Delinda Sharee

(( Intelligence Liaison Office, Starbase 118 )) ::The welcoming feast was over at long last and the boisterous Klingons that had been in attendance were now preparing for their operatic performance later on in the night. Quinn had taken the opportunity to retreat to her office for a short while, at least. She needed the time to reorganise her thoughts after the whirlwind of upsets, surprise ceremonies and unexpected awards. ::The first thing she set eyes on as she stepped inside was the small greenhouse perched on a podium toward the back of the office. Unable to bring herself to get rid of it, she couldn't face it in her quarters either and so had compromised by finding it in a place in her workspace. A small sandstorm kicked up as she watched, churning red dust around the inside of the glass. ::She sighed.:: REYNOLDS: Computer... Open a channel to the USS Independence. Priority one, Lieutenant Commander Cody eyes only. COMPUTER: Working. ::Unbuttoning the collar of her dress whites, she took a seat in front of the console and waited. The report had come across her desk earlier that day and she had intended to leave this call until tomorrow at the earliest. But after the problems at the banquet, she wanted to make sure the message got to him before she spent evening playing spy games on a black operation. Quinn wasn't really one to assign much value to hunches and gut feelings, but... ::...Better to be safe than sorry. That was her story and she intended to stick to it. ::Eventually there was a small chime from the console and the Federation logo was replaced with an all too familiar face. All the speculation in the world hadn't quite hit this moment on the head and she forced an awkward smile. How should she even address him? Commander? David? Why did even the little things have to be so complicated?:: (( Bridge, USS Independence-A )) ::Dave was finalizing his own summaries as he caught up with the current crew compliment in the chair. Although he knew this couldn't last forever, there was a sense at least for the moment, Captain Mar was keeping him somewhere within the command capacity. He still felt somewhat disjointed, as if he were merely a voyeur of a new crew he had barely gotten the chance to know, and not entirely certain of his fate. ::A twinge of a upturned mouth corner, he wondered what Ehlanii might say. While outwardly he stood confident, inwardly his emotions whispered unconscious thoughts he would not entertain in the spot moments of sleep. ::Speaking of which, that reminded Dave he had given Jophry his old medical records from his Skiptrace days, and what he hoped were the answers to the incurable insomnia that had plagued him after leaving. Would the Skiptrace's old transporter logs have Dave's vitals, and preserved well enough for either Dr. Calhan, or Dr. Remo, to work with? The grin did surface this time. How strange to seek something simple as sleep. He hoped those old logs were enough. He hoped there was still a place for him here. ::The HCO on duty interrupted his thoughts, turning in his chair.:: HCO OFFICER: Commander, you have a priority one com channel from Starbase 118 Operations. Your eyes only. ::David blinked in his direction, raising one brow.:: CODY: Excuse me? HCO: That's what I have. It's an encrypted channel. ::He had a very good idea. David stood and nodded to Mr. Barnes, heading for the turbolift.:: CODY: Take con, Mr. Barnes. I will receive this in my office. ::Or, at least the office that was his quarters.:: ((mini time-warp: Cody's Quarters)) ::Dave pulled the chair up to his desk before bringing the channel up, studied the Federation logo, then input his access encryption code to have the logo replaced with the officer he never thought he would see again, staring at him through the screen as his thoughts froze. He took in the woman with an uncollared shirt, zeroed in on two solid pips and one open one as his crooked smile betrayed his enjoyment seeing her again.:: REYNOLDS: Commander. CODY: ::Nodding.:: Commander. REYNOLDS: I, uh... I have some news about your fa- About the JTSC-03. ::The enjoyment fell as Dave reassumed his professionalism. This wasn't a personal call.:: CODY: Have we located the ship? REYNOLDS: No, no sign of the shuttle itself. But we have the analysis back on that triquetra you found. ::The object out of the sand Dave had taken with him. He pulled out the triquetra from his knapsack and set it down in front of the screen, the unusual piece of tech his Daedalus crew suspected was galactic in origin.:: CODY: Alright... Report. ::Quinn looked at him oddly, then took a breath and began to speak.:: REYNOLDS: Well, it has an unusual molecular structure, almost crystal-like. It's possible that it could be used as a kind of energy storage - a capacitor, essentially. But for remarkably high quantities, given its size. It looks simple, but it's an incredibly advanced technology... I've never seen anything like it. ::Dave listened, although he wasn't sure if he liked the direction the findings were heading. He scratched his chin, suddenly reminded of his last real time off here at this station, and where both he and Quinn were.:: CODY: ::With a slight smile:: Off topic, you're... looking good, really great... Did the package I sent arrive alright? ::A startled blush crept up her neck and she glanced behind her, before turning back to the screen and nodding.:: REYNOLDS: I, ah... Yes. Not so much as a scratch on it. CODY: ...good. I hoped you'd hold onto it. ::He tried putting his professional face back on, but he suspected it was halfway between that and the uplift coming from getting to chat with someone, seeing her again, did funny things with his heart that he thought was pumping a little too loudly in his chest.:: CODY: What else do we have? ::She blinked and stared blanky for a moment, caught out by the sudden reversion of the topic.:: REYNOLDS: Uh... The elements present in the triqeutra aren't unusual, but the isotopes are. They're not native to the Milky Way. ::That was not what he wanted to hear, but suspected, and Dave visibly sagged. Dangerous thoughts returned, remembering as he crouched down in the sand back on that planet. Quiet a moment, he and everyone else who had been keeping track knew this was the first fact.:: CODY: [...]… REYNOLDS: How are you? ::She looked a little surprised at the question herself, as though the words had escaped her lips before she had fully thought them through.:: ::Dave glanced at Quinn, although several hundreds (or thousands) of light years away, the question was a welcome comfort, and offered a crooked smile.:: CODY: I've had better days. REYNOLDS: And how are you really? ::He chuckled. Guess they had spent enough time together to pick up on the subtle ebbs of their respective personalities. Rubbing his eyes, Dave lingered at his old work bench a moment, where he had crafted the greenhouse for her what seemed like an eon ago.:: CODY: I'm not commanding right now, been gone on what you and I would classify as a field operation, recalled back, and I'm not entirely sure where I fit in anymore. At times it feels like home, other times… guess I'm feeling a little useless at the moment. ::She nodded slowly.:: REYNOLDS: You're a good officer, you don't need to worry... You'll find your place again. CODY: I'm just getting some stuff out. It'll work itself out eventually, but still… ::He let the thought settle a moment. There were a mix of myriad thoughts and emotions behind that, but perhaps it was best to leave them alone. The best he could hope for was one day the opportunity would come again. The few facts behind the triqeutra were disturbing enough, only cementing the knowledge the first leg down a long journey was commencing to a larger issue. Oo Would it be my command, or someone else's? oO :: CODY: ::Quelling his thoughts, smiling at Quinn.:: How about you? How are you doing? REYNOLDS: I'm fine. ::Dave gave her a long look, although still smiling.:: CODY: You're blushing. Shall we try asking again? ::She looked at him, rubbing a crimson cheek as a small, but genuinue smile appeared on her face for the first time in the conversation. It faded quickly and she shrugged as she started speaking.:: REYNOLDS: I, ah... ::She pursed her lips for a few seconds, then continued.:: I can't sleep. Nightmares. About... You know. And a few new things. Though I think its getting better. Intel's very different, but it seems to be working and some old friends of mine have been posted to the Starbase since I got here. ::It was a delicate subject. She gave him the full details once, although he didn't press inward for the emotions driving behind the events. He wasn't even sure if she wanted to talk about that. He suddenly realized there were several things he didn't know if she wanted to talk about, nodding.:: CODY: Friends are good. They help us through the difficult times, sometimes without realizing it… ::Quinn smiled faintly and nodded, her gaze unfocusing and drifting down and off the to side - a clear indication that her thoughts had wandered elsewhere.:: CODY: :: after a moment :: …do you want to talk about it? ::She looked up again, chewing her lower lip.:: REYNOLDS: I don't know if I can. ::Dave closed his eyes a moment as the emotions he thought were safely locked in his heart tore a moment, remembering standing alone in these very quarters after Quinn departed for Starbase 118.:: CODY: You mean… REYNOLDS: I mean with you. ::She paused after a wince, then continued quietly.:: I needed you, David. The one time I really needed you, and you weren't there. ::Pain tore through him. The memories came as they had played out this morning. Quinn, laying in Sickbay after the explosion. The imposter masquerading around until they found out the truth, and remembering inwardly screaming his inability to leave to check on her once they got her back. A lightning kiss inside the JTSC-03 as it was parked inside the Independence hanger bay, leaving the bedside on DS17 for the emergency meeting Admiral Anassasi called, the one night together here.:: ::David never hated his quarters more at the moment, himself. All things that might have broken out, he kept his eyes closed a moment longer before staring at her, finally nodding sadly.:: CODY: I know what I did. REYNOLDS: I'm not try- ::She sighed and shook her head.:: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. ::Too many conflicting emotions tore through him. He wanted to leave, catch a fast ship back to the station and try, try to make up his mistakes. David blinked a few tears and took a breath.:: CODY: No, you had every right to say it. Like I said at the very beginning, I was never very good at that sort of thing. REYNOLDS: ::Low.:: Well, that makes two of us. CODY: It doesn't mean we can't still work together. I.. ::swallowing:: I want you to be happy. And have the bonds of a strong crew, a family, that isn't going to be called away at a moment's notice, or not be there at your side when you need them the most. ::Quinn looked down, uncomfortable and awkward, no words with which to reply.:: CODY: ::He felt tears threatening.:: I'll always be around, if you ever need to get a hold of me. Intelligence related or otherwise. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you really needed me. I should have been there. I wish I was. ::She looked up, then nodded slightly and slowly.:: REYNOLDS: It's okay. ::She paused.:: We'll be okay. You will, won't you? ::He felt horrible, and it killed him what came out. Was it wrong to want the woman you loved happy?:: CODY: I will… you? ::She took a few moments to answer, watching him through the screen.:: REYNOLDS: Yeah. I'll get there. ::He nodded, all of sudden tired. He hoped one day she would forgive him.:: CODY: Let me know if you guys make any breakthroughs on the device… see you again? ::Once again, Quinn took a short while to answer, drawing in a breath before nodding.:: REYNOLDS: I'll keep you updated. I'd like to see the shuttle back where it belongs. ::She reached forward to end the call, then hesitated, taking a last look.:: Take care of yourself, David. ::After the screen winked out, a silent scream plagued him as the tears finally tore.:: CODY: Computer… lights. ::The room went dark. Alone, he curled and heaved, feeling everything accumulate that he kept locked inside his heart. It was always the same, no matter what happened to the ones you loved. It never stopped you from still loving them. Dave bridged his nose, wiping tears and shuddered, saying to himself what wouldn't be fair to say to Quinn, and let her have the freedom to live, and love, for what life brought.:: CODY: Love you… always will. ::He pulled the bluefire diamond necklace from a hidden compartment within a drawer, a sad smile touching his lips, remembering her smell, holding her the few nights they had, and the surprising intimacy of a simple cuddle. If those memories were all he had left… he would live with that.:: ::A moment later…:: CODY: ::Screaming:: [...]IT! -- Lieutenant Commander Quinn Reynolds Chief Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops & Lieutenant Commander David Cody USS Independence-A

Everything looks correct to me as well.

( OOC - I'm sure you'll all assume anyway, but none of the PCs mentioned here are anything but dream-forms, and their dialogue should not be taken as indicative of their true player's motives. ) ( Dreams ) A small transporter room, a smirking man behind the console, she knows Sam Koveski, but younger, with shorter hair, a smile that hasn't seen what he's seen now. She knows she's younger, too, feels her collar, one solid pip, one hollow. Ventu: Bring her aboard. Koveski: Who? Ventu: My mother. Koveski: Your mother-? But he taps the controls anyway, even as she looks over, asking, why, why not, why not my mother? Humming on the pad, and she looks around again. Not her mother, he's right, but a captain, dark hair, dark eyes, intense eyes, and she has to look away, look away so she doesn't see herself reflected though if they're so dark, how can they reflect her? She's afraid. Roberts: Aresee Ventu, what have you done? Ventu: You were never here, Abby. Roberts: What have you done? She looks around to Sam, but he's not smirking, gone, replaced by a different captain, one who belongs on the ship, Phoenix, hands at her temples, squeezing, squeezing. Phoenix: It's time for me to leave, Counselor. She steps back, should be onto Abby's foot but isn't, Abby's gone, too, like Sam. She feels her collar again, another pip, back at lieutenant commander. Ventu: But you've only just- Phoenix: It's time for me to leave, so it's time for you to leave. Phoenix's fingers on the keys, and Lily's gone in a flash that lasts a moment. On her back, legs spread, sweaty and wailing even though there isn't the pain, Ellie Hathaway above her knees, and she squeezes Quinn's hand harder, only it isn't Quinn. Large, dark, and she trusts him but what's he doing here, now, he should be here, shouldn't be seeing me here like this, not now, why won't he leave- Rocar: You're a disappointment. She tries to pull away from him, he won't let go and Hathaway won't let her move. Rocar: We can't keep you here. You're a disappointment, a liability. Your son- Ventu: My son? Rocar smiles and lightens, shrinks, retracts and shifts into Sidney Riley, who has newborn Rhys in her arms. Her son, her son in her old captain's arms, who cares if she was one a doctor, let me have my son, give me my son- Riley: Do you want him? Reach for him. She does, she tries, but Riley pulls him away, away from her reaches, smiling all the while. Riley: You're a disappointment. She takes a step that changes everything. The Tiger's ready room, dark and still smoky, Rhys is crying, Sidney bobbles him up and down, comforts him but not his mother, pats him on the back with one hand and tosses a PADD across her desk. Lily takes it, knows what it says without reading, knows the etching's done for her already. Ventu: All dead. Riley: Life can rarely be called fair, Lily. Ventu: But you- I- we could've done something- Riley: No. ::beat:: You didn't do anything. You're a disappointment. Ventu: Let me have my son. Anassasi (os): Excuse me. She turns from Riley, from her son in her arms, there's Anassasi, arms crossed, angry, judgmental, brows spiky and pointed. Anassasi: You should never have survived. She points past Lily, past Sidney and Lily's son, out the window. The Triumphant, a bare speck but Lily knows what it is, dodging around a giant battleship. Mirrored in the window, a bridge she can't see, Nick in the central chair, Quinn and Tal Tel-ar and Will Hart and then a handful of flame out the window, the scene in it extinguished, Anassasi and Riley fade away, and then Rhys, holding Rhys. Rhys: My ship- Ventu: My son- Rhys: You're the reason I left, the reason it was decommissioned. You called him Rhys, after me? What right did you have? He has no business as my namesake. You have no business as one of my officers. She reaches for her son, her quiet son, but Rhys pulls him away. Rhys: You're a disappointment. He turns from her, with her son. She steps after him, following, but the world inverts again and she's on her back, on the floor. Rhys above her, Prox goggling behind. Rhys: Leave her. She isn't strong enough. And behind them, Anassasi. Anassasi: You should have died there. Should have. Should have. And behind them, Riley. Riley: Life isn't fair. Never fair. I never wanted you. And behind them, Phoenix. Phoenix: It was my time to go. It's your time to go. And behind them, a blaze of light, out of the light, more light, a dark-haired woman she's seen once, Alana Devar. Devar: Welcome to Devar Manor. More details, and Lily sees the other counselors she met, Vetri, Maria, Lee, Jaxx, and the ones she knew, knows, Sharee, Salen, Phoenix. Scott, MacGowan, Delinda approaches, offers a glass of champagne but Lily doesn't know if she wants it or not and Delinda lets it fall, shatter on the courtyard floor. Sharee: Ops doesn't need you. Salen: Tiger doesn't need you. Screams ahead, and she pushes past Par and Delinda. A large alien, snakelike, nonhumanoid, has Vetri and Maria in a corner. Vetri looks over with large eyes, asking, pleading, condemning. She wants to help, I want to help, but why can't you move, why can't you do it yourself, why can't I move and why can't we get away? Vetri: How could you let this happen? Lily tries to run, to stop the snake but nothing happens, she watches as it slithers closer and then it stands, it has Vulcan ears, a marine uniform. Reed: Is this what you wanted? And she spreads her arms wide and they're on the starbase, watching through a window as a thousand Klingon warships engage the Starfleet below her. Explosions, fire, and she has her hand at her sternum. Ventu: It was one night- Reed: Your mistake. Your failure. The governor never had a chance. Approaching from behind, Rocar, looming and shadowing over Brunsig, a sneer, Rocar's eyes downturned, but Brunsig's look reserved only for her, only the lowest. Brunsig: A joke, that's you. First officer then, and you haven't made it any farther. Who's the CO now, you fool? Rocar: I expected much more. You are a disappointment, not the Ventu I heard of. You will leave my base, immediately. I want you to leave, immediately. Ventu: But I- My husband- Rocar: Immediately. Hayden (os): Find your own way home. The others darken and he approaches, her son's in one of his arms, with the other, he pushes her hand away, reaches beneath her collar, pulls away the necklace he gave her on their marriage day. She reaches for it, for his hand, grabs at it because it isn't his to take back, he gave it to her and I'll keep it, a gift and no right of yours to take it back, what gives you the right now- Hayden: My son. My son. I wasted my time with you. She can't see him, can't watch them together, turns away and becomes her house, her teenage room, her mother on the edge of her bed. Matilda: Lily, Lily, come to me. She holds her mother close, leans into as much lap as she can but finds it small, much too small and rapidly shrinking as she grows and tries to hug her mother tighter but suddenly her mother's dust and wind and she's kneeling in it, kneeling over Quinn. An alien planet, a place she recognizes as Quinn breathes for the last time and the lights behind her eyes fade, fade. Ventu: No! She pumps against Quinn's chest as the dust shuffles and rises around her, forms in the dust, Anassasi and Riley again. Anassasi: You've let her die. Riley: I would have saved her. Anassasi: You were acting first officer. Riley: Their lives were your responsibility. Anassasi: Her life was your responsibility. Riley: You let her die. Anassasi: You let her die. Both: You've disappointed us. But she can't hear them, can't pay them a moment when Quinn's below her and she's bending over, balling her hands into one large fist that she beats again and again, live, [...] it, this isn't supposed to happen, you didn't die then and you showed me other things and you can't die now, not now, not when you haven't showed me- Reynolds: This? A shuttle [...]pit, Quinn alone in the chair, different than a Starfleet shuttle, jeans for Quinn and a miniature greenhouse in her arms, inside the greenhouse, Rhys, wailing, muted and silent. Reynolds: You thought you could save me. Ventu: ::firm:: I won't let you go. Reynolds: You'd choose me? Her entire body sends itself into the throw, the greenhouse sails out the shuttle's window, vanishes into the black with Rhys, Lily leaps up and covers the steps from her seat to the window but it's solid for her, no way to follow and Quinn laughs, falls away and suddenly Lily's on the floor, screaming, shot through and again by a pain she doesn't feel but remembers well enough, withdrawals. Away from the Borderlands, and Alexa appears just out of her vision, staring down with her arms crossed, nostrils flared, and she walks away as the shuttle darkens, a starship over them, and a voice over the communication system. Roberts: This is Commander Roberts of the Starship Galaxy. Unidentified vessel you are ordered to- Lily? A rapid shift. Daydan Taboo, in the Ten-Forward of the Constitution, calling her forward to sing, warmth in his eyes, in his voice, bowing away for her while still clapping- Taboo: Lily. Rhys Bejain, propped on his chair, painting his wall while he walks over his shoulder. His voice, tired, old. Rhys: Lily. Sidney Riley, an assembly hall on Deep Space Seventeen, the crew assembled to watch torpedo coffins two dozen strong, Sidney turns to her and her hand on Lily's shoulder, a sad voice, sad but blaming, your fault, your fault, my fault. Riley: Lily. Nick Parks, in bed next to her, young with shorter hair, touching her temple, running her hair back, love against his tongue. Parks: Lily. She fixes to him, holding strong, refusing to let go and feels him under her, never mind that it's a dream and she can't feel, she feels him and she won't let it change, won't let herself fall farther, even if it has to end, let it end so there isn't any more and she can end it with him. Lieutenant Commander Lily Ventu Envoy Starbase 118

((Kyros' Quarters)) ::Having been shown how to use the computer -- just talking to it and telling it what he wanted, which seemed stupidly easy once he knew how it worked -- Kyros found himself a little better at navigating the halls. They'd worked out where his quarters were, and it was to them that he went, to get out of his traveling clothes and into something more formal for the occasion. He decided to stick with chain mail rather than plate, but took his dress suit of it; polished, bright, and relatively silent while he moved; his traveling chain had a tendency to jingle that wasn't optimal for ceremonies. Opera probably counted.:: ::He added a surcoat with the emblem of his order on it -- this time in black, set upon a dark blue background which suited him well, his own coat of arms at each shoulder. No helm; no sword, although he wore the twin jeweled daggers gifted him on his fifteenth birthday, polished to a proper shine. Not that they were likely to be drawn, but an unarmed knight was improper. He had a carrying permit for his weapons -- somehow the King had procured that for him, and he carried it in his wallet, strapped to his side.:: ::Some time remained; he used it to make a pass at organizing his quarters. The room was bigger than he knew what to do with; he had never had so much space. The dummies with his armor on them, he set in one room; there was a wall there that seemed perfect for his weapons, but he had nothing to mount them with. His clothes went in his bedroom; there was the main area for eating and cooking, and that left him with two rooms and absolutely nothing to do with them. He could work that out later; it was time for the opera.:: ((Opera hall (?))) ::His ticket got him in, and his costume earned him strange looks wherever he went. By the third time he was asked if he was part of the opera, he was already wishing he hadn't come. He was by no means unaccustomed to large crowds, but he was unused to having no part in the proceedings. There, he was a symbol, a respected icon of nobility; here, he was merely an oddity... lost and alone, and with no task to hide behind... perhaps that was why he had obsessed so earlier? A grasping for something to do, someone to be, some role to fall into -- it would make sense, but he hoped not as he had no desire to repeat that particular performance.:: ::An expectant voice with just a touch of worry in it interrupted his thoughts.:: Girl: Well? ::He turned, and gaped.:: Gideon: You... ::She laughed and twirled. She was wearing a forest green dress with wide black trim, the dress reaching fully to her feet. It was bound at the waist lightly with a sash, with a neckline that revealed nothing but hinted at much. Her eyes sparkled mischievously:: Girl: The latest in Mydjyan fashion -- you're Mydjyan, yes? Gideon: Aye, I... ::He paused.:: How didst thou know that? ::She had a satisfied smirk.:: You made the news, Mister Knight. Sir Kyros Gideon, newly arrived on the station from Mydjya, of the Order of the Rose and Thorn. ::She touched the emblem on his chest:: Gideon: Then thou dost have the advantage of me. Girl: Erin. ::She curtseyed, roughly; Kyros bowed back in return.:: Gideon: Well met, then, m'lady Erin. ::He offered his arm:: Shall we? Erin: Let's shall. ::She took his arm, and they went to find their seats:: Sir Kyros Gideon Knight Protector

(( Science Lab Theta-47-D, Starbase 118 )) RAMIREZ: I'll hold you up to that. And talking about Klingon escapade ::he grabbed the box with his award and walked towards the exit:: we'd better go and get ready. If we want to be plausible as eager fans, we'll have to get there early. I'll pick you up at your place in precisely 47 minutes. REYNOLDS: Pick me... ::She blinked and shook her head.:: Come again? RAMIREZ: What? You don't actually expect us to meet there, right? If we're going to the Opera together, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't escort you there myself! ::he walked off, smiling:: And people say I have no manners... ::Quinn sighed softly, looked heavenward, then wrestled her commbadge out of her pocket and tapped it.:: REYNOLDS: =/\= Reynolds to Tsao. =/\= TSAO: =/\= Yes, Commander? =/\= ::It threw her for a moment, being called that, then she continued.:: REYNOLDS: =/\= Could you replicate me a dress uniform and meet me in my quarters? I need to get ready for the opera. =/\= TSAO: =/\= Of course, sir. I'll be there shortly. =/\= ::Tucking the badge back into her pocket, Quinn turned and left the science lab, making sure the door was locked behind her.:: (( Quinn's Personal Quarters )) ::A few minutes later and Quinn strode inside her quarters, to find Tsao already waiting. Quinn shot a harried smile at her assistant, pulling her hair loose from the s[...]py ponytail in order to redo it in a style more professional for the evening.:: TSAO: Good evening, sir. I have a message from Lieutenant Ramirez? Apparently there has been some kind of incident in his quarters and he may be running late. He'll meet you at the opera. REYNOLDS: Alright, thanks. Have you got my- ::The Chief Petty Officer, seemingly out of nowhere, suddenly brandished a deep red taffeta gown. Strapless, the bodice was decorated with tiny crimson flowers that trailed down the right side of the dress, until reaching the hem of the skirt. It was quite lovely, but definitely not what she had asked for.:: REYNOLDS: What's that? TSAO: It's your outfit, sir. REYNOLDS: My..? I said dress *uniform*, not dress! TSAO: Oh. My apologies. ::She said, looking stonily unapologetic.:: However, the replicator in your quarters is broken and there is not enough time to return to the Liaison Office to use the one there. Maintenance has been notified. REYNOLDS: ::She looked toward the replicator.:: How do you- TSAO: I tried to replicate you a tea. REYNOLDS: ::She looked at the dress.:: And you just happened- TSAO: Yes. ::Quinn sighed, wondering out of the two of them, who was *really* in charge. Resigning herself to being the subordinate in this situation, she held out her hands for the dress. Tsao responded by hanging it up and gesturing to a nearby chair.:: TSAO: Hair. REYNOLDS: Pardon me? ::Tsao pointed to the chair again and Quinn found herself herded into it, moments before the other woman was pulling a brush through it. Quinn squirmed in response, until she felt a light rap on her shoulder.:: TSAO: If you remain still, I can do this more quickly. ::Good grief, it was like being five all over again. Only her father was considerably less frightening than the Chief Petty Officer currently sweeping her hair back. Quinn resigned herself to reigning in her instinct to squirm, if only to get the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible...:: -- Lieutenant Commander Quinn Reynolds Chief Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops

For The Children This story was one of the standouts of the bunch. Your characters were well established from the very start of the story. I cared deeply for Carte and Amy and when they ended up on opposite sides of the conflict it tore at my heart to see their pain. But Carte’s motivations just were not clear enough. His sincerity was clear, but like Amy I could not understand why he was doing what he was doing. Without understanding Carte’s motivation I could not understand his sacrifice. Otherwise this was a sound, gripping, and emotional story. If you keep writing on this level, I promise you I will keep reading. The Dread Pirate Jackford I love the Princess Bride, so the theme of your story put a big smile on my face. But your hero/anti-hero did not make me want to pull for him. To me he came across as being just as manipulative as Sheval, she just out maneuvered him in the end. I need a reason to care about the main characters, even if it is just a small one. You did get me to hate Sheval by the end of the story though, truly a good job at making a character utterly despicable. I enjoyed your sense of humor, and I look forward to more stories that can make me smile. Fugitives I could see where you were going with this one. It has the feel of a morality play with a bit of the unexpected. The style choice was a bold move and suits the up tempo actions of the story. Unfortunately that tempo is broken by confusion. In particular this happened most often with the drunk. The Captain and the Ensign seemed to lose their individual personalities as the piece developed, ending with them both seeming to be the same character. These are both problems that can be easily solved by proofreading and rewriting your work as needed. When proofreading your piece be sure to watch out for unintended changes in your characters. I enjoyed the original concept of the piece, and look forward to what you will come up with in the next challenge.

Congratulations Ensigns, and welcome to the Fleet.

I have sent a message to the Ops OOC.

Just finished reading the last of the entries (got a little to busy to read them all for a while). An impressive number this time around, especially considering the shorter timespan on the round. I enjoyed reading everyone's stories. It is interesting to see everyone's take on the the topic. The writing challenge always proves to me what a truly talented group of writers we have here.

((Starbase 118 - Command Hub)) ::Had Kalpana heard Pedro's insubordinate comments at this juncture in her life, she probably would have leapt upon the opportunity provided by such an irritant and killed him. Given her exobrace and his weakened condition, she probably would have been successful, too. ::All told, it is probably for the best (if far less satisfying) that she remained in her little niche off somewhere behind the Environmental consoles, salted tears rolling freely down her cheeks. Part of her mind was aware of how horribly she was throwing her body out of whack. She was not terran, despite her resemblance to them, and she could not afford the same indulgences that one of that same pervasive species. ::Continual sobbing would deprive her body of valuable dissolved salts and minerals, which could not be easily replaced from water vapor in the air. Evaporation would leave the soluble residue on her cheeks, which would be reabsorbed and, bizarrely enough, actually cause a dangerous *increase* in her body fluids' salinity. ::Her heavy breathing was torture on her lungs, forcing the thick, soupy air (which was, itself, deplorably deficient in the very elements that her body demanded) through her throat in chest-rattling gasps. The air was too dry, too dead, and too thick to ever feel natural to her body. She shuddered all the harder as the universe hammered home the realization that she was woefully out of place.:: Ramirez: Yes, a phaser rifle... Don't worry, I'm used to tinkering weapons, that's my specialty... aside general knowledge and entertainment, of course... ::Far more of her mind, however, was latching frantically onto anything that it could use as a distraction - from both body and invaded mind. If her lungs and tears were both wrought upon foreign seas and under distant suns, then so too were her ears. The words spoken casually across the Hub were as clear as if spoken inches from her head.:: Geeva: oO Foolish. Too risky. Rifles are serious power sources, especially if he adjusts one to produce titanium atoms. It will be drained immediately, and if not, I doubt as to its effectiveness. You might as well spray carbon on a terran's cut and expect it to function as a dermal regenerator. Pedro is devious, yes, but nobody would ever accuse him of brilliance. Or Walter, for that matterrrrnnnnngggga aaahhhhh- !! Oo ::Her mental cry shattered the memories of Walter's past tactical efforts that were even now trying to assert themselves within her forebrain. She did not WANT to remember! She did NOT! She would rip the very thoughts from her skull!:: Geeva: Nnnngg! Ssssh! ::Her grunt of effort brought a hiss of pain as only her exobrace's safeguards stopped her long fingers from digging into her own face. With an explosion of breath more animalistic than angry, she flung her arms down, cursing the very machinery that allowed her to walk upon these decks in her natural muscles' tattered condition. ::Her mind came into brief sync with the world around her, catching on a snippet of gossip between two operations technicians a dozen feet away.:: Geeva: oO By the ever-cursed Ninth! Just pay the gi'nok man out of the station's budget! We can draw a quarter-billion credits without Starfleet batting an eye. Ancestors! This isn't a starship, it's the v'ta frelling Fleet Command! Lily, stop be-... Oo ::Flashes of Lily's smile, of laughter and happy times, pounded into Kalpana's skull and she groaned with the effort of trying and failing to fight them off. She shoved at the memories - hard - and they twisted in her mind. ::Her body was awash with fire - jagged shards of pain piercing her flesh. It was reminiscent of what she'd felt when she awoke in that dark corridor, but distinctly different. She could feel herself slipped away as Lily spoke her name.:: Memory-Ventu: ...stay with me. ::She felt herself slipping, slipping, blackness would be sweet relief, but then she felt a wash of sterile cleanliness sweep through her body as the Hub's walls flashed white. Reconstituting themselves into the walls of a hospital, a second figure joined the figure that had to be Lily Ventu. This one was smaller. Too small to be a child, until something niggled at her mind - terran children were smaller than iridians. She still couldn't pin down the identity, though. The vision in her memories was crystal clear and sharper than her native eyes had ever been. It was like dreaming of having the eyes of a hawk..:: Geeva: -I usually keep the doors locked. ::Kalpana couldn't differentiate between her real body and that in her memories, so she had no way of knowing that she was speaking out loud. Or that Rocar was speaking to her.:: Rocar: Everything okay, Commander Geeva? Geeva: I'm dying, aren't I? Rocar: Commander! Memory-Ventu: Yes. ::A beat. Kalpana through up her mental hands, tears running in a torrent down her physical cheeks. A water shortage was noted, molecules were pulled from other portions of her body, and notice was passed up the chain of nerve cells. Words thundered against her psyche like the pulse of a giant butterfly's wings as she wrestled with something no less ephemeral than thought itself. ::Time skipped strangely and she found herself staring out an enormous window at a Sabre-class vessel being built in drydock. A voice... *her* voice spoke from her lips, but there was no mirror. She couldn't see the face that spoke those words. She still knew not whose life she was raping!:: Geeva: I don't want to talk about it. ::If the ktarian fleet captain was taken aback by her answer, his operations officer never knew it.:: Rocar: Nothing, you just seemed a little distracted, is all. Memory-Ventu: No. I didn't think you would. ::beat:: But you're showing me- ::Showing her. Showing *both* of them, and unlike Lily, Kalpana had the force of will (and the advantage of home field) to force the issue. She shoved again at the memories, buffering her efforts with cultural indoctrination and traditional values. Morals waged against engrams and won but a minor victory... ::They were in a shuttle, now, Lily seated beside her and an odd little terrarium sitting on the console in front of her body. She was speaking...: : Geeva: If I don't... If this is it for me, I want you to pass on some messages. Memory-Ventu: This isn't it. Absolutely not. Rocar: Response? Geeva: Don't make me beg. We both know that I'm- ::The iridian shoved again... or tried to. She was weakening from the effort of stretching psychic muscles that she had never before been aware existed. She strained, she tried, and she failed to move the scene by more than a few seconds.:: Geeva: David. ::a moment's pause,:: ...Cody. Tell him that. That I love him. Rocar: Response? Memory-Ventu: ::firm:: I won't let you go. Memory-Ventu: -you have to let me go. I have to get back. I have to get you out! Geeva: I don't know how! I don't even know how you get in here in the first place, let alone how to get you out again! ::Everything started to fall apart after that. There were explosions and scene that Kalpana barely understood. Multiple views overlapped, with multiple bridges from crises all throughout her stolen memories, and some that were clearly the products of pure imagination. The fight was brutal. Weapons were gone, shields a tattered mess, the hull was leaking air like a sieve, and she was steering the entire bloody wreck right into the face of the enemy. ::All for a friend. It was something that Kalpana could get behind. A symbol that energized her mind and she pushed, forcing her mind along half-hidden currents in the memories, riding engramatic tides like an avenging valkyrie.:: Geeva: THIS IS YOUR CHANCE, LILY! RUN!! ::The words shot from her like a cannon blast, and her mind surged free of the sea of the past like a breeching submarine. Her vision went white as she pierced the veil between subjective and objective reality, only to fade back in as she came crashing down to rest atop her sea. All would be right... one should sail upon their past, not dive deep within it. ::Her sobbing came easier now, interspersed with giddy laughter. She was... happy? No, too tame. She was *jubilant*.: : Geeva: oO I did it! I did it! I saved her! Oo ::She was still laughing through her tears when she felt a hand on her shoulder and she followed it to a face. She couldn't contain this joy by herself. It was too much.:: Geeva: I did it! Any: Response? --- Lieutenant Commander Geeva Kalpana Chief Operations Officer Starbase 118 Operations

Dawn Breaking the Night The bridge of the USS Virginia was a mess. Many of the consoles had exploded, throwing the officers manning them about the bridge. The moans of the wounded made up an eerie white noise of pain. But the view screen showed the real carnage of the day, the Jem Hadar warship that had ambushed the convoy the Virginia was tasked to protect was little more then a debris field. There were no cheers of excitement as the crew won out the day. Instead there was only silent relief as the USS Virginia and the majority of her crew survived another day on the front lines of the Dominion War. You would not think this would mark one of the brightest days of my life, but that was certainly how it turned out. I was stationed at helm when the Jem Hadar warship had attacked. By this point of the war we had all seen this same scene play out before, there was nothing special about what was happening. The Captain gave her orders, and we set our shoulder to the grind stone, praying that once more Captain Delahanney would guide us through. For me the attack grew personal when the Ops console across the bridge from me exploded. Lieutenant Junior Grade William Marstoney was hit by a large section of the console, breaking his neck, and killing him instantly. Billy and I had graduated from the Academy in the same class. We never moved in the same circles at the Academy, but we knew of each other. That changed when we were both stationed on the Virginia. We became fast friends as we struggled through our early days as Ensigns. Our camaraderie grew with each new challenge we had to face. Billy was not the first officer I had seen die in service to the Federation, nor was he the last. But he was the first friend I had ever lost. When he fell, I was consumed by a zeal to see that Jem Hadar warship destroyed. I did everything in my power to give Lieutenant Commander Tavor, our tactical officer, the perfect shot. We took a pounding, but finally the torpedoes were away and the brief battle was over. Soon the medical team and the engineers were on the bridge, doing their jobs to keep the ship running without interruption. While they worked we found our convey, and continued on our way. The supplies for the war must get through. These were the cold realities of war. I knew them well as the medic’s removed Billy’s body from the bridge, because I was entering a course correction at the time. It was three more hours before my shift ended. I went down to the Harrisonburg lounge when I went off duty. That was were they posted the casualty reports, one for the ship, and one for the fleet. As I read the long lists of names I could feel the dark cloud of sorrow filling my heart. It had been a bad day. Nine names, I knew nine of the officer lost that day, two from the Virginia, counting Billy, and seven more from around the fleet. The assault on Harlonia IV looked to have been a massacre. After checking the lists I left the Harrisonburg lounge. I did not get anything to eat or drink there, no one did anymore. Instead I headed off for my quarters. When I entered my quarters I saw the light blinking at my desk, telling me I had a message waiting. I ignored it, heading for the shower instead. I stood in the shower stall letting the sonic waves cleanse the grime of the day from my skin. I could only distantly remember the luxury of a real shower, with hot water. I tried to remember how long it had been, but that only reminded me of my last leave. That was a memory that was far to pleasant to think about just then, so I pushed it from my mind. I did my best to stop thinking, and just waited for the shower to finish. I did not get around to checking the message waiting for me at the console until I had gotten into some clean, non regulation clothes, and eaten a plate of lasagna. I turned the computer on and watched the Star Fleet insignia as the message loaded. I was surprised to see Regina’s face appear, with a newborn in her arms, swaddled in a pink blanket. “Hi honey.” She began, “I have a little surprise for you. I was thinking of naming her Kelly, after your grandmother…….I know this is a bit unexpected, but I didn’t want you to be distracted out there. I know you Hal. You would have been so worried about me during the pregnancy you wouldn’t have been able to look after yourself the way I needed you to…….I hope I did the right thing…….She has your eyes, and your easy laugh. Two days old and she already loves to laugh…….I miss you Hal, I really wish you could have been here for this. You come home safe to us now, daddy. We love you. Be safe.” The Star Fleet insignia filled the screen again. I watched that message over and over for the next hour. I had a daughter. Just like that the horrors of the day eased their grip on my soul. I was a father now, and nothing was going to stop me from getting home to my little girl.

I think that would be a fitting honor for Tanang. I only had the opportunity to sim with him briefly, but I am glad for having had the chance to write with him.

"Klingon Herder" was written by Ensign Tanang.

((SB 118, Event Horizon)) Wysteria: Is there a nurse here? I've got an injured chef who needs sending to! ::The call came from out of nowhere. Lisa almost bit her lip in surprise. It had settled down and been very quiet for 15 or so minutes. She'd gotten herself into a routine mending, injecting, wrapping... then the yell from behind her.:: Story: Be right there! ::Kennedy noticed that there remained still a few of the starfleet personnel, mostly those who seemed to be in medical, as well as others who had come out for the event. As for her own staff, they were managing under the circumstances. :: Wysteria: ::Talking to herself:: Where on earth is that nurse. I could have sworn someone said they were coming. Story: ::smiling at the young woman in front of her:: Your baby will be fine. His heart rate jumped when yours did, that's all. It happens in the 3rd trimester. Wysteria: Is there a nurse or doctor here? ::It wasn't that Kennedy was trying to be rude...then again, she could act Arbazan, which would give her an excuse to be rude. She was just worried for Ian. He was her only chef at the moment, and by the way things were going, the restaurant was going to have to close for the evening if he wasn't able to work.:: Wysteria: o0Need to find a chef that can replace Ian on his days off or when he's injured.0o Nurse?? Story: On my way!! ::Lisa grabbed what was left of the supplies she had and ran toward a flickering candle light. Her supplies were dwindling. Without communications she couldn't call sickbay for re-enforcements or supplies. She did have the aide that had volunteered. Maybe Lisa could send her to get more supplies. Maybe get a doctor in attendance, too.:: ::It didn't take long for the nurse to locate Kennedy. Candles were slowly being lit in the back section here, and it took a bit longer to navigate through the room. Once the nurse had arrived, Kennedy wasted no time talking, just turned around and assumed that the nurse was following her. :: ((Event Horizon - Kitchen)) Ian: ::Looking at Kennedy:: Yes, I'll agree...finally. You need to find someone who can take over on days like this. Kennedy: ::Smirking:: Told you so! Ian: Yes, but I expect to be there during the interview process. Kennedy: Agreed. Now hold out your hand. You look paler than usual. Ian: ::Looking at the nurse:: Promise to be gentle? ::Clutching his hand:: this here is my tool of the trade! Story: Let me see.... I'm not going to hurt you... I just need to look at it. Tool of the trade? Of course, you're the chef. Ian: Here! ::Ian held out his hand and turned his head away. He had to laugh at himself and how the side of his own blood and injury freaked him out, and yet he had no qualms about butchering an animal if need be.:: Story: The knife is embedded in the bone. Lower your head. Ian: My head? o0 Odd request 0o Story: The blood flow is traveling to your feet. We need to get your head lower than your heart to start the circular process happening again. ::pressing down on the top of Ian's head:: Low! Ian: Gee, I have to the urge to kiss my [...] good bye! I feel like I'm a kid again auntie Em is trying to teach me to do a somersault. Story: ::a geyser of blood shot out around the base of the knife:: Oh NO! I mean, no, don't do that. My brain is going numb. Hand above the heart, slow the bleeding. You had trouble learning to somersault? oO If I were a doctor, I wouldn't have so much stress. Oo Ian: Getting into the position was never the problem, it was completing the task that needed some serious work. Story: ::pulling a chair over and sitting down then giving Ian a heavy dose of Asinolyathin: : Well, you don't need to know how to do a somersault anymore. We hope. ::nodding at his hand:: How did you do this? Ian: Normal meal prep, was trying to get an extra veggie tray out to table 7 when the lights went out, my knife slipped of the cutting block and right into my hand. ::While Ian talked, Lisa imagined the had under an x-ray. The tip of the blade might have broken off in the center carpel. If he was lucky, the knife was embedded in the carpel ligaments. Not really so lucky, at that. Time to heal was anywhere from three days to three weeks. Depending on the extent of the damage. Lisa wasn't a diagnostician. There wasn't a doctor available so she determined to do the best that she could.:: Story: I'm going to remove the knife. How's your pain level? Ian: What's my scale? Story: On a grade of 1 being not bad and 10 being unbearable. Ian: Well, when it's not being moved or looked at or thought about, 9. But when something is happening or it's being looked at, about 12. ::Looking sheepishly:: Can we say I'm a bit of a wimp? ::Kennedy realizing what was about to happen quickly moved over to the small bar fridge hidden on the underside of Ian's work station and grabbed a bottle of Klingon Ale, a pretty old year. It had been one that she had given him to use with various dishes. Under the circumstances though, she was going to let him drink it to null the pain. With his free hand, Ian grasped the bottle and took a very long deep drink of the crimson ale. He then looked at the nurse, ready for whatever pain she was about to do to him.:: ::Lisa gripped Ian's hand with her left, fingers curling under to hold him steady. Placing her thumb at the base of the knife in a great show to focus his attention there, she grasped the hilt of the knife and pulled instantly and hard on an angle. The knife came free with a click of metal on bone.:: Ian: MOTHER OF FRACKING PEARL!!!!! Story: I'm going to give you an antibiotic and a hypospray of Asinolyathin to carry with you. Use it as needed for the pain. As soon as we get back to normal, report to sickbay. That's an order. Ian: o0I'll take your antibiotic and wash it down with this alcohol! 0o Yes nurse. Thank you. Kennedy: It's a good thing we're closed for the night. Once the place clears out, I'll give you a spare hand cleaning up the place. Ian: I hope you were being nice and not making fun of my injury. Kennedy: Lil old me? Ian: ::Looking at the nurse:: Go figure, for once I can't hear her thoughts! ::Lisa used the dermal regenerator to close the cut with a thin layer of derma. It would heal properly after being seen by the doctor and getting a complete treatment. Everything Lisa had done so far was a stop-gap to keep people from panicking and thereby injuring themselves worse. Looking at Ian then Wysteria, Nurse Story stood, gave some unnecessary advice along the lines of "Stay off your feet and take it easy.":: ::The two had started up their banter once again before Lisa got to the door.:: Kennedy Wysteria Owner/Operator Event Horizon & PO3 Lisa Story Registered Nurse SB118 OPS & Ian Moon Operator/Chef Event Horizon

Superb. This was one of the most moving sims I have ever had the pleasure to read.

(( Executive Officer's Office, USS Tiger )) :: The door to her office split apart, and Lily took in the carnage that lay within. She knew what had happened, in the essentials - she knew that the bridge group had fled from the Reapers down to her office, where they'd held it before storming back onto the bridge. The ship hadn't been taken and the Reapers were gone, and while she didn't blame Sidney or her group for the shambles of her office, she did nudge her overturned aloe with her foot and feel a flash of annoyance. The holo-cube had been turned on its side, and so the walls of the office were their normal, boring gray-pink again. Her PADDs were as scattered as ever, but the most annoying thing were her pictures: The only one left standing showed an eighteen-year- old Lily and Ensign Abby Roberts, huddled over a library table during Lily's freshman year. She took two steps into the room before she felt a crunch. She lifted her foot for two smiling faces - her own, and Nick Parks's, just before she'd been assigned to the Triumphant. They were on a Risan beach, she saronged and he shirtless, with orange-yellow sand spreading out to the waves behind them. A perfect, happy day. She grimaced, picked up the frame, and set it on the desk. Things changed. Ships fell apart, and relationships, friendships, childhoods. She made sure the glass didn't cut her when she stepped back again. :: (( The Black Tower, Starbase 118 )) ::After finishing up with her medical, Quinn took the opportunity to locate and visit her office in the Black Tower. For once, it wasn't to bury her head in work, rather she wanted the chance for a long overdue catch-up with an old friend. Taking a seat in the comfortable black chair, she looked at the black screen on the desk for a few long moments before taking a deep breath and speaking.:: REYNOLDS: Computer, open a comm channel to Lieutenant Commander Lily Ventu, USS Tiger. COMPUTER: Working... ::Tapping her fingers lightly on the console as she waited for the channel to be established and answered, Quinn leaned back in her chair. It had definitely been a hell of a year, so far. All she could do was hope that things were going to improve with her new posting.:: (( Executive Officer's Office, USS Tiger )) :: The broken glass had been recycled, and several more broken pictures had joined Lily and Nick on the desk. Lily held another shattered frame now, and looked down at herself, smiling not up at her future self but at the others in the picture: Hayden Reynolds, who was alone smiling for the camera, and his cousin, Quinn, who was looking serious and away. The incoming signal alarm rang off on her monitor, and she considered ignoring it: The crisis was past, the crew was relaxing, and trouble could wait. Still, she decided to ask: :: VENTU: Computer, where's that coming from? COMPUTER: Working. :: While the computer figured it out, she dropped the broken frame on the pile, and then it beeped again. :: COMPUTER: Signal triangulated to Sector 118. VENTU: The Trinity Sector? COMPUTER: Affirmative. VENTU: ::frowning:: Who the hell...? :: She walked around the desk, sat down, and tapped the monitor on. Her curiosity had outweighed her annoyance. :: VENTU: Screen on. COMPUTER: Signal parsing. ::beat:: Connection established. :: The Starfleet logo snapped off, and a face swam into focus. Lily blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then still didn't really believe it. :: VENTU: Quinn? REYNOLDS: Hey Lily. How are you doing? :: Annoyance vanished: She was alive, and there was nothing to complain about. She spoke quickly, curiously. :: VENTU: Great, but where are you? Sector 118? Why are you there? How are you? REYNOLDS: I'm fin- ::She smiled wearily and shook her head.:: I've been better. But I think things are on the mend. VENTU: Well, good. That's good. REYNOLDS: So how's the Tiger? :: To answer, Lily spun the monitor around, giving Quinn a 360 of her office and its chaos. :: VENTU: It's been better ... the ship, I mean. The crew's great ... well, what's left of them. REYNOLDS: Oh. Wow. That's... I'm sorry to hear that. VENTU: But where *are* you? The Independence hasn't been reassigned, has it? REYNOLDS: No, just me. I've been transferred to Starbase One-One-Eight. VENTU: Oh. ::beat:: With Captain Rocar? He's still there, isn't he? REYNOLDS: Yeah, he's still around. All of him. ::Absently.: : Are all Ktarians that huge? VENTU: ::shaking her head:: I've only ever met him, so I couldn't tell you. ::beat:: Are you their new engineer? ::Quinn blinked then, and shook her head, looking sheepish.:: REYNOLDS: No... I'm, uh... I've been assigned to the Black Tower. Starfleet Intelligence. VENTU: ::wide eyes:: Wow. How'd THAT happen? REYNOLDS: I can't really talk about it. ::She shifted awkwardly.:: How's Hayden? :: Lily smile-frowned, and turned her head to the side for a moment. She wasn't really surprised that intelligence positions were hard to talk about, but she was curious why Quinn would've gotten such, unless there was something she didn't know. Her friend was brilliant, but SI? Didn't that imply some sort of ... moral turbidity? And then they came to Hayden. She hadn't been avoiding thinking of him by any means, but there was a large difference between cycling it in her mind and voicing those cycles. :: VENTU: Right. Hayden. ::beat:: He had an accident during our last mission. ::Quinn's expression immediately turned to one of concern and she shot forward in her chair.:: REYNOLDS: What happened? VENTU: He was attacked by one of the Reapers, and spent a couple of weeks in a coma. REYNOLDS: Coma? Is he alright? VENTU: ::too loudly:: He's fine, he's fine. I mean, physically.. .. ::Leaning back again, the Intelligence officer looked suddenly relieved.:: REYNOLDS: Don't scare me like that. VENTU: But he's been promoted- REYNOLDS: ::She beamed a smile:: That's great! VENTU: -and reassigned. REYNOLDS: ::The smile fell off her face.:: Oh. VENTU: Yeah. That's about it. "Oh." REYNOLDS: Where's he being sent to? VENTU: The Antares, a medical ship. ::twisted smile:: It's a command position. What he's been waiting for since he returned. ::Quinn visibly flinched, then shook it off as quickly as it had appeared.:: REYNOLDS: But... What about you? I mean... The two of you? VENTU: Yes. Well, that's the question, isn't it? ::beat:: There's a phrase, usually only used by people in security positions. "Holding action." REYNOLDS: I don't think it's supposed to describe couplehood. VENTU: I know. But it still fits. ::another beat:: He - we, sorry, we - never had a date. It was always after this mission or that mission, after we made some new rank, in two or three or six months. It's all come and gone, now. And where are we? ::Quinn managed a wan smile and shook her head.:: REYNOLDS: You've gone nowhere, yet everything's different? VENTU: Exactly. We, neither of us, are who we were on the Independence last year. REYNOLDS: ::Quietly.:: Tell me about it. VENTU: ::shrugging: : People change. It isn't an end, and I'm not ... you know, angry. Just disappointed. Not in him, either, just in general. ::staring into the distance:: You have all these perfect ideas of how life is going to be, and then life itself comes along and plays hell with all of it. REYNOLDS: I'm sorry it's not working out the way you hoped. VENTU: ::back to the screen:: But enough about this nonsense. Tell me about how you're doing! REYNOLDS: ::She frowned.:: I'm not sure what to say... VENTU: I know you can't tell me how you got into it, but can you ... I don't know. What *can* you tell me? REYNOLDS: I guess... Ask and and find out. VENTU: ::small smile:: Well, what about *your* love life, Miss Reynolds? Cody isn't coming with you, is he? REYNOLDS: David- ::She glanced down with wince.:: David chose to prioritise his career. VENTU: Oh. I see. Uhm.... All right. How's life been these past few months? What's the Independence been like? REYNOLDS: I actually wouldn't know. :: Lily's left eyebrow went up unbidden, and her right eye narrowed considerably. :: VENTU: You ... wouldn't? REYNOLDS: Lily - I haven't been on the Independence since the accident on TE-IV. VENTU: ::almost laughing:: What? REYNOLDS: The explosion, it was a cover for the Breen to take me and replace me with... Well. Suffice to say, no one could tell the difference. And I hear she gave you and Hayden an interesting trip down my memory lane. VENTU: That ... wasn't you? :: But even as she struggled to assimilate what Quinn was telling her, her mind was already connecting the pieces: A Deltan, especially a Deltan hybrid, should have had no way to mind-meld with a full human, as Quinn ( oO The fake Quinn! Oo) had done. Odd behaviour, strange powers, and now logical connections. ... :: VENTU: So, then the memories I saw- ::Absently, Quinn rubbed her right temple.:: REYNOLDS: Oh, they were all real. She had pretty much on-demand access to my memories, thanks to a modified version of one of their cortical implants. VENTU: ::quiet:: What happened with the Breen? REYNOLDS: They, um.... They wanted... ::Fumbling for the words, she sighed and shook her head.:: They weren't gentle with me. It... ::She grimaced and rolled her shoulder awkwardly.:: You know what, it's a little raw. I'd rather not talk about it. ::She paused for a moment, a wry smile creeping on to her face.:: It's driving the counsellors nuts. :: Lily leaned forward in her chair, until her nose was at most three or four inches from the screen. :: VENTU: Then I won't ask you about it. I want you to remember me as your friend, not your therapist. REYNOLDS: ::Vaguely amused.:: You're on a different ship, Lily. You're not dead. VENTU: ::frowning:: "Remember"'s the wrong word. That's not what I meant. I want you to *think* of me as your friend. If you want it dropped, it's dropped. ::Looking visibly relieved, Quinn nodded and sank a little further into her chair.:: REYNOLDS: Thank you. VENTU: But maybe you should think about kickboxing with some holographic Breen- REYNOLDS: Lily! VENTU: All right, all right, it's dropped! ::The Intel Officer's mock scathing glare was followed by a soft chuckle and a small grin.:: REYNOLDS: Old habits die hard, counsellor? ::She glanced at something out-of-view, then looked back to her friend.:: It's nearly time for me to head off. I have a... thing I have to attend and I need to get ready. VENTU: Yeah, I can see that you're getting close. ::beat:: Listen, Quinn, I want to make this more of a regular thing. I know you'll be busy, and so will I, but I.... :: She trailed off. "Don't want to lose you" was poking out of her mouth, but she couldn't say it, exactly - she'd already lost Quinn several times, to the ether and to her own fears. What else was there to say? :: VENTU: Just ... keep in touch, all right? REYNOLDS: I will. And you make sure that ship of yours stays intact. Or, you know. Strategically break it where you can put into the Starbase for repairs. VENTU: ::Wavery smile:: If she breaks up, I'll know who to take her to. ::stronger:: Unless being an intel woman goes to your head. :: Lily ended it with that and a smile. No goodbyes, because it wasn't, really, just a pause. Intermission, maybe. But not an end. :: ::In her office, Quinn reached a hand forward and tapped the communication channel closed. With a heavy sigh, she hauled herself up and out of the chair. She wasn't the first Starfleet Officer to lament the way Starfleet had a tendency to wrench friends (and sometimes more) apart, and she wouldn't be the last... But that piece of knowledge didn't make it the slightest bit easier.:: -- Lieutenant Commander Lily Ventu Executive Officer USS Tiger & Lieutenant Quinn Reynolds Intelligence Officer Starbase 118 Ops

Lt. Cmdr. Tash Zubowskivich Chief of Security Starbase 118 Ops ((Tash's Quarters)) :: The doorway closed behind him with the requisite *WHOOSH* of compressed air. Looking around his quarters, he realized it was still [...]'n'span, as he hadn't been around much since his leave to mess it up. :: :: Little did he know, as he moved into the room, that his doorway was set to lock upon his entrance, a 24 hour order handed down via the Chief Medical Officer to the computer. :: :: Moving to the replicator, he stood staring down at the processor. He wasn't thinking about what he would have, but what he couldn't have. :: Tash: Water. Cold. :: Lifting the replicated glass, he denied the shake in his hand, bringing it to his lips for a deep draught. Already he was a bit lost. 24 hours of this. He stared into the glass, the reflection of light in the water. :: :: His head hurt. :: :: This was going to suck. This already sucked. :: ((One hour later)) :: The hypospray released its pre-programmed dose of analgesic as he pressed it to his neck with shaking hands. :: :: What had Julia said? This was only going to be as hard as he let it be? She'd also said to keep himself occupied. Exercise, hot water showers, activity to distract himself. :: :: Knowing she was right, even if he couldn't appreciate her knack for being right at the moment, he decided to take her advice. He turned on some music, a running theme of calm violists. Bond began to play, a mid-level volumed Big Love Adagio. Opening his personal computer, he linked to the system. No reason he couldn't work. :: ((Half an hour later)) :: Working had lasted all of twenty minutes before simple frustration had forced him to abandon his efforts to catalog incident reports. :: :: Standing, he walked one way, then another, pacing. :: :: Realizing what he was doing, he forced himself to the replicator. :: Tash: Tiramisu. :: The food replicated, he sat on the sofa, put his heels up on the table, and set the plate back down on the coffee table before him as he stood, too jittery to sit. :: :: A bead of sweat ran down his neck. :: :: Lifting the hypospray from the table, he noted the time-table. 23 minutes till the next activation would be allowed. Frustration and annoyance filled him as he set it down, then worsened as he realized it hadn't been two hours since he'd left the medical bay. :: ((23 minutes later)) :: The moment the indicator turned green, the hypospray was set to his neck and compressed, sending the pre-set dose of analgesic through his system. :: :: It took the edge off the headache, the muscle pain, but simply wasn\rquote t enough. Still, Tash willed himself to be patient. :: Tash: Go do something, idiot. :: Exercise. He could exhaust himself, then sleep through the worst of this night. Changing out of his uniform, he donned a pair of sleek black running pants and sleeveless blue shirt with white edging. Tennis shoes on, he headed to the door... and nearly ran face-first into it as it failed to open at his approach. :: *MEEEEEP* :: The sound was a shock, as was the doors direct refusal to open. Stepping back in confusion, he reached for the manual control. :: *MEEEEEP* :: He pressed the release several times, quickening in succession.. . :: *MEEEEEPMEEEEEPMEEE EEP* :: ...before it occurred to him that the door had been purposefully locked. :: Tash: Julia.... :: His blood pressure shot up at the sudden feeling of entrapment. Turning, he leaned against the door, looking back into his living space at nothing in particular. :: :: Of course, his logical self told him she wouldn't do this without cause, and that she had a right to make such a choice. It was in her power as chief of medical. Attempting to push back the rise of anger, he stalked back into his quarters. :: ((One hour later)) :: Frustration was generally the name of the game. His symptoms rose, and the analgesic remained the same throughout them. His need to quell the physical pain overrode what remained of his logical self. He began to curse Julia for her cruelty, and women in general for being over-protective. He just wanted to go kill things on the holodeck! Where was the harm in that?! :: :: Attempting to force food down his throat, he gave up. Eating brought on instant nausea despite the gnawing hunger in his gut. There was only one thing that would end his current state, and he couldn't have it. :: :: He began to curse his own stupidity for admitting everything to Julia, and for being so absurd as to give her EVERYTHING he had. :: :: Moving hurt. His entire body burned as it expelled the remainder of his built up Ketrazine. His head throbbed as it suffered the loss of the Sylvana Crystal. His muscles trembled, and sweat ran down his body. :: :: Patience finally waning, he went into his bedroom, dropping hard onto his knees as he jerked the case out from under his bed. He'd been honest when he'd told Julia that he'd handed over his entire stash. However, he had a completely different kind of stash hidden away, this one spiritual in nature. :: :: His hands trembled too much... he couldn't work the lock, so he forced it open in one swift motion. His hand went in to grasp the first bottle... :: :: But came only to empty air. :: :: His stash was empty. :: Tash: Julia... [...] IT! :: She'd had enough foresight to scan his quarters, apparently, and had taken away an obvious recourse he might take when under pressure. All his alcohol had been transported right out of its locked case, to where, who knew. The thing he did know was that it wasn't here. :: :: A few more choice curses flew which were unforgiving in nature\'85 and the case that should have held his Jack, Romulan Ale, and Bloodwine went flying as well. It impacted the far off wall of his bedroom, likely to his neighbor's annoyance, then fell to the floor split in two. :: :: He stood where he was, breathing hard. A terrible itch crawled up his skin, [...]ling and bothersome. :: :: A shower. A hot shower. :: :: Clothes landed where they would as he entered the shower stall, initiating the hot water Julia had suggested. He let it soak him as he pressed both palms into the wall, standing beneath the spray. :: ((One hour later)) :: It had been four hours since Tash had left the medical center... but it felt like an eternity. :: :: He had also completely missed the new orders, which flashed on his closed computer screen, attempting to send him to the Indria. :: :: He had given up trying to eat, even trying to drink. His stomach wouldn't hold even a sip of water. :: :: Clothed in the recently discarded running pants and shirt that had gone unused, laying curled on his side on the sofa, he concentrated on breathing. His lungs seemed to want to reject oxygen the way his stomach had rejected his first and last bite of tiramisu. Each breath came in slow and uneven, then out the same way. :: :: Real fear had blossomed in him, that this could... would, in fact, kill him. He'd never known such complete, unending pain. At least when injured he'd been able to receive treatment, or even had gone unconscious. This pain riveted through every cell of his body, and from time to time his breath would hitch as a particularly harsh wave would wash over him. His body trembled hard under the chemical changes, the loss of reliance on the narcotics. :: :: Standing unsteadily, he kept one hand on the wall as he slowly made his way to the bedroom. Dizzy, holding his stomach, he somehow made it to the bed, where he suddenly found himself laying flat. :: :: Had he slept? He couldn't tell. Curling in on himself, his arms clutched round his middle... a desperate move meant to somehow hold off the pain. The sweat soaked sheet stuck to his flesh. :: :: Caught up in the pain, he didn't even realize that the hypospray, which he'd left unintentionally in the front room, had run its hourly required wait. The indicator blinked green, forgotten on the coffee table. :: :: Very suddenly he was jerking awake... he'd nearly gone into a black sleep, and terror gripped him at how it felt... it was as if long, black arms were pulling him under... as if it would drown him... as if he would never wake up. :: Tash: ::weakly, gripping the sheet beneath him tightly:: Julia.... :: Hadn't she said she'd be here? Didn't she say she'd come? She'd said she would come, hadn't she? She'd said she wouldn't let anything happen! Where WAS she??? :: :: He'd come a complete 180, from cursing her very existence, to wishing deeply that she were here with him now. He didn't want to be alone! :: :: It was difficult to think beyond the haze enveloping his brain, but his next action was more out of protective instinct than actual thought. :: Tash: Computer... open... comm. link, Doctor Harden! :: Though not exactly a total command, the computer apparently understood the request. :: Computer: Comm. link established. :: An action out of instinct was complimented by sincere, near desperate words born of his sole desire not to suffer and die alone. His voice, so long dulled by professionalism and duty and death and distancing friends... and eventually even the drugs... was filled with a Tash that had almost been forgotten. :: :: The voice of a lost person with a simple but desperate need. :: :: The voice of a still-young man whose walls... built to protect himself from the violence, the rape, the losses of life... had crashed down round him. :: :: The voice of a human being. :: Tash: Julia... I NEED you!! :: Regardless of who she might be with, who might hear, he put every bit of himself into those few simple words. ::

((Sick Bay - USS Braveheart)) :: Mitch-matched eyes fluttered open and Cmdr Cura Assanti-Stone registered the brightness of the Sick Bay lights above her. She squinted and turned her head from it. Then, she felt the pain...an increadable pain in her abdomen. She also noticed that everyone seemed to be scrambling around the rooms in Sick Bay. A red light was flashing. The Red Alert? The pain came again and above her bio bed, lights were flashing.:: ::Dr. Bones ran up to Cmdr Stone's bio bed, his eye wide with surprise and shock as he read the readings. He couldn't believe it. He shook his head in disbelieve. .:: Bones: No no no...little one.. You just can't wait, can you? Stone: WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME!! It hurts!!! Bones: Ahh...Commander Stone. You're in labor! :;Pain ripped through her lower abdomen again. She barely registered what he said, but labor was definitely ringing in her ears.:: Stone: Baby's coming? Bones; Yes, Commander! ::he turns to one of the nurses, grabs her arm:: Prepare the deliver room for a premature Betazoid/Argelian/ Terran! Prepare the OR for an emergency surgery if needed. MOVE NOW!! Nurse: Aye, Sir! Right away Stone: ::started blowing in stead of screaming.:: OH GOD why does this hurt so bad!! Bones: That is a mystery commander. No one really knows why Stone: Shut Up you!! Bones; Aye, Sir. Shutting up but I have to talk you though this. Permission to speak freely Stone: I dont care what the hell you do, just deliver my baby!!! GET it out of me!! Bones: Right. Okay Shall we go through natural child birth, Commander or shall this be...drugged? :: Cura cringed at the word. Her eyes closed for a moment as she recalled what happened to her baby and why. The [...]ed drugs.:: Stone: NO! No drugs! No more! Bones; Right. Right. Natural child birth it is. ::to the nurse.:: Get her set up! ((Hours Later)) :: The red alert light had been extinguished, but Cmdr Cura Assanti-Stone; s inner red alert light was still flashing as she sat up with the aide of the nurses, her face etched with pain and determination on pushing the life within out.:: Bones: PUSH Commander PUSH HARD!! I see the head!! Stone: ARRRRRGH!!! Bones: One more time, Cura!! One big push to ::Again, Cura haulded herself up and with the nurse's aid, she pushed again, her face strained, glistening with sweat and tears.:: Bones:: THERE WE GO :: catching he baby:: It's a boy, Commander ::Before she could utter a word, the baby was whisked away into another room. The nurses stayed with her as Dr. Bones tried to save the premature child.:: Stone: I want my baby! Nurse Apple: Commander, please, be patient. It was premature and Stone: And what!! Nurse: Let Dr. Bones do his job, Commander. Your baby will be fine Stone: But it didn't cry!!! ::Cura starting crying then, oncontrollably. :: Nurse: Don't worry, Commander. He will get it to breathe..You' ll see. He's a [...] good doctor. ((Hours Later - Sick Bay)) ::Slipping off bloody gloves, Dr. Bones returned to the recovery room where Cmdr Stone was resting although still not alseep. She hadn'tslept since the baby was taken away from her right after birth.. He moved to a sink where he washed his hands. Cura looked up at him.:: Stone: Doctor? Bones: The boy is strong and he's alive. There were some complications with his breathing, but he's fine now.. :: Sighing with relief, tears formed in Cura's eyes as she was very pleased and over joyed.:: Stone: ;:barely a whisper:: Thank you, Dr. Bones. Oh God, thank you. Can I Bones; Here comes the nurse right now with the boy. :: The nurse came towards her with the small child in her arms and Cura smiled, holding out her arms to hold her son for the first time. As she took hold of the baby, it looked up at her with those squinty eyes. But Cura could tell, he had his father's look about him.. The babe was waring a white little shirt and diapers and wrapped in a warm, cuddly blanket. He also had a small cotton cap on it's head. Only his face was visible but Cura fell in love with it.:: Stone; Ohhh...if only he could see you now, Johnathan Jr. :: Cura brought the baby's face toward her own and she lightly kissed it's nose.:: Stone: Well, John Jr. Welcome to the Universe. I guess we can't set up road blocks for you huh? Look out Mom I'm coming through kind of attitude I guess. :: Cura chuckled as the baby's face distorted somewhat and smiled at her.:: :;Lying back, Cura lay on her side, looking on the baby, which she lay on her bio bed. Her head propped up with her elbow and her free index finger holding the entire hand of her son.:: Stone: You got the Stone grip there, John. ::chuckles again:: You'll make a [...] good security officer me thinks. =/\=/\=/\=/\ =/\=/\=/\ =/\=/\=/\ = Cmdr Cura Assanti-Stone First Officer Starbase 118 Ops

Jack I just finished reading your story. I loved it. I could see the contrast of the ship in it's wrecked form, and later once it was restored. The character actions and motivations were moving. I hope I have the chance to read more of your entries here in the future.

Manabai’wok “Debauchery and Death are pleasant twins, And lavish with their charms, a buxom pair!” Charles Baudelaire “The Two Good Sisters” Lillian and Jillian served there time the same way they lived their lives, together. As the prisoners were paired alphabetically by name, it seemed the sisters were destined to never be separated. Their life sentences of hard labor found them in the desolate southern plains of Bajor. The sisters were being overseen by three guards as they made adobe style bricks. Bricks they would later use to build their own cells. The sun beat down on their backs, sweat had long ago soaked through the thin rags that were left of their prisoner outfits. The natural spring making the mud stank of sulfur. Mud caked the sisters’ arms to their shoulders, holding in the body heat, further helping to slowly cook them alive. Pvt Batell looked on the sisters with disgust. He was baffled how their lives were spared to this hellish existence. If they had been uncovered during the occupation the underground would have dealt with them differently. Unfortunately the provisional government had uncovered the ten years of espionage committed by the terran sisters. Now he was stuck here guarding them, powerless to meet out the proper punishment. “Please, we need water to drink,” pleaded Jillian for the fifth time in the past hour. As an answer another of the guards, Pvt Olara, brought the butt of his phaser rifle down on the back of the woman’s head. Jillian crumpled to the ground like a marrionet with cut strings. Lillian was left to look on, helpless to aid her sister, lest she receive a similar blow. Instead she continued to work, as the guards laughed at their handiwork. Thirst eventually overcame her. Desperate she finally overcome with thirst she brought the foul water of the spring to her mouth, hydration her only concern. “That’s right, if you need to drink you know where to get your water,” quipped Pvt Batell, “That’s more then a stinking spy like you deserves.” That night Lillian laid on the hard ground looking at the night sky. Slowly a wavering purple light appeared low in the sky. Gradually the wavering light began to grow into a long ribbon, the colors slowly growing into lighter hues. By the time the ribbon stretched out above the camp it had become a golden color, filling the better part of the sky. Lillian fell off to sleep as the dancing ribbon of light illuminated the sky above her. That night she dreamed of freedom on the plains of her home. Then every twenty days the shifting lights danced its’ way across the sky. The lights were always accompanied by the same dreams. After a year of incarceration, the bricks were finished, and now the walls of the sisters cells were half complete. More prisoners had joined there camp as well. The terran sisters had adapted to the brutal environment of the plains, but they did little to help their fellow prisoners. Their lessons had been hard learned, and they were not going to make the experience any easier on the others. Instead Lillian had decided to take on the ultimate challenge. She decided the sisters had to escape. So on the night the lights were to appear next, Lillian told her sister of her plan. “How can we do it?” Jillian asked her sisters. “We are in the middle of no where.” “That’s why we have to try now. We are building this prison of ours. They no we won’t run because we can not survive without their supplies,” responded Lillian. “Exactly, so how can you think we can do this?” asked Jillian. “Because I already have,” was the simple answer. “The lights are the way out.” “The lights?” Lillian thought for a moment to try and explain what they would have to do. “When the lights come you must concentrate. You must hold on to your mind, but let go of your body.” “What? What are you talking about?” “Since the first time we saw the lights I have been thinking. Back home, do you remember the Aurora Borealis? The northern lights. It was said the lights were the torches of the Manabai'wok, the hunters. The greatest hunters became one with the Manabai’wok, and they roamed all creation. The Manabai’wok have found us. If we want to leave this prison, we must join them. The great hunt shall be our escape.” The lights began their slow dance across the sky two hours later. The purple slowly turning into brilliant gold as the light advanced across the sky. Jillian looked deep into the lights, thinking on the advice Lillian had given her. She cleared her mind, holding only her desire to join in the hunt. The desire reached deep into the golden dance of lights. The scent filled her nostrils, the antelope were near. Jillian urged her horse onward. Far on the horizon she could see Lillian, tracking, on the scent as well. The next morning Pvt Batell and Sgt Wilke found the sisters Jillian and Lillian Horsekeeper laying on the ground before their tent. The sisters had not shown up for their morning shift, so the guards had come to deliver administrative punishment. A punishment that would be unnecessary now. The sisters had died in the night. The private and the sergeant wished good riddance to the sister spies. They then mustered up three prisoners to dispose of the bodies.

I think I have a workable idea. I just hope it does not stray too far from the topic. But there is only one way to find out, right? I look forward to reading what everyone else comes up with.

Lt. Kyrie Naz was a fine officer. It was a pleasure to serve with her. Kyrie always had a perspective on life that I could count on to make sense of what often seemed to be so senseless. I know with her loss your people have lost not only a daughter, but a treasured symbiont. I did not know Naz before the joining with Kyrie, so to me she was one person. Who brought what to Kyrie's personality is unknown to me, but I shall always feel blessed having known her. Information of our mission has been restricted, so I cannot go into the details of your daughter's death. But you must know that in my eyes Kyrie was a hero. Her actions were selfless and saved the lives of all those who served on the mission with her. She saved my life. I must admit an overwhelming sense of guilt comes to me as I write to you. In your loss, my life, and the lives of Kyrie Naz’s comrades continue on. There is no sense to what has happened in the past days, and the price on our lives feels heavy. All those who served with your daughter are sharing in your grief. Today was the memorial service for Kyrie Naz. As was in accord with your daughter’s wishes, her body was prepared in accordance with Trill traditions and is now en route to your world. The memorial service was observed for Lt. Kyrie Naz with full honors. It was my honor to present your daughter with the Metal of Valor, post mortem, at the service. There is no more difficult duty for a Star Fleet Captain to perform, then the writing of a letter such as this. The task is made nigh impossible for an officer, and a friend of the caliber of Kyrie Naz. I remember one of my first impressions of Kyrie. Upon meeting the fresh faced Ensign Naz, with near three hundred years of experience I tried hard to observe proper protocols when addressing a joined Trill. Most junior officers in her position would have said nothing of this. Your daughter was different though. It took two weeks for her to request that not only myself, but the rest of the crew call her Kyrie when not addressing her formally. As she later explained to me, her symbiont had concerns for overshadowing it’s host. Maybe it is wishful thinking, but I always felt the personal strength it would take to contradict superior officers came from Kyrie. On the morning of the fateful mission Kyrie and I spoke over breakfast. She spoke of you and all the support you gave her during education. She also spoke of a regret. It had very much to do with her youth, before the joining. She spoke of a lesson she was unsure of having learned, even to that day. From that regret a fear had grown in her, she said. Kyrie told me of the sacrifices her father had made. All he had given up to remain with his family. She told me of everything you both gave up to provide for her, and give her the chance for achieving her dream, to be joined. Her joining with Naz had made her aware of this very deep seated regret. She feared sacrifice. I have thought about this often since Lt Naz’s death. My thought’s keep coming back to that morning’s conversation. Given her selfless act I knew she had nothing to fear. Upon further consideration I also realized their was another factor at play there. Kyrie Naz had not only given her life, but the very heritage of her people. She learned her last and hardest lesson. And so through her sacrifice we have all learned an important lesson. So in fact, her sacrifices continued the true legacy of the Trill, the passing on of wisdom. We all have been touched and infused with the lessons of your daughter. We shall carry on her wisdom and continue its’ passage. I may not be able to tell you how your daughter’s death came about. But I can tell you how she died. She died with dignity and honor. She gave of herself for what she thought was right, and according to her people’s traditions. Knowing the events surrounding your daughter’s death I can only hope you believe me when I say they are irrelevant. All that matters is who Kyrie Naz was. She was a daughter, an officer, and a friend, and all who knew her are richer and wiser for it.

Lt. Kyrie Naz was a fine officer. It was a pleasure to serve with her. Kyrie always had a perspective on life that I could count on to make sense of what often seemed to be so senseless. I know with her loss your people have lost not only a daughter, but a treasured symbiont. I did not know Naz before the joining with Kyrie, so to me she was one person. Who brought what to Kyrie's personality is unknown to me, but I shall always feel blessed having known her. Information of our mission has been restricted, so I cannot go into the details of your daughters death. But you must know that in my eyes Kyrie was a hero. Her actions were selfless and saved the lives of all those who served on the mission with her. She saved my life. I must admit an overwhelming sense of guilt comes to me as I write to you. In your loss, my life, and the lives of Kyrie Naz’s comrades continue on. There is no sense to what has happened in the past days, and the price on our lives feels heavy. All those who served with your daughter are sharing in your grief. Today was the memorial service for Kyrie Naz. As was in accord with your daughter’s wishes her body was prepared in accordance with Trill traditions and is now en route to your world. The memorial service was observed for Lt. Kyrie Naz with full honors. It was my honor to present your daughter with the Metal of Valor, post mortem, at the service. There is no more difficult duty for a Star Fleet Captain to perform, then the writing of a letter such as this. The task is made nigh impossible for an officer, and a friend of the caliber of Kyrie Naz. Upon meeting the fresh faced Ensign Naz, with near three hundred years of experience I tried hard to observe proper protocols when addressing a joined Trill. Most junior officers in her position would have said nothing of this. Your daughter was different though. It took two weeks for her to request that not only myself, but the rest of the crew call her Kyrie when not addressing her formally. Apparently her symbiont had concerns for overshadowing it’s host. Maybe it is wishful thinking, but I always felt the personal strength it would take to contradict superior officers came from Kyrie. On the morning of the fateful mission Kyrie and I spoke over breakfast. She spoke of you and all the support you gave her during education. She also spoke of a regret. It had very much to do with her youth, before the joining. She spoke of a lesson she was unsure of having learned, even to that day. From that regret a fear had grown in her, she said. Kyrie told me of the sacrifice her father had made. All he had given up to remain with his family. She told me of everything you both gave up to provide for her, and give her the chance for achieving her dream, to be joined. Her joining with Naz had made her aware of this very deep seated regret. She feared sacrifice. I have thought about this often since Lt Naz’s death. My thought’s kept coming back to that morning’s conversation. Given her selfless act I knew she had nothing to fear. Upon further consideration I realized their was another factor at play here. Kyrie Naz had not only given her life, but the very heritage of her people. She learned her last and hardest lesson. And so through her sacrifice we have all learned an important lesson. So in fact she has not sacrificed the heritage of her people but continued the true legacy of the Trill, the passing on of wisdom. We all have been touched and infused with the lessons of your daughter. We shall carry on her wisdom and continue its’ passage. I may not be able to tell you how your daughter’s death came about. But I can tell you how she died. She died with dignity and honor. She gave of herself for what she thought was right, and according to her people’s traditions. Knowing the events surrounding your daughter’s death I can only hope you believe me when I say they are irrelevant. All that matters is who Kyrie Naz was. She was a daughter, an officer, and a friend, and all who knew her are richer and wiser for it.