"Damage Control"

Ensign Alexandra Lee
Engineering Officer

The deck of Main Engineering shook hard as Alex steadied herself against the railing on the upper section balcony. Sliding across the deck, her tool kit went over the side, crashing onto the main deck and narrowly missing a crewman in the process.

"We've got massive damage on Shuttlebay 2! Hull breaches on Decks 12, 13, and 14! Emergency forcefields are activated! Lee, take Damage Control Teams to that section now!" called an officer at the 'Pool table' "Looks like you'll only be able to take the turbolift up to Deck 16!.

"Aye sir!" she called, pushing herself off the balcony. "Damage Control Teams Alpha and Beta with me!" Grabbing an engineering belt from the nearby storage locker, she slapped it around her waist and literally slid down the ladder to the main deck. "Lets go!" Several crewmen were finishing grabbing their gear and rushed off down the main corridor behind Lee. Alex slapped the panel on the turbolift doors, which opened a moment as the rest of the two Damage control teams squeezed into the small space of the turbolift.

"Deck 16," she said, pressed against the side of the turbolift, which began its journey with a humm. A moment later the doors opened and the team rushed out. "We'll have to take the jeffries tubes to Deck 14 and work our way up! You know the drill! Worry only about the critical systems first!" Alex was the first into the jeffries tube as she immediately began to climb the nearby ladder upwards and soon came to Deck 14. Alex pressed the panel to open the access hatch with no response. She immediately pulled off a nearby panel pulled the manual lever, causing the hatch doors to slide open with a slight groan of the metal being opened. Upon stepping out, the corridor was a nightmare with lights flickering on and off. The smell of smoke mixed with burnt flesh hung in the air.

Alex froze in her tracks as a screaming man, unidentified except for the charred remains of his uniform rushed at her. It appeared that the man had suffed third degree burns over nearly his entire body. "Help me! Help me, please!" the burned man grabbed Alex's uniform tightly and in the process soaked it with blood from his own skinless hand as he immediately fell lifeless against Alex, knocking her down in the process. She was frozen in horror as she looked at her bllod soaked hands and then down at her uniform, which most of the front was also covered in the man's blood in that moment as screams filled her mind and she was transported back to San Francisco after the Breen Attack. She could again see the burnt and dismembered bodies littered about the street. Children simply sitting on the ground, sobbing heavily. "Why?!" she heard a nearby woman scream, "WHY!?!"

"Ensign Lee, are you alright? Ensign Lee!" called a senior chief petty officer.

Alex blinked a few times as the voice of the Senior Chief pierced through her flashback. "Ma'am, are you alright?" the chief reinterated.

"Wh--What? Yes, I'm fine," she scurried away from the now lifeless body on the deck in front of her as she felt a tight twisting in her stomach and immediately placed her hand against a nearby charred bulkhead and leaned over as her stomach retaliated against the sights and smells on the deck by ejecting its contents onto the deck through Alex's mouth.

"You sure, you're ok, ma'am?" the senior chief asked again.

"I said, I'm fine chief," Alex replied as she wiped the tears from her eyes onto her sleeve. She then removed her uniform jacket and unzipped the collar of the undershirt. In doing so, it seemed to make it easier for her to breathe.

"I'm detecting above normal radiation levels on this deck. We need to get inoculated by medical staff soon," a nearby crewman reported, studying a tricorder.

=/\=Ensign Lee to Sickbay, we need a medical team on Deck 14 for radiation inoculation.=/\=

=/\=We're on our way, ensign. Sickbay, out,=/\= a female voice replied.

"Alright, lets keep moving until medical arrives," Alex ordered as she took lead down the corridor.

"Dancing"

Tarin Iniara
Cianán Tierney

Cianan closed his eyes for one moment as his body readjusted. At the cellular level his enhanced programming caused alterations during times of stress. During reconditioning Federation scientists managed to help Angosians "switch off" the response. At times it had to be medically suppressed.

With a signature twist of his head, his neck popped releasing tension. The marine grabbed a towel and some water. He cocked a half smile and stood at attention. "Commander." Cianan admired the skills of the Executive Officer as he watched her session.

Iniara raised an eyebrow as she caught notice of the man standing at attention just outside the perimeter of the sparring area.  She didn't recognize him, which meant he wasn't 'Fleet, and no fighter jock would ever display such discipline, which could mean only one thing: Marines.  "At ease, soldier," she began, standing and walking across the mat towards him.  "What's your name?"

Cianan relaxed slightly, putting his hands behind his back. At ease for a soldier was still somewhat like a stick up your ass, only not as far as when at full attention. "Corporal Cianan Tierney, ma'am." He once again cocked a half smile.

Well, that explained it, she thought.  "Tarin Iniara, ex-oh," she introduced herself.  "But you probably knew that already."

"Yes ma'am. There are countless soldiers on this ship, but only one of you." Cianan pointed out. The marine moved from his at ease position to toss his towel into a nearby bin.

She continued to watch the man, trying to figure out why he felt a little 'off' to her.  Then she saw it: the telltale grey and gold mark decorating his left temple.  "You're Angosian," she said, the words half statement and half question.

The smile disappeared. Ever since the Federation's first encounter with Angosia there was some bad blood. He experienced some initial inherent distrust in the marines that had to be overcome before he was accepted.  "And you're Bajoran and Betazoid, ma'am."

"Then you should know why I brought it up," Iniara replied, carefully studying his body language.  "I meant no offense; it's just that you 'read' funny.  You know,"  she tapped a finger on her temple, "up here."

Iniara shifted her weight to the other foot.  "So...what brings you over here?"

"I was impressed with how effectively you dispatched your opponent. Very skilled, ma'am." Cianan commented, uncomfortable with talking about his past.

"Thanks.  Although it's not so much skill as it is the desire to dispatch my opponent before he dispatches me," she commented.  "And besides, my yeoman is a bit of a novice.  He's come a long way, but he's still got a long way to go."

Her head cocked to the side as she considered something.  "I've been looking for a bit more of a challenge, though. I don't suppose you'd like to spar?"

Cianan's smile widened. Iniara's movements were professional, those of a well trained fighter. The marine was genuinely impressed. He wasn't one to attempt to impress an Officer with false praise. "I guess you've never fought an Angosian?"

Iniara grinned, beckoning him forward as she began to bounce lightly from foot to foot.  "First time for everything. So, you up for it?"

"If I find myself washing dishes in the gully when your ass hits the floor..." The last part of his sentence drifted off as Cianan walked out onto the mat. He knew he didn't have to say it. The woman seemed honorable.

Iniara crouched down and danced lightly to her right, studying the man's movements, looking for any sign of weakness.  At the moment there was none.  She knew this super soldier was going to wipe the floor with her ass, but that didn't matter a bit.  As long as she learned something from this experience, it was time well spent.

"Not a chance, Corporal...the dishes part, I mean.  I may be a hardass but I'm not an asshole!"  The last few words were delivered as she launched herself towards him with surprising quickness, one shoulder aimed squarely at his midsection, arms on their way to wrapping themselves securely around his torso in a basic takedown hold.

Cianan was impressed with the Officer's agility, if not her balls for being willing to go fist to fist with him. The Angosian planted his feet at the initial contact and then arched his back, taking Iniara's momentum added with his leveraging. With a loud "thud" both ended up on their backs on the mat after Iniara was sent vaulting over Cianan's shoulder and his follow through in a take down. Cianan tightened his ab muscles and launched himself back to his feet to turn around to see his opponent had done the same. Cianan assumed she shifted her weight while in mid-air and buffered some of the fall. An almost evil smile danced across the soldier's lip.

"Quick!" she breathed, bringing her hands up in a defensive posture. With one hand she beckoned him forward, mimicking his smile.  "Your turn."

Cianan grinned even wider. "Feisty. Drug induced or just your personality?" The Angosian teased his opponent as he moved into a spinning back fist. He rotated his torso so that the initial hit to Iniara's block was by the back of his right forearm. His momentum spun back around so that he faced her straight on and jabbed with his left, looking for tender flesh.

"Perso...nali...ty!" she replied between blocks.  He was fast...really fast, she thought as she did her best to match him move for move. After several jabs it became clear that she wasn't going to win this one, so as his arm struck out at her she quickly sidestepped, grabbing his forearm and using what little momentum he had to launch him into another takedown.

Cianan tumbled with the takedown, curled into a ball and returned to his feet. The Commander was good and once again proved that one should not underestimate an opponent. The Angosian was impressed. Cianan moved in for a move. His initial takedown was blocked without hesitation which gave him the opportunity to hug Iniara's midsection. Holding tightly he lifted his feet up, causing Iniara to take the stress of his weight. Simultaneously he wrapped his feet around the back of her legs. With a chopping motion his heel made contact with her Achilles tendon.

In moments Cianan was laying on top of the Commander. He realized the position and immediately got up, offering a hand.

Without any hesitation Iniara grabbed his hand, pulling hard.  He teetered forward just a bit and she brought her feet up onto his abdomen, using the power of her legs to send him flying through the air over her, then using the momentum to bring herself to her feet. Her concentration faltered momentarily as she spun about to face him: he had already recovered and was now coming right back at her.

Damn he was fast.

Cianan slowly moved his head around, sensing any damage as he vaulted. Nothing was badly bruised. The surprise attack from a Federation Officer was an interesting twist. His reflexes didn't stop as he was sent flying in the air. Again, he shifted his body weight and landed on his feet. He adeptly spun and returned, attempting to make contact with her leg while simultaneously reaching for her neck to slip up the back of her head. It was a move he executed frequently in the past. Attempt to do the takedown with the legs, only to use his opponent's attention down at his feet to bend the head further down and shifting her balance.

Iniara saw it coming, but she was already too committed to blocking his leg movements to do much about anything else.  She struggled to break the hold for a few seconds, but it wasn't long before she felt him dragging her off balance and back towards the mat.

Cianan's devilish grin returned as he lay on top of the Commander on the mat. His forearm covered her throat and any pressure would cause her windpipe to be blocked. Additional pressure could even collapse it. "Kind of like dancing...only more exciting." The Angosian said.

"Definitely,"  Iniara responded, her voice strained and harsh from the pressure being applied to her throat.  For several long seconds she squirmed underneath him, trying to find a weakness in the hold.  But every time she tried to apply the right amount of pressure to get him off, the tightness on her windpipe would cause dizziness and narrowing vision.

Over half a minute passed before she finally stopped struggling.  She sighed in defeat, the expression made even more obvious by the additional weight on her rib cage, before finally whispering, "I yield."

Cianan's relaxed his arm and rolled off of the Commander. He held out a hand to help Iniara to her feet. "You've been trained."

"More or less," she replied with a shrug.  "Decades of Cardassian occupation taught nearly all Bajorans how to fight, whether we wanted to learn or not.  Thankfully I had some excellent teachers."

The two walked over to the wall where Cianan grabbed waters and handed one to the Officer. "Next time we should try actual combat in the holodeck." Cianan's eyes gave away his interest.

Iniara grinned.  "Definitely.  I have a feeling I could learn a thing or seven from you; if you're willing to teach me, that is."

"I think I'd learn from you too." Cianan said with a grin.

"Familiar Faces"

Lieutenant Nathan Everett
Commander Arel Smith

===

Officers' Lounge, Deep Space Five

Nathan wasn't really sure why he kept coming here.

Sure, the drinks were good, and the view of the stars outside was spectacular, but Nathan was used to being with friends at a place like this. He didn't know anyone on DS5, and while he wasn't one of those quiet, dull introverts at all, it wasn't as much fun drinking with strangers.

He took another sip of his kanar and spun about in his seat at the bar, looking out at the small crowd. When he recognized the woman sitting by herself at a table near the viewport, he nearly fell out of his chair.

Fortunately for his public image, Nathan recovered, and actually managed to turn the near-fall into a rather graceful dismount from the barstool. He grabbed his drink off of the bar, looked around to make sure nobody had noticed the slip-up, and made his way over to the table.

"Arel!" he called out as he approached her table, a bright smile on his face. "Damn, it's nice to finally see a familiar face." He slid into the chair across from her without asking, leaning back and getting comfortable as he smiled at the Miranda's former security chief.

"So, how ya doin'?"

Once upon a time Arel would have nearly thrown her computer PADD (and its download of a Dickens novel) across the room in an attempt to hide that she could read but she'd changed since her "death." Now she only pushed it away with her elbow.

"I was enjoying a nice quiet drink," Arel replied although she couldn't quite bring herself to growl at him. Nathan had an infectious sort of personality - you either liked him or you wanted to smack him around a lot. Well, maybe both ...

"Eh, nice and quiet're overrated, darlin'." Cowboy grinned and took a sip of his drink. "What're you doin' out here on DS5? Starfleet kick you off the Miranda too?"

"Just about," She said, ignoring the 'darlin' bit. "I'm with the Carthage now as Jaal's XO. How about you?"

"Gonna be the XO of the Galaxy's fighter wing. If they ever get their slow ass over here, that is," Nathan answered. "Wait, Commander Jaxom's got himself a ship now? Why the hell'm Ah always the last one to know these things?"

"Because you're too busy chasing after girls or getting into trouble," Arel said. "At least that's what my sister says."

Nathan started to grin at that, but the grin disappeared pretty quickly. He looked down at his glass and picked it up, lifting it to his lips. "How is Rena, anyway? She regrettin' takin' Admiral Elaithin's offer yet?" he asked before taking a long drink of his beverage.

"I think it's taking her some time to get used to it," She replied with more care than she usually took regarding Cowboy's feelings.

He nodded. "Didn't think she'd ever leave the Rogues. It was weird seein' her in that Command uniform fer the first time." He shrugged before continuing. "Ah'm happy fer her, though. Ah think she'll do fine."

"Don't piss her off by not checking in every now and again."

"Please, Arel, Spitfire's got better things to do than worry 'bout how often Ah call," Cowboy replied with a short laugh. Suddenly he looked up at her, his eyebrows knotting together in worry. "Why? You think she'd come after me or somethin' if Ah didn't?"

"I don't know," Arel said with a laugh. "Better to keep on her good side though, don't you think?"

"Yeah, yer prob'ly right. Best not to tempt fate. 'Sides, it's prob'ly borin' as hell fer her over there now that the two of us're gone. Ah'm sure she'd appreciate the visit."

"So you have any better alcohol stashed away somewhere?" Arel said after a moment. "This synthehol crap is crap."

"You do realize who yer talkin' to, right?" Nathan answered with his trademark grin. "Ah got some of the real stuff back in mah quarters." He paused, suddenly realizing how that may have sounded. "Uh, that is, not that Ah'm expectin'--"

"Let's go," Arel said, rolling her eyes. "Oh and, by the way, you lay one hand on my ass, I'm going to dislocate your jaw. After I've broken all the bones in your body."

Cowboy laughed as he stood up. "Careful, now, threats lahk that ain't exactly stopped me before. Yer lucky yer a married woman, Arel." He looked over at her as they walked out of the lounge, quirking an eyebrow. "Wait, *are* you still--"

She glared at him.

"Nevermind."

“Indigo for Indigo”

by Lt. Ella Grey

Ella looked at herself in the mirror, critically inspecting the outfit that she had chosen for Indigo’s memorial, and frowned.

It seemed wrong. Indecent somehow considering its purpose. Not to mention the fact that she was dressing for Indigo’s memorial, which in itself was wrong.

The outfit looked good on her, though. It fit and Indy would have loved it but Ella still thought that the dress was ghastly inappropriate for the occasion at hand.

Maybe it was because Ella’s idea of memorials and funerals ran towards a more traditional approach to death. Sobering. Mournful. Sedate. Long black limos and evenly spaced tombstones. Mourners in black or dark navy, with white pearls hanging around the necks of the women and neck ties to match the suits for the men. Children sitting quietly, swinging their legs in absolute boredom.

At Ella's funeral there would be bouquets of calla lilies, bound by delicate pink ribbons for that extra special personal touch. Flute or cello music would play softly in the background and her farewell song would be anything but the detested “Evening.”

Her mother would sob on and on about her dearly departed baby, of course, while her father would remain like a stone throughout the entire service, although it would be obvious to all that he was absolutely devastated.

8-ball and Curtis would be there, the former wearing a long modest black dress, except for the slit in the leg because Ella had to allow for some semblance of reality in this morbid little fantasy, and the latter (having never stepped foot on the dessert planet) would feel shaken to his core at the death of his former student, former friend.

And Victor would be there as well because at her funeral, obviously, Victor would not be angry or cold or unhappy with her anymore.

Victor would cry wordlessly as Ella was lowered into the earth (now in her glass Snow White coffin which was embedded with sapphires) and then suddenly, and with great theatric expression, and to hell with reality, he would leap into the hole (still crying) to beat upon the casket until it opened so that he could bring her back to life with a kiss.

Sometimes Ella came back to life and sometimes she didn’t. It varied upon her mood.

Obviously she had had too much time to think upon the subject of her own funeral over the past few days.

Still, everyone who came to the funeral of Ella Grey would comment later on how it was such a waste, the poor girl. They would be saddened how they never really understood her but she was so obviously talented, likeable, respected, etc. They would go to her memorial telling old stories like the time she was paraded down the halls in her little pink towel or the first time she used her mechanical voice in Engineering, ah the good old days, and eat from one of the many various dishes that were brought out of sympathy if not love.

They would leave feeling that her death had been a real tragedy and on the whole an injustice had been done upon them by a cruel and uncaring universe.

Indigo had demanded a beach barbeque.

Ella gave a lopsided smile as she remembered the paper she had found, now in the possession of Indy’s parents. Some time in the last few months, probably after Bill’s death, her friend had sat down and had seriously thought about what she wanted should she unexpectedly die. Indigo had requested that her body return with her parents to Earth and that Ella not attend because, on the whole, the whole funeral process was not so much fun. Instead, Indy had requested that Ella organize the final arrangements for Indigo’s spiritual self.

This, Indigo had dictated in her scrawling penmanship made in orange and purple ink, was to be a 48-hour beach barbeque on Holodeck One, complete with Hawaiian luau, volleyball tournament, Frisbee, and wet t-shirt contest if so desired. It was to be 48 hours so that people who had to work would have equal opportunity to party and celebrate the wacky fun that had been Indigo Renkert.

The only requirement for their admittance was that all guests had to wear the color indigo somewhere on their person.

They also got a brownie at the door if they had done something daring with their hair.

To both ends, Ella had succeeded. She was wearing a royal blue bikini and a hawaiin print sarong in a shade lying in the visible spectrum between blue and violet. She had a large beach bag with everything needed for a day at the beach, frisbee, book, pail and shovel, and two bottles of illegal Romulan ale.

She’d even dyed a lock of her hair a matching shade of indigo just because she thought that Indy would have gotten a kick out of it.

She’d had a bitch of a time making it work though as, since her mother had never allowed her to dye her hair, Ella was left all alone with a box, dye, and little white gloves that did not save your hands from dye no matter what the box promised. Therefore, she’d gone through several shades before she got it just right and had had a long cry somewhere in between because Indy should have been around to show her how it was done properly.

But now here she was, dressed in indigo for Indigo, and wanting to mourn instead of playing a damn game of volleyball. But this was what Indy had wanted and if this was what Indy had wanted then Ella was damn well going to do it.

Making sure that she had a bottle opener for the Romulan ale, Ella headed off for the Holodeck.