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((Corridor, USS Columbia)) ::Strolling down the corridor, Chelsea wondered just what had brought her to this area. It was just that sense of wandering, she supposed, that struck from time to time. They’d be off again soon, on some new and challenging mission, and she’d be up to her neck in responsibility – especially since she’d made Petty Officer. Yeah, that was nice. She wasn’t sure she was ready, exactly, but the earful she’d get from her mom kept Chelsea from doing anything stupid.:: ::Maybe that’s what had her chomping at the bit. This was a newer area of the ship for her; she rarely had reason to be around the officers’ quarters, but new duties meant new learning. As though she’d have to run down here after hours to rouse some ensign with some time-sensitive report! Ha, that was a laugh and a half. But her instructions were to know the layout of this area backwards and forwards, and that’s what she’d do. Who might know what a Petty Officer would be called upon to do in an emergency? And was it just her, or did it seem that there was always an – :: ::She stopped dead in her tracks as she rounded the corner, then, heart suddenly racing, jumped back behind the wall and pressed herself against it as she caught her breath. Was that? With them? Regaining her composure, she silently protruded an eye out beyond the edge of the wall, hands gripping the corner. It was!:: ::Her stomach tightened. But that was ridiculous – why should she care what Ian was doing or who he was speaking with?:: Connory: … maybe we could do it again some… ::Chelsea’s hand rose to cover her gaping mouth as she watched, as if in slow motion, the woman, that … that officer, pulled him closer and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. And that was it. Coy, she stepped back and Chelsea detected a kind of knowingness in her smile.:: Bentley: Goodnight Ian. ::And with that, she was gone. Even from ten meters away, Chelsea could see the Lieutenant had left him wanting more. She’d been smooth about it, every motion was fluid, and everything seemed so practiced – or perhaps, rehearsed. How did she do it? That was certainly not Chelsea. Her own attempts with boys – for it was probably that long ago that she’d given that kind of attention – were generally miserable imitations of what she’d just witnessed. For a time, she’d seriously thought she had spinach permanently set between her teeth, and that it would require surgical removal.:: ::Yet that Lieutenant had made it seem easy, and she’d charmed Ian. Not that Chelsea cared about that. Anyway, no more than anyone would care for the welfare of their superior officer; nobody in Operations would want to see Ian caught by some science officer’s wiles. Still, as Ian stood there, head against the wall with what looked like a smile, she couldn’t help but grip the wall tighter.:: ::A giggle behind her caught her off guard, and she realized at once that she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Shutting her mouth and spinning to face the crewmen, she drew herself up and, fuelled by authority and irritation from places unknown, she set her eye upon them.:: Ames: Alright, show’s over. Well, go on then, get going. ::They shared a glance and continued down the corridor toward Ian, their giggles resuming once they were past her. But Chelsea herself stayed hidden behind her corner, and a long sigh escaped her as her head slumped backward against the cold, unyielding wall.:: ::She didn’t care, anyway.:: ----- Petty Officer Chelsea Ames Operations USS Columbia NCC-85279

(Flyer class shuttle “Stinger”) ::Since he was traveling alone, Mitchell had a plotted a different course from any other ship making the journey. Instead of a least time course, instead he had set out in the general direction of the tunnel to DS-26. Which just happened to take him in the direction of Sol. But Earth was not his intended destination. Instead, midway through the journey he adjusted course for a much more historical destination. Since just off the computed course lay Wolf 359, site of the original battle to stop the Borg. :: oO I’ve never been to see it, so why not now? Oo ::As he neared the system, the computer picked up the automated warning beacons that marked the battle site as a historical area, and was not be entered. He dropped the Stinger from warp and entered the system on impulse. As he approached the beacons, he slowed to thrusters then stopped, floating in space just outside the designated battle zone.:: oO There’s still debris out there, even now. Oo ::He sat in silence, staring out the front “windscreen”. This place marked one of the worst disasters in Starfleet’s history. One of their own had been turned against them, and ten thousand plus had paid the price to try and stop it.:: oO Did Hebron get forced to turn against us like Picard did? Was there someone out there pulling the strings like a puppet like that Borg Queen did then? Oo :: He let his thoughts roam over all that had happened. As he did, he found himself thinking of Captain Sisko from DS9. His first ship, the Saratoga, had died out there in this system. Yet Sisko had found a way to go on. Becoming the CO of DS9 and doing all that he had done with that station, and the Defiant, all that fighting in the Dominion War. :: oO Somehow he found a way to go on with his career. He didn’t just take his son and disappear into history. He grieved but then went on to make history. Oo ::Now Mitchell had to find a way to go on. To find a new path aboard a new ship, with a new crew.:: oO Its not going to be easy. Oo ::Both of the two men he called his best friends were now gone. Vannini was back in Sol, raising his kids and working on ships at Utopia Plantia. Now Tyr was gone back to Ba’ku, probably never to leave again. Another friend and mentor, Steve McCall was who knows where in the universe. The last time he had heard from him, he was helping to Rei to raise their daughter, having given up the sneaky world of Intelligence. He had never been close to anyone else in the crew, except for competing with Eskyys from time to time. Also, in the entire time he had served aboard the Discovery B and C, he couldn’t remember ever making anything more than useless chit chat with Raj outside of the needs of a mission or the requirements of duty:: oO Except for that one time. But not supposed to talk or even think about that anymore. Pulling a phaser on the XO wasn’t exactly smart. But least the judge let me use the same rational they let Will Riker that time. Oo ::Plus now with the Discovery gone, he had lost the home had had known the longest. So he had to settle into a new ship, with a new crew and a new routine, under a new Captain.:: oO Not going to be easy to not compare how Blueheart does everything against what Tyr would have done. But I have to give him the chance. They have completely different styles. Tyr was always the bird of prey, circling, looking for action, a time to pounce, while Raj seems to be more passive, much more inclined to talk through things. Oo ::The Intrepid class was a hot design when it came out, but it was a still a light cruiser design, more set up for science and scouting missions than heavy combat. It just seemed weird to be serving on such a ship after so long on ships set up for more militaristic duties such as the Akira, or the Sovereign.:: oO Now the Bellerophon did a pretty decent job as Admiral Ross’ flagship during the war, so an Intrepid can hold her own. Just not quite armed enough for my tastes. Oo ::His thoughts were interrupted by the computer detecting a sensor contact approaching.:: oO Who else would be out here? Oo ::He turned his attention to check the contact, and it’s codes revealed it to be a Starfleet Sabre class light cruiser/destroyer named the USS Kverkjoll. And it was closing on him fairly fast.:: oO Wonder what they want? Oo KVERKFJOLL: =/\= This is the USS Kverkfjoll to unidentified shuttle near Wolf 359. This area is off limits. Identify yourself. =/\= oO Their definitely looking at me. Must be a security patrol or something…Oo MITCHELL: ::Activating the com:: =/\= Shuttlecraft Stinger to Kverkfjoll. Commander Rode Mitchell. I’m just here to pay my respects. =/\= KVERKFJOLL: =/\= Stinger, remain in position. We are enroute for verification. =/\= ::He waited for the Sabre class ship to arrive and drop out of warp.:: oO Must have been nearby. That couldn’t have been more than warp 2 they dropped in from. Oo KVERKFJOLL: =/\= Stinger, this area is off limits. Its classified as a memorial site. No one trespassing allowed. =/\= MITCHELL: =/\= Roger Kverkfjoll. Understood. I wasn’t planning on going inside the designated zone. I just wanted to come pay my respects enroute. I just lost my last ship and am enroute to join my new one. =/\= KVERKFJOLL: =/\= Understood Stinger. My CO says that is acceptable, but we have orders as well. Time to leave. =/\= MITCHELL: =/\= Understood. Very well. I’ll get going. =/\= KVERKFJOLL: =/\= We will be tracking you until you clear out sensors. Kverkfjoll out. =/\= ::The ship closed the channel and hung there in space, as if daring him to do something.:: oO Ok, its time to make my peace and get moving. Oo ::He closed his eyes, summing up all that had happened, then took a deep breathe, holding it for a minute, then exhaled and opened his eyes, watching his breathe impact the windscreen, and pretended it could let his troubles, pains, memories, pass right through.:: oO Guess I should go. Oo ::He activated the thrusters and swung the shuttle around, then went to one quarter impulse, heading out of the system. And like expected the Kverkfjoll paced him, as if they thought he might double back on them.:: oO I may be a lot of things, but I would never desecrate a site like this where so many gave their lives. Oo ::When he was clear of the zone, he switched to warp, and left the system. The Sabre hung with him for a bit, before altering course to return to her patrol. So with them gone, he altered his own course, heading for this Jentaris Corridor.:: tbc Commander Rode Mitchell Chief Tactical Officer USS Atlantis

((Evolution Bar, Deck 6, Drive Section)) ::Kael knew that the Commander was put in a difficult position and that in essence it would have been easier for him to simply just squash the issue. But he was doing his best to point out the benefits and was in his own way, fighting for his officers.:: ::It was clear to D'Nal that these Stafleet officers had no problem with the relocation and adoption of this Romulan boy. Turning from them and facing the window to his colony he needed to think. Saying yes, was, something that in his knowledge had never been voluntarily done. Why would you allow a Romulan boy to not grow up with a Romulan family when there are so many readily available. However, D'Nal kept coming back to the promise made by the mother of the child. Why would she wish her own child to not be raised as a Romulan, on HIS colony. This prospect troubled D'Nal more than the idea of the boy. :: Thomas: Governor, I don't mean to force your hand on this, but, would meeting the officer and the boy make this easier? ::Greir had been about to suggest the very same thing and quietly let the conversation unfold for now. :: Hheinia: I fail to see how meeting them would make it easier. ::Unless he means easier to emotionally blackmail him.:: Thomas: Governor, the boy hasn't been spoken to regarding this. It's possible, if you ask him, he might not want to. ::Kael had seen the boy's attachment to Graham from his interaction on the planet. While it was entirely possible that the boy might decide to stay on Talvath, he thought it equally as likely that the bond they had strangely developed might indeed be strong enough for him to self determine to stay. As much as a boy of 4 or 5 can self determine.:: ::Turning to face the man D'Nal knew this wouldn't be truly resolved unless he did meet them. He could outright decline the notion right now, but he decided to indulge the officers. Surely the boy would make his mind up for him and choose to come back to his own..:: Hheinia: Very well, bring them here. ::As the officer was summoned along with the boy the group in the room simply waited patiently, and silently for their arrival. The decision that was about to be made involved people and needed to be carefully considered.:: ::As Graham approached the door to the room with security outside of it, he put down Galen. The boy seemed almost impossible to detach from him since his mother passed away. As he put him down, the boy wanted to be picked up again, but Graham had to be firm with him. To Graham, walking in with the boy in his arms was presumptuous and unprofessional. If the Governor was to decline his wish, it would easier for Graham to break that bond, if the boy wasn't in his arms already. The Officer opened the door to find his superiors gathered in the room. Crossing the threshold was a daunting enough experience and he'd yet to have any discussion with the occupants.:: Block: Sirs. : :D'Nal turned as the man spoke and was taken back by the boy and the Officer. The boy was holding onto the man's trousers by his hand. He could be no more than four or five at most. This boy had no idea about what his parents or the Empire thought about Starfleet; he was an innocent. This man was around when he was simply in a time of need and the boy, for whatever reason formed that bond. :: Reinard: Come on in Ensign. Commander Thomas has explained what's happened. We need to hear why this is so important to you. I need to know whether you're ready and able to assume this responsibility - if it is permitted by the Governor. I have to know that you understand what you're taking on before I can give my blessing. ::He tried to keep an even tone that was calm and reassuring. It had to be pretty intimidating coming up in front of the most senior people on the ship as well as the Governor for the planet. Greir wondered whether Graham knew how much he was asking of them. The ship wasn't exactly kitted out for families either and StarFleet tended to avoid assigning them here for that reason. There was no nursery or school here and there never would be. Ashley Malcolm was one of the very few children aboard, :: ::Kael felt sorry for the officer but he needed to do this. What he was facing now, would be nothing compared to how hard it will be to look after a child. He tried to give Graham a reassuring look.:: Block: Thank you Commander. ::Looking down at Galen, who looked a little terrified. An emotion Graham could identify with.:: Sir's, this boy's...Galen's mother made me promise on her passing, that I adopt her son. Hheinia: Commander if I may? ::When no objection came during his pause he continued.:: Ensign, what made you think you could fulfil that promise? ::Graham had tried to prepare himself as best he could for these questions. He knew they were important and he knew that the Governor would be especially hard if he ended up speaking to him. The process had to be rigorous otherwise how would you determine just how good of a parent you would be to the boy. Graham took a breath and responded.:: Block: In truth, I probably shouldn't have promised. I was...and in truth in no position to promise that I will be able to adopt Galen. Hheinia: That is agreed. Why do you think that she asked you to promise. She is Romulan, the boy is Romulan. Why would she wish the boy to be a Human, and in Starfleet? ::Block thought back to the moment in question. The women was very forceful in getting him to promise to her that he would take her boy. She had clearly seen the attachment he had formed with the man but there must have been something else. She wasn't sure the colony would survive and she did not wish her boy to be brought up in it's ruin. She feared, that none there, would love her boy like she would. Graham thought about telling him that, but he knew it would inflame the situation. He didnt' want to not give all the details, but he knew it would also mean he couldn't fulfil his promise. That was all that mattered to Graham.:: Block: She had no family left Sir. She wished to have someone look after him whom she felt would give him everything that she would. In truth I have no idea why she wanted me over anyone else. But Sir, a promise to me is more important than anything. I know it's your decision, but I'll do everything I can to ensure I keep my promise. ::Some might have considered that comment a threat to the discussion, but D'Nal didn't. He was in a room full of people who were passionate about life, and passionate about this boy being taken care of. Could he say he could find someone on the planet that could love the boy, yes he could. Surely, for D'Nal that was the better option despite the passion and the desire of these officers. Looking at the boy, he was still attached to the leg of the officer and looking a little scared he must say. He had children of his own and he knew how he probably felt. D'Nal wanted to talk to this boy.:: Hheinia: ::Crouching down to the boys height.:: Galen is it? ::The boy barely looked up.:: Do you know who I am? ::The boy shook his head, and D'Nal accepted he was at least communicating.:: Do you know who this man is? ::Pointing at the Ensign, the boy spoke.:: Galen: Gaaaham ::Kael smiled at the boy, who did the best he could to say the man's name. :: Hheinia: You know Graham would like to adopt you. So you could live with him. Do you want to do that? Live with him? ::Graham felt a little nervous as the boy seemingly thought about it. He hadn't quite prepared himself for the event that the boy didn't want to stay with him. :: Galen: Yes. Hheinia: : :D'Nal sighed at the boy and his refusal to give him anything that would make saying no more than just his answer. His last hope with the boy would be if he knew of some family then D'Nal rather send him to them.:: Do you have any family Galen? Someone you can live with? ::In a moment that Kael will never forget, the boy reached out his hands in the clear symbol for Graham to pick him up, and repeated what he said before.:: Galen: Gaaaham : :D'Nal stood back up from where he was crouched and watched as a Human Starfleet officer held a romulan boy. If someone had of said to him that someday you'll see a Romulan boy raised by a Starfleet officer he would have told them they were lunatics. No one in the room could deny that this boy, right now, wanted to be with Graham. But there was so much more to it than that. This boy needed to be protected and nurtured. While it appeared that this Starfleet officer was willing to do that, he wondered if he was indeed capable. :: ::Walking back to the window he thought about the repercussions should he say yes. He knew the Empire would not approve but he didn't particularly care about that. He knew his people wouldn't approve, but he knew he could use the story in a positive light. He wanted his Colony to have Federation support and he wondered if allowing this boy to be part of it, would help to bring that closer together. Could this boy, end up moving Romulan and Federation relations towards a positive in the future? D'Nal didn't know, but as he turned around and saw the two again, he didn't feel like he had a compelling reason other than just because to deny this. The sight of them in each others arms, was a symbol he wanted to beam across the empire. This is how great it can be, this is what the future of Federation and the Empire should be.:: D'Nal: ::Breathing a sigh of defeat:: You have my blessing Ensign. ::It wasn't hard for Kael to miss the excitement and relief on the young mans face. He waited as they both looked at the Commander. :: ::He could see eager faces looking at him and waiting for his response. He was the last barrier to this happening and he too couldn't miss the close bong that had already formed between the two. With the Governor having given his blessing and seeing how the two were with each other it seemed impossible to say no. He was sure the boy would be somewhat traumatised by what had happened but he was sure everyone would band together and help Graham through any difficult times with the boy. :: Reinard: There are still a lot of things we'll need to discuss about it, but yes, I grant my permission as well. ::If Graham wasn't a professional Starfleet officer he might have let a little sound of joy out, but he was. He understood the complexity of the decision and he would do as he had promised to do, and look after this boy as best he could. :: Block: Thank you Sirs, I will do everything I can for him. ::Over the next hour and a bit the group talked about the future and recovery of Talvath. Greir grew to feel he could trust the Governor, at least more than he had when the question had been posed earlier. They talked of the future of the boy and how he was to be raised. He insisted that Graham find at least one god parent. He tried to be discreet about it but hoped the message was clear to Graham at least. If he was ever incapacitated, or worse, there needed to be someone ready to step in to the role of permanent carer, so the sooner someone was chosen and included as part of the new family unit the better. :: ::Once business was concluded to the satisfaction of everyone present Greir decided it was time to get a report from the bridge. Looking out through the window he had watched the sky slowly return to a much more normal colour and felt very proud of his team for their work and pleased that Talvath would have a future here. If looks were anything to go by then he was expecting they were about done here and ready to send the Romulan Governor home and the patients they had picked up earlier, assuming they were in a fit state to return home. :: Reinard: Excuse us a moment Governor, we're going to get a sitrep. We'll be right back. ::He ushered Kael across the room. :: Commander, please check in with the progress of those Romulan casualties you arranged to have brought up while I check the progress on the bridge. Thomas: Ay Sir. ::While the Commander spoke with the bridge, Kael put through a call to Sickbay to check on the progress of his rescued Romulans. He had hoped that their injuries weren't too severe and that the time in Sickbay would suffice to have their wounds treated. When the all clear returned from the sickbay Kael gave the order to have them transported back down near the Triage facility. While Kael would have liked to do more for them by the way of fixing their house, he already knew he's overstepped in getting them treated on the Darwin. He would settle for the fact that they are now alive and hopefully grateful for the fact.:: A JP By: Commander Greir Reinard Commanding Officer USS Darwin-A Cadet Steward: UFOP: SB118 Academy and Lieutenant Commander Kael Thomas First Officer USS Darwin-A Simming PNPC Ensign Graham Block Operations Officer USS Darwin-A and MSPNPC D'Nal Hheinia Governor Talvath

((Holodeck 3, USS Garuda))) ::Alora's suggestion that they explore their home planets via the holodeck had been eminently agreeable. Her desire to show him her martial training was met with rather more reserve. Vulcans were by nature pacifists, and whilst Saveron understood the principle of being prepared to defend one's self - he himself practiced the Vulcan martial art of Suus Mahna to a high level - he was aware that Terrans as a species still occasionally employed violence purely for it's own sake. That was not a concept that he found easy to equate with what he knew of Ensign DeVeau, and he had meditated on his reluctance regarding that particular exposure.:: ::Having come to the conclusion that Alora's apparent desire to show him parts of her own life was not disagreeable in principle, he arrived at the appointed Holodeck, dressed in a long, loose robe against the cold of Federation Standard temperatures.:: ::When the doors opened to admit the Vulcan, he stepped into a single, large room. On the floor were mats. A little more than half were made out of some sort of light wood while a smaller section boasted more padding. The walls were lined with various banners that contained script not too unlike Vulcan, but blockier. Alora was already present. Her uniform had been exchanged for a jacket that folded across and tied with a belt and wide, loose pants that billowed as she sat - or rather, kneeled. There was a man with her, an older gentleman around seventy or so. His features were unlike hers with dark, slanted eyes, a rounder face and darker skin. When he spoke, the words clicked and sang at the same time and Alora responded in kind.:: Sensei: Your guest is here. ::The universal translator offered:: DeVeau : Yes, teacher. ::Alora's gaze moved away from the man before her and to the man who had just entered and rose.:: DeVeau: Hey. Ready to learn some Aikido? Saveron: Sochya, Lieutenant DeVeau. The acquisition of knowledge is always agreeable. DeVeau: This is a holographic version of my sensei back on earth, Hideyuki Takeguchi. ::The Vulcan noted the nature of the name and the man's appearance. One of Terra's asian cultures, if he recalled correctly. He bowed politely, never seeing any reason to be less than so to a hologram.:: Saveron: I am Shghren T'Ashaii Savehroahn, and I am honoured. ::The man bowed in a fashion typical of his culture, then straightened.:: Saveron: Were you speaking Japanese? ::He remembered her saying that she was fluent in the language, and it was an asian language.:: DeVeau: Yeah. I can teach you if you want. It's pretty complicated and often allegorical, but it's a beautiful language. ::Of course, Alora was rather biased, but that didn't need to be said.:: DeVeau: Shall we begin? Sensei: Hai. ::The hologram turned and took up position at the head of the room. Alora took a place diagonal to him, but facing.:: DeVeau: It is traditional for the newest students to stand closest to the door. ::Alora indicated a position to her left, which would indeed keep Saveron closest to the entrance.:: ::Saveron inclined his head but moved to the side of the room first to remove his robe and slippers, leaving him standing in a pair of loose black trousers and a close-fitting garment that was essentially a very long, strip of white cloth, wound about his torso and over his shoulders in a complicated interleaved pattern that made it close-fitting but flexible, shifting with his movements. The garment left his arms bare, and the backs of his upper arms were covered in the same pale spots as the back of his neck.:: ::Following Alora’s gesture, Saveron took up the position nearest the door.:: Once in position, Alora turned to face the 'sensei' who bowed. She bowed in return and indicated that Saveron should do the same. The hologram turned and then bowed toward the wall of the room upon which hung a banner. Alora did likewise.:: DeVeau: The first thing we're going to do is the walking Kata. This is the basis for every single move that we'll do in Aikido. Break down the more complicated motions and you'll always find something from this kata. When we do this, always keep your knees just slightly bent. Roll your body forward on the balls of your feet so that your heels are just barely off the floor, just enough to slide a piece of paper under them. When you move you want as little up and down motion as possible. Keep your weight on the front part of your foot and do more of a sliding motion and that will help. Sensei: Hajime! (Begin.) ::The motions were not complicated in of themselves. To someone who was not used to performing them, however, they were awkward and contrary to how most people would move. Both the hologram and Alora performed them with a grace evident of long practise.:: ::Saveron had an innate grace but the movements of the Kata were counter to how he had been trained, to how his body was designed to move. Despite the lightness of his frame his people were built for strength, adapted to a high gravity and a harsh environment, and his movements were overly stiff and lacked the flowing grace of Alora and her sensei.:: ::As the kata wound to it’s close Saveron returned to his resting position.:: Saveron: It is... interesting. The basic principles appear different to that which I have learned. ::And it was always interesting to learn something new, even if he found this difficult. A challenge was not disagreeable.:: ::Saveron’s attempts to mimic the motions were more successful than a lot of students, but was obvious that the Vulcan needed to relax. That was something else he had in common with a lot of newbies. Alora chuckled softly to herself and nodded.:: DeVeau: Aikido is a purely defensive art. If you attack someone, then you aren’t doing Aikido. It uses your opponent’s strength and speed against him to allow you to either get out of the way and run away, or disable your opponent if there’s no other option. ::Alora fiddled with the ties on her hakama and straightened it a little.:: DeVeau: The first rule is to not fight unless absolutely necessary. On Earth, if someone came and tried to rob you, any good Aikido instructor would tell you to just give the attacker what they wanted. Fighting should be limited to protecting yourself and others if you know you’re in danger of bodily harm.:: ::The Vulcan considered the information. It was interesting in many ways, aligning with many of the principles that he had been taught, though not all of them. It was certainly educational.:: Saveron: Violence is always abhorrent; occaisionally it is necessary. ::He agreed.:: DeVeau: Okay, next up, falling! Saveron: You have my attention. DeVeau: While technically there are no attacks in Aikido, we do teach people how to attack so that one can practise defense. It’s done in a slow manner, however, because when you’re learning something, it’s better to start slow. Like...piano. You practise a tune for the first time, you’re not going to go a tempo. You’re going to start slow. Then, as you learn the piece, it gets ingrained in your muscle memory. Once that happens, it doesn’t matter what speed you’re going at, you’re going to be able to perform that piece. Because of that, there are going to be lots of times when you make people fall or you’re falling yourself. So you need to learn how to fall in such a way where you aren’t going to get hurt. Saveron: That is logical. Prevention of injury is preferable. ::And he was interested to see how Terrans practiced such things.:: DeVeau: We start from the bottom and we work our way up. ::Alora sat down on the floor and waited for Saveron to do the same. :: DeVeau: First, the most important thing to protect is your head. So you’ll always want to tuck your chin as you fall so that it’s against your chest and your head never actually hits the ground. We always start at the safest point - on the back. Then we work our way up from there. ::Alora demonstrated and rolled back. She started with her head on the ground, then tucked her chin against her chest. Her arms which had began at a position across unfolded to come to her sides slightly bent.:: DeVeau: When you fall, you want to spread out the impact so that it’s not concentrated in one area and thus increases the chance of injury. If you fall with your arms like this, you’ll keep from landing on your elbow and your hand will be open and slap. Then it will sort of spring back up. You don’t want a hard slap, just a natural response to the fall. Saveron: To absorb some of the impact. Suus Mahna utilises similar techniques. ::Basic physics showed the logic of the method.:: DeVeau: Every time you practise, do it at least ten times. Then we go from a sitting position and fall from there. ::Saveron nodded and, after a moment, copied her motion, chin tucked and arms at his sides and bent ever so slightly.:: ::The obedient student, the Vulcan followed through the falls and rolls as Alora and her sensei taught and guided him, though it was plain that he had difficulty relaxing into the motion. The fact that he had enough strength to effectively push himself off the floor when he caught himself didn’t help his adherence to the technique.:: DeVeau: Maybe you should go see a masseuse. ::Saveron [...]ed his head curiously.:: Saveron: Why? DeVeau: Might help you relax. Saveron: Such would not be culturally appropriate. ::He said delicately.:: ::Alora chuckled softly, then slipped over to the edge of the mat. Upon it near the wall were a pair of dark blue gloves that matched her gi jacket. She pulled them onto her hands, then rejoined her student. :: DeVeau: There’s a lot of contact and sometimes its on the wrists and hands. ::It was an explanation for the gloves, an attempt to keep things comfortable for the Vulcan. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds again. He might not forgive her a second time.:: Saveron: I see, that it logical. ::It was also considerate, although perhaps she found it preferable to avoid such contact after their previous encounter. A spoken command to the holodeck’s computer provided him with a pair of elbow-length gloves that he pulled on fastidiously.:: Saveron: We also practice with gloves in Suus Mahna, though one is not afforded such luxuries in a genuine combat. In which case bare hands can be an advantage. DeVeau: I imagine it could. ::That earned her another one of those blank looks where he tried to puzzle out whether she was thinking what he was thinking.:: Saveron: My people chose peace but we evolved from violent beginnings. We are capable of mental defence; and offence. ::Scrambling someone’s mind was an option, should the situation become sufficiently desperate. He felt it was important for Alora to understand that, unlike Betazoids who used their broadcast telepathy for casual communication, his people’s abilities could be far less benign.:: DeVeau: I know. ::The Vulcan nodded, seriously, just once.:: ::Alora hadn’t ever experienced telepathy through physical touch before Saveron and Saavok, though she’d certainly been around Vulcans, including teachers of the language. While she admitted to learning more about their culture, particularly the differences between certain communities, she was not completely ignorant. She had learned something about their violent history and of the teachings they had adopted. She could certainly see the logic in it, and she could understand why they underwent such drastic measures. Vulcans were extremely strong and from what she had read, they had intense, passionate emotions. Or had if one asked a Vulcan.:: ::The thing was, Alora wasn’t entirely convinced that the Vulcans didn’t have emotion, though some claimed that they did not. Even with those claims, hints to the presence of feelings emerged here and there despite all their attempts. Or maybe, for some reason, she saw it more with Saveron. Or maybe she was simply imagining it all.:: DeVeau: Okay, so the first thing you learn in Aikido are the releases. They’re called that because at their most basic level, they break the hold that the attacker has on you - force them to release you - and allow you to gain control. We’ll focus on the first four today and work our way up. ::Never refusing a chance to learn, Saveron was a diligent if careful student, mindful of his superior strength and having no desire to inflict any pain on Alora, who was gifting him with this knowledge. Saveron was not particularly strong for a Vulcan, but he was far stronger than a Terran.:: ::Some of the movements were similar to those used in Suus Mahna, some were very different. One of them he had difficulty with because his elbow articulated in a slightly different way; species variation. She was a very patient teacher, he gave her the courtesy of studiousness. He did wonder why she offered to teach him thus, and whether she taught others. All of existence was a chance to learn, but there were only so many hours in a day and each was precious.:: ::Yet for some reason it was this perhaps eminently unsuited Vulcan that she was endeavouring to teach this deceptively gentle martial art to. It was his wrists she wrapped her cool hands around as she demonstrated the holds, and taught him how to break them. He could have broken her arm with one hand, but he was careful to use only just enough force to break the hold, gentle as he would be with a child. Who knew when he might have cause to use such techniques against stronger opponents?:: Saveron: Fascinating. It is a very different art to that in which I am trained, though no less effective. I shall experiment with my own trainer. Saavok might also benefit from learning such techniques. DeVeau: Why do you say that? Saveron: He will be smaller than others of his age cohort until he reaches puberty. Our species develops more slowly than those with shorter life-spans. ::And once they reached adulthood, aging slowed markedly further.:: ::Ah yes. It was easy to forget that. Alora had only been around adult Vulcans before Saavok - at least, for any real length of time. Human children changed so rapidly, but Vulcans had more gradual growth.:: DeVeau: I wouldn’t mind teaching him, though there’s just a few things I can do at this point. At the very least I can teach him the releases and practise getting offline which. Both are still very useful and can help protect you, but many of the motions require locks that would damage growth plates because of all the twisting even if you aren’t trying to. I’m...not really too familiar with Vulcan anatomy, but I wouldn’t want to cause him any harm. ::She paused.:: He might be getting tired of me though. Saveron: My son finds your company agreeable. He indicated that you expressed similar. DeVeau: Oh? Saveron: After the Fair. As family we regularly share experiences. DeVeau: I see. ::And the experience she had shared with Saavok had been agreeable, as a Vulcan would say. The touch of the child’s mind had a different feel from that of Kestra - and from Saveron’s. She refrained from describing it. They would probably think her mad. Well...maybe just illogical.:: Saveron: I also find your company agreable. DeVeau: And I yours. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with both of you and I’m glad you’ve allowed me to take up so much of your time. ::Alora had never had an issue making friends, but she had to admit she hadn’t expected to connect with someone so quickly. Not that she minded. Her smile returned as she tugged the gloves from her hands.:: Saveron: I find our mutual experiences both educational and agreeable; a valuable consumption of time. It is, after all, a commodity than can only be spent or wasted. ::And he considered time with Alora to be time well spent. He sometimes found it difficult to relate to other crew members and develop friendships beyond the professional, something that he attributed to cultural differences. With Alora however there had been no such difficulties, and he found her company particularly agreeable.:: DeVeau: I just hope you both don’t get tired of me. Saveron: I consider that there is a low probability of that occurring. DeVeau: You know, if I’m ever...you know, around too much, you can just say that you need some time to yourself. I can get greedy sometimes. Saveron: Should that situation arise, I will do so. ::He said gravely.:: One trusts that you will do the same. ::It would be preferable not to bore Alora with his company if she wished to seek more culturally comparable companions.:: DeVeau: I will, though I doubt that’s going to happen. ::Despite the lack of emotions, the Vulcans were a joy to be around, and quite interesting in her eyes.:: DeVeau: I like being around you, and I like learning from you. ::He, also, found such agreeable.:: Saveron: Then, on that premise, may I enquire as to whether you would be interested in a demonstration of Suus Mahna? ::He didn’t know whether she could learn the strength-heavy martial art, though he would be willing to teach.:: DeVeau: I’d love to! ::Alora knew very little about it to be honest, but she was always open to learning new things. She doubted that she’d ever enjoy a martial art as much as she enjoyed Aikido, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy it at all.:: Saveron: Then I will book the holodeck for an appropriate time. DeVeau: Good. I look forward to it. ******** Lieutenant Commander Saveron Chief Medical Officer USS Garuda & Lt. JG. Alora DeVeau Science Officer USS Garuda

(( Walter Schirra Interior )) :: Well, it wasn't the best plan, but it was all he had and it had seemed to make sense in the moment. The Mercury crew would be fine, after all, under the wing of a Galaxy-class, and there was nothing more that he could do -- or, indeed, wanted to do -- other than get out as quickly as possible. Of course, then the question really did become where he was going. He answered that in spirit easily enough -- so easily, in fact, that he wondered if he hadn't known the answer before he left: He was going to join his grandfather. Whether or not he was going to assist him, he didn't know, but it was the most logical starting point. But how to find him? Wanted war criminals didn't exactly hang their locations on the public nets, so Aron was left to wander in the Schirra, searching the most likely locations, starting (to his intense displeasure) with 83 Leonis, cycling through the places where he'd seen his grandfather, and generally wending back toward Federation space. The difficulty there was that there was definitely a risk of running into Federation starships, and operating from a stolen shuttle -- while it might have been accepted by his former crew back in the Corridor -- wasn't likely to endear him to many other officers. So far, he'd been lucky, but that only lasted so long, and when the Schirra's proximity alert rang out, he knew he'd come to it at last. :: KELLS: Computer, can you get a fix on the approaching ship? COMPUTER: Miranda-class starship, bearing 45 mark 10.8. Warp 8.5. :: Well, that was truly unlucky as it was much more than the Schirra could do except in emergencies. What to do? He could try what the Mercury had done at Nygel and try outmaneuvering it, but they would come out of warp in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but space to twist around. Still, if there was no running, no eluding, and no fighting, he might as well talk. He could do that well enough by now. :: KELLS: Bring us out of warp, and as soon as the ship's out, too, hail them. :: He'd certainly be an odd sight: An old man in a Starfleet uniform, without a comm badge or rank insignia, alone in a shuttle and far from any parent ship. :: COMPUTER: Hail successful. Channel opens now.... :: A small screen in the [...]pit clicked on, and Aron froze. He liked to think that very few things could surprise him any more, but the Architect had pulled a fast one this time. :: KELLS: Arden? Arden Cain?! ((Bridge, USS Altamira)) :: Arden and his crew had spent the last three days conducting trails on the aging warp drive of the USS Altamira not to mention several other key onboard systems. That was, of course, until Arden's Chief Tactical and Security officer informed him that a stolen shuttle was within sensor range. Figuring that it would be killing two, or more, birds with one stone Arden ordered an intercept course. As the minutes ticked by and the Altamira got ever closer Arden was paying closer attention to the various engineering system monitors then he was on the pursuit. The Altamira might be getting old to the point that many would call it obsolete but the crew that manned it were nothing short of the best. Or at least that was how Arden saw it in all honesty. The simple fact was that newer technology did not equate to better results in the case of the Altamira so a little outside the box thinking was required.:: THELEK: The stolen shuttle is dropping out of warp Commander, your orders? MARTINEZ: Whoever it is, is also hailing us Sir. CAIN: Ok, approach from it's aft and close within tractor distance. Arm phasers and ready the tractor beam. With that done, lets hear what they have to say. ::Returning to his chair from the aft engineering station Arden sat down and faced the view screen which gave a decent look of the stolen shuttle that appeared to be of "Federation" design. Once Lt. Martinez, Arden's hot shot helm officer, had maneuvered the Altamira into position the view screen changed from the view of the shuttle exterior to the shuttle's interior. Inside Arden could quickly see an elderly man wearing a Star Fleet uniform without a comm badge or rank insignia. Arden could think of any number of reasons for the man's appearance so as strange as that was for Arden to see, what was stranger was the way the man seemed to recognize Arden. It was only then that Arden seemed to piece some of the details together. Knowing that Lieutenant Commander Thelek, who was dutifully manning tactical, wouldn't fire unless provoked Arden decided to take at least a moment to see if he could find out more from a man that resembled his former CO and friend. As much as he tried to keep up with the adventures of the USS Mercury, there were some things that mission reports couldn't quite convey. Appearantly this was one of them.:: KELLS: Arden? Arden Cain?! CAIN: You seem to be a fair way from the Menthar Corridor Captain Kells. Not to mention, the last person I expected to see today Sir. KELLS: The same goes for me, I'm sure. I had no idea I had strayed into the Altamira's mission sphere. :: In truth, Aron had no idea where the Altamira was operating these days; it could very easily be much different from the theater of operations he remembered. :: CAIN: I suppose it has been a while so perhaps a good place to start would be why you're in a stolen shuttle? KELLS: Well, I'm -- on the run, I suppose. That's the official term. What I'm doing, really, is searching. CAIN: This sounds like a conservation better held in private. Would you consent to being beamed to my Ready Room? :: Aron graced his former XO with a wan smile. :: KELLS: A tempting invitation, but as you've just pointed out, you know this shuttle voyage is not exactly condoned by Starfleet. You may prefer to arrest me and impound the Schirra, hm? CAIN: You know me, I am not going to just throw you, of all people, in my brig especially if there is a reason for all this. But I will need some answers, Starfleet is a bit antsy at the moment about stolen vessels. KELLS: I suppose they are -- and I also would rather speak with you than with a bureaucrat I don't know. Very well. I'll beam aboard. But, Commander -- one request. CAIN: I am glad to hear that. And your request would be? KELLS: Beam me directly to your ready room. I'd rather not be paraded around right now. CAIN: My thoughts exactly, stand by for transport. ::With that Arden watched as the comm channel closed. Turning to Lieutenant Commander Thelek, Arden didn't have to verbalise the order as the Andorian was already several steps ahead. With that Arden then left the Bridge through the aft door and took the quick walk to his Ready Room.:: (( CRR, USS Altamira )) :: Aron's first assessment of the room was that it was pleasant, functional, but definitely cramped. Well, no more than he expected, really; he'd been in the captain's ready room of the Drake plenty of times in his days, though he did remember that being larger, which could have easily been a function of his youth. But wasn't he smaller these days...? :: KELLS: I do appreciate your decision to meet with me, Arden, and not arrest me on principle. I know that you're bound by the rules of Starfleet and the Federation. (beat) As I no longer am. CAIN: ::Giving a small smile:: It is the least I could do and I'm not too concerned with those rules, at least not yet. Unlike my XO I learned early on that rules aren't the be all and end all. Whether that is because of all the time I spent in uncharted space or a number of role models, I don't know. Now that we're in private though, would you be able to tell me what's going on? KELLS: I'll explain a bit more in a moment, but first, may I ask: Have you heard anything recently about the war criminal known as the Infernal? ::Arden paused to think, he and his crew had had an eventful few months and missions involving more then a couple notorious figures but Arden had never heard of anyone by the name of the Infernal. Arden quickly came to the conclusion though that he didn't really want to come face to face with a man who described himself as an infernal.:: CAIN: Of the couple of war criminals I have tangled with since leaving the Mercury, I haven't come across anyone by that name. Why do you ask? KELLS: When I said I was searching, well -- he's the one I'm searching for. You know: My grandfather. CAIN: Oh yes, I seem to recall you mentioning something about him. Certainly seems like an age ago now. Just so we're clear, your grandfather is still considered to be a wanted war criminal? KELLS: By the Federation, yes. I know that he's-- :: "Innocent" was certainly the wrong word; the actions as they were presented -- that the man known as the Infernal was responsible for the genocide of a sentient species -- were correct in letter if not in spirit. Aron's eyes, as he searched briefly for the word he wanted, were blazing. :: KELLS: --he's more complicated than I had expected, as is his case. CAIN: As far as I am concerned, there is nothing wrong with wanting to reconnect with family. As much as I try very hard not to. And the only thing that officially needs answering to is the shuttle because you haven't found your grandfather yet. :: Aron looked sharply over at Arden -- much easier done now than with the screen separating them. :: KELLS: Yes, I suppose that's true. CAIN: I'm sure that I'm not doing anything you wouldn't have done if the roles were reversed. ::Pausing for a moment:: If I thought for a second that things had changed that much, we wouldn't be having this exact conversation, let alone having it in private. KELLS: No. (beat) No. CAIN: Did you want something to drink before you get into it all? KELLS: Yes, please. Anything substantial to eat. And I mean anything. The shuttle has a replicator, but, well, I've been trying to conserve it. No idea how long I might be out there, or where I could stop. CAIN: ::Giving a bit more of a smile:: Anything coming right up. ::Arden quickly moved from his side of the desk to the replicator where Arden ordered a cup of tea, glass of juice and a bowl of Earth styled Irish stew. It took a couple of moments for the replicator which looked as if it was one of the few original parts still installed on the Altamira to process the order but it did eventually producing the three items on a plastic carry tray. With the tray in hand it was a simple matter of returning to the desk and distributing the items to their intended consumer.:: :: Aron waited as Arden moved to the replicator and then back again. In truth, he did wonder if perhaps -- except for the size and the systems -- he wasn't a little better off in the shuttle; Arden's ship looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Yet, maybe that was desirable: If Aron Kells was on the run, then it was better, wasn't it, to be captured by a ship that was coming apart and not a brand new Sovereign-class or some such. Even if that dilapidated ship's captain was his old friend. :: KELLS: Where would you like me to begin? CAIN: The beginning is always a good place to start but admittedly I am most eager to hear, at the moment, why you're no longer a Starfleet captain. :: Aron smiled slightly, though the expression didn't touch his eyes. :: KELLS: Of course you do. Arden, I'm here to prove myself to you, to prove that while the letter of the law might dictate one thing, the right thing to do is what I ask of you. That's what I have to do. Nothing more, nothing less. CAIN: It is my general belief that doing what's right and following the law are the same thing. KELLS: I did so, once, too. Then my understanding of those rules and the order they sought to enforce changed. Another incidence of genocide prompted that -- which brings us neatly back to my grandfather. CAIN: I am not sure that I follow, could you explain that one to me? KELLS: Ah, but where should I start? Why don't you tell me what you already know? CAIN: Well I read the after action report submitted to Command after the 83 Leonis incident, or what I could find at my clearance level, so I am assuming that that was the genocide you speak of. Reading between the lines after that I assume there was some sort of trial given your absence from the Mercury at the start of that next mission. KELLS: Yes, there was. :: Aron was nodding slowly as he spoke, impressed as ever by his former first officer's deductive powers. Not that it should have been a surprise; the Prime Directive had been called into question, and that required a hearing. However, the official reports didn't include the specifics, and so Arden wouldn't have known the degree to which the Mercury crew had been involved; and so the deduction was still a good one. :: KELLS: Although it would be a lie to say that was the only reason, though it may have been a catalyst. And how did you know so certainly, anyway? CAIN: I like to stay as up to date with what's happening on the Mercury and the Menthar Corridor as much as possible. All in my spare time of course, it's a nice distraction. I also heard a rumour that Star Fleet assigned a new vessel to the Corridor. KELLS: Did they? Well, that's news to me, though it's fine; with the Mercury out of commission for so long, Ross would've been CO for a few runabouts. :: Still, Aron hadn't known that Starfleet had been ready to assign a new ship, nor that the Mercury would have been so crippled by its emergency maneuvers. Would he have run, then, if he had? :: KELLS: It was time to go. Starfleet and I parted company a long time ago, I think, and certainly before this-- :: He pointed at his old face and the oldest of the personalities residing within. :: KELLS: --but I spoke truly when I said that the trial was a catalyst. Certainly the Prime Directive was a concern, but the fact that the species there had been genetically tampered with -- well, that seemed, and still seems, to me more interesting. CAIN: Sounds like you were made into the scapegoat and I can honestly say that I do not like the sound of that. :: Aron looked over at him sharply. That was exactly what part of him wanted to believe, of course -- but it was too easy, too simple, too polarized. :: KELLS: Maybe I was. But I think there was something larger going on; and with Starfleet unable or unwilling to look into it, I realized I would forever have my hands tied by administration until I left. ::This time it was Arden's turn to return the look that his former Captain gave him just a couple of seconds beforehand. A frown was also coming to Arden's face just as it usually did on a mission when a seemingly impossible situation just got worse. This time the look was owed to the realisation of the full meaning behind what Kells was trying to impress on Arden. Having to deal with bueacrates or other decietful individuals was nothing new to Arden but the sheer scope presented was new and certainly hard to comprehend. That said Arden didn't doubt for a second that the man opposite him was telling the truth, the pair had been through too much for Arden to think otherwise.:: CAIN: Star Fleet certainly is capable of keeping something like this buried if they wanted to. And if working with the likes of Commander Bale has taught me anything, it is that this wouldn't be the first secret Star Fleet has wanted to keep hidden either. The real question is though, what do you plan on doing now? KELLS: To find out the truth: Who manipulated those people, who built that race? You see, I was afraid -- as an officer -- of the answers I might have found; because I know my grandfather now, and I know what he was ordered to do during the Dominion War. ::Arden paused for a moment to let out a breath that he hadn't realised that he had been holding. Before he spoke again he paused to make sure he worded his next statement correctly.:: CAIN: You're implying that there could be some connection between previous crimes committed by your grandfather and what is happening now. I know that genocide doesn't usually just happen but what makes you think the two events are linked? KELLS: He was ordered, by a very secret treaty between the Federation and the Romulan Empire, to develop a species bred for combat -- a kind of Jem'Hadar for the Alpha Quadrant. Very last ditch, you understand, and never to be used, unless. Well, that time never came, and a good thing, too, because the project failed. The species wasn't sufficiently controllable, not in the way the Jem'Hadar were. The project was terminated -- and I hope you take my meaning, because that's the reason my grandfather was labeled a war criminal, accused of genocide: He'd created life, but it had gone wrong, and so he's remembered for the death. CAIN: I see. I can't say that I fully understand because I don't and this isn't the time to go into those details. ::Pausing briefly:: Perhaps its safer for everyone if we don't. But I certainly do see the connection to your grandfather. If anyone can help you get to the bottom of this current situation, he can. KELLS: And now I'm going to find him. :: Abruptly, Aron stood. :: KELLS: It's time that I left, Arden. Which, of course, means that it's time for you to decide: Do I leave freely? CAIN: ::Remains in his seat as he begins typing commands into his console.:: There is no choice there, of course you're going to leave freely, just not in that shuttle. :: Aron raised his eyebrow fractionally. What was this? :: KELLS: I'm listening. CAIN: The next Starfleet vessel that spots you or that shuttle won't be so accommodating, I would imagine. Not to mention, and more importantly, you're not going to get very far in that tiny shuttle. :: That was certainly true, Aron thought. The modifications Lieutenant Vistain had made were apparently partially responsible for the shuttle's good speed and its high stamina thus far -- or he was willing to spread the credit, anyway -- but it was true that he couldn't putter around the dark corners of the galaxy forever in the Schirra. :: KELLS: No, I suppose not. CAIN: I have a Ferengi runabout in my hangar bay that I have been tasked with returning to Ferengi space. An annoying side effect of those Iconian gateways reactivating. Don't ask, but the point is that you would be doing me a great favor in returning it when you get the chance, of course. As far as my crew is concerned, a former Starfleet captain can be trusted to do that, wouldn't you say? KELLS: I would. Say, that is. (slight smile) Perhaps primarily because it benefits the former captain in question. :: Still, one question twisted Aron's smile into a frown. :: KELLS: But what about the shuttle? CAIN: Already working on that. As the records show you came upon the shuttle in your travels and decided to be the good Samaritan you are, by returning it to the nearest starbase. KELLS: Did I, now? What a good man I must be. :: Again he smiled slightly, but not at his own wit; he understood that Arden was putting himself at risk, since if he returned the shuttle and Starfleet had decided to be angry with Aron, he was advertising his culpability. Still, it was the captain's purview to think through the actions of everyone around him; the lone operator didn't have that responsibility. :: KELLS: You'll still have to return it, of course. They might question you. CAIN: I have no illusions to that but this way gives you more time to get clear of prying eyes. The only other way out would be for you to fight your way clear of the Altamira. Needless to say that I would give anything to avoid that. KELLS: Nor do I think I could, old friend. ::Entering the last instructions into his computer terminal, Arden also stood and waited for his former Captain to make up his mind. Arden wasn't a fool, he knew full well that Kells had probably already thought of fighting his way out. Arden knew that if the roles were reversed, he would have considered the option himself. In this case deception was the lesser of two evils because the other meant having to do Arden's best to arrest or possibly destroy a friend. Arden hoped that Aron saw that too.:: KELLS: I accept. Thank you. :: Aron stood, and offered a hand that possessed neither the plasticity nor the dexterity it once had, but which fulfilled the task of shaking Arden's hand well enough. :: ::Arden took the man's hand without hesitation and shook it gently. The man before Arden might have aged physically almost beyond recognition since the last time Arden saw him but Arden knew that Aron Kells was still the same captain that Arden had grown to trust. And indeed come to call a friend which was a rarity in and of itself for Arden.:: CAIN: It's the least I could do. ::Arden found himself pausing to avoid saying anything that sounded to final. Unlike the last time that the two parted this time seemed as if it would be the last. Suffice to say that Arden didn't want to focus on that even if that was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Giving a small smile he continued on what he hoped was a brighter note.:: CAIN: Just do me a favor, make sure the runabout gets back to its owners when you're done with it. I mean, my latinum stash isn't sizable enough to appease a Ferengi wanting a replacement runabout. KELLS: I will. (beat) You won't see me again for some time, so I say again: Thank you. And until then... TBC! Aron Kells Searcher & Commander Arden Cain CO, USS Altamira

((USS Excalibur - Deck 6 – Brek's Office)) ::After 40 minutes of frantic typing and then some serious editing, Brek was now staring at the final version of his report. It wasn't as long as he had pretended it would be in Intel. Just 500 words of brutal honesty. Once he had come to term with the fact he was the sole person responsible for his behavior, there was actually little to brood about.:: ::He took a sip of the Tarator soup he had replicated moments ago and he winced. It's not that the taste was bad, but, like most healthy food, it looked like something someone else had regurgitated an hour ago. At first he had wanted to go for a nice slice of apple pie, but he had achieved so little, (in term of results), during the drill, that he didn't think he deserved the treat.:: ::Of course, it's not what he had written in his report. Besides, he was a firm believer that when one accepts everything, then all that's tragic, sad or simply unpleasant, disappears. Plus, it was also important to always keep a positive outlook on events:: ::That's how he had come to the conclusion that he hadn't done so bad after all. He had been able to work on the Bridge, and then in the Intel Suite, while previously he would have stayed within the boundaries of his domain. He had also rediscovered a forgotten skill of his: the ability to use common devices, even broken ones, in ingenious ways.:: ::There was however, one area where he had not fared so well: he had remained extremely cautious in the face of danger. He loathed any form of violence and so preferred to leave that sort of activity to others. Was he really to be blamed for having survival instincts that were developed to such a fine level?:: Brek: oO Don't kid yourself, little beetle. If you want take your career to the next level, you'll have to toughen up. Oo ::And how do you toughen up a man of words, bribery and juicy contracts?:: Brek: oO There are many holodeck programms you could use. What about the 'Hound of the Baskerville' one that you have? Running away from a demonic creature would be good for your endurance. Failing this, you could play tennis... eliminate all those nasty toxins in your body. Oo ::Brek humphed, and, wanting to run away from his own thoughts, he sent his report and left his office. He would walk in the corridor until he found a soul with whom he could have an argument.:: ::Sadly for him, the only person he met was his aide Dakarai, who happened to be on his way to a game of tennis. You could tell because he was wearing those dreadful white shorts that exhibited his hairy legs. Then, one thing leading to another, Brek allowed his conscience to speak, and he ended up following what, by his new standards, could pass for a friend.:: ((Deck 6 – Tennis Court)) ::Of course, it would have been a lot to expect Brek to know how to play this silly ball game. So he just stood on his side of the court, holding a weird instrument called a racket. Dakarai told him he would 'serve' and the next moment Brek was rewarded by being hit in the face by a small, but very hard ball.:: Brek: ::He picked the blasted ball up.:: I don't find this game terribly amusing or relaxing, far from it. Dakarai: Chef, you need to catch the ball. You're not supposed to stand over there like a scarecrow. Use your legs and your arms. I'm going to serve again. ::Once again the ball flew towards him, but this time Brek was prepared. He caught it with his right hand, and he 'served' the [...] thing back, with all his might. Dakarai, true to his self, didn't play fair. He shrieked and avoided the projectile.:: Dakarai: Non Brek! What are you doing?! What about the racket? You need to use it. Comme ceci. [Like this]. ::Which of course was just an excuse for the black guy to show off his best tennis moves.:: Dakarai: Let's try again. ::Brek had to admit, the racket was useful, so he used it, and he indulged in that activity called 'playing'. His technique was crap, he knew it. Most of the time, all he was interested in was to try to hit Dakarai. An odd thing really... coming from someone like him, who didn't like violence....:: tag/tbc Lt. Cmdr. Brek Chief Diplomatic Officer/2O USS Excalibur A

((Engineering Lab Two, USS Vigilant)) Matthews: =/\= TaJoot, I heard engineers were like smart and stuff, right? Listen from what we know so far the toxin is transmitted through that gelatinous substance. So how do you normally clean up the gel from one of those packs if they break? Moreover, could you implement that operation on a grander scale? And I really wish we could tell you that this was some freak accident. But I have pieces of a dead Romulan here that screams otherwise. Who knows what other types of sabotage could have implemented aboard that station. So you guys be careful poking around with that stuff ok? Cause you getting sick won't make us come up with a cure any faster. =/\= TaJoot =/\= There you go, I'm getter informed just talking to you. Tajoot out. =/\= ::Matthews was probably hoping exactly what taJoot had hoped-- that Someone Else's Department had a magic Undo button that could be pressed. There were definitely a set of procedures to be followed in the event of neurogel compromise for Intrepid-class vessels. And sure, the Vigilantes could probably apply them to the station as a whole. But StarFleet used neurogel for processing, not storage; you could clean up a broken pack, sterilize the site and replace it without losing anything. The Vigilant could flood the station with something that would break down the Zalkonian gel (and any other biomatter). But then they'd lose all hope of ever figuring out what had happened. Like, why was that Romulan on board? Was there some link between the Romulans and this station? Why didn't anyone tell him these things? T'Rella: The timeline of events is complete, Sir. ::She quickly moved the last few files into place.:: Transferring data to holographic display. taJoot: So, what happened when? ::The central holo was overlaid with a neat timeline, indicating the time, or projected time, of the failure of each system.:: Malik: Impressive... T'Rella: It goes without saying that these logs run through until the failure of the Damage Control systems. First to go offline were the diagnostic systems in a large proportion of the station. Following that, reports indicate problems with some of the data storage capsules, although their specific location does not appear in the logs. I suspect it has been erased, rather than lost. ::She raised an eyebrow.:: Malik: I agree taJoot: Yeah, nobody submits a ticket saying "I have a vague idea that there might be a problem in Accounting somewhere," they submit tickets that say "That tsooderst file server in Requisitions ate my spreadsheet again, when are you going to fix it?" T'Rella: What follows is a list of computer malfunctions that continues right through to the end of the log, followed by our next major error report. It appears that sickbay's ODN network collapsed, triggering a number of issues with equipment and isolating the computer systems within that department. By interpolating data from other files, I have made what I would assess to be a logical deduction... that the EPS flow regulator malfunction occured next. Similar reports have been found in the logs, and each is the trigger for power surges that disabled something more critical. Life support. Air refiltration. Emergency bulkheads. Internal sensors. Internal communications. Everything that would prove useful in the event of stationwide contamination failed first, followed subsequently by every other major system on the station... with the exception of the lights, and a few systems accessible in the command centre. taJoot: Okay, so, yeah, it would seem difficult to attribute that tidal wave of consequences to a random entropy peak. So... ::getting up and stepping over to the display:: then the question is... what stopped it? Why didn't the infection take down the command center too? ::Dueld got up and started to walk slowly around the holo display. That was a significant design flaw in this snug little lab, actually, no room to pace. How the hell did people think without pacing? It was like their feet were totally uninvolved in the cognitive process. Aliens, that's what they were, strange beige people from space.:: taJoot: Computer, run a molecular scan on the gel capsules still present in the Zalkonian command center. Compare used and unused storage sectors. Generate a model of a base gel pac in its default unused state; display a random sector from it here on the holo projector. Display a random used sector from the least damaged of the command center gel pacs. And finally, display a sector from one of the infected sacs outside the command center. Computer: Acknowledged. Working. taJoot: Well, somebody else has probably thought of this, but my idea is that maybe whatever saved the command center systems can be leveraged somehow to engineer a defense or a cure? ::Over the next few minutes, three different models slowly sharpened from a crude initial scan to finer detail in the air before them. He pointed at the middle one.:: taJoot: Okay, see-- magnify to molecular scale here-- look, some of the command center gel has triple-stranded DNA. It's part of the encryption protocols. It's just different enough, structurally, and there's enough of it there, to slow the rate of infection. And... hey.... ::Dueld held out both hands to bracket the lower model, and haul it up to his eye level.:: taJoot: The infection's either not very efficient, or it's super efficient, depending on how your perspective. Look at all those old proteins jumbled up there! Just like the toxin's effect on people, one of the effects the toxin has on the gel, when it converts the gel to toxin production, is that it shuts down garbage collection. If we compensate for a certain amount of signal noise from the damaged ends of the proteins, we can get back-- ::Dueld turned and sat down, tapping and skimming rapidly around on his station's worksurface. A few minutes later, he emerged from his absorption and tapped his comm badge.:: taJoot: Computer, record a message to be queued for Lt. Thomas, Lt. Commander Handley-Page and Lt. Zehn. Attach comparison images in their current resolutions from the holographic display here, and algorithm protocol Zalkonian Gel Alpha. Begin recording. Sirs, I've had a chance to do some analysis of the Zalkonian gel. It looks to me like, as long as the gel hasn't been infected for too long, the infection kind of acts like a preservative for data proteins that would have been discarded and broken down otherwise. It's so efficient at using cell energy for the toxin production that nothing has a chance to get rid of the garbage, so to speak. If we use some careful filtering to ignore bent sections or damaged ends, even the dead proteins have some data on them we can recover. I've attached a first-pass algorithm for noise reduction, which you veterans can probably improve on-- I used it just now on a record fragment associated with one of the survivors. It seems to record that Vorad ordered a lab in the older part of the station sealed for biohazard failures. Are you guys anywhere near the section shown in the attached file? Can you confirm whether or not my algorithm is retrieving useful data? If it is, you can maybe use it on the gel sacs around you to get more of the lost picture. taJoot out. End recording. Transmit with attached files. TBC ___________________________________ Lt. (j.g.) taJoot Engineer USS Vigilant NCC 75515

(( USS Saratoga )) ::Raw ingenuity, inspired brilliance and sheer dumb luck had all come together to keep the Saratoga alive as it languished in the atmosphere of JB-437-2. Tubes and wires criss-crossed engineering, conduits were laid bare in the corridors, decking was pulled up in crew quarters and science labs alike, visual reminders of the dirty tricks used to keep the starship powered for decades longer than it should have been. ::But time takes its toll. Even with the abundance of hydrogen available, the patched Bussard Collectors were failing to gather the fuel they needed to power the ship's fusion reactors. Deuterium conversion was nothing more than a pipe dream. The warp core was cold. ::Strict protocols had been programmed into the computer. What systems were deemed non-essential, what could and could not be shut down as resources became scarce. Whole sections of the ship were dark and cold, cut off years and years ago from the life-blood of the ship to preserve the whole. ::The Saratoga, faithful and determined for over a century, was dying. ::It had one last mission to complete. Sensors, almost blinded by age, touched upon the approaching ship. It fit no profile, but that was not important. All that mattered was that it was there. ::Ports opened. The last remnants of power were pushed through the ship, aged systems pressed into service for one last time. ::On the Mercury's sensors, the Saratoga lit up like a beacon. A few moments later, and they began to register a single lifesign, sequestered in the elderly vessel's sickbay.:: (( Sickbay )) ::There was nothing. No thought, no sensation, not even the passage of time. ::Life, suspended. Stasis. ::Then...:: (( Many, Many Decades Ago )) WIECZOREK: ...hear me? ::She blinked. Hard. For a moment, there was nothing but absolute confusion, until it was blasted away by a tsunami of pain thundering into her head. Her whole body arched and tensed in protest, instinct demanding she scream. The sound was choked dead by muscle spasms before it could escape her throat.:: WIECZOREK: Lieutenant, can you hear me? ::Hands caught her wrists, trying to pry her hands away from her head. When that didn't work, he caught her face in his palms, leaning in close. Had she a rational mind, she would have recognised the face of Konrad Wieczorek, the chief medical officer of the Saratoga. Instead she lashed out, one moment trying to push him away, the next her fingers balling into the fabric of his tunic, hanging on dear life.:: VOICE: We're too late. She's too far gone. WIECZOREK: Listen to me. Jenna, listen to me. We need to put you in stasis, before you... before your brain is permanently damaged. Do you understand? ::She didn't. She didn't understand anything, couldn't react to anything, except the inescapable, indescribable pain reverberating in her skull. Though she didn't see it, Weiczorek's face crumpled in resignation and he turned to his assistant.:: WIECZOREK: Is the stasis chamber ready? VOICE: Yes, it's— ::The voice stilled as this time, she did scream. The sound was enough to raise hairs on even a Vulcan's neck.:: God. Oh, God. Why is it, why's she..? Why's no one else like this? WIECZOREK: Vulcan physiology, Betazoid physiology, the particular way they've combined in her, I don't know. Just help me get her into the chamber. (( Present Day )) ::Sparks flew in sickbay, conduits explosively failing as a jolt of power surged through them. It was the final tipping point for the sole functioning medical system in sickbay. The stasis chamber flickered off, discharging its occupant onto the floor in a tangled mess. ::It was akin to being plunged into ice water and had much the same effect, leaving her gasping for breath, curled into a foetal position on the floor. It had been a century ago for the rest of the universe, but only one heartbeat since she had felt a pain so pure she had been incapable of feeling anything else. ::Now there was nothing. Silence, darkness, cold. She began to shiver, her teeth chattering together. Black eyes squinted into the shadows, trying to make sense of the shapes swimming in front of her. ::Sickbay. In those brief moments of illumination between sparks, she could see she was in sickbay. But why was the power out? Where was Wieczorek? Where were the rest of the staff? ::Nam-tor pthak-bosh vel t'kashek. Kup-putash-tor kashek. Nash-veh Vuhlkansu. Krie'nuv nash-veh ma. ::The ancient mantra brought stillness to her mind, almost Pavlonian in effect. She had many questions, but there were no answers to be found curled up on the floor. With a soft grunt, she hauled herself up; first on all fours, then to her feet. With detached concern, she realised that her fingers and toes were already numb from the cold. ::She decided on her priorities: light, warmth, a weapon, answers. At least the first two could be found in sickbay, she was sure. The others... she'd come to them in due time.:: (OOC: For those interested, the translation is: 'Fear is a thing of the mind. The mind can be controlled. I am Vulcan. I have control.') --The Sole Survivor of the Saratoga simmed by Captain Quinn Reynolds Intelligence OfficerUSS Mercury

((Blueheart's Quarters, USS Discovery-C)) ::And so, Lt Cogud began his tale.. .. :: COGUD: It all started... well I guess when I was born. ::Cogud went on to tell the Commander the many aspects of his childhood, including his family's experience with Orions, and how he had been taught to hate them.:: COGUD: I can't change my upbringing. BLUEHEART: ::nodding somberly:: No. No, you can't. ::He furrowed his brow and the helmsman picked up on this cue.:: COGUD: Yes of course, you want to know why Mr Vedra called me a racist... I mentioned the Sol System Rally, I may have... given in to my upbringing. Seeing the Lieutenant reminded me of my upbringing and when I couple that with the upbringing of many of my academy colleagues I feel cheated, so I blamed the first Orion I saw and thought I stood a chance against, then I fired my best shot... ::Raj nodded. His countenance took on a grave appearance. He hated bigots. No, he DESPISED them. Why a dark-skinned individual is considered filthy was beyond his understanding. Why someone born of a lower caste is untouchable was beyond his comprehension. Why a pansexual tri-gendered alien race is one big prostitution ring was beyond his grasp. Whatever his own personal take on the subject, he wasn't about to let that leak into his professionalism. What he did understand about bigotry was that it's forged in the flames of insecurity and low self-worth, later festering into a paranoid delusion. Bigotry is a disease. As a physician, he was compelled to treat the disease.:: BLUEHEART: I see. oO Cogud probably hurled a volley of racial epithets at Vedra. And Vedra is already clinically depressed to begin with. So many things could go wrong from here. Oo ::He stood up, fetched another bottle of wine (this time a three-year-old Bordeaux) and filled the gentlemen's glasses before his own.:: BLUEHEART: Jorus, am I correct to presume you feel some remorse following your action? COGUD: ::Nodding slowly.:: Of course. BLUEHEART: Good. It's a start. ::to Vedra:: Raine, I understand your hurt. But this is something that cannot be rectified overnight. ::Vedra clenched his jaw and fists but said nothing.:: BLUEHEART: Raine.. Jorus is going to need time.. VEDRA: He can have all eternity. I will never forgive a sick [...] like him! BLUEHEART: ::firmly but gently:: I'm not asking you to forgive him. And neither is he. I'm asking you to understand where this hate is coming from. Can you do that, Raine? Can you do that for me? VEDRA: Why? ::He hissed.:: Why would I do that for you? Why SHOULD I?! The moment he gets a chance he's going to attack me or send some goon to attack me.. Or some other poor Orion. I can't understand that. I can NEVER understand that. Can't he think for himself? Why follow blindly what his family believes in? BLUEHEART: It's not easy UN-learning something, Raine. VEDRA: No! I'm happy with the way things are right now. We stay away from each other. Everyone's happy. BLUEHEART: Well, I'm not happy. ::He leaned back in his seat.:: Are YOU happy, Jorus? COGUD: No. BLUEHEART: And you're not happy too, Raine. No one is happy. All this hate back and forth is only going to escalate, and not only between the both of you. It will spread like wildfire, trust me. Then we'll have anarchy and another mutiny and heck, maybe even a public lynching! As First Officer, I can't let that happen. ::He stared solemnly into each of their eyes as he lowered his voice.:: As a friend, I can't let you guys destroy each other, as well as your own lives and career. Don't throw it all away. Not for this.. Not for this. COGUD: How do you propose to do that? BLUEHEART: ::standing up and pulling up his pants:: We hold hands and dance. COGUD: What! Sir... BLUEHEART: And that's an order, lieutenant! TBC ================================ Lt Jorus Cogud Chief Helmsman USS DISCOVERY-C & Lt JG Raine Vedra Chief of Astrometrics USS DISCOVERY-C & LtCmdr Raj Blueheart First Officer USS DISCOVERY-C

((Eerie’s Dream)) ::Eerie was walking on a beach, next to gently rolling waves that lapped up onto his feet. It was a bit disconcerting but it didn’t bother him too much. The high heat however, was wonderful. He looked out at the water, which was disturbing to him since he could not swim. As with all Brikar he really disliked water and images of when he almost drowned came back to him. He discarded them and soaked in the heat. :: Eerie: oO Other than the water, this place is great. Oo ::He walked down the beach. It was strange as there seemed to be no end to the sand, no hills or anything. Just sand stretching out endlessly. :: ::The last thing he remembered was being on the alien station. He was confused though. He raised his hands and he could feel pain. Then there was the odd sensation of something pressing down on him. Not that it bothered him too much. While he had experienced pain before, it was like his ‘hands’ were on fire.:: ::He felt a object strike him in the back of the head. He turned around and found a stone, a rather large one in the sand, before the waves come and washed over it. The slight roar of the water came with it.:: :: Eerie looked up to see Evanna Blackwood, standing in front of him grinning. Her flaming red hair flying in the slight breeze. Evanna had been his roommate on the Aurora and Avandar. They’d had a rough start, first really disliking each other and then becoming good friends before the friendship had soured. It had started to get back on track a little bit before her death. Eerie had always regretted not being with her when she died, or the bad place their friendship was at when she passed away. :: ::He felt like this was an odd case of fetyi or deja vu, as Evanna had hit him on two occasions with a rock.:: Eerie: oO Am I dead? Oo Eerie : Evanna? :: Eerie noticed that the water did not roll back this time. Now his feet were covered with water. She was on the dry sand and he moved towards her getting up on the dry sand as well.:: Blackwood: Buster... you’ve always been a few pebbles short of an avalanche but you’re blind now as well? ::Eerie was not particularly surprised at the comment, but there was an edge to it, much like Evanna on Eden. There she had joined the rebels, who had plotted to overthrow the Captain. Traitors.:: Eerie: Evanna. What are you doing here? Am I dead? ::Confused.:: Blackwood: You’ve always been dead buster, you’ve got no soul. No personality. You’re just a walking, staring rock! ::Evanna pranced and danced on the beach but did not go near the water. Evanna had never learned to swim. Furthermore she had nearly got herself and Eerie killed in a holodeck accident, where they had both almost drowned, so it was no surprise she hadn’t liked being anywhere near the water. It had given her panic attacks, but today there appeared to be a spring in her step. It was as if her favourite target was square in her sights.:: Blackwood: As for what i’m doing... What does it look like i’m doing here? ::Pausing and gawping at him impolitely:: Oh yeah, you’re blind now as well. I’m enjoying the sun and the beach. What else would I be doing? . . . Well, there’s some washed up seaweed on this shore that i’m collecting for my research. I think it’ll make a good restorative balm. ::Eerie had shared a lot of him with Evanna over the first year he was assigned to Aurora and the Avandar, before the falling out on Eden. Then the realization that Evanna had killed members of the crew during the uprising against Captain Vetri. Only to find out that it had been a dream of sorts, and that everyone had retained the memories of those long 10 years.:: Eerie:: Angrily.:: I have a personality! You know that as much as anyone, Traitor! You killed the doctor. Gwinnett told me, after all of that talking..:: Willing to fight fire with fire, and surprised at himself for the rise of emotion.:: ::Blackwood’s hair erupted into flames and her face was contorted with fury. She suddenly had a big armful of rocks in her arms and began hurling them at him one at a time. The sand at Eerie’s feet turned to quicksand and he slowly began to sink in it.:: Eerie: oO What in the rocks is going on here? This is not good. Oo ::He struggled to break free only to sink a little bit faster:: Blackwood: ::Screaming loudly, furiously:: YOU were the traitor! Not me! I wanted to go home! I wanted us all to go home! You left me with no choice, what was I to do? You wasted years building huts! You’re practically a living mech Eerie. You could have helped with the ship. ::Still struggling with the sand coming up to his knees. Eerie was sinking.:: Eerie: I tried to help you. You could of came back with me. You ....Evanna...you wanted to kill us all. We would've never gotten off of that cursed planet. You know that now. I did my duty...::proudly:: You listened to to Umas... ::Blackwood would not accept it. There was still the other more potent facts.:: Blackwood: Umas was right! The only sane person left apart from Pouncey. Even that soft headed marine saw sense. We had a shuttle Eerie. A working shuttle with some power in it. The engineers got a power generator going... why didn’t they power the shuttle? We had a communications beacon plopped near the wormhole. They could have got a message out. We could have been saved! All of us! We could have gone home, where we belonged! No one even tried! You sentenced us to death! ::The Avandar had been forced to crash land on a alien planet, only to desecrate the land of the local native population. After some negotiations which had broken down by an attack from a splinter group of the crew lead by Commander Umas, the natives attacked the Avandar camp. The splinter group stole a shuttle to create their own way of life, and later continued to raid the loyal camp and natives who finally made peace with the Avandar crew.:: ::Eerie continued to sink in the sand and no amount of movement, would let him break free.:: Eerie: It was all a dream, Evanna...a experience put in our minds by an alien presence on the planet. No one died...it was just a dream. ::But Eerie knew it was more than that. It had shaped him for better or worse. It had been 10 years...10 years of heartache and mental pain. Only to have a daughter and to see and feel the entire camp to be utterly destroyed in a final explosion that ended the experience.. :: ::Eerie had also lost his mate Peiy during the experience. He was confusing himself with it all again. He had not made his peace with it or Blackwood.:: Blackwood: You think that makes it okay? You think we can just brush it off? We lived it as if it was real and had it been there would have been no second chances. We were doomed because of the selfishness of a blind Captain who lost her marbles and couldn’t be bothered. She lost sight of a lot of things that day and only Umas had the strength of mind to try keep us right... but none of you scared little babies wanted to listen. You all went on sucking your thumbs and shirking the little bit work it would’ve taken to set it right. ::She stopped throwing rocks for a second.:: Blackwood: You’re right though, we got a second chance didn’t we? Or did we? I didn’t get a second chance... Who would forgive me for my part in the dream? Did you? ::Eerie could feel weight of the sand closing in on him tight now. Evanna’s words hit him harder. Worse that anything than he had ever felt before, like the very life was being squeezed out of him:: ::Eerie couldn’t face her and he turned his head for a moment.:: Eerie: oO She is right...you never forgave her...a lot of the crew could not. You should have done better by her. Oo ::Eerie turned to look at the Evanna and the flaming red hair.:: Eerie: We all made mistakes, Evanna....I am so sorry I could never tell you and it bothers me every day. I should've told you...before you died. ::He looked down at the sand which was now about waist high, and continuing to climb around him. Eerie remembered the funeral ceremony, reading all the away team reports about her death. Not finding anything to blame, other than the warped Count and his followers. Eerie had been there for Evanna before, but not at her death.:: Blackwood: Too little too late Buster. ::Folding her arms and looking mighty unimpressed.:: ::The sand now came up to mid chest, and Eerie stopped struggling. He was locked in, and he was continuing to sink in the sand.:: Eerie: For what it is worth. I should've forgave you. .. and I forgive you ....::Sounding defeated. The sinking slowed a bit, but continued.:: What do you want of me? My death....will it make it better, or is vengeance the only thing you have left? Like on the planet. That isn’t existence, that is truly someone that is dead. I am alive.::Forcefully. But the rising sand would make short work of him.:: Blackwood: Easy for someone to declare forgiveness and start back-peddling when their back’s against the wall. ::Clearly not believing it.:: Eerie:: Resigned to his fate, but still defiant..:: Fine... if my death to make you feel better, makes sense for you. ::pausing a few seconds:: That is all this is, just like the planet Eden.... death and destruction is all you care about.. ::Eerie started to let go. ::Go away...let me have my final moments in peace. ::Eerie shut his eyes and started to let his mind drift. He wasn’t going to give Blackwood anymore satisfaction at his expense.:: ::Images of those that had been close to him, drifted into his mind. Tredd, his mentor. Lt. Commander Matthews, Ensign Peiy his former girlfriend. He even had a vision of Sei their fictional daughter during Eden. He tried to blot out Evanna, but he couldn’t :: ::It was at that moment, as Eerie’s mind drifted that a large wave washed ashore reaching way up to Eerie’s neck and sloshing around Blackwood’s ankles, making her leap back. From the waves a form appeared as if the sea itself was taking on humanoid form. The blue form stepped up on the beach, throwing water upon the fiery demon and extinguishing her fire. The demon Blackwood quickly fled the scene.:: ::Eerie felt the wave and grabbed a breath of air, as the water enveloped him. Then the water receded and the water turned into a blue person he knew quite well.: The sand had fallen away some and he let out his breath.:: ::The blue form turned to Eerie and offered him a wide, friendly smile. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she held out her hand to Eerie. The sea water returning to it normal tidal pattern.:: ::Eerie took her hand gratefully, and stepped out of the remaining sand. His former girlfriend Peiy stood in front of him. She was smiling at him. Eerie smiled back easily at her.:: Eerie : Peiy? I am so happy to see you. None of this makes any sense. Evanna is dead....I hope I am not. I still have so much to do. :: Still smiling and the feeling of her hand again was wondrous.:: Peiy: Am I dead? No i’m on Bolarus with my family remember? Life is just a series of journeys. Often you have to think with your head and other times you must listen to your heart. Sometimes you don’t even know you’ve been on a journey until you leave the shuttle behind. ::He understood most of what she said, a bit confused, however the brikar was going to learn to fully understand. He continued to smile at her. Thrilled to see her :: Eerie: I will Peiy, you will always be with me. Peiy: Make the most of your journey Eerie. I love you. ::Her blue form was retaken by the waves as if she was one with the sea, leaving Eerie looking out over the beach alone.:: ::Eerie looked out now over the peaceful water now lapping over his feet again. Then back to the sand, his smile had faded. He felt a bit more at peace. This wasn’t the end. He stood there in the low water for a few moments with good thoughts of Peiy and Evanna, and his journey before peaceful sleep overtook him once again.:: -eof- Lt. Cmdr Eerie Chief Tactical/Security Officer USS Vigilant & PNPC Lt Cmdr Blackwood Former Science Officer AND PNPC Ensign Peiy Former Tactical Officer Simmed by Reinard

((Runabout Rick Husband)) ::Through the runabout, a voice echoed. It was peaceful, perhaps, but some kind of surety or strength stood behind the pleasant façade.:: Odyssey Station: Welcome to Odyssey Station. Please proceed to the nearest docking port. All Travelers must abide by the Wayfarer's Code while visiting the station. ((Flashback moments prior)) ::Opening his eyes just long enough to note that Kevin was staring out the window, Ben forced them shut again. His hands gripped his shoulder straps as they plunged through the gravity well and into probably, oblivion. When he could tell that theyd passed through, he opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel anxiety slipping off of him now that they were there.:: ::Unbuckling his safety restraint, Ben walked past officers trying to catch a first glimpse of where they were headed. His hand went out before him as he walked toward the door of the [...]pit, and it pressed on the door, which yielded and opened. Stepping across the threshold, he crossed into the courtroom and took a seat beside an older gentleman wearing a pinstriped suit. No sooner had he taken a seat than the proceedings began.:: Bailiff: All rise for the honorable judge Justin Phillips III! :: As everyone stood, Ben looked around. So many of them were there. Perhaps not as many as the day before, but that was natural. For some, it must have been hard to come at all; returning would not be easy. Friends and family of the deceased held one another, crying. The judge sat, and the old wooden benches creaked as everyone in attendance followed. Ben lost himself as he examined in detail those in mourning.:: Prosecutor: The prosecution calls Benjamin Livingston! Livingston: oO What? Oo ::Ben went stiff as a board, every hair standing up on end. Involuntarily, his legs straightened beneath him, lifting him to an upright position. They began to carry him forward, toward the bench. As he looked around, the tear-filled, glaring eyes had shifted to him!:: Livingston: oO This isnt right I didnt do anything. I wasnt involved! Oo :: His slow, forced steps quickened as he sought to move past the angry onlookers. Reaching the appointed seat, he was approached by the bailiff, who offered him a beautiful leather-bound book one of only a few hed seen in his life.:: Bailiff: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God? ::Ben looked down to find his hand resting upon the cover, his fingertips sensing the books beauty and softness. His other arm was midair.:: Livingston: I do. ::The book dropped from beneath his hand; the Bailiff retreated with it under his arm. Ben looked around and the crowded room, then sat. The seat, too, was very comfortable, much as the book had been.:: Judge: Please state your name for the record. Livingston: Ben Livingston. Judge: Your FULL name, Mr. Livingston. Livingston: ::beat:: Benjamin Livingston. Judge: And your relation to the defendant? ::Ben closed his eyes and swallowed what little was in his dry mouth. His tongue tasted like sandpaper. He looked up at the judge, who glowered, jaw clenched and gavel in hand, down at him. The prosecutor, likewise, stood facing him with arms crossed.:: ::He looked over to the table before him, where sat, eyes pleading and sorrowful and contrite, the boy who had looked at him so many times before, after getting himself into trouble with the neighbors or Mom and Dad or his teachers.:: ::Ben gulped down the sandpaper.:: Livingston: He is my brother. Prosecutor: And your Starfleet rank, Mr. Livingston? Livingston: ::frowning:: Im not in Starfleet. I work for a corporation. Judge: ::loudly:: Answer the question, Mr. Livingston. Livingston: Lieutenant, Junior Grade attached to Starbase 118 Operations. ::He glanced to the side, then down.:: oO Where did that come from? Oo Prosecutor: And on the day that ::sniff:: ahem, that this tragedy occurred, Mr. Livingston. Where were you? ::Ben reached to grab his hand. When had it begun shaking? He leaned in toward the small microphone before him.:: Livingston: I was at home. Prosecutor: And your home is where? Livingston: Boston, Massachusetts. Prosecutor: So you were not with the defendant in New York City on that day. Livingston: No. But I did speak to him that morning. Prosecutor: But to be clear, you were not WITH him, Mr. Livingston? ::Bens mouth opened, but nothing came out.:: Judge: I remind you that you are under oath to tell the truth. Livingston: ::beat:: No. I was not. ::Bens gaze wandered back to the seat in front of him. His brother held his head in his hands, fingers gripping his hair. Those big, brown eyes had always laughed. Now there was more anguish in them than amusement.:: Prosecutor: And does the phrase Odyssey Station mean anything to you? ::He squinted, thinking.:: Livingston: No no I dont think so. Prosecutor: I must insist that you be more exact, Mr. Livingston. Does that phrase mean anything to you? Livingston: ::beat:: No, it doesnt. Prosecutor: And the phrase biomatrix? Livingston: No, it doesnt, unless it was covered in passing in an engineering course. Prosecutor: Think, Mr. Livingston. Does it mean anything to you anything at all? Livingston: Its a largely experimental biomechanical device that simulates living tissue, although recently it has been made to produce effects bordering on, or meeting the definition of, sentience. They may be useful tools, but they should be considered very dangerous. I strongly advise shelving of the technology, destruction of public records that may lead to their creation, and classification of relevant information as Top Secret and Dangerous to the Public. Prosecutor: Are you a traveler, Mr. Livingston? Livingston: I dont see Judge: You will answer the question, Mr. Livingston! Livingston: Ive done a bit, but nothing particularly exotic. Euorpe, Mars, China once to Vulcan, on business. ::The prosecutor looked at the judge, who returned the glance, then turned back toward Ben.:: Livingston: Why is this important to the case? Prosecutor: Have you ever engaged in extra-galactic travel? Livingston: oO Extra-galactic Oo Thats absurd! Prosecutor: Thank you, Mr. Livingston. You may step down. ::Ahead of him, the weeping, glaring crowd continued to scrutinize him as he walked back to his seat. A deep sigh escaped him as he once again retook the ancient, creaking wooden bench. His eyes closed.:: ::Beneath him, the bench jostled from side to side, and there was noise all around him. Opening his eyes and looking around, he saw Kevin at the window looking at the space station that must by now have become visible. Theyd all made it, after all.:: ---- Lieutenant, J.G. Ben Livingston Assistant Chief Engineer Starbase 118 Ops

((Edited because the board screwed up the formatting. )) ((Turbolift, Enroute to Docking Ring Bay 7, Starbase 118)) ::Rumors. From the beginnings of written history, it seemed that they alone could be responsible for a rise to power, or a tragic fall from grace. In the words that spread as wildfire through the social vine, were the power to build up, and the power to tear asunder. Entire civilizations were created and maintained on rumors of strength and power, or terror. Those same civilizations fell easily under the weight of the words, and for eons, good men fell victim to the sword that was the pen.:: ::In pervasive whispers, men became consumed. Eaten from the inside out, souls were devoured by the acts that sought to hush the voices of the crowd. But the voices only changed. The blackness vanquished the good, and into the abyss that remained, fell the hope of humanity.:: ::It was a recurring theme, at least throughout the history of Earth; the rise and fall of entire world powers on the whims of the rumors that were always hanging on to the coattails of mere mortal men. Now Kali found herself caught up in the same on her second day of command. It terrified her to an extent, but that emotion would never surface. Instead, she would have to find a sort of resolve and soldier through.:: Nicholotti: Eh. ::She paused carefully considering what she would say next.:: Would you believe me if I said I don't know quite how to respond? Daniels: Yes. Yes I would. I know don't want to cause any problems for you with all these untrue rumors flying around... ::It was then, that Kali chose to turn and face him. She studied his face for a moment, thinking of the choice she was making. It was something she hadn't been prepared for, especially so soon after the heartbreak of losing Makal for a second time, but the way she felt when she was near him.:: ::She couldn't fight it. She wouldn't fight it. Rumors be [...]ed; she would not let all that made life precious crash into the soul eating darkness of whispering insurrection. It was what she had fought for when she stood between the knife and Jaxx, what she refused to let be taken away from her when she pulled Tressa from the mangled shuttle that day, and what she had brought into the world only a short time before the crisis began.:: ::It was worth fighting for, even if she faced a battle on many fronts; the projectiles in front of her and the smoldering fuse of social ambiguity behind.:: Nicholotti: I was thinking that maybe there could be some truth to what they say. ::From the moment she joined the Marines and Starfleet, Kali had been known for her passion for her team, for her chain of command, and for the sanctity of life itself. And God help those who would put any of those in danger; to incur her wrath meant meeting with a fury unmatched.:: ::Again, she found herself studying his facial expressions. The seeming cacophony of things made it all hard to read and she smiled. Maybe they were both a bit unsure of things, but together, they could certainly find their way.:: Daniels: I... I think there is definitely some truth to these rumors. I also think we should do whatever makes us happy and to hell with what other people think. ::Her smile only grew. It wouldn't be quite that easy, but she would let him have his moment. He hadn't really spoken his mind since they had returned to the life of the uniform and it was actually quite the sight to see him just then. The filter was down and his thoughts spilled out into the silence of the turbolift as they headed towards destiny.:: Nicholotti: I wish it could be that simple. ::But destiny would wait for a moment longer.:: Daniels: I care for you...a lot, Kali. ::He looked at the beautiful officer next to him and tried to think outside of their Starfleet ranks:: I don't know exactly where this is...::He paused and rephrased:: Where WE are going, but I do know that I don't want to let a few gossipy officers and wild rumors get in the way of us finding out. ::Kali had fallen before and the resulting crash made this even more difficult. But in that moment, seeing the fire burn in his eyes, and hearing the intensity of the words, she felt the weight of command, and the fear of falling, melt away. For a single moment, the raven haired commander was no more. In her place stood only a woman who craved more of the feelings that his presence invoked.:: ::Locking eyes with him, Kali conveyed the trust she had in him that he would catch her and not let her crash. It was the sentiment that if this road led to the hard fall she had suffered once before, it would be different this time.:: Nicholotti: Then let's not let them. ::And with that, she jumped in.:: TAG/TBC -- Commander Kalianna Nicholotti Commanding Officer Starbase 118 / USS Victory

JP - Lt. Commander Ethan Brice and Commander Karynn Brice - Stolen Moments ((OOC: This occurs sometime en route, I'm thinking the night of the briefing. We hope you all enjoy reading this as much as Ethan's writer and I enjoyed writing it and I hope this gives you a bit of a glimpse into Karynn's life )) ((Just outside the Holodeck)) ::To say that she was a giddy schoolgirl would have been a dramatic overstatement. It was hard to be that giddy about someone she had known for years. But she was certainly excited. Having a relatively high rank in the ‘Fleet did have its perks. She smoothed out the skirt on her light-blue sundress and pulled the light green sweater closer. Her stomach was in knots, glad to be seeing her husband “face-to-face” live for the first time since they had parted on Deep Space 17. Then again, it was a holo-meeting and deep down inside she knew that it just wouldn’t be quite the same.:: :: On the Apollo, Ethan had been finishing up the final pieces of the code that Karynn had put together. There were bits and pieces that would serve as a reminder to him of where they were; a certain flower that had been in the garden the first time they’d taken a walk together, starting off a very wet set of traditions from then on. He adjusted the jacket, really unsure whether it was a good idea to wear one of not. After a few strange positions in front of the mirror, he took it off, opting for the simple shirt and pants. He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered about it; they’d been together for years. She’d seen him with a full beard, after all...:: ::Stepping up to the arch on the Drake, the Haliian uploaded the program, and her code to initiate her end of the long-distance chat. The doors opened and she stepped inside. They wouldn’t have long - it was more to test the feasibility of this way of staying in touch than to have a real date. Scheduling for bandwidth was just too tight for that right now - not to mention the difficulty of scheduling time off for the two Brices that coincided. The pull of a Commander only got them so far. At least they could work the bugs out for the real date they’d have in a couple of weeks.:: ::The setting was simple enough. A park bench, shrubbery and flowers, a path leading off into another area of the garden, trees to provide shade. Complex programming took time to put together and used more resources. Karynn sat on the bench, then stood up, then sat again. How to greet him? Finally (although it had only really been a minute or two since she walked in) an arch appeared.:: :: The simple setting was a lot easier on the eyes than the black and yellow grid of the holodeck would have been. He wasn’t expecting Karynn to be there, anticipating that he would be the first as usual, but there she was, sitting on the bench, looking as lovely as ever. The young Engineer couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face and he slipped his hands into his pockets as he walked over.:: E. Brice: Any sprinklers in this version I should be aware of? ::Karynn smiled and shook her head, remembering fondly their first date and their surprise when the automatic sprinklers had come on, drenching the two of them. She had included another water-reminder of one of their dates - not far away she had recreated the fountain from Ethan’s Paris program. She paused only for a moment. She had been trying to be calm, reserved... but then she let all decorum get sucked into a black hole. Leaping off the bench she ran to him and within a few strides she was wrapping her arms around him, burying her head in his shirt. The holodeck was remarkable at reproducing him and for a few moments he felt real. His warmth, the feel of the fabric, his scent, it was all there.:: K. Brice: It’s you. ::As she ran into his arms, he lifted her from the ground, burying his face in her hair, loving every second that she clung to him. her could smell her, he could feel her and it was like she was all around him once again. The warmth of her, the touch of his clothes underneath his splayed hand in the small of her back, even the light green sweater that caught the breeze at the edges. It was all too real but all too not as well. He couldn’t push out the small niggling engineer voice that told him it wasn’t real.:: :: He kissed her temple, nuzzling his nose into her for a precious moment that he knew couldn’t last forever. Then he smiled gently:: E. Brice: Were you expecting someone else? K. Brice: No. It was just hard to believe until you were here. ::Karynn laughed lightly nuzzling his cheek. And then the bit that was wrong came flooding in. As her skin brushed against his, the skin felt real but he didn’t. Her own gifts gave her a sense that even the best holodecks in the galaxy couldn’t replicate. So while she could touch him, she couldn’t feelhim. The man... image... she was touching had about as much emotion as her bedroom wall. Without thinking she pulled away.:: ::Part of Ethan had expected that reaction. He kept his arms in the same position for a moment before dropping them to his sides. Even he was used to feeling something emanating from her when their skin touched. Years of having that kind of connection with a Haliian tended to leave the resonance of feeling behind even when apart.:: E. Brice: I know; it doesn’t feel right. ::he attempted a smile:: I might as well be a vegetable in designer labels. ::Karynn tried to smile, attempting to shake the startled look from her eyes. Intellectually she had expected this, but that didn’t mean that she was prepared for this. What came out was a wry half-smile. She nodded.:: K. Brice: Sorry. It’ll just take some getting used to, I guess. :: He nodded and stepped in a little closer, reaching for her hand and holding it in his, running his thumb over the back of her fingers. It didn’t feel like her hand. He didn’t get that familiar drip of feelings into his system emanating from her, even though she stood in front of him. It wasn’t normal, but they didn’t exactly live normal either.:: E. Brice: It won’t be forever. ::She paused, forcing herself to maintain the contact. Slowly the feeling of panic that she felt inside subsided to a tolerable level. It wouldn’t be forever, and this was a lot better than just a delayed message on a flat screen. She gently squeezed his hand with her own.:: K. Brice: No... not forever. ::She smiled quietly:: I’ve missed you, Kiimosa. :: That made him smile softly. She was light years away from him, yet in that moment they were close enough to at least touch one another, even if they couldn’t feel each other.:: E. Brice: I’ve missed you too. ::he kissed the backs of her fingers:: Happy Anniversary. Hard to think that we’ve been married for a year and you’ve been napping for half of it. ::The Haliian chuckled gently. It certainly didn’t feel like a year, but then again he was right. She’d been unconscious for around six months, in a coma in sickbay.:: K. Brice: Maybe that’s why I almost missed it. All of a sudden it was our anniversary. It snuck up on me. ::She paused and sighed.:: It’s been an eventful year, that’s for sure. A promotion, an illness... and now separated on two different ships. ::The Engineer lifted an eyebrow, with a slight smile at the corner of his lips.:: E. Brice: At least while we’re separated, they’ll be no chance of other surprises waiting in the wings. ::he exhaled a laugh:: Oh, I have something for you. ::Slowly they walked hand in hand along the path. She smiled, passing on the opportunity to make a crack about giving Matthew a younger sibling, and instead commented on the second half of his statement.:: K. Brice: Oh? E. Brice: I don’t have it here, it should be in your Quarters when you get back. I had to call in a few favours from the Operations department. You know how Customs can be. ::he rolled his eyes skyward:: It's a tradition on Earth for your wedding anniversary present to be a specific gift. This year, it’s paper. ::They walked along the path together, the fountain from their Paris escapade coming into view. Ethan laughed, remembering the soaking he had received from that particular fountain and what that night had meant. He squeezed Karynn’s hand gently. A large part of him had forgotten what it was like to feel human when touching another being. Her hand was warm and soft, unlike his. It was a simple fact of his species that he hadn’t appreciated in a long time.:: E. Brice: I’m pretty glad you can’t feel this. ::he wiped his face with his free hand and laughed:: I can’t believe I’ve given you paper for our anniversary. K. Brice: ::laughing:: Well its not like paper is a common item. ::pausing:: I’m sorry I didn’t get you paper. I didn’t know. ::He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth.:: E. Brice: Having you here is good enough for me. Although, I do feel like I’ve been in this marriage longer. ::he laughed:: Anyway... I hope you like it. If not, I’m too far away to get it thrown at my head. ::She laughed.:: K. Brice: I sent a few pictures. They should be waiting for you so you can make holoprints of them. And it will take longer, but before we leave Alpha Centauri, I’ll be shipping out a gift from here. It’s just a trinket, but its something to remind you of me. It will probably take weeks to get to you though. ::The fountain came in view. The soft gurgling of the water flowing was almost musical. She smiled, remembering how she’d splashed him from a fountain just like this early on in their relationship. An exact replica actually. She momentarily thought about repeating the incident, but decided against it. She was more “adult” now than that Ensign had been. Not that such a thing was necessarily better...:: ::For the young Engineer, being with his wife was like no time had passed at all. They were together, they were healthy, save from being thousands of miles apart for whoever knew how long a time that spanned ahead of them. He stopped in front of the fountain and kissed the back of her hands again.:: E. Brice: When I get the chance, the very first chance, I’ll be coming to see you. ::Karynn smiled and nodded.:: K. Brice: And I’ll be on the first runabout to you the first chance I have. ::she laughed:: The bed’s so cold without you. And I even miss your coffee stains on my table. E. Brice: My coffee stains have to be better than your cold feet on my legs. ::he smiled:: I actually get some quilt at night now, I miss having to turn the heating up. ::The downside was that they were running out of time together. The sway of a Commander could only hold so much weight when the ships needed the power they were using. Taking that into consideration, the computer decided that a subtle reminder would be more appropriate and gave them a delicate warning in the manner of a quiet alert.:: ::One minute. That’s all they had. She held his hand tightly, forcing herself to smile, to hold back all of the sadness that threatened to spill out. She wanted to remember this as being happy - and she wanted him to remember her happy, not sad, not crying.:: K. Brice: I love you, Ethan. More than I can express. ::Smiling, albeit sadly, he brushed his thumb over her cheek and swallowed as the familiar green eyes looked back into his. He felt as though his world could collapse at any moment, looking into those eyes, he could melt into his boots.:: E. Brice: I love you too, Karynn. ::he nuzzled her nose:: More, every single day. ::Stretching upward, her lips brushed across his. A kiss goodbye. She was almost getting used to the lack of emotion ebbing and flowing through her. His skin felt warm as her fingers brushed his cheek. She closed her eyes.:: ::He felt her kiss him, felt her hand reaching up to the back of his neck and he closed his eyes, hoping to remember the final few seconds of contact with the woman who held his heart. His arm held her close, his hand touching the small of her back and almost willing the moment not to end.:: ::And with that he was gone. Faded away as the link dropped. She was alone again and life went on. The fountain still gurgled, the breeze was still blowing. Her heart ached and a single tear wound its way down her cheek.:: ::Ethan’s arms dropped back to his sides. The dull ache across his chest constricted, letting him know it was still there. His jaw tightened and he held back the sadness that crept up from a heart that wasn’t whole. He paused for a second, looking at the place where her image had been.:: E. Brice: ::softly:: Sweet dreams, Kii. ::The arch formed in the grass and the Engineer started the walk back to it. He pulled the padd out of his pocket, closing off the program from the Apollo’s holodeck, taking a last look before it faded away.:: K. Brice: ::quietly:: Goodbye, my love. ::pause:: Computer, End program. ::A black and yellow grid replaced the world around her. She walked out, back to the starship, back to work. Life went on.:: THE END Lt. Cmdr Ethan Brice Assistant Chief Engineer USS Apollo and Commander Karynn Brice Xeno-Anthropolgist/Psychologist USS Drake

PNPC Minister Kin Zaht (( Jektim Central Government Complex, Jektim Capital )) :: Kin Zaht secured the doors to his vehicle and ran, head down, through the hoverpark, clutching his attaché as if it were a child. This morning was worse than yesterday; the number of Betazoid protesters outside the Government Complex had grown overnight, as did their level of agitation. Across the reflecting pool, in the forecourt of the Jektim Historical Archive, a more morose group of Trill had gathered, presumably as a counter-protest to the Betazoid protest. Things were still peaceful in the Capital City, which was far more than could be said for the rest of the Imperium.:: ::Kin Zaht reached the secured doors at the end of the long row of parked hover-riders, and had his infochip out and ready to be scanned. He barely slowed to a trot as the scanner recognized his credentials and allowed him access to the Complex. As the door slid shut behind him, too slowly for his liking, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd be safe. For now.:: ::He passed a multitude of offices on his way to the Department of the Executive, and noticed all the empty desks. It seemed as though each day, fewer and fewer Trill and Bajoran government employees reported to work. It'd been days for some, weeks for others, and Kin doubted he'd be seeing them again soon. "Self-segregation" was the buzzword all the news reports were using, and it seemed as though it was actually happening. His own neighborhood, previously an upscale--and relatively integrated--quarter of the Old Capital, was now almost exclusively Betazoid. Zaht hadn't yet stopped to wonder where his Trill and Bajoran neighbors went, nor did he mind terribly the rapid demographic shift. Property values were always higher in homogenous neighborhoods, anyway.:: VOICE: Minister Zaht, sir. ::Zaht turned to see one of his assistants, a young Betazoid female with just the faintest of Trill spots hidden behind her thick black hair.:: ZAHT: Yes, Tura, what is it? TURA: It's the Federation, sir. They've contacted us on subspace. I think they're considering our request. ZAHT: What did they say? TURA: Nothing yet, sir, but they want to talk to you. Just called a moment ago, before you walked in, sir. ZAHT: I'll take it in my office please, Tura. ::Zaht continued the several dozen meters past a virtually deserted cluster of offices and desks. Out the window, he could see for kilometers, almost to where the Vabu Estuary blended into the sea. It was a beautiful sight, one he'd seen pictures of since he was a boy in school. The Capital was built on the banks of the Vabu because its three sections, the River, the Estuary, and the Sea, represented the Jektim Peoples. For some reason, however, it didn't look so inspiring as of late.:: ::Zaht sat at his desk, smoothing out hair that had become mussed by his dash from the hoverpark to the Complex. He closed the shades behind him, not because he wanted to, but because he was nervous some intrepid protester might hurl a piece of garbage or a rotten kukri melon at the window while he was speaking to the Federation. The last thing he needed was for the Federation to think things were out of control. For that reason, Zaht's most recent executive order was to ban all communications between the Imperium and other states, save for those that took place inside his own office. No one else but he would represent the Jektim to the rest of the Quadrant, and he made sure everyone, especially those pro-independence terrorists on Fiyo, knew the penalty for violating the new law.:: AMBASSADOR: ((on screen)) Minister Zaht. ::Zaht plastered on his best PR smile. It was good; he'd had decades of experience as a politician to perfect it.:: ZAHT: Ambassador, so good to see you again. I must say, it's been far too long. ::The Ambassador grinned. She must not be used to getting compliments. Just for good measure, Zaht threw her another one.:: ZAHT: And I love what you've done with your hair. ::The Ambassador's smile widened. This was too easy.:: AMBASSADOR: Minister, I am calling because the Federation Council has met to consider your government's request for humanitarian aid, and they've decided to grant it. ::Thank whatever-those-ridiculous-gods-the-Bajorans-believed-in. Help was on the way, and soon this ethnic nonsense would be put to an end for good.:: ZAHT: Ambassador, I speak for all the Jektim when I say we are truly grateful for any assistance you can provide. AMBASSADOR: Unfortunately, we weren't able to accommodate everything you asked for. I'm afraid we can spare only a single starship, but she's well-equipped, and staffed by some of the best Starfleet officers we've got. The Drake has a dedicated engineering team assigned to her that can help make improvements and repairs to your infrastructure as well. ::Zaht scoffed through his smile, trying to downplay the Ambassador's offer.:: ZAHT: Oh, Ambassador, you certainly don't think things are that dire, do you? The Jektim prides itself on his technological and industrial achievements, and I think our cities can withstand a few minor instances of civil unrest. AMBASSADOR: Nevertheless, they're on their way. The Drake should reach the border in ten days. ::Zaht's plastic smile cracked slightly. Ten days? Was there no other starship closer? He tried to think of all the damage that could be done in ten days, but even entertaining the notion made his blood run cold.:: ZAHT: I understand, Ambassador. Please, tell the commanding officer of the…Drake, was it?… that we eagerly await their arrival. AMBASSADOR: You'll be able to tell him yourself soon enough, I asked Commander Rogers to contact you as soon as they get underway. ZAHT: Very good, Ambassador. And thank you for all you've done to help us. I'm sure your assistance persuaded the Federation Council to act in our favor. ::In the distance, Zaht heard a disturbance in the air. Something sounded… wrong. A buzzing… no, more of a humming. It was voices, many of them, but to his ears, the cacophony sounded like one, low, rumbling voice. And it was getting louder.:: ZAHT: ((hurriedly)) Well, Ambassador, if you'll excuse me, I really should be going. Government work is never complete, I'm afraid. I look forward to speaking with you soon. ::Before the Ambassador could reply, Zaht cut the transmission, and dashed to the window. Lifting back the shade, tried to pinpoint the source of the sound. He squinted into the distance, nothing. And then, he knew. Everyone knew.:: ::The Trill protestors in the forecourt of the Historical Archives building scattered backwards, creating a large, circular open space around a singular protester. Zaht looked at the lone dissident, and for a split-second, Zaht swore they locked eyes. But that split-second ended too quickly, as the protester tapped a panel, detonating some kind of incendiary device inside his clothes, and himself in the process. Zaht stared out the window at the ensuing panic. This was it. The dissolution had begun.:: ZAHT: Ten days. How can I keep it together for ten days? ::He knew how. He'd known how all along. But now it was time to act. And he would.:: PNPC Minister Kin Zaht Interim Leader Jektim Imperium -as simmed by- Lieutenant JG Didrik Stennes Helm Officer USS Drake

((Assimilated Corridor, Deck 17, USS Nimitz)) :: The team moved quickly through the eerily green lit corridor at a cautious pace. A tight three man V moved slowly behind a fourth team member at the point position. Oliver's head was on a swivel as he advanced on point, his gaze swept left and right but always returned to the motion scanner he held before him. The blue-silver light it cast made the sweat on Oliver's brow stand out clearly as they stopped at a four way junction. :: WHALE: Weston...? :: He adjusted his grip on the phaser rifle and kept the stock pressed against his shoulder. The first time he and Weston and several of the Constitution crew had walked these halls, he’d carried the larger Type 28 rifle. Though he’d always felt more comfortable with it, it has made more sense to arms the team with the Type 33 Close Quarters Combat model. The lower profile and more compact design of the CQC was far better suited to combat within the close confines of starship and space station corridors. Which made perfect sense, as it was created based on recommendations arising from Operation Bright Star. :: WESTON: I know Major. Just give me a minute. TARALLO: Engineering can't be far, which way Lieutenant? WESTON: :: Oliver shot him a dark look over his shoulder. :: I don't have the whole floor plan commited to memory yet, I'm sorry. WHALE: Just concentrate. You know the layout. WESTON: I know. :: He paused a moment and closed his eyes before answering. :: This way. :: He pointed right. :: :: With a nod, Whale raised his rifle and took a step down the corridor. :: WHALE: Weston behind me, Tarallo watch our six. :: Before he could give a response Alton called out a warning in unison with Oliver's scanner. :: TARALLO: Contact, nine o'clock. :: Their heads snapped left and a trio of drones were marching their way down the corridor. The heat was becoming unbearable now and Oliver wished he could tear of his ISARAS vest and get a little bit more air. He turned at the light touch on his shoulder from Whale, and led the way down the right corridor to what he hoped was Main Engineering. As they ran he snapped the portable scanner into a prototype mount on his left wrist to free up his hands if he needed to climb or draw his phaser. At the end of the corridor their jog petered out to a walk and then a full stop when they were faced with a dead end. The outline of a double door could be seen off in the distance, but it was mostly obscured by a massive pile of debris. A major support beam from the deck above punched through the ceiling, dragging with it a snarl of wires, cables and massive sections of jefferies tubes. :: WESTON: [...]. WHALE: Alternate route? WESTON: Thinking. TARALLO: Contacts closing. WHALE: Defensive positions. :: Tarallo, his Marine training kicking in perfectly, automatically dropped to one knee to cover from a low angle while Whale took up a standing position against the opposite wall. Feeling a trickle of sweat run down his back, Whale tried to shrug off the oppressive sense of dread that had been settling on his like a thick black cloak. Holodeck simulations were supposed to be realistic, but this one was cutting far too close to reality for his liking. The last time he’d set foot on the USS Nimitz, he’d nearly lost Fiona Shelley, and over four hundred members of Starfleet had been swallowed up by the Borg. :: WESTON: :: Oliver cursed inwardly and gritted his teeth as he tore his phaser free of his vest. :: Up. WHALE: Full sentences would be nice, Oliver. Or even sentence fragments. :: Oliver turned around and waded into the debris and grabbed hold of a mid-sized piece of torn tube flooring. With a hard wrench he tore it out of the pile and moved a little further up the massive beam. :: WESTON: This beam punched through a jefferies tube. We can still get into it and find a way back down on the other side. :: He was halfway up the beam when he finished and turned to look at Whale for approval. :: WHALE: As long as it gets us where we need to be, I’ll crawl through the solid waste reclamation centre. Tarallo, you head- TARALLO: Contact. Twenty metres Major. :: Whale quickly turned back around, the muzzle of his rifle rising as if it were part of his body, following his gaze. A T-junction twenty metres down the corridor. Movement. A Borg drone, black and grey and pale and dead-looking rounded the corner, it’s doll eyes barely appearing to focus on its quarry. And then two more rounded the corner, heading toward the trio of Starfleeters. :: WHALE: Move, I’ll cover! :: Firing at the advancing Borg in quick bursts of two -- the ubiquitous “double-tap” taught in all assault training, be it marine or security -- Whale knew he’d hit at least one of the Borg, but didn’t wait around to see the effect. As soon as Tarallo was up, Whale followed, dropping a grenade down the hole as soon as he was up. :: WHALE: Cover! :: They all ducked their heads as the grenade exploded in the corridor beneath them, hopefully taking out the three Borg. :: WHALE: All right... :: Taking a moment to catch his breath, Whale wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his SDU. :: WHALE: So we’re in a jeffries tube, which means direct access to engineering from here, right? WESTON: Bingo. Forty meters. :: He pointed. :: This way. WHALE: Then let’s move. :: No sooner had they started forward than they began to hear a shuffling sound at their backs as from somewhere further back, the Borg had gained access to the jeffries tube. Neither Whale nor Weston nor Tarallo needed to say anything -- all three instinctively picked up their pace and within moments that were at a hatch that would lead them into the main engineering section of the Sovereign Class starship. Weston waited, hand on the latch, while Whale and Tarallo took up position. :: WHALE: Ready when you are. :: Though in truth, he felt anything but ready. A nerve was twitching in his left eyelid and his entire jaw ached from having been clenched the entire time. :: :: The hatch was popped and Whale stepped through into engineering, Weston at his back and Tarallo taking up the rear and before Whale’s eyes could adjust to the lack of light, there was- :: BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP :: Weston’s scanner. :: :: Olivers jaw dropped as he saw the screen fill with blips. Twenty plus. :: :: Though they’d been avoiding their use for stealth reasons, Whale flicked on the rifle-mounted flashlight and immediately swore. There were easily two-dozen drones milling around engineering. They were just as he’d remembered them, just as they appeared in the dreams that kept him up at night. Not your typical Borg, these drones of the SubCollective were a haphazard amalgam of humanoid and found technology, rather than tailor-made Borg enhancements. :: WESTON: Twenty or more Major. WHALE: Form up! Don’t waste your shots -- make them count. :: He fixed his sights on the first drone caught in his flashlight beam, an abomination who in life would have been an Andorian female who looked barely old enough to serve, but who went down in a shower of blood and circuitry when she took two phaser bolts to the forehead. As Whale adjusted to focus on another target, he saw a drone go down, but had no idea if it was Tarallo or Weston who’d notched the kill. And he didn’t give a [...] either, as long as it meant one less Borg in the universe. He’d entirely lost sight of the fact that this was a simulation. :: :: Oliver fell in next to Whale on his right side and levelled his hand phaser at the closest drone. The SAR version spat phaser fire in bursts, not beams and the single shot dropped the drone at centre mass. Alton was firing as well, his rifle twitching between targets as his mind worked out distances and priority. Oliver twisted as another drone disconnected itself from a darkened alcove and stepped towards him. Had he been using the larger Type 33 he'd never have been able to bring it to bear, but thankfully the smaller phaser pistol spat once and saved his life. The drone staggered back, its right arm terminated in a viscious looking saw blade which it used instinctively to steady itself. The blade bit into a console and burst as it tore through the digital readout. Sparks and then flames flew as the console came apart and black smoke started filling Engineering. :: :: Engineering was dark enough, with the SubCollective leeching power from the lighting systems to feed itself, but now somewhere, something was on fire, a haze of smoke darkening things even further. They could barely see three feet in front of their rifles. :: WHALE: This is no good, I can barely see! WESTON: The elevator! Head right - WHALE: Son of a-! :: He yanked his arm away from the Borg that had suddenly appeared next to him through the smoke and immediately rammed the butt of his rifle into its face. He felt, more than heard, the satisfying crunch of bone and as the drone staggered back, Whale shot it twice in the face. And then twice more as it fell. And then twice more as it hit the ground. All the death caused by these THINGS, all the sleepless nights, all the times Shelley had woken in the night, screaming or sobbing... those were not things he could let slide. However he may have changed over the last year, the pain of the failure at Duster’s Range and on the USS Nimitz had not dulled in the least. :: :: Feeling another hand on his shoulder, Whale jerked back an elbow at what he presumed would be face-height as he turned to bring his rifle to bear. :: TARALLO: Sir-Gah! :: Oliver staggered back from the frozen drone that had half stepped out of the blanket of black smoke and let out a long shuddreing sigh. The room was eeriely silent, or would have been if David wasn't cursing a blue streak off to his right somewhere. He turned in time to see Alton approach the Major and reach out a steadying hand. Oliver shouted for him to wait but it was too late. :: WESTON: Major! Stand down! :: Breathing heavily, Whale looked around, first at the frozen holographic simulation of the Nimitz around them, then at Tarallo clutching his nose when Whale had hit him, then at Weston. He had been so caught up in his anger that he hadn’t even heard the computer’s announcement that they’d failed to reach the objective and the exercise was over. And then with a roar, he smashed his CQC rifle onto the deck plates. :: WHALE: FRAK!! TARALLO: Don't worry Sir. It was an accident. :: His voice was muffled as he pinched the bridge of his broken nose. :: What's so important about this simulation anyway? WHALE: Because one day, the Nimitz is going to show itself again, and when it does we’re going to have to do this for real! And I am not going to frelling fail! :: Not again. :: :: Oliver walked up to Niner and turned him around to see the damage. He moved the marines hand and sucked in his breath in sympathy for him. :: :: He waved a hand at Tarallo, still scowling, still looking like he wanted to smash something else. :: WHALE: Go get your nose looked at. WESTON: See a medic Niner. We don't need sickbay asking questions. TARALLO: I fell down some stairs Sir. WESTON: Good choice. :: The door slid shut behind him and Oliver turned back to David. :: WESTON: Want to run it again? WHALE: Yes. ---- Major David Whale XO & SAR Commander USS Drake http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Whale,_David ----- Lieutenant JG Oliver Weston Intelligence Officer USS Drake

Voting closes Thursday, May 13, 2012 at 23:59 PM. This round of voting only qualifies one sim to move on to the next round of judging. REMEMBER: This is NOT a popularity contest. Vote based on MERIT, not the fact that someone is your crewmate. Any crews found “stuffing the ballots” or ratings, will be disqualified PERMANENTLY. Yes, that means the whole crew!

(Katherine's Quarters, USS TIGER-A) Sharkey: I WILL NOT! ::Cocheta slapped the PADD hard into Katherine's stomach. The Indian laughed slightly as she observed the expression on her face.:: Sharkey: You had something to do with this. ::annoyed:: I know you did. Lightfoot: ::laughing:: I assure you, I didn't have anything to do with it. ::still laughing:: It apparently came from higher up. Sharkey: Higher up? ::break:: Lieutenant Walker? ::thinking harder:: Darius. Lightfoot: You guessed it. Sharkey: What am I suppose to say? ::sarcastically:: What if I can't answer their questions? Lightfoot: I don't know. They are capable of asking a lot of very strange questions, according to my understandings. ::Mona leaped onto Katherine's back and began to pat the woman on the head with her little hand.:: Lightfoot: Mona thinks it is a good idea. (Later) (Dorsal Module) (School Room, Deck 5) ::Katherine entered the school room dressed nicely for her presentation. She approached a woman who apparently was one of the ship's school teachers.:: Sharkey: Excuse me. I am Lieutenant Katherine Sharkey. ::taking a deep breath:: I was sent to talk to your class today about life in the Engineering Department? ::The Bajoran woman smiled brightly at the engineer. She moved with grace and motioned to students seated in the room.:: Laeni: Welcome to our class Lieutenant...I am Laeni and this is these are the second graders on the ship. We're so happy you could join us today to tell us about your work in engineering. Class, let's welcome Lieutenant Sharkey. ::She began to clap and the students followed suit.:: Sharkey: ::smiling weakly:: Thank you. Laeni: Please, come in...come in... like I said, we're really happy you're here. The students are just finishing up an art project, but we'll be ready for you in two minutes. ::She let a somewhat sterner gaze fall over her class.:: Sharkey: Art project? ::Katherine observed the obvious disarray among the students. They looked like an army of pygmy soliders.:: Laeni: Don't be shy, no need to worry. Just here in the front of the room... ::She gave the woman an encouraging, sugary sweet smile.:: Sharkey: What ever. ::smiling nervously:: ::The teacher moved to the front of the room and then clapped twice.:: Laeni: Okay...it's time to put up all of your art supplies. Quickly.... we don't want to keep the Lieutenant waiting. ::A murmur ran through the rows of seats as the students began to clean up their area and then focus their attention on the engineer named Katherine Sharkey. Two of the boys, a Klingon hybrid and a Terran, whispered something to each other and then pointed at the woman.:: Sharkey: oO Watch that finger there, ridges. Maybe I should extract it for my collection.Oo ::When the desks were clear, Laeni moved to the center of the room.:: Laeni: Everyone, this is Lieutenant Katherine Sharkey, she works in engineering and is here to talk to us about what it is like to be an engineer. Lieutenant... ::She motioned for the Terran woman to take center stage.:: Sharkey: ::trying to smile.:: Hello. Laeni: Tell us what is it like, the day in the life of an engineer? Sharkey: Well to begin, it varies from day to day. You never know what to expect when you serve on a starship. ::The teacher tilted her head slightly as she watched a couple of students talking near the back of the room, her eyes focused on the them while she spoke.:: Laeni: And what area of engineering do you work on every day? Sharkey: I am skilled in many areas, mainly I assist in whatever area is needed on a daily basis. I didn't choose a particular area such as R&D, I like to keep my options open. ::break:: One day I could be working on shield modifications, another assisting in shuttlecraft repairs. Laeni: I see...I'm sure the children have some questions they'd like to ask. Sharkey: ::nervous:: Okay. ::big smile started to emerge on her face:: Go ahead. ::Several hands shot up around the room, a young Terran girl was the first one the teacher called on.:: Girl 1: Do you like being an engineer? Is it fun? Laeni: That's a good question Sara.. ::She looked over at Sharkey.:: Sharkey: It is like any other job. It has it days, good and bad. ::A young boy was next.:: Boy 1: Can you take us to see the warp core? Sharkey: Sorry, I am afraid that would require permission of the Command Staff. Girl 2: Have you ever had to fix the waste reclamation system? ::A funny look came over Katherine's face.:: Sharkey: oOWhat kind of a question is that?Oo Yes I have, on the Wheeler Colony during my time on the Ursa Major. On a starship? No. ::Laeni nodded, so far the questions were going very well. The class seemed genuinely interested in the engineer. She was happy to see her students so engaged in the process.:: Boy 2: Are you married? ::Katherine appeared shocked by the question.:: Sharkey: Am I what? Boy 2: Are you married? Sharkey: ::in a low tone toward Laeni:: Interesting group of students you have here. ::sarcastic tone:: Laeni: Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it Lieutenant. Students are naturally curious... ::She gave a warning look to the class...:: Sharkey: Are YOU MARRIED? ::directing her attention toward the student:: That is a very personal question. Boy 2: My mother says that if a woman isn't married by 30, she is either damaged goods or has personality issues. Sharkey: Well, ::break:: your mother is a regular philosopher. Boy 2: No, she is a family counselor. ::Laeni looked at the young boy horrified, it took her a minute to recover her own composure.:: Laeni: Now Eric, I'm sure that isn't true... ::She gave a soft concerned look to the engineer as she tried to recover.::... did you all know the Captain is over 30? ::The class looked stunned and several kids gasped and laughed.:: Sharkey: ::under her breath:: Well that is another conversation. ::The teacher smiled brightly and looked over at a smart looking boy on the third row.:: Laeni: Rin, do you have a question for Lieutenant Sharkey? ::The boy looked up with a sly smile.:: Rin: Do you know the Captain Lieutenant? ::Katherine paused as she chose her words carefully.:: Sharkey: Hmmmm. ::trying to smile:: Yes, yes I do. Next question. ::quickly changing the subject.:: ::As the Lieutenant finished speaking another girl raised her hand and began yelling from the back of the room.:: Girl 3: Oooo! OOOooooo! Choose me! Choose me! Sharkey: Okay. ::pointing to the girl:: Girl 3: How old are you? ::She gave Sharkey a scrutinizing look.:: Are you over 30 and damaged goods? Rin: Stupid! Don't you know you're not supposed to ask a woman her age? Sharkey: Next question. oO Little brat!Oo ::Laeni raised her hand and covered her face, her cheeks turning a bright pink color as the conversation got worse by the minute.:: Boy 3: Do you have kids? Sharkey: No. Boy 3: Why not? Girl 3: Don't you like kids? ::Her eyes narrowed with scrutiny.:: Boy 3: Yeah, don't you like kids? ::There was a chorus of nods around the room.:: ::Katherine turned to give Laeni a very unpleasing look.:: Sharkey: Nice little.... kids you have here. ::The teacher looked at the woman with sympathy. She was very embarrassed, her face was bright red and she was sweating.:: Laeni: They're usually very nice... Sharkey: I'll bet. They are as deadly as a nest of Ceti Alpha Eels. Laeni: I'm so sorry Lieutenant...I don't... ::Just then another kid raised his hand.:: Sharkey: Yes? Roy: My name is Roy. Why is the word engineering spelled so funny? Sharkey:: ::nodding her head in a sarcastic motion:: You know kid, I've wondered that myself many times. ::finally giving in:: Roy: Are you of Chagga descent? ::Katherine looked at Laeni.:: Sharkey: ::looking back at Roy:: You are a funny looking little boy aren't you? Roy: Not as funny looking as you are. ::Class erupts in laughter.:: Sharkey: ::sarcastic laughter:: You have a good head on your shoulders there, Roy. ::stern look on her face:: Care to see it in the floor? Laeni: Oh dear... Please, everyone quiet down... ::Her voice was soft, but commanding. She gave the children a stern look which seemed to quiet some of them. She then turned to Sharkey.:: Laeni: Lieutenant, it was very nice of you to visit.... ::Before she could finish her sentence the room suddenly plunged into darkness. Screams erupted from where the children were seated, Laeni gasped.:: Sharkey: DO THESE LITTLE THINGS DO THAT ALL THE TIME! ::voicing loudly to Laeni:: ::The screaming continued, fluctuated, grew louder, softer and then became exaggerated. It seemed like the lights were off forever...and then there was movement, from near Laeni headed for Sharkey.:: Laeni: Who? What is that? Sharkey: WATCH THOSE HANDS, LITTLE ONE! ::staring in the darkness at the small figure in front her:: I should have known, ROY! ::The little boy laughed as he let go of Katherine's leg.:: Sharkey: Don't do that again. We are not that intimate. ::When the lights came back on, a desk had been moved in front of Katherine Sharkey and the children were on the floor, hiding under their desks, some still screaming enthusiastically.:: Sharkey: CAN YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT.....! ::motioning to Laeni:: THEIR SCREAMS ARE EXTREMELY PAINFUL! Laeni: Now class! ::She raised her voice to be heard over the loud talking as the kids began to get back up into their seats.:: Get back in your seats! You know we don't do that! I'm sure everything is fine... ::She looked over at the engineer.:: Sharkey: ::adjusting her uniform after it had been stretched out of shape in areas thanks to Roy:: I would raise more than my voice if I were in your place. ::The ship quite suddenly went to yellow alert.:: Rin: We're all going to die! Laeni: Rin! Sharkey: ::annoyed:: I am terribly sorry but I need to report to engineering immediately. oO Thank God for yellow alerts.Oo ::Laeni gave the woman a sympathetic look.:: Laeni: Thank you for coming Lieutenant, it was interesting. We're so glad you could join us. Sharkey: My pleasure. ::forced smile:: Until next time, ::motioning a wave toward the class:: I must be tending to my ship. Au revoir. ::Katherine departed the classroom without looking back. Never in her life had she been more happier to have seen a yellow alert.:: tbc PNPCs Lt jg Katherine Sharkey Engineering USS Tiger-A PO 3rd Class Shoodi Cocheta Lightfoot Engineer USS Tiger-A Laeni 2nd Grade Teacher USS Tiger-A Submitted by Lt Cmdr Darius Clack FO USS Tiger-A and Fleet Captain Sidney Riley Commanding Officer USS Tiger-A

(( Boardwalk outside Starlight Chateau, Alpha Centauri )) ::Didrik fought an impulse to pace back and forth across the boardwalk that separated the beach from the busy avenues of the major Centaurian resort city, but his nerves won out and his legs returned to autopilot, marching an ovoid route between the street and the entrance to the Starlight Chateau, where the Drake's crew were already assembling.:: ::It didn't help that he was wearing a rather ill-fitting dress uniform, one that bunched and tugged in all the wrong places. It made him feel even more awkward, even more like a goofy schoolboy, than he already did. On his eighteenth trip past a particularly gaudy fountain, he finally unfastened the restrictive collar, easing the flow of oxygen into his lungs. As each new person––dress-uniform wearing crew and formally dressed civilians alike––approached the entrance to the Chateau, he experienced excitement and disappointment in rapid succession. Excitement for who it could be, and disappointment for who it actually was.:: ::Didrik was peering into the Chateau's main entrance, wondering if they'd missed each other, thus missing someone beaming down several meters behind him. He was surprised when he rounded the fountain and saw exactly who he'd been waiting for standing before him.:: STENNES: Aron, hi. KELLS: (cautiously) Didrik. ::Didrik must have looked somewhat foolish, hunched over with his head poking round a corner into the building's entrance, and felt the need to explain what he was doing.:: STENNES: I was going to go in, but actually, I was waiting for you. KELLS: Oh. You were. :: Their positions had been reversed, Aron thought: Where once he had been exuberant to counter Didrik's recalcitrance, now Didrik was fairly pulsating with excitement while Aron was distinctly guarded. :: STENNES: I think the ceremony and everything has already started, but would you mind walking with me for bit? KELLS: No. I wouldn't mind at all. :: And yet his heart felt like a marathoner's: but still he agreed, perhaps to allow himself time to say a difficult thing in the next twenty minutes. :: STENNES: Thank you. ::The two officers stepped out onto the busy avenue, bathed by the light of two setting suns. Following Didrik's lead, they moseyed past a row of shops and eateries onto a quieter, more pedestrian-friendly street, before Didrik spoke again.:: STENNES: Nice evening, isn't it? KELLS: I've seen better. :: What a thing to say! He shook himself, told himself to become "more me." :: KELLS: But I've seen a lot worse. It is beautiful, I think, the binary duality. STENNES: It must take a lot of getting used to, living on a planet with two suns. KELLS: Maybe if you moved here, but if you were born here, if you grew up here, it would be normal. Going to Earth, now, that'd be strange. STENNES: Can you tell I'm stalling? :: Aron blinked. Actually, he hadn't been able to tell, so invested had he been in his own emotions and worry. Cocooned, really. But he lied: oh, he lied. :: KELLS: No. I couldn't. (beat) Tell me what you want to tell me. STENNES: I guess I should. When I was on that planet in null space, after Jane and the others had beamed back aboard the Drake... (beat) half-blind, my atoms being dissolved by that mist... ::Didrik shook his head and adjusted his glasses, still uncomfortable with how they invaded his field of vision.:: STENNES: It was the first time in my career that I thought I would probably die. :: Aron's first instinct was to show off his own veteran status and say, oh, one of those moments -- but, as he did so often when Didrik was around, he thought better of this impulse. :: KELLS: What did you think? STENNES: There was a moment, when I had given up. I couldn't get the propulsion system back online, and I gave up. KELLS: And yet you're here. So... STENNES: It was the encouraging voice of one person that shook me out of it. :: Aron's heart kicked into overdrive as it flip-flopped, flip-flopped: Please say it. Please don't say it. Please say it. Please don't say it. :: KELLS: Whose? STENNES: It was yours. KELLS: (quietly) Oh, Architect. STENNES: Sometimes it's hard to listen to someone who knows you better than you know yourself. But I'm glad I did. Because it got me off the planet. Back to the Drake. And back to you. ::Didrik reached for Aron's hand and took it in his own.:: STENNES: Aron, I have mustered every bit of courage I have to tell you this. I know I'm not the same person you left behind, nor do I want to be. I can't re-write your past anymore than I can my own. But we both have an unwritten future, and I know I want you in mine. I just can't go another day ignoring the feelings I have for you. :: It was now or never. Aron kept Didrik's hand in his own, squeezed it to remind them both of their lives, and dropped the bomb. :: KELLS: I've wanted to hear you say that for months. Oh, Architect, since I arrived. But I respected your boundaries -- or I tried. I wasn't perfect. We weren't perfect. But, now.... (beat) Didrik. I'm leaving. I've been reassigned. ::If Didrik had an eternity to ponder each possible response that Aron could have given, he'd still never have guessed it would've been what he'd just heard. His heart had been pounding from his own nerves, but now everything seemed to be thrown into slow motion. The beating of his heart echoed up his temples and into his ears, too slowly, it felt, to keep his brain from shutting down. Aron's fingers, woven into Didrik's own, felt newly warm; his hands had gone cold.:: STENNES: Soon? KELLS: Immediately. I'll still be in the general area, but I'll be on the starbase -- you know, Starbase 118. ::The Drake's nominal home port. In a perfect world, she'd return to Starbase 118 regularly, as any other member of the fleet would do. In reality, Didrik hadn't heard a word about the station since the day he stepped foot aboard the Drake, and what with the Marine and SCE teams recently added to her complement, he doubted her future would be spent quietly docked in the Trinity Sector. The adrenaline that fueled his half of the conversation thus far was beginning to wear off, unmasking self-consciousness, and now, embarrassment. He looked slightly upward, into Aron's eyes, and forced a smile.:: STENNES: I know how it is. Life in Starfleet, we go where we're assigned. And reassigned. KELLS: I say reassigned, but I had a choice: they offered me a choice. I chose (beat) and I hoped we'd have this discussion. Because, Didrik, I want you to come with me. STENNES: Aron, I'd–– ::The sheer weight of the emotions behind his own words and Aron's made it so easy to begin that sentence. "Aron, I'd love to." But halfway through, his mind caught up with his heart, and began calculating the real weight of what Aron was saying.:: STENNES: I'd–like to ask you something. KELLS: Then you should do so. STENNES: Are you prepared to make a commitment to me? To call Commander Rogers and ask him to hold a ceremony for us? KELLS: Yes. :: But he had answered quickly, and without thinking -- which, to Aron's brand of scientist, was no meaningful answer at all. :: KELLS: That's what I want to say. But, Didrik, it's not a rush-- there's no hurry-- we have time-- :: And how he lied! :: KELLS: No. The hell with it. Yes, my answer's still yes. ::Didrik closed his eyes at Aron's reply. Who doesn't want to be loved? The fact that he knew, in his heart and his mind, that Aron meant it, only made it harder. With every millisecond of silence that followed, Didrik found it a million times harder to say what he needed to say.:: STENNES: I… I'm not. ::Didrik let the urge to apologize profusely come, but didn't do it, not yet.:: STENNES: I want to be with you, Aron. I want a future with you… but I'm not ready to give up everything I've worked for to do it. I wish I were, I really do, but I'm not, not yet. (long beat) I'm sor–. ::Never before had words been so hard for Didrik to say. He lowered his head, hoping the emotion welling up wouldn't break.:: KELLS: Don't say it. Not unless you mean it. (beat) I don't just love you, all right, I respect you. Never apologize for the reasons I respect you. ::A deep breath did wonders for Didrik's composure.:: STENNES: You and I have never had this conversation, but I'm sure you and your Didrik did. You know about Bajor, right? And Tiro? KELLS: Once upon a time, there was something similar. (beat) You were leaving, not me. But I do remember. STENNES: I don't want to hurt you that way, Aron. I don't want to walk away from this, but–– ::There was always a "but.":: STENNES: I've only just started to figure out where I belong. I've made friends, stretched myself beyond what I thought was possible. I'm actually proud to call myself a pilot now, and not just a failed tactician. I know where I belong right now, and it's on the Drake, not on the Starbase with you. KELLS: I (beat) knew you would say that. I know I can't keep you in my pocket -- that you, and I, are functions of ourselves. But I can't.... :: He didn't choke; his voice was steady. But he felt as though someone had scooped him out, from clavicles to pubis, and left the illusion of sanity behind. He had been so certain that he could convince Didrik, so sure of his clarified vision, that it seemed as if he had failed, that love had gone from the bright world in a moment, leaving it without two stars, without one star, without a star in the sky at all. :: KELLS: But I will miss you. STENNES: I meant what I said before. Someday, it'll be the right time for both of us. I believe that. KELLS: (beat) You know me, now. And you know my faith. I don't want to lie so I'll tell you right now that it's tough, all right, to be a scientist with a strong faith. Biased, I've been called. A fruitcake, too, and, less politely, delusional. (beat) But we make our experiences. I have a mantra: "I have faith." I'm not damaged; I made a choice. STENNES: That's all any of us can do, I guess. To believe. To choose. They're not really that different from each other, are they? KELLS: I believe what you believe, because I choose to have hope and not despair. STENNES: And I think when the time is right for us–and it will be–we'll know it, and we'll know what to do. Do you? KELLS: I do, especially about what I'm saying. (beat) But I-- at night, when I know you're away, you're not on the same ship, a simple call but too many light years away (beat) I don't want to be afraid. But I'm afraid I'm going to be. ::Didrik took Aron's free hand, and eased into him until their bodies touched. He rested his forehead against Aron's, and they both let the flood of silence wash over them. Eventually, Didrik spoke.:: STENNES: I'm afraid too. But I don't want to be. I want to us be happy, and complete. Not afraid. KELLS: Then we'll be strong. Because we've chosen our lives, and in them we have faith. ::The larger of the Centaurian suns dipped lower against the horizon, leaving its smaller counterpart behind to carry a dim torch until morning.:: STENNES: So, what happens now? KELLS: We.... :: But he wasn't sure, exactly. What did you do, after all they had just done? :: STENNES: Well, I know it's not technically "standard procedure" for an event like this, but... ::Didrik refastened the collar on his dress uniform, and looked into Aron's eyes with a smile that seemed to radiate from within him.:: STENNES: Commander Aron Kells, will you be my date to the promotions ceremony tonight? KELLS: (quickly) Yes. Absolutely. Absolutely I will. Ensign Didrik Stennes Helm Officer USS Drake & Commander Aron Kells Executive Officer Starbase 118 Operations & USS Victory

((Holodeck 1, USS Drake)) ::Solok stood in the center of the yellow-black grid, as if waiting. As if hesitant to begin, really, although he was a Vulcan, and Vulcans did not hesitate.:: Solok: Resume program Solok-alpha-one. ::A fairly ordinary holographic replica of fairly ordinary officer's quarters aboard a Federation starship, appointed in a relatively outmoded design, filtered into existence all around him. From the marked absence of personal effects, the low lighting, the higher-than-Starfleet-standard temperature, and the lower-than-Starfleet-standard humidity, a casual observer could likely surmise that these were a Vulcan's quarters. Had one accessed an exterior view of the stsrship, one would know that this Vulcan's quarters were situated aboard the USS Kodiak. Beyond that, however, only two people stationed on the Drake would be able to recognize the room for what it was -- and one of them had written the program.:: ::He began typing rapidly into the PADD he was carrying, revising the program or adding elements that were missing. He did it all from memory, of course, but had no reason to believe his memory was inaccurate.:: ::He was doing it, in the end, for himself as much as for her. A familiar place, where they once met for lessons in the Vulcan meditative techniques and mental disciplines, where their life together had begun. He did not see the sentimental value of the place, or of his decision to re-create it here, but he expected she would see something sentimental in his actions. He valued the holodeck version of his quarters on the Kodiak -- of their quarters there -- as a quiet, comfortable place for meditation and inquiry. He did also value, however, what harmony existed, or could be salvaged, in their marriage. They had had something like harmony there -- here -- on the Kodiak.:: ::Much had changed since then, and logic dictated that one leave unchanged that which does not admit of the possibility of being changed. Perhaps, his marriage to Sakorra could never be what it once was. Perhaps -- :: Reed: =/\= Ensign Reed to Commander Solok. =/\= Solok: =/\= This is Solok. Go ahead. =/\= Reed: =/\= I require your presence on Alpha Centauri VII, 2000 hours, Pier 32. =/\= Solok: =/\= Understood, Ensign. I will be there. Solok out. =/\= ::There was little left to do. He turned toward the doorway, his thoughts a million miles and many years away from this little holographic room on a starship no longer in service.:: Solok: Computer, end program. ::Leaving that place behind, he headed for the transporter room -- by way of his office, of course.:: === Lieutenant Commander Solok Chief Operations Officer USS Drake

((Starbase 118 - Deck 775)) ::It was late when Kaedyn Zehn reluctantly left his office and returned to his empty quarters. With Eliaan away again on the Victory, he felt acutely lonely. That his partner could frequently be called away for duty was something Kaedyn had accepted and had not thought much about before he was joined but he was more aware of Eliaan’s absence now. In a cruel irony, now that he had the memories of all those other people swimming around in his head he felt more alone than when he was just one person and one set of memories.:: ::He stood in the middle of their quarters in the dark, not sure what to do next. He felt himself pulling in two directions: his life with Eliaan, even if it was starting to feel unfulfilling, was here on Starbase 118 but his previous host’s son was being taken by his grandmother to Trill.:: ::With Eliaan gone, he needed someone to talk to about all this but as he thought of it, he realised that Kaedyn hadn’t had much of a life prior to Joining. His own career had become mostly following Eliaan from one posting to another and somehow he had never been able to develop friendships. He thought of the new Counsellor but he knew she was on the Victory; then there was Jonesy but thought it couldn’t be someone who had been part of Jilenna’s life.:: ::Then, from deep within his subconscious, the answer came to him.The most appropriate person to speak to was within himself. While the big personalities of Leora and Zhima and the more recent hosts Reigan and Jilenna loomed heavily in his mind, there was also the quiet, kind, nurturing voice of Zehn’s fourth host Calla.:: ::The station’s caretaker, Jinto, had suggested he undertake a zhian'tara ceremony to meet all his hosts. Kaedyn had balked at that suggestion, worried that he would be even more overwhelmed by them all in person. But there was another way, the Trill Rite of Emergence, which would allow him to speak to one of his former hosts.:: ::Not knowing if it would even work, he looked up the Rite on the Trill database and replicated the necessary equipment. Having struggled so much to find some outlet for all his feelings, he was excited to now have a plan of action and quickly set up the ritual in the bedroom.:: ::Staring into the mirror, he began chanting the ancient Trill words that would allow his past host to reveal herself to him. He could feel himself shake with nerves. What if she didn’t think he was good enough to carry her Symbiont and her memories? How could he, emotional wreck that he was, ever live up to the proud lineage of Zehn? Still, he continued to chant the words that would bring her forth.:: ::In the mirror, his reflection rippled and was replaced with the image of a woman. It was amazing how different the many hosts of Zehn looked, despite being more or less parts of the same person. Calla’s skin was pale so that her Trill spots stood out more than his; her auburn hair was worn loose and sat on her shoulders. He noted that they shared a similar colour of green eyes.:: (Calla) Zehn: Kaedyn, it's lovely to meet you ::There was a warm familiarity in her face, despite him having never met her before. All the apprehension he felt at conducting the ritual and asking for help melted away with her warm, accepting smile. Her voice was lower than he had imagined it to be and she seemed to know how to use it in such a manner that it sounded as if she were singing rather than talking.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: Hello Calla (Calla) Zehn: Well, you’ve not been having a great time of it recently. Have you? ::He would have laughed, if he had thought the expression of emotion wouldn’t lead him to tears. :: (Kaedyn) Zehn: No, not really. (Calla) Zehn: I’m glad you called on me for help. ::Turning from the mirror, he was aware of Calla standing beside him although he knew she was just an image created by his mind and the powerful effects of the Trill mud that bubbled in the urn in front of him. He walked out of the bedroom and into the living area and she followed him.:: (Calla) Zehn: The last time I was on a Starfleet vessel, the quarters were much smaller. ::Never great at small-talk when not directed at patients, Kaedyn found it even harder to with this person who was part of him. Acknowledging the awkwardness, he wondered whether that contributed to his inability to make new friends and forced himself to take part in the exchange.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: Yes, the quarters here are much larger than normal. This is a huge station; everything is on a larger scale it seems. ::The absurdity of the situation, of standing in a room talking to a construct of his mind and the memories held in Zehn, suddenly occurred to him and an involuntary grin crossed his face.:: (Calla) Zehn: What is it? (Kaedyn) Zehn: You’re a psychologist… don’t you think this is a crazy situation? ::She threw her head back and laughed before sitting down on one of the two sofas in the living area.:: (Calla) Zehn: Crazy isn’t a word I would normally use, its frowned upon in my line of work, but I will agree this is an unusual situation. It can help though. ::He sat down across from her, the eerie feeling of speaking to a figment of his mind fading as he spoke to her.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: Have you done this yourself? (Calla) Zehn: No, but Jilenna used the Rite of Emergence to call me forth twice. She went through a particularly bad time after her husband died and I would like to think I was able to help her out. ::In the back of his mind, he knew that. It was a strange thing to discuss the memories he carried with someone who had taken part in them. He smiled and nodded slowly, remembering the conversations between Jilenna and Calla.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: You must get tired of only being called upon when one of us has a problem. (Calla) Zehn: Kaedyn, I am always a part of you, just as I was a part of Jilenna. If you ever need me then you just need to look inward. If you are finding that too difficult for whatever reason, you can perform the Rite and speak to me directly. Just think of me as the family therapist, always on call. ::He smiled and then remained quiet for a long time. Calla made no sign of impatience or irritation but instead sat watching him with a calm, almost neutral, look on her face. She had been, he remembered, a very successful psychologist and had seen patients almost until the day she died.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: Its Janel… ::She nodded slowly, leaning back into the chair and interlocking her fingers. He had caught himself sitting in a similar position recently and smiled as he realised where it had come from.:: (Calla) Zehn: Jilenna’s Janel or third host Janel? (Kaedyn) Zehn: The baby (Calla) Zehn: Good, I love Janel as much as all the other hosts but can be difficult to deal with. At my zhian'tara he actually fell out with me and refused to speak to me. My poor brother had to carry his memories for two days before he finally let up and spoke to me again. I have no idea why Jilenna would want to name her son after him! ::Kaedyn laughed and could feel himself relax into the conversation. It was, he thought, like speaking to a beloved parent or a close sibling and he realised why Jilenna had taken such comfort from it.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: Something for me to look forward to then. (Calla) Zehn: Indeed. Now, why don’t you explain to me what the problem with Janel is? ::He told her about his post-Joining experience, about how he had been determined to return to the station and make sure Janel was okay following his mother’s death and how Mezan was now planning to return to Trill with Janel. He talked about how he felt torn between the two aspects of his life and how he was terrified that he was going to mess everything up.:: (Calla) Zehn: It is very common to experience strong attachments to the families and partners of previous hosts, as I am sure you have been told. These attachments are stronger again with regard to your immediate predecessor and when there are children involved it can be virtually impossible to separate your feelings. (Kaedyn) Zehn: I guess other hosts are trained to deal with this. This is why people like me aren’t supposed to get symbionts. ::She shook her head, her auburn hair flowing over her shoulders as she moved.:: (Calla) Zehn: Your situation is rare but I don’t think there is enough training in the world to prepare you for how overwhelmed any of us feel when we are given the memories of people who have recently died. You can’t blame yourself for finding it difficult. I found it difficult, we all did. ::It was comforting to hear. He hadn’t really realised that he was blaming himself for not being able to reconcile his mixed feelings. He was locked into punishing himself for something that most people would be just as troubled with.:: (Calla) Zehn: You feel pulled between the lives Kaedyn had built for himself with Eliaan and the one torn away from Jilenna too quickly. Given the fact that you were not planning to be Joined, it is completely natural for your life as Kaedyn Zehn to go in a third direction. It is also natural for you to take elements of Jilenna’s life and incorporate them into your own. (Kaedyn) Zehn: But how do I reconcile situations where they go in opposite directions? (Calla) Zehn: Then you have to work out which direction is right for you (Kaedyn) Zehn: What if I already know the direction but am too scared to articulate it because if I get it then everything I’ve ever wanted comes true and if I don’t then I can’t work out how to live with the regret? ::Calla made no response sensing, he figured, that he had more to say or waiting for him to actually come the point that they had both knew he hadn’t reached yet. He had carried it with him since he had returned to the station. He had danced around it, too afraid to even allow himself to think it fully never mind say it out loud.:: (Kaedyn) Zehn: What if I want to stay here with Eliaan, change my job and adopt Janel? What if that’s the new life that I want? ::A broad smile spread across Calla’s face and she leaned towards him:: (Calla) Zehn: Ah, then this may turn out to be a longer session than you might have expected… TBC Lieutenant (junior grade) Kaedyn Zehn Chief Nursing Officer SB118 / USS Victory

((Deck 1 - Bridge)) ::Percival had landed the dud job as he called it. All the senior officers were off the bridge at a briefing and they needed someone capable and talented to hold the fort while they were gone. Naturally, there could be no other choice; he was probably the most capable officer on the ship aside from, perhaps, the Captain. It was a dud job simply because the ship was docked and there wasn’t a thing going on. Despite the fact he was glad of the break from the extra counselling sessions, he had a hard time staying awake because he was bored stiff. He sat in the Captain’s chair, daydreaming about what it might be like to be the person in command, monitoring the systems from time to time. :: :: Percival heard an unexpected, loud bang from behind him. Instinctively he leapt forward and over the console in front of him. He wasn’t a coward, he was being tactical… he needed cover to face whatever threat was noisily threatening him. He poked his head up over the “cover” to see what the nature of the threat was. One hand hovered over his combadge, ready to declare an emergency situation. He saw two Starfleet marines pointing weapons at him… was this a real mutiny?:: Kagran: It's ok Ensign, stand down. ::Percival wasn’t sure if this was some kind of trick designed to get him to let his guard down. He ducked behind the cover again to avoid being a direct target and tried to think how to talk these two down.:: Percival: Now see here…! ::He began:: Kagran: Are you ok Ensign? :: Percival was surprised by the question but the suspicion remained. These guys had no business bursting onto the bridge like that as far as he could see.. :: Percival: What are you doing on the bridge!? ::He demanded as boldly as possible, though less boldly than he’d admit.:: Kagran: It was only a training drill for us. Should you not be manning the OPS station? :: He stood up and puffed out his chest, trying to look big, manly and not like the sissy that he was. He gave them a dashing smile and proudly exaggerated his importance. :: Percival: As you can see it is I who is in charge of the bridge and thus the ship at this time! Naturally my place is… ::Looking a little dismayed about being cut off mid boast.:: Kagran: Forget it Ensign. Are all the staff in the meeting? Percival: Yes. Shouldn’t you be there as well sir? Kagran: Thank you Ensign. Griffon, take my weapon and helmet back to the armoury for me. Griffon: Aye Sir. :: In the next heartbeat the two marines were gone and Percival was once again on his own. He exhaled heavily in relief and sank back into the Captain’s chair. For the next few minutes he was just content to sit there simmering down from his fright. He was glad that he’d been alone on the bridge, some of the others might not have understood his brilliant tactical mind. Advanced strategies could be hard to process for some, but he was already looking forward to telling his friends about how he was solely responsible for stopping a real live mutiny! :: Eerie : All quiet, Ensign? :: As Eerie watched the chair spin around in his direction. :: ::Percival jerked in surprise at the unexpected voice. Had he nodded off there for a second? He hadn’t heard the distinctive swoosh of the turbolift doors. The voice was unmistakable, so how was it he hadn’t heard the man mountain enter? He swivelled the chair round to look.:: Percival: Yes Lieutenant, Sir! ::He declared more loudly than necessary to compensate for the slipup.:: Eerie : LT. Commander :: showing him the small box:: Good... we will probably depart in 7 hours, Ensign. Percival: Oh congratulations! ::Breaking into a genuine grin.:: Will you be taking over the bridge sir? Eerie: No, I am just checking out a few things. I am sure you can handle things, correct? ::Eerie focused on the tactical board. He placed the small box on the board and his fingers started to dance over the control panel. He started to pull up tactical information on the sector they started in before going to the Eden planet.:: ::That was unexpected and disappointing, he’d had his fun and wanted to get back to trying to clear his backlog of traumatised patients. He wanted to remain here as much as a vampire wanted the sun. On the other hand it looked like Eerie knew Percival’s merit.:: Percival: Aye sir. ::Proudly:: Eerie: I will be doing your security phaser review at some point. I have reviewed your scores from last time....I would suggest a little practice. ::Eerie turned to the Ensign and looked directly at him.:: oOSurely it can’t be due for review again already… when did I join the security department? This is ridiculous! Oo Percival: Sir I am a counsellor not a gun toting bully, but I am sure I can improve my score if it will let you sleep better at night…sir. Eerie: Good. I will be looking forward to it. Carry on, Mister. ::Percival nodded decisively, his ego inflated like a balloon as he turned back to the front, waiting on the other officers to arrive back to the bridge.:: (PNPC) Ensign Percival Maxwell Counsellor USS Avandar Simmed by Blackwood

((Chief Nursing Officer's Office - Deck 500)) ::Kaedyn sat behind his desk, catching up with paperwork and all the other trivia that appeared on his desk when Eliaan left the station. He found this work no longer held his full attention and he had drifted to reading he intel reports that his low-level clearance permitted. The difference in clearance between a nursing officer and a marine intel captain was startling but at least what he could get his hands on was interesting. As he read a report on the infant Thracian Alliance, the door chimed.:: Zehn: Come in ::The doors opened and the small, increasingly frail figure of Jilenna's mother Mezan stood in the doorway. She carried a sleeping Janel in a baby carrier in both hands.:: Mezan: I hope I'm not bothering you... ::He waved her in, dropping the PADD on the desk and getting up to join her.:: Zehn: Of course not, come in. How's my little man? ::He caught himself speaking with Jilenna's voice and recoiled slightly, worried that it would upset her. She winced slightly at the sound but tried to put a brave face on it. After an uncomfortable pause, he changed the subject and directed her to the comfortable sitting area. She placed the carrier on the small coffee table and Kaedyn cooed over the sleeping infant.:: Mezan: Kaedyn. Listen. Zehn: Uh-oh, I know what that means. ::he grinned:: am I in trouble? ::She stared down at the ground and even if he hadn't known her as well as Jilenna did, he knew something was wrong with her. Her tone was that of someone about to deliver bad news and trying to break it gently.:: Zehn: You're leaving, aren't you? Mezan: I think it might be time for us to go home, yes. ::While not suprised at the decision, knowing as he did how Mezan had disliked life on the Starbase while Jilenna was alive, he still felt himself reel at the idea of losing Janel. He remained silent for a long time, struggling to find an appropriate response.:: Zehn: I see Mezan: Of course, you are welcome to visit us whenever you want and I know this will be difficult for you but I don't think- ::He remained silent, unable to trust his voice not to crack when he spoke and show the overwhelming emotion that he was feeling at that moment.:: Mezan: I'm old, Kaedyn. I could never tell Jilenna this because she had been through so much and was trying so hard to keep her life together but I am too old to live on a starbase and raise my grandson. ::He looked down at his hands, Jilenna's guilt over the burden she had placed onto her mother became his own.:: Zehn: She knew but couldn't find a way out of it. Mezan: My baby is gone and I owe it to her to make sure her baby is looked after. I can do that better on Trill than here alone. Zehn: You aren't alone. Eliaan and I will help whenever we can. ::She smiled weakly and placed her hand on the side of his face. It was a gesture that whatever part of him was still Jilenna Zehn remembered warmly and brought tears to his eyes.:: Mezan: You and Eliaan have your own lives. Zehn: You and Janel are a part of our lives now. Mezan: Kaedyn, you are newly Joined. I remember how that feels, believe me I do. But you know that your life has to be different from Jilenna's. You have no idea how happy it makes me that part of her lives on and that you are such a wonderful boy but we are part of Jilenna's life and as you get to know yourself againw ith the Symbiont, you will realise it. Zehn: Janel is my son. I know that with every fibre of my being. I just can't believe that those feelings will fade. Maybe I was supposed to be trained to deal with this, maybe I should be able to look at it dispassionately but I can't. ::She smiled softly and nodded.:: Mezan: It isn't easy being Joined, is it? Zehn: No, I never truly realised how difficult it could be until I- ::He shook his head, knowing that despite the fact he was only host to not have been through the Initiate program, he was not the only one to struggle with being Joined and how it had unexpected impacts on his life.:: ~~Flashback: 264 Years before~~ ::Zhima Zehn could feel his cheeks ache from forcing himself to continue to smile despite the barrage of criticism his opponent was throwing in his direction. This election, and his bid to retain the governorship of the State of Zerala, was proving be the most difficult of his entire career. His opponent, an unjoined woman named Alyxa Rolan, had been hammering him on any number of issues that his first troubled administration had failed to address. She was part of a new anti-government movement that had sprung up across Trill, which favoured lower taxation and social conservatism, such as a ban on inter-species marriages that had become an issue as more Trill left their planet. They had built their growing popularity, primarily on the idea that elitist Joined Trills were aiming to create a government where the Joined ruled and the Unjoined served.:: Rolan: ... the Governor's record is shameful. Shameful and un-Zeralian. This could be the best state on the planet. I believe one day it will because I truly love this state. ::The debate audience applauded and Zhima could feel himself getting angry. Why were people falling for this nonsese, he thought to himself.:: (Zhima) Zehn: I would remind Representative Rolan that I have lived here not only all my life but my previous host lived here all her life and I reject the notion that anyone loves this state more than I do. ::As the words had left his mouth, he knew that he had walked into the trap that she had laid for him. His advisors had specifically told him not to mention his past lives or being Joined. According the most recent polls, she was gaining ground with the idea that he only represented the interests of the Joined.:: Rolan: I am shocked Ladies and Gentleman, that the Governor would so brazenly demonstrate his belief that the Joined are better than the rest of us. (Zhima) Zehn: Oh come on... Rolan: I'm sorry but I don't think its fair to suggest that because he is Joined that he loves this state more than I do.... (Zhima) Zehn: I didn't say that, Representative and you know it. ::She continued, ignoring his attempt to interrupt her flow. He could tell that she was coming to the cresendo of her argument.:: Rolan: I want to clean up this state and make it a better place quickly and not through the small, incremental steps that the Governor suggests. ::she paused, the slightest hit of a smile on her lips:: Some of us only have one life, Governor, and I want to make sure it's worth living for everyone. ::The audience exploded into thunderous applause and there was little that Zhima could do other than shake his head in dismay.:: Moderator: Well, unfortunately that's all we have time for this evening. ::Despite his protests that he should be allowed to refute her claim, the moderator concluded the debate and the audience applauded. As Rolan plunged into the crowd, Zhima remained frozen at his podium. He had been in politics for the last twenty years and had never allowed himself to be blindsided in such a manner before.:: ::Eventually, his Chief of Staff Soran Yirel managed to get his attention from the wings and left the stage. He remained silent as they marched into the small staff room that they had been given to use for prepare for the debate. When the door was closed behind them, he shook his head and formed fists with both of his hands.:: (Zhima) Zehn: Dammit! How could I... I mean, why did I... DAMMIT!! ::He stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in frustration. After a while, his press advisor, spoke up.:: Hira: I can try and work the issue back in the press. I will speak to some friendly reporters and deal with it. ::Zhima nodded slowly, starting to calm down.:: Yirel: Most people aren't Joined, Governor. Most people don't like the people who made it through symbiosis and are Joined. (Zhima) Zehn: Well I'm not ashamed of it and I can't deny it even if I could. Hira: Governor, no-one is asking you to deny that you are Joined but you can't deny that there are Joined Trill who do believe that we would be better going back to the old days when all leaders were Joined. (Zhima) Zehn: That was centuries ago. Even I wasn't around back then. Hira: But there are people who were and still hold those attitudes. Symbionts who are three or four hundred years old still carry memories of those times and want to return to them Yirel: You know... ::he paused and stood up, the way he did when he was processing an idea:: This might be it! Hira: Might be what? Yirel: Governor, why do you think Rolan is getting so much attention with this campaign of Unjoined Rights? ::he paused, allowing no time for a response before answering his own question:: Because no major issues have captivated the voters. People think you've done an okay job at being Governor and don't really want to vote for someone else but we haven't been able to excite them enough about the election (Zhima) Zehn: People think I've done an "okay" job? Now tell me, why didn't we put that on our campaign literature? ::Hira laughed and the Governor softened enough to manage a smile for the first time in a long while. It had been a tough campaign and as he felt like he was dealing with so much of this knucklehead stuff, he hadn't been able to enjoy it as he usually did. He was a natural campaigner, enjoying spending hours attending local meetings and listening to the endless stories of voters. Somehow, by making the campaign all about him being Joined, his opponents had taken all the fun out of it and set him apart from the voters. It was ironic since he was so different from his previous host.:: Yirel: I'm serious. The old system of the Joined minority ruling the Unjoined majority is gone but it isn't forgotten by any means. It is an underlying issue in today's society because we never addressed it at the time. (Zhima) Zehn: I agree but I don't know how that helps me. I can't lecture Unjoined people about accepting me being Joined, I can't complain about being in a priviliged minority. Hira: Why can't you? (Zhima) Zehn: It would play into Rolan's hands. Every time I mention being Joined, she gets a bump in the polls. Yirel: Imagine if you started bringer her being Unjoined into the campaign and saying she couldn't govern because of it, you'd be destroyed in the press for your old fashioned views... Hira: ... and be accused of blatant discrimination... Yirel: Exactly. Now, why is she allowed to do so with you. This election shouldn't be about who is Joined or not. There are so many more important things to deal with than that... Hira: We need to change the whole conversation. (Zhima) Zehn: I don't want to get killed. Yirel: Then make this election about smart, and not... Make it about engaged, and not. Qualified, and not. Make it about a heavyweight. You're a heavyweight. And you've been holding up this lightweight for too long. ::Zhima smiled and nodded. Win or lose, this election was about to become fun again.:: (Zhima) Zehn: Okay, let's do it. ~~End Flashback~~ ::Mezan placed her hand on Kaedyn's arm, waking him from his quiet reflection.:: Mezan: Kaedyn... Zehn: Sorry, I was lightyears away. Mezan: I better let you get back to work. I haven't made any plans to leave yet but I wanted to let you know. ::She stood and he followed her lead. She looked old, much older than Jilenna remembered her to be and he thought about everything she was going through and quietly in the back of his mind worried about a time when she wouldn't be around for Janel.:: Zehn: I appreciate that and I don't want you to feel I'm pressuring you to stay. I just want what's best for Janel. ::She placed her hand on his cheek again.:: Mezan: I know that. Don't worry, I know that. We'll work something out. TBC Lieutenant (junior grade) Kaedyn Zehn Chief Nursing Officer SB118 / USS Victory ((Simmed by Lt. Dr. Eliaan Deron))

((Transporter Room - USS Apollo)) :: The air that Liam breathed in as he materialized in the transporter room of the Apollo was as fresh as an ocean breeze when compared to the dank, stale atmosphere of the Canduc. He had only spend a total of a few hours on the ship, but it was more than enough of that type of environment to last him for a long time. Most of the crew fled out of the room made their way out and to the turbolift. Liam allowed himself to fall behind them, catching the next lift and taking it up to deck three. A short walk down the hall and he found himself in front of his own door.:: :: The lights of the room came on as he entered, enjoying the slow transformation that was taking place as he and Cayden slowly made the otherwise unremarkable room feel slightly more like a home, though he had to admit it was more by her doing than by his. He appreciated the effort none the less, as he had little talent for it himself. After a few moments of admiration, he made his way to the bathroom. He began running water into the sink, splashing and wiping his face in an effort to remove what felt like a fair layer of general grime that he had accumulated while aboard the freighter. He toweled off and took a moment to examine himself in the mirror.:: :: His memory drifted back to his first away mission on the Victory. He remembered how it felt to step off the shuttle for the first time after their rather spectacular landing. He remembered the strangest mix of pride and guilt. Pride at having gotten the shuttle down without any serious injuries, and yet guilt for not having been able to prevent the crash in the first place. He was just an ensign then, fresh out of the academy, and far less prepared for what the galaxy had in store for him than he had believed he was. :: :: He looked down at the collar of his uniform. Two gold pips and one black one. They were, to him, more than a simple denotation of rank, an indicator of his status within the hierarchy of Starfleet rank. each of them was a symbol of something he had experienced, something he had seen, something that he had experienced, something that he had lost whether he had prepared for it or not.:: :: They each sat on the collar of his dark red shirt. It wasn't any different from the collar he'd worn when he first came aboard the Victory and first taken his seat at her conn. They'd soon rushed off onto a situation more profound than many officers had experienced in their entire careers. He'd worn a gold one too, as the Chief of security for an entire Starbase and it's 118,000 residents and countless visitors. And there too he'd seen more than he could have imagined when a terrorist organization had bombed the station. He's never even found the time, or the nerve, to read the final count of lives lost in the hours of the attack and the days after. He'd had to contact a few families of security officers that had made the ultimate sacrifice in the line of duty. And not once had it gotten any easier, though he supposed that was proof that he hadn't lost his humanity.:: :: And now he was back in red. The colour was like having come full circle. He had stepped aboard wearing it, expecting so much of himself, and the rest of the crew uncertain of what to expect from him. He had been the outsider then, joining a crew that had already established itself, and he had worked hard to find his place in it. Now he was wearing the colour again, but the expectations were somewhat reversed. This time they represented everything that the crew expected of him. They expected him to be a leader, a guide as they ventured boldly into the unknown, and to do his best to balance their interests with the mission. the Captain expected much of him too; a bridge between him and the crew, a voice of reason, someone to bounce ideas off of, and, if need be, to tell him when he was plain out of his telepathic mind.:: :: And underneath it all was Liam. Not the pilot, the security officer, or even the explorer. Just the man, the son, the brother, and the friend. History would judge him by those other things. But the ones closest to him, his parents, his brother and sister, and Cayden, would all judge him simply by what measure of a man he was and had been. And that was all he could demand of himself, was to be a man. Not the man that they saw him as, or as the man he wanted them to see him as, but simply the man the he wanted to see himself as.:: :: And in that moment, he had, for the first time, a clarity that he had not had before. A clarity of expectation and of purpose. When it had mattered, and been expected of him, he had been the leader that his team needed. And he had brought them all back safely. No one could have expected any more from him, not even himself. He looked at himself in the mirror once more, with his new found clarity and knew that he was, in that moment in time, exactly where he was meant to be.:: :: He stepped out of the bathroom, crossing his quarters to the bedroom and retrieved a fresh uniform, and discarding the dirty one for reclamation. He pulled the shirt over his head and pulled the jacket over his shoulders. He looked down at the pictures on the desk as he walked back into the living room. The picture of his family, the one of him with Sidney and Oliver on some adventure, and he smiled.:: Frost: Computer, begin recording. :: The computer chirped at him in acknowledgement.:: Frost Hey mom. I have to get back to work in a few minutes, but I thought I should let you know how I've been... LtCmdr Liam Frost First Officer USS Apollo

((Holodeck One -Starbase 23)) :: Skirting past the bar, and the green tinged Beornan, Chase let Charlotte lead the way from Starbase 23’s Comet Club, through the corridors, and to the holodecks. Inputting the program code, Chase took Charlotte’s arm in a more friendly fashion, leading her through the door and onto the Parisian street. :: :: The holodeck doors shut behind them, the arc disappearing into the program. The sun sank low, trending to set in the near future out atop the glistening water. The warm air was sweet with an unburdensome humidity, and filled with the scents of the evening. The curved, metal lamp posts were beginning to flicker on one by one down the street, illuminating the old shops and stone streets. The smell of bread and pastries drifted out of a single unimpressive glass door, swung open, and from the outdoor seating where a few holographic couples already sat. :: :: The quiet conversation became part of the background noise as Chase led Charlotte into the cafe, sitting among the few other guests at one of the small, circular tables. as a tall, lean, suited Frenchman came to provide them instantly with spring water and freshly baked rolls with jam. The man left them, and Chase broke one of the rolls, sharing half with Charlotte before setting his own half on the small plate. :: Valaine: What do you think? :: His casual smile remained constant, and his blue eyes glinted in the lowering sunlight as he looked at her, hoping she was impressed by the scenery and atmosphere. He wondered if she would notice the other women in the cafe? They had been preprogrammed to throw a few subtle, but clearly jealous looking glances her way, as if they were catty for the more gorgeous woman who had shown up... and shown them up. :: DeBarres::Looking around taking in the surroundings:: She loved the place and felt right at home, with the smell of the warm fresh bread:: This place is great....::Taking a bit of the warm bread.:: Valaine: Order anything you like. You can’t go wrong here. DeBarres: How about some cheese? Any recommendations ? :: Feeling no pain, but not yet tipsy at all.:: Valaine: Absolutely. ::he waved down the Frenchman waiting the tables:: Bring us your samplers, and your Chateau d’Esclans, please. :: He didn’t say which ones, because he meant all of them. This ended up being three different platters, one of cheeses, and two others, small meat treats, and a plate of bite-sized treats, drizzled chocolates and sweet cakes. He took a piece of the cheese and smiled as he ate the bite sized offering, watching as Charlotte took her own. A tall, gold labeled wine bottle partnered with the treats. :: DeBarres: All this for little old me? :gesting at herself:: Valaine: Champaign? ::he poured the drink, which was bubbly and bright pink:: It’s sweet, not dry at all. DeBarres: Why thank you kind sir. ::taking a glass feeling like a bit of the princess in a fairy tale:: :: Pouring them both a full, tall glass, he lifted his own glass to meet hers ever so lightly. :: Valaine: To first times. DeBarres: To first times, : taking a sip of the wine. Which was good. Charolette wasn’t sure if she was doing this right. High society stuff wasn’t something that she had ever done. But it was nice :: ::Taking another sip, and feeling the bubbles go down. Putting the glass down. :: oO(DeBarrres) He doesn’t seem like a bad sort...interesting tattoo there on the side of his face. …..Beornan Oo ::Mentally tossing the thought out of her head:: DeBarres : So, tell me about yourself.....that or I will have to look it up in the security database. ::Not that she have ever done that, but she had looked up a number of men to see their service records.:: Valiane: Oh, but mine is an interesting read. You should see my list of reprimands. DeBarres ::giggling :: Really? Come on....you are pulling my leg... Valiane: Nothing terrible. Just a bunch of “superiors” telling me to stop doing this, don’t do that. ::he waved it off:: Then they get all fussy when I do them anyway, even if it doesn’t impact my work. ::he paused, wanting to get off the subject:: What are your plans for the future? What would you like to do? DeBarres: Well, I have designed a anti energy torpedo. One of these days I will get old rock head to get a test firing of it. :smiling: Valiane: Mmm, Mr. Eerie. He’s a rather stuffy one, in my short experience. DeBarres: He kinds of grows on you like moss, on a rock ::laughing:: But really he is OK. We have a great doctor on board...in fact, I like, like pretty much everyone on board. Valaine: I’m sure I’ll come to like them all just as well. Even our gloriously sturdy Security Chief has to crack a smile eventually. :: A light laugh escaped him at the mental image of Eeries rocky face literally cracking on an attempt to smile. What a gloriously solid hide, that one had. :: DeBarres::Giggling::You have no idea. Valaine: I wonder what it’s like, to be made of such stony stuff... and what kind of woman would he pursue? Klingons come to mind. :: Of course, this was said playfully. He wasn’t insulting the chief at all, and his expression made that clear. :: Valaine: But I’d rather not talk about them all night. I’d rather... not talk all that much at all. :: Blue eyes on Charlotte, he hoped the hint wasn’t too extremely shocking to her. :: DeBarres: Your’re right. Valaine: I could have sat at any table in the Comet Cafe. Did you ask yourself why I sat at yours? DeBarres: No, I just thought you decided to come on over and see the Doctor.: surprised:: Valaine: ... because your eyes were so sad. And I couldn’t bare to see that, when you should be smiling... at all times. DeBarres::Slightly blushing trying to regain her color.::It’s just a personnel problem....:: turning away from his gaze a bit:: someone that I care for. Valaine: I get the feeling someone like you is sad far too often. You deserve better. :: For once, the thing he said was not tinged with the dirt that often filled his intentions. The simple honesty of his statement and expression were what made the comment powerful. :: oO(DeBarres) Is there someone better?...Oo ::Feeling abit sad all over again. She fought the feeling and concentrated on the the Valaine, who was mading a good effort to chase the blues away.:: DeBarres: I guess...let’s stop about him, and eat this wonderful food. ::forcing a smile, looking back at him.:: :: They ate small meals, snacked on the samplers of cheeses and treats, and Chase helped himself to three glasses of the sparkling pink wine as they talked and ate. He’d been hoping for a crescendo for the evening, but Charlotte appeared a bit non-committal as to “after dinner,” and he wasn’t one to force the issue. He’d just enjoy her company here, and hope she could say the same about his after the fact. :: Valaine: I hope we can do this again. Next time I’ll take you to Tokyo. If you tell me you love sushi, I’ll be a happy man DeBarres: Sushi,....never had it but ….I am willing to try..., but I have had a nice evening. ::Giving him a legit smile :: :: Charlotte left the holodeck, the archway appearing at her beckoning and disappearing behind her. Chase made to shut down the program, the crude bumblebee pattern replacing the delights of France. He’d hoped for more than a pleasant good-night... but then, he *always* hoped for more than that. Still, he’d enjoyed it too. :: :: Feeling lightly buzzed from the wine, he made his way out of the holodeck. It was getting late, but it wasn’t extremely so... and a bit disappointed at the early evening, Chase made his way to 10- Forward. One last drink was called for. :: ((PNPC)) Crewman Charolette DeBarres Tactical/Security Specialist USS Avandar Simmed by Eerie & Chase Valaine Chief Warrant Officer, 2nd Class Engineer USS Avandar

((10-Forward, USS Avandar)) ::Robins took a seat by the window, a data PADD in hand, and gazed out upon the starry blackness. She ought to be getting on with the reports for the non-telepathic crew members, but this evening she just wanted to relax. Normally she'd have gone to her quarters, but there were too many ghosts of the past there. She still needed to be among people, even if she wasn't talking to them. Company was better than her own, disturbed thoughts.:: ::She sighed, and eventually picked up the PADD. First up, she'd start with Captain Vetri and work her way down the ranks.:: :: Chase strode into the room, fresh off his date with the lovely Charlotte DeBarres and still full of energy. Finding Robins in the light crowd, he strode over in confident fashion and set a hand down on the table, leaning onto it and giving that famously casual grin he tended to wear. :: Valaine: Robins! Wassup, my medical miscreant? Robins: Miscreant?! ::She'd been called many things over the years, but never miscreant.:: Valaine: I’m just kidding, relax! ::he slumped easily into the empty chair without an invitation:: I know full well you’re a respectful, honorable, duty-bound Starfleet Officer. ::to accentuate his point, he put his hand over his heart diligently:: Better? :: His playful grin remained, and he leaned back in his chair. Perhaps his lips were a little looser since he was slightly inebriated from his date. He tended to get a bit more snarky when he’d had a few, though he was pretty good about controlling worse drunken behaviours. :: Robins: A bit much to be *completely* sincere, but I appreciate the thought. Valaine: What’re you doing? Working? Eww... :: He reached out to nudge a data pad, though he didn’t make any move to swipe it from her. Then he stuck a hand in the air, hoping for a new drink to add to his evening of imbibing. :: Robins: ::sighing:: Supposedly, but... I can't focus. Valaine: ::as the wait staff walked over:: Want one? ::to the person:: Gimme a double Aldebaran Whiskey, ice cold. ::he glanced to Robins, his blue eyes glinting in the light expectantly.:: Robins: ::oO Oh what the heck. Oo:: Trinaris brandy, with a speck of cinnamon, thanks. ::Normally she'd stay away from alcohol, but that glint in his eye told her he'd be less than impressed by an apple juice - not that she really cared about that glint, as long as it *stayed* as a glint - and with her slightly altered physiology, Trinaris brandy happened to be the only alcoholic juice she could drink for three days and still not even get a teensy bit squiffy. But she wasn't going to tell Valaine that bit of news...:: Robins: So what brings you to this part of the ship? Surely the confident Chase Valaine can't be after to drown his sorrows? ::Her words may have come out a little tart, but she tried to smile to offset the edge in her voice. Avoiding his eyes, she fumbled about with her PADD, turning it off, and setting it down on the table.:: Valaine: No drowning of sorrows tonight. I’ve just had a lovely evening with an equally lovely lady friend. Robins: ::realising that maybe the ghosts in her quarters weren't so bad after all:: I see. ::Thankfully the drinks arrived at that point. It may not have had any mind-numbing effects for her, but psychologically it helped. If one *thinks* one is drinking alcohol, one *expects* it to have some sort of effect.:: Valaine: Just what I need to finish off the evening. :: He took the drink and a third was gone in the first draught. When he set the flat of the glass to the table again, it was just a little harder than necessary, and he let out a small gasp at the burn, even though he’d been expecting the sensation. :: Valaine: But why does it need to end so soon? You look like you need some fun. Robins: Some fun? ::more quietly:: That'd be a miracle right about now. :: His eyebrows rose, and he swiveled the glass along its edge in slow circles on the table. His smile lapsed, and he looked truly low-spirited for a moment before speaking again. :: Valaine: Well *that’s* depressing to hear. Robins: ::glaring at her drink:: I'm sorry, it's not your fault. I'm just a tad edgy, and I *don't* want to be alone right now. Valaine: If I had my guitar, I’d sing something cheerful for you. :: The casual smile returned as quickly as it had left. The slightly glazed eyes, and the simplest truth. He didn’t appear to be shmoozing for attention at the moment, perhaps a rare moment for him. But he’d still offer to entertain her if it would lift her spirits. And the second third of the whiskey was gone. :: ::Her heart softened just enough to allow a small smile to appear. She appreciated the thought - and sincerity - behind his words.:: Robins: Thank you...Chase. Maybe next time. ::Her gaze returned to her half empty glass, thoughts of the nightmare returning. It still stung, after all these years.:: Robins: ::remembering that someone was sat besides her:: Forgive me, I've got a few things on my mind. Do you play any other instrument, or just the guitar? I have a real fancy for the Laguna Serenade on the flute. Valaine: Afraid that’s one I never fancied to learn. :: He’d mention the plethora of other instruments he could play, but at the moment, even inebriated, he could see she had larger concerns in mind. That look in her eyes was old. :: :: Old pain. :: Valaine: Mind letting it off your shoulders? Seems like a heavy load. Robins: Shame. And thank you for your concern, but no. It's nothing you can help with. It all happened a very...very long time ago. Valaine: And yet here it remains, hovering overhead. ::She glugged the last of her drink down and slammed it down onto the table, as hot tears sprung to her eyes.:: Valaine: Come on then. At least tell me it doesn’t own you. That would be the most depressing of all. :: The last third of his drink disappeared past his lips, and he held the glass aloft, indicating he’d take another. :: Robins: I didn't think it did, but... Don't you think you're drunk enough? Valaine: ::he huffed audibly, a smile gracing him again:: Maybe it’s *you* who’s not drunk *enough.* Robins: I'd have to drink six gallons of the stuff to be anywhere near drunk enough to forget. Valaine: ::not paying attention to her last comment:: Who was he? Robins: ::glaring at him, but refusing to let him in just like that:: Who was who? Valaine: Don’t pretend. I’ve seen that look before. A woman doesn’t carry it for nothing. :: Perhaps the alcohol was making him a bit too aggressive about it, and another double Aldebaran whiskey was placed on the table as a wait staff came and went. :: Robins: ::leaning back into her chair, slowly shaking her head:: He... He was someone I knew back on Mellor IV. When I was 15. Valaine: ::sipping the whiskey this time:: And? Robins: ::getting a little irritated by his insistence, but secretly glad she had someone to talk to about it after so long:: There are...rites that a couple go through. My parents prohibited it until I was older, but Savnum convinced me to go with him. He said he'd arranged the ceremonies. But when we arrived at the archipelago...:: sobbing now:: there was no one there! No one. And within a few minutes... he... ::She couldn't finish her sentence, as the sobs took over. She buried her head in her hands, crying.:: :: Chase’s blue eyes set on her, no humor left in his expression. The drink was held near his face, the abusive liquid sloshing in the glass as his eyes landed back on it again. If it looked like he’d made Robins cry, he paid no attention to anyone who might have noticed. It wasn’t their concern anyway. :: Valaine: ::quietly:: He took advantage. ::She could do nothing but nod as old tears burnt her eyes.:: Robins: And he's bonding with my sister! Valaine: ::blue eyes flashing back up to her:: Does she know? Robins: ::shaking her head:: no one knows. No one knows at all. :: There was a stretch of silence between them as he let her cry, thinking on it. This was one of those things you couldn’t judge harshly. If one person would respond one way, another would respond entirely different, and there was no “right” answer for any of them. :: Valaine: ::carefully, despite his inebriation:: Don’t you think she *should* know? Robins: ::nodding:: I tried to contact her, but its too late. She's already started the rites, and there's no way to get hold of her. :: The silence stretched again, and Chase sighed into his drink, lifting it to his lips again, though he spoke before he drank again. :: Valaine: Scumbag... ::and half the double whiskey left the glass, burning his throat:: ... can’t stand that type... deceptive jerks. Robins: ::harshly, all the anger she'd hidden spilling over:: Oh and you're not? I don't mean to sound like a cliche, but it takes one to know one! :: His eyebrow rose sharply, blue eyes flashing with a hint of drunken but restrained anger. :: Valaine: I’m *nothing* like that. You know full well what I want, and I make sure of it. No tricks, no traps. I may be a whore, but I’m not a rapist. :: Blue eyes closed, regretting the harsh words the moment he said them, but the anger remained. She wasn’t nearly drunk enough for him to accept that judgment. :: ::She sat in silence a moment as her mind tried to make her see sense. Her eyes widened as she realised he was right. She *did* know what he wanted. Didn't mean he was going to get it, but she knew. And that was one thing - no, the only thing - that stopped her walking out of the lounge. Robins: I... I'm...sorry. ::She actually, truly, was sorry. She waved to a waiter as he passed.:: Robins: I think I need a drink. Calruddan whiskey. Valaine: It’s natural, to be angry after that. But it's been a long while ago. Years now. Can’t go on being angry forever. Robins: ::slowly, ashamed to have to admit:: I haven't let my anger rule me for years. I'll warn you now. When I get drunk, I won't be able to stop the anger. Valaine: ::he grinned:: I think I’d pay to see you really, truly angry... ::he reached out and set his hand over her wrist, a light touch he intended to be supportive:: ... just once. ::She flinched from his touch and her eyes blazed.:: Robins: Don't. Ever. I may not...hate you the way I hate...him...but. Just don't. Ever. :: His hand jerked up away from her, then hovered in the air slightly as his expression turned something far more sober than it should have been. Then the smile returned, with a light laugh of all things. :: Valaine: Amazing what you’ll tell someone you claim to hate. :: The half of his whiskey taken in a final shot, he clunked the glass back down on the table, then thought of it again, lifting it into the air for the wait staff to see. His third Aldebaran double was wisked before him along with her Calruddan whiskey. :: ::She took the glass from the waiter and downed half all at once. It stung, but nowhere near as much as the pain inside. She hadn't eaten all day, and in her professional capacity she knew it was more than a bit stupid to drink on an empty stomach, but she couldn't care less. She needed some time off from her memories and her cares.:: Robins: Give me a whole family, people who love me and care about me, and I can't tell them a thing. Give me someone I don't know and look what happens. ::she held his gaze, steady and firm:: You can't judge me. My family can. And they would. My mother would blame me for running off with him. My father, who isn't my father at all, doesn't care less. And my brother has enough on his plate to be worrying about his little sister. So can you judge me? :: It made more than enough sense. Having a Vulcan father and a Denobulan mother, he could definitely understand the effect social judgment could have on a person. Being so intimate a thing as well... made it all that much harder. :: Valaine: ::clearly, but his slur pronouncing:: Wouldn’t dream of it, Talya. So long as you can say the same about me. Believe me, I might just understand better than you think... :: And yet another heavy draught of his liquor. :: Valaine: But wouldn’t it be better for you to come to some sense of... closure, is it? There’s gotta be a way to let your sis know what’s what... or is it... who’s who... much better men out there for her and you alike. ::his smile turned dirty once again, and he was clearly indicating he was one of those men... even if she “hated” him.:: ::Robins turned her green eyes on him. As much as she hated to admit it, that smile, as dirty as it was, brought some semblance of normality back to her. The universe hadn't changed.:: Valaine: Could do you some good, relieve some of that monstrous stress you’ve been heaving around all this time. :: It was official. He was plastered, and returning to his norm. Which was to try to pick her up, regardless of the topic at hand. In his mind, not being allowed to touch her wasn’t a deal-breaker to his efforts. :: Robins: I'm sure it would, but... I think I'm a little...*damaged* for most people to handle. ::She could feel the drink beginning to take effect:: I'd need a sign printed on my forehead - don't touch, don't look, don't get hurt in the process. ::She wasn't sure that what she said actually made all that much sense, but she really didn't care. When the waiter came round again, she guzzled the last of her drink down and begged for another one.:: Robins: I'll bet you two hours on the holodeck, one more drink and I'll be under the table or screaming from atop it. Valaine: Mmm... the dutiful Talya Robins, doctor, dancing atop the tables. ::he appeared to think about the idea for a moment... very hard, in fact:: I vote that one. The bottoms of tables are disgusting, after all. Robins: ::making a show of glancing underneath:: This one's clean, and you can forget the dancing. Unless you happen to have seven hankies with you? ::Robins *never* flirted. But then, she *never* drank either...:: Valaine: Nope, not’ah one. Robins: ::the moment spoiled:: never mind. Look, I'd best get back to my quarters. My shift starts in a couple of hours. Valaine: Run, run, fast as you can. ::he drank down a good portion of his remaining drink:: If you’re scared you might say something honest, I’ll understand if you want to leave. Robins: I'm not scared. ::Actually she was lying through her teeth.:: Valaine: Why do you keep worrying about hurting others? If you letting someone know what you really think... what you feel... is harmful to them, then they donnea deserve your company. :: And the rest went down as fast as the others, the glass empty again, and it wasn’t helping that he’d already drank before meeting Robins. He could feel the heat flushing through him, and had the fleeting thought that standing was going to be an interesting prospect. :: Robins: ::stunned:: I happen to be a doctor. Want me to check you're still in possession of a heart? Valaine: You’ve already told me you hate me, and compared me to what all... an’m still here. You’ern’t capable of hurting me, sweetheart. :: That last bit wasn’t said in any friendly manner, and bit of the alcohol talking for him. :: Robins: ::getting up to leave before she said something she'd later regret, then turning back.:: Sweetheart? Let me remind you, I could probably make a very interesting ornament out of your major organs. :: Her remark brought him out of the inebriated haze for a moment, and he looked up suddenly as she turned to leave the table on her apparently final threat of decorating with his organs. She was angry, and everything in his instinct told him he couldn’t let her leave angry. :: Valaine: ::standing suddenly:: Robins... wait! :: But his master plan failed the moment he came to a standing position. The alcohol he’d been drinking before, during, and now chugging after his date with DeBarres coursed through his veins, and the sudden motion threw off his entire center. Legs going wobbly beneath him, the result was him flat on the table they’d been sparring across only moments before. :: :: Both of the glasses, hers empty and his mostly empty, skittered to the floor in a twisting clatter. The few other guests at tables far off went a bit quiet, glancing over curiously at the sudden commotion before returning to their own tables business again, letting Chase push himself up from the flat of the table with at least a fraction of dignity. :: :: But instead of standing, he slumped heavily into his seat again, having failed to complete the motion twice over. The bartender gave a warning glare in his direction, though it went entirely unnoticed. :: Valaine: ::under his breath:: ... gaw’[...]it... Robins: ::growling:: I hope this isn't some...:: She was going to say 'trick' but his words earlier were ringing in her ears. Valaine: ::his slur heavier, his hand rising to press against his chest:: ... I *do* haffa hart... can feel’et pounding... Robins: ::looking about and realising no one else was coming to his aid, she grabbed him round the waist:: Come on, drunkso. ::She shook her head vigorously as she stepped into doctor mode. The alcohol was still there, but her medical instincts were doing their job and kicking her into action.:: Valaine: Wher’r we goin? Robins: ::hauling him to his feet:: To Sickbay, with any luck. Valaine: No... quart... :: He meant to say “to his quarters,” and not for any funny business, but she smartly interrupted him. Being a doctor, she had better sense than to just let him suffer for his over-indulgence. :: Robins: No? ::she *really* wasn't in the mood to hear his protests:: Tough, drunkso. You got yourself into the mess, and if I left you to your own devices, we probably wouldn't see you through the hangover for a week. You're coming with me. :: Making the point, his arm was over her shoulder for support. Even though the destination was not what he wanted, he could still appreciate the help. What with all that complicated walking going on. But his attempts being unorganized probably made it seem more protest than genuine effort. :: Valaine: ::trying to insist:: … quarters’r fine, R’bins. Robins: ::dragging him towards the exit of the lounge:: Oh, don't mind me. If you feel you can walk... ::which he honestly couldn't:: feel free to. In the meantime, I'll just drag you along. ::Hefting him along, she was glad the turbolift was just outside. Once the doors parted, she dragged him in, still protesting, and literally let go of him. He hit the floor with a thud.:: :: The shock of hitting the floor solidly on his [...] was muted by the alcohol, and so was his response to it, which was decidedly less quick or exclamative than it should have been. :: Valaine: ::lightly::… ow. Robins: ::without meaning:: sorry. ::They passed the short trip in silence. He was no doubt nursing a bad head and a queasy stomach. Robins, on the other hand, was simply trying to focus through the haze that had settled over her brain. What idiot drinks for who-knows-how-long, and doesn't expect some sort of repercussion to go along with it?:: Valaine: R’bins... the wurld is moving... :: They were in the turbolift after all. But the words were more a warning, for her sake. If the “wurld” kept moving, so too might the contents of his stomach. :: Robins: Almost there, drunkso. ::And not a moment too soon, the doors slid open again.:: Valaine: ::quieter now:: … haffa name, yi’no... Robins: uh huh. :: Somehow he ended up in her helpful arms again, though the effort couldn’t have been graceful, and she had him out of the turbolift and stumbling toward sickbay. He’d forgotten he didn’t want to go there, no longer protesting as they went through the double doors. He was only interested in no longer traipsing all over the ship, since every step made his entire body feel the effects. :: Valaine: G’tta stop... ::his weight bearing down on Robin’s fully now:: ::She sagged under his weight, and she lost her footing slightly. Taking a deep, aggravated breath, she hoisted him up once again and...wobbled...purposefully towards Sickbay.:: Robins: ::feeling something lurch:: oh no, you can wait until we get into Sickbay. *Then* you can throw up all over the floor. ::A few relieved steps later, and Robins threw the dead weight down onto the nearest biobed. Thankfully no one was already occupying it, because she had a sneaky feeling Valaine would've ended up on that specific biobed *anyway*.:: Robins: ::grabbing a hypospray:: you're not allergic to anything, are you? Valaine: Ta... grumpy... w’men. Robins ::Finding a phial and squinting to make sure she was reading it correctly through the thick haze that threatened to settle once again.:: Good. This oughtta sort your stomach out, and reduce some of the dizziness. Though the universe knows you [...] well deserve the effects. Valaine: … fer s’mthin... er’uther... :: It was done for him, and his lack of enunciation was nearly total. The walk had sent all the alcohol still in his stomach surging through his bloodstream. Even though he felt the need to hurl, he felt the need to stay still far stronger. Thankfully whatever Robins gave him eased the surging in his stomach. :: :: And the instant he was able to relax, strewn on the bio-bed in what couldn’t be a comfortable position, he was out like a light. :: ::The minute Valaine was out, Robins knees gave out as the alcohol finally took its toll. The last thing she was aware of was the corner of the biobed looming ever closer.:: -fin- Ensign Talya Robins Medical Officer USS Avandar & Chase Valaine Chief Warrant Officer Engineer USS Avandar