Sneak Peek

Flight Officer Anna "Natural" Lewis (APC - Frank)
Lieutenant Darius "Carnage" Slaughter (APC - Eric)

En Route to the Vered Cluster
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darius took one last look at the fighters nestled snugly in their births and
sighed as he exited the flight deck, locking the door behind him with a
Level Five access restriction. Even the Captain of the Typhon didn't have
permission to much more than carry the fighters, and that was coming
straight from General Dex. "Operate'n'l security," Darius muttered as he
headed away from the bay. "T'will get us all killed."

"Lighten up, Darius," Anna teased him once the door was finally shut. Her
security clearance was barely even high enough to get her onto the Typhon,
let alone for her to look at or handle the fighters. Still, she'd been able
to catch a few glances while Darius fussed over them. "They'll still be
there when you come back later. Operational security on this thing is
tighter than a teenage girl's jeans. I almost had to book separate
transport, and I'm your wingman." Anna Lewis had changed a lot over the two
years since she'd first strapped into the pilot's couch. She was even
leaner than she'd been then, if that was possible, and the golden blonde
hair was cut short in a functional bob. Even leaning against the wall
opposite the door, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, there was an energy about
Anna Lewis that hadn't been there before the Battle of Havras. Before her
sister, one of the original Vanguards, had died and she'd switched from
engineering to piloting to honor her memory.

Darius eyed the young woman and shook his head. "Tis not a question of if
they'll still be there, lass," he said as he continued to walk along. "I
trust it takes naught but powers equal ta Q to make them disapear under our
nose. Tis the dispatch of these craft whot tisn't ready yet." He was
wearing loose fitting pants and boots of black, with an off-white blouse -
his favored off-duty attire, or similar likeness. "Half complete trials,
warp drive barely cer'ified .... " Again the El Aurian shook his head.
"I've seen systems fielded 'afore their due time. Tha' results were worse
than if the status quo'd been left alone."

"That I'll agree with," Anna said as she fell in just behind him on the
right side. The spot for the wingman. Even when they walked it was
unconscious. "Nothing I hate more than new fighters. Not even newly
designed fighters, just new ones in general. Factory fresh models always
have problems, always aren't calibrated right, always this that and the
other thing. I hope these things work. I'm going to have a hard time
giving up my Rogue for one of them."

"Oh, twill be a capable craft, once tha' kink's've been worked out." He had
no doubts about that. "Every'thin's fine for a garrison, there'd be time to
work it all out. Here, though," Darius waved his hands, "in the vasty
nothin'ness, all ye have ta count on is yer wingmate and yer craft .... "
He stopped and looked Anna in the eyes. "And if one thing's been taught me
in the centuries tis this - if ye can't even count on yer craft, no amount
of wingmate can save ye."

"I feel much safer now," Anna laughed. "So what's the story on these
birds? Why are we rushing them out to an active duty site so soon? I mean,
I get that there's a war on. But wouldn't we want more tested craft on the
front lines?"

" 'Xactly me point," Darius agreed as they continued on through the fighter
carrier. "Tha only thing I can think of's the Galaxy's CAG's make a thorn
of 'imself in Dex's side. Dex's shuttin' 'im up, and givin' Albatross a
'trial by fire' in a single go. If everythin's peachy, Dex looks good as
he's whot made tha call in tha first place. If everythin' goes pear shaped,
Master Quattro and the Vanguards'll be takin' tha fall. Dex'll get the
'tough decision, twas naught you coulda done,' speech an a pat on tha back
then back ta work." At the next junction he hung a right, entering the
turbolift. "Deck 8. Comin'?"

"Sure," Anna replied simply, avoiding the political discussion. Although it
was interesting to her, she found that as a member of the armed forces who
had to follow orders when they were given, she couldn't take a side or a
stance.

They walked on in silence, Darius having little more to say on the subject.
When he stopped next it wasn't at their quarters, nor on the lounge located
on the same deck. Rather, it was a holodeck. Stepping inside he allowed
the doors to close before removing a set of isolinear chips from his
pocket. "Mmm, it pays ta have friends in specail places," he muttered as he
knelt and removed the lower computer access pannel. Riffling through the
chips he inserted them in specific places and in a specific order. "There,
that should do the trick." As he stood the Galaxy's flight deck apeared
around them, complete with the new Albatross project fighters.

"Is this legal?" Anna asked, more than a little surprise. Usually the specs
on a new fighter craft were kept so secret that creating a holodeck program
would be next to impossible.

Darius grinned and ushered her over to one of the fighters, her call sign
stenciled in under the viewports. "A gift from Gen'ral Dex. Tha
computer'll keep no record of this program, it'll only know as one was run.
'Sides, you'll be in one soon enough. Might's well get a head start on yer
progression trainin', no?"

"Oh hell yes. Have to keep the Vanguards on their toes somehow," she
replied, jogging over to examine one of the new craft. "And how does a guy
like you get to know a man like Dex?"

"Tis best be left said that me pilotin's saved this craft from tha scrap
heap on far too many'n occasion." Darius grinned as he watched her nearly
drool over the hologram. "Selfsame pilotin's whot keeps Dex in good graces
with his bosses'n'peers. He hopes 'avin' Albatross' lead test pilot flyin'
with tha first unit whot gets'm'll give 'em a better chance."

"Interesting. I bet the Rogue Design Team is sweating over having their
craft replaced with these," she said, testing out the ladder into the
cockpit. "They've been the dominant Federation starfighter design ever
since... well, really since we started using real fighters, back in 2372."

Darius shrugged, "'who's ta say Rouge didn't design these beasties?" Once
she was in her craft Darius turned and clambered up into his own, closing
her up and activating his comm. "Natural, tis Carnage."

"Because Rogue refuses to give their craft anything other than the Rogue
moniker. They're very proud of their design," she replied over the comm.
Everything in her cockpit smelled new and fresh. It was exhilarating to
think she was getting an early trial run in one of these, before almost
every other pilot in the Federation. "So what's the plan here, Carnage?"

"Albatross 'tis naught but tha' project name," Darius said, bringing his
fighter online in accordance with the preflight checklist. "This sim tis a
detail finickey beastie. If ye can't do it fer real, ye can't make it
'appen here. Now, should be a checklist under yer seat. Preflight 'n
startup's a tad different'n what yer used to. Twould be a good idea ta use
it." A 'tad different' was a gross understatement, something Darius stated
on purpose just to see how quickly she'd catch on. If she even tried
looking at the book.

Darius nodded to himself as she brought her craft online. This was going to
be .... quite fun ....

"Bad Doctor"

With

Branwen London
1st Lieutenant, CO, 5th Platoon & Marine Psychologist
Furies Detachment
U.S.S. Galaxy

Marjorie Fellowes, DO
Rear Admiral, Starfleet Reserve Medical Corps
Director of Women's Health, New York-Presbyterian Health System

Bran had been so busy with the upcoming mission and the marriage the days
before that she had not had the change to worry too much. But today sitting
in the waiting room to see the surgeon for the first time made her really
really nervous again. But there was no turning back anymore, this was one
thing she had to do, and had to do now.

Marjorie Fellowes walked out...in a Starfleet Medical teal uniform, and two
pips of the Admiralty. She smiled broadly, her vanilla caramel skin smooth
and perfect. Her light brown hair was set in a neat, but attractive bun.

"1st Lt. London, I presume," she greeted with a hand in offering.

Branwen having expected a civilian surgeon for some strange reason, just
squeaked. Her eyes grew large as she watched the outdoor before her.
"Ma'am." She was finally able to get out, and extend her own hand.
"You?. You
are the surgeon?"

"Yes, I'm Marjorie Fellowes," the Surgeon replied, giving Bran's hand a firm
pump before releasing it. "I'm in the Reserves, in case you were
wondering," she added with a smirk. She knew that the young woman was
nervous, no-make that near panic. It was written all over her and in her
body language.

"Reserves, do you have to wear a uniform than, ma'am?" Branwen blurted out
"wouldn't you feel more comfortable without?".

"Sorry. To get out here this quickly I needed to reactivate my Commission
to Active Duty. But to make you feel better, during the procedure I'll
just wear scrubs, okay?"

"Thank you, ma'am. I am not trying to be difficult, ma'am. It would make me
feel more comfortable." She managed a tight smile.

"Good, now I'm assuming that Max has gone through the final preparations
with you," Fellowes asked.

"Kind of. You are going to look first, right, to see if you can do
something." The young woman was still fumbling nervously. "I haven't even
thought about you know? if there is nothing you can do. It just has to
work."

Fellowes seriously began to wonder if this Marine was 'all there'. "The
only pre-op that I really need to do at this point is to ensure that the
grafts that we need are ready, and that you physically are ready for this
procedure. Remember," she added, "this is reconstructive surgery. Even in
this day and age, not everything is instant, not everything is 100%
guaranteed. Do you understand me, Branwen?"

"Yes ma'am. And I am a marine, I am in good physical shape and fit. But
don't you need to look or something? Can you tell me today if it is going to
work?" Huge eyes looked at Fellowes.

Realizing that Branwen wanted to be made to feel reassured, Fellowes
acquiesced. "Well, what I'll do is perform another exam to have a better
look at you. But understand that I'm not going to second guess Max."

"Of course not ma'am." She squeaked. "I hope I did not imply that. But you
are the specialist so you might be able to give me more details, ma'am."

"Of course," Fellowes replied. "Let's go to a private exam room, so that we
can do a detailed scan and physical." They adjourned to the same room that
Max had for Bran's consult.

"Yes ma'am." Branwen said sitting on the bed.

"Don't worry, none of this will hurt at all," the surgeon reassured her. "The
scan will be fairly quick, with the visual exam being only mildly
uncomfortable."

"Max did it without me having to undress. Since you are a woman, I wouldn't
mind if I need to take some clothes off." She blushed.

"Of course," Fellowes smiled, while inwardly she started to feel sorry for
this young Marine. There seemed to be much deeper issues running here, and
she wondered for the first time if these procedures were in her best
interest, or if there should be some psychiatric intervention...no, guidance
involved before this goes any further.

"Well, the scans are just as I suspected, from the preliminaries I've
received. I can see that everything is consistent, thus far." She brought
up a three-dimensional representation of Branwen's pelvis and magnified the
areas of interest on the large monitor. "You can see here, and here where
the old fractures have been healed over in an irregular fashion, and where
the calcification has spread out unchecked, fusing your pelvis all around.
You were functional in terms of orthopedic movement, but that was the end of
it. I'm surprised that you received no treatment for this until now."

"I guess I never had an internal exam, because I wasn't sexually active,
they didn't think it was necessary." She shrugged. "And I didn't know
anything was wrong down there. Can you fix it, ma'am?"

She took a deep breath. She knew she shouldn't have allowed herself to get
pushed into giving an estimate.

"Well, to be honest, I think this will take a bit longer to recover from
once I actually do the surgery."

"Like what, ma'am, a day or two of taking it easy?" Bran asked.

"No," she replied in a serious tone. "Like two or three weeks. And that
would be two or three weeks in bed, not moving, under mild sedation and pain
management."

Branwen's eyes grew huge. "Three weeks! What about my job! I still have
to impress my boss who is new and thinks I am a total idiot. As I have
patients." She relaxed slightly. "As I have a high pain threshold maybe
it's not necessary in my case?"

Marjorie Fellowes took a deep breath and then willed herself not to lose it
on this kid. "If you want this procedure, it's my way. Otherwise, it's the
highway. Two to three weeks for recovery, in bed, with appropriate therapy.
Your job, patients, and...other needs will have to wait."

Her patient blinked a few times, apparently the doctor was not the only one
close to losing it. "Why the sedation? Why don't you just tie me down if
you think I'm going to run." Doctors were all the same, sadists.

*One, Two, Three...*"I don't think you're going to run, and the sedation is
in concert with your pain management after the surgery. I just don't want
you undoing my fine work."

"I thought you people liked causing pain." Branwen was off the bed now. "I
have to work, ma'am. We are leaving on an important mission soon, and I
cannot be missed for that. I'm sorry for making you come all this way for
nothing." The tears were very close now.

"Lieutenant London!" Snapped Rear Admiral Fellowes. She took one step
closer to Branwen, noticing the fear rising within her. "I think you have
some significantly deep seeded issues within you that need to be addressed.
As of right now, you're not getting the surgery." She was beginning to
have an idea of what Branwen's malfunction was, but felt it would be better
taken care of by a Counselor specifically trained to address issues such as
this one. "I will be here for some time, assisting the Medical staff as
needed, but for now, I think we've completed this consult."

"You sadistic bitch!" This was not the Branwen anybody on the ship knew. Or
had seen her act like this. "You think this is some kind of game? That
this is some kind of treat you can hold in front of me, and take away
whenever it suits you." Suddenly she was in the Admiral's face, all fear
forgotten. "Damn right I have some deep-seated issues inside me." She
pressed a hand to her belly. "No thanks to you lot. It's fun isn't it,
making people suffer. I bet you enjoyed seen me get hope, and then taking
it all away. It exactly how you people operate. I'm through, you can keep
your stupid operation, I refuse to ever have medical assistance again." She
turned around, tears of rage and humiliation flying from her eyes.

"Marine, STAND DOWN!" roared Fellowes. "You WILL maintain your composure
AND your military bearing, AM I CLEAR?" She hoped that by using the
precepts that are imprinted into the psyches of all Marines that Branwen
would snap to and get a grip. Otherwise, the next step would be relief from
duty until a full and thorough psych evaluation could be done.

She stopped in her tracks, tears freely flowing now. "What? What more do
you want to do to me... ma'am." She came to perfect attention in front of
the Admiral.

"Do to you?" she retorted. "I think you're doing a good enough job of that
yourself. Have you stopped to listen to yourself? You are not thinking
with a clear head, too emotional. I want you to speak to a Counselor, get
through these issues. Then come back and see me. I'll be here. Until
then, dismissed." Her stance indicated that there was no more discussion
to follow.

~Bitch~ She muttered under her breath again still crying. Bran was certain
she was NOT going to come back here.

"Run-In" Part 1

Colonel For'kel Arvelion-SFMC
Commanding Officer
188th Starfleet Marines Detachment

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galaxy
========================================
(Several Hours Before The Pirate Attack)

Everyone had their own way of preparing and training for missions.
There was still considerable time before they headed off to the first
colony to pry people away for their homes... and Fork's particular way
preparing for this mission was a chicken club sandwich, and going over
everything he could find in his collection of old field manuals from
his time at the Academies and sociological and historical journal
articles regarding the numerous societies and colonies that were
'native' (theoretically) to the Vered Cluster.

Admittedly, there was a small window with one of his favorite Terran
cartoons playing. The stuff he was trying to read was extraordinarily
condensed after all, and the mind needed a break every now and again.
Besides, he wanted to see how the dumb coyote fucked things up this
time.

Outside in the corridor Dhanishta read the door numbers as she walked,
103? 104? 105? 106, at the next she stopped and took a moment's pause
to glance down at the padd in her hand. Her years on the Galaxy
seemed to have flown past in the blink of an eye. So many people had
come and gone and she felt as if she had missed it all. In part she
had, a nine month coma had taken out a huge chunk of one year, but
besides that she really felt as if she had very little. All the
things that she had thought of as stabilities were as stable as
building on quick sand. She had been striving to find that place
called 'home', she had wanted so much to believe that Vulcan was where
her heart belonged, but it didn't, it hadn't. This ship was her home.
The place where she would be remembered, and instead of hiding away,
afraid to get too close to others in fear of the pain that union could
bring, it was long over due for her to step out of the shadows and let
the sun shine on her face.

And that, in essence, was why she was standing outside room number 107
with a recipe in her hand. It was a long shot that Chief Petty
Officer Suum-Arvelion had actually been serious when she said Dhani
could drop off her own interpretation of the classic Trill dish Azna,
but Dhani had come to realize that the only way she would ever make a
difference, or truly find that place called home, was to follow up on
such leads of friendship, explore them and if it were to be full of
pain and anguish ? she had to learn how to deal with that emotion
without going off the deep end.

~Ohh I'm growing as a person!~ Dhani thought factiously, ~more like
trying to find a way to keep out of counseling?~ slapping a polite
smile on her face, smoothing her hair and adding that sense of 'I was
just passing by' quality to her stance she pressed the chime. She
really didn't want Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum-Arvelion to
realize that she had been rehearsing her entrance speech just in case
the woman was being polite out of habit to a superior officer.

"It's open!" The Stagnorian called out from his sofa, quickly hitting
the 'mute' feature on his computer and pausing and shrinking the
cartoon window. He hadn't been expecting anyone to come by before the
mission, but Berilyn and he had a habit of never denying anyone entry
unless... well... he blushed at those thoughts.

When the engineer walked in he was kind of surprised. It wasn't like
he'd ever met Dhani before, and other than overhearing passing remarks
he didn't really know much about her. Hell, he didn't even know it
was her just yet! "Hi. Can I help you with something?"

Dhanishta took a moment to look around confusion washing over her
face, her rehearsed lines flying out the airlock. "Erm.." she began
cautiously, nervous that she had the wrong quarters, "I was looking
for Chief Petty Officer Berilyn Suum-Arvelion?" she let her statement
hang as if it were a question as she glanced over her shoulder, ~maybe
it was number 207??~

Fork smiled. "She's on leave right now... transferred off at the
base. She won't be back for about a week. Come on in." He got up,
offering his hand as she walked in. "I'm her husband, For'kel."

She took the offered hand and smiled softly, "Dhanishta." she replied
by way of introduction. "I'm really sorry, I should have checked with
the computer to see if she was on board." she chided herself and
apologized at the same time.

"It's really not a problem at all." Especially when you bring food,
he thought to himself, offering his guest a seat in the living area.
"It's always a pleasure to meet new people, Dhanishta." He remembered
the name 'Dhani' bounded about by some of the younger, more 'star'
struck officers... particularly the males, and didn't take long to
make the connection. "You're the Chief Engineer?"

Dhanishta paused in her step and eyed him suspiciously for a moment.
She hadn't expected her name to be recognized by anyone let alone a
stranger. Though there weren't many Dhanishta's on board so he could
just be a manifest worm? or maybe people did talk about her after all?
she shook her head gently, doubting that any of it was good.

"Guilty as charged." she resigned as she took a seat on the couch
placing the padd she had been carrying tentatively on her knees.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." He made his way to the replicator.
"Care for a drink or something to eat?"

"Sure, erm? coffee would be great, a latt?, double sweet." she smiled
at the offer.

With a nod he keyed in the request, the latt? appearing in a hum, the
glass mug with Starfleet logo and metal handle steaming as he brought
it over. "So how did you and Bery run into each other?"

Dhanishta tilted her head to one side, "Well?" she began taking a deep
breath to begin explaining the order of events?

***Flashback***

Location:USS Galaxy, Stardrive section, during the battle to retake
Deep Space 5.

Berilyn had always found it easier to escape overly dwelling on the
possibility that her husband could be killed (a fear which never
disappeared, but could be lessened) by concentrating on her own job.
Right now, that was doing her best to maintain transporter locks on a
number of possible targets. It was a hectic job in the middle of
combat, keeping transporter locks on Marines and personnel deployed
off ship, and simultaneously responding to emergency transporter
requests aboard the Galaxy.

It all required a system of organization, to guarantee that nobody was
being locked onto by two different transporters, and that everyone
could be serviced at a second's notice. Prior to the battle, an
arrangement among the different transporter chiefs laid out who would
be responsible for what. The odd number transporter rooms would be
responsible for intra-ship emergencies, be it moving security teams
expediently to boarding incidents, or transporting the injured to
sickbay. The even numbered rooms would track the personnel aboard
Deep Space Five, and search for a way to penetrate the transporter
inhibition fields at work so they could begin evacuating the survivors
there.

Bery was assigned to Transporter Room One. It was probably for the
best, as she could be easily tempted to bring For'kel back far too
prematurely. Just to be on the safe side though, she was still
working on a way to penetrate the inhibitor fields. For all her skill
and experience with transporter systems however, she was not finding
the task possible, let alone easy.

Exactly what they didn't need to happen, happened. There was an
overload in one of the primary pattern buffers, frying the damned
thing.

"Damn it!" She hissed, rushing over to the pad and pulling up one of
the access hatches. She was never adverse to the grime that was
endemic to technical work, so when black dust from fried circuitry
plumed upwards, she didn't think anything about where it settled, just
that she needed another buffer. A perusal of the device made it clear
it was unsalvageable, leaving just one alternative. She hit her
combadge a little harder than was necessary, but fortunately the tiny
device, much like it's wearer, was tougher well beyond proportion of
what it's small stature would suggest. "Transporter room one to
bridge, we've lost a buffer and need to divert emergency responses
until repairs can be effected."

"Run-In" Part 2

Colonel For'kel Arvelion-SFMC
Commanding Officer
188th Starfleet Marines Detachment

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galaxy
========================================
(Several Hours Before The Pirate Attack)

"Damn it!" She hissed, rushing over to the pad and pulling up one of
the access hatches. She was never adverse to the grime that was
endemic to technical work, so when black dust from fried circuitry
plumed upwards, she didn't think anything about where it settled, just
that she needed another buffer. A perusal of the device made it clear
it was unsalvageable, leaving just one alternative. She hit her
combadge a little harder than was necessary, but fortunately the tiny
device, much like it's wearer, was tougher well beyond proportion of
what it's small stature would suggest. "Transporter room one to
bridge, we've lost a buffer and need to divert emergency responses
until repairs can be effected."

"Understood." Was the simple reply that came back from the bridge as
another volley hit the Galaxy, rocking the Flag ship and all the
occupants within.

It was about that time Dhanishta decided to make her escape from the
Bridge. Her console was flagging up problems all over the place. It
was to be expected she supposed as she left her seat, nodded to her
replacement, informing him of what she needed doing as she grabbed her
tool kit and made her way to the turbo lift. Emergency response teams
were already working flat out, and scantly distributed around the ship
to the essential immediate repairs. Right this second the
transporters were not high on the priority list, however they would be
essential in the rescue operation, that was only going to happen if
someone worked a miracle with the targeting sensors or else it
wouldn't really matter cause they would all be toast!

Flashes of the last time she faced the Hydran in combat rolled before
her eyes as she blinked, the last thing she wanted was to be left
stranded on an alien planet, or skewered to a bulkhead, or left to
suffocate. She shook the images from her head and prayed that in
addition to not being almost killed this time, that she ship wouldn't
be boarded again!

So many battles she recalled, some weren't even hers she thought
scathingly as Larimar's face floated through her mind. Bracing
herself against the walls of the lift as the ship was attacked again
she gritted her teeth and once the doors opened, jogged down the
corridor. This would be a really bad moment to have a flash back, she
informed her mind defiantly. Rounding the next corner she came to the
door of the transporter room and hastily fell through it as the ship
rocked once more. There were times when Dhanishta thought that she
might just advocate genocide!

By the time the door opened, Bery's normally fair complexion and
golden hair was at least partially covered in a thin film of black.
The obliterated pattern buffer module sat next to her, while she
kneeled over the module's housing to insure its remains wouldn't pose
a problem for any new component. She only recognized the chief
engineer from the basic manifest every crewman was handed out, having
never met the woman in person. Still, Dhanishta's face was a give
away of who she was. "Welcome to Transporter Room 1 ma'am."

Dhanishta cast an un-amused glace around the room, the welcome was
sincere, that much she was sure of, it was the state of the room she
was upset with. But it was more so than that. It was the state of
the ship, the people, the fact that no matter what happened, one thing
was certain on this ship ? conflict. And that meant loss of life,
loss of equipment, double time, over time, so much time that simply
didn't exist to get what needed to be done done. And who in their
right mind made her chief? And why in the hell did she accept? And
to top it off this was a really lousy time to be contemplating career
choices that had already been made! The anger on her face was clear
as her cheeks flushed. Gritting her teeth she passed off what could
have been called a smile at Berylin, though it was more of a grimace.
"What have we got here then?" she asked as she knelt beside the woman
to make her own inspection.

"Simply need a replacement pattern buffer." It was a rather open and
shut case as far as she was concerned. Berilyn kept her focus on her
job as thoroughly as anyone could, knowing ultimately it was the best
thing to do. "Procedure requires it to be a two person job."

Dhanishta nodded, "We're not gonna have time to replace this
completely." She thought aloud. Tapping her com badge quickly she
enquired as to the stock levels of the required parts and shook her
head. "For now we are going to have to use the back up, in the mean
time I'm gonna try and get another replicated. Just pray that we

don't need it." she added with a grimace.

"Every time, ma'am." Bery didn't 'stop' praying it seemed sometimes.
"My husband's over on the station right now... I'd rather 'not' have
the system down if he needs to be evacuated."

"Agreed." Dhani replied, "Start disconnecting this one, I'll go to
engineering myself and see what I can find?" she stood up and placed
her hand on the woman's shoulder, "Don't worry, we're getting all them
back no matter what. Ya hear?" she questioned her hand trailing off
the woman's shoulder as she turned to leave.

Bery smiled her usual smile. "Never doubted it, ma'am."

***End flashback***

"?That was it really," Dhani concluded with a shrug, "nothing
particularly fancy, just a run in during an emergency situation. It
wasn't until after the battle we got talking."

For'kel had to laugh. "It actually sounds a lot like the way I first
met her. Back on the Miranda... the Kelvin class Miranda that is, she
needed a quick repair call and I happened to be the lucky engineer on
call that night. We bumped heads while working in a space that was
way too close and then I looked up into her eyes... the rest as they
say is history." He smiled brightly with those memories... who
wouldn't? "Our son has her eyes."

"You have a child?" Dhanishta said surprised, "I didn't know that."
she confessed, "That's actually in part why I'm here." she added
trying not to sound embarrassed. In response to his probing eyes she
elaborated. "It's well known that there is a divide in the fleet,
three factions to be exact," she said. "The fleet incorporates
commissioned officers, marines and non commissioned officers. Between
each there is a rivalry, loathing, even so far as to say a mistrust.
It's petty really, given that we all work for the same cause. And, I
have to confess that I was going to attempt to use your wife in order
to try and bridge that gap, at least in my own department." she
disclosed her intentions, better to be open about them rather than try
to be coy ? the latter rally didn't suite her style anyway.

"A noble cause." The Stagnorian nodded in approval of the stated
aims. "Where I'm from, there are only really two military services,
the Rangers which would be our equivalent of your ground forces, and
the Armada which would be our fleet. Although there is certainly
competition, it's usually unit style competition and certainly lacks
the poignancy of the inter-service rivalries here. Starborne Rangers,
which are probably more equitable to Marines, serve on Starships and
Stations but are routinely under command of the Rangers, sort of
bridging the gap if you would. We don't segregate enlisted and
officer the way you do here... it's a solitary ranking system."
Exactly why he was explaining this, he didn't know. However at the
same time it felt good to get it out, and remind himself that the
life he'd become accustomed to in the Federation was a bit 'strange'
compared to what he thought normal practices should be. "And many of
our special forces units are joint services units."

Dhanishta nodded, listening intently, "I think that's how it should be
here, I honestly don't understand the divide. We are all working for
the same goal, or at least I think we are." she joked. "I wasn't sure
if Berilyn was sincere when she said I should drop this off," she
indicated the padd on her lap, "I expect she is well known for
politeness?" she half questioned, "but I thought I'd follow up on the
offer, a gesture? someone has to start right?" she asked.

"All great deeds are the children of someone's initiative." He
grinned, remembering that clich? saying from history class way back in
school. "I tend to think my wife is polite, but then again I'm quite
biased. As a policy we leave our door open, it's one of those pesky
little quirks I've brought with me from home that seems to have rubbed
off on her." He looked at the device in her hands inquisitively.
"What's that?"

"Oh, it's a recipe for Azna," she replied passing over the padd, "well
it's an adaptation of it anyway." she explained, "it's a popular Trill
dish. Somehow our conversation turned to food, don't ask me how," she
said with a dismissing wave of her hand, "and anyway, I mentioned
this, and she asked for the recipe." she gave a small shrug in
addition to her narrative. There wasn't much more to tell really,
that was the whole all; meet, greet and follow up just a pity that she
wasn't here.

For'kel laughed. "Berilyn is a great chef... and although I'd love
her all the same if she weren't, I must say good food goes a long way
to making it easier to do so." He winked, accepting the PADD on her
behalf. "You're always welcomed to stop by, Lieutenant."

"Thanks." Dhani replied smiling, "and the same to you, I'm on deck
eight." she informed him, "I don't claim to be able to cook, I can,
but it's not something I'm very good at. My partner on the other hand
is, and as I have just installed a kitchen unit for him so he can do
it the 'proper way'," she imitated him with air quotes, "you and
Berilyn are always welcome to stop by for dinner."

"Deaf Ears"

Col. For'kel Arvelion
Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara

*****
Deck 16
Marine Country

Iniara felt a bit strange as she entered the expansive main deck of
Galaxy's dedicated Marines area. Soldiers wearing the standard black
and green were everywhere, some in formation, others moving supply
containers from place to place, still others milling about, all of
them paying her very little attention. So they were being deployed
already. It made sense; there were a large number of colonies in the
Vered Cluster...best to get started early. Quickly sidestepping an
antigrav sled that looked potentially overloaded, Iniara began to move
towards the nearby offices. Perhaps she would find the Colonel there.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" A guy who looked far too 'average' to be a
Marine asked, slightly graying hair making it look like a very messy
eater was
chomping down on a powdered donut over his head.

"I hope so," she replied, turning automatically towards the sound of
the voice. "I'm looking for Colonel Arvelion."

"I'm sorry, the Colonel is on the launch deck preparing to head down."
He checked the plan of the day. "In fact, they should be off in about
2
minutes."

Iniara tried not to grimace. The only thing worse than delivering bad
news was having to do it on a tight time schedule. "I really need to
catch him before he leaves," she told the man. "What's the quickest
way down to the launch deck?"

"Straight back to the aft turbo-lift ma'am. It's pre-programmed so
the command 'launch deck' will take you there immediately."

"Thank you," she replied, giving the man a quick nod before dashing
off in the direction he had indicated.

The scene was much the same down on the launch deck, with one notable
exception. While it wasn't anything physical the Marines were doing,
their surface thoughts clearly indicated the location of their
commanding officer. As they moved around the deck something about
them changed, like just being near the Colonel altered their mental
states. It was an interesting effect, she mused, almost like what she
imagined a hive of bees would be like around their queen.

Moving through the amazingly organized chaos as unobtrusively as she
could, Iniara found her mark relatively quickly. As fate would have
it he was in the middle of something, which would of course give her
even less time to pull him aside and deliver her message. But maybe
that was a blessing, at least on her end; she could use the time to
gather her thoughts and maybe even slow the pace of her quickly
beating heart. Taking up a spot to one side of the perimeter that
formed around the man, she waited for him to finish so she could get
his attention.

Fleet technicians and Marine flight crews were performing last minute
checks on the three hoppers that would be heading down to this colony
site. Their thrusters were locked in a loud, somewhat high pitch as
they warmed up, tossing plumes of warm and invisible exhaust over the
ant-like workers of the shuttle bay. For'kel didn't have the loudest
of voices, but he knew how to talk with hoppers in the background
thanks to having to do it so often.

"All right, listen up! For the last three months you've been training
to be the best you can be. You've all been through hell, and a lot of
you have been tested in battle. I think you've all made the
transition... that being said, you are Starfleet Marines! You are
'not' Klingon shock troops or Romulan Imperial Guardsmen. The
difference between you and them is that all of you are professionals,
trained not only in the arts and sciences of warfare, but in the craft
of diplomacy. The hallmark of professional soldiers is the
understanding that justice in the form of the 'appropriate'
application of force to successfully complete a lawful order is
integral to tempering the 'warrior' spirit. While you are all in my
unit I expect you to act in accordance with the professionalism
expected of you as Starfleet Marines, and that means you hold
yourselves to higher standards, ethically, morally, and skillfully.
Stay alert, be polite, use the minimum amount of force you have to,
but remember to complete the mission. Squads 1 and 2 follow me, 3 and
4 to the next hopper, squad 5 load into the last hopper. Let's get
this show on the road."

Sensing an opportune moment, Iniara quickly stepped forward. "Colonel
Arvelion? I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you have a moment?"

Fork gave the XO a small smile. "We're kind of in a rush, is there
something I can help you with Commander?"

"Sorry; I'll try to be quick," she replied, directing him towards a space
between two of the hoppers. They would still be able to hear each other,
but the whine of the engines would give them some measure of privacy. It
wasn't much, but...it would have to do. Satisfied, she turned and looked
up into
his eyes, trying in her drug-dulled mental state to get a good read of his
emotions. The details of his surface thoughts were unfamiliar territory to
her, but right now they were fairly straightforward...mostly calm,
collected,
keyed up a bit, but that was probably due to the mission more than
anything.
Unless he was hiding it very well, she didn't think he knew yet. Which
only
confirmed her role in this and made her heart beat that much faster, the
realization of what she was about to do weighing down on her all the more.

Get to it, she mentally urged herself, suddenly realizing that she was
dragging this out far too long even though barely two seconds had passed
between them since her thoughts had run away with her again. She inhaled,
trying
not to make the action look too overblown or symbolic, and out came what
she
knew would be the most important words either of them would say in this
whole
exchange.

"Um, have you spoken with your wife lately?"

"Yesterday." For'kel said simply, the last message he'd read being one of
Berilyn's 2 second random post cards. "Why do you as...?"

"Five seconds!" One of the Marines hollered at his boss from the cabin of
the hopper, it's thrusters getting even louder as the craft was primed
for
take-off.

"Sorry ma'am, that's my call." The unsuspecting Colonel gave Iniara an
apologetic grin before hustling in the direction of his hopper. He had no
reason to believe the message was intended as anything other than a 'your
wife
forgot to fill out this form for departure' or some such minute detail.

"Something's happened," Iniara blurted out.

By the time she said anything though, he was already in a hopper. "I'm sure
she'll figure out an appropriate color scheme. Tell her they won't mind if
she changes things!" He gave a wave and grateful smile before taking his
seat, the loud noise echoing throughout the cavernous bay obviously messing
with
even his level of hearing.

"Gear up!" One of the Marine ground-crew... a grunt who'd be heading out
for the next colony, took Iniara's arm in a gentle but insistent tug. "We
should get behind the blast-line, ma'am."

"Right..." Iniara said, eyes still focused on the hopper as she let the man
pull her backward. What could she do now? Shout it out? Yeah, shouting
'your wife's missing and possibly dead' to a few squads of Marines was
definitely not the way to deliver that sort of news, no matter how tough she thought
the Colonel was or how well she thought he could handle it. No, she realized
after a moment, it was too late now.

But she could always grab the next transport down, tell him then...

Would that really be the best course of action, though? Should she follow
him down and tell him, not knowing what the uncertainty of the situation would
do to him? If she told him, it could cloud his emotions potentially to the
point where it could negatively affect his work. And if she didn't, she'd be
keeping from him some serious news about the most important person in his
life. It was a lose-lose situation. Her own personal Kobayashi Maru.

As she watched the hoppers power up, the engines reaching a near deafening
roar, Iniara made up her mind. She'd have to keep it to herself. For'kel
might hate her when he found out, but at least it wouldn't jeopardize the
mission. And right now, the mission was what she should be focused on...what they
all should be focused on.

It wasn't a decision she was proud or even happy about, but it would have to
do.

"Always On Hold"

Lt. Commander Corran Rex
Lt. Ella Grey
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
-

USS Galaxy
Deck something-or-other

Cutter stood, waiting. Since returning to the Galaxy, he seemed to always
be waiting. Waiting for his lab to be set up. Waiting for battles to end
so he could run his experiments. Waiting to find the answers he craved so
he could move on with his life. Always waiting. Always on hold. Always
stuck in the same place.

Always waiting for the turbolift to arrive, so he could go to work.

When it finally did arrive, Cutter let out a small, thankless exhalation of
air, still impatient and annoyed, but feeling ever so slightly lighter now
that he could move on to the next proverbial waiting room. That lightness
evaporated and he sunk back down when the doors opened and a small, brown
haired mute gave him a small, shallow smile and half-hearted wave.

"Ella," he acknowledged, somberly, and stepped into the lift. Like
electrons around an atom, he and Ella moved to opposite ends of the lift,
maintaining the maximal possible distance between them. "Deck seventeen,"
he requested, and the lift complied, continuing its downward decent. But
then it stopped at the very next floor.

* * * * *

As he waited for the 'lift, Corran Rex shifted his bag onto his shoulder,
and pressed a hand to his forehead once more. He'd come out of his... coma,
or whatever it was... shortly after the end of the battle. His junior
officers in Tactical had teased him heavily about that, but had ended up
planning an impromptu celebration when he'd announced his leave of absence.

Since waking up, he'd been so doped up on isoboric drugs that he couldn't
have sensed the thoughts of a Denebian slime-devil, let alone any of the
other thousand people on this ship. Unfortunately, those drugs were also
hideously addicting, not to mention headache-inducing, and would have to be
used sparingly.

Now, he was simply taking his things down to the Marianne. A few more
errands, a few more hours, and he'd be leaving the good ship Galaxy. For how
long, he didn't know.

Maybe forever.

Then the lift doors finally opened, revealing two - especially one in
particular - people he hadn't told of his departure yet.

Somehow, he thought the ragtag spacer's clothes and old Vanguards flight
jacket he wore, coupled with battered rucksack hanging from his shoulder
would rather clue Ella in to his plans.

"Erm... hey," the Trill muttered as he squashed into the lift, and tried to
avoid getting too close to Ella, or getting Cutter's feathers in his face.

The smile on her face froze as she took in Corran's appearance, not to
mention his body language. She crossed her arms and raised a pointed
eyebrow.

"Corran," Cutter grumped in acknowledgement, and again the occupants of the
lift rearranged themselves in concordance with the laws of
repulsive physics as Rex entered.

"Deck Twelve, Main Shuttlebay," Corran ordered, and winced at the clearly
obvious stare Ella sent him. The lift complied, continuing
once more on its downward decent. But then it stopped at the very next
floor.

But the doors did not open, and no one entered. Instead, the lights dimmed
and the hum of electromagnetics hushed and died out. The three occupants of
the lift glanced at each other awkwardly with looks of subdued confusion,
then cast these same awkward stares to the turbolift doors and its control
panel.

"What happened?" Cutter said, looking at the small control panel.

"We're stuck," Corran observed plainly.

The avian sighed and fluttered his wings, "Yes, thank you. I can see that.
I meant why?"

"Because the lift broke?" he asked, fighting the urge to grin at the annoyed
scientist.

Cutter looked back to Ella. "Fix it," he commanded.

~~ Bite me ~~ Ella signed. But she moved over to the small panel and started
to remove the facing.

The avian moved out of the way, ignoring the hand sign, both because he
could barely see it and couldn't understand it and because he was certain he
didn't care what she said, as long as she got the lift moving again. Ella
stepped up to the panel and began pressing buttons.

~~I can't fix the problem from here ~~ She signed to Corran. Then rolled her
eyes when she remembered that he probably couldn't read sign in the dim
lights. "I can't do anything from here." She hated the choppiness of her
voice but they'd just have to deal with it. "We'll have to wait."

Corran started at the sound of her voice - he didn't know she was using the
modulator again.

"You can talk?" Cutter asked, surprise in his voice. "Since when?"

"I've had a vocal technology for awhile now," Ella replied with some
amusement.

"You sound atrocious. Like nails against a chalk board," he said.

"And you look like a ..." She started to snap but stopped at Rex's warning
grip on her shoulder. "This patch is only a prototype; I'm working out the
kinks.

Corran sighed heavily, and tapped the commbadge that was secured to the
front of his jacket. "Rex to Engineering. You've got a lift malfunction in
Tube Three, Junction..." he paused as he tried to make out the numbers on
the diagnostic schematic in front of him, "one-one-three-eight."

["This is Engineering, 'Commander. We've got lifts down all over the ship -
hold please."]

For just a moment, Corran thought that he heard tiny music wafting over the
open comm-link, but then he dismissed it as a figment of his
imagination.

["Sorry, sir. It's going to be a few minutes before we can send someone
there to fix the problem. Please, just sit tight,"] the engineer said upon
his return to the comm line.

Ella rubbed her temples and then blew out an imaginary strand of hair from
her eyes.

Cutter sighed and reached up to rub the bridge of his nose between his eyes,
then looked up at the other two occupants in the lift. The last time they
had all been together was over two years ago, when they had been marooned
for nearly a month on a desert planet. "Why is it that we always seem to
get stranded together?" he asked, displeased.

As always, Ella immediately tried to take the memories from the desert
planet and shove them into a mental locker, hopefully to be shipped to the
mental incinerator and burned from her mind. And as always, it wasn't
successful. She shrugged instead and focused on the long list of things she
was going to say to Rex when they were alone. It was strange how much she
wanted to pace, almost as if the manic energy she had had there was suddenly
being channeled to the present.

"At least Curtis isn't here to go crazy on us this time," Corran muttered,
speaking before thinking.

"No, now we've got you for that," Ella shot back acidly.

The Trill had the grace to at least wince. Ella had, clearly, divined his
intentions to leave the ship. Of course, he was in civilian clothes and
holding a rucksack. It wasn't really that hard to figure out. "Ella... "

"Oh, don't 'Ella' me," The pilot spat. "Just sit in your corner and shut
up."

"Oh, that's mature," Corran groused, folding his arms. "Have we regressed to
'time-out' now?"

"You can't see it," Ella replied sweetly as she extended her middle finger.
"But I'm giving you my answer."

"Cute, Ella," Corran noted, and then waved a barely-visible hand at Cutter.
"But we're hardly alone."

"Do you mind a little theater while we wait, Cutter?" Ella asked. "I know
they say silence is golden and all that but we could be stuck here quite
some time."

"I would actually prefer the silence--" the avian grumbled.

"Well, of course you would," Ella snapped.

"But, I'm certain that I won't get it," Cutter said, continuing his previous
statement. "Is there a reason you two are acting like children?"

Ella replied in a flurry of hand gestures and then turned back to the panel.
She knew that there was nothing to be done but fiddling with it might help
keep her anger towards Corran abated, her irritation at Cutter at bay, and
the inevitable thoughts of Curtis distant.

"I'm leaving the ship, and she's taking it personally," Corran finally
supplied. All things considered, the silence made the Trill...
uncomfortable. He was too used to the noise of his own head these days, and
with Burton's drugs.... well, fighting at least kept that disturbing silence
away.

"Why? Are you leaving because of her?"

"No."

"So, why is she upset?" Cutter asked, honestly baffled by the situation.

"Just because I'm four thousand years old, Cutter," Corran sighed, "Does *not
*mean that I understand women." *Hell*, Corran thought. *I've BEEN a woman,
and that doesn't help.*

Ella snorted.

"I don't think the problem is because she's female," Cutter said under his
breath, "I think its because you two are groundwalkers. I certainly don't
care that you're leaving."

Then, after a moment, Cutter added, "Wait, since when are you four thousand
years old?"

Corran looked oddly at the outline of the avian officer. "That's old news.
Where've you been?"

"Oblivious as always," Ella muttered.

"No, I've been running a scientific mission in orbit of a black hole,"
Cutter replied. "Clearly, you were never upset over my departure."

Ella considered. "You know, I think you're right."

"So, why do you care about his?"

Corran looked attentively at this - as much as he could in the lighting, at
least.

She set the panel facing aside and turned toward them. "Because I thought we
were friends. A friend would have told me that he was leaving, not try to
slink off the ship and hope I wouldn't notice. If we were friends, Cutter,
I'd be upset if you did that to me too."

Cutter's eyebrows rose, and he looked towards Corran. "In my culture,
friends come and go all the time. There is no expectation of permanence in
relationships, so no one gets upset if someone leaves. It would be silly
to. But, we do have the courtesy of saying goodbye."

"So do we," Ella replied.

"I wasn't leaving without saying goodbye, Ella," the Trill admitted. "I was
just taking my things down to my ship. I was going to come find you and
Victor before that."

She believed him but was still pissed that he hadn't even discussed it with
her.

"Why are you leaving?" Cutter asked, his intonation flat, as if it were an
effort to even bother asking the question.

Corran breathed a deep sigh before replying. "I need to be on my own for a
bit," he said, more than a bit reluctantly. "Things have.. changed for me
lately. Being around as many people as are on this ship is painful."

Ella looked at the outline of her ex boyfriend. She knew better than anyone,
well maybe except a telepath, what he was going through. But she was still
pissed that he was leaving. Ella didn't know if it was because of their
strange bond or whether she was just afraid of being lonely but she could at
least understand her own anger.

"Have you become agoraphobic?"

"No," Rex corrected. "I mean physically painful. I need to.. order my mind a
bit. Figure some things out, somewhere that it's quiet. Wherever that is,
it's definitely not on this ship."

"I don't understand," Cutter harrumphed. "Please stop being so vague."

He sighed again. "I'm a telepath," he finally admitted. "And I'm not
especially good at control."

"You're a Trill," Cutter responded. "Your species is not telepathic."

"Not in the traditional sense, no," he admitted. It was true the Trill had a
limited form of telepathy - it was one of several biological traits which
had enabled the first joinings on the home-world so many millions of years
ago - but in the traditional sense, no, they were not generally able to read
minds.

"What exactly happened to you that made you telepathic and increased your
age by several millenia?"

Corran couldn't tell if Ella could make out the pleading look for assistance
he gave her or not.

*I don't know if I can really explain it to him*, Ella thought reluctantly
at Corran. *We've never really 'gotten' each other.*

Ella's voice rang out in Corran's mind - the drugs Burton had given him were
wearing off, and their.. bond, or connection, or whatever it was was coming
back first. He felt Ella's indignation still simmering, and was surprised to
find that she was so upset because she hadn't been able to sense his
intentions.

*Maybe we've gotten more used to being in each other's heads than I thought,
*Corran thought back at Ella as he turned back to Cutter. *Though I think
I'll leave THIS part of things out.*

*That's probably for the best, *Ella agreed.

"I'm not older than I've ever been," Corran started saying as he tried to
figure the best way to explain everything to the scientist. "About five
hundred years ago, I went through a... well, let's call it a traumatic
experience. After that I spent a couple hundred years swimming around in
the pools. I was a little.. ah.. crazy during that time. The Guardians
decided to block all my previous memories to give my mind time to heal, so
after that, I thought I was newly-joined again."

"You're referring to your worm?" Cutter asked, a hint of disgust present in
his voice as he mentioned the symbiont.

Corran's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he stopped when he realized that
Cutter couldn't see his face. "I am *not *a worm," he noted indignantly.

"Surely medical tests would have indicated the worm to be quite old?"

"I'm not a worm!" Corran repeated.

*Remember who you're talking to, *Ella thought, trying to calm the Trill
down. *He might not mean to be offensive. *That part she wasn't exactly
positive about but the last thing they needed was a fist fight in the
turbolift.

*He's doing a damned good job if he's not, *Corran thought back, but reigned
his temper in nonetheless.

"Physical age isn't always an indicator of a symbiont's first bonding. Some
spend centuries in the Caves of Mak'ala before ever searching out a host.
Anyways, the memory blocks were wearing off by the time Corran and Rex were
joined, and it manifested itself as T'Rex's Syndrome - d'you remember how my
old hosts used to take over sometimes?"

"Yes," Cutter replied, opening and refolding his wings behind him, "I often
found it to be very unsettling."

"You and me both," Corran muttered. "Right, well that was because the blocks
were failing. That compound I found in the water on the desert planet - that
was actually stabilizing the connections, and working to undo the blocks.
Then the Dithparu came, and sort of, well.. blew that all wide open."

"So, the cactus fluid on the desert planet - I was aware that it cured your
multiple personality disorder, but it also led to the regaining of three and
a half millenia of forgotten memories and the development of telepathic
abilities?"

"No.." Corran sighed, "No, the telepathy is something that just happened a
few months ago, with those Romulan katras. I don't really know how to
explain it."

Cutter harrumphed. "Well, your life sounds like it has become more
complicated than mine has since we returned from that planet."

"D'you know.." Corran trailed, "I absolutely agree with you."

The three stood there in the dark, staring silently at each other, each
contemplating Corran's story. After a moment of thought, Cutter pointed
out, "But, really, your life hasn't changed at all. You were suffering from
debilitating voices in your head before we became stranded on the desert
planet. You thought that it was cured there, but now you're suffering
again. You are exactly where you were two years ago."

Corran blinked. Damn it all - the scientist was right, wasn't he? Two years
later, all that had happened, and Corran was just right back where he'd
been. Still with voices in his head. Still crazy.

Okay, granted, the voices weren't his own anymore, and that was sort of an
improvement, but...

"So," he said thoughtfully, looking to Cutter. "How exactly has *your *life
gotten complicated?"

Cutter did not respond immediately, taking a moment to gather his history.
"Shortly after we returned from that planet, I left the Galaxy because the
proposal that I had submitted with a few other scientists was granted
funding by the Science Council - a dedicated science station in orbit around
the black hole. I left to oversee its construction and to help manage its
operations. I spent two years of my life setting up that project, but it
had barely just begun when one, single, mentally unhinged groundwalker came
and forced the destruction of the entire station. Two years of my life,
wasted, with nothing to show but a little over two months of data, most of
which was calibration data and completely uninteresting."

The Trill grimaced. "That can't have felt good, to lose all that work just
because of some random attack," he said, misinterpreting the way things had
gone.

"You don't understand," Cutter grumbled, "Not only would that project have
led to major shifts in our understanding of the universe, but now, I
need that data. I need it to help figure out what happened to me. The
station was destroyed because... well, it involved my experiment to pierce
the event horizon of the black hole and see what lay inside. During the
destruction of the station, there was some sort of expulsion, or ejection,
of energy, radiation from inside the black hole, and I was struck by it."

"I do have *some *scientific background," Corran reminded him with a
chuckle. "I understand the implications. But you seem fine, or well -
normal, in any event."

"No, you don't. What I was dosed with was not normal radiation. I am
unaware of its particular and spectral makeup," the scientist explained,
folding his arms. "And, I am apparently not fine. On the planet we were
all stranded on, while you were cured of your multiple personality disorder
and Curtis Geluf was driven insane, I developed the bizarre ability to see a
few moments into my own future, which should be impossible. It was
incredibly annoying because they were indistinguishable from my normal
vision, and did little but to disorient me. When we were eventually
rescued, those visions stopped. Now, after being struck with radiation from
the singularity, I think they may have started again."

Corran blinked.

Then he looked at Ella, and blinked again.

"Say what?" he asked dumbly.

"I'm beginning to see flashes of my future again," Cutter repeated.

Corran was torn between trying to come up with a reasonable, scientific
explanation.... or telling Cutter that he thought he was frakking crazy. And
frankly, considering the source, that would have been saying quite a lot.

He settled on: "How, exactly?"

"I don't know. For sure. I only suspect," Cutter replied. He looked at
Ella, "One of your engineers was sparring with me in the gym. She dove at
me, and I could feel her make contact. I could feel her strike me. So, I
reacted, I tried to duck, even though, of course, it was too late, but I did
it anyway. And then she went sailing over me. This was all a matter of
seconds, two or three. There is no way she would have had the time to
relaunch herself, and she claimed to never strike me. But, I could feel
it. I have no other explanation for what could have occurred."

Maybe at the beginning of her Starfleet career she would have found it odd
but, after so many strange occurrences, the first thing Ella thought was
that they needed to take Cutter to Vegas. She kept a straight face but she
could feel Corran's mind twitch with amusement.

"Do you think it will get worse?" She asked carefully, not really wanting
him to sneer but trying not to get her hopes up. "I mean, there could be
worse things than seeing into the future."

"I don't know. That's why I have to continue my research," he said.

"Could be useful," Corran noted. "And to be honest - we've certainly seen
stranger things."

"So could your telepathy be useful, yet you run from your changes, as well,"
Cutter pointed out. "Something is happening to us that is not supposed to
happen. It is cause for concern."

"I'm not running," Corran said quietly, though he wasn't sure himself if
that was true. "I'm leaving in order to.. get control of it. I can't
function here."
"You seem to be functioning now."

"I'm drugged to high heaven right now. That's hardly the guy you want in
charge of the ship's weapons."

*Are you sure you couldn't learn control here, *Ella asked.

*I've tried for months*, he replied, letting his frustration creep through
their link along with his words. *It's just not working. *

As the conversation fell away, they were left standing silently, staring at
each other in the dim light. Waiting. Waiting to be rescued.

"What about you," Cutter asked Ella, "What happened to you on that planet?"

Ella started fiddling with the panel again. "What do you mean? You saw what
happened, that cactus stuff turned me into a speed freak. It wasn't
permanent though."

"A speed freak?"

Corran didn't get the reference either.

"It's an old term," Ella said with a wave of her hand. "Speed was a drug
back in the ... anyway, I was running around with the energy of twelve
people. You know, manic? That was why I wouldn't shut up."

"You never talked," Cutter stated, and oddly seemed annoyed by that fact.
"You can't talk. Except with that atrocious sounding device you have, which
you did not have two years ago."

"Don't be an idiot," Corran shot back, the fact that the drugs were wearing
off and the confinement of the small space roundly wearing the edges off of
his temper. He could feel the presence of the thousand minds on the ship
begin to press in on him - little half-heard whispers in the back of his
mind, fragments and snippets of conversations that should have been private.
"She's always talked - you just don't know how to listen."

Ella was also having a difficult time reigning in her temper. It was
possible that Corran's irritation and anger, which she could so strongly
feel, were beginning to influence her mood... but then, she was pretty
capable of working up a good head of steam on her own, too. "I meant the
flurry of sign language, Cutter. And why I kept constantly moving, pacing.
That stuff was like the ultimate espresso."

"Okay," the avian said flatly.

She felt her temper flaring at his tone. "You know what happened. Curtis
went psycho and tried to repopulate the world with me. Forgive me if I don't
like talking about it."

Cutter pulled his head back in a slow, snobbish manner, more offended by her
shouting than by what she had said. "He tried to repopulate the world with
you? Why would he want to do that?"

"I think we covered that with 'psycho'," Corran noted, at this point hoping
that the avian officer would simply shut up and let them wait in peace.

"Because I was the only one of you who he could do that with," Ella snapped,
not even hearing Rex. "Unless you have something you're not telling us."

"Well, aren't the two of you snippy," Cutter said, flexing his wings, "I'm
the one that's naturally claustrophobic, locked in a small, dark cage with
two groundwalkers. I don't know what the two of you are so upset about.
Like this, for example. Admittedly, wanting to repopulate the world with
you is very... odd, but... flattering, is it not?"

"You .." She started. It was very hard to keep herself from lashing out so
she couldn't help but sign as she spoke. The gestures were rigid with
anger. "He tried to *rape* me, Cutter."

Cutter glanced curiously at Corran, hoping he would translate Ella for him,
as he often did. Instead, he received only a look of anger and disgust.
"Okay, obviously I should know this, but, you must remember, Standard is my
fourth language. What is 'rape?'"

Corran stared at Cutter in open, unabashed shock. He had literally no words.

Ella rubbed her temples. "It's when someone forces you to have sex. Against
your will. Violently." The memory was there, waiting, but she tried to focus
on something else. Shopping. Chocolate. Beating Cutter over the head.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she blanched.

*Don't look*, she thought at Corran. *Don't look at that.*

Corran tried to block the images flowing into his mind from Ella's, and he
succeeded... to a point. The images of her experience gave way to ones from
his own. A terrified girl running down an alley. The thrill coursing through
his veins as he gave chase. The sweet, tortuous pleasure as he'd made his
victims his, the sickly sweet smell of their fear so close to him.
The warmth of their blood as it flowed from their necks, after.

Corran clutched the side of his head, as though he could physically force
the memories out. All dignity forgotten, he fell to his knees in the deck of
the cramped turbolift, not even aware he was speaking aloud.
"Nonononononono...."

*
*

Cutter had continued talking, unaware that Ella and Corran had retreated
into their own memories, discussing the differences between his species and
his culture and theirs, and how it seemed so foreign an idea that someone
could be forced to have sex against their will, since it would be impossible
to hold a Fruna'lin down securely and have intercourse since any attacker
could easily be knocked unconscious with a blow to the head from the wrist
of a wing. "Why would anyone want sex with an unwilling part..." then, he
noticed Corran, "...ner? What happened?"

Ella had already moved across the turbolift. *Try and think of something
else*, she thought at Corran as she wrapped her arms around him and tried to
push back her own nausea at his memories. "He gets overwhelmed by thoughts
sometimes. Bad memories. I'm guessing his telepathy somehow doubles the
experience or something."

Corran heard none of this - he was nearly catatonic at this point, with all
of Lazlo's most horrific memories flowing before his mind's eye, like some
sort of sick, high-speed slide show.

*Ssssh*, she thought. She threw him a memory of a time they'd cuddled on the
beach watching the sunset, hoping the memory might either calm him or make
him laugh at it's cliched sentimentality. "As for sex with an unwilling
partner, some people get enjoyment from causing that kind of pain. Don't ask
me why. Curtis ... he didn't realize he was hurting me. He probably thought
it was romantic or something. He wasn't himself."

Cutter wondered briefly why someone would think of sex as a way of causing
pain. If he wanted to hurt someone, he would hurt them, or beat them, or
maim them, or kill them. Maybe sabotage and destroy their professional
career. Not have sex with them. Although, considering groundwalkers were
unable to defend themselves, he thought he could understand why it would be
a negative experience. But, at this point, it seemed like a philosophical
issue. He looked down at Corran and Ella, unsure of what to do. "Is he all
right?"

For some reason, Cutter's blatant obviousness brought Rex out of the black
hole of his own memories in a way that Ella's soothing hadn't. It didn't
stop the pain in his head - that was getting to be a constant - but it did
get the Trill's attention. "You have *got *to be kidding," he managed to get
out, however weakly.

"What?" Cutter stated.

"Probably that some things never change," Ella said with a shrug. *I'm going
to miss you when you leave*, she thought at Corran.

*I know*, he thought back. Corran leaned back against the lift wall as he
let the horrific emotions of his former host drain away. He glanced at Ella
sitting near him, looking at him with worry and care, and he felt a deep
sadness for her. For all the violence and pain in her life, for how often
she was a victim of others, far more often than anyone should be. And here
he was, leaving her, letting her be his victim in a way, suffering through
the loss of his friendship and their bond. He wanted to, but he knew he
couldn't stay. And he looked up at Cutter, who, though in shadow, Corran
could see eyeing them cautiously. Back on the Galaxy after all this time,
wishing he was somewhere else. When all I can do is wish I could stay....

He said, "Well, look at us - we're all in the same place we were two years
ago. I've still got voices I don't want in my head. Cutter left to move on
to bigger and better things, but now he's back, the past two years of his
life lost to a black hole. And Ella... All we've been through, all we've
done, and nothing's any damned different. Not for any of us. It's like -
we're all just on some kind of lifelong 'hold'. Like no matter what we do,
nothing's really going to change for any of us. Ever."

Cutter glanced at him. "Well, that's uplifting," he sniped, tilting his
nose up.

"But true," Corran said, and Cutter looked down at him again. His face
contorted, as if he was about to make some additional snide remark, but then
it softened, and saddened, once he realized he agreed. Corran looked over
at Ella to see her bundled up, her arms around her knees, her eyes looking
away. He nodded softly to himself and sighed, letting his eyes fall to the
floor.

"Sorry guys," the engineer they had called said suddenly over the comm,
"Problem's all fixed now." The overhead lights re-illuminated, and the lift
doors opened, revealing a long, empty corridor.

But, none of them moved. None of them left the turbolift.

They simply sat quietly, still marooned in their lives.

"Dressing Miss London"

Lt. Branwen London
Lt. Ella Grey
Flight Officer Angelienia

****

USS Galaxy
Secondary Hull Deck 16
Angelienia's Quarters

The Branwen that showed up at Angie's appointment that evening was a
very different woman from the one Angelienia and Victor had seen earlier
in the day. After Angie opened the door she moved in quietly. "I am just
here to tell you that the wedding dress might not be necessary. There
might not be a wedding after all," she whispered.

"What?' The Ktarian stared for a moment, then closed the door and
ushered Branwen to a chair by the sewing table that dominated the center
of the room. "All right," the pilot said slowly after she'd sat down
opposite the distraught Marine, "now why are you talking like that?
What's wrong?"

She told her friend everything that had happened. The checkout with the
doctor, and the bombshell Max had dropped on her. How her father's abuse
when she was a child had left internal scarring, and made it very
unlikely that she could ever have children or even be able to have
sexual intercourse normally. "You see, Dar is from a very rigid society.
They don't accept people who are not perfect; he wants to make love to
his wife, and have children. If I cannot give him that, the marriage is
over." She fell into the other woman's arms and cried. "I am such a
loser."

Angelienia digested that for a moment, waited for Bran to cry herself
out, and then got her straightened up in a chair with something to drink
before trying to talk to the distraught woman. "Okay, first off, you're
telling me that your *father* did... things. to you? When you were a
child?"

"Yeah, he punished me for being bad and not religious enough. I escaped
when I was 14." She said.

"Is this piece of rekthis-dung still walking around and breathing?"
Angelienia paused. "You didn't tell Victor about this, did you?" She
knew Victor and how he felt about the people he'd been 'given' - and
knew what he'd do once he heard this.

"Yeah my dad is still alive, and no I didn't tell Victor. I guess, deep
down he means well you know. He thought he was saving my soul. I must
have been a pretty bad child. I thought I was okay all the broken bones
more or less healed okay. And I have a high pain threshold thanks to
him, handy for a marine. But the doctor told me some of the internal
damage didn't heal so well." She held on to Angie. "I don't know what to
do."

"Saving your soul... broken bones... internal damage... bad girl..."
Angelienia took a breath and closed her eyes against the rising anger
inside her to abate. "Maybe you *should* tell Victor."

"No, Victor would kill my parents, I can't have that." Branwen said. "I
guess they raised me the best they knew how. Let's focus on now, the
doctor is going to try to find a solution to fix me inside, but he is
not sure he's going to succeed. And I just know that Dar would not be
happy with a woman who is not fully functioning. I just know that, he
would take me out of pity and I'm sick of that."

Angelienia started to suggest that she'd be willing to kill Bran's
parents, thought the better of it, and instead said, "So, right now,
what you're worried about is that your boyfriend will dump you because
you can't have children together?"

"Yes." Angie had understood the problem completely.

"So what?" the Ktarian asked bluntly.

"Excuse me?" That was about the last reply she would have expected from
her friend.

"So what if you can't have children together," Angelienia repeated.
"Lots of people have that issue in a relationship and they get over it."
She pushed Bran back so she could look into the Marine's eyes. "No
matter how much I want to, I can't have a child with Victor. The parts
all line up and everything on the macro level - or they will when we
become lovers - but things don't line up on the microscopic level. I
want to have a child with him, to have *children* with him; lots of
them. But we can't, at least not without so much medical help that it
would make the hoops that Ambassador Sarek and his wife jumped through
to have their son, Spock, look like a bad warm-up routine in a
grade-school gymnastic meet. Victor knows that too - and he hasn't
dumped me because of it. And we're not alone; Commander Corgan is in
love with an Andorian woman, which is even more complicated than my and
Victor's situation, since Andorians require four different sexes and
divine intervention to get pregnant. There's a Cardassian rating in the
Flight Deck crew that's going to ask his girlfriend - a Vulcan in
Operations - to marry him, and they can't have children either. The ship
is full of people that can't have children together, that are all
falling in love and getting together despite that." She frowned. "And if
your boyfriend is going to dump you over that, well then you just dump
him first; he didn't deserve you to begin with."

"It's a cultural thing for him, his people are like the ancient
Spartans, they don't believe in disabilities. Children who are not
perfect are put down I believe." She shuddered. "He's come a long way
away from those believes, but I am so afraid that this is a step too
far. But you are right, I had not thought about all those others facing
this problem. I am so sorry it will be difficult for you." She touched
Angie's arm. "If there is anything I can do to help in the counseling
department." Bran suggested.

"Pfft," Angelienia waved a hand dismissively. "My Victor and I will be
fine. There are millions of children all over the Galaxy that lack
parents because of accident, war, you name it. We'll have to look, but
somewhere out there, there are children that won't react badly to him;
we'll look for them, find them, adopt them - and then raise them as our
own. It won't be quite the same as my carrying them inside me, but I'll
love them just as much, because they'll be a part of our family,
Victor's and mine." She frowned at Bran. "But I'm serious - if your
boyfriend gives you crap about this, you stand up, look him in the face
and tell him that you're not taking that and that you're sorry you
wasted your time on his worthless self, and then you walk away. He isn't
the only man in the galaxy that thinks you're beautiful and desirable,
you know. And if the second guy doesn't work out, you do the same thing,
and you keep trying until you find the right man, the one that makes you
whole inside - the one that loves you flaws and all. Him." she smiled
fondly. "Him, you keep.""

"You sound exactly like Dhani." Bran giggled as she came closed for
another hug. "I promised her to think about it. The silly girl thinks I
am beautiful and I even promised to think about that as well. And I will
think about Dar, I hope he will surprise me or that the doctor will come
up with a miracle. I want something to go right in my life and I want
some stability you know?"

"I know," the pilot responded softly. "Oh, I know. I want that too, I've
wanted it since before the Dominion War when my parents died, and left
me with a younger brother to care for, and since the Jem'Hadar took him
from me on Betazed, leaving me alone. I wanted it for years after that,
but I looked for it in all the wrong places and all the wrong ways. I
thought that having someone there at night to hold me was enough, but it
wasn't. I thought that a lover would fill the emptiness inside me, but
they didn't. I did a lot of things with a lot of people that I'm not
very proud of, now. I don't know anything about your religion, but I'm
sure I would have been called a 'bad girl,' or a 'fallen woman,' or a
'whore,' or even worse by it - and not without cause. But after years of
mistakes and failures and doing everything wrong I met someone that made
me stop and look at what I was doing, what it was costing me, and what I
really wanted, and I disliked what I saw so much that I changed myself.
Maybe Man'darr is that man for you, maybe he isn't - but don't for one
minute assume that there isn't someone out there for you, someone that
will make you whole, someone that will make you complete. And never,
ever stop looking until you find him."

"I think I have found him, I hope so. He has been very understanding and
patient so far. Not many men are willing to wait for months you know."
She smiled. "And I think you have found him as well. Victor is special,
I have always thought so." She grinned again. "Thank you for being here
for me, you are a great person, and don't let anyone ever tell you
otherwise. We all make mistakes and we learn from them, that is what
makes us human and stronger, okay?"

"Well," the Ktarian smiled, "it would if I was human - but I know what
you mean." She looked at Bran. "Okay, no more crying, all right? You
talk to the doctor, and you go and talk to your boyfriend. If he's the
right one, then he's going to stand by you no matter what. But you have
to tell him the truth, no skirting around anything. You tell him what
happened, and why there's a problem and ask him what he wants to do. And
if he gives you a stupid answer, then you dump him right then. No
wailing and crying, no waiting for him to come around, no waiting for
him to say it won't work. You dump him, don't let him dump you.
Understand?"

"Ai ma'am," she grinned as she wiped the last tears away. "So what about
the dress, do we design one or wait until tomorrow? I would still like
to go through with it."

"Oh let's look at patterns while you're here," Angelienia replied.
"You're going to want one sooner or later, and even if this isn't the
right time, the right dress is always going to be the right dress."

"I would like that very much; something to take my mind off what is
happening." Branwen announced. "And I would like the most beautiful
wedding dress ever made. If I am so beautiful, I want to be beautiful
all over on my wedding day. Where do you keep your designs?"

The Ktarian reached out and pulled small table closer, a flat device
with a holographic imaging plate on the top and a series of controls on
all four sides resting atop it. "They're in here." She picked up a small
scanner. "Stand up and make a slow rotation for me."

"All right." Branwen said and slowly turned. "What's that for?"
Dressmaking was something completely new to her.

As Bran turned, Angelienia explained, "I'm taking a scan of you right
now and transmitting it to the imager here. Once it has the data, it'll
generate a holographic image of you that we can use as a model to try
different styles and dress components on you to get the right look.
There will be some pining and alterations once we get to the assembly
stages - there always are - but this lets you see the dress from all
angles." The scanner beeped. "There we are. Now have a seat and let's
see what we can do."

"Cool! So you can see what it will look like, and if it will fit me
before you actually started making it? That's very handy." She came back
to Angie and watch what the scanner showed. "We have to keep in mind
that it also has to be something that looks good next do Dar in his
marine dress uniform," she reminded her friend.

"You're wearing a white wedding dress," Angelienia said lightly. "That
goes with anything." The device beeped, several lights flashed and a
perfect, meter-high holographic replica of a naked Branwen appeared over
the imaging plate, and began to revolve slowly. "All right," her friend
began, the first thing we need to do is...."

"Uhm." Branwen blinked a couple of times, but clothes did not magically
appear on the hologram. "Underwear? Because I'm sorry, I'm not
comfortable with us looking at me naked; what if Victor was to walk even
unexpectedly now?" She squeezed her eyes shut, that thought was too
horrible to even contemplate.

"Of course we start with lingerie," Angie smiled, "you don't want to be
naked under your wedding dress, do you?" She adjusted a few controls,
brought up a holographic menu and started making selections. "Let's keep
it reasonably traditional, no Klingon, Deltan, Betazoid, Andorian, or
Orion styles." She ticked off options. "Restrict ourselves to
bilaterally symmetrical, bipedal body types with normal humanoid
configurations." More options were cleared. "No styles involving live
animals or self-mobile plant life as components." A few more options
cleared out. "Any other restrictions we should apply to start with?" she
asked Bran.

Branwen watched the examples. "They are all kind of skimpy, aren't they?
I kind of wear underwear that covers a lot." She was casting strange
looks at some of the strings. "That cannot be comfortable, and what's
the use, it's kind of disgusting. And that bra, half my boobs are
sticking out, it makes them look bigger!" Another dirty look.

"Bran, honey," Angelienia laughed, "that's what it's supposed to do."
She eyed the Marine. "Look, think of it this way: part of the design of
a wedding dress is to make you a present that Man'darr will unwrap on
the wedding night. And when you gift wrap something - especially a
person - presentation is everything."

The other woman frowned. "You think I can wear stuff like that without
looking silly? I don't want him to laugh at me. And we can't have sex on
the wedding night, it will be before the operation. I guess we will just
cuddle and kiss and stuff like that." She grinned. "I like that as well
you know. I don't want to disappoint him by wearing something utterly
silly. His people are pretty much no-nonsense."

The Ktarian snorted. "If he's the right man for you, then you could show
up dressed like a giant pickle and he'd still think you were the sexiest
woman alive. Weddings do that to men." She shook her head. "And what
does the operation have to do with your wedding night?"

"Before the operation I cannot enjoy sex, it would hurt too much.
Because my father beat me so often something is broken inside, the
doctors need to fix it first." She said matter-of-factly. Branwen
herself was getting used to the idea, and she really hoped the doctors
would be able to fix everything. "The wedding is before the operation."
She explained further.

The other woman blinked. "Okay, that was my fault. I heard 'operation'
and thought that you were talking about the evacuation, not surgery."
She frowned. "You're sure that we can't tell Victor? Maybe we could tell
him *and* Man'darr?"

"Tell him what?" Bran asked confused. "About my surgery? Or about what
my father did?" she asked, a bit subdued.

"Bran," Angelienia said softly. "I'm mad about what was done to you. If
I was any good at that sort of thing, I'd track your father down and
beat him to a pulp for what he did to you. I might even kill him for it,
since hurting someone - especially your own child - in that way is so
abhorrent to me that I feel like I want to throw up when I think about
it happening to you. But I'm not any good at that sort of thing. My
Victor is, though, and so is your Man'darr. What was done to you was
wrong. It was evil. People that do evil are supposed to be punished. I
can't, and I understand that you won't, but someone needs to punish the
ones that did this to you so that they can't hurt anyone else." She held
up a hand to still Bran's protest. "I know we can't kill him. I know
that we can't even send some people to hurt him a lot. But talking about
it helps me deal with the anger so I can think straight."

"Oh no, Angie, it wasn't like that; they thought they were saving my
soul. You see they didn't have to punish most of my brothers and sisters
so much. There are ten of us, but only three had to be punished like
this, just my older sister, one younger brother, and me. We were always
different. My family lives secluded from the modern world because they
think it is evil. I was interested in that world; my father was trying
to save me. In our faith that means punishment. I can tell you I was
pretty confused for a while after my sister rescued me when I was
fourteen. And to be honest, sometimes I still am. But I don't want my
dad dead."

Angelienia patted her on the hand. "That's all right; I can hate him
enough for both of us." She sighed, looked at the model diligently
rotating in space, and asked, "I think we need to stop talking about
this right now, okay? We're supposed to be having fun designing your
dress, not talking about bad memories."

Branwen nodded vigorously. "Yes please thanks. It makes me unhappy and
it is a closed book."

"Good." The Ktarian smiled, having to force it a little. "Now... would
you mind if I called someone else? I'm thinking that we need someone
whose idea of fashion is somewhere between yours and mine to help out
here. Is that going to be okay?"

"Uhm, sure. If you think that is a good idea. I think you have really
good ideas, Angie. You are doing a great job," she added quickly. Not
wanting her friend to think that she didn't appreciate it.

"I think maybe it is - sometimes you need someone else to help you
figure things out. and I think I know just the person to help out here."
She pointed to the replicator unit. "Why don't you go and fix us a snack
- something with a lot of chocolate in it, that's traditional - and I'll
call her up?"

"Sure." Branwen said, happy for a break after the heavy subject they
had just been discussing.

"Good," the Ktarian smiled, the expression less forced. She tapped her
combadge. =/\="Angelienia to Grey."=/\=

There was a moment's pause before the woman replied with "Grey here."

=/\="I'm designing a wedding dress and I was wondering if you could come
and give me some design advice? Bran and I would both love to have you
assist."=/\=

There was dead silence over the air.

Angelienia winced, knowing whose dress Ella was imagining the call being
about. "I'm calling because you have a good fashion sense," she added,
trying to make the words not sound like the rushed addition they were,
"and I need someone that's somewhere between Bran's ultraconservative
style and my liberal one to help out here. I want Bran to love her
dress, but I'm thinking that we may be a bit too far apart in styles if
that makes sense?"

"I ... um ... sure, I could, uh, help," Ella stammered over the comm.
"Just, uh, give me a, um, few minutes."

Branwen came back with a tray of assorted chocolates in different
colours and sizes. In her other hand was a jug of warm chocolate milk.
"Are the backup troops coming?"

"Yes," the Ktarian nodded. "Ella Grey will be here in a few minutes." It
might take longer for the former engineer to forgive her for the
unthinking impression she'd given, though.

"Oh cool. I like Ella, she is my patient sometimes." Bran said. "It will
be nice to spend more time with her socially. Chocolate milk, Angie?"

"Thank you."

Ella arrived a minute later. It had taken her a few minutes to work
through the shock that Angelienia had unintentionally given her but she
thought she had recovered quickly. Besides, the blush she had quickly
applied would cover any of the pallor on her face. She waved as she
entered the room.

"Hi Ella," Bran grinned. "It's been too long since we have seen each
other, thank you for agreeing to help out here." She made a mental note
to schedule a counseling checkup for the other woman soon.

Ella smiled. "So, we're finding you a wedding dress?"

"Yup." Bran said.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"well we are having a little difference of opinion. I want a wedding
dress that is stylish but very decent, that covers me completely. But
Angie thinks I need to show more.... skin." Bran blushed.

"To be accurate," Angelienia interjected, "we haven't gotten to the
dress yet; we're still on the proper lingerie to wear under it." She
pointed at the revolving image.

Ella looked at the image and then back at the blushing Bran. "This would
look good on you but I understand the problem. How about this?" She
programmed in a bikini bottom that looked a bit more substantial because
of the lace and a bra with a full cup.

Half an hour ago Branwen would firmly have said no, because it was still
to frivolous for her taste. But knowing the alternatives Angie came up
with this certainly looked very appealing, and she had to admit it
looked nice. "I think that will do." Branwen admitted with a giggle.

Ella was back to inspecting the image. "What about garters? More to take
off can sometimes be a good thing."

"Garters!" Branwen looked at Ella. "Isn't that something they sell in
sex shops? I'm not that kind of girl."

Ella raised an amused eyebrow. "Those kinds of shops mostly specialize
in other clothing, Bran. Garters keep stockings up." She didn't mention
the old custom of the groom removing the garter and throwing it to the
men; Branwen would never go for that kind of thing.

"Ah yes, I remember. The women in the village used them. I don't know
Ella, they remind me of home, and I'm not sure that's what I want of my
wedding day."

"Okay," Ella said. "Well, let's move on to the dress then. What do you
want?"

"Something old-fashioned." Branwen said with relish. "Long and
definitely white, I am a virgin after all." Something she was extremely
proud of. "I was a like a beautiful head dress and the long train of
cloth."

"And what was your idea?" Ella asked Angie.

"My original idea went out the airlock when we stalled out on the
lingerie," Angelienia admitted. "But," she leaned forward and worked the
controls on the display unit, "it did give me time to think of
something. I've got a lot of historical databases in the system, and I
wasn't using those before. I was originally attracted to this one
because of the name and it's similarity to.... someone else's," she
finished awkwardly with a wince and an apologetic look to Ella.

A label flashed at the image of Branwen's feet, signifying that the
'Victorian Female Database' had been engaged.

"You shouldn't do sleeves," Ella told Angelienia as Branwen looked over
the choices. That sentence alone felt like a thousand daggers to her
heart, as melodramatic as she knew that was. "For your dress... when you
get married."

Angelienia blinked. Had Ella really just said...? "I... I'll remember
that," she replied softly, uncertain of exactly what to say. What did
one say to your boyfriend's ex when she offered you advice - good advice
- on how your wedding dress should look? "Thank you," she settled on
quietly.

Ella shrugged.

Branwen began to look around and soon she was enthralled bookmaking
several pages. Finally she had three choices left. "Now this is the
kind I was thinking about." she showed her two friends.

"I like that one." Ella pointed out.

"That is my favorite." Branwen beamed and then looked at Angie.

"Hmmm..." The Ktarian studied the dress. "Less embroidery than many...
that'll be the slow part, but the rest is more-or-less straightforward."
She nodded. "I can make this." She considered the design as the imager
wrapped it around the image of Branwen and started to rotate. "Five
days. Three if I can get someone to cover my shifts with Security, and I
get a little help."

"I will take them myself." Bran said giving Angie a kiss on the cheek.
"And help when I come off duty. You are an angel, Angie!"

"I don't know that I'd go that far," Angelienia allowed, a bit
embarrassed. "I think there are people closer to that than I am." She
nodded once to Ella over Bran's head.

"Well, I have a meeting with my boss in twenty minutes. I should get
going," Ella said, feeling awkward.

"Thank you as well, Ella." She was the next one to receive a hug. "You
are both Angels, you saved my wedding dress."

Angelienia nodded. "I'll put in for some time off to make the dress."
she looked at Ella for a moment, and then offered, "If you'd like to
drop by for a while later to help with the dress, or... talk or
something. I'd love to have the company, Ella."

As always, Ella had to remind herself that she could do this. That she
was capable of being a better person. "Maybe sometime tomorrow in the
afternoon."

"Thank you. I'm so excited." Branwen said. "Of course you are both
going to be bridesmaids. I have to find somebody to make those
dresses." She scribbled another note on her long list of things to do.

"Dinner Invitations"

Featuring Captain Daren M'Kantu (written by Oded)

* * *

Captain's Log,

The Galaxy have finally arrived to our destination, the Vered cluster.
The trip was uneventful, and intelligence reports that the Dreshayans have
not increased their presence in the sector and that Hydrans are still far
away. This is a blessing, since the mission is complex and delicate enough
without external intervension.

I have spent much of my time in the last several days conversing with
officers who came to me with their concerns and doubts regarding the
mission. There aren't easy answers for these concerns, but there aren't
discounts either. I am very pleased that I'm serving with thinking men and
women, and this also leads me to believe that when the time comes to start
the evacuation they will handle as well as anyone can.
Hopefully it will be enough."

* * *

The illumination returned to a normal level in the simulated holographic
conference room. Daren saw the message already, and he expected that most of
the other people present weren't unfamiliar with it either. It was the final
the last in a series of clips, most of them taken from local news networks
across the Federation.

The avatar of Rear Admiral Megarex stepped forward. The Bolian opened his
mouth to speak when a hand was raised.

"Admiral, is this person the leader of the colonists?"

Megarex frowned at the speaker, who was the Captain of one of the
transports. Daren could understand the Bolian's dismay, since every
commanding officer was expected to be very familiar with the political
structure of the cluster. Even if he was only a fancy truck driver.

"The chairman of the Vered settlements council is Argrata Kaul of Gamma
Vered III. But the colonies can't be regarded as a single solid unit and
this message is an example. Rabbi Ben Atar is a community leader from
Epsilon Vered II. Now, the message we got from Kaul indicates that the
colonists are willing to collaborate given that they are offered proper
compensation. But I don't know how much control she has over the others."

"So the message cannot be dismissed." An Andorian in civilian cloths
indicated. From Megarex's forgiving reaction toward her interruption, Daren
assumed that she was a member of his experts team.

"Statistics claim that it is one of the three most viewed Trideos in the
public networks. So no, it cannot be dismissed. And to be clear - if any of
your officers or crewmembers will be found wearing orange ribbons, I expect
them to be trialed and punished. We all have our political opinions, but
there is no room for them on duty."

Daren nodded to himself. He requested his department heads to ensure that
their subordinates remain 'ribbon-free' as soon as he saw the message. It
was expected that the charismatic speaker would convince some to join his
peaceful protest. Daren actually liked the idea - expressing your disdain
with ribbons and not phasers. Still, Megarex was right for once, the ribbons
had no place within a Starfleet crew.

His mind trailed to thoughts about the political inclination of some of his
crew members, especially toward the 'Dove' and 'Hawk' camps, and he nearly
missed the next question.

"What about the dinner invitation?"

What about it really? It was a honey trap, another nice tactic by the Rabbi.
For Starfleet it was a lose-lose situation, as either options - accepting or
refusing - could hinder the evacuation.

"I decided that we should accept the invitation." said Megarex. "As part of
our 'Sensitive and Decisive' policy, this will show the colonists that we
are not the enemy but rather their brothers who came to help them against
the Hydrans. This would sway public opinion in our favor as well."

There was a general murmured, strong enough to overcome the holographic
conference room's filters. Daren waited patiently for someone to express his
own opinion, and when none did his spoke up.

"Admiral, some of the more desperate colonist may try to kidnap or poison
our officers, in order to prevent the evacuation."

Megarex swiveled toward the Galaxy's Captain. Obviously, he was expecting
Daren to question his decision.

"I don't think it will come to that, but we'll take precautions - instruct
the people to come down in groups, and see that they carry personal weapons
with stun settings. I assume now you are going to say that this could also
damage the troops' morale and resolve?"

Daren ignored Megarex's smug tone. The Admiral obviously spent a lot of time
with his team of experts preparing for this meager briefing; Daren recalled
that Megarex used to have a problem crystallizing an opinion of his own.

"In fact, I am not." Daren's calm and stoic voice was in complete contrast
with Megarex's. "I think it is important for the officers to understand that
there are people on the other side, not just for the colonists."

"Splendid." Megarex clapped his hands, as though he just beat Napoleon at
Waterloo.

The briefing continued, but Daren abstain from actively participating in it
any further. Eventually, all the details were discussed and the conference
room vanished. Only a single solid chair remained, and the inevitable
holographic grid.

Daren tapped on his commbadge.

"M'Kantu to the bridge. Commander Jaxom, please set course to the
Gamma-Lambda-Epsilon Vered trinary system. Maximal Cruising speed."

Daren considered a lower warp speed, but decided to stick with Max. Cruise.
After all, they didn't want to be late for dinner.

"Galactic Society Weekly"

Lt. Ella Grey
Jaemon Brodie, npc
Reese Merriweather, npc
Samantha Widdlestein, npc

****

USS Galaxy
Hangar Bay

~~Is she serious?~~ Ella signed, her eyebrows raised slightly higher
than a regular 'yes or no' question out of sheer disbelief.

She had read about people like this - hell, she'd actually met people
like this before - but somehow, in the depths of space, far far away
from Earth and especially her family, she'd almost forgotten that
these kind of ... people existed.

Jaemon Brodie, a skinny half Ramatisian who couldn't have been a day
over twenty, managed to throw her an apology and express his own
disgust with just a brief look and his hand nodding up and down with
the 'yes' sign.

~~So, just to clarify, with all that's been happening in the Vered
Cluster, what your reporter would most like to know is ... ~~

Her interpreter sighed. "Did you hear that your ex-fiance, Thomas
Candell, recently wed Emery Ellery, the heiress to the Ellery fortune
and what are your feelings on that?"

Ella turned towards the waiting woman. ~~You're an idiot~~

Reese Merriweather, Senior field reporter for Galactic Society Weekly,
nearly squealed with delight. "Ah, a clear note of dissatisfaction at
the marriage ... no, you can't hide it from me Miss Grey, a woman
always knows. Perfect. The readers will love this tragic love
triangle. So tell me, was it the sensational attack on your life at
age sixteen or the callous dumping by your ex that lead you to this
sad self-imposed exile aboard this ... " The blonde looked around with
some distaste. " ... vessel."

~~How much are they paying you for this?~ Ella asked her interpreter.

~~Not enough~~ Jaemon signed back.

Ella sighed. What she really wanted to do was flip the reporter the
bird - even this woman could understand *that* sign - and get back to
work. But Captain M'Kantu had ordered all of them to cooperate with
the Press Corps, stating freedom of the press and the Federation's sad
lack of humor when it came to torpedo tubes.

~~Please tell Ms. Merriweather that my decision to join Starfleet had
nothing to do with either.~~ Which wasn't entirely true but she didn't
feel like using the hour it would take to explain cause and effect to
this woman. Ella then frowned. ~~And I left him.~~

Jaemon translated her answer.

"Ah, revisionist history," Reese muttered as she typed furiously
translated. "Excellent, excellent."

~~She does understand that I'm not deaf, right?~~ The pilot asked the
interpreter.

~~I don't think she even understands that I'm not deaf~~ Jaemon signed
back. ~~I had a question though. I was told you had a mechanical
device that allowed you speech?~~

Ella nodded. ~~I do but my parents would be embarrassed if I were
caught talking on vid. It sounds very ... mechanical~~

~~Scandalous~~ He signed dryly.

"No fair, you two," Reese said, shaking her fingers. "Now, do you
think your traumatized past has contributed to your slightly whorish
ways aboard the Galaxy?"

Jaemon winced.

~~EXCUSE me?~~ Ella signed with wide eyes.

"It's been very well documented that you've been in a number of
"relationships," She said with finger quotations. "I have a list of
names including a Victor Krieghoff, Corran Rex, Curtis Geluf, J.
Andrus Suder, Cutter Kara'nin ..."

~~ I never ...~~

" ... John Davidson, Nathan Everett, Thyago Carnerio, Jebidiah Baile ..."

~~ Wha ...~~

" ... Leo Streely, Captain Brodhe ..."

~~ EW! ~~

"Do you think that all these illicit affairs have something to do with
a lack affection from your father?"

Ella took a step towards the woman.

Luckily before Jaemon had to restrain the pilot, Samantha Widdlestein
came bounding into the room. "Reese Merriweather! And on this ship!"

The blonde looked startled. "You know my work?"

"Oh my god," Samantha exclaimed. "I just love that piece you did on
the secret elopement between the Hilton heiress and the Grand Negus'
step son."

The reporter beamed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I feel it is my
personal responsibility to bring the news to the people in the far
reaches of space, like yourselves. Unintelligent people say that my
reports aren't important but I disagree. If I can touch just one life,
like yourself, than I can touch hundreds, spreading joy to the
masses."

Jaemon and Ella looked at each other and then made gagging gestures.

Sam's eyes, meanwhile, narrowed fractionally. Society gabbing was all
well and good but *Samantha* was the only one who brought the good
times to this ship, not some pasty faced bleach blonde twit with no
taste in accessories.

"Why don't I show you around?" Samantha said sweetly.

'What a pleasant child you are!" Reese replied.

Sam's smile widened.

~~I'd feel sorry for her if she hadn't just insulted me~~ Ella signed to Jaemon.

Jaemon tilted his head. ~~Is she really that bad?~~

"Does she really wear those coveralls?" Reese asked in a very loud
whisper as they left the Hangar bay.

"Oh yes," Sam replied with a straight face. "In fact, they're all the
rage for fallen debutantes in this part of the galaxy. And you should
really announce yourself when you enter rooms. It sounds like this.
BAAAAAA -"

The door cut her off.

"Let Down Your Golden Hair ... Oomph! - part three
from the Fairy Tale Chronicles

Nathan Everett
Arel Smith, apc
Samantha Widdlestein, npc

USS Galaxy
Holodeck Two

III.

AFTER a year or two, the Narrator's voice boomed throughout the
forest, it came to pass that the king's son was out for his daily ride
and came upon the forlorn tower. He stopped as he heard a song so
charming that it broke his royal heart to realize that he would never
be able to meet the singer, for there was no entrance to the tall
structure. The prince ...

"I just want to remind you," Arel said flatly from her tower window.
"That I ..."

"... will not be singing," Samantha Widdlestein interrupted. She was
leading the steed to its place hidden across from the tower, since
it's owner was new to this program. "You also ..."

" ... WILL hurt anyone who even suggests it ..." The Narrator added in
a bored tone.

" ... by removing their trachea and tying it into a pretty bow," Sam finished.

"Is this costume really necessary?" asked a new voice, the telltale
drawl quickly identifying him as one Nathan Everett. He looked down at
his outfit. "Ah look lahk a damn peacock. And...oh, c'mon! Tights? Ah
gotta wear tights?!"

"It's historically accurate," Sam said defensively.

"Easy fer you to say, kiddo," the pilot-turned-prince muttered as he
made his way behind a nearby tree. "You don't look lahk one of Robin
Hood's Merry Men."

"Ooh, that's a great idea for my next holo program!"

ONCE the prince was thus hiding behind a tree, the Narrator's voice
announced, he saw an evil enchantress come to the tower and heard how
she cried 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair,' and then
saw a very long braid fall from the window, which the witch then used
as a rope to climb.

"OW!" Arel yelled from the tower. A few minutes later the enchantress
was falling back out the window again via a generous shove from
Rapunzel.

"Don't worry," Samantha said reassuringly to Nathan. "She won't do that to you."

At least Sam hoped that she wouldn't; Arel was notoriously rough on
her boyfriends. She thought Everett was Arel's new boyfriend or at
least had the potential to be. They seemed to spend a lot of time
"sparring" together.

"Yer right, she'll prob'ly just rip mah tongue out so Ah can't tell
anyone 'bout this." Nathan sighed and stepped out from behind the
tree, gingerly making his way over to the tower. He looked down at the
crumpled form of the enchantress, wincing, and then looked up at the
window, cupping a hand around his mouth as he called out.

"Ahem. Uh...Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down yer hair so that...um..." He
looked over at Sam.

"Climb the golden stair!" Samantha hissed.

"Right, thanks," he whispered back. He turned to the window again. "So
that Ah may climb the golden stair!" he added.

"How was that?" he asked, glancing at Sam again.

The girl nodded. "You're a natural."

Nathan smiled and grabbed hold of the long, golden tresses, gripping
them in his hands. He gave Sam an evil look, then tugged hard on the
hair.

"OW! Gods damn it, Cowboy, you ..."

Cowboy snickered and took the hair in both hands, then started
climbing. He heard another Klingon oath from above, and couldn't help
chuckling. "Hang on, Princess, Ah'm comin'!"

AT first, the Narrator read dramatically, Rapunzel was terribly
frightened when a man, such as her eyes had never yet beheld ...

"That's exaggerating," Arel commented.

"Nice to see you, too, darlin'," Nathan grunted as he finally climbed
through the window.

... ENTERED the tower, the Narrator finished in a sour tone. But the
prince began to tell her that his heart had been so stirred that it
had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then
Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him
for her husband, and she said yes and laid her hand in his. But then
she wept and said to her prince, 'I will willingly go away with you
but I do not know how to get down.'

"Is this not the dumbest bitch?" Arel asked Nathan. "She's only got
about five billion yards of hair to hack off and climb down."

"Yeah, that doesn't really make sense," he replied. He frowned and
looked down at his costume again. "Y'know, Ah got a sword, here. Why
don't Ah just cut yer hair and we can get the hell outta--"

RAPUNZEL, the Narrator growled, told the prince to bring a skein of
silk every time that he visited and that she would weave a ladder with
it and when it was ready she would descend and they could ride away on
his horse. They agreed that until that time he should come to her
every evening, for the old woman came by day.

"Well, that seems needlessly complex," Cowboy said, looking confused.

"They're always like this," Arel said with a sigh. "Samantha never
lets me do things the way they should be done."

THE enchantress remained clueless until one day Rapunzel said to her
'Tell me, my lady, how it happens that you are so much heavier for me
to draw up than the young king's son."

"She didn't," Arel said incredulously.

Nathan, now watching the tower from his usual hiding spot behind the
tree, raised an eyebrow. "Well, she *is* blonde," he finally said,
shrugging at Sam.

"I didn't write it," Sam said.

"You wicked child!" cried the enchantress. "What do I hear you say?
You have deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful
tresses (Arel yelped loudly), wrapped them twice round her hand,
seized a pair of scissors with the other and cut them off. She then
took the poor girl into a desert where she had to live in great grief
and misery (and only got a black eye for her trouble since Arel had
promised to behave).

"Okay, so she's out of her prison," Cowboy said, looking up. "Story's
over now, right?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

ON the same day that she cast out Rapunzel, the Narrator shouted, the
evil witch, fastened the braids to the hook of the window, and when
the king's son came and cried 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your
hair', she let the hair down. The king's son ascended, but instead of
finding his dearest Rapunzel, he found the witch, who gazed at him
with wicked and venomous looks.

"Whoa! Dear god in heaven, yer an ugly bitch!" Nathan cried out as he
stumbled backward, away from the evil enchantress. In his haste to get
away from her, Nathan forgot about the window, and he fell backwards
through the lone opening in the wall.

"Ah hate this program!" the pilot screamed as he plummeted through the
air, falling...

Right into the patch of thorns encircling the tower.

"Computer freeze program!" Samantha called out. She looked at the man
trying to make his way from the thorns and then at Arel who was busy
tapping her foot. Technically, he was supposed to be pushed from the
tower but she didn't think she could get him to do that stunt again.
"Okay now you're supposed to be roaming the forest, blind, for several
years. So close your eyes or something."

Nathan stumbled out of the patch, grimacing in pain as his body was
stuck all over with who knew how many thorns. He glared at Samantha
and then closed his eyes with a sigh.

Arel snickered at the thorns adorning his backside.

"Shut...up," Cowboy muttered, his eyes still closed.

"Okay, now you come upon each other ..." Sam prompted. Arel gave her a
look and then rolled her eyes.

"Oh my darling prince," She said dryly.

Nathan moved around, trying to locate Arel by the sound of her voice.
He finally turned towards where he thought she was, and spoke. "Oh,
mah beautiful princess, Ah feared that never again would Ah hear yer
voice," he droned, placing one hand over his heart and holding his
other hand out towards the object of his words, which turned out to be
a tree.

Samantha frowned at them. "You two have no chemistry whatsoever. You
*can't* be dating."

Cowboy frowned and opened his eyes, blinking at the tree and turning
around until he was facing Samantha and Arel. "Datin'? Us?" he asked,
looking back and forth between the two as he tried not to laugh. "You
gotta be kiddin'."

"Kahless, Sam," Arel said, exasperated. "I should have known there was
a reason he just *had* to join us today. I'd just as soon kiss a
Ferengi than Everett. No offense, Cowboy."

"Yeah, and Ah'd sooner kiss a Pakled than Arel," Cowboy said. "No
offense, Arel."

Arel snorted.

He turned to Samantha again. "What exactly made you think the two of
us were...together?" His face twisted as he said the last word, as if
he were offended by the very thought.

"You're always sparring," Samantha explained. "If she fights a guy,
she usually either wants him or wants to adopt him."

Arel rolled her eyes.

Nathan grinned at that, glancing momentarily at Arel before replying
to Samantha. "The only reason Arel and Ah spend so much time sparrin's
'cause Ah'm hopeless in a fight, and Arel's been teachin' me how to be
not so hopeless. Right, Arel?"

"Right."

"Oh," Sam said disappointed. "Well, that kind of ruins the plans I had
for the grand finale."

"That's okay, Sam," Arel said. "I wouldn't mind leaving a bit early
and make sure I don't miss Korvin's call." She turned to Nathan with a
grin. "And I'd hate to interrupt your time with those Pakleds."

He smiled back at her. "Thanks, darlin'. Say hi to Korvin fer me."

"Qapla," Arel said.

"Next week!" Sam called after her. "I'll have an even better fairy tale!"

"Kahless help us," Arel called back.

"She is sooooo difficult," The girl complained to Nathan.

"Tell me 'bout it," Nathan muttered as he watched Arel exit the
holodeck. "She better watch it, Ah can arrange that Ferengi," he
added, immediately thinking of Taev, one of Saber Squadron's pilots.
"She could use a good kiss."

"I know!" Sam said. "But try telling Arel that. She gets all annoyed
and starts breaking things."

He quirked an eyebrow and grinned as he slowly began to get an idea.
"Y'know, kiddo, with yer brains and mah ability to laugh in the face
of certain death, Ah bet we could find some poor bastard to hook Arel
up with."

Sam grinned. "Oh, I know I can find some poor bastard. That's not the
problem. I want to find her someone good."

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, me too," he replied, frowning in thought.
Suddenly it hit him, and he smiled again. "Hey, whadya know 'bout
Trill datin' customs?" he asked as he led the way out of the holodeck.

"In the Wake of the Storm"

Counselor Brian Elessidel
Corporal Cianan Tierney

Cianan turned his head to the right and an audible "pop" sounded in the corridor of the Galaxy. The popping served as a partial stress reliever. As he walked the marine passed other crew and gave an
occasional nod. By and large he was a solitary soul, but still acknowledged he was one of many on the ship.

One of the many others in the oversized tin can was the Counselor. That was his current mission - another counseling session. The Angosian wasn't yet sure if they were helping. In the past he had been rather hesitant with psychologists. However reluctantly he participated in sessions he admitted they did seem ot have some affect.

His most recent flashback occurred on the Station. He was able to overcome it extremely quickly, but nonetheless it still haunted him. It was a continued presence of the faces of the past. He had to learn to live with them to function.

As he rounded the corner he entered the outer counseling office and gave a half smile to the young receptionist who motioned for him to have a seat. Cianan nodded and sat rigidly in the chair waiting for his session.

"Cianan, good to see you," Counselor Elessidil said with a smile and a nod as he returned to the counseling center and continued to his office. "C'mon in."

With preparations underway for evacuating the colonists, the counselor had re-scheduled most of his appointments except for those he felt were of a more necessary nature. Corporal Tierney fell into that category by virtue of his unique situation, one that necessitated maintaining mental balance and stability as much as possible.

It had never been Cianan's habit to accept the offer of something to drink, so Brian had long since dispensed with that particular tradition in these sessions. "How are things going?" the counselor asked as he seated himself on one of the comfortable chairs on the session side of his office.

His right lip curled into a half grin. "It's been at least a week since someone died at my hands." Cianan was partially speaking in jest and partially speaking in truth. It's like the words just blurted out
when he was with the Counselor. The Betazoid seemed to have an uncanny ability that other psychologists had not had in the past. "I'm not sure I meant to say that." Cianan stared intently at the wall.

"No? Was there something else you think you meant instead?"

For the first time Cianan experienced being flustered. "I'm not sure what I meant to say." He had a panicked look in his eye, it was short, but panicked. He struggled and then regained his composure. "I guess I haven't had any visions of killings from the Station...that's what I meant to say."

Brian picked up immediately on the odd reaction. "You seem a little uneasy today, Cianan. Is something bothering you?"

Cianan shook his head, "No, I don't think so." The Angosian outwardly felt fine. He could sense his bodily mechanics just as he was programmed to do. His neutransmitters and hormones seemed in balance. "Maybe I just haven't become used to the ship." It was a lame excuse. There was something, but he couldn't put his finger on it - he could quite grasp the feeling that nagged on the back of his mind.

Nor was the counselor quite convinced. "Maybe, but you've had plenty of time to adjust and from what I've seen in our previous sessions you seem to be doing that well enough," Brian noted, a somewhat quizzical look on his face. "A lot has been going on around here recently; did anything happen that might be on your mind? Remember, Cianan, we want to work on finding constructive ways for you to release emotional energy, not to continue to suppress it any more than is necessary. Talking about your feelings can be helpful, even if you don't have all the words right away."

"How can you express feelings when you don't have the words?" Cianan released his tense seating position and slouched back in the chair. It was the first time he experienced the emotional equivalent of a shrug. "I've never had this problem before." Cianan reached back in his memories as far back as he could. The processes in his brained fired fast and furiously. He sat back up in the chair as he looked at the Counselor.

"I feel...empty somehow. The images are there, the voices are there, but they matter less." Cianan wondered if it was a good thing - the violence was not as sharp. It was replaced by something he couldn't quite figure out, but he had a hunch it was sparked by his sessions. "Damn psychologists," he muttered in a joke.

"See? The words do come if you let them," Brian replied with a smirk. "Are these the same images and voices you're used to, or are there others? How do they matter less?"

Cianan considered Brian's words. The marine was starting to get a headache, too much reflecting and memory searching. "The same ones are there, but it's as though they aren't as loud. I can't tell what they're being covered with." He paused and then chuckled, "I think I'm going crazy. I can't hear the voices in my head as clearly as I should."

Sensing that pushing too hard might be counterproductive, Brian decided to take a different approach. "Maybe we can make this a little easier on you. There's a technique Betazoids sometimes use to help reduce empathic pressure for someone. Usually the other person is an empath, but it might help clear things a little for you. Would you like try?"

Cianan thought for a moment. He'd tried Angosian, Human and Vulcan techniques, some where more effective than others. "As long as my head doesn't explode I'll give it a shot." Cianan remembered one of the last Betazoid encounters he had while on Earth. It left both him and the Betazoid worse for wear.

"It's pretty simple. You just focus your thoughts toward me -- it usually helps too if I touch your head. Otherwise you really don't have to do much; I'll be able to pick up on them pretty easily. I'll empathically draw out the emotional images, so to speak, which in turn will help let some of the pressure off you. Understand though, that your thoughts and emotions will be open to me, so if you have any reservations about it, that's perfectly fine."

"The only reservation I have is causing harm to you." Cianan said. "You've touched my mind briefly before. I can't control what happens up there." He smiled. "But if you're comfortable, what the hell?"

"Don't worry -- I can stop if necessary," Brian assured, moving close enough to reach Cianan. "Just relax and concentrate as best you can on your thoughts and feelings right now. You don't need to strain, just try to think of keeping it all at the forefront of your mind." Placing his hands on the sides of the other man's head, the counselor focused.

The barage of images was not as harsh as the first telepathic encounter the two experienced. The images were still graphic, but more controlled. Brian recognized some of the images from the first encounter. They were "ghosts" Cianan attributed to his past.

"Good...stay with the images, Cianan." Silently, the counselor went with him, sharing the thoughts and whatever emotional burden they brought.

Cianan breathed cautiously as he felt a lingering presence in his mind. He relived some of what the Counselor was viewing. Again, the emotions were muted.

A calming presence washed over the two connected minds. Momentarily Cianan experienced a peace he had never before experienced.

Perhaps the Angosian had never really been able to experience significant relief from the images that endlessly roared through his mind. Perhaps he'd never had the opportunity to really share his feelings with another person. Whatever it was, Brian was aware of the emotional shift and considered it a good sign.

Cianan had never experienced a calm mind. For a moment his true self panicked, but the marine instantly felt at peace urged on by the Counselor's reassuring presence. It was a sense of safety. It was a difference sense of security than ever before. He wasn't safe from the line of fire or safe after taking out an opponent. He was emotionally safe, the equivalent of someone holding his hand in support. Cianan experienced pleasure like never before. He was content and it was like a drug.

For his part, the counselor experienced some of the emotional weight Cianan endured. It was significant, but manageable.

As the mental connection began to disappear his memories returned, though were clearly different. They were still vibrant, but somehow had lost the stark contrast of their hue. Cianan opened his eyes and looked at the Counselor in awe. The Betazoid accomplished something no one could. For that moment Brian tamed the monster. His complex memories returned and Cianan leaned back. The moment of euphoria was gone, replaced with the psychologically programmed shielding of an Angosian soldier. He breathed slowly while regaining his composure. "Have you ever done that before?"

"Used this technique? Yes," Brian answered, "but not with an Angosian. You did well. How do you feel now?"

Cianan thought for a moment, unsure. Brian's eyes reminded him of 39, that is to say the 39th person he killed while on duty as a soldier. Cianan was slightly confused. "I remember a feeling of peace and calm, but I can't remember it enough to feel it again." He leaned back in his chair. "I think I feel fine." He wanted to add, "but I want to feel your mind again," but he didn't.

"It's a start. Maybe for now just to have felt it is good enough. We can use this again sometime." Brian paused, his thoughts meandering to other matters for a moment. "Cianan, what do you think about the Vered evacuations?" He wondered how someone with such a solidly disciplined mind might approach their task. As he considered it, he realized it was a very relevant question from both the perspective of the mission and from the work Cianan and he were doing.

No one had ever really asked him his opinion of a matter and Cianan was momentarily taken aback. The Counselor certainly was full of interesting surprises. He thought for a moment and then answered, "It sucks." It was simple, but summed up the assignment. "I don't know much about the background." Cianan had limited interaction with decision makers, he was just told what to do. "I'm not sure we're protecting people of the Federation more than protecting Federation interests." The marine returned to a straight position in his chair. "It just doesn't make sense to me, but if I have to remove them, I'll remove them." His voice was laced with regret and was conciliatory. Cianan cautiously asked, "what do you think?"

"I think it's a task that's going to require great care and sensitivity, and it's partly my job to make sure everyone is as prepared as possible with that perspective. I guess I'm just wondering how you feel about going into a situation that's going to be overflowing with emotional tension."

"Do you think I should leave my phaser rifle on the ship?" Cianan said with a straight face and then smirked. "I try not to think about it." The Angosian typically entered into an almost apathetic state while in situations with high emotion. He focused on the deliverables. He never really considered himself in the position of negotiating with the inhabitants. His primary negotiation tool was force. "I don't know what I'd do." He focused on the ground, trying to remember a time when he used diplomacy. "Got any ideas?"

"This time I'm afraid you *are* going to have to think about it. That's probably the best place to start. Think about the particular nature of this assignment and what makes it different from other situations you've been in. Then try to put yourself in the place of the colonists. How would you want to be treated if you were being relocated from your home?" Elessidil looked at him for a moment. "This is one case where total objectivity may not be very helpful."

"You mean like being ripped from your parents and sent to a facility where they pump you with drugs, alter your very biological make-up and then screw with your brain?" Cianan said with a sigh. "I see your point. They can't stay. Objectivity can't always be ignored." He paused for a moment. "I won't know what to say until I'm in the situation. Maybe threats will work." He lifted an eyebrow with the statement, trying to get a rise out of Brian. It didn't work. "But I'm betting we'll have to rely on diplomacy. That's your strength, not mine."

Brian thought about the situation and about the progress Cianan had made so far. While this was going to challenge all of them, the Angosian marine would likely experience more stress than most. "Cianan, if you have no objections, I'd like to request that you be assigned to my team. I'm sure your experience as a field medic could be of great help, and it might be good for you if I'm nearby in case you feel overwhelmed at any point."

"Very objective and rational." Cianan said with a smile. "If my superiors agree I'll help in any way I can." The marine continued with an ominous tone, "besides you might need ME around."

"Here to Stay"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Cadet Artemis Bancroft

*****
Deck 8
XO's Office

"Interesting."

The contents of the message weren't particularly surprising, now that
she thought about it. Her previous assignment had blown up, and since
the girl was already on board, might as well keep her here.

Iniara shrugged, then tapped her comm badge. "Tarin to Cadet
Bancroft. Please report to my office as soon as possible."

The voice on the other end of the communicator sounded surprised, but
quickly answered with, "I'm on my way, Commander."

Five minutes later the chime sounded and Artemis Bancroft stepped into
the office. She glanced around the office nervously before settling
her gaze on the Galaxy's executive officer. "You wished to see me,
sir?"

At the sound of Artemis' voice Iniara looked up from her console.
"Yes, come on in. Have a seat," she said, beckoning towards the
room's guest chair. "Can I get you anything from the replicator?"

"No thank you, Commander," Artemis said. "I just had some tea a
little bit ago."

Taking a moment to examine the young woman, Iniara couldn't help but
smile slightly. "Relax, Cadet. You're not in trouble or anything. I
actually have some news for you, but whether it's good or bad will
depend on your perspective."

Artemis chewed her lip for a moment, then smiled. "Thank you," she
said. "I've never been called to the XO's office before. Hard not to
be nervous."

"Lieutenant Jamson tells me that even though you're not a member of
the crew, you've nonetheless been helping out in Operations since
Medical cleared you after the battle," Iniara continued as she
settled back into her chair, hands crossed loosely in her lap. "Tell
me, how do you like Galaxy so far?"

"I like it here," Artemis answered. "Everyone is nice too, which
helps a lot. I still need to use the computer to find my way around,
but I think I'm getting the hang of where everything is. I made it
here without getting lost. I hope it's okay that I was helping. It
would feel weird being on a ship and not pitching in."

"No, no, that's what we like to hear. It's common for cadets to get
so nervous or caught up with impressing their superiors that they
often forget the simplest way to figure out what they really want to
do in their careers: relax, get out there, volunteer for jobs that
interest them...

Iniara paused slightly. "Anyway, what I wanted to pass along is this.
I've just received a message from the Commandant's office, and they've
recommended that rather than returning to the Academy on Earth, you
remain aboard Galaxy and continue your education here. It's ultimately
your decision to make, but if you'd like to stay here, we can make it
official."

Artemis' expression brightened. "Really? They said I could stay on
the Galaxy? I would like that very much, sir. I'm getting to know
the ship and I've made some great friends already. I think I've even
learned a few things. And Ensign zh'Rin and I just started a new
holographic simulation, one of the new war simulations where you're a
fighter pilot. We even blew up the Hydran refueling station." She
beamed happily. "Thank you very much, Commander. I definitely would
like to stay."

"Good, good." Iniara returned the young woman's smile; it was
refreshing to find a cadet who genuinely wanted to remain on board for
the experience, and not just because they thought it gave them
bragging rights or something. "Because of your previous experiences
and studies you'll be on a slightly modified curriculum. With your
mentor you'll develop a plan of work which will need to be approved by
the Commandant's office. You'll still be taking the standard exams
required of all cadets, but your course load will be lighter and will
be supplemented with regular duty shifts in your intended major and
minor fields.

"By default the ship's ex-oh is assigned to mentor all shipboard
cadets, but if you have someone else you'd prefer...a department head
or other trusted colleague, for instance...the assignment can always
be changed." She paused slightly. "Now, do you have any questions so
far?"

"I believe I understand everything so far, ma'am," Artemis said. It
was hard to believe that they would allow her to stay out in the
field, but here she was. With the war, she suspected that perhaps
they needed as many capable people as possible, and while she was
definitely young, she had been aboard a starship for her whole life.
"No questions yet. The only person I would say I know fairly well is
Shi, I mean, Ensign zh'Rin. But, I think I would rather have you for
my mentor. Sharzhevashi's a very good officer and an amazing pilot,
but..but this is only her first assignment and I don't believe she
would be qualified to mentor me."

"Perhaps Ensign zh'Rin would be willing to prepare you for your
piloting exams, though? I can speak to her about it if you'd like."

Eyes widening at the possibility she hadn't expected, Artemis nodded.
"I think I would like that very much."

"Alrighty then. But before I get too far ahead of myself..." Iniara
pulled out a spare padd and turned back to her desktop console, taking
a few moments to access some information and transfer it to the padd.
"The next few steps are pretty straightforward. I'll speak with
Lieutenant Jamson about getting you into the regular Ops duty
rotation. I'll also need to meet with you in a day or two to go over
your initial plan of work before we submit it to the Commandant's
office. That shouldn't take more than an hour; speak to my yeoman on
the way out, and he'll squeeze you in.

"Last but not least," she continued, rotating the padd and sliding it
across the desk, "for convenience's sake, this padd contains the full
Academy undergraduate catalog as well as a complete listing of
distance education courses. I've also included a copy of your current
Academy transcript, so you can see which courses you've already placed
out of. What I need you to do is study this information and use it
to come up with your intended major and minor, a proposed plan of work
for the next three or four years, along with a projected graduation
date. They won't be set in stone; we can always modify the schedule
later as circumstances change, but the Commandant will want to see
that you're committed to the long haul and that you aren't trying to
use distance ed to take the easy path to graduation."

Artemis glanced at the padd, studying the initial information
displayed on its surface. "I'll have a plan ready for you when I come
in to see you next time," she said. She was silent for a moment,
studying the padd without really even seeing it. "Sir, do you know
much about the Starfighter Corps?"

"I've known a few fighter pilots over the years," Iniara admitted, her
thoughts automatically calling up memories of her own mentor Kol,
who'd bought himself passage to Sto'Vo'Kor in a brilliant fireball of
Rogue Mark V fighter in the skies above ch'Rihan, "though I don't know
more than the basics about the Corps. Why do you ask?"

She fiddled nervously with the padd until she finally set it on the
desk and pulled her hands down into her lap. "I guess I'm curious,"
she said. "I don't know if I'm cut out for it or if it's possible,
but I've been thinking that might be something I'm interested in. Mum
was a flight controller on the first Galaxy, under Admiral Price.
Well, he wasn't an admiral yet then. But, it's probably just crazy
talk after the holodeck simulations. She'd kill me besides. Mum, I
mean. If she thought I was going to be racing around with nothing but
bits of durasteel between me and the vacuum of space, she'd have
kittens. Not just normal earth kittens either, sehlat kittens."

Iniara couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Keep in mind that training
to be a starfighter pilot is in many ways much more grueling than
ordinary Academy training...physically, mentally, emotionally... If
you decide to pursue that training, it's something you can't do
halfway or you'll most likely end up dead. You would most likely have
to turn Operations into a minor, or forgo it entirely. But if you're
really serious about being a pilot, I can try to arrange some face
time for you with one of the Vanguards. At least then you'll kind of
have an idea of what you're getting yourself into."

"Oh, I'd like that very much," Artemis exclaimed. "It may just be a
passing thing, but...but I really want to find out if it is something
that I want to do. I'd hate to find that five years down the line
that I missed what was my calling. Or something. I guess it's kind
of like writing music. Sometimes you get a song in your head and the
only way to keep sane is to get it out. I'd really like to know if
being a pilot is for me."

"That's a valid comparison," Iniara commented, nodding slowly in
agreement. "Let me talk to Lieutenant Quaaliu, see what we can work
out. We may have to wait until after the evacuation, but he's got two
full squadrons down there, so I'm sure at least one of his pilots
could take a couple hours out of their day to show you around a bit.

"Hmm...for the time being, develop that plan of work so that you're
primarily focusing on the gen-ed requirements," she continued, waving
a hand towards the padd. "If you ultimately decide to transfer to the
Fighter Corps, your curriculum will change dramatically. The gen-ed
courses will carry over of course, but the major courses are very
different from the requirements of the other Starfleet disciplines.
Theres also a strong possibility that you'd have to do pilot training
back on Earth; it's very rare for the SFFC Academy to graduate someone
purely through distance education. But...we can cross that bridge
when we come to it; don't want to overload you just yet," she
concluded, smiling.

"Of course," Artemis said. "I'll get the course plan to you by
tomorrow. Thank you again, for the advice and letting me know I can
stay on Galaxy. And, I'm sure everyone will be super busy with the
mission, so I can wait until someone has time."

"In the meantime, if you have any questions just let me know. I'm
always around." Iniara stood and held out her hand. "Welcome aboard,
Cadet. May your stay with us be as enjoyable as it is productive."

Artemis grinned as she shook the commander's hand. "Thank you again,
for everything. I'm really looking forward to my time here."

"Good to hear. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"I'll be here," Artemis said. She stood, grinned happily at the
commander, and then quickly hurried out of the office. She had to
break the news. She just hoped that, with the war going on, she could
get a subspace channel through to her mother.

"Letters Home"
Cadet Artemis Bancroft

with a special appearance by Commander Tebrianne Bancroft

***

Acting First Officer's Log. Stardate 62216.80. Commander Tebrianne
Bancroft reporting.

We have been forced to pull back from the fight. Our last encounter with
Triad forces knocked our warp drives offline and sensors are still down.
Minimal shields have been restored, but we wouldn't last a minute against an
attack. With Commander Senok still in Sickbay, Captain Barrett has asked me
to serve as exec until he is recovered. It's good experience, I guess.

The fight isn't going well, but the crew's keeping their spirits up. With
the temporary respite, the captain has ordered minimal crew staffing to give
people a chance to rest. Engineering and Ops are working overtime, though.
Some of the other crew have pitched in to give some of them a chance to hit
their bunks for some sleep.

After this recording, I will try to catch a few hours of sleep. Captain's
orders. I believe I haven't slept in nearly fifty hours, though perhaps
it's a touch bad that I can't remember the last time I shut my eyes for
longer than thirty seconds.

Lieutenant th'Chara is giving an estimate of another eighteen hours before
we can return to the fight. I know it will be good to get back to the
fight, and I have every confidence that this crew will keep on fighting.
But...but I can't help be fearful. Not for myself or this crew. I have not
yet heard from Artemis. I last spoke to her before she left Earth for Deep
Space 5 and the Carthage. Both destroyed in conflicts against the Hydrans.
I have no idea if she's still alive or not. If she's...if she didn't...

***

Tebrianne Bancroft let out a growl of frustration. "Bollocks! Computer,
delete recording and begin again."

Ensign Exley at the communications station pulled the earpiece from her ear
and turned toward the center of the bridge. "Commander."

"Computer, pause recording," Tebrianne said with a sigh. She turned to face
the the newly installed communications station. "Go ahead, ensign."

"Incoming substace message for you, sir," the young woman said. "It's
flagged as important. From the Vered Cluster. USS Galaxy."

Galaxy? The memories flooded back. Good, bad, everything. She's spent some
of the best years of her career on that ship. Recent reports flew to the
fore of her mind. The USS Galaxy was reported operating around DS5. USS
Carthage and DS5. Both gone, destroyed in attacks. Artemis was there. Her
daughter. Her only child. The brightest point of her long stay in the
wretched Mirror Universe, the last shred of anything that tied her to
Tavin. Was Galaxy bringing news of her daughter? Breathing became
difficult. Tebrianne felt herself nodding dumbly toward Exley. In her
mind, she saw Captain Price, solemn face. "Sorry, mate," he was saying,
"but I'm afraid she di'n't make it. Brave li'l soldier you had. Stayed a'
her post til the very end. Li'l girl would have made a great officer.
Sorry for your loss."

The thought was a crazy one. The General was an admiral now, and no longer
on the Galaxy. And, at sixteen, Artie was hardly a little girl anymore.
She was young, but when Teb was her age, she was touring around the galaxy
playing music for anyone who would listen. Then rushing off to Starfleet
Academy. It couldn't be Price. The new captain of the Galaxy then?
Letting her know, cold and distant. Not knowing mother or daughter? Not
understanding the trials that led them both back to this time, to this
place. Only to have Artemis die a pointless death in a Hydran attack.

Who was the captain of the Galaxy now? She couldn't remember who had
command now. Was that who it was? Informing her that Cadet Bancroft was
lost in the hostilities against the Hydrans? She opened her mouth to
respond to the comm officer, but no sound would come.

"Why don't you take it in my Ready Room," Captain Barrett said gently. He
nodded toward Tebrianne's hands, clenched tight enough that her knuckles
turned white. She pulled her hands away, sheepish, trying not to stare at
the crushed duraplast armrests.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "Sorry, sir." On stiff legs, she stood and
walked with the wooden movements of a toy soldier toward the Ready Room. Or
it felt that way in any case. She felt eyes on her as she walked. It was
the longest walk of her life.

The door closed behind her and Tebrianne circled the desk. She swiveled the
display to face her, sat carefully in the captain's seat. It was
comfortable. More comfortable than any chair had a right to be. When she
reached out to accept the incoming transmission, her hands were shaking. A
deep breath steadied her nerves, but her heart still pounded wildly in her
chest.

Finally, her finger touched the button. The Federation logo flared on the
screen. After a moment, the screen dissolved to show a young woman, a
tumble of light brown hair falling past her shoulders. Her eyes were
bright, features pretty and soft. She was far more beautiful than Tebrianne
could ever have been. She'd tucked her hair back over one, slender pointed
ear.

"Hey, mum!"

"Artemis!" Tebrianne breathed. Life rushed back into her limbs, her heart
began to beat once more. Tears welled in her eyes. "You're safe! You're
alive!"

"Every time I've tried to send you a message," Artemis said. The girl was
smiling happily, her own eyes shining bright with tears. "it'd bet rubbished
for being non-essential communication. I had a little chat with a
communications person from one of the relay stations. He wasn't going
to let me through. I think I might have mentioned Uncle Mike. And he let
me through."

Tebrianne couldn't help grinning. "I'm glad you're safe, Artie. You are
safe, right?"

"I am," Artemis said. "We're helping the colonists relocate before the
Hydrans bust through here. I'm officially a part of the Galaxy crew, mum.
Just like you were. It's great so far! I'm working partial shifts in Ops
and taking classes. Mostly classes. And, don't get mad, there's a fighter
squadron, and...and I'm thinking I want to try."

"Artemis, no. Using fighters has got to be one of the biggest tactical
blunders Starfleet has thought up in the last fifty years. They're not
equipped to go up against the types of ships the Federation commonly clashes
with. You know that."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Mum, you know I'm a good pilot. You and Sh--
and Captain zh'Rin saw to that. I can handle myself in a fighter. I've
been running sims, and only got shot down once."

Tebrianne's eyes blazed. "Once is enough, T'Sira Artemis Vict--!"

"I got it, um, you don't need to use my full name."

"I'm not sure you do," Tebrianne answered hotly. "You get shot once, and
it's over. Have you ever looked at the Starfleet Starfighter Corps'
fatality rating?"

Artemis sighed. "You always told me I should follow my dreams. I guess
it's only the safe dreams I should be following."

Silence reigned for several moments as Tebrianne watched her daughter. "Do
whatever you feel is best, Artie. Just do it safely, and watch your back."

Artemis smiled. "I will. I was taught by the best, I'll be fine. Oh hey,
speaking of that, you'll never guess who's also on the Galaxy. It's Captain
Shi! Well, she's till an ensign. But it's her!"

Tebrianne looked around quickly, even though she was alone in the office.
"Artemis, that's dangerous. The connections from the past, associating with
her there..."

"I'm being very careful," Artemis said. "She doesn't know and she's not
going to find out from me. Don't worry, mum, I don't want to have another
chat with Dulmer or Lucsly. It'll be fine."

"It would be a lot safer if you transferred, preferably to somewhere without
a fighter squdron." Tebrianne gve her daughter a pointed look.

Artemis crossed her arms over her chest and met her mother's gaze with a
level look.

Finally Tebrianne smiled. "Sound a lot like a parent then do I? Well, I
worry. This isn't a safe time to live and I can't check in on you like I
used to. You're...you're the best thing I've ever done, and I don't want to
lose you."

"I promise I'll stay safe," Artemis said.

She was a willful girl, full of spirit, just like her mother. But, she was
also smart. It was amazing to Tebrianne that the girl turned out so smart,
talented, and pretty. Artie was her perfect little girl. And other than
her memories and a few holographic images, all that remained to her of
Tavin. She could see him in her, beautiful and strong. She didn't want to
lose that. Not ever.

Tebrianne wiped at a tear before it could slide down her cheek. "I love
you, Artemis. Gran wouldn't be happy if she didn't get to see you again, so
you make sure you stay safe."

"I promise if you do," Artemis said. "Gran will want to see us both, I
bet."

"Deal," Tebrianne said. "I should get going. Captain Barrett will want his
Ready Room back soon. I'll contact you again soon."

"I'll be waiting," Artemis said. "I love you, mum. I promise I won't get
hurt."

Teb smiled. "I won't either. All my love, little one."

Artemis rolled her eyes again. "Mum, I'm not little anymore."

Tebrianne laughed. "You'll always be to me," she said. "I'll talk to you
soon."

They just watched each other for several long moments, before Tebrianne
finally severed the connection. As much as she would have loved to linger
on a subspace channel with her daughter, she knew she had things she needed
to do. Perhaps when the war ended, she and Artemis could arrange time for
shore leave.

Perhaps.

***

Artemis wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform. It hadn't shown,
but she had been getting progressively more worried. She felt somewhat
guilty for the things she had said to the ensign she'd taken to task for
nearly blocking her attempt to contact her mother. Her uncle's name had
cleared the way, though. And she'd at least be able to breathe easier
tonight.

Her mum was safe, though worried. Artemis could understand why her mother
was worried. She was treading on dangerous ground. Being a fighter pilot
was dangerous. Becoming best friends with the younger version of the woman
who had been the captain of the ship from the future on which she had grown
up was insane. But, she couldn't just stop being Shi's friend and she
wasn't about to just leave.

For now, she had work to do. She'd worry about getting blown up or altering
the future after studying for her Federation History lesson

"Ordinary And Normal"

Commander Jaal Jaxom
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton

USS Galaxy ? Main Sickbay

Since Jaal decided to stay aboard the Galaxy, it seemed appropriate to
get his routine physical done and out of the way. Into sickbay he
went...

Watching the new face walk in Kimberly frowned for a moment, having a
little trouble placing the face. Noting the three pips on his collar
as he walked up she nodded to herself, figuring this was the new
Strategic Operations officer. ~ Either it's him or we have more new
crew aboard I've not been told about, ~ she thought to herself. Aloud
though, "Commander," she greeted him as he approached, "welcome to
sickbay." Casting a casual look behind him she smiled, "since you're
not leaking all over the place and we're not at red alert can I assume
this is good news?" she asked with a smile.

"If you can call a routine physical good," the tall Trill shrugged. "I
just got here. I'm Commander Jaxom. I know I should have made an
appointment but," he shrugged again, "I just happen to be walking this
way and nothing going on at the moment, so I thought I'd stop by."

"Personally, a routine physical is excellent news. No alien life
forms hiding in unexpected places, no unexpected radiation injuries or
the like. Routine normally means healthy, sane and peaceful," nodding
toward her office, "I'm Kimberly Burton, CMO if you hadn't already
guessed. Let's just check your notes and we should be able to get
this done fairly quickly." She offered.

"Great," Jaal sounded pleased. He noticed her different colored eyes
and tried not to rudely stare at them. He followed her into her office
off the main sickbay.

Leading the Commander into her office she slid her computer around to
face her as she perched on the desk and called up his file. As she
read his file her eyebrows lifted slightly, "You were in command of
the USS Carthage at DS5," she enquired politely, not really wanting to
reopen any old wounds but sure this had been asked before anyway,
"what brings you to the Galaxy as our new Strategic Ops officer?"

Jaal nodded in answer to her first question. "Well, I have nothing
else going on at the moment and Captain M'Kantu offered me the job so
I took it... and the opportunity to work with a seasoned captain and
crew." He wondered if she'd run him through the rigorous physical
tests the Miranda's CMO liked to inflict or would this be a simple
tricorder scan? The Trill was hoping for the later.

"So, just out of curiosity, what exactly does your job as Strategic
ops officer mean? What do you do for a living here?" Satisfied that
his files were up to date she smiled, "I mean, we're not a starbase
with assigned ships or specific areas to monitor."

"I'm the catch-all between tactical, operations, intelligence, fleet
liaison officer and whatever else Captain M'Kantu needs me to do...
according to the Wiki-Starfleet-edia... well, except taking his
laundry to the dry cleaners," Jaal smiled at the doctor. She seemed
easy going enough. "So, what brings you here as the CMO?" he asked
thinking it might be his turn to prod for information.

"Me?" Realising that other than the XO and the Captain when she had
come aboard, no one had really ever asked her that. "Well, it wasn't
to do the dry cleaning either," she quipped with a smile. "I actually
started out as a counsellor on the Arizona, then the chief counsellor
on the Relentless, but along the way I was studying for my MD. I took
a leave of absence from the Relentless to do my Internship on Th?r?,
plus a few more months of study, then I was expecting to head back to
the Relentless."

Getting off her desk she picked up her tricorder as she continued,
"Instead though I got assigned here as the CMO. To say I was
surprised was an understatement, but I've got a great team here, so
that helped a lot at the start." Nodding to the door, "Shall we, this
shouldn't take long." Stepping to the door she smiled wryly though,
"my only problem is keeping an assistant chief, no one seems to hang
around long enough nowadays."

Jaal chuckled, "Good assistants 'are' hard to find. I was always
looking for one on the Miranda. Never had much luck though after Circ
left."

"What did you get up to on the Miranda?" she asked as they crossed the ward.

"I spent a few years as the operations manager. Circ was my first
assistant until she switched departments on me," Jaal filled in some
details, "After she left," he shook his head, "well, let's just I
never had another exceptional assistant."

"I'm beginning to wish my assistant chief on the Relentless was an MD
as well, I'd have her transferred here in a heartbeat, but, well
someone will turn up sooner or later." Patting the biobed, "hop up,
this should only take a moment. Anything you want to tell me that may
not be ion your file? Anything recent to report?"

He sat on the biobed as instructed. Good grief, he hated those things.
"Ah... no," he shrugged, "As far as I know I'm healthy as
horseradish."

"Excellent, sit back and relax, just need to update your bioscan and
run a few checks then you're outta here." She assured him. Humming
softly as she called up his file and set the bed working she ran her
tricorders scanner over him. "So, any family joining you once you're
settled?"

Jaal winced at that while wondering if Erastus was 'ever' going to
reply to his messages. "Well, no, I do have a younger sister on
Starbase Atlantis at the moment. The rest are content to stay on Trill
minding the farm. I do have one uncle that travels as a freelance
anthropologist though. I haven't heard from him in ages." He glanced
around the ward as he spoke watching Kimberly go about her business.

"How about you?" he asked idly.

Shaking her head gently she smiled, "No, no family aboard. I have a
young girl I'm looking after, but she's been off ship for a while, and
she's taking her entry exams for Starfleet soon. So it'll soon just
be me here. ~ Assuming she passes her exams! ~ She added silently.
"My brother and I keep in touch though, he has his own freighter out
on the rim of the Federation."

Satisfied with the results the bed was giving her she reset it for a
different sweep of scans and turned to face him. Picking up a few
more gadgets she ran a quick set of hearing and visual tests, and by
the time the bed was done she had finished. "Well, so far you seem to
be in good shape. Nothing is jumping out and saying 'cure me', so I
think that's a clean bill of health. Anything else I can help you
with while you're here Commander?"

His head tilted curiously. "Ah... no." Jaal looked right at her. "If
you say I'm good, then I'm good," he smiled.

Smiling back she nodded to the door, "Then Commander, you're free to
depart as fast as you like, and no offence, I hope I don't see you
back here anytime soon." She added with a grin. "Try and keep
yourself in one piece please."

"You can bet on that," Jaal answered with a wry smile.

"A New Friend, Pt.2"

Ensign Alexandra "Alex" Lee
Engineering Officer

Michael McDowell
Civilian Engineering Specialist

*** Ten Forward ***

Michael nodded. "Kastanza, still trying to be the Don Juan sometimes.
Maybe it doesn't look like it, but he's quite harmless. If he's bugging
you, tell him that straight to his face. Just be outright clear to him so
that he gets the point. From what I've heard that should pull him back to
reality."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to remember that," she replied. "So...I suppose I
have interrogated you enough. Feel free to ask anything about me. I'm an
open book." She smiled brightly.

There was another moment of silence as Michael smiled back at her. He
didn’t expect this conversation to lead to a sort of question/answer game.
Normally he wasn't the type of person to ask all about someones life right
at the first meeting. He preferred to let that happen naturally with the
passin g of time. But Ensign Lee didn’t seem to mind so he decided to make
an exception this time. "Do you have family anywhere? Brothers? Sisters?"

"My family still lives on Alpha Centauri IV but I don't have any brothers
or sisters." After a moment, she continued. "I...haven't spoken with or
seen my family since I left for the Academy."

"But that’s more than 4 years. That's a long time without your family."
Michael's thoughts went to his father. They weren't on speaking terms
either, not since mother had died and he failed to attend her funeral. But
that had been only 4 months ago and not 4 years. "…What happened?"

"Well, my parents never approved of me applying to Starfleet Academy. They
wanted me to work with some big engineering firm, which I learned they had
set up for me. I want to earn things in my life. I'm tired of them being
given to me."

"I can understand that." Michael said. He signaled a waiter and ordered a
cup of Earl Grey tea. "I guess I'm lucky in that way. My parents supported
me from beginning to end. I suppose you also wanted to see what's out
there among the stars?"

She slowly shook her head. "No...I am not the typical starry-eyed person
wanting to join Starfleet to galavant across the galaxy. I joined to get
away from my parents...because I knew Starfleet was the one place I could
go and have a career without them having any influence on me. Starfleet
first crossed my mind when I volunteered to aid in search and rescue
operations after the Breen Attack on San Francisco."

"Ah..." It was not much of a reply but Michael failed to find a better
one. He took a moment to to let his mind go over what had been said so
far. After what Ensign Lee had told him it was not that farfetched to
think that she could be feeling lonely out here. Here she was out on her
own, fresh out of the Academy, having no contact with her family. He could
be wrong of course, but how to find that out? And should he go there at
all? ~No, definatelly not. That's a 'No Go' area.~ With that thought he
concluded his crude analysis. "Big decision. Pretty radical too."

"Maybe for others...but its simply something I felt I had to do. It can be a bit lonely at times...but I try not to think about that by focusing on my work or reading the latest technical journals by the Starfleet Corps of Engineers...I'm happy with my decision." She wondered for a brief moment if that was truely the case--she was more alone than she admitted. She soon began to feel small, sitting in the chair across from Michael. After a moment of silence she let out a small sigh. "Well, I should get back to engineering. It was a pleasure to meet you, Michael," she stated as she stood from the table and made her way out of the crew lounge.

"Side Show"

Captain Rebecca Von Ernst (Chris)
Commanding Officer- USS Zeus
Commander Na'sav Lorem (Other Chris)
Commanding Officer- USS Vigilant

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

The Hydran war was really heating up in this sector. The destruction of DS5
as a supply cache had only accelerated the Triad's plans for conquest. After
all if supplies were questionable?.might as well make use of them before
they were gone forever. The use it or lose it theory of modern warfare.

And now?..against seeming all odds, the Federation had given the Hydrans a
golden opportunity to make good their losses.

There?.not a few light years across the border sat the Vered cluster.
Nominally a pitiful collection of backward farmers and second rate industrial
efforts, the Vered Cluster had become very important to the Triad high command
for one very important distinction. That is where the USS Galaxy was.
Centuries ago, naval commanders had discovered that the keys to victory was not in
conquering territory, nor in advancing the flag across island bases??..??the
keys to victory was in the destruction of the enemy fleet wherever it was.
If the fleet anchored in one spot?.that was your target. If the fleet moved
somewhere else??that became your objective. Bring the enemy to battle and
crush him utterly?.the rest be damned.

And now the Galaxy was being offered like a ripe prize for the plucking.

Anchored in the confines of an open stellar cluster, and limited by the need
to protect a flotilla of fat juicy transport ships, the Starship made a
tempting target.

Why not a quick dash across the border and strike a blow against the ship
that humiliated them at DS5?
Why not cripple Starfleet's transport assets in this sector in one effort?

Well?.not for the lack of trying anyway???except for two things:

Vigilant??

Zeus??..

Their job was to cover USS Galaxy's ass while M'kantu and gang were playing
diplomat.

The bridge of the Defiant Class 'Vigilant' trembled as the latest Hydran
barrage struck home. It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission, to see
just how stunning a blow the loss of Deep Space Five as a supply base would be
to the Hydrans. In fact, Na'sav had been under strict orders 'not' to engage
the enemy. The former Raider skipper knew well the arts of reconnaissance,
evasion, and stealth when it came to space borne platforms, however
mathematically speaking you could never 'hide' yourself completely. Statistically, there
was always a possibility that you'd get found out... a possibility which
increased exponentially as you tried closing into sensor range of an enemy force.

He could already tell the Admiral would give him a 'dressing down' for
disobeying orders and scratching up his own ship in the process. But hell, in the
Stagnorian's defense he didn't 'engage the enemy', he was engaged 'by' the
enemy! A trio of them to be precise.

The entirety of conflict could often be reduced to numbers. Ratios,
percentages, statistics... if you could read them well you could often read battle
like a book. He with the best intelligence, the best numbers, often found
themselves on the winning side.

However math was never Na'sav's strongest suit. He never actually 'won'
tactically by design, although he was often as aggressive as they came when
considering starship combatants. No, his skills lay in the exact opposite of the
spectrum... rather than predicting outcomes with force ratios and
probabilities, he 'felt' battle, not like one felt a lover as the analogy too often made
went, but rather as the way a sailor aboard an ancient schooner could feel the
ocean, the weather, climates and nautical conditions. It was far less
empirical than the clean cut world of numbers... and although he was rarely able to
out match opponents, he could throw up enough variables, the mathematical
equivalent to flak, that trying to predict actions became virtually, if not
entirely, impossible. It was enough to drive even the most perfect mind to
insanity... hell his former Vulcan XO would probably never recover from the
ordeal.

All that aside, it was also often a method that landed you in a heap of hot
water. It was where the definition of victory changed. He was at his best when
it wasn't a matter of taking a fixed position or capturing a given
objective, he was at his best when victory was determined by simply surviving so as to
keep the enemy off balanced, constantly guessing and glued to their
charts... so that the wizards of the battlefield far more capable than he at the
grander strategy of things could do their jobs and actually win the wars.
This time out though, ehhh... not really fairing so well.

"Shields down to seventy-five percent!" The Andorian tactical officer who'd
replaced his former Chief... a woman who'd gone off to train the next
generation of Starfleet's war fighters, bellowed out. There were a few new faces
which made the formerly comfortably familiar bridge of the Vigilant much less
homey. It was an organized effort by the Academy and the Admirality to kull as
many experienced and capable officers as possible while the fleet once again
took a war footing. He'd been blessed at Romulus to have an experienced crew
that he'd trusted deeply... right now he and his newer crew were still
struggling to find themselves, and that was a mathematical 'plus' for their
adversaries, pardon the pun.

The good thing was that the younger crewmen, even the newly minted Ensigns,
seemed to be of a good quality. They picked up on the rhythm of battle
quickly, and that was making it very difficult for the Hydrans to effectively place
gun-sights on target. That didn't mean it hurt any less when they got a hit
in, but the fewer hits the better.

"Full speed ahead, but reverse thrusters at half power. Maximum yield on all
weapons!" It was really two contradictory orders, hurling the Vigilant
forward with all the impulse power she could muster, but firing her thrusters
rearwards. However strange the method, the Ensign currently at helm ran her
fingers over the console and obeyed orders.

What the Hydrans saw was a southern jump in impulse speed and power output,
suggesting the ship would be trying to get away at it's best speed. They,
knowing numerically that their own ships were roughly as fast, gunned their own
engines to compensate. What was easily missed in the modern day equivalent of
the fog of war was the much smaller plume of the retro-thrusters, cutting the
Vigilant's speed 'just' enough for the Hydrans to run right past them, and
get in far less shots then they'd intended.

The second thing that was missed was that it put the Hydran ships squarely
in the small Defiant's sights. Six quantum torpedoes and a full pulse-phaser
salvo ripped against the Hydran destroyer's shields and heavily armored hull
when it was exposed. After all, if you were stuck making a stand you didn't
intend on making, you might as well kill the biggest thing that was out there.

Of course the mission wasn't about going down in a blaze of glory??.

It was about winning.

"D?d?.drop to sublight?..rotate on y axis 23 degrees, and follow this
parabola approach??."
"Dropping to Impulse" said Fear.
"Roll complete?.Parabola programmed in?.following course" said Panic.

Rebecca von Ernst pinched the bridge of her freckled nose grimacing. For
once her headache didn't have anything to do with the advanced mathematics
scrolling across the bank of display screens in front of her.
No?..she was just annoyed at Na'sav .

It was supposed to be a scouting mission.
Find the Enemy??.
Fix their position??

Then let ZEUS blow them out of the water.

~~~Well noodles??.nobody ever said I worked well with others.~~~
It was true. Rebecca's tactics??.equations as she called them rarely took
other friendly ships into account. Not that she couldn't do the math?.it was
just easier to do the ass-kicking herself rather than argue over subspace on
how 'exactly' she wanted them to maneuver.
But as long as she was here?..

"Hail the Vigilant??" she whispered, " Zeus coming up on your port quarter?
.. any other hornet's nests you'd like to stir up today?" "Hailing ." said
Fear.

"Delivering sarcastic message now." said Panic.

"Incoming transmission from the Zeus!" The Petty Officer that was running
communications shouted over the sound of yet more weapons impacts on the tiny
ship. "Captain Von Ernst sir. Zeus is coming up on our port quarter, and
she requests to know if there are any other 'hornets nests' you would like to
stir up today?"

Even in the middle of the chaos of battle, Na'sav couldn't help but take a
moment to appreciate some sarcasm. "Tell her she'll be the first to know if I
do, and that I sincerely apologize for any 'inconvenience' our getting
jumped has caused her. Bring us around, I want to cross Zeus' bow and give
them
some open shots."

"Shields down to fifty-percent!"

"Lock all aft weapons, priority to the destroyer on our port, secondary to
the gunboat. All weapons on maximum yield, fire!"

The Vigilant's aft facing systems opened up on the Hydran ships in a
carefully planned bombardment of the pursuing ships. The areas targeted were
those
most available to the heavy guns of the Zeus... however rather than pull them
across the Zeus' bow as intended, the move alerted the Hydrans as to the
plan. The two destroyers turned on their flank, making a direct attack run on
the Zeus instead.

'Slick fucking Hydrans!' Na'sav thought as he swore in Stagnorian aloud,
though fortunately for him if it was translated, nobody would've heard it
thanks to their focus of battle. "Don't let them get away! Target the
starboard
vessel's power systems, I want her crippled!"

Zeus twisted in space tracking the fast moving smaller vessels?..rolling out
on a new course, Rebecca watched a stream of polynomial equations dancing on
the edge of her screens.
"Head on??.Noodles." There was more than one captain that knew how to swear.
"Steady on?take the flanking destroyer down the starboard side, fire as she
bears??.oh and mind not ramming the Vigilant as we pass."

Subtlety she snapped the seatbelt in her command chair as she went?.this was
going to get a bit bumpy.
"Starboard batteries ready." said Fear.

"Minding to not smoosh the friendly vessel. "said Panic.

Panic was in a silly mood today.

Vigilant zipped in low over the Zeus's hull in her pursuit, causing the
larger vessels' shields to crackle from the proximity. She was chasing the blue
skinned Destroyer who passed Zeus along the starboard side intent on a point
blank exchange. There was a blaze of hellfire and lightning as the two
vessels passed gun port to gun port?..unleashing their deadly rage into the
silence of space.

Shields shattered.

Hulls boiled.

Men and Alien alike died?screaming?burning?..suffocating?.freezing.

"Coming about aye Ma'am" said Fear in reply to Rebecca's order.

"Hull breaches in several places. The destroyer has lost headway and is
venting plasma." said Panic.

As expected. Rebecca nodded, blowing a fluff of red hair out of her eyes.
One didn't take a Fast Destroyer?.primarily a scouting ship?..gun port to gun
port against a Cruiser unless you wanted to soften her up for something else.

"Noodles?.These guys are running interference for something bigger." she
mused. "They cant win but they'll try to tie us down here while something else
makes an end-run on Galaxy and the transports.

She watched the Vigilant streak after the gunboat in a flurry of calculus.

USS Galaxy better appreciate the effort being expended here to protect
them.....

off: submitted for your amusement, entertainment, possibly horror ;)

"Coyote Ugly"

Cmdr. Arel Smith, apc
Arel Smith's Bedmate
A Third Person who Knows Them Both

****

USS Galaxy

****

She woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Literally.

It took her a moment to remember where she was - her head was where
her feet should be and this was definitely not her quarters - and then
Arel Smith groaned into the mattress.

Yesterday had sucked. The families that she was helping to relocate
had not been happy (to put it mildly) and there had been enough
screaming children around to remind Arel of her own dislocated
childhood - moving from back and forth between two planets, two very
different ways of life, with no real sense of permanence.

She had thought about the absence of the Miranda and the destruction
her things on board the Carthage (the bracelet that Sebastian had made
for her, Samantha's macaroni noodle frame, her mek'leth) and the loss
of K'Laudia and D'Og.

She had missed her son and her ex and a ton of other people who were
gone from her life.

Naturally, the name calling by the ungrateful colonist pthaks hadn't
helped matters much. Unfortunately, Arel was sure that the captain
would take issue with her definition of relocation so there was very
little she could do but try and ignore them.

Arel had never been very good at math but all that crap plus the
loneliness plus the insistence of everyone that she needed to "get
some," PLUS the fact that she was pretty good at bullying people into
getting what she wanted - alcohol in this case - and the result had
been pretty inevitable.

Arel weighed her options and finally decided that the only thing she
needed to do was promise to kill him if he talked and then leave with
the tattered remains of her dignity.

Actually, she felt better than she expected. It wasn't a matter of
guilt so much as the knowledge that people were going to laugh their
ass of when they found out.

"Hey," She said to the head resting on the curve of her back. She
shook her hips a little. "Get up."

The head did not move, nor did the body it was attached to. It merely
moaned softly, and content, and wore a thin, relaxed smile upon its
lips.

Arel frowned and then rolled out from beneath him. "Get up, damn it."

Without her body supporting it, the head fell back onto the slightly
stiff mattress. Only then did its eyes open. Well, half open. Their
green irises searched around the room lazily until they landed on her,
and then they opened fully. They roamed over her body casually,
lingering on the parts of her she normally hid under clothes, until
they eventually made their way up to her face. The thin, relaxed
smile stretched up on one side and said, "Bom dia."

His casual appraisal annoyed her. "Do I even have to tell you how bad
an idea bragging about this would be to your health?"

He looked up at her, his eyes remaining far-off and sleepy. Then, as
he processed what she said, they focused on the here and now, and
stared at her curiously. "Como?"

"nuqjatlh," Arel replied in Klingon. His was one of the many human
languages, that much she knew, but she had never bothered to try to
learn the difference between them. "Speak Standard."

"Uh....huh?" he asked, finally switching into the universal language.
"Who's bragging to what, who? What? Huh?"

"I said if you tell *anyone* about this, brag to anyone, I'm going to
cut off your balls and ..." Arel paused, trying to come up with a
really horrible threat. For once in her life, not threat came to her.
It must have been the small headache. "Well, you're just not going to
be happy about it."

"I, I don't brag. I never kiss and tell," he said, "Or, you know, if
I do, I change the names, to protect the innocent. Or, sometimes, the
not so innocent, se ligou?"

Arel scowled. She wasn't going to deny that she'd had fun last night
but ... She almost wanted to sigh. He could keep his mouth shut, she
could sneak back to her quarters without being seen, and she'd *still*
hear about it two hours later from the waste reclamation guys. That
was just the way starships worked.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed at the sheet that had ended up on the
floor. Arel wrapped it tightly around her and then stomped off to the
bathroom.

"You're not leaving, are you? Without breakfast? I have fresh papaya!"

"What the hell is that?" Arel yelled as she examined the large hickey
on her neck. She'd just have to keep her hair down until she could get
to her medkit in her quarters.

"Papaya?" he repeated, climbing from the bed and stepping into the
bathroom behind her. Unlike her, he made no effort to conceal
himself. "It's a fruit, like pineapple or mango."

That actually sounded pretty good. "I have to get going."

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Why,"
he asked softly, gently kissing her neck and shoulder.

She watched him in the mirror with some amusement. The guy really did
have no sense of self preservation.

He reached up and placed two fingers on her neck, on her hickey, and
began to rub them in small circles, massaging down the small bruise.
And he smiled, remembering giving it to her. "I think we have some
green tinted concealer around here somewhere."

"Makeup?" Arel asked with heavy scorn. She pulled away and turned to
face him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, uh..." he stalled, caught unaware for a moment. Then he coughed
out a short laugh and held up his hands in ignorance. "Uh, it's my
roommates. I don't know why he has it. Yanks, ta ligado?" he said,
then twisted his finger around his temple. "They're weird."

She cracked a smile at that. "Look, I don't do this kind of thing
often. So I think it's time to get going."

"Well, if you don't do this often, then you should squeeze as much out
of it as you can, yeah?" he said, leaning in over her as she was
backed up against the sink, so their faces were mere centimeters
apart. He smiled, a charming and safe smile. "Come on, stay a little
longer?"

She wasn't impressed, she wasn't charmed, and yet ...

"Fuck it," Arel said and pulled him closer.

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

Nathan stepped out of the turbolift, heaving a tired sigh as he rubbed
at the bridge of his nose. He had spent damn near the entire night
going through all of the simulator scenarios for Vanguard Squadron's
old and outdated fighter until he felt comfortable enough in one of
them. It wasn't a match for the real thing, but with the main shuttle
bay in the state it was, it was the best he could do right now.

Now it was...hell, he didn't even know what time it was. He just knew
it was morning, and he wanted to just climb into his bed and sleep for
as long as possible. He'd already let Quattro know where he'd be, and
just hoped that nothing went wrong for the next ten or twelve hours.

Cowboy yawned quietly as the door to his quarters hissed open, and he
stepped inside, gratefully pulling his flight jacket off. The first
thing he noticed was the lack of his "roommate" draped unceremoniously
across the couch, like he was most mornings. The second thing he
noticed was his bedroom door, closed. And wedged in between the two
sliding doors, was a tie. First, he wondered where the tie had come
from, since he didn't own one. Second, he wondered how exactly the
tie got wedged in there in the first place. Was it tossed between
them at the last minute as they closed? And, lastly, he realized what
the tie meant.

Nathan's exhausted, bloodshot eyes narrowed dangerously, and his fist
clenched angrily around his flight jacket, his knuckles going white.
"That sunuvabitch..." he growled as he stalked across the room. His
free hand went up and pounded down on the plate next to the door, and
Nathan was through the doorway before it could even open all the way.

"Godammit, Thyago, next tahm bring yer little floozies back to
*their*--oh dear Lord!" he cried out as he saw who the Brazilian was
with. He jumped backwards and brought his hand up to cover his
horrified eyes. "What the hell?!"

"Shit," Arel said flatly. She pointedly ignored to instinct to
scramble off the bed as was her first human impulse and followed her
second one instead. "Now I'm going to have to kill both of you."

Thyago laughed awkwardly, "Ha ha, she's kidding, of course. Right?"

She glared at him. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

His eyes bounced down to where their bodies were touching, then back
up to her eyes. "A little?"

"Gods, you are such a ..."

Nathan looked back and forth between the two of them as they talked,
until finally it became too much. "That's it! Both y'all shut the hell
up!" he shouted, waving his hand to silence them.

"You!" he said, pointing a finger at Thyago. "You need to find yerself
some new goddamn quarters. And you!" he continued, swinging his finger
over to point at Arel.

Nathan looked at her for a moment, then back at Thyago. He shook his
head and looked at Arel again. "Ah am *very* disappointed in you!"

Arel's eyes widened for a minute and then she couldn't help it. It was
all just too ridiculous.

Cowboy looked at her like she was crazy. "What're you laughin' at?"

"That was the perfect imitation of my father," Arel laughed, drawing
the sheet tight around her again and moving to collect her clothing.
She wasn't going to feel bad about this, at least right now.

He wasn't sure which was more disconcerting, that he was seeing Arel
in this state, or that he'd just been equated to an irate father. The
former made Nathan want to make a comment about how identical Arel
really was to her sister, but fortunately, his instinct for
self-preservation was extremely strong.

The latter, however, completely freaked Nathan out.

"Whatever," he muttered darkly, rubbing his eyes. "Just get yer things
and get outta mah quarters, please. Both of y'all."

That sobered her ... slightly. "Just give me a minute." She moved to
the bathroom to get dressed, closing the door behind her.

Thyago grabbed his underwear from off the floor and slipped them on.
"What? Didn't you see the tie on the door? Or, in the door?"

"Oh, Ah saw it," Cowboy muttered as he looked anywhere but at Thyago.

"I know we like to sabotage each other's efforts, but really, that
should only be acceptable during the pick up, not during the, you
know," Thyago said, and clicked out of the side of his mouth while
making a crude hand gesture, "Se ligou?"

"Yeah, well, this is different. In case you hadn't noticed,
Twinkletoes, this is *mah* bedroom, not yers. You wanna shack up with
someone fer the night, that's fine, but you don't use mah goddamn
quarters to do it!"

"But, she didn't want to go back to her place," he explained. "I
don't see what the matter is. I'll wash the sheets."

Arel came back out of the bathroom. She felt like apologizing to
Nathan, she really hadn't known they were in his quarters, but
apologizing was a sign of weakness, plus the fact it somewhat dulled
the death threats. Maybe she'd let him get in a good punch during a
sparring match sometime. She looked at the two of them and was about
to leave, but instead asked Nathan, "You use makeup?"

"What?" he asked, caught off guard. "No! What makes y'think that?" He
looked at Thyago, who merely smirked and held up his hands in a
cartoonish shrug. "You little--"

"It's okay. I don't actually want to know," Arel interrupted, then left.

"Hey, Arel, wait," Thyago called out, catching up with her out in the
hall corridor, her fully dressed, him still in his underwear. "So,
uh, I enjoyed last night. I was thinking, uh, I could call you
sometime?"

Arel smirked. "I had fun too. And no." She turned and started walking
back towards the turbo lift. "Don't forget the maiming you'll get if
you start bragging, Thyago." She called back over her shoulder.

He watched her for a moment before turning back to Nathan, who stood
inside his quarters. "She likes me," he said, moving back inside, but
Nathan's hand popped out, pushing the Brazilian back into the hallway.

"Yer stayin' out there."

"Oh, come on," the Brazilian said, rolling his eyes, and began to make
another move for the entrance, but Nate held him back once more, his
face serious. "Seriously? I'm in my underwear."

"Not mah problem," Cowboy said. "Don't test her, by the way. She
wasn't jokin' 'bout the maimin'." He tapped his combadge as he turned
away, and just before the doors hissed shut again, Thyago could hear
him speaking to the Ops Center.

"Yeah, Ah was wonderin' if y'all had a furnace Ah could throw mah bed
into. That's right, the whole thing..."

Thyago rolled his eyes once more. He turned his head to catch two
young crewwomen walking down the corridor, eyeing the near nude man in
front of them and giggling softly.

"Oi!" he nodded confidently, shifting into one of his old modeling
poses as they passed, "How you doin'?"

"Good Doctor"

With

Benedict "Max" Maxwell (PC)
Petty Officer 2nd Class, Paramedic Practitioner
U.S.S. Galaxy

Branwen London (PC - By Mieke)
1st Lieutenant, CO, 5th Platoon & Marine Psychologist
Furies Detachment
U.S.S. Galaxy

Branwen was still fuming when she threw open the door to Max's office. "If
you think it was funny joke to send me to that sadistic bitch, you are
mistaken, Mr. And I am only here to let you know that I am through with
your profession. For now and for ever, please make a note in my file that I
do not want medical attention ever again." She was still extremely angry,
turned around and started to walk out of his office again.

"Wait a second," Max said, annoyed that someone just barged into his office,
yelled at him, and was going to leave without so much as a quick bark or
bite from him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The surgeon you brought over, she refused me treatment." Branwen yelled.
"I have my hopes up, and they were just taken away from me."

It just so happened that Fellowes had contacted Max before Bran got here and
gave him the short version. It was enough to have him tread carefully with
the emotionally unstable Marine.

"And why do you believe that she refused you treatment?"

"because I told her that I could not be missed for the upcoming mission.
For some reason that made her think I have some issues, and she refused to
do the procedure."

Max thought it very wise to play dumb and act like he didn't know
*exactly *what
was told to him.

"I'm not exactly following. Why would you miss the upcoming mission? Did
something change?"

"Yes." The anger seemed to flow out of her suddenly. "She was talking
about two to three weeks of recovery, with pain medication and mild
sedation. Two or three weeks, Max! That's never going to work out before
the mission. And I am committed to that, I am the only marine psychologist,
and I just know that my boys need me there for them. It's not going to be
an easy mission. I can't let them down. And I don't think that she's
willing to wait until afterwards, anyways she said she is not going to do
it. That woman just ruined my whole life. I should have known better than
to trust doctors."

"Well, I know that Dr. Fellowes will be staying on board until at least
after the mission is completed. And are you sure she said she wouldn't do
the surgery at all? Did she say anything else?" He started fishing, trying
to both get her take on the consult, and see where her frame of mind is at.

"It was all rather cryptic. Suddenly she refused me treatment, saying I
have issues, and therefore she will not give me the treatment. The only
issues I have are that I need this surgery, for the rest my life is going
perfectly well. Doctors, they'll start out seemingly nice, until they turn
on you." She was thinking about Dr Jones, the family physician when she was
growing up, such a nice man on the outside, who had caused her incredible
pain when he was in the sadistic mood. Kimberly who had suddenly turned on
her for no apparent reason, and now this surgeon.

"I've known Dr. Fellowes since I was about knee high," Max started slowly.
"I've vacationed with her, I've even had drinks with her on a regular basis
when I was still on Earth, before I joined Starfleet. I've never known her
to do what you just described. You're leaving something out, Lieutenant.
Out with it."

"I might have been a little bit unfriendly to her. But that is all, I
swear. I was not happy when she told me how long the recovery would take,
and I told her I don't need so much sedation because I am used to pain. That
did not sit well with her, and the fact that I wanted to wait until after
the mission. All of a sudden she was telling me she would not do the
surgery, reasoning being that I have issues. I'm a psychologist for crying
out loud!"

"Bran, you know as well as I do that sometimes those who help...need a
little help, too." Max lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "I
speak to a Counselor once in a while myself. There's really no shame in
it. I was very resistant to the idea at first, but I find that it helps me
with my own issues."

She lowered her voice as well, the anger gone. "You know, I do as well. In
fact it is compulsory in my profession to have supervision. I am working on
the issues I do have. This is her problem, she is not willing to give me a
few weeks. Really this close before the mission I cannot find somebody to
take my place. And I will not let my troops down."

"I completely understand how you feel. Here's my suggestion, okay?" He
waited for Bran to nod before he continued. "Talk it over with Man'darr.
As a couple, you both have a stake in this right? See how he feels, and
then see if this can indeed wait until after the mission. How does that
sound?"

"That sounds fine to me." She said. "The only problem is that surgeon, she
doesn't seem to agree with that idea. When I suggested the wait to her she
refused to do it altogether. Any suggestions there?" Bran asked.

"Perhaps you should approach her again," Max explained. "Acknowledge that
there was a miscommunication. Dr. Fellowes can be a bit prideful at times,
especially in her old age. Don't let her youthful looks fool you - she's in
her 60's. Ask her if she would be willing to perform the procedure after
the mission. I think she'll agree."

"You think so?" Branwen hesitated. "I would like to talk to my boyfriend
first, and calm down a little." She did not relish the sort of getting
married and going into the mission being uncertain about the surgery.
"Maybe? could you talk to her?" She asked hesitantly. "And by the way,
I'm sorry for yelling at you Max."

"I could talk to her, but I think it would look better if you followed up by
approaching her yourself. You're the patient. you're the one who wants
this procedure. It needs to come from you." Then as an afterthought,
"Don't worry about the yelling part...just don't make it a habit," he
finished with a smile.

"I just learned to yell. As a platoon leader in the marines, you have to."
She looked a little sheepish. "Sorry for taking it out on the wrong
person. And going to try and relax and find Dar, and then I will come back
and try to reason with her."
Max smiled and nodded to her. When she left, he opened a channel to his
Godmother.

"Congratualtions...Its a Girl."

Starring

Ben Maxwell--Omar

Allison von Ernst--Chris

With *unauthorized *use of James Corgan

(Takes place right after the End of Allison saga)

"You need a doctor?" the medical receptionist looked up from her cluttered
desk and studied the odd pair standing before her.

The man was instantly recognizable as Commander James Corgan, Chief of
Security for the past few years. Tall blond hair and yummy muscles.

The Receptionist made a small happy noise. What a man what a man.

The other girl to his side however was a bit more of a mess.

Skinny blond, slutty leather skirt, and runny black mascara that had stained
her pale cheeks.

~~Uh?.huh?..The Commander's playing loose with the ladies again?..~~

Oh yeah, and then there was the blood.

The young girl was cradling her injured cheek limply, wincing at the
throbbing pain.

Damn but he had hit her hard.

"Yeah, my?..uh?.. " ~~(daughter? No way)~~ "my uh?.my crewman here is
injured I need somebody to take a look at her." James was fidgeting
nervously. His own fist tingling in guilt.

~~Damn but I hit her hard.~~

"Well??" the receptionist glanced around the busy Medical bay trying to
decide where to place the two. "We're kinda busy right now getting prepared
for the evacuation." she indicated the general hustle and bustle of
activity??.various box's of supplies and such covering exam beds and tables.

"However, if it's just a cut, I can have a nurse run an regen over your face
out here in the waiting room?."

"NO." both Allison and James objected at the same time.

Glancing warily at each other, Alli continued. "I?.uh?.I like need to see a
Doctor in private ?.y'know? Its kinda ?like y'know?.private?"

The Receptionist glanced up at the blushing Corgan and then down at
Allison's short skirt and skinny legs.

"Riiiiight."

She tapped a few entries into the computer. "Well the Doc's are in
conference right now, but I got a Paramedic-practitioner who's sitting on
his butt?..wanna see him?"

"Fine." Corgan was already grabbing Allison by the arm and shoving her back
towards an empty exam room. Better to get this whole ridiculous situation
settled out away from prying eyes.

He was pretty sure he could intimidate a mere 'tech' easier than a full
Doctor anyhow.

"Sit there." he dropped Alli into a chair. And pulled the curtain. "Lets get
this over with."

A few moments later, Max appeared in the reception area. Between the staff
meetings, people having issues with one of the doctors, and the pounding
headache that wouldn't go away, Max was ready to call it a day. It was a
good thing that for now he could make his own hours.

Spying the pair who were apparently waiting for him, he put on his best "I'm
glad to meet you" smile and greeted them.

"How can I help you folks?"

" I need?.." James blurted out before casting a nervous glance at Allison
and then lowering his voice.

"We need a ?.uh?.a paternity test."

Max had to hide a smirk. He eyed Corgan, then Allison. ~~So that's how it
is?..~~

"A paternity test? Sure, we do those. It's always a good idea to make sure,
right?"

James blushed, while Alli snorted an un ladylike laugh.

"Ow?." she added?.the hilarity of the situation still hurt her cheek. "And
fix my face too." she whimpered.

"And what happened to you, young lady?"

"Oh?.duh?.he hit me." she pointed an accusing finger.

"Right," Max said cynically. "So you need to know if you're the father of
her baby?

"No?.ah." James was privately praying for a hole to open up and swallow him.
"I need to find out if she's related to ?.ah?.anybody in the Galaxy medical
database."

Now Max just gave Allison a look that spelled out clearly a phrase
attributed to a fictitious jolly old fat guy that delivered gifts to
children the world around every year.

"Okay, tell you what. Let me get a sample from her and run it through the
Galaxy Medical Database. We'll go from there, okay?"

James nodded while Allison merely waggled her toes randomly as she sat on
the exam table.

"He thinks I'm pregnant." she observed smugly to James.

~~Kill me now.~~~ Corgan prayed.

About 15 minutes later, Max had the answers he needed. To all but one of his
questions.

"Okay, I have her maternal DNA matching one Commander von Ernst...and the
paternal..." Max blinked, considered the genetic father's listed age. His
genetic age matched the records, but this shouldn't be possible. And
although Allison's genetic age didn't match her listed age, the father AND
mother would have had to have been 16 when she was born. Except nothing in
von Ernst's medical history showed that she'd ever been pregnant or bearing
a child?

(?.or ever had sex for that matter.)

"This isn't possible. It shows Rebecca von Ernst as the mother and the
father is...you, Mr. Corgan. Did you two fuck with the medical files? Is
this some kind of sick joke?" Max was no longer smiling or feeling cordial,
and in fact was growing quite incensed. He didn't like people who played
with medical records. He could deal with any other kind of practical joke,
but not when it comes to medicine.

James looked down at Allison.

He was thinking the same thing?..This had to be a joke.

Then she gave him a nervous little smile, and his heart melted.

Ignoring the fuming paramedic, he took her gently by the chin and lifted her
blue eye to his own?..

"Congratulations??it's a girl." he whispered.

"It's a wha...Lieutenant, I asked you a question." Max's voice lowered to a
growl as he spat out the next few words. "Is. This. A. Joke?"

"Joke? " James repeated?..being drawn back to the present. "No ah??.ouch!"

Alli had just elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Oh yeah?.not a good idea to let this get all over the ship?

"Yeah?.uh?sorry Doc?I mean?.uh?Mr. Paramedic?..bad joke on our
behalf?..shit. I'm a Father. "

Allison merely rolled her eyes thankful she didn't get her acting talent
from Dad.

"I'll forget that you two came in here and wasted my time. Pull this kind of
shit again and I'll BAAAAAAAAN you from Sickbay!" Despite his dark
complexion, it was rather easy to see that his face had a reddish hue
beneath. And there was a vein pulsating on either side of his head by his
temples.

Deciding discretion was the better part of Valor, James scooped Allison off
the table?..who protested with a 'Hey'

"Sorry fella?.poor taste?..our bad. We'll just put some ice on her nose."

"Some ice? Hel-Lo its my nose!"

James bodily carried Alli out of sickbay??this kind of bombshell needed to
be thought out properly.

When the pair had left, Max turned to the readout on the diagnostic display.
Just as he was about to clear the data, something caught his attention.
There was an anomaly in the cellular sequence. Upon closer inspection, Max's
eyes widened and stopped short of tapping his CommBadge. He rescanned and
came up with the same results. Her cells had a temporal signature that
didn't match the current time.

This was something he was gonna have to keep under his hat. For now, anyway.

"Body and Mind, Part One"

Lieutenant Nathan Everett, Deputy CAG
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer
===

Nathan wasn't sure if he should have been disappointed or not. He probably
shouldn't have been expecting much, but was it really too much to ask that
the Galaxy's sickbay be a little bit more interesting than the Miranda's had
been? Stark, bland coloring, rows of biobeds in almost the exact same
configuration...hell, even the dimensions were nearly identical.

Or it could have just been that, to Nathan's less-than-interested eyes, all
sickbays just looked the same, no matter how different they really were.

That being said, Nathan was always mystified by the fact that, with sickbays
being so depressingly dull and boring to look at, they were nearly always
staffed by a lot of really, really, really good-looking women. Such as the
one he was staring at right now.

"Good afternoon, darlin'," he drawled, his charming, trademark grin already
working at maximum setting, as he stepped towards the doctor and extended a
hand to her. "Ah'm Lieutenant Everett. Ah believe Ah have an
appointment with you..."

~ Darlin'??? ~ Raising an eyebrow to the Lieutenant Kimberly looked at the
hand for a second before accepting the handshake, "Indeed you do, pleased to
meet you." She got out as sincerely as possible, last guy to call her that
hadn't exactly endeared himself to her. Checking her PADD she quickly
matched face to name, ~ Cowboy, ~ Well, wonder where 'that' comes from, ~
she thought.

"Let's have a seat first Lieutenant," she offered, indicating her office,
"just a few details to clarify first before we start." Sometimes she found
herself heartily sick and tired of 'routine', which was just becoming
another word for 'boring'. Letting her mind wander as she walked she
silently added that it was not that she wanted injuries, hell no, the peace
and quiet was great, and you could get so much done when it was quiet.
Research ate up its fair share of time as well, but all these checks and
mundane tasks seemed to be endless some days.

"So Lieutenant," she asked as they walked, "what do we call you?
Lieutenant? Nathan? Everett?"

He smiled as he followed her. "Feel free to use mah first name, Doc, 'less
of course you'd prefer to keep things formal. But Ah hope that isn't the
case, Ah'm not a big fan of formality."

"Fair enough Nathan, we're fairly relaxed and informal here as well on a day
to day basis." Indicating a chair as she walked in her office she ordered a
coffee, "Drink?"

"Uh, raktajino, please," Nathan replied as he sat down, looking around
Kimberly's office. "Extra sweet."

Picking up the drinks she placed them on her desk as she sat, "So, what
brings you to the Galaxy? We've had a few transfers from the Miranda
lately."

He reached forward and picked up his raktajino, taking a sip before
replying. "Yeah, after Admiral Murdock had the Miranda reassigned, a
lot of the crew moved on to new assignments. Ah can't speak fer anyone
else, but as fer mahself, the Galaxy needed a Deputy CAG, and someone
was crazy enough to think Ah was fit fer the job." He smirked at that
and took another sip of his raktajino.

"What about you, Doc? How long've you been on the Galaxy?"

Looking thoughtful for a moment she considered her time aboard the
Galaxy while she scanned his file, and was mildly surprised when she
realized just how long she had been aboard. "Just a little over two
years," she replied after her moment of reflection, "wow, where does
the time go."

"Time really does fly when you're having fun." She said slightly
sarcastically as she looked up from his file. "Well your most recent
502 paperwork has arrived and everything looks to be in order. You're
in pretty good health if this is to be believed, so we'll just run a
quick checkup and then you're free to go and get your annual psych
eval scheduled. According to this it's a tad overdue."

"Sounds lahk a plan." Nathan cocked his head to the side as he looked
at Kimberly. "Ah don't s'pose you perform psych evaluations too, do
you?" he finally asked, one of his eyebrows twitching upward as he
gave her another smile.

"Bizarrely enough, yes, I am qualified for that as well." Quickly
reviewing her schedule as she led Nathan outside to a biobed she
debated for a moment then nodded, "if you like, we can sit down for an
hour after your check up, I have some time available." She offered as
she activated the bed.

"A whole hour, huh?" Nathan said as he hopped onto the biobed,
grinning. "Lucky me."

He lay down on his back, trying to get comfortable as he could on the
biobed, a task that was nearly impossible. "Alright, Doc, give it to
me straight, Ah can take it. How long've Ah got left to live?"

Sighing slightly at his quirky sense of humor Kimberly let the bed
scanners do their job as she ran her own scanner over him. After a
moment she looked down at her tricorder and raised an eyebrow, "Well,
barring any unfortunate accidents, I would hazard a guess you don't
have to worry about the grim reaper for quite a while. Anything I
need to know about you physically? Anything to report that's not on
your file?" Tapping the biobed controls she set it to run a set of
focused scans to double check a couple of her readings as she spoke,
her curiosity piqued by some of her readings.

"Not that Ah know of," Nathan said honestly as he looked up at
Kimberly. His brow furrowed, and he tried to sit up so he could look
at her scanner. "Why, what's it sayin'? It's nothin' bad, is it?"

Shaking her head, Kimberly smiled reassuringly, "No, nothing to worry
about, I've just gotten into the habit of asking people if there's
anything else, scanners are only as good as the database behind them,
or the diagnostic routines that check them." Looking at the results
on her tricorder she bit her lip a second and set the bed to rerun the
scans, "though I think this particular bed could perhaps use a better
diagnostic check, we may want to move to the next bed so I can have
this one looked at." She suggested, indicating the neighbouring bed.

"Okay," Cowboy said slowly, pushing himself off of the biobed and
moving over to the next one. He lay down again, looking around
nervously and wondering what was going on.

"Relax," Kimberly advised cheerfully, "nothings wrong with you, I just
think that bed may be out of synch is all." Double checking the last
scan readings she had gotten from the previous bed with those from
this one she raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly as she saw the
same readings. ~ Hmmm, interesting. ~ She mused to herself. Tapping
the holorecorder control on the bed she set it running, wanting a
complete snapshot (literally) of his physiology before he left.

Picking up a PADD she entered a few commands and had the computer
compile a complete file of all his available medical records and
information. Theoretically it should all be in the same place, but
experience had taught her otherwise, and her web program should
hopefully pick up any stray pieces from the obvious sources, the
Academy, previous postings and the like.

"Ok, we're nearly done. Nothing here to warrant investigative surgery
or emergency removal of anything, and your knee seems to have healed
nicely," she assured him with a smile, "we'll check that in a month or
so just to make sure though. Give me an hour to type up my notes and
tidy my paperwork and we can see if your mind is as healthy as your
body." She suggested.

Nathan pushed himself up to a sitting position and stretched his arms
out, as if he were just waking up and getting out of bed. "Thanks fer
makin' sure everythin's where it's s'posed to be, Doc."

He hopped out of the biobed. "Alright, Ah'll be back in an hour.
Normally Ah wouldn't be very happy 'bout havin' to come back to
Sickbay so soon, but fer you, Ah'm willin' to make an exception." He
gave Kimberly a charming, lopsided grin and turned to leave.

Returning the smile Kimberly watched him leave, then downloaded all
the notes from the bed to her PADD, his charming demeanour was a
pleasant change to some of the crew who came in like their checkups
were a chore to be dreaded. His scan results though intrigued her,
there were a few oddities there that she needed to look into...

"Stomach the Situation"

Aina Mason, Communications Officer - USS Galaxy
Temporary Assignment to Vered Cluster Evacuation Centre - Epsilon Vered II

*****

The solar primary Epsilon Vered was slowly rising over the horizon, with Gamma Vered as a bright star, with a visible disk in the morning light.

Aina was not in a good mood, this early in the morning, her thoughts were dark and annoyed. Dammit all, she was a comms officer, not a techie or a bloody ops officer, but the officers that were manning the central control for the Vered Evacuation Effort didn't seem to understand Aina's position in the system and she was having more problems than just that this morning.

She had been assigned in helping the setup of the temporary command centre near the primary space port of Epsilon Vered II, Aina was more than grateful in not being even close to being in a position of kicking people out of their homes.

The 'shake and bake' style of command centre had been quickly erected by engineers from the Nightview and the Galaxy and mostly it's function was to channel information up and down the lines to make sure that the evacuation was as smooth as possible.

Aina thought that she'd be busy in the main communications and control area, but she'd ended up in the pool in keeping the terminals in the separate officer offices and quarters functioning. A very poor use of her talents, in her opinion!

Aina's normal demeanour was very dark this morning because she was feeling slightly nauseous and had a huge headache. It would've have been a lot worst, but she took some anti-nausea medication and a couple of pain-killers that seemed to hold most of it at bay.

She'd been selected as a representative of the young officers in Starfleet to a dinner held by one of the very higher ups on the planet, the night before. She'd had been given strict orders on what was a valid topic and what was not to be even mentioned and found it easier just to be herself and tried to stay as invisible and as silent as possible.

Food was one of the allowed topics, so she found out as much as she could about the excellent food that had been on the table, so with that knowledge, she knew it was the broiled auroch steak with the sennevol grass sauce that was causing her such problems.

And what had made it much worst, was that other Starfleet officers that were there, they were perfectly fine.

And the first job she had this morning was Commander Janice Baker's terminal in her office. Their was a drop in throughput of data from the terminal, something that most people wouldn't notice, but it couldn't be found with a basic type four diagnostic from the communications and control centre. So Aina Mason, considered one of the best in computer forensics and data assault, for her age, (god how much she hated that appellation) was being sent to do a level three diagnostic on a communications terminal, because some ass hadn't polished a splice properly when they connected the main system up to the ODN.

As she arrived at the entry to the office, there was a young male yeoman who had just grabbed a number of padds and was heading out. He looked at Aina, "Yes, Midshipmen?"

"I'm here to look over Commander Baker's Terminal. Work order by..." Aina looked at the padd in her own hand, "Commander Goreson," before she passed it over.

Having to put down some of the padds in his hand, he took the padd from Aina and after a few seconds of study nodded, "Ok, head on in. The commander won't be in for another fifteen minutes," he said as he cycled the permissions lock on the door, to let Aina egress.

Aina nodded as she took the padd back, "I'll be finished before then."

With out another word, the yeoman, took his padds and headed out wherever his duties were to lead him, as Aina headed into the office.

Most people saw the screen and terminal controls on the desk and saw that as the terminal. What they didn't realise that the thing that people saw on the desk was only 'half' of the machine, it connected via a very short range radio signal to the main system for the room. Usually hidden behind a panel was the rest of the machine, connected directly into the ODN via a physical connection. Any device that had some form of computer or communications control usually went through main system for the room.

And as per usual, the couch that was always in the office was in front of that access panel. Aina growled as she realised that she would have to move the couch to get to it.

After an initial push and then an attempt to pull it, the couch had moved a couple of decimetres, enough for her to stretch and wriggle to get to the panel. Removing the panel and connecting up her diagnostic logger and control, she felt a sudden rush of pain in her stomach and it was with real effort that she moved quickly out from behind the couch and rushed into the small bathroom that was a part of the office.

To quote her Grandad Mason from Glasgow, "she was talking to the toilet," when she heard the quiet whine of the door into the office open. Just above her, in the cubicle was the control for the doors to the Commander's office. And right now during a pause in the 'dialogue,' Aina certainly did not want to be seen like this. Gritting her teeth closed, she concentrated on not letting the aurochs she had eaten get revenge on her again for eating them, because who ever was out there would definitely hear her.

Through the thin door, she could hear the muffled voice of Commander Baker talking to someone on the terminal.

Aina was trying not to eavesdrop, but every now and again, she could understand some what was said, and it was an incomplete sentence that surprised her, she couldn't believe her ears, she wasn't even sure she heard it right... But what if that was true...

And it was then that her stomach made a final statement with Aina's 'conversation' with the cistern.

She had no idea what happened after that, except a few moments later, the door was yanked open and the angry voice of Commander Baker started, "Who are you..."

The angry tone was quickly replaced by concern, "Midshipman... are you alright?" she asked as she saw Aina on her knees, her head over the bowl.

Aina shook her head, "No ma'am..." she returned. Aina still wasn't sure what she heard had been real or her imagination...but it was in her mind as the Commander reached down and grabbed some tissue passed it to her.

"Anything left?" Baker asked as Aina cleaned her face with fresh water and the tissue, swilling out the remnants of last night's meal.

If what Aina had heard was true, it made her felt more ill as she again shook her head, "I'm sorry ma'am."

"You shouldn't be sorry, Midshipman. Do you want something?" asked Baker as she headed over to the small replicator.

"My grandma used to always give me flat lemonade," returned Aina who sat down on the couch.

With a nod, Baker ordered the flat lemonade from the replicator, after a few seconds, passed over the clear liquid over to Aina, who took a few sips.

"How are you feeling?" asked the Commander.

"A lot better thank you," returned Aina. Her mind still raced with what she heard and even now, she was beginning to be sure that she must have misheard it all. It couldn't be true.

"Good, good, if it wasn't for the ridges on your nose - I'd be certain you were a Vulcan," smiled Baker.

Aina returned the joke with a miserable smile, "I think it was something in the sennevol grass sauce with the auroch's steak.

"I think you should head straight to the medical centre Midshipman and get checked out." She paused, "You were indulging the Reedle, last night?"

Aina nodded, she had really had liked that chocolate style drink. It looked like dark mercury, but it was delicious and she made sure her cup was always full with it, "Yes ma'am. It was excellent."

Baker smiled, "I don't think it was the steak that was your problem Midshipman. Reedle is an alcoholic drink, real alcohol, not synthehol. You've got an old fashioned hangover." Baker laughed, but quickly stopped, "Sorry Midshipman. Get yourself to the medical centre and they should get you right as rain pretty quick."

Aina nodded, as she stood up and turned around to retrieve her equipment from behind the couch. Oh god, she'd never drank in her life, she could never stand the stuff - and now she had a hangover!

As Aina crouched over, Baker raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing and what were you doing in my office, by the way?"

"Getting my gear. I was here to do a level three diagnostic on your system here in the office. There were some problems with connectivity to the main comms system. I was doing that when..."

Baker just nodded, "I'll get Goreson to send another tech, and you just get yourself to medical."

Aina headed out of the office, her head still pounding, her stomach feeling a little queezy and not all of it from the reedle, she couldn't shake what she thought she had heard.

*****

Couple of hours later.

Feeling a real person again, Aina went to the communications centre and gotten back her diagnostic equipment. Like all Starfleet installations and ships, embarrassing information seemed to be transmitted faster than subspace and it was an open joke that Aina had had a 'hang over' that morning. The offer of having a drink was starting to get thin.

Taking her equipment to the mess, she opened it up and ran the quick diagnostics to make sure that everything was fine. The first thing she noticed that her equipment had been used to finish off the test in the commander's office. She'd had really hoped that who ever had replaced her wouldn't have done that. But then, she had done most of the work and the reports went to the same place, so who ever the replacement had been, would have been stupid to do everything again.

Aina's worry was that that the running of the standard tests in the commander's office would have written over the copy of the data from the main system to the terminal, which the logger would have collected as the commander had talked to the person on the other end of the communications.

Using her own equipment, she looked over the diagnostics small memory cache and running some apps was able to recreate some of the conversation. But most of it was useless, the memory cache had been written over by the normal diagnostic routines. But she watched and listened to a very static filled replay of a few seconds of conversation between Commander Baker and Admiral Megarex. But there had been enough there, enough for her to now know that she wasn't imagining it. It wasn't definitive; it was only a few seconds of them speaking. There was no context to connect it too. And she knew that context of a message was sometimes more important that the words themselves.

The screen was mostly blocks of colour, the admiral and the commander, were most of the time looked like some badly pixelated images, the sound sounded strained and it's pitch and volume would change from split second to split second, but what she could see and understand she put in a loop:

Megarex: "dreys...unhappy...evac...slow"
Baker: "situ...no...easy"
Megarex: "loo...no...tri...supp...colon...ex...swap"

Aina shook her head, it didn't prove anything, nothing. She had been sick with a hangover, more worried about being embarrassed about being found in such a situation and this was nothing, just garbled words. Wiping the diagnostic kit memory and her own equipment, she tried to forget about what she thought she heard. I mean, who believe her anyway, she didn't believe herself.

"New Recruit"
2Lt Cora Dobryin
Colonel For'kel Arvelion

After Galaxy?s last mission Cora had been doing a lot of thinking. That?s
the very thing that led her to seeking out the Marine CO. She?d spent time
pulling her thoughts together, quickly checked her uniform then make her
way to his current location. In her mind it made sense to make what would
amount to another major change in her career path. Officially Cora just
needed to find out if it was even possible to do.

For'kel had been running the Marines through holographic simulations
testing their responses to the likely scenarios they might encounter planet
side. They'd developed a sort of 'standard operating procedure', in which
a lightly armed squad, carrying only two rifles and side arms, would try
to use diplomacy to persuade as many of the colonists as possible to come
to their senses and come quietly. They'd be given time to make
preparations, during which they'd continue to push any hard liners to
come peacefully. If by the Time those with common sense departed the
remainder hadn't come to their senses, then the rest of the squads from
that platoon, more heavily armed and Equipped with isolinear tags, would
forcefully prepare them for transport. His Combat Engineers would then go
about the job of demolishing the colony site if it was necessary,
though he hoped they could leave them mostly in tact for the day the
colonists could return.

"Colonel Arvelion, a Lieutenant Dobryin is here to see you." Private Owens,
a human female of slight build and with a voice that well concealed a nearly
unnoticeably slight southern gentile accent announced the incoming visitor
as she was escorted into the converted closet that was the Colonel's office.
She was the one on sentry duty at the moment, and her sense of
professionalism demanded a formal announcement be made, the fact the Colonel
hadn't asked for one aside.

"Thank you Private." He gave her a smile before turning his attention
to Cora. "Welcome to Marine Country Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"Thank you Colonel. I'd like to move join your unit full time," Cora
responded.

"Really?" That was an unusual request to say the least. "Why's
that?"

"I'm not the type to just sit around an fly a starship. Sure those
skills come in handy but I've come to realize that's not where I want to
be."

"Do you have any previous training as a Marine?"

Cora nodded, "Yeah I had to go through some for part of my Intel work."

"Some?" hat sent questions racing through his head. The last thing
He wanted was someone unqualified. "How much is some?"

?Given the nature of the misisons its hard to get specific. You could get
clearance to find out the specifics but I was embedded with a marine unit
for a year and a half on that assignment. It required the training all new
marines go through. You?ll have to excuse me if I don?t easily break the
habit of giving only the information required. I wouldn?t have even
considered this if I wasn?t serious and didn?t think that my previous
training would be useful.?

"I understand the need to be quiet in that regard, however having a tool
I don't know how to use is pointless, don't you think?" He gave her
record a cursory glance. Fact is they could use another platoon leader.
"How long have you been in the fleet?"

"Nine years," Cora responded.

Her marksmanship ratings were good, as were her general reviews... but
there was something disconcerting about an officer being bounced around so
much in such a short period of time. Still, she had the requisite
Qualifications it seemed, and if he waited for Command he'd probably get
some newly minted butter-bar from the Academy, and would have to begin
retraining anyway. There wasn't a glaring reason to deny her request, and
should she not pan out they could always get a newbie anyway. "All
right. You understand you'll be appointed as a 2nd Lieutenant, in charge
of a platoon of 30 Marines, and that you'll have to complete the enhanced
training program we have aboard the Galaxy to meet this unit's specific
requirements?"

Cora nodded, "Some of the changes in my career were not of my choosing but
I had to go with them. This one is one I'm doing because I want to be
productive and some place where I can make a difference."

"All right then." That answered that. "In that case, you'll report in at
08:00 tomorrow to Captain Maivia and Lieutenant Ward to begin the training
regimen. Welcome to the 188th Starfleet Marines Detachment, Lieutenant."

"Understood Sir," Cora replied. While she didn't like the idea of starting
all over in the rank she also figured that might be a good thing. Hopefully
this really would be a fresh start for her.

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