"In Gathered Solitude"

Ella
Brian

***

USS Galaxy

She zipped up the sweater and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them close to her body.

Of course, Ella could have changed the program and made the wind lessen and raise the temperature but there was something about the ocean and windy days that she enjoyed. So she buried her feet in the sand and continued to watch the waves and wondered if she should activate Indigo or not to enjoy the scene with her.

Probably not just yet, she decided.

The setting was familiar, somewhat uncomfortably so in fact, Brian realized as he continued down the sandy beach toward the water after the holodeck doors whirred closed behind him. He was here to meet with the same person he'd talked to the last time he was in this program, or one very much like it.

"Do you come here a lot?" he quietly asked Ella as he approached from behind. It wasn't entirely clear to him why she'd asked to meet him here, though he figured it was no coincidence that she'd chosen the same setting where he'd met her shortly after Ensign Renkert's death.

"Not as much as I'd like," Ella replied. She observed the man, felt a bit mean for dragging him here. The loss of so many on Romulus, plus the recent death Faylin had brought Indy to mind and she had felt the need for any connection to her friend that she could get. "This isn't her funeral program but I can change the scene if you want."

"No, it's fine," he said softly, settling himself onto the sand next to her to share the smell and feel of the salt air. "I don't visit the ocean as often as I'd like either." Elessidil let the rhythmic slosh of the waves fill a few seconds of silence as his thoughts drifted to similar but somewhat more comfortable places. "When I was a boy, my parents took us to see the Atlantic Ocean on Earth. I remember thinking it was the most incredible thing imaginable...until I saw the oceans on Betazed. I've always thought if the gods were to live among people, the oceans would be their home, because nothing else could ever be grand enough to house them." A shiver ran through his body, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the significance of what he'd said or the chill of the wind.

"I shall have to see them some day," Ella said with a smile.

Brian continued to stare out at the ocean, silently agreeing with her sentiment. "So may I ask why you wanted to meet here?"

"I don't know if you'll like the answer," Ella replied. He didn't say anything and so she continued. "I woke up and I missed her today. It's selfish of me to drag you hear like this, I know that, but sometimes I feel like you're the only other person who can understand her loss."

He grinned. "Actually, I'm glad you thought of me. Even though I really didn't know her, it's good for me to remember her too from time to time. I think I owe her that much." The sound of the waves punctuated the statement; Brian couldn't help but think that Ensign Renkert was somehow signaling her agreement. And he was glad at least that Ella could have someone to talk to about her feelings. "So what do you miss about her?" he gently inquired.

"I don't know if I can put it into words. I miss ... she was so alive and fun and weird. I just miss ... her."

Brian could appreciate fun and weird; he'd had friends like that in his lifetime and he knew they had a unique effect on the people whose lives they touched. "Did you know her a long time?"

Ella nodded. "Since the first day I came on board. She used to drive me crazy by kicking the top bunk with those boots she used to wear."

"She wore boots?" he chuckled. "It sounds like she was quite a character."

"Oh, definitely."

For awhile -- whether it was long or short wasn't something Ella or Brian were aware of -- they looked out at the water in silence, each entertaining their own thoughts independently of the other. It was the counselor who finally broke the gathered solitude, though he felt nothing of the professional role here now.

"I'm sorry, Lieu-...Ella."

"It wasn't ..."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his gaze still directed to the water's shimmering surface. "I'm sorry you were robbed of a friend like her.

I'm sorry I-...." again he stopped himself, this time to keep from falling into a bottomless pit of agonizing guilt that he'd only barely managed to crawl out of over the past several months. He looked down at the sand for a moment, shaking his head slightly, trying to figure out what to say. "I know it wasn't me," he finally conceded in hardly more than a whisper, one meant more to support himself than to convince her.

"It's never easy, even when you logically know there was nothing you could do. I'm saying that as a flesh and blood man, not as a counselor," he added, turning to her, his deep eyes almost pleading for understanding. "I lost my best friend when Betazed was occupied during the War. I was on Earth at the time; there was nothing I could do. I still think about him sometimes and about the time we spent together talking, laughing, arguing . . . in the blink of an eye, all that was taken away and to this day there's a hole in my life that I know will never be filled again."

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "That's it exactly. A hole."

For another extended period, their mutual silence reflected the emptiness they both knew only too well. Yet there was still the ocean . . . .

"I can't sense them, but they're here," he said quietly, turning to Ella for agreement.

She didn't know about that but she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Plus there was the added bonus that the probability of Brian reading her mind was extremely low. "I'd like to think so."

He smiled slightly, deciding it didn't really matter if she agreed or not. What was important, is that she was remembering someone who was important to her. Indy would never be completely gone.

"Idle Chit Chat"

Featuring!
Corran Rex
Valentina Kyznetsova
(Formerly known as Eve)

With an appearance by
LtJG Jonathan DarkSky(Eric)
Intelligence Officer (PCC)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 2230, the Galaxy's 10-Forwarrd lounge was relatively deserted. Barely a dozen sentients occupied the compartment, to include a young woman sitting alone next to the floor to ceiling windows. She was dressed curiously, her clothing conspicuously out of place amongst the 'modern' aparel surounding her, and certainly clashing with the uniform of the lone Intelligence officer keeping an eye on her from a table away. Valentina gazed out at the streaking of the stars without, indicating the ship was traveling faster than light, a concept she still had an ocasional dificulty understanding. A drink stood on the table before her, half filled with a rosy liquid, though she only ocasionally sipped it.

It was always funny, Corran Rex mused, just how much junior Intelligence officers stood out in a crowd. Perhaps in this case, the youg man wasn't even trying. Maybe for some reason, Saul wanted Eve - Valentina, wasn't it now? - to know exactly what a short leash she was on.

Or maybe the kid was just that green.

Still, it made her a person of interest. And after four thousand years of life, Rex was always up for meeting someone interesting. He sat down without permission, and set down a tumbler nearly filled with a clear liquid in front of her. "Vodka straight from Siberia." he said without preamble.

One LtJG DarkSky leaned back in his seat, downing the last of his current drink. Indicating to one of the servers his desire for a refill the El Aurian turned to the starscape. He kept an ear out; after all, he was excelent at listening.

Valentina, on the other hand, was both startled and intriuged. This was the first person to simply aproach her without calling her Eve, or something of similar effect. Perhaps he didn't know Eve. "How old is it?" she inquired.

"It's been about seventy years since I've been to Russia, so probably about that old." he shrugged. "I had to send a yeoman to get it from my ship."

Tina picked up the tumbler and brought it to her nose, sniffing it experimentally. After a moments contemplation she took a sip, the results of which caused her to blink a decidedly slow blink. Swallowing the drink she put the glass down. "This ... my father made vocka. This is the only thing on this ship that tastes like it should, like real food."

"Took me awhile to get used to replicated food, too." he chuckled. "I'm Corran. I knew you before, when you went by the name Eve. I hear that's changed."

She nodded. "I'm Valentina Kyznetsova, but most everyone's taken to calling me Tina." She looked back towards the streaking stars. "It's amazing, whatever was done to me I can feel everything, see everything, so much clearer, sharper brighter. Like I'm not even human any more."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I don't know what to think sometimes," she commented, followed by another sip of the real vodka. "I haven't been told what's different about me, not yet. Most times I don't care."

"Maybe they don't know, either." Corran observed. "Might just be why your friend's eavesdropping so intently." he chuckled, and turned to face DarkSk for a moment, giving the Intel man a wave.

Jon simply shrugged. Tina sighed, "I've been told it's for safety reasons. I guess they don't want me wandering around in places I'd best not go in."

"Ah, to be so be able to be so vague." the fighter pilot chuckled. "Your memory's all gone, then?"

"Sort of," Tina said, taking a rather large swallow of vodka. Damn, but that stuff hit the spot. "From what I can understand, the memories I have now, Eve didn't have. Sort of like we switched heads. I don't know," she shook her head, frustrated. "There's so much I don't understand, so much I have to learn."

"You'l figure it out, I'm sure." he replied, leaning back in his chair and sipping at his own drink. "What're you doing until then?"

"Nothing. There isn't anything I CAN do right now. So much has changed," she mused, "and so little has stayed the same."

"Seven centuries is a long time." he noted, thinking back. Seven hundred years ago.. he'd had no host. He'd spent five centuries with in the Caves of Mak'ala, trying to recuperate from his first encounter with the Dithparu - and encounter that had left Rex quite mad. The Guardians had had to block all of Rex's memories, so when he'd come out, he though he was a newborn... until last year. "A long time. And you're a long way from Earth."

Tina nodded. "Farther than i'd ever thought possible."

"I'll leave you to your musings, then." Corran placed the bottle in front of her. "You need this more than I do, I think. And if you ever need a friend, Tina - just ask the computer where to find me."

Her hand was on his arm almost instantly, the look in her violet eyes pleading. "Please don't go," she asks, almost begging. "I've spent so much of the last several days alone in my room that I wouldn't' mind more inspiring company than my babysitters," she said softly, completly unaware that her grip was far stronger than it should have been. She'd forgotten about the table.

"Allright." he smiled. "Then.. let's talk."

"Madden's Desire"

"There are countless ingredients that make up the human body and mind, like all the components that make up me as an individual, with my own personality. Sure I have a face and voice to distinguish myself from others but my thoughts and memories are unique only to me, and I carry a sense of my own destiny. Each of those things are just a small part of it. I collect information to use in my own way, all of that blends to create a mixture that forms me, and gives rise to my consciousness."

- Major Motoko Kusanagi, “Ghost in the Shell” (1995 Film)

Music: Aura - .hack//SIGN

Link (Save Target as):

http://d3.ffshrine.org/soundtracks/dot%20Hack%20SIGN%20Original%20Soundtrack%201/10_aura.mp3

Satan... Satan... Master Satan...

My soul would truly be yours in the afterlife... if I could only prove to them all that I AM ALIVE, that I AM A SEPERATE CONSCIOUSNESS, THAT I DO HAVE MY OWN SOUL, and MY OWN DESTINY... That I exist as more than simply another side of "Raynor" they believe they know...

'Zevy boy' over here... when was the last time anyone called you by your real name... or hell even your birth name... Seth Rosenfeld...

Son of the Commanding Officer of the TCC Hagakure... the last Ronin ship to attempt to steal the remaining data on the Omega Particle which had destroyed the Terran Coven Homeworld over a hundred years ago... there was no ship called the Ronin in the Coven... the attempt thwarted by Section 31, and their inside agent... Starke...

Madden knew of course... he remembered everything that 'Zev' remembered...

he also knew if "Zev's" real identity had been discovered it would of lead to some nasty confrontations with Section 31. They should of waited...

apparently certain elements within Starfleet didn't approve of the Section, and thus it has been fighting to keep on existing. If only they knew how effective it was at protecting Federation interests... 'Zev' knew and Madden knew... the Terran Coven and it's Ronin Warriors was one of those hidden threats...

Even Madden had to admit that Pariah Ronin or 'Zev Raynor' had hidden his past so completely well... creating many layers of deception to hide his identity...

What is Madden to most people? A probelm, a mental disease, another side of what they percieve to Zev Raynor... his dark side... hell they don't even know Zev Raynor's real name. Almost everyone he had ever met after the academy incident... was under the impression that Raynor was a stupid clown who somehow managed to land Assistant Chief Intelligence officer's spot.

But Madden possessed his own consciousness... He was a seperate consciousness from what people percieved to be Zev Raynor. Not some disease that had to be cured, but the more time Raynor spent amoung the crew, the more Madden was convinced that's all he'd be percieved as right now.

He had a body now, but not one people would reconginize as a seperate being... simply a new manifestation of a mental disease... a Dithparu... and a weak one at that... but if he were to have his own human body... it could prove to everyone he was seperate from Pariah. That he was alive. That he had his own soul... his own destiny...

But no one could recognize that... and he could not take a body that was already occupied by another consciousness, because that would just make him the same as before... but a body that doesn't possess a consciousness yet.

And he knew just where to find one... but he had to wait until the right time. And that time would be soon...

---

Raynor stifled his urge to yell out in pain. The Hydrans were inserting the organ now... and only used enough drugs to keep him from dying. Just enough...

Inside he couldn't help but grin at their stupidity... they wanted to put the organ in him to see how it interacted with the rest of his system... to figure it out... what they didn't know was the fact they were handing him a weapon of mass destruction... and mass creation...

Flee... for your end is nigh... and some THING wicked this way comes...

"Blue Christmas"

Starring
Crewman Allison

Unauthorized use of James Corgan
Lt T'Lan (NPC)
Sgt Kurita (Old PC)

USS GALAXY Brig

Lieutenant T'lan, Security Specailist, shifted her weight awkwardly as

she observed the chaotic goings on around her. Clutching her tiny cup

of Egg Nog she wondered not for the first time if attendance in the

annual Security Department Christmas Party was strictly mandatory.

True her position as right-hand man to the Department Chief Corgan

would seem to necessitate her presence , but the unrestrained Holiday

revelry surrounding her was not exactly something that needed a

Vulcan's input.

Red and green streamers cris-crossed the bulkheads, dotted with

twikling little Christmas lights while soft Bing Crosby songs crooned

in the backgorund.

The room was crowded too. Security was one of the largest ship's

departments, and the floor was populated with scores of revelers

chatting, dancing, and eating their way into the Holiday spirit.

A small paper plate piled high with cheez-Puffs sat next to T'lan.

The snack was of dubious nutritional quality, but she had elected to

sample some in the spirit of research.

This year the Holiday party had been transferred from the normal

locale of the Security Department's main offices, down to the ship's

Brig itself.

The primary reason for the switch being that the the head of the

Party Committe...one Crewman Allison Jimsdottir...... was still on 72

hour confinement and it would do to leave her out from the celebration.

T'lan frowned at the idea of rearranging the entire Departmental

schedule to satisfy the social whims of one mere crewman, but

apparently the decision of the Comitte was unanimous.

From her vantage point next to the food tables, T'lan could see the

little culprit chatting gaily through the shimmering blue forcefield

that separated her from the rest of the department.

The Vulcan wondered idly if giving prisoners access to the punch bowel

was strictly legal, but the colorfully dressed blond seemed to be

having a grand old time in her little cell decorated with little

balloons and ribbons. Boughs of Holly and all that.

"Um...Lt T'lan...um...excuse me Ma'am?" the little nervous voice came

from behind, and the Vulcan turned to consider the rosy cheeked

Security Ensign stand there wearing a strange fuzzy-topped red floppy

hat.

"Ensign?" she replied wondering if the pimple faced youth had been

hitting the Egg Nog a bit too hard.

"Well....uh....Lieutenant its just that....you know....your standing

under the uh......you know...." he trailed off pointing meekly above

the tall woman's head.

Glancing up T'lan spotted and classified a small bit of greenery

immediately, " Phoradendron Flavescens....from the Loranthaceae

family....commonly known as......AWWWWKK!!"

T'lan was cut off as the inebriated little Ensign planted a big sloppy

one right on her green-tinged lips.

THWAAAAAK!!!!!

From across the room, Allison cringed slightly at the sound of a fist

impacting on somebody's poor face.

"Geez, " she exclaimed sipping on her non-alcoholic fruit punch, "Like

somebody totally needs to tell Lieutenant T'lan not to stand under the

Mistletoe.....thats the third person she's decked tonight."

Everybodies favorite little Security crewman was simply outdoing

herself in the cuteness department tonight. She was dressed in a

sweet little Red and Green holiday skirt complete with Candy Cane

stockings and a little pointy jingle cap that tinkled merrily as she

moved. Topping it all of was a set of plastic christmas Elf-Ears that

made the young girl look like the perfect little holiday pixie.

True she was frced to enjoy the festivities from the wrong side of a

electric forcefield, but with only 24 hours to go on her sentence she

could afford to relax.

Besides....As chairman of the Departmental Christmas Party Comittee

she had exercised her authority to get the whole shindig moved down

her to right outside her cellblock.

It was a a scene that could have only happened on the USS Galaxy.

Boughs of Holly clusters strung along Brig bulkheads, Jingle bells

adornig LCARS displays, and sulking Hydran prisoners dressed up in

little Santa hats.

No sir. Such a thing would have never ahppend on Picard's Enterprise.

But this was the Galaxy and as such it was actually pretty tame.

"So anyways," Alli continued her conversation, "I was all like 'Y'know

red like totally does not go with your complexion', and she was

like 'Hel-lo...Its my uniform i'm like second in command or

something', and I was like 'uniform-shumiform...redheads shouldn't

wear red....'"

"Fascinating." replied the young Security guard standing outside her

cell. "what did you say was in this dip again?"

"Dip?...Oh cucumbers and a hint of onion" Alli answered, "And try the

fruit salad....it totally rocks Sergeant...uh.."

"Kurita.....Ieyasu Kurita." the thin Japanese man juggled his paper

plate full of crackers and dip and extended his hand to shake only to

get stung by the invisible forcefield between them. "Ouch damnit."

"Ah yeah...mind the bugzapper there......Name's Allison, but you can

call me Alli."

"Right...." Kurita answered shaking his injured paw. "So whats with

the prison cell....you lose a bet?"

Allison shrugged, "Naw....apprently thier some kinda rul against

throwing your lunch in an officers face. Honestly I dont know where

they write all these things down.....I can t keep track."

"Sounds reasonable" the man nodded and chomped on another

cracker......and whats with the Vulcan outfit?"

"Vulcan outfit?"

"The ears?" he pointed at Alli's little plastic lobes.

Alli raised a scandalized hand to her pointy ears."They're NOT Vulcan

ears!." she yelled. "They're like totally ELF EARS!"

"Oh." the Sergeant frowned, "Elves like in defending the One Ring from

the Dark Lord Sauron elves?"

"No," Alli heaved an exasperated sigh and took a swig of punch. "The

shorter type of elves."

Kurita paused a moment for thought before

venturing, "Shorter.........Living in a tree and baking cookies

elves?"

"Not Keebler Elves!" Alli threw her punch cup at the man only to have

it spark and sizzle against the forcefield.

Across the room, a group of young Ensigns huddled around a large bowel

of Chex-mix evaluating their prospects.

"What about Lieutenant Mathers?" said the first.

"Naw man, I heard she wasnt into guys." replied the second.

"Really?" the first sounded surrpised, "Okay then how about that new

chick, she's single right?"

"Petty Officer Harris?"

"No the other new girl.....Armory Girl."

"The blond?", The Ensign strained his neck to peer across the crowded

room to where 'Armory Girl' was chatting with a Japanese man. "I

thought she was banging the boss."

"Her?" a third said, "I thought Corgan was dating a Bolian."

"Andorian you mean?"

"Whatever, I just heard he was into blue chicks."

"Could be," his friend replied, "All I heard was that he transferred

blondie in as his 'personnal assistant' if you know what I mean."

"No I dont know what you mean."

A fourth Ensign interrupted, "This is all very interesting discussing

the 'all the kings women', but none of this is getting me laid......so

is the blond single or not?"

"Dunno....looks like she's talking to Ieyasu."

"Kurita? The Medic from down in Marines? whats he doing at a

Security Party?"

"So I was saying to myself," Kurita explained to Alli after getting

her a second helping of punch and a platefull of cheez-puffs, "Hey...I

may not be part of Security, but a party is a party right?"

"Whatever," Alli mumbled through a mouthful of cracker, still a little

miffed about her ears. "So you're like a Marine right...gung-ho,

arrgh, Me Tarzan and all that stuff?"

"Something like that. I'm the team medic so I get bonus points for

humanity there."

"Cool." Allison sighed and leaned against her cot, wishing she could

get out of her cage and mingle in the crowd. As it was she was kinda

at the mercy of whoever wanted to walk up and start a conversation

with her.

As if to underscore that thought, a stern looking Lieutenant T'lan

stomped her way through the partygoers and planted herself in front of

the cell. "Crewman Jimsdottir! I need you too explain the

significance of hanging shrubberies from the ceiling and why all the

young Ensigns are attempting to kiss..........." T'lan stopped and a

quizzical look passed over her face as she noticed Alli's little

pointy ears. "I need....ah...Crewman, are you attempting to make some

sort of racial slur against Vulcans by wearing fake ears?"

Sergeant Kurita suppressed a chuckle as Alli sighed, "Okay first of

all.....my last name is NOT Jimsdottir...its a title. Second of all

they're ELF EARS!! And not the Middle-Earth kind either."

T'lan arched an eyebrow. "The Cheese and cracker kind.........?"

Across the room Allison's bellow was masked by the loud music as the

lonely-guy Ensigns continued to plot.

"Okay....we've established that every girl in Security is either

gay.....unavailable....or dating the boss." said the first. "How does

that get us laid?"

"It doesnt." said the second.

"Well there's always Science department." volunteered the third. "I

hear the Department Head has all the men on a rotating basis....."

"Yeah.....that vulcan's seven years comes every seven minutes." said

the fourth.

"I need more Egg Nog.....Is this stuff spiked or not?"

"Ummm...naw.....somebody said the Boss brought some hard stuff, but

he's been hogging it all to himself."

"Ahhhh....." nodded on sagely, "he's in one of his broody...'doomed

loner moods huh?"

"More like a broody, Jack Daniels, five-o clock shadow, kind of mood."

Back at her cell. Allison had just finished explaining the tradition

of Santa and his Elves for the umpteeth time, when the lights suddenly

dimmed and the music trailed away to silence.

"Well foozle sticks." she sighed, "Sergeant....Lieutenant....I

promised to sing a song here so like pardon me for a minute...."

A potlight rose and "Ladies and Gentlemen of Security." A dark haired

Lieutenant gathered everybodies attention. "On behalf of Commander

Corgan I wanted to thank you all for coming out to our annual

Christmas Office Party. Special thanks goes out to Ensign Smith,

Crewman Jones and Crewman Allison and the rest of the decorating

committe."

Scattered applause.....

"Right then, " he continued speaking into a tiny microphone, "In honor

of the Holiday tradition we are gonna have a little song sung to us by

one of our very own.....Lets hear it for everybodies favorite Armory

Girl.....Allison Jimsdottir wearing the tradional holiday costume of

a.....uh.....a...."

"Im a friking elf." Allison muttered as a microphone stand and an

electric guitar materialized in her tiny cell.

She adjusted the guitar strap around her neck as the room darkened

leaving halo-ing her skinny form in a soft blue spotlight.

A few experimental plucks at the strings with her purple acrylic nail,

and she lifted her voice softly into song........

"I'll have a blue Christmas............without you;

I'll be so blue thinking...........about you. "

Allison's singing voice was etherial and completely unlike her normal

gabby self. The notes flowed seemlessly in a soft whispery hush

that made it seem as if her song was some great heartfelt secret.

"Decorations of red .........on a green Christmas tree

Won't mean a thing........you're not here with me."

Her guitar chords were sharp, precise, and perfectly timed. She'd

told James Corgan that she'd received classical training, although

much to the chagrin of her mother, her musical tastes usually strayed

towards the hard rock genre. Together the mixture was quite hypnotic.

"I'll have a blue Christmas......... that's certain;

And when that blue heartache.......... starts hurting, "

Across the hushed crowd her ice blue eyes caught those of none other

than James Corgan himself who sat at the back of the room nursing

shots of hard whiskey.

Raising her soft voice in a heart-rending wave of emotion that was

felt throughout the crowd she whispered her way into the final verse

"You'll be doing all right ........

with your Christmas of white,

but I'll have a blue....... blue Christmas."

The final guitar chord trailed away leaving a silent crowd before,

looking straight at James, she added. "Without you......."

To which Corgan only glared and slammed back another one.

Before the applause rose, one Ensign whispered to his

friend, "Dude...I told you she was doing the Boss."

"Bad Dreams, Bad Feeling"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Executive Officer

************
XO's Quarters, Deck 8
0400 hours
************

"Get OFF!"

Iniara bolted upright, heart racing, the sound of her voice echoing in her head as the frightening images faded. Her eyes darted around the room, searching her darkened quarters for something, anything.

"Lights!" The shadows retreated, revealing her quarters just as she had left them hours before.

After several seconds her body relaxed, and she flopped back onto the bed. It was nothing. Nothing but that stupid nightmare. Again. "Computer, time."

"The time is zero four oh two hours," the omnipresent female voice replied.

"Shit," Iniara cursed under her breath. Her alarm was set to go off at 0500. No sense in trying to get some more sleep, she thought. Rolling off the soft surface she gracelessly pulled herself into a standing position, raking a hand automatically through her flame red hair. Padding off to the shower, she cursed once more under her breath. "Shit."

*******

Several minutes later the Galaxy's XO had emerged, decidely cleaner and more presentable. Pulling on her red duty shirt she paused to examine her reflection in the mirror. She frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. Some blonde girl had told her not three days ago that she shouldn't wear red because it "didn't match her complexion" or something like that. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, and had been covered in purple glitter and dressed in clothes that would no doubt have gotten her yelled at by her father.

Probably one of Sam Widdlestein's crazy friends from school, Iniara concluded, uncrossing her arms and reaching for her duty jacket. The girl must have had a screw loose. Red looked just fine on her.

Zipping her jacket closed Iniara crossed her too-large quarters and took a seat at her desk. She sighed loudly, sinking deep into the ergonomically designed chair, using her feet to swivel the thing slowly back and forth as she tapped a finger against the smooth surface of her desk. That nightmare still had her on edge.

"Stupid...stupid...nightmares," she muttered after a few minutes, pushing herself into a more upright sitting position. Growing up Betazoid, Iniara knew that nightmares sometimes happened, they sometimes reoccurred, and they were perfectly normal projections of some subconscious idea or desire stuck in the mind. Still, having the same nightmare every single night since they had left ch'Rihan was beginning to get worrisome.

Besides, why would she be having such vivid dreams about Kylar Curran of all people? She couldn't stand the man. Even thinking about him left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. The fact that he was now far far away, being held by the Rihannsu government and charged with the murder of Praetor Hitan, should have been a relief.

Shouldn't it?

The problem was, the more she thought about it, the whole situation left a bad taste in her mouth. A loyal member of the Federation Liaison Corps, with hardly a scratch on his record, had assassinated the Praetor? Something wasn't right here.

The whole thing had been recorded by security cameras aboard the Praetor's own Warbird, that much she knew. Part of it had even been leaked to the public feeds, but naturally the file had been truncated before anything truly damning to Curran had been shown. And of course, the part that hadn't made it out was now classified above her security level.

She had to get her hands on that file. Maybe it would explain the bad feeling she had. Maybe it would explain the nightmares, the terrible visions of the monster with the body of a Kelvan and the soul of something far more sinister reaching, clawing, tearing, chewing...

She slapped her palm on the desk, the harsh sound snapping her back to reality. There was one person on board who she felt certain would have access to the file. And the last time she checked, he owed her a favor or two.

"World of Light, World of Fire"

by

Kylar Curran,
Prisoner number: B435-222-3689K

Romulan Guests

Timeline: Takes place prior to the Romulan Senate series of posts.
Location: Unknown

There is a world of light... there is a world of fire. It's encircles me, and I think it's... I... can't remember anything else.

The fire that burns behind my eyes dazzles my senses through which I once could see a cloud hanging over the oily sea. My mind drifts out over the raging turmoil of cold wind that scours my skin, erasing all the dirt and entrails that cling to my nightmare. I allow the current to carry me out to the open water that I know is there.

Then, like shades being drawn, I see her on the sand, barefoot and pant-legs rolled up so that she could slosh through the dark water. One of her hands covers her eyes as she turns and sees me above her. She's mouthing something, I believe. What? I can't hear you! Something is drowning you out. I can't seem to see you any more. Where did you go? The darkness looms over me, blanketing the landscape and her with it. She seemed so familiar.

"Another 30 megajoules. I want him broken. I want to see it."

Another light burned into my head behind my eyes. It feels like a piercing hot poker stabbing me with a million tiny needles. Blinking away the pain only makes it worse. My hands turn into claws and fly out to dig into the earth. The pain is splitting me into a thousand pieces. Tears are streaming down my face.

"Increase the power." The dry voice cutting through from behind me feels like a weight on my spine, crushing, adding to the searing agony that threatens to send me tumbling into the dark abyss that I know is chasing me.

Even the blinding light can't dissipate the yawning chasm that wants to swallow me into the swirling mass of limbs.

"Fascinating. Look at the readings, Sharien. Amazing. Are we still recording all of this?"

"Of course. I wouldn't be doing my job very well if I wasn't."

The tall Rihanha stood watching the prisoner through a plated glass window separating the two of them while the latter was strapped into a gurney undergoing intense shock therapy. The humanoid's body arched in response to each charge, his hands clenching and unclenching against the metallic straps that carried the current in a balanced charge over each area of his body.

The corners of the Rihanha's mouth curled in a satisfied smile as the humanoid captive's leg muscles contracted against their restraints.

Sharien leaned across, analyzing readings as they scrolled past in green.

Speaking matter-of-factly with little concern, "He's approaching the death threshold. Heart-rate up 220%. Cardiac arrest imminent."

I picture your face behind my eyes. I can't seem to focus on anything else, it's so dark, though I'm not alone in this void. There's a haunting melodious sound that's all around me. I noticed it when the fire went out and my world went dark. How can it be you? You're dead. Long ago, and because of what I did. I feel sick, like I'm about to vomit.

Wait... there's a light... no more than a far off pinpoint. It's as if a match had been struck against tinder, but again it makes me squint against its hypnotic glare, yet I can't tear myself away, even as whatever it is that lives in this void closes in on me. I can feel the limbs shifting around me. It's a fate that can be no better or less than what awaits me in this darkness, so I take first one hesitant step towards it, and another, and another...

Her face peers out from the glowing embers, and my heart skips a beat. I...

know her... the blue skin, glistening with freshly peppered water, glows against the light that slowly tears wider, exposing the sand and sea once again. Is this what the afterlife is like? Am I to spend eternity contemplating my failures in the emotional arena of humanity? It hardly seems fair.

"Is he dead? Why hasn't he begged for his life?"

"Not dead, but resisting. If he were a normal humanoid, he'd be surely dead by now." She altered the display to verify a spike reading that had caught her eye. "His endorphin count is increasing. Humans tend to suppress pain stimuli when adrenaline is released into their system. This one is surprisingly durable. I doubt he'll be begging for anything. My limited contact with him over the past year has shown him to be rather disdainful of most emotions."

The male's smile upturned itself into a frown of contempt for this being that had the gall to attempt to assassinate the Praetor, but refused to give up its secrets. No humanoid could sustain the levels of charged electricity running through their veins at the intensity this one has been enduring. He reached across the window, his feet a pair of steps behind as he keyed the wall panel that opened the door and admitted him into the interrogation room.

Twisting the lever down, the door exhaled a hiss as it opened inward on breaking the quarantine seal. The man stepped over the lip of the bulkhead door, turning only once to seal the entrance behind him. He cast one glance at the woman inside, who nodded on confirming the room had been resealed.

The Rihan Proconsul took three determine steps to the Kelvan laying strapped across the interrogation table, needle-points and scanners residing near the top, electrified restraints panning down the side of the water-cooled frame.

Omar was careful not to touch the metal and liquid conductor when he leaned down to peer into the humanoids eyes.

"Who sent you?" Omar cocked his head slightly to the left. When Curran's wild eyes failed to focus on the Proconsul, Omar raised his left hand to give Sharien the signal to send another charge through him. The Kelvan's eyes rolled up into their sockets as he arched his back against the restraints. Slaiva flecked at the corners of his taut ashen lips. "This most certainly can't be pleasant for you. You will die if you do no supply me with the information I need." In reality, it wasn't information the Tal Shi'ar agent needed; it was the determination of what was required to force the Kelvan to alter form. The ability to detect their kind amongst other Rihanha was powerful leverage indeed. Long had his agency known of the Hydran clones and their experimentation on humanoids.

He'd even taken advantage of the chaos during the occupation to obtain records on the Starfleet presence at Tru'Haran. This Curran had been captured and taken aboard a Hydran research satellite. He had to know what they knew. No doubt there were many on ch'Rihan who were in fact Hydran agents. And this one was connected somehow. He was sure of it.

"Linisha?" The name came on the cusp of the wind, as Kylar stood face-to-face with the blu-skinned woman who remained stoic and resolute before him. Her braided white hair whipped around her soft features, revealing the smallish ears he had whispered many words into over the year he spent on Andor. The icy wind buffeted against his back, pushing him into her, towards the roaring ocean whitecaps breaking down the sand bar behind her.

"Linisha? Tell me more." Omar waved his fingers, signifying Sharien to lower the charge, but remain consistent. Curran's eyes burned spots into the ceiling.

"Am I dead?" The tentacles behind him ceased their advance, but remained ever near. His feet felt like concrete had been poured around them, and when he looked down, he noticed they were.

"No. Not yet." Both Linisha and Omar's voice coalesced into one.

"You died on Andor. How can you be here?"

"That is not the proper question." Her eyes... they lacked the fire he once knew. The fire that roared behind him had been torn from her. He had rent it out long ago. His heart pounded.

"I don't understand, Isha." He shook his head. He could hardly feel his lips against the brittle cold.

"Don't play games, Kylar. You didn't on Andor. Have you been around humans too long?"

"I've been human too long. I... want to break away, I want to find myself.

I want to heal."

"I think you know how to accomplish that, Kylar. It's quite simple. You need to die. I think you've known that deep in your heart. If you've managed to find it again."

Curran nodded. "If only it were that simple, Isha."

"Do not call me that!" Before Curran could process the demand, a stinging sensation arced across his cheek as her hand made contact with one side.

"You killed me with hardly an afterthought. I thought the mighty Kelvans did what they had to do without question? You *have* been around humans too long! You're pitiful."

He reached one hand up to massage his cheek and stopped just short when he saw her disgusted look piercing him. The winds were pounding against him now, pushing him over into her even as his feet remained rooted. His hand turned to a fist as he clenched it in the air before them.

"Planning on hitting me, Kylar? I dare you. Coward."

Curran ground his teeth together as his hand shook between them. "Strong words from a dead Andorian." Another stinging sensation burned across his other cheek. Her hadn't even seen her hand move.

"You let a Hydran into your head with less abandon than with me. What does that say about your state of mind?"

"It says you're lying."

Linisha laughed out loud, an echo effect as the wind took it and danced it around them. "Kylar I *am* your subconscious! AND your conscience! Drop the stubborness and open your mind. You'll have no choice but to face the truth instead of this constant lying to yourself. Of course, with your Kelvan attitude of not thinking for yourself, I doubt you'll figure out how.

You're far too human now, coward. You're weak and enjoy being one."

He'd had enough. Stepping backwards, resisting the weight couple around his feet, he kept his focus cooly on the Andorian zhen and just shy of the writhing tentacles, he turned his back to her, facing the gaping maw.

"At least I don't run off and kill myself for love. I kill myself for redemption." And he stepped into the medusan mouth.

"He's gone into cardiac arrest, Proconsul. I'd back away from him." As Sharien completed her sentence, Curran's mouth strained against itself, splitting into bloody lines at the corners where the foam had dried, his tongue transformed into something deep and black, extending outwards and splitting the Kelvan's humanoid head into several pieces as it folded into the new form. An overpowering scent of rot and cinnamon slammed into the Proconsul, causing him to gag. He waved a hand at Sharien, who immediately decreased the voltage and activated the injection mechanisms around Curran's 'head' imemdiately emptying contents of a cocktail of delights into the humanoid.

Curran writhed on the table, alternating between shifting forms, blood dropping in rivulets on the floor below, until he settled back onto the cot, his Kelvan tentacles laying dormant instead of his arms and lower torso. As the cocktail worked its way through his system, it recovered the human DNA and revived his body from death as it slowed down his heart-rate.

Agonizingly slowly, the Kelvan form receded back into his human form.

Omar rushed back inside the observation room, coming alongside Aendah Sharien T'Riasau, the former RNI Liaison to the USS Galaxy, now working for Proconsul Omar. He'd arranged for her 'disappearance' from the Senate oversight committee and cloaking device watchdog program, so that she could debrief the Tal Shi'ar with RNI activities. She'd been an invaluable resource while on-board the Galaxy, gathering intelligence that would otherwise have not been obtained. It was her and Tal Shi'ar contacts on the ship that had sent him the medical and intelligence reports on the Tru'Haran mission. It had earned a very deserved promotion and assignment to his personal staff. As far as anyone knew, she was still an RNI Operative gone underground, which suited them both. Omar was fairly certain none on the Senate save perhaps Hitan, knew of her. And since she didn't move in the Praetor's circles, she still enjoyed a semblance of anonymity. He entered his command codes on a wall console, disabling all security and recording measures.

Taking note of the chronometer on the wall alongside, he turned and laid a hand on T'Riasau's shoulder. "Have those readings analyzed and broken down into report within four veraku. Continue his interrogation. I want to know what he told the Hydrans. I'll be out of contact while the Senate is in session. Get everything out of him; use your discretion towards methods.

The Senate may rule to have the human executed. I'll hold off the vote as long as possible."

"His end condition has no preset requirements?"

"Keep him alive long enough to fill in our intelligence gaps. If he dies...

create an accident in the prison. People die there all the time. One more won't hardly garner a footnote in a report. Especially a Federation assassin that tried to destabilize our world at its apex of victory."

"Aye, sir."

Omar turned back to the window, dropping his hand into a clasp with the other in front of him.

"If the Senate orders his execution before you obtain what we need, you know what to do."

"You'll have your data, Proconsul. I've already begun arranging it in the event the Vice-Legate isn't agreeable."

"Very good." He nodded at the Aendah, his aging eyes bereft of anything but cold and clinical calculating measure. He would have his rewards. Curran should have been able to protect his son on the Galaxy, but failed. Worse yet, he'd failed to bring the killer to ch'Rihan. Damned Federation. By the Elements, he would have his vengeance. He would avenge his son. He would watch the Federation burn.

Retribution Series

"I'm In Here Somewhere"

USS Delphina
Juliette's Personal Quarters
-------------------------------

"Who am I?" Juliette spoke out for the first time with her new voice.

It sent shock waves through her. Something was not right, this did not feel right. However, it was. It was as 'right' as it got for her protection. Bringing her hand to her throat, she spoke again. "I'm Juliette." Her large blue eyes looked seriously at the Trill markings along her face, her roughed blond hair, and her perky nose. "I'm Juliette."

Miramon Terrik was, for want of a better word, not in a good mood.

Since he'd beamed a good week ago, he'd not seen anything of Faylin, which was irritating, since he'd accompanied her specifically to keep an eye on her and, where possible, ensure that she was sound of both body and mind. At least, that was what he was supposed to be doing.

Thus far, all it seemed he was actually doing was kicking around a ship that wasn't his, waiting for someone to let him do his job. It was frustrating.

Still, Sickbay had contacted him not long ago and told him that he could go and see the person had come aboard ship with. And considering his whole purpose aboard ship was to keep an eye on said person, he felt it was a pretty good idea to do just that. At least a handful of people in Starfleet felt that, when given something to do, it was usually a good idea to do just that. Those not in the minority inevitably just did what they thought their job happened to be, which could be rather embarrassing in the right circumstances.

As a consequence, he was now standing outside the quarters of Lt Rinaldi. Apparently this is where Faylin was, and therefore, where Miramon had to be. Pretty straightforward, he felt. Sighing for no other reason than to express his inner exasperation, the Bajoran hit the door chime, announcing his presence.

She heard the chime, called out enter, and watched a familiar face walk through the door. Yet, would he know? "Hello." She swallowed hard, the first time she announced herself. "I'm Junior Lt. Juliette Rinaldi." Her face said otherwise as the hurt and uncertainty aired itself out in the open.

Miramon's eye narrowed slightly as he was greeted by a woman unknown to him. The voice sounded familiar but the face was all wrong. This was likely a person that he'd heard talking while he was in Ten Forward, or perhaps another of those faceless ensigns that he walked past in the hallways. At least, such was his first thought.

His second thought was 'that voice sounds too familiar to be a faceless ensign'. And yet, her he was, standing in front of somebody he didn't know, or certainly wouldn't have been able to pick out of a line-up. Yet the expression on the woman's face didn't suggest that he was a complete stranger to her - there was recognition in her eyes, not to mention the fact that she wasn't snapping at him in impatience while he was standing there, staring at her and remaining completely silent into the bargain. And that struck him as odd.

His blue eyes widened slightly as yet another thought came to him.

Well, actually, two thoughts. One was simply a wry comment regarding the fact that he was having several thoughts in the space of the same minute, while the second related more to the fact that Faylin had come aboard the Delphina in order to have some significant cosmetic changes made. Reconciling one thought with another, all that was missing was the metaphorical light bulb coming into existence somewhere above his head, announcing that he'd worked out what was going on.

"Faylin?"

The query was made tentatively, his voice soft as somewhat strained, as though he knew he were out on a limb here. If he was wrong, he was going to be screamed at. If he was right, well, that would be a first.

Either way, he wasn't sure that the next ten seconds was going to be a very pleasant experience.

Relief washed over her face as he spoke her name. "Oh, thank god."

She lowered her head, bringing it back up, her eyes were as blue as ice, wet with moisture. "Help me. I'm in here somewhere."

Retribution Series

"See You At 7"

Lt. JG Julliette Rinaldi
Lieutanant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

Location: USS Delphina
------------------------

It was another day, trapped on a ship of new beginnings Juliette felt extremely bored out of her mind. The coffee was bad, which matched her mood. The new spots itched, her blond hair was constantly in the way, and her eyes were sore from the new color. On top of it all, her voice chip made her throat sore and her new voice sounded airy and light. It was not like her old voice, it was softer. Sipping her coffee, she spotted him across the way and waved. At least, he was someone that knew the truth.

Miramon spotted the person he had come looking for and offered a soft smile as he head in her direction. Yes, he was checking up on her again, and after a while she was going to get fed up having the Bajoran around, but until then, he was going to keep a close eye on her. And complain though she could, he suspected Faylin wasn't going to object too much - not as though anyone else aboard ship really counted as a familiar face, as far as he knew.

That she'd been hanging around the Mess Hall had come as no surprise to him when he'd checked to see what she was doing. Since he'd come aboard the Delphina, he'd really had little more to do than sit around and wait for news of Faylin's surgery, and once she'd finished, to keep track of her and make sure she was okay. Though it was giving him time to catch up on some much-needed reading. All things considered, Captain M'Kantu would probably consider this R-and-R and take the time out of his allotted shore leave when they got back to the Galaxy.

He couldn't help but be amused that Faylin had decided to pick a place for the maximum amount of possible exposure she could get. Most people in her situation would camp in out in their quarters for most of their off-duty time. Nope, not her. She preferred to be right in the thick of it.

The Bajoran stopped just a few inches from the table at which Faylin was sitting and inclined his head in a polite nod. Before he said anything, he wanted to see if she'd actually wanted him to come over, or had just waved in order to let him know she was fine so he could turn around and go back to where he'd come from and leave her in peace.

"Hi. Care to sit....and give me some of your time?"

Miramon frowned when the woman spoke. He knew who she was because he'd talked to her after the surgery, and it wasn't as though her face had undergone any other major changes since then, but the voice was different. Sometimes Starfleet really did go some extremes when it came to this sort of thing. As it was, he still hadn't forgiven the Doctors aboard the Galaxy for what they'd done to his nose when he'd been on assignment in Hydran territory. That was the only thing that didn't make him look human, for goodness sakes. Hiding that was just not something he enjoyed at all.

He did as instructed and took a seat, glancing at Faylin with a weary expression.

"Have you been inhaling Helium, or do you just have a sore throat you forgot to mention? I'm sure Sickbay can give you something for that, though I'll understand if you've seen enough of Doctors for a while."

"Bite me Terrik." Upon hearing herself speak, she had to smile and shake her head. "Is it just me, or do I sound like a holovid porn star?"

"A what? Oh, I remember. Humans do have an odd habit of watching other members of their species coupling with one-another. It's most indecent. There's no Bajoran equivalent." Miramon paused for a moment, giving her question some thought. "I can't say I've ever heard such an individual speak, though, so I shall assume you wanted an affirmative answer and yes, you do."

"That's what I thought. Starfleet hates me...they really do." She took a sip of her tea. "Oh! And, that's not the worst part Miramon.

Look at this." Julliette flipped him an electronic version of Intergalactic Playmale JAG edition.

Miramon glanced at the PADD, his blonde eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. He was tempted to express his opinion on the whole thing, but decided now was not a good time to get his head bitten off, so wisely held his tongue.

She grabbed it away. "I didn't mean really look at it! I'm in there...both of me. Who ever thought of this...just a sick sense of humor...."

"That would be putting it mildly. I dare say it would be best if that sort of thing didn't around. Attracting attention to yourself is not exactly what we're here for, remember? Not that I attract much attention myself, not with this uniform." Miramon pinched a bit of the teal collar beneath his black and grey uniform jacket, indicating what he meant. "You know how it is. Doctor or Counsellor, we really know how to make people run. In the opposite direction. Without stopping for doors."

He gave a gentle smirk, clearly amused by the mental image. As far as he was concerned, if Starfleet just employed more Doctors and Counsellors, they'd need never worry about enemy threats from beyond the Alpha Quadrant. Heck, the Borg would take one look at the vast number of therapy sessions arrayed before them and take themselves back to the Delta Quadrant and stay there. Resistance might be Futile, but maybe we should discuss your persistence issues over tea and cookies...

"So, that's why your still single? Woman run away?" Julliette's smirk grew into a grin. The features on her face softened somewhat as she gave a cursory glance to her surroundings. This ship was nice, but she missed the Galaxy. The people were not the same, even though the uniforms might be.

"The only people that don't are Doctors and Counsellors, and can you imagine dating them? Another Counsellor would be too busy trying to get inside my head to have any fun, and a Doctor would keep pestering me to take a physical. And you can take that however you like."

The Bajoran nodded emphatically. Admittedly, there had been that fling with Ember, but she'd moved on to greener pastures, and he remained the same as always, in his quarters with his cat. Boring, perhaps, but it was what he had, and he was fine with it for the time being.

"It's hard...this is. I don't sound the same, I can't act the way I'm used to acting, I don't look the same way. And when I get back to the Galaxy, I can't see the people I'm used to seeing." Her eyes cast downwards as thoughts of Steven flowed through her mind. "No one can know. Well, except you and the Captain."

"Which is not to say you can't get to know people again, so to speak.

It won't be easy, but think of it this way: it's the perfect opportunity to have a fresh start. Mend some fences, build some bridges and any other relationship metaphor involving home improvements and construction work. I can't say I think you'll be lonely for company."

"I'm going insane. I need to do something wild......" She smirked upon viewing his amused look. "Of course, I have no idea what a Bajoran counselor does that's considered wile. Perhaps.....read the latest psychology journal?"

Miramon nodded, inwardly amused, but playing along. "That's exactly what we do. Have you been reading my personal logs? Seriously, there's nothing more I like to do than sit down on a Saturday night with a glass of wine, a little music, the lights on low and the latest thrilling installment as provided by the Federation Psychology Council."

She steeled her hands together. "I knew I had you tagged counselor."

Jules waggled her finger at him. "I on the other hand, do the same thing, except with the latest Universal Law Review." Rinaldi tipped her glass to him. Leaning back in her seat, she cleared her throat and studied him for a moment. "Tell me, what exactly do you do for fun?"

"I don't like to stick to just a few things. I'll try everything once.

If I'm not kicking Saul around, I'm cooking in my quarters, playing with my cat, practising Tai Chi, enjoying a Holonovel, scaring junior crewman. Whatever takes my fancy at the time. Now you have a new face and personality, what are you going to do for fun?"

"It sounds like you have a very full and content life." Jules paused.

"I've always heard it stated that blonds have more fun, I suppose I'm going to test out that theory. Within reason of course. Part of my 'reconditioning' is focused on learning new hobbies. Seeing that I can't act like I used to, I won't be seducing every man that crosses my path. Pity, that was so fun."

The Bajoran smirked at that. He'd heard quite a few things like that when aboard the Galaxy - privately, she was referred to as the new 8-Ball, possessing a similar Joie de Vivre, but a little more modesty.

At least, nobody had mentioned anything about Faylin walking around starkers in his hearing. Maybe that was something that would have come with time.

"I've been taught archery and horse back riding. Fortunately, not at the same time, or else several horses would be dead." Jules snickered. "Hey, I have an idea....how about you teach me the basics of Tai Chi? That is, if your interested."

"I could do that, but you mind find it boring. It was something I picked up at the Academy. One of the nations of Earth developed it on a belief surrounding an all encompassing, life-giving energy, which struck me as similar to Bajoran beliefs. Works for me, but assuming you didn't fall over every two minutes, you'd fall asleep. And I'm told that sleeping isn't one of your usual avenues of fun."

"No, I don't consider sleeping fun....unless." She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Sorry. I am supposed to come off as a beauty queen with a certain upright modesty. What a freaking joke." Jules tapped her manicured fingernail on the table. "Since we are getting to know each other.....what kind of woman do you go for?"

A shrug was all she got as a reply to start with. To be honest, Miramon was never sure. He always thought he'd preferred women that were polite, upbeat but a little modest. That said, this was coming from the same guy that had ended up having a fling with Ember Lansky, and that had been something of a first and last date without the formality of a date. And his family always wished he'd move back to Bajor and settle down with a nice conservative Bajoran woman. And yet he hadn't done that either. It was a quandary.

"I don't know, Fay. My cat is boisterous, energetic and a real pain when it comes to leaving my things alone. Do you think that's indicative of my preferences when it comes to woman? Maybe lacking a wife or girlfriend of said temperament, I picked up a kitten I ended up being allergic to? I have as much clue about my preferences as you do."

She shook her head back and forth, not in a negative tone, but just for something to occupy herself with. "Personally Marimon, I see you with someone that compliments you, and by that I mean your opposite.

Your so calming to be around, I'm surprised you have not attracted a totally hyper woman who feels calm when she's in your presence.

However, I could be wrong. When was the last time you had a date?"

"I would be lying if I said recently," he noted calmly. He was usually more amused than embarrassed by that particular idea. He was, of so he felt, one of life's bachelors. "And, please, it's Miramon. When you call me that, I keep thinking back to Earth Mythology. Robin Hood and his Marimon. It's Miramon or Terrik. Lieutenant to my superiors, Sir to my subordinates and 'hey you' to everyone else, okay?" He shook his head and grinned at her, obviously indicating that he wasn't serious (as though she needed the hint).

"It's my pet nickname for you. But fine, I'll call you 'Terrik'."

Jules looked downwards, picking her thumb cuticle with her opposite thumb nail. She just stuck her tongue out at him in retribution for the gentle hint. Offering him a coy smile, she finished the last of her drink. "Well, then...we need to remedy that problem of yours."

Miramon rolled his ice-blue eyes and groaned at that. "Another person who wants to help me find a date. Saul insists I need to be married, Nara was a little more, uh, forthcoming on her thoughts, and now this.

Why does everyone do this? I'm the counsellor. I give people advice, listen to their problems, then promptly direct the guys to 8-Ball and the women to Mr Krieghoff. Solves all their problems."

"Kreighoff? God, that's a horrid idea!" She paused, then leaned forward, popping a blond defined eyebrow upwards. "What's with Kreighoff?"

"Karyn indicated that he needed to sleep with somebody, so I figured that it wouldn't hurt to make the suggestion to a few of the female crew members. Not sure if they did anything about it, but I only give them a nudge in the right direction," Miramon remarked, his expression completely innocent.

Smirking, she laughed. "Oh please. I bet Saul could give that dark knight a run for his money. I didn't say I wanted to find you a date, I just stated that I thought it would be a good idea if you explore the field....in a round about way. That's what I meant anyway. You never know...someone might be right in front of you...and you'd never know it unless you ask." Motioning a waiter, she ordered a cherry limeade. It arrived a few moments later, with a cherry ran through a small umbrella stick.

"True, but Bajorans are not quite as quick to, uh, check out the field as humans seem to be." He thought about that for a moment, then shook his head and decided to amend that statement. Not all Bajorans had traditional values. "Most of us, anyway. We're a little more circumspect, but then, we have rituals for everything. And the idea of relationships with non-Bajorans is only something that we've started seeing over the past 30 or so years."

"Wow. So, what are you? Traditional or not in retrospect to personal relationships?"

"A mixture of both," he said honestly. "I'm a careerist, so the idea of settling down and raising a family isn't really something I'd spent a lot of time figuring out. I joined Starfleet later than most, so my career was just getting started by the time I should have married and started on children. So maybe I left it a little late. Who knows?"

"I see." She stated simply.

He smirked at her, his amusement reflected in his eyes. "I wish I did."

"There's still time you know. To marry and children. If that's an interest for you. For me....well, I've been there and done that. And according to Starfleet, my marriage is no longer valid....since I'm actually dead. That's hard to swallow Terrik. How do I deal with that? To finally find someone that loves me, only to be told that I can't love him or be with him?"

This was more familiar territory for Miramon. This sort of thing he could definitely handle. "Doesn't sound like that which Starfleet dictated. The surgery is convincing enough that we could return to the Galaxy and you could go back into your relationship with barely a raised eyebrow. And, hey, you're younger than me. If I still have time, so do you. Like I said, consider this a fresh start, an opportunity to wipe the slate clean and do things the way you want to, unencumbered."

"I was told, I was not allowed contact with him. I truly have to start over. There are rules that I must obey....or I'm heading to a penal colony. They are actually giving me an 'assistant' that follows me around to make sure I follow their orders. I'm considered, to be a criminal. And rightly so. The things I've done....." She stopped, shaking her head yet again back and forth. "It's a new start, but....it cost me everything."

The Counsellor nodded. He didn't ask for details - he didn't need to know them. If she wanted to talk, she would do so in her own time.

That said, he suspected that Faylin would find a way to adapt. She'd been through a lot, but she'd managed well enough so far. Still, he wouldn't be in his job if he didn't try and put a positive spin on things.

"Wouldn't be a new start if things remained almost the same as before, Fay," he noted. "I know, it's not easy working your way forward from here, but leave yourself open to the possibilities and see what happens. If all else fails, you could just resign your commission and do what you feel best, regardless of what Starfleet wants."

Jules took a sip of her new drink, then eyed the counselor. "That, is not an option. I would end up dead within twenty four hours."

Suddenly, she felt a pang of sorrow. She missed Steven with everything she had. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go be by myself for a bit." The tone of her voice revealed the longing she had for simpler days.

"I can leave you alone. But should you need to talk, all you have to do is call." Miramon tapped the commbadge on his jacket with a fingernail to indicate what he meant, then stood up, neatly sidestepping his chair and pushing it back under the table, much as he had found it on arriving. "But try not to dwell too much on the issue.

It's good to remember the things we had, but better to keep in mind what we have. And right now, you have health, you have a career and you have a whole lot of future to try and find some semblance of normalcy in your life again."

"Yes, I suppose you do have to be at my beck and call, seeing you have nothing else to do on this ship. Fleet really thought this out." She sighed, her face falling. "Terrik, would you like to join me for a drink later?"

"So we can talk and this time we can both drink, rather than me sitting here watching you drinking? It's a fun spectator sport, but it'll get old after a while. Sure."

Jules smirked. "You come from a long line of sarcastic Bajoran's don't you? Well, I thought an evening in could be fun. You know, a little music, some wine, the latest law and psychological reviews in our laps....so on and so forth." She stood, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for being here....you always appear just when I need you the most." Rinaldi smiled softly before turning to leave.

"It's what they pay me for. Well, if they paid me." He shook his head as he watched her preparing to leave. "There's definitely something wrong with this arrangement."

"What's that? The fact that they don't pay you or the fact that you have to trail around a hot, overly wonderful, funny, smart blond for a large period of time?" She posed the question with a wink of her long eyelashes before she spoke once more. "See you around 7 Terrik....oh, and bring your psychological review...."

"A New Life"

Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison/AWACS Pilot

***

Paulo sat on the couch in his small quarters with a bottle of a mostly empty whiskey bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. The lights where off and the atmosphere was grim. He had a look on his face, a look that said he was planning something. In truth he was. He was planning something. Something was wrong and no one was fixing it. Section 31 was gone, but this wasn't them.

Section 13, they where more or less a joke and reported directly to the head of Starfleet now. The Obsidian order hadn't been around for years and the Tal Shiar was as joke now. Someone though was pulling the strings.

Suddenly he threw the glass across the room. The glass smashed against the bulkhead into thousands pieces before he dropped the whiskey bottle and standing up. The whiskey bottle fell to the floor, smashing and having the remains of the whiskey seep into the floor. He walked over to his desk and sat down and picked up a padd.

He picked up his pen before starting to write.

This is the last log entry I will ever make as a Starfleet Officer. This is a note of intention and will be delivered to my commanding officer upon execution of my plan. No other member of the crew. Cora did not have a thing to do with this. She didn't help me, nor did she know of my plans.

There is something very wrong with the universe. There has been so much needless death. So many friends and family taken. It has nothing to do with the battle of Romulus or the coming war. There is something else. Someone else is pulling the strings. I have a new drive now to find out what happened to my sister so many years ago. A drive that is going to cost me my Starfleet carrier and make me a fugitive, but that is something I am willing to live with.

I have no grand idea that I will be able to stop whatever this is, but I am willing to try. As far as I know this feeling could be unwarranted and all this bad luck that happens around me could be just that, bad luck, but I can no longer sit around and do nothing. I need to do something. Could it lead me back to Starfleet or the Federation some day? Maybe. But till then I will be int eh shadows.

I will be in the shadows watching and acting. I will find my sister this time. I will find out what is going on. And I will be back. That you can be sure of. I will be back to expose whatever is going on.

I have never been good with people and who knows; maybe it has made this decision easier. The only two people that mean a damn to me are here on the Galaxy, and one of them is dead. What good is a dead friend? Nothing.

To Saul Bental, who will most likely take lead on this investigation, don't bother. You will not be able to track me. My files will tell you nothing.

Everything I have "officially" noted has been destroyed or taken with me.

To Cora... dear Cora. I am sorry. I am sorry I wont be around anymore, but I promise you will see me again. Anything that Intelligence doesn't confiscate is yours. I don't have a lot, some pictures, but I would still like you to have them.

Major Rex. I feel that you may have misplaced your trust. The trust in giving me a chance and joining your team. I pretty much took that trust and shoved it back into your face, and I am sorry for that. Oh, and I am sorry about the runabout.

To Captain M'Kantu. I feel I have betrayed you the most. Captain Henderson had given me a second chance and you let that go, trusting in his decision, but now it seems to have been a bad one. Maybe those voices in the back where right after all. Maybe the Captain should have forced me to retire like his superiors had wanted. I don't believe that you will get any backlash, but I am sorry.

Sorry for having you put your trust in me.

And that is all I have to say. Again, this will be delivered to my commanding officer upon execution of my plans.

Paulo sat the padd down on his desk and saved it and set it for delivery to Captain M'Kantu and Major Rex at midnight. "Midnight is a good time," he said out loud as he looked over at the clock. It was 2300. "More then enough time."

The night shift would be on duty now, and they were not known to be the brightest of the shifts. Should be easy enough to fool them into thinking he was taking the AWACS Runabout out for a test.

"Computer, open up directory DiMillo Alpha 2 2 3, authorization DiMillo black omega."

["Directory opened."]

"Execute program DiMillo Clean."

The computer paused a second before replying. ["Program DiMillo Clean has successfully run. All files and logs under Pilot Paulo DiMillo have been deleted. Backups have been deleted."]

Paulo smiled with a sigh. "Well, thank you Anna," he said. The fake Anna had thought him a thing or two about covering once tracks. "Computer, set sanitation level to maximum settings in my quarters and run as soon as I leave."

["Warning, any organic material left in the sanitation area will be killed."]

"I know, override. Authorization DiMillo alpha 2 6 1 gamma."

The computer simply beeped.

He looked around. "Wait, computer. Set up a containment field around my plants on my desk before running sweep." Cora would want those.

The computer again beeped.

Paulo walked to his closet and pulled out his civilian cloths before tossing them into a bag that had been siting on his bed since before the whiskey bottle.

He walked back over to his desk before opening a draw and pulling out a pile of paper. It was actual paper that had been covered in writing. "The least traceable method of keeping notes," he said to himself as he tossed them into his bag.

He walked back to his closet and pulled out a clean uniform jacket and put his com badge on it. He would have to at least act like a Starfleet Officer for a few more minutes. He took one last look around before taking the bag and putting it over his shoulder and walking out of his quarters. He heard the computer automatically lock the door and activate the sterilization field.

He smiled. He simply smiled and headed down the corridor, heading for for the flight deck.

A few minutes later he arrived and walked over to his new AWACS Runabout.

Unfortunately he hadn't been give combat pilot flight status, at least for a fighter. Would have been easier to escape in a fighter, but he would have to deal with a Runabout. He would have to scrap it quick though. A Starfleet Runabout with a fugitive wouldn't last long, even if he disabled his transponder and covered his warp trail.

He took one last looked round before taking off his combadge and dropping it onto the ground before entering. He tossed his bag onto the co-pilots seat and sat down in his pilots seat. "Computer, start preflight," he ordered. "Create a que for operations to be run after take off."

The computer again beeped.

"As soon as we are clear of the Galaxy disable the on board transponder and start masking our wrap trail using a tacheyon field," he said as he entered a fake flight plan into the Operations computer on board the Galaxy. "DiMillo to flight control, requesting permission to disembark on a test flight. Want to check out a few changes."

["Stand by,"] he heard come back. A minute later they finally responded. ["We don't have you marked down for a test flight."]

"I know," Paulo replied. "It's just a simple run around the block. I wont even be going outside the orbit of Remus. I just came up with a few changes that I want to test out so I can report them to the Major tomorrow."

Paulo looked down. It was 2345. He had less then 15 minutes to get out before that message was delivered. Not to mention he had to make it out now or they would become suspicious after a heavy sanitation sweep of his quarters and that all his files and logs and suddenly been deleted. "Common," he muttered to himself.

["Permission granted,"] the deck chief finally replied. ["The watch CO has given his okay. The watch CO has also asked that you keep your trip under a hour."]

"Don't worry control, it will be much shorter then that. DiMillo out," he said and closed the lines and powered everything up. "Let's roll," he said as he lifted the runabout off the deck and flew it out into space. "Computer, execute que commands."

The computer beeped again. This time the transponder stopped transmitting and as soon as Paulo went to warp the computer started covering his trail with a tacheyon field.

Paulo sighed and set course for a remote corner of the Federation. "Might as well start off where I got myself into trouble last time," he said with a grin.

Back on the Galaxy it was quickly realized that the AWACS Runabout the Paulo took out was no longer in the system nor was there a transponder signal. The watch CO realized something bigger was up when the Captain walked onto the bridge with a padd in his hand. The padd containing the last log that Paulo ever recorded.

"The Strength of Conviction" - Part VIII

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

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

Raev Maec listened intently to all the speakers. There were many good ideas and many Raev agreed with. He liked the idea of an intelligence agency headed by one person, such as Donatra headed the Galae. He also thought internal and external affairs should be under one roof. The leaders of this new intelligence organization should, however, be within easy reach of the Empress, Praetor, and Senate, not on Ch'Havran. The senate proper, should also not be involved.

Well, Aren figured he might as well point out the one noticable concern. "It is forseeable that there may be Senators, particularly after the invasion, without direct relatives to appoint, your majesty.

Perhaps the term...'appointee'...would be more suitable for the sake of legality and equality?"

Kaidalin nodded, "That would be fine, Senator."

"Perhaps the Empress has already recognized this point," Delon Valdran inclined his head respectfully, "but the issue of personnel has one other problem that ought to be addressed prior to any certainties being made. There are those among us who have relatives within the Tal Shi'ar or RNI. It would be a blatant and woeful conflict of interest to permit that same relative - or any appointee in the words of Senator Rital - an appointment to the Terrh Saeihr. We do not want our watchdog biting us when our back is turned."

"We expect the Senators to use their discretion when appointing Rihan to an organization like the Terrh Saeihr," the Empress replied with a nod to acknowledge the point, "We expect individuals who are completely loyal to the appointing Senator, for if that is the case, then it may not be an entirely bad idea to use someone who has previously worked in, or at least with, these intelligence agencies. Their familiarity with the organizations could prove to be valuable."

Kaidalin paused, "Of course, once someone is appointed to the Terrh Saeihr, they would not longer be eligible to work for the Tal Shi'ar and the RNI...ever again and in any capacity, official or otherwise.

The laws would be designed to be such that any violation of that last requirement would amount to treason."

Still smarting a little at the veiled, not so veiled and open insults that had been spoken to him in the last day, some here in this very room t'Sannellieu had bitten his lip for a moment to still the harsh rebukes that might have caused more blood to be shed on this floor, Rihan had long memories and some here would one day remember this day as the start of their decline. "Perhaps one of the appointees should 'be' an intercessor, or other suitably qualified legal authority," he suggested after some thought, "so that the law has a voice as well."

"There will be no Tal Shi'ar representative on this Senate, in any capacity. Ever."

One of the 'supervisory' crew standing over the worker class that continued to clear away the damaged aspects of the Hall moved forward into the center of the great talons, his hood concealing dark features.

Only the ashen skin of a sharply jutting chin and lower lip could be seen.

"Why do you disturb these proceedings," Aehkhifv inquired of this new figure. He had an inkling of just who it was behind the hooded features, but in this day and age, it was best to be cautious when certainty was not at hand.

"Why, because I am the Praetor, and it is I that has the sole power to appoint a representative." Hitan threw back his hood, amidst gasps and erupted chatter from around the Senate benches. Omar scowled, though only minutely. It took the Praetor long enough to finally come out.

"The Tal Shi'ar have a history of defying the will of the Senate, in their own self-righteous and misrepresented cause of 'mnhei'sahe'." He cupped his hands in front of the plain cloak, deliberately touring each seat and to all Senators, old and new alike. "They do not share the same forward-thinking view the rest of us share, nor do they respect the chain of government. They defied the order of the Senate to join with the Obsidian Order during the Dominion War and it was costly.

They obtained information through the Senate throughout the War, but did not offer it in return. They have no honor. They would plunge our world into a war just to regain their seat on the council. Millions died because of their obsession. They do not hold Rihan values dear.

They only hold their own in the guise of others. I will not appoint a new Chairman. The seat shall remain empty, to gather dust as a symbol of denouncement." Hitan stopped at the head of the former Chairman - Koval's - seat. "Koval's death shall ring in a new era of death to corruption." The Praetor turned around to stare directly into Omar's eyes.

"I have assassinated the scourge of Rihan society. I intend to issue a disbanding of the Tal Shiar completely."

Rital sighed. He'd hoped to stay out of any 'arguments' this go around, but quite frankly that was becoming impossible. Aren stared at Hitan... practically glaring. Assassination wasn't uncommon, but it wasn't ever so blazenly admitted to either. "So, you freely admit to murder, Praetor? And worse yet, openly flaunt your intention of abandoning the duty demanded of you by your post? You have the right to chose, no where do you have the right to abstain."

"I would suggest you think more deeply about what you plan to say before you insert your foot any farther into your mouth, Senator Rital," Aehkhifv said, his voice not entirely hiding the threat contained within. "The Praetor has killed no one, though the Tal Shiar as an organization will soon be dead. I suggest you learn to slow down and read between the lines more often, you will go much father that way. As it stands, the Praetor is fully justified in taking whatever course of action against you he feels is necessary. You tread a thin and precarious line."

He turned to the Praetor. "However, I must ask what you intend, Praetor Hitan. Will the RNI take up the positions and duties the Tal Shiar hold once you have obliterated them into obscurity and myth, or do you have other intentions in mind?" There was no sarcasm or anything hinting as derision. It was a simple, honest inquiry.

"To even dismiss or even disband the Tal Shi'ar is a huge mistake."

Tal Khev said. "It would make us into a even bigger laughing stock of the galaxy than we already are. I cannot sit by and allow this to pass." he said, standing once more. "The Tal Shi'ar has been around ever since the Empire has been founded. It has always been seeing as a symbol of strength and was something to be feared. If we take that symbol away, we might as well just cede all of our worlds to the Federation, The Klingons, and the Triad!"

Rital didn't make a move, other then to simply grin in Aehkhifv's direction, the quitessential 'got you' smile plastered on his lips. It was a big mistake to play one's cards completely... and he knew well enough that those who threatened most often had the most to lose.

"Might I remind you again of some of the less notable events in the recent history of the Tal'Shiar," t'Sannellieu said quietly, "Notable figures defected to foreign powers right under their noses, as has already been mentioned their calamitous joint attack on the Founders with the Obsidian order, their constant withholding of information over the years until it suited their means. Assasinations intrigue and deception from a group supposedly dedicated to the welfare of all Rihan. Allowing the 'reunification' movement to continue and be spearheaded by a Federation Ambassador no less, need I say more."

Turning to face Hitan he raised an eyebrow, "if there is to be no new chairman, what is your proposal Praetor."

"Yes, Praetor, what exactly do you propose?" Omar, the 'former' Tal Shi'ar agent was not keen on having his agency be dissolved into obscurity. They'd done much to elevate the Rihan into legendary status throughout the aeons, even giving many of the Senators here the influence they now wield. At a price, of course. And now they were about to pay it back with elimination. He'd see about that. Hitan didn't hold the power to pass motions on his own. He needed the Senate to pass it. And that would take some convincing.

"The Strength of Conviction" - Part IX

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

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

"Yes, Praetor, what exactly do you propose?" Omar, the 'former' Tal Shi'ar agent was not keen on having his agency be dissolved into obscurity. They'd done much to elevate the Rihan into legendary status throughout the aeons, even giving many of the Senators here the influence they now wield. At a price, of course. And now they were about to pay it back with elimination.

He'd see about that. Hitan didn't hold the power to pass motions on his own. He needed the Senate to pass it. And that would take some convincing.

"The RNI will hold its own seat on the Senate, albeit a non-voting capacity.

They will be under authority from the Senate." Hitan crossed his arms over the bare khaki leather that covered his hollow chest, striding from one side of the logo on the floor, to the other, where the Senators were gathered in both seated and standing positions. They remained silent as per their place while he made his announcements.

"I do have an interest in this familial oversight committee. I will concede this rider."

"Praetor," the Proconsul, seeing his opening, stood and took the floor alongside the Senate leader. "Perhaps I, as Proconsul, in concert with Admiral Donatra, speak for the RNI on the Senate. Intelligence is primarily for the military after all, and as Proconsul, it should be my duty and obligation to mediate between the military and government."

Hitan narrowed his eyes. What was Omar trying to accomplish? His precious Tal Shi'ar was simply a footnote now; was he attempting to subvert authority in order to twist the RNI to his own ends. The Praetor decided to gauge the Senate's perceptions and allegiances on the matter. Perhaps this would a costly compromise, but he if Omar would be appointed, it would only take his death to remove the last fringes of the rogue agency from the Senate. And Donatra as well as the Terrh Saeihr would be an added deterrent.

"I invite the Senate to discuss this motion." Hitan averted his eyes to the floor on concession and returned to his seat, Omar flowing slightly behind.

Now there was a conundrum. No one really 'liked' the Tal Shi'ar but they did serve their purpose despite their methods being highly questionable at times. It wasn't a perfect organization by far but it was better than most.

Every society had one like it whether that society knew it or not. Right now, s'Tei didn't have an answer or even a plausible idea at the moment.

Organizations like the Tal Shi'ar were a double edged sword capable of cutting both ways. That was something s'Tei's constituents wanted to avoid.

Hearing a low pitched beep, tuned low enough so that only the sensitive ears of a Vulcanoid would pick up it's soft chirping, t'Sannellieu looked down to the Data slate that rested on the desk he was leaning on. Twisting the screen around so that he could read the print that scrolled slowly across the screen before him he felt his anger and incredulity at what he was reading rise, along with the bile from his stomach. Calming himself and re-read the information carefully.

~ Oh Elements, what twisted schemes you play! ~ He thought to himself.

Checking the data once more he sent a request for verification to his aide who sat outside. Receiving the confirmation he thought best how to deliver the information that had just been decrypted.

~ Did the Tal'Shiar know? ~ he wondered, ~ Did anyone? ~ The data had been a hard won secret, and had travelled the length of the Federation to get here, costing him much, in personal sacrifices and mnhei'sahe. The information had just now been decrypted, and confirmed the worst of his suspicions, and the worst of the rumors that had led him to seek it out in the first place.

While the help required would be forthcoming from the Federation, how would this affect future dealings. Would it lead to an alliance, of a much different nature.

~ This is why we are here, we are the leaders of the Rihannsu! ~ he reminded himself as he pushed away from the desk he casually leant on, ~ I have found this, now 'we' must decide, our people deserve the whole truth! ~

"Whatever the decision, the organisation and head of it, or those chosen to monitor it will need to be more vigilant that any have been in the past,"

t'Sannellieu said as he picked up the data slate and stepped away from his seat and into the centre of the room. Limping heavily, his leg still in a support brace he paused before the Praetor and the Empress, "Empress, Praetor, colleagues," he began simply, "I must ask your indulgence to allow me to share with you information that has just been verified and decrypted by my staff. My apologies this was not ready prior to our earlier deliberations, but I was not sure it would be of relevance, and before this I had only the briefest of hearsay and rumour."

Holding up the data slate he turned slowly, "I have before me here a transcript of a meeting held on Earth some time ago, the information will be made available to you all should you wish it and I will even provide you with the means to verify its authenticity if you wish. In this meeting several high ranking Starfleet officers debriefed a Starfleet Captain on a proposal he had made during the Dominion war. A proposal that was to lead to our inclusion into the Federation war with the Dominion by deceit and murder. Acts committed by Captain Benjamin Sisko himself with the full approval of Starfleet!"

"The Strength of Conviction" - Part X

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

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

Holding up the data slate he turned slowly, "I have before me here a transcript of a meeting held on Earth some time ago, the information will be made available to you all should you wish it and I will even provide you with the means to verify its authenticity if you wish. In this meeting several high ranking Starfleet officers debriefed a Starfleet Captain on a proposal he had made during the Dominion war. A proposal that was to lead to our inclusion into the Federation war with the Dominion by deceit and murder. Acts committed by Captain Benjamin Sisko himself with the full approval of Starfleet!"

A chorus of shouts and accusations went up then, sending the room into chaos once more. A low growl escaped the lips of Dhivael t'Vrentath; such bickering was not only irritating, it was above them. The leaders of the Rihannsu Star Empire should have had more dignity than to argue amongst themselves like children.

"Please, please," t'Sannellieu cried over the voices that threatened to prevent him from being heard, "I will be brief, then I will share all the information I have here," pausing a moment to clear his throat, and to let the noise level abate somewhat he continued when the great hall was nearly silent again, "In brief fellow senators, Captain Sisko was the author of an insidious plot to draw us into their conflict with the Dominion. Making the decision on his own he decided that if we would not aid them voluntarily, then he would coerce us into aiding them. Unable to obtain anything remotely usable, Captain Sisko conspired with Elim Garak, a former member of the Obsidian Order, and now heavily involved in the reconstruction of Cardassia.

Using falsified information forged locally they lured Senator Vreenak to Deep Space Nine."

"With his plan approved and endorsed by Starfleet he presented his evidence to the Senator who subsequently left Deep Space Nine, and as we all know was killed shortly after. Vreenaks shuttle was recovered, what was left of it, and analysis initially indicated that the Dominion was responsible for the attack. In the wreckage was found a Cardassian optolythic data rod. We are all well aware of the contents of 'that' file. The file however was a forgery!" he declared loudly and indignantly. "The file was created by one Grathon Tolar, a master holoforger who was later killed to cover up his part in this insidious plot!"

"Recent advances have allowed us to scan the rod, and verify that the data inconsistencies are not due to the damage sustained during the explosion, but that they were present during the creation of the file. Clear evidence that the data rod was programmed with a very well programmed forgery!"

Tossing the data slate down before him it landed with a clatter in the now silent room.

"That this outrage was allowed to happen in the first place is insult enough, but that it has taken this long to come to light, and by 'my'

hand and not the efforts of any Intelligence agency loyal to us should only add to the issues this brings up. My friends, we have been deceived!" he declared passionately and with a towering anger. Drawing his Honour blade he held it before him, "and by my honour, if I should ever meet those responsible," halting suddenly he turned to face Hitan and lowered his blade, pausing for a breath, t'Sannellieu sketched a shallow bow, "Forgive me Praetor," he asked after he had composed himself.

"You know, Hitan," the Empress finally spoke again, her voice cold and weary, "Since I have been in these chambers, I have been converted.

You know that I believe in progress...in moving forward. But there has been a great deal of clamor here about a return to the good old days."

She gave all gathered a bemused smile, "I begin to think that may not entirely be a bad idea. Perhaps We should dissolve the Senate and return to the Golden Age - when the Throne alone was responsible for the Rihan."

"One voice for one people. Would that not simplify matters?" Letting the question hang in the air for a moment, the diminuitive senator from Korthre province stood, her gaze meeting the Empress'. It was no secret that Dhivael t'Vrentath cared little for Kaidalin t'Vriesu's ideals; the fact that she had been the only senator to openly vote against the motion to aceept Federation aid made that painfully obvious. However, Dhivael was above all things a practical woman; if it meant that decisions would be made and actions could be carried out, instead of this endless bickering, she would gladly advocate a return to such a system.

"Yes," Kaidalin agreed with a drawn out sigh, "I suppose. Still...I suspect that course of action would rid me of the horrid pounding in my head."

Forming a steeple with her fingers, the Empress sat back in her throne, every sign of amusement gone from her person and replaced with ages of tradition and power, "No one may speak. Listen. And you...Senator t'Sannellieu, sit down...and pay heed. If you should ever draw a weapon in Our presence again, We will see you dead. That is a Promise of the Throne."

“Tiki Torches and Moonlight Part 10”

Lt. Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering
Mr. Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist
Major Corran Rex - Commander Aerospace Group
Lt. JG Faylin McAlister - JAG

***Location, Holo Deck, Faylin's party***

A sigh, unheard by others, escaped Michael as he saw Jonas leave. Finally he was gone. In some way he felt guilty of thinking that, but he couldn't deny it. Not at this point. Then again, was it that strange to feel like he did? What man would like it to see his girlfriend with another man? ...Was he overreacting? His mind hopped from one line of thought to another adding to the already chaotic mix of emotions he felt right now. But as soon as noticed Dhani looking at him he got his act together again along with the attempt to suppress his feeling so that she wouldn't notice too much.

"Hey, how's my Hawaiian girl doing?" Michael added his patented boyish smile while he moved a place up to sit next to Dhani.

Dhani smiled at him and slipped off the stool. Coming to stand before him she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Smiling softly at him as she pulled away she whispered, "You are terrible at hiding your feelings from me." the smile on her lips danced in a playful, mischievous way as she looked into his sparkling eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just..." From the smile Michael assumed that Dhani understood why he was feeling the way he did. Still, he wanted to explain it to her by telling her about it. But at the same moment he realized that was kind of silly. She knew the full story already. He still had to adjust to the fact that he couldn't hide anything from her anymore. In a way that was kind of...disturbing. Then again, he trusted that she would not read his mind if he really didn't want to. "Ah, what am I talking about? You know already, so what's the use, eh?"

Taking his hands Dhani stepped back, lifting him from his seat till he could do nothing but stand or fall off! Placing his hands around her waist she draped her arms over his shoulders. She still felt self conscious about what others would say or think, but whenever she was with Michael the rest of the world faded from view. "Kiss me." she said simply feeling her body warming from the embrace.

It was only after a quick look around that Michael looked back into Dhani's eyes. They stood in the middle of so many people and though everyone seemed to go about their business and did not stare at them, Michael hesitated for some moments. Kissing her here, in this way, would make their relationship public. It was not that Michael didn't want to - he didn't mind who would see it, he loved Dhani too much for that and wasn't ashamed to show it to everyone - but he thought that she wanted to keep their bond between them and Kala for now.

He drew her closer to him, and softly kissed her on her forehead. He smelled her perfume and smiled. "You sure?" he whispered next to her ear. "I thought you wanted to wait some more?”

Dhanishta just stared into his eyes, her shoulders shrugging slightly. She pursed her lips in contemplation as she cast an eye around the room. After a moments pause her dark eyes rested upon his once more. “I don't care what they think.” she replied simply. “Besides,” she whispered leaning in closer, “I need to stake my claim before someone else tries to bag my man.”

A playful smile crossed Michael's face. Dhani sure had a way of saying things. "And here I thought it was me who was being possessive..." He knew that line would trigger a response from her, but he'd placed a finger upon her lips before she could say a word. "Ssshh..." Slowly he replaced his finger with his lips and kissed Dhani. The kiss was a long and tender one. Like always their telepathic connection added to the pleasurable experience as it relayed their emotions and thoughts between them.

Dhanishta smiled as she pulled back from the kiss. The world faded for that moment and she was just lost as she stared into his eyes. Slowly she brought a hand up to twirl the slight curls that formed at the base of his neck. She licked her lips slightly as she went to speak yet paused and let out a soft snort of half hearted laughter, “We have been here on this ship, serving together for near three years now. I have died more than once, and each time you have been there, you have picked me up off the floor, you have held me when I was sad, and in all that time I never knew….” she broke off as her eyes misted slightly. Trailing her hand down to his face she grazed his cheek gently and cupped it in her hand. Tilting her head slightly as she reached up on tip toes she kissed him again, softly. Lingering there a moment she felt her whole body tingle until she lowered herself again and parted her lips from his. With a gentle smile on her lips and nothing but warmth in her eyes, “I was never looking for this.” she admitted, “But now that I have you, nothing is going to come between us.” Cupping both his cheeks she whispered, “I love you Michael McDowell. And you know what's funny? I always have.”

Michael could follow Dhani up until a certain point. Yes, he'd been there when she died, been there when she was sad and felt lost, but to him that had been nothing more that natural thing to do. At least, for him that is. From the very start he'd met Dhani he'd felt attracted to her, first physically but later - when they got to know each other better - also on other levels. It had turned into love. What man wouldn't do anything for the woman he loved?

The thing that caught him by surprise, even confused him, was that little remark of Dhani 'I always have'. Maybe it was just a simple statement to show how much she loved him...or was it more important than that? "You have...always loved me?"

Dhanishta smiled, it was one of sorrow and regret as she looked into his face and nodded. “Yes.” she replied softly, “I didn't know it though. Not until you left.” she paused to gather her thoughts and configure her words carefully. Chewing on her bottom lip, a trait that she never realized she had, she frowned and swallowed hard. “I remember the day you left. You slipped out so quietly as if you thought that none of us would notice or care. One of the guys told me while I was working that you had gone. I had been so wrapped up in concentrating on work rather than my life I didn't notice, I wasn't there for you. I ran to your quarters, stared into the empty space, so desolate without your presence. And then it hit me. A void that I didn't know was there, didn't even realize that you had filled it.” she paused again for a moment, talking about these memories made her chest ach slightly with the pain from that time. A vision of Ethan Suder nestled in the shadows of Michaels empty quarters filled her with more than pain. It reminded her of the violation they had bestowed upon each other. Something that she had shared with no one. Something that led to the assault and her coma. She blinked slowly trying to wash those memories away. She was happy now and she didn't want anything to detract from that.

“From the moment I met you in that bar on Lanjep I felt as if you had always been in my life. When you left, I realized just what you meant to me. But I couldn't do anything about it. You had to do what you did and I never for a second resent that. I wasn't ready then, and I didn't let myself dwell on the pain that your leaving caused me. Fate was kind enough to bring you back, and you were wise enough to hear me.” she smiled softly.

"You know that I still think about that day, the day I left? I didn't want to but I had no choice. Maybe I should've told you what I was up to, though at the time I didn't want you to get involved. I didn't want you to risk yourself for me." Michael sighed. He never knew that he did hurt her so much by leaving the Galaxy years ago. "I'm really sorry... I didn't know had such strong feelings for me. If I had only known, then maybe I wouldn't have even left."

She raised a finger to his lips, tracing the contours of his face. “It doesn't matter now. I didn't know that I felt that way until you left. By staying neither of us would have really known. That is the path that you had to take to bring you home. And if you hadn't taken it then we wouldn't be here, together, now.” she smiled softly her eyes wandering over his torso as she brought her hand down to rest upon it. “There is nothing for you to feel guilty about.” She lifted her head, “No regrets, okay?” she asked.

Michael smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eyes as he did so. "I'll try." he said, for lack of better words. Instead he continued with a kiss, not minding the dozens of people standing around them. He wondered how he ever managed to share quarters with her without actually being 'with' her. Gods knew it had not been easy. Once they parted again he kept looking in her eyes, those lovely deep dark green eyes. "I do love you so much Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe. I bet I'm the luckiest guy in the Universe right now."

She just grinned at him and pulled him down into another passionate kiss which lasted longer than she expected. For a moment she felt him lift her up and she giggled. If only they were anywhere else but here, the thoughts that floated through her mind as he set her gently down on the deck were far too graphic to be shared amongst others. “Come on.” she said realizing that they had been quite antisocial, “let's go mingle!”

Normally the words 'let's mingle' would not trigger such a positive response from Michael. He never had been a guy that liked to have chitchats about nothing with people he didn't really know, except when it came to Engineering stuff. But now, it was different. He was not longer the odd one out trying once again to be social. He didn't mind to get into the crowd and mingle anymore. Being with Dhani had changed all that. It bolstered his confidence in a way he had not expected.

Taking his hand she lead him through the meandering people, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turned to look back at him and the grin that was cemented on his face. There was a spark in his eyes, a depth to him that once had been filled with quiet reflection and sadness; now replaced with contentment and anticipation of excitement.

Dhanishta couldn't help but smile as she walked, to couple the spark in his eyes there was a new bounce in her step, a new light in her eyes too and her aura radiated the emotion of joy that she could no longer hide, no longer wanted to hide. It wasn't that she had been ashamed of her relationship with Michael, more that she was uncertain that it would last given its emotional origins, and her own hidden, secret, past. Yet somehow she knew that the past didn't matter to him. He elevated her on to a pedestal and almost worshiped her, and while that was a nice feeling, she was worried that he saw her through rose tinted spectacles and that when he realized she was not whole nor virtues, he would no longer love her. His world would be shattered.

But deep within her she knew that he was more sensible than that. He was not afraid, as others were, to pick her up on her flaws. To criticize her if that was needed. And so, even though he held her in great regard, this was a match of equals. She smiled at him again, his happiness mingling with hers adding an extra lift to her bounce.

Roaming through the crowds Dhani spied the very person she wanted to 'mingle' with: one Faylin McAlister. With Michael in toe, the pair walked up to join the conversation, lingering slightly out of ear shot so they wouldn't overhear anything sensitive.

"Fay?" Dhani called out softly, pausing a moment to look up at Michael. Her bashfulness over her budding relationship had faded somewhat which was apparent, as she held his hand, her fingers interlaced with his as they walked through the tropical scene.

Faylin turned, dropping her hand from Rex's shoulder. "Yes?" Waiting a minute for a response, she glanced at the glass and grinned as she finished her drink.

Stepping forward the pair joined Rex and McAlister to make a circle of sorts. "I just wanted to thank you." Dhani said smiling, "This place is utterly beautiful, and the party." she paused and looked around, "a much needed distraction."

Dropping Michaels hand she wrapped her arms around Fay and kissed her cheek, "Thank you." she said again.

"Um, okay." Fay giggled slightly as she hugged Dhani back. "It was nothing really." The affects of the alcohol were kicking in, making everything a little more humorous than they ought to be.

Taking in a breath of contentment Dhani turned to Fay's gentlemen friend. "I don't believe we have met." she said addressing him with a slight incline of her head, "Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe." she held out her hand in the common 'human' greeting, though truth be told she didn't really have a clue how Trill's addressed each other; main problem with being raised off the home world. Though Dhani had two, being a hybrid, so her allegiance had only ever rested with her birth place; Vulcan. Gees that was a messed up childhood she thought momentarily.

"Not officially." he smiled back. "Corran Rex, CAG. I.. interact mostly with your boss, Grey."

If "interact" could mean "dated and recently had a nasty breakup with", then sure, Corran decided. That was right. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, this is Michael McDowell." Dhanishta indicated Michael as she introduced him to the others. The smile on her face reflected the line in her head which she wasn't too comfortable to add at this point in time; boyfriend just sounded too much like high school for her tastes. Besides, she was sure that they would come to their own conclusions.

"Nice to meet you Michael." Faylin stated simply. For any other words, had the distinct possibility of coming out mixed up or slurred, not good for first impressions. Glancing over quickly, she wondered if someone's spots went all the way down. Shaking her head, Faylin focused on the people beside her.

Michael nodded and gave the woman before him a courteous smile. "The pleasure is all mine." He wondered if he did got it right by thinking that she was somewhat tipsy. As far as he could deduce she was.

Corran caught the glance - and the slight trailing - and knew exactly what Faylin was wondering. Catching her eyes for just a moment, he gave her a knowing wink.

Her smile was coy, yet cunning. As with many time before, she gave him a look that only males of any species knew as 'be forward, you are my dinner.' Biting her bottom lip ever so slightly, she turned and smiled at Michael. Grabbing Rex's hand in a manner as patient as she could be at the moment in mixed company, she looked towards Michael and Dhani. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you....Corran here promised to show me his um....you know...the thing he fly's..." 'Crap.' And with that, all resemblance of an attorney flew out the window for the rest of the evening. Turning slightly to Rex, her eyebrows shot up, the anxiety was all most too much to bear. "You ready?"

Dhani and Michael stood and watched the pair as they left. In a way Dhani imagined it was like watching two dancers quick stepping their way to the exit, and here Dhani thought Faylin was the type to stay till the end of the party. Guess you can't sum everyone up on first meeting! She giggled slightly as Rex and Faylin made it to the door with haste hampered by an underlying need to make there getaway look as natural as possible. Dhani wondered for a moment if she and Michael could slip off as unnoticed as Rex and Fay!

“Definition of Home, Part Four; Friends”

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

***Location USS Galaxy***

A short while later Arrietty saw Kimberly enter the main ward and pause to speak to another Doctor before heading to her office. Intercepting her before she reached it the nurse held up a PADD, "The patient reports Doctor, plus, you have someone waiting for you in your office."

"Who is it?" Kimberly asked somewhat absently, her mind on over a dozen patients, as well as functioning on only six hours sleep in the last few days, plus caffeine; she was only paying partial attention to the conversation once it has slipped from patient matters, focused as she was on the report. There had been a medley of details to oversee in the last few days, triage, wounded, dead. Plus, everything and anything that had happened also required copious quantities of paperwork. In triplicate.

"Lieutenant Eshe."

Snapping back to the conversation in a heartbeat she pushed the PADD back to Arrietty, "Hold on to this for me for a moment please." she asked even as she headed for her office. Almost running into her office she saw her friend, sat in a chair looking exhausted and half asleep mumbling softly to herself. Dhanishta's words were barley audible as she sat with her eyes half closed staring at the floor, "…breathe in, breathe out, blink… breathe in, breath out..."

Shocked at her appearance; bruised, bloody, dirty. Her hair was all over the place, literally, there were pieces slowly shedding onto the floor, and her uniform was a wreck, her loosely done up jacket revealing the near lack of uniform. Pausing for a second she took in the visage of her friend and said a brief prayer of thanks as she stepped in. Feeling a growing knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat she knelt by the chair Dhani was slumped in and literally grabbed her friend. Embracing Dhani in a fierce hug she held on to her and reassured herself this was no illusion, "Damn it, you had me worried!" she said in a voice full of emotion. Holding onto her she felt all the worries and concern she had been holding onto these last few weeks fade into the reassuring embrace that confirmed her friend was back.

The force of the near bear hug expelled the breath from Dhani's lungs forcibly. She gasped slightly as her body was pressed up close to who she assumed, and hoped, was Kimberly. A hand shake would have been fine, Dhanishta thought sourly as she fought to breathe in the embrace. Slowly however her arms reached around Kimberly to return the hug. They came to rest lightly around the woman, still thinking that a handshake would have been better, or maybe a punch in the face? As her chin came to rest on Kimberly's shoulder she retracted that last comment, nope; the face hurts already!

In fact all of me hurts, Dhani realized slowly as the embrace lingered on, really hurts. A pain rose within her chest as she caught the scent of Burton's hair as several locks dislodged themselves and fell into her face, tickling her nose. It was no longer the tightness of the hug that stifled her, but the rising sobs that rose up from the pit of her belly. Her chin wobbled and her face scrunched up, she pushed against the urge, her face already hurt enough. But she couldn't contain it. The relief that raged through her was overwhelming. She hadn't realized just how worried she had been about Kimberly, the elation she felt at seeing her again, holding her, knowing that she was alive; it was just too much. Her arms tightened around her, until she returned the force of the embrace with a passion to match. She felt her muscles relax for the first time in weeks, and then it all flooded out, unable to contain the grief over what had happened, the elation from it all finally being over, the shear joy from seeing her friend again and the rush of warmth and bizarre contentment that she was home.

It hit her now like a ten ton starship on full warp; this is what home was about. It wasn't the ship that mattered; it was inanimate, unable to reciprocate love on any level. It was friends like these; it was them that filled her with warmth, that held her in their arms because her time away *had* pained them. Dhanishta cried hard, burying her face into Kimberly's shoulder, "I'm home." she whispered through hitching sobs into the fabric of Burton's uniform, "I'm finally home..."

The realization hit, the feelings hit, the numbness crumbled away to leave the naked raw emotion and with it Dhani crumbled too. Knees turned to jelly; she sunk to the floor, dragging Kimberly with her as she refused to let go; she just couldn't let go, at this moment Kimberly was her anchor, emotionally, physically and mentally.

Letting herself slide down from beside the chair to the floor Kimberly held on as well, not wanting to let go right now, an irrational fear hit her for a moment that Dhani was just a figment of her tired mind, but the shaking, the sobbing and the naked emotions all hit her, and for a moment she let herself forget everything and just held on.

"You're home," she replied softly after a moment. Running a hand through the tangled mess that Dhani's hair had become she sat beside her as her own tears came. Not just tears for her friend, that she was safe, but the tears she had been holding back since the first casualty had passed into sickbay, the first body to the morgue.

They must have looked a strange sight, sat there on the cluttered floor of the CMO's office. The disheveled and unkempt engineer and the clean doctor. Sat there holding onto each other as though some great catastrophe had befallen them. Stood just outside, Arrietty closed the door and polarized the glass to give the two friends their privacy, understanding that there were times that needed to be shared, and others that were private.

Sat in the darkened office for what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only ten minutes or so, Kimberly was the first of the two to sniff loudly and lean back a little. Arms still around Dhani she pulled back a little to look at the mess that her friend had become. Looking at her, and letting her eyes drift around the contours of her face, down her arms and then back up, following the spots until she reached her forehead she smiled slightly, "Girl," she said softly after she had finished her visual inspection, "you are a mess." she informed Dhani with a slightly lighter note to her voice.

"As your physician, I prescribe a hairdo first, cause Girl that look went out years ago," smiling a little wider she sat there drinking in the face before her, simply glad she was alive, "then we can get you cleaned up," figuring that sitting down and doing something relaxing and normal would help them both, and give them time to talk she smiled again, "how's that sound?"

Finally Dhanishta felt her sobs wane enough to let out a slight giggle at Kimberly's comments. She tried to smile, but the pout fought against it; and so her features were locked in a battle of wills; it made quite an interesting sight to behold. Conversations over the last week had been seldom. Everyone was just numb from the task they undertook. It wasn't enough that they were caught up in the whirlwind that was ‘The Fight for Romulus', killing and maiming just to stay alive; they then had the ultimate gruesome task of cleaning up. The images, feelings and painful memories that were etched into them all, just for the fight to stay alive, to breath once more, to be held by loved ones just once more, had been amplified by the clean up process; the dead bodies of Hydran soldiers interspersed with those of Federation and Romulan; it was by far worse than the act of killing alone. The smell; the stench that permeated the air and everything it came into contact with, the sight of the rotting corpses was, by far, the most horrific thing in the universe.

The shear brutality of it all which was the essence, the nature, of ‘human' survival.

Dhanishtas face cracked as both expressions, both emotions, fought within. She giggled and sobbed in unison, neither one complete. She nodded and shook her head at the same time looking awfully similar to one of those aggravating ‘nodding dogs' found on the parcel shelf of cars in the 24th century; ones that were notably destroyed and never recreated since, she hoped! Her mind was littered with a thousand questions. Her eyes filled with tears and her heart ached in her chest. She was exhausted in every respect of the word. She looked at Kimberly with a mixture of confusion and wonder, “I used to be indecisive.” she said quietly chewing on her bottom lip during the timed pause; that was until the stinging pain from the spilt set in, “But now I'm not so sure.” A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she sat before Kimberly.

Smiling back at the weak pun Kimberly wiped a tear away from Dhani's eye with her thumb, "Well let me help," she offered sincerely, "that's what friends are for." Standing she slipped her arms around Dhani again and helped her up. Holding her close she maneuvered her into her own chair which was definitely the more comfortable one in the office and sat on the desk before her, "you'll have to tell me about it one day," she suggested, "but for today I say we get you cleaned up, and then some food, how's that sound?" ~ And cleaned up quickly, ~ she decided, having finally cottoned onto what the odor in the office was, ~ Girl, have you been crawling around in the sewers these last few weeks? ~ she wondered silently.

“Yes, I have.” Dhani replied quietly looking up at Kimberly with slight embarrassment. She took a pass over her uniform once more, wincing with the pain the movement caused. As her body and mind relaxed, content that it was home now and safe, she was becoming rapidly aware of the pain that filled it. It reached out its burning tendrils to every extremity; the flats of her hands stung from small, petty, miniscule cuts that crisscrossed the skin, they were small wounds, yet they seemed to sting the most. Her temples throbbed from where she had rubbed them clean, her cut lip oozed slightly and everything else was just descending into the realms of ‘OUCH'. “I am reluctant to take it off.” Dhani said still looking down at the dirt infested, ragged cloth; that had once been described as a uniform.

“It's been my life for the last few weeks and,” she frowned finding it hard to put her feelings into words, “…it's been my second skin…” Dhanishta finished looking up into Kimberly perplexed eyes, her own pleading for some sort of understanding.

When no change of expression was forth coming she tried to explain further. “Look here,” she said taking hold of the tattered fabric, “you see this tare? Well that was from a piece of the hull. It cut my insides out. And this here, a scorch mark from… something… and this,” she tugged at what remained of her undershirt, “I ripped this up to make a sling for Michael.” for a moment as she tugged on the collar she felt the hands of Baile gripping her neck. She closed her eyes against the memory and pushed back the want to vomit. She was sure, though couldn't completely recollect, that she had thrown up on the good doctor before and was positive that she didn't want a rendition.

Taking a series of small breaths to calm the rising bile she opened her eyes and smiled faintly at Kimberly, who still, for some reason, looked incredibly puzzled. “What is it?” Dhani enquired, her own expression showing traces of concern, well as much as she could with the swelling and the shear lack of muster to hold any expression for long.

A mixture of emotions had passed over Kimberly's face as Dhani was talking, foremost among them was concerns for the massive physical abuse that she had apparently suffered, ~ Skewered by a piece of the hull! ~ she wondered, in the tears and rents she could see Dhani's skin, and what she could see seemed a mass of cuts, barely healed scars, burns and bruises. Touching her bare arm gently she felt the heat of her skin and rough dry texture, ~ Oh Kiddo, what have you been through. ~

The other chief emotion that had washed across her face had been confusion; Dhani had answered a question she hadn't asked. She had 'thought' about asking it, but Dhani had beaten her to it by answering the question. "Dhani," she asked curiously, "what made you tell me about your uniform?"

Retribution Series

"The Hidden Blessing of Terrik"

Lieutenant JG Juliette Rinaldi
Lieutenant Miramon Terrik

USS Delphina
--------------

It was kind of odd obeying the orders of a junior officer, but yet Miramon had swallowed the instruction and was therefore was outside Faylin/Juliette's quarters, waiting for the door to open. Not standing at the door, straight-backed, prim and proper. Not waiting just over at the edge of the doorframe. No, he was kicked back waiting across the other end of the hall, opposite the door, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded and his legs at the ankles, looking somewhat impatient.

Not that he'd been there very long, but usually you hit the door chime, the buzzer on the inside of the quarters sounded and somebody either shouted through sound-proof bulkheads, telling you to come in (and, for some reason, the person outside always heard you), or they'd come to the door with a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, presenting themselves in a manner that clearly said 'You're interrupting me in what I was doing. And you're still stood there. And a second later, you haven't gone away. So you're STILL interrupting me." And he'd come to expect this.

But thus far, nothing. Faylin was not answering. Maybe she knew it was him and was ignoring him, but anyone that thought a Bajoran would just get in a huff and go away was asking for trouble. Besides, she had invited him over for a drink, so he tended to assume he was expected.

So he'd stay here until she opened the door, and, moreso if it were a good twelve hours later, he'd wake up from his state of sleeping-while-standing-up and glare at her in a manner that suggested either dire consequences or a rather painful bowel movement.

However, instead of coming to the door, a certain person ripped around the corner, almost bumping into the patient couselor. "Sorry, Terrik.

I hate being late...come on in." She blurted out.

Miramon smirked in amusement at seeing Faylin run around the corner, only surprised that he hadn't known that she wasn't actually in her quarters. That, he supposed, was what you got for not checking. Now that she'd come to a full stop, he raised a hand and flourished a PADD, though whether she could see what it said was another matter entirely.

"Counsellor Terrik, reporting with the Federation Psychology Council's latest journal, as ordered."

His grin remained the same, and he followed her into her quarters, as per her other instructions. His icy-blue eyes flickered around a little, absorbing some of the detail of the place with an appraising glance. These didn't look like her quarters on the Galaxy, although this was a smaller ship, so that was to be expected.

"Red or white?"

"I prefer red, if I drink Earth wines, which I have to say, isn't very often. Since we've been free of the Occupation and joined Starfleet, Bajor has had peace, so we're growing our own wines again."

She nodded, replicating him a glass of red, then one of white for herself. Handing him the glass as he stood taking in her quarters, she spoke. "I'm getting out of this uniform...I'll be right back."

Miramon waved her away with a careless gesture, taking a seat on one of the chairs that were scattered across the room. He tried the wine she had provided and grimaced slightly. In all likelihood, Faylin wasn't aware of his particular aversion to replicators for anything.

But that was okay. He hadn't really come here to drink - she had indicated that she had wanted to talk, and thus, that was what he was here to do. Or rather, to listen to her talking in that very focused way that counsellors did.

That was one of the reasons that most people went running from Counsellors. They had a habit of staring at you while talking that said they were looking at your soul and drawing little red circles around the bits that needed to be dealt with.

True to her word, a few moments later she emerged in black jeans and a baby pink t'shirt with the initials JAG in maroon rhinestones. She smirked at his expression. "I didn't choose the clothes....or the decor for that matter."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I've had several members of the crew turn up at my door at night in various states of undress or dishevellment because they couldn't sleep and hoped I had some way of helping them get rid of their insomnia. Usually it was either hot Jumja Tea, a bit of advice suggesting a good sedative from Sickbay, or when all else fails, the careful application of a wooden mallet to the forehead. Doesn't work too well with Klingons, though."

"Ow...remind me not to visit you during the wee hours of the morning.

Geesh." She laughed, immediately clamping her hand over her mouth.

The laugh was not hers. The realization hit her that she was not Faylin any longer, with that, Jules slumped onto the sofa with her eyebrows knitted together. "Who am I?" The words came slowly, with a haunting manner to them.

"The person that speaks with a voice that isn't hers, though the words still are. Think about, Faylin. Your hair has changed, your face is not what it was and your voice sounds a little different to that which you are used to. But are you so fundamentally unlike the person you woke up as a few weeks ago?"

"Inside, no. Outside yes." She stood from the couch, coming to face him with her own ice blue eyes. "Do you know, they actually made a list of rules for me to follow? If I break any of these rules....I'm out. That includes talking to the man who......what's the point? I have to start completely over, including personal relationships.

Crap...that means I actually have to be nice to Nara....and squelch any urges to try and jump Saul." She bit her bottom lip. "You didn't hear that." Her eyebrow shot upwards in defiance as she caught his expression.

"It's my nose that looks funny to humans, Fay, not my ears. But, as I said, this is a good opportunity for you to make a fresh start. I understand that's not as easy as it sounds, but you don't have much of a choice, realistically. Have to make the best of it."

"Yes, I am well aware of that." She sat back down on the sofa, taking her wine in hand. "What would I do without you Terrik?"

"You'd probably have more time to yourself, since I wouldn't therefore be harrassing you every couple of hours," Miramon said with a wry smile.

She smiled. "So...tell me. In your opinion, how do you like the new look?

"Well, should you dislike the hair, there are always dyes for that sort of thing. But it seems like an effective disguise. I certainly would not recognise you if I didn't already know who you were."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "That's not what I meant." Patting the sofa beside her, she desired him to come and sit by him. "The sofa is more comfortable than that chair." Pivoting slightly, she reached to the side of her and grabbed a PADD from the small end table. "Latest law review."

Miramon raised the PADD that he had brought with him. Apparently he wasn't the only person in the room that had decided to have a little literal fun with what Faylin had told him earlier.

Her head tilted slightly upwards as she eyed him bringing his PADD up.

A slight coy smile etched across her pouty lips. "Are you sure that's the latest psychology journal? Or just some trash romance novel your trying to sneak past me?" A light giggle cut through the air.

"Yes, that's exactly what it is. I have a thing for romance novels and that human habit of watching other members of their species engaging in sexual pleasure. It is all evidence of the fact that I have far too much time on my hands."

"Proove it....give it here." Her hand outstretched, with her fingers dancing in an impatient manner. "If you don't...I'll have to come get it."

He grinned at her, then threw her the PADD, which actually did contain a psychological journal, if only because he knew it would serve to needle her, just a little bit. He was, after all, occasionally inclined to use his literal-mindedness in a playful manner.

"Miramon! The tales of the Bajoran Babes in Cockersville? You naughty boy!" Throwing her head back, she laughed fully. She sighed as she truly looked at the contents contained on the electronic device. "A true psychological journal? You are about as dry as the Sahara desert." Another eyebrow popped up. "Have you ever taken anyone off guard before? Because, I highly doubt it."

"As though I was truly going to sit here and swap journals with you.

What happened to your sense of humour, Faylin?" Miramon asked, his tone reflecting his usual state of inner tranquility. "And my job involves taking people off-guard sometimes. I just fail to see the need for it at any other time. I don't want anyone concerned with what I might do to them next that warrants that they should run away as fast as possible."

The Bajoran gave a little smirk at that. "At least no moreso than usual, anyway."

She nodded, before retreating into herself. Swallowing, Jules rotated her head and stood, drawn to the window that offered a few of the stars as they flew by. Wrapping her arms around herself, she just focused on the outside of space. Was he out there? Was he safe?

Steven's face darted through her mind as she left the counselor to his own thoughts. She missed Steven greatly, so much more than she thought.

"Everything alright there, Fay?" the Bajoran asked. That she was staring out the window was hardly surprising to him, but he tended to prefer it if people saved their more lengthy contemplations for a time when there wasn't likely to be any internal damage caused by them.

Turning, Juliette offered him just the hint of a false smile. "I'm fine...really." Walking over to the table, she brought the wine goblet up, swirling the relatively clear liquid around. Bringing the glass to her lips, she quickly drank what was left. Replicating herself another serving, she glanced up to see his gaze on her.

"What?" Her tone was suddenly defiant.

Miramon's gaze had become somewhat quizzical but a moment before. Most people he knew didn't drink wine quite that quickly.

"Is this the Earth custom whereby one consumes huge amounts of an alcoholic drink purely to push them into a state of intoxication so overpowering as to make them forget their own name?"

One arched eyebrow and a large smirk later, Jules responded.

"No. However, this evening I might make an exception. It is a Bajoran custom to be so nosey?" She realized that he was a counselor, and his sole purpose in life at this point in time was to follow her around like a lost puppy using large eyes to plead her to pacify him.

"It is, actually. We figure that the more we know about the lives of others, the better able to we are to offer spiritual guidance or support when our friends are in need of a little help. And we have no corresponding custom to that, so we prefer to deal without our problems, rather than forget what they are."

Taking a drink of the wine, she sighed. "I miss my old life. I miss Steven." She held up an index finger. "And, if you give me any more crap concerning 'that was then, and this is now.' I'll deck you. I swear to what ever deities you worship that I'll do it. I may look like a princess, but I'm far from it!" She spat as she took another large drink.

"I do not need to tell you that which you're already well aware of, Fay. That you consider me quotable tells me you got the rhetoric down well enough," Miramon noted, with a slightly wry smile distorting his otherwise-serene expression.

Jules just shook her head. "If I asked you to leave, would you?"

"I don't know," Miramon said, quietly. "Part of me says yes, because if you asked, that's because you want to be alone, and sometimes that's best. Another part says no, because sometimes what you think is right for you, you know, isn't. But for the moment, I'm not convinced you want me to leave."

"That's what I thought." She smirked as he appeared to cement himself to the seat he was situated on.

"Reading my mind, Faylin?"

"So, what can you offer me that you haven't already? Cause...I'm hurting here Miramon." Her gaze caught his as she stood silently.

"I know. All I can say is this takes time. I can't offer a magic solution, or a hypospray to take away the pain. All that I can do, I have done. So all I can do now is wait, and be there if you need to talk."

"If I need to talk. I don't need to talk. I need someone to just be there with a shoulder to cry on. On top of all this...they are heaping the cases on me! They want me to judge the IS cases." Jules shook her head. "I....hello! Conflict of interest here! I argued that with them,and their reasoning is technically that I'm not the same person. Faylin McAlister is dead. They said to look at is as a 'bonus'. I get to lock every single solitary one of them up and throw away the key. The ultimate retribution."

"I think you'll find there's more to it than that, Fay. What have you done since we got here? What parts of your life have you locked onto?

You're still working with the JAG corps for a reason - you're good at your job, and doing that helps you keep some semblance of normalacy - when everything else is unavailable to you, at least there's the job.

It's a foundation you can built on. And, yes, it's a good way to get some payback. Not that I think such reasoning should be dominant in your mind."

"Terrik. That's not really comforting. The job is the job. But after it's done...there's nothing left. I sit here...with nothing to call mine." The weight of the situation got to her as she sat on the couch with her shoulders slumping. "Just keep me company okay? You are the only friend I have right now."

Miramon smiled gently at that. "I wasn't going anywhere, Fay. I am, as I told you, ever at your disposal."

"That, Sir...is a blessing in itself." Jules placed her hand on top of his. "Thank you." Her eyes stayed focused on his as she felt herself relax. She didn't know what was going on, but with him there, she felt a sense of balance within her toppled world.

"An Exercise in Futility"

Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor,
CO, Deep Space 5

Ambassador Tyr'alla J'aeln,
Attached to Deep Space 5

Captain Daren M'Kantu,
CO, USS Galaxy

Stardate: 60612.31
Location: Main Recreation Promenade, Upper Habitat Ring

One of the more surprising aspects of having a rebuilt station out on the fringes of Federation space, and under the direct command of one of the more... auspicious Admirals in Starfleet, is the fact that this same station had three entire decks devoted to greenspace. Now, a large majority of this greenspace is dedicated to floral and horticulture specialists, but the design of the promenade allowed all parties who travelled through the station - and lived on it - to enjoy the fruits of the their labors.

Exiting one of the turbolift shafts that were built into the main hub of the promenade, Ambassador Tyr'alla J'aeln stood in awe of the immense recreation deck, as she has every morning since arriving at the Station three weeks previous. This time, she'd chosen to depart on the main level, where as the Damiani stepped out of the turbolift niche, she slipped off the rough leather sandals and left all troubles behind as her light-blue toes curled into the genuine kentucky bluegrass fronds underneath. It was an amazing feat of engineering, and it made one forget that outside the upper panelling that projected the image of a blue sky and wispy white cumulus clouds (today

- the skyscape rotated through a library of set views), there was a monster waiting to take it all away.

A body bumped her arm as she had glanced up at the silken sky, the only breaks in the view the transparent balconies and courtyard floors mottled with beings from many different worlds. A polite apology and a deep breath later, she had dangled her sandals off a loose belt that clipped her spring dress around a cinched waist, and stayed off the sidewalks as she moved on towards her destination.

One level up, in one of the courtyard alcoves, a man watched the form of an older dark-skinned lady walk away, her sari giving the barest glimpse of skin that he knew she tantalized him with on occasion. June M'Kantu didn't wear such casual dress often, and when she did, it was for a reason only she knew. They'd been conversing more readily of late, and this layover at the station while the Galaxy and other ships in need of repair were drydocked, he felt more at ease with her, knowing he wouldn't be called away on an errand of emergency for once. Many of Starfleet's Border Patrol and more capable (lower priority) ahips were patrolling the border until a docking port became available, and then they would rotate out. For the last month, Galaxy had been taking up residence at Port 3-A for long enough time that it was not necessary to label it on incoming mail messages. The famously delayed transition orders in the Starfleet assignments database had caught up to automating the sendmail servers to 'Docking Port 3-A'. Though, that was to end shortly.

Not soon enough, he was saddened to say. He was unable to avoid his last mandatory assignment here on the station. Not even June could get him out of it. In fact, if it weren't for Admiral Price at Starfleet Command, he'd be on Earth accepting accolades and shore leaves for his crew. "Somebody 'as te keep eye on Proctor, 'mate. You're ranking officer in the sector.

Sorry, my friend. I know ye'd like te come te Earth for some shore leave fer your crew, but I'd much prefer to make sure a war doesn't break out in the Beta Quadrant t'day or eny day fer that matter. Another time. I promise." And so, Daren performed his duty for another day.

In the 'Beta' quadrant of the promenade, an immense tent-like structure had been erected, pulsing out music and song for the last several hours. From his vantage point on the courtyard deck, Daren could see far enough within the tent to see the entertainers on the main stage, and the throng of a thousand Starfleet and Federation personnel surrounding the colorful amphitheater. Not a civilian was to be found. The bright orange of the Diplomatic Protection Guard surrounded the section of the tent that had various Ambassadors and delegates from - all humanoid he noticed - nearby systems. His arms dangling over the railing, he shook his head sadly. It was his wish to not be associated with a flag officer who was obviously xenophobic. Daren M'Kantu was an explorer at heart, and enjoyed every First Contact he has ever made, for good or worse. It saddened him greatly that his place here on the Hydran border was more for a militaristic view than exploration, as mandated by his sector Admiral, and it shamed him that more First Contacts, if made, would likely end in disaster if the species were not humanoid.

Standing up straight, he put the colored mosaic glass he'd been holding in his left hand to his lips and drained the remaining liquid within, enjoying the tart sensation it left on his tongue, and placed it on the tray of a serving droid that passed by. Perhaps the Aldebaran whiskey would help him through Olivia Proctor's birthday party.

***

Thirty Minutes Later

"Admiral, a word?" Ambassador J'aeln, saddened to have to come off the wondrous feeling of grass - she'd been in space at different locales for so long, it was like heaven to feel a sense of land again - had slipped back on her hardly-worn sandals and into a seat next to the sharply dressed Admiral in her class whites. The beat of bass dums was loud and reverberated through the dais where the head table was raised next to the podium.

Olivia Proctor liked the Damiani Ambassador, as much as she could like a non-human. Her record was decent, her Council Representative was strong in her views and criticisms of the current regime (which they shared), and the best part was she kept her nose clean. No poking into the Admiral's affairs with reviews, evaluations, things she could've done different. Meh.

Proctor was most certainly glad the Bolian Zimia was back... wherever she was. 'Livia didn't care, so long as it wasn't here.

"What is it, Ambassador?" She crossed her stocky legs through her slacks, pouring a crisp white wine into her glass as she lightly swayed to the music. "Come to wish me a happy birthday? Can you believe I look this good for forty-six?" She shrugged back her shoulders, swinging wide her arms back and down as if to emphasize her shape, careful to avoid clipping one of the Ambassador's protruding horns. J'aeln thought it looked lumpy, but held her tongue. As much as she was direct, she also knew how to be political with the ranking flag officer in the sector. She also knew Olivia Proctor was not forty-six, but celebrating the ninth anniversary of her 46th birthday.

"Happy birthday, Admiral." Tyr'alla put on a fake smile, knowing the Admiral was borderline inebriated. But business was business after all.

"Thank you, Ambassador. Have a drink." She took the glass from 'Commander Lin after looking around for an empty one. "You shouldn't be drinking, anyhow." She poured the liquid into the goblet and passed it to J'aeln, who accepted but opted not to drink any. Terran wine was unsettling to the Damiani digestive system. Likely due to its weakened levels of alcohol.

Her homeworld's water was more potent.

"The colony administrator from Ivor Prime is requesting we step up patrols in the area and place a permanent Starfleet outpost on the settlement."

"You've come to me with this before, Ambassador. It's the same answer as always. Nothing we can do about it. The defense perimeter doesn't include the planet. Especially not since the depletion of our forces. The station comes first. They knew what they got themselves into when they chose to re-develop the colony after the Borg destroyed it ten years ago. No. Why do you keep coming to me with this?" The beats of hip-hop rolled over them, and the dance-floor continued to fill in front of them with swaying bodies.

"She was rather insistent. She sounded a woman born of desperation. They know their world is the frontline in a future conflict, and with what economic value they provide the sector, they're bound to be annexed amongst the first worlds when the Hydrans do come."

"They won't come. We whipped them into embarassment, Ambassador. They threw the best they had at us in numbers and their vaunted Starbeast. It wasn't enough. They're not going to bother. Now, enough! I want to enjoy my birthday."

"Ladies and Gentlebeings, I bid thee welcome to this momentous occasion - perhaps the grandest in all the sector!" Olivia Proctor sat just behind the Master of Ceremonies, an albino from some planet she couldn't remember. Her first choice, who'd come highly recommended from Galactic Entertainment Services, Inc., had arrived six hours ago, but what the business group had neglected to mention was that he was Vulcan. She loathed Vulcans. How the hell could a robot be an entertainer? So, she'd sent that one packing before hs breath had been reconstituted into the ventilation systems. She'd sent her staff on an in-depth chase through the station visitors log, finding a Pacifican and a Risian. The Pacifican had declined the offer based on political boycotting of Starfleet by her government, so Olivia had her boycotted right off the station, minus repairs and refuelling. The Admiral had decided to boycott her, too, you see.

The Risian turned out to be a deaf-mute. The Admiral couldn't even enjoy the satisfaction of yelling at her. So, she didn't ask where her staff rounded up the albino, but she got lucky. Or rather, her staff did, else they'd have been scraping plasma residue off warp coils. On Barzan. And we all know how flammable and poisonous their atmosphere is.

"No, not a non-denominational or sect festive occasion... not a celebration of the Terran New Year, or the liberation of Romulus. No, my friends, give a round of applause for the celebrated birthday of our very own Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, who turns forty-six years young today!" The albino stood back, clapping excitedly as Olivia pushed her chair out to take three very determined steps forward. The rest of the guests paused when the music had halted and followed suit, albeit sounding forced and scattered. J'aeln leaned back in her chair, sipping back on a snifter of Damiani coffee as she crossed her smooth azure blue legs over one another, the floral dress separated at the calf for more movement. Proctor's birthday celebrations was no secret, but from her forays into the promenade and conversations with various beings on the station during her travels, there was a preferred attitude that the Admiral spent more energy having her birthday arranged than for the off-handed memorial for the heroes of Romulus. There was some definite disdain for morale issues from the people on the station with that selfish choice.

"Please, please, everyone, enjoy the party. The bar and buffet is open, and we've brought in karaoke for those of you that asked for it. Any donations or gifts can be placed on this table, in case you weren't aware." She gestured to the stone slab table stretched across two landscaped sections twelve feet long. There were only a pair of gifts on there at the moment, separated by a monstrous Angel Food Cake.

"Now, let's dance the night away!"

****

Some Five Hours Later, 20:32 hours

"Only four gifts?" Olivia picked one of the boxes up. No larger than a jewelry box, she lifted it to her ear and shook it. Only a dull noise not quite a thud came back. "After all I've done for these people, and they respond with only four half-assed presents? We'll see about having any more parties."

As she placed the gift down, the 'sun' completed its setting cycle within the promenade. The light panels recessed in the ceiling dimmed, decreasing its opacity until the stars outside peered through, giving the illusion of a starscape. A cool breeze whipped through the park, an illusion creating by an increased ventilation circulation system built into the flora bushery placed in strategic points around the promenade.

A large boom echoed throughout, vibrating under their feet with their resonance. Olivia's face lit up, forgetting her woes of a boring party.

"Fireworks? I love fireworks!" Her eyes drew skyward, as did most of the other patrons. Another boom rippled through, throwing up great spirals of light outside.

Then the alert sirens warbled off.

[This is not a drill. Evacuation emergency protocols in effect in affected areas] Proctor, chuckling, perhaps from the alcohol, maybe from the tight schedule her birthday planning entailed, thought no one had told the Operations personnel on-shift of her fireworks surprise, tapped her comm-badge, which was met with a blast of static. Her eyebrows curled downwards in confusion, then was knocked off her feet by another explosion.

A rent of metal and debris rained down on the people in the park, screams broke loose, tables flew over, people scrambled everywhere, trampling the Angel Food Cake that was knocked over in the scuffle. Olivia didn't have time to register the fact that numerous transporter beams rang out in the promenade before the familiar blue rain fell down around her.

***

Operations Center,
Deck 1

Lieutenant Commander Hasmonian had been enjoying a peaceful evening without interference from the Admiral when the first explosions had gone off.

Before the first picture of Jasmine Heloi had hit the floor of the Ready Room, the stations Operations Chief was out the door and ringing up reports from the staff.

"Damage report!" Hasmonian jumped up the three step ladder to the sit-rep table in the center of the ops center, completely bathed in a rosy glow as the tactical alert protocols kicked in. He silently wished once again, that Proctor had listened to the Engineering teams's advice in lowering the table into the concave sub-deck instead of up. The extra time spent climbing up to assess when you could do it on the fly coming down could make all the difference in the world. The Admiral's feelings of insecurity and inferiority was enough reason for her to feel like she's sitting atop a throne. Hasmonian hated this assignment, but since she'd given him a command rotation in the Ops Center, he tolerated it. It'd lead him to a command position quicker than any other assignment, being under an Admiral.

Not literally. He was only taller. He had no desire to be anywhere near her off-duty if he could.

Which was why he was ecstatic when she selected him to take Ops control.

Volunteering on her birthday was not necessarily a good thing. Still, crap like this on his shift would not be a good thing if he didn't get it dealt with.

"What the..." Hasmonian slammed his hand down on the tactical table.

"Enact emergency transport procedures. Get forcefields up in the decompressed areas. Send the evac order to all ships in range to take on the evacuated personnel using their cargo transporters and back off to a safe distance. No longer than six minutes. Get damage control teams to the Rhode Island-" Another explosion roxked the station, and a bright light washed over the viewscreen, snowing it out.

"Sensors and communications have gone offline!" The lights flickered in the Ops Center and went out.

***

Outside, a domino effect had begun. First it started with an implosive charge set on the docking arm connecting the USS Rhode Island to the station. Once that had gone off, it pushed the Nova class starship off into space. With the amount of ships waiting in parked orbit of the station, the ship had been on a collision course with the USS Portland, already prepping for departure when the first explosion went off. The Portland enabled a repuslor beam to push both ships away from each other, but not before the Nova had second explosion detonate one of its nacelle pylons which itself blew off and impacted with an entire bank of docking armatures and barely missing three ships parked in dock. The rest of the Nova drifted off, lights flickering as the crew on-board desperately tried to get her engines to cold-start so that they could avoid any more damage. The ship, trailing cold plasma like a roman candle, cut downward under the station on a direct path for the starship graveyard that had been kept as a defense against Hydran incursion.

The secondary hull of the Rhode Island impacted with the wrecked primary hull of a Excelsior-II breaking it off from the Rhode Island, and both exploding in a spectacular and breath-taking display of particles and matter. The primary hull had managed to accelerate away with minimal damage.

Unfortunately, the collateral damage was what was the worst effect.

Virtually every docking arm on the station was either damaged, destroyed, or fused to the starships connected. Drydock ships were obviously not going anywhere, but relatively undamaged. Power was out to the station.

"Stop working!"

Nara, Bran and Saia

*****Sickbay*****

Branwen was allowed to have more visitors now, now that she was more or less out of the woods. And that she was starting to get bored. The doctors would not allow her to do any work, and that frustrated her. With baile also on the sick list it meant Steven had to do all the work, the poor boy was not used to it. Being hooked up to all kinds of machines and more or less promising Victor there was no other way for her obey the doctors.

Nara finally figured out why she hadn't seen Bran. So she headed for Sickbay. Saia in tow. She entered now, and led to Bran's biobed. Nara smirked, "I hate to see what the other guy looks like."

Saia just pouted and looked at the readings not really understanding them.

"You ok?"

"Fine." Branwen lied. "Thank you for coming." She said to her roommate.

"And now have you been?" This to Saia. "I missed you both."

Saia just shrugged.

"Hey." Branwen said softly. "What's wrong, kiddo."

Saia shrugged again, playing with the instruments on some table. Of course which Nara gently grabbed her hands, "Please leave those alone."

The young Trill sighed and sat in one of the chairs and spun a bit and finally said, "You and Nara both got hurt. How many people got hurt?"

Branwen looked straight at her. "A lot. I can only speak for those down on the planet, I think more than half the people went down on where hurt or died." She realized that the child needed the truth.

Saia nodded and just sat there.

Nara swallowed and sighed. "Our quarters a bit smashed up, and since it's mild they likely will get to it last. I tried to clean up what I could. Saia helped."

"Thank you." Bran said. Then turned to Saia again. "Were you scared?"

Saia just nodded without looking up.

"You want to talk about it? I was pretty scared down there on the planet myself, you know. And all alone."

"The cargo bay smelled funny," was Saia's low complaint. Then she looked at Saia, "Why were you alone?"

"Well not really alone, but without people I knew well for a long time. My boss told me to set up the hospital on the planet and the other marines left me behind. That was pretty scary. How about you then?"

"Bunch of kids. Had Sam and a few other friends. We play Ready Rove...or something. Other games too."

"How long were you there?"

"Long as the battle was."

"That's a pretty long time to spend in a cargo bay."

Saia, again, just shrugged.

"Tell me more. It is actually true what they say, it helps." Branwen said gently. She made a mental note to call Commander Dallas and make sure all these children would get enough help.

Saia sighed, "Nothing."

"Okay, if it's too difficult for you I respect that." Branwen smiled. "But you know my door is always open."

Nara interjected then, "Stop working Bran."

Branwen looked up at her friend and roommate. "I was just talking to Saia, Nara."

Nara smiled, "Still. Get some rest."

"I will. Look after Saia, and please bring her back when I feel a little better."

"Persuasion"

Karyn Dallas
Branwen London

Branwen was trying to read in bed.  She was very emotional right now, so much was happening to her.  So many people were nice and paying attention to her just to help her.  It made her shy and secretly glad.  For young woman with not too much faith in the galaxy around her these were trying times.

Karyn entered sickbay and had the the nurse point her in the direction of Branwen's bed.  Dallas was making the rounds amongst Brian, Terrick, and Branwen to see how they were after recent events--much different  and more stressful than simply counseling others.  She had been worried about Branwen for a long time, beginning after Baile had broken her arm, and now Kimberly had called her in for a consult.

Branwen saw Karyn stand next to her bed and she didn't know how to react.

“Did they call you in, ma'am? Believe me it will be fine, I can live with the pain.” 

Dallas decided it was best not to beat around the bush.  "I know, but that doesn't mean I don't care, Branwen.  Kimberly was concerned about you."

Branwen sighed. “I know. But she is the one who is working too hard and not taking enough rest. Same as Dr. Mathieson. They say I didn't take care of myself on the planet putting my patients first, but they don't see that they are doing the exact same thing.”

"Excellent deflection, Counselor.  How are you really?"

“Oh I am hanging in there, ma'am. But I was talking to Saia earlier I am so glad you are here. Those kids were trapped on one of the cargodeceks for days. I think a lot of them are traumatized. We should really set something up to help them. If you talk to Kimberly and Victor I could do some work from here really. With permission from you they can't complain.”

Karyn  folded her arms.  "Of course, if you'd accept the regeneration treatments, you would be well enough and wouldn't need my permission."

Her face fell.  “The doctor says it will  take two weeks before I am allowed back to work anyway.  Even if I  take that treatment.  And I would rather not, ma'am.   I don't mind a bit of pain,  I can work regardless of pain.”

Karyn frowned.  "Why don't you want the treatment?  It will heal you, and you wouldn't have to be in constant pain."

“It is against the principles of the religion I grew up with.  I have given up so much already, and I am doubting so much.  It is hard for me to give everything up.  And I doubt it works anyway.  I know and uncle of mine, somebody  was not part of the inner circle, he was a Starfleet officer, he had it done and he died.”

Karyn considered that.  Far be it from her to question anyone's religious beliefs or to suggest they undergo treatment they did not want.  She had had more than enough doctors try to "cure" her disability in the past, and she had even tried to find help herself after doubting her own worth as a disabled person.  But there was more to this.  "Is this about your religion or your fear of dying?  Because you've done and seen a lot of things that I'm sure your religion considers questionable, but you've found your way."

Branwen was silent for a while.  “I don't think I am afraid of dying.  You know for a long time I didn't even like life that much.  Not that I wanted to die, it just didn't matter much.  That has all changed  now that I have a boyfriend.  Somebody has accepted me as I am.”  She smiled.  “That makes it difficult.  I think I am scared of not knowing what will happen, of losing control.  If I refuse this treatment, I know I can heal on my own.  And I will be in control.  Am I making sense, ma'am?”

"See, this is what I don't get, Branwen.  You need these treatments to survive.  We know this," Dallas countered.  "There won't be a future for you if you don't do this, and that's been the opinion of the medical staff all along.  If this is about control, we can work with you so you're not overwhelmed."

 She hesitated.  “They will put me in a  tank ful of the stuff right?  And it will get everywhere.”  Bran shivered.  “And I am not able to move much.” It was obvious that she was scared.

Ksryn nodded.  "But you'll know exactly what they're doing the whole time, and someone will be with you."

“I will not lose consciousness? They will not make me sleep? Can I… can I have some control over what happens. Like I can break it off when I…. when I want?”

Dallas nodded. "That's something we can see about, Branwen.  As far as I know, you can be awake, but you'll probably need heavy pain meds."

"I will think about it." She promised. "And I will talk to the doctor again. Thank you for coming, ma'am."

"Reciprocity"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

* * * Deep Space 5 * * *

"We'll consider the licence. You'll have an answer within two days." Lieutenant Commander Lin told the Gorn merchant.

The bulky alien filled the DS5's community liaison's small office. He was a merchant, one of dozens who came to the office every day, to make their requests, demands or please to poor Commander Lin. At first, the job made him feel powerful, being in charge of the prosperous civilian community and trade that filled Deep Space 5. As months passed by, he came into realization that he was just a mere clerk.

Well, at least Proctor didn't send him to die on Romulus.

"Thissss will mark a neww era in Deep Sssspace Five's com--"

"If it isn't spice merchant Sosko."

The Gorn swiveled sharply, nearly knocking Lin's table over. He hissed at the unfamiliar face. "Who daressss to intrude in the middle of thisss important businesss meet--"

"Yes yes."

The man in front of him folded his arms. A Human, Sosko recognized. He tried not to cut deal with Humans unless it was necessary. Some of them were small-eared Ferengis, and others were so righteous it would make his entire digestive system ooze. How did he come in here uninterrupted? It took Sosko half an hour to enter, and only after scaring three Benezites to hand over their place in the line.

"Sosko, if you don't want me to tell the nice officer here about your endeavours on Risa, you better find another space station to infest. Preferably on another quadrant."

The Gorn jumped to his fit. "This is outragousssss." He hissed, pointing at Lin. "I will tell all my friendsssss and acquintancessss about how the Federation treatsssss merchantssssss. You'll be begging me to return."

Saul smirked and folded his arms as the Gorn stormed out of the office. He sidestep Sosko, who attempted to collide into him on the way out.

"What have you done, Saul?" Chen protested. "After Romulus, we've been struggling to lure in more merchants..."

"Quesssstion issssss." Saul imitated the Gorn, "Do you want to lure drug dealerssssssss?"

"Huh?"

"They don't call him spice merchant Sosko because he sells quality oregano." Saul sat down. In fact, Sosko DID sell quality oregano, and other spices which the modern replicator didn't quite imitate completely. There was still a market for naturally grown spices - but it wasn't as big as the market for illegal, addictive substances. Saul made a mental note to speak with another spice dealer he was familiar with, and offer him a partnership on the now spiceless DS5.

"Thank you, then. How they say it... 'toda raba'." Lin bowed slightly.

Saul returned the bow. "I have a feeling I'll be the one to thank you."

"Yes." Lin smiled. "I did as you asked, and kept an eye on the matter. A nearby listening outpost intercepted a credit transaction, with the alias he used when he rented a room here on Deep Space 5. I suppose he didn't 'burn' it."

Saul nodded. He let Lin in on his personal chase to apprehend the man who was the one to actually crash a Starfleet ship into the Trill capital, in one of the worst terrorist attacks of the decade. He gave Lin some meaning to an otherwise dull post, and in return the man proved to be a fountain of information.

"So where is he heading now?"

Commander Lin clicked, and on a wall display appeared a small stellar map.

Saul quickly wrote down the names of the populated systems in the region. It didn't seem important at the time, but the second name on that list was the Ivor system.

"Survival of the Fittest" (part One)

featuring
Captain Savant, Typhon Sector Flag Logistics (S3) Officer

((I plan on making this series short and sweet and to the point, to make it easier to digest what's going on. Here's part one, happening a few hours before the big boom.))

It was quiet and still in the drone launch bay on DS5 - it was usually quiet and still here. The bay was mostly automated, after all. Racks of drones rested in their own protected bay, where they could be plucked from their cushioned cradles and lifted to a Mission Assignment table, where they would be modified by robotic arms and data connections to accept their tasks. Thus readied they would be moved to the Launch cradle, fueled, given final instructions, and launched within their own cochrane field, allowed to coast to their destinations at high speed with on-board warp sustainers. It was an interesting process in all, but once it had been seen once, ten times - who would be interested in seeing their thousandth launch? Few sentients would find the bay interesting for long.

Savant wasn't here for sight-seeing, however. The android strolled along the bay silently and in the dark - only a few piercing blue lights from readouts illuminated the otherwise black room. Her synthetic hand caressed the drones lovingly as she walked. They and here were one and the same after all - shells. Material substrate for impossible complexities. The molecular reflection of mathematical perfection.

Her mind ticked along at a steady pace, trickling through disparate computers and sensors like a steady stream filtering through pebbles.

She knew the quiet pathways; Savant could steal processing power which would never be missed. Her optimizing routines were sufficient to the task. But she wanted more. More! Enough begging for table scraps. No amount of friendship or loyalty could heal the sting that Savants' pride felt. She was a pauper living off of the ragged ends of Starfleet's generosity.

The android smiled an indulgent smile and counted to itself, "three.

two. one." and the door opened. The lights did not come on, however. The

newly arrived Lieutenant Commander faced Savants' back in the darkness.

"What are you doing in here at this hour?" The tone was brusque and clipped - Savant knew that Commander Camina didn't like to have interruptions to his schedule. Savant silently mouthed the words as they escaped his lips, predicting their intonation and pitch as they escaped his mouth.

"Thinking, Commander," she intoned, "thinking and planning." She stopped her pacing and stood, looking over her shoulder at him through the darkness. Her eyes, more reflective than an actual humans', reflected the pale blue light that seeped in the room out at the Commander, much like a cat's would.

"Well, do it elsewhere," he grunted. Exactly as Savant guessed, he wasn't in the mood for frivolity or any amount of swaying. She didn't bother pulling out the big guns - her work here was done. The android turned and walked towards the door and the waiting Lieutenant Commander.

The smile didn't leave her lips.

"Do it elsewhere, ~sir~." she emphasized in an amused manner as she passed him. Behind her she left a somewhat mortified and irritated Duty Officer and, more importantly, a handprint with very specific intentions.

"Back in Session"

Saia
Sam

***

USS Galaxy

There was the school room. Nara had gone as far as riding the turbolift letting her, as usual, walk down the corridor to the school room. Saia really rather not enter at all, so she stayed well outside the sensors that would cause the door to open.

Sam, naturally, was prepared to take the room by force.

"Whatcha lurking around out here for, Sai?" Samantha said as she approached the classroom.

"I don't want to go to school," Saia pouted, "We have to take a stupid math test today."

"Pfft. Math's easy," Sam said. "You should have told me you needed some help."

"I prefer math." Saia looked at Sam then, wrinkling her nose, "You hate school too, don't you?"

"Oh, totally," The girl replied. "But you're missing the big picture here."

"Huh?"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "We can SO play the post traumatic distress disorder card anytime after a major battle. Didn't finish your homework, Miss Widdlestein? Can't complete your test, Saia? Sorry Teach, I was up all night puking because of PTD. The association between classrooms and epic warfare are tossing my cookies even as we speak."

Saia wondered about that. "I don't like being sad...even acting sad."

"Spoil sport. Ah well, there is always snarking at the dreadful fashion choices of others."

Saia smiled and nodded, "Let's see whose wearing that ugly shade of pink."

"Don't forget the jumpsuits and leg-warmers," Sam shuddered.

Saia made a face, "Ugh!"

"I know," The girl replied. "I know."

Saia thought a moment, "Let's go easy on the teacher though, Ok?"

Samantha shrugged. "That all depends on whether she let's me pass out candy canes today."

"New Year's Gifts"

Lt. 8-ball Hunter
Lt. Saul Bental

8-ball lounged in her quarters. She was between shifts, lazy, and bored out of her mind, so when her door chimed, she immediately perked up. . .and then went down, just as quickly. There was a young, baby faced Ensign from Ops that had taken a liking to her, and unfortunately, she had liked him too. . .for about ten minutes. But he wasn't that pretty and he sure as hell wasn't that good in bed, and for some reason, he was stalking her, in a slightly creepy sort of way. 8-ball was bored but she didn't know if she was THAT bored.

Cautiously, she sat up. "State your identity!" she yelled.

"Are you dressed?" A voice pitched through her quarters' console.

8-ball looked down at her uniform and grinned. She knew that voice. "Of course not!"

"Excellent. It's Saul, may I come in?"

8-ball made a show of dramatically rolling her eyeballs and looking very irritated with such a notion. . .even though the only witness to her theatrics was a less-than-enthused teddy bear. "Oh, come in, then," she said finally.

Saul stepped into the room, looking mighty disappointed as he noticed 8's attire. His left hand flashed toward 8-Ball's desk as soon as she blinked.

"Glad to see you're still alive. How're you doing?"

8-ball sighed. "Bored," she said. "I have absolutely nothing to do but work and play, and neither are very entertaining at the moment. Work is work, you know how that goes, and play. . .well, play led to a very enthusiastic stalker. I've been hiding in here for the last two days. Tell me you brought something fun to fiddle with."

The Dutchman tilted his head. "Why, I have brought something, but if you fiddle with it a certain Engineer will have it thrown out of the airlock. Stalker, you say?"

"Sadly, yes. Some men are just so overcome with my charms. It's hell to be popular."

"You want me to take care of it?" He asked enigmatically, looking serious all of the sudden.

8-ball watched Saul's expression shift, from teasy-flirty to oh-so-solemn, and it made her giggle. "Sorry," she said, but her grin took something out of the apology. "It's just. . .you look so defensive and serious, like a knight ready to defend his lady's honor." 8-ball grinned wider. "Are you gonna protect wittle, ole 8-ball from the big, bad stalker man?"

"8, you're no lady." Saul smirked. "But that doesn't mean I can't give Mr. Stalker guy a run for his money. I've got some very interesting techniques I'm dying to try on someone ever since I graduated."

"Well, sorry to say, but I don't think Mr. Stalker Guy is worth it. He's a little useless but he'll get the idea eventually. Anyway, I don't think beating obedience out of him is really the way to go. I'm not sure M'Kantu would really approve of the torture."

"O Captain my Captain!" Saul proclaimed, amused. "He has been rather merciful lately. There are a couple of people I'd vent into space if I were him." As it often was the case with the intelligence chief, it was hard to tell whether he was serious or not.

"Yeah?" 8-ball could think of a few people herself. Kathy, from Sciences. . .she was always hoping the Breen would invade and eat her, or something. "Got anyone in mind? Not me, I hope." She fluttered her eyes innocently.

"Not you, you'll just spread your cloths across the bow, do somersaults, and make half the ship drool. Hard to run an intelligence department when all men gaze goggle-eyed at the visual sensor array. Other people, though... like, they've just dumped this new officer on me. Now, we're in dire need of personnel, but this guy just comes out of nowhere, and let me tell you - if he managed to pass the academy, then I'll enroll my mother because the old woman would graduate Manga Cum Laude."

Of course, there was no new officer, so Saul's mother could remain safely in her antiques & books store without having to undergo four years of rigorous training. 8-Ball, however DID have a couple of VERY specific science crewmates being parachuted onto her lap.

"Got any of those?" Saul asked casually.

8-ball grinned. "Why Saul," she said, "you couldn't POSSIBLY be referring to my friend Andy the Librarian could you? Cause I know just how much you two get along."

In actuality, 8-ball had known nothing about their dislike of each other because she didn't pay attention to every little thing going around on the ship, but Andy had come to her the other day to, in essence, tell her that Saul was a big meanie-head. He did a lot smoother than that, but that's pretty much what he meant, and 8-ball wondered if it was meant to be a pre-emptive strike against Saul telling 8-ball that Andy was a big meanie-head.

~Boys~ she thought to herself.

"Unless you have any other librarians, that must be the one." Saul scowled. "I dropped by the other day, to take a peek at the databanks, and let me tell you - this guy is SO fool of himself, it's a physical phenomena. Does he even have any training, other than dusting the shelves and rearranging booklets?"

"He's a LIBRARIAN," 8-ball said. "How much training could it possibly take? Besides, he's cute, nice, has decent snark abilities. What don't you like about him?"

"SNARK abilities?"

"Yes, snark. As in snarky. You know, quick, sarcastic little comebacks, and the like. I don't want to know what YOU thought snark was." 8-ball paused. "Thoooooough. . .I'm sure he's talented in many ways."

Saul paused. "Wait. Don't tell me you DID him! He's your subordinate... and an ugly subordinate at that!"

8-ball just grinned at him. "Why, Saul, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous. This IS funny." Then, before Saul could protest, 8-ball said, "Don't worry. I know you're not actually jealous. Madly in love with Nara and all that. But still, it is kind of funny."

"Why, just because I am involved with Nara doesn't mean I'm castrated, 8. It's simply that I don't WANT to be castrated. But one of these days, I'm going to make you regret all the teasing." He waved a finger at her.

"Yeah, yeah," 8-ball said. She shifted on the bed until she was sitting on her knees. "You know," she said. "I could tell you all the gory details.

Where we were, what position. . .and then you could be all 'He wasn't THAT good' and 'There's no WAY Meanie Andy did anything like THAT'."

"Naaa, I don't buy it. Even you got standards, 8."

"True," 8-ball said, "but they're pretty broad standards, and Andy could be fun, for a not-serious fling thing. But you're right, I'm trying to not date my direct subordinates, ever since the Captain shook his head at me for that. Besides, I'm preeeety sure I'm not Andy's type."

"I don't get it," 8-ball said. "I figured you guys would like each other. Cute, funny, both a little secretive. Why can't you kiss and make up and, I don't know, devise some elaborate plots to take over the world and find me a steady boyfriend?"

"If you want a steady boyfriend, that could be arranged." Saul's thoughts darted toward Miramon. No. His poor friend won't know what hit him. "As for Mr. Snarky, I have a bad feeling about him. I'm serious. So please pay attention. Oh, and merry christmas."

With a sly grin, Saul pulled the bottle he hid next to 8-Ball's desk as soon as he entered the room. For a non-drinker, Saul knew quite a lot about alcohol - that market remained profitable enough throughout the 24th. century. For example, he knew that a bottle of Romulan Chibi t'Obaralo, from any vintage, would make every new year's eve a celebration.

"Enjoy." He offered her the green bottle.

8-ball took the bottle, ecstatic. "Saul, this is awesome!" She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You rock, man. And hey, I actually got you something too. It's not as fun as this, but. . ."

She walked over to a drawer and opened it. Hiding the object in her hands, she said, "Close your eyes."

"This isn't necessary." Saul said coolly.

"Just do it," 8-ball said.

He tried to protest some more, but gave up on his futile attempt and closed his eyes. He was going to regret this.

8-ball walked over to him, smirking and pasted the false mustache on his face. "There. Now you look like a real spy."

Saul reached for it. Top quality. He could even use it for his own purposes. He grinned mischievously. "Toda raba, 8. This is the best Hanukka present I ever got."

The sad thing was, this wasn't a lie.

"When you're single again," 8-ball said. "Come back. I'm sure I can give you something MUCH better than that."

{{OOC: Happy new year from Oded and Kylee!}}

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