USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60904.19 - 60904.25 |
Logs |
| “After Dinner”
Ens. Alexandra Lee Soundtrack: “Give It All You Got, But Slowly” – Chuck Magione (Takes place after “Dinner With Almais,” Ep. 30) <Quarters 1328, USS Galaxy -- 2385> Alex had enjoyed her time with Paul thus far and she was exhausted, but she had a lot of fun, especially listening to Paul's music while in Ten Forward. "I've had a wonderful time, Paul." She had wondered if Paul was romantically interested in her as he kept his eyes on her most of the time and he was indeed, quite handsome. She took a step forward, leaning into him as their two lips locked in a passionate kiss. Paul took Alex in his arms and attempted to return her kiss with an equal ardor, surprised, as he was only expecting at most a hug and a peck on the cheek. His hands wanted to go places he was pretty sure they wouldn't be welcome yet; he commanded them to remain on Alex's hips as he concentrated on giving her the best kiss he could. He took it as a good sign that when the kiss was over, Alex did not immediately pull away. "Thank you," Paul said. "I wasn't expecting that." "You're quite welcome," she replied, smiling. Their lips came together a second time. Paul held Alex a bit closer and let his hands roam lightly up and down Alex's sides, careful not to go to far too quickly. As their kiss was starting to wane, Paul let one hand slide under the back of Alex's shirt, not tickling or teasing, but just enjoying the feel of her silky warm skin. Alex enjoyed the feeling of being safe in Paul's arms as his hand gently rubbed her back. Paul was genuinely surprised that this woman was still in his arms. He kissed her neck gently as he moved his hand from Alex's back to her side, touching but not quite cupping her breast. Alex let out a sigh, tilting her head back some to allow Paul better access to her neck. Her mind jumped to alert at what was happening but she fought a battle with her body, which wanted more physical pleasure from Paul. "Should we be doing this?" she asked softly. "Not if you don't want to," he replied. Paul kissed her gently on her full lips but kept his hands still, signaling that the decision would be Alex's and he would have no regrets either way. He wanted her badly, but was willing to invest the additional time to woo her, if that's what Alex needed. Alex thought for a second that seemed an eternity to her. She was a virgin, still. Yet, she wanted him...but she also had been interested in Michael McDowell. They were both good to her. Her body won the fight that it had been battling. "Take me," she finally whispered into his ear. Paul sensed her hesitancy. "Are you sure?" he asked. He removed his hand from her breast to gently brush aside a lock of hair that had fallen across Alex's eyes. "I do very much want you, Alex -- but we literally have to live with each other tomorrow," he added. "I know...and yes...I am sure, Paul." He gave into his desires and kissed her again passionately before picking her up in his arms and taking her to one of the room's beds. After undressing one another, they made love with a hesitancy borne of unfamiliarity; taking great pleasure in the discovery of one another. Afterwards, they had talked for hours; luckily, neither had any duties scheduled for the next morning. Alex somewhat guiltily made it known that she wanted to make love again, and Paul joyously obliged her, after which, spent, they fell in to a restful sleep, holding one another. The next morning, reality set in for Alex when she found herself in the arms of a new love who appeared to be comatose. Alex wiggled out of Paul's embrace, slid out of bed, and ran to take care of the necessaries, feeling wonderfully sore, but not incapacitating so. Returning to the bed, Alex held Paul's hand in hers and spoke softy into his ear. "Paul? Wake up, Paul!" Paul opened one eye, then the other, his gaze taking in his surroundings before focusing on the beautiful nude woman sitting on the edge of the bed holding his hand. He smiled and reached up to gently stroke Alex’s cheek. “Please don’t tell me you’re just a dream.” "No, I'm not a dream...." she replied. She wasn't sure what she should say or do next. "I...I'm not sure about this...about what happened. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it, its...just awkward with us being roommates and all." He rubbed his eyes and sat up in the bed. His brain didn't function too well before coffee, and Alex sitting on the edge of the bed nude would be a distraction even if he had been fully alert. But even half dazed, Paul realized this was going to be a defining moment in their relationship -- it might even be a deciding factor if there would BE a relationship -- and he didn't want to blow it. "Alex," he began, "I guess this is kinda of awkward." He squeezed her hand. "I don't want it to be. Any ideas on how to reduce the awkwardness?" "I have no idea as standard crew quarters at the moment are still full and there's no way in hell they will allow an ensign to stay in VIP Quarters. So...until the engineering teams get in her and put up some privacy walls, it looks like we're going have to make do with the situation as it is. 'Privacy walls...yeah right...as if there isn't anything he hasn't seen on me so far,' she thought. "Maybe take things a bit slower...I'm not used to sleeping with anyone so fast." Paul brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently before letting it go. "I can do slower," he said, "although you do look ravishing in the morning." He looked about their quarters, trying to get a feel for how it would look with a wall splitting the small room in half. "How'd you like to go shopping?" he asked. "It appears that you don't understand, as you're changing the subject here," she replied bitterly, pulling away from him. "Wait!" he protested. "I'm not changing the subject! I DO understand that you would like some privacy -- I just think erecting walls in here will make things pretty cramped for the both of us. I want to take you shopping for curtains and stuff; if we attach sound absorbent curtains to those support beams, the room stays unobstructed but you can still draw the curtain when you want privacy. And you won't have to wait for an engineering crew to find the time to put up walls. Sort of our own little home improvement project." She let out a sigh and nodded. "Alright. Sounds like a plan." Paul smiled. “OK then! Wanna grab some brunch while we’re at it?” Alex grinned. "Sure. But you need to get up and ready, first." “Well, um, this is a bit awkward. See, I’m not used to seeing you without your clothes on, so I’ve kinda got, um, a bit of a reaction here…” Paul could feel his face getting warm as he tried to figure out a way to get out of the bed without looking ridiculous. Alex's face flushed crimson red. "Oh! Yeah, I guess I better get dressed as well," she said before wrapping herself in a sheet and grabbing some of her clothes out of the dresser and briskly walked into the lavatory to change. Paul shook his head at her retreating form. "Paulie," he told himself, "I hope you enjoyed last night, 'cause I don't think you'll see that young lady's skin again for quite awhile." He dragged himself off the bed and quickly grabbed a robe from his duffle that was still waiting to be completely unpacked. That's when he realized that he really had indulged in too many drinks the night before. McAllister tried some deep breathing exercises. Alex did not exit the lavatory. He tried sitting with his legs crossed. Alex did not exit the lavatory. He tried doing what millions of children on many worlds called "the potty dance." Alex did not exit the lavatory. Paul knocked lightly on the door. "Alex? Sorry to bother you dear -- but can you tell me where the nearest public lav might be?" Alex opened the door. "Oh! Sorry about that," she said, finally satisfied with her appearance and exited the lavatory. He dashed inside. "No problem, luv," he said from the other side of the door. "I'm just going to grab a quick shower." Paul almost asked Alex if she wanted to join him, then remembered they were supposed to be taking things slower. Alex crossed her arms as she looked over all of the extra clothing. 'Never read about this in the Starfleet Recruitment Ad,' she thought to herself. 'Starfleet...its not just a job, its a pain in the ass.' A few minutes later, Paul popped out of the lav. "Any particular cuisine you may be hungry for?" "No, not really. Anything will be fine." Paul was sensing that he was not as big a hit with Alex now as he had been the evening before. "OK then." He paused. "Look, I'm really trying to impress you here, but I don't think its working. I've got some holodeck programs that feature the best of several city's shops and cafes and such -- but if you'd rather just grab a burger or something and then go to the replimat to get those curtains, I understand." "Paul, all of this...us...living together, is just a lot for me to take in at the moment. Up until last night, I was a virgin! Don't think you have to take me out to some fancy restaurant to impress me. I've been pampered mostly my entire life up until I joined Starfleet and I'm sick of that lifestyle. I'm perfectly happy with the Starfleet lifestyle. It may not be perfect or glamorous, but I'll take it any day over the lifestyle my parents have. I don't have a problem with getting my hands dirty...hell, its one reason why I became an engineer--to work with my hands." The look of relief on his face was almost palatable. "You know, I'm not all that fond of tofu and crap suzette myself. I'm more into dead cow and pecan pie. Just, after last night, well -- I didn't want you to be disappointed. Living together probably won't be that bad -- once I report in, I'll never know when I’ll be working; my shifts can change at a moments notice, and if I end up with a field assignment, I may be gone for days. Depending on your hours -- we may never see each other for days at a time; unless you want to." "Of course I want to see you, still." "Well then," said Paul. "Let's get the those curtains, then you can buy me a burger." Alex smiled. "Sounds good to me." “The Greatest Prank?” Starring Senior Operations and Maintenance Technician 1st Class Calldavar Nibbletoe (2385) <<GEEESDFV Swifthrush- Bridge>> “How many times do I have to tell you Eck, the secondary release valve has to be sealed before you can service the tertiary. You keep that up and it will be back to R&D for you! And your pheasant stew was terrible.” Cal didn’t yell through the com very often but today…had been one of those days. He’d been trying to get the impulse drive tweaked to run a bit more efficiently but everything had been going wrong with the service attempt. “Sorry boss, I’ll fix it. No need to come down here! And…and I’ll make something else tonight to make up for it!”, Eckhart’s voice came through the com with a frantic tone. “A blackberry pie and I’ll stay up here and will only put one demerit on your record.” Cal grinned to himself. That was one of the few things Eckhart could make well. He was pretty good technician but his culinary skills needed work. “Deal. And I’ll have it right in twenty, I swear!” “You better…gotta go, the Shipmaster is giving me that look. “ Cal cut the channel and swung around in his chair to meet the shipmaster’s glare which quickly turned friendlier. “Sorry boss. Eckhart blew out another manifold and he puts way too much sage in his stew.” Shipmaster Cobnipper chuckled a bit to himself. “ You need to make sure your technicians don’t blow this ship up and can make a decent stew. You know what they say about an Erdan that can’t cook.” “Yeah, and I’m afraid Eckhart is doomed boss. So, what’s up. “ The shipmaster looked around and made sure no one was paying too close attention to their conversation and then continued. “Normally I wouldn’t be asking you to do this but under the circumstances I need you to do a rather…sensitive job. I need you to scan the lower band communications channels for a specific cipher code.” “Sir? Why me?”, Cal was intrigued “Because the cipher code you’re scanning for…is yours. I’ll explain later, can you run the scan…like now?” It was rare the shipmaster was so mysterious but it was usually only for a damn good reason. And he had just come out of his office and the only time he was in there while on his bridge shift was to take calls from high command “Yeah…sure…” Cal’s intrigue had gone to confusion but he pulled up the com systems and imputed his cipher code and started scanning. It took a couple minutes but he found a signal matching the code. He looked back quizzically as he started a source trace. When the result was displayed his jaw dropped. “Its…its coming from a Federation starship. Distance 8.34 light years. Identification USS Galaxy. Why in Garl Glittergold’s name…” The Shipmaster simply nodded as if he wasn’t very surprised. “Comm, signal Starbase 99, tell them we won’t be able to make the conference as planned. If they ask why…make something up. Then send a priority transmission to the Galaxy, I need to speak directly to the captain. Helm, set course for the Galaxy, maximum speed.” “Sure boss” The helmsman did as instructed and inputted the course and speed. “ETA 14 hours 2 minutes.” “Very good, engage.” The Shipmaster said affirmatively and a moment later the familiar kick of the Swiftthrush going to high warp was felt. “Sir, I assume you’re going to explain why you’re pushing the engines so hard just after I tweaked them…” Cal seemed genuinely concerned about his precious engines like any good Erdan technician would be. “We’ve been called to save the future Mr. Nibbletoe…from the future. A call...from you.“ Cal didn't know how to react to do this. Why would he call from the future? Had he ever figured out how to get the broth in his potato soup right? Did his mother EVER stop whining? Somehow he figured that wasn't the reason he'd go through all that trouble. Oh, and how did he do it? "Well sir, I hope I wasn't pulling another prank...though if it is it would be one hell of one...perhaps the greatest" "Mr Nibbletoe...I wouldn't put it past you...I really wouldn't". "Cracks in the Glass, Part 2" 2402 ---------------------------------- "Darren..guys, um...I don't know how best to put this but I haven't been wholly honest about my reasons for coming on this mission." Artim's voice was calm with a hint of guilt. Angelienia looked at him sharply, but held her tongue. Daren, however, asked, “How so? If you weren’t here to assist us, then why come back at all?” Artim continued, "Some of you might not remember with all the other things that went on that there was a common disaster on several outlying worlds including the Erdan colony world of Jeris V about five years from now. A release of a biological agent that is similar in construction to the virus that...well made me the person I am today." There were scattered nods around the table, some puzzled, some disapproving. "I'm here to prevent that attack by whatever means necessary. And I've already arranged for some assistance" Artim reached for the item he'd been handling as well as a holoprojector "Before we left, I had my Erdan colleague dispatch a message via an experimental temporal transceiver to his high command. I've just activated a beacon, which assuming the Erdan transceiver worked, should be calling an Erdan cruiser to our location. When it arrives, I intend to board it and proceed to locate and...deal with the person responsible for this outbreak... my cousin, Loren." “I see,” Daren said quietly. Karyn couldn't fault the guy for having his own scores to settle, but she also couldn't deny the real possibility if one person was determined to go off on his own, there was nothing to keep other people from doing the same. They needed to be united as far as she was concerned. "So what should we do now? We already have a credibility problem." "Someone should let Captain T'Vara know there's another ship on its way," said McAllister looking at where he believed one of the concealed monitoring sensors was located, and thanking the powers that be that the surveillance was only visual and not audio. He hoped. "Do you even know where he is?" Dallas asked. "Somewhere on the Hydran-Romulan border. Which is why I'm going to need...additional assistance." Artim was being strangely vague and was clearly leaving something out. Valentina looked up from where she'd been perched in a corner, and spoke. "I'll go with you." McAllister looked at his old colleague with surprise. "We might need your skills for our own work," he protested. "Thanks, but what I had in mind was some assistance from our old tripedal friends and perhaps a squad of marines. But any help is welcome," Artim responded. "The Hydrans..." T'Pei said, narrowing her eyes. "That is not possible." McAllister's tone was grim. "Let me get this straight. You want to invite the enemy to our tea party, bring them into the fold, just so you can accomplish a purely personal mission that has no known impact on the destruction of Earth -- but could very well be one of the events that may hasten civil war? Please tell me why I don't just shoot you now?" "First off, you won't shoot me because you know damn well I'm a quicker draw and that if I'm not here when the Erdans arrive, well, you know how they are." Artim spun around and had a fiery look in his eye. "Also, I've no intention of bringing any Hydrans here. I'm going to them on the Erdan ship. Loren's working with them at this point, one prince in particular, and I'm pretty sure without the knowledge or approval of the bulk of their military. And as insane lizard boy did correctly state there is more than one planet in the galaxy that what we're doing is going to affect. You're concerned solely with saving Earth. But what about everyone else? Why do you chastise me for wanting to save another billion or so lives?" Paul smiled. He liked braggarts. They spilled information with almost every statement they made. "I'm not chastising you, I simply don't trust you. You just admitted your -- cousin, was it? Your cousin is already working with the enemy. To prevent the release of a biological agent? Or, to make sure this biological agent ends up in Hydran hands?" Valentina strode over to her former colleague and slapped him, simple as that. McAllister stared at Valentina for a moment, then got up and left the room without another word. “That,” Daren said, his voice no longer tired but that of the man who many of those present first served under, “is enough. There will be no more yelling, no more shouting, no more finger-pointing and, without question, there will be no more blows struck. We will conduct ourselves like the officers that we all are – or were – while on this mission, not thugs and hooligans. Is that understood?” He looked around the room, meeting each set of eyes with his own, awaiting an answer. Valentina nodded, slowly, her gaze locked with Daren’s. When he turned to another she closed her eyes. One by one, each of the other travelers agreed in turn. T'Pei furrowed her forehead in disappointment as she watched, but when the man's eyes met hers, she too reluctantly nodded. “Good,” Daren nodded firmly. “Now, will one of you please retrieve Paul?” Angelienia nodded and stood up silently to go and retrieve him. “Thank you,” M’Kantu said as she passed by him. “Valentina?” "Yes?" “When they return, you will apologize for striking Mr. McAllister. Accusations or not, the action was uncalled for. Is that clear?” "Da. Crystal." Despite how she may or may not have felt about her own actions, she still lost some amount of respect in Paul, simply for how he'd treated Artim. There would be an apology, and in requesting forgiveness it would be sincere. But she definitely wasn't sorry. "I thought the boys were gonna waste time dropping their pants and demanding to be measured," Karyn muttered. ---------------------------------- Angelienia found Paul in his guest quarters, sitting at the desk. He looked up from a file he was reviewing as she entered, and quickly turned off the monitor. “So, they sent you to bring me back, eh?” He grinned. “Pretty much… yes…” she agreed, looking a bit tired. “What do you think? Should I pout a bit, maybe some sulking, or just come on back in as if nothing happened?” Paul asked. “Come back I think… the Captain’s more like himself… than he’s been in a while. He’ll likely have you apologize to Artim… so be ready for that.” Paul nodded. “I can do that. Watch out for the pipsqueak – he’s not telling us everything. A few more minutes and I might have got it out of him; Valentina should have known that. Be careful, OK?” "OK," she smiled wanly. ---------------------------------- "Mr. McAllister,” Daren nodded as the pair entered. “Thank you for returning so promptly. Before we continue the meeting, please apologize to Mr. Shivar for your outburst – I understand your emotions, but if we’re going to succeed at this we need to at least consider every possible alternative.” McAllister glanced over at T’Pei who avoided his gaze and said nothing. Realizing that he had few allies at the moment, Paul nodded at Artim. “My apologies, Mr. Shivar, if my words conveyed undue emotion.” He sat back down at the table. “Valentina,” Daren looked towards her. She stuck Paul with an acidic stare before responding in turn. "I apologize; your outburst did not warrant that level of action." “Let’s just agree that our methods differ,” he said. “All right then,” Daren continued after everyone was seated. “Mr. Shivar; – without too much emotion if you will, please explain your plan, the necessity for it, how you’re going to acquire and deal with your allies without compromising the overall reason for our return, and any other relevant information?” “Well, I honestly don’t feel the need to justify my mission since, well, I’m not under anyone here’s command.” Artim looked squarely at Daren when he said that but his voice indicated no malice. “But here’s why it’s necessary. First off, several worlds, including Federation ones were hit by this virus. Also, if I’m successful contacting the particular Hydran I intend to speak to and deal with the particular Hydran who’s sponsoring Loren’s work then I have very good reason to believe the Hydran Sovereignty’s threat level will decrease sharply. Ending this war will reduce the likelihood of the conflict that destroyed Earth will end in that outcome. And…well…the Erdans will be pissed if this called off and you know how much we needed them.” "And if either you or Valentina are captured?" T'Pei asked, her voice very calm and measured. "Any knowledge of the future in enemy hands could give them a significant tactical advantage." Artim gave a half glare half resigned stare to T'Pei. "There's a...contingency for that. One I'm rather reluctant to discuss. Let’s just say that the Hydrans wouldn't get anything out of me and if Loren captures me...well, he wouldn't get the key thing he needs to finish the virus. The risk is...calculated but by every measure acceptable. “In a perfect world, Shivar’s plan would have some merit,” said McAllister, taking great pains to keep even the slightest trace of emotion from his voice, lest he have to turn the other cheek to Valentina. “We do not now inhabit a perfect world. This mission will seriously jeopardize our own efforts. However, I believe the liability is greater if they go off on their own without support.” "Agreed," Daren nodded. "If your mission is to succeed, then you'll need assistance, Artim. I'll speak to Captain T'Vara and see what she's willing to detach to you. A Marine unit if nothing else, ought to be available. With that and Valentina, your chances ought to be increased significantly." "Captain," T'Pei said. "It would be prudent to discontinue this conversation, to restrict the amount that Commodore Shivar and Director Kyznetsova are aware of our specific plans, should they be captured by the Hydrans." “Or anyone else who may be against us,” added McAllister. “We should continue our planning session once they have left to meet these Erdans.” "Oh come on! Why are you thinking I'm against you all of a sudden. You guys disgust me!" Artim's response was quite impassioned. He was quite insulted by the implications. "I believe Paul was referring to those who might capture you, Artim," Daren offered. "No one's saying that you're trying to work against the future we want to create, or that you're a spy, or anything equally absurd. What they're simply saying is that, without knowing what precautions are in place - and that's not a request for you to explain them to us - a basic tenet of operational planning is that if there's a risk, no matter how slight, of the information falling into hostile hands, standard procedure is to compartmentalize it to prevent that. You've been in command too long to not know that." "Perhaps, but a lack of trust in one's comrades is even more dangerous. I think you overestimate the risks as well what might happen if your entirely selfish mission were compromised." Artim was still livid but it was becoming increasingly clear he wouldn't convince them. "I believe we all need to clear our heads," Daren said. "After we have rested, I will resume the meeting. And now, if you will excuse me..." The Captain stood, set an example by smiling pleasantly at the glowering faces around the table, and strode out of the room. “Monsters" Commander McAllister (2402) (follows “Cracks in the Glass”) There had been yelling; screaming even, cursing, insults, threats (idle and perhaps real), more cursing, and some references to parentage. Fair enough, this last bit had just been in Paul's head, but he suspected the others had been able to guess. Even more yelling had followed all of that, but eventually an agreement that another meeting on priorities and plans would be needed had been reached. McAllister wasn’t sure if the agreement had been borne of sheer exhaustion, an actual meeting of minds, or the realization that no one in the room would allow any such agreement, even made amongst old friends and colleagues, to get in the way of their personal plans. And among those old colleagues, the one he had been out of touch with the longest was T’Pei. T'Pei herself had moved towards the small ledge where Captain M'Kantu had previously been sleeping, tucking her legs under the thin blanket and staring blankly at the stars beyond the window. "Well, that was a total shit show," Paul observed, seating himself next to her. “Care to share why you didn’t have my back at all?” It wasn't an accusation, exactly, but he didn't smile, either. "Supporting you would have been extremely counterproductive." The Vulcan's matter of fact tone pissed Paul off. “Bullshit. Artim’s mission could be a direct threat to our own attempts to restore this time-line. I can cite at least seven factors why it’s a very bad idea – and you know it. The T’Pei I know would have done something.” "A Hawk operative destroyed a Hawk settlement, in an attempt to make it appear that the Doves had attacked civilians." "Merge With Existing File" PO2 Benedict "Max" Maxwell Lieutenant Cmdr. T'Pei [2402] Sickbay, Exam Room 2 "Computer, initiate a secure recording of this exam, certify for access by the CMO and personnel with level 4 Data Access or higher, and Security Access Code Alpha Two, unless otherwise specified by Captain T'Vara, Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy.or Lieutenant Commander Burton, CMO, USS Galaxy." After that litany, Max waited for the computer to process and acknowledge his instructions. =/\=Parameters have been established. Proceed when ready.=/\= Max then focused on (2402 his mind quickly flashed) T'Pei. "I am going to begin my exam and assessment. Please try to answer all of my questions to the best of your ability, m'kay?" "Indeed," the Vulcan answered from her prone position on the biobed, breaking her silence for the first time since security had brought her in fifteen minutes before. "Patient is one T'Pei; born 2318, states age as 84 years old; race, Vulcan-" =/\=Warning,=/\= the Computer chimed in, =/\=duplicate patient record being created. Merge with existing file on Lieutenant T'Pei?=/\= "Negative," Max directed, already anticipating something like this. "New patient record, reference with same file ID number, suffix Tango-Alpha." =/\=New file created, proceed.=/\= "Initiate full body scan of the patient, compare to last full physical exam of Lieutenant T'Pei. Temporal signature recorded in exam pre-designated Maxwell Tango-One is to be utilized for detection and comparison with current patient." As the computer initiated the standard scan, Max turned and studied his patient. She certainly seemed a good deal like their own version; although maybe even more dour and serious, if that were possible. Currently, the Vulcan was staring at the ceiling disapprovingly. Since it was unlikely that the panels had actually done anything to offend her, Max figured this was her way of expressing displeasure about the exam. "I don't know if you would prefer a female in here," he ventured, "but under the circumstances, the less people involved, the better. I'm sure you can understand." "With great effort, I imagine that I will manage." "Ah...all right," Max responded. Was that actually sarcasm, or was she serious? "How about I ask some of the questions, then?" The woman nodded, resuming her solemn inspection of the space directly above her as the medic selected a stool and settled himself by the biobed. Just before he could say anything, the scan had completed, and a multi-layered readout became available for him to manipulate on the biobed's large display on the wall. The first thing to present itself was the lack of a matching temporal signature. In fact, there was none that he could detect. He would highlight that in his report but hold off on asking anything about it just yet. "You are presenting with a physical age of 84 Standard years, analysis confirms that you are biologically Vulcan...and you do share an identical genetic signature with the T'Pei that is serving on board the Galaxy right now." He frowned and added, "You appear to have a pair of spiral breaks of both the radial and ulnar bones in your left forearm." He looked dead at where her face was. "It takes at least 27 pounds psi to break Vulcan bone. Who and what could have done this to you?" "Another...Vulcan," T'Pei answered after a long moment. "It was many years ago." He had started to ask who it was, but then decided against it. The less he knew of the future, the better. One thing was for sure, it had to have been one hell of a ride to have a Vulcan cause physical harm to another. Continuing to work his way down the series of side by side comparisons, Max frowned again. That was unexpected, certainly. "Lieuten--Commander, I apologize," he corrected himself. "I am reading unusual activity in your mesiofrontal cortex. The mass activation effect during direct sensorimotor stimulation is hemodynamically non-linear, meaning that your blood flow is not consis--" "I know that that means, Doctor," the Vulcan snapped, an expression of discomfort immediately flashing across her face. "Please do not patronize me," she amended sternly, endeavoring to recover from the angry outburst. "I know what it means too, Commander," Max said in a low growl of a voice. "You neglected to mention this bit of medical history." "I did not believe it was relevant, given that the purpose of this exam is to establish whether or not I am, in fact, from the year 2402." "It's relevant because it has--will have an impact on a member of my crew that is under my general care," Max retorted. "Will it?" Pushing herself upright, the petite Vulcan perched on the edge of the biobed, the dangling of her legs making her seem even smaller. "There are several pieces of information which my current self does not yet possess. Without that...context, she is ill-equipped to understand or accept me." "Well, it would be best for me not to mention this directly to the T'Pei of this time," Max agreed. "But there's nothing that is keeping me from helping you out. What do you think about that? I mean, there is some research out there regarding your condition that may help." His patient sighed, her face settling into a frown that she did not bother to hide, but she didn't answer. "Yes, no, maybe? This could help provide you with a better quality of life." "That research, and its continuation, all exist in my time period as well," T'Pei reminded him quietly. "I assure you, I have lived this way for...numerous years, and will continue to do so for the duration of my stay." It was Max's turn to say nothing for a moment. Then finally he sighed and said, "Fine. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me." With a knock on the door, Nurse Parr poked her head in. "Doctor Maxwell? There is a Lieutenant T'Pei here for an appointment?" "Err..right, thanks, Nurse Parr." As the door closed, Max lowered his voice theatrically and said, "Stay here until I come back." ========================== T'Pei stood in main Sickbay, examining one of the several Atrean Root Blossoms that Doctor Burton had spent months acquiring to brighten the atmosphere. Supposedly, no known species in the Alpha quadrant was allergic to it--except the Tallaxian Sun Beetle, and as it was extinct anyway, Kimberly had not been overly concerned. In the ten hours and twenty-four minutes since Doctor Maxwell had contacted her, she had been informed no less than fourteen times that a version of herself from the future was aboard. One of those times had even been Lieutenant Hunter, just making sure she had heard about the future part. The nurse had attempted to be coy when she arrived, stating that she would go get Doctor Maxwell, who was currently busy with...a patient, and could she wait out here please? The pause had been neither short nor subtle, and the woman had been unable to hold eye contact, glancing repeatedly at a PADD which T'Pei could see was not actually turned on. So when she retreated through the door of examination room two, it was abundantly clear that the patient in question was her future self, and that she was not going to be permitted to see her. Endeavoring to focus on the unusual venation of the Root Blossom's leaves rather than speculation about her doppelganger, T'Pei made a mental note to mention the plant to Ensign Sandoval, although the botanist had no doubt been waiting in sickbay to study the unique plant the moment it arrived. "Lieutenant T'Pei," Max greeted as he entered the main Sickbay suite, "How are you?" "You may now be a better position to answer that than I, Doctor," T'Pei responded. Restraining her curiosity, the one feeling her people were at least agnostic towards, if not even positive about, the Vulcan restricted herself to the most pertinent question. "Have you been able to verify that the alternative version of myself is who she claims to be?" "I'm working on it, Lou," Max replied quickly, eager to ask some questions of his own. "Tell me, have you been experiencing any strange symptoms? Now, T'Pei's curiosity had a specific focus. The medic’s question seemed to suggest that there was something seriously wrong with her future self, something which might also be wrong with her. "To what are you referring?" "I mean anything that you would not consider a normal or routine experience for yourself on a daily or near daily basis. Itches, scratches, aches, mood swings?" "Vulcans do not have mood swings," T’Pei replied immediately. "Nor have I experienced any physical discomfort in the recent past. Please explain why you are asking me these questions." "Well being that you were injured on your last mission, I just need to be sure that there won't be any surprises when I scan you to make a comparison to your future self. I'm sure you can understand the need for complete candidness here?" "Doctor Risdanach..." T'Pei began, then hesitated as her mind flashed back to their last meeting, when he had bluntly suggested that something was wrong with her. She had reluctantly agreed to explore the possibility, but since then, the Efrosian had dropped the issue, with the caveat that she report to him immediately if something more occurred. "...Doctor Risdanach cleared me for duty fifteen days ago," she finally finished. "Good," Max nodded. "Then when I scan you it should match up with whatever scans the good doctor performed fifteen days ago, yes?" T’Pei narrowed her eyes, still suspicious of the medic’s overly curious manner, but answered "Yes," somewhat mollified by his explanation. “Why don’t you head to exam room 6, over that way,” the medic pointed to the opposite end of Sickbay, “and I will meet you in a moment.” T’Pei hesitated, unable to stop her eyes from reflexively shifting towards the door Max had come from, where her older self was waiting. It was only for an instant, but as her eyes slid back to him, she found an amused smile on the man’s face. “Once the temporal quarantine has been lifted, I’m sure you will be able to meet her...you...her? What should we call her? Do you have a middle name or something?” “No, I do not. I...am not sure what the appropriate designation for her would be...” T’Pei blinked. Having been on duty since shortly after finding out about the travelers, she had deliberately held her curiosity at bay, instead burying herself in the puzzling malfunctions that plagued the ship. Now, the realization that it was actually her sitting in that room, and not some abstract future person, was suddenly striking her with a force that ten hours and fourteen comments had been unable to inspire. ‘Facsinating,’ she thought, with another, much longer look at the door. “Exam room 6, Lieutenant?” Max prodded with a gentle smile. “Of course,” T’Pei responded absently as she moved towards the other side of Sickbay, the Vulcan’s mind now efficiently turning over each piece of information she possessed on the travelers. With little concrete knowledge, undue speculation remained illogical, however, certain situations were far more statistically likely than others. "Man'darr, Man'darr..." Commander Man'darr Maivia (2402) Man'darr could not get the image of his deceased love in his arms as he rounded a corner. The mere thought caused his muscles to tense with rage and hatred.The only thing he really had was his daughter and he would go through hell to get her back. He soon came across two security guards. He stopped in his tracks, as they slowed their brisk pace. His instincts wanted him to attack and kill the two but his mind and logic interfered. "Anything to report?" "Nothing, sir," replied a Chief Petty Officer. "We have yet to locate anymore supposed time travelers." "Good, carry on." "Aye, sir." The chief began to turn back towards Man'darr. "You know sir, you should get some rest--" The other officer turned in time to see the lifeless body of the chief collapse to the deck and before he could yell out a warning, his esophagus was crushed with a swift chop to the neck , followed almost instantaneously having his neck broken by Man'darr. "You first, chief." Noting a nearby maintenance locker, Man'darr quickly tossed the two lifeless bodies into the storage room. Straightening out his uniform, he made his way down the corridor once more. The image of Nina committing suicide in front of him was burned into his memory as thoughts of not seeing Kate ever again also surfaced, along with the pain that Branwen had caused him over the years. He tried desperately to place these feelings and thoughts away, but found it ever hard to do so. He was better than this...better than revenge. Yet, a part of Man'darr knew thats exactly what he wanted--revenge. Revenge for all the years of hatred and discrimination towards him. Revenge against those who thought he was dumber than they were. Revenge against those who ever doubted him one bit. He now noticed that blood was seeping from his palms and dripping onto the deck plating from where his fingers had began to dig themselves into his skin. Yes, it was revenge he was after, and his blood would not be the only one staining the deck this day. "Lieutenant, are you alright?" Man'darr looked up to see a man in a black uniform. "I'm from Temporal Investigations, and--" The man didn't have time to emit another word and his head was violently slammed against the bulkhead with such force, it shattered the man's skull. "As if I care who you are and where you're from," Man'darr seethed, before quickly tossing the man into the maintenance room with the other two bodies. Man'darr made his way to Engineering. From there, he would be able to accomplish his task of taking custody of his daughter, along with with hunger for revenge to those aboard who ever thought anything less of him. Which, in his mind, was the entire ship. 'I will make them all pay!' he mentally screamed as his walking pace picked up. Upon entering Main Engineering, Man'darr's eyes locked onto a familiar, yet younger version of Alexandra Lee. 'Ah, the engineer who matures to become one of the Dove Faction's greatest captains,' he thought. 'Time to change history, as it were.' He then made a bead-line towards Alexandra, drawing his phaser in the process. TBC..... "Old Friends" Starring: [Ambassadorial Suites] Daren M’kantu felt old. Maybe it was the ache in his bones, the constant nagging of old injuries reminding him of battles past. Maybe it was the overly bright lights on board this newer, younger USS Galaxy. Part of his warrior mind raged at the needless waste of power and supplies. The Hawk fleet could emerge our of the next nebula, and they were wasting power on holodecks and scientific research? Air Conditioning? Warmth? Bright Lights? But there was no Hawk fleet here….. No cunning ambush by his life long enemies to be avoided, no constant fear of the bloodied and dead crewmen to bury on the morrow. No long line of noble dead stretching back across 20 years of non stop warfare and strife, a blur of faces so numerous that his back bowed with the burden. None of that existed yet, and Allah willing it never would. Daren had quite forgotten about the Ambassadorial suites aboard the Galaxy. Somehow the notion of diplomacy and negotiations seemed almost laughable in light of his life experiences. In the future there was attack, and slaughter, merciless pounding of your enemies into submission….and yet here was a world of light and energy devoted to comfort and peace. Part of it all made the old man laugh. Part of it made him want to weep. The private lounge was empty now of course. The other ‘travellers’ asleep in their private quarters, but for old bones used to decades of hardship the pillows were too soft. The air-conditioning too perfect, the very air he breathed too sweet and sterile. Even the Food replicator mocked him. The sleek black lines of the computerized device was a luxury he had almost never dared hoped to see again. Oh sure the technology still existed in the 25th century, but for battered starships on the frontlines and short of supplies, the rationing of all items, including food, was a fact of life. Protein bars. Vitamin supplements. Nourishment tabs. Those were the bread and butter so to speak of Daren M’kantu’s reality. The fuel for the old war horse. And now once again, her in this land of light and youth, this sleek replicator stood silently offering him anything he could imagine. What would a starving man choose as his first meal? Not literally starving, but rather a starved palate denied the spices and flavors of life for so many years? M’kantu stole a nervous glance left and right across the empty lounge. He almost felt guilty for entertaining the thought. The others would see him as weak perhaps… "Computer," his voice was hoarse, " Bulgar and Rice Mujaddara with sautéed pyazch." Not daring to hope, he watched as the traditional Muslim dish materialized before his eyes, the spiced lentils and onions on a bed of wheat and rice bringing tears to his eyes. ~~Blessed Allah who provides….. "~~ Daren closed his eyes and prayed almost automatically, allowing for the first time the warmth and peace of the past to work past the rusty armor from the future. Sweet Onions….how long had it been "Ahem." squeaked a small voice from behind him, "Hey Mister….you done with the Ice Cream machine or what?" Daren’s eyes snapped open and he whirled, he had half coughed out an apology when he suddenly focused on who had spoken. Merciful Allah. IT WAS HER!! Brown eyes and a freckled face framed by the most infamous red hair in galactic history stared at him from not three feet away! "You’re doomed you old Fool!" Admiral von Ernst sneered at him, her hair snapping in the wind, "Earth is gone! The Federation is gone, and now you are alone!!!" Damnation! The Red Witch had found them!!! Daren blinked. There was no snapping wind. No Admirals uniform. What she actually said was something along the lines of "Peppermint Milkshake with chocolate sprinkles on top." "Re…Re…Rebecca?" Daren M’kantu felt the strength drain from his limbs, and actually had to brace himself against a chair to keep his knees from hitting the floor. "Yup." The little redhead nodded with a slurp of her newly delivered treat, removing the straw to lick at its gooey tip with a playful pink tongue. She stared at him trying to decide if she knew this funny old man, finally shrugging. "Yup yup yup. That’s me.…bye bye now." It would be hard to describe the crash of emotions that battered the old warrior as the younger version of his oldest enemy spun clumsily on a skinny little heel and made as if to leave the lounge. Rebecca von Ernst…the Red Witch…the Hammer of Armageddon…the doom of Earth itself. M’kantu had spent the last 20 years desperately trying to hunt down this redheaded demon….or more often than not trying to avoid being hunted down by her. He’d almost had her a half dozen times…. In the Vered Cluster… Over Tellar following the masacre… Above Utopia Planatia where the Enterprise had finally been destroyed… How many times had he laid awake at night plotting her death. …and here she was …not 5 meters away….walking away from him. Leaving! "Wait!" he croaked almost before he realized what he was saying. "Don’t go…please." Stopping in mid stride, the girl….she was a girl here…so young….turned to face him, head cocked sideways in curiosity. "Not s’posed to talk to strangers." she prattled. "Please." Daren repeated taking a step forward, "I…I wont hurt you." Visions of snapping her tiny neck raced through his head. How many deaths? How many worlds and how many starships? How many ghosts of comrades long gone cried out for vengeance against this abomination? Allah would surely bless it…the most noble of itar…Vengeance at last for a billion shattered lives. To destroy the abomination….. The abomination that was nosily slurping on a peppermint milkshake. Not two days ago, on the Guardian Planet, Daren had watched this woman die. Watched her bleed to death with a Klingon dagger impaled deeply in her heart. Now she was here. Or was she? Was this freckle faced young imp truly death, the shatterer of worlds? "How….how are you Rebecca?" he heard himself saying. What a stupid thing to say. The words seemed to come from a distance. "K…" was the simple reply. "Do I know you mister?" "In a way child…"Daren stepped forward, thoughts of his dead daughter dancing before his blurred eyes…a devastated world, a lost planet all due to this….khanzir. "In a way we have met…." Daren stopped a half step from the tiny female, a sudden thought striking him. Wait a minute. They had met. This was 2385 and Rebecca von Ernst already had known M’kantu for years. She was supposed to be Captain of the USS Zeus at this time. What was she doing here? Daren cocked his head to one side. Something wasn’t right. "Rebecca?" he asked. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Halfway around the saucer section, Allison von Ernst’s expensive heels clicked their way wearily across the deck plates. Dodging her way around the usual midday crowd of shift change, the frustrated blonde followed the persistent little ‘meep meep meep’ of her handheld scanner. ~~I swear mother.~~ she grumbled to herself, ~~If you keep springing the lock on our cabin I’m going to have to start resorting to desperate measures…..like handcuffs or something. Typical 24th century security measures. She snorted. Relying on fancy computer locks and force fields when a simple padlock would have sufficed. At least her mathematically minded mom couldn’t hack into a deadbolt. Shouldering her handbag, and brushing back an errant lock of blond hair, Alli at least had to admit there was some benefits from these constant escape attempts. It was the perfect excuse for getting out of Armory duty a bit early, and with a bit of a sob story and some batting of her eyelashes, she was sure she could stretch the ‘break’ into an all day affair. Alli smiled. She had the rest of the Armory geeks wrapped around her fashionable little finger. ‘Meep meep meep,’ went the child tracker, a parenting device Allison had rapidly put to good use in wrangling her own wandering parent. ~~Oh great.~~~ she rolled her eyes. ~~She’s gotten herself into the Ambassadorial suites somehow. Probably hacked those locks as well.~~ Allison was only dimly aware of some sort of alien visitors currently residing in the suites…honestly she never paid much attention during briefings….but she’d better get mom out of there all the same. Using her own Security card to gain access, Allison followed the tracker around the bend and into a private lounge. ~~There you are.~~~ she sighed. Mom was slurping merrily on a ubiquitous milkshake while chatting up some old geezer in a Starfleet uniform. ~~Poor guy….better rescue him before she bores him to death…….~~~ "Hey mom," she piped up "Found you at last…time to come back……." Alli screeched to a halt as the old man turned at the sound of her voice. "Oh dear god no……" she breathed. "M’kantu." Daren was equally shocked. "Allison? How is this pos….." "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!" Allison exploded into motion, screaming at the top of her lungs, simultaneously attempting to charge across the room in her wobbly heels to slam the man backwards into the replicator with a crash! "DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!! DON’T YOU EVEN GET NEAR HER YOU MURDERING BASTARD!!!" Daren’s mind was in a daze. Weather from hitting the wall, or the sheer shock of seeing Allison here….what in Allahs name was she doing here? Again, it was only two days ago on the Guardian Planet when he’d last seen the slim blond. Slick with blood, and cradling her mother’s corpse. He’d almost forgotten to wonder what happened to her afterwards….it was all too recent. "Allison, I’m not trying to….." he gasped "LIAR!" she slammed his head back against the console again. "Don’t you lie to me you murdering pig! You spuffheaded bastard!!" she slammed him again and again. Daren tried to fight back, but the combination of shock and old muscles failed him. Alli was untrained maybe, but in the prime of her life….wait a minute. She looked older. Hair longer. Skinnier. Daren thought back to the day before yesterday. The wind and the dust of the dead planet. Alli…the nervous trembling little teenage child. He gaped. The woman beating his head into the wall was no child. "Alli,…" he grunted in pain, "Please!" "Don’t call me that!" she spat, tossing him at last to the ground. He hit it hard, dimly aware of a shrieking Rebecca screaming in the background. Alli dug into her discarded purse and came out with her security issue phaser, ominously cranking the power up to maximum with a menacing hum. ~~She’s going to kill me.~~~ Darens mind thought dully, struggling to recover its wits, ~~Merciful Allah, she’s really going to kill me!~~ "Old Friends Part II" [Ambassadorial Suites] ~~She’s going to kill me.~~~ Darens mind thought dully, struggling to recover its wits, ~~Merciful Allah, she’s really going to kill me!~~ What had started out as a simple trip to the replicator to sample some spiced metadata had turned intoa quite surreal experience for the old warrior. First a chance reunion with his arch nemesis Rebecca von Ernst…or at least her 2385 equivalent…had opened up whole possibilities for altering the timeline for the better. One snap of the neck would literally save billions of lives. No exaggeration. Billions. However, if that surprise wasn’t enough, there was the sudden appearance of her daughter Allison….presumably the same 2402 Allison that he’d left behind on the Guardian planet not two days ago. This Allison knew who he was, and in a blaze of fury had whipped out a phaser and thrown the old man to the deck. ~~She’s going to kill me.~~ The humming phaser was shoved against the old Captain’s cheek so hard that the warm barrel was actually leaving a painful imprint in his skin. ~~Merciful Allah~~ Daren fussed at himself, ~~Im worried about my cheek? She’s about to leave an imprint in my entire head~~~ Stooping over the old man, Allison von Ernst was a blazing vision of fury. Blonde hair wild and sprung from its snappy little headband, and long slim legs planted in a wide amazonian stance. "What are you doing here you miserable bastard?" she hissed at him, "Killing her once wasn’t enough for you? Now you want to go ahead and erase her whole zarking life?" "I…I don’t." Daren began, "I didn’t know she was going to be here. She’s not supposed to be here." "LIAR!" Alli poked him with the phaser again. "Allison please child." M’kantu protested. "If you fire that thing your not only going to kill me, but most likely the wall behind me and anybody in the next room. " Ignoring him, Alli leaned in harder. Four years of pent up rage and frustration burning in her chest. Four years! First they killed Alli’s mother in cold blood right before her eyes, and then left her to fend for herself on a dusty dead world. Left alone in a nightmare future, dodging bounty hunters, scratching for food, and generally finding out that sharing a last name with the greatest villain in the Federation was not a healthy thing. "Allison…child" Daren pleaded, "Trust me I had no ill intentions, but tell me, How are you here? You were left behind I had thought with Corgan." Snorting, Allison rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah…thanks a lot for that one by the way. Way to think ahead in how to manage your hostages! You used me as bait Uncle Daren! Bait to lure my mother in and kill her!" M’kantu shook his head, but could not honestly deny it. The fact that von Ernst would chase her daughter across the quadrant to the point of recklessness was a calculated risk….one that paid off apparently. Glancing over to the side, Daren could see the younger version of Rebecca huddled nervously in a booth, skinny legs drawn up to her chin, eyes wide at the sudden violence and shouting from Allison. "Re..Rebecca dear," he croaked, "Tell her who I am." "Don’t talk to her!" Alli bopped him on the forehead with her phaser, "You don’t have that right murderer!" "What happened then ,"he inquired. "after we left?" Alli stood up at last, removing the painful barrel from his face, but keeping the device leveled on him. "I thought you all failed! You never came back through the Guardian! Matter of fact your lizard friend blew up the whole zarking planet not 15 minutes after you left!" "Blew up the…?" Daren’s eyebrows shot up. The planet gone? That perhaps explained much about the missing traveling companions. "I see….and you?" "Lizard boy pulled me off." she huffed. "Dumped me and my dead mom on a nearby planet to starve to death. I had to bury her myself you know." Alli stole a backwards glance at Rebecca who sat uncomprehending. "Got picked up by a passing freighter soon after, but then had to spend the next four years dodging Starfleet Death Squads and crackpot bounty hunters who wanted a bit of revenge on the von Ernst name…..thanks a lot for that by the way." "I had no idea." "Oh shut up!" Alli grumped. "Your fleet. Your buddies. Don’t tell me you’re all innocent. Took me a while but I tracked down the Miranda and found out it was you that ordered Arel Smith to kill mom." "I did no such…." Daren began, but shut his mouth when the phaser again popped into his face. "Don’t lie to me old man!" she hissed. "I’m not going to let you do it again!" "Like I said before," M’kantu protested. "That’s not why we’re here. We didn’t know she was going to be here!" "WE?" Alli straightened and retreated a few steps, casting furtive glances around the empty lounge. "Whats this ‘we’ stuff? How many of you are here? Are you here to takeover the ship?" Allison couldn’t believe she never heard a security alert. Grunting, Daren pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall. He was getting too old for this stuff. "We Allison. All of us who went through the Guardian. That was only two days ago for us. It just happened." "Impossible. That was four years ago." "Or Twenty years in the future." Daren soothed. "We’re talking about time travel child. You of all people should realize it gets a bit muddled." Alli had to sit down. Plopping into the booth next to the huddled Rebecca she put one reassuring arm around her while the other kept the phaser handy. Four years….just happened. "G…gonna shoot poor old grandpa?" Rebecca managed with a squeak. "Aww…poor grandpa." "No…I..I don’t know." Alli answered distractedly, "He…he did a very bad thing mom. Very bad thing to you and me." "Say sorry." "What?" "Tell him to say sorry." Rebecca beamed. "All better." From the floor Daren watched the interchange closely. What was this? Why was Captain von Ernst acting like a child? Why was she even on the Galaxy? In truth they had never thought of killing her to set the timeline right, but now that she was here…..how many millions….billions of lives would that save? It was tempting. "What’s wrong with her?" he asked instead. "None of your zarking business." Alli snapped. "Just a little gift from you Starfleet maniacs, thank you very much!" "Is she sick?" Alli stood again and leveled the phaser, finger twitching on the trigger. Behind her Rebecca gulped, and waved "Bye bye grandpa." ~~Wrong question.~~ Daren sighed~~ She really is going to kill me this time.~~ But no blast of heat came. Instead, the blond girl scooped up the redhead, and shuffled her towards the door. "Don’t you move bastard!" she hissed. "You’re lucky I don’t want to vaporize you in front of my mother, but I can be back in a snap!" "Allison…" "Don’t Allison me buck-o! Whatever you are up to you wont get away with it. I’m going to tell the captain the whole thing and we’ll stop you. You’ll never touch her again!" With that the doors hissed shut and a very bewildered and sore feeling Daren M’;kantu was left sitting on the floor contemplating the wonder of it all. Allison. Rebecca. The Destroyer of Worlds……here. This mission suddenly had gotten a whole lot more interesting. He sniffed the air slightly. What was that smell? Onions. Daren considered the forgotten dish of mujaddara. Amazing. He must tell the others “Please Remember Me” Commander Paul McAllister (2402) Inspired by “Dante’s Prayer” -- Loreena McKennitt (follows “Monsters”) ------------------------- Cast your eyes on the ocean He walked alone on an overgrown path through a dark forest. It was night, but the tops of the swaying fir trees let in bright swatches of the full moon, and cast errant shadows. He had been here once before, in a happier time. The path led to a clearing surrounded by dark trees and shrouded in mist. The slight wind suddenly grew chill, and the swirling mist settled to reveal a pale horse standing still in the moonlight. The proud mare raised its head and stared at him without fear. She nodded her head and spread her wings. Pegasus. As he watched, held back, his feet mired in the thick mud that encased his boots – from where; a fleeting thought – the mare snorted in alarm as flaming arrows pierced her flesh. The mare lowered her head and charged her unseen foe, taking death’s arrow to her heart before fading in the mist. Able to stumble forward, he took a hesitant step forward into the clearing. This mist swirled and brought with it the faint voice of broken promise. His voice. His promise. The mist settled once again, and he realized he was in a graveyard. Rows of stone stood sentinel over their charges, silently mocking and accusing his failures. Two more steps, and his legs failed him; he sank to his knees in the blood and gore of battle before the newest addition to this garden of stone. With tears in his eyes, he read the words, hearing Jonathan’s in his mind: “Captain Alexandra Lee-McAllister. Died 2402. Killed by a promise not kept.” ***************** Paul McAllister woke with a start, the hollow pain of loss like a knife in his chest. He was panting for breath, his body covered in sweat, the bed covers a damp shroud tangled around his legs. The bedroom lavatory door opened, expelling a cloud of steamy fog that reflected the starlight coming through the cabin windows. A naked Alexandra exited, drops of water glistening on her body as she dried her long hair. She stopped in front of the mirror, dropping the towel and resting her hands on her protruding belly. Alexandra Lee-McAllister was pregnant. A beatific smile lit her features as she turned towards the bed and gestured towards Paul. He reached out for her, to grasp her hand and pull her toward him. His fingers closed on empty air. McAllister closed his eyes and screamed, shaking his fists in rage. When he dared to open his eyes again, Alexandra was seated on the edge of the bed, holding their infant son in her arms. Her eyes shown with the joy only mother’s holding their first-born can express, and Paul wept at the sight of it. Alexandra leaned towards him, brushed her lips against his in a gentle kiss. Paul felt the fleeting pressure on his lips and closed his eyes. Feeling her lips part from his, he opened his eyes. Mother and son were gone. ********************** Paul kicked himself free of the tangle of sheets on his bed and stumbled into the lavortory. The floor was dry, the mirror unfogged. A thousand images of Alexandra filled flooded his mind as his memory reguritated their life together; his ego attempting to sort and catalouge the image flow into a chronological history while his id made him hard with each toss of her hair, each smile, each flirtaious glance. Ice cold water did nothing to clear his head. He was angry now, a rage born out of betrayal, lust and fear. He stormed from the lav and savagely punched the first thing in his path – a hanging lamp. The lamp swung out of the way; on its return arc it bounced off the back of his head. McAllister sank to the floor with a dull thud, his last coherent thought one of gratitude for a moment of blissful unconsciousness. He awoke again on a narrow trail atop a jagged peak; face down in the hard dirt. He rolled, and found himself suspended above the icy plain below. Laboriously, he pulled his body back onto the path and got to his feet. Across the icy plain below him rose the dark shape of a volcano weeping fiery lava as it belched black smoke, white steam, and gray ash into the air. He tore he gaze away from Shiva’s destruction and looked ahead, his eyes following the path on which he stood to his destination. Smoke and ash obscured his destination; looking back, he saw the choices in his life that had led to this point. The lava mountain erupted again, sending sparks into the air, a reminder not to tarry to long on this cold and moonless night. He moved ahead, slowly and carefully, until ahead of him the path widened and he saw a fountain. In the fountain, a diaphanous white gown billowing about her body, was Alexandra. She cupped her hands to catch some of the water spraying about her, and offered him a drink. Paul McAllister could not move any closer to take it. Sensing that her husband could not take her gift, Alexandra stepped from the fountain. She gazed at him sadly for a moment, then turned and continued onward down the path, alone. Paul found that without the image of his wife standing in the fountain, he could move again, and tried to run after her. He could not pass the fountain. His feet would not move. Looking down, he saw they were mired in clay. He shouted for Alexandra to stop, to wait, to help, but she paid no heed, and continued her own journey into the suddenly starry night. Paul was unable to stop his tears as he watched Alexandra ascend into the heavens, far above the ruined earth. The stars welcomed her with a million joyous voices. “Not yet, Alex,” he said. “Soon. I’ll be finished soon.” “Please remember me…” "To Keep Going" Angelienia (2402) ------------------------------- <Romulan Embassy Quarters, USS Galaxy -- 2385> Paul couldn't sleep. To be more accurate, he was scared to try. The last attempt had overwhelmed him with thoughts of Alexandra that he just wasn't capable of processing yet without breaking into tears. He wanted to look at the stars, to see an actual unmolested planet, to perhaps think of happier times. His cabin was not equipped with a viewport, so he quickly dressed and shuffled barefoot into the main living area of the gilded prison the traveler's had been assigned. Stopping at a replicator, he considered ordering a meal - depression food - but settled instead on a simple coffee. Then a thought struck him; perhaps he could exorcise the memory of at least one lost friend. It would be an odd tribute, but he was sure Victor would understand - and maybe even laugh. Paul McAllister asked the replicator for a bowl of Brussels sprouts. Taking it to a table near the viewports, he grimaced in disgust. The little green orbs swimming a slimy butter sauce; the smell was nauseating, and their taste, after he finally choked one down, was beyond terrible. They reminded him of his lost friend. He wasn't ready to say good-bye to Alex, but maybe, if he could stomach this bowl of sprouts, he could say good-bye to his friend Victor. "T-that…" the deathly whisper of one of his oldest friends interrupted him from over by the door to her quarters, "is… the... last… thing… I… t-thought… you'd… ever... eat... considering…." Paul shook his head at the sound of her voice, and quickly wiped a tear from his cheek. He stood as he watched her enter, and went over to her to offer assistance. "I was trying to say good-bye." Angelienia nodded, letting him take her by the arm and lead her to a chair next to his seat. "I… u-understand..." She settled into the chair, and smiled, the expression more of a grimace. "T-thought... Kate… never… would… go… sleep." Paul pushed the bowl of sprouts away. "She's had a big day, and views it with the optimism of youth. How are you holding up?" “Badly…” she replied honestly. “I… look.. at… h-him… and… I want…” she looked away, out the window. “I… want… him….” "So tell him," said Paul. "I know you came back to protect Victor..." Paul's voice faded as he realized that there was a much more vivacious Angelienia already on board, one who was full of, well -- life. "Ah, shit," he muttered. “Y-yes…” she nodded, the movement making Paul panic for a moment that her head might fall off. “I’m… still… here… Makes… things… hard…” She looked back at him. “I-I… came… because… there… was… a… chance… here… not… there…. Had… to… p-protect… Kate… And… s-save… him….” "Save him from what?" asked Paul. “P-planet… Black… hole… weapon… B-becoming… what… he… feared… he… was….” She closed her eyes, and shuddered, only after a moment continuing as Paul realized she was crying. “Know… what… was… s-supposed… to… happen… Happen… t-to.. him… Who… was… with… Should… been… happy… had… c-children… Not… d-die… on… planet… Not… be… with… me….” She let her forced whisper trail off and seemed to fold in on herself, retreating into a place inside her mind. Paul moved to the chair next to Angelienia's and took her hands in his. He realized that he was crying too and decided not to try an 'be a man' about it. "Angelienia, you need to look at me now, and pay attention, 'cause this is important. Victor was born the way he was. You can't change that. He choose you, he loved you and I know he was happy with that. You both had kids -- if both of you had not been in the lives of Kate and the others, just imagine how screwed they'd be now. Sure, not your flesh and blood -- but take it from me, blood don't make parents -- love does. And until I see some proof, I'm not sure he is dead on that planet. All he wanted was to be with you. Angie, don't you see? You already saved him." He thought about holding her and letting her cry, but was scared that might break her; the mechanics of her abilities away from Victor's aura still confused him. “No…” she sighed softly, almost silently. “I… didn’t. You… saw… saw… what… he… had… to… do… What… he… did… to… himself… Wasn’t… s-supposed… to… be… like… that… I-I… wasn’t… s-strong… enough… to… help… him… Wasn’t… enough… to teach… h-him… how… to b-be… whole… So… he… did… thing… with phaser…” She squeezed his hand with more strength than Paul thought possible given her appearance. “Wasn’t… supposed… to … happen…” Paul pulled the crying woman towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I think that much we can change, Angelienia. But we've got to keep you going if we're going to try. It's getting harder isn't it?" “I’m… too… far… away… from… him…” she admitted. “I-I… think… my… body… remembering… that… it’s….” "Let me talk to Victor, I mean the Victor that's here now -- maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement to keep you closer to him." “I… a-afraid… be… too… close…” she admitted. “Afraid… won’t…c-can’t… let… go….” Paul gently patted her back still scared he might break something. "That's the point, maybe you don't have to let go. At least let me talk to him; he'll know what you need better than I do." “I….” she stopped and nodded silently. After a moment’s silence, she added, “H-he’s… not… He… didn’t…t-think… that… he.. could… sustain… me… like… back… home… here… now… in… p-past…. Not… strong… enough… yet…. Still… not… one… with… what’s… inside… him….” He was beginning to feel an odd sense of panic. "Well, there has to be something we can do and I'm fresh out of ideas right now. Do you have any? I mean, I just can't plug you into a light socket or anything like that, can I?" “M-maybe…. Kate… had… good… idea… keep… me… close… to… him… Why… I… was… fine… in… meeting… today… he… was… o-outside…” She took a slow, ragged breath. “Was… fine… back… home… if… not… close… to… him… L-like… this… but… not… fading…. Here… here…need… be… close… him… all… time…” Her voice dipped, becoming almost inaudible. ‘Maybe… maybe a way…” Paul gently pushed Angelienia away from his shoulder so he could look in her eyes. "What is it; I'll try to get it for you." “P-phaser…” she admitted reluctantly His heart skipped a beat. "Holy shit! Won't that do to you the same thing if did to Thyago?" “I-if… keep… too… long… yes… J-just… need… for… short… time… until… done… here… Give… back… then… Once… set… things… up… to… save… him….” Paul considered her idea. "We can try it I suppose. I'm not sure Victor will give it up easily -- and I'm not sure I can steal it without him noticing. But if we make a reasonable argument, and I'm sure we can reach some sort of agreement." He glanced at the discarded bowl of brussel sprouts and involuntarily shuddered. “C-can’t… steal… it…” she said, slowly straightening back up. “Goes… back… to… him… influences… people… things… to… return…. Has… t-to… give… it… for… time….” Paul looked on as the woman visibly tried to pull herself together. The war and this mission were charging too high a price to both of them, but Angelienia was making the down payment now -- Paul was till cruising on credit. Damn, he missed Alex! He grabbed the bowl of now congealed brussel sprouts and stuffed two of the foul veggies into his mouth. Shuddering at the taste, he told Angelienia, "I'll get it for you, one way or the other." "Remedies" Lt. Elaithin Aria [2402] --- She was driving a vehicle shaped like an apple down a two-lane road on the ocean floor. Fish of all shapes and sizes swam by, some bespectacled, others wearing suits or uniforms. Starfleet had, apparently, made a mackerel an 3-star Admiral and idly, Aria wondered if it was someone she knew. "I think we made a wrong turn at the opera house," she said, looking backward at the large structure shaped like a Scotch Bonnet conch shell. "I'm driving here," Connor said from beside her, even though she was clearly the one at the controls. "I know where I'm going." "I'm not sure I believe you." "You think you know better? You don't even know where you are, how can you know where you're going?" She looked at her dead twin's face, skeptically for a moment. "What in hell are you talking about?" "You don't know?" They stared at one another. "Watch out for the dolphin." --- Aria woke up with a start, sitting up and would have fallen off the biobed if she hadn't been restrained. She lay there a moment, wide-eyed and confused, staring up at the ceiling of the Galaxy-class medical bay that actually looked vastly different from the medical bay ceiling she was used to. While Doctor Mike kept the Miranda's med bay spic-and-span, there was only so much she could do. This one gleamed, brightly, and all the lights were on. No energy restrictions, full access to state of the art repairs and resupply networks. "Ow..." she murmured in something that, were it anyone else, would have sounded like a whiny sob. From Aria, it didn't sound a whole lot different except there was an additional note of pissed-off behind the syllable. "Can someone untie me? I think I need to puke again." Nothing. No response from the peanut gallery. "I can barely see straight, I'm not going to go stark-raving murderous or anything..." The man suddenly appearing in her line of sight startled her. He was tall -- or at least, tall enough -- with a few extra pounds, though he wore them well, and tussled black hair with a weave of silver grey. His face was kind, his intensely green eyes sparkled and the creasing in their corners eased the sternness in the rest of his features. He was older, probably past 50, but wore a lieutenant's pips; he either joined Starfleet as a new direction for his career, or he was the type that didn't care so much about the rank and focused more on the medicine. "I'm Doctor Tell," he said, his accented voice rumbling -- almost too deep. "You are Elaithin Aria?" "Can you untie me?" she asked. He studied her a moment, then looked up at the security officer stationed to the side of her bed. The doctor nodded and in a matter of moments, the restraints were gone. "You can wait outside," Doctor Tell told the security ensign. "She received a pretty bad concussion, I don't think she'll be doing anything vigorous in the near future." The ensign drew a breath to protest, but upon a glare from the good doctor, did as she was told. Doctor Tell returned his attention to his patient, watching as Aria slowly sat up, wavering dazzlingly. With a solid hand he steadied her. "Care to enlighten me as to how you got that bump?" "Shot out of a trans-temporal anomaly at sub-light speeds straight into a wall," she stated. "Well. That would do it," Tell said, making a note on his padd. "Can you confirm your name for me?" "Elaithin Aria," she stated, softly, closing her eyes and hanging her head, willing the ship to stop spinning like a top. "I was born to Jordan Elaithin and Elaithin Jii on the USS Miranda, 3 August, 2381 -- Earth Standard Calendar." "Good," he said, curtly, moving to stand in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Can you look up at me?" She did so, swallowing hard to try and dispel the wave of nausea. "I've taken care of the concussion, though you'll probably do well to take it slow. We've been monitoring you for the past hour now while you've been resting, it doesn't seem you've had any adverse reaction to the treatment. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?" "Yeah," she replied, weekly, wrinkling her nose. He nodded. "The good news is, it's not a product of the concussion. From your scans, everything looks the way it should and your eyes seem to be focusing. The bad news is -- DTI sent us a few notes and while this kind of reaction is rare, it happens. Not everyone reacts well to being taken out of their time, I suppose, and you're one of those lucky few." "Excellent." From his curt lack of inflection, she couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic, but decided to go with yes as he stepped away. She watched Doctor Tell as he moved toward the medical replicator in the wall of the small private exam room. He pressed a couple of keys and it whirled to life, depositing a hypospray. He lifted it and moved toward her. She pulled away, instinctively; having anyone put anything to her neck, especially a hypospray containing Prophets Knew What, made her incredibly nervous. "This will help with the effects of the displacement," he explained. "Won't fix them, but will curb your nausea, keep you from wanting to vomit at ever little course correction while your system adjusts. You'd do well to take it." Aria frowned, but after hesitation nodded carefully, and he pressed it to her neck. A cool hiss of the medication and... she didn't feel much different. He moved back to the replicator and returned with a cup of ice water, handing it to her. She took it gratefully. "It will take a little while to take affect. So sit tight. The assistant chief of security will be here to debrief you shortly. Let me or the nurse know if you need anything else." He moved toward the door, then paused and looked back. "Oh. And happy birthday." "Balanced" Victor Krieghoff [2385] -- His task complete, patient healed (at least, as well as she could be), the young doctor had moved on to another task. Aria watched him disappear into the back, or perhaps it was the front. This medical bay way laid out a little differently from what she expected, from what she remembered of Galaxy-class ships. Perhaps it was the choice of the CMO, maybe then or now. She tried to channel the passive peace her younger sister managed, tried to still her jolting mind and her lurching stomach. The head pain was gone, the doctor proclaimed her to be in perfect health, but the world was a little too vivid, like she had taken some exotic drug. The colors were bright, the motion sharp. She felt things as well as watched them, like the vibrations of movement made their way up through her body. This time travel thing was a bad idea. A very bad idea. She felt Victor before she saw him, but the feeling was different than what she experienced back in her own time, with the 25th century edition. This Victor... he looked like a dark, growling warrior, might as well have been coming from behind a curtain of smoke, the blackness swirling behind him, trailing after him. The intensity of his expression, the way he carried himself... it pricked the hair on the back of her neck. Aria couldn't put her finger on it, but instead of a chilling but calming sensation, this Victor's presence was actually closer to terrifying, a little more disturbing -- like others said it was supposed to be. She didn't know why, couldn't begin to guess -- maybe the Victor Krieghoff she knew had discovered how to control it, had pieced himself together; or perhaps she was the one who was different, perhaps the part of her that either allowed her to see him or prevented her from seeing him was gone... or added... or otherwise altered. "H..." The syllable didn't come out all the way, tapered off and she looked down at the carpet before managing to pull herself together. It didn't take more than a second, but it might as well have been an eternity. "Victor," she stated, nodding carefully, afraid it would send her off kilter. Her balance wasn't what it should be. She'd already taken a dive off the biobed when they'd removed the restraints, and though it was gracefully done, she had the large bruise forming on her elbow to show it. "Prophets, I expected you to somehow look younger but -- you don't, you look exactly the same as I know you..." Victor looked at her for a moment, his frown easing as he studied the girl on the bio-bed, looking past the signs that she was well trained and potentially dangerous and to the fact that she was alone, unsure of herself, and perhaps, even if she didn't know it herself, a bit frightened. "Wait please," he said with a fading curtness that was obviously on the way out the door with his frown, and then reached over and flipped on the privacy field. Once it had activated, he checked it with a tricorder, nodded, and then turned to Aria. "Before we go any further here, there's something I need to ask you, ma'am." "Ma'am?" she echoed, brow furrowing. "I'm... what's the question?" "Am I your uncle?" Aria blinked. "Uncle?" she laughed. "Yeah. Can't you see the resemblance?" She gestured to her nose as she widened her eyes. "No," he admitted. "You seem to have been fortunate enough to look like someone beside me." "I look like my mom, supposedly, but I don't see it," Aria said, nose creasing, accentuating her Bajoran ridges. "And as far as I know, you and my mother can barely stand one another. There's some story about her trying to kill you at some point, but I don't really understand any of it. You're just... in the future, you're a friend and information source. And possibly, a future brother-in-law. But I don't really understand that either." "Future brother-in...? Okay, I'm just not going to think about that too hard if you don't mind." "Probably for the best. I can't really give you much more than that anyway; I can barely follow half the things my sister tells me. Why 'uncle'?" Victor sighed. "I ask because you are the third young woman from the future that I've met in the last five months -- and the other two both insisted that I was their uncle, albeit in an adoptive rather than familial sense." He shook his head. "I was beginning to fear that *every* girl in the galaxy in the future felt that I was her uncle." "Creepy," Aria stated, frowning. "Not the word that I would have used," Victor conceded, "but I have found it to a bit... strange, let's say." "Well -- peace of mind then, I'm not really into the whole 'adopt random people as family members' thing. My brother did that when we were kids, but that was really just Arel, and she is a special case. Or was, or... will be..." She frowned a second, then shook her head. "Honestly, I find the family the Prophets naturally gifted me to be more than I can handle as is, so I can't really imagine having need to add to it. No offense." "None taken," he returned with a certain sense of relief. "Now, to add to that newly achieved state, I don't suppose you can explain how you got into that Jefferies Tube?" He smiled. "Without telling me one of the Mysteries of the Universe in the process if at all possible - I'm filling out enough paperwork over today already." Aria smiled wryly. "Wrong turn at Albuquerque, I guess," she said, remembering an ancient cartoon they used to watch when she was a kid and they'd go to the holodeck movie theater for 'family night'. Victor had heard that one enough times to have looked up the reference. "Funny, your ears don't look long enough for Bugs." He nodded towards her biobed. "Seriously, and please don't take this the wrong way, but could you be a little - and I mean only just a little - more specific? Because while I have one really big problem right now, depending on your answer, I could have more than one, and I'd like to know that before I'm run down by one or the other of them." "Problem?" she questioned. "What kind of problem?" "Whether or not I have one big group of time travelers, or more than one group. The first is bad enough from a paperwork standpoint, but the second is? really unpleasant." "I don't know, honestly," she said with a shrug. "We're going through the thing I'm not supposed to talk about, I think I'm going to end up on the bridge with the others, next thing I know, I'm being shot into the wall of a Jefferies tube junction like I'm coming out of a torpedo tube. Everything else is kind of blurry. I think there's twelve of us? No more than that. And it's entirely possible one or two got lost on the trans-temporal super highway." She made a face at the thought; when she stepped into the mist, she hadn't even considered the possibility that it might not be a through ticket. "But then -- I'm lucky to remember who I am, though, I guess the computers were able to answer that fairly quickly. Did you know I turn four today? I actually remember today, and... that's sort of freaking me out a little bit. My brother got this sock monkey and I smeared cake into Bryan Howitzer's hair and didn't get in trouble for it. It was a good day." She realized she was rambling, and clenched her jaw to prevent further spewing, casting her gaze down toward her dust-covered boots. "If Bryan Howitzer - whoever he is - could see what you grew up to look like, he'd be foolish not to cherish the memory," Victor said reassuringly. "Myself, I never had the big parties; something about the other children all screaming and running sort of dampened the mood." Aria looked back up at him and lifted an eyebrow, though she put it down as soon as it clicked the look was exactly what her mother would give in such a situation. Was Victor Krieghoff hitting on her? It was the second time in as many minutes that he'd favorably mentioned her appearance. While Aria wasn't horrible looking by any means, she wasn't the type of girl who was told she was pretty, either explicitly or implicitly -- that had always been Victoria's role in the family. Or their mother's. This was beginning to weird her out. This whole day was getting curiouser and curiouser... "Bryan was the son of the assistant chief of sciences on the Miranda when I was growing up. He became my first boyfriend," Aria said. "We were sixteen. We even talked about getting married. You know. 'When all this is over.' Being kids. Pretending there was a real future for us. But we broke up two years later when he tried to kill my dad and I had to bash his head into the wall. It sort of changed the relationship." "I can see where that would change things, yes," Victor nodded. "Never had that problem myself, fortunately. The people I wind up committing acts of violence on are usually ones who deserve it and are thus distinctly lacking in the emotional connection department. To me, anyway; I assume that some of them, somewhere, had someone that cared about them." He glanced down at his tricorder, logged something, and put it away. "I suppose one of them will look me up sooner or later, that's the nature of these things." "Someone kills a member of your family, you're well within your right, I suppose," she half-agreed. "A bit of an old-'Verse way of thought, but I can see how it could help in keeping yourself together." She paused. "Did I pass your test?" Aria nodded toward the tricorder. "Depends on how many weapons you're carrying that the scan didn't locate or recognize as such," he returned. "It says seven, but I'm thinking that's too light for a trip like this. I'm going to go with twelve." Aria stared at him, passively, and blinked. "Depends. Would you count a stylus pen as a weapon?" "By design, no, but that doesn't mean it can't be used as one," Victor observed. "So, with that statement of yours -- are you asking me to disarm myself, or were you merely making an observation?" "Let's say," he offered with a smile, "that I'm trying to politely hint that it would make any number of people less nervous if you volunteered to hand over at least the obvious weapons. Myself among them." "Balanced" Victor Krieghoff [2385] --- Elaithin Aria sighed heavily. "In the interest of your nerves then... Just... do me a favor and catch me if I fall over. The little trip through the quantum string did a number on my equilibrium." She moved so she slid off the biobed, pausing to balance herself, and then unzipped the form-hugging black flak jacket she wore, shrugging it off and handing it to Victor. "The whole thing?" Victor considered the jacket. There was a terrorist from Jakarn III that had habitually worn clothing impregnated with thermally-activated explosives that became unstable if they cooled to six degrees below the wearer's body temperature... "It's easier that unpacking it," she muttered. The air raised goose bumps on her now bare arms, revealed by the black tank top she wore. Then she pulled out the pen that held her hair, the full dark tresses falling over her shoulders. It went on from there -- a litany of knives, well concealed phasers, and objects that screamed Intelligence spy-wear and could inevitably perform any number of feats. The small afore mentioned stylus pen was last and she set it with the other objects on the biobed, leaning against the side, appearing dizzy. "I think that's everything." Victor looked at the stylus. "This isn't what is looks like, is it?" "No. And please don't lose it, when everything's said and done, I'm going to want it back." "It's all going into a sealed box in the Armory vault," he assured her. "I'm sure the intelligence folks are salivating at the idea of looking it over, but they're blocked by Temporal Containment Protocol. No one but me, the XO, the Captain, or the Senior DTI agent can get to them." "I'll take your word for it," Aria said, "but add that if my mother really wanted to get her hands on any of this, she would. One way or another. Even if it meant... um... pulling rank." He frowned. "Are you all right? You're looking a bit pale..." "Sickbays make me queasy," Aria replied, her face pinching as she tried to push down the latest wave of nausea. She could feel the color draining from her face, the sweat on the back of her neck, the chill coasting through her body. "Always have. Can you do me a favor and just... take me wherever you're planning to take me? I have to get out of here before they decide to keep me longer." "All right," he nodded. He checked the padd next to the bed, signed it, and added, "They say that you're ready to go now." He looked at her again, frowned, and stepped to the door, coming back with a hijacked doctor's lab coat which he offered her. "Put this on, it'll help with the chills. Now, are you okay with walking? Do you need a hand? One that doesn't belong to me if I'm part of the problem?" Aria tentatively accepted it and carefully slipped it on, pulling it around her. "I'm fine," she said, managing a small smile, "and so're you. No worries. Just... take me to the brig." "No brig today," Victor reassured her. "We're keeping everyone in the old Romulan embassy suite. Much more comfortable and spacious -- and a lot more private." More comfortable and spacious, perhaps, Aria thought. But all the better to spy on you with. She bit back the smirk and followed him out of the room, but stopped short upon her cursory surveillance of the greater sickbay. A woman waited for them, guarded by a security officer. The woman was petite and Vulcan, and looked somewhat nonplussed at the whole situation. Victor's glance back was the only thing that got Aria moving again; she feigned dizziness to mask her attention as they moved toward T'Pei. "You sure you're all right?" Victor asked, reaching out to steady her. "Really, I'm fine," she assured, trying not to be obvious as she watched the security officer bring T'Pei forward. The Vulcan woman glanced at her, but she too, kept her scrutiny subtle, turning away to Victor after only a moment. "Lieutenant Krieghoff." It was said with a polite nod, but Aria could see that she had stopped well away from Victor. Victor eyed her for a moment, and, at the other officer's nod, responded, "T'Pei. I trust you're doing well after your trip?" "Indeed, I am," T'Pei said, finally meeting Aria's eyes directly. "It is good to see that you are well, Aria. The rest of the group feared you had been lost. I am very curious to hear what happened." "Wrong turn," Aria muttered, wavering a little on her feet, wincing slightly. "Had to keep things interesting, I suppose. Hate to push, but can we... move? I'm going to keel over if we don't..." "Don't want that," Victor agreed. "Let's get you two out of here and back to the embassy." He nodded to the medical staff hovering just out of range, and moved to the doors, one eye on Aria as she shakily followed him. They followed Victor's lead, the security officer that had been standing watch over T'Pei picking up the rear. Aria tried to relax, calm herself, and she felt better almost immediately after they exited sickbay. The mysterious hold the place had over her lifted, and she could breathe again. It gave her a chance to reexamine her situation, observe this Krieghoff, the security officer behind them, and T'Pei. There didn't seem to be any threat here, and she had little doubt that the ordeal would get substantially easier once M'Kantu had the chance to work his diplomatic magic and explain the situation -- who they were, what, and why. Moving into the turbolift, Aria couldn't help a small smirk. The Vulcan was ridiculously uncomfortable. It might not have been as clear as it was on, say, the human security officer accompanying them, but if you knew what to look for... T'Pei stood as far from Victor as she could get, and was trying a bit too hard to maintain control of her stoic expression. Too frakin' funny, Aria thought. Someone's not as Vulcan as they want to be. For her part, Aria had adjusted to Victor's aura over the course of their 10 or 15-minute conversation, and while this Victor came on a little... stronger than the one she knew, she at least knew what to expect. She was able to compartmentalize it, push it aside, refused to let it register. Mother's training, Dad's stubbornness, or maybe just a built-up resistance, she didn't know. It was good. The effects would linger, it would put her and the Vulcan on somewhat more equal footing. "I forgot what a normal lift looks like," she stated, breaking the silence as she rested a hand against the wall to steady herself. "Ours are pretty battle scarred." Victor considered that in light of what he knew about the future that Allison had spoken of. It certainly seemed reasonable that things like that would begin to happen there. "The small things are the ones that begin to go first," he agreed. "The ones that everyone takes for granted. Those, and things like, I would imagine, replicators, that require a certain degree of maintenance and consume a lot of resources." "Replicators are for emergency use only," Aria said, with a curt nod. "Miranda's substantially better equipped than most, we're able to distribute rations for food or... whatever. But our turbolifts are out more often than not. Spend a lot of time in Jefferies tubes." She glanced at T'Pei as the turbolift came to a stop. For good measure, Aria let herself 'lose her balance', and fall into the dark security escort. His chill brushed over her as he steadied her, and she smiled weakly at him. "Thanks." "No problem," he nodded. "Do me a favor and have your version of Karyn Dallas keep an eye on you tonight, just in case. It'll be more comfortable than hauling you back down to Sickbay." Sidestepping Victor, who was still holding on to Aria's arm, the Vulcan woman glanced at her, critically raising an eyebrow as she exited the turbolift. Aria wondered if she had overdone it, and tipped her off, but if so, it was too late to stop. She let go of the security chief, but kept a slight wobble in her walk as she followed the group. T'Pei and the other security escort were about five yards down the corridor, waiting just before the sharp bend to the right that would lead to the Embassy Suite. Victor's combadge signaled an incoming call and he paused to let Aria move on a little down the hall. "One moment, ladies." There was a brief discussion in quiet tones, and then he nodded and moved back to where the two women were waiting. "You're cleared to move around the ship in non-critical areas without an escort for right now," he explained. "I'm leaving the guards on the door, however, so that you get some peace from every Tom, Dick and Harry that wants the name of next years' Federation Idol winner to lay bets on them." "What's Federation Idol?" Aria questioned, forehead furrowing as she glanced at T'Pei and then looked at Victor. "A Federation-wide singing competition," Victor explained. "For amateurs only; people that are looking to get into the business as professional recording artists and performers. Contestants perform and the viewing public votes on which one of a shrinking pool of hypothetically-talented singers is eliminated each week." He shrugged. "Silly, but oddly addictive. Angelienia started watching it last year, and I watch it with her." Aria lifted an eyebrow. Sounded like a huge waste of time and energy. But she said nothing disparaging. "Anyway," Victor continued, "I'll have combadges for all of you delivered within the hour - our Ops Chief prefers to issue new ones rather than allow yours to interface with the system - he's a bit on the paranoid side. Is there anything else you ladies need before Haskins and I head out?" "No; thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant," T'Pei said as the other security officer looked at the turbolift, which contained only Victor, and awkwardly excused himself, scurrying in the opposite direction. "I think we're okay," Aria said softly, with a slight smile. "Thank you." "All right, then," he inclined his head towards them. "Have a good evening, and with any luck I won't be seeing you again in an official capacity." Aria smirked and nodded, a hand against the wall as she watched him step back into the turbo lift and the doors close upon him. She glanced back at T'Pei. Time to get down to business. "Transference" Commander James Corgan **** USS Galaxy Victor paused at the door to James's quarters and took stock in what he was carrying. Hand-made quilt from Angelienia for their bed. Check PADD with issues to speak to James about. Check. Bottle of 24, no, 30-years old now, scotch for James. Check. Lingering doubts that he'd failed in his performance as Security Chief. Check. Happiness at one of his friends returning to the ship. Check. Guilty relief at being stepped back down to Security Second. Check. Since that appeared to be everything, he took a deep breath, wondered for a moment if, with all of the things he was carrying, he looked like he was here to ask the Commander out on a date as opposed to discuss the change-over of departmental command, and finally went on and depressed the buzzer with one elbow and waited. And just in time, James answered. He didn't say a word past 'Hey Victor!" at first, that was until he surveyed his second in command with a discerning eye. He noted the PADD, the whiskey and the look of concern on Victor's face. "It must be clusterfuck time." Then he looked at the quilt, "But that's confusing. You do know we're both tied to two lovely and vindictive women, right?" "Well, lovely anyway," Victor admitted offering the scotch and quilt. "I'd rather avoid any first-hand knowledge of the latter if at all possible. The scotch is from me, and the quilt is from Angelienia - she went for what she called a 'California King' in size if that makes sense to you. She seemed to think it might." James laughed, "Relax Victor. It's just a joke. But we do have some interesting messes to untangle. Come in. And speak freely! Mika isn't around, she teaches grappling at the gym at this time and she insists that we have time for our individual pursuits. Not only does it save our sanity, it lets us talk classified stuff until 22:00 hours. Oh... I brought you something from Earth." James opened a desk drawer, and brought out an old oak box, he opened the top. Inside was a dozen rolled up brown tubes, and in a separate velvet padding was a silver rectangle with a flip open top and perforated border. "They're called Cuban cigars." James beamed with pride, "Banned everywhere but their country of origin, and probably the worst thing you can do to your body if you're dumb enough to smoke them. But they're rare and only a few people make them anymore. Got them in a place called Havana when I took Mika to see their magnificent beaches. Hell, we both tried one and it damn near made us sick, but who can say no to a friendly cigar maker? Try to save them for special occasions like births... though why you would want to celebrate a birth with something that can kill you is beyond me but I don't make the traditions." James politely offered, "Let's find some glasses for that scotch, eh?" "All right," Victor nodded, taking the cigars. He'd not intended to actually drink any of the scotch, since the idea of his inhibitions being loosened or removed wasn't an appealing one, but he could always pour it into a plant or something if he needed to. As for the cigars.... he was sure something would come to him about what to do with them. One thing was certain, he wasn't going to try and smoke them aboard ship with Captain T'Vara's ban on such things in effect. Replicating two glasses, James beckoned Victor to the living room (if it could be called such in a two person quarters). Spreading their work out on a coffee table, scotch was poured and the meeting began under the baleful gaze of a 23rd century Scotsman punk rocker (or more accurately, his poster of a live concert shot). "So what's this about a temporal incursion?" James went right off the bat, "Christ on a crutch Victor, you were there and Starfleet Command will only let me assign patrols that cannot let them out of their restricted area. What can you tell me that the reports can't?" "They're people we know, all of them," Victor explained, keeping to generalities. "From somewhere in the future. They appeared on the Bridge in a string of arrivals, like they didn't all transit at the same instant, but marched into whatever they used to make the trip in a line. Some of them appeared to have been in fight of some sort before arrival - scrapes, dirt smears on elbows and knees, that sort of thing." "Well... you know the drill. Total communication silence. I've had enough trouble with time travelers, and further temporal contamination can turn this incident into a clusterfuck. Put the security team you used in two man bodyguard teams and prepare a schedule to protect the travelers at all times. If you don't have enough people put in guys we can trust. Hanley and So'Ka are good for that. Have Charlie squad on Alpha shift, Mike Squad on Beta shift, Zulu Squad on Gamma shift as rapid response backup. Don't tell them why. I don't have to tell you the dangers of temporal contamination. Just minimize it. We're in enough trouble as is thanks to Allison." James pondered, pausing the sip of his scotch, "I don't suppose our time travelers are tied in with Allison?" "I don't know," Victor admitted. "None of them asked about her while I was present, or was reported to have asked about her by any of the others. It's possible - the events are close enough together that coincidence seems a bit much to depend on, but they haven't been really forthcoming so far. "Alright... so what the hell do they want?" With a frown, Victor shrugged, "I don't know. They said something on the Bridge about some sort of file that they seeded the past with, something that the Captain was supposed to be able to activate or access, but she's not in the habit of including me in on such things." "Fuck..." James muttered, a sip of scotch went down his throat like molten lava, "Secretive captains, time travelers and more secrets. Add to that a wedding date and a fiancé that may not live before we get hitched. Ain't that a shitty backdrop for my comeback?" He kept his hand in check, resisting to pour another scotch, though he felt the need for drink to be powerful considering his circumstances, "No matter, that's just a matter of wait and see. Just be extra careful. Try not to use standard Starfleet methods of surveillance and monitoring. They'll know all our tricks. We'll find out what they want soon enough. Let's just keep an eye out. I'll see what I can do to get answers out of the Captain." "All right," Victor nodded. "On a more mundane front, here's the list of pending issues that're about to land back in your lap," he handed James the PADD, "sorted by urgency. The good news is that we're back up to full strength in the department, and, for you, the better news is that all of the quarterly reports are up to date and the performance reviews done and logged. The bad news is that while you were out, they changed the reporting format and report cycle, so there's a set of tutorials on there for that." <A little bit later...> James checked the time. Official speak was over. He'd turned on an anti surveillance device on his desk. "Victor, I was hoping to see you ASAP. You're aware of Allison's nature, therefore you're privy to information I hoped nobody else would know. Technically we should both confess to Starfleet Command just for knowing, but due to its... personal nature I cannot. Now that we're part of a cover up conspiracy we couldn't tell Starfleet Command without getting into even more shit, so what the hell." James brought out a small box from his desk. This box was different, glossy black with a small fingerprint lock. Pressing his thumb on the reader, it opened with a pneumatic hiss. "What I'm about to show is not known outside ourselves. Even Allison doesn't know. Here... take it." He presented the box to Victor, "Go on." Opening the box, Victor looked at it for a moment, and then glanced up at James. "It's a combadge. Not one of ours, though, looks something like the ones that a few of the travelers are wearing." James explained, "It's from the future, and it had a message from me... to me. Future me. We're in for a lot worse than I realized. Play the message." Victor keyed the replay and listened as an older version of James' voice began to speak: =/\="As you have guessed from your tricorder readings, this pin is from the future. I know you've already investigated it, so cut it out and stop living in denial. I'm your future self. I am Commodore James Lionel Corgan, Fleet Commander of the First Andorian Fleet, Starfleet Command. You're making history, buddy! My true self gets to be the first Human commander in the Blue Fleet. But enough about that. We're already in enough trouble as is, so I'll be very brief."=/\= =/\="My daughter is in danger. You will have meet her. She's a Civilian, not a Starfleet noncom as her 'Becca told me she would be, so the temporal prime directive isn't something she holds dear. She wants to meet you, and I bet by the time you get this message that she already has. Her she'll go under the name of Allison Jimsdottir, but her real name is Allison Von Ernst. I'm sure you already know that. She has her mother's short height and her brains, put together with her daddy's blonde hair and blue eyes. She also has both our Moxie combined. God help you. She'll tell you exactly who she is. She craves fatherly attention and will try to get it, and that'll mean spilling her secret. But just in case she hasn't told you yet... sorry about the bad news."=/\= =/\="Yes. You heard correctly. Von Ernst. And sorry, before you ask she doesn't Quad with Mika or Bre'kir. She's too conservative. You get back with Rebecca. You become her white knight again. You marry her. You have a child by her, but you find her unbearable. What Hoth did to her was unimaginable, and it left her less than human. You married her for the wrong reasons. You spend most of your time on deep space assignments. Eventually Rebecca gets fed up with you and divorces your neglectful ass. Allison grows up without a father figure. If I'd stayed home, she wouldn't be in your time looking for you. That's my fault."=/\= =/\="But I'm afraid the irreparable damage to the space time continuum from her actions are unpredictable. She shouldn't be in your time. But she is, and what's done is done. All I can ask is that you protect her in the only way you can.=/\= =/\="Stay out of her way!"=/\= =/\="You know you have no choice, and she'll never understand. It'll be heartbreak for her, to be left alone by two fathers. But it has to be done. She doesn't understand the implication of her actions. She's too young and immature to understand."=/\= =/\="And secondly, she must stay in this time period. You don't know the nightmare this galaxy has become. There is nothing but war in our future. There's already talk about the Hydrans winning... we've been fighting for so long, but we're not exhausted yet. It is the future I worry about. The Federation's more fractured and contentious. There's talk of Civil War. The common threat of the Triad is what's keeping us together now, and I don't know how long that will last."=/\= =/\="It's dangerous for her to go back. We'll let her know when she can be recalled, so let her sit tight. But mostly, stay out of her way. She doesn't need her old man fucking her life up any more than it already is."=/\= =/\="I know by this time you're engaged with Mikaiu. Wonderful woman, love of my life, tried to recapture that feeling with Rebecca, leapt to marrying her too soon. But who knows. Maybe I would have driven Mika away, keeping my pains private, my struggles away from her, as I had with Rebecca. It is most unfair to subject her to this. Love her, keep her close... for she had so little time left."=/\= =/\="What I'm about to tell you comes to great cost. I thought long and hard, and decided that the damage is done. You'll do more damage wondering what happened to Mika, and might upset the whole timeline, erasing us from existence. The only way to kill a timeline is to deny a decision. That's how alternate realities work, so I'll just tell you and you can decide for yourself."=/\= =/\="Mika always loved you. Always will. You will not drive her away as long as you know her."=/\= =/\="Instead, there will be an accident... and she will die."=/\= The rest of the message was garbled. He tried to reconstruct the rest, but it was too distorted from temporal transit. =/\="Cremate herr.r.rr. So they never do those horrrrriii... *blip*"=/\= James solemnly bowed his head, "There you have it. Our future's turning to shit. Mika dies, I marry Rebecca. That's why I left last year." Victor considered that, considered the combadge, and replied with a single succinct word. "Bullshit." James crossed his arms, "Oh yeah? Well I spent the last year pouring over temporal theory, and you know what I've come up with? Jack shit. One of Captain Picard's best friends say it's mutable. A captain's log from the original Enterprise says one change of events can irrefutably alter the future. The Vulcan Science Academy says time travel doesn't exist and the Andorians say temporal changes already happened... it's just we're not aware of it. So who are you to say this future is bullshit?" "No," Victor affirmed, "I mean that. Bullshit. So a version of you from a possible alternate future had a crappy life and lost someone he cared about. So what? How does that impact you? The future changes with every decision of every day, James. This version of you that sent this message back sounds like he's from the future that Allison just came back from, or possibly the one she was originally from - we know that those were not the same future. Well we already changed that future, James." "Our decisions open up new doors and close others. I know. Doctor Trinkar of Tellar. But who's to say some of those events won't happen?" "They might," Victor agreed. "But I listened to Allison a lot on the way back here from that black hole, listened to the things she said in her sleep, the ones she said when she had to have someone to talk to and I was it. At no point in the one she returned from did her mother go and get help to break the conditioning, or did the program get ratted out to Admiral Murdock. That's already changed the future. On top of that, and let's be blunt here, if you and Rebecca don't have sex in the next... seven months by my count... then Allison isn't going to be born, thus changing the future again. Since you're not a rapist, and that's what it would be with Rebecca the way she is now, then that's not happening. That's another change." He shook his head. "The future isn't written in stone, James, it's scrawled in wet sand on the beach, ready to be erased by the next wave. Just don't make those choices, do something different, and it all changes. Simple as that." James narrowed his eyes, "Dammit. You're right." James muttered, "The future isn't written in stone. But it puts me in a hell of a position. Have you had to choose between two people?" "Not exactly," Victor admitted, "at least not if you mean romantically. There was a point there where I might have had to a year or two back... but I wasn't awake enough to understand that it was there. But I'm not sure that you're talking about the same thing I am here." James explained, "Try to understand that I love Mika very much. Rebecca... she's in the past. I moved on from her. I can't say what happens in several months, so all I can do is wait and see, react if possible. But I make this clear... Mika doesn't die. I won't allow it. If Allison has the right to live, so too does Mika have the right to not be resigned to oblivion. That's why I need you in our little temporal conspiracy." "All right," Victor nodded. "She doesn't die. I'll speak to her the first chance I get and..." "Nonono!" James waved off the request, "Please, I don't believe your permission to die bullcrap actually works. Do it if you want, but I'd rather put faith in being there at the right moment to stop it. For that I need people I can trust. That's you. Nobody else. T'lan's too close to Mika. Let's not also forget that Allison's continuity is at stake, so let's avoid telling her too. And for god sakes don't tell Mika... she'll freak out." "Helping you change something I think should be changed is one thing," Victor said slowly. "But lying about it isn't going to help - especially if you're lying to your family, to the people that care about you. That's nothing but pain waiting to be delivered when you least expect it. I'll help you, but I'm not lying to friends over it." He paused. "Frankly, I think that you should just tell them the truth and do this out in the open, although I can't see how that will in any way make things easier with Allison." James said solemnly, "And if I tell her... there will be pain either way. Hell of a trap." Instinctively he reached for the scotch, but stopped himself from pouring another glass. ~"That's enough James. Note that Victor hasn't had a drop. Friends don't let friend fuck with the temporal fabric of spacetime drunk."~ James felt the warm buzz of his first two drinks. That would be enough to ease his jitters. But would it save his future? Despite Victor's advice, it was just about how to conduct his decisions. It didn't actually make the decision for him. He still didn't know what to do. Then he thought about Victor, then back to the comm badge message. A passage leapt to mind, so he rewound and played it back. =/\="Maybe I would have driven Mika away, keeping my pains private, my struggles away from her, as I had with Rebecca. It is most unfair to subject her to this. Love her, keep her close... for she had so little time left."=/\= A nagging feeling told him that this could be the worst course of action he could take. Mika's awareness of events could further muddy up the timeline, then James would have to deal with Allison's potential birth. If the objective was to allow Mika to live and Allison to be born, how could both happen? James said, "I think Future me would concur with you. They should know. Both of them. I have to let them know or I could seriously fuck it all up. Victor, I might call on your help. When I do will you be there?" "Yes," he nodded. "Allowing for, as any of our Vulcan friends might say, variables beyond my control." "Good." James punctuated. How he allowed himself another scotch. "That's why I knew when I left, this ship would be in good hands. You're dependable. So talk to Mika. Do your voodoo. Even if I don't believe it, I'm sure you'll do something right. However, I get to tell her the future, and not before I talk to Allison. Deal?" "Deal." Victor leaned back and debated with himself for a moment. "I had... spent some time thinking about Allison's problem. I know of one way to resolve the issue of her creation, although I don't know that it's... well... a *good* solution if you understand me." James' curiosity was piqued. "Sure. What is it?" "Biologically," Victor explained, "you're her father and Rebecca is her mother, that's a given based on the genetic analysis. But..." he looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then forged onwards, "but... there's nothing that says that she has to be conceived in the... old-fashioned way if you will." James gave it a moment of thought. As it slowly dawned on him what the suggestion implied, he found himself more aghast. "Victor, are you serious? She's been reduced to the level of a child thanks to Starfleet. All natural, invitro, doesn't matter. Either method implies we need her consent, and she's not in her right mind to do so, that is if Allison allows it." He paused, then said, "Put it on the backburner. It's her existence, after all." "I did say that I didn't think it was a good solution," Victor admitted. "For all that I don't understand her half the time, Allison's a good kid. Good enough that I was willing mention it despite that. I don't *think* that she'll just go... 'pop'... when her birthday rolls around if she's not conceived.... but I'm no temporal physicist." "None of us are." James sighed, "Those that are suck at it. We're on our own, with nothing but conjecture and hints to guide us. Let's make do. As long as we're clear. Nobody dies." "Agreed," Victor nodded. "No one dies without permission... and I'm not feeling very permissive right now." "Defensible Openings" By Ensign T'risia The slim figure of T'risia, incongruously dressed in her more culturally sensitive flowing Vulcan tunics, and tight leggings, both in a sandy color, sat in her cubicle. The security services had been moving in a somewhat less orderly fashion as of late, what with the transfer of leadership from one figure to the other. Transfers of leadership often left subordinates with strange gaps in efficiency, and she had been attempting to marshal some of the paperwork that somehow neither Krieghoff nor Corgan had seen fit to do. In addition, she had found the new Chief, Corgan, almost incomprehensible in her dealings with him. She was completely unsure if he were trying to support her, flatter, her, exert authority over her, or some other human reaction that she did not yet understand. She spent some time attmpting to puzzle out the meeting that they had with her computer mind, but unfortunately, although humans invented Chess, they rarely comported themselves in such an orderly and logical fashion. She set her headband a bit more securely on her head, the logo of the 1980's lesbian icon of Terra, Rainbow Brite, emblazoning itself across her dark locks of hair. She had a suitably whimsical, matching pin appointed soberly above her combadge. As she did so, she saw another report coming in, that she handled at her console. Tapping the Comm system, she announced, "You have reached Security. How may we be of service?" As always, her emotionless tones were rational, and precise. =/\= "Help! We can't get out of Holodeck One, and the safeties hav---" She cut off the audio, realizing that the individual would give her no further useful information, but instead rant meaninglessly. Surak forbid that an emotional being could possibly be brief, and just relay the pertinent data. If they did so, their seemingly awful emotional distress would disperse that much quicker. Shaking her head slightly, she used her security access to shut down Holodeck One. She counted to three, allowing the being there to compose themselves, and reactivated the signal. =/\= "---can you hear me? It's better now, everything's reset to the default Hologrid. Hello?" T'risia answered, "Yes, I am aware. I have shut down the unit. It appears there was a minor program malfunction. Please exit the Holodeck, until such time as it may be inspected. Thank you." Her tone stated clearly that the Holodeck would not in fact, be restarted. Taking a moment, she entered the event into a log, and into her own statistical tracking database. Securing the various forms needed, she dispatched an Engineering crew to look over the Holodeck, but believed that she knew what they would find. Scanning the output of her own reports/trend analysis program, she sent a brief voice message. "Mr. Krieghoff. At your earliest convenience, I have a statistical analysis of recent events on board to present to you. Security is responding to a marked increase in minor hazards related to ship malfunctions. The trend model is still calculating the progress curve and ramifications. Live long and prosper." She did try to be social, after all. The other officers tended to prefer meetings, she had observed. Some Ancient Terran Custom, the Meeting of the Board. Although, she did not grasp why they were called that...having no real affectation for planks of any kind. As she correlated the data for her brief presentation to Mr. Krieghoff, she considered possible reasons for the small problems. Each hypothesis was lacking in some vital element. Still, it was in fact a general, if small threat to public safety. She correlated her statistics against the increasednumber of Engineering requisitions in general, and saw a correlative trend. At that, her comm beeped again. =/\= "Um...T'risia?" "Yes, you have logically reached T'risia. Given that it is a voice command system, you would logically know that," she said, speaking slightly to the ceiling, in an affected human gesture. She found it illogical. =/\= "Well," continued Ensign Lucas Walker, "It connected me to the wrong person twice before. Kind of embarassing." "I would not know," responded the emotionless woman, as she prepared her report. =/\= "Um...yeah. Well, I was wondering about things I don't know, actually." "Your statement was of little logical or sematic value. even its syntax was suspect, Mr. Walker." =/\= "What I'm trying to say is that I dont know how to play chess, T'risia." Silence....and more silence. For a long time. T'risia did not realize, until too late, that she was supposed to respond to that in some way. "How tragic for you." =/\= "Well, yeah. But you're a Starfleet Games Medalist---" "Gold Medalist," T'risia interjected, with a subtle shift in tone. It couldn't be called pride as such, but she did make the distinction. =/\= "Yeah. Well, you see, I was wondering if you could teach me to play." T'risia halted. For a moment, she thought about it, and also Mr. Walker's probable desire to escalate to some form of "relationship" or sexual relations. The probability matrix for that outcome was quite high, and as she began to respond, her eyes fell upon her holo of Lt. Hunter. For a moment, she regarded it with her glittering green eyes. She considered what she knew of Hunter, and her relations with people. Certainly, she did not restrict her own relationships, or somewhat forward interactions. Despite her considerable affection for L.t Hunter, to act other than she might would be illogical in the extreme. Plus....it was only chess. "Very well, Mr. Walker. Meet me in Ten Forward, but only after you have studied the Ruy Lopez Opening. I must return to work." Without any denoument, she simply cut the channel. For a moment, she glanced at the Holo of Lt. Hunter once again. 7298 |