leader has been named since Rehaek died. Hitan had refused to name a new chair, denying them a legal seat on the Senate. The fate of an entire culture was at risk. This was an opportunity that could not be denied them. The political opportunities presented to them after the fact far outweighed the potential losses."

"What does this have to do with Vice-Legate Curran?" His frozen image on the viewer along the back wall, his Kelvan form splaying out his humanoid form in random places as he disspelled the Praetor's heart from his bloodied maw gave her shivers. They needed to get him back and under observation.

Kelvans didn't just change form as they pleased. After a length of time - certainly the length Curran had spent in his form - the transformation tended to be permanent. How he was able to shift into another form that appeared the combination of his natural Kelvan and something out of a horror movie was unbelievable. Something was not right here. And he was the key.

"All they would need is a signed 'confessional' that the Federation was responsible for the attacks on both their world and the Praetor. They already have evidence of a Starfleet Intelligence officer having a part in it." Abrik raised his hand. "He's been taken care of, and there's no need for you to concern yourself any longer with it. He won't be speaking to anyone about anything. Ever again."

That didn't sit well with Bacco, but if it bothered her, she didn't let Abrik see it. Enough people had died, and if she could obtain confirmed secondary sources that this Intel agent had gone rogue, his death would be more than deserving, and loathe she was to think it, she hoped it was paid in full for as long as he was durable.

"As for Curran, he's clean as far as we've been able to determine. Minus a mandatory leave for personal issues. He spent that time on Kelva II from what we've been able to glean. I've spoken with the Kelvan government about pre-Federation records. As far as they're concerned, he's dead. He served his purpose."

Pinero blinked. "Served his purpose? How? They'd give up on him that easily?"

Abrik shrugged. "They didn't say. I didn't ask. It's not relevant."

"Of course it's relevant, Jas!" Bacco dropped her hands down on the conference table again, staring him down as if daring him to piss her off even more. "We need to know every aspect of this man's psyche if we're going to make any decisions here, and his people would know him best, don't you think?"

"It's a cultural thing, Madame President. And if you need current psychological reports, the Counseling division has everything you need. His prior record has no or little bearing. They were adamant about keeping his records closed. They consider it grossly impolite to delve into their personal lives. They're far more fiercely private than Andorians in that regard."

"What's your take on him, Esperanza?" The tired-looking eyes softened as they rested on her Deputy Chief of Staff. And her loyal friend.

"I say we get him out. Before we find out how far gone he is. And before the Tal Shiar can use him as a means to their own ends. We need to maintain an alliance with the Rihannsu, Madame President."

Nanietta Bacco lifted herself off the desk, returning herself to the window.

The crowd had grown larger in protest. The day was winding down, and people were finishing work for the day. It was due time for a larger turnout.

Bacco placed one fist instead the other hand and brought it to he lips to breathe deeply on them as she thought about her options.

"And what is your opinion, Jas?"

"Send in the extraction team. Curran's an excellent source for Intelligence. We need to debrief him."

For a long moment, Nan Bacco watched as a family vacationing together strolled through the park, a terrier nipping at their heels as they laughed at something. Then, across from them, the protesting group, now over three hundred strong.

"Do it, Jas. And make sure none of it is traced back to the Federation if captured." The door to the conference room opened and closed without Abrik saying a word.

"The two of you in agreement... how long it took to happen, Esperanza."

The olive-skinned woman rose and stood alongside the President at the lightly tinted window, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting a long ominous shadow across the room from their silhouettes.

"If only under better circumstances, Madame President."

"If only. I hope the Federation doesn't regret it, and that I'm not making decisions because I fear Rach being in control next year."

"Nan," Pinero used the President's first name very rarely, especially while in office, but this called for a more intimate approach. "You've only ever had the UFP's best interests at heart. We'll beat this one too."

"I can broker arrangements to beat back the Triad, but I can't use Starfleet in the Council chambers. How did it come down to this? I'd promised myself a term of economic promise after the Dominion War, and here we are. At war again. Bot from within and without. I'm tired, Esperanza. I'm tired of the bullshit and bad attitudes. Those damn Hawks. It should be them being protested against, not the Presidential Office. I don't like being manipulated."

"Then don't. *BE* the President and do what you have to do. What you've always done."

Bacco nodded solemnly. "You're right, Esperanza. Turn on the holofeed would you? I never did get to finish watching the conference championship this fall, and I've avoided reading up on how the Pioneers did." The look on Pinero's face ruined that. "Thanks, Esperanza. I managed to shut a Vulcan up from blathering a commentary at me from his desk outside, and you ruin it with a look. Wel, let's watch it anyways. I need to take my mind of things for an hour."

"Of course, Madame President." With her back turned to Bacco, Pinero smiled to herself. The Pioneers had won the Championship, but lost in six at the World Series. That little white lie wouldn't hurt her friend's morale, and she knew there would be a time and place to use it to her advantage. She poured two shots of bourbon, and put on a friendly face as she brought the tray over to the President, now comfortably in her reclining chair, the game streaming over the six foot display along the back wall.

Artim Shivar - Freightened kid

"Mad World - The Beginning"

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

<Juram IV, June 25, 1966 - Shivar Estate>

"Artim, get up!"

The sharp voice of Elias Shivar quickly roused a sleeping Artim with a start. It was highly unusual for Artim's father to raise his voice, much less rouse his son early unless there was some really good reason. Artim yawned and sat up, slowly opening his eyes onto a chaotic scene. His father, a rather tall middle aged man with short light brown hair and blazing blue eyes was dashing about the room hurriedly grabbing clothes and such up. When he saw his son barely moving he looked straight at him and in a frantic yet strangely soothing voice he repeated.

"Artim, get up. There's not much time...not much time."

When his father's eyes met with his own, Artim immediately knew something was gravely wrong. First, his eyes didn't look the same. Instead of the practiced calm they normally evoked they were now deeply worried and yet seemed strangely guilty, something the young Artim still didn't fully understand. His face also looked like it had been aged five years overnight. When he offered Artim his hand to pull him out of bed it was shaking and was hard to grip from all the sweat on its surface. Artim was still groggy but allowed himself to be pulled out of bed.

"What's wrong daddy?" Artim said in that innocent and calm voice only a 6 year old could manage as he grabbed his glasses off the bedside table. A half second later his shoes were flying at him like footballs from across his bedroom, landing right at his feet. As he put them on, his dad, barely able to form a coherent sentence in his frantic rush could only reply.

"No time. I'm sorry Artim...I'm really sorry."

"But where's mommy? And Ralin? Are they Ok?" , a hint of fear was beginning to creep into the child's voice. Dad had always told him what was wrong before. He was never in this much of a rush. What could be doing this?

"No time!" he shouted as he jerked Artim towards the door and started pulling him towards the stairs, a mishaped bundle of clothes in his other hand. As he was pulled into the hall, Artim realized things were wrong...very wrong. At the bottom of the stairs, which were right outside his room, two men with really big guns stood there looking equally frantic. Artim didn't recognize them, which caused him to flinch instantly. The foyer was normally a calm place, the shimmering silver light fixtures casting a low but warm glow over the white marble floors below, the great crystal pillars reflecting the light all over the room, the light of the rising sun pouring through the great windows. Now though it was pure chaos. The lack of light caused the foyer to be dim, depressing shell of its usual self. The only light was provided by a flashlight held by a man in a white coat that met the two at the top of the stairs. One of the pillars had been broken, pieces of crystal littering the floor. The man in the white coat reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe and ran over to Artim.

"I have to give it to him now Elias, we can't wait."

Artim's father merely nodded and pushed of the sleeve of Artim's red flannel pajama top. Without any warning to the 6-year old boy, who had the same reaction to needles as most 6 year olds, the man in the white coat jammed the needle into the boys forearm and pressed down the plunger. Artim jumped back trying to escape his father's grip and let out a yelp.

"What was that for!" Artim said as he pulled his arm back as the needle was removed.

"To keep you alive. Now come on...must get ...basement.", his dad said as he gripped him again and pulled him down the stairs and around the corner towards the basement stairs towards the rear of the manor . Artim did recall that his father had been spending alot of time down there and whenever he asked his dad about it the only response was a nervous smile. Perhaps he knew that whatever was happening was going to happen, but...what was happening?

As they got to the top of the basement stairs Elias managed to pull himself together enough to say something coherant. He again locked his blazing blue eyes on Artims and said in a strained and still frantic voice.

"Daddy did something very very bad and it could hurt alot of people. I need you to promise me that you'll stay down here and not come out, even if mommy or I tell you to. Can you do that Artim?"

Artim nodded reluctantly, his face finally beginning to fill with fear as he grasped what was going on. Through the tears that were beginning to leak down his cheek he said, "You'll...be back. It will be ok won't it?"

"I don't know Artim...I don't know..." and with that he slammed the door shut.

Little did the boy know at the time that the next time he'd see his father...he'd have to kill him.

A CLOCKWORK PINK

Starring
Crewman Recruit Allison

USS GALAXY BRIG

"Dead man Walking.....we got a Dead man Walking here...........Dead

Man......Dead Man Walking!!"

"Hel-lo.....72 hour confinement is not a death sentence bucko."

"Dead man....Dead man Walking!"

"Not a man either.....got girlie parts and all...."

Young Allison, the darling of security, rolled her eyes and shuffled

along behind the short annoying little jailer that insisted on

parading her past the long line of detention cells.

"Dead man Walking here....."

"Besides, its not as if that black haired potty-mouthed hussy didnt

have it coming to her." Alli muttered to herself as she walked

remembering how the globs of mashed vegetables had dripped off the

shocked Ensigns face.

Apparently there was some sort of rules against throwing your dinner

at a superior officer no matter how big of a butt head they were being.

Alli sighed and shuffled along, wondering at the injustice of it

all. ~~~Its just unfair.....The universe hates me.~~~ she sulked

Not that she particularly minded the 72 hour stay in the brig as it

got her out of some really tedious paperwork, but.....gawd......what

was she going to DO for all that time?

For the hyperactive teenager from Iceland the prospect of three days

staring at the walls was well nigh cruel and unusual punishment. She

hoped they had cable.

Of course she had been given the alternative of a public apology to

the food-spattered Ensign in front of the whole cafeteria.

"As if....." Alli mused as she stepped up to another stern man

standing behind a podium and a large ledger book.

"State your name and rank for the record!" The man commanded as he put

pen to paper.

"Uh like my name is..."

"STAND BEHIND THE YELLOW LINE!!!!!" The guard bellowed causing the

poor girl to let out a yelp of surpise. Only then did she notice a

small strip of yellow tape on the floor at least four feet from the

podium.

Hopping behind it she continued....."Uh C...c...crewman Recruit

Allison." she stammered wondering if she was going to have to go

through the whole 'Jimsdottir' thing again.

" Right then.....Prisoner you are now know as 655321 do you

understand?"

"655...what?" Allison blinked in confusion."

"YOU ARE NOW PRISONER 655321 !!!! Do you UNDERSTAND!! Or do we need

to get the firehose to clean out your ears!!???"

Alli considered the man, his ledger and the little yellow line on the

floor. She'd seen this in a movie somewhere. "Riiiiiiiiiiight......"

"Right then.....655321 you will now turn out your pockets and place

their contents on the podium before me."

"Pockets? Oh....sure." Alli dug into her uniform trousers and tossed

a little tube of lipstick over onto the stand.

"PICK IT UP!!" the guard bellowed, "AND PUT IT DOWN......PROPERLY!!"

Staring acorss the 4 foot gulf, Alli gave the man an incredulous

look. Straining her arms to the limit, while keeping her toes behind

the line, she just managed to retreive her lipstick and place it back

gently on the podium.

"Right! One lipstick....Passion Purple with Glitter!" The guard

announced, inventoring it into his ledger.

Rolling her eyes Alli continued to empty her pockets.

"One Hologram.....Subject Female human bearing inscription :Love Mom."

"One guitar pick...again Purple glitter."

"I kinda like purple...."

"SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO 655321!!!"

"Zowee.....chill already...sorry." Allison stuck her finger in her ear

and wiggled it to stop the ringing from the over enthusiastic jailers

yelling.

"Right then...continuing......One Pink sequin encrusted electronic

plannera diary....locked with personal code?"

The guard examined the small electronic device carefully for a moment,

before holding it out to Allison.

"Insert the access code 655321." he commanded.

"Open my planner?" Allison was shocked.

"INSERT THE ACCESS CODE 655321" Again with the shouting. "All private

property is to be confiscated and contents examined for possible

contraband!!"

"Like hell." she blurted. Not usually given to cursing, it kinda

slipped out. " Thats my diary and scheduler....Open it your damn self

if you think its so important."

Smiling smugly, the guard withdrew a small shiny wand from under his

podium and waved it over the pink Planner a few times. Allison

distantly recognized it as a state of the art electronic

codepicker......guaranteed to bust some of the most high tech locks in

the Federation..........

Unfortunately for the guard, Hell hath no secrets like a Teenage girls

diary, and the glittering little device remained stubbornly shut.

Frowning the guard ran the codepicker over it again several more times

receiving only pittiful little bleeps in return. "What the bloody

hell kind of code do you have on this thing...." he mutter more to

himself than to Allison who decided it was a rhetorical question and

didnt answer.

A few more moments passed in frustration for the jailer, as the

Codepicker proved inneffectual against the innocent looking little

planner.

"655321," he began, "This is not a standard datalock......where did

you get this device?"

Allison shrugged. "My mom gave it to me...."

"Locks this powerful are illegal 655321....your not rated for

something like this."

"Its just a scheduler."

Nevertheless....I'll have to turn it in to the Chief,"

"Its just a frigging scheduler!"

"Right then...." the guard ignored her bagging up the pink device into

a sealed plastic bag. "One Pink sequin encrusted personnal

planner......with contraband lock." he jotted in his ledger.

A few more items of personnel hygine, and the inventorying was

complete after which Alli was lead to a small forcefield protected

cell.

Clicking the screen on with a buzz of electricity, the chubby little

jailer gave her one last baleful look and turned on a heel to march

back to his post.

Alone in the cell, Alli slumped into the bunk and puffed a stand of

blond hair out from her eyes.

".....a zillion bottles of beer on the wall.........."

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight"

NAMES

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister- JAG
Ensign Artim Shivar - Biologist
1st Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Marine
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist
Lieutenant (jg) Chandrakala Eshe - Engineering officer (IKS T'Kangra)
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell - Engineering Officer
Lt. Commander Vladimir Malgin - Chief Surgeon
Ensign David Walker - Navigation Officer
Major Corran Rex - Commander Aerospace Group

Location: Holodeck

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

Experience as a diplomatic liaison educated Faylin McAlister in one thing, everyone, no matter what race, loved a party. That being said, the JAG thought she would offer one to the crew of the Galaxy as a welcome home present. The setting; a Hawaiian Luau.

The program, due to its elaborate setting, took a little while to load. In the end, it was worth it as she entered the tropical world set out before her and her guests. The small cobblestone path wound itself through foliage that needed to be gently pushed out of the way.

Elephant ears the size of small continents shaded the immediate view of the moon and stars at various points along the path. Once the path was taken, Orchids of various species and color popped out from more foliage to welcome the guests. At the end of the beaten path, a grassy opening, lit by tiki oil lamps gently prodded the guests as they were met by two exotic hula girls. The girls welcomed them with fresh leis, and kisses to both cheeks.

Satisfied as she surveyed the surroundings, she closed her eyes and smiled as a warm breeze from the ocean to the left lifted her spirits.

This was what she needed, as well as so many others. A chance to escape the war and concentrate on making new memories. Wandering up to the grass hut that served as the bar, she ordered a Cardassian sunset, took a seat underneath a large palm tree, and looked out over the ocean, waiting for the others to arrive.

Artim came to this party, but he was hardly in a mood to celebrate.

True, they'd won and most of their people had come out of it all alive. However the one person that really mattered to Artim...well...hadn't. He held the PADD that contained the official transmission from the Star Navy. Perhaps this is just what he needed to maintain his sanity, but at the moment he clearly appeared really bothered as he made his way straight to the bar.

"Something strong" was all Artim could get out to the bartender and a moment later he had some sort of fruity thing in a coconut handed to him. He wasn't entirely sure what the hell it was, but it was strong.

He then went to find an isolated spot...he clearly wasn't in much of a mood to talk.

Steven stepped into the holodeck, unsure of just what kind of party was being thrown. He disliked these kinds of things, where lots of people gathered. He was hopeless at working out what to say or mingling with others, but after his supply of alcohol in his quarters ran out, this was as good a place as any to get drunk, even if it was holo-alcohol and not the real thing. Stepping through the doors, the sounds of the tropical setting flowed over him like a wave lapping at the shoreline.

Letting the pretty Hawaiian girl put the flowers around his neck, he made his way to the bar and ordered the strongest thing the bartender had. Cradling the drink in his hands as he stared out over the ocean.

Steven couldn't stop thinking about her... Day, night, while working, while drunk... it didn't matter. She was always in his thoughts.

All the thoughts and drunken musings had lead him to believe one thing; that she had never really wanted to be with him at all, not even that time on the ship before she was deployed. That now seemed like it was just a reaction to having lost her little angel. Whether it was the truth or not he didn't know, and probably never would. But it didn't help him feel better that he had been used and tossed aside.

The door to the holodeck sighed open once again, allowing yet another partygoer to enter. Standing at the beginning of the trail, David could still smell the ocean wafting across the gentle breeze, and he couldn't help smiling as he started down the path. Having grown up in Alaska, David had never really had an opportunity to visit Hawaii, and the prevalent palm trees and tropical flora was a stark contrast to the coniferous plant life that covered much of David's home state.

~Outfits are a bit different, too~ he thought, glancing down at the rather loud shirt he was wearing, the material splashed with vibrant reds, blues, and white. He tried to pick something appropriate for the setting, so he hoped he didn't end up looking too much like an idiot around the others. Not exactly a great way to make an impression on a group that consisted mostly of strangers.

He grinned politely at the two holographic hula girls as they greeted him warmly, one of them placing a lei around his neck, and then David continued past them, finally joining the party. The helmsman glanced around him, observing the various people mingling, before making his way over to the rather exotic-looking bar and ordering a drink. What he got looked rather like a rainbow in a glass, but David decided to go with it. He was, after all, in Hawaii...or at least a damn good replica of it, anyway.

~Outside the holo-suite~

"Does this really look alright?" Dhanishta asked smoothing out her skirt for the tenth time. She really wasn't a girlie girl, as she had discovered three hours previous when Kala had stormed her wardrobe, practically assaulted it in her search for something more fitting for the party mood rather than uniform.

"It's *fine*!" Kala replied in a whining tone as the three of them; Kala, Dhani and Michael, made there way to the holo-deck.

Michael kept still while they walked on. He tried so hard to hide his real feelings he had at this moment. All his concentration went into it. Dhani was dressed way too sexy for his taste. Now, if she had done that only for him he would be in the best mood, but wearing that to this party, in the Holodeck, where every man could see her like this?

But in some corner of his mind he still had the reason to think that she did expect some comment from his side.

"Yes, I have to admit, you look..." he searched for right word, "...great."

Dhanishta frowned inwardly, still not satisfied with the answer she took a glance at her reflection in the display panels that ran along the walls of the corridor. The skirt was Kala's; a slightly frayed mid thigh length multi colored sarong, coupled with another Kala garment; namely, a strapless black 'boob tube'. Kala had also curled Dhani's hair so it flowed in soft waves across her shoulders, one side pinned up just above her ear with a flower clip. She certainly looked feminine, although after the recent events she would have felt more comfortable in combat pants! She cringed slightly, she could well be censored for the amount of flesh she had on display, why did she listen to her sister? Sighing, as it was too late now to go back and change, she took Michaels hand and smiled pleasantly at him. She had to admit she was excited about the party, slightly nervous too; she had never socialized with the crew, and never wearing anything like this!

For the moment Dhani's smile managed to wave away any concerns he had and so he couldn't do anything else other than return her smile with a typical boyish smile of his own. He squeezed her hand gently. Despite of his current unsettling feelings he still felt on top of the world now that they really were together.

Walking ahead of the two love birds, Kala sauntered round the corner, her wrap around trousers fluttered in her wake, she had to admit she loved these trousers; they tied up at the front and the back, but there was no seam, they simply hung open, exposing her toned legs as she walked, or sat, or knelt; in fact any activity except for standing still - unless there was a breeze of course. She smiled at herself, total cock tease and proud of it!

Ahead of the threesome and walking much slower Kimberly was only half aware of her surroundings as she walked, engrossed as she was on the PADD in her hand. She'd finally succumbed to the temptation to wear one of the various shirts her cousin occasionally sent her. Mostly pale but with loud red and golden patterned flowers up one whole side she figured a luau was probably the only setting the replica Hawaiian shirt would be acceptable at. That being her only concession to party wear though as she had simply changed her uniform tunic for the shirt, intent on returning to duty after the party.

Hearing voices behind her as she reached the holodeck she turned away from her PADD and blinked for a second, wondering if she was seeing double. ~ Double Dhani, I 'definitely' need a vacation! ~ she thought briefly, before recalling a mention a while back of another Eshe being transferred aboard, ~Her twin I would guess, ~ she mused silently.

"Hey," Kimberly said softly as Dhani walked up, "how're you doing?"

she asked simply, aware of the distance that had quickly sprung up between them.

The gentle flow of conversation between Dhanishta and Michael ended as she heard Kimberly. Stopping dead in her tracks her eyes flittered up towards the woman's face, the smallest of smiles flittered over her lips in a half hearted greeting before her eyes lowered, coming to rest on the incredibly loud shirt, quirking a questioning eyebrow in response, "I'm fine." she replied flatly, refusing to make eye contact. She still felt bitter towards Burton, betrayed and hurt, she sighed inwardly; the prospect of a happy party mood faded quickly.

Feeling even more uncomfortable Dhani dropped Michaels hand, no one knew about their relationship yet, apart from Kala that was, and Dhani really wasn't in the sharing mood. "This is my sister Chandrakala,"

she said nodding towards Kala, "and this is Michael McDowell, my roommate." She wasn't sure if Michael and Kimberly had been formerly introduced, but even if they had, once more couldn't hurt. "Kala, this is Kimberly Burton the Chief Medical officer." she finished.

Kala smiled warmly, "Pleased to meet." she offered her hand flicking a lock of red hair out of her eyes with a quick flick or her head.

Accepting the offered hand Kimberly smiled, "A pleasure," she said with a trace of interest, very curious to meet Dhani's twin, "to meet both of you," she added, looking at Michael as well.

"Shall we go in?" Dhani interjected quickly before they could strike up a conversation.

"Of course," making an 'after you' gesture Kimberly let the three precede her onto the holodeck, "we can talk inside?" she suggested quietly to Dhani as she passed.

Dhanishta threw on a smile; a well perfected 'whatever smile' as she passed the woman. Once inside however, her smile radiated warmth as her eyes flowed over the tropic scene.

"Prodding an Alligator"

Ens. Artim Shivar - Biologist
with
SFC Thral - Furies Demolitions Specialist

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

<Phaser Range>

Thral didn't like having to go up to the fleeter's phaser range to get in his practice. However it was his normal day and they were qualifying some new recruits on the Marine range and rather then break the routine he'd been keeping for years he decided to bite the bullet and go up and shoot with the fleeters. Some of them could shoot straight...most of the time. When he walked in the door he expected to see some green security ensign or some doctor barely passing their annual defense certification. He didn't expect to see a 10 year-old human kid with a phaser carbine hitting targets with the skill and consistancy of...well...a Marine.

"Not bad kid, but you need to get out of here. This isn't a place for children." , Thral grunted at the kid

Artim finished his round and looked up at the Tellarite marine that didn't exactly tower over him. Normally he wore his uniform down here, but today was his day off and he just fealt like getting in some carbine time. He was wearing a red-orange silk shirt and khaki pants along with his dark rimmed glasses. The green security ensign that was here when he arrived simply nodded since he'd seen him around security before but he bet the Marine hadn't, though he remembered him from the little Cheron excursion. It had been awhile since he screwed with a marine sergent, but Artim figured this was as good a time as any. Besides, the last one was so much fun.

"But mister, I got an 97% on that last round, can I play one more? Please please please." Artim said in a voice that a kid asks his mother for another cookie in. He also used the puppy dog face and eyes, which made the usual serious looking Miran appear downright cute. The rangemaster near the back of the range cracked a slight smile since he knew what Artim was going to do to the marine. Stinking marine deserved it in his opinion, so he said nothing.

"No kid, get outta here." Thral replied gruffly. He didn't really have paitence for kids, especially ones that begged. Actually anyone that begged bothered him no matter how old they were. Fortunately for the kid he was in a pretty good mood today or he might have thrown the child out himself...that and he got reprimanded the last time he tossed a kid out of a restricted area. Kid had that broken rib coming to him.

Artim realized from the hint of aggressiveness in the Tellarite's voice that his trick was working. In his travels he'd learned quite quickly that teasing a Tellarite was like prodding an alligator with a stick. Amongst other species most put forth a practiced calm but if you kept poking, you'd eventually get them to snap and they'd take a limb off if you weren't capable. The chevrons on the collar and the weathering in the mans face told Artim he was a combat vetran and had probably been in the corps awhile. That also meant he could probably push some more buttons. His face shifted from the puppy dog face to a pouty one, his lips curling into a frown as his eyes sunk as he spoke in that pouty voice only a kid could do right.

"But why? Why can't I play too? I'm really good."

"No kid. You'll make a hell of a marine someday, but now you have to run home.", Thral was clearly getting more agitated at the annoying kid, his voice taking on a low growl to it and his facing twisting into a fairly wicked looking sneer. His eyes were now glaring not at Artim, but at the rangemaster with a sort of "get this kid out of here before I eat him" look. The rangemaster was finding it harder and harder not to bust out laughing at this. Artim at the same time looked up with the same pouty expression and then turned to Thral, his eyes starting to move downards as if he was about to cry.

"Come on mister. Can I at least watch you." Artim said knowing full well what the reaction would be, and it came as he expected. Thral lunged at Artim reaching for his collar as if he was going to pick him up and throw him out by the scruff of his neck. Not expecting any real resistance from the kid, the grizzled old Tellarite was extremely surprised that a second later he was on his back looking up at the cealing. Being fully prepared for the "attack" Artim caught Thral under the arm and threw him to the deck with surprising agility. Artim then straightened up to his full height, probably would have grown a couple feet if he could, and his expression turned serious all of a sudden.

"Tell me Mr. Thral, are you aware of what the penalty is for attempting to strike a superior officer?" Artim said in the commanding tone they try and teach aspiring officers at the academy for when they have to dress someone down. Artim was suprisingly good at it despite his appearance. As Thral stood up, ready to come at Artim again it seemed, the 'kid's' words and his presence brought a look of sudden recognition and dread to the old Marine's face. This was that kid that wasn't really a kid and was fleet officer. This was the kid he'd heard about on the trip to Cheron that was dropping Romulan Ale like water. This was the kid he'd heard about that had 4 phds or something and who should never be challenged at Chess. Thral immediately shot to attention and said in a serious tone.

"Sir, I'm sorry, Sir."

At this point the rangemaster could no longer hold it in and started busting out laughing which prompted Artim to start to giggle himself. He looked up at the marine and gave him a long grin.

"At ease sarge. Don't worry, I have no intention of writing you up. Though I assumed you've learned your lesson."

Thral was grinning now too, though it was more of the embarassed sort then the happy sort. "Yes sir, though I stand by what I said, you'd make a hell of a marine."

Artim chuckled at that and shook his head ever so slightly. "Na. Marines are dirty and smelly and they break too much stuff. I prefer the sane discussions we science types have when we're out in the middle of nowhere on some forsaken rock."

Thral erupted into a belly laugh at that "I'm sure they're very different. Up for a round sir?"

Artim nodded, "I think I could be talked into one more, at level 25, I'm getting kinda bored with the easy stuff."

"All one can ask for"

Ella Grey
Branwen London

****

USS Galaxy

She was still slipping in and out of consciousness. When she was more or less lucid Bran just lay quietly and listened to all the machinery surrounding her bed and the drip of the medication going into her veins. Bran was still way too tired to complain or to try and get out of here. Even though normally she didn't like sickbays that much.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

Bran blinked and focused. Then smiled as she recognized Ella. "Hi."

She croaked back.

Ella pulled over a chair and sat in it with her legs drawn up to her chest. She still felt tired from whatever the doctors had done to her while her heart had stopped and Sickbay felt cold.

There was still too many injured people to get her vocal implant repaired, although Ella had the feeling she was going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. So she pulled out her computer PADD and hoped Bran would be able to read it. *HOW ARE YOU DOING?*

"I am alive." The Welsh girl whispered.

*THAT'S ALL ONE CAN REALLY ASK FOR SOME DAYS* Ella wrote with a wan smile.

Bran tried to focus and think. Something was not right with Ella. She really hated her brain being this sluggish but finally it came to her.

"Your voice?"

*THE IMPLANT WAS DAMAGED WHEN I WAS ELECTROCUTED. I KNOW THAT IT'S PROBABLY HARD TO READ RIGHT NOW SO I WON'T BOTHER YOU FOR LONG.*

"Electrocuted, poor Ella." It was nice to focus on somebody else's problems for a while. "It's okay. Can Kimberly fix it. Does your own voice work? That would be easier for me."

*I THINK IT CAN EVENTUALLY BE FIXED. MY VOICE DOES NOT WORK.*

It was only a partial lie, Ella thought. Her voice worked fine but that, of course, was the problem.

"Do you want it to be fixed?" Branwen studied her. "What happened?"

*THE IMPLANT? OF COURSE I WANT IT TO BE FIXED. I JUST HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THERE'S A SPOT ON THE OPERATING TABLE.*

"Ella," Branwen hated being so weak, especially when she wanted to work. "Why do you hate your own voice so much. Why not try it for a bit? And then decide what you want."

Ella wanted to sigh but that would be heard without the implant and she was feeling guarded with any kind of vocal emission these days. *I DON'T HATE MY VOICE. I ACTUALLY LIKE IT. I HAVE A NICE VOICE. BUT I'M NOT READY TO GIVE IT UP YET. AND THAT'S ALL THE COUNSELING YOU GET TO ATTEMPT TODAY, COUNSELOR. I'LL LET YOU GET SOME REST."

"All right. Let's be friends today. I hate being alone right now."

Suddenly Branwen looked very brittle.

Ella nodded. She much rather preferred being friends then in another confrontation. "Are you allowed foods and liquids? My friend Laura has this great recipe for hot chocolate that works wonders when you're feeling like the universe has just crapped on you."

"Dunno. I just woke up really. Don't even know if I will live. But it sounds heavenly."

*LET ME GO FLIRT A LITTLE WITH THE DOCTOR AND SEE.*

Bran smiled and then exhausted fell asleep again.

"Transfer Request"

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lt. Ella Grey

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Fifteen reports done and filed, one hundred and fifty left to go. As he stared at the message queue on his LCARS panel - two more report requests appearing in the time he looked at it -Daren shook his head and smiled wryly. "To the victors go the spoils... and the reports,"

he muttered, any further thoughts vanishing as his door chime sounded.

"Come in," he answered.

"Is this a bad time, Captain?" Ella asked as she entered the ready room.

That, Daren supposed, meant that there was something wrong. How long, he wondered, would it be now that the battle was done, before someone came to him about something that wasn't a problem? "Perhaps." He stood and waved her to a chair. "That remains to be seen."

"I suppose it does," She said with a smile. Sickbay had finally released her after making sure that she wasn't going to code out in the hallway and her quarters had been in more or less one piece too.

And the damned implant had finally been fixed.

So now it was time to get down to business.

Ella sat down in the chair across from him. "I'm interested in transferring into the Vanguards, Sir."

Obviously not today. "Yes, Lieutenant," he agreed, "that would be a problem." He took a breath, held it for a moment, and let it out to ask, "Is there a reason for this sudden shift in career direction?"

"It's not so sudden, Captain. I've been thinking about it for awhile,"

Ella replied. "I've pretty much accomplished all that I can in Engineering as far as my own personal goals go. I'm ready to move on to something else."

When you captained a ship full of individualists, you had to accept that there would be days like this. It didn't mean that you had to like them, though. Allah knew that all of Daren's past commanders had encountered moments like this one where he was standing on the opposite side of the desk from them. Still, there was always the hope that even an individualist could recognize the need to place ship above self. "You realize that this is not the best time for me to lose my Chief Engineer, don't you, Lieutenant?"

"I do and I will, of course, wait until there is a suitable replacement. I'd rather that be sooner than later but...." Ella smiled. "You look like a man with questions, Captain."

"Since you already know that, you already know what they are. Why don't you go on and answer them and we'll see if you anticipated them all," Daren offered.

"It's not a sudden whim; I've been thinking about it for a while now,"

Ella counted on her fingers. "It doesn't have anything to do with my nearly dying in Engineering. Yes, I understand that it's a demotion, and that I'll be starting at the bottom. Yes, I know it will be complicated, given my history with Rex -"

"History?" Daren knew what she meant, but was always curious to see who would admit to a relationship that everyone had known about and who wouldn't. He doubted Ella would hide it; she'd openly dated Lieutenant Krieghoff after all.

"We dated for awhile," Ella said. "Yes I know it's dangerous and no it doesn't have anything to do with any kind of 'I cheated death once, I can do it again' mentality." She looked thoughtful. "Did I miss one, Sir?"

"Probably, but we'll get back to that. Are you requesting a transfer as a pilot or as part of the support staff?"'

"Pilot," She replied. "But if I have to work my way from support, so be it."

"Fighter pilot, AWACS Shuttle pilot, or SAR pilot?"

"I'd ultimately like to try my hand at fighter pilot, Sir, but again I understand if I need to start at another position."

"Are you qualified for a position with the squadron, entry-level or otherwise?"

"I'm not certified yet but I am qualified."

"And have you discussed this with the Squadron Commander, Lieutenant?," Daren asked. "What does he have to say about the idea?"

Ella couldn't help the small sigh. She hoped that somehow she could side step this. "I mentioned it awhile back when we were .... I'm not sure what he has to say about it now."

"Then perhaps you should talk to him," Daren suggested. "My approving a transfer is meaningless if he's not in agreement. I'm not going to second-guess my Department Heads and force them to accept personnel that they're opposed to."

She kept her face neutral but was already prepping herself for the possible battle she was going to have with Corran. "And if he agrees, Sir?"

"Then we get to do this all over again, Lieutenant," M'Kantu replied.

"And I'll ask the questions that I haven't asked this time. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," Ella said.

"The truth"

Anasta
Branwen

Anasta said her farewells to a group of refugees from Romulus , trying to make her way back to the ship. The young Terran woman, Branwen, had already been transported aboard for evacuation. It was now her turn.

After the usual rainbow of sparkly lights, the Arrin'Haleri arrived aboard the starship. With purpose she made her way towards sickbay. She remembered how much time her daughter Anjoli had spent in medical facilities. The young ex-slave was so intensely curious about how life worked. And now, look at her.

Anasta thought with pride at the thought that her daughter had risen from such humble beginnings to such an important person "My daughter...the doctor."

Man'darr had gone back to the Miranda and she really missed him. Bran was still not completely out of the woods. But she opened her eyes groggily and smiled happily when she spotted Anasta. “Mummy.” She whispered.

The emerald woman smiled warmly as she moved to the girl's bedside.

"How are you, pa'tooti?"

Anasta gently stroked the girl's cheek with the back of her fingers. Anasta could feel the girl's body fighting to recover.

Branwen gently held on to the emerald woman. “Better.” She smiled. “I… I would not have made it without you and Dar and Victor . You have all been so good to me.' Her face was still hot with fever but it was dropping.

" Man'Darr is a formidable man. He may be assigned to another ship, but things change."

Anasta's smile faded with the thought of the frightening Victor , but she shook off her forboding feeling and smiled again.

"Now that you are here, I am sure you will be fine. Just listen to the doctors and what they tell you to do."

Bran smiled. “I don't like doctors very much, ma'am. Bad memories.” She said it very softly.

"Not all doctors are bad, child. My own daughter is a healer for the Starfleet."

“I am sure your daughter is nothing but nice. But I had very bad experiences with doctors when I was a child. And recently I was raped by a female Starfleet doctor.” Bran said still feeling the pain of that.

Anasta's face paled at the news of that revelation. Arrin'Haleri held rapists as the lowest of the low.

"That is horrible. And the fact that it is a Starfleet person makes it doubly so. Have you sought justice?"

“Yes I have. But her lawyer says  I am crazy or that I wanted it myself. But she said she was hypnotizing me. I had no choice but to obey. And then… at the …end…. She was so cruel…. It had all been a game to her…. She took my virginity.”  Still weak Bran began to cry.

"Give me a name, Branwen."

Anasta asked quietly, her comforting smile still in place. Inside, the emerald woman had but one thought--justice.

“ D'Bari , Anjoli D'Bari ."Branwen whispered.  She held on to Anasta so grateful for the support.  

Anasta's face paled with fury. Her daughter had caused this poor human the worst kind of pain imaginable short of death. There would be a reckoning.

But right now, the poor human girl needed her.

"Do not worry about this woman, little one. I shall see to her comuppance personally."

“Are you a lawyer mummy?” Bran asked drowsily. The emotions had taken a lot out of her.

Anasta shook her head no with a wicked little grin. She gently stroked Branwen's forehead to cool her.

"Worse than a lawyer....I am a mother."

'Bacteria Londongentes'

Lieutenant Branwen London
Ensign Robert Mathieson, MD

Sickbay, USS Galaxy
================

"Wakey wakey, eggs an' bacey London" came the voice from the misty darkness. "Come on - ye've slept enough. Time t' take a look at yer guts an'

ticker."

With difficulty Branwen opened her eyes again. She was so very tired, all she wanted to do was sleep and forget about everything else. "Doctor?"

Mathieson examined the Marine's eyes while answering the young woman's question. "At's right. Yer in sickbay on th' Galaxy, lass. Ye've picked up a right-beauty of a bacterial infection - seems like somethin' on Romulus doesn't agree with yer." The young woman's eyes were so bloodshot, the whites seemed an unhealthy combination of pink and red, and almost crusted closed with a pus-like discharge.

The old man squinted at the biobed's master readout, taking a close

look at Branwen's heartrate and circulatory system. "So all this

'cos ye were doin' yer job, eh? Time fer some career advise, London - makeuse o' th' company medical plan when ye need to. Ye worked yersel' into exhaustion back there - at's wot did ye in."

"Was.... Was nobody else...." Branwen mumbled. "couldn't let them die. So many." She shivered.

"Well, yer a fair dab at bein' a 'ospital administrator, lass.

Capital job ye did - jus' capital." The regenerative antibiotics were working, but slowly. The tissue injuries to the young Welshwoman had been easily mended once back on the Galaxy, but the organ damage was proving more difficult. Rampant infection left untreated had affected almost every internal organ - it was surprising the woman had stayed conscious for as long as she did.

A healthy human would have had no trouble in dealing with the alien bacteria - one that was dehydrated, exhausted and working in what could only be described as a sewer didn't stand much of a chance. It was this kind of aftermath that clogged sickbay after the battle - the dirty, pus-ridden, painful kind that wouldn't heal with the latest gadget or miracle drug.

The other scars and injuries - they now had councilors for.

"Well career-wise, ye'll be on sick leave fer quite a while lass."

Mathieson grumbled, looking at Branwen's slowly recovering white-cell count. "I'm lettin' Baile know yer goin t' be off fer a while - this severity o' infection's not th' kind ye walk away from in a couple 'o days. Got any readin' ye'd like t' catch up on?"

She looked at him with big eyes. "I'm not a wimp, Doctor. I'm used to pain. I was thinking of going home tomorrow, and then just doing my counselling duties for a while starting the day after. Does that sounds reasonable?"

The anxiety gave her energy to talk quickly.

"'Bout as reasonable as as that Krieghoff lad in Security bein' a Counselor 'r that Artim bloke growin' a beard" the doctor grinned.

"'Ain't goin' t' happen, lass. Ye'll be bed-bound fer a week and unfit fer duty fer another. An' nobody said ye were at all wimpish London. Look around yer - marines an' troopers bigger n' the two of us combined flat on theie back jus' like you. Yer tough as nails - if ye weren't, ye'd be pushin' up Romulan daisies."

"But it was only a scratch" and from the explosion a few broken bones, no big deal. Two weeks!" She squeaked, sending several machines beeping.

Settle down, London", the old man growled. "It was more m' a scratch and ye bloody well know it. It was also more n' a scratch on a planet wiv two different biological types - remember, the Romulans came from Vulcan. Romulus 'aint their original homeworld. Ye've got a bacterial infection I figure's native t' the planet - not the people.

The Romulans made vaccines an' antibiotics fer their copper-based bloodtypes, but never had cause 'r need t' make some fer iron-based ones." The docor's grin slowly reappeared on his weathered face.

"Congratulations lass - th' name 'Bacteria Londongentes'll' live ferever in th' Starfleet Medical database, along wi' yer successful case study - providin' ye rest an' get well, o' course."

She grumbled. "Can I at least do paperwork here?"

"'Course there is - 'ang on 'alf a mo' an' I'll get it quick-like."

Mathieson left her bedside and went into the small office adjacent to sickbay. In a minute, he returned with a dictation PADD which he carefully placed in the young woman's hand. Bran then noticed that the grin had left the old man's face, replaced with a mask of absolute seriousness. "Ye can start wiv th' scarrin' on th' back o' yer ribcage an' over yer shoulders. A for'night r' so ago I'm guessin'.

Then ye can write down some other things ye've been hidin'."

She blushed. "Uhm that is kind of private. I meant work, you know Bailes sick so I have to do my work."

Mathieson had lowered his voice and leaned over the prone marine.

"Kid - I've seen troopers mashed 'bout by Klingons, Cardassians, Breen... Founders. You name it, chances 're I've patched it up. I've done some pretty detailed bioscans on yer - molecular level stuff t'

take on 'Bacteria Londongentes' an' win. Wot I've found rots me socks off." The physician took several breaths to calm down. "Ye've got more bone fractures than th' rest o' th' marines in th' ward *combined*, an' I'm willin t' bet most happened to yer before ye were thirteen. While lookin', checked yer records - ye've hid yer tracks well lass, but no more hidin'. Time t' come clean."

"It's private." She tried again fighting the tears. "I would like to work now, please, alone."

Nodding, Mathieson turned and made slowly made his way to the administrative desk in the ward. "Right-o lass. All th' privacy ye need - but remember, yer in th' Fleet now, London; yer no' alone anymore."

She nodded and when she thought he could not see any longer started to cry.

“Back in the Game”

Lt. 8-ball Hunter
Eptgac

8-ball was dreaming. She knew this because, normally, she didn't skip around the ship in a Snow White dress with a teddy bear in hand. Well, sometimes the teddy bear, but even Epgtac was different because his head wasn't attached by choppy pink stitches. This was Eptgac from pre-possession days.

. .a happier time, though probably not by that much.

So 8-ball was dreaming about standing in her quarters, holding on to Eptgac loosely in one arm. Epgtac, of course, was now wearing a matching Snow White dress and looking about as discontent as a teddy bear could possibly look.

There was also a six foot mirror standing in the middle of the room. When 8-ball stepped up to it, her reflection winked back at her.

“Well, THAT's weird,” 8-ball said lightly to her reflection.

“Are you gonna say the words or what?” the reflection asked back.

8-ball stared at her reflection for a minute and then carefully took a large step back. “What words?” she asked cautiously, unconsciously holding Eptgac a little closer.

Mirror 8-ball rolled her eyes. “THE words,” she said drily. “Oh, come on, 8-ball. This isn't exactly a tough one.” When 8-ball just stood there, contemplating the wisdom of running far, far away, Mirror 8-ball sighed theatrically. “Mirror, mirror, on a wall. . .anybody?”

“But you're not on a wall. You're just planted in the middle of the room.”

“And you're dressed like Snow White but you're obviously supposed to be the Wicked Queen. It's a fucking DREAM, 8-ball. Go along with it.”

8-ball sighed. To Eptgac, she said, “It's a hard life when your reflection starts ordering you around.” Then she looked back up to Mirror 8-ball, who was waiting impatiently. “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the. . .sexiest.

. .of them all?”

Mirror 8-ball nodded wisely. “Hmmm,” she said. “Yes, difficult question.

Well, at one time, of course the answer was you. Galaxy playboy, and all that; no question about it, really. But now, on the other hand. . .”

“But now? But now WHAT? You're saying that there are sluttier people on this ship than me? I don't THINK so, honey. This ship is MY dirty little playground.”

“And at one time, I'd have agreed with you,” Mirror 8-ball said. “But now things are different. The last few months. . .it's like you haven't even be around.” 8-ball opened her mouth to protest and Mirror 8-ball interrupted her. “Stop for a second, and think about it, 8-ball.”

8-ball stopped and thought about it. What HAD she been doing for the last few months? There were some battles. . .and then some more battles. . .and yeah, maybe some more battles, but what had happened to her social life?

8-ball realized that, bizzarely, she seemed to have no distinct memories for half a year, almost as if she had just. . .disappeared. . .for the last six months.

Weird.

“Okay,” 8-ball said. “So I've been a little. . .distant. . .for the last few months. This is still my turf, dammit. NO ONE will be sleeping with more boys than I do, or getting into more trouble, or making more inappropriate jokes. I'M the quirky, wild sex girl on this boat, and no one's gonna forget it.”

“Way to be a go-getter,” someone said from nearby, and when 8-ball looked down, Eptgac was smiling at her.

“But you're gonna have to lose the dress,” Eptgac said. “Not everyone's into the fairy princess look.”

Then Eptgac suddenly grew fangs and snarled at her. 8-ball screamed. . .and woke up in bed.

“Holy FUCK!” 8-ball said and immediately preceded to jump into the sonic shower.

***

Twenty minutes later, 8-ball was showered, dressed, and walking down the Galaxy corridors, scanning all the pretty boys that walked by her way.

~Nope, had you. Nope, had you. Nope, can't really get into Romulans anymore.

No—wait a second, who's—“

“You. What's your name?”

The Bajoran lieutenant looked up from the PADD he was fiddling with. “Ummm.

. .Lieutenant Brex?”

“Brex. Nice name. We ever have sex before, Brex?”

Brex blinked. “Ummm. . .no. Not that I'm aware of.”

“Great! Wanna?”

Brex blinked again. “Have sex?”

“Yeah!”

“Uh. . .okay.”

8-ball grinned.

[OOC: Just a slight backpost from present game time. I'm cc'ing this to the Miranda list because it takes place on the Miranda and because it's the final post in the crossover Exeter sequence.]

"Recognition"

Principal Characters
Admiral Victor Murdock
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Brevet Captain Brian Elessidil

****

In the days following the Hydran retreat, Brian Elessidil pored over endless streams of information that had come in from around the fleet and from Romulus itself. So much had happened to so many that it almost seemed to him a luxury to have been able to focus on the needs and well-being of one ship and crew. For him, life could very likely return to 'normal', but for untold others -- millions, at least -- 'normal' was a word that would have an entirely different meaning, if any at all.

His first steps to returning to his version of normal had not surprisingly overlapped with his final steps out of the role in which he'd unexpectedly found himself for the past several weeks. With the cessation of fighting, the work of repairing technology and people could become everyone's focus, and for him that was still on the USS Exeter, at least for awhile. The officers he'd borrowed from other ships in the fleet would be returning to their assignments, leaving only Captain Vogler's crew to carry on their work. They were still young, but they were no longer inexperienced. There was perhaps no more fitting tribute to her memory than that, a fact of which she would have undoubtedly been proud.

Working with the crew under less tense conditions gave Brian the opportunity to get to know some of the officers and enlisted a little better, and in turn for them to get to know him a little better as well.

Even Lieutenant Mullen had become somewhat -- though not greatly -- more communicative. Brian sensed it was due mostly to the fact that he knew he wouldn't have to deal with the 'foreign' Betazoid captain much longer, but there was also the slightest glimmer of respect for Elessidil's performance buried underneath, even if Mullen wasn't aware of it.

Brian didn't know what would happen to Mullen or the rest of Exeter's crew once the final chapter at Romulus came to an end, and he found it ironic that just when something of a real bond was beginning to form between captain and crew, he would be leaving them. But in the great scheme of the universe, perhaps he'd played his role, however small, in their growth as officers and as men and women. There would be new adventures ahead for them, and new superiors to work with and learn from. The same was true for him.

He mused on all this as he walked the corridors of the USS Miranda, a place he hadn't been in quite a number of years. At least one person he knew from those days was still around: Jaal Jaxom was First Officer, a promotion that didn't come as much of a surprise to Brian. He hoped he might have the opportunity to catch up his old friend over a drink, but his reason for being here now was not personal. Admiral Murdock and Captain M'Kantu had requested a meeting with him, undoubtedly to discuss Brian's return to duty as the Galaxy's Assistant Chief Counselor and what the Exeter's command structure should look like after his departure.

"Admiral, Captain," he greeted upon entering the Captain's ready room where the two men were already waiting. He of course knew M'Kantu, but he'd never met the Admiral before, a man whose reputation more than preceded him. A tall, solid man, Murdock had an air of wisdom about him, something the Betazoid picked up almost immediately.

"Captain," the Admiral acknowledged before taking a sip of the coffee - which by the smell wafting across the small ready room, was strong and black.

"I hope I'm not late; I'm afraid I've been focused on tying up loose ends on the Exeter."

"No, you're not late, Brian," Daren said with a tired smile. He looked like he'd had perhaps two hours more sleep than the four he'd permitted himself each night during the rebuilding of the fleet and the preparation for the Second Battle of Romulus, but still wanted as much more. "Please, have a seat. We were just talking about that, in fact.

Tell me, how are things going on Exeter?"

"I'd say things are going as well as can be expected under the circumstances, Sir. Most of the crew is busy with after-battle repairs and preparing to take up the slack once the officers I borrowed leave."

Brian sighed quietly. "I had to relieve my First Officer, Lieutenant Mullen, during the battle. After some long consideration, I've decided to return him to duty, mostly because his problems were with me and since I'll soon be returning to the Galaxy that should no longer be an issue." Though this was his first opportunity to discuss how and when he would leave the Exeter, Brian had assumed the transition would occur relatively soon. "I'm not sure I can say he's ready to be in command of a starship, but the truth is, someone needs to keep the crew focused and together until Starfleet decides who will take command permanently."

M'Kantu glanced at Murdoch. "You relieved your First Officer in the middle of a battle? Why?"

"In a nutshell, he tried to countermand my orders in the middle of a crisis situation. And it wasn't simply a momentary slip; it was the culmination of weeks of tension and other more subtle challenges that built up because of his displeasure at seeing me in command."

Murdock nodded at the Counselor appraisingly. "Sounds like young Mr.

Mullen needs a reminder about the rules o' insubordination." The Admiral observed. "D'ye intend tae be pressin' charges?"

"No, Sir," Elessidil replied. The action he'd taken against Mullen had been necessary, but it wasn't something he was happy to have had to do, and his tone reflected that. "He's young, he's a hothead, he needs to grow up -- but underneath all that, I think he could be a good officer.

I don't want to do anything to hurt his career in any kind of permanent way. Maybe without me around he'll come into his own, but it will take some time."

"Ye're a better man'n me, then." the Admiral chuckled. "Ye given any thought to what ye'll do now that the Romulus mission is done?"

"Thought, Sir?" Brian asked, curious. "I guess I hadn't been thinking of much except returning to my position aboard the Galaxy. Why?"

Murdock set the coffee down, and looked at the younger Elessidil frankly. "Because t'be honest, lad, the Dominion War wasn't that long ago. We're still short on experience command personnel, especially those with experience against the Triad. That's gonna be important in the comin' years."

Brian's thoughts froze for a moment. Had the Admiral really just suggested a command of his own? The notion was unexpected...and surprisingly exhilarating. It was a skill set he'd had the chance to develop some, but was he really ready or even cut out to command permanently? As a man who naturally loved to learn and to experience new things, Brian couldn't simply dismiss the idea out of hand. This was potentially an opportunity that would open an entirely new chapter in his career and in his life. It was a chance to be do something he'd really only practiced at so far; a chance to be someone he hadn't yet become....

No. As much as he liked the idea of developing in a new direction, Brian realized that he'd moved around plenty in his career. He'd been a musician, a sociologist, a pilot, a counselor...and now a captain? No.

If the opportunity had come even five years ago, he might have -- perhaps naively -- taken it. But something inside recognized that he liked what he did and that he was good at it... and most of all, that it was time to settle down.

"Admiral... honestly, I'm flattered that you would even suggest it..."

Did he really want to do this? Was he really ready to turn down an opportunity like this? A small grin tugged at the corners of this mouth as an unexpected feeling of contented resignation welled up from within.

"...but I have to decline. I'm a counselor first, Sir, and I think that's where I need to focus my energies."

"I see." Murdock said aloud after Brian had finished his reply. "Keep it in mind, then, son. Now, since we'll not be doin' that, I believe that Captain M'Kantu had somethin' else he wanted to speak to ye about."

Daren nodded and stood up, revealing two small boxes in his left hand - boxes that Brian knew instantly, for Starfleet used them for nothing else. One, M'Kantu set aside, but the other....

"Commander Elessidil," M'Kantu said with a smile as he presented the box to Brian. "I believe that you're out of uniform - a shocking lapse on your part. Perhaps you should correct that?"

It would have been a lie for Brian to deny that he'd been silently hoping for this moment ever since Cassius suggested it many months ago but the thought had been eclipsed by everything else lately, enough so that something of the surprise remained intact. "Yes Captain...

absolutely," he replied, also coming to his feet and gratefully accepting the box as a large smile broke out on his face.

"Congratulations, Commander," Daren said as Brian exchanged his collar pips out to complete the transfer to full Commander. "You've earned it."

"Smackdown"

Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor,
CO, Deep Space 5

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor
USS Galaxy

[Proctor's Office]
DS5

Olivia Proctor was, for all intents and purposes, the Devil's right-hand woman, at least by reputation. No one ever stopped in to see her for a "chat", nor was she known to issue invitations to afternoon tea. Basically, it was commonly understood that if you were meeting with the Admiral, it was not likely to be a pleasant experience.

It was with this mindset that Elessidil approached the "audience" to which he'd been brusquely and entirely unexpedtedly summoned. No matter how many times the counselor told himself that bringing a list of preconceptions when meeting someone for the first time was at least unfair, something in him suggested that an exception could -- and should -- be made in this case.

"Good day, Admiral," he efficiently greeted upon being admitted to Proctor's office by an equally efficient yeoman. Brian wasn't in the habit of meeting with admirals, and he would just as well have kept it that way; even though his meeting with Admiral Murdock had been a positive experience, he held no such expectations for this one. "You wished to talk with me?" he said, not quite at formal attention, but certainly with an effort to being a little more succinct and polite than usual. Admirals valued their time and preferred that everyone else did too.

Her back to the new arrival, the Admiral did not respond immediately, even though she noticed his profile reflected in the pane of transparent aluminum separating her offices from the upper Ops center of the Deep Space station that was home port to all ships assigned to the sector. Instead, she gave her attention to the fleet of newly arrived Task Force ships her primary focus. They were all hers... what was left of them, that is. Clasping child-like, stubby hands behind the small of her back, she cocked her head at an angle, using Elessidil's image as her center of focus, with the impression she was scowling at the Galaxy hanging out on the prow of Docking Pylon 2B. The bulk of the station's repair crews were tending to the ships powered down in hastily built spacedocks. Integrating new sections into ripped out ones. Like the Exeter's Main Bridge. Calhoun and Shelby would not be proud of what this Betazoid had allowed to happen with their ship.

"I fail to see how Murdock and his staff could reward you with a promotion when you only inherited the command position by virtue of the right place at the right time." Captain Vogler and virtually her entire senior staff had been killed en masse during one of the strikes the Starbeast and Hydran forces had inflicted on the ship. "Think you can explain to me why you deserve the promotion when Lieutenant Mullen had not received one for equal service as well? Was his life not of equal value to your own?"

Though he'd tried to mentally prepare himself, Brian found that he truly wasn't quite ready for the verbal slap in the face he'd just received. His first instinct, the very same instinct most any person, counselor or otherwise, would have when feeling attacked was to lash out in self defense.

What right did she have to question what he did or didn't deserve? Was she aboard the Exeter when Captain Vogler was killed? Was she there when someone had to pick up the pieces and keep her fledgling crew steady and focused? Was she there making the decisions that needed to be made to protect their lives? Did she have to deal with trying to strike a balance between encouraging a young officer while dealing with his insubordinative attitude at the same time? Maybe he had been "in the right place at the right time"; he didn't ask to be given command, it was thrust on him in Captain Vogler's last breath and he'd done his best to carry out her order.

Hell, Admiral Proctor had never even met him before.

But he decided to keep himself under control and do his best not to feed into the adversarial air that already seemed to exist between them.

"Admiral, I don't believe that my promotion was a reward based solely on my performance on the Exeter. Captain Henderson had submitted a promotion recommendation months ago and Captain M'Kantu said he supported it from the start. Being in command of the Exeter may have gotten Admiral Murdock's attention, and it may have been one more reason Captain M'Kantu felt the promotion was justified, but I don't think it was anything more than that."

"And as for Lieutenant Mullen . . . Ma'am, I value no one's life any more or less than my own."

"Then why did you relieve him of duty?" Still not having turned around, she tapped a pair of fingers against one palm. "Wouldn't it have more prudent to have kept him at his post during a combat situation? You were still in enemy territory, *Lt.* Commander. A ship full of new recruits and took one of the only experienced officers off duty for the sake of a personal issue.

It bears appearance that you didn't value anyone's life at all on that ship when you made that decision."

Brian wanted nothing more at that moment than to correct her as to the proper rank by which to address him, but he knew nothing would infuriate her more. Not wanting to start his career over again as an ensign, he resisted, though in a strange way the thought of pissing her off made it all the more appealing. "Admiral, I was the one who made him acting First Officer in the first place. I gave him every opportunity and every encouragement to succeed in that position. In the end, it was Lieutenant Mullen who'd decided we couldn't work together."

"Part of a good commander is surrounding yourself with people that can do the job, and do it well, regardless of personal interest." Of course, this statement was hypocritical in Olivia Proctor's eyes, but her mind didn't see it that way. She honestly believed she did surround herself with people that were professionals; it just so happened their goals coincided with her own. "I have Captains under my jurisdiction I would rather not have, but that's life. You play with the cards you're dealt. You don't fold at the first opportunity, or change the rules in the middle of the game."

Once again, the counselor held his tongue. Proctor was obviously not only oblivious to the details of the situation, she didn't even seem to care to learn of any beyond what she'd already decided was the truth. Where she got her information he could only guess, but Lt. Brendan Mullen's name was at the top of the list of possible sources. "With all due respect, I played the cards I was dealt as long as I could; there were plenty of other opportunities when I could have him but I continued to believe -- some thought naively -- that he would come around. But ultimately I had no choice; he openly and recklessly interfered with a direct order during a crisis situation. I'm sure you can appreciate that the chain of command exists in Starfleet for a reason."

Brian paused, waiting for the next punch to be thrown. When it didn't come right away, he decided to take advantage of the momentary silence. "Forgive me for saying so Admiral, but I'm not sure I understand why you seem to have a such a dislike and distrust of me and my decisions on the Exeter. We've never even met before."

"There's the personal interest aspect again, Mr. Elessidil." How that name espoused venom on her tongue. There'd been an Elessidil in her personal history, long ago, that deserved nothing less than unequivocal penal time on a barren asteroid somewhere. From this Elessidil's service jacket, they were too closely related to her liking. Immediate family inherited like character traits to one another. "This is why you are not a likely candidate for the starship command program."

There was something about the way she said his name . . . and her thoughts to reinforced the unpleasant connection he suspected.

She abruptly turned on her heels, facing up to the much taller Betazoid.

"Don't try reading my emotions, Counselor." She trained her beady eyes on Elessidil's own as she paced the length of her desk. "I'll tell you. It makes no difference who or what you are. In this sector of space, good commanders and starship crews are at a premium. No one comes out here for anything other than military duty. There's no exploration this close to the front lines of a future and coming war. With the threat of clones and double agents in Starfleet, the need for trusted and *capable* officers out here is doubly more important. Your vast inexperience at the helm of a starship that is now going to be in spacedock for months undergoing repair, as well as the fantastic loss of life that could have been avoided by utilizing every resource available, doesn't put you at the top of any of my lists except for shipping out. Frankly, I don't believe you have the attitude or characteristics to be a capable officer, just based on your spotty record in battle. I'm sure you'd make a fine commander or XO on an exploration ship far away from anything that would require you to make any life or death situations, but I think you lack the ruthlessness to put aside your personal ego, and strengthen your we3ak areas with people like Lt.

Mullen who can make the decisions with the confidence you apparently lack.

You had more strength to take one of your own officers off-duty, but not enough to keep him on.

"You made the decision to remove him from his position, not him. He was just doing the job he observed that you were incapable of doing. I need people I can trust in this sector, and at this point, you aren't one of them."

"Lieutenant Mullen was nothing short of insubordinate and I was quite capable of--" he managed in self-defense before being cut off.

She waved him off, ending his rebuttal mid-sentence. "I've no choice but to accept Murdock's approval of your promotion to Commander, but I'm not approving a Captaincy rank, or as commanding officer of the Exeter. I've put in for a replacement for the Captaincy, brevet promoting Lieutenant Mullen to Lt.

Commander and temporary command of the ship until the new CO arrives.

You'll be re-assigned back to the Galaxy, and into Bridge rotation, if M'Kantu deems you fit to do so. You're dismissed."

If it hadn't been for his concern for the well-being of the Exeter's crew, Brian would have let the matter drop without another word. He already knew Proctor's mind was made up about him based on what he knew could be nothing other than a very negative association with his brother, but he'd already dismissed the idea of a command of his own with Admiral Murdock, so her pronouncement on Brian's status in *her* sector was not of concern to him.

But he still had grave concerns about Mullen that only left him dumfounded as to why she would be so eager to put her faith in him. He secretly wondered if the Lieutenant was her nephew or something.

Checking his temper, he set his jaw as he turned to leave. "Admiral, for the sake of the rest of the Exeter's crew, I formally and completely disagree with your decision regarding Lieutenant Mullen. But it's your decision to make . . . I hope you don't regret it."

"You haven't earned the right to question my decisions, Counselor, and frankly, I'm wearing the Admiral stripes for a reason, whereas you aren't.

Your concerns have been so noted. I believe I already dismissed you, or am I going to have to add insubordination to your file?"

With that, Olivia Proctor turned her back on Elessidil, the heat flush in her cheeks hidden from the Betazoid, though he probably picked up her emotions. She simply stared out the window until she saw his shadow image depart silently. There would never be an Elessidil on her senior staff or command crews for so long as she lived. Trust was a commodity, and that family name lacked it in spades.

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight 2"

1st Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Marine
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist
Lieutenant (jg) Chandrakala Eshe - Engineering officer (IKS T'Kangra)
Ensign Artim Shivar - Biologist

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

Artim was still nursing his drink while laid out on a chase overlooking the sea. Now more people were beginning to show up and it was probably time for him to get up and join them and at least pretend he was ok. Even though he had been a rather skilled actor at one point in his life he wasn't sure he could put on the proper performance right now. Acting can only go so far, it's hard for even the best ones to totally change their emotional state even just on the outside.

Valera was the one person in his entire life that he really deeply loved. He'd had a lot of close friends and such, but never really loved anyone. Of course, people had generally just figured he was a kid and it was just a kiddie crush, but few realized that he was actually capable of "adult" love, well, at least the emotional kind.

Many of his kind were just kids even in their heads, but Artim was it.

Only his body had failed to develop, his mind went on normally. Even the best researchers couldn't figure out why, but he had the memory and emotional range of an adult, though at the same time he was still capable of childlike behavior.

Like sulking away from the rest of the group. For now, he stayed where he was, adjusting the baggy green jumpsuit he had worn. The rather sullen expression remained on his face, though the ten year old did look relaxed. He figured someone would come over and try and drag him into the party eventually. So he waited for someone to make the effort, mostly to see if they would.

Seeing Jonas across the way Dhani felt a moment of uncertainty at what she should do. She and Michael were together now and part of her felt that to leave his side even for an instant would be disrespectful, yet at the same time she was an independent woman and shouldn't refrain from talking to her friends. She smiled softly in Jonas direction and sighed slightly, her shoulders slumping while she decided what to do.

And then a small smile crept on to her face, her eyes diverted from Jonas and flicked over to Kimberly's form; engrossing herself in conversation with Jonas was by far much more appealing. Gently she stroked Michaels hand and smiled at him before departing.

"Jonas?" she hollered to get his attention as she quick stepped down the path towards the bar.

"And then there were three." Kala said quietly looking from Michael to Kimberly and back again.

Faylin's head whipped around instinctively as she heard his last name called. Peeking out behind the palm tree, Faylin sighed as she viewed his form. "Damn it." The mutter could be heard only to herself, yet the expression on her face shouted that a tiny bit of her missed him.

That tiny bit was growing larger by the second. She had to avoid him at all costs. His scent, his being, would have her begging for him to come back. Yet, like Brian pointed out, she could not let her emotions get the best of her. Finishing the drink, she meandered over to the bar, almost brushing his shoulder. She refused to look at him, or at least, she did until he looked at her for a split second.

"Yeah, your arithmetic is still perfect." Michael said equally quiet as he managed to take his eyes of Dhani. Why the heck did he feel a tinge of jealously when he heard her call out to Jonas? There was no reason for that at all. And still...

Steven turned to see Dhani approaching. "Hi Dhani." He smiled. His eyes were drawn to her figure, like every man in the holodeck. "Wow, you look like you're ready to party hard." He said as he drew his gaze away from her outfit.

Dhani smiled bashfully, "The outfit is one of my sisters." she said in her defense, "I don't own anything quite like this." she smiled slightly as she tugged the skirt down again. "Anyway how have you been?"

Steven laughed. "I should have guessed. She did seem to be the wilder one of the two of you." Looking for a moment towards the host of the little shindig, who happened to be looking off at something else, he shook his head slightly, and turned back to Dhani. "I've been better.

How about you?"

Dhanishta tilted her head slightly, looking past Steven to the woman of his attentions, she shrugged slightly, "So- so." she replied as her eyes came to rest back on his face. She smiled softly at him before pulling over a stool and taking a pew. "We haven't really talked since we got back." she paused thoughtfully, "We didn't talk before we left the ship either." she added.

She put on a serious expression and held out her hand, "I'm Dhanishta Eshe, I am an engineer. Proclaimed by many to be clinically insane, and it is quite possible that I am." she paused to wink, "When I am not engrossed in Engineering I like to spend my free time engrossed in Engineering, however occasionally I take the time to go to dinner with my room mate, and since my sister has transferred here, I expect the social outings to increase. I have lots of interests which I don't indulge in cause I am a workaholic." The handshake had lasted through out the dialogue, which had no doubt bewildered Jonas somewhat, judging by the expression on his face. "Your turn." Dhani prompted as she released his hand.

Steven removed the confused expression off his face and smiled. "I'm Steven Jonas, Marine, and Sniper. I can't claim to be clinically insane, except, I guess, with regards to..." He nodded briefly in Faylin's direction, having seen Dhani looking at her a few moments before. "I'm a fitness freak, and love to run and swim." Steven paused for a moment, wondering if he should say what he was thinking. The imaginary coin flip came up heads. "It's been hard adjusting to being back on the ship. So much has changed that I don't know where reality begins anymore."

Steven brought the glass up to his lips and took a sip. "It's good to see that you managed to survive those few weeks of hell down there.

Especially after what happened up on the Hydran ship."

Dhani's face fell and she slapped her palm on the table, "You had to go and ruin it didn't you!" she exclaimed. She eyed him for a moment, "I was trying not to think of the battle." she explained slightly clipped. Sighing slightly she reapplied the smile to here face as if it was as simple as touching up makeup, "We'll go again!"

"When I was in the Academy I used to study gymnastics. I haven't had the time since coming aboard to really focus on it though." she paused thinking. Turning to him sharply as she thought of another mildly interesting fact about herself, "I like to sing!" she proclaimed a little louder than she had expected to. She smiled with a trace of embarrassment, "I mean I used to sing. I don't really anymore. But I play the cello like no other." she smiled, on that note and that note alone she never went with modesty.

"Definition of Home, Part One; The Threshold"

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering - USS Galaxy

***Location USS Galaxy***

(Set one week after 'The Fight for Romulus')

Dhanishta kept her pace even as she walked along side the stretcher that held Michaels unconscious form. She smiled softly as she looked down at him. Her fingers resting gently on the impression of his hand from underneath his sheet shrouded body.

She had been permitted to accompany Michael during his transfer from the field hospital to the Galaxy in her new elevated status from friend to girlfriend. It was going to take a while till that concept rolled freely off her tongue. A romantic relationship was the last thing on Dhani's mind, in fact it wasn't the last thing; it hadn't been on her agenda period! She didn't have much luck in the past and it wasn't something she was looking for, nor for that matter was it something that she would go looking for. Both Baile and Michael had given her a rendition of her ex fiancés last moments in this world; Baile was shot down by a sniper and not ten minutes after, Michael had seen it a fitting moment to collapse.

Neither of them had died in her arms, thank the gods for small mercies, yet both of them had managed to give her at least a small heart attack; it certainly felt like it at the time. Michael had blacked out due to the stress and shock of the situation. Dhani guessed that once reunited with her, the knowledge that she was safe and they were together, coupled with the announcement that the conflict was officially over, the relief had caused his immune/nervous system to go haywire, resulting in blacking out. Seeing as she couldn't remember a dammed thing the doctors had told her after they stabilised him because she was crying so hard she thought she might just pass out herself from dehydration, she decided that her own theory was good enough.

He was going to be fine, they told her, he just needed to sleep it off. He was still being monitored for shock, and they all knew that could turn serious, yet he was stable and doing just fine. Even though they knew what trauma could do to you, even with all the medical knowledge and psychological information about post traumatic stress syndrome and all the other mental ailments that war endued, still, the looks that she had received as Michael lied next to her in the field hospital implied that he was taking up valuable bed space; she scowled at the memory.

Faltering in her step momentarily as she scanned the hallway for any other sign of life, and of course, damage to the ship; she couldn't help but notice all the little things along with the larger, more complex tasks, she was going to have to do to repair the ship from all the damage the Hydran had done. Being back here though was unsettling, it felt like a life time ago that she last walked through these corridors. She had lived here for three years now and during that time, well most of that time; she had never been so bold as to call it 'home'. She smiled slightly remembering how she hadn't unpacked all her belongings when she was first assigned. That had made it easier when she had fallen into a coma and was declared dead; everything was already packed! And even after that, when she had come back, she paused; how many times had she come back? Stood up and simply walked away from Death? Did Victor realise just how many times she had cheated him out of a soul? She shrugged. Even after she had come back from death, she still didn't unpack all her things, for the first time though she had been content to do so, until talking to O'Shea. After that conversation she was quite tempted to pack everything up and take off in the nearest shuttle.

Yet she had stayed, sucker for punishment she mused. And now, after three years that could be summed up as three years of hell, and even that couldn't do it justice, she finally conceded to calling this boat home, it was slightly comforting, yet at the same time the concept was still new to her, and now after all that had happened… she sighed heavily; she thought that coming home, to a place that she finally felt comfortable enough to call home, she thought that she would feel different. As if stepping over the threshold from the shuttle and onto the deck plates of the Galaxy would fill her with warmth. That somehow the ship would welcome her back with its unseen arms and warm her heart, make her feel as if she belonged and that her time away had pained the vessel.

Yet she felt hollow.

The ship didn't spurn her, how could it? It was something else that caused her heart to ach and her stomach turn with the overwhelming bitter grief of emptiness. Was it everything she had been through on the planet that made her feel this way? Was it the terrifying prospect of a relationship with Michael, was it… she paused yet again in her thoughts. Most people would feel excited about the beginning of a relationship, their hearts would be leaping, their minds forever on cloud nine; yet she was melancholy. She looked down at Michael again; unconsciously moving her hand away from his. It wasn't that she didn't love him, for she did deeply; so much so that it scared her, yet that wasn't it. She had been reluctant to form a romantic attachment with him because of what happened before she left the ship. Confessing the subject matter of her nightmares to Terrik had been a risky move. She regretted the need to talk to someone, to get the burden off her chest, for now it applied a much heavier weight. Not only did she believe the nightmares were her own memories, she pretty much had concrete evidence that she was fully capable of doing all the twisted horrific murders that she had seen in her dreams, for she had done it time and time again on Romulus to the Hydrans'.

Yes, she remembered, with clarity, almost everything that had happened when part of her took a back seat while another stepped in to take control. She wasn't sure if luck would be the word to use to encapsulate the minor fact that she didn't have the impressions of their dead bodies after she had subjected them to a terrifying demise etched into her minds eye; only the pattern of their energy as it slipped away and mingled with the ether.

It wasn't something she cared to think about at this time, yet as the group walked in silence down the corridors to Sick Bay, that same silence that had descended when the firing had stopped, which was more deafening, more poignant, more terrifying than the war itself; it left you with only your own thoughts, your own conscience to listen to, to reason with, and for Dhanishta it had a lot to say. She begged for distraction but everyone was content to remain in the silence, succumbing to their own inner monologue, leaving Dhanishta to try and combat her voices alone.

"Blood is Thicker Than Vinegar"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Command Master Chief Madden Jayce

"I'm wearing the Admiral stripes for a reason." Brian slammed another book onto its shelf, imitating Admiral Proctor in a snotty nasal tone.

The only thing more frustrating than returning to the Galaxy to find his quarters in complete disarray from the battles was having had to meet with that woman. He bent down and snatched up a copy of "Canterbury Tales". "Am I going to have to add insubordination to your file?" he mocked again.

"Why are we still on this?" Madden asked, brushing reddish hair from her face as she lifted the Complete Works of John Milton from the floor and brushing her hand over the black leather binding. "She's a bitch. Most Admirals are, B, it's that too horribly surprising." She flipped open to Paradise Lost. "His laughter at thir quaint Opinions wide/ Hereafter, when they come to model Heav'n/ And calculate the Stars, how they will wield/ The mighty frame, how build, upbuild, contrive/ To save appearances." She snapped the book closed and looked at the man standing a few feet away from her. "Bask in the egotistical brilliant of John Milton. Thank God he's dead."

"At least he made a substantive contribution to Terran literature. I doubt *she* can say the same," he muttered, extricating the book from Madden's hand before turning to the next scattered pile. "Admiral Murdock was an amazingly decent man when I met with him. Admiral Price was a real down-to-earth guy as well, at least when I knew him before he became an admiral. Proctor on the other hand doesn't give a flying fig about anyone's welfare but her own -- *and* she doesn't have the slightest shred of a conscience to check it. Questioning my judgment and insulting me to my face is the work of a bitch. Turning a deaf ear to concerns over the welfare of an entire crew is...just...stupid!" he spat, frustrated and unable to come up with a better word at the moment.

"She's a very stupid bitch," Madden said, nodding in solidarity with her friend.

She lifted the next book; it was actually one of her favorites, a novel by the Betazoid author Mekina Sailut. It was a wonderfully tragic, long winded and beautifully written story about a well to do family some three hundred years earlier.

"You have quite the collection," she said, hoping to change the subject. "I had never noticed until now."

"Thanks. The shelves just tend to blend into the background after awhile. Surak," he said, pointing to a weighty tome for Madden to retrieve from under his coffee table. "You know, I'm convinced if my promotion hadn't come with Murdock's explicit blessing, she would have revoked it in a heartbeat. And all because of my last name."

She raised an eyebrow. "What did she say about your last name?" she asked. She definitely needed clarification on that; Brian's name was very much a Betazoid name, and if it was going in that direction, she was infuriated on her friend's behalf.

Brian turned to right the next bookcase from its prone position. "Out loud? Nothing," he said with a small grunt as he lifted, "other than to say it with clear distaste. But I sensed what she was thinking and it was obvious the name was far from unfamiliar to her. There's only one possible explanation for that."

"And that would be what? Pretend I'm a lowly enlisted who doesn't know fleet politics from her ass."

For the first time since Madden had arrived, Elessidil paused from his efforts to focus solely on their conversation. He sighed lightly.

"I've never mentioned my brother to you, have I?"

"Uhm. No, not exactly," Madden said, folding her arms. "I never knew you had a brother. I don't exactly have the clearance to look you up, now, do I?"

"Probably wouldn't help even if you did," he muttered. "Gods, where do I start..?" He puckered his lips in resolve and gestured to the couch; this could take awhile.

"Madden, understand that this isn't a subject I talk about much," he predicated as he sat down with her. After a momentary pause to gather his thoughts, he continued. "Quinn -- my brother -- was someone I admired growing up. We were different in a lot of ways; he was more the athlete while I was artistic, he seemed to thrive on debate and confrontation whereas I was far more passive and cooperative in my interactions with others, among other things. Despite that though, and maybe even because of it, I thought he was really...I don't know, 'together' or something.

"As we grew up, our respective interests took us down pretty different paths, but the one place where they eventually intersected was Starfleet. He'd been an officer for quite a number of years by the time I graduated the Academy, and by political adeptness or sheer force of will or whatever, he'd already established a solid career and had come into favor with some fairly high-up people. When I was in my first assignment aboard the Agincourt, I tried several times to get together with him but he always seemed to be too 'busy', and once I began my doctoral studies on Betazed we pretty much lost contact completely. I learned of his assignments and promotions through the usual BuPers announcements, noticing that he'd usually end up in some rather enviable Intel-related positions but never really knowing exactly what he did; and on the scarce few occasions when I had the chance to ask, it was obvious to me that he was being less than completely forthcoming. And as you're well aware, no one's better at concealing their thoughts from a Betazoid than another Betazoid, so eventually I just stopped asking."

Madden's eyes widened slightly in understanding as she nodded and settled on the arm of the sofa. She was beginning to connect where this was headed, and her natural empathy was beginning to settle in her chest. It was never easy to discover someone wasn't who they thought they were, especially when they were family or a hero of sorts -- undoubtedly, it was even worse when that person was both. She couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I started putting together some theories of my own based on some 'legends' and rumors I'd heard whispers of from time to time, particularly when a few names I'd heard along with the rumors were people who I knew were among Quinn's mutual supporters," he said, lifting an eyebrow suggestively.

Brian slowly shook his head as he reflected on his brother. "He'd always held some pretty strong opinions about how the Federation should and shouldn't operate, especially after the War broke out. One of the most significant was his belief that the Federation, and Starfleet in particular, had not just the right, but the obligation to disregard any kind of ethics of privacy to obtain whatever information it deemed necessary to ensure its security; not surprisingly including, among other things, all out telepathic invasion of anyone at any time. Only twice did he and I discuss -- no, argue -- about the subject, the second time ending with his vow not to bother wasting his time with someone as naive and unrealistic as me."

"That's a horrible thing to say," Madden replied, her voice gentle; she couldn't help listening to the story with her other senses as well, her telepathic fingertips brushing over his surface thoughts and clinging to his emotions. It was a struggle not to allow herself to go further; it always was when she cared, when she was really listening. "That can't have been easy to hear."

"It stung at first, yeah, but I came to realize the kind of person he'd become -- or maybe had always been -- and accepted the fact that we were seeing the universe from profoundly different and opposed points of view: I'd founded my career on valuing the rights and integrity of the individual, while he'd based his on the belief that any individual could be sacrificed in *any* way for the good of the Federation if necessary."

"When was the last time you spoke to him?" Madden questioned, clearing her throat softly, pulling her focus back to Brian and his brother rather than where her mind was wondering to. The Section, as it was called by most Fleeters, was a little bit of a touchy subject for her; she'd seen their activities first hand, back in the POW camp, and it was always heavy on the sacrifice. It brought back horrible memories, the types she'd long attempted to excise and those that still crawled out of her subconscious a few nights a month as she slept.

"The last time I saw or talked to him was about five years ago when he paid a visit to the Miranda. The 'official' purpose was for transport to a region of space where we -- conveniently -- happened to be going, and to consult on various Intel-related matters. I later found out that his real reason for being there was to do some 'reconnaissance' on three people: Captain Elaithin, Kit Jordan and me. I haven't seen or heard from him since; personnel searches just come back with 'Location Classified'. But I'll bet my commission that somewhere along the way he ran afoul of Admiral Proctor and to this day remains on her list of people to hate -- a list that I've apparently been added to by virtue of blood."

"Some people are just ignorant, Brian," she said, softly. "And they're not worth your time. My mother used to tell me that the opinions of those who judged without knowing were more worthless than--" she paused a moment, half a smile raising from her lips.

"Something really disgusting that should not be spoken of by a lady of her class."

Brian couldn't help but laugh in response.

She reached forward and touched his shoulder. "You are far from your brother, you know that. I know that. Murdock knows that, and Captain M'Kantu-- all the people that really matter. Admiral Proctor? She thinks she matters far more than she does. There are a hundred people out there far more capable, far more respected, and she knows that."

"I know that," he agreed softly, with a slight nod of his head. "But you know that it only takes one prominent person with a vendetta to be a nuisance at best -- and at worst, to possibly derail an entire career."

"I think you need something to get your mind off all this."

He chuckled, "that's why I decided to tackle the books," he said, glancing back to the only partially restored shelves.

"I was going to meet a new friend for drinks. I definitely think you should come."

"Not now, Madden, I'm really not in the mood. Besides, I have all this to-"

"Brian. Look at my face. Do you really think 'no' is an appropriate answer here? And do keep in mind who you're talking to -- I'm known as a bit of a badass." She smirked.

He shook his head and smiled at her. "Okay, you're a badass," he acquiesced. "I don't need two women dragging my name through the mud -- I'll go."

"Correct answer. It'll be fun. Dress nicely. No uniform."

"A Lesson from the Professor"

Captain Karen Davies-Jeppo,
Starfleet Academy Science Department

and
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor,
Commanding Officer (DS5)

"You want to know how my sweetie works, do you?" The old woman smiled on the viewscreen. The viewscreen was inset into a wall in an austere office, suspended in space. The space was occupied by the returning elements of the Romulan campaign's task fleet which made Deep Space 5 its home. One other person who made Deep Space 5 their home was Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, who was now seated at her desk and looking at her viewscreen.

"If you're referring to this digital amoeba you like to call Savant, that's correct, Captain." She immediately didn't like Captain Davies.

Though her senior, Davies had a certain spryness which Proctor found annoying.

That love of life which Captain Karen Davies-Jeppo was infamous for toned itself down a touch as the Rear Admirals intentions - and mood - became clear. Perhaps she was in her 80's, but she was anything but a pushover. "I would appreciate it if you cut back on the disparaging prokaryotic remarks about my daughter, Admiral. Now, I'm running late.

What can I do for you?"

Proctor raised an imperious eyebrow at the Captains' curt tone. "I would appreciate it if *you* were to treat me with more respect. You are aware of my rank."

Proctor was even more annoyed by the Captains' reply, as it held little of the subservience she was hoping for. "Quite, Rear Admiral. I give proper courtesy to those of higher rank. I reserve my respect for those who don't abuse it. What can I do for you?" she repeated.

"The program. How it works. I want to know."

The woman smiled on the viewscreen again, a small smile that might make friends with Mona Lisa. "Is my Savant giving you troubles, Admiral."

"CAPTAIN."

Karen Davies exhaled and smiled, relaxed. In her old age she was allowed to buck the chain of command a little bit. She earned it. "Alright, Admiral. Though you might find you catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

Her tone changed, speaking as she might to a student now. She was a professor at this point, after all - she slipped into the tone as easily as one might put on a hat. "Now, Admiral, you are aware of the workings of prime numbers and fractions, yes?"

The deadpan look that Proctor returned her was enough to confirm the question as well as provide Davies with a bit of glee. "Very good. Let's do a little math then, shall we? One over two, one over three, one over five, one over seven, one over eleven, one over thirteen - these are all the inverse of some very basic prime numbers." She wrote with a stylus on the screen which she was looking at - the computer left the scribing on display as a veil between them.

1/2 1/3 1/5 1/7 1/11 1/13

"These you may imagine are the same as processing registers - the bits inside your computer that actually do the thinking." She smiled benignly, "and all of the input that comes into the processor is made up of irrational numbers - fractions."

"Now, Admiral, you recall how to add fractions?"

Proctor gave an exasperated sigh, "I *did* pass the Academy with honours, Captain."

Karen smiled again. "Excellent. What is the sum of one seventh and one ninth?" She raised a finger as she saw Proctor turn towards a PADD, "ah-ah-ah. No computer. Use your head. It's earned honours, after all."

The way that the Admiral sizzled with anger made the grin stay on Karen's face for the full twenty-five seconds that it took Proctor to reply. "sixteen sixty-thirds." Karen smiled and wrote the equation on the screen.

1/7 + 1/9 = 16/63

"Very good! Now, look at that. Our new denominator isn't prime, but we can divide it down into a collection of prime numbers. That's important, please note that."

"I didn't ask for a math lesson, Captain." Proctor growled her distaste.

Davies could tell that the Admiral disliked her as much as she seemed to dislike Savant. Karen was pleased by that thought.

"Yes, yes you did in fact, Admiral. Now, are you familiar with the basics of quantum physics?"

The deadpan glare that Karen got in reply for her question was priceless as well as informative. Of course Proctor was familiar with the basics.

Still, a refresher never hurt.

"Then you will recall the wave-particle duality theorem. All matter and all interactions may be quantified as energy - which is itself quantifiable as a wave. Do you know what these quantifications resolve to?"

"Please, enlighten me, Captain." Proctor seethed.

Karen replied benignly, "Fractions, Admiral. Or, to be specific, non-terminating irregular values." She then drew a sine wave on the screen as she switched gears. "All information can be eventually resolved down into a wave of some sort. The values of these can be made through simple quadratic equations involving irrational numbers of prime denominational value. Do you see, Admiral?"

Proctor paused for a long moment - she seemed to be staring at the tidy blue writing that was transposed on her screen more than at Davies on the other side. "I understand what you're saying..." she spoke in a tone which indicated that her hold was weaker than she would admit, "but that still doesn't tell me how the thing bloody well works."

"Of course not. I haven't told you that yet, now have I?" Karen's smile was one of pure bliss as she watched the Admiral squirm. "Every processing node that Savant occupies contains a bank of virtual registers - each one representing the value of a certain fractional prime number. She can make or disband these registers as needed, and can create new nodes as needed. Whatever information she comes across is reinterpreted as a sine wave and fed into the virtual processor, combining with those that have already been fed in. The resulting wave you might consider to be the same as a person's brain wave."

Karen tapped a control on her terminal to clear off the writing, leaving the view between the two clear. Proctor, however, was still not clear.

"So it's a collection of little brain simulations?"

"Did I say that? No, I didn't." Karen actually seemed to be a little insulted by the notion, "I'm not into the simulation angle, Admiral. If I wanted to do that I'd be in the holographic sciences. No, my Savant is completely new. Her thought waves are entirely different from anything any organic produces. She doesn't even really *have* thought waves - it's just a nice analogy." And then a pause, "And that's how she works.

Without getting scientific on you, of course."

"But how do I *stop* her, Captain?!" Proctor burst. She wasn't interested in computing sciences, she wanted to know how to reign in the expanding program, chain it and make it more *useful.*

Karen shrugged, grinning, "Ask her nicely? Maybe you could start by treating her as a living being and not as an office assistant." Then a pause while Proctor opened her mouth to reply, before she continued, "I'm not going to tell you how to disable my own daughter, Admiral. And threats on my commission or my safety won't do anything either. I've been demoted so often that I really don't care anymore, and my husband and son are perfectly and demonstratively capable of stopping anything that would threaten me or my family."

Proctor knew that Davies was telling the truth - Starfleet records showed the woman to be famously stubborn, even to the point of declaring her colony world independent from the Federation for a short period while civil liberties of the state were disrupted in a coup. The Admiral huffed a frustrated breath. "You're no help, Davies."

Karen took that to be an end of the formalities, and she grinned. "I'm on commission to help students, not Admirals. My students are far more polite, too. Good luck Admiral. If you're going to try to reign in Savant, you're going to need it."

The line went dead, leaving Proctor alone in her office once more, with only a Starfleet logo shining back at her for company.

Like mother, like daughter.

"Catching Up"

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas

(Occurs prior to the Party in the Holodeck)

****
Sickbay
****

Work was hell. At least for Steven it was today. With Faylin not wanting to even talk to him, and the alcohol from the night before still slowly wearing off, trying to get the marines organized back into a semblance of a Platoon, two in fact - Bran was still in the medical bay under observation - was a mission and a half.

Replacements were going to be arriving in a few days and they needed everything ready for them to join their new comrades. Comrades who were still hurting from the losses they suffered. Bunks still sat empty, their owners having passed on. Possessions littered the foot locker and closets.

Photos of family and friends still sat plastered to the walls. No one had been in the mood to gather their belongings for shipment to their loved ones.

All except for Norma Jean. Hers had been taken by the Lieutenant she had briefly loved. Damon Rice had visited and asked if he could take her things to her mother back on Earth. With Bran in the medical bay and Baile, well he generally didn't want to think about what had happened to him, suffice to say, that Steven was temporary acting CO until Branwen came back. And having known, and subsequently lost, the love of his life, he readily approved the man's request.

Furji and Johnson were godsends when it came to the men. They had been through a heck of a lot in their time in the corps and were fully able to take the slack and help keep the unit's minds on the rebuilding that needed to take place.

And so after a long day, and having resisted the urge to go and get a drink several times during the day, Steven found himself outside a place he rarely visited. Not that he would freely admit that he was afraid. He just disliked doctors and most especially needles. But she was in there and he felt it his obligation to update her on the progress of the men and women of the 188th.

Steeling himself, he walked up to the doors and stepped into the hollow void he knew as Sickbay. He smiled as he saw Bran. "Hi. How are you feeling today?"

Branwen smiled at him. "Better and bored. How are you, Steven." She watched him with a gentle smile. "I'm so sorry that you have to do all the work now."

"I'm doing well." Steven replied. He wasn't doing well at all, but if it put her mind at rest and allowed her to heal faster... "Thought I should pop in and see you. Last time I spoke to the doctor you were still pretty weak."

"I'm fine now." She lied. "How about you fill me an about the department, and smuggle in some paperwork so I can help you."

"Not gonna happen. That man I saw in here the last time I came to visit, well I think he'd tear my heart out and feed it to a targ somewhere if I gave you work to do." He grinned. "But I'm happy to fill you in on what's been going on."

She smiled. "That would be Dr. Mathieson. He is a dear. But do tell me what is going on with the troops." She was worried about them.

"Yep that was him. He's a nice guy, but a little protective of you. Well, let's see... The men are still hurting from the losses they suffered and it's gonna take more time before they are back to their usual selves. Furji and Johnson are helping keep them focused on their training. And as the new replacements will be arriving when we get to Deep Space Five we still need to clear out the lockers of those who didn't make it back. I just haven't got it in me to do that today."

Branwen reached out and took his hand. "I am so sorry this is falling to you, Steven. If they would let me out for a few hours I would do it myself.

This is not your duty. I will write the letters okay."

Steven shook his head. "You might be XO, but you're incapacitated, so the duty falls to me. Besides, I feel it is my duty for those in the Second Platoon anyway."

"But who is there for you to talk too? This is not easy, Steven. There is a lot on your shoulders, right now." She looked into his eyes.

"I'm a marine. I should be able to handle it." He wasn't sure if he could handle all that was going on, but despite all that was going on in his life, he was going to try. A stiff drink would fix his problems, for a while at least.

"Not even marines are able to handle everything, and it's no shame." She looked at him knowing he needed to unwind. "How are things with Faylin?"

Steven looked away for a moment. "It didn't work out." he said as he watched an orderly attending to another patient. "We broke up shortly before the fleet returned."

"I'm sorry, Steven." She had seen how fond he had been off the jag officer.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. I've been throwing myself into my work." He wasn't about to tell her that he drank himself silly every night. Even if she was his shrink, she didn't need that weighing on her shoulders while she recuperated.

Branwen was not convinced. "Steven..." She started.

The doors opened and Steven looked up. From her position on the bed she probably couldn't see the doors, but being that he was standing at her bedside, he could. The person standing at the door noticed him and motioned for him to come over. "I'll be right back." Steven said as he gently patted her on the shoulder.

"I'm not finished." Branwen knew he was avoiding the subject.

A minute later he was back. "Sorry, the nurse wanted to make sure that I wasn't agrivating you too much. They obviously worried about your health."

"They think I am made of porcelain." She huffed. "And you are not going to distract me!"

Steven smiled. "I wouldn't dream of distracting you."

Just then the door opened again and another figure arrived. One Steven had not met before, but knew of and respected. And he was looking in their direction.

"A Form For Everything"

Principal Characters:
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Crewman Recruit Allison

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 39
Security Main

Victor frowned down at his LCARS screen and the report he was completing on the latest fistfight he'd been compelled to break up. The fact that the three crewmen had continued to fight after he'd arrived on the scene was a source of some concern - most people, even in mid-fight, would react to his presence. The fact that the ratings hadn't was notable, which meant that either they were either on drugs, or there was something wrong with him and he wasn't having his normal effect on people. His options were to order a tox-screen on the ratings, or report to medical for a checkup; perhaps both.

Without knocking, blond-haired Allison sauntered into Krieghoff's office carrying a stack of PADDs and wearing a disapproving look on her glitter-sprinkled face, "Mr. Krieghoff, you're gonna have to remember to sign these incident reports," she was already saying, "...as it is I'm frankly surprised that Mr. Corgan allows this kind of sloppy.... whoa!"

The young Icelandic girl jerked to a stop mid sentence as a wave of uneasiness slapped her full in the face almost causing her to drop her armful of reports. "Like f...f...freak me out." she stuttered in amazement, "What's up with the bad v...v...vibes?"

Ah, well, that settled that. Victor checked the request for the tox-screen and closed the file. "That would be me," he explained. It looked like he wouldn't be inflicting his presence on Doctor Burton today. He thought she would appreciate the consideration.

"Get out!" she exclaimed, "Is th...th...this you that's causing this?

Whoa!" Experimentally Allison reached out a slightly trembling hand as if to touch Victor, her eyes widening as the unusual feelings of dread increased. "Zarky!" she gasped, "It IS you! Check it out!"

Fascinated Alli moved her hand back and forth feeling the goose-bumps rise and fall each time she got close to the frowning officer. "This is like totally Twilight Zone... how do you do that?"

While his contact with the new personnel assigned to Security had been limited - it was usually better to wait until after there had been a fight and they'd seen death firsthand; they were somewhat desensitized at that point - he'd heard T'lan talking about her. Most of the old-timers thought that she was a bit pushy, and Angelienia had mentioned that she thought the girl was much too interested in Commander Corgan for her - or his - own good. Victor was inclined to accept the Ktarian's opinion; if anyone would know that, she would, based on her own past with him, before she'd changed.

He was also inclined to accept that Recruit Allison was pushy, since she'd just walked unannounced into his office. Outside of Angelienia, no other member of the ship's complement, including the Vulcans that he knew weren't affected by his presence, had even *seen* the inside of his office. "It just happens," he replied. "I was born with it."

"Well this is just too creepy." Alli bobbed her head quite impressed with the sensations. "Do you like hire yourself out for Halloween?"

"No." There was, he supposed some purpose for that question, but he didn't think he wanted to devote the time necessary to decipher what it was. Scaring small children simply by passing them in the corridor was bad enough, but doing it deliberately? Why would he want to do that?

"Well you oughta...." Alli 'poked' at Victor again and again, "Look...

goose bumps... no goose bumps... goose bumps.... This is wicked cool."

Perhaps he ought to introduce the girl to Lieutenant London-Who-He-Owed-A-Nickname-To - he didn't really understand her either, and the two of them together might merge into an individual he

*could* understand. Victor frowned. No, that was silly; things like that only happened to Admiral Kirk back when he was a Captain the first time.

This was the Galaxy; if that was going to happen here, the result would be some sort of mutant monster with an unquenchable thirst for blood and a desire to end all life in the universe. Best not to temp fate.

"Is there a purpose to this, Crewman?" he asked. Wasn't there some group of martial artists that did something like this that Rexa had mentioned once? Loggar'th Finger Duelists or something? He eyed the girl. No, her body language was all wrong, she wasn't attacking him.

Alli dismissed the formality with a wave of her hand. "Never mind the crewman stuff." she said. "I don't go all stuffy with people I work with."

"It's your rank, you earned it," he explained.

"What-ever," she giggled, "Name's Allison, or like you can totally call me Alli if you want." She leaned forward to poke the grumpy man's shoulder experimentally, but a surly glare stopped her.

Victor looked at her without responding for a moment that stopped just short of being uncomfortably long. "I only call people by their given names if they're family, Crewman. I use their rank during normal conversation because it keeps everything on safe, familiar ground, which is important because of what I do to them just by being there.

Sometimes, if I know someone well enough, I use their last name... but I don't know you well enough for that and you have no last name listed in your file."

"That? Oh that's like a top-secret secret agent thing. I could tell you my last name but then I'd have to kill ya, y'know."

As death threats went - and Victor was something of an expert on the subject from both sides of the threat - the Crewman's was... lackluster.

"Perhaps," he conceded. Anything was possible, after all. "But I don't think so. Not without help."

"Anyhoo....seriously..." Alli's gaze trailed back to the stack of PADDS she had brought in with her. "Forgetting to sign off on stuff is just the beginning of the mess you got here Mr. Grumpy-Gills. Seems we got like a total incongr....incon....incongruit...a big mess down in Armory regarding the gear you returned yesterday."

There was nothing wrong with the weapons he'd returned, they'd all been in perfect working order when he'd used them - or others had tried to use them on him. "Mess?"

"Yah... like fer instance... this Marine issued Tetryon Pulse Launcher thing-a-majig... um like I never checked it out to you in the first place, so its like kinda hard to check it back in. This isn't a Library book....you can't drop off stuff for other guys y'know?"

"I wasn't dropping it off for them; I was dropping it off for us. I stole it fair and square, so it's ours now. Just file a 78FEC form on it and call it a 'field acquisition.'"

"78-FEC...yah....Whatever I'll bring you the form later to fill out, Alli ticked an item off her list, "and like another thing on the subject... what's with all the Romulan disruptors, and Hydran fusion gun thingies? Hel-lo... you aren't supposed to be picking up souvenirs down there....." Alli stopped as a thought struck her, "Wait... *are* we allowed souvenirs? Because that Romulan grenade was a pretty shade of green...."

The thought of the Crewman with a live Romulan plasma grenade hanging on her wall as a decoration was not something Victor cared to contemplate.

"No, we're not allowed to collect souvenirs. The Romulan and Hydran weapons were items that I collected from enemy combatants and dead allies to be used in the field when my issue weapons ran low on charges.

Since I'm no longer in the field, I'm required to turn them in to you.

There's a form for that, the 34-CEE-Alpha, I think. One of the CEE-Alpha series anyway."

"Right...I'll put one in your In-Box...." ." Allison bobbed her head and consulted her list. "Okay... like finally... and this is on a personal note dude... Ewwwww!" Alli stuck out her tongue, "Like what's up with all the icky purple stuff all over everything? Could you have returned your gear in a messier state? You know how many Brillo pads I went through?" Alli examined her nails frowning at the chipped polish.

That explanation didn't require a form. "That would be the previous owners."

"Ex-squeeze me? That would be the previous owners what?"

"The 'purple stuff,' as you call, it is the remains of the Hydran equipment's previous owners," Victor continued, "The Hydrans have a highly pressurized circulatory system. When they suffer a catastrophic injury such as dismemberment, or any serious integument-piercing wound, they tend bleed out quickly and violently all over the surrounding terrain - and their opponent."

Alli' jaw dropped, almost losing her gum. "Like Ewwww. Can you be any

*more* gross? That's why Starfleet puts 'disintegrate' settings on ya'lls guns... so we don't have to deal with the mess. Zap, zap! No muss no fuss."

"Disintegration uses the highest power settings on Starfleet-issue weapons. When engaging in sustained combat when resupply is uncertain or unlikely to occur, conservation of power is a necessity. You use the minimum settings needed, or utilize alternative means of engaging the enemy. That often leads to the necessity of non-cauterized injuries being inflicted on them."

"Whatever... just remember tidiness is next to cleanliness... or something."

"I'll be sure and ask the next Hydran I dismember to bleed in a different direction, Crewman," Victor replied. Privately, he doubted that it would have any effect whatsoever on the directionality of the Hydran's blood flow, but he supposed that it couldn't hurt to try.

"Zarky!" Allison bobbed her head excitedly. "Thanks a zil Vic, that'll save me a ton on clean up afterwards. Although I still recommend the disintegrate thing. We in Armory can make you a deal on some extra power-packs if you still a nervous-nelly about the ammunition situation."

"The universe rarely consults me on when I'm going to need a dozen extra power packs, Crewman."

"Okay, okay... no need to get so testy, all the more reason to take a few along anyways... did anybody ever tell you you're kinda a sourpuss?"

He thought a moment. "No," he finally decided. He'd been called many things, in more languages than he could count, but never, to his knowledge, that.

"Well frankly my dear Vic it's a bit of a downer on the rest of us."

Allison broke the news bluntly, "You need to lighten up....go out and get yourself a hobby that doesn't involve brooding."

Did, he wondered, dancing with Angelienia count as a hobby? No. hobbies were things that you did in your free time to relax and have fun.

Dancing with Angelienia was *necessary* for him, like breathing. Perhaps hunting qualified? No, that was another need, although the dancing had helped displace it enough that it had gone unfilled until the Hydrans had invaded Romulus - after they'd invaded, he'd been able to sate his need to hunt enough that he might not need to hunt again for some time, even without the dancing. Which meant that he had no hobby. "Such as?"

"I dunno, badminton.....stamp collecting, just let your hair down. OH!

That's a great idea... why don't you go for a new color? I could dye your hair myself... that is if you stop making my arm hairs going all squirrelly every time I get close." Allison poked him again experimentally amazed as little shivers ran up her spine. This guy was wicked spooky.

The odd thoughts he'd had after beaming up from Romulus flickered through his mind, but he squashed them. "My hair is fine the color it is."

Alli shrugged disapprovingly. "Suit yourself." Personally she would have gone with the new look. "Another thing you may consider is maybe an earring. Give you the rugged tough-guy rebel look. Chicks go for that."

"I'm not particularly interested in what 'chicks' think of me, either, Crewman." Outside of Angelienia, anyway, and he already knew how she felt; he could look into her eyes and see it shining there.

"Oh...." Allison sounded disappointed and reevaluated her opinion of Victor, "Well put the earring on the other side... some guys go for that too."

"I'm even less interested in that," he returned. "I have never found a member of the same sex to be remotely attractive in the way necessary to want them to 'go for me' as you put it." The idea wasn't evil or disgusting, just not right for him on some deep-seated level. "I'm not interested in what 'chicks' think of me because I'm already involved with someone - and because I already know what almost everyone I encounter is going to think of me."

"Well excuse me Dr. Spock." Allison rolled her eyes. "All I'm saying is that supposedly everybody has repressed feelings on that level, so don't go burning any bridges y'know."

Victor resumed glaring.

"Fine," she gathered up her scattered forms and tapped them into a neat pile. "Pardon me for not wanting to believe what everybody is saying about the thing you have for Klingons. Not my Cup of Earl Grey, but it's a free Federation and all."

Klingons? Why would anyone thing he was attracted to Klingons in that way? The only female Klingon he'd spent any time with hated him so much she'd stabbed him through the lung and then had an illegally-modified one transplanted in as a replacement in an apparent attempt to ruin his career prior to killing him. "I don't have a 'thing' for Klingons, Crewman; either individually, or as a species."

"Really?" Allison smacked her gum thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure they said you were into Klingons... something that started with 'K' and had a bumpy head anyways."

"*Ktarians,*" Victor corrected. At least that made some sort of sense given Angelienia's species. "I believe they said *Ktarians.*"

"Whatever.....I'll drop the forms off in your box, meanie." Turning on her heel in a flash oh blond hair and lavender scented perfume, Alli retreated from the office.

Victor watched her go until almost a minute after the door had closed behind her, trying to figure out whether there was something wrong with him - something different than normal, anyway - or with the Crewman.

Finally he shrugged and turned back to his reports with a final moment's worth of pondering over why an earring was supposed to make him look like a rebel - and why no one had told him that individuals advocating and attempting the overthrow of the established social order all wore them. It would make locating individuals like that much easier, starting with...

He frowned and straightened. Wait - didn't Commander Corgan wear an earring?

“Definition of Home, Part Two; Going Through the Motions”

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering - USS Galaxy
Nurse Arrietty (NPC written by Rob Snow)

(Set one week after victory is declared over the Hydran and one prior to “Tiki Torches and Moonlight”)

***Location USS Galaxy***

Just go through the motions, she told herself, trying to drown out the others in her head, one foot in front of the other, breathe in, breathe out, blink. Her mental discipline had faltered a long time back and soon she found herself lost, meandering down another train of thought as the group stepped into a turbo lift.

The questions kept coming, none of which she could answer, just hypothesize upon, like the question of what exactly had stepped into her slender body and taken out the Hydrans? Was it herself? It kinda made sense in a way, but only if you coupled it with the memories she had of killing the child, not to mention all the others that she could feel, yet not quite see their faces; she was glad about that. Yet there was no evidence to suggest that she had killed the girl, Terrik had been right about that. For once Dhani looked upon the memories logically instead of in the panicked state they left her in; if she had indeed murdered that girl, in the manor that she remembered, along with the boy that kept popping up as background filler for the scene, then surly there would have been an investigation, right? And there hadn't…. right? She frowned wondering if that last ‘right' was indeed right! She didn't remember an investigation taking place, yet she was beginning to seriously doubt the memories she had, so in that respect one could have taken place! She felt like screaming, yet with a turbo lift full of people, and patients, that wasn't really respectful behavior, nor was it becoming of an officer. But if they weren't there… boy would she scream, she would scream until her voice faded and all that was left was the stinging near whisper of a scream that would burn her throat and make her eyes water.

Everything that happened with the Dithparu had been brushed under the carpet, no one that had killed a crew member had been hauled up or investigated; they had all been acquitted of any responsibility seeing as they were not in control of their own actions. And Dhani didn't remember what happened, she didn't have the memories of being trapped inside her mind while the parasite had free range to slaughter; so was that it? Was that girl, and what Dhani assumed was her brother, victims of the parasite?

Dhani closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, breathe in, breathe out, one foot in front of the other… shit .. open eyes first! Stopping with a jerk before she ploughed into the wall she let the others exit the lift first and then tagged onto the end of the procession. Her mind readily continued without so much as a beats rest after the distraction; so if that was the case, if she was still possessed by the parasite how could she get rid of it? And who would she go to? The obvious answer there of course would be Burton, yet how would she even broach the subject ‘hey remember those things that took over the ship and killed everybody? Well I think I have a stowaway, could you check? What's that now? Oh what makes me think I have one? Well erm, let's see... I killed like a thousand Hydran without moving…' she pouted and shook her head; that was a whole can of worms that she really wasn't sure she wanted to get into.

So she killed some Hydrans, they, though not Burton, would likely call her a hero for that, but the part that would stick out would be ‘…without moving…' they would have her strapped into a chair for psi tests quicker than a hound dog on a pork chop; and that was something that terrified Dhani more than the prospect of having a psychopathic killer hitchhiker on board for the tour!

Her frown deepened, why the hell was she so afraid of tests? What was it about sick bay that threw her body into a panic educed cold sweat? Why did she freeze whenever anyone brought out a medical tricorder? What the hell was that all about? For the love of everything holy BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT, ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER….

“Look where your going woman!” a voice hissed.

Dhani looked up, stopped, back stepped, side stepped and almost fell over the gurney in her attempt to move out of the way. Mumbling apologies she waited till everyone passed her, not having realized that they had arrived at Sick Bay until the unfortunate collision had made her look and actually process her surroundings.

She lingered in the hallway for a moment fighting the panic that arose within her as her gaze fell upon the room beyond the open door. Burton was in there, and hell, she wanted to see the woman. As unexpected as it had been, and coupled as it was with a foundation of unbelievable deceit from Dhanishtas side; she had formed a friendship with the CMO. Of all the people on this ship, with a list of professions longer than her arm, she had to form a friendship with the one person that not only worked in the place that struck the engineer with unbridled fear for no apparent reason, she also encompassed two of the professions Dhanishta would give her right hand to avoid at all costs. Why was life full of these idiosyncrasies?

Standing there like a spare part it struck Dhanishta that she wasn't sweating, her body wasn't shaking, she wasn't hyperventilating; was it possible that she was over her phobia?

Or was it more likely that she hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks and she was simply too exhausted and numb from everything else that had happened that her body just couldn't process anything else?

The latter, most likely, if not defiantly; the latter!

Unexpectedly she felt herself being maneuvered, so lost in her own mind, consumed by her thoughts she hadn't heard the nurse question her, only noticed now, as she felt her feet lag with the momentum as she was hustled towards a bio bed.

Oh no, hell no! Pulling back against the woman she came to stop just inches from the bed; everyone, it seemed, was on automatic pilot.

"Lieutenant?" Arrietty repeated, tapping Dhanishta on the shoulder to get her attention she looked at her with a trace of concern, obviously tired and sounding as if she had been through this a dozen times or more today she tried her best to smile reassuringly, "Are you okay? Any injuries you need to report, healed or otherwise? Any thing that needs to be reported under away mission protocol?"

Dhanishta shook her head at the barrage of questions, not sure which to answer first. Holding up her hand she backed off from the officer, "I don't need assistance." she informed her even though the state she was in indicated otherwise.

"Are you sure?”

She shook her head once more, to be honest she couldn't really agree with herself if she was or not. To be sure that she didn't need assistance would imply that she had to be in a state of mind capable to determine her own physical condition, and it was highly likely that she wasn't. Even so, she was not, under any shape or form about to willingly submit and sit upon the bio bed, nor was she going to give the nurse the chance to scan her with a tricorder. She had been through too much and had come so far and survived through the most challenging of situations, she was not about to let it all go now. She couldn't risk having a break down, she couldn't risk the state of mind that being scanned caused her to slip into. Every time she came in here, every time she was scanned by one of those infernal deceives she remembered the horrors, the deaths she caused; with so many more staining her hands, just like Bailes blood still did, she couldn't begin to contemplate the nature, nor the volume of memories that would assault her this time.

“Where is Kimberly?” she asked slowly, tiredness latching onto every syllable as she spoke.

“Doctor Burton is doing her rounds, she's probably in one of the triage wards right now. I can page her if you really need her?” Arrietty offered, sounding a little dubious at the thought of doing so.

“No, no.” Dhanishta replied rubbing her forehead for a moment, hoping that the sensation would help to clear her mind and organize her thoughts, and perhaps alleviate the exhaustion. “No don't call her away from her duties; I'll wait for her in her office.”

She paused for a moment, and cast her eye around the ward until they came to rest upon the bed that Michael had been transferred to. A week smile touched her lips for a moment before the energy to contain it dissipated, “Please let me know the instant he comes round.” Dhanishta asked her gaze never faltering.

Not following Dhanishta's gaze Arrietty looked confused for a moment then turned to see where she was looking, "He? As in?" she enquired tentatively, just to make sure they were looking in the same direction.

“Michael McDowell.” Dhani replied, “He's… we…” she stopped, unable to bring herself to say the word, “Just let me know, please.” she turned to Arrietty her eyes pleading.

Nodding, Arrietty made a notation on her PADD, "Of course," she replied simply. Understanding.

Without further dialogue Dhanishta slipped through the meandering personal that littered the room like discarded newspaper and into Burtons office. Part of her longed for the moment to relax and just sit, yet at the same time she dreaded being alone with her thoughts.

Watching Dhani enter the CMO's office she debated for a moment whether or not to call Burton, she knew there was something about the Lieutenant Eshe that had happened recently but for the life of her couldn't remember anything about it. Deciding to wait she went back to her duties.

? The Lion's Offensive: Conclusion ?

By James Lionel Corgan

And an assorted mix of NPC's.

*****

USS Thunderchild

*****

? Jump! NOW! ?

The transition of time was nil by human perception. Faster than light travel for a split second could take a ship through horrendous distances.

Taking it through a packed star system in the middle of a battle was asking for disaster.

So it was, as an inevitable course of events, that the Thunderchild did run into the many troubles of warp travel.

In that split seconds, warning sensors and klaxons fired off, the screams of the ship as it was mortally wounded. The diagnostic screens flashed red over the wounded section, the port warp nacelle. On the screen it was a red blotch, a plague of broken parts that didn't have a visual cue in the mind of the engineer manning the console, much less the captain in his chair that witnessed the chaos.

Then the whole bridge, in that split second, rumbled and tossed as if in a gravity well.

On the outside, what the engineers and commanders couldn't see, was that by being five meters too close to an enemy contact, the sheer force of FTL travel and the immovable object of an enemy battle cruiser three times the size of the aggressive Akira class starship crumpled the port warp nacelle and nearly sheared it down the middle.

Split seconds were all the collision detectors on the nanosecond fast computers needed to drop out of warp and halt the jump, but by that time the damage was done.

The ship, brushing into a nearby object, made its own inertia into a deadly weapon. The warp pylons buckled. The showering shrapnel of its crippled nacelle razored into the enemy starship. The force of the impact alone shattered both ship's shields and buckled the too thick duranium armour on the enemy vessel. The shrapnel peppered the enemy capital ship, piercing her hull and leaving her erupting in fire.

Then the inertia of the hit travelled up the rest of the Thunderchild.

The structural integrity systems strained to its maximum (and finding new power now that the shields were gone, blown out in an instant), drained all that was left to keep the ship intact. The shockwave rippled, buckling whole sections, twisting and warping the ship. Inertial dampners stressed to the breaking point, it could not stop the ship from going into a sideways spin deeper into enemy lines.

Captain Albrecht did not predict THIS. His flawless plan.

How did it go wrong?

It took all his bodily strength to keep him on the Captain's chair, but even that wasn't enough when gravity went offline. He floated from his chair, the shot like a bullet to the nearest wall. He felt his back impact and it was as it he kept going. Pain flooded his senses, he felt his back snap and buckle.

Then he felt nothing at all.

Plunging headfirst to the floor, he skull rebounded with a sickening crack. Soon he was seeing black, and feeling nothing at all.

The helpless Thunderchild, as would be seen by both fleets, listed and tumbled portways, vented plasma creating a ghastly green swirl, disruptor and hellbore beams lancing jagged scars into its hull.

*****

USS Galaxy

*****

? Hold that position! HOLD IT GOD F**KING DAMMIT! ?

James Corgan lashed out with his black phaser, striking a Hydran shock trooper with a lance of red fire. Its spacesuit gave the Hydran a second of survivability. It was not enough. The phaser beam pierced the fabric, then flesh. The Hydran gave a grimace of pain, and slumped over dead.

He was laying on a pile of his former comrades.

Commander James Lionel Corgan didn't know how long he was in the firefight. Fifteen minutes or an hour, hours even. It didn't really matter. The perception of time changed when he was in a battle, and to him the amount of time passed didn't matter, but the targets he was killing with his phaser.

There was a Hydran to his left! He was to swing and score another kill, but Lieutenant T'lan was faster. Her pulse polaron rifle barked a spread of three shots, catching the oncoming alien, centre mass. It too added to a heap of bodies.

James smelled his own sweat, his blood, everyone else's sweat and blood. Enemy, friend. The tang of copper, iron and fear. He reacted, seeing a target, killing the individual, barking an order when part of the defenses were weak, barking more orders to squads he couldn't see but could only visualize the position thereof in his head. Killing another Hydran.

It was a valiant defence if he had the time to appreciate it.

The majority of Corgan's depleted security forces were being pinned down and slowly taken apart by a flood of Hydrans boarding from other ships. His squads held the key areas, but there were only a finite number of security officers. Some died, no replacements. The Hydrans when they died, had three more from three other ships waiting and killing.

His own squads were holding the line at engineering, while the engineers evacuated and tried to keep the embattled spaceship from coming apart. Between him and engineering were the evacuees, wounded and slow, ducking the fire between the two combatants. His squad was in the painful position of being attacked on multiple fronts. He could see two prongs of the attack now, and a third forming where he alone was keeping suppressing fire with a phaser pistol to keep the enemy at bay.

They wouldn't hold for long.

James keen ears heard the snap of the full automatic safety of T'lan's polaron pulse rifle release, followed by the howling rapport of a lengthy burst of polaron pulses at the main attack.

? That dire?! ? Corgan screamed?

T'lan turned her armoured head to James. She kept the fire up without missing a beat on her end. ? Sir, we are being overwhelmed! ?

A Hydran disruptor beam whistled over James' head. He didn't have the luxury of battle armour like T'lan, and his three full pips made him a prime target. His phaser answered back, rewarded him with a Hydran being punched off the floor. ? Tell me something I don't know! ?

T'lan sprayed her corridor with automatic fire. Hydrans fell before her. A moment cleared, T'lan snagged her last photonic grenade, lobbing it across the hall. As if taking a life of its own, it hovered in midair, and literally sniffing for a target, zagged down the nearest intersection. A bright flash of light later two Hydrans were propelled out in the open, charred armoured suits and disruptor rifles melted like candle wax.

? Sir, we have more incoming. Our chances for survival, if Ensigns Handley and So'ka can continue to hold our third front, are fifteen point five percent! ?

? WELL THAT'S REALLY F**KING CHEERY! ? Corgan rolled behind a piece of twisted wreckage. A deft release and a spent phaser cartridge slid out of his sidearm. He snapped another one in, primed the settings, and answered a trio of disruptor bursts. ? Don't suppose our odds would go up if we surrendered? ?

T'lan answered through a burst of fire, ? By ten percent more. Hydrans are more apt to kill us all and destroy the ship by laying photonic satchels on the warp core. ?

James shook his head. An ensign dead minutes before had no use for his phaser pistol. James flipped it over with his foot, and caught it in the air. ? F**k it. Didn't plan on surrendering today anyways. ? He spun his midnight black phaser in his hand (it's pommel guard allowing it to do so), and the other hand amped the kill setting of the other, ? So, want to make them earn it? ?

T'lan answered, her voiced raised by the warlike din, unemotional even in chaos, ? If sir, you mean that you want to make a last stand in an attempt to die in what you humans would consider a noble death, then I must say it is severely illogical! ? T'lan's rifle clacked, the spent energy cartridge spat out. She slapped in another one and fired again, ? However... to run is to die, and that is illogical as well. ?

? Yeah? ? James said.

T'lan turned back to her commander, ? Sarek once said logic is open to interpretation. ?

James smiled, allowing him the luxury if it was going to be his last. He said, ? That's my girl... HEAR THAT YOU MOTHERF**KERS?!?!?! LAST STAND! We're not moving until you run over us! ?

The Hydran response, an indignant barrage of disruptor fire, answered back, turning James corner into a melted pile of slag.

? They aim to make good on your promise. ? T'lan wryly stated.

James replied, ? You don't say!? That was enough fire for a few squads! They're gonna push! GET READY! ?

*****

USS Thunderchild

*****

Commander Mathis woke up from his bout of unconciousness. His head felt sticky when his fingers probed for the wound. It was a concussion, it winced when his fingers felt the pulpy, bloody wound. His eyes, still seeing bright white fire, blinked out the smoke. His body ached everywhere, as if thrown about in a rock tumbler and left to rest.

For all he knew, his analogy was apt.

His surroundings were hazy, but he could see that most of the bridge crew was dead or unconcious like he was a moment before. The bridge was on fire, most consoles burned out or blown asunder in overloads. Smoke obscured his vision, the licking flames casting the glow of hell, speaking in flickering, hungry cracks.

He barely rememembered the chaos of the botched jump attempt. ? Dammit. ? The South African cursed to himself. He knew the idea was insane enough. He knew it would not work and that Captain Albrecht was crazy to even consider it.

But he was there, not strong enough in spirit to defy his captain.

? Look where it got me now... ? He muttered to himself, his feet wobbling to pick himself up.

He almost buckled over when the ship felt a spasm. It was an unshielded disruptor hit. The Thunderchild couldn't take much more of that. He crawled uncertainly to the helm, shoving over the dead body of Ensign Williams. The helm was almost untouched, a miracle considering the punishment.

His fingers flew over the console, another shake of weapons fire keeling the ship over. He checked the systems. Inertial dampners were on emergency power, though he hardly knew how. Sublight travel was possible, warp wasn't, the port nacelle was ruined. There was enough power to travel, nothing less, nothing more.

? Sensors... sensors.... ? Mathis grumbled. He felt nausea creep up on him in waves, his focus waivered as his bleary eyes tried to focus on the helm's navigational readouts. He saw the starbeast icon behind their ship, the lurking leviathan, not making a move. To the other side, a wave of ships were in transit, waiting to meet in combat.

~ ? Lyrans? ? ~ Mathis asked himself.

His injury rattled brain then understood.

The Lyrans were going for the Starbeast. There were attack waves. The lines were breaking. It would explain why their ship wasn't dead by multiple Hydran hellbores. It would also explain the hole in the line.

? Albrecht.... ? Mathis moaned, his head listing, looking for his captain. He was crumpled in a corner, a hand and a mouth moving in a twitch, a babylike groan from his lips. The Captain was bloodied like everyone else, only alive. His mouth leaked blood; something internal was damaged. Though there was some life, the rest of him was limp, puppets without strings.

Mathis, realizing what the Thunderchild could have done to ruin the battle plan and the war in whole, felt sympathy for the Captain. Any worse, Mathis saw how they could have ruined the Lyran's breakthrough manouver.

? Did you know? ? Mathis said, setting course for friendlier territory. He used the last of the power reserves to stop the Thunderchild's spin, and turn around, using the Lyrans as cover for a retreat. With all his energies expended, he did not see the flash of the Starbeast as it was slain.

*****

? I do not like the prospect of my katra being left behind here! ?

? And I don't like the prospect of telling my sweet Mika, 'Oh, sorry dear, I would be with you today but I up and decided to get myself killed in some glorious last stand!' and all that nonsense! But hey, just making the best of a situation! ?

? Your plan, sir? ?

James barked, ? So'ka! Handley! To me! ? The two ensigns retreated from their positions, So'ka kneeling to cover the retreat with his rifle, Handley priming a photonic grenade, ? We're making a fighting retreat to Engineering! Punch through T'lan's front with a grenade and fight like hell to the other end! And most importantly... make them... earn it! Now on three.... one.... ?

James ramped the setting of his phaser pistol on wide spread. T'lan checked her safety, leaving the polaron rifle on full automatic. Handley and So'ka too checked their sidearms, and nodded their readiness.

? Two... ?

The Hydrans on all three fronts were beginning to pour in, massed ranks firing wildly, yelling their litanies to their alien gods, the promise of doom and hell in the afterlife for their heathen enemy. There were too many. One front would be punched open with the grenade, to be pincered by two more. Then the other two James sorry excuse for a squad decided to run away from would be after them. James saw it, predicted it, still hoped for the best.

? Three! GO! ? James howled, expecting his next movement to be meet by perfectly zeroed in disruptor hits.

Then the flash hit everyone. It was as if all the portholes lit with a pillar of fire and shone like heaven. The momentary flash gone, then a ripple and shockwave of energy.

James knew those co-ordinates. They were far away, but he knew it.

That was... where in the battle line, the Starbeast resided.

It was as if the Hydrans stopped moving. Seeing the death of their super weapon sent the invaders into shock. None of them moved, none dared to move. All were fixated on the death of their avatar, a god in the flesh.

~ ? Now... ? ~ James saw himself think. ~ ? Now... ? ~ He stood up, his phaser outstretched, pointed at the enemy. They were vulnerable. The turning point, a second away from being gone. ~ ? Now... ? ~

James slapped his comm badge, and gave the fateful order.

? Corgan to all security personnel! RALLY AND ADVANCE! GET THEM OFF MY F**KING SHIP! ?

Howling like a madman, James dashed the opposite direction of their retreat, firing a swatch of death, and with him his horsemen followed.

He was not death. He was the messager.

"A Friendly Call"

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies XO
USS Galaxy

Marine Captain Man'darr Maivia
Battalion Officer
USS Miranda

She had permission to do a little bit more, as long she stayed in bed. So Branwen had requested a small computer, in order to talk to her boyfriend on the Miranda. The ships were not that far apart yet, so it would still be fairly easy to reach it. She tapped in the appropriate codes and waited for the connection to be established.

Man'darr had been busy readjusting to life aboard the Mir anda. It had seemed nearly a lifetime ago that he had last set foot on th e huge starship, and yet his quarters were the same as he had lef t them. A beepin g sound from a communication panel on his desk focused his drifting thoughts a s he sat down at the desk and activated the monitor. He smiled at the young woman at the other end. "Hello Branwen. How are you?"

"A bit better. So I am starting to get bored. I guess I am out of life danger." She smiled at him. "and you?"

"I suppose I am doing well. It has been a bit difficult to readjusting to life aboard a starship and not having a weapon in my hands all day." He did not mention that he dreaded the thought of being stuck behind that god-forsaken Operations console on the bridge after being in combat on the ground. The taste of combat had renewed the capellan warrior within him and had to struggle to sit still behind Ops.

"And your wounds? Have you seen a doctor? Somehow you don't look happy." She mused.

"My wounds are fine, though Dr.& lt; /U48:PERSO NNAME> D'bari has been on my case about getting to sickbay." Man'darr wasn't one to share his feelings on most occasions, bu t he trusted Branwen. She was kind to him a nd seemingly the innocence of a child...though h e was sure that innocence had been tainted on Romulus . "It is jus t..." he paused looking f or the right word. "Different being back aboard the Miranda after nearly a month on Romulus , constantl y fighting or doing patrols."

She tensed at the mention of D'Bari, the woman who has raped her. But tried not to show him. "Please do as the doctors tell you. It almost seems boring doesn't it, being back?" She finished softly.

He nodded. "Yes...especially being in Ops. Are you alright? You seem a bit tense suddenly."

"It's nothing." He obviously didn't remember. "So, what are you going to do to get back into the flow."

"Branwen, do not lie to me, ever. I hate liars, and you are changing the subject. Does it have to do with me mentioning Dr. D'bari< /st2:Sn>?"

“Yeah.” She said in a trembling voice.

Man'darr then remembered what had happened to Branwen prior to Romulus . He had forgotten about it and felt bad due to it. "I am sorry for mentioning her name, Branwen, but you do not need to be afraid as she will never hurt you again...and if she or any one tries to do so, they will have to deal w ith me.

"Thank you." She said softly. "I don't want to make things difficult for you, you are on her ship and she is your doctor and you need care. Don't let it be a reason not to go and get it!"

"I am healing well, Branwen. Do not worry. How long beofre you are back to full duty?" he asked, changing the subject, so not to upset Branwen.

"I don't know. Right now the doc won't even tell me when I will get out of here. It seems I was really ill.” She looked at him. “I miss you and I wish I could be with you, Dar.”

"I know...I miss you as well. But hopefully we will see each other again soon."

“Some shoreleave together would be very nice. Something romantic, relaxing.” Bran mused.

"I agree, that would be nice. But I have alot to do and catch up on....I am beginning to think that Ops isn't really for me."

"Tell me, did this feeling start after the mission, or is it something more gradual?" She asked him.

"After...before I simply accepted my assignment. But I no longer feel useful in Ops...not like I did on the surface of Romulus."

“Have you talked to anybody about it? Maybe your boss or a guidance counselor?”

Only the CO and XO are my bosses, and they are busy taking care of the ship. Also, no, I'm not talking to a counselor."

“You are a department head then, whoah.” She said. “Okay how about a friend?”

"I really don't have many friends on board and none of which I would consider close friends."

"Then I will help you. I can't do it professional of course, because you are my boyfriend. But I can help you figure out what to do with your life."

"And how will you do that?" he asked.

"By talking, and finding out if you really don't like your job anymore. If that is the case, the next step would be to find out what you would like." She was trying to hide that she was getting tired.

"I suppose...anyways, I should let you go and rest."

“I'm not…” Then she remembered what he had said about lying. “I am a little tired, yeah. But not to tired to talk to you, love.'

"Are you certain? I do not want to be the reason that you do not heal as fast."

“Never mind, I am bored. I would love to help you.” She grinned.

"How could you help me?" Man'darr asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Like I said, by talking. And then maybe some tests, to figure out what you really like to do. And if you are in the right profession. I do this all the time in my work. Helping people find the right job within Starfleet."

"I know I'm not in the right profession. I'm a Capellan, a warrior. I belong in battle, not in logistics. However, there is nothing I can do about it as I was reassigned from Security to Operations prior to being assigned to the Miranda. The only person who can reverse that decision is the CO and I will not make myself to appear to be begging to be transferred."

"It's not begging, it happens all the time that people transferred to other departments. May I ask what made you choose ops in the first place?"

"As I've said, I was transferred from Security to Operations by my previous CO. I didn't have a choice in the matter as my previous CO thought I was not made out for Security due to my short temper and nearly killing a Klingon Ambassador."

"Did he make you talk to a therapist?" Bran asked. "It sounds rather callous what he did, and why did you nearly kill the Klingon?"

"My previous CO was a female--Captain McTaggert. No, I did not talk to a therapist and I do not currently need to or want to talk to a therapist. I attacked the Klingon for insulting Starfleet and the Federation. His comments and actions were dishonorable."

“But still almost killing someone is a bit drastic.”

"Perhaps by inferior human standards, but in Capellan Society such an attack was warranted. I can see that you know little of my people, Branwen. Some see us as savages, other put us in the same classification as Klingons. We are neither! We choose to live the way we do because it is tradition. Just because my people do not have replicators, a vast armada of starships, or use energy weapons in battle, does not make us savages. Just because we live by a code of honor and value combat, do not classify us in the same league as Klingons." Man'darr hadn't meant to snap out like that, but the matter had been a sensitive subject for him.!

“But honey, you are now a Starfleet officer. I would love to learn about your culture, but here you will have to adapt. ‘She said gently.

"I know that...I should be a lieutenant commander by now! But I am not, so I know all about adapting." Man'darr sighed. "I do not mean to take my frustrations out on you, Branwen, I apologize."

"That's okay. I don't mind, that's what girlfriends are for." She smiled at him. "It's better if you take them out on me, then on the job."

"No, I was wrong. I should let you go and rest."

"Maybe we can talk more tomorrow. I am a little tired." She admitted.

Man'darr nodded. "Very well. Take care and rest well."

The monitor then went blank.

Bran stared at the monitor for a while, worried about her boyfriend and wishing she could do more.

"Privilege of Command"

(Occurs Immediately After 'Catching Up')

Principle Characters
Captain Daren M'Kantu
2nd Lieutenant Branwen London
2nd Lieutenant Steven Jonas

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 12
Sickbay

The door slid open, revealing Daren M'Kantu's tall, lean frame, a padd in one hand. "Lieutenants," he said with a nod.

Steven watched as the captain, who he had not met before walked up to Bran's bed. He had an air about him that screamed leader of men. It was a great honor indeed.

Bran tried to sit up straight but of course couldn't because of all the tubes still sticking out of her. "Sir!" She said. The female marine hadn't met the captain often but she had a great respect and liking for him.

"Lieutenant London," Daren said with a smile. "Stop squirming and lie at ease - if you disconnect something we're all going to be in trouble!"

"Yes Sir." She beamed and obeyed instantly. "It's very nice of you to come and visit me, captain." For the moment Steven's problems were forgotten.

Steven was glad for the interruption. Bran had been delving into his issues, and he didn't really feel like talking about them. The captain was obviously here for a reason, and Steven had an idea what it was. If his assumption was correct, it would be good fro Bran.

Branwen just hoped that she hadn't done anything wrong. She had tried to do her duty down on the planet as well as she could.

"Ordinarily, your direct supervisor would be here to do this, Lieutenant," M'Kantu informed her. "But as he's currently incapacitated the duty falls to me. Tell me, do you have any idea how many reports from individuals who were planetside with you that appear in?"

"I'm so sorry Sir." She blushed, as she liked the captain she really wanted to please him. "There really wasn't much to work with, I tried.

But all my marines did a splendid job. If you want to punish somebody, punish just me, sir. Not the rest of them." She rambled on.

She might have not been leading the men in missions against the Hydrans, but she was doing equally important work. She had saved several of his men during the aftermath of some missions, and to put it bluntly, Steven thought she was a hero to one and all. But he didn't need to say it. It sounded like many others had done that instead.

"Punishment?" Daren assumed a stern expression. "Well, there are certainly people that would agree with you regarding this as a punishment...."

"I am sorry sir. For being such a disappointment." Bran was so nervous now and embarrassed for letting everyone down. "I will try to do better next time, sir." Although she had no clue how.

While Bran continued to babble, Daren leaned down and pinned a set of bars to the pillow next to her. "I think you'll find that the responsibility that comes with these is, at times, certainly punishing,"

he said, the stern expression fading. "But you've earned them.

Congratulations, Lieutenant." He nodded to the bars - those of a full Lieutenant - and saluted.

"But..." She just stared at them. Something she wanted so badly, promotion was something Bran worked towards and she had tried hard. But every mission she had been on had been a disaster and Baile thought she was total crap. "Sir... I.... are you sure?"

Daren's smile grew wider. "Would you like me to check, Lieutenant? I suppose that it's possible BuPers made a mistake...." He lifted his padd and started to scroll down a list on it.

"Yes please Sir." She said in a very small voice.

"Ah," Daren nodded. "You're right, Lieutenant. There was a mistake."

The Welsh girl nodded almost relieved, that sounded more like it.

"According to BuPers, I left something out," he explained sternly.

"Sir?" She asked him puzzled, not certain where this was going.

Daren set the padd down and, looked at Branwen for a moment before speaking. "By order of Starfleet High Command, in recognition of your gallantry and intrepidity in action, while engaged in military operations involving conflict with an opposing foreign force, Starfleet awards Lieutenant Branwen London with the Nebula Star." He produced a slim box from his jacket, opened it, and laid it in Bran's hands.

"Congratulations again, Lieutenant; Starfleet -and I - are very proud of you."

Steven stood there smiling. After all she had done for the unit, she deserved the promotion. He'd have to make sure the unit set up a surprise party for her for when she gets released from sickbay.

"But Sir, others did so much more. I was only stuck in the hospital the whole time. And I wasn't even qualified for most of the things that I was doing. The rest of the marines did the tough job, so many of them died, and I wasn't there with them." She wiped away a tear.

"Granted, you weren't in combat in the field, Lieutenant. But because of your actions in establishing a field hospital and your selfless, tireless dedication to the wounded that were placed under your care, hundred - if not thousands - of individuals, combatants and non-combatants alike, survived their injuries. Anyone can pull a trigger, Lieutenant - but not everyone can save a life the way that you did, with inadequate supplies and makeshift facilities. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes the ones that make the greatest difference are the ones that never see battle on the front lines." Daren smiled. "In this case, that would be you, Lieutenant."

For a long-time she was speechless. Then she looked at the captain.

"But please don't forget my marines, sir. They did a splendid job, and too many paid with their lives. They need to feel special as well."

"I can assure you, Lieutenant, no one has been forgotten," M'Kantu promised. "For example... Lieutenant Jonas?"

"Sir?"

M'Kantu turned and nodded. "Since your supervisor is currently incapacitated, I am authorized - and pleased - to inform you that in recognition of your abilities and service, you are hereby promoted to the rank of First Lieutenant." He extended a hand, offering Steven the familiar rank insignia box.

Steven was shocked beyond belief. He hadn't seen this coming at all. He had just been glad that Bran's tireless work had been recognized. Taking the small box from the Captain's hand, he looked up at him, unsure of what to say. "I don't know what to say, Sir. I wasn't expecting this.

Thank you."

Now Branwen could be genuinely happy. She smiled from ear to ear.

"Congratulations Steven, you really deserve it."

"Thanks, but I didn't do that much. You saved lots of people, yet all I did was kill a few Hydrans." He shrugged his shoulders.

"You kept us all alive, Steven." Branwen said. "You and the other marines. If you had not kept the perimeter up there would have been no hospital, no people to save. You did a great job." She stressed the last bit.

Steven nodded. "I suppose, but too many of them died. When they had so much to live for."

"I know." She replied softly. "And we will take care of them. Any that need help, just send them to me over here, all right Steven? I really do want to help, I feel so useless here."

"You're not useless. Far from it. You're just having a break while you recover. That's all." He smiled reassuringly. "Besides, we should be able to handle things until you and Baile return to active duty."

"If there is any thing, Steven. I don't want you to get overworked, I worry about you."

"Actually, Lieutenant London," M'Kantu corrected gently. "I was informed by your physician that you have been placed off the duty roster for a minimum of a week for bed rest - so no sending anyone here for work related purposes, Lieutenant Jonas. Trust me; you do not want to make someone capable of prescribing a regimen of heavy gravity exercise and diuretics to you angry. Understood?"

"I wasn't planning on it, Sir." Steven replied. "She needs to get well and then ease her way back slowly into her duties."

"I suppose everybody is against me." But she smiled. "Thank you Sir.

And Sir could you please make sure that he doesn't overwork." She looked towards Steven.

"If he does," M'Kantu promised, "I'll make certain that he's assigned the same physician you are. Fair enough?"

"and after I am better counseling by me." She said satisfied. "Thank you Sir, it means a great deal to me that you will be keeping an eye on him."

"Sir, I'd like to thank you as well. I know you're a busy man, - you have a whole ship to run after all - but to come down here and present these," he gestured towards the small boxes Bran and he were holding, "yourself, well, it's an honor sir."

"It's a privilege, Lieutenant," Daren said with a smile, "one of the few that come with command, so I like to enjoy it whenever possible." He nodded to the two officers. "Congratulations again, Lieutenants."

"Thank you sir." Steven replied.

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister
Lieutenant (jg) Chandrakala Eshe - Engineering officer (IKS T'Kangra)
Ensign Artim Shivar - Biologist

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

Kala quirked an eyebrow at Michael and shook her head. "And now there are two." she said dryly, adding a wave as she sauntered off towards the bar.

Walking up to the bar, saying her hips in a seductive manor as she always did, Kala came to a stop and rested her elbows on the mahogany finished surface. With her finger waving over the selection she pursed her lips, "I'll have .." her eyes spied a glass that looked interesting, piled high with fruit and the custom cocktail paper umbrella, long elegant fingers with perfectly manicured nails surrounded the beverage, "what she's having." Kala's hovering finger stopped and pointed.

It wasn't until the bar tender turned away that Kala's eyes moved from the glass to the hand and beyond that to the face of the woman…

"Ya know what?" she said keeping her eyes focused on the woman as she leaned casually on the bar, "Strike that." She scanned the bar quickly and saw a young child holding what looked like a coconut, "I'll have what the milky bar kid is having, the alcoholic version please."

Smiling at the bartender with her full rose lips she winked, "Thanks hon." Taking the drink she sipped it, looking up she locked eyes with the woman, "Ya know I never did get your name…." she took another sip and waved her hand as Faylin went to speak, "Your right, it isn't that important anyway." she smiled smugly over the coconut and walked away.

Faylin brought the drink up, and wrapped her lips around the straw, sucking the liquid through with mild contempt of the woman to the side of her. Saying nothing, a half knowing curve upwards met her lips as she placed one bejeweled sandal that housed matching pedicured toes out right in front of Kala's foot. As Kala went to lift her foot up, Faylin's rose ever so slightly, resulting in an amusing off balanced expression on Kala's face as she tripped. Slightly lowering the drink, McAlister placed a finger aside her left cheek. "Whoops." An overly innocent expression was noted as Faylin took a strawberry from the glass and popped it in her mouth, her eyes glowering with satisfaction as Kala recovered.

Recovering from the trip Kala cleared her throat and rolled her tongue over her teeth, that cow could wait for another time; she was above the small mildness of the jealous little waif.

Leaving the harpie Kala wandered over to the 'kid' and sat down next to him, "Mind if I join you?" she asked out of politeness, not that she was generally polite, on the T'Kengra she sat where she liked and said what the hell she liked, here everyone was so concerned with being politically correct it was frankly irritating. She missed the simplicity of violence from the T'Kengra.

Artim barely heard the woman come up to him he was so lost in thought.

Staring out over the ocean had put him in a kind of trance. He looked over at the person who had snapped him out of it, not someone he knew.

In a clearly grumpy tone Artim replied, "Yes, but somehow I don't think that's going to stop you."

"Your right." Kala replied with a small smile. Leaning forward she lowered her voice, "Mind if I ask you a question seeing as I have already disturbed your obvious moment of self reflection and grumpy brooding?"

Artim's head shot around sharply his eyes meeting Kala's in a cold piercing glare, the kind you'd never expect to receive from someone who looked like Artim. Rather it was the kind you might get from a hardened old sergeant chewing out a recruit. His voice took a tone along those lines as he simply said, "What?"

Kala backed up some, until the back of the couch halted her from sinking further into it. Would the leather sofa have the courtesy of folding in around her? She doubted it. Pausing for a moment, to actually think about rephrasing her question or right out scrapping it altogether and calling for an immediate beam out!

Instead she bit the bullet, "Well it seems to me, as the casual observer, that your face of thunder is perhaps the reason that your sitting alone while the rest of these folk force a care free smile and get plastered!" she took a glance behind her and nodded, "Yep those are defiantly forced smiles… Ya see that chap over there?" she pointed leaning slightly closer to the man-child so he could easily see her target, "If he could, he would rip the throat out of that guy over there…" she then indicated a couple at the bar, a Trill woman dressed in a practically nothing resting her hand on her gentleman friends arm while they talked. "He," Kala continued now pointing at the man the Trill was talking to, "oh who's name is Jonas by the way, he doesn't have a clue that the other guy, who's called Michael, is fantasizing about all the ways he could kill him and get away with it." she smiled and laughed slightly looking back at the man-child.

Offering her hand she grinned, "Chandrakala Eshe, I just transferred here from the IKS T'Kengra. I'll be happy to annoy you all through out my stay on this fine ship. My services are always available, except at night, or when I'm busy, or when I'm drinking or socializing or..." she trailed off.

Artim's tone was still gruff, the glare still piercing, "And I should care why exactly? If they want to fake it, that's their problem, not mine. I was polite enough to show up, I think it would be asking a bit much for me to be happy and cheerful right now. And if you are the chief annoyance officer you're very good at your job."

"Why thank you." Kala replied flatly, the trace of humor she had displayed fell from her tone as instantly as a light blowing out. Her eyes held no warmth as they retuned his gaze with a force that was not just seen but felt; there were a few things Kala picked up from Nishta, and the amplifier to her venom stare was just one of them.

"Everyone lost someone that they knew, everyone is hurting, your pain holds but a dim flame to the torch of some others bear, yet to you as it is to them, this pain right now feels as if nothing can ever heal it. Don't think for a second that no one in this room respects that, including myself, no matter what tone I chose to inflict upon my words and actions may indicate. You want to cry for the person you lost, go ahead, no one will think any less of you. You want to scream and shout, release your anger in violence, there are plenty of vacant holo suits about, use one!" she stood up slowly as she continued, "But what you don't do is come into a room full of people that are doing their dammedest to put on a happy face and escape for just a few measly hours the tragedy that took place in the name of freedom and proclaim that by simply being here you are aiding them to that end!" as Kala came to her full height before him she realized that perhaps that was a bad idea, she wasn't comfortable looking down on anyone, it just felt wrong; perhaps it was because she had spent the majority or her life looking up at six foot plus Klingons. Right now she didn't care the reasoning, she disliked the automatic air of superiority that towering over another educed.

The cold stare in Artim's eyes began to shift into a burning one, one that would make most klingons back off, though he had no such plans for it this one. Surprisingly though he didn't raise his voice though his tone did turn fiery.

"My pain is a dim flame? Is that what you call it? Is that what you call watching a whole fricking world die before your eyes and then not being allowed the eventual release that is death? Have you seen an entire culture get consumed by a pointless quest for perpetual youth and then have to bear that curse forever? You think I've lost one person I cared for, I've lost millions...billions and you know what?

This one is the only one I've ever really given a shit about losing.

Until you've gone through that you have absolutely no damn right to tell me where I can be pissed off."

Wow and opps, was all that went through Kalas mind. She really did miss the T'Kengra, she never thought she would hear herself say that, although she hadn't said it out loud yet, so that was okay. "I didn't say that it was dim to *me*." she offered up quietly, "Just that compared to some others. Your not the only old soul around you know.

There are plenty of others that have lived longer of you, some joined Trill for example, they have multiple life times, lived through a plethora of wars and dealt with their loss…" her voice got quieter as she finished.

She pushed the feeling aside and returned her gaze to rest upon his as he looked up at her with a stare that she imagined she had used many times when she stood up to those that towered over her. It was that look that indicated, 'just cause I am smaller than you doesn't mean I don't know how to kick your ass and am not already contemplating and analyzing just how I'm gonna do it'. Kala admired that.

"What are you, like one hundred, two?" she asked. Nodding slightly she raised a finger and pointed to his hands, "They are more worn than your body's age indicates you are, and your eyes have that depth to them that I have only seen in joined Trills." she explained in a calmer voice, "I also have a photographic memory." she added. It was a white lie, yet it was necessary in some cases to use it seeing as the majority of people didn't like it when a Betazoid wandered up and started crappin about your life as if they knew how you felt. In fact Kala did know how he felt cause she could feel it, yet that was usually brushed aside and ignored. She pondered for a moment, in all her years she hadn't ever walked up to a stranger and spouted off about their private life, was it possible that Klingons were more settled and emotionally stable?

"Four hundred twenty two" he half grunted as the flames in his eyes came down some but only slightly. He didn't care one iota that this person whom he'd never met had him pegged so good off the bat, but clearly she didn't know the whole story. "And all that time has taught me that you're not the right person to be discussing this with."

Kala shrugged, "Ya never know until you try." she countered, although honestly she really didn't want him to start spilling his guts. She came here to have a bit of fun, to indulge. She shook her head.

Through out her service on the T'Kengra during the Dominion war she had seen many people die, she had felt their lost and dealt with those around her that grieved too, yet none of them reacted to death like the people here did. They had been sad that friends had passed on yet; they also rejoiced in their life and were happy that their friend or loved one had passed into the afterlife. Grief didn't linger in the corridors of the T'Kengra like it did here.

"You have a choice." Kala said slowly coming out of her reverie, "If you want I'll gladly piss off, without another word. Or if you fancy some distraction I'll sit my ass down and we can indulge in a little mindless conversation. Your call."

She didn't get it did she. True Klingons didn't do this in the same way. If Artim were a Klingon he'd be looking for the nearest Hydran and start slicing of its tentacles one by one. However that's not how Artim released. It had been argued that he simply didn't release and that eventually he would have a psychotic break. Little did they know he'd had one already and there were a couple Jem'Hadar that were probably still feeling it. Still, as much as he wanted to, this wasn't the time or the place for a violent release. Artim promptly broke eye contact with the woman and stared back out over the simulated ocean.

"Not now. Maybe later but not now."

Without another word, as promised Kala turned round and left the man child to sulk. She would promptly warn anyone and everyone that she came into contact with, she looked up, humm not that many to chose from, that the milky bar kid was off limits to all those that actually wanted to have some fun. Talking of which, Nara just walked in.

Kala's step quickened as she made her way to the bar, sure there was a face she knew but alcohol in any context was much more important, drink first then catch up!

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight 4"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister
Lieutenant (jg) Chandrakala Eshe - Engineering officer (IKS T'Kangra)
Lt. (jg) Naranda Roswell - Engineering Officer
Ensign David Walker - Navigation Officer
Doctor Kimburly Burton - Medical

Nara walked slowly, with quite a look on her face. She knew Faylin was throwing a party. She had no intent of going until Saia made a big deal about it. Nara had let know Saul she was coming. Whether he came or not made no difference to her. She planned to stand by the bar drinking an innocent fruit drink as Saia ran off to play with her friends. That was the odd thing. It seemed important to Saia that Nara be there, yet Nara knew she'd be with her friends the whole time.

They walked in and Nara blinked and sighed, "Oh like this isn't cliché," she muttered. Saia spotted a friend right off, so Nara went to the bar and ordered a fruit drink. "NO Synthenol."

Faylin turned drink in hand, obviously aware of the muttering. "Why, thank you Nara. I attempt to be so cliché in everything I do." Her eyes narrowed to slits as she turned. "Next time, don't come if it bothers you so much." Turning on her heel, her hand shook as the attempt to throw it on Nara was squelched by her higher brain reasoning.

Nara pursed her lips as she followed Fay and hissed at her, "I'm only here because Saia wanted to play with her friends. I'll be over here out of the way. I had HOPED to avoid you all together!"

She spun on her heel, her voice low. "Sorry to ruin your hope.

Maybe, you should actually enjoy your child, rather than walking around whining about what she doesn't do to please you! Be grateful that she's alive Nara, because some of us.....Some of us don't have children who are alive anymore. Concentrate on her, instead of firing off venom at me. Why don't you go and enjoy watching her play ....and leave me alone for the rest of the night? We would both be happier."

Sighing heavily, Faylin went off by herself, taking her shoes off and walking along the beach. Her long hair waved gracefully behind her, completing the silhouette she formed against the setting sun. She really didn't know why she was here any more. At this point, she thought, the holodeck would run itself, and she could just program it to shut off at a certain point and leave.

Michael gave her a surprised look as she walked away. What a way to start a party. Then he turned his attention to Kala again. "Ouch."

Nara looked a tad confused as she whispered, "That's not what I meant...Bitch." Nara shook her head and looked about for Saia, who for some reason had found herself in some odd sand throwing match. She watched a moment and resisted saying anything.

Standing at the other end of the bar waiting for her order, Kala could not escape hearing the exchange between the two women. It wasn't so much the tone, nor the comment Nara made that turned her head; truth be told she thought a similar way given the pounding that Faylin had subjected her to.

It was the overwhelming emotion of pain that seeped from Faylin like gas from a broken pipe that made Kala balk. All she had felt from the woman before was seething loathing; that she could cope with. That emotion she could counter easily and was quite happy to return the bitchy remarks. But the volume of pain that assaulted her being as she sat there was not something she was comfortable with, Nara just had to feel that too, she was half Betazoid after all, how could she continue the exchange when she felt that. It one thing to counter loathing, but it is completely another to wound verbally when someone is radiating that much emotional hurt.

Taking her drink with little acknowledgment to the bar tender, he was after all part of the program, she hoped, she turned to Nara. Grabbing her attention by briefly placing her hand on her shoulder she smiled slightly, "Ya know I would expect better from you. That 'bitch' as you call her does have feelings too, can't you sense them? Seriously Nara, you come to a party and expect to avoid the host? I gotta side with the bitch on that one, next time don't bother." she shook her head and sighed, "I'll see you around." she said with clear disappointment in her voice.

Nara turned, "I know well what she goes through. I keep my telepathy walled up but I can tell without that. You have no idea what shit she and I have between us."

Kala spun back round, "You know what she goes through?" she repeated frowning, "You *know* do you? As in you can feel her? Or are you saying that you know *about* what she's *been* through? Cause they are two *very* different things. To *know* to really understand what she is going through then you have to *feel* it, and as you have just said *in* the same sentence that you keep your walls up, it is impossible to have to have the slightest clue!" she shook her head, since when did she get herself in these sorts of debates, first she tried talking to the kid, who was as miserable as sin, and then she has to stick her nose into Nara and Faylins business, what was she? The idiotic kid who just liked the electric shock, and so kept sticking the fork in the socket?

She shook her head, she really didn't want Nara's reply to that, she just wanted to find the exit and get the hell out of here. Ten forward was possibly a good idea, or perhaps Nishta's quarters; she was sure that she saw some liquor in there!

"I'm not sure nothing is worth being as she is! But it's ok. We have an understanding. We hate each other. Someone was BOUND to replace O'shea in my life. Wonderful fate just happened to make it Saul's old lover."

"Look Nara, I'm sorry. But ya got bad beef with the chic, fine, that's cool." She took a step closer, she really didn't want to alienate Nara as well as the ten year old, "I think pretty much everyone in here does by the looks of things. But the bitch has a point." she paused. That line was just gonna stick wasn't it 'the bitch', interesting title; she wondered what the guys back home called her. "Would you go to dinner with the leader of the opposing faction on Sakaria while the war was going on, just because your daughter wanted to?"

"No," and she added, "it would be more like infiltrating for information."

The smirk showed her pleasure in the idea.

Kala smiled faintly, "No mother would take their child with them though would they." She sighed, and looked behind her in the direction that Faylin had gone. Her wake left a trail of emotional hurt that Kala could feel like the embers from a fire. Frowning deeply Kala did something that she wasn't well know to do; she went after Faylin.

Observing the incident from his seat at the bar, David couldn't help watching the heated exchange. He frowned as the first woman walked off, followed soon by another, and he glanced over at the bartender.

"Okay, did I miss something?" he asked him. The bartender shrugged unknowingly as he finished cleaning a glass, then he noticed David's nearly empty one and he nodded at it, raising a questioning eyebrow.

David glanced down at the glass and shrugged as well, handing it over to the bartender for a refill. "Why the hell not..." he muttered.

"Ensign McAlister?" she asked a little tentatively, never having actually had the pleasure of meeting the JAG officer face to face yet.

Turning, Faylin offered a smile. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Kimberly," she introduced herself cheerfully, "semi-drunk CMO," she added.

"Pleasure to meet you." She took a sip of her drink, well aware of the effects it was having.....

"I just wanted to say thank you," Kimberly said with a smile, indicating their surroundings, "I think this is perfect, the crew really needs some time to relax, and an open party on the holodeck was a great idea. Thanks." Smiling at the JAG she held out a spare beer she was carrying, "drink?" she offered.

"Sure, why not." Faylin figured, that this would be one of the last nights she was able to thoroughly enjoy herself...no matter what that entailed.

"So how've you been?" Kimberly asked, aware of some little pieces of what had had happened recently to the resident JAG.

"I'm better...getting there. I'm like everyone around here that was on the planet. Glad to be alive, a little sore and a whole lot tired.

Have you been busy in sick bay?"

"Unfortunately so," she said in a somewhat tired tone, "a lot of people have been through those doors, from the ship and the surface.

What happened down there, I've only heard snippets and rumours, little in the way of concrete information." Looking the JAG over she noticed that she did look tired, more that that, perhaps weary was the better word, like a great weight was on her shoulders, ~ Must've been hell down there! ~ she thought.

"Well, I saw more than my fair share of action. However, things have settled somewhat, and I'm content with getting back to sitting behind a desk." Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment. Faylin wished she could shake the feeling of what she had to do off of her, but it clung, like a wet blanket. "It was nice meeting you....I should get back to mingling." She smiled, knowing that in a short while, she would see a lot more of Burton.

"Nice to meet you too, and again, thanks," Kimberly said. Wishing she could have spent a little more time chatting she shrugged mentally, ~ Plenty of time to chat, ~ she decided, ~ we're not going anywhere. ~

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

Finding a small hut along the beach, Faylin looked out over the ocean.

She was feeling slightly buzzed at this point, drinking more than her small frame should, yet she needed it. She justified it as keeping her emotions in check. Turning slightly, she viewed the form of Kala coming up beside her. Faylin frowned, then focused back on the surf.

"Two things." Kala said stopping beside her, with what she hoped would be enough room to dodge a punch or a roundhouse kick, "One, a party is a great idea, two as the host I would have expected you to invite less people that dislike you." she was careful to refrain from using the word 'hate' at this juncture.

"Is there something I can do for you, or are you here just to bug me?"

She pivoted on her foot, fully noticing Kala's body. Blinking, she attempted to squelch the urge she had rising up in her, but it did no good.

Kala smiled slightly looking down at the sand for a moment before raising her head and centering her sparkling green eyes upon Faylin's.

"I just wanted to let you know that there are no hard feelings on my part for what happened. I completely respect you for what you did. I would have done the same myself."

"Well, I need to take lessons from you. You were amazing. I'm still aching from that roundhouse." Her words were lies, yet again. She was letting Kala get the upper hand. "I have a toast to make....wanna come?"

"Sure." Kala replied smiling lightly.

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight 5"

Ensign David Walker - Navigation Officer
Major Corran Rex - Commander Aerospace Group
Lt. JG Faylin McAlister - JAG
1st Lt. Steven Jonas - Marine

She stood in the middle of the growing crowd; her white outfit highlighted her naturally olive skin color. The halter top and uplifted hair left her back open, permitting anyone in view to see the elaborate vines and lilies tattoo that started at her left hip and weaved itself up her back finally coming to rest on her right shoulder with a large pink and lavender lily. Upon close inspection, a small silver dragon could be seen on one of the large petals, but one would have to look very closely. The bikini bottoms were covered by a white lace wrap that fell just low enough over her hips to reveal the diamond belly ring that she sported. Tonight, Faylin was dressed to kill, but not in the literal sense. Raising her newly acquired champagne flute, she cleared her throat. "If I can have your attention please........."

"I'd like to offer a toast to all the people that we lost recently.

Their sacrifices will not be forgotten in the history books, or in our hearts." Looking upwards to the night sky doted with brilliant stars and a large, full white moon, she spoke. "You'll never be forgotten"

Steven stood with all the others, drink in hand as someone made a toast to the victory that they had achieved. Listening to the words, Steven felt hollow inside. "You call that a toast?" Though fairly inebriated, he was still very much alert and able to speak without the slurring that generally came with vast quantities of drink. "If you want to have a toast, try toasting Norma Jean Riley, the gutsiest Private First Class in the entire Marine corps, who died in the arms of the man she loved, on ch'Rihan," His eyes shot to Faylin briefly as he thrust his glass skywards a little to hard and some of the liquid spilled out onto the sand, "Or perhaps Major Kol, who sacrificed his life and badly damaged Saber to take out a Hydran cruiser. They are the ones you should be toasting. There was no victory without their sacrifice."

He finished the drink, letting the now empty glass slip from his hand to the ground, before walking off to the sandy beach to sit and be alone. Problem was someone didn't realize he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

Watching him walk off, Faylin tilted her head to the side. "I tried......" Her glass fell to her side, the moment lost as she watched the crowd disperse.

David watched the man go, and then he looked down at his drink, nodding in agreement as he stared into the colorful beverage. Many had sacrificed themselves at Romulus, both in the failed defense, the occupation, and the retaking of it, and no one toast could properly honor them all. When there were so many heroes to remember, some would inevitably be forgotten.

~To Captain Christopher Summers,~ the Alaskan thought to himself, raising his glass to his lips and taking another drink.

Corran queitly place a hand on Faylin's shoulder, stopping her. Wisdom shone in his eyes for a moment, a bit of his true age coming through despite the youth of his host. "Don't feel bad." he said. "It was a good try. People aren't just ready to let go yet."

"Hi." Her dark eyes softly smiled at the new comer. "I don't think we've met. Faylin McAlister, JAG."

"Corran Rex, CAG." he replied. "Pleasure to meet you, Faylin."

"Same here Corran." She leaned close. "I'm not ready to let go yet.

That's why....if you pay attention, tributes to the fallen are mysteriously placed everywhere here."

"I'd noticed." he chuckled, pointing at the bat'leth hanging behind the bar, in memory of Kol, he supposed. Flagging the holographic bartender, he indicated two more of whatever Faylin was drinking.

After all, her glass was getting low, and his own was already empty.

"So where were you during that madness?"

"Heck, I was down there causing trouble. I'm still sore from it."

McAlister chuckled lightly. "That's the last time Starfleet hands over a phaser rifle to a JAG."

"I doubt that." Corran replied solemly for a moment. "This isn't the end of all of it, Faylin. Not by a long shot."

"Yes, I had that feeling." McAlister stated quietly.

"I've seen a lot of wars in my time." he shrugged. "Way too many to count. This isn't done, I promise."

"We will have to see about that in the future."

"Future always takes care of itself." the Trill pilot acknowledged knowingly. "Tonight, though? I am merely a guy looking to have a little fun. How about you?"

She grinned, welcoming the change of topic. Tilting her glass at him, she took a drink, then spoke. "I am very close to crossing the point of reason and waking up in an unfamiliar bed in the morning." Faylin chuckled. "And, no, that's not a proposition......"

An impish light entered into Corran's own eyes. Screw Ella, screw the war, screw all of it, he decided. Tonight, he'd have fun. "Well, that's a damn shame."

Laughter, sheer and light cut through the air. "Oh, okay. I'll remember that later on."

"Promises, promises." he replied.

Faylin arched her eyebrows and leaned in closer to him. "Your quarters, or mine Rex. I never back down or go back on my promises."

He gave a wide and knowing smiled to that, and leaned in closer to the attractive brunette. With a finger, he indicated she should come closer as well.

She glanced the other way as he leaned over and whispered something into her ear. Blinking slowly once as he talked, a knowing expression washed over her face. "Okay." Backing off a tad, she offered him a wink.

"Okay." he confirmed, settling back into his chair.

Fay turned, offering Rex one more statement. "Catch ya later...."

Meandering over to another person she had yet to meet, she introduced herself. "Hello. Faylin McAlister...and you are?"

David looked up at Faylin in surprise, having been lost in his thoughts. "Oh, hey," he replied, returning her smile. "David Walker. Nice to meet you, Faylin." He looked around at their surroundings. "So was this whole thing your idea?"

"Well, if I take credit for it....will you say something nice?" She shot off a cute smile.

David grinned. "I had something nice in mind, yeah."

"Oh? Yeah, then it's all my idea." She arched an eyebrow, chuckling slightly. "Are you new to the Galaxy?"

"Somewhat," he answered with a slight nod. "Still kind of trying to get to know everybody."

"What do you do? Official job title." Taking a sip of her drink, she pulled the ornate wooden sticks from her hair, letting it cascade down her back.

"Navigation officer," David replied, watching as Faylin let her hair loose and appreciating the way it shone in the warm light of the tiki lamps. "What about you? Whatever it is, it has to be more interesting than sitting in front of the helm all day."

"I'm the JAG on board. Known for being a witch....so far warning. If we don't piss each other off within five minutes....then we are good to go."

"Well, don't worry, I like to think of myself as a guy who's pretty easy to get along with." David smiled and took a sip of his drink.

"We shall see." She stated, taking a cursory glance around her surroundings.

"Thanks for putting this party together," he added. "So far it's been very...interesting. I'm glad I decided to come."

A slight wry smile popped up out of no where. "You...." She paused for dramatic reason. "Have no idea how interesting it's going to get.

I will make sure that it does....one of my many duties as hostess."

"Oh, really? I can't wait to see what the lovely hostess has in mind."

"What do you like to do for fun?"

David shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind, really; I sort of go with the flow and make my own fun out of it." His vivid blue eyes shifted to take in the gently rolling waves. "Right now, going for a nice walk down the beach sounds like fun," he said, returning his gaze to Faylin and smiling at her. "Care to join me?"

"I'd love to actually." It would take her mind off a certain Marine that was popping up into her head again. She led him down to the beach, letting the warm sand slip around her toes and caress her.

Walking a short distance, she abruptly stopped. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand, forcing him to come to a halt as well. Coming up behind him, she pointed over his shoulder to the sky. "Watch."

Faylin whispered into his ear.

Within a minute, a single slow moving object jettisoned across the sky and in it's wake, left some words in groupings of stars. "Never Forgotten......." Faylin smiled, then came around. "Did you see it?

It's a tribute to those we lost. I have several of them here, and I'm wondering who will see them."

"That's beautiful," David said softly, glancing down at Faylin as she stepped in front of him.

"Thank you. I was down there....on the planet. And yes, before you ask, I volunteered to go and actually joined the security department."

"Did you lose a bet or something?" David asked, giving her a playful smirk.

"No. Honestly, it was sheer and utter stupidity looking back on it.

However, I did learn some colorful new vocabulary thanks to our boys."

David smiled at that. "I'm sure you had your reasons for going down there, but I'm not going to pry," he said. "We've only known each other for what, a few minutes? I don't expect you to tell me your entire life story so quickly." David looked up at the stars again for a moment. Oddly enough, he could better recognize that this was a simulation by the incorrect placement of some of the stars above than by the land surrounding them.

"I am sorry you had to go through that, though, being trapped on that hellhole," he added a moment later. "But I'm glad you made it back.

Who else would have thrown this party if not you?" He grinned.

"Well, there is another diplomat on board.....the Romulan Ambassador.

But....I don't think he could pull it off. He's too busy running around wooing anything that resembles a female. Not that I hold that against him." Her smile was knowing, a little too all tell as they continued down the beach.

"I knew someone like that when I was at the Academy, " David said, nodding. "Nice guy, I suppose, but he knew next to nothing about what women really liked."

Faylin stopped, chuckling lightly. "Ok, Mister expert on women.....what do we really like?"

David grinned. "I never said that I knew either, now did I?" he asked.

"I learned early on that it's next to impossible to know what every woman really likes, because you're all different in some way. Some guys tend to forget that fact and they usually end up making fools of themselves because of it."

He turned to face Faylin, looking down at her. "Now, for example, some guys probably would have already tried to make a move on you. They're the type that thinks that just because a woman exchanges more than two lines of dialogue with them, it means they're willing to sleep with them.

"Me, I try not to be so assuming. I saw your argument with that other woman at the bar earlier; obviously something very terrible happened recently to you, Faylin, and whatever it was, I'm very sorry that it happened. But pursuing anything more than friendly conversation with you right now would not only be presumptuous of me, but I might be taking advantage of whatever pain you may be going through," David said. "That's just not the kind of person that I am."

"They assigned you to the wrong ship babe. Have time for a story?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." Faylin linked her arm within his, and proceeded to tell him her story concerning Steven and Kala. It helped to get it off her chest. "The woman at the bar, that was Kala. The one I tripped. Her and I actually got into a fist fight in the middle of fighting Hydrans. I started it."

"Really?" David asked, raising a curious eyebrow. "Interesting timing..."

"So, I'm a firecracker when it comes to my relationships. However, that's another story, for another time."

David nodded. "Would it be too forward of me to ask if there will be another time?" he wondered, looking down at Faylin as they continued walking.

Following the line of David's shoulder, her eyes came to rest on his.

McAlister pondered the question for a moment before she answered. "I do not see a problem with that. I would rather enjoy getting to know you more in depth."

Reality was harsh. Plans recently constructed at IS headquarters had indeed sealed the doom of the JAG officer. It meant that, short of a miracle, David was never to speak to Faylin again.

"David, I do apologize. I have to start making the rounds again."

She smiled that award winning grin that had been known to protect her several times in the past. Not any more. "Just stop by my office and we can arrange a time. Good bye Ensign Walker." She pivoted her body, yet looked back and smiled, brining her hand up to wave a final wave at him.

He turned and watched as Faylin started to walk away, smiling and returning her wave. As she walked off, David turned back and looked up at the holographic stars. "Goodbye, Miss McAlister..."

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight 6"

1st Lieutenant Steven Jonas - Marine
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

Steven turned to see Dhani approaching. "Hi Dhani." He smiled. His eyes were drawn to her figure, like every man in the holodeck. "Wow, you look like you're ready to party hard." He said as he drew his gaze away from her outfit.

Dhani smiled bashfully, "The outfit is one of my sisters." she said in her defense, "I don't own anything quite like this." she smiled slightly as she tugged the skirt down again. "Anyway how have you been?"

Steven laughed. "I should have guessed. She did seem to be the wilder one of the two of you." Looking for a moment towards the host of the little shindig, who happened to be looking off at something else, he shook his head slightly, and turned back to Dhani. "I've been better.

How about you?"

Dhanishta tilted her head slightly, looking past Steven to the woman of his attentions, she shrugged slightly, "So- so." she replied as her eyes came to rest back on his face. She smiled softly at him before pulling over a stool and taking a pew. "We haven't really talked since we got back." she paused thoughtfully, "We didn't talk before we left the ship either." she added with a smirk.

Putting on a serious expression she held out her hand, "I'm Dhanishta Eshe, I am an engineer. Proclaimed by many to be clinically insane, and it is quite possible that I am." she paused to wink, "When I am not engrossed in Engineering I like to spend my free time engrossed in Engineering, however occasionally I take the time to go to dinner with my room mate, and since my sister has transferred here, I expect the social outings to increase. I have lots of interests, which I don't indulge in cause I am a workaholic." The handshake had lasted through out the dialogue, which had no doubt bewildered Jonas somewhat; judging by the expression on his face.

"Your turn." Dhani prompted as she released his hand.

Steven removed the confused expression off his face and smiled. "I'm Steven Jonas, Marine, and Sniper. I can't claim to be clinically insane, except, I guess, with regards to..." He nodded briefly in Faylin's direction, having seen Dhani looking at her a few moments before. "I'm a fitness freak, and love to run and swim." Steven paused for a moment, wondering if he should say what he was thinking. The imaginary coin flip came up heads; "It's been hard adjusting to being back on the ship. So much has changed that I don't know where reality begins anymore."

Steven brought the glass up to his lips and took a sip. "It's good to see that you managed to survive those few weeks of hell down there.

Especially after what happened up on the Hydran ship."

Dhani's face fell and she slapped her palm on the table, "You had to go and ruin it didn't you!" she exclaimed. She eyed him for a moment, "I was trying not to think of the war." she explained slightly clipped. Sighing slightly she reapplied the smile to her face as if it was as simple as touching up makeup, "We'll go again!" she said shifting in her seat.

"When I was in the Academy I used to study gymnastics. I haven't had the time since coming aboard to really focus on it though." she paused thinking. Turning to him sharply as she thought of another mildly interesting fact about herself, "I like to sing!" she proclaimed a little louder than she had expected to. She smiled with a trace of embarrassment, "I mean I used to sing. I don't really anymore. But I play the cello like no other." she smiled, on that note and that note alone she never went with modesty.

Steven frowned slightly at her mention that she played the cello. It reminded him of Faylin playing the harp before their first, and as it happens, only date. Shaking his head for a brief second, he shook the thought away and smiled at Dhani. "Sadly, I'm useless when it comes to any musical instrument. And I can't sing to save myself. I find that the only thing I was really any good at the Marine Academy was chasing skirt. Oh and long range shooting. Though I find myself enjoying a peaceful cup of coffee while I sit watching the marines having fun and games in the Commons area. It really puts things in perspective."

Dhanishta reached over and touched his arm gently giving it a reassuring squeeze. Looking into his eyes with a depth of emotion that one could only give having shared the experience she smiled softly.

Steven picked a beautiful Blue Orchid from the nearby patch of flowers and brought it up to his nose. Inhaling the sweet scent, he presented it to Dhani. "Before you say anything, I'm not flirting, not that you aren't a beautiful woman. I just thought it might brighten your day.

Especially after I brought up the battle on the Hydran ship."

Dhanishta smiled as he presented the flower, clipping his arm with the back of her hand for his comment about the war, why was it that no one could just let that be? Even here when they were supposed to be getting away from it all, escaping the memories. Even here surrounded by all this beauty and serenity, still, everyone's mind was there. In the trenches, phaser rifle in their hands, screaming, praying, hurting in so many ways. She paused, how *could* you escape that?

She smiled up at him, "They are my favorite." she told him twirling the stem in her fingertips, watching the color of the petals blur, "How did you know?" her smile was soft, full of sadness yet appreciation at the same time. It was difficult now to feel happy, every time something nice happened every time a glimmer of a true smile, a complete moment of warmth welled; the memories that she had tried to push to the furthest regions of her mind edged their way back into the for-front.

Glancing down at the flower, the mixture of emotions within her clashing, she stifled a tear and forced a smile. It wavered on her features for a moment, fighting the pout that rested underneath.

Tucking the flower into her hair she lent forward and kissed Steven on the cheek. "Thank you." she whispered.

"You're welcome." He replied with a smile, before looked out at the crowd of party goers. They were all busy drinking and having fun. Well all but the two standing over by the fountain. They both looked like they weren't enjoying themselves as much as they probably should. One he knew well, having been the subject of her ministrations several times, most recently when she helped re-grow the toe that the Klingon doctor had had to remove. The other, was staring at he and Dhani with an expression that Steven had seen on himself not to long ago when Faylin had entered the lounge with Saul.

Perhaps there was more going on than anyone realized. Shaking his head slightly, he motioned the bartender over and ordered a drink for himself and one for Kimberly after inquiring as to what she had been drinking. "I think someone wants to have a drink with you." he said nodding in Michael's direction.

Dhani frowned, "Who?" she questioned looking around. Her eyes came to rest on Michael, a knowing smile rested on her lips, "Oh." Was all she said in reply.

"I'll catch you later." He said with a wink before heading over to see how the good doctor was doing.

Having wandered around for a little while, made some mindless chatter with a few people, said hello and just chatted for a while. Kimberly now found herself sat quietly in a deep comfy chair near a small fire.

With the bar easily accessible, the reassuring sounds of conversation nearby and the warm breeze coupled with the crackling of the fire she was actually beginning to feel a little drowsy. The booze was probably helping there as well she realized.

Kicking off her boots she wished for a moment she had replicated a skirt to match the shirt she had been sent, then put her feet up on a small table nearby and settled back into the chair. The massive amounts of cushions were threatening to envelop her, but after a little wriggling she got cosy and watched the comings and goings of the party.

Somewhere in the mix was Dhani, and despite recent events she was determined to clear the air if at all possible tonight, and so she literally lay in wait, watching for a moment when her friend was either on her own or passing nearby.

Trying not to doze off antisocially she looked up at the approaching figure and smiled as he eclipsed the lights behind him, "Hi," she greeted Steven with a smile, "having a good time?"

"There's drink involved, so yeah." He smiled. "Mind if I join you?" he asked as he offered the drink he had picked up for her.

"Feel free," she offered, waving a hang negligently at one of the many chairs that were scattered around amongst the plants and decorations, "it's a party after all." Accepting the offered drink she sipped it experimentally and savoured the sweet taste for a moment, "Mnnn, thanks."

"I just wanted to thank you for all you did for me before the war really started."

Shaking her head she smiled as she took another sip of the multi coloured iced beverage, "The thanks are appreciated, but unnecessary," she replied, "as the Vulcans like to say, we are here to serve," looking around at the crew mingling in the Luau, "I'm just doing my job, looking out for the health of all of you."

"Yeah, but I was a pain in your side before the battle started. With my constant urge to get down to the planet."

"Well, you just wanted to do your job," she replied with some understanding, "Which I believe you ended up doing anyway, what happened. There was so much going on, we only heard pieces?" she asked, curious now, especially as Dhani had been part of his little escapade she settled back in her comfy chair to listen.

"Now that's quite a story." Steven replied with a smile. He hadn't told anyone what had happened to him during the original battle. "It starts when I was patrolling near one of the Science labs and almost got sucked out of the ship when we got hit by one of those huge Hydran weapons and ends with Dhani and I careening towards the surface of ch'Rihan in a Hydran escape pod."

"The hellbore," nodding Kimberly remembered that, that same explosion had wiped out a med team, "so you hit ch'Rihan in an escape pod, you were down there all that time?"

Steven nodded. "I think we got there about three days after the ships withdrew.

We spent most of those three days on a Klingon ship, where we met Dhani's sister Kala." He stopped to take a drink from his own glass. "How about you? Anything exciting happen?"

~ Kala ~ she remembered, her twin. "Exciting? I spent most of the time in sickbay. For me exciting would have been being able to kick back and relax while everyone survived hale and hearty. But no, most of it was repair the ship or the crew!" she added with some distaste, "we lost some good people, here and on other ships," she muttered quietly, her previous good mood having evaporated like the wisps of gas from the surface of her drink, "let's just hope that's the worst insanity we have to deal with for a while. You came through ok then? No unreported bumps or bruises to add to your collection?" she enquired?

Steven smiled... You mean apart from the end of my toe that your team had to regenerate for me? And the broken rib, just more sprains and bruises."

Steven took another sip of his drink. "I hope we have some smooth sailing too.

I can't remember the last time I just chilled."

"Me either," she agreed, "It's been a rocky year or two. Hey," sitting up a bit she smiled, "you've spent a little time with Dhani'ssister, what's she like?" she asked suddenly, inspiration hitting her.

"She can definitely hold her drink. And just as quick-tempered as her sister.

She's definitely the wilder of the two. That's for sure." Steven looked over to the warm fireplace for a moment, letting the small showers of sparks entrance him as the logs burned and crackled in the heat of the fire.

"They are very much alike, especially in their loyalty to friends and family. I found that out the hard way." He rubbed his jaw playfully. It had been over a month since both Dhani and Qel had each knocked him down.

Though it didn't hurt, the memory of what had happened was still painful. Especially the second one. He should have seen it coming.

"Sounds like a story that needs to be told," Kimberly said with a grin, "perhaps we can get together later, I'd love to sit down and meet her." ~ And pick her brain about her sister! ~ she added silently.

"How about you though, what are your plans now? We've some time to relax, you planning on getting up to anything?"

"With both Branwen and Baile in your care, I've been trying to get the Marines organized so we can take in the new recruits that are waiting at Deep Space Five. It's been a fun challenge, though a good learning curve.

And, well, my personal life took more of a dive, but I'm trying not to think about that. What about you? What do you hope to do while we restock at DS5?"

"I'm hoping to find a little time to relax really, something I had hoped 'everyone' would be doing," she added with a pointed look at Steven, "you should find some time for yourself," she cautioned him. "as for me, well I've arranged for our Medical team to be brought back up to full strength when we get there, "~ At last, ~ she thought, realizing that they hadn't had a full team since Tru'Haran, "so I guess I'll be doing some work."

"If it wasn't for the CO and XO in your care, I'd request a little R 'n R on the station. Perhaps after the new recruits settle in, I might get a chance. From what I heard, we're going to be at the station for quite some time while repairs are done, so both of us should be able to find a day or two to relax. After what you've been through with the wounded, you deserve it."

"Why not take advantage of your new, if temporary status and start off with a few days off, then get into the swing of things? I'm sure things will go that much smoother and they'll like you all the more if your first order is to take a few days off," she suggested with a smile, "in fact I might do just that with my new staff," she considered. The more she thought about it the more it actually appealed to her.

"Have you actually met Lieutenant Baile? He'd rip my head off if I went soft on the grunts. Besides, harrassing Privates just out of boot is always fun." Steven said with a grin.

"You have a starange sense of fun," shaking her head she considered for a moment arguing the poing but decided against it, "well, have fun then," she said with a grin, "just remember I don't wanna see any of you in my sickbay until 'after' we undock!" she cautioned him.

"I'll try, though we won't be pushing them that hard. Just a few trips through the training course, and a timed run through the forest. Nothing major." He paused to watch as a butterful landed briefly on one of the native fauna. "I could do with another drink. Would you like one?"

"Please," relaxing even more into her chair she sighed as she luxuriated in the tranquil setting.

"Tiki Torches and Moonlight 7"

1st Lt. Steven Jonas
Lt. JG Faylin McAlister

With her lace overlay gently flowing behind her, Faylin ran up to catch up with Steven. What he said at the toast did not make any sense to her.

"Steve?" Her voice soft, crystal clear and held just a hint of apologetic tone to it.

Steven paused to look back at Faylin. She looked simply stunning, and his heart yearned to hold her in his arms. But though his heart wanted it so bad, she had rebuked every attempt to talk that he had made since returning to the ship and his head was telling him to move on. "What can I do for you, Lt?"

"Why........why did you say those things back there?" Her brown eyes held his, with a look of being lost within them.

"Cause it felt right. They fought and died so that you could get back here and have a party. I figured they deserved more than you said." Steven turned and sat on the sand dune. "Would you have preferred that I just stand there?"

"Well. No. But, there were so many. I was so close to being one of them. All of them deserve so much more than I said, I agree with you." She looked down at the sand, her eyes misting over as she brought her hand down and played absentmindedly with the tiny grains.

In her mind, she just wanted to open up the flood gates, borrow his shoulder, and weep. She had started already, much to her chagrin.

He could smell her perfume as she sat beside him, its intoxicating aroma filling him with a longing that he knew wasn't going to be satisfied any time soon. Her hair blew gently in the breeze as she played with the sand. God how he missed her. He turned to look out over the sea, hoping that it might drag his thoughts away from her.

She glanced over at him quickly, her eyes red and her heart aching.

Finally. Sitting there, she realized that it wasn't Saul that she loved truly, it was Steven. He was right beside her, but she couldn't say anything of worth. "I tried....." Bringing her free hand up, she dabbed at her eyes, sniffing.

Steven looked over at Fay when he heard her. God how he wanted to hold her, to have her in his life. Reaching down, he pulled a hanky from the pocket of his jeans and gently dabbed at her eyes, drying the tears away. "What did you try?" He asked sympathetically.

"I tried with the toast. Let's just drop it, okay?" Her gaze wondered back out to the sea, as she slowly sipped her fourth drink.

It was starting to have the desired affect, her mind was starting to blur. The fine line between harsh reality and tropical night was blurring as well. For once, the alcoholic buzz felt good. A light breeze caught her off guard, causing her to shiver.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were still talking about the toast." He saw her shiver and pulled off his leather jacket. Draping it over her shoulders, he couldn't help his hand brushing past her hair. It felt as soft and silky as he had known it during their brief time together before the war. "How's that?"

"Much better, thank you." Her smile was small, yet grateful.

Finishing the last of her drink, she set it down on the sand, then laid down, her hair fanning out around her head. Faylin focused her attention on the stars above. "You ever wonder, if there is just one person out there for each of us?"

Steven lent back onto the sand next to Fay. Looking from the stars to her and back, he struggled. "I used to think so, and for a long time after 'Bella died, I felt that way. Then I met someone who took my breath away and I realized that sometimes in life the powers that be give you a second chance at happiness."

"She's that special to you?" Fay's focus was still on the stars, her mind shot to Kala, believing that she was whom Steven was talking about.

Steven wasn't sure why Fay had used the word "She" rather than "I'm" but waived it off as her having had too much to drink. "I thought so, it seems that I wasn't good enough. And after spending two weeks together."

"That's too bad. Perhaps, you should try and talk to her. She might respond." Faylin stood, shedding the jacket like a second skin. "Good luck with her." She stated simply. Blinking a few times, the hurt was back in force yet again. Sighing, she looked down at him. "Bye Jonas." Turning, she made her way to the bat to complete the buzz and make the next drink the one that flopped her senses into the realm of total incoherence and utter stupidity.

"I am talking to her..." He called out but either she didn't care or hadn't heard him. "Or rather I just was."

Sighing, he picked up his jacket, dusted it and his back off and headed for the exit. He wasn't in the mood for any more partying.

Faylin sighed as she walked back to the bar narrowing her gaze on a certain Trill.

"What's Wrong in the World"

Savant
George (NPC)

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

If anything about George was decent, it was his skills as an Engineer. He had either slept with or been rejected by all the female engineers, so there was nothing to distract him. Yet.

This being said, he was not above looking outside of his department for prey. And *this* being said, it came as no suprise that his head turned as if drawn by some imaginary force when the new quartermaster entered Engineering.

Sure, she was working, and the starfleet uniform she wore wasn't particularily sexy. He had long ago learned to cope with that disappointment. She filled it out magnificently, however - it was as if she had been designed with that express purpose in mind, like some venus de milo. Little did he know how correct that thought was.

He stood straight, sucking in and cleared his throat as he walked over, "Why, hello. May I ask what reason we are honored to be in your presence?"

She smiled at him - smile #12 from her list, to be precice, which was cordial but friendly - and held out a padd for him to take while she pulled a cart in behind her. "Parts, of course. Engineering is a hungry creature. I try to keep it on a proper diet."

A strange grin cross his face as he looked her up and down, "Engineering isn't the only one hungry." He winked at her.

::She knew exactly what he meant but played the fool, just to see where that path would lead. Like most interactions she had with people, she was most interested in 'figuring them out.' Savant figured she knew what made him tick, but had to test the theory.

"Oh, I know. I'm all over the ship, from bridge to belly, trying to keep all of you fed." She gestured with one hand as she spoke as if it were some monumental undertaking. Her other hand still held out the PADD.

Paying more attention to her perfect figure and face, he lowered his voice, lest he call attention to himself. Would ruin it if he were to be in trouble in front of her! "Yes, but I mean a more...personal...hunger."

His demeanour quickly slipped from flirting to blatantly suggestive. How interesting. How exactly did this slip through Starfleet's behavioural screening? The program quickly referenced Mr Kastanza's psychological records, as well as any demerits.

The results were suprising. Not a single reprimand or demerit, not one logged psychological review showing anything out of the ordinary. This one was far more interesting than she had given him credit for. She led him along, teasing him with a little doublespeak. "I do end up in various crew quarters from time to time." She looked directly at him and applied mask 15 to her expression, which showed some amount of amusement. "I take my job ve

"I take my job very seriously."

George chuckled, "My dear, I think I found my soul mate. I don't mind sharing at all. Why not come to my quarters tonight about 1800."

Soulmate? This guy laid it on thick, too thick to be believable. Was he being serious? This was definately interesting, and probably good to keep an eye on. If he pulled this sort of thing with a more emotionally fragile crewmember, the results coudl be disastrous. Better to fix it now. (cntd)

"But you haven't even met me yet! There are forms to fill out for this sort of thing." Sure, that blurred the lines of innuendo a little bit, but she tossed it out there just to see what he'd say about it.

"I'm meeting you now and I can see you are worth ..." A moment passed, "Forms?"

She grinned widely and followed up with the line she had planned for the eventuality - it amused her to no end and would undoubtably cause interesting reactions in him as well. "Well, of course. I'm a very busy girl." She smiled wider, her nearly trademark impeccable smile that usually got her whatever it was that she wanted.

He thought a moment. He's dealt with girls who insisted on dinner, flowers and such. But forms? He shrugged, "Forms it is then."

He was slightly more confused by the comment than she had guessed - fromt hat Savant deduced that he was used to the romantic process instead. She weighted that element of his personality profile a few more points. She smiled at him a few more moments and then asked with a tone of even greater amusement, "Aren't you even going to ask my name?"

"Not of much importance, but if you want to give it to me..."

Another pause, and then her smile turned into a smirk. "No, you're right, it's not important."

He chuckled, "Yep. My soul mate. So these forms...where are they?"

She waved a hand affably. This was simply too much. Savant could squeeze whole *hours* of humour out of this one. "Oh, don't worry about that too much. You're an *exception." She emphasized the words just so.

He smiled, "Oh wonderful. So when can I expect you and you're hot body?"

"Oh, you want me to bring that too?" She smiled, knowing full well he didn't realize just what she meant by that. He probably thought she was joking around. Which.. she was, but the double-entendre was lost on him. "1800 is fine."

"Lovely! See you then." He FINALLY took the PADD from her, "accidently" brushing her hand.

She realized the accident wasn't one - his intentions were plain as day. Almost predatory. She had to investigate into this. And, having once been an intelligence agent herself, she knew how to investigate. She offered him a smile and waved with the same hand he touched, leaving hte equipment with him as she retreated through the same door that she came in.

<Time Lapse>

He hadn't done much in prepare but take a too quick sonic shower.

Savant, on the other hand, had spent the human equivalent of five days preparing and planning. That amounted to very little actual time, of course, but a computer operated on a far quicker timescale, after all. Her android had been dressed in an appropriately slinkey evening dress; the proper applications of perfumes and makeup had been put in place.

She wanted to see his reaction, and then his reaction to her plans for the "encounter." There were several textbook reactions for problematic offenders, and if she spotted them she would record them for psychological evaluation. All of this lapsed through her star-spanning mind as the android pressed the doorchime.

He opened the door rather quickly and took her arms to lead her in.

She seemed quizzical but amused by his enthusiasm. This wasn't characteristic so far. He almost had a childish sort of a glee about him at the moment, she imagined. That didn't fit the profile at all - he'd be more suave, or at least trying to be so. She let him lead her inside.

He led her immediately into the bedroom. "Since we seem so much alike, I assume you want to get down to business as much as I do."

Wow - she really wasn't expecting him to be so efficient. Did this *really* work? She couldn't imagine someone actually falling for it. She laughed as he continued to lead her from the doorway and towards his "inner sanctum". Her plans changed as the milliseconds ticked along, and her smile grew wider.

"Shall we undress each other or do that ourselves?"

She chose expression #27, a mixture of anticipation and teasing, for the task as her voice dropped a tone, "Usually my clients are a lot more eager to open the shipments they've recieved on their own."

He seemed all too eager to comply, and took a step forward, when a well-timed communicator chime sounded - just according to Savants' plan. She spared Kastanza an apologetic and throaty sigh before speaking clearly towards the ceiling, "Go ahead."<cntd>

He paid no mind to the distraction as his hands worked on whatever held her clothing on her.

The voice was a little distorted but clear through the intercom - Savant ocontinued looking up and dind't interfere with Kostanza's distractions. It would only increase the shock that he would be getting momentarily. "We've got a very weak transmission coming in, Lieutenant, and it's for you," the voice said, "Can you get to the communications desk?"

He began to grope her, not so tenderly as he realized she wasn't reacting.

"Damn, woman, are you a robot?"

She smiled at the irony of it all as she replied to the faked communication, "I'll take it here," and then turned her eyes to George. Dear George. Poor, dear, George.

With barely a moments pause, the room filled with the sound of alloy clattering against alloy in a spray of sound as Savants' multiple antennae deployed from her bare back. The blue glow of sensors and recievers made a halo of light about her head while long silver and white spars made a suitable backdrop. She stayed close to him, so close he coudl feel her breath had she any to breathe. "As a matter of fact, I am."

He jumped back, bruising himself on a shelf and falling on his butt, staring at her.

She maintained the complacent expression and the lower, husky tone, but the obvious intent was far different now. "Now that I have your attention, George," she breathed, stepping closer and lowering herself to keep the distance intimate, "I thought that perhaps I should warn you of something."

She maintained her smile - she was enjoying this. Every time she snared a predator, regardless of what sort, it brought a certain neolithic glee along with it. "There are many, *many* women on board this ship who some might call 'emotionally fragile.' No doubt you know some of them."

"The 'emotionally strong' ones reject me! Hell, Naranda was one ... damn her high and mighty self-righteous warrior shit. And Saturn! Oh what a stuck up bitch! And Mei..Well, Nara warned her first damn it. Now you! What the HELL ARE YOU?"

Another step forward, and she lowered herself so that she was eye level with him. For the first time since she met him, his eyes were affixed on hers and not wandering down her body. "What am I? I'm Captain Savant." Her words held just enough ice and her expression just enough threat that it would hopefully weld him to the spot - so long as her profile of him was accurate enough.

He laughed, "Darlin, you're pips say otherwise."

More balls on this one than she had surmised. She adjusted her charts on him sympathetically with his behaviour as she cupped a hand aginst his cheek - her touch was warm and humanlike, just as designed. "I can be ten places at once, sweetheart. I can see through walls. I can hear through space." She let the implicit threat hang there, to see if he caught it.

"And what if a woman comes to me. I do have a rather large reputation...among other large things."

She stood upright, looking down at him - Savant was practically stnading overtop of him now. "That's different. That's fine. And I know." She couldn't help but throw in that little quip at the end, agian, just to see his reaction. "Were I less graceful, I would be at the security desk complaining about your comments to me earlier today, and not here in person. Watch yourself."

"Well, thanks to your leading me on, I'll touching myself as well!" He stands, "Now leave so I can do so in peace!"

They were nose to nose. Savant wasn't intimidated in the slightest, despite his obviously intimidating posture. Too amusing. She had him figured out now, though. "Not into androids then, huh? Alright."

"If you want me, I'm not going to stop you. But you seem uninterested. I'm horny, but I'm not dumb."

She turned and pulled the shoulder straps of her dress up as she left, though she left the white and silver corona of her antennae deployed. She coudln't help but toss one last parting shot over her shoulder as she did so, saying, "Top tenth percentile!" as the doors slid closed behind her.

"My penis size? Yea baby! And you're missing 100 percent of it!" He locked the door, "Crazy bitches on this ship." He looked down at his crotch, "That's ok isn't it Curious George? We'll just go have fun alone." He started rumaging about, "Now where'd I hide that special PADD."

OOC: Part of "Tiki Torches and Moonlight 4" The FULL conversation

"Bitches Run Wild"

Nara & Kala

*****Faylin's Party*****

Nara looked a tad confused as she whispered, "That's not what I meant...Bitch." Nara shook her head and looked about for Saia, who for some reason had found herself in some odd sand throwing match. She watched a moment and resisted saying anything.

Standing at the other end of the bar waiting for her order, Kala could not escape hearing the exchange between the two women. It wasn't so much the tone, nor the comment Nara made that turned her head; truth be told she thought a similar way given the pounding that Faylin had subjected her to. It was the overwhelming emotion of pain that seeped from Faylin like gas from a broken pipe that made Kala balk. All she had felt from the woman before was seething loathing; that she could cope with. That emotion she could counter easily and was quite happy to return the bitchy remarks. But the volume of pain that assaulted her being as she sat there was not something she was comfortable with, Nara just had to feel that too, she was half Betazoid after all, how could she continue the exchange when she felt that. It one thing to counter loathing, but it is completely another to wound verbally when someone is radiating that much emotional hurt.

Taking her drink with little acknowledgment to the bar tender, he was after all part of the program, she hoped, she turned to Nara. Grabbing her attention by briefly placing her hand on her shoulder she smiled slightly, "Ya know I would expect better from you. That 'bitch' as you call her does have feelings too, can't you sense them? Seriously Nara, you come to a party and expect to avoid the host? I gotta side with the bitch on that one, next time don't bother." she shook her head and sighed, "I'll see you around." she said with clear disappointment in her voice.

Nara turned, "I know well what she goes through. I keep my telepathy walled up but I can tell without that. You have no idea what shit she and I have between us."

Kala spun back round, "You know what she goes through?" she repeated frowning, "You *know* do you? As in you can feel her? Or are you saying that you know *about* what she's *been* through? Cause they are two *very* different things. To *know* to really understand what she is going through then you have to *feel* it, and as you have just said *in* the same sentence that you keep your walls up, it is impossible to have to have the slightest clue!" she shook her head, since when did she get herself in these sorts of debates, first she tried talking to the kid, who was as miserable as sin, and then she has to stick her nose into Nara and Faylins business, what was she? The idiotic kid who just liked the electric shock, and so kept sticking the fork in the socket?

She shook her head, she really didn't want Naras reply to that, she just wanted to find the exit and get the hell out of here. Ten forward was possibly a good idea, or perhaps Nishtas quarters; she was sure that she saw some liquor in there!

"I'm not sure nothing is worth being as she is! But it's ok. We have an understanding. We hate each other. Someone was BOUND to replace O'shea in my life. Wonderful fate just happened to make it Saul's old lover."

"Look Nara, I'm sorry. But ya got bad beef with the chic, fine, that's cool." She took a step closer, she really didn't want to alienate Nara as well as the ten year old, "I think pretty much everyone in here does by the looks of things. But the bitch has a point." she paused. That line was just gonna stick wasn't it 'the bitch', interesting title; she wondered what the guys back home called her. "Would you go to dinner with the leader of the opposing faction on Sakaria while the war was going on, just because your daughter wanted to?"

"No," and she added, "it would be more like infiltrating for information." The smirk showed her pleasure in the idea.

Kala smiled faintly, "No mother would take their child with them though would they." She sighed, and looked behind her in the direction that Faylin had gone. Her wake left a trail of emotional hurt that Kala could feel like the embers from a fire. Frowning deeply Kala did something that she wasn't well know to do; she went after Faylin.

Nara put a hand to her head as she sighed and thought to herself. She turned at Kala, ~Forgive the intrusion, but I don't think that went well. I didn't come to fight with Fay. Just there's a lot of tension that's bound to explode whenever we're in the same room. I came BECAUSE of Saia.~

If Kala got to message, she never answered.

"God-Sized Ego…Problem Is; She's Right"

Nara, Saia & Savant

*****Faylin's Party*****

Nara watched Kala walk off. Who the hell was she. Better yet, where the hell did she come from? Nara turned to check on Saia and right there seemingly out of the blue was a mona lisa type face. Nara startled. Which was quite embarrassing for anyone who trained to be a warrior. What happened to the self-awareness? A bit of her drink fell from the jolt. She nearly screamed, "Savant!"

The mona-lisa smile widened only slightly, ruining the delicate emotion of the expression and replacing it with something a little easier to read. She replied mildly, "I'm right beside you, Lieutenant. There's no need to shout." Her tone was calm and serious, but the mirth was visible just behind her eyes.

"So I see." Nara sighed. Maybe Faylin wasn't the only reason she didn't like parties. So many people. And she couldn't kill a one of them.

Savant chuckled as the joke deflated. NAra didn't take it quite as well as she'd hoped, so she softened the edge by patting the woman's shoulder in an amicable fashion. "You seem a little tense. What's up?"

"Hell. It's boiled over."

"Doesn't that seem a little dramatic? And I thought that the euphemism was 'freezing over'." She continued to smile as she spoke, but gestured that Narandra should continue with her complaint.

"No. That would mean something happening that has no chance to. Faylin ..." Nara stopped. She hated the woman, but Savant would need to make that decision herself. Nara didn't want to sway an opinion. "Just a bad day is all."

Savant moved to guide Nara out of the crowds and to somewhere a little more private where she could speak her mind fully; the program could see the emotions bubbling underneath Nara's facade. "Come on now, out with it. You won't resolve anything by bottling it up."

Nara smirked, "So now you're a counselor?"

She beamed a wide smile and amusement twinkled in her eyes again, "What? I'm allowed to have hobbies."

"Look. It's really ok Savant. This woman and I will never get along. We can work together if needed, but otherwise, we would really like to kill each other. It's just anti-chemistry. I'm bound to have a thorn in my side while on this ship. My chief left and now I have this. It's just life."

The program laughed, and sounded convincing doing so. Conflict between co-workers was the halmark of civilization; there was no way to get rid of it. "Fine, fine. Though i know she's done something to you recently to get you upset." Then she took the conversation in a different direction, "Are you expecting any changes in engineering after your temporary field promotion?"

"No." Nara sounded a tad upset, but not overly so. "The heads are coming back. All is right as rain."

She pursed her lips and her expression fell briefly - but reasserted itself just a quickly. "I'll put in a word for you with them. I'm sure they'll consider the hard work you've put in."

"NO!" Nara lowered her voice and sighed, "No thank you. I appreciate the gesture, but the last thing I need is seeming as if I bribed someone for a good word. They'll see by the logs and reports how I did. If that doesn't get it for me..." Nara shrugged.

The outburst was enough to shock Savant back into a serious expression and tone. The program quietly adjusted its social interaction thresholds with Narandra and tried again, "Alright; there's no need for volume. I'm still right in front of you." She smiled to try and bring smoe levity back to the situation.

"I'm not a program or a computer. I can be a tad excitable. Gotta be ready to jump, ya know. The enemy could be anywhere." Nara looked about as if looking for something. One might say she were going through some post-war trauma syndrome.

She grinned wider at Narandra's comment and jumped up herself - and stayed in the air, floating a small span above the holographic ground with a complete disdain for gravity. "I'll keep that in mind. Just don't burn yourself out."

Nara blinked, "What the..." Then she smiled remembering they were on the holodeck. "Now you're just showing off."

"Yup." The little distraction worked, it got Nara to smile. Savant grinned in responce. "I'm allowed to. It's been ages since I've had a good holoprojection system to walk with."

Within moments there was a childish sounding, "COOL!"

Nara turned to see Saia. Saia walked closer followed by a boy a bit younger than her, but just as curious. "Saia, this is Lt. Savant. Savant, this is Saia and...um...Pete?" The boy simply nodded still staring at Savant.

She was still amused, glad to provide some distraction for the easily-distraught Narandra and her friends. The holographic quartermaster spun lazily in the air as if suspended in water, offering the two a polite nod and a "good evening."

Saia grinned, "How are you doing that?"

"Why, i'm a hologram, dear," she explained, and gestured with her hand. Little stars and sparks fizzed from her fingertips as she did so; it provided a decorative description. "Or, i'm a computer program, if you'd like to be technical."

Saia's face lit up. She fussed with a little bag she had about her shoulder and pulled out a PADD and sketched something quickly before handing it to Savant. "Can you make that?" The excitement and challenge in her tone were hard to miss.

Savant pondered the picture for a moment as if studying it with an artist's eye before handing the PADD back. "I can try. I like to think of myself as a bit of an artist, but i'm not as good as you."

Saia's chest of course puffed a bit. Saia and Pete both rolled their eyes. Pete finally spoke, "Like she's not snobby about it anyway!"

Saia gave him a look, "You didn't mind I helped you with the sandcastle!"

The hologram held up a hand and paused a moment before dripping it - from behind her palm the image of a tulip formed. It was an easy thing to create, given that there were hundreds in the stock image libraries. Still, it was a delicate enough flower when it was revealed to the two children.

Nara stepped in at this point, "Ok, guys. Party. Fun. No fighting." She didn't miss the hypocricy in her statement.

Saia let out a laugh as she reached out to try to touch it.

Pete walked away growing bored.

Nara watched smiling a bit, "She's quite an artist."

Savant smiled and released the tulip, letting Saia take it as her own. She replied to Nara and spoke to Saia all at once, "She's right, you're very good. Keep your drawings."

Nara rolled her eyes, "Believe me. We have trunks full."

"Good." She grinned. "I used to draw a lot, when I was younger. I suppose you could say that I was a lot more abstract. I even still have some."

Nara looked at Savant as Saia ran off to show her other friends "her" creation. "Younger?"

Savant allowed gravvity to reaffirm its hold upon her and settled upon the ground again, replying with a nod, "My mother liked for me to do creative things."

"You're mother?" Nara was on the verge of a giggling fit.

Savant, for her part, was very aware of how humorous Narandra thought the idea was. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or amused. So she decided to wear the amused face for now and reserve judgement for later. "She made me about four years before she met my father. I guess you could call it an immaculate conception."

Nara put a hand to her mouth, and after a moment, "What was her name?"

"Karen Davies. She eventually was promoted to Commanding Officer of Outpost 77 before retiring as an Academy professor, which she does now."

"She's still alive." Nara frowned realizing something, "And you're intended to run for...all intents and purposes...an eternity?"

Savant shrugged amiably, "I wasn't designed to die, if that's what you're meaning."

"So she'll die and you'll...likely not care."

Savant was certainly sure she wasn't pleased with that comment. However, it didn't strike her to the core as it might have - she had heard such jibes numerous times and would continue to hear them for a long time yet. Instead of getting upset her smile fell more simply, and her reply was smooth and immediate, "I love my family very dearly, i'll have you know."

Nara studied her a moment, "I apologize. It is hard to believe anything mechanical can have true emotions."

"I'm not mechanical," she grinned widely, her mood visibly changing in a flash, "I'm digital. It's alright. A lot of people had that problem. If it's any consolation, i still find it hard to believe that anything organic can have true rationality."

Nara smirked, "We don't."

"My brother's on the ship," she commented idly. She enjoyed talking about her family - it wasn't an exaggeration when she told Nara about her devotion to them. "I've wanted to go visit him, but he's resting up after the battle on the surface. Maybe you'll meet him sometime."

"Whose your brother?"

"Brian Tinian-Jeppo. He's a corporal. Dad's so proud." She grinned widely, as it was true.

Nara smiled a bit, "So you're a daughter to them."

"Oh, i'm still mom's pet project. I always will be. I'm my father's girl, though." She seemed to get wistful briefly as she searched her memory for those long-off events. "It took a long time for Dad to really accept me, but he's been my biggest fan ever since."

Nara laughed a bit. Not a laugh of unbelief, but a laugh of relation. "I'm a daddy's girl too."

Savant grinned. It was rare for her to relate to someone when it came to family - most of the time they simply didn't believe her. She still wasn't sure whether Narandra believed her either, but it was nice to believe that she did. "He was so proud when I was graduated from the Academy. Said I was following in Mom's footsteps by getting the dean's lists."

Nara rolled her eyes smiling, "Oh like it was hard!"

"Heh, not really. They said I wouldn't get onto their record-books for being the first student to completely ace all of the exams due to my "special" nature. I didn't even have to take the courses, just the exams. Still, he was so proud on graduation day. It was really lovely."

"Yes. It must had been." Nara looked toward Saia. What a funny family. Mother was a betazoid who never liked the culture. Dad was human and prefered Sakaria. Now Nara had a Trill 'daughter' in the mix.

She smiled briefly and sat down - there wasn't anything to sit on, however, so she more floated in the air in the approximation of a seated posture. "It's nice to be back. I missed them terribly - i was worried about them quite a bit when I was separated from them." She looked out towards Saia as well, noting the proud, maternal look on Nara's face.

"Couldn't you just link to communications systems?" Nara looked at her.

Savant grinned and glanced back at Nara, amused, "I was in another galaxy. Coronado and her task group were whisked away a few years ago. We were trapped."

"Oh." Nara inwardly hoped that would never happen to the Galaxy.

She shrugged, "We managed to open a gateway, though; I broadcast a copy of myself through. I'm glad to be back."

"Just a copy? The Coronado is still trapped?"

"Sort of. It turns out that there's a few colony worlds from earlier lost ships there, and they've set up a small nation centered on the planet of Reorsa. It's going quite well, too. Coronado and the rest of the task fleet opted to stay. So did I."

Nara furrowed her brow, "Interesting."

"Somewhat. I brought a lot of files with me if you're interested. I miss a lot of the unique technology we have there. You'd have a field day, I'm sure of it."

Nara nodded, "I'd enjoy that."

Savant grinned and raised a finger; she had work to do and this was an appropriate moment to return to it. "I'll send you some files, then," The hologram leapt up into the air and hung there a moment, "but i've got to get back to work. Enjoy your night, Nara." And with a small burst of sparkles and a whiff of ozone, Savant was gone.

Nara raised an eyebrow and smiled. Savant was like a breath of fresh air. She had to admit, even with her mental walls up, there was always that white noise. She had known, instinctly by Cerin's assimilated training, that it was to be expected. One got used to it. But Savant, that didn't exist. Yet she was more open than most people, making telepathy unneeded. It really was quite refreshing.

OOC: Set a little while back a few days after everyone started returning from the surface.

"Reluctant Regeneration."

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer
1st Lieutenant Branwen London - Furies Counsellor
Lieutenant J.G. 'Bob' Mathieson - Medical Officer

Main Sickbay

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Finally Branwen was feeling a little better, she was still not allowed to leave sickbay though, or her bed. At least she was out of danger, and now the healing could begin. She couldn't wait to return to her own quarters, and pick up her life.

All around Branwen the daily routine of sickbay continued, quieter now that most of the critical patients had been transferred or released finally. Quietly the staff went about their duties, restocking equipment lockers and resetting biobeds, running diagnostics and tending patients. For most this was the time they preferred, the quiet time when they could learn more, do normal day to day checkups and follow up on research. None of them lived for the manic and desperate times when life and death decisions were made within the confines of this room, that was just a necessary evil.

Doing her rounds in the main ward Kimberly spent a little time with each patient there, chatting, reassuring and tending to them as best she could. An offer of a pillow, or a comm call home was sometimes all it took, but just something to let them know that they weren't alone, and were above all still treated as people and members of the crew, not injuries.

Pausing by Branwen Kimberly smiled, "Hey there Branwen, how're you feeling today?" she asked as she plucked the PADD from the end of the biobed and quickly scanned it. Opening her tricorder she double checked the bed readings, "anything new?"

She smiled at her friend. "Hello there, I am feeling much better. How are you, you must be exhausted?"

"I am doing ok," Kimberly lied with a believably straight face, "Far too busy though for my liking, so the sooner you all get the hell better and get out of my sickbay the happier I'll be," she added, raising her voice so the entire room could hear the cheerfully delivered comment. Smiling at some of the people around the room as they heartily agreed she looked back to Branwen, "and that goes for you too, clear!" she stated firmly, wagging a finger at her in mock anger.

Branwen smiled looking through the charade. Kimberley looked tired, and after having run a hospital herself for a little while she understood better now.

"Though I would say you're likely to be with us for a little while longer, looks like you've picked up a few bugs along the way,"

scanning the chart a little more she tapped the bed controls and looked up at the readouts, "when you say better, how much so, a little? Lot?"

"A little." But talking about herself was not want Branwen had in mind. "Are you taking enough rest? I have done your job now, and I know how hard it is." As shadow of pain across her eyes. "You have to take good care of yourself."

"Don't you worry about me," Kimberly reassured her, "I'm fine, I have a whole staff around here who are more than ready to nag at me," waving one hand negligently around her, "so you just worry about yourself, ok. As soon as you're better 'then' you can try and nag me, but not before. Now, back to you. Your test results are in, and they confirm what we noticed when you came in. While you were down planet it looks like someone let an injury go untreated for a while!" she said with a stern look and disapproving tone, "something you and I will have a little chat about later once you are better," she cautioned her patient, "but what that means for you is that you'll be with us for a while. We need to monitor your progress for a while to make sure the treatments we've worked out are doing their job."

"Dr Mathieson told me. He's taking too good care of me. I just hate to be attached to all this junk, it is really necessary?"

Branwen asked.

"Their job is to basically help your body fight off the infection and help us heal the injuries." she explained, trying to keep her voice neutral, wanting to say something like ~ Why did you leave it so long? ~ or perhaps something like, ~ You could have died, are you trying to kill yourself? ~ Letting the comments slide she took a breath, counted to ten rapidly and continued. "We'll need to schedule some regen therapy once the infection has cleared up, but until then you get to lay there, look up at our bland ceiling and eat our food. Any questions?" she added cheerfully.

"Regen, you mean the green alien stuff? Dr Mathieson didn't mention anything." Monitors started to beep suddenly as her tension level rose.

"Yes, I mean the icky green regen stuff. Though we have nice home grown one hundred percent organic icky green stuff," noting the rise in some of her vitals she raised an eyebrow and looked to her patient, "is there a problem?" she asked curiously. Setting the PADD back at the end of the bed the perched there and smiled, "if you're worried about something now's the time to ask, 'cause I'm all ears," she assured the marine.

"I don't want to be covered in green stuff." Branwen was even more agitated. "I don't want anything alien touching me like that, it's dirty!"

Frowning at the somewhat absurd comment Kimberly shook her head as she tried to find a polite way to phrase her thoughts, "Mind if I ask where you got the idea that regen gel is dirty? One it's no more alien that I am, we synthesize it now, and two as for covering you in it that won't be necessary," deciding not to mention for now that most of the treatments would be internal she waited to find out what the young woman was going on about here.

"I find it dirty! I want Dr Mathieson now! He is my Doctor, you're just my friend." She was losing her composure fast, it was as if the shock of nearly dying was finally settling in.

Looking offended Kimberly stood and moved around from the end of the bed to stand beside Branwen, her own tiredness not really helping the situation, "Actually Lieutenant," she said in a slightly terse and formal tone, "I am the Chief Medical officer of this starship, and I would ask you to remember that. If you have an objection to a treatment then I am quite prepared to discuss it, but I would ask for a slightly more reasonable objection to a treatment that will not only speed up your recovery but also make sure you will be fit to return to duty in your lifetime!" Taking a deep breath Kimberly paused and waved a nurse over, "but," she continued in a tone that was still a little clipped, "if you insist on Doctor Mathieson explaining it to you then i will ask him to do so, then he can explain why you'll need it done before you can return to duty."

Branwen took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. "Kimberly please, just be a friend right now, I need that more than another Doctor."

"'At's right - she's already got one, an' she's gettin' no molly-coddlin' from 'im, either". A gravelly voice grated from behind the CMO. "An' wot's this talk o' th' regen gel bein' 'dirty'? Ye've been workin' in a Romulan sewer fer weeks London - it's cleaner than you r' me."

"But doc!!! I have heard all the stories, you can't even breathe in the stuff. It is scary, it's alien technology right? Not sure I can handle that right now."

"Ye like stories, eh? Hmm.. lemme give ye one." The old man gazed at the ceiling and rubbed his chin as if in thought. "One day - long, long ago, a Marine took 'er medicine without bein' such a fusspot - got well an' lived 'appily everafter. The frikkin' end.

An' wot's this pile o' pony 'bout 'alien' technology? Fer Chrisssake London, yer in th' twenty-fourth century. Ye use 'alien technology' every time ye use a bleedin' replicator - or r' Tellarite molecular subduction coils not te yer likin'?"

She sulked in silence.

"Hrmph. Boss - can I see yer for 'alf a mo'? Got somethin t' bounce off ye." Mathieson turned and walked slowly to the admin office adjacent to the main ward.

"No need to run away and speak behind my back. You can talk right here." Branwen called after him.

"Patience Lieutenant, he may wish to discuss another patient," Kimberly suggested as she followed Mathieson into the offices.

Grateful for the interruption he had provided, it had given her the chance to count slowly to ten, and avoid saying something that might have seriously insulted the injured Lieutenant. Closing the door behind her she leant on it and sighed wearily, "Hey Bob," she greeted him with a tired smile, "I haven't had a chance to say welcome home."

The old man had dark circles underneath his own eyes, the unkind reminders of Cheron and Romulus. "'Been some interestin' times, eh Kimberly? 'Ere's 'opin we don't see more o' th' same anytime soon - these folks've earned some peace. So's London 'ere, but I don'

think she'll let 'erself. 'Ere - take a look fer yerself". The old man activated a workstation and brought up Branwen's file, specifically the healing epidermis and the micro scans of the Welshwoman's bones.

"Th' old fractures 're pre-adolescent, but look at' 'em! Mos' marines don' have this sort'o breakage in twenty years o' service."

"Pre-adolescent..." both concerned and disgusted she wrinkled her nose at the mere thought of what he was saying there ~ Child abuse! ~ she thought, ~ In this day and age! ~ Sighing again she sat down wearily and scanned the file quickly, "these micro scans should have been done years ago," she griped quietly, "this should never have gone unnoticed this long!" Berating herself for not noticing anything like this sooner she sat back and closed her eyes, "Damn!"

Mathieson nodded, then pulled up the first file. "Th' abrasion's wot concerns me most. 'Appened 'bout a week before Romulus, an'

look at th' patterns - more abrasion an' injury to th' top o' th' shoulder. Looks like self-inflicted."

'Oh Gos-se!' she muttered under her breath, snapping back to the file she looked at the tissue scan and the abrasion pattern, "I would have to agree," thinking for a moment she looked at Bob and raised an eyebrow, "well, you were on the surface with her, what can you tell me about her down there. How was she acting? Anything, odd?" she enquired, not wanting to ask specifics. If the Lieutenant had a problem then now was definitely the time to find out.

"She's a good worker - jus' capital", the old man grumbled. "But went beyond 'er limitations - way beyond. It was a bad scene, Kimberly - an' she met all challenges sent 'er way... but ye can go full throttle only so long. Ye gotta rest an' look after yersel'

- she wouldn't."

Looking at Branwen's prone figure in the ward, Bob Mathieson shook his head sadly. "I don' think she slept much r' ate much. She didn't tell me she was 'urt, 'at's fer certain. Weak, dehydrated, tired - th' bacteria had a field day in 'er system. Was thinkin', as she's bedbound fer a bit, we should 'ave Counselin' down t' 'ave a lil' chat with 'er."

"Well, under normal circumstances I would settle down to have a chat with her, being a counselor," Kimberly said with a grimace, "but right now I'm afraid I don't think she'll listen to me. She seems to have this phobia about certain things medical so perhaps a neutral third party will be needed here. I'll refer the case to Commander Dallas, she can assign someone to have a chat with her.

She 'will' need the regen therapy though," she stated firmly, "or her recovery will be long, painful and will mean her removal from duty for a while, perhaps the counselor assigned can explain that to her." Thinking for a moment she ran a list of counselors though her mind but came up blank for now, deciding to leave the decision up to Dallas. Standing she looked to Mathieson as she walked to the replicator, "Can I leave her with you for a moment, if you can try and get through to her and explain about the regen, meanwhile I'll place the call to Dallas and note her as off duty pending treatment," ordering some water she yawned as it was beamed in, "How're you holding up?" she asked in a more concerned tone.

The old man couldn't hide the haggard look on his face. "Bad. Cheron was bad... Romulus worse. Dunno if it's me age catchin' up t'me , but started gettin th' shakes towards th' end of th' occupation." He held a steady hand out level in front of him. "S'alright now, but th' shakes of any kind're death fer a surgeon. Maybe jus' tired at th' time, but figured ye should know."

Walking over to Mathieson Kimberly placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, "Bob, if you hadn't gotten the shakes, 'then' I'd've been officially worried. The shakes mean you're alive, and still capable of feeling something about the horrors that happened. When things are settled here, take some time off," grinning impudently at him, "consider it Doctors orders," she said sternly, but with the same grin, "but for now, if you could explain regen therapy to our recalcitrant patient out there I'd be grateful, then later once she's settled you and I will sit down over a coffee and catch up, how's that?"

"Th' cup 'o joe sounds great", Bob smiled, "but breakin' th' news t' London bout bein' covered wi' goo all night'll be like kickin' a sack full o' puppies. Well... 'ere goes." With a wink, the Englishman walked over to the reluctant patient and started an emotional conversation.

Watching Bob head out and begin what was likely to be a long and tiring chat with Branwen, Kimberly mentally apologized to him and made a note to ensure he had some time off soon. Setting her water aside she sent a memo to counseling to arrange for some time with Branwen, preferably as soon as possible.

NRPG: Just reminding all writers new and old that this series of posts from Romulus will determine the Romulans future in the two games. If you want to know political, social, and economic standing within the RSE, read these. It's a good background piece to have.

"The Strength of Conviction" - Part I

Starring:
Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu, Leader of the Rihannsu Empire (Syed)

Proconsul Omar, Head of the Rihannsu Senate (Ian)
Senator Aehkhifv tr'Khnialmnae, Representative of the Declared (Eric)
Senator Tal'Aehkhifv Khev of Khev'Nveid Province (Jeremy)
Senator Dhivael t'Vrentath of Korthre Province (Kat)
Senator Khiy ir-Kvurkhae Keirianh of Kvurkhae (Chad)
Senator Aren Rital, Represenative of Ch'Yem (Chris)
Senator Tal Vriha tr'Ahalaen of the Nn'verih Province (Syed)
Senator Sh'rev t'Sannellieu of the Chula Province (Robert S)
Senator Raev Maec s'Tei of Kotor Province (Cliff)
Senator Delon ir-Fethraie Valdran of Fethraie Province (Jola)
Senator Tolon Kerec, representative of Baratan Province (Pat)
Admiral Ael Donatra, Acting Commander, Rihannsu Star Navy (Pat)

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

First Month of Earth (Khaidoa nuhwir s'Avilh)
Second Week (Dhaei nukrer)
Day 192, Rihan Calendar

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Remains of Hall of Senate
Ki Baratan
ch'Rihan

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

The man leaned down on one knee, careful not to let his robes drag into the dried and caked mud behind him. A Centurion abruptly appeared behind him, and slipped a heavily brocaded cushion under the other's left knee, which was graciously accepted. He places one hand on the floor, rings and signets dim against the twilight sky watching with the Sisters above through the shattered dome.

He brushes away the dirt, opening up the moistened layer underneath, which easily peeled up under his ministrations. What is revealed is nothing less than a sign of mnhei'sahe. It is the element of Earth, sharing the same month, and protected by its physical representation.

It is a sign of tenacity, of fortitude.

It is mnhei'sahe.

Proconsul Omar climbs back to his feet, the cushion removed, and towelettes placed in his waiting hands. With a wave of his left hand, more of the working class Rihanha enter the broken and ruined remains of the Hall of Senate, and take to cleansing the floor of rubble, even as the remaining Senators arrive in somber progression.

"The Hydrans have shattered our historical landmark, but they have not broken our resolve." Omar clenched the same hand he used to wave in the workers, shaking it to the heavens. "We stand here in defiance of all that has transpired, and we stand in the shadow of mnhei'sahe; to hold fast against all that would oppose us. We hold abreast the eternal flame Takar,"

he threw his fist down, the moment in tandem with torch lights that spring up behind each senator station. "We bury the dead with Thali," his other hand produced a vial of dirt, of which he poured in a circle around the image of the Element on the Senate floor, "So that they may continue the fight amongst the Gods with resolve."

Omar spread his arms wide, raising his eyes to the broken dome above and out into the starlit sky. "We look to the heavens and find Ralaa, so that she may guide us upon the winds of change and carry the word of Rihannsu throughout the world, and know we are again as one." His gaze fell upon the remaining Senators, where he began a slow pace around the dais' each sat upon, whispering that carried acoustically around the remaining center of government. "And finally, we give praise to Atla, so that it may sweep aside all that once was, and begin the world anew as if it never were, to be anointed with our love once again."

Omar halted his pace at the foot of the elongated bench that he had shared with Hitan and the Vice-Proconsul, who had been killed in the attack as well. Beyond the seating area was the Empress' throne, still empty.

"This is our homeland. We have shed blood, repaid debts, and been tested, but we have come out the victors as it only could be. This is to be the first session of a new government, and one that is at the precipice. Do we continue our alliance with the Federation, knowing it was one of their agents that assassinated the Praetor? Do we open negotiations with the hyvram (slang for Hydrans - insult)? Any other options?"

Senator Tal'Aehkhifv Khev rose regally from the seat that had been cleared out by his aides. Senator Khev was tall by Rihannsu standards with his black hair showing hints of graying at the temples. He threw back his dark emerald cloak and set his shoulders to address the Proconsul. "I believe that we have many other options." he said, addressing the assembly while setting his walking cane aside. It was not required for a man of his health, it was more to conceal the family sword inside. "We have indeed shed blood and repaid debts. But what of the debts owed to us?" he asked in his soft, but cold demanding voice. He arched an eyebrow as he looked over the senate. "Hm?" he then turned back to he Proconsul. "And what of our... 'other'... matter?" he asked. "Has he been dealt with?"

"Yes, he was killed on the bridge of his personal Bird of Prey. Mutilated and disgraced by a Federation Officer, now in custody. He is currently being interrogated."

"Ah yes..." Senator Khev said, looking at a PADD that was being handed to him by one of his aides. "Mr. Curran..." he said, contemplating the information before him. "Have the interrogations proven effective yet?" he asked, wishing as all that the Proconsul had allowed the Tal Shi'ar to take him instead of the regular military. As effective and fast as the military was at extracting information from prisoners, the Tal Shi'ar was faster and he'd have the information himself by now instead of waiting on the Proconsul and his responses. ~Oh well...~ he thought ~I shall have the information that I require soon, one way or another...~

"They are progressing. Before moving on to matters of governmental import, I am ashamed to say I am not familiar with some of you. I would ask that you stand and introduce yourselves, and declare your intentions upon the Senate." Omar lowered himself onto the bench, awaiting the round-table of Senators to make their cases.

Senator Khev gave a slight bow. "As I am already standing, then allow me to go first." he said spreading his arms a bit as he bowed. "I am Tal'Aehkhifv Khev, High Senator of the Khev'Nveid Province here on the homeworld to the north. My intentions are simple and to the point; I wish to see the Rihannsu a force to be reckoned with once again instead of the joke of the galaxy that we seem to be rapidly becoming!" he said with vehement conviction.

He sat back down in his chair, leaned back and steepled his hands in front of him. "We are at a crucial juncture..." he said matter-of-factly. "In order for us to survive past it, we need to be strong in all aspects. And for that to happen one of the first things that we must do is to rebuild; rebuild the military to what it used to be before the days of the Dominion Invasion of the Alpha Quadrant. That, my friends," he said with a cruel smile, "is what I intend to work on here while in office."

"You assume much, Senator Khev." came an arch voice from the side of the room. There stood a woman known by everyone in the room - Admiral Ael Donatra. Formerly commander of the Home Fleet, she was now the Acting Commander of all Rihannsu military forces. Like many in the military, she had forsaken her family name to cut all political ties. There were two types of Rihannsu soldiers, after all. There were those were in their posts as an extension of the never-ending cycle of politics that had always dominated the empire...

And then there were those like Ael Donatra. Warriors. Soldiers. Leaders. Men and Woman who would give thier lives, thier blood, and thier souls, to defend the Empire and it's people. "I agree, our military needs to be strengthened a great deal. But I suspect we have different ideas on how to accomplish that."

If it was up to Donatra, after all, the military would finally be free of the muddling incompetence of political appointees.

"Well said," came a voice from across the room. Its owner, a middle aged woman smaller than most everyone in the room, stood and placed her hands on the table before her. "Fellow Senators, Proconsul, Admiral," here she inclined her head towards Omar, "I am Dhivael t'Vrentath of Korthre Province."

She paused for a brief moment, scanning the room, instantly sizing up everyone within. "All these treaties and endless negotiations have made us weak. Our way of life is changing, our culture is being contaminated by the impure ideas of outsiders. And I for one will not stand and watch idly as we are slowly reduced to nothingness, our great civilization becoming little more than a footnote in some Federation historical text."

"It is not the treaties that have made us weak," a man said from the second row of the senate without looking at Dhivael. "It is the lack of foresight used in negotiating those treaties and alliances. And it is because we, as a people, have perverted the D'era and mnhei'sahe and cast our eyes inward onto personal hills and fortunes rather than the stars beyond."

Still sitting, the man brushed a lock of dyed black hair from his face and tugged down on the muted crimson tunic he wore, pulling the collar against his neck. "I am Khiy Keirianh, from the Empire's world Kvurkhae. I too would like to see the Rihannsu a force to be reckoned with once again, but I desire more than that. I wish to see the Empire bloom again, and spread across the galaxy as the rightful heirs of the universe, as the Arch-Element has designed us to do."

"As I recall Senator Keirianh, you were one of those who looked to his own hills and fortunes when the Hydran fleet made way for ch'Rihan." Aehkhifv took this moment to stand; having remained in his seat during his address to tal'Aehkhifv as a subtle sign of lack of respect. "For those few who do not know me, I am Senator Aehkhifv tr'Khnialmnae, and my House claims no province or planet: we claim the PEOPLE of the Empire. I have served on the Senate since before Shinzon, and well before some of you were born. I have personally seen the changes that have swept through our society at all levels as I have taken it upon myself to actually go out and experience what the common people do. It was in a sorry state of affairs before the Triad, and the invasion only served to highlight our weaknesses.

"Pride, Senators. We are a passionately proud race. However we have a code of conduct that all are taught, but many forget the true implications of:

mnhei'sahe. It is a word that has been thrown about these chambers with so little true respect in the last several years that it sickens me. There are several seats that stand empty today; many of you know why and some of you don't. When the Hydran fleet pressed the advance towards ch'Rihan, many of your counterparts fled to their own worlds, taking key fleets with them," He looked Keirianh in the eyes. "Fleets that could have better been put to use in defense of their OWN HOME WORLD. Mnhei'sahe required the sword, the sword must be drawn, and a failure to do so is a grave transgression against mnhei'sahe. There is no way that cowardice can ever be justified! We are all taught this and if any were to ask if you agreed or not, you would in a heartbeat! How many of you really thought things through when word of the fleets approach was received? How many panicked at the threat of a conquering fleet? How many of you said 'this is the World of the Declared and *I* will not suffer the presence of an invader?'

"Might I remind you, Mister t'Khnilamnae," Khiy said, still in his chair, avoiding the title of senator, "That among those that fled was the Emperess herself. I know this because I left with her on the same fleet. It is easy to whine about how events have transpired and declare faults in those making the decisions when you yourself hold no power or true responsibility. But, there is a difference in fleeing out of cowardice and ceding untenable territory to gain a stronger position."

"Yes," Donatra observed acidly. She had nothing but contempt for every one of these fools who had taken precious ships away from her defense of the planet. "A coward cares only for his own protection."

"Departing yourself and robbing the homeworld of her fleets are two different actions." Aehkhifv noted the added insult of the form used to address him. "As for power and true responsibility, I find you lacking in knowledge. My responsibility is to the Declared, and as a Senator I still hold power. My House holds land, yes, but not a province nor planet. we have no need of such subjects when we are responsible for looking after the welfare of the People as a whole.

"The Strength of Conviction" - Part II

Starring:
Empress Kaidalin t'Vriesu, Leader of the Rihannsu Empire (Syed)

Proconsul Omar, Head of the Rihannsu Senate (Ian)
Senator Aehkhifv tr'Khnialmnae, Representative of the Declared (Eric)
Senator Tal'Aehkhifv Khev of Khev'Nveid Province (Jeremy)
Senator Dhivael t'Vrentath of Korthre Province (Kat)
Senator Khiy ir-Kvurkhae Keirianh of Kvurkhae (Chad)
Senator Aren Rital, Represenative of Ch'Yem (Chris)
Senator Tal Vriha tr'Ahalaen of the Nn'verih Province (Syed)
Senator Sh'rev t'Sannellieu of the Chula Province (Robert S)
Senator Raev Maec s'Tei of Kotor Province (Cliff)
Senator Delon ir-Fethraie Valdran of Fethraie Province (Jola)
Senator Tolon Kerec, representative of Baratan Province (Pat)
Admiral Ael Donatra, Acting Commander, Rihannsu Star Navy (Pat)

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

First Month of Earth (Khaidoa nuhwir s'Avilh)
Second Week (Dhaei nukrer)
Day 192, Rihan Calendar

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

Remains of Hall of Senate
Ki Baratan
ch'Rihan

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

"Departing yourself and robbing the homeworld of her fleets are two different actions." Aehkhifv noted the added insult of the form used to address him. "As for power and true responsibility, I find you lacking in knowledge. My responsibility is to the Declared, and as a Senator I still hold power. My House holds land, yes, but not a province nor planet. we have no need of such subjects when we are responsible for looking after the welfare of the People as a whole.

"Right now, if you look at the charter of the Federation, you will note that they specifically state a number of things. First, no race or planet under their protection is to be enslaved. Second, no race or planet shall, either by force or other manners of deceit, be made to join the Federation against their will. Now we are all politicians, whether you agree with the implications of the word or not. We all know that there are instances where breaking the Law is necessary, we have all done such before. However the Federation has shown itself capable of maintaining at the least these two precepts.

The will not suffer slavery within their borders and they will not conquer or arbitrarily annex worlds and cultures that do not wish it. So why is it we are so afraid of them? We should have more fear of the Breen, Klingons, Cardassians, t'Kith'Kin, the Borg, and other such races with no qualms against species domination. While I do not say trust the Federation in full, I do council that we have some amount of faith in their intentions.

After all, if it weren't for the Federation honoring an agreement made with us and sending Starfleet's finest, we wouldn't be having this discourse would we?

An immediate and laborious tumult ensued from t'Khnialmnae's address to the remaining senate. Omar made no effort to calm the court. It suited him to observe the tumult, and assay where allegiances lay, if not undermine others. He needed to know where his own allies were, and if not for Senator Khev's arrogance in running the mouth and announcing outright his ambitions, he would have been able to recruit another to his cause of deposing Hitan.

The Praetor, watching from afar, would have it no other way, for Omar's hands were tied. He was in the position of the most influence, but unable to wield it. Hitan had not given him enough time to plan ahead, and analyze the files of the Senators in presence. Therefore, he hoped the session would both derail Hitan's plans, and deflect his expected display of authority and action over the Senate. It didn't escape him that the Praetor was testing his resolve and loyalty just as well.

"In so doing, we have made ourselves indebted to the Federation."

t''Khnialmnae paused here, letting everyone calm down after the uproar that ensued, order once again reigning in. "YES, we have indebted ourselves to the Federation. Therefore we must repay them. Such payment would be Curran. Alive." Again chaos ensued. "I have nothing against bleeding him of any and all information he possesses, but once that is done instead of killing him, let the Federation show us how they deal with traitors and assassins. Make it a public request, one that they cannot refuse. In doing so they will show us their true colors: peaceminded people with the strength to defend themselves, or uncaring manipulators, looking out for the gains of themselves alone."

Senator Khev slammed his fist down on the table. "Even the Breen, Cardassians and the Klingons used to cower at our might!" he said, enraged.

"And the Federation is more indebted to US than we are to THEM!" he said, glaring daggers at t'Khnialmnae. "They fight their wars on the doorsteps of other races while their crown jewel of Terra remains untouched!" he yelled out, getting up from his desk and moving to the senate floor, which was still covered with debris.

"Senator Khev," the Admiral interrupted once more. "I remind you that without the Federation, this very world would still be in the hands of the Hydrans. Or worse, destroyed by a device this own Senate's predecessors created two centuries ago."

Tal Khev pointed back at t'Khnialmnae. "You wish a sign from the gods?" he asked, challengingly. "Then you need not look any further than our own senate floor!" he said, gesturing to the ground. "Even here, the twin planets of the brothers are covered with dust and debris while Terra remains clear and in the light! How much more of a sign do you need to see that WE are the ones who are becoming lapdogs of the Federation!"

Tal Khev stalked back to his seat, but remained standing. "They fight on Bajor, on Cardassia, on Havras, on Romulus, on every other homeworld but their own. To send a sign of 'peace' now would invite disaster! All this so-called 'peace' has done is invite agent after agent of theirs into our lair. Need I remind everyone about that affair with the USS Titan not so long ago?" finally he sat down. "How many of these 'incursions' must we endure or tolerate before we finally say 'Enough!'?" he asked, looking at each senator and the Proconsul before settling his gaze back on t'Khnialmnae. "I do agree with you. We do need to send Mr. Curran back to the Federation, but in multiple little boxes with a vid recording of his personal torture session. That will send the proper message back to their bureaucrats and politicians in their comfortable offices on Earth." he said with obvious distaste.

"What do you expect them to do with Curran?" Khiy Keirianh asked t'Khnilamnae. "The Federation has no death penalty. If they are as bound to their own honor code as you suggest, they will not execute the criminal.

They will reward him by placing him in some cushy prison, where he can live out the rest of his days, safe, well-fed and well-entertained. If they do execute them, then they will be in violation of their own laws and it will show that our mistrust in them is well placed."

"No, we should keep the criminal and punish him under Rihannsu law. But, I do, otherwise, agree with the unelected, self-proclaimed representative of the masses," he added, referring to t'Khnilamnae, "The Federation is not a serious threat to the Empire's sovereignty. If they are willing to help us, we should take advantage of it. Let them bleed their own resources into the Empire, we will use them to rebuild our economy and our military. Let the universe think we are broken, but under the protection of our allies. This will hopefully prevent incursion into our space, but allow us an excuse to refrain from fighting if the Triad invades, say, the Federation.

"The Empire should maintain as unthreatening a posture as possible for as long as possible. Let the powers of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant fight amongst themselves. And, while we share in the Federation's harvests, we will secretly reap our own as well, by further expanding into the galactic core and into the Delta quadrant. We will illuminate the heathens and grant them Pax Romulus, and they will hand over their resources in tribute and gratitude. Our forces will grow strong behind our veneer of injury and weakness, and when the Klingons, the Federation and the Triad no nothing more than fighting and violence and chaos, we will grant them the Pax and all will worship the Rihannsu as the true inheritors of the universe."

Wow, if this t'Khnialmnae was any more pro-Federation he'd probably be in Starfleet uniform. Aren stood up, being practically new to the Senate...

hell of a time for indoctrination wasn't it? He stood up, deciding to avoid the 'heart' of the matter for now, and just make a simple introduction. "I am Aren Rital, Senatorial representative of the great Imperial world of Ch'Yem. It was on that lovely planet that myself, and it's loyal population, were first made aware of the tragic events to befall the homeworld. We mustered what ships and volunteer soldiers we could find, and made rendezvous with the larger fleet for the counter-strike. My goal is simple...pursue the glory of the Empire."

It was a small statement, but patentedly so. He knew far better than to boisterously declare his attentions or loyalty among men and women of such social caliber. If they wanted his support, it would have to be earned.

Tal Khev watched this one like a hawk. What was it that the humans said about the quiet ones? Ah yes, they needed to be watched. And it was this young Rital that would have to be watched as he made his maneuvering here in the senate. Khev made a mental note to call up the Tal Shi'ar's record on him later when the senate broke for recess.

"If I am, as you say, unelected and self proclaimed, I would be more arrogant than Shinzon and the first Empress put together. I am not here for power, profit, or personal safety. We here, as a body of Senators, should be looking towards policies to assist our Empire in regaining her Glory, not tossing about unwarranted and uncalled for insults." Seriously, some Senators could be such stupid people in their own intelligence ways. With regards to true inheritance, he declined to comment.

"A Little Knowledge"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine, USS Galaxy

Devil (Written by Michal)

Death (Written by Michal)

****

Steven's Quarters

****

One last task before they could resume what was called their normal lives. They entered his quarters in their respective mists, solidifying just a short way from where is was.

"Hello Steven." The Devil's soft voice broke the silence.

"Um... Hi." Steven replied, his mind a whir with curiosity as to who the shrouded men were and how they had managed to enter his quarters unannounced.

"I'm the Devil, this handsome creature beside me is Death."

"Hello." Came the short reply.

"Okay. Like that's original." Steven replied with a smirk. whoever they were they had better get to whatever they wanted fast. Steven was wanting to sleep. The party the night before had drained him, despite the short time he had spent there.

"Remember when you saw people on the planet talking to air. They were not...they were talking......"

"Don't tell me.... they were talking to you guys." Steven cut him off mid sentence. He was chuckling almost before he finished speaking.

"Yes. To us. There were actually four of us, Destruction and Darkness had a meeting at UUN this morning...they regret not being able to meet you."

"Hold up. You lost me. What is UUN? I've never heard of it."

"United Underworld Nations. Anyway, we thought we would come and introduce ourselves to you. It appears we both know the same person.

A lovely woman...Faylin McAlister?"

"Lovely? You call her lovely. She is the most annoying woman I know.

Can't make up her mind about anything, especially about me."

"She is a wonderful woman.....now that she's back to her old self.

The evil skin just didn't really fit her all that well." He stated, his face soft at the memories of his princess in her hey day.

"Well she was, for a while I guess. But that all changed and she got nasty on me." He stopped, as Death gave him a strange look. "You didn't turn her against me did you?"

"Why, yes I did. She permitted me to Steven. Although, that's not why I'm here." He stated as he sat on Steve's sofa. Death followed in short order, fluffing his cape like a pretentious peacock.

"Ah I see, and so you're here to rub it in. Getting a good laugh is she?"

"She requested her soul back. She sold it to me for survival on the planet Steven. Had she not, she would have been dead."

"Faylin sold you her soul." He stated, unsure of what else to say.

"However, she got her soul back, and now is the woman that you remember. She had to do something drastic to get it back Steven, and I'm here to tell you what she did. I like her, hell, I think she's great...but she is not cut out for evil and darkness. Would you permit me to show you what she gave up? It involves you, and she did not know what she gave up when she bought her soul back. So, don't be angry at her, if you have to be angry at someone, make it me. Steven, Faylin did not know what she bought her soul back with, until it was taken from her."

Steven was taken back by the turn of events. That she had sold her soul to survive was frightening. But she certainly wasn't the same woman she was before. Not that Steven could see. "She's not quite the same woman I remember, but sure, go ahead and show me."

The Devil approached, without words as he lightly touched Steven's forehead, permitting him to see his sons as men. Liam stood, in his flight uniform next to his fighter. Aidan, with his uniform much like his mother's in a courtroom. Next, a flash to the pub, where he and Faylin would have sat and watched their grandchildren play freely.

Taking his hand away, the Devil prepared himself for his questions.

"Those men were, what, her children? It would explain why she felt sick all the time."

Death suddenly perked, and nice plump smile etched across his jaw.

"Gotta go Dev, feeding time again!" He rose up into the air, cocking his finger and thumb at the Devil as he swirled from the room.

The Devil just shook his head. "Starfleet keeps him quite busy. Anyway, they were your sons. She was pregnant with them on the planet.

Along with protecting herself, unknown to her, she was protecting your sons.....of whom she would have named Aidan, and Liam. I have them now, as well as her ability to have more children. That's what she bought her soul back with Steven. She had no idea, so, I'm asking you to go easy on her when you see her next. She's had no one to talk to, she's scared that no one would believe her.....and no one would.

But, she would believe you....once you told her. I have given you the gift of knowledge that will open her heart to you once more, despite what you have said to her."

"My sons?" He asked incredibly. "From one time together before the war started?"

"Yep....it only takes once you bad boy." The Devil waggled his index finger at him.

"Why?"

"Why what?" The devil asked, popping a piece of gum in his mouth.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked. "If you had no compulsions about turning her evil and against me, why bother telling me?"

"Cause, truth be told, I like Fay. She's got spirit, spunk, and now a soul no thanks to me. What you do with the information is your choice.....just thought you'd like to......................." He watched as Steven bolted from the room. Shrugging his shoulders, he swirled, just as Death made his appearance yet again.

"So, how was it?"

A rather large belch came from Death, causing the Devil to recoil.

"Good god...manners please."

"Sorry." Came the curt reply.

In their typical manner, they were gone.

"Reunited"

Lieutenant (jg) Faylin McAlister
JAG

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine

****

Faylin's Quarters

****

Steven stood outside, unsure if it was the right move to make. They had left him with those final words and he had followed their advice and now stood outside her door. he had a Rose in his hand, deep Red, freshly cut from the Arboretum. He looked a mess, he knew. Work had taken it's toll on the marine and he hadn't had time to shave or even have a shower, but he didn't care. His mind was made up. He wanted her in his life. And this was what he wanted with every fiber in his body.

He moved to press the buzzer, announcing his presence, but the door swished open before he could.

Drunk with determination, rejection be dammed, Faylin wanted this relationship to go, or be gone with. Zipping up her top, her hand just reached the top curve of her shirt as she headed out the door.

Shaking her head, Faylin practically ran into Jonas as he entered.

Pushing him back a distance, she had a look on her face that told Jonas he better prepare himself, she was going to jump. And, she did, landing straight up against him.

"Fay" he said as she threw herself at him. Catching her leap, he took a step backwards, his back coming up against the wall of the hallway.

He didn't notice, though for his eyes were focused on hers as their mouths sought each others.

McAlister took a breath in between kissing him, still plastering him up against the corridor wall. "Steve....I'm soo...." Kissing him yet again, she continued. "Sorry......"

"Me... Too..." he replied between kisses.

"Let's....." Pause. "Make this work....k?" Faylin kissed him yet again, moving him back towards her quarters doors. As she went to push him up against the door, her memory mechanism shot off, reminding her as the doors swished open, that they were indeed doors. The two went sailing into her quarters, Steven landing on the floor with a thump as Fay landed on top of him.

"Ouch" he said with a slight giggle as he saw the funny side of what just happened.

"Hey!" McAlister slapped his chest. "Answer...."

"I'm sorry, Fay. I... Yes, I want this so bad. I love you." He kissed her strongly as he struggled to get his shirt off.

"You better because I love you."

"You love me... but I love you Fay. I never stopped loving you. I just..."

Steven stopped as he looked lovingly into her eyes. "I thought you hated me. It was eating me up and I, well I hated being alone. Seeing you having fun at the party, it drove me insane, yet when you came to sit next to me on the sand, it took all my effort not to jump you."

"Jump me?" She giggled. "Same here."

"You did? But you didn't do anything about it..."

"Well, I was kinda drunk. And, I am doing something about it now."

She stated, kissing him lightly.

Steven smiled. "Yes, you are doing something about it now. But before we continue, there is something I need to tell you."

"Did you sleep with someone again?" Her eyebrows knitted with concern. 'Here we go again.' She thought. "Steven, if you did....I really don't........"

Steven shook his head. "You are the only woman I want in my life. I would not jeopardise that for anything. What happened that time was a mistake. No, this is about you, and your, shall we say, spiritual friends."

Faylin sighed, then rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. The four dees?"

"They came to me, well two of them anyway."

"Oh? Usually they travel in a pack. Anyway....did they threaten you or anything?"

"They told me what happened on the planet, and what you, what we, sacrificed. I want you to know that I understand. You didn't know what you were giving up." Steven wanted her to know that he understood why she had had to do it, that despite the knowledge that his offspring were no more, he still loved her every bit as much as he had before he had been told.

Her eyes misted over. "Steven. I didn't know.....I didn't know I was pregnant. If I did...I would have never......"

"Easy Fay, It's okay. They said you didn't know." He reached up and touched the side of her face. "They were gorgeous boys. They had your eyes."

"Really?" She instantly calmed with the sound of his voice.

Steven smiled. He would have liked to have had children. Perhaps someday, Fay might want that again. "Did I tell you that I love you?"

"Um...no? Tell me again!"

"I love you Faylin McAlister" he said quietly.

Steven squirmed under her for a moment. She was still straddling his waist. She was playing coy. And two could play that game. Pulling her down to him, he whispered into her ear, "I Love You" before covering her earlobe with small kisses.

Rolling her eyes back, she smiled. Totally content for once in her life. However, that haunting feeling of what she had to do was ruining her concentration.

Steven trailed the small kisses down past her eye, around her nose and down to her lips.

She stopped for a second, glanced down at the shirt and posed a question. "Is that shirt expensive?"

"Yep, It is." He smiled, having some idea of what she was gonna do.

"Good." Bringing her hands up around his collar, she ripped her hands apart. Doing so popped every single solitary button off and sent them flying across her room. One was rebellious, hitting her straight in the forehead. "Damn!" It was her turn to chuckle as she shook her head back and forth. "This spot...good...or do you want to move to the bedroom?"

"I'd be happy to be in the warp reactor if it meant I could be there with you." He grinned as he reached up to unzip her top. "This is fine with me."

She smiled softly.

Watching as the material slipped off her perfect shoulders and down to the floor, Steven traced his finger over her soft skin. It had been weeks since she had been this close, and he couldn't contain his excitement.

Reaching up he grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her to the side so that he was on top. "Where were we?" he grinned.

Giggling, Faylin put her finger to the corner of her mouth. "Why, Mr.

Marine, I can't seem to recall where we were at. Care to remind me?"

Holding her hands firmly against the carpet, he leant down and kissed her hard, almost forcefully as his free hand played with her breasts.

"Ohhhhhh. Yeah. There."

Letting her go for a moment, he rolled over to the deck next to her.

"How about you get these off me?" he said as he pointed to his trousers.

"On one condition.....if I get them off of you....you....Steven Jonas, will head straight to the sonic shower. You are ripe...." Standing, she pulled him up off the floor.

"Do I have to?" He asked lightly.

"Go on...git...."

Steven nodded. He should have showered before coming over, but he had wanted to see her desperately. Smiling he asked, "Do you want to join me?"

"I do....."

Smiling at the response, the one he had hoped for and subsequently received, Steven held out his hand for her. He was here for her and if she wanted him to take a shower, he didn't see any problems with combining what they both wanted with the taking of a much needed shower.

Stepping into the shower, Steven pulled of his trousers and threw them to the floor outside. "Lights ten percent" he called out as she activated the sonic shower.

"Um...Steven....is that your phaser rifle, or are you happy to see me?" A slight low growl cut through his quarters followed by a sheer female shriek and wild giggling as a Marine and a JAG reunited once more.

"Reflection of Beauty"

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

****

Jonas/McAlister's Quarters

****

Ever since the day after the party, Steven's life had been growing better and better. Faylin was back, the Marines were starting to enjoy life again, the new recruits were due to board in an hour to bolster the Furies and most importantly, Faylin was back in his life.

That he had spent days pining over a love that he thought was never going to return, that he had spent countless days drinking himself into a stupor, it all meant nothing, cause she had shown him the truth. And that truth was that she loved him every bit as much as he loved her.

And so it was, as he sat upon the end of the bed, that the mere sight of her sleeping soundly in their bed, gave him the greatest of joys.

Thoughts of the troubles that had preceded the party slipped away, the mistake he made on the Klingon ship, his sudden kicking to the curb as the war neared it's conclusion, the fights between them, it all slipped away into nothingness as they had reunited that morning. It had been like they had never had any of that. It was like they had always meant to be together. And Steven, despite the feelings of angst he still felt at what he had done to hurt her, still couldn't believe that she wanted him in her life.

It had been a week since the party and things had moved along at a fast rate of knots. Faylin had asked that he move in, which was a shock after what happened last time when he asked. But, his love for her meant that he was always going to say yes. And he had. And the days since that day had been magical.

He had risen almost half an hour ago, having Marine duties to perform in the early hours, and had done so quietly. She was sleeping so peacefully and he hadn't wanted to wake her. He had showered, changed into his Marine uniform, and slipped quietly from their quarters. And now he was back, a little over ten minutes later, sitting on the end of the bed.

She had a busy day coming up, so she had mentioned the evening before and was due to rise in about half an hour. Yet, despite his need to head down to the loading bay in a couple of minutes, he had wanted to give her a surprise. He had no need to wake her though. The contents of the tray he had placed on the bed would do that in due time.

With cereal, buttered toast, Orange Juice, a freshly brewed cup of her favorite coffee and a bowl of fresh fruit pieces, she was going to have a great breakfast in bed. As an added touch, he had placed a beautiful red rose upon his pillow with a small note that read,

"Morning babe,

I wish I could be here to give this to you in person, but duty calls. I hope you enjoy breakfast in bed and have a wonderful day today.

All my love,

Steven"

Seeing the time on his watch, he stood up. He had to go and meet the new recruits. As he walked around the bed to her side, he shuddered at the sound his boost made upon the floor. Faylin was the most beautiful woman aboard the ship. At least to Steven anyway. She was funny, successful, sexy and very smart. She was the perfect woman and Steven had thanked God numerous times in the last few days that she was in his life again. For the first time in a long, long time, the almighty had been kind to him.

Reaching down, he brushed away a strand of hair that covered her eyes as he admired her gorgeous face. Her smile was enough to brighten his day, no matter what he had been through. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, letting the feelings of his love for her flow through his body, energizing him. He thought for a moment about flagging work for the day and spending it with the woman he was madly in love with, but knew that he couldn't. Not today anyway.

Sighing at the thought that he had to leave her, even if it was for only the few hours that made up a duty shift, he rose to his feet. "Morning, my love" he whispered before turning towards the door.

The new recruits awaited.

"Fraking Navy Twats!"

Sergeant Samantha "Pitbull" Beckett
Private Jonathan "Rabbit" Portman

(Just a couple of our new NPC Marines)

****

Ante Chamber 3
Loading Dock 2
Deep Space Five

****

"Fraking Navy Twats!" Rabbit spat as he eyed up the stream of Naval personnel entering the Galaxy's Docking Station. It was bad enough that they had spent three weeks waiting for the Galaxy to arrive, but to have to endure those twats taking all the good bunks, all of the transferring ship's booze and practically all the holodeck time, it really irked him no end. "Why do they get to go first? If it wasn't for us Marines, they'd always be stuck getting their asses handed to them in every fraken battle."

Sam shook her head, a sad, defeated sigh escaping her lips. Three weeks... Three weeks of listening to Portman complain... The food is crap.... The Naval guys stole my gear... Why don't we get rooms with a window to the stars... On and on, it had gone. The man never seemed to shut up. And it was driving her insane. "Give it a rest Portman. It's a naval ship, and besides, since when have you seen combat? You're fresh out of boot."

"So what Pitbull, I saw plenty of combat before I signed up." He had learned very quickly that nicknames were okay in place of ranks when not in combat situations.

Sam snorted. "You see combat. That's a joke. You've never been in or near combat Portman, so don't go mouthing off at others."

Portman stared at her, his eyes betraying the angst within. The Navy boys had basically shafted them every chance they could get. They had two or three to a normal one person quarters, while he and the rest of the marines had something the size of a shoebox for personal space. John chuckled as he remembered what had happened when he and a bunch of the guys had sidled up to the only bar on that tiny piece of a rust bucket of a transport ship. That they all thought they were so much better than the Corps... Well Rabbit and his comrades had shown those dicks the true meaning of up themselves... Would you like a side order of arrogance with that wedgie, you Naval twat?

Looking over at the Marine, Pitbull, as her former CO had coined her, couldn't see what was so amusing to the Private. "Did you have your first rational thought, Rabbit?"

John smiled sarcastically. "Whatever. Just cause you haven't had any for over a month doesn't mean you have to take it out on us." John dived off the crate he had been sitting on, narrowly missing the fist that swung in his direction and laughed. "You gotta be faster than that, honey."

Beckett thought about chasing after him and giving him a wedgie, but decided that the young Marine wasn't worth the effort. Instead she turned her attention back to the PADD she had been reading. It was the latest in the long line of Mills and Boon romance novels, having only hit the printers a mere two months prior. It was her vice, the one vice she allowed herself. She didn't need drink or drugs to get by, she was hooked on trashy novels.

"Sarg, how long do we have to wait?" One of the marines called out.

Sam lowered the PADD and looked up at the Marines, many of whom had turned their attentions towards her. "Do I look like your mother, Private?"

"No, but you smell like it" John called out from behind several of the Marines.

"Get a grip, Rabbit." She fired back. "Oh wait, you can't. It's too small."

The laughter echoed throughout the room, until a Petty Officer poked his head in the door. "Keep it down in here. We're trying to get all the supplies aboard." The man took another bite of the chicken leg he was holding. He wasn't going to stop his lunch for a bunch of Jarheads.

John Portman's face started to swell. "Supplies... What the frak about us you piece of dog..."

"PORTMAN! Don't you say another word!" Beckett fired back, before he could finish the sentence.

"Yes Sir." He returned before slinking back to his seat with the boys.

"When are we scheduled to board the ship, Petty Officer?" Samantha asked, firing a look of disdain over at Portman.

"Well," the rather rotund Petty Officer stated as he thumbed through his list. "Let's see. We have the Medical supplies next, followed by the Electrical and Environmental gear. The replacement gear for the Science labs and a quantity of Deuterium after that. Then the replacement bedding for the VIP quarters. The new large Intel screens have just arrived as has a full compliment of Torpedo's for Tactical." He paused as he scanned the list. "Waste recycle coils, the new Harmonics system for the Sensor Array, And some spare Antimatter Injectors. Finally a selection of um..." He looked at the list again, "edible delicacies for the senior staff. Then it's your turn."

"And all the Naval personnel? When to they all get aboard?" She asked.

The fat man rubbed his protruding belly and grinned. "They're already aboard."

"Excuse me?" Portman called out again.

The Sergeant looked over at Portman with one of those looks and he shrank away from view. "Why do we have to wait until the end?"

"Cause that's what my list says." He replied, in between licking the remains of his lunch from his fingers.

Sam sighed. "When do you expect us to be boarding?"

"Oh, around 0320 hours."

"And you didn't think about mentioning that little fact hours ago? We've been stuck in this little shed for hours." She held in her anger enough to gesture around the way too small room.

"Sorry honey, but I don't make the rules. I just do my job." With that he turned and walked out, still licking his fingers.

"Fraking Naval Twats!" she called out loudly, not caring if he heard or not.

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