"The Joy of Socks"

Starring

Allison von Ernst

Mary Poppins the Horta

Swish swish swish swish………

"Hey girl….looking good my friend."

"I know…..totally cant help it."

Swish swish swish swish………

"Well hello there….nice outfit."

"Isnt it though……top of the line, rocking lines and a cute little shape."

Swish swish swish swish………

"Good morning…..wow somebody's dressed to kill."

"Girlfriend, every day is an occasion to knock em dead…..and aren't these shoes zarky?"

The soft gaily colored skirt swished happily against the legs of young Allison von Ernst as she sashayed her happy way down the main corridor.

A sweet silk blouse, snappy little handbag, and killer shoes completed the fashion ensemble that would have made Versace himself fall down on his knees in worship.

"Whoa Alli…..you're looking hot today…..gotta date or something?"

"No….just wanted to look nice." the blond haired teen giggled sweetly, a cute blush rising in her cheeks.

This was Allison in her element.

Wherever there was cuteness and adorability…..she was there.

Whenever they said a fashion ensemble could not be pulled off……she made it 'pop'.

Whenever someone fell to their knees and muttered "OMG my quest is over, for HERE I have found the universes paragon of cuteness and cuddliness!"……It was she about which they were referring.

~~~Okay girl.~~~ Alli thought to herself. ~~~ Maybe a little overboard on that last one, but it is a really nice outfit.

With no battles or mayhem typical of a Galaxy workweek in the offering for the time being, Alli von Ernst was enjoying a rare mini-vacation of sorts.

No greasy polishing of the phaser rifles down in Armory, and no putting up with the 'great unwashed masses' (AKA the Marines) at the checkout window demanding everything from photon bazookas to ion grenades from her.

Nope nothing but rest and relaxation for 4 weeks, and if a few of the aforementioned Marines were suffering from phaser withdrawal…..well it was just time for tough love buck-o.

She was heading back to her cabin at the moment to pick up some notes she forgot. She wanted to update the default Holodeck program of her native Iceland, but accidentally left some of the details on her nightstand.

Oh well easily amended.

With a happy click of her stylish heels, and the swish swish swish of her skirts, Alli turned a left corner and walked straight into her room.

….

BONK! Ouch!

That is to say she tried to walk straight into her room until the automatic sensors failed to recognize her for some reason and refused to open the door for her.

"Of all the lousy……." she rubbed her cute little nose. What was the use of being a space girl if you didn't have automatic doors.

Narrowing her eyes she looked closer.

The door was locked, and not just the normal lock that kept out anybody but the rightful occupants, but physically locked from the inside. That's why the sensors didn't pick her up.

And what was this?

Hung on the external mechanism was a simple striped sock hanging from a makeshift attachment.

~~Like Hel-lo…..who the heck would hang a sock on the outside of my door and………Oh.~~

Allison blushed with a sudden realization.

The tradition was as old as roommates itself. The actual implementation may varry form location to location with the signal being alternately a coat hanger, or a necktie, but the zymology of the innocent little sock was clear.

….Stay Out….Somebody inside was getting some.

Frowning, Allison popped her gum idly in thought.

This made no sense…..her roomate "Mary" wasn't even human……wasn't even bipedal for that matter, being instead a a sentient rock from Planet Janus IV. A Horta to be exact.

A creature that reproduced only once every 50,000 years……..long enough to make the Vulcan 7 year itch look like energizer bunnies by comparison.

Unless Mary's 50,000 year stint was up, there was something strangely amiss here.

Oh well….what was the point of being the cutest member of the Security Department if you couldn't override your own door lock?

With an audible hiss, the door slid back and Allison walked in to discover…….

"OH MY ZARK!!! GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY MAN!!! PUT ON SOME CLOTHES!!!"

It was a scene right out of a 70's Lounge o' Love.

Mary…..the Rock looked the same as always, reclining back on her Granite couch, but crouched on the floor next to her was the pale skinned nudity of one of the skinniest pile of bones Alli had ever seen.

She screwed her eyes shut, and a nerdy looking kid lept to his feet in surprise, dropping the bowl of Feldspar and Iron Dumplings he had been feeding Mary like bunches of grapes.

"ALLISON Luv!!!" Mary's shocked voice rasped out from her electronic translator. "Methoughts you were going to be gone for the afternoon and…..er…uh."

"Yeah that's like totally obvious." Alli waved her hand in embarrasment keeping her eyes firmly closed.

"I….uh….forgot something….and uh…….sorry…..gosh…..I don't know what to say."

It was an akward moment to say the least. Allison hadn't even known her roommate could get romantic…….let alone with a human…….let alone with a geek.

The aforementioned geek stood shaking in his skivies, awkwardly holding a towel over his nether regions, while he hunted around for his glasses. Pale skinned and with a hint of acne, the lad didn't look much older than 20 or so.

He obviously hadn't expected company either……especially from a hot looking girl.

A bright red blush covered him from head to toe…..literally.

"I…..uh…I'm sorry." he stammered in a shrill voice, "Maybe I should go and….."

"No no." Alli cut him off…..allowing herself a small peek….ugh…what a twerp.. "My….my bad I'll grab my stuff and……and….."

She gave up all pretence of pretending.

"….and…and OMG Mary what the Spuff!??! You're a rock girl….and he's …uh…he's uh"

"A human?"

"I was going to say nerd, but human will do!"

Mary sighed an electronic sigh. Her lumpy exterior heaving slightly.

"Well like you say duckie…Im a rock and Percy here….."

"Percy?"

"Percy Preston." the man squeaked nasally, attempting to extend his hand in greeting but almost losing his towel in the process.

Allison took a revolted step backwards. "No no…..no touchie."

Mary continued. "Anyways…..Im a rock and Percy is…..well…..he's a geologist."

Awkward silence.

"A geologist?"

"Aye luv….Lt Preston from the Geology Department." she paused. "After all if you happen to be a living rock, then who better than a trained geologist knows how to make a girl feel……."

"NAH NAH NAH!!!" Alli interrupted sticking her fingers in her ears. "TOO MUCH INFORMATION!"

Poor Percy blushed deeper, though he stood a bit taller with pride.

Shaking her blond hair in disbelief, Allison decided that retreat was the best option at the moment.

"Look I'll just grab my stuff and……and….yikes….. I'll see you later."

Glancing sideways at the semi naked young man, she added. "Percy ….uh….good to meet you, and please for the love of god burn that towel before I get back tonight."

The doors hissed shut after her, leaving the Horta and her young paramour alone again.

"Well…….that went better than I expected." the Rock sighed.

"Maybe….maybe I should go ahead and go," the pale kid started poking around the room looking for his boots.

"Bloody hell." the Horta sniffed. "Forget the lass….she's a bit young, but she'll come around."

"Oh?"

"Aye." Mary shuffled over to Percy leaning her warn rocks against his skinny hide. "Now tell me again…." she coo'd saucily, "Tell me about this geologists brush you have back at the lab…….and when you're bringing it home?"

"Tough...Love?"

J. Andrus Suder
Brian Elessidil

****

USS Galaxy
Brian's quarters

Because he was a Betazoid, many people automatically assumed that Andy
was in touch with his feelings, was compassionate towards others, and
was a total believer in therapy.

The truth was that while he *was* in touch with his feelings and could
be compassionate towards others, he absolutely hated therapy. (Which
made having a .... relationship with Brian interesting to say the
least.) Which made this especially hard.

"Brian," Andy said in a calm voice. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

The past several days had been trying to say the least. With the
captain out of commission for awhile, the rest of the senior staff was
working extra bridge shifts to cover in addition to their already busy
enough schedules. So to say that when he asked Andy if he wanted to
get together on one of Brian's rare free nights he hadn't planned on
confrontation of any kind was an understatement.

"What do you mean, what the hell is the matter with me'?" he asked, a
hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

Andrus checked the immediate irritation that Brian's annoyance had
caused. "I mean what the hell is the matter with you? You've been like
a ... like a ... " The analogy failed him so he sent what he meant
telepathically.

"I'm not an emotional zombie," Brian retorted. "But you can blame
Kimberly if I've seemed a little 'flat'. She had me on some meds."

"Had you on meds?" Andy replied. "What do you mean 'had' ? Were you sick?"

"I just went off them. She has another treatment she wants to try and
she wants the meds out of my system first." He cocked his head
slightly, "As if this is really any of your business."

This was the reason he didn't get into these things, Andy thought.
"Well excuse me for giving a damn, Brian."

"Okay, so you give a damn. But there have been a few other things
going on around here recently you know," Brian added, working to hold
in the anger and frustration that just seemed to continue to build
with every passing minute. "With M'Kantu out for awhile the rest of
the command-certified officers are working extra shifts to cover, not
to mention that I still have a department I'm supposed to be running
and..."

"I'm not just talking about recently," Andy interrupted. "I know it's
been hard with the Captain in sickbay and the extra shifts. I mean
since the Vered Cluster."

"What's your point, Andy?" Brian demanded. "That I haven't been
living up to my usual role of carrying the emotional weight of this
relationship or whatever we're calling it this week?!"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Andrus growled as a
healthy bought of swearing - in Romulan no less - went off in his
head. This was a prime example of why he didn't do long term.

"It means that you think I'm a little emotionally flat at the moment
when we all know that emotionally flat is your calling card! You have
two emotions: angry and horny...and horny's not really even an
emotion!" By this point, Brian was not only shouting, he actually
felt ready to pop Andy one.... He suddenly realized what was going on.
"I've gotta get out of here," he muttered harshly, already moving for
the door.

Andrus was quicker, blocking the door before Brian could reach it. He
didn't know exactly what they had but it wasn't going to end by having
someone walk out of a damn door.

"Andy..."

"You said I only had two emotions," Andy said cooly. "Better phrase
your next sentence carefully."

"Look, neither of us is behaving like ourselves right now, so--"

"I want to know what is wrong," the librarian said. "It's more than
just us. Don't insult my intelligence. I'm not leaving until you tell
me."

"Isn't it obvious?!" Brian shot back. "Yes, this is way more than us,
that's why I have to get out of here and clear my head or we'll never
have a rational discussion. Kimberly thinks it's a new strain of
Xanthi fever, i- it started showing symptoms on Gamma Vered. I start
picking up emotions around me, then because of the disease I start
projecting them back and it just goes on and on!" he shouted, trying
to keep his wits about him in the midst of the anger and frustration.

"Then why the hell didn't you just say so?" Andrus yelled back. "I
could have ... I don't know. Done something, been there for you at
least."

"I- I don't know," Brian replied through stiffened jaw, still working
on getting the emotions under control. But what Andy said had
unexpectedly made the task a little easier. He stopped for a moment
and took some slow, deep breaths. "Andy, I...I guess I'm just not
used to depending on you that way," he managed. There was still an
edge to his voice, brought on by the tremendous effort it required to
control his emotions without help of the medication he'd been on, but
he was no longer yelling. "I'm not really used to depending on anyone
that way."

"Your not the only one," Andy replied. "But I'm trying here."

Faced with a fact he couldn't argue against, yet still struggling with
the unusually strong emotions, Brian simply grabbed hold of his head
and closed his eyes for a few moments. It was hard being a counselor
and a being with real emotions at the same time. "You're right, Andy,
you're right. Just...please, give me a half hour by myself to calm
down some or we'll never be able to talk at all. Thirty minutes,
okay? If you promise to come back in thirty minutes, I promise I'll
be in a much better state of mind to talk about all this."

Andrus frowned, struggling with his own emotions. And he didn't have
Xanthi fever to blame them on. Finally he bit back an exasperated sigh
and gently pulled Brian's hands from his head. "I *do* care about you,
Brian. I *will* be back in half an hour."

"Just the Facts"

Ensign Mique'lan Dar'ce
Tactical Officer

Hydran EPWs:
Gi'Meshketh Whortin (Rob H.)
Qui'Mev Letth (Kat)
Gi'Mev Fet (Kat)

The report on technician Thulkuh had been somewhat abbreviated, and
would probably be of more use to Starfleet counselors than the
tacticians or engineers, but at least it had been filed. Ensign Dar'ce
had spent three hours writing it, trying to decide what information
had been pertinent and what should be left out. After an hour his
roommate had finally had enough of the playback of the interview and
had stormed out of their shared quarters saying something about peace
and quiet.

Dar'ce had made a quiet appeal to Sickbay to send in a medical tech to
care for the self-inflicted wounds of the Hydran technician, but was
unsure whether they would come to treat something they would consider
minor, with more serious cases still in the main bay.

In any case, it was out of his hands now.

Now, he had another interrogation to do. The Marines had transported
over tons of captured Hydrans from the wrecked fleet, and they were
being held in a cargo bay. Safety precautions were in place to vacate
Starfleet personnel via transporter, then space the bay in the case of
a breakout, but the forcefields were secure enough that it would
probably be unnecessary, but the ensign felt better knowing they were
there.

This time he was going to be talking to a group from the main carrier
vessel, senior officers included. They were being held together mostly
for organizational purposes, for when they were transferred to the
nearest POW camp. Dar'ce had to try to get real tactical information
out of these guys, hopefully enough to help the fleet better wage this
campaign. He steeled his mind for the assault and possible mind probes
he might be doing.

The cluster of Hydrans in the holding cell he'd been assigned to next
wasn't as large as he'd feared it might be – only three – but they all
carried themselves like officers and not like the enlisted crewmen
that he'd dealt with to date. As he stood, watching them, one of the
Hydrans noticed him, jabbed its companions with two of its arms, and
the three of them turned to face him.

"Is it our turn to be put to the question, then?" the middle one asked.

"It certainly is. It would be most helpful if you were to cooperate,
too. For you, that is, not for me. You see, we already have enough
information to launch a new assault on your outlying systems. My only
concern now is protecting as many innocent lives as possible, on both
sides. What is it you might be able to help me with, I wonder?"

Mique'lan was hoping that his initial bluster had not been over the
top. These men had no idea how much information had been spilled
already, but they did not need to know that it was really very little.
Mique'lan was going to ask for big concessions, and hopefully get some
small ones that would pay off in any future mission.

His mind was already probing the officers in front of him, though he
had as yet not looked at them. One was fairly confident, one was a bit
unsure, and the last one, probably the youngest of the three, was
definitely nervous. He might try to separate them later if the more
experienced officers did not cooperate fairly soon.

"Once again, what can you offer me to make me go away?"

Whortin clacked his beak at the ugly figure on the other side of the
force-barrier. He was the ranking officer in the confinement unit,
true, but his assigned department had been responsible for the ship's
life support – a vital task, true, but hardly one that would allow him
access to valuable information. The others in the confinement unit
were of lesser rank, what the humans would call 'ensigns' to his
'lieutenant' and were depending on him to see them through this.

Not wanting to seem weak – and interested in appearing strong in front
of the older his two companions, an attractive female from his own
ship's drive maintenance unit - he made himself face the biped
questioning them. "Will you bring out the pincer if I do not? Or the
burning jets? Or the bore worms?"

The ensign looked up at the beaked face of the prisoner, his interest
already piqued. This could offer him a unique opportunity. "Sir, I'm
not certain that you are familiar with Federation protocols. We do not
torture our prisoners. There are sections within the fleet that may
use stronger than average persuasion techniques, but those people will
not arrive for a few days yet."

His assurances had apparently not settled any of their fears, because
each one considered the "blue biped" a liar. He need not have even
used his telepathy to see that, unfamiliar though he was in Hydran
body language.

"Look," he said, holding up his hands in a passive gesture, "I'm just
here to collect information. The longer I'm here, and the more genuine
information I can get, the less likely intelligence will have to use
their techniques. If you think posturing will get you anything, then
you're right."

Mique'lan let his gaze linger on the female Hydran. "Posturing can buy
you a lot of things."

The Qui'Mev turned toward him and folded her arms across her chest.
Her beak chittered rapidly for a moment before she exhaled loudly, a
motion that caused the methane gases around her to swirl violently.
Given her posture, and the obvious impatience she felt, the gesture
was probably the Hydran equivalent of a snort. "Like what, biped?"

His gaze drifting back to the ranking officer, Dar'ce smiled. "Well,
let's see. It could buy you some embarrassment, for instance. What was
it you were just thinking? Oh yes, how attractive this female is. I
for one cannot tell, since I am not familiar with what qualifies as
attractive to your species. I can tell, however, that if you could
have attracted this Qui'mev, you probably would have done so by now.
The fact that you have not implies that she may not reciprocate your
feelings. But, oh, a captive situation could change everything, eh?"

The Xenonian shook his head and laughed softly, hoping to evoke some
anger from at least one of them, or even the embarrassment he had
intended. Strong emotions invariably weakened mental shields, assuming
these types had any to begin with.

"Now, as to what I want to know," he said, letting them know he was
deliberately changing the subject, "I think something along the lines
of environmental controls might just help us. How could one damage
them from outside of the ship?"

The ensign sat down on a chair that had been placed there for
interrogation purposes, and looked back at his PADD as if bored
already, hoping to get something from the captives. Without looking up
he said, "Oh, and do not try to prevaricate, I can read minds, even
those as primitive as yours."

Letth opened her beak as if to say something, but stopped as the third
of their group began to make a low, grating sound. She watched as the
Gi'Mev-- she didn't know his name; perhaps he was from a different
vessel than she and Whortin-- slowly lowered himself into a sitting
position on the floor and stared at their interrogator, grinding his
beak the entire time.

As the strange display continued, Mique'lan could feel the Hydran's
thoughts shifting rapidly. Nervousness briefly flared into anger, then
cold determination, before everything in his mind went blank, leaving
only a clean slate in its place. There wasn't much skill involved in
the mental shield, and it could no doubt be broken with a bit more
effort, but it was clear that this one had been given some training in
how to conceal his thoughts. What exactly was he concealing, then?

Letth laughed then...or at least her deep, throaty grunting sounded
like it might be the Hydran equivalent of a laugh. "If you can read
minds, why bother with questions? Why not take the information you
need directly from our thoughts; would that not be more efficient?"
she asked. "Or perhaps you do not possess that level of skill?"

She took a step towards the barrier, being careful not to touch it.
The as-yet unnamed Gi'Mev had done so earlier; his cry of either
surprise or pain had told her all she needed to know about its
properties. Impatience continued to gnaw at her thoughts, making it
incredibly clear that she was itching to be elsewhere, though the
reason for that wasn't immediately clear. "I am a propulsion
maintenance technician; I know as much of environmental systems as it
seems you know of our mating practices."

"That's probably true," the ensign said with a bit of humor, trying
not to laugh at the thought of these creatures mating. "But your
Gi'Meshketh over there is the Environmental Technician. He could
probably help me in that department, though you might tell me how best
to injure one of your FTL drives. Do you think you could help me with
that?"

He decided to forgo the questioning about his psionic skill, leaving
them to guess. He was by far one of the most powerful of his species,
possessing telepathic and telekinetic powers unrivaled by most races.
He rarely used his powers, and had even been able to convince the
masters at the Xand'ar training facility that he had limited
abilities, and so had been ushered out of the program at twelve years
old, instead of completing the last three years.

As she glared at Mique'lan, he saw something very interesting. "How
long has it been since you went hunting?" There, a question she might
well be interested in answering.

That question made no sense to Whortin – it certainly hadn't been
anything that he was thinking – so it had to have been from Letth, who
was, Whortin thought, a member of the Cult. He did recall enough of
his basic instruction in counter-interrogation techniques years before
in training to know that if interrogated in a group, it was best to
diffuse the interrogator's attentions. Especially in this case, as the
alien was a mind-reader. And besides, he was still irritated at the
man for his comment about the ensign. "Even were she to find me
attractive," he retorted, "nothing would be happening here in your zoo
for you to see, no matter how much it might improve your own horizons,
human."

Dar'ce did not let it show, of course, but these Hydrans were making
it a bit difficult for him. He had as yet not begun to probe the minds
of these prisoners, since their surface thoughts were enough to get
him started. However, if they continued to try to disorient him by
going back and forth for his attention, Mique'lan decided he would
have to use more intense probing. He would not go so far as to put
undue and unnatural pain on the prisoners, since Starfleet strictly
regulated such types of interrogations, and he had been given no
orders or authorization to conduct himself so. He could, however,
search for things hidden just under the surface, things that the
prisoners were trying to hide, and since they were consciously
thinking about hiding them, they would be easy to pinpoint.

"Whortin, I'll have to ask you to stop interrupting. I am trying to
have a conversation with the Qui'mev. If you would like to talk later,
I would be more than happy to oblige you. Now," he said, turning back
to the female, "about hunting. I am an avid hunter myself, though I've
not ever been so ambitious as to try to kill a Starbeast. Perhaps we
could trade stories sometimes."

Letth remained silent for several long moments, her eyes slowly
narrowing into slits. "We do not speak of the Hunt before
nonbelievers," she responded, though it wasn't immediately clear if
she was referring only to Dar'ce, or if one or both of her cellmates
were included in that grouping. Her beak chittered again, and she
added, "I will speak no more of it."

Behind her, Fet laughed, the sound a close, though much more grating,
approximation of the human gesture. A short series of rapid, clipped
sounds poured from his mouth, sounds which the universal translator
couldn't interpret. Letth's eyes flew open and she spun around to face
him, responding with her own series of untranslatable sounds. She
followed that with a gesture that involved twisting her fingers into a
complex arrangement, thumping one hand against her chest, dragging a
finger across her chin, and pointing the same finger at Fet.

In response, Fet laughed again.

Mique'lan was unsure what the two had been discussing, but he knew
that Letth was none too thrilled with the way Fet had talked to her.
"Okay, you do not want to talk about hunting, and you certainly do not
want to talk to the kid in the corner, so why don't we talk about
engines? The smallest detail could prove most useful, you know."

"I will tell you tales of hunting, horned one," Fet interrupted,
getting to his feet. If the Starfleeter took the bait, it could prove
beneficial for both sides: he would feel satisfied that he had
information to pass along to his superiors, yet it would keep him from
learning anything of any real strategic value. Plus, it would give Fet
an opportunity to engage in one of his favorite hobbies: thwarting
Ulazhi.

"I will tell you great tales," Fet repeated, taking a step towards the
barrier. "But what shall I receive in return?"

"Tell me why you are in Federation space hunting star beasts, when I'm
sure there are plenty in your own territory, and then we can start
talking about what you can get. So far, all I have heard from the
three of you is bickering and non-cooperation. If you give me some
information that I can corroborate, then we'll talk of compensation."

"They call themselves Ulazhi, the hunters of Starbeasts. She is one of
their number," Fet began, acutely aware of the low growl-hiss now
coming from Letth. He carefully stepped around the cell so that
Whortin was between him and the female. Fet might have been crazy, but
he wasn't stupid-- if Letth came at him, he wanted the maximum amount
of time to react before he had to defend himself. "They think that by
killing their gods, they will become one with them. It is a barbaric
cult, but...very popular."

Fet paused, looking away from Letth for a moment and back at Dar'ce.
"I will say no more until we are separated," he concluded, beak
chittering nervously. "She is likely to kill me once you leave, in
order to punish me for my 'heresy'."

Mique'lan thought about the younger Hydran for a moment. On the
surface, everything he was saying seemed to be truthful. One could
never be completely sure, but the annoyance and vile hatred he was
reading from Letth, and the nervousness of Fet himself, was enough to
get the Ensign to accept at least the face value of what was being
said.

"Very well, I will have a security detail escort you to a private
holding cell. I will run your situation by my superiors, then get back
with you. If you appear to be telling the truth, then we may have more
to talk about." The ensign made sure not to lose eye contact with the
female, unsnapping his phaser holster for good effect. "Dar'ce to
Security. I need an escort for a Hydran prisoner, details when you
arrive. Dar'ce out."

Fet bowed his head, his facial muscles twitching into what might have
been the rough approximation of a smile. "I offer my thanks,
Dar...ce," he said, clearly having difficulty with the alien name.
"Your trust will be well rewarded."

Across the cell from him, Letth merely fumed.

"Keeping A Clear Head"
2nd Lt Cora Dobryin

Even though they currently didn¹t have any mission orders. Cora didn¹t
consider her time totally free for fun stuff. Sure she arranged time to fit
some of that in but there was still a lot of training and studying that had
to be completed. Her final qualification test for part of her new duties as
a marine happened to be coming up very quickly.

Cora had been intently studying for several hours already, yet she had a few
more items to complete before she¹d give herself a break. In fact she had a
hand to hand combat lesson coming up as well, but Dobryin didn¹t consider
that time away from her studies since it would help her in her duties.

³I can do this,² Cora reminded herself as she started to review her tactical
maps once again. Failure is one thing she wouldn¹t allow, especially if she
just needed to concentrate for a bit longer.

To start out her day Cora made time for her usual workout since that would
make a difference during the upcoming physical training test. As it happened
she really wasn¹t too worried about that since she kept herself in really
good shape anyway. The other benefit is it had allowed her to start out the
day¹s study session with a clear head.

Some where in there she¹d come across several messages that needed to be
answered. Lately Cora had been setting them aside to answer during her free
time or after she¹d quit studying for the day. It allowed her to keep better
track of things and organize her time more effectively.

³Ah ha,² Cora said out loud as she finally located the data she¹d been
searching for. So far the most difficult part of this exercise had been to
quit thinking as n Intelligence Officer would. Sure she knew on a real
mission she could rely on that but for now she really needed to follow the
parameters and use only the skills that were being tested.

"The Final Lesson - Part Two"

Lt. Ella Grey
Daro Cole, npc
Lt. Victor Krieghoff
Flight Officer Angelienia

*****

USS Galaxy
John Calloway's quarters

"What do you want from me?" Ella asked, feeling the knot tighten more
in her stomach.

"Only a small thing for now," Daro said quietly. "So small that you
will appreciate the humor."

A tight smile pulled at her lips. "My silence."

Daro nodded. "Yes."

"And if I don't give it to you?" She asked.

The man sometimes known as Daro Cole smiled and Ella felt that knot
begin to pull even harder. "That would be... unfortunate."

There was a chime of the door and Daro pulled back smoothly. Ella
quickly masked all of her discomfort as the assassin called for the
person to enter.

The door slid open just as the familiar sensation hit her, bringing,
as it always did now, both a sense of comfort and a sense of loss, the
two intertwined into one, odd feeling.

"Ella," Victor nodded with a smile as the door slid aside. "I thought
you'd be here already."

"Hi!" Angelienia echoed from his side, raising the hand that wasn't
holding Victor's to wave. "Thanks for asking us - we'd love to help
out!"

"Thanks for coming," Ella replied with what she thought was an award
winning smile - considering the fact she had no idea what they were
talking about.

She looked over just as Daro made a choking noise which he couldn't
quite hide. Ella would have thought it was all part of the act but his
face had gone quite pale as he stared with wide eyes at Victor. You
couldn't fake that.

Suddenly her smile didn't seem so difficult to maintain.

"This is John Calloway, my parent's interpreter... it's kind of a mix
up," Ella said with a 'what are you going to do' shrug. "John, this is
Victor and Angelienia."

"Don't worry about Victor, John. He won't bite. You can shake hands,"
she added with a somewhat malicious glint in her eye.

"Wha... " Daro Cole spluttered comically but obediently held out his
hand to shake. "Nice to ... meet you both."

"A pleasure," Victor nodded, shaking the offered hand firmly. "Sorry
about the reaction you're suffering, John, but it's not something that
I can turn off. Distance seems to be the only way around it."

"He really can't," Angelienia agreed with a nod as she shook Daro's
hand in turn. While he stood there, staring at Victor, she turned to
Ella and gave her a quick hug. "Thank you for asking us to help with
the reception for your parents, Ella."

Reception? Ah, she thought as realization dawned. Clever.

"Well, you'd better save your thanks until after it's over," she said,
playing the rueful daughter. "I love them but my parents can be a bit
exasperating. I need to make sure everything is perfect." She looked
at Daro who still looked a bit startled but had otherwise pulled
himself together. "You can still back out of this, you know. I'd
understand."

He gave a small embarrassed laugh. "Sorry, it was just a bit of a
shock. I haven't felt that ... flight response in ages." His fingers
twitched slightly as if he was about to explain just how much he
hadn't appreciated it but Ella gave the barest shake of her head, her
eyes flickering quickly to Victor.

"I'll be fine," Daro said with a good natured smile. "I made a promise
to help, after all, and I always keep my promises."

"A good trait," Victor nodded. "I follow it myself." He glanced at
John and then raised an eyebrow at Ella, but said nothing. If Ella's
parents had, as he was beginning to suspect, brought an old boyfriend
along under the guise of an interpreter, he wasn't going to make
things worse by dragging that out into the open. "So, how far along
are we with the planning?"

"Not as far along as I would like," Ella replied with a genuine sigh.
She wished there were some way to let Victor know what was happening,
without arousing Daro's suspicion. Or considerable skills. She needed
to make sure there wasn't some back up retaliation awaiting her
parents first. "The food is all ordered but I still have to replicate
the decorations and then, er, decorate. Not to mention I haven't
gotten them a gift yet."

And what did you get for an anniversary party that was a really just a
convenient excuse for your ex-assassin to sneak on board? That Romulan
Ale was looking better and better.

"What kind of a gift do you think that they'd like?" Angelienia asked.
"Something small and personalized, or something a bit more...general?"

"I'm not sure," Ella replied looking hopefully at Daro. "I don't
suppose they dropped any hints? Mother's always like that when
birthdays and holidays approach."

"I don't know that she's expecting much - she seems to think that
being on the ship here is much like taking a safari into the
wilderness," Daro admitted.

"What sorts of things do your parents like?" Angelienia asked. "Do
they have hobbies or other interests that we could use to come up with
something?"

"My mother's really into charity events," Ella said doubtfully.
"Father likes golf. Do you want to review the ship's catalog with me
tomorrow, Angie? Maybe something will jump out at me."

"Sure," the Ktarian nodded. "I'd love to."

"Now," Ella said. "Let's work on this party theme."

****

Two hours later, Ella walked them to the door and out into the hall,
letting the doors close behind her. She was tired, cranky, and not at
all looking forward to going back inside to a pissed off Daro, but she
managed a smile. "Thanks for all your help."

"I think you really mean 'thanks for all *her* help,'" Victor said
with a smile, pointing at Angelienia. "But you're welcome anyway. And
I'm sorry that my presence bothers John so much; make my apologies
again will you?"

What Ella really wanted to say was not to leave but she just nodded
and replied 'of course.'

Angelienia blushed a little, elbowed Victor, and nodded to Ella. "It
was a pleasure. Just yell when you get the time to figure out the
gifts and everything."

"I will," Ella said and watched them walk away.

She took in a deep breath, exhaled, and went back inside. Daro Cole
was still sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looked up -
not pissed but weary. "How do you do it? How does she do it? He's...
he's...."

"He's Victor," Ella replied with a shrug. "He either bugs you or he doesn't."

"There's an understatement of the century," the assassin muttered.

"Why did you invite them here?" She demanded.

He mimicked her shrug. "To maintain the cover."

Ella frowned. "I don't buy that. You didn't need a party for my
parents to maintain your cover if you're already here as their
employee."

Daro just looked at her.

"Cole," Ella asked after pausing to breathe. "Who are you here to kill?"

She didn't think he was going to answer him at first but then he moved
over to her. Ella thought he might whisper in her ear, wanted to tell
him that these little seductive moves he kept pulling on her were
starting to piss her off rather than scare her, but then he lifted his
hand and started to finger-spell a name.

Her eyes widened. Her hand whipped out and grabbed his, as if stopping
his fingers before he could finish the name would stop the act from
happening.

Daro's eyes narrowed. "Don't get in my way, Ella."

"Boil-over"

Brian
Arel

****

USS Galaxy
Gym

Arel exhaled as she moved carefully from stance to stance, taking care
not to over-stretch her muscles. The slow movement was annoying - she
would have preferred to be working with a punching bag - but some
amount of exercise was definitely preferable to none.

Halfway across the gym, a certain Betazoid counselor was also
exercising. Or was it exorcising? The line was pretty close,
wherever it was, since after his argument with Andy, Brian needed an
outlet for the emotional demons that he grappled with. As the good
counselor often prescribed to his patients, physical exercise was a
logical option, and now, pun'jet in hand, he lashed out at a tiny
black kaabeth that with remarkable precision sought to evade his every
move.

With every swing he realized how much he hated this particular
activity and wondered why the hell he'd chosen it.

"Stupid thing," he muttered to himself as he tracked the object's
motion. It was a sophisticated device, designed to analyze a player's
every move to determine if it was defensive or offensive in nature.
Defensive maneuvers had no effect; they only served to prevent the
kaabeth from striking its humanoid opponent. The effect of offensive
moves however was cumulative, and depending on the difficulty setting,
a sufficient number of strong, well-placed offensive strikes would
render the object motionless. Trouble was, none of his strikes so far
seemed to be sufficiently strong or well-placed, and the annoyance
only grew. "Stupid thing."

Arel felt a sudden stab of annoyance. This was stupid. She had grown
up on Qo'nos for Kahless sakes! There was no way that a doctor could
know her body better than she could.

So fuck it.

She began to quicken her steps.

Another fruitless swoop of the pun'jet. Brian felt like throwing the
thing against a wall.

Arel stopped and scowled at the mat. She felt so ... agitated. And
annoyed. And angry. She just wanted to ... throw something. Or beat it
to a bloody pulp.

Not totally foreign emotions, she admitted. Just usually not this intense.

She swore loudly, stabbing at the air in frustration.

"Commander Smith," a lieutenant asked. "Is everything alright?

~What the hell am I doing here?~ Brian angrily thought to himself, his
frustration compounded by the fact that the activity that was supposed
to help him relieve some tension was only making it worse.

Arel looked up at the lieutenant. "No."

And then she punched him in the face and knocked him out cold.

At that same moment, Brian's tension reached is breaking point and he
hurled the pun'jet into an array of weightlifting equipment, the
resulting clatter not quite enough to distract him from the kaabeth's
incoming dodges -- from which he was now defenseless -- or the
fist-hitting-jaw sound that cracked from across the room. Swiping at
the kaabeth like it was a swarm of bees, the counselor still tried to
focus his attention toward the scuffle that had broken out. "Stupid,
son-of-a..." he cursed loudly at the kaabeth, which seemed to take
personal umbrage at the abrupt end to the match. "Idiot!"

Arel's head whipped in his direction. "Excuse me?"

"What?!" Brian snapped back.

"Did you just call me an idiot?" Arel snarled.

He looked at her like she was crazy. First Andy, then a stupid
kaabeth, now Arel Smith? It was like the whole world was teaming up
to drive him over the edge. "No, I didn't. But if you'd like me
to..." he said in a somewhat contemptuous tone.

Arel stared hard at him. There was something ... off about this whole
thing - perhaps it being that a frelling counselor had no concern for
his own life and was staring down his nose at her like she was a piece
of forshak. That had to be it. She smiled. "Go ahead and see what good
it does you."

"Why, are you planning to hit me too?" he asked pointedly, glancing to
the knocked-out lieutenant. "You'd love for me to give you an excuse,
wouldn't you?"

"Who needs an excuse?" Arel asked, advancing towards the counselor.

"Striking a fellow senior officer? Not such a great idea, Commander,"
Elessidil taunted, standing his ground. "Maybe you are an idiot after
all."

It all went downhill from there.

*****

Sickbay

The sound of hoarse screaming and crashing things made it hard at
first to hear the nurse.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" the nurse repeated.

"Is there something more than everywhere?" the counselor curtly asked,
the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth. Every inch of his body
ached; he hadn't been in a physical fight of any kind in ages, and to
this degree possibly never. In his right mind he would have never
matched himself up against Arel Smith (although to be fair, he hadn't
done too badly either, if he did say so himself), but he hadn't
exactly been in his right mind. Nor was he now entirely. The rage
from the other room was unignorable to his keen empathic senses but
Kimberly had the medical staff on alert about his condition and they'd
responded promptly. It had taken several large security officers to
separate the raging commanders and to get them to sickbay, and while
they were still working on Arel, a quick injection of the cocktail of
drugs Kimberly had prescribed earlier had Brian already on a calmer
trajectory. Still, it was best they continued to keep them separated
for now. "Just do what you have to do to get me out of here -- I'VE
HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!" he added, yelling over his shoulder to ensure
Arel would hear. The drugs hadn't completely taken effect yet, so
there was something pleasing about getting in a verbal jab in lieu of
a physical one.

Arel's shrill reply in Klingon was punctuated by more crashing noises
and a howling nurse who had just taken a kick to the balls. She fought
against the other two holding her down and had managed so far to avoid
getting tranqued.

"Counselor, please," the nurse hissed, doing everything she could to
keep the tensions to a minimum until she could finish working on his
wounds and then get him out of sickbay. "You're not making things any
better by doing that."

"I don't --" he snapped back, catching himself before going further.
His rational mind was making some slow progress to re-assert itself.
"Alright...alright.... SHE'LL BE LUCKY IF I DON'T FILE CHARGES!" he
shouted over his shoulder again.

"bIjatlh 'e' yImev!" Arel screamed. "I WILL CUT THE VEINS FROM YOUR
BODY AND ... OWWWW! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!"

"Counselor! One more outburst like that and I'll sedate you!"

"Sorry...it just slipped out." Perhaps he still wasn't entirely
contrite, but it was beginning to dawn on him that he was going to
have to approach Arel at some point and try to explain what happened.
Hopefully, it wouldn't require a referee.

*****

Half an hour later...

Carefully, Brian peered around the corner into the alcove where Arel
still lay. It comforted him to know that the empathy-reducing drugs
had taken full affect by now and that he was once again in control of
his emotions. He wasn't sure the same could be said for her.

"Whaddya want?" Arel muttered as she looked over at the counselor.

"Arel, I think I owe you an explanation," he answered, coming closer
but still keeping a bit of distance. "Neither of us was quite
ourselves before and it's mostly my fault."

"I don't really know what happened," she admitted. "I remember
knocking out someone and I think you calling me an idiot ..." Arel
rubbed her eyes. "Can't really remember after that."

"Well, yeah, you did knock someone out...Lieutenant Selwyn Tanner from
the Ops department, to be precise...though you might not have if I hadn't
been in the room. But I didn't call you an idiot. I was cursing at a
kaabeth out of frustration; you thought I was talking to you. It got
pretty out of control from there and, well, we had one hell of fight."
Brian almost couldn't help smirk a little at the thought, which in
hindsight had taken on a somewhat more comedic aspect.

"Yeah?" She looked him up and down, he seemed more or less to be in
one piece. "I win?" Arel then shook her head. She didn't understand
why she had been so pissed off. She told him as such.

Brian sighed. "It's a little hard to explain, but I'll try. I'd ask
that this remain between us for now; only a couple people outside the
medical staff really know yet."

"All right."

"Several months ago I started having mild 'episodes' of dizziness or
headaches. Like most everyone does, I attributed it to stress or
fatigue but things got a lot worse when we were evacuating the Vered
cluster. Kimberly ran some extensive tests and determined that I have
a new mutated strain of Xanthi fever. I don't know how familiar you
are with Betazoid diseases, but it's a condition that affects our
empathic abilities, causing us to unwittingly project emotions on
people in close proximity. It usually only affects older Betazoid but
it's not uncommon and it's usually easily cured. Except in this case.

This apparently is not the usual garden-variety version. It's
resistant to standard treatment and its affects are significantly more severe.
It not only causes the usual emotional projection, it also seems heighten
my own empathic sensitivity to the point where what gets projected comes
back to me even stronger and just keeps re-amplifying over and over until I and
anyone around me who's affected just spiral out of emotional control.
That's what happened in the gym. I was there because I was frustrated
about something and my game wasn't going well so I just got more
frustrated. You were picking up my empathic projections and in turn
feeding them back to me and after awhile it all came to a head." He
paused to let her absorb what he'd said. "I know it sounds pretty
strange but I think you know me well enough to know that I would never
antagonize someone like that on purpose, so please accept my
apologies."

Arel frowned. "So I was pissed because you were pissed?"

"At least to the extent that you were, yeah, that's about right," he
confirmed. "I've been functioning the past few weeks because while
Kimberly contacts others and continues to try to figure out how to deal with
this, I've been on a mix of medications that dampen my empathic sense
enough to mask the disease's effects. But she thinks I'll eventually
build an immunity to the meds, so it's not a long-term solution. I
went off them the other day in preparation for another round of
testing, which is why I was susceptible again, but the minute they
brought us in here they put me back on them, so I'm okay for now."

Arel was quiet. The whole mess reminded her of the time when she had
been possessed by those things and had almost killed ... it wasn't a
pleasant reminder. She exhaled rather than sigh out loud. "This could
be a Security nightmare if it happens again, you know."

It wasn't as if the thought had never occurred to him, but hearing her
confirm it seemed to make it all the more disconcerting. But what
were his choices? He could request a medical leave if necessary, but
it seemed like such a drastic step. He *was* capable of functioning,
at least with some help from the medication. Still, he knew that
wouldn't be the solution, at least not unless Kimberly came up with
something that would work for an indefinite period of time. No, there
had to be a cure...at least that's what he chose to keep telling
himself.

He looked down, nodding slowly in understanding, then spoke softly.
"I know." He said nothing more because he didn't know what else to
say. She was right, but he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just
yet. "Anyway, I hope we can put this behind us." He smirked
sheepishly. "I promise to stay away from the gym if I get like that
again."

"That's probably best," Arel said. She squinted her eyes at him. "You
don't look very hurt for this epic battle you've been describing."
She, on the other hand, felt exhausted. Not that she would admit it.

"Nothing a dermal regenerator couldn't handle. Besides, just because
I'm a counselor doesn't mean I'm a pushover," he added with a wry
grin. "But I'm probably just as tired as you are, so rest would be a
good idea for both of us." He also still had to get back to Andy, who
would probably be wondering what was keeping him. "If there's
anything you want to discuss further, you know how to find me."

"I'll try not to beat the shit out of you next time," Arel said with a yawn.

He hoped there wouldn't be a next time.

"The Final Lesson" - Part Three

*****

A good assassin usually carries more identities than weapons.

I wasn't born Cole - anymore than I was born John Calloway, Stonn of
Vulcan, or Kragg son of Kitor - but I've always been fond of that
identity. Daro Cole had been a freedom fighter during the Resistance,
left disillusioned by years without help from the Prophets. He had
turned mercenary at the end of the Occupation, eventually setting up
shop on Earth and a few other places in the alpha quadrant. The work
was steady and he was rarely bored.

He preferred to do business out of the area known as California,
usually meeting his clients in seedy ports and piers along its
coastline. He was discovered mostly by word of mouth and hired through
a front whose Office was mobile and which he never visited.

It was in one of these seedy little ports, in an old abandoned
warehouse, that an eighteen-year-old Ella Grey met with Daro Cole one
night in late June.

I was impressed with Ella from the start, probably because she went
about it so well. She had thoroughly researched her options, although
not so thoroughly as to raise suspicion, and hadn't come dressed in
the usual cloak-and-dagger black that so many of my clients felt
necessary when hiring a hit man.

I already knew her real name since I too am very thorough.

Ella regarded me, sizing me up as I was doing the same. I saw wealth,
pain, and an almost desperate need for revenge. She saw a slightly
shabby Bajoran prepared to do a job when monetarily motivated.

She passed me a note which explained the situation. I read it twice
before lighting it on fire in a bad spy-movie gimmick that I've
actually found quite effective over the years.

I looked at her again. The girl was nervous but held her ground, even
though she couldn't hold eye contact for more than five seconds.

I nearly smiled at that - Ella Grey versus the big, bad assassin.

"I want ten," I told her.

Ella immediately shook her head and raised her hand, waggled her fingers.

I did smile. "The Office may have said five but what you're asking for
costs ten. Prices go up the more exotic you get, Ella. "

She moved fast but I caught her arm easily.

"I don't work for people that I don't know," I informed her. "I won't
say anything should you chose to decline. I'll do what you want but my
price is ten."

She looked me over, deciding how to deal with the situation. I had no
doubt that she had access to the money, being the only daughter of the
wealthy Thomas Grey, but she did have to come up with a convincing lie
to get to it.

Ella finally gestured for a pen and a paper.

"I am," I said after I had read her note.

I don't know what Ella saw in my green eyes, green that day anyway,
that convinced her that I was indeed worth it but she nodded all the
same. I took the pen and paper from her to write a location. "Be there
with the money on Friday."

Ella lifted an eyebrow that seemed to ask 'so soon?' and I smiled again.

"I already know where they are, Ella. The waiting period is in case
you get cold feet."

The eyebrow lowered to join the other one and then her eyes narrowed.
She made some gestures, which I both understood and didn't understand.

"You may say you can go through with it now but we'll see at the end
of the week," I told her.

The girl glared at me but I was unimpressed. I'd been glared at
before. In fact, I'd been almost 'everything' before. She tried to
snatch the pen back from me.

"The end of the week," I repeated. "Don't back down and you'll get
your revenge."

****

"Are you sorry that you've killed me?" I ask.

"No," Ella says her face like stone.

"You're lying," I tell her. It's harder to read her now than at
eighteen but I can still tell she's lying to me.

I want to 'tsk' at her for becoming emotionally attached to me but I
think it might be just a little hypocritical. I wouldn't be here now
if I hadn't let my guard down to her.

She frowns. "It's a kill or be killed world, remember?"

I think of the knife that is waiting in my sleeve and smile. "So you
were afraid I'd kill you so you got me first?"

The lie jumped in front of her eyes, I could almost see it, but then
she shook her head. "No."

"I used you."

"Yes," She replies.

"You were afraid that I'd come back," I stated. "Waiting for some time
to use you again."

Ella looks away. "Yes, that's right."

"It's possible," I admit to her. Hell, it was even likely. But that
wasn't quite it. I stare hard at her trying to figure out where I went
wrong - I had her past, her parents, and her promise - when it hits me
like a phaser blast to the solar plexus and I am left gaping at her.

"You *love* him?"

Those mournful eyes of hers harden and she crosses her arms.
Naturally, I had realized my mistake as soon as I felt the first bit
of my skin start to melt but I hadn't seen until now just how grossly
I had underestimated the situation.

But in my defense ... really?

"Damn," I say and shake my head slightly.

Ella raises an eyebrow. "Are you sorry?"

Was I sorry, even now that I was dying? Would I have stopped the deal,
knowing what the future might hold for me? I might have changed my
approach though. "No."

She nods, not expecting anything different. We are quiet for awhile
before I ask her if she is sorry that she had to "pull the trigger"
this time. I don't sneer when I ask this; I am genuinely curious.

"Yes," She says.

"Poor Ella," I say. "Always thinking in black and white."

"At least I didn't look away this time," Ella replies with that
expression she pulls when she's trying to be heartless. I wonder if
anyone has ever fallen for it.

But then I doubt that few people have seen her the way that I've seen her.

"Opportune Time..."

With

The Phantom Shitter
Public Enemy

Senior Officer Country

It takes a significant amount of effort to prepare for these particular runs (no pun intended), which was why the Phantom was becoming rather meticulous regarding his choice of targets. He hit the mean Paramedic's quarters again just out of spite after a run-in inside Ten-Forward. He was certain that Maxwell would not take kindly to the mess that was left for him this time.

He carefully made his way through the airshaft until he reached his destination: one James Lionel Corgan. When it was certain that no one was home, the Phantom exited through the wall panel into the well decorated chambers. He took a moment to really admire the memorabilia from Earth's ancient rock and roll era. Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and other still famous names were emblazoned on wood-paper based boards which were extravagantly decorated with a myriad of colors and effects.

It was a shame that it would all have to meet with his wrath. He has not been taken seriously, and now they will all pay. Beginning with Corgan.

The vile man took an even larger dump than he has on prior occasions. Then, with gloved hands, began to smear his waste on every item he could find in the Security Chief's quarters: Authentic guitar pics belonging to such famous guitarists as Joe Satriani, Tom Morello, and 'Slash', whose poster depicted a cigarette smoking frizzy haired man who looked high and wore a fuzzy top hat.

The shit really hit the fan when the Phantom got into Corgan's guitars, an IPod, a signed CD of an Alice In Chains album (by Layne Staley himself, at that!). Nothing was to be spared, as far as the Shitter was concerned.

When he was done, he took off his gloves, placed them inside a special pouch he carried with him and left.

- - - - - - - - - -

JAG Office...

The Shitter wasn't entirely fond of lawyers, so he has no issue with taking a dump on her desk, and her chair, ensuring that he left a miniature set of the scales of justice firmly planted in the middle of the table top pile.

He thought about who he would strike next when he suddenly doubled over in pain. The drugs were starting to take their toll on him. He knew he didn't have much longer before he would either have to get help or just die for his cause. He could actually feel his stomach jerk sharply and repeatedly as it waited for something to begin digesting. It wouldn't be long at all before it starts working on itself. He had to hurry and get something to eat. Against his better judgment, he ordered a pastrami wrap from the replicator in the JAG's office before he hoisted himself back into the ventilation system and closed the hatch behind him.

When his meal was finished and his stomach quelled, the Phantom proceeded to return to his quarters to prepare for his duty shift.

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

"What about the tweety-birds?"

Cadet Paige Sullivan

---

Paige Sullivan was running late. Very late.

Despite her eccentric -- haphazard? bizarre? aloof? -- facade, this was actually something different for her. She was actually very good, nay almost obsessive, about being on time. At least, she had been ever since she almost got kicked out of the Academy for excessive tardiness... and absences... and general goofing around... But in her defense, she had grown up a lot since then and thus far had not been late to one shift.

But this was looking like it would be her first.

The young cadet was reduced to pulling on her shoes as she hopped out the door. Truthfully, it probably would have been faster to just sit down and pull them on, tie them effectively, but the lack of forward motion in that scenario would make her crazy (er?). Instead, she was hopping on one foot as she tied one, and then switched, quickly insuring that she was out of breath but she couldn't stop, had to keep moving. She had ten minutes to be up four levels and on the other side of the ship and with the shift-change the turbo lift traffic would be murder... which meant her L-T might commit murder...

She was already far from his favorite on the new rotation.

Shoes tied -- at least, well enough -- she fell into a solid, full-tilt run toward the turbolift, which she lucked into catching just as the doors opened. When they finally opened again (she got the scenic tour with the appearance of each level as people crammed on and off to lift) on Deck 5, she squeezed herself through the crowds to half-tumble half-step out onto the deck. Then, she picked back up at full speed, running toward her place of work.

*WHAM*

Ooff.

It did, quite honestly, take Paige a moment to realize that not only wasn't she moving anymore, she was flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling panels and possibly seeing birdies. Or maybe it was just the annoyed face of a tall, redheaded Bajoran woman staring down at her. She said something, but Paige wasn't quite sure what it was. The cadet leaped to her feet, momentarily lamenting the very large bruise that would be shaping on her ass, before she looked up at the woman and began to run backward so at least she was making progress.

"Hevaimsorrytorunintoyou but shullahshouldwatchwhereyou're erzed going... vardimgonnabe heffd!" she blurted out, then whipped back around to high tail it down the corridor.

Paige stepped into the outer room and to her place on the 'lineup', as L-T called it, just as the large chronometer on the wall clicked over and the soft chime toned over the system announcing the shift change -- every department had a different system, she noticed, though Ops seemed to be the only one to keep things so regimented. At least, the only one that wasn't filled with rock-hard serve-and-protect(-and-kick-your-ass) officers.

She sighed with relief, trying to figure a way to discretely rub away the pain in her butt from where she'd landed moments earlier.

"Saw your wipe out with the--" her friend, Ken, murmured, but he was cut off by the resonating voice of their lieutenant micro-manager.

"Sullivan, you need to report to the XO's office in half an hour." He looked up from his padd toward her. Everyone else followed suit and Paige felt her face begin to pinken -- from embarrassment other than physical exertion.

"Bu-but I was on time!" she stammered.

He sighed, eyes closed, exasperation heavy on his features. He was too young to look that old, Paige thought, but she was well aware she was pretty much the only one who could bring that out in him. She just had no idea why.

"Sullivan," he said, as though her name in and of itself was laborious. "As much as I might prefer it otherwise, this is just SOP. You didn't get your greeting-intro spiel or your three week eval when you came on board because of the mission, so we have to do it now. So, I suggest you do your pre-shift paperwork *now* so you're not 'halla wazzed' when you come back."

She really hated it when he did that; he couldn't even pronounce it right. All long vowels and short consonances and way too slow to be even vaguely authentic. Though that might have been the point.

"R-right," she said, nodding. "Sure. First things first."

She glanced at Ken, who seemed to be in on some really amusing joke that she had completely missed, then took the L-T's raised brow and anxious expression to mean she should get to the office and examine her padds before she made her way up to the bridge and her SOP eval welcoming committee.

Well, Paige through, trying to be optimistic. The day can only get better from here.

"Unexpected News"

Lt. Col. Amuramia "Spider" sh'Thora
Second Officer, 4th Division, SFFC

Lieutenant Nathan "Cowboy" Everett
Acting CAG, Vanguard Group, USS Galaxy

****

"The USS Galaxy is now within communications range," the computer
announced, abruptly breaking the silence in the office.

"Finally." Mia sighed, quickly finishing and signing off on the
latest report to cross her desk. The Galaxy had apparently been on a
mission in some sort of nebula that had blocked normal long-range
communications, so she'd been waiting for a few days to make this
call. "Computer, establish communications link to USS Galaxy,
Lieutenant Nathan Everett, normal priority."

The computer chirped and intoned a lifeless "Working..." Mia leaned
back in her chair and waited.

It had been less than a year since she'd last seen Cowboy on Miranda,
but to the Andorian it seemed almost like a lifetime, and she was
looking forward to catching up with the brash human pilot. She
wondered how much of his life had changed, or if it had even changed
at all. After all, Everett was still on the front lines, commanding a
squadron of fighters on the flagship of the 10th Fleet, while Mia now
found herself with a desk job at SFFC Command on Titan.

Granted, that desk job allowed her to spend much more time with her
family in a much less stressful environment. Fighter pilots often had
notoriously short lives, and staying out of a cockpit as much as she
could meant that she would probably be around long enough to have all
the children she ever wanted, and maybe even see them grow into
adults. But sometimes, when the training squadrons went streaking by
outside her office window, she couldn't help but wish she could be out
there with them.

~Maybe someday,~ she thought, ~maybe when Kitha is old enough...~

A short beep from her console pulled Mia back to the present. The
console still displayed the Federation seal and the "Working..." text,
but that short beep meant a connection with the ship had been
established. Now, it would only be a moment before the link was
routed to Lieutenant Everett. She wondered if she would be
interrupting anything important...and with a grin, almost wished she
was.

Nathan was just about to put his shirt on when he heard the telltale
sound of an incoming communication. He had just gotten out of the
shower a moment ago, and had managed to get halfway dressed before his
computer chimed. Normally he would have pulled his shirt on before
answering, but when he saw who it was contacting him, he decided to
forgo politeness and have a little fun instead.

He walked over to his desk and sat down, tapping the monitor to answer
the call. "Well, look who it is," Nathan said, greeting Mia with a
warm smile as she appeared on the screen. "Ah musta done somethin'
good. How are ya, Spider?"

For a second Mia tried to keep a serious face; this was one of her
subordinates, after all. Desk job life must really be getting to her,
she realized...yes, it was definitely time to get back in the cockpit.

"I am well," she replied, the movement of her antennae revealing her
mood. "It is good to see you, Cowboy...tell me, how are you enjoying
life in the Vanguards?"

Nathan shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. "It's not bad over
here. Not lahk it was back on the Miranda, but there's only one Rogue
Group, right?"

"That is true; the environment was very close, friendly; quite similar
to what I would have found at home. Perhaps that was part of the
reason for the Group's many successes," Mia responded with a
thoughtful nod. "I often wonder how the group has changed since our
departure."

"Oh, hey, that reminds me," Nathan continued. "Ah noticed you went on
leave fer a while. Everything alright?"

"Oh? Have you been keeping tabs on all the former Rogue Group pilots,
or just me?" Mia grinned playfully; one of several habits she'd
picked up from her time around so many humans.

He smiled. "Ah lahk to know how mah friends're doin'," he answered
diplomatically.

"I had a...family matter to attend to; one which I had put off for
much too long. Shortly after the wave of reassignments, I returned
home and was Bonded with my quad," Mia explained. She leaned towards
the screen, parting the wispy hair around her right antenna so that
Nathan could see the thin silvery ring decorating the base of the
appendage; in addition to the traditional shapla lockets, her quad had
decided to be a bit unconventional and had exchanged rings as well.
Leaning back she added, "Our first child, Kithathera, was born just
before the Terran new year. She is...quite a handful."

Nathan looked at Mia for a long moment. "Huh," he said simply, clearly
surprised by the news. "Well, that's...congratulations, Spider." He
got out of his chair and grabbed the shirt he'd left lying on his bed.
He pulled it on quickly, almost mechanically, as he returned to his
seat. "Ah remember you mentionin' somethin' about wantin' to start a
family back on the Miranda. Ah'm glad you were finally able to make
the time fer it."

"It is...satisfying to have performed my duty to my people," Mia
responded with a slight nod. Her antennae quirked to the side as she
watched Nathan move around his quarters. When he sat back down, she
asked, "Is there...something wrong?"

Cowboy shook his head, giving Mia a smile that probably wasn't as
convincing as he'd hoped it would be. "Nah, Ah just realized Ah was
half-naked in front of a superior officer. Not very respectful of me."
He winked and then leaned back in his chair again, idly tapping his
fingertips on his desk. "So, did you just miss me, or is there another
reason fer you callin' me up all of a sudden?"

Never having known Cowboy to be particularly respectful towards his
superiors (at least not where his state of dress was concerned), Mia
found his sudden change in demeanor a bit strange. But, if he didn't
want to talk about it, she certainly wasn't going to press the issue.
"As you suspected, there is another reason for my call. It is in
regards to your performance as Acting CAG of Vanguard Group since the
loss of Lieutenant Quaaliu."

"Yeah," Nathan sighed, having known this was coming. "Listen, Ah just
wanna say that Ah've done mah best, but Ah don't think Ah'm--"

"My superiors have concluded that, in the past few years your behavior
has shown that you are ready for more responsibility. Therefore,
rather than bringing in an outsider to replace Lieutenant Quaaliu,
they have decided to make your assignment as CAG of Vanguard Group a
permanent one."

Cowboy stared at Mia for a long moment before laughing. "That was
good, Spider," he said, shaking his head. "You had me goin' fer a
second. Remind me to never play poker with you."

He finally noticed that Mia wasn't smiling, and he cut his laughter to
a halt, clearing his throat self-consciously. "This isn't a joke, is
it?" he asked. He suddenly had one of those bad feelings.

Mia shook her head slowly. "No, it is not. Marshall Vardakas has
been quite impressed with your leadership as of late. Now, should you
accept this assignment, it will come with a promotion to the rank of
Major, as well as choice of your Deputy CAG. You do not have to make
a decision immediately, but..."

"But Command'd prefer Ah did," Nathan finished for her. "Right." He
took a deep breath and then exhaled quietly. "Ah gotta be honest with
you, Spider, Ah wasn't expectin' this."

"Very few people do," she replied. "And yes, Command would prefer you
make a decision soon."

"Well, Ah'd be crazy to say no, wouldn't Ah?" he said. "If y'all think
Ah'm right fer the job, Ah'll take it."

Mia smiled. "We do. In that case, may I be the first to offer my
congratulations, Major Everett. Though, may I give you one piece of
advice?"

"Please."

"You may consider learning to swim in a sea of padds." This time her
smile broke out into a full grin. "Enjoy the paperwork."

"Ah'll have mah Deputy handle it," Cowboy answered with a smirk.
"That'll still be Flight Officer Grey, by the way. Ah know she hasn't
had her fighter certification for long, but Quattro had a feelin'
about her, and he had pretty good instincts. And she knows the crew
here a lot better'n Ah do."

"Good plan. I've heard good things about Flight Officer Grey as well."

Nathan leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.
"Major Nathan Everett. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Mia chuckled. "See, it's not so hard to get used to."

"It sure isn't." He smiled. "Thanks, Spider. Say hi to Kithathera for me."

"I will. Take care of yourself, Cowboy."

"You do the same." Nathan waved goodbye to Mia, and she disappeared
from his screen as she severed the connection. He sat back and broke
into a grin, his earlier disquiet forgotten for the time being.

"In All That Is Holy"

Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora
JAG
Chief of Liaison Department

Lt. JG Mark Fuldauer - NPC
Diplomat/Paralegal

--------------------------
Ophelia caught sight of the six foot four diplomat from the back. It wasn't that he was unusual in the physical sense, but rather tall with brown curly hair peppered with gray and those features made him recognizable.

"Mark....."

He turned his head, slightly smiling and slowing down at the sight of his boss. "Hey Ophelia....." The gentle giant paused before speaking. "Soooo, what's new?"

The question was followed by a high pitched chuckle that made Zamora grin. "Nada.....How are the girls?'

"Fourteen and hormonal....."

Turning the corner, they both entered her office then froze respectfully in their tracks. "Holy shit..." Zamora muttered as her eyes scanned the lovely gifts of greeting.

"There's nothing holy about that shit Ma'am....." Chuckling despite himself, he retorted. "I give the person a ten for artistic ability.' Fuldauer was known as the departmental clown, but he silently admitted to himself that the prank was impressive.

"Damn it....those scales were a gift from the Sulton......" Ophelia frowned before recoiling her hand.

"At least we know that the person in question holds justice to a high standard."

"Fuldauer...." Her tone was low, almost resembling a growl. "Crime scene.....do me a favor hon....alert security so they can handle this....."

"Sure...but a crime scene? It qualifies as a horrific accident...but no one was harmed. Well.....at least I don't see any dead people. Not that I'd want to poke around." He thought out loud.

"Trespassing, destruction of official Starfleet property....and a list of other offenses. I need to use your office until this mess is handled.'

"Man...i don't know..." His voice teased before giggling yet again.

Zamora shook her head before lowering it. "Why me?'

"Why not? You can't think that everyone likes attorneys......"

"Yeah but...."

"No buts about it. Well.....maybe one butt.....I think he/she had tacos......I smelled the seasoning...."

"Gross Mark....." She frowned.

"Sorry....Hey, I know how to trap an elephant..."

They turned, exiting her office and heading to his.

"Uh, okay how...." She appreciated the way he changed the topic...even if it was elephant hunting.

"First....you dig a large hole in the ground. Around the hole, you place peas. In the hole....you place ashes...."

"Uh....okay...then what?'

"Well, when the elephant stops to take a pea, you kick him in the ash hole...."

Zamora snickered. "Nice....."

"The Klingons thought so......." Fuldauer responded in mock defeat.

Taking in the view

Callum stepped through the double doors into the Ten Forward Lounge. He looked around at the size of the room and smiled. A massive grin apeared apon his face as he took in the size of everything. His first time aboard a ship as large as the Galaxy, Callum had been quiet unprepared for the size of everything. Until now most of his assignments had been on small research vessels or stuck in a hidden away laboratory on some Space Station. But this was... Fantastic.

Something that characterised Callum Kochanski was his childlike wonder about the universe, it was this which made him become a scientist and which also forced him to request a deep space posting. At last he was going to see what was out here instead of analizing it after. But it wasnt just science that facinated the man, people, places, objects. It was a matter of fact that if you gave this man anything he could find somekind of beauty or mystery in it.

Callum strolled into the room and aproached the bar. Ordering a hot chocolate and then taking it to a couch which stood in the corner simmilar to the layout of an old earth coffee house. It faced the window. And as Callum took a sip he studied the outside stars, lost in dreams of discovery...

The Final Lesson" - Part Four

Lt. Ella Grey

****

USS Galaxy
Ella's quarters

Ella hadn't been trying to fall asleep.

Actively trying to fall asleep would have been impossible. She had
fallen backwards onto her bed and had stayed there for hours trying to
find some way out of this ... nightmare. Even in her dreams, when she
had finally drifted off into a troubled sleep, Ella's thoughts had
turned towards how she was going to stop the inevitable.

She *had* to stop it.

But she ran down corridors, across rooms, crossing oceans, through the
stars - all without finding any real plan and always too late to save
Victor Krieghoff.

She awoke with an oppressive weight against her throat and her first
thought was that Daro Cole had lied to her about his intended target.

Good, Ella thought. She was too exhausted to think anymore.

When it became apparent that the weight was just there and not choking
the life out of her, Ella moved her hand and brushed against fur. The
cat trilled and Ella decided that it wasn't Cole after all. The cat
had just found a new place to sleep.

She had almost drifted back to sleep when she realized that she didn't
have a cat.

Ella squeaked and leapt out of bed; the thing that had had been
resting on her throat flew through the air with its own noise of
surprise. She started to call for the lights when she realized that
her yelp had not sounded the least bit mechanical.

She touched her throat. The vocal patch was not there.

Ella hugged the wall until she could turn on the lights manually. A
tribble was waiting on the floor, purring contentedly even though she
had just launched it a few feet in the air. She looked at it, tilted
her head to the side, and then gave her arm a hard pinch which hurt.
Okay, so not dreaming.

Then she sighed. Tribbles were always a pain to get rid of, as if she
didn't have enough on her plate.

She went and picked the little guy off the floor and sat on her bed,
petting it absently. As far as gifts went, she would have been happier
with a flame-thrower. Or something of that sort.

Ella paused mid stroke. Now there was a thought. It was something
she'd need help with and it still might not work but at least it was
something.

But first the tribble. Ella looked around but still couldn't find her
vocal implant. At least she still had a back-up version that Corran
had fiddled around with before he left. She retrieved it from its case
in her drawer and then called for Engineering to give them a heads up.

Ella wasn't sure who was more surprised, her or the engineer who
answered the call as a voice sounding like Darth Vader came for her
vocal implant.

"This is just not my week," Vader said mournfully.

Clear and Normal Danger

Starring Jill Normal


(Its a jill normal post... beware people will be offended.)






Somewhere deep withing the bowels of the spacegoing lunatic asylum known as USS Galaxy there sat a man.

This man was unlike any other for he weilded a terrible power.

It was the power of fear and intrigue....a power that would have made Stalin green with envy, and Goebbels bow down

in worship.

Propoganda....Information....Fear and suspicion.

They were the unholy crown of this man's power.

The captain may run the ship, but the man in the hidden office controlled the information....intelligence.....rumor

and innuendo.

those were the things that caused ships to sail to war.

Helen of Troy may have launched a thousand ships with her face, but htis man controlled information upon which the

Federation waged its galactic wars.

Worlds lived or died by his whims.....continents were burned into chracoal at his desire.

It was this man who once ordered that the Cybord EVE report for medical evaluation in order to study how to kill

her.

Can you imagine such an order.

In the Federation ....the bastion of freedom in the universe,.....this man could order you to aid and assist in your

own destruction.

Such was his power.

But there were other threats out there.

The process couldnt end with Lt Eve.

There were threats to be identified and neutralized....threats to squash.

The man reached out his finger to depress the top secret button hidden in his desk.

Spies and secret agents from any star empires had lived and died trying to discover what that top secret button did.

Men, women, and cute fuzzy aliens had been tortured and interrogated in the aim of discovering its secrets.

Was the secret button a weapon of some sort?

Was the secret button a violation of interstellar treaty?

The man's finger hovered over the terrible button......

Dare he press it?

He dared.

"Grace can you come into my office for a moment?"

As if by magic his secretary appeared throughthe office door.

Thus was the power of the button.

"Yeah whaddaya want.?" The sullen eyed office girl watched her boss with a bored expression.

The man narrowed his evil eyes and stroked the soft fur of his secret alien pet.

He called the pet his "Thingie".

He liked to stroke his "Thingie."

"I desire to continue our program of testing the weaknesses of our more dangerous crewmembers aboard." he said

simply. "The results on Lt. Eve were satisfactory, but there are other more dangerous threats to my domain out

there."

The secretary merely grunted.

"For instance," the man continued, "Recently had reports of a large gecko escaping on the bridge and turnig the

captain into a large Bobble-head......."

Dramatic pause.

"This must not be allowed to threaten my domain."

Grace merely rolled her eyes and nodded. Teh man had a serious ego problem.

It wasnt a 'domain' it was a freaking office.

Besides....all the little trip wires and hidden traps made taking dictation a pain.

"Yeah yeah....threats to your little kingdom...blah blah....who is it this time?"

The man stroked his "Thingie" and smiled a hidden smile.....wouldnt she like to know?

There was an awkward silence.

Oh yeah.....she probably did need to know in order to get the job done.
"Very well...." he lowered his voice and whispered the name of his most feared enemy.

"Never heard of her." Grace said chewing her gum.

"Find her weaknesses!!" he hissed, "Find her vulnerabilities...tell me how I can neutralize her! If not the

Federation is undone!!!"

More awkward silence.

"So.....uh, did you want to pet my "thingie?"

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

PLING.......YOU GOT MAIL

Ensign Jill Normal looked up at the little computer notification and wondered what new insanity was about to

delivered upon her.

Lately she'd been getting spammed by the USS Galaxy Future hare Krishna's of America Club, (FHKA) along with

advertisements from something called the Leo's Lounge o' Love (LLL).

This note however seemed to be of an official nature.

Flagged as being routed from Intelligence, it directed her to report to sickbay for examination into 'possible

weaknesses'.

Possible Weakness?

Jill wondered at the phrasing. Were tehy wondering if she possibly picked up some sort of alien organism that could

impair her ability to perform her duties?

Jill felt fine...not weak at all.

~~~oh well...I've been trying to schedule a physical for a few weeks anyhow, this seems a good excuse as any.~~~

Closing out her workstation, the young officer hefted her bag and headed down to medical to see what was amiss.

Shortly, stepping between the automatic doors, Jill had only moments to scan the interior of the Medical bay before something cold and prickly hissed against her neck.

"What the.....ooooooooh."
With a surprised whimper, the Young Ensign from New Mexico slumped to the floor in a snoring heap.

Standing over her, the Chief Medical officer nodded and made a little note in her journal.
--Vulnerability to hypospray sedatives.....CONFIRMED.--

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

Fifteen minutes later Jill found herself strapped down to an examination table screaming her guts out as the

concerned looks of several Doctors and nurses peered down at her.

"You frazzing idiots!!" she yelled "What the hell are you doing to me....let me up!!"

The gathered personnel merely stood by and made little notations in their books.

"Let me up!!" Jill squirmed as best she could "What the hell do you have me tied down with? Steel Chains?"

"Titanium alloy actually." replied the head doctor. "We cant take risks in letting a dangerous organism such as

yourself loose until the examination is done."

"Dangerous creature? Im human you frakking idiots!!"

The assembled medical team looked skeptical.

There were many documented cases of alien organisms demonstrating the ability to mimic human features. (Usually

when the art department was running low on cash for rubber masks....or on battlestar Galactica)

Granted the screetching young girl may be telling the truth, but it was Starfleet policy to err on the side of

caution and vaporize first.....ask questions later.

Clearing her throat the cheif medical officer picked up a tiny recorder and began dictating. " Stardate 12345.67,

Chief medical Officers log......Subject: Standard vulnerability documentation examination of crewmemer at behest of

Inteligence Department."

She paused running her eyes up and down the squirming patient.

"Subject appears to be 20 something year old human female, however this examiner is withholding judgement pending

autopsy verification, and then....."

"AUTOPSY!!!" Jill shrieked. "Im not dead you freaking witch!"

"Tut tut......" the Doctor chastised, "Lets leave the religious insults for another time shall we?"

Continuing," ....Now that subject is once again alert we will continue with further avenues of study."

Keeping a close eye on here the assembled nurses and technicians slowly unstrapped Miss Normal and stood her up at

the bedside.

"About time..." jill scolded rubbing her chafed wrists painfully, "for a minute there I thought you guys were

gonna...."

ZAP!!!

With the hine pitched whine of phaser set on heavy stun, Jill crumpled to the floor yet again.

"Subject exhibbits typical vulnerability to Phaser set on stun setting. We will now use stimulants to arouse

subject for further testing."

A quiet hiss of a hypospray, and a bleary eyed Jill shook her head in confusion. "Wha...where.....whoza wiseguy

shot meeee..." she slured

"Next we will test the subjects resistance to electricity.......nurse the taser gun please."

"Oh craaaap...." Jill managed to mutter. "Dont tase me bro....AKKKK!"

zapzapzapzapzapzapzapzapzapzap

"Hmmmmm....appears to be quite effective.......put it on the list of viable alternatives nurse."

While they waited for Jill to be brought back into a semblance of consciousness, one of the technicians had a

thought.

"Doctor....I was wondering if perhaps we're missing out on something important here."

"Really....how so?"

"Well ma'am....so far the subject seems to be vulnerable to pretty much everything we throw at her right?"

"Yes.....you're not suggesting we halt the tests though?"

The tech made a face and shook his head..." Oh no ma'am....thats just crazy talk...Actually what I was thinking of

was the Borg. "

"The Borg?"

"Yes ma'am. See when you shoot a Borg it dies right?....you shoot the next one....and it dies too. However by the

time you get to the thrid one or so, they've adapted, and the weapon is useless see."

Teh doctor narrowed her eyes....."You mean? She may adapt?"

"Aye ma'am.

"Hmmmm.." the doctor considered that as Jill slowly staggered back to her feet...

"Wha....where....drool...."

"You may be right nurse.....Shoot her with the Phaser again."

"Cool."

ZAP

Down went Jill again......

"And when she wakes up.....shoot her again."

"Double cool."

The doctor scribbled down something one perscription pad. "As amatter of act keep it up until she shows signs of

adaptation. We want to know how many shots we got."

"Righteous." the nurse rubbed her hands in glee......Frank...go bring me a cup of coffee and some extra power

packs....its gonna be along night."

Jill staggered back to her feet. "Wha...who....huh...?"

ZAP ZAP!!

Plop!

The doctor was still thinking however. "You know nurse....your Borg analogy may revela some more flaws in our

reasoning here. Despite their resistance to energy weapons, the Borg have always proved vulnerable to blunt trauma

attacks."

"You mean?"

"Thats right." the Doctor happily made a notation. "Somebody go grab me a Bat 'leth."

"Bonding"
with Ensign Sharzhevashi zh'Rin
and Cadet Artemis Bancroft

***

Sharzhevashi zh'Rin sat upon the end of her bed. She wore a standard
issue, Starfleet workout outfit. A thin sheen of sweat still covered
her body from the workout she had just finished. She took a pull from
the water bottle in one of her hands while the other brushed through
her thick, white dreadlocks. On the floor, Artemis Bancroft lay with
a hand draped over her eyes and a water bottle resting on her stomach.
The flight cadet was breathing heavily.

"You are young," Shi told her friend, "this is supposed to be as
simple as breathing for you."

Artemis moved her hand. "We just double-timed it around the saucer,"
she said. "Three times. That would wear out anyone, Shi."

The Andorian smiled and took another swallow of water. "Perhaps you
are correct," she said. "How is your training progressing?"

"Fine," Artemis said. "Busy. I'm still in simulators, but I'm doing
good enough to stay in the program. I think they may be putting me in
a real cockpit soon. At least, that's what the CAG was saying
yesterday."

"See that, when you end up in a fighter, you are careful," Shi said.
"I would hate to lose my dinner companion."

Artemis laughed. "I'll do my best," she said. "I wouldn't want you
to have to spend your dinners alone. Oh, you got a message, Shi."
She nodded at the terminal above her.

Shi had been avoiding looking at the light blinking, indicating that a
message had come in. "It is from one of my bondmates," she said.
"They wish to speak with me."

"You gonna call them back," Artemis said, sitting up and fixing her
gaze on her friend. "I'm sure they want to hear from you, especially
with all the fighting and stuff. They'll want to know you're safe."

Sharzhevashi slid off the bed and moved to her desk. She tapped at
the screen. A list of messages filled the screen, most of which she
had already watched. There were several departmental messages and
other Starfleet and ship-related messages, but the vast majority of
the messages Shi had received were from her three bondmates. The most
recent was from Korazei ch'Vesh. Shi smiled and glanced at Artemis
who was watching her curiously. Her friend's interest in her
relationships was an amusement, and she found she didn't mind Artemis'
nosiness. Perhaps there was something appealing in sharing some of
the details with her friend.

"It's from my ch'te," she said.

"The cute one," Artemis asked, then giggled. "I mean, they're all
cute. But, wow, I don't think an ugly chan exists among your people.
They're all so delicate and thin and beautiful."

Shi smiled and sat at the desk. "I am quite possibly biased, but I
believe that Zei is the most beautiful of them all," she said.
"Computer, play message."

The screen shifted to show Korazei ch'Vesh. He wore a tailored jacket
with a high color. His skin was a deep blue, similar to Shi's own,
and his hair was worn long, but not in dreadlocks. His features were
delicate, feminine. He smiled and when he spoke, his voice was
melodious and perfect.

"Zh'yi, I hope this message finds you well," he began. "I have so
much I want to tell you, but I will wait so that I am not telling it
to a recording. Attached to this message, you will find an itinerary.
Starfleet has indicated you will be at Deep Space Four. My ship will
arrive there...when...oh, you may check the itinerary. It will
contain the exact times. Kala and Zhea will be accompanying me for
the visit, so we shall see you when we arrive. I hope your duty
schedule will allow for us to spend time with one another. All of my
love to you, zh'yi."

When Artemis looked to Shi, she was staring with a dumbfounded look on
her face. She glanced at the screen, now blank, and back to her
friend. "So," she said, "I guess this means I get to meet your
bondmates?"

"De Ja Vu"


Part 3 of 4


Inspired by "ALTERNITY" posted by Dallas.



OOC: Joe's back after nearly burning down his house on Easter, battling what seemed like ebola, and most importantly the beginning of softball season!!! Now where did I leave off...



Previously: After helping to bring down the Hydran Gorn operative, Lt. Commander Darkstar succumbed to his multiple injuries and found himself in a coma. When Darkstar awoke, he found the world a very different place and rather then having Leo at his side, Raven found none other then the enigmatic Q. Raven soon discovered that the universe he was now in had been overrun by the Borg to the point of total assimilation. Q also revealed that Darkstar would be the man to lead an away team into the heart of the Borg to retrieve the Borg King.


Location: Armory, Federation super carrier the USS HOTH


Time: Five days after Q's revelation...



"How does it feel?" Lieutenant Marco Ares, the ship's weapons officer, asked as he adjusted the restraining straps on the ebon body armor that Raven Darkstar was wearing.



The Indian flexed his arms, rolled them in small semicircles and then grunted.



"Restrictive."


"Nothing we can do about that. The ride down is going to be somewhat ....bumpy. The personal shielding will absorb most of the impact. You're armor here should take care of the rest. Once you're planet side you should be able to deploy and sneak right up to the Borg King with little to no difficulty since the drones will not register your transport as anything more then just falling debris." Marco said, his glasses slipping down his nose while he activated several components on the suit. A cigarette dangled from his lips, wiggling as he spoke. "There's a lot of that these days."



Green lights beeped on Raven's chest plate with a barely audible hum.



"And after that?" Darkstar asked.



"We expect resistance." Q said with a smirk.



"You are walking right into hell itself. The landscape below is going to be like something right out of a nightmare. We hope for the best, but realistically we expect casualties. You and your team need to get the Borg King outside of the complex at all costs. The drones have a pattern buffer online and we won't be able to get a signal lock unless you can see the stars above you. As soon as we register your comm badge, we'll beam you back." Captain Nicholas Winter said with a reassuring smile that made Darkstar think for a brief moment that the mission would be as easy as it were planned.



"Your only priority is to get in there and bring back the King. Alive." Q said handing the Indian his headgear.



"Thousands of Borg drones against four of us. Should not be too much of a problem." Raven said as he pulled the black helmet in place, then took a moment to orient himself to the vision.



"This will allow us to see exactly what you are seeing. We can communicate to you through the ear piece and we are fairly certain we wont be picked up." Lieutenant Ares said, the cigarette dangling from his lips dripping ash onto the deck.



"Those things will kill you." Darkstar said.



"So will suicide missions in the lap of the enemy, but that isn't slowing you down." Ares said with a chuckle.



"Lets go. Time to meet the rest or the team." Captain WInter said leading the large Indian out of the armory and through the labyrinth of corridors that snaked through the carrier.



Darkstar's boots seemed to pound the deck as he walked. The HOTH had no plush carpeting as other starships had. Gun metal gray flooring plates echoed the Indian's footsteps and officers parted smartly to give him berth as he walked from the armory to one of the torpedo bays where a group of officers had gathered around a large gray cylinder.



Captain Winter gestured to the monolithic giant seemingly carved from stone. Raven had to actually look up to take in the gargantuan's entire form. He was reminded of the first time he met Seth Zonhieb aboard the USS GALAXY - literally decades ago.



"This is Commander Kyril Kane. My Security Chief."



The Brikar double checked the large multi-barreled pulse cannon strapped to his back.and acknowledged Darkstar with just a nod.



"He doesn't say much but he has saved my behind more then one time. Plus Brikar hide is near impossible for the Borg probes to pierce." Winter said, then pointed to the Bolian with the black facial tattoos. "This is Alethia. She has as much knowledge of Borg biology as anyone in the Federation."



"I thought you said there were four members." she announced with a slight lisp.



"I would be the fourth member." Commander Data called out from the arms of the engineer carrying him over.



Or more specifically Data's head, arm and spinal cord. Darkstar looked at Q with a bit of surprise.



"That was the artifact you were bringing back when I pulled you here." Q said.



"Data knows the layout of the building and will be able to guide you in and out. Time being what it is, we don't have the luxury of refitting him with a body, so he'll actually ride in a harness on Lt Kane." Captain Winter announced.



"Lovely. I feel like Hell boy." Kane said.



"We have a green light kids. Time to get this show on the road!" Q announced, lifting a hatch open on the large gray cylinder in the oversized torpedo rack.



"What is this?" Darkstar asked climbing into the tube and buckling himself into the restraining harness.



"It's called a STAKE. Kinda like old amphibious assault craft. We'll drop you from orbit directly into the target. Essentially we're shooting a bullet at the structure but without as much collateral damage as you would expect. There will be enough chaos that you four should be able to slip inside the complex." Marco said.



Winter took hold of the hatch and looked inside.



"You four are the last hope to turning back this apocalypse. Nothing else matters but getting the Borg King back. Good luck. And God speed." he said then slammed the hatch shut with a resounding echo.



"May the force be with you too." Kane said sardonically.



"What is the force?" Data asked.



"Humph." Kane grumbled. "You obviously never watched Spike TV."



A deep rumbling throbbed throughout the craft.



"Here we go." Alethia said. "Better hold onto your lunch boys. This is going to get intense. I have been on 4 of these things and someone always pukes."



"What do you meaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!' Darkstar screamed as the STAKE was fired from high orbit towards Earth, sending the Indian's stomach into his throat.



To be concluded...NEXT!!!

"Manifestation-Part One"

Mique'lan Dar'ce
Tactical Officer

It had been a long day, but finally Ensign Dar'ce had finished the reports concerning the Hydrans he had interrogated. Lt. Daniels would be pleased; he had acquired a bit more information on tactical readiness from some higher ranked officers. The majority of prisoners, though, were much too far down the ladder to be of any real use.

The blue man stood up and stretched, popping his back several times, then began to head out of the room. The computer stopped him with a beep.

"Incoming message for Ensign Dar'ce."

Moving back over to the terminal, Mique'lan leaned over the desk and said, "Computer, display message."

The Starfleet insignia was replaced with the smiling face of his cousin, the former Crowned Prince of Xenon himself, Trevan Isar. He was back in a Starfleet uniform like Mique'lan, as they had returned at the same time. However, instead of going back into the field he had trained for, Trevan had instead gone to the Starfighter Corps Training Program. He was wearing one of their uniforms now.

"Miq, this is the last message I'll be able to send before they ship us out. You'll be completely blown away by this, zogee; I'm coming to the Galaxy. Apparently your fighter group needs to be reinforced. Anyway, thought I'd let you know we can start having lunch together again. I'll be expecting you to catch me completely up to date on what you've been doing the last three months. Later, Miq, catch you in a couple of weeks."

The message ended, and the Starfleet insignia reappeared on the screen, to be immediately replaced by Mique'lan's own screen saver. It was a five-horn g'rishna'k that he had hunted for three days before killing. He was standing next to the beast, holding the bow that had given him his prey.

Mique'lan was not sure how he felt about his cousin coming on board. Fortunately, he would have a couple of weeks to figure it out.

===========================================
Twenty years ago, Mique'lan Dar'ce, age Five

The thirty-three five year olds were ushered into the small, dark room, only the clothes on their backs attesting that they did, in fact, have a life before this. Mique'lan had not cried when the men came to take him, for his grandfather had been telling him for months that he would be among the few Xenonians chosen to enter the Xandar Training Program, and had been assured that whatever happened would turn out all right. There were some crying, though most were trying to cover it up. The only other boy in the room that was as steely eyed as Mique'lan was a purplish Xenonian, likely from the Jasquian Wetlands, and Mique'lan could not read him at all. He almost always got a read on a person within minutes of meeting them, but he had been near this boy for two hours, and still nothing.

It could be the heightened emotions from the rest of the group playing havoc with his mind. He was only five, and true telepathic reasoning did not begin until the eighth year. However, the young boy could not shake the feeling that something just was not right about the Jasquian.

An older Xenonian stood in front of the group. He must have been over one hundred fifty, judging by the darkened nature of his hair. He began by gently humming a tune that all of the young children could hear in their minds. Once he had their attention, he told them, telepathically of course, ~You will use no names here. You will hear no names here. Remember the flavor of my mind, and you will be able to find me, wherever I am. Remember the flavor of the minds around you, for you will not know their names either. You are Xandar Aquine, and until you become Xandar Glina, you will use no names.~

Mique'lan had heard these names before, but had not really understood them. Aquine was a first year learner, where nearly a quarter of the children were ushered out of the program, on average. At five, Mique'lan really only understood that many kids failed in a year, and would never make it to Glina, when they would be able to take the Xandar oath.

Mique'lan concentrated on the minds around him, but was only able to memorize seven different minds, including two teachers. The simplest one of all, however, was the Jasquian. This is how he was labeled in the mind of a five year old Mique'lan Dar'ce.

=============================================
Back to the Present, Ten-Forward

Mique'lan was eating his breakfast of Indiri ked'cha eggs and blavok juice, when the other Ensigns around the table stopped talking. They were looking at someone up at the bar. Mique'lan took a sip of his juice as he looked up, and he saw another Xenonian standing there. Not just another Xenonian, but one that Mique'lan thought he recognized.

'Now that's odd,' the Tactical officer thought. 'I should know him, but I cannot remember who he is.' This greatly disturbed Ensign Dar'ce, because he had an eidetic memory, and could remember every memory in his three-lobed brain. There should be no gap where an old acquaintance was concerned.

Ensign Lannow from Operations looked at the slightly flustered Xenonian and said, "Do you know him?"

Without batting an eye, his response was, "Do I ask you if you know every Human that comes aboard this ship? There are billions of Xenonians in the Republic, and thousands in Starfleet. Why am I supposed to know every one that I run into?"
The engineer of the group, a Terran female called Dalphino, looked at him for a moment and then said, "You can't remember, and it drives you crazy. So much for a photographic memory."

She and Ms. Lannow just chuckled together, while Miq's friend from the CIC leaned over and said, "They just wanted you to introduce them. I happen to know they have a thing for bald horny guys."

Indeed, the Xenonian had no hair, though it appeared as though he shaved it. It was, in fact, rather unnatural for any Xenonian to lose their hair. Mique'lan just looked at the man for a few more minutes, bothered more as he realize that he could not get a read on the man. There were few people in Mique'lan's history that he was unable to read.
He just wished he knew who this one was.


Xenonian translations
zogee--affectionate name cousins call each other, shortened from zogenis, or cousin
Xandar--God of the Xenonians
Xandar Warrior--protectors of Xenon, posses extraordinary telepathic and telekinetic abilities
Xandar Aquine--First year Xandar trainees
Xandar Glina--Xandar trainees that have taken the Xandar Oath of Loyalty, but not yet reached Warrior status

Upgrades and chit chat

Posted by: Callum and Naranda

Callum Kochanski strode past the Master Control station and through the freshhold of main engineering. Ahead of him was the Operations table. A large work station complete with monitors which stood in the centre of a walkway which led to the warp core. In his hand Callum grasped the large collection of PADDs which he’d arrived on board with, mostly data on the new resolution upgrades to the Sensor array. He approached the centre of the engine room, looking for assistance.

Nara looked up noticing him and looked around to see if anyone would approach him. She spoke up, "Can we help you?"

Callum looked at the woman who had addressed him. Then he smiled, it was something which people on board this ship would have to get used to quick. He almost skipped the distance between them, and then stood besides her. “I hope so!” He said eagerly, holding out his PADD. “I’m the new science officer... Ensign Kochanski. I’ve just been transferred on board and I’ve brought everything with me for the software upgrades to the sensors.” He paused for breath.” I’ve finished the date transfer from the Station to the Galaxy but I need an engineer’s authorization to implement the programming... And help with the diagnostics.” He handed another PADD as he walked to a terminal. “It’ll need to be someone familiar with the tactical and defence systems because most of the modifications relate to threat alerts and tactical analysis.”

Callum stood there at the panel silent, he hadn’t been aware that he’d just hit the poor woman with a whole rant which he’d delivered at warp speed. One of Callum's flaws was defiantly speaking too much when excited, and he was very excited about his new assignment.

Nara nodded, almost smirking at his onslaught, as she took the PADD and looked it over.

Callum managed to pause long enough to let his brain catch up. “Is there anyone around who knows those systems?”

She was already concentrated, so mumbled as she continued to look at the PADD, "Me."

“Oh...”Callum said as he slowed down a little inside his head. “Cool!” And there it was again, the wide eyed, boyish grin you could find on any high school guy who’d just got a cute girl as a lab partner. “Where do we begin?”

“Well bring up these programming specifications so I can authorize the changes to the systems... Ten we’ll run a series of simulations to make sure they work ok.” She pointed at something on the PADD and then entered the file names into the computer terminal to bring up the modifications. She proof read the data before hitting in her engineering authorization.

As the two officers began work Callum paused to remember his social graces. “I’m Callum Kochanski by the way, and I didn’t mean to be rude... I just get carried away with work.”

She nodded, concentrating. "Naranda Roswell."

“Nice name.” Callum said, integrating the programming. “Served here long?”

"Yes." She was concentrating. She didn't normally like chit chatting as she worked.

The work went on for about thirty minutes. Unluckily for Naranda Callum loved chit chatting. Finally when the system was ready and working they moved to the diagnostic station across the walkway. After about five minutes, she had blocked him out. Once she was done, she handed him the PADD, "There you go."

Callum took the PADD and turned away... Then turned back to Naranda. “Ya know.” He paused trying to think up something to say. “The systems diagnostics won’t be finished for a while. While the computers working would you like some lunch?”

Nara looked at the time. It was time for lunch. She nodded. She was going to have lunch anyway.

“Fantastic!” Callum said grinning... “Ten Forward?”

"Here, Again"

With

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

And Introducing to the USS Galaxy NPC Family

Arelis Moreno (NPC)
Petty Officer 3rd Class, Medical Technician
U.S.S. Galaxy

Deck 5, Crew Quarters...

The ashes from his Djarum cigarette were cool by the time they hit the ashtray on the window seat. Max took another hasty drag and this time savored the flavor of cloves and cinnamon on his lips and tongue. Exhaling, the dark caramel man clad in only a pair of boxers peered into the smoke, then past the smoke. The form that filled one side of his bed was familiar, yet at the same time foreign.

He used to be head over heels in love with this woman, until one day they parted ways. She needed 'space' and he...well, Max didn't quite know what he wanted. Or more precisely, what he needed. He thought he might have been able to discover the things he needed in someone else with Victory, but he hadn't seen her since the staff meeting. And she was definitely someone special, as far as Max was concerned.

Arelis Moreno moaned and shifted in the bed. Max took another long drag, then allowed for a very long exhale. It wasn't easy to find authentic Djarums, and Arelis apparently knew how to get the man she called her own to come to her quarters. Everything else was more or less automatic. Familiar teases, long sought touches. Hesitant lips seeking each other out, and soon after other places that glistened with sweat and anticipation. The ecstasy they shared as several hours of lustful sex resulted in a long missed shared climax.

She had held onto him for a long time, whispering things that Max didn't pay as much attention to as he should. And he knew that one day it would be his undoing as far as she was concerned. he knew she was coming on board, in fact he had requested it. Despite the way they parted, she was damned good at what she did (medically and...well intimately as well). She picked up a promotion since the last time he has seen her, and figured it fitting for exemplary performance.

What the fuck am I doing here, Max asked himself. He should not be here, no way. He should be finishing up getting ready for his mission. He was supposed to be in Holodeck 3 in a couple of hours for a Hazard Suit orientation (the crash course variety). And yet he was wondering what to do about her. But there really wasn't much he could do now, was there? In for a penny, he began to reason, and then stopped. An image of Victory swam before him and he felt a sudden chill at the thought of being where he was now and who he was with.

Max put his cigarette into the ashtray, set the glass vessel onto the nearest table, and got dressed. He was about to walk out the door when he paused. He felt that tug, what someone feels when they've shared an intimate connection with someone else. What makes you hesitate when you make decisions that can affect the both of you. That tug.

As he walked out of Arelis' quarters, he knew it was her eyes he felt boring into his back even, till the doors closed. Max was definitely going to have to pay the piper on this one.

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