"En Garde!"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla; Executive Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Location: USS Sulu; Lounge
Stardate: 57907.07; 00h45
***
Gamma Shift. And quite a bit to do. And stuck behind the bar. Stencil had
begged Farrell, who had just come in for a short bite before sacking out.
Business, the Bolian had said. Rare foodstuffs and liquors planetside, he
had said, and now was the only time he could get clear to take care of it.
At least it was quiet. Most beta-shifters went to bed after the shift.
Gamma was usually quiet that way. Farrell settled in for the hour he'd
agreed to, and started wiping down the counters.
The unimposing whisper of the lounge doors opening to signal the arrival of
a patron was the only sound, aside from his idle whistling, to accompany
Farrell while he worked. If he required a different distraction to fend off
any ensuring boredom, the spectacular view of Risa through the viewport
would do, even though it was an obstructed one now. His only patron of the
evening, the ornery, irritable executive officer remained where she was,
mesmerized by the vista she'd unwittingly stolen from Farrell.
It was an almost interminably long time before Lyrr Tayla turned and started
for the bar, surprisingly with a soft smile touching her lips. That rare
sight, however, vanished quickly once her eyes locked with his. The
stubborn, obdurate commander returned, complete with arms tightly folded
across her chest and lips pursed thin. By the time she reached the bar to
stare down Farrell, she'd almost succeeded in forming a scowl. "Ensign? You
don't look like a Bolian to me, and you certainly don't belong behind that
bar. So...what are you doing?"
Farrell smiled gamely. "Stencil's off planetside taking care of some
business. I can draw a line down the center of my face, if that would make
you feel more comfortable." He mimed the action with his finger.
"That still doesn't make you a bartender, Ensign," Lyrr answered
reprovingly. "This is highly unorthodox. I really don't approve."
"Try me," Farrell quipped, waving an arm in an arc toward the bottles behind
him. "What are you having tonight?" And as a sly afterthought, "Or shall I
take another guess."
Lyrr scoffed at him, then asked, "Just like that brandy was a guess? Really,
Ensign, you're a resourceful man." She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes
suspiciously at him. "So...who told you? Was it O'Shea? I swear if it
was..."
Farrell smiled, pushed a button on the replicator, and started setting up a
glass. "I still have yet to meet Doctor O'Shea. This being a shore-leave
time, I imagine I won't meet him until we're under way again. But nobody
has to tell me these things. All it takes is a little noodling," he paused
in his ingredient selection to tap his temple, "and most things are pretty
easy to figure."
Lyrr raised a single eyebrow, only marginally intrigued. "Things like Ensign
Collins' relationship with the late ambassador?" She chuckled, not at all
pleasantly, and slipped into the nearest bar chair. "That knowledge was
available to us before you decided to take it upon yourself to meddle,
Ensign."
"Collins was pretty easy to get a handle on, I admit. You, on the other
hand, were a little more difficult." Farrell took a beaker of boiling water
out of the replicator and set it to one side, removing a small cutting board
from a drawer. "Not impossible, mind, but more difficult than Collins,
certainly."
"Ensign, you hardly have a handle on me," Lyrr said, with a slight hint of
pride in her own inscrutability. "At any rate, your duty is your first
priority. Familiarizing yourself with every facet of your executive
officer's character is not. And tending bar is even less so."
Farrell held up a hand in surrender. "So can I ask you a question?" he
asked, taking a slice out of an orange and dropping the rest into Stencil's
juicer. He began pouring small amounts from several bottles into a
decent-sized port glass. One of the bottles had small gold flecks suspended
in the liquor.
Lyrr folded her arms on the bartop and watched Farrell's hands at work. "Is
it a duty-related question? If not, then I am inclined to say no...though I
imagine that wouldn't stop you from asking."
"We're off duty, Commander. I'll ask about duty when we're on the bridge."
Farrell stirred the several liquids and set the glass aside as he produced a
beautifully curved and fluted bottle, measured a portion from it in a tall
glass, and placed the glass carefully in the beaker of hot water. "What I
wanted to ask was, was I right about the Brandy?"
Shifting slightly in her seat, Lyrr cleared her throat. "You were," she
muttered. "But I still say it was a lucky guess, that's all."
Farrell smiled as he worked, testing the temperature of the glass. It
aparently wasn't ready yet, and he went about finding a stick of cinnamon
and some sort of thorny seeds, which he placed in a small straining cup
balanced atop a fresh glass. "A guess, sure. And a lucky one, too. Luck
laced with observation."
"Observation of what?" Lyrr asked impatiently. "I don't walk around
drunkenly with an opened bottle of brandy in my hand, Ensign." She smirked.
"Or do I just look like a...brandy kind of gal, as you humans would say."
"Well," chuckled Farrell, "that depends on how one determines that someone
is a brandy kind of gal. You, for example, live a life of stress. The
captain, by all accounts, is a pretty freewheeling guy, and if that's true,
then you probably feel like you have to run everything. If that's true,
then you live with a lot of stress. Stressed people all have little
pleasures; ways they indulge when nobody's looking."
"I don't indulge," Lyrr replied stiffly. She shrugged, however, and motioned
for Farrell to continue.
"You specifically are a Bajoran, and you're about 30. So you were old
enough to know what was going on during the Cardassian Occupation. Given
the sort of person you obviously are, you probably went without certain
little luxuries so that others could benefit. That, generally speaking,
would include sweets."
Lyrr refrained from validating Farrell's assumptions with even an
imperceptible nod, and instead lowered her eyes to her fingers, now
compulsively picking at the hem of her sleeve.
"Now I've had a little experience with Bajoran liquor, and it's terrible. I
guess any occupied people lose track of their luxury industries first, and
most of the stuff brewed on Bajor now will make a body blind. So if you do
drink, you probably don't drink native stuff."
"Given that you probably don't drink liquor native to Bajor, and given that
you probably didn't get much in the way of sweets growing up, I'd say that
if you do drink now, you'd go for something sweet. Thus, Brandy. A guess,
but a guess based on observation." He tested the temperature of the glass,
nodded, added the assorted liquids, poured the whole thing over the cinnamon
and seeds, and set the completed concoction aside with the orange wedge
stuck on the rim. He looked levelly at Lyrr. There was no humor, but there
was also nothing arrogant in his tone. "How am I doing?"
Lyrr held Farrell's gaze, her own giving nothing away. One side of her lip
twitched with what was either an incipient smile, or a sneer, but neither
formed. "You're very perceptive, Mr. Farrell," she said tightly. "And you're
right about some things. No, there were no such things as candy or
confections when I was a child. Yes, Bajoran liquor is horrid, and most
likely noxious. But, Ensign, you're not as clever as you think you are."
Lyrr did smile this time, but it was tinged with rue. "I drink it because I
like the colour, that's all."
Farrell leaned away from her with an intrigued smile of his own, clearly
digesting that revelation. Lyrr heard the soft grind of the glass on the
counter as Farrell slid it between them. "Tell me what you think of this
particular shade."
Lyrr inclined her head to examine the steaming liquid, then shrugged. "A
little off... What is it?"
"A Saurian Toddy. Hot Brandy, in this case Saurian, with several other
ingredients, particularly cinnamon, orange juice, pomegranate, and cloves."
Lyrr's nose wrinkled at the thought of what such an odd combination would
taste like, but after leaning forward and taking a whiff, her distaste waned
slightly. "I didn't order this. Am I supposed to drink it, then?"
"Well, it's not for bathing," Farrell quipped, loading the mixing glassware
into Stencil's sanitizer. "And you don't always have to issue an order to
get something good."
Lyrr, amused for the first time all evening, chuckled. "Oh no? My job is to
give orders, Ensign. But--" she raised the mug to her lips "--if it's got
brandy, it can't be that bad."
Lyrr blew at the heated liquor to cool it slightly, at the same time
fighting off the reflexive grimace being triggered by the indecisively
offensive aroma. She glanced uncertainly at Farrell, noticing his expectant
look and at once regretting that she hadn't paid more attention to what was
going into the beverage. However, she'd imbibed a lot worse during the
Occupation, when anything intoxicating enough to take one's mind off the
war, no matter how awful it tasted, was considered fit for consumption;
Farrell's concoction could not be that bad. And after one sip, she decided
it wasn't bad in least.
She allowed the warm liquid to fill her mouth and immerse her tongue before
swallowing it down. It warmed everything it touched as it traveled from
throat to stomach, giving her cheeks a rosy glow in the process. Its flavour
was at once spicy, yet sweet with a hint of tang from the orange juice and a
pleasing kick from the warmed brandy. She barely noticed she was smiling
until she caught Farrell grinning back with what she interpreted as obvious
self-satisfaction. Whatever delight she was expressing disappeared
immediately when she set her mouth into a hard line again.
"It's...passable," she said, setting the mug down.
"I'm glad it's at least that," Farrell started the sanitizer's cycle, and
recommenced wiping down the bar counter. "I hear the new helm officer and
her wolf are in the brig," Farrell remarked offhandedly, not looking at
Lyrr.
Lyrr sighed wearily and felt the knots in her shoulders returning. "Thank
you so much for reminding me, Ensign," she retorted. "And yes, you heard
correctly. I can't imagine why, but apparently shore leave is a very
stressful time for some officers."
"Just making conversation," Farrell held up his hands, surrendering again.
He finished wiping down the counter. "Mind if I tell you a story?"
Lyrr shrugged noncomittally, then motioned for Farrell to proceed as she
took another sip of her drink.
"On Earth, the wolf has always had a bad reputation. Ever since humans
started raising livestock and exploring the wilderness, wolves got blamed
for all manner of terrible things. They killed cattle, carried off
children, the whole bit." The sanitizer beeped sloftly, and Farrell opened
its hatch to begin drying the contents with a fresh rag.
Lyrr nodded slowly, taking in the information and hoping Farrell was
planning on steering it towards something a little more interesting. She
glanced up at him expectantly, awaiting his next pearl of wisdom, but it
didn't seem forthcoming. "So they killed a lot of livestock. So what?"
"At least, that's what everyone said they did. There was rarely any proof
that wolves were actually responsible. But they were mysterious, and so
they were frightening. So they got the blame, and got turned into the
favorite monsters of folklore whether they deserved it or not." Farrell
paused to scrape at a spot on a glass with his fingernail. He seemed
satisfied with the result, and set it on its shelf, picking up another to
dry.
"It took a couple of thousand years for naturalists to figure out that
wolves are actually pretty passive. Sure, they'd kill livestock. That was
instinct. But all the stuff about them killing people, that got
debunked."
Lyrr sat back against her seat and chuckled dryly. "Oh, I see. This is some
conspiracy theory story, is it? Ok...I'll play along. So...what happened
next?"
"Problem was, people still had such a fear of wolves that quite a few
wouldn't accept the research. After all, it was new research, flying in the
face of two thousand years of popular hysteria. I suppose you really can't
blame people for being closed-minded that way. But still, it was a raw deal
for the wolves, who got hunted almost to extinction."
Lyrr stared down into the tepid liquid sitting in her mug, realizing what
exactly Farrell was getting at. She kept back any comments for the time
being, hoping he would give her more ammunition for a verbal attack when his
tale was ended.
"It's funny to think that if people would have just put aside the rumors,
looked at the research for themselves, and taken an objective look at wolf
behavior, the wolves would have been spared all that hatred," Farrell
trailed off, setting the last of the glasses, sparkling clean, on their
shelf.
"That...certainly was an interesting story," Lyrr said tightly. It was
surprising how quickly one individual could irritate her so. "However, I
would prefer it, Ensign, if you took the direct approach instead of hiding
behind some...morality story." She fixed her dispassionate gaze upon him,
then, and leaned forward to whisper, "If you have a problem with the way I'm
doing things, Ensign, then express your concerns to me. Don't attempt to
appease me with strange, human concoctions so that you can feed me foolish
tales about wolves that have no meaning whatsoever to me. It really is quite
annoying."
"You think I have a problem with the way you do things?" Farrell leaned
forward as well, whispering to match Lyrr.
"I think you have a problem with the way I treat you," she corrected.
"That's what the brandy was for, and that's what that show of initiative
today was about. You won't change my opinion of you simply by attempting to
curry favour. In fact, that could only ever lower my opinion of you
further....Ensign."
"And what exactly is," Farrell's voice remained low, and he didn't move; the
faces of the officers were inches apart across the bar, "your opinion of
me?" He was not angry at all. Indeed, he was shockingly calm. "You've
been itching to spell it out to me from the moment I stepped off the
transporter pad. Fire at will."
"Fine," Lyrr said curtly. "You're brash and cocky, and that often leads to
mistakes. Dare I mention the little incident on Starbase 242?" She chuckled
humourlessly. "You got off easy, Ensign, and I don't think you should have.
Your impulsiveness leads to mistakes, and I will not tolerate mistakes on
this vessel, especially not at the hands of an arrogant, self-satisfied
officer who shouldn't even be allowed to wear a Starfleet uniform." Lyrr
shifted in her seat, making certain her eyes were squarely on his and fully
revealing the hard edge in them. "No amount of ingratiation, no level of
self-serving opportunism, and no bottles of aged brandy are going to change
that, or my opinion of you." Lyrr paused to catch her breath, then ended
with, "Understood...Ensign?"
"Am I to understand," Farrell did not flinch away, "that you are unhappy
with an incident that happened four years ago, at which you were not
present, and over which you had and continue to have no control?" He paused
for a split-second.
"That's what this is about, isn't it," His voice carried a tone of
revelation, and then the words came quick and biting. "Control. You crave
it. You need it. And if you were actually to make a friend you'd have to
surrender some of it. You've got yourself so wound up that any loss of
control sends you spinning. It doesn't even have to be you that loses the
control. Anyone around you that cracks, ever, for any reason, draws your
fire. That's what this is about, isn't it? And every time I've gotten
close, you've clamped down. Every time I find a chink in your armor, you
block it full of bile. You can't stand even the thought of losing a micron
of control, ever, for any reason."
Lyrr emitted an amused chuckle as she slowly sat back, still keeping her
eyes fully on Farrell. "Another fault of yours, Ensign - you presume too
much. I have no friends because that is what I choose for myself. And
frankly, friends such as you are ones a person could do without. Yes, I'm
controlling, domineering at times, but that's called being a strong,
independent woman, Ensign, something you could never understand, which makes
me inclined to add male chauvinist to the list of adjectives under which you
fall."
"Running away?" Farrell stayed where he was, leaning across the bar toward
Lyrr. "Of course you choose not to have friends. Friends are dangerous to
people like you. And here you are again, deflecting and clamping down.
Farrell's too close. I'll insult him and see if he gets rattled. Have I
even gotten your best yet? Brash Chauvinist? That's all you've got? Come
on, Commander. Full power to the phasers. Don't hold back."
"I will not take the bait, Ensign," Lyrr said calmly. "I'm far more
disciplined than you seem to give me credit for. Besides, I really don't see
the point of this. Trying to befriend me is pointless, and something I don't
want. You're just trying to get in good with the strict commander so she'll
show you some lenience when you screw up. Is that it?"
"You won't take mine, and you expect me to take yours?" Farrell leaned back
himself, and grinned wolfishly. "If every show of initiative on my part is
going to look like currying favor to you, then brace yourself. I'm just
getting started."
"As am I, Ensign," she replied with a none too pleasant smirk. Chuckling
wryly, Lyrr pushed away her cold drink and slipped off the chair. "I
suggest, Ensign, that you get your act together because if you don't, you'll
be cleaning bars for a living." She set her mouth into its characteristic
hard line and added, "I'll see you on the bridge, and it had better be at
1600 sharp. Good evening, Ensign." And with a terse nod, she started away.
"Commander," Farrell called after her.
Lyrr halted, and with a heavy, irritated sigh, she faced him again. "What?"
"Good night," he said, with a genuine smile.
And in return, Farrell received only a derisive snort and a view of Lyrr's
back as she stalked out of the lounge.
"Propositions, Part 3"
By: Lieutenant j.g. Michael Ashbury - Engineering Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Location: USS Sulu, Cargobay Two
Stardate: 57907.07, 04h58
***
Michael's eyes opened exactly two minutes before five. His internal clock
had never failed to wake him before the start of a duty shift. Sam usually
teased that it was his genes; she had always relied on him as her alarm
clock. Michael rose quietly to fix coffee and review any messages while Sam
got first dibs on the bathroom.
"Lieutenant Michael Ashbury, sir, this is Ensign Farrell, Operations.
Please contact me as soon as you get this message. I need a good flybike
mechanic, and I understand you can either help or point me in the right
direction. Thanks."
"Flybike?" Michael muttered. "Haven't worked on one of those in years.
Computer, where is Ensign Farrell?"
"Ensign Farrell is in his quarters," the computer responded.
"Probably asleep." Michael sighed.
"Computer, notify Ensign Farrell that I've received his message and that
I'll be glad to help. Mark message as 'urgent,' audio signal only."
The computer chirped in response. In moments, the 'incoming' chirp sounded.
"That was fast." Michael was surprised. "Ensign Farrell?"
"Thank you for responding so quickly, sir. Can I meet you in Cargobay Two
at 06h00?
"I'll be there, Ensign. See you at 06h00."
***
Cargobay Two was primarily foodstuffs. Today, however, there was a
particularly notable addition. Farrell was sitting on a crate, looking
thoughtfully at a long, slender flybike. The main body cowling was missing;
in fact, it was nowhere to be seen. Several auxiliary panels were also
missing, providing easy access to all the mechanical inner workings.
Farrell rose to greet the Lieutenant, and extended his hand.
"Ensign Mason Farrell, sir. Pleased to meet you."
"Same, Ensign. What can I help you with?" Michael asked curiously.
"I'd first like to apologize for taking you away from your breakfast. I
wanted to catch you before you went on duty." Farrell turned to the
flybike. "I've been invited to participate in a street race down on Risa,
and got hold of this old bike to race with. I gave it a good once-over, and
it's mechanically sound. I was looking for someone who could juice it up a
little." He finished with the smile of one man speaking to another about
making machines more powerful.
Michael strode around the bike, looking it over thoughtfully. It appeared to
be an older model of the TX-6000, an excellent bike but any bikes produced
in the past ten years or so would have a significant speed advantage.
Michael knelt to look inside the main engine compartment. There was enough
room to add an ion suppressor and plenty of power to overclock it if
necessary. They could also, with a little reworking of the engine
components, add in an extra engine nozzle for an extra boost of speed at a
critical moment.
"How long do we have?" Michael looked up with a grin.
"Well, that may be a problem. The race is scheduled for tonight, in the wee
hours. Accounting for travel time and such, I'd say I've got--" Farrell
paused to think a moment "--eighteen hours?"
Michael sat down on a crate, eyebrows furrowed in thought. It would take a
good two or three hours to install everything, maybe an hour or two for
testing, another couple of hours for tweaking and some more time for
testing.
"I think we can do it," he said finally. "I switched to beta shift tonight
so my wife could do some alpha shift work but I think we can get it done by
then." Michael stood up.
"Excellent," Farrell said with a grin. "What do you need?"
"Okay." Michael grinned also. He walked over to the storage space in the
cargobay for an extra padd to pull up some schematics. "We'll need a type 9A
ion suppressor. An extra engine nozzle. We'll go with a TX-8800 nozzle for
the speed boost. A new power supply will keep the engines from overheating
and we can overclock the suppressor; we'll go with the -8800 there also. A
little wiring for the extra power, some pre-2370 isolinear chips and two
tool kits from engineering."
Michael looked up. "There aren't any rules on enhancing these bikes are
there? We'll be basically turning the engine of this thing into an -8800
bike but all the commands and controls will be the -6000 version."
Mason had been nodding along as Michael ticked off his parts list, and took
a moment to register the question. "So far as I know, the only real rule is
that a given craft has to be built for and hold a single rider without an
enclosure. After that--" he winked "--anything goes."
"Great! Maybe we should modify those controls if we have time, too," Michael
mused. "Might help with anything that pops up down there."
"I can find you these parts, no problem," said Mason. "Which brings me to
the more important question. What do you want?"
"Just to see the race." Michael shrugged. "I haven't seen a bike race since
I was on Antares III. What time is the actual race?"
"That shouldn't be a problem. Although it's liable to be a little rowdy.
It's not happening in the tourist area. But if you're alright with a little
rougher crowd it's supposed to start at 02h00."
"I'll definitely be there." Michael frowned slightly. "Now I just have to
talk my wife into letting me go. Well, let's see what we can do about these
parts."
"Yes, sir."
"Risky Endeavours"
by Ensign Ethan Storm - Security Officer
Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer
and Doctor M'Lira - Assistant CMO
Location: Corridor and Holodeck 1, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07, 05h33
***
Ethan Storm came around the corridor corner outside Holodeck 1 at a rush
and was
pleasantly surprised to find Commander Lyrr already there, waiting at the
double doors. The young Bajoran woman was outfitted in a standard
springball
uniform of a spandex bodysuit, which removed any bulk that might hinder one's
movements, yet was unrestrictive enough to provide comfort and
flexibility. The top of Lyrr's outfit was coloured a shade of burgundy, encompassing
her sleeves and torso, but stopping beneath her bosom; the rest of the
material, running from the remainder of her torso, straight down both legs, and
disappearing into the athletic shoes she wore was fully gray. Tucked
under
one arm was a gleaming black helmet, and held in her other hand was a
leather glove that showed signs of much wear. Storm consciously made an
effort not to stare but the female form could look quite nice in a
Springball outfit, especially when the said female was in exceptional
shape.
That appeared to be the case with Commander Lyrr.
"Good morning, Commander," Storm offered pleasantly. Ethan was dressed
similarly to Tayla but had made some modifications to the traditional
outfit,
mirroring the changes he was planning the sport itself. His body suit was
all black except for the inverted gold colored V-shape that ran across
his chest. His well-muscled arms were bare except for black elbow pads and
the helmet atop his head, which had been trimmed and streamlined to near
uselessness. His glove was shiny and new.
"Good morning, Ensign," Lyrr returned with a polite smile. She motioned
her
eyes pointedly to his outfit and said, "I see you're all ready to go. Did
you just replicate all that today?"
"Last night," Storm chuckled. "I did tell you I was really looking
forward
to this. But I had hoped to beat you here and finish the mods, so we could
just jump in with both feet."
"We can finish them together," Lyrr volunteered readily. "Go ahead and
show me what you've got so far."
Storm smiled, walked past the Commander and with a few deft key punches,
called up Storm Extreme Springball 1-C, causing the doors to slide open
with
a small boom. Storm gestured for Lyrr to enter first and followed close
behind.
Upon first glance, Lyrr noticed nothing different, save for the variation in
colours of the foul lines, serving boxes, and targets. She raised an
eyebrow at Storm, but saved any inquiries until she'd surveyed the court
fully. After moving in closer, she detected a slight alteration in the
court's width. She mentally measured the distance from left to right, and
noted that approximately a meter had been shaved off.
Next, Lyrr walked
the
length of the court, back and forth twice, then looked up at Storm with
clear surprise. "There's almost two meters missing! And combined with the
reduction in width, I think you've just created the galaxy's most
dangerous
springball game." After a pause, Lyrr smiled slowly. "I can't wait to
try
it out."
Storm had been at the arch still punching in code while Lyrr was busy
surveying the floor plan. "Let me show you the scoring progression," he
volunteered. After keying in the command, the brightly colored score ovals
flashed once, then reduced in size. Storm repeated the process four more
times just to give Lyrr an idea of how small the score zone would get. As
he'd indicated in the lounge, the foul zones increased in direct
proportion.
"And they decrease in size after each round?" she asked, studying the
ovular
goal areas. "I doubt anyone could hit that centre mark...unless they've
got
a keen eye and an accurate shot."
"That is exactly the idea," Storm said with a broad grin. His eyes
narrowed with a sly thought. "Of course, if you think it's too difficult
for
you..." He left the thought unfinished.
Lyrr's lips curled into a challenging smile. She turned to face Storm
with
it, then methodically placed on her helmet and slipped on her glove.
"Now,"
she said, "where's that ball?"
***
Dr. M'lira sighed as she ran the medical scanner over Ethan Storm's
cranium. "No permanent damage," she muttered. "But, next time you engage
in a frivolous activity such as Extreme Springball, Ensign, I highly
recommend that you wear a helmet." She turned back to Commander Lyrr,
who was holding a dermal patch in place, a new technology that was
supposed to be slightly more advanced than the dermal regenerator. "I am
just glad I don't serve on a ship of Klingons, though the two of you seem
to be the closest we've got. How's your eye, Commander?"
"Better," she answered, opening it and blinking a few times to test it.
"Seems to be working still. Thank you, Doctor."
"Please tell me this isn't going to become a regular activity," the
Caitian
doctor said. "Starfleet does actually have a finite amount of medical
supplies available to this sort of incident you know. I assure you,
three-dimensional chess is a challenging and thrilling game."
"For an analytical mind such as yours, Doctor," Lyrr pointed out. "But
some
of us just like the good, old fashioned adrenaline rush sometimes." She
winced as the remark seemed to earn her a less than delicate examination
of
her sore knee by the doctor.
"How's that adrenaline?" M'lira asked with a smirk. "I do not understand
the desire to do yourself bodily harm all in the name of an adrenaline
rush. The stresses you place on your body in these activities... You
weren't made for this sort of thing, Commander. None of us, save
Jem'Hadar
were. In the future, you should consider activities that aren't designed
to land you in here nursing a dozen wounds, two dozen in the ensign's
case."
Lyrr glanced back at where the ensign was sitting and smiled smugly. "I
guess that means I won then?"
Ethan grinned back. "I don't see how you can declare victory, Commander.
There was hardly any blood."
"Only because I went easy on you," she shot back. "Admit it, I--" Lyrr
sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her hand away from M'Lira's less than
gentle touch. "Doctor! A little more delicate, please?" She rubbed her
tender wrist, and held it far out of M'lira's reach.
M'lira raised an eyebrow as she regarded Lyrr. Then she laughed. "I'm
sorry," she said. "It's just that I've always found it amusing that a
patient will willingly go out and beat themselves into jelly, and then
they
complain if my administering their wounds is less-than-delicate."
"Well...it is," Lyrr said gruffly. "So be careful. This is my glove
hand,
you know."
"I'll make you a deal," M'lira said with a half-smile. "I'll be more
careful with your glove hand if you be more careful with the rest of your
body, including your glove hand. And, that goes for both of you."
Lyrr raised an eyebrow at Storm, then regarded M'Lira again with a
grudging
smile. "Alright. No more extreme springball...for a while."
"Actually, nothing strenuous for either of you for the next two days at
least. Though, I would recommend against this sport for a long time,
especially if you are going to be inadequately protected." She gave Ethan
a pointed look. "If I catch either of you exerting yourself beyond light
duty, I will invoke my power as acting chief medical officer, and have you
removed from duty until I feel you're ready to go back on duty."
"I suppose," Ethan began, hopping down from the biobed and failing to hide
the accompanying wince. "We could resize the court and get her a little
closer to standard. And I could replicate a proper helmet." Storm looked
at
M'lira and smiled politely. "All in the interest of conserving medical
supplies and staying on duty, of course."
"That's all very well," M'lira said. "But, you can do so after the two
days are up." She gave him a toothy smile. "You're always welcome to
test
me, Ensign. Though, I would recommend brushing up on three-dimensional
chess and other non-strenuous activities if you do."
Storm continued to smile but nodded absently as he began to think ways to
make three-dimensional chess extreme. Maybe if you did it on the holodeck,
life-sized,
and physically replaced the pawns with hoards of Mugato...
"Well, don't worry, Doctor," Lyrr interjected. "I think Ensign Storm will
be making some modifications to his design." She directed a pointed gaze
at
the ensign and added, "Such as a larger court and perhaps balls that don't
fly at 100 kilometers per hour?"
"Just one second, Commander," Storm said with a laugh, holding up his hands
and trying hard to look incredulous. "No one said anything about slowing
down the ball."
"If that's the case," Lyrr returned, "then you'd better watch where you
put
your elbow next time."
Storm laughed and limped towards the exit, feeling his ribs while he
walked.
"With all due respect, Commander, I think you're the one who should
watch
where you put your elbow. Your last bodycheck stretched the regulations of
Extreme Springball. And I haven't even written them yet." He looked back
over his shoulder at the attractive Bajoran female and smiled. "But if you
buy me a cup of coffee, we'll call it even."
"So Stencil's started charging?" She gave him a teasing smile, then
rolled
down her pant leg and hopped off the biobed. "Thank you for your
assistance, Doctor. If we require anymore mending, we can hobble to your
aid, I'm sure."
"You're welcome, Commander," M'lira answered with a smile. "Perhaps, if
you have time free soon, we could have lunch together in the lounge? If
you're interested, of course."
"Bring a medical kit, and it's a deal." Lyrr chuckled and retrieved her
helmet and glove from the nearby console. "I'll meet you in the lounge at
12h00 then, barring any problems, of course."
M'lira grinned. "I'll be there," she said. "Now, both of you stay safe
and in one piece."
"We'll try," Lyrr sang, then shot M'Lira a parting smile and caught up to
Ensign Storm. "So," she began as they started down the corridor, "I'm
thinking pads and full body armour. You?"
"I'm thinking," Storm began with a quick furtive glance back to make sure
the sickbay doors had closed. "We should stock up on dermal patches and take
subspace courses in advanced first aid. We need to keep Dr. M'lira out of
the loop." He grinned broadly and hoped the XO knew he was kidding.
"Or, we you could stop being so clumsy," Lyrr retorted. "But all joking
aside, you're a pretty good springball player." She smiled and added
playfully, "For a human. But I think where you're lacking is in your serve.
Now, I'm one of those who thinks the serve is the most important part of any
springball match, and if your serve isn't up to standards, then the rest of
your game will suffer."
"Or in our case, the players will suffer," Storm said with another painful
stretch. He looked at Lyrr. "Are you offering to help me with my serve,
Commander?"
Lyrr shrugged, then regretted it as she aggravated a sore spot the doctor
seemed to have missed. "If you would like me to help, I'd be glad to," she
answered, rotating her shoulder to loosen the knot there. "But don't think
I'm going to teach you my serve. That's a secret I'm keeping for a while."
Storm was nodding and smiling, mostly at the thought in his head. "Did you
happen to glance at a chronometer when Dr. M'lira issued her restriction?
I'd like to reserve the holodeck for exactly forty-eight hours later."
"I'd say it's about 07h30," Lyrr replied. "And you do know she'll probably
flay you if you do." She smiled at him, but nothing to indicate she was
joking.
"She did only say two days light duty," Storm reminded Lyrr with a chuckle.
"The suggestion to lay off Extreme Springball for longer was merely a
recommendation. It has been duly noted." Storm continued to look at Lyrr
warmly as they walked, opened his mouth as if to say something else, but
instead said nothing. The hesitation hung thickly in the air.
Lyrr watched him sidelong, noting his odd behaviour, then finally broke the silence and asked, "Is
there something the matter, Ensign? If you're worried about Doctor M'lira's
warning..."
Storm looked ahead and kept walking but a smile touched his mouth.
"Permission to speak freely, Commander?" he asked simply.
"Well we're not exactly on duty," she pointed out. "So, of course."
"But as the Executive Officer, you're always on duty," Storm said, the smile
growing a bit broader. "At least, technically. Correct?"
Lyrr chuckled. "Well...technically, that's right. But even if that's the
case, your permission is still granted."
Storm stopped in the corridor, prompting Commander Lyrr to do the same and
they turned to face one another. "I like you, Commander," Ethan
said, smiling broadly. "And I don't like everyone. Ask around." He paused
briefly to give the words that followed weight. "Given your position and
responsibility, I thought it was important for you to know that if I happen
to call on you, it won't necessarily be to help me with my serve."
Lyrr studied Storm's face with great scrutiny. Not one, herself, who was very
familiar with whatever it was that was involved in initiating a less than
platonic relationship, Lyrr frowned, and said, "Ensign...I'm not sure I
understand precisely what you're saying.... And if what I am understanding is right, then I'm
not exactly sure I like what I'm hearing."
"I believe you understand me fine," Storm said without missing a beat and
without losing his smile. "And as for you liking it, just remember that I
did ask permission, Commander."
"I realize that, Ensign," Lyrr answered calmly, "and the speaking frankly
part is not what I'm having trouble with... It's the implication of what
you're telling me. If it's...the prospect of a romantic relationship you're
attempting to discuss with me..." Lyrr cleared her throat and shifted
uncomfortably where she stood. "Ensign...before I jump to conclusions,
please explain to me what other activities you will be calling upon me for
if not springball."
Storm flushed crimson an instant before he laughed. When he considered that
courting may have not have been high on the list of priorities during the
Occupation as well as his unfortunate wording, he could see how the literal
minded Lyrr got confused. "I was simply letting you know that I might be
interested in asking you on a proper date." He grinned at the Commander
hopefully. "If you believe that improper, please remember that I just
received a head wound courtesy of Lyrr's Comet."
Lyrr's face remained expressionless, save for the puzzled frown lightly
touching her lips. If all men asked women out on dates in such an enigmatic
manner as Ensign Storm had previously, she only wondered how many she had
been offered in the past without her knowledge. She had been invited to
dinner by Sean many times on Bajor, but she'd never considered those dates.
As far as she knew, they were simply two friends sharing a meal, and nothing
more, although she had always wished it had been more. This time, with
Storm, it was and Lyrr was admittedly flattered, yet uptight.
She refrained
from smiling in response to his request, and instead answered levelly, "If
that is the case, Ensign - in the future, of course - it would probably be
wise that you instead propose lunch. It would be a less intimate gathering,
one I would be more comfortable with, and one that would not promote rumours
regarding the status of our...relationship." She was hesitant to use the
word, but it was the only one that fit in that moment. "We have simply
played springball; that is hardly a solid basis for a friendship let alone
a...a...well..." Lyrr cleared her throat again and pressed her lips thinly.
For once she regretted not being more active on the social front in the
past. If she had been, at least she would be more adept at rejecting
Storm's offer. Lyrr sighed. "Lunch, alright? If you contact me for
something other than springball, it will have to be an innocent lunch, is
that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Storm affirmed, smiling, seemingly unperturbed by her reaction.
"But I guess that means coffee is out and that gives me just enough time to
get a
shower." He looked directly into Lyrr's eyes. "Thank you for the game,
Commander. And the concussion."
Lyrr smiled at that. "Anytime, Ensign." Then adding quickly, "About the
concussion, I mean."
Storm laughed at that, nodded politely, and took off down the corridor at a
brisk pace. His muscles complained but he only had a scant few minutes to
grab a shower and get to Main Security before his shift began. He'd have
more time to reflect on this morning's events when his work was done. It
wasn't exactly a rousing success, asking out his XO, but at least he'd
asked. Not asking would have been the failure.
"Holo-Surgery"
by Lieutenant Mark Thaine, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant (j.g.) Michael Ashbury, Engineer
Ensign Viraj, Operations Officer [NPC+]
Lieutenant (j.g.) Andrea Rhea, Unassigned Counsellor
and Lieutenant Grixble Flummux [NPC+]
Location: USS Sulu, Mark Thaine's Quarters
Stardate: 57907.07, 06h43
***
"Dammit...it's here somewhere...I could have sworn it..." The engineer let
out a string of curses. In response, over his quarters' sound system, the
soft laughter of a woman rang out.
Thaine glared over at the his console terminal, and at the image of the
attractive blonde counsellor displayed on it. "Well, I'm glad you find this
funny."
Andrea rolled her blue eyes, and regarded him with a fond smile. "Mark, what
have you lost exactly."
"The latest engineering journal...only got it last week...it had an article
on data storage and holo-matrices..." Thaine continued to search the living
room part of his quarters. Another curse followed, this time in Klingon.
"Have you tried on the floor next to your bed?" Andrea suggested, calmly.
Thaine thought for a moment. "No..." he said, and quickly hurried into his
bedroom. He returned, a little embarrassed, with the missing PADD. He
muttered a thanks. Andrea just laughed at him, and then regarded him with
her head slightly tilted to one side. "So...and I'm not complaining, I love
surprise calls like this...but was there something you wanted to talk to me
about?"
The engineer nodded, and folded his arms uncomfortably. "Are you still
passing by Risa, later today?"
She nodded. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to stop by or not--"
"I'd love you to," blurted out the engineer. "That is...if you want to?" he
tried to recover.
Andrea laughed. "Of course I would. I'll see you in a few hours then?"
Thaine nodded. "See you then. But now I've really got to go, there's a
holo-matrix falling apart on me..."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you see," she teased him. "Go on, I'll see you later.
Rhea out." The screen faded to darkness, and Thaine tapped his comm-badge.
"Thaine to Ashbury. Are you all set to meet me down in Sickbay? I know it's
early, and I'm sorry to drag you away from your leave, but I need someone
with experience for this."
"Not a problem, sir. On my way." Michael set down a padd with the flybike
schematics on it. He hoped this wouldn't take long. It would be an hour or
two while Farrell tracked down or replicated all the parts necessary for the
bike enhancement. Hopefully, that would be enough time to figure out what
was happening with the sickbay holo-matrix systems.
By the time Ashbury made it to Sickbay, Thaine was already unpacking the
needed tools, and looking unusually cheerful as he spoke with ensign Viraj.
"Glad you decided to help us on this, Ensign," he was saying, before looking
up and greeting Michael with a brisk nod.
"Morning, sir," Michael said cheerfully.
"You two know each other?" The Chief Engineer looked between the Ensign and
the Lieutenant.
Chagrined, Viraj shrugged and admitted, "I...don't even know what his name
is."
"Michael Ashbury," Ashbury said with a grin, holding out his hand.
"Viraj," the Deltan said in response, and then grimaced, because of his
discomfort with handshaking. He imperceptibly took a deep breath, and
pressed his palm, which was mostly covered by his too-long sleeve, against
Michael's palm. Remembering that he was supposed to grasp the hand, he
squeezed a little too tight and then relaxed his hand entirely for the
shaking motion.
"Right," said Thaine, "now that introductions are out of the way...here's
what we're going to do." He looked between the two of them, as if trying to
determine something. He nodded slightly, apparently satisfied.
"Ensign..." He looked to the Operations officer. "You're going to stay in
Sickbay, and wait for instructions from us. We need someone to take a look
at the EMH as we make the repairs. And you, Lieutenant..." He looked to the
Engineer. "You're coming with me, into the 'tubes and above the Sick Bay, so
we can get a good look at the Holo Emitters." He gestured to the nearest
access port. "And then I guess we'll see how things develop, and proceed from
there. Any questions?"
Viraj shook his head, responding negative.
Ashbury opened his mouth to ask how long this might take, then thought
better of it. There really wasn't much he could do about it anyway and
fixing the bike was, strictly speaking, an extracurricular activity. He also
shook his head negatively.
Thaine nodded. "Right. Let's get on with it then."
***
The Jefferies tubes were, as always, cramped. The ones above Sickbay seemed
especially so, and the lights were dimmer than in other parts of the 'tubes.
The two engineers were hunched over, uncomfortable in the confined space,
peering at the holo-emitters; specifically at the memory storage, where
Thaine had suggested the error might be found.
Thaine rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, and noted he needed to shave.
Especially before Andrea arrived... "What do you think?" he asked.
Ashbury scanned the emitter with his tricorder, shaking his head. "Well, the
emitters themselves are working fine. Power emissions are nominal, no odd
activity there."
He reached in and pulled out one memory chip, deactivating it so the power
emissions wouldn't interfere with a scan of the chip's composite structure.
"The chip itself appears to be okay," Michael said. He reached into the
engineering case he'd brought along and pulled out a memory archival unit,
the type used in a holodeck, and inserted the memory chip. A quick scan of
the unit revealed the problem. "That's it. It's the power emissions of the
chips. They're off by 0.03 percent. Not much but it's still enough to cause
problems with a holographic projection over time."
Michael looked around in curiosity. "Strange. I've seen the problem before
in the Akira class but never in an Intrepid class. Used to build these
things too..." He looked at Thaine. "We'll have to replace all the memory
chips, just to be safe."
Thaine nodded, and rubbed his chin. "Well, let's get some sent over." He
tapped his comm-badge. "Thaine to Jenson."
The reply came over the comm-link; a young man's voice. "Jenson here, sir."
"Crewman, I need you to bring some holo-matrix memory chips down to
sick-bay. How many have we got in stock?"
There was silence on the other end of the comm-link, causing Thaine to
frown.
"Crewman?"
"Didn't they tell you, sir? We're still waiting for a whole load of supplies
to arrive from Starfleet. I'm sorry, sir...we only have a handful of memory
chips in stock."
"Typical," muttered Thaine under his breath. "Alright, crewman, send down
what you've got. We'll have to make do. Thaine out."
The comm-link closed, the Chief looked to Michael. "Typical," he said. "This
is all we need."
"Great," Michael said. "Let's hope we have enough."
***
Thaine slowly worked his way back along the Jefferies tubes, and passed the
small box of memory chips to Michael. "Five," he said. "All we got. Five of
the things. Less than a quarter of what we need."
"We might be able to replace just the ones that are malfunctioning but we'll
have to pull them out and test one at a time. Even then..." Ashbury
shrugged. He didn't have to say the rest. If the new chips couldn't fix the
emitter problems, they may have to wait until the new supplies came in.
Sickbay wouldn't like that very much.
The Chief Engineer considered this, for a time. Did they actually need all
the chips? "Is there any way we could reduce the hologram size down?" Thaine
asked. "It only needs...what? A head, and a pair of hands?"
"I suppose so," Ashbury said dubiously. "Adjusting the size of the physical
manifestation is easy enough; just adjust the emitters. To just make it have
a head and hands...that might take some programming. To be honest, I'm not
sure how to do it."
"I know a man who could though," said Thaine. "Flummux. I'll speak with him,
if you want to deal with these chips? S'pose we should let Viraj know he'll
be sat on his backside a bit longer, too."
"Aye, sir," Michael said.
Thaine nodded, and started backing out of the tubes again. "Okay then." He
paused, and then suddenly seemed to have the need to clarify something. "I
was joking about the head and the pair of hands, Lieutenant," he said, as he
continued moving back down.
"Oops." Michael grinned sheepishly. "Thought you were serious."
***
"Oh...well, I...yes, I suppose I could." The Andorian fidgeted nervously,
antennae waving slightly. "I could just...here let me show you." Flummux
pulled up the program on the wall in front of him, displaying the code in
all its glory. Sub-routine upon sub-routine, line upon line; the holo-matrix
open for all to see.
Thaine just looked at it, recognising about one command out of five, and
looked to Flummux. "Well?"
But the Andorian seemed not to be listening. Flummux's fingers raced over
the controls, changing, re-ordering, removing redundant information.
Here, realised Thaine, the flustered engineer was in his element.
He coughed. "Can you send this to me in sickbay, when you're done?"
The Andorian just nodded, still working feverishly. Thaine left him to it.
***
Michael had finished pulling and testing the chips, replacing the ones that
were in the worst shape. Out of the twenty chips necessary for the
holo-emitters, nine were having problems with their power emissions. Michael
was still shaking his head over that.
Four of the chips were still faulty, which would definitely affect the
holographic systems but there wasn't much that could be done until the
supply ship arrived. Aside from that, the new chips appeared to be working
fine.
He tapped his comm badge to let Thaine know he'd completed the chips then
starting working his way back down the Jeffries tubes.
***
"Okay," said Thaine, and gave the nod to Viraj. "Load it up." Looking to
Michael, standing next to him, he muttered, "And let's hope it worked."
"Computer, please activate the EMH," Viraj ordered.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the hologram recited,
once it materialised in front of the three men. The hologram appeared to
have the proper face and hair of a Mark II hologram. But it only had a
head and two hands, with nothing apparently holding it together.
Viraj immediately frowned. "The EMH's personality profile isn't going to
enjoy this at all."
"What won't I enjoy?" the EMH asked, still sounding like the Mark II,
despite its new appearance. "What?"
"Now that's something you don't see every day," Michael remarked dryly.
Thaine just swore, once, under his breath. "I thought he knew I was joking."
Then he shrugged. "Guess it's not too bad."
The EMH had been looking down at where the rest of his body should have
been. Off of Thaine's remark, it slowly raised its head, and much too
calmly stated, "Why don't you take a nap on my bio bed." With gradually
raising intensity the EMH continued, "That way, I can remove your chest
and legs and you can see if it's 'not too bad.' "
"You know," said Thaine, almost growling, "I think the less of you we see,
the bigger the improvement." At the sight of the hologram about to protest,
the engineer quickly said, "Computer, deactivate the EMH," and the protesting
head and accompanying hands vanished into thin air, leaving the two engineers
and one operations officer looking with a mixture of feelings toward the
space it
had just been standing.
"Developing Problems"
by Lieutenant (J.G.) Arthas Hex - Deputy Chief of Security
Location: USS Sulu, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07 07h00
***
Arthas leapt out of bed, in his sleeping shorts, and sprinted to his
modest bathroom. His stomach felt like it had erupted in flames and he
felt like he needed to throw-up. With his head over the toilet, Arthas
wondered why nothing was happening and looked over what he had eaten the
previous night in his awakening head.
His stomach was getting better now, better enough for the Trill security
officer to stand and wash his face. Grimacing as he touched his stomach,
Arthas knew that there was no way he would get more than the six hours
he had had of sleep.
Putting on some normal clothes, Arthas decided to go for a walk on Risa.
His stomach was getting better now and he enjoyed the open air.
***
"That is seventy credits for an hour's ride, sir," the pleasant
middle-aged Risan woman informed Hex as he looked at the horse-like
creature.
Arthas smiled and looked at the woman. "That is very fair."
Finding his credit-pad, he requested the woman's bank address and
account number and after a few minutes he had paid.
"Have a nice ride," the woman said. "And be back here in one hour."
"Alright," Arthas said as he encouraged the creature into a slow walking
speed
"Aah," Arthas grimaced as another pain sliced through him.
As it eased Arthas decided that he didn't want to gallop with the
creature as he had thought of doing before. But he was simply going to
plod down the beach with it.
The beach, he soon found, wasn't very far away and for Risa was not very
busy this morning. Heading toward the sea, with the creature murmuring
agreement in his choice of location, Arthas admired his environment.
With all the low-lives and piracy that obviously infested Risa's
beautiful touristy landscape, Arthas had not had very much time to
simply admire where his ship had moored.
He had now reached the water, the slowly lapping waves wetting the
animal's feet, who seemed to be enjoying the experience.
Arthas encouraged the animal to walk slowly down the beach, as the Trill
continued to look around.
***
Arthas had now headed back, and he had now noticed that his symbiont's
past hosts had not contacted since he had awoken. The Trill wondered if
the absence of the annoying previous hosts was due to the pain he had
been experiencing or whether his symbiont was sleeping or something.
Another pain bled from his stomach through his entire body, throwing
Arthas off the horse-like animal into the water to his right. Writhing
in pain on the floor and in shock Arthas thought in alarm of what was
wrong with him. It felt serious. It felt very serious.
After what felt like minutes rather than seconds Arthas regained
control. Kneeling he saw that the one person around was his
horse-creature who was looking at him in alarm. He must have trotted
into a low-spot for the tourism, he thought as the pain eased.
Arthas got back on the horse and expertly turned and encouraged it into
a fast gallop. He needed to return the horse and get back to the ship
before another pain fell through his body.
"Working Breakfast"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers - Assistant Ship's Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Location: USS Sulu; Crew Mess
Stardate: 57907.07; 07h15
***
"Grits," Farrell spoke into the replicator. "Double portion, double butter,
salt and pepper, three fried eggs sunnyside up on top of the pile, tabasco
on the side, and a Hammerhead."
The mess was packed with the Alpha shift breakfast crowd, so Farrell had
opted for the replicator over the significant line at the buffet.
Replicators generally did a good job on something as simple as grits,
anyway. He took his tray out of the slot, and turned, lifting it suddenly
high to avoid crushing it against the blue-uniformed woman behind him.
"Whoa," he said suddenly. "Sorry about that."
Ainsley had jumped back slightly. "That's ok," she responded. "I was off in
never-never land there, should have seen you turning around." She smiled at
him and then moved past him to get to the replicator. He moved off to find
a seat.
"A toasted poppyseed bagel with cream cheese, a large glass of orange juice
and a banana," she ordered, and then moved off to find a place to sit once
she had her tray. The mess hall was very crowded and Ainsley couldn't see
anyone she knew that she could sit with. Her eyes fell on the ensign in the
operations uniform that she had almost collided with. He was sitting alone
at a table for four.
She made her way towards him. "Hi again," she said, with her best smile.
"Mind if I join you?"
Farrell swallowed quickly, and motioned to the chair while dabbing his
mouth. "Absolutely," he said after a moment. Then he cocked his head.
"Ensign Chambers?"
She put her tray down and then looked at the man with a little bit of
confusion. He said her name like he recognized her, like he should know her.
Then she recognized him from the Ranger. Mason Farrell.
"Mason Farrell..." she said with a big grin, and then sat down. "How long
have you been on the Sulu?"
"Three days," he said, sipping his coffee. "You know, I saw your name on
the crew roster, and didn't make the connection at all. Color me stupid."
Ainsley grinned. "Hey don't worry about it." She took a sip of her orange
juice. "You're the second Ranger crewmate that I have run into since coming
on board. I believe there used to be a television show called This is your
Life, and that's what I feel like I am in. People from my past are popping
up all over the place."
Farrell chuckled as he swallowed another mouthful. "I've passed Lieutenant
Thalan in the corridor, but we haven't actually spoken. I think I've seen
Kur'Oh around, too. Remember him? The half-Klingon?"
Ainsley thought for a moment. "Geez, I do remember him!" She laughed a
little. "I haven't seen him though, I'll have to take a look at the roster."
She chewed a few bites of her bagel. "So are you all settled in? I'm still
mostly in the process myself!"
"I haven't even had time to move into my room. I'm still living out of my
hotel suite on the surface," he said, adding a little more tabasco to the
pile of grits. "For that matter, I haven't done the usual new-duty checkups
either. Want to sign my psych evaluation?" He winked, smiling.
"Well now..." she responded with a grin of her own. "I might want to do my
own evaluation on you... I hear those counselors on the Ranger were pretty
lapse in their work." She giggled.
Farrell smiled as he studied her for a moment. "Do I get to lay on a
couch?"
Ainsley laughed again. "I was thinking of putting in some old style bean bag
chairs, but I figured most of the patients wouldn't like them. What do you
think?"
"Where would you find them?"
Ainsley looked at him questioningly for a moment. "Where would I find what?
The people?"
"The beanbags," he said, smiling back.
Ainsley shook her head. "My goodness it's too early for me!" Then she
laughed again. "I hadn't really thought of that to be honest. I figured I
could just replicate them or something."
Farrell nodded as he chewed and swallowed. "It could work. I never had a
bean bag chair, but I assume if you want them for counseling they'd be
comfortable. Do it--" he gestured with his fork "--but keep a couch, too,
just in case."
Ainsley nodded in return. "Yeah there are a few people I couldn't see
sitting on bean bag chairs. A couple different Vulcans I know, and some
Klingons too for that matter." She shook her head after a moment more of
thinking. "But back to what you originally asked, before I went off on this
tangent, I'll be more than happy to have a quick look at your psych eval and
sign off on it."
"Will you need to see me?"
Ainsley shrugged a little. "You can stop by at my office if you have some
time. We'll have a little chat and that way it will be official and no one
can say that I just approved you without doing any eval on my own."
"Fair enough. Today's full for me, but I'll check your open appointments
during my shift and schedule myself in. A perk of the ops post," he smiled
and took another swallow of his coffee.
"Sounds good!" Ainsley responded. "Ya know, I don't think I would want to
work on the bridge. Do you like it?"
Farrell set his cup down and thought for a moment. "Yes and no. I like
making sure everything's running smoothly, and that's easier to do from the
operations office most of the time. The privacy of the office is nice
sometimes, too, especially on a ship as small as this one. But the bridge
is where all the action happens, and I certainly like action."
"I bet you do..." She grinned at him again. "Did you do anything between the
Ranger and coming here? I went on a month of shore leave. It was great,
though I was sick of my parents by the time I was done."
"Let's see. I spent a couple of weeks knocking around San Francisco,
assisting with the final mothballing of Ranger, and hoping Captain Eckerson
would give me a midnight promotion on her way to her next berth. The Ranger
got mothballed fine, but I never could get that promotion," Farrell trailed
off and ate another bite of his breakfast. He swallowed and chuckled
ruefully. "I'm a career ensign, I guess. Anyway, after the final shelving
of Ranger I shipped out to Risa to wait for y'all. And now here I am," he
smiled again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Ainsley looked at him questioningly for a moment. "Not happy to be here?"
"I'm fine," he said, looking at his fork instead of her. Then he did look
up. "Really, I'm okay. A part of me's just tired of Risa, is all. I've
been here long enough for the glitter to wear off."
Ainsley nodded. "I try and stay away from the glitter... I like to take
advantage of the adventure. Skydiving, SCUBA diving, para-sailing... that's
what I do!" She smiled then. "Though I did have a nice dinner the other
evening at a small restaurant on one of the beaches."
"With?" Farrell's smile was back.
Ainsley's eyes were dreamy for a moment. "An old friend of mine, Sean
O'Shea. He's the chief Medical Officer on board."
"It was a good date, then?" Farrell said with humor.
Ainsley blinked after a moment. "It was fun, we went to a little Bajoran
restaurant, the food was fantastic."
Farrell nodded. "Bajoran food's really good. Spicy, which I love. Their
liquor's awful, though," he finished, taking the last bite from his plate.
"I guess it's an acquired taste, or maybe it had to do with the company, but
I certainly enjoyed the spring wine that I had." She drank the last of her
orange juice.
"Maybe they're making a comeback. The stuff I had was enough to make you
blind." He mimed punching his chest and theatrically coughed, "Smooth."
Ainsley giggled at that. "You must have had a bad year!"
"Oh, it wasn't a wine. I got some white lightning from a Bajoran--" he
paused, as though he were about to say something wrong and needed to correct
it "--merchant." Satisfied with the word choice, he continued, "It was vile,
but he swore up and down that Bajoran liquor was like that. And he had
quite a stock," he laughed, shaking his head with the memory of searing
hooch.
Ainsley grinned at him and then finished off the last of her bagel. "It's
been great talking to you again, Mason." She piled her plate and glass up on
her tray. "I really should be heading to my office."
Mason gulped down the last of his coffee and stood as well. "I'll let you
get to work, then. And I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll be looking forward to it!" Ainsley responded as she got to her feet.
She flashed him a smile and then headed for the replicator to drop off her
dishes.
"Not Amused"
By: Lt. Saavar, Science Officer
Ensign Monica Gainsborough, Science Officer [NPC+]
Location: Science Lab, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07 07h35
***
The transporter deposited her on the pad back on the Sulu and Monica
Gainsborough looked around. Only Chief Riley was in the room with her, and
she gave him a large smile. Looked like the others from the party hadn't
started returning yet. She gave the chief a wave as she bounced down off
the transporter pad and started off toward her quarters. She'd need a
sonic shower and perhaps a meal. Though, she could really use an hour or
two of sleep, but she knew she wanted to get back on duty. Still, she
couldn't pull twenty-four hour shifts all the time. *Fine,* she told
herself. *A quick nap, then shower and food, and back to the labs.*
She skipped out of the transporter room and started off down the corridor,
singing the song she'd picked up at the party. It was catchy.
In Saavar's quarters the Vulcan was just changing into a fresh uniform after
taking a sonic shower. He was thinking about the samples he had beamed
aboard the Sulu the previous night. They were in stasis in science lab four
awaiting investigation. Saavar planned to take up where the previous team
had finished preparing the sensor logs and sample analysis. His thoughts
were interrupted by the voice of the computer.
"*Ensign Monica Gainsborough has returned to the Sulu.*" Saavar had requested
that the computer inform him of the science officer's return to the ship. He
had discovered that she had beamed down to the surface of Risa to join a
party the previous night.
Saavar tapped his commbadge in response. "Ensign Gainsborough, this is
Lieutenant Saavar, please report to science lab four. I will meet you there
momentarily."
"*Aye, sir,*" came the young scientist's cheerful response.
He took a moment to examine his appearance before leaving quarters and made
his way to the labs. It took only a few minutes as the labs were on the same
deck. He had enough time to check the status of the sample before Monica
Gainsborough entered the lab.
Monica Gainsborough stepped into the lab, her blonde hair pulled back into a
ponytail. She'd quickly changed into a clean uniform since her party
attire would have been inappropriate for a meeting with a senior
officer. She saw the Vulcan waiting for her on the far side of the room,
and she beamed him a smile. "You wished to see me, sir?"
"Indeed Ensign," Saavar said as he looked up at the smiling woman. She had
changed into a Class A duty uniform - regulation, and well turned out. He
cast a critical eye over her appearance and waved a hand at the small sample
container standing on the lab bench. The blue haze of a containment field
cast a dim glow from within. It appeared empty, but it held the mysterious
particles that had been beamed aboard the previous evening. "I thought it
appropriate for you to continue the task left last night when you were
excused from the Bridge." Saavar's severe stare showed his disapproval. "You
discovered an anomaly while on watch. What you see here is a sample of the
anomaly - unidentified particles."
"Oh wow," Monica said as she stepped closer. "What have you found out so
far, sir? I was thinking about this earlier, and...and I was wondering
about it. Have you identified any of the unknown elements yet, sir?"
Saavar cocked an eyebrow and seemed a little non-plussed. His display of
frank disapproval had been completely ignored! The young woman was
exuberant in her excitement and Saavar took a moment to re-think his
approach. "If they had been identified, Ensign Gainsborough, they would no
longer be 'unidentified.' " He clasped his hands behind his back and frowned
at her. "Ensign" --he decided to be more direct-- "I disapprove of your
absence from the Bridge last night on your assigned duty watch. I understand
that Commander Lyrr released you from duty, but you were undertaking a task
that you should have seen through to its conclusion. As a result I was
called to the Bridge to complete a double watch. It is important that you
understand that duty comes before personal recreational activities."
"Sir," Monica returned, making sure to get the honorific in at the
beginning of her response, "I was ordered from the bridge by *Sulu's*
executive officer. She told me that someone would be able to pick up from
where I'd detected the anomaly. I am sorry that you were forced to work an
extra shift, sir, but I was excused from the bridge and duty by the
second-highest ranking officer aboard. I did not think it would be a good
idea to argue with her about it. I'd already worked through alpha shift,
and was covering for Ensign Mel'Chir on beta as well. I'm not some kind of
slacker, sir. Commander Lyrr didn't think it was a big problem and
dismissed me. It didn't seem like such a big deal at the time...sir."
Saavar looked her in the eyes. They were level and indeed had no deceit in
them. He had not checked her actual shift and had assumed that she was a
Beta watch officer. He frowned again, this time at his own lapse. "Then I am
in error, Ensign, and I extend an apology. I do realize that Commander Lyrr
gave you permission to leave the Bridge - that was not in contention." He
looked at the sample and back at Gainsborough. "Still" --he hesitated a
second-- "I believe that if you volunteer for a shift, then it should be seen
through to the end. I would have completed a task set before leaving. I
admit that I am sometimes considered to be excessive in adherence to duty
when compared to others. I do not see it as a personal failing." He gave her
a smile. "Perhaps you did not wish to argue with the executive officer
because a trip to Risa is more exciting than a spacial anomaly that may be a
sensor error..." He reached out and tapped the containment field. "Perhaps
we can discover what it is that we have captured here?" His tone was
considerably lighter - the woman seemed genuine and her enthusiasm did not
deserve to be dampened any further. "Shall we?" he asked.
"Of course, sir," Monica said. She gave him a smile that only showed a
hint of the agitation she felt beneath the surface. The fun she had at the
party was now tainted, and he was trying to make her feel bad about
herself. "I...I'll get a tricorder." She couldn't tell him she hadn't
slept in thirty-six hours, not with his expectations. She moved to pick up
a tricorder. On the way back to the sample, she stopped at the
replicator. "Computer, double *raktajino*, double strong. Mug style,
GainsboroughOneOneThree."
The large mug with Starfleet emblem printed on one side and a Klingon
drinking song printed on the other appeared in the replicator bay. Monica
pulled it out and took a long drink. As the strong liquid slid beautifully
down her throat, she returned to the sample and containment field. "Where
should we start, sir?"
Saavar nodded. "A team began an analysis last night on Gamma shift. The
results were inconclusive. The particles are unidentified - we have not
encountered the molecular structure which makes up this sample and so we
must break it down and identify its source."
"I'm detecting some siliconoid structures," Monica said as she ran a
scan. "As well as some carbon structures...in a very unusual
pattern. Sir, did you beam it directly into this containment field here at
this location?"
"It was beamed to transporter room two. I replicated this containment device
on the transporter pad. It was carried to this location by the science team
on Gamma shift. Why, Ensign?" Saavar stepped closer to the young woman.
"I'm...I'm not sure, sir," Monica said. "It's just...I think I'll need to
study this some more."
"Would you care to share your thoughts?" Saavar stepped around the bench top
and stood opposite the young woman. His scientific knowledge was quite
extensive, but he could not profess to knowing every discipline. He was
adept at communications and related disciplines - molecular and
sub-molecular physics was not one of his 'stronger' points. "Sometimes an
initial response is an instinctive leap of subconscious thought. Do you see
some connection between the tranportation and the patterns that you see?"
"It's...it's possible, sir," Monica said. "But the transporter should have
been able to compensate. The initial scans don't show...well, much of any
siliconoid structures at all, but here..."
"Perhaps a science officer in Astrometrics would assist?" Saavar asked.
"I believe...I think that would be best," Monica said. "Usually I'm pretty
good with these sorts of things, but it's got me stumped. I think
Astrometrics would be able to provide a few valuable insights into
this...thing."
Saavar nodded. "Molecular physics and sub-atomic particle analysis is not my
area of expertise," the Vulcan admitted. "I was simply 'there' when it was
discovered - and wish to see it through. The mystery of the unknown was a
prime factor in my joining Starfleet." He smiled, "I do prefer encountering
alien species rather than stellar phenomenon - unknown molecules take a
great deal more coaxing before they 'talk' to you."
Monica grinned. "Drink enough *raktajino* and anything'll talk to
you. Sir." She glanced back down at the readings scrolling before
her. "I can take the data we've found to Lt. Ashbury in Astrophysics if
you'd like, sir. I'll also keep you posted on our progress...if that's
okay."
Saavar nodded. "That would be fine, Ensign. Carry on." Saavar gave her a
smile before leaving the science lab. It was better to leave her to work
without feeling as if he was looking over her shoulder. A plan of action was
underway and those best suited to the effort were being put on the job. He
was satisfied. There were other things he had to do - reading the
transcripts for the Farehn'ti delegation was important work, and the Captain
had forwarded the whole proceedings to him.
"Where it began, I can't begin to knowing, but then I know it's growing strong..."
by: Ensign Jackson Thompson, Engineer
and Ensign Ainsley Chambers, Counselor
Location: USS Ticonderoga
Stardate: 57907.07 08h30
***
Jackson Thompson ran his hand through his short blonde hair and rubbed
the back of his neck as he let out a frustrated sigh. It was a nervous
gesture that went back to his high school days. His coach had always been
able to tell when Jackson was getting antsy by the number of times he touched
the back of his head. The object of his nervous tic today was the computer
screen in the guest quarters he occupied aboard the Nebula class
Ticonderoga. The symbol of Tulane University stared back at him from the
otherwise black screen as he wondered how long it could take for a secretary
to go and find his mother. The damn campus wasn't that big.
The image suddenly shifted to reveal a very proper looking Dr. Allison
Parish Thompson looking back at him. "Jax," his mother smiled brightly, "I
was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to call home. Then again, I
guess it is hard for a busy Starfleet engineer to contact his poor mother.
Things out in space are sooo much more interesting than talking to a dried
up old woman back in Louisiana."
"Mom," Jackson laughed, "you may be many things, but a dried up old
woman is not one of them. And yes, I have been busy, and I am a long way
from Ayer's Island." He subconsciously relaxed as the tension from a few
moments before disappeared; his shoulders eased down and he leaned back
slightly in his chair. The release was even observable in his voice as his
speech slowed and his normally muted accent thickened. "So how's everything
at the Uni?"
"Politics as usual, T'rel is pushing for an increase in Vulcan
literature, Dr. Guilbeaux will have none of it, the usual." She shrugged her
shoulders and glanced at something behind the computer screen. "Yes, Mr.
Walsh? I'll be with you in a moment... Sorry, a student." She
turned her attention back to the screen.
"No problem, I know how it is." He glanced around for a moment, as if
looking for listening ears in his Spartan quarters. "How's the Governor?"
Allison Thompson's smile faltered slightly. "Your father is well."
"Still not talking to me, huh?" He shook his head in disgust, the
tension returning. "Figures."
"Jackson... He loves you, you know that. He just wanted bet--" She broke
off, but it was already too late.
Jackson looked up at her quickly. "Better for me? So you think I've made
a mistake too? Because I wouldn't stay in Nawlins and finish a PhD and get a
nice job teaching, a nice wife, and then run for office like him? That
because I wanted to live my own life I am doing everything wrong?"
"Jackson, no..." She began but he was already disconnecting the signal.
Jackson Thompson sat silently, staring at the blank screen, for a long
time.
***
Ainsley had decided at the last moment to call off work for the day. She
didn't have a lot scheduled, and set it up that if anyone needed to talk to her
about recent events then they could contact her on the planet. Now, shortly
after her impromptu breakfast with Mason Farrell she was strolling along the
warm beach with a nice bikini on, a wrap slung around her hips and her duty
uniform long behind her.
She swung her sandals in her one hand and hummed to herself as she walked
along. It was a perfect morning. The sun wasn't too hot yet and the
beaches weren't quite over crowded at this early hour. She was really
thinking about going diving again today. All the oceans on Risa were
different and she could see other reefs today then she had a couple days
before. She was also thinking of going parasailing though. She loved shore
leave.
***
Jackson gave the transporter operator a thankful glance as the familiar
feeling of transport enveloped him. He was relieved to be getting off of the
Ticonderoga, at finally arriving at Risa and his new assignment aboard the
Sulu, he was relieved that all of his belongings were being beamed straight
to the Sulu, and he was relieved that he had some free time to spend on the
surface before reporting for duty.
All in all, he had a lot to be thankful for.
As the effects of the transporter wore off he glanced around the small plaza
that he had materialized in, a smile touching his lips. People always talked
about how wild Risa was; of course most of those people had never been a
college student in New Orleans. He took a deep breath of fresh air and just
started wandering through the crowds, glad he had taken the time to change
from his uniform to a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Anonymity was
often bliss.
Ainsley made her way into the plaza as well, looking for the place to book
one of the parasailing boats. She wasn't really watching where she was
going, and when she saw the sign she was looking for she bolted around a
group of people, only to run smack into someone going the opposite way. She
ran into him so hard that she wound up on her ass on the ground.
Before Ainsley even looked up to see who she'd run into she was apologizing.
"I am soooo sorry..."
Jackson took a moment to get over the shock of someone running straight into
him before the manners his mother had drilled into her son just as so many
southern women before her had done. He knelt beside the woman, concern
touching his
features. "Are you okay, miss?"
Gentleman or not, he couldn't help but notice that she was attractive.
"I'm fine..." Ainsley said, moved that the man actually seemed to be
concerned for her. "I just wasn't watching where I was going. I saw the
rental station for the boats and I just took off without looking." She
looked up at the man that towered over her, even though he was kneeling, and
noticed how good looking he was. "Thank you for your concern!"
"Here, let me help you up." Jackson extended a hand and helped the small
woman to her feet, a smile touching his face. "Now, where I come from it's
considered quite impolite for a gentleman to knock a woman down and not at
least get her name." His slight accent touched every word, changing 'I' into
'Ah' and generally elongating every syllable, hence the name southern drawl.
He flashed her his best smile while picking her bag up from the ground.
"Ainsley Chambers," she replied with a grin. "And you are?"
He gave her a mock bow. "Jackson Thompson, at your service, ma'am."
"Pleased to meet you, Jackson Thompson," Ainsley replied. She looked around
herself briefly and then asked, "Care to stroll on the beach with me? It's a
little less crowded."
Jackson only pretended to take time to consider her offer. In reality the
words were barely past her lips before he was ready to go. "I guess so, I
don't really have anywhere else I have to be."
"Great!" she replied with a grin, and then took her bag back from Jackson.
As they made their way out of the crowds she asked, "What brings you to Risa?
Business or pleasure?"
"Oh, you know, what brings anyone to Risa?" he asked, purposefully being
vague. He glanced towards the beach and shrugged. "And with a view like
that, does it even matter why you're here?"
Ainsley shrugged slightly. "The view gets old after a few days, it's the
company and the activities that makes the vacation worth while." It was a
beautiful view but she'd rather be out doing something than just lying about
looking around.
"I just arrived--" he looked at her "--but if you have something to do in
mind, then I'll follow."
"Well..." Ainsley replied, looking at Jackson to see if he was really up
for it. "I was either going to go parasailing or SCUBA diving. Your pick!"
"Para-what?" Jackson scratched his head, tilting his neck slightly and
looking at her askance.
"Parasailing!" Ainsley grinned. "Basically we strap ourselves onto a big
kite and allow a boat to pull us around. I've never managed to try it yet
and it is my goal for this trip!"
"A giant kite..." Jackson said slowly, wondering why it was his luck to run
into the attractive but suicidal woman while on shore leave. "Did you ever
consider that there just might be a reason you've never done this before?"
Ainsley's grin grew and her nose crinkled slightly. She gave a little laugh
and then said, "Nah! Can't be anymore than orbital sky diving. Hey, they've
been parasailing since at least the 20th century...it's gotta be safe by
now!"
Jackson let out a slow breath and shook his head. "You're serious about
this, aren't you?"
Ainsley nodded. "Oh yeah. My sister feels the same way as you do. She says
I should know better, being a counselor and all, but hell I just do it for
the fun!"
Jackson raised an eyebrow. "A counselor, huh? You know, if I wasn't a
gentleman, I would comment on the fact that seeking danger is often a sign
of dissatisfaction with your life."
Ainsley nodded. "Yes, that's true sometimes, though the opposite can
sometimes be true as well. And most people are at least slightly
dissatisfied with their lives."
"But wouldn't Nietzsche argue..." He shook his head and gave her a goofy
grin. "Sorry about that, old habits die hard."
Ainsley giggled. "That's ok, I don't mind at all. What do you do for a
living, Jackson Thompson?"
He smiled, "I was a teacher for a while, but I've just begun a new career,
working on a starship. You know, a chance to explore."
"I know all about it!" she responded. "It's why I joined as well." It was
kinda interesting. She had passed up a teaching job to join Starfleet as
well.
"You're Starfleet?" he said with surprise.
Ainsley nodded. "Yep.Why the shock?" Did she look so much unlike a
Starfleet officer?
Jackson hemmed and hawed for a moment, trying to think of the proper
response, eventually coming up with: "Uh, well... I don't rightly know. I
guess I just figured they'd put someone like you on the recruitment
posters." He smiled. "Come on, it was awkward but you have to give me credit
for turning it into a compliment."
Ainsley smiled. "And a very nice compliment as well!" She looked back to a rental desk. "Come on! I'm sure you'll love parasailing!"
He faked a smile. "Sure it sounds like a lot of fun." Running through his
head were very different thoughts, namely, The lord is my shepherd, I shall
not want... He maketh me to lie in green pastures....
"Don't worry, I'll protect you!" Ainsley laughed and pushed him back the way
they had come.
He looked at her small form again. Somehow that was less than reassuring.
"Oh, well in that case..." He feigned enthusiasm, all the while wondering
just what he was getting himself into.
"Saavar vs. Salinger"
By: Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Captain Matthew Salinger
Location: USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07 08h30
***
Matt Salinger, in one of his rare hours on the Sulu, had been going over
the recent arrivals. He was eternally grateful for Commander Lyrr's
presence, or all work would have fallen so far behind... Xayella was still
checking in with the science lab, and he still had some time left before he
had to return to administrate the next part of the meeting with the
Farehn'ti. One of the new members of the crew caught his eye as he scanned
for the list. A captain needed to know his crew, and this would be a good
opportunity. He opened an in-ship communication channel..
***
Lieutenant Saavar was engaged in a study of the Sulu's sensor array
diagnostics with an Operations Officer. The Chief Engineer was undertaking a
system wide examination of ship specifications and Saavar's expertise
extended to the systems involved in communications. He was satisfied thus
far - but there was several hours of work to go before they could announce
the systems were optimal.
His commbadge chirped and the voice of Matt Salinger said, "Lieutenant
Saavar, this is Captain Salinger. Could you please report to my Ready
Room?"
He glanced at the Ops Officer and nodded his apology as he replied,
"Certainly, Captain - on my way."
***
Matt Salinger had moved out from behind his desk and taken up a position
beside the portal looking out over the green and blue Risan landscape. For
as much as he enjoyed the planet below, nothing could compare with the view
from space. Nothing anywhere could compare with the view from space. As
much as he liked it here, he couldn't wait to get underway again.
Saavar pulled his uniform jacket straight as he stepped out of the turbo
lift and entered the Sulu's bridge. It was quiet - Starfleet officers were
busy but working mostly in silence. Saavar passed them as he made his way to
the captain's Ready Room. He paused before the door to adjust his collar and
pressed the announcer. The chime sounded.
"Come," Matt called, and started back toward his desk.
Saavar entered as soon as the doors swished apart. The captain of the Sulu
was looking toward the door and Saavar noted that he seemed young for this
post - Human captains were usually of the elder generation. The Vulcan moved
to stand before the desk to a crisp attention. "Lieutenant Saavar reporting
as ordered, sir." His inflection was neutral - purely Vulcan in speech mode.
He did not wish to mimic Human responses in this situation - at least until
he could understand more about the man before him.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Matt said with a smile as he sat in his
chair. "We're orbiting Risa at the moment, and most of the crew is on
shore leave. You can relax a little, if you'd like. If not, please don't
strain anything...most of the medical staff is on leave."
Saavar clasped his hands behind his back and nodded, easing into the
standard at-ease pose approved by Starfleet regulations. He recognised that
the captain was using a Human method of introducing himself - attempting to
introduce humor to make Saavar feel more comfortable. It was rather ironic -
Saavar was a Vulcan. He gave the captain a smile to allow him to feel more
comfortable about the humor, and said, "Yes, sir - I was certified
completely
healthy this morning by the ship's EMH and feel that it is unlikely that I
will strain anything. It was also hard to ignore the absence of medical
practitioners in sickbay."
"Shore leave," Matt said again. "Though, in case of an emergency, there
are enough personnel still on the ship to handle the situation. In
addition, crew from the surface can be beamed aboard under Emergency
Protocol 374111.A. So, are you finding everything aboard the Sulu adequate
to your needs, Lieutenant?"
"I believe so, sir," he answered in a neutral tone, observing the flash of
irritation that had crossed the captain's face. Saavar gave up the smile. "I
did not intend to infer criticism, Captain. I was merely agreeing that the
medical staff were absent should I 'strain anything'...and I am familiar
with emergency protocols should the need arise. I apologise, Sir - you were
attempting humor, and I find that humor is a difficult concept."
"I have had a most satisfactory welcome to the Sulu, Sir. I have already
contributed to the science department and I believe that I will only
continue to do so."
"That's very good," Matt answered. "Am I correct in assuming you will be
staying aboard the Sulu during our stay here at Risa? I know of few
Vulcans who would take a trip down to Risa under most circumstances."
"Risa holds no mystery for me, Captain. I have explored the planet and its
enchantments on an earlier occasion." Saavar nodded at the captain's
assumption. "You are correct - I intend to remain aboard the Sulu. There is
much work to be done - and I believe that the mission you are undertaking
with the Farehn'ti is vital to that race's existence. I am undertaking a
study into the communications modes employed by the delegation - there seem
to be some complex patterns involved in the process.
"I compiled a report for Lieutenant Tagliesh to forward to you regarding a
historical précis on the two delegations to give you an understanding of the
culture."
"I saw it," Matt said. "A very thorough report, though Lieutenant Tagliesh
did disagree with a few of your points. However, I believe that will be a
debate between yourself and Lieutenant Tagliesh. Saavar, before we get too
far in your tenure here, do you foresee any problems existing between
yourself and Lieutenant Tagliesh?"
Saavar took a few seconds to think about his response. The captain was
watching him intently. "The Lieutenant is very...emotional..." he replied.
"Our initial conversation did not go as well as I would have liked.
Lieutenant Tagliesh saw no benefit in my continuing some of the project work
that I had been assigned while on the Takashima - even though as my senior
she was absent when I came aboard. I simply continued in my assigned tasks
until assigned others. I would be interested to know what elements in my
report she disagreed with."
"Your belief that the Federation is the Farehn'ti's only hope," Matt
said. "She believes the Federation is one option that will lead to a
quicker, brighter future. Though, she doesn't believe that we are their
only source of salvation."
"It has been the Federation's policy to allow a culture to develop on its
own until it reaches maturity, or until it gains warp drive technology. As a
member of the interstellar community we have two options - either support
them and sponsor their entry into that community as the Vulcans did for
Humans, or disallow their transition should they prove to be unsuitable
members of the community. If they cannot reach a planetary consensus and
slide into a faction fight then the Federation Council will have no option
than to bar their entry into the Federation as a destabilizing influence
until they can show a consensus. I have no doubts that this decision will
bring about a war - the Farehn'ti cultural bias for the two disparate
cultures of the Opai and the Ryuck would lead them to once and for all
settle their differences. One would have to be dominant to reach that final
consensus." Saavar related the information in a flat Vulcan monotone. "The
Federation has encountered many species with similar cultural problems, and
the Prime Directive applies. Either we aid them or we close them in and
allow them to sort out their own problems. I do not believe that it would be
politically expedient for the Federation to allow the Farehn'ti to approach
either the Cardassian Union or the Ferengi Alliance. The Federation would
not support the colonization of Class M worlds by the Farehn'ti without
entry into the Federation and the agreement to abide by the Interstellar
laws that govern this Sector of space.
"Perhaps Lieutenant Tagliesh would view the data relating to immature
cultures in the Vulcan Archives. Specifically the wisdom of Surak and
T'Para's mathematical engrams concerning the emerging cultural behavioural
matrix of warp and pre-warp cultures. The conclusions are quite clear,
Captain."
"So, you do truly believe that joining the United Federation of Planets is
the only hope that this culture has? I do not believe in there only being
a single solution to any given problem, no matter what Surak or T'Para may
have said."
"True - I have named the two other options for the Farehn'ti - sponsorship
by either the Cardassians or the Ferengi. The Federation however has
jurisdiction over the Farehn'ti sector of space, thusly we are their only
option - politically. In diplomacy, one cannot set political aims aside."
Saavar frowned and continued.
"The Federation is still suffering destabilization from the Dominion War -
thus trust with the Cardassians is not an option for the Federation - not
yet. The Ferengi Alliance would play both factions of the Farehn'ti against
each other to reap profits - they do not care about preserving the culture
of the race. So, Captain - you are their only salvation. It is a political
necessity that you succeed. All other options are politically unacceptable -
the Federation Council would see it no other way."
"I strongly believe that independence is still a viable option for the
Farehn'ti," Matt said. "But as they and the Federation wish some sort of
union, that's what I'll work for. While I believe in the Federation ideals
and that we have much to offer, I do not believe we are the only
option. To presume that would start a downward spiral of elitism and
arrogance that will bring the Federation close to the Romulan Star Empire
in ways I don't even wish to contemplate."
Saavar cocked his head to one side and his frown deepened. "Independence is
really only an option for a race that will survive it. The Farehn'ti would
not survive. They are divided as a culture - biased toward distrust of each
other and the Federation. That distrust is centuries old - and they have
reached a level of technology that has solved their short term food and
medical problems - they are living longer and growing faster in terms of
population density. They require more raw resources and a means to expand
their population outside of the limitations of their home system. The
available Class M worlds in this sector have already been claimed by the
Federation for growth of its member worlds. The Farehn'ti do not have the
means to reach these worlds - but they do have replication technology to
bargain with. They must enter the Federation to gain access to what they
need. In return the Federation will strive to bring the two factions
together and unite the race whilst preserving their culture. I do not
believe that a strong belief in the Federation's ability to solve conflicts
should result in elitism, Captain. You are correct that in this case, both
the Federation and the Farehn'ti wish to unite - I am sure that they have
examined the merits of independence."
Matt reached behind him and pulled a thick book from one of the shelves
below the skates mounted on the wall. He dropped the book on the desk in
front of Saavar with a smile. "The history of Earth," Matt said. "You
will find a divided culture, biased toward mistrust of each other and any
belief that differed from their perceived reality. The mistrust is
millennia old. It took a good number of years before they even returned to
the moon orbiting their own planet, let alone venturing into the great
depths of space. I won't deny that the Farehn'ti will benefit greatly from
the Federation's assistance; I do deny that the Federation is the only hope
for the people of Farehn. Humanity on Earth managed to get their own
act together before becoming one of the founding members of the United
Federation of Planets."
Saavar smiled. "Of course - but Earth did have Vulcan to sponsor its entry
and assist it to form a planetary government that was able to take part
in an interstellar community. Vulcan discovered Earth and encouraged Humans
to set aside their differences in favor of a united peace. Your history is
similar to the Farehn'ti - and that makes my point, Captain - without
Vulcan,
Earth would not have become a stable and founding member of the Federation."
He reached over and picked up the tome of Earth's history from the desk.
"May I read this, Captain? It will offer an interesting perspective from the
history compiled by Vulcan scientists."
Matt gestured that it was fine. "Earth didn't have Vulcan to sponsor
anything," he said. "Earth was one of the founding members of the
Federation. And, if humanity hadn't resisted Vulcan's dominating
influence, we would still be stuck back on Earth with our Vulcan masters
keeping our blinders firmly in place. Vulcan was responsible for holding
back a period of Earth's growth, Lieutenant. We persevered despite their
involvement. Without Vulcan, Earth would have found their way...it may
have taken some time, but I assure you, we would have. I know my people,
Lieutenant, and I know this to be true. In order to truly understand that,
you'd have to loosen your girdle and let in a few emotions."
Saavar nodded. "I imagine that from a Human perspective, you might see it
that way," he said carefully. "Your species required the trials and
difficulties to draw together as a united people - only an outside influence
could do that. Vulcan played her part in bringing your species to a state of
unification through the properly applied and logical constraints designed to
accomplish that feat. You see it as domination, we see it as logical
stimulation of a species which correctly resulted in Humans becoming strong
enough to stand on their own in the interstellar community." Saavar smiled -
a little condescendingly, but he didn't realize that it came out that way.
"It is well established on Vulcan that Earth would have self destructed
without strict controls in place. Our success speaks for itself." His raised
eyebrow seemed to close his argument, but he sensed that his captain wasn't
happy.
"Sir - if I may be so bold..." Saavar decided to change the subject quickly.
He received a slight nod and continued, "I may be able to assist with
communication between the Farehn'ti factions. I am sure that I would learn
much from examining the discourse from a closer perspective. If you would
permit, perhaps I may accompany you? My primary role is communications
between cultures."
"I will need to discuss it with the Farehn'ti delegation," Matt said. "I
think we'd lose an entire day if I showed up with you without first warning
them."
Saavar smiled and nodded. "Yes, the delegates require an extensive
introduction to any new idea. I have noticed that their discourse has been a
pattern of introduction, rejection, argument, renewed rejection and finally
discussion. They make small advances in stages - I can appreciate the length
of time it has taken to get them this far. They are very close to resolving
the main points of their arguments."
"As long as they don't find out," Matt said. "If they realized they were
anywhere near a resolution, I have a feeling they would find some way to
thwart themselves."
Saavar nodded once again. "They seem contrary, Captain, but in truth they
are
very ordered. They know that they advance, I believe that they follow a
pre-determined path. They have developed a ritualised method of reaching an
accord. In some ways we are creating a disturbance in facilitating their
diplomatic resolution - bringing it to a conclusion much faster than would
normally occur. However, time is of the essence, and the Farehn'ti realize
that these talks are necessary to forestall political pressures that may
result in further aggression on their world."
"I can only imagine what it will be like when members of the Federation
Council go to visit them on their world, and must involve themselves in the
Farehn'ti way of life. I imagine it will be something of a shock, even to
the advanced ideals common in the Federation."
"It will be a learning experience for both cultures," Saavar agreed.
"As long as they're not too stubborn to learn from us," Matt said. "I'll
contact you about the meetings with the Farehn'ti. Good day, Lieutenant."
Saavar nodded. "Thank you, sir." He smartly turned about and left the Ready
Room.
As Saavar crossed the Bridge he thought about what had just transpired, and
wasn't pleased with the first impression he'd gotten from his new captain.
Salinger was typical of many Humans - his belief that Vulcans had 'held
Humans back' was illogical. The fact that Salinger disliked Vulcans was
evident. He felt grieved by his perceived domination by the Vulcans in the
past. Humans had such grand ideas about the nobility of their species! The
fact that Vulcan had discovered Earth at a point in history where they were
at the edge of faction wars and savagery was something that Humans couldn't
acknowledge. It was hard to face the facts for an emotive race like the
Humans. He glanced through the book he still carried on Earth's history as
he stood in the turbolift. It would of course be one-sided. Humans found it
hard to be objective about themselves.
Saavar put the encounter with Salinger behind him as he made his way back to
the Aft Sensor platform.
"Problematic Slug"
by Lieutenant (J.G.) Arthas Hex - Deputy Chief of Security
Doctor M'lira - Deputy Chief of Medical
Location: Sickbay - USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07 09h00
***
Arthas transported onto the Sulu's number 2 transporter room and, after
nodding to the transporter operator, began the short walk to the
turbolift.
He had his hand on his stomach now, as the pain was now continuous
although it was not as severe as before.
Arthas still had no response from his symbiont and it was starting to
truly worry him now. He hadn't had silence for just over a year now and
it was starting to trouble him.
Reaching the turbolift, Arthas instructed it to take the one-deck trip
to sickbay, and after only a few seconds Arthas was on deck 5 and on his
way to sickbay.
***
Running another tricorder scan over the samples obtained from Ensign
Miller's check-up only caused Dr. M'lira to frown. There was no reason
he
should be suffering the symptoms he was. Though, she had a feeling the
indulgent lifestyle brought on by time on Risa was taking its toll. She shook her head and tapped in a few notes on a padd. She'd need to talk to
him about it.
Hex reached the door to sickbay and walked through it just as another
pain-attack hit him. Letting out a small muted scream, he had been
expecting it this time and so he didn't fall to the ground.
The noise from near the door drew her attention, and M'lira turned
quickly. Seeing Arthas Hex there doubled in pain immediately set off a
red
alert in her mind. Miller's scans forgotten, she rushed from her seat
toward the pained Trill officer.
"Doctor," Arthas gasped through faltering breath. "It's my stomach."
"Up on the biobed," she told him. "How long has this been happening?"
Her
tricorder was already scanning, gathering as much information as she
could
of Arthas, Hex, and their current ailment.
"Started this morning...woke me up...wasn't this bad...then," Arthas
stammered as the pain began to ease once more.
"Hold still while I complete this scan," M'lira said. "I'm not sure
what's
caused it, but there does appear to be some inflammation. What have you
done within the last twenty-four hours, Arthas?"
Arthas struggled to keep still, as he began to find it easier to speak.
"I woke up, with a stomach ache. It was pretty bad so I walked it off, I
went down to Risa...rode a horse-animal-thing. And then the pain
returned but it was much worse than before."
"It appears that the symbiont is severely agitated. Temperature appears
to
be five degrees above normal. I am also detecting that your isoboramine
levels are highly elevated. If it reaches a saturation point, the link
between yourself and Hex could fail."
"I can't hear my symbiont," Arthas muttered. "It's failed hasn't it, the
link has failed."
"The link has not failed yet," M'lira answered, "and it won't as long as
I
can help it. I'm going to give you an injection of tritetraboromine;
that
should help control your body's ability to communicate with the
symbiont. Hopefully, it will also help with the source of the
inflammation
to the epidermal membrane." She filled a hypospray and pressed it to
his
throat. With a hiss, its contents were injected into his
bloodstream. "You may feel a little warm, but that's just the drug
working."
The feline doctor wasn't kidding. He felt very warm for the next few
seconds, uncomfortably so, but soon he returned to his normal
temperature as his thermoregulatory system kicked in to make him sweat
more.
"What happens now?" Arthas asked.
"I'll need to look into this particular situation," M'lira answered.
"It's
a very rare condition, and not one I am readily familiar with. Stay
right
here and relax, I'd like to confer with a colleague on Trill." With
that,
she was gone.
It was ten minutes later when M'lira returned. She was chewing on her
lower lip, and one claw had frayed the ends of her tunic. Noticing the
damage she'd done, she quickly clasped her hands behind her back and
smiled
at Arthas. "It appears that the symbiont in is a state known as
oratapheric shock. The condition has another name among your people; it
is
called Gr'Par's Syndrome. You will need to try to calm the symbiont,
Arthas. My contact on Trill suggested conducting a Ritual of
Opening. It's like some of the other rituals where a current host
communicates to the past hosts, but this is all internalized. Do you
feel
that you are able to try this, Arthas?"
Arthas thought back to when he had contacted his previous hosts before and
wondered whether how he did it was called this 'ritual of opening.'
"I sometimes contact my symbiont's past hosts collectively. I can try
that if it would help. Would you be able to keep where I lay quiet and
I'll dim my light?" Arthas asked.
"Of course," M'lira answered as she began preparing the medical
equipment
for the procedure. "I will be here the entire time monitoring your
condition."
"Ok," Arthas said, and he began to relax himself in preparation for his
'ritual of opening.'
"Another Morning, Another Headache"
by Lieutenant M'lira - Assistant Chief Medical Officer
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Corran Quezith - Civilian Scientist
Location: USS Sulu, Sefton & Quezith's Quarters and Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.07, 09h07
***
Cristobel's eyes opened.
He didn't startle or jerk or gasp or jump or scream or cry. His eyes just
opened and he sighed gently, even though the nightmares had been more
intense than before. He was growing accustomed to them.
When Corran had caught up with Cris the previous night, they'd immediately
beamed back to the Sulu. They'd exhausted each other on the living room
floor, not even making it to the bed until much later in the night.
After being tucked into bed, Cristobel didn't even think of his insomnia
until Corran was asleep and his own dozing had turned into thoughts of Amy.
Cris spent hours unsuccessfully trying to remember what, exactly, he had
said to Amy, but all that remained fresh in his mind was her strident
damnation of him. He had only been able to fall asleep, hours later, when
Corran had awoken and went to the replicator to make Cris some tea. Once
asleep, the dreams returned and they had become more specific than before.
Instead of dealing with an abstract concept of hearing too many thoughts,
he found himself literally in the middle of countless dreams and nightmares
that seemed to originate in countless other minds. In the end, it proved to
be too much stress, and his dream ended with his dream brain exploding.
Unsure of Corran's location, Cristobel muttered aloud, "Morning."
Corran had woken up before Cris as had become customary lately; he was just
finishing drying himself when he heard Cris wake up. He smiled over to him
and walked over, sitting down with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Good morning." He leaned over and kissed him softly before caressing his
cheek, searching his eyes for what he hoped would be sign of some rest,
although it didn't quite seem to be the case. His own eyes turned dark
brown. Since Cris' explosion before they played any music down on Risa, he'd
been pretty worried, moreso than ever before.
Wiggling his eyebrows towards the pair of neurocortical monitors on his own
forehead, Cristobel asked, "Wanna grab them for me?"
Corran shook his head and smiled naughtily at Cris. "I think they make you
look so cute." He started chuckling.
"Hospital chic?" Cris asked incredulously. "Is silver the new black? Do you
want me to grab my medical lab coat?" Cristobel asked both playfully and
mockingly, hooking his index finger between Corran's waist and the towel.
He looked down at his finger before looking straight back at him. "Well,
I've always had a thing about guys in uniform, but even more about playing
doctor...didn't you know?" His eyes turned blue as his mood switched over
to humor and happiness. He was glad they were both awake right now, and that
everything was okay in that moment.
"Of course I knew," Cristobel insisted. He put his palms down on the bed
and pushed himself up to a sitting position. Resting his chin on Corran's
shoulder, he said, "I know first hand. I just didn't know that we should
be keeping a fully stocked medical kit underneath the bed. Do you think you
could pass me the tricorder without messing your towel?" Cris nodded towards
the tricorder that sat on the far bedside table still recording them.
"This is potentially one time I wish I had exploited telekinesis." He
chuckled as he shifted to get the tricorder. He stretched and effectively
lost the knot in his towel, prompting a "whoops" from him and a blush as he
finally brought it back. He glanced at it, but gave it to Cris right after.
He still had a couple things to learn about the medical tricorder.
"Like the show?" he joked while tying the towel back up.
Once Cris had the tricorder in his hands, he played back the readings in
reverse, starting with just prior to when he woke up. He glanced up at
Corran's eyes for a moment, cocked an eyebrow, and then looked back at the
tricorder's readout to shrug and comment, "It was better last night when you
were all sweaty from chasing me and all aroused from that thing I did with
my tongue... Hunh." Now commenting on the tricorder's information, he
explained, "No paracortex activity when I was sleeping. I definitely wasn't
telepathically reading other minds when I was sleeping. I guess they really
are just dreams. Mo dhia, F'Zal's going to want to see me every other
day..."
Corran chuckled at Cris' comment, but then his brow furrowed. "This can't be
about your dreams can it? I mean, nothing's happened to you since we came to
the Sulu that would've opened up something...?" So he was trying to play
therapist now. He couldn't help it; he liked healing people.
"Freeze a nano..." Cris said distractedly, speeding up the reverse
sensor-reading playback. "Heightened psilosynine, but that would only happen
if... Oh, whoa, extreme paracortex activity when--" Cristobel checked
the timecode and his respiratory readings "--I was awake? What? I don't
remember using my telepathy at all. I was practically mindblind before I
fell asleep."
Corran sat up straight at the mention of the aberration in the readings, it
sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure why. His eyes changed colors in quick
succession, until finally he looked at Cris as he felt tension cause his
stomach to clench involuntarily. "Maybe we should go to sickbay, take some
more minute scans."
"Wait," Cris said slightly harder than he intended. Silently, he switched
the tricorder's playback to the broadest recording of their bedroom last
night for the time period during which he was suffering from insomnia.
Cristobel furrowed his brow. Everything seemed normal. Environmentally,
the room met every Starfleet standard. Physically, Cris' own body didn't
show any other unusual signs. And then he saw the only other oddity.
"Corri, when I didn't know I was using my telepathy, you were using yours
too. And you were completely asleep. Do Achicarians normally communicate
when they're sleeping?"
Corran nodded somberly. "The Community is always active, only explorers like
myself from the exploratory division were taught to 'shut it down' so to
say. I've had to sleep with my telepathy closed for a long time now
though...didn't realize it wasn't working anymore." He reached up to feel
his forehead as if he could feel a fever or a headache when there was
actually nothing wrong with him physically, not that he could detect.
"Every night you've been saying that I successfully isolate my mind from
every other mind, except yours, and now this tricorder agrees with you.
Before this proof, I was too afraid to believe you, for fear that you might
be wrong," Cristobel admitted apologetically. "But our minds were definitely
in contact when you were asleep and I couldn't sleep last night. What were
they saying? I don't remember projecting any of my thoughts, even when I was
practically going insane from insomnia; nor do I remember hearing any of
your thoughts or dreams."
"Insomnia...insanity..." He almost whispered the two words as he tried to
recall the medical case he'd read about in the Achicarian archives, but he
wasn't having too much luck. He grew quiet and his eyes distant. Something
was wrong, but he had a feeling it wasn't something wrong with Cris,
otherwise their connection should have been a healing experience for both of
them.
"Alliteration. Not quite as funny in this sitch," Cristobel muttered half
to Corran and half to himself.
He looked at Cristobel with more concern than on any other occasion, "I
think this could be more serious than we thought, although, simpler in some
other ways. We'll have to check with the Doctor first though, if my
suspicion's right then she should scan me." If he was the source of the
problem, he could have a disease he had treated often during the post-war
period on Achicar Prime, brought on by telepathic disarray, although he
hadn't felt their symptoms at all so far.
"Of course," Cris responded in a muchly-subdued tone of voice, frightened by
Corran's state of mind. "I'll get dressed." He leaned in to kiss Corran on
the cheek and comfortingly squeeze his shoulder, as he swung his legs over
the side of the bed and got to his feet. "Computer, Class A duty uniform,"
Cristobel ordered, as he hurried to the replicator in their bedroom.
Corran watched him for a moment, but silence shrouded him as dread started
slipping into his veins. If it was what he suspected, he was in trouble, a
lot of it.
***
Cristobel and Corran stood shoulder to shoulder in Sickbay, both of them
obviously anxious. Sefton handed Dr. M'lira the neurocortical monitors and
an isolinear chip. "Here are my readings from last night. They're what we
expected; I'm physically healthy and there was no telepathic activity while
I was sleeping. But, uhm, there's a possibility we didn't examine..."
Cristobel looked to Corran before continuing, "Corri thought it best if you
examine him this morning."
The Achicarian smirked sheepishly as he nodded at M'Lira, following it with
an explanation, "I'd like you to scan my nerve centers along my body and
finish with my brain, without excluding areas you might not consider part of
my abilities." He reached up to run a hand through his hair anxiously,
hoping he was wrong in one way, but right the other.
"Very well," M'lira said with a nod. She opened her tricorder and began a
scan. She watched the readings as they came in, but kept her face passive
and impartial. No point in letting a raised eyebrow or frown give cause for
alarm. After a few more moments, she glanced over the readings one more time
and looked up at Corran and Cristobel. "You appear to be quite healthy," she
said. "I am detecting a slight sensory build-up along your spinal column,
and there is a good deal of activity in your cerebetus. Typically, that is
an indication of anxiety or stress. Have you been feeling as if you are
inordinately anxious or exhausted recently, Corran?"
The cerebetus? Corran thought to himself. He didn't answer immediately as
he recalled what the cerebetus was for beyond what the doctor had explained.
"Mmm, well, I found myself forced into closing my mind off from telepathy as
much as possible some months ago. Many people in the Federation feel anxious
around me if I don't, and admittedly it's had me on edge on and off...yeah..." But then, why was there sensory build-up in his column?
"Is this what you suspected the doctor might find?" Cristobel asked gently.
He had moved over to the wall monitor, and accessed Corran's medical history
beside a display of his current vitals. Immediately, Cris noticed how
drastically lower Corran's cerebetus activity had been during his
examinations on the Miranda. Even then, Corran had noted that any
cerebetus activity at all was unusual in Achicarians.
Corran nodded slightly. "Yes." He looked over to Cris and then back to
M'Lira without standing up. "While I was treating patients after the attack
on Achicar Prime, a lot of my people suffered some form of rupture from the
community. They couldn't re-enable their telepathy, but it was because of
psychological trauma." He sighed heavily before looking into his palm which
fluctuated in different colors, wondering if this was something similar. "I
guess I might be unconsciously linking to a few people when I'm asleep, or
just to Cris."
Largely unfamiliar with Achicarian history, Cristobel bewilderedly asked,
"Linking how? And why? When were you traumatised?"
Corran pointed at the panel in front of Cris. "Through the paracortex, by
use of telepathy, unconsciously...and then, I have no idea why I'd be
traumatized. I don't feel I am, I doubt I am, all I've done is regulate my
telepathy, limited it and closed it." Well, then again, the trip down to
Risa had been a little traumatic to him... "Then again, Risa."
"But then what's the purpose of the link?" Cris asked.
He paused, he thought, and then he froze. It was like watching a cheap
melodrama on Earth's old television networks as Corran ran his psychology
classes through his mind and recalled the particular course called 'The
Natural Evolution of Achicarian Extra-Sensorial Abilities.'
"Communication, integration, and stability," he answered, repeating the
words of his professor.
"So there's nothing being said?" Cristobel presumed. "It's communication
for communication's sake?"
"Oh a lot is being said, all the time, day in and day out, non-stop. You
hear and feel it all...a database, and the way we keep together as a people
and individuals." Corran's point was about stability in this case, but he
felt lost. His eyes averted Cris' gaze and that of the Doctor as he moved
away from the biobed. What if he had to leave for treatment?
Cristobel still wasn't quite following how this apparently constant
connection related to their problem. "Why wasn't I receiving when I was
asleep?"
"Because I was awake..." Corran turned around, his eyes fluctuating from his
inner tension. "When I'm awake I can control my telepathy, when I'm not it
seems I don't have the ability to anymore, which I guess could mean that
I'm... I don't know." Frustration started registering in his voice and on
his face. What he wouldn't give to be at a medical lab back at Achicar Prime
right now.
Cocking his head subconsciously, Cristobel said aloud, "Computer, are there
any reports of Achicarians becoming disconnected from something called 'The
Community' or having unusual activity in their brain's cerebetus?"
"There have been three hundred million reported cases of separation from The
Community. There have been four hundred and fifty thousand recorded cases of
unusual cerebetus activity."
Corran walked about in circles now, hearing the computer, and knowing that
separations from the community had been a consequence of the stressful times
before and after the disaster with the Savior Fleet. However, he hadn't been
in The Community for some time now anyway...
"Hunh. Compile the list of reports on the terminal in Cristobel Sefton's
quarters," Cris ordered, and then unenthusiastically added to the others,
"Have to start somewhere."
This time the new patient stopped pacing. His frustration had finally
peaked. He looked at both Cris and the Doctor while rubbing his cheeks, and
then shook his head. He was about to say something but instead simply walked
out of Sickbay. He wanted to be alone for a little bit, try to put his
thoughts in order!
M'lira raised a furred brow and then glanced at Cristobel. "Well," she said,
"that didn't go as I expected it would have. Will he be alright?"
"Corran is strong," Cristobel said simply. Picking up on Corran's
frustration and anxiety, Cristobel wanted to follow him. Also being
empathetically aware of Corran's desire to be alone, Cristobel remained in
Sickbay.
Setting the biobed on standby mode, Sefton told M'lira, "I'd like to take a
closer look at Corran's readings." Once the screen cleared, he cocked his
head towards M'lira to ask, "Care to take a closer look at the sensor
readings of me from last night?"
Making his way to a desktop terminal, without waiting for a response to his
question, Cristobel called up Corran's most recent vitals again, but looked
to M'lira before examining the images onscreen. Cris cringed
apologetically, and asked, "Today was your day off, wasn't it?"
"It was supposed to be," M'lira said as she watched over Cris' shoulder.
"Though, I don't believe a doctor ever truly has a day off." She frowned as
she glanced between the data on the screen and the data from Cris' night's
sleep. Finally, she pulled her attention fully away from Corran's results.
"I think I am beginning to see something," she said. "According to the
readings here, it appears that your neurotransmitter levels were elevated
last night, more so than is normal...especially during sleep."
Wincing at having missed that completely when he'd looked over his own
readings, Cristobel offered, "I don't think I've ever experienced the kind
of all-purpose subconscious telepathic link that Corran was describing. It's
bound to have unexpected results."
"If you were unable to sleep," M'lira said, "I would think that would be the
prime suspect. With that sort of brain activity, I don't believe even a
person suffering from narcolepsy would be able to fall asleep. I have an
idea of what we could do to help you now, though it will require dampening
your telepathic contact with Corran."
As he magnified Corran's readings on the screen, Cristobel assured her, "At
this point I'm prepared to do just about anything for a decent night's
sleep."
M'lira smiled. "I'll begin the preparations on that," she said. "Though, I
must say that I am concerned for Corran. These readings should definitely
be looked into. How long have you and Corran been together?"
"Since just before my graduation at the Academy, but we first met when I
cadet cruised on board the Miranda," Cris answered partially-wistfully and
partially-distractedly, as he was comparing Corran's current brain scan to
one taken on Starbase 163 and one taken on the USS Miranda. "It was
simpler when we first met. One of us was always having a breakdown and the
other one would be there to pick up the pieces."
***
Corran burst into his shared quarters with Cris and felt like grabbing
something to smash it. His emotions were wreaking havoc inside of him. It
felt horrible to become a patient to an ailment he couldn't even identify,
let alone treat. This was something new, something he hadn't seen coming,
something that they hadn't prepared him for back home when they told him
he'd be taking on this mission. Had he become infected with something in the
Federation and not known about it?
His eyes continued to fluctuate, but his hands joined them as he looked over
to the plants on the station he'd arranged near the entrance to his quarters
with Cris. They didn't seem to have the calming effect he hoped for in that
very instant, which nearly broke him down as he walked towards a darker part
of the living room.
He didn't have the medical equipment he needed, the Federation was
ill-equipped still for treating Achicarians for telepathic ailments it
seemed, and he just...he felt helpless. What if he had to return to Achicar
Prime in order to stop hurting Cristobel? What if he was hurting others such
as Captain Salinger without them realizing?
There had to be something on this available in the Achicarian Database. He
sighed heavily as he rushed over to a bookcase where he opened a small
wooden box that had been made out of the wood of a tree native to his
homeworld that head translucid red-brown wood. Inside was a crystalline
object that he had neglected for some time now, an object that might help
him.
He reached in hesitantly, not quite sure why, but grasped the object and
then reached up to his forehead where he placed the crystal so that it would
grasp onto him. It attached to his skin and activated, soon after emitting a
gentle light as it seemed that Corran accessed his private and portable
database, where he kept his life stored away much like others did with
computers and padds, diaries, and photos...
***
"You've never experienced something like this before?" M'lira asked as she
watched the results scrolling across Cris' screen.
"Nothing like this," Sefton affirmed.
"It is rather unique, and while there are some similarities between other
telepathic species and Achicarians, the differences are enough to give
pause. I think it may be a good idea for him to wear a set of monitors as
well."
"I'll grab a pair on my way out," Cris assured her, not taking his eyes from
the screen. "I think I might also sent this data to the Cataria Institute
on Betazed. Telepathic ailments are their expertise."
"I am in complete agreement," M'lira said. "I will certainly put my name to
it if it'll help lend any weight to the research."
"Thank you," Cristobel said, actually looking away from the screen to smile
at M'lira. Once he looked back to the screen, he vocalised a, "hunh." The
computer had completed its comparison of Corran's own neurotransmitter
levels, and displayed its results. "Corran's psilosynine levels are
erratic. They're within norm for Betazoids, but not so much for
Achicarians."
"That is highly unusual," M'lira said. "Do you know if it is possible to
contact Corran's people? I am certain this is an ailment they have
experience in dealing with."
"It'll take some time, because of the distance and the less-than-pristine
state of Achicar Prime," Cristobel said disappointedly. He magnified
Corran's current brain scan further than before, as he continued, "I'll
definitely talk to Corran about arranging it when - Mo dhia. Corran's
paracortex is deteriorating. You might not have to sedate his telepathic
lobe, because it's going to be impaired if we can't correct the damage."
"I'll begin preparing for that right away," M'lira said. "We'll still want
those monitors on him. Do you want to talk to him about coming back to
Sickbay for this?"
"Ah, Crissy!" the obnoxiously shrill voice of Amy Reese interjected. She
strolled into the sickbay wearing her vacation attire - a floral wrap and a
brightly coloured swimsuit - and an overweening smirk on her tanned face.
"So, Risa too much for you-- Oh, hi, Dr. M'Lira. Enjoying the shoreleave?"
Amy glanced haughtily at Cris and added, "I am. Kit and I have gone
everywhere and done everything. It's turning out to be quite the vacation."
"Are you ill?" Cristobel asked of Amy in his duty voice.
Amy sighed petulantly. "Of course not! What kind of an idiotic question is
that?" Her overly cheerful smile returned as she sang, "Oh, Kit and I are
having a wonderful time... I mean...it's amazing how quickly we bounce back.
You must envy us, I'm sure."
"I'm wondering why you're in Sickbay if Risa's so perfect for you and your
boyfriend," Cristobel said flatly. "And, yeah, I am envious, considering
I've had insomnia for a week, and my Imzadi has brain damage."
Amy's taunting, condescending tone changed and her expression became one of
befuddled concern. "Brain damage? I-I don't understand... How? When, even?"
"We don't know when. We don't even know if it was caused suddenly or
gradually. We certainly don't understand how or why. All we have is the
readings of what his brain is like now, and Corran's belief that he hasn't
adjusted well to the abstract concept of no longer being a part of 'The
Community,' " Cristobel ranted with increasing frustrated vehemence in his
voice.
"Well...isn't there anything to be done?" Amy asked, looking between M'lira
and Cris.
Sounding nearly hopeless, Cristobel answered, "We can try surgery, but if we
don't find out what the cause is, it may not be a permanent solution."
Amy moved to place a hand on Cris' shoulder, then remembered how
irrationally he'd acted the previous night towards her attempt at consoling
him, so she decided against it. "So, is that why you were a complete jerk
last night?" she asked. "How long have you known, Cris, and why didn't you
tell me before?"
Practically bristling at the accusatory tone, Cristobel stated, "I'm telling
you now because I found out now. Last night I was merely dealing with
the fear that I was going insane, and with several nights of insomnia, which
were caused by a chemical imbalance, by the way, and not by guilt as you
assumed. I thought you'd be aware that Betazoids don't cope well with sleep
deprivation and could be even the slightest bit more understanding of my
impropriety. I mean, wouldn't I be correct in assuming your training
consisted of more than simply Terran biology."
"Well how was I to know what was going on with you," Amy shot back. She
jammed her fists into her hips, her pose reflecting the irritation she was
feeling. "I have my own problems to deal with, you know. There's no need to
insult my intelligence because I'm not intuitive enough to know that you've
been having trouble sleeping. You're too busy almost destroying
relationships and being condescending to tell me anything!"
After gaping at her for a second, Cristobel said in a much more controlled
voice, without completely removing the anger from his tone, "I did tell
you that I hadn't been sleeping. It's not my fault that you ignored that
and made it all about you and your sleeping problems. I truly am sorry
that I almost destroyed your relationship; it certainly was not my
intention; I just needed to not have your hands all over me. But, uhm, have
you maybe considered thanking me? Since you might actually be able to get
closer and move forward in your relationship with Kit, now that your
relationship isn't built around a secret? Actually...yeah... I guess - I
guess I'm not all that sorry after all, because I made things better. For
you. And I didn't even know what I was doing. I hardly even remember it."
It was Amy's turn to gape at Cris. "How dare you!" she shrieked. "You
actually think you did me a favour? Is that your justification? It hurt him,
Cris! You almost tore him apart, you bastard! You really thought you were
helping?" She laughed wryly. "Well from now on, don't! Don't help me--You
know what? Don't even talk me!"
"Firstly, I didn't think I was doing anything last night. My mind was all
messed up and I certainly didn't expect or intend for Kit to hear anything
from me," Cris snapped back immediately. "Secondly, and more importantly, I
didn't almost tear anyone apart. You did."
Amy felt as if a fist had been driven into her stomach in reaction to
hearing what she'd been telling herself since the incident. "I know," she
whispered, lowering her eyes guiltily. "But...but I would have at least been
more prepared if I'd told him myself. I was so scared, Crissy. I
almost...almost lost him." She looked up at him again, compassion replacing
her previous anger. "I guess I sorta know what you're feeling right
now...with what's happening to Corran and all... I-I'm sorry."
With Amy's admission and empathy washing over Cris, just as intensely as her
anger, Cristobel's expression crumpled, and he wrapped his arms around her
shoulders, clinging to her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "And I'm so
scared. I don't know what's going to happen to Corran."
"I can imagine," she murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. "And I promise,"
she added in an attempt to raise his spirits, "I'm not trying to seduce you.
Though the thought has crossed my perverted mind..."
Half a chuckle came out of Cris, despite his mood. "Your mind isn't
perverted. And I'm the one who hugged you, this time, anyway."
"So perhaps you're the lewd one after all." She snickered then pressed a
firm kiss to his cheek. "Don't worry. We'll fix Corran. I'll give up my
whole shore leave if I have to and stay here with you to figure it out."
"Thank you," Cristobel said, forcing on a smile, and then took a step back
from the hug. "I should talk to Corran. He doesn't even know everything
that we know yet."
"I won't say a word," Amy promised, then mimed zipping her lips shut and
tossing away the key.
Cristobel quirked a smirk, gave Amy another quick hug, and slowly walked out
of Sickbay.
Amy sighed as she watched Cris solemnly leave, then glanced aside at M'Lira.
"Is Corran really that bad off, Doctor?"
M'lira was quiet for a moment, then she nodded. "It is fairly serious," the
Caitian answered. "I have dealt with a number of telepathic ailments, but
this is one I am unfamiliar with. Cristobel and I are going to contact one
of the doctors on Betazed. It is our hope that some of his research will be
able to assist us with determining a cure."
Amy frowned somberly as she glanced in the direction Cris had taken. "Poor
Crissy..." she murmured.
M'lira lay a hand on Amy's shoulder. "We'll have the best people helping
him," she said. "And, if we can get some of Corran's own people assisting,
then we are certain to make him better again. If you wish to stay and help
them, you may...as is your right, but I do not know what else you would be
able to do for them now, Amy."
"I know," she admitted grudgingly. "But...promise you'll comm me if there's
any change or if you need me for anything."
"I promise," M'lira said with her doctor's smile. "Now, go try to enjoy
your shore leave before it's gone. If there's anything, I'll let you know.
You have your communicator with you?"
"On the planet I do," Amy replied. "I'll keep it on me at all times. And--"
Amy sighed. "Keep an eye on Cris if you can. I'm worried about him too."
"I shall," M'lira said. "I'll keep an eye on both of them. I believe if I
can keep Cristobel occupied, that should help him put aside most of his
mournful feelings. Though, if I need your special services for cheering him
up, I can call on you?"
Amy giggled and nodded her head duteously. "Amy Reese is always available
for cheering up. One comm and I'll be here." And with a wave for Dr.
M'Lira, Amy skipped lightly out of the sickbay.
M'lira watched her go with a smile on her face. Once Nurse Reese was
gone, it faded slightly and she turned back to the test results. They would
certainly have their work cut out for them.
"Co-Existence"
by Lieutenant (J.G.) Arthas Hex - Deputy Chief of Security
Starring: Rich as Arthas
Maria as Clavain
Marc as Gredala
Loren as Craz
And Christine as Ashly
Guest Starring: Dr. M'Lira
Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07 09h30
***
Arthas Hex uncomfortably laid down on the sickbay bed and put his head
on the rather comforting pillow. He wasn't tired in the slightest and it
felt rather strange to close one's eyes when one wasn't tired. M'Lira
had told him to communicate with his symbiont. As hard as he could, he
had to contact them. He had to calm his symbiont down or the symbiont
would not be able to heal itself.
The condition Arthas had was not a common one amongst joined trills.
But it had been documented. The Trill symbiont was an extremely
fragile thing and if one was damaged at all while not in a host, this
sort of thing could happen to it. The symbiont became 'hyper'; in effect
the symbiont wouldn't calm down. It could happen a long time after the
symbiont was damaged but if it was not calmed it could be fatal for both the
host and the symbiont itself.
Arthas hadn't been in contact with his symbiont or the previous hosts
that seemed to constantly talk to him, wanted or unwanted. It worried
him how much; he had gotten used to the strange voices of old men and
women from centuries before his time, but he had and now he desperately
missed them.
Feeling the depressure of a mild sedative on his neck Arthas felt more
relaxed and the pain in what strangely seemed to emanate from his
stomach eased enough for him to engage in the same process that he had
managed to create. He attempted to conjure the image of the Blizzard's
conference room once again. He felt his body slip away and then he
wasn't on the Sulu anymore.
***Hex Symbiont***
Arthas opened his eyes and what he saw frightened him. He was standing
where he had requested, the conference room of the Blizzard but nobody else was there. He stood at the head of the table which
deformed, along with the rest of the room, into another setting. It was
what appeared to be a Starfleet quarters, from the Blizzard.
Yes, that's it, Arthas thought. It's Craz's quarters.
Moving to the edge of his portion of the area, Arthas couldn't think of
anything else to call it, and peered out. The quarters were in fact
Craz's and he was in them, shouting across to another area. This one was
very different and as Arthas looked around. He saw that there were five
areas, all merged together in the middle and all of very different
places.
"Shut up, you arrogant wat!" Craz bellowed. He spoke in a deeply
sarcastic singsong, "I was a better pilot! I was an admiral! I was the
damn Prime Minister!" His bellow returned. "I'm tired of you, and you,
and you!" He indicated each twisted exit from his quarters in turn. "You
won't shut up, and I'm sick of listening! Leave me alone!"
"I will have you know, I was the best pilot in all of the quadrant for
years!" Clavain's gruff voice hollered back. "And I do not take orders
from slippery politicians. If you want to be left alone, then leave!"
Ashly Hex sat from within her office on Trill, behind the desk she sat,
her expression unreadable.
She shook her head as she spoke: "Clavain how predictable of you to solve
your ways with violence, letting your emotions control your very core."
Ashly's voice seemed as though it dripped acid. Like the others she too
was not happy with the current state of affairs.
Clavain rose from the pilot's seat in the cockpit of his vessel and
stared at the woman with clear contempt. "You're always ready to give
advice, whether one wants it or not, aren't you?" He scoffed at her
derisively.
"Well maybe if you'd learned to keep your mouth shut, you'd still be
alive. Oh, you say it was old age, but who's to say it wasn't someone
slipping poison into your food, just to cease your yammering!"
"Perhaps instead of attempting to give advice, Clavain you would learn to
listen, then to speak with your brain instead of your brawn!" she shot
back. Her eyes glistened like daggers as she continued. "At least I
managed to outlive you and your recklessness!"
"At least I died happy," he spat, "instead of locked away in my chambers
with only my ego to keep me company."
"Will you people please just pipe down," Gredala snapped, her voice
ringing with authority. "It is bad enough that Arthas has no control
over us, but the situation is magnified by four hundred percent when we
are not able to control ourselves. Now return to what you normally do
when
you're not snapping at each other like a herd of Klingons."
"Oh, that's right, Gredala." Craz waved his arm dismissively. "Mother
us all into submission. Oh, and tell us all a story about how this
would never have happened on your ship."
"You are a disgrace to the uniform you wore while you were alive, Craz.
You lack discipline and respect for your fellow officers, and probably
just as little respect for yourself. That you actually served in
Starfleet only tells me that perhaps it is best that I died when I did,
so that I didn't have to witness its pitiful decline."
"If I'd had to serve with you, I'd have shot myself in the head," Craz
muttered. "Oh, wait. I am serving with you. Forever! And I can't
even end it! I'm in hell! Hell!"
Arthas was so stunned by what was happening he sat down on one of the
chairs in his portion of this warped reality he found himself in. He
wondered what on earth was going on here. He decided to just let it
carry on for a bit, wait for a stop in the arguments.
"It's his fault, you know," Clavain told them all. "He's keeping us
here." He cast a dark gaze in Arthas' direction. "If it weren't for
him, we wouldn't be trapped here," he added coldly. "If he would just
die, we'd be free!"
"But..." stammered Arthas.
"Then why aren't we already free, you brainless console-jockey?" sneered
Craz. "We've all died already, or have you forgotten?"
"Hang on..." Arthas tried again
"He seems to have forgotten what he learned at the Academy. They are
still teaching discipline there, are they not, Mr. Arthas Hex? If you
wish to remain the host for the Hex symbiont, you will need to assert
some of the training you have received. Otherwise, it's just back to
the Caves of Mak'ala for us...if you don't kill us first."
"But..." Arthas tried again
Ashly slammed her fists on the desk as she attempted to bring order into
the chaos by drawing her attention to those around her. "If you two for
once would quit jabbering off like a pair of drunken Ferengi and
actually
attempted to talk to Arthas instead of attempting to hammer your
questions out of him by way of force, then perhaps we wouldn't be in
this current
scenario...oh, but wait I remember now: you two only grew learning to
take orders!"
"That was uncalled for, Ashly, come on, listen to m--" Arthas shouted
louder
"Oh, would you shut up?" Clavain bellowed to Ashly. "You're no better
than they are! Always driving the boy mad with your moral superiority,
your impeccable record, your damned accomplishments... Things this daft
child could never achieve! At least I give him no expectations, because
I know he'd never be able to meet them!"
Arthas sighed and slumped in his chair, putting his head into his arms. He cursed silently.
"Nothing to say, Arthas?" Gredala asked, and then sighed. "My dear boy,
if you just crawl inside yourself whenever you run into a problem,
you're never going to get anywhere. Now, quit your stammering and stand
up for yourself. We're just the memories of the past hosts. You get out
there
and make new memories for the next...unless you plan to just wallow away
your life in here. Now, quit your sighing and slumping and defend
yourself while we insult you."
Arthas brought his head up and began. "Gredala..."
He waited a few seconds. "Ah, so I can speak now can I, without you all arguing?" Arthas asked
loudly
"You've always had the right to speak, Arthas," Gredala answered. "It
is unfortunate that most of the time you choose to speak, it's only
stuttering and mumbling. Now, why are you here?"
Arthas ignored the jab from Gredala and spoke evenly and firmly. "I know
nobody here likes each other in the slightest. You may have a secret
respect to members of the past hosts. But I have had you guys with me
for over a
year now."
"One year, two months and twenty-two days," Clavain corrected gruffly.
"If you paid more attention to us instead of trying to shut us out of
your mind, you'd know that."
"Thank you," Arthas smiled at the wit that he was beginning to get
accustomed to. "I know you guys don't argue this much. Any of you
wondering what sparked this? Can you remember why you all started to
argue?"
Craz look at Clavain and opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped,
frowned, and scratched his temple.
"I know why," Clavain volunteered. "It was because he--" He gestured
to Craz, then slowly lowered his arm as a look of puzzlement crossed his
face. "Well...I thought... Hmm..."
"What is it, Arthas? Tell us what you know and perhaps we can help you
help yourself," Ashly asked, voice softening.
"Does 'Gr'Par's syndrome mean anything to you?" Arthas asked Ashly.
Nodding, Ashly explained, her voice grim as she knew it all too well.
"Gr'Par's syndrome is a condition sparked by a sudden jolt to the
fragile symbiont. It can cause excessive movement that is capable of
causing many different side-effects. Its cause and effect can be
between
immediate or five years later. It's most logical to assume this occurred
when Craz died." Looking up she added, "At any rate this syndrome can
become most
fatal unless the symbiont is not calmed down."
"Does anybody see the connection? You're all arguing so hard and it's
all caused by this condition," Arthas explained. "We've all got to calm
down."
"Calm down?" Clavain echoed. "How can we calm down when five
generations of Hexes are about to be extinguished because you're having
trouble co-existing with us!"
"Oh, he doesn't have difficulty co-existing with us," Gredala said. "He
ignores us as best he can. He doesn't even wish to be here. We are a
burden and a curse to be here, and he doesn't even have the will to do
what it takes to make this symbiosis work."
"That's untrue, Gredala. I am really sorry if that is how it appeared,"
Arthas said. "It's true that over the last year I didn't want to the
symbiont, I didn't want you. Any of you. I was frightened."
"Why should we care then, Arthas? It appears you want us less than we
want you," said Ashly.
Arthas sighed. "I don't admit being scared often, Ashly, I deeply respect
all of you but you forget.... You were trained to deal with this. I wasn't.
I can't stop you from arguing, I don't even know if I can learn."
"We are not arguing," Clavain snapped. "We're just having a
conversation, but considering the stubborn fools I have to co-exist
with, having a civil discussion proves difficult."
"You're a moron, Clavain," Craz muttered.
"I am beginning to suspect, Craz, that your death was no accident," said
Gredala. "Could it have been a suicide because Starfleet gave you a
dishonourable discharge for behaving worse than a Klingon's pet targ?
You are undisciplined and unruly. You never acted this way in life and
you
never have acted this way before. Perhaps this condition that Hex is
suffering from has somehow affected you as well, turned you into a
foul-mouthed cynic who can offer nothing constructive to this
situation. If you cannot assist in this problem, I recommend you kindly
step back and let us work through this problem." She gave him her
"admiral's glare," the one used to keep officers in line. She had a
feeling, however, that Craz was beyond respecting any authority other
than his own acidic wit.
Craz proved her right by nonchalantly making a vulgar gesture at her.
Gredala looked first at Clavain and then at Ashly. Finally she shook her head, and turned to Arthas. "There is a procedure where the
memories of a past host can be suppressed. That one will only cause you trouble,
Arthas, as his resistance to helping at all in this manner. I strongly
urge you to contact the Symbiosis Board, and have them suppress the
memories of Craz Hex."
"And none of us could have predicted you'd say that," Craz said,
oozing sarcasm.
Amongst the recriminations and bickering, Clavain slumped down into his
pilot's seat and groaned, "Not again..."
"Nobody's being suppressed, for God's sake. I knew Craz from when I was
first an ensign, and believe me he's not like this normally," Arthas
said. I hope, he didn't add.
Gredala pulled out a padd and began going over the details contained within it. Being only the collected memories of one of the past lives
of a
Trill symbiont, there was little she could do save reminiscing about her
past. So, she did just that.
Sitting back down behind her desk, Ashly listened carefully and like
Gredala knew she could only do so much aside from reminiscing about old
memories and the like. Folding her hands she stared down at the marble
desk as though staring into the furniture's depths would unearth some
answers that could help their current predicament.
Arthas laughed. "At least you are not all arguing anymore," he said,
hoping that the symbiont was calmer now in his physical body's pouch.
Arthas stood from his seat. "I understand now why you all may not have
enjoyed the past year..."
Clavain cleared his throat, and reminded dully, "One year, two months
and
twenty-two days, actually."
Arthas laughed. "But from now on I promise I will be different. As long
as you are sure that when I am doing something important, that whatever
you say to me is important then I shall listen to you from now on. And
whenever you wish to talk then I will respond and I apologise for my
inexperience. What do you think?"
Clavain looked aside at his fellow hosts, then shrugged. "Ask them. I
don't mind one way or the other, as long as no one asks me to tell a
story."
"Fine," Craz said dryly.
"Very well, and so it begins...." Ashly remarked, looking up from her
desk.
Arthas smiled, realising that he couldn't control the past hosts, would
never be able to as they were people. They were people inside of him;
they would never be going away until he himself was just another voice
for another host. Arthas felt secure in the knowledge that when he died
he would still be alive although his body was dead. He was now immortal,
whether he chose to be or not and while he was alive Arthas had to get
along with the previous hosts, or he would soon join them in the
symbiont.
"I'll speak to you when you talk to me then," Arthas said, smiling as he
disconnected himself from the link.
He awoke to the smiling feline face of M'Lira who showed him the scan of
his non-existent pain. The symbiont had calmed. Arthas didn't have the
control over the hosts that he had wanted, he had something better. He
had coexistence.
"Broke Down Brunch"
by Corran Quezith
and Cristobel Sefton
Location: USS Sulu, Sefton & Quezith's Quarters
Stardate: 57907.07, 09h58
***
Corran? Cristobel 'pathed gently from outside the doors to his quarters.
Cris wasn't sure if Corran was quite ready to deal with other people. In the
event that he wasn't, Cris had made a very quick transport into the
restaurant of the resort they'd been staying at to pick up a mouthwateringly
fresh brunch. With two lidded plates balanced on one hand, he tapped the
doorchime with his other.
On the other side of the door lay Corran on his bed. Dried tears were
visible on his cheeks due to a powdery white residue, quite normal
considering how much time he'd been freaking out and crying. His hands
fondled the unit in his hands, the unit he could no longer use correctly. It
could only mean one of a few things, and none of the possibilities was good.
He barely heard Cris' message, and was only sure he'd said anything after
the chime rang.
Corran cleared his throat and sat up slowly, looking at his surroundings and
trying to calm himself down as his anxiety made the membranes on his hands
fluctuate erratically. Once it stopped he called out, "Come in."
When Cristobel came in. Seeing Corran in that state, he hurried to the bed
and dropped the plates onto an endtable. He slipped into bed beside Corran,
and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "What's happened?" Cris
whispered.
He shook his head insistently while sinking into Cristobel's arms. He was
tired and felt all around weak, although he was sure it was because of his
state of mind. "I'm losing my abilities... I couldn't even access my..." He
sighed and just held onto Cris. "Am I dying or something?"
"You're not dying," Cristobel insisted, holding onto Corran more firmly.
"There's simply been some deterioration in your paracortex. Doctor M'lira
wants to try to correct the damage that has already been done. If she can't,
we'll bring in telepathic specialists from Betazed, Vulcan, Achicar Prime, wherever."
"Repair... How?" The question resonated weakly as he thought about surgery.
It was something he'd practised before, countless times, but now he didn't
want to be subject to it himself. He shivered involuntarily.
Kissing the side of Corran's head when he shivered, Cristobel then told him,
"Even after all the troubles my sister has had with her brain, I've pretty
much chosen to remain blissful in ignorance when it comes to most of that
field of medicine. I do know, in particular, that every telepathic species
in the Federation has comparable surgery procedures for regenerating damaged
brain tissue. I'd be surprised if the Achicarians didn't have something
similar."
Corran smirked ironically and even added a sarcastic chuckle. "I practised
those operations myself, Cris. You'd be surprised at what kind of
psychological and physiological devastation comes out of seeing your world
bombarded from orbit with polaron weaponry." He sighed deeply, his eyes
changing over to a deep brown tone that seemed to mirror every emotion
within him. "What if something goes wrong and I'm left without telepathy
forever?"
It hadn't been until now that Corran seriously considered the repercussions
of losing it... He'd worked so hard to gain it to begin with...
"You will adapt," Cris assured him. "You haven't lost your ability to
mentally communicate, but something has already gone wrong, and it must be
dealt with. How it will be dealt with is still entirely your decision."
Corran had read about telepaths in the Federation losing their abilities and
having to adjust, but he truly wondered if he'd be able to completely lose
it. Even since childhood Achicarians were all connected to the community,
even if they didn't tune their telepathic abilities.
"I just don't understand how this could happen."
Squeezing Corr's shoulder, Cristobel looked down at the device in Corran's
hands. Gently, he asked, "Why haven't you checked your personal database?"
Tears started forming in Corran's eyes again as he held it out and then set
it down away from himself. "I can't even use it, it's barely gibberish to me
now..."
Cristobel kissed the side of Corran's head again, as he pondered an idea,
before asking, "Would it be gibberish to me?"
"I don't know," he answered quickly. Potentially, any telepath would be able
to use Achicarian technology, but recognizing that all forms of telepathy
were different and unique reversed the theory. "Maybe."
"Perhaps not right away, but I'd like to try it. M'lira's researching at
the moment, but the UFP database might not have enough," Cristobel said.
Unsure what to do next, Cris asked, "What do you want to do right now?"
At that moment, Corran didn't particularly feel like doing anything, but he
realized that that in fact wasn't the way he normally behaved. As a matter
of fact he doubted he would've felt so disgusted and bewildered by Amy's
direct bluntness the other day at dinner... Although, that didn't change
that he didn't like her much. He shrugged his shoulders as he brought his
eyes up to Cris'. "I don't know. Normally I'd say we should do something
fun, but I feel tired."
"Then sleep," Cristobel told Corran softly, gently running fingertips across
Corran's cheek. "The degradation has been gradual; you're not in any
immediate danger. Rest would be helpful before you decide what course of
action would be best. I can't stay here with you when you sleep, though.
The doctor can give me enzymic decontaminants to keep my brain from
overreacting to your Community connection when you sleep, but we don't
have a flawless plan to keep me safe yet."
Cris' eyes dropped to the blanket on their bed as fast as he felt his heart
drop when he suggested needing to be kept safe from Corran. After a moment
of silent apology, Cris offered, "I can stay with you here until you fall
asleep."
Corran bit his own tongue as he sighed heavily at not being able to have
Cris nearby like that anymore. This seemed to only be heading for worse. He
shook his head, "Doesn't the Doctor have any telepathic inhibitors in her
collection of medications?" He had some in his medkit somewhere... If he
could only remember where he stashed it...
Hating the words as they came out of his mouth, Nurse Sefton said,
"Starfleet telepathic inhibitors aren't very reliable. And it wouldn't be
safe to inhibit your telepathy any more than it already is. It could shut
down your telepathy for good...and...I don't think Federation medicine can
correct damage to that degree."
"Maybe you should put me in stasis." He was starting to think about
contacting people back home, or returning home, and about the damage getting
worse.
"I really think you should sleep on this decision," Cristobel said calmly,
kissing Corran's forehead, despite the knots in his stomach over Corran's
suggestion and thoughts. He didn't think he could stand having to spend
another year away from Corran, if Corr had to return to Achicar Prime.
"Is there any chance I'm contagious?" he asked. He was starting to think
like a doctor again, coldly, as sometimes doctors had to do. What if he was
sick and this could be passed on to others? What if it was deadly even
though it seemed to progress as slowly as archaic monstrosities that had
long since been eradicated? Or was this just him being pessimistic?
"You don't have any known contag-- I don't know. We don't know anything,"
Cristobel said bitterly, entirely frustrated with the situation.
"It's too bad the Sulu doesn't have a hypersubspace array..." Corran chewed
on the inside of his lip thoughtfully. Maybe they could reroute through the
Midas Array near Earth to get in touch with his people?
Cristobel sighed, "Corri, there's too many theoreticals. I can't organise
it all in my head; I'm not lucid enough; I don't know how you're doing it.
I need to...not think. Let my subconscious sort things out."
"Oh...sorry..." Corran grimaced, but went back to thinking right away. He
grew distracted and his eyes turned gray. Surgery didn't sound so bad now,
but he wasn't happy with that and...
Reaching over to grab one of the plates from the bedside table, as Corran
seemed to go back to his brooding, Cristobel pulled back the lid, picked up
a small melon pyramid and popped it in Corran's mouth. Off of Corran's
surprised look, Cris deadpanned, "It's good for you. Worrying is not."
Corran tried to say something through the piece of melon but found himself
in an awkwardly mouthful position. He smirked and just ate, nodding at
Cristobel and deciding to go with the flow. Maybe he just needed to give up
for now and rest, like he said...
Crawling across the bed, Cristobel grabbed the plates, laid them on the bed,
and sat himself across from Corran. Once Cris met Corran's eyes, he asked,
"So, when we're both able to go back to Risa, where are we going to go?"
Cris snatched up a padd from the bedside table, and quickly called up a map
of Risa, which had the least populated areas highlighted in green. "There
are relatively large areas of Risa that aren't drenched in the sweat of sex;
they simply don't have the most perfect environments."
Corran's eyes twinkled at the mention of those regions. If anything he
appreciated untouched nature or the closest thing to it, "Any place we can
go for a hike through lots of flora and fauna without bumping into anyone?
Steamy hot weather and bothersome insects?" This was a side that Corran had
pushed aside when he'd come to the Federation, but truth be told he was an
adventurer.
Tearing apart a cinnamon dough blossom in one hand, Cristobel used his other
to tap on a Risian country that he thought might to be to Corran's liking.
The map zoomed in to feature just that country, and Cris tapped it several
more times until the map was specific enough to show specific trees. With
his mouth full, Cristobel mumbled, "Found a wooded area. Gramhar Forest.
No trails means no other people."
"We'll have to take our own readings...get some stuff packed..." He looked
up at Cris from having glanced down at his padd. "You up for a camping trip
then? Even if we don't have all the conveniences of wonderful five star
hotels?"
"Of course! But, well, want to know a secret?" Cris asked, and then
digressed, "Not a 'secret' per se, because I was never hiding it. It's more
of a fact that never happened to rise to the surface." Cristobel took a
quick breath before saying embarrassedly, "I've never gone camping."
Corran noted the way Cris said that, feeling a little strange...particularly because he couldn't read his emotions or thoughts well, only a
general misty sense from him. He sighed and then smiled, "I think you'll
like it, if we do things right."
"I'll be looking forward to it," Cristobel assured, taking a bite from
another cinnamon dough blossom.
Out of the blue, Corran changed the subject. "I think I'm going to need more
help with the arboretum than I thought." His fading telepathy explained why
he was tiring out so quickly lately, it wasn't unlike someone changing their
prescription on archaic lenses that were used to correct visual defects.
"Is there anything I can do, or are you going to be asking the Captain for
more staff?" Cristobel asked slowly. Non sequiturs were second nature to
him, but they weren't as prevalent in Corran's diction.
"I think I'm gonna ask for a staff. He loosely assigned people to work on
it but I've been doing most of the work...which didn't bug me before but,
it is two cargo holds after all." His eyes bugged out humorously, but then
he sat up more and leaned over to cup Cris' cheek and kiss him softly. He
pulled away afterwards and winked at him. "You're making me feel better with
this babbling stuff."
"I'm glad," Cris grinned. "I figured you'd already know the healing power
of the babble. Why do you think I babble so much all the time?"
"Errr, inability to contain thineself, perhaps?" he joked.
"Well, there is that too." Cris cocked an eyebrow and then munched on a
cube of purple fruit.
"Then again that'd make you fit in nicely on Achicar Prime," he commented
off the top of his head, without really thinking it, although it was true.
Cristobel went silent, not expecting the topic of discussion to so quickly
come back to the possibility of Corran leaving the Sulu to return home.
"Maybe I shouldn't be keeping you up. Rest would provide a world of
benefit. I could give you a sedative if you don't think you can fall asleep
on your own..."
"I'm a little worried about falling asleep right now." He smirked
thoughtfully. "Ugh, this is insane. Okay, I'll try to get some sleep." He
looked at the bed unsurely.
Picking up their plates from off the bedspread, Cristobel hopped to his feet
and disposed of what was left of their brunch in the replicator.
Corran slid under the covers and just watched Cris, for once genuinely
wondering what was on his mind besides worry. It was distracting, and it
would be moreso in his sleep. He wondered what his dreams would be like, if
he dreamt at all.
Climbing back into bed, Cristobel lay on his side atop the covers, leaning
into Corran. He just watched Corran's eyes, from his vantage point on his
pillow.
"Promise me you'll have them medicate me or put me in stasis if something
happens." He was talking about going insane or something along those lines.
"I promise." Cristobel kissed Corran's forehead.
With that, Corran finally closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His mind was
filled with concerns, but on this occasion it seemed to work to tire him out
and ultimately drive him into the world of sleep. His telepathic activity
rose, his emotions welled up, and much like other times he became a
problem...although the only thing he was vaguely aware of was unclear
thoughts, unclear telepathy...
"Stalemate"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh
Members of the Farehn'ti Delegation
Location: Tomorian Towers, Diplomatic Wing, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 10h00
***
A new day had dawned and Matt and Xayella found themselves together once
more. This time, however, they were on duty once more. Or, as close to
duty as they could be under the circumstances. They entered the building,
so different from the places they'd been recently, and started toward the
turbolift that would take them to the conference room where the Farehn'ti
delegation had been meeting with Dalil V'ril.
"I've heard these guys can be quite a handful," Matt said as they slipped
inside the lift.
"You can handle them," Xayella replied. "You've managed to get me under
control, after all."
Matt chuckled. "I've heard that these guys argue and fight amongst each
other in ways that make the Klingons look like pacifists. But, with you by
my side, I think I'll be able to handle them. I was thinking, when we take
a lunch break, we could go to that café down the street. The one we both
keep glancing at, but haven't had a chance to go to yet." The turbolift
door opened, and down the hall, the sounds of raucous shouting could be
heard. Matt raised an eyebrow and glanced at Xay.
"Well...sounds like we might not even make it to lunch," she quipped. "You
should probably consider investing in some body armour, or at least learning
to duck quickly."
"I wish I'd brought some sort of audio amplification device," he said. "For
this crowd, I think I'll need it." He glanced at her and laughed. "They'd
better promote me to admiral for this. Ready?"
Xayella straightened out her skirted uniform and gave a curt nod, though she
was smiling. "Ready...Sir!"
Matt chuckled and nodded. "Very well," he said. "Here goes nothing." With
that, they entered the room where the deafening roar of an argument
continued. He waited a moment before moving to the front of the room, or
what appeared to be the front. "Excuse me," Matt called. "Excuse me. My
name is Captain Matt Salinger of the starship Sulu. I am here in Dalil
V'ril's place."
Xayella took her seat a good distance from the circular conference table and
watched Matt with a raised eyebrow. The argument didn't appear to be
lessening, and Matt's presence barely noticed.
Matt sighed and glanced over at Xayella. He shook his head, then stood up
and moved to the side of the room. Once there, he opened the small box in
the wall, and tapped at three of the small illuminated buttons. The room
was plunged into darkness.
The argument stopped.
"Good," he said in a loud, clear voice, "I have your attention. As I said,
my name is Captain Matthew Salinger of the Starfleet starship Sulu.
Starfleet Command has asked me to step into this matter in Dalil V'ril's
stead." With that, he turned the lights back on.
Revealed were six unhappy Farehn'ti, shooting one another scathing glares,
but at least they were listening. One of the Farehn'ti, Lor'il Danen, rose
hesitantly and touched both hands to his forehead in the traditional
Farehn'ti greeting. "Forgive us, Captain Salinger," the slender,
ineffectual man stammered. "We...had not heard you enter. Welcome."
"At least I do have your attention now," Matt said as he moved to the chair
at the head of the table they sat at. "First off, if we're going to do
anything productive in here, we can't spend every moment arguing amongst
each other. If this sort of behaviour continues, I will be unable to pass a
favourable recommendation along to the Federation Council. Now, I've gone
over V'ril's notes, those that were available anyway, and I believe the most
recent discussion was in regards to the concerns of the extremist groups
operating on the southern continent of your planet. Most seemed to believe
that the situation was well under control, but Dalil noticed one of you
expressed doubts. Lor'il Danen." He glanced at Danen, having already used
Dalil's notes to figure out who was who in the room. "That's you, isn't
it?"
The pallid man looked briefly stricken, and opened his mouth to reply but he
was interrupted by a bellowing voice from across the table, one belonging to
Boraj Reen. "Who is that!" The man pushed out of his seat and jabbed a
stubby finger in Xayella's direction. "We weren't informed there would be
spectators. These are closed hearings!"
"That is Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh," Matt answered. "She is a member of
my crew and senior staff. As Chief Science Officer of a Starfleet Starship,
one of her areas of focus is interspecies relations. Typically, I would
have brought a counsellor with me, but all of my counsellors are currently
occupied assisting in the murder of Dalil V'ril. So, in this case,
Lieutenant Tagliesh will be assisting me. Is this a problem?"
"We should have been informed," Boraj snapped.
The sole female Farehn'ti rose smoothly from her seat and regarded Boraj
with a languid, disinterested stare. "We have no objections, Captain. Now
if our Opai brethren would agree, we can proceed."
Matt gave a nod to the woman and then turned back to Boraj. "You're being
informed now, Mr. Reen," he said. "Do you have an objection or can we get
on with business?"
Boraj's lips pressed thin and he stiffened. With an impatient gesture, he
seated himself again. The woman smiled briefly at Matt, then took her seat
as well.
"Very well, now where were we? Mr. Danen, did you have any further comments
about the extremists?"
"Uh...y-yes, Captain." Lor'il cleared his throat timidly, sparing a furtive
glance at the Opai faction members. "My concerns were unfounded.... W-We
have had problems in the past, but with our peoples striving for peace...it
is no longer a problem."
"I see," Matt said. "Well, if the extremists are no longer an issue, I
guess we can move on to the next matter of business..."
***
Six hours. Six hours, and they were still not past the first point of the
next topic for discussion. Farehn'ti had much to offer the Federation;
having developed replicator technology nearly a century before, they had
made vast improvements on the design. When the topic of what they could
contribute to the Federation came up, everything seemed to blow up into an
argument again.
Matt and Xay sat together in the small café. Matt had called for a one hour
break when it became clear that no progress was forthcoming. The time away
would help ease tensions and give everyone a chance to step back and take a
deep breath. He wasn't certain they would, but he knew that he and Xay
needed it. He looked down at his glass of iced tea and chuckled. "I think
I'm going gray already."
Xayella laughed softly as she threaded her fingers through his hair. "Nope.
Looks good to me." She returned her hand to the cup of coffee she'd
ordered, and stared thoughtfully into the deep black liquid. "I don't
know... They say both sides are open to joining the Federation, yet they
can barely tolerate one another. How could they possibly tolerate the
hundreds of Federation members they'll no doubt encounter if they're
accepted? Do we really need them?"
"That's a question I've been asking myself," Matt said. "I know that
technology is important to the Federation, but I don't know if it's that important. I don't think any of them can say three words without being
immediately contradicted by, if not one, then three others. I can only
imagine what dealing with these people will be like on a long-term basis.
At this point, I'm inclined to say they shouldn't be in the Federation, but
until the end of these talks, I'm willing to give them an open ear and an
open mind. Though, the open ear may prove to be a sure path to insanity."
Xayella brushed her hand lightly over his and smiled. "Don't worry. I'll
keep you sane. But I've been watching things closely, and I've been
noticing that it's the Opai faction who objects so strenuously to
everything, while the Ryuck seem content to negotiate until the Opai lure
them into an open argument. The funny thing is, though," she continued,
"the Opai are actually the more reasonable of the two. Frankly, I'm
completely confused by the whole thing. I can't decide which of them are
actually in favour of joining the Federation."
"You don't think...you don't think this is something more than it is though,
do you? If nothing else, they're an intriguing group of people. We could
be off on beaches or in museums, but I think this is still somewhat
intriguing." He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "I
hope this is an acceptable alternative to vacationing? Time to be together
and observe some very interesting aspects of an alien culture."
"As tiresome as it is, I'm enjoying it. I like seeing you in action." She
smiled slyly. "It's somewhat...arousing, especially when you get
commanding."
Matt laughed and kissed her hands again. "Well, try not to get too aroused
in there, but once we're done for the day I'll see what I can do to help you
out with those...feelings."
Xayella groaned miserably then pouted. "Can't you adjourn the negotiations
for the day? It's already been six hours and you've gotten nowhere - no
fault of your own, of course. Maybe everyone just needs to go out and have
some fun. That'll loosen them up."
"I think that sounds like a great idea," he said. "When we get back, I'll
outline the agenda I want to cover tomorrow, and then we'll call it a day."
"Really?" Xayella refrained from giggling and instead leaned forward to
kiss Matt. The moment was cut short by the shadow that fell over their
table and the gruff voice addressing Matt.
Matt looked up at the speaker and immediately recognized him as one of the
members of the Farehn'ti. "Alos an'Taara," he said. "How can I help you?"
"Oh, it's nothing really, Captain. I simply wished to speak with you,
that's all. Is...is this an inappropriate time?"
Matt suppressed a sigh and glanced at Xay. He then turned back to the
delegate and smiled. "No, it's fine. How can I help you?"
"Uh..." The man glanced at Xayella, then he chuckled dryly at Matt. "I was
wondering if perhaps...we could..."
"It's alright." Xayella smiled and rose. "I was going to go refill my cup
anyway." She bowed her head at the man, shot Matt a smile and slipped away.
Alos helped himself to Xayella's seat. "A beautiful woman. Is she your
assistant?"
"She's a member of my senior staff and my Chief Science Officer," Matt said.
"In these talks, she's my assistant and an advisor."
"Ah, I see now." The man pondered his folded hands for a brief time, then
sighed and regarded Matt. "The negotiations are proceeding slowly, are they
not, Captain? Oh, I'm used to it, of course. That is how all things go on
Farehn. I'm beginning to think my people enjoy bickering, and do it just
for the sake of listening to themselves speak."
"I must say, after my first day taking part in the negotiations," Matt said,
"I can't deny that that thought hadn't crossed my mind."
"You'll get used to it, Captain. I assure you." The Opai faction leader
was silent again, his cheerful countenance sobering quickly. He leaned
forward towards Matt and lowered his voice. "This union is important to my
people, Captain...for some of us at least. There are some who...aren't
welcoming of change, as you can imagine."
"I can imagine," Matt said with a knowing smile. "So, there are some who
don't want this union to take place. Some within the group of Farehn'ti
delegates currently on Risa...currently disrupting talks, I imagine."
"Oh, not at all," Alos replied. "We're a stubborn people. It makes
compromising quite a challenge. But, I believe we share a common
goal...most of us."
"So the majority still wants to go through these talks, to get the Farehn'ti
into the Federation?"
Alos spread his hands wide as he sat back in his seat. "The majority does
not matter, Captain. On our world, it is what the faction leaders want that
does. But...we have learned that it isn't wise to upset the majority." He
smiled with no hint of warmth. "Not wise at all."
"Not wise," Matt echoed. "Again, I ask the question, how can I help you?"
Alos dismissed Matt's question and again laced his fingers together upon the
table. "We are a complex people, Captain. Our past is filled with much
bloodshed, as you know. But we've learned that as long as we give the
people what they want, peace shall prevail. Of course you cannot always
make everyone happy. There will always be those opposed to change, such as
our potential alliance with the Federation." Alos leaned forward again,
though his face bore no smile and his features seemed to have been etched
from solid ice. "There are some who would rejoice if these negotiations
failed. That would be a shame, though, wouldn't it, Captain?"
"It would be a shame," Matt said. "Looks like they almost got their wish,
but I don't intend to let the talks between the Federation and the Farehn'ti
fail. I will, however, keep my eyes open to those hoping to disrupt events
here on Risa. Was there anything else?"
The Opai leader shook his head absently, then his smile returned. "I see
that your associate is returning. I will take my leave." Alos rose from
his seat. "Oh, one more thing if you don't mind, Captain. It intrigues
me...this Starfleet of yours. Is it a dangerous job? You travel in space,
encounter beings, some who may not be so...friendly. Have you encountered
such danger in your time?"
Matt nodded slowly. "We've seen our share of danger," he said. "I've seen
my share as well, probably more than my share. But, I've managed to survive
this far."
"Ah, but you cannot keep everyone safe, I imagine. It must be a heavy
burden to bear, leading people, sometimes into certain death." He glanced
pointedly back at Xayella as she drew nearer, then shifted his gaze to Matt.
"Your associate is very beautiful. It would be a shame if anything
happened to her. I can only imagine the guilt you would suffer if she was
injured...or worse while under your command."
Matt's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I'm certain I would be quite upset," he said.
"Though, I would be upset if any of my crew were injured in any way." He
leaned closer. "What exactly are you trying to say, Mr. An'Taara?"
Alos pulled back, wearing an expression of complete innocence, save for the
snaky smile curling his lips. "Captain...I was simply making...small-talk?
Is that not what your people call it?" He chuckled. "Forgive me if I've
offended you. I will take my leave of you now." He touched his hands to
his forehead in the standard Farehn'ti gesture, then turned to depart. He
paused a moment, admiring Xayella from the distance. Then, regarding Matt
from over his shoulder he mused, "Truly an exquisite woman... You must
certainly be sure to keep her from harm." And with an unsettling, falsely
congenial smile, he was gone.
Xayella watched Alos disappear through the café's doors as she slid into her
seat with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. "So...what did he want?"
"He was just giving me an insight into the Farehn'ti mind," Matt said,
hoping there wasn't as much frost in his voice as he felt. "A little
friendly advice, if you will."
"Great. So when do we tell them their minds will have to take a break
because we want to get on with our vacation?"
"As soon as you finish your coffee and we head back," Matt said with a
laugh. "Though, we don't have to rush. I can only imagine what the
response will be."
"Of course they will complain," Xayella said. "That's all they do."
"Well, the longer you take with that coffee," Matt said, "the more we can
put off hearing their next complaint."
"Then I might just have to be all day." She pressed her hand to the side of
the cup. "Oh, it's rather hot. I'm afraid I'll have to wait until it's
cooled." Xayella grinned. "This could take a while."
"Not too long," Matt said with a laugh. "Unless you want to spend the rest
of our day sitting in a café."
Xayella smiled languidly and replied, "And what's so wrong with that, Matt
Salinger?"
"Nothing wrong with it," Matt said with a laugh. "Though, we will have to
get back soon. I can only imagine what sort of trouble we'll have on our
hands if I'm late."
"Oh you're right... And if that happens, we'll have to stay behind to
placate them all, and that could take all night." She grimaced and pushed
her cup away. "I'd rather not do that, if you don't mind."
"That makes two of us," he said. "We still have ten minutes, so you can
finish your tea if you'd like. Then we can walk back, break the news to
them, and get out of there as quickly as possible."
"Ten minutes, hm?" The gaze she cast upon him conveyed only unbridled lust,
and a touch of mischief. "There are many things two consenting, very
attractive adults can do in ten minutes."
Matt laughed. "But there are very few of them that can be done while
sitting in a public café, even on Risa." He paused for a moment. Glanced
left, then right. "So, I noticed an empty room on the way to that meeting
room."
In one deft motion, Xayella rose from her seat, clasped Matt's hand and
jerked him out of his chair. With a chuckle, she replied, "Not anymore it
isn't." Then, she hurried towards the destination in question, with Matt
eagerly and closely following behind.
***
The noise in the meeting room was louder than the first time they'd entered
as Matt and Xayella made their way to their seats. Matt noticed a few angry
glares pointed in his direction, but he kept his expression neutral.
"I'm glad we're all back," he said. "I just--"
"Some of us were even back on time, Captain," someone called out.
Matt ignored the taunt. "I would like to quickly go over the schedule we
will be covering tomorrow, and then, after a long session this morning,
we're going to break for the rest of the day. I'd like everyone to get
plenty of rest and relaxation today, because tomorrow will be a full and
busy day."
"B-But there's still the matter of the wording on the trade agreement,"
Lor'il objected. "We must--"
"Oh, sit down, Lor'il," another member of the Opai faction shot back.
"Aren't you tired of hearing yourself speak yet?"
"Please," Matt said, jumping in before any of the others could. "Please, if
we're going to get through this, we have to work together. And, after all
of the arguing this morning, and this current new one.... No, we will be
taking this up again tomorrow. We will begin with the trade agreement, and
proceed from there. How many objections do we have?"
There were no objections raised, but in typical Farehn'ti style, whispered
invectives and narrowed, surreptitious gazes at the other's opposing faction
ensued.
"We will resume tomorrow, Captain," Alos said, while the others engaged in
their petty chatter.
"Very well," Matt said. "I wish you all a good night. We will begin
promptly at 09h00 tomorrow."
The members of the Opai and the Ryuck spared Matt a brief nod of
acknowledgement, though deceased not one moment in their murmured
conspiracies. With each faction sticking close to one another, they
departed en masse from the conference chambers.
Once alone, Xayella slipped up behind Matt and looped her arms around his
waist. "My love, I do believe you will be certifiably insane before this is
all over."
"Tomorrow," Matt said, "remind me to bring a phaser. I know about the
restrictions here, but I didn't get to be captain of a Starfleet starship by
not knowing which rules require bending."
"We'll worry about that tomorrow," she told him, shifting around him until
they were facing. "For now, I think we should go to our love nest and see
if we can expand upon those brief ten minutes we had earlier."
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Matt said. "Actually, I had a few new
ideas on the lift-ride up here, and I think I'd really like to try them out
with you."
Xayella chuckled as she coyly backed away from Matt. "Really? Shall I be
at your mercy then, Captain Salinger?"
"Let's get home, and we'll see," Matt said. He slowly started after her,
the look in his eyes telling her exactly what he intended once they'd
reached the privacy of their little lovenest.
While the negotiations had closed for the day, they would begin again
tomorrow. Matt knew there would be no respite from the fighting that had
plagued the day's talks, but he would have to persevere. For now, Matt
would need this time with Xayella; for her, for him, and to help get his
mind off Alos an'Taara shadowy words.
Tomorrow would be a new day.
"Open Invitation"
By: Ensign Kit Markham
Ensign Amy Reese
Lieutenant Grixble Flummux
Location: USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 11h35
***
Kit was still laughing as he put his clothing back on, slowly with the
rhythms only a man who was drunk on love could manage. Amy's giggles next
to him brought a smile to his face. He turned to her, took her face in his
hands and kissed her longingly. "We are incorrigible," he said. "And, I
think half the ship heard us. Just a trip for clothes, was what you
said. Of course, it turned into...was it three? three rounds of
nookie? Not that I'm complaining. I happen to like nookie. Quite a bit,
as a matter of fact. Have I mentioned how beautiful you are yet today?"
"Does crying it out during lovemaking count?" Amy snickered and stole her
hand under Kit's shirt to caress his abdomen. "We can stay here all day,
you know." Snaking her
other hand into his pants, she added, "Just for a little while longer?"
"Oh," Kit said with a low chuckle. "When you put it that way. Kelli is
going to be very upset that she stayed behind. You know, we could also go
down and find a beach to do this on, rather than risking giving my bunkmate
another thrill. We could pack down some food, camp out a spot on the
beach, and make a real party of it."
"I like parties," she purred, pulling Kit towards her. "We should throw one
of our own, you know. You, me--" she pulled back the sheets, exposing
herself to Kit and inviting him in with her "--maybe the rest of the crew...
Just something nice and...intimate."
Kit quickly stripped out of the clothes he'd put on and climbed under the
covers with her. "A party," he mused. "I think that'd be a lot of fun.
And, we're at the perfect place for a party. What if we invited everyone
to a party on one of the beaches? We could build a big bonfire and play
music. Maybe the ship could provide some food, and... It'd be a blast."
"And a nice distraction," she added. "I mean, the murder investigation, and
poor Crissy and Corran..." She sighed and nestled her head upon Kit's
chest. "Everyone could use some cheering up. I think we should do it,
Kit."
"Then it's done," Kit said with a wide grin before kissing her. "And, it
shall be to celebrate us still being together."
"I know," she whispered, instinctively clinging to him tighter. "It still
feels like nothing I could ever do will make up for what happened. I don't
know how to show you just how sorry I am."
"Well, for starters, come to our party with me," Kit said. "And, then...I
want us to do a duet together there...something...well, I'm not sure now,
but it'll be something...us."
Amy giggled and propped herself up on one elbow to gaze down at Kit.
"Something crazy and wild... Something extremely gushy?"
"Gushy? I'm sure Dwayne knows something gushy." He laughed softly and
shook his head. "We can go through the song database and find one. Maybe
Flummux can quickly make us a holo-program that we can give it a few
parameters, and it'll give us the perfect song for us."
"I'm glad there's still an 'us,' Kit," she whispered. "I didn't deserve a
second chance, but you gave it to me. I've never known anyone who would do
that."
"Of course you deserve a second chance," Kit said. "I love you too much
not to give you a second chance. We all make mistakes in life,
and...sometimes they're hard to live with, but there's no point in turning
our backs on people we love, no matter the mistake. Now, if you'd smashed
my guitar, though...then we'd have issues."
"Smash your guitar? Never! I'm not that dysfunctional." She lowered her
lips to Kit's chest and moved her kisses towards his throat. "I'm really
glad you're really okay with all this," she murmured between kisses. "I
don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
"I'm okay with it because I don't want to lose you either," Kit said. "I
don't know what I'd do. Despite how bad it was though, I think it's made
us stronger than we were before, closer."
Amy snickered as her lips grazed his chin. "Kind of like now?"
"Definitely like now," Kit said. "So, what do you think? Holographic
invitations?"
"Hmm...shipwide announcement?" Amy curled up against Kit, and resumed
spreading kisses over his neck and jaw. "Why not both?"
"A shipwide holographic announcement? I like it. Should we do it
ourselves, or get resident holo-expert Flummux to help us? Have you met
him? He's a funny little guy...and it takes quite a bit for me to call
someone a little guy."
Amy giggled as her hand slid beneath the sheets and dipped between Kit's
legs. "You're not so little at all, my love."
Kit laughed and rolled them both over until he was gazing down into Amy's
eyes. "When I'm with you, I feel as big as the world. I love you, Amy,
and I never want to be apart from you again...not that we've been apart."
"Well, it was close," she said. "I screwed up, Kit, and I'm sorry. I
promise, I'm going to keep seeing the counsellor. I'm going to get
better...for us."
"For us," Kit whispered. "I'll make sure I give you lots of encouragement
to only think of me...and Kelli, I guess." He grinned and kissed her. "I
still can't believe how loud she was the other night with...what was his
name again? And, that smile she was wearing the next morning. Why don't
you ever smile like that for me?" He gave her a teasing grin.
"Well, I like to challenge you," she quipped. She lightly brushed her
fingers along his spine, down to the small of his back and finally cupping
his rear. "So," she whispered, "care to see if you can really make me
scream?"
"Does a Ferengi love latinum?" Kit asked, then quickly frowned. "Please
forget that I mentioned Ferengi while we're in bed together about to make
love."
Amy squeezed her eyes tightly shut, forcing away the less than arousing
thought. "Okay!" she announced, snapping her eyes open again. "All gone.
Now...where were we?"
"Oh, right about...oh yes, right there. I wonder if any of the crew will
object to a Risan style party? It could get rather...risqué."
"It's not like we're asking that they come without clothing," Amy said.
"Though...that wouldn't be such a horrible idea."
Kit laughed. "Though, I'm not sure about some of them," he said. "Can you
imagine what Steele must look like underneath his clothes? I mean, if that
face is any indication..."
Amy lightly slapped Kit's chest. "Don't be mean! But you're probably
right. We'll make clothing not optional." Idly stroking Kit's shoulder,
she mused, "Now what else... Well, the band will definitely have to be
there. Though...Dwayne..." Amy barely suppressed a grimace. "I wasn't
thinking too clearly...was I?"
"Not really," Kit said with a laugh. "But you worry too much. We're past
that and it's over. Unless you plan on being with him again, all we have
to worry about is the future. Worrying about the past isn't going to
change anything. As long as he stops moping around and acting like a
child, it'll be fine. I honestly through he was going to start crying
during the show."
"He's always crying," Amy muttered. "I think that's why I did it...partly.
I feel sorry for him, Kit. But...maybe this party will be enough to cheer
him up to." Her smile returned and Amy shifted under Kit, earning a
mischievous smile from him. "We'll need to send out invitations today, then
we can have the party tonight. Or would that be too soon? Though...the
sooner the better. This ship and crew needs some laughter!"
"Definitely soon," he said. "What about tomorrow? Or day after
tomorrow? And, maybe we can hook Kelli and Dwayne up. I don't mind her
being with us privately, but I don't want to encourage people to talk...and
in public, I think I want you all to myself."
"You're right," Amy sighed. "If people start finding out...we could
probably get in trouble, Kit. And...we really don't want to lead her on. I
mean...I love her and being with her is wonderful... But what about the
future? We can't always share our bed with her."
"We should talk to her, and see what she wants too," Kit said. "This
involves the three of us, and we can't leave her out of the decision. I
don't mind her in our bed whenever she wants, as long as that's what we
want. But eventually our life may take us in a different direction than
hers. But, we should talk to her."
"Not yet, though. Everything's fine as it is for now." She kissed Kit
slowly, then grinned. "Perfect, actually."
"Very perfect," Kit said. "Well, except..." He nuzzled his lips against
her throat, kissing their way up to her ear, which earned a
giggle. "There, now perfect. So, should we get to work on that
invitation?"
"Right now?" she asked, pouting her lips for effect. "Can't we get to it
later?"
"Yes," Kit said with a smile. "Later. I think we have other more
interesting things to do right now. Now, how did that scream go again?"
Amy giggled as she twined her legs around Kit's waist and loosely wrapped
her arms around his neck. "Well...you'll just have to coax it from me to
find out, now won't you?"
"As you wish, milady," Kit said with a sly grin. "Have I mentioned that I
really like coaxing you?"
"Really?" Amy brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "Then prove it to
me."
With a smile, Kit Markham did.
***
"So...can you help us?" Amy batted her eyelashes at Flummux, only
succeeding in making the Andorian even more nervous and flustered. "Just
one little holomessage?"
Grixble glanced nervously between the two ensigns in front of him,
completely uncertain about the female. Females always made him
nervous. Unlike Jack Alaska, who was quite the ladies' man. If only Jack
were here now, he'd know what to say to Ensign Amy Reese. "Uh," Grixble
stammered. "I-- Al-- Al-- Alright. I'll help..." He gave another
nervous grin.
"Really? You will?" Amy squealed happily and flung her arms around Grixble
in an exuberant embrace. "Oh, thank you, Grixble!" She pulled back then,
though kept one arm slung across his shoulders as she moved up beside him
and began leading the way down the corridor. "Now, when do you think you can
have it done for us?"
"Uh, well...you see...that depends. How complex do you want the message to
be? I think I can have it ready in just a couple hours if you have all the
information ready to go. The ship should definitely have enough linear
capacity for a message like this, but it may be difficult transmitting to
those on the planet. But we might be able to reconfigure one of the
science probes to act as a repeater."
"That's a great idea," Amy enthused. "You really are smart, Flummux.
Though, it's not surprising considering how long you spend fiddling around
with the holomatrices. You will attend our party, won't you?"
"I, uh..." He remembered his last visit with Ainsley and Grixble finally
nodded. "Yes. Yes, I will be there. I-- I look forward to your party."
Amy grinned. "Great. Kit and I will tell you what we want the message to
say and how we want it to look, then we'll let you have at it. How's that,
our good friend Flummux?"
"I, uh...I like that," Grixble said. "That will be perfect. Friend?"
"Why...of course," Amy replied. She shot Grixble a quizzical smile. "Why
not? You're funny and smart, and you promised to come to our party. Of
course
you're our friend!"
Grixble smiled. "Well, I haven't ever had any other friends but
Patrick. He's a very good friend. Patrick Riley. He's my best
friend. He works in the transporter room if you've had the chance. I like
how his voice sounds too...very musical."
"Kit's voice can sound musical too," Amy said. "Especially when he sings.
When you come to the party you'll get to hear him." She winked at Kit and
added, "You can even make a request if you like, Grixxy."
Grixble's face darkened with his embarrassment, and he quickly looked away.
Next to Amy, Kit smiled. "We should get that message ready for him," he
said. "And, then we have to start getting things ready. We'll also have
to get the permits for the area where we'll be having the party."
"You're right." Amy sighed. "I never knew planning a little old party
would be so time consuming. Well...you get everything ready for the
message, Grixxy, and we'll send you the content in a bit."
Grixble nodded vigourously, his antennae waving as he did. "Thank you,
Ensign Amy," he said. "I'll make it extra perfect...and I really hope to
hear Ensign Kit singing. Patrick said he heard you in the lounge and you
were...I don't remember what he said, but I believe he made some reference
to beer. Usually when Patrick mentions beer, it's something good...or he
thinks so, so I'm really looking forward to seeing you perform."
Amy grinned and patted Grixble congenially on the back. "And we hope to see
you there, Grixxy. Now, you'll hear from us within the hour about the
layout of the message. I know it's going to turn out great!" She waved at
Grixble, then took Kit's hand and started down the corridor with him,
sparing Grixble another little wave before hitting the lifts.
Once they were in the lifts, Kit laughed softly. "My dear, I think you
just made someone's day," she said. "I've never really talked to him much,
but from what I've heard, that's probably the most he's said to anyone
since getting onto the ship."
"Really?" Amy smiled proudly. "I guess it's the old Reese charm working
its magic again."
"And, what magic it is," he said. "Come on, let's get that message
written. Then we need to start getting things in place for the party. I'd
love one of the coves, the acoustics are amazing!"
"Then let's hurry and snatch it up!" Amy ordered the computer to take them
to Transporter Room 1 with a squeal of excitement. "And step on it!"
"I do not understand the nature of the statement," the computer
intoned. "Please rephrase."
Kit glanced at Amy and laughed.
Frowning, Amy muttered, "Oh, forget it..." Then the lift began its descent.
They had much work to do, and no time for fussy computers. They had a party
to plan, and an entire vessel full of officers to cheer up. It would be
their duty.
***
The sounds of a starship filled the air, and as the unseen camera pulled
back it revealed the bridge of the starship. The USS Sulu. Officers went
about their work, diligently doing their duties. The camera focused on the
back of the flight controller's dark head. Spiky hair coloured unnaturally
bobbed slowly to an unheard melody. The camera zoomed closer to him,
pushing in through his skull and into a world imagined. In that world
there was sand and sea, birds overhead and music.
People of various species danced and frolicked on the sand, laughing and
carrying on. Near the waves, the flight controller stood with a young
woman on his arm. She was taller than he, with equally dark hair. The
helmsman turned, revealing his identity: Kit Markham. The woman on his arm
was Amy Reese.
"Hi there," Kit said. "My name is Kit Markham and I'm one of the Sulu's
helmsmen. This is Amy."
A large grin spread her purple-glazed lips as Amy swept back a black strand
of wind-blown hair. "Hi, friends," she began enthusiastically. "What could
be better than a night of laughter, food, and dancing on the beach while the
sea breeze wraps you in the scents and tastes of Risa?" She giggled and
replied, "Nothing at all."
"Absolutely nothing," Kit said. "So, as a member of the crew of the Sulu,
taking shore leave here on beautiful Risa, you're invited to just such a
night. There will be singing, dancing, frolicking, sand, fun, bonfires,
and all of your closest Sulu friends. Come out for the fun, and we promise
you won't be sorry."
"The party starts at 20h00 hours tonight," Amy added. "On the south side of
Farezi Sands Beach. If you don't know the way...just follow the music."
Kit struck a chord on his guitar. "Farezi Sands. It's where the fun is!"
Amy waved briskly at the imagined audience, then a swift breeze swept in to
seemingly carry away the camera. It drifted higher and higher, looking down
upon Amy and Kit who continued waving up at it until they were but a speck
on the blanket of white sand. Then the camera panned to the right and
settled on the horizon of water, with one orange Risan sun dipping into the
surface, and the other hanging high above it to the left. The wind
whispered
again and a swirl of glistening sand moved in to obstruct the scene. Upon
the strands rode the words: "Farezi Sands. 20h00. Tonight." Then the frame
faded into white.
"Mess Hall Chat"
by Lieutenant Saavar - Science Officer
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Location: USS Sulu, Mess Hall
Stardate: 57907.07, 11h45
***
Cristobel stepped in front of the replicator languidly, and stared at it
without ordering. He had been feeling drained from a lack of sleep and an
overabundance of stress, and so he'd chosen to isolate his mind from all
other thoughts on the ship, including his own thoughts. He wanted to do
little more than simply existing for a time. At least until he was properly
caffeinated.
Blinking, to focus his eyes more clearly on the replicator, Cristobel
finally ordered, "Iced spiosradh coffee. Tall."
He picked up the brushed-chrome mug that materialized, and took a long sip,
before stepping away from the replicator and the line that had formed behind
him.
Saavar stood patiently behind the medical officer as he pondered the choice
before ordering. He took a long time to choose a beverage and drank half of
it as soon as it came out of the replicator. He looked tired - dark circles
around his eyes and sagging shoulders told Saavar that the man was barely
awake. Zombie-like he stepped away and Saavar made his choice of Xvatz - a
Vulcan spiced noodle with a hot tearim sauce, and a mug of Vulcan tea. He
took his tray and followed the medical officer as he plodded to a seat. As
the spiky-haired medic sat close to a view port, Saavar stood at the vacant
seat and said, "Do you mind if I sit with you, Ensign?"
It wasn't until after an extended silence that Cristobel's eyes rose from
the coffee to meet Saavar's own eyes. Once he realized that he was the
'Ensign' who'd been spoken to, he moved his arms in a half-shrug,
half-hand-sweep towards the empty chair. "I won't be here very long."
Saavar sat and as he prepared his cutlery for eating he looked into the
tired eyes of the Ensign and said, "If you will pardon my observation,
Ensign, you seem very tired for the middle of the morning. Are you on Gamma
shift duty?" That would explain it, Gamma was the graveyard shift - duty
started at midnight until eight in the morning for the Alpha shift to start.
Saavar was on Alpha purely because the Chief of Science still hadn't gotten
around to assigning him any duty. In fact she was barely aboard - preferring
to stay on Risa.
Smirking at the Vulcan, Cristobel said, "Nice deduction, but wrong. I'm
an Alpha shifter, and I'm supposed to be on shore leave, but with everything
going on, it was decided that the medical department has been understaffed."
Saavar nodded. "Yes - I was in sickbay yesterday," he said. "The EMH
provided my medical certification." He frowned at the medical officer. "You
appear to have had very little sleep, Ensign...?" he asked his name with the
slight stress on the last word.
"Sefton," Cris replied. "Cristobel Sefton." He extended a hand with a slight
smirk.
Saavar kept both hands to himself as he said, "Saavar." As a touch telepath,
Saavar and the majority of Vulcans had rigid concepts about touching other
beings. He gave the man a smile to cover any perceived slight for not taking
his hand. "Are you sure that you are capable of performing your duty under
the circumstances? Tiredness is a proven cause of mistakes."
Letting his extended arm drop to the table with an audible thud, Cristobel
insisted, "I'll get over it." He took a swig of his coffee with his other
hand, and turned his smirk into a broad grin. "I'm feeling better already.
Besides, there'll be a doctor present to handle anything life threatening,
and most of the crew isn't even on the Sulu to require my medical
attention. Which, then, begs the question, why are you here? Is there
really that much of anything to do in the Science Labs if your chief's been
planetside since shore leave began?"
Saavar nodded. "There is much to do," he replied. "We discovered an
unidentified particle cloud at the center of an anomaly on Bridge watch last
night." He took a bite of his meal and chewed thoughtfully. "I think that
productivity would not suffer with the absence of the Chief Science
Officer." He said it with a straight face, but added, "We are professionals
after-all."
"I just meant that if - since - there's important work to do, one would
think that she would take more of an interest in it," Cristobel stated.
"Although, it is possible that she doesn't see the importance of a particle
cloud, and is hoping that her officers enjoy Risa while they can."
Saavar noted that Sefton didn't have a good opinion of Xayella Tagliesh. He
wondered briefly if the man had experienced the woman's acidic manner. It
was true that Saavar did not have a favorable opinion of the Human Chief of
Science. It seemed that she was the focus of some of the ship's gossip, and
although Saavar never took part in spreading such things, it was interesting
to note that the current rumor had her involved with the captain of the
Sulu.
"I have no desire to take shore leave on Risa," Saavar replied. "I have
already experienced Risa. I prefer to allow others to take advantage of the
recreational activities that shore leave offers, while I exercise my
intellect doing the things that I enjoy most." He took another bite and
after a few seconds said, "The captain may allow me to spectate at the
diplomatic exchange between the Farehn'ti factions - a most stimulating
learning experience."
"Then I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor." Cristobel raised his
mug in an approximation of a toast. "Have you sat in on many diplomatic
exchanges?"
"I have taken part in one such exchange," Saavar replied. "I do not believe
that luck plays a part in such things, but thank you." He motioned with his
fork as he said, "I have much to learn."
Staring at Saavar with intense curiosity, Cristobel blurted out, "Do people
actually believe in luck? I thought it was just an expression."
"It is a Human expression," Saavar replied. "Humans believe that luck is the
embodiment of the chaotic nature of the universe. When an event has a
positive outcome, they believe that it is 'good' luck, conversely they
believe that negative outcomes are the result of 'bad' luck. Some have
embodied the idea of luck in a person they call "Lady Luck" - and those who
have a propensity for wagering on chance outcomes put a great deal of faith
in her. It is a primitive belief that many Humans are fond of retaining,
even though they know it to be untrue."
Saavar shook his head. "Strange indeed." He looked up at Sefton."You are not
Human?" the Vulcan asked.
"No, I'm Betazoid," Cris responded. "It's alarming how many odd humanism's
slip into one's vocabulary when one is raised in Starfleet."
Saavar smiled and nodded. "Indeed!" He sat back and considered the man
opposite him. A Betazoid - telepath. "You must be bombarded by emotional,
irrational thoughts on a continuous basis. Being a touch telepath has its
benefits. I do not touch others unless it is necessary. I have been trained
in the Toru Parr - the Mind Meld."
Nodding, Cristobel admitted in a humorous tone, "It certainly doesn't help
that half of those emotional, irrational thoughts are my own. To be
honest, I don't quite see the benefit that Vulcans have. You're limited to
vocal communication for the most part, and then when you do choose to use
your telepathy, you go beyond communication to merge with the other
person. I've been accused of having loose privacy morals, but that sounds a
little bit horrifying even to me."
Saavar frowned at the Betazoid's accusation. "We have very strict 'privacy
morals' as you put it," he replied. "That is why we choose not to touch
others. It takes a great deal of training to perform the Mind Meld, and that
is performed only with the consent of the other, or under very unusual
circumstances." Saavar leaned forward to make his point as he continued. "It
has been used in the past to initiate communications with alien species,
where a translation system has not been effective and to avoid
undue hostilities through lack of understanding. It is used to aid Vulcans
bond with their partners on an intimate level. I can assure you that the
Toru Parr is not misused on an entity that does not permit it. I would not
under any circumstances force a Meld on anyone that is unwilling. The Meld
is not a 'one way' communication - it allows the openness of both minds and
is a sharing at the deepest level. Very few Vulcans would allow that breach
of their own privacy, let alone the individual they Meld with."
He sat back. "Betazoids are renowned for their preference in using the
telepathic talent even to those who do not wish such contact. It results in
accusations of 'loose privacy morals.' Our benefit is in the absence of
stray thought. We are shielded from mental invasion with training and our
own abilities. A Vulcan's mind is a fortress of solitude until they choose
otherwise. It means exercising restraint - and respecting an individual's
rights to total privacy."
Nodding in agreement with Saavar's extensive analysis, Cristobel then
corrected him smirkingly, "Actually, I wasn't making any sort of accusation
regarding the general theory or practice of Vulcan mind melds. I was
speaking strictly on a personal level - I would be afraid to go into a
mind meld. I'd worry that my mind doesn't have the strength to come out of
it as unique an individual as it was before. And you would have known
that if you were a more casual, no-touch-required telepath," Cris finished
with a wink.
Saavar pondered that. "I see," he said. "Perhaps I misunderstood. There is
nothing to be afraid of in a Mind Meld if conducted by a trained individual.
The integration of minds does not result in a loss of individuality for
either party." He'd finished his meal and so sat back. "If you are concerned
over the strength of your own mind, I may be able to teach you some Vulcan
mental exercises to aid focus. It would not involve mental contact of any
kind, but like most endeavors worth pursuing, would take time and practise."
"Thank you. I'll consider your offer," Cris said to Saavar, his jaw
tightening slightly, and took another sip from his mug.
Saavar realised that the young man didn't really want to discuss telepathy.
"I am new to the Sulu," he said. "I have only been aboard for a little more
than a day. My previous assignment was the Takashima. Have you served aboard
the Sulu for long?"
Cristobel shook his head in the negative, and responded, "Just since
stardate 57906.28. I was late in being transferred here after graduation,
because the Academy wanted me to take a few more medical courses, before my
first assignment."
"This is your first assignment?" Saavar smiled - he remembered the
enthusiasm of his first voyage too. "May I call you Cris?" he asked. It
seemed odd to refer to ranks when they were clearly not at duty stations.
"Definitely call me Cris," he insisted. "This is my first assignment, but
to be honest, it doesn't feel as new as attending Starfleet Academy did.
That was the first time I spent any considerable period of time on a planet.
Being a Starfleet 'officer' simply feels like a natural extension of my
life."
"What do you think of the Sulu so far?"
"I'm withholding judgement for the moment," Cristobel replied
matter-of-factly. "I've practically been on shore leave since I arrived on
board. Do you have any particular first impressions?"
Saavar frowned. "My first impressions are not good," he replied. "I have
encountered the Chief of Science," he scowled in a typically Human gesture
that seemed at odds with any Vulcan. "It was...'difficult.' " He didn't want
to go into details as that would be spreading 'gossip' - especially since
she had admitted to going off to have sex with a well endowed male - that
could well have been a reference to the Sulu's captain! Saavar really didn't
need to know those things about his supposed 'superior officer.' She was
crass and indiscreet, emotionally unstable and to Saavar's way of thinking
was unfit for command.
"She's abrasive," Cris commented. "I like that."
"Abrasive." Saavar cocked his head to one side and mulled over Cris'
description. He smiled after a second and nodded. "Yes, Cris - abrasive is an
apt description for her attitude, however I cannot say likewise - I do not
like it."
"I've really got to get to Sickbay. It's nice to have met you, Saavar,"
Cristobel said with a nod.
The Vulcan nodded. "Certainly," he said as the young man rose from his seat.
"I too am pleased to have met you." The young medic seemed to be in a hurry
as he left Saavar to his own thoughts.
Cris hurried to the replicator to refill his mug and head out of the mess
hall.
The Vulcan science officer glanced around and noted that the few crew still
on board were similarly tired looking. Perhaps Risa was sapping the energy
out of the crew - it certainly seemed that way. Spending time at parties and
partaking of Risa's unique sexual activities seemed to be the aim of most of
the crew. It would boost morale at least - and the crew would be adequately
'refreshed' for another extended tour of duty. It was simply that while at
Risa, duty seemed to be at the bottom of everyone's priority list...and that
rankled Saavar.
He had to get back to the science labs with Ensign Gainsborough so he
finished off his tea and tidied up his tray, returning it to the replicator.
On the way out he decided that in the circumstances perhaps he had been too
harsh on the young Ensign... She had been doing what all of her peers were
doing. Having a break. Saavar simply had to adjust, that was all. Risa
brought out the worst in everyone.
"On My Way"
by Corran Quezith
Location: USS Sulu, Sefton & Quezith's Quarters
Stardate: 57907.07, 12h30
Surgery was not an option.
Corran had woken up shortly after Cristobel had left him taking his nap, but somehow Corran had felt that and jolted from bed. In the process of waking up he'd started on a frenzy. His mind had started working and suddenly he'd come up with a possible solution. He could get access to the Midas Array to get in touch with his people, and from there find out if they could cure him!
Now he just needed to figure out whom to contact back at Earth for such a grand idea. But...he'd sent a subspace communiqué to Omega Research already, hopefully someone on the other side could help him. He was getting more nervous by the minute.
"Incoming transmission from Omega Research Orbital Station, Sector 001."
Corran gasped and sat down quickly as the Federation shield dissipated and he found himself facing a young human female sitting on the other side of the connection. He smiled warmly, his eyes changing color as they usually did as his feelings of happiness grew, and waited for her greeting.
" Mr. Quezith, I am the Secretary of Foreign Relations for Omega Research. Your case has been brought to my attention. I understand you are not feeling well? " Her brow furrowed in confusion, for the man she saw seemed quite healthy to her, maybe a little tired, but that was it.
He nodded his head a few times before forwarding all of his medical files yet again to Omega Research. "My telepathy has been...dying out. Other than a surgery the doctors here don't know will work, we've run out of options. I'm requesting permission to make use of the Midas Array to contact Achicar Prime in the hopes they may have a cure or some treatment for me, perhaps..."
The Secretary's eyes widened briefly before she held a hand up to pause Corran. Once he stopped, she answered him, " I'm afraid we cannot grant you usage of the Midas Array at this time. It is currently locked up by Starfleet Tactical... "
Corran's heart sank and he seemed to even pale. His ideas completely destroyed. How long were they going to hold it up? "But what am I supposed to..."
Again she held her hand up. She pulled a padd out over her desk and tapped through a few menus until she found the file she was looking for, and then glanced up at him. " There is a chance however that we can send you home... "
Again he interrupted, "That'll take six months or more on your fastest starships! I may be dead or insane or in a coma by then!" He was flustered more than upset now. He knew the woman was trying to help, but he felt completely distraught. He was without his abilities and M'Lira could tell him nothing of the consequences that could come from losing it. Sure, maybe he was...
" Onboard the DASC Starship Delphin which is equipped with a warp unit considerably more efficient than currently accepted Federation technology. The Delphin can have you there within a day to a few days, Mr. Quezith. " She almost growled it across the subspace link, not at all enjoying the attitude that the civilian Achicarian held with her. It wasn't her fault the universe did not function in a way that pleased him.
At that, he blinked, quieted, and simply nodded. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I'm just..."
The woman shook her head. " We will get you home, Mr. Quezith, we brought you here and it is our duty to see to your well-being. This division's chief of staff is discussing the matter with Captain Adair of the Delphin as we speak. I will contact you shortly on the outcome. Prepare yourself to return home in the meantime. "
With that, the link was closed and Corran was left staring at the Federation shield yet again. This time however, there was a sense of pause in him. He tried to process what the woman had said to him, but found himself going around in circles with it. It didn't set in until he turned his head to look at his database.
He could go home, and return, all within a few days if he were lucky.
"Yipee?"
Corran rushed across the room in that very instant and started to pull clothes and objects out of his neatly arrayed drawers, the ones he'd just finished putting back together recently after his initial shock and depression. Now there was only elation. He tapped his badge urgently and ordered the computer to send a message to Cris to get back as soon as he could, not wanting to disturb whatever he was doing... Also, so he could pack, regardless of how long it might take for the Delphin to pick him up.
Home... Home sweet home...
"Analysis"
by Dr. M'lira
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh
Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 12h32
***
"Assistant Chief Medical Officer's Log. Stardate 57907.07.
"In the murder of Dalil V'ril, I have been given the task of examining the
murder weapon for any possible clues that will help clear Ensign Andrea
Collins' name. It is a bladed weapon of terran origin with a single
edge. The blade is made of a steel alloy and appears to be of fine quality.
"There are residual traces of blood on the weapon that match records of
Dalil V'ril's genetic records. The grip of the weapon appears to have been
wiped clean, however there are irregularities in the material. Any
evidence of who might of wielded the weapon has been removed from the
blade, and-- How--? I have recalibrated the sensitivity on the sensors
and I now detect a residual substance within the irregularities upon the
weapon's grip. Computer, pause recording."
Dr. M'lira wiped at her brow and gazed at the information scrolling across
the monitor beside her. Her furred brows were creased with perplexity. It
wasn't often that a substance was encountered of which the Starfleet
database had no record. But, here, on Andrea Collins' knife, the weapon
used to brutally slay Dalil V'ril, M'lira had found one.
She quickly ran another series of checks, cross referencing both the data
from the Vulcan Science Academy and the main computer systems of the
Federation Science Council. It was twenty minutes before the results came
back to her: Sample matches no known substances on record.
"Computer, resume recording. It would appear that the substance I have
encountered is completely unidentifiable with current data available. I
cannot but help think that this may be a clue that could help shed further
light on the murder case. My own skills in this particular area are not
advanced enough. I will contact the Sulu science department to conduct
further research on the origin and nature of the substance. Computer, end
recording."
M'lira took a long sip of the Andorian ch'ir tea and stepped away from the
research. "Computer, what is the current location of Lt. Xayella Tagliesh?"
"Lieutenant Tagliesh is currently on Risa."
M'lira tapped a key on the communications console and opened a channel to
Tagliesh's communicator. "Dr. M'lira to Lt. Tagliesh."
The response was some time coming, and when it did arrive, M'lira was met
with a sigh of relief from Xayella herself. "I know we've never met,
Lieutenant, but I am certainly glad to hear your voice. I had no idea
diplomacy was such a boring practice."
"From what I have heard of the Farehn'ti, I would think every moment would
be filled with the excited anticipation of which minor point they would
pick to argue upon next," M'lira said with a smile. "Lieutenant, I am
certain you are aware of the murder of Ambassador Dalil V'ril. I have been
examining the murder weapon, and I have found something that appears
outside of my area of expertise. It is an organic substance, to be
sure. However, the composition is one I have never encountered before. I
was hoping to be able to have the assistance of the science department in
determining the nature and origin, which could lead to the identity of the
actual murderer."
"I wish I could escape these negotiations and aid you, Lieutenant,"
Xayella
replied with a note of disappointment, "but the captain requires me here.
However, I believe Lieutenant Ashbury remains on board. I trust she can
handle the analysis."
"Very well, Lieutenant," M'lira said. "I will contact Lieutenant Ashbury
in regards to the research. Shall I keep you informed of the progress
made?"
"If you wish," Xay replied. "Just try not to interrupt me between the
hours of 1700 and 0700 hours. I'll be a little...occupied."
M'lira laughed softly. "I will make certain," she said. "Thank you for
your time, Lieutenant Tagliesh. I will be in touch soon, though only
outside of your prescribed hours."
"Very well, Lieutenant. Now, unfortunately I have to be returning to the
negotiations. Good luck with your research. Tagliesh out."
M'lira glanced down at the knife and sighed. She returned it to the small
sample case it had been given to her in, and she enabled the stasis
field. With that, she started out in search of Lieutenant Samantha Ashbury.
"The Finger"
by Ensign Kremer - Medical Officer
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu; Mentet Province, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07, 12h35
***
Sickbays could either be surprisingly empty or quite busy when ships went on
shore leave, in this case of the Sulu, it was almost morguesque in
atmosphere, save for the few injured who came onboard for treating allergic
reactions to being stung by the Risan equivalent of a poisonous jellyfish or
if you were Grixble Flummux, fear of food poisoning and breaking out in
hives.
Kremer stood working over a cache of hypos and medical tools, checking each
to make certain it was functioning with its desired or perhaps great desired
parameters. He checked the hypos themselves once more before proceeding to
move on to check the surgical tools. His ears instantly perked up at the
sound of approaching footsteps. Instinctively he reached for a medical
tricorder. Upon spotting the officer in Medical Blue he pocketed the device
on his sidebelt and assumed as best a most unintimidating stance as
possible;
not very easy mind you when you possess claws and fangs.
"Ah, you must be the relief duty nurse, apparently Crewman Rayes has
resorted to finally taking my advice in indulging on shoreleave time."
Cristobel Sefton pallidly looked up at Kremer from his tall mug of iced
spice coffee in hand. "Something like that," Cris said slowly, after a
pause. "Doctor M'lira commed me earlier to say she needed an extra body in
Sickbay, because she's working on some sort of investigation."
"Yes, Doctor M'lira is busy working on a murder investigation that occurred
planetside involving one of the Sulu's crew as its prime suspect. She has
been attempting to further uncover any clues from the proposed murder weapon
that was found at the scene." Kremer sheepishly smiled before offering his
paw. "Where are my manners. Ensign Kremer. I'm one the Sulu's most recent
arrivals. It's nice to meet you..."
Cristobel took Kremer's paw in a firm grasp between both of his hands. "I'm
Cristobel Sefton. Relatively new here myself. I only transferred over on
stardate 57906.28." Smirking slightly, he commented, "I'm glad to hear that
that is the investigation M'lira is exploring. The closest thing to a
witness that the Risian authorities could find is a man who thinks the
'hedonistic slut' deserved to die."
Kremer smiled as he shook Cristobel's hand in return with both paws. "It's
nice to finally meet another of the ship's medical staff. Good to meet
you, Ensign Sefton." Releasing his paw the Caitian frowned slightly at
Sefton's remark. "Some people make more friends than enemies easily. I hope
for Ensign Collins' sake such is not the case."
Nodding slightly, Cristobel supposed, "With three governments investigating
this sitch, her best bet is limiting herself to honestly answering whatever
questions are asked of her, and avoiding offering information that's not
directly related to what her memory tells her. Even the mouthiest of
Starfleet officers know that, and so she should get through this fine."
Sefton's smile slipped somewhat. "Unless she's guilty."
"Which will no doubt only be proven once we have the proper evidence in hand
containing whether or not she is or isn't guilty," Kremer remarked. Picking
a PADD up from the tray he was working at Kremer tapped a few buttons before
handing the device to Sefton. "M'lira has been attempting to further analyze
the substances found in and on the murder weapon, so far she has been having
no such luck in finding answers as you will see from this data compilation."
Nodding as he looked over the padd's readout, Cris then set it back down on
the tray. "Leaving us with..." Cristobel said with a slight dramatic
flourish, as he swept an empty hand towards the door leading into Sickbay.
No one entered. The doors remained closed.
Remaining still and silent, Cristobel continued pointing at the door,
glaring at it, as if he could make patients enter with the power of his
mind. When that didn't work, he let his arm flop down to his side, and
turned to Kremer to murmur, "Cataloguing medical equipment?"
"You think they'd notice if we left Sickbay and leave the work to the EMH?"
Kremer asked, his tail wavering behind him slyly. He was only joking, but
part of the Caitian did have to admit the sound of the plan sounded
tempting.
Snickering, Cristobel told Kremer, "I like the way you think." After taking
a swig of coffee, Cris sighed, "But Nurse Szerda mentioned that there were
some problems with the EMH yesterday. We probably shouldn't needlessly risk
it malfunctioning again with no other medical personnel on duty. At least
not until Doctor M'lira is done with her investigation."
"Unless one of us tries perhaps waving our arms, you don't suppose a patient
will magically appear do you?"
"Sickbay," Ensign Viraj's urgent voice came over the comm. "Incoming
patient."
On the central biobed, Ensign Fionn Hunter materialised in the flurry of a
Starfleet transporter energy signature. Dripping with water, the
swimming-trunks-clad engineer was groaning the instant his lungs had been
rematerialised. The human male was also covered in minor scrapes and
bruises, as well as smeared blood over his right arm and hand leading down
to where his digitus anularis should have been.
"Last time I attempt to be humorous for one day," Kremer deadpanned. Hurriedly moving over to Ensign Hunter the Caitian quickly pulled out his
tricorder and began to scan the injured man's right arm. "He has a compound
fracture in his radius, the bone is just penetrating the surface of the
skin."
Kremer's eyes quickly glanced down as Hunter's chest began to rise and fall
with forced jerky movements. Dropping one paw to pick up the man's wrist
Kremer felt the pulse; it was thready and quite unnatural. Listening closely
he could see that Hunter was now having difficulty breathing. "He still has
remaining water in his lungs. Ensign get to work on repairing his arm...try
to get the bone back in place so it's not cutting open. I'll do what I can
to help him start breathing again." Rushing off, Kremer fetched some tools as
the two officers went to work.
From the antigrav cart Kremer brought over, Sefton grabbed the tool he'd
need for the metorapan treatment on Hunter's fractured arm, and loaded a
hypospray with his other hand. Regarding the hypo, Sefton asked,
"Asinolyathin for the pain?"
Kremer nodded at Sefton's question who promptly then gave Hunter an
injection of the pain killer. Holding what looked to be a type of charge
paddle, Kremer pressed the device to Hunter's chest and activated it. Seconds afterwards, Hunter began to cough out water, clearing his lungs of
fluid.
Moments before Cris was about to begin the treatment on Fionn's arm, he
stopped to declare an observation. "His missing finger isn't here."
"What do you mean his missing fin...oh no....Fionn, what was the last thing
you remember happening to you before you were injured?" the Caitian asked,
his expression calm yet urgent.
"Went cliff diving in the rain," Fionn said, still short of breath. "Hit
rocks on the way down."
Kremer looked up at Cristobel before looking back down at Fionn. "Fionn,
were you with anyone, any friends when you went cliff diving, someone that
you know?"
"Jade," Fionn rasped out.
"Ensign Sefton, I suggest we try and find this man's missing finger. Contact
his cliff diving companion and ask him if he found anything, particularly
something that resembles...a human digit." Kremer held up his pinkie finger
to indicate what he meant by his last remark.
***
Ensigns Kremer and Sefton materialised in a field of soggy grass beneath the
naturally pouring rain of Risa. Running out of the deep pond, which was
adjacent to a cliff-face, Ensign Jade Kavana gasped, "I still can't find
it!"
"It must be here somewhere, I doubt the finger got up and walked away."
Neither laughed at his joke. "Alright bad joke. Ensign Sefton, investigate
the pond over there and see if you can find anything. Jade, I suggest you
and I try searching for Fionn's finger in the grass. We should hurry and try
to find it before the weather gets any worse." Kremer withdrew his tricorder
as he began to scan the patch of soggy grass, attempting to find anything
out of the ordinary while Cristobel investigated the pond.
"It's quite difficult to see with all this rain pouring!" Jade shouted as he
searched the grass.
Kremer shook the water from his whiskers as he continued
searching. "Don't give up, it has to be here somewhere!" he replied. Brushing his claws through the blades of grass Kremer found some rock
fragments, broken twigs, leaves but so far nothing resembling a finger.
"Ensign Sefton! Have you found anything yet?"
"I'm trying to get a standard skeletal lock. The tricorder's scanning for
the unique minerals found in human bones," Cris explained, his voice raised
to cut through the harsh winds. As he smeared water droplets off his
tricorder's screen, he sighed loudly at Ensign Kavana and snarked, "Couldn't
the two of you have gone diving on any one of the major continents of the
planet that are weather-controlled?"
Before Jade might have responded, Cris looked back to his tricorder and
announced, "Oh, hey, I think I found something."
"Where? In the water? Go figure, man's finger lands in the one place we
can't find it. Have you gotten an exact lock onto the finger?" Kremer asked,
walking over to where Cris was investigating the pond and its murky depths.
Brushing his sopping wet bangs off his forehead with the back of his hand
holding the tricorder, Cristobel tapped his commbadge with his other hand.
"Sefton to Viraj. I need you to transport everything within half a metre of
these exact coordinates into a storage container." Sefton hit the controls
on his tricorder to pass along the coordinates, of what should be a Terran
finger, to Viraj's transporter console.
"Energising," came Viraj's voice from Cris' communicator.
Unable to see the sparkle of the transporter at the bottom of the murky
pond, Cristobel simply waited five seconds before asking, "Now can you look
inside the storage container and tell me what you see...?"
"Um...okay?" Viraj said, unaware of what Cris and Kremer were searching
for. After the time it took for Viraj to move around the transporter
console, walk across the room to the platform, and open the container, he
let out a startled yelp, which came out across the communications link.
"He got the severed finger!" Cristobel enthused. To Viraj, Cris ordered,
"Beam three directly to Sickbay, but send the finger to Sickbay ahead of
us."
The pouring rain on Risa vanished from all three officers' field of vision,
and was replaced with the dry and sterile Sickbay, once the transport was
complete. Stepping off the side Kremer sneezed before he began to wring his
tail free of water. "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad to be in
Sickbay for once."
As Cris headed for the biobed on which the storage container had been
transported, Cristobel shrugged off his uniform jacket, balled it and tossed
it across the room into a replicator slot. He picked up the container, and,
carrying it over to Fionn, remarked to Kremer, "I doubt Ensign Hunter, here,
will agree if you reattach his finger upside down."
"What? Upside-huh?" the panicked patient blurted. "Please tell me this
isn't the first time the two of you have--"
And Cristobel pressed a sedative-filled hypospray to Fionn Hunter's neck to
induce sleep.
"Patient 314G957"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07, 13h00
***
Cristobel stepped out of the cramped sonic shower in one of the scrub
stations and dressed himself in a fresh uniform. Sleep deprivation, Corran's
medical condition, and an extremely rough hour in Sickbay - Cristobel wasn't
sure that he could make it through the day, but the shower had helped.
When he tapped his commbadge onto his uniform, the computer alerted him to
Corran's low-priority request that Cris come back to their quarters. Cris
walked through main Sickbay to get to the corridor, but he was stopped
halfway by another communiqué.
"*Hamilton to Sefton, you have an urgent subspace message from a Doctor
Damhnait Sefton.*"
His pulse suddenly racing, Cristobel ordered, "Send it to the CMO's office."
Cris sprinted into the office, dropped into the chair behind the desk, and
his mother appeared on the desktop terminal. "What's happened? What is
it?" Cris asked.
"*Nara Hamdi has been released from the Cataria Institute,*" Damhnait told him
evenly.
Cristobel's nervous expression slipped away to a look of disbelief and
despair.
From the entrance to the office the replacement duty nurse, Annikafiore
Szerda, asked, "Who's Nara Hamdi?"
Not looking away from his mother on the screen, Cristobel flatly said, "I've
never met her."
"Catering Gig"
Ensign Kit Markham; Helm Officer
Sikara; Ops (Chef)
Location: "Long Tall Sally's" all-night tavern, Tulip City, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07 13h00
***A Few Hours Earlier***
Sikara was hacking a small video game to let him remove the
"one-per-customer" disc that held the installation files when his phone went
off.
Diving onto his bed, pulling up the small relic of what used to be a clean
duvet off and scattering away last night's pixa bread takeaway from the bed
he finally found the small device, about the size of a middle finger,
emitting a mildly annoying tune.
As he picked it up the tune ceased.
Sikara cursed but seconds later another tune told him he had a recorded
message.
Connecting the finger-like device to his ear, and the tiny implant next to
his ear, Sikara spoke in Risan to activate the device.
Immediately the image of Mason Farrell, and the recorded backdrop of what
looked to be a small office or something, filled Sikara's visual field. It
was almost totally transparent to enable him to walk or drive something at
the same time.
Soon Mason began to speak:
"Hey Sikara, Mason here. I've mentioned you to some associates of mine who
are looking to have a party. They'll need somebody to run the food, and so
I'm sending them to you. Maybe you can meet at that bar we met at the first
time? Meet Ensign Markham on the 7th at Long Tall Sally's at 13h00. You
can't miss him. He'll be the short one with the flamboyant hair. Mason."
The image faded and the small device bleeped and a small menu appeared
giving him options. He chose to return to standby and detach, and caught the
device as it dropped from his ear. He played catch with it as he smiled and
returned to his hacking.
***Long Tall Sally's***
Sikara walked in looking as smart as was possible with his excuse for a
wardrobe. People he knew stared for a second and then returned to their
drinks. Looking around the dim lighted pub Sikara couldn't see the person
who Mason had described. The task was not helped by the terrible dreamlike
haze of smoke from various pipe drugs.
He sat at the bar and asked for his usual and waited.
Kit Markham walked into the bar and looked around. He glanced down at the
small disc in his hand and pressed one of the buttons on the side. A
holographic face hovered above the disc for a moment, an image of the person
he was seeking. Even in the gloom, he had no trouble spotting the man at
the bar. He approached slowly, pausing for a moment to adjust his clothes.
"Mister Sikara," he said as he drew near.
"Mr...?" Sikara asked cautiously, there was no telling who this guy was,
even though he matched the description from Farrell.
"Kit Markham," he said. "I was told I could find you here."
"Of course." Sikara stood to his full height, and although he was not
particularly tall, he still was taller than Kit. Sikara bowed his head
slightly in Risan tradition and then offered his hand in Terran tradition.
"Nice to meet you."
Kit shook Sikara's hand. "Nice meeting you."
"Mason did not give a lot of detail in his message," Sikara said, sitting
down and indicating to the barman that he wanted another drink. "What would
you like to drink?"
"Whatever you're having," Kit said.
"And another, thank you," Sikara shouted over the bar to the barman.
"Anyway," Sikara said, turning back to Markham. "What do you want of me?"
"We're throwing a big party for the crew of the Sulu," he said. "And,
according to Farrell, you're the guy we should talk to about the food."
"I see, what kind of food are you thinking of? Buffet, sit-down meal?"
Sikara asked.
"The party's gonna be on a beach, so something appropriate. Local cuisine,
something they serve at those big gatherings down on the islands. If you
can throw in a few dishes from around the quadrant, that'd be great too.
Crew's about one-fifty, so I'd say plan for twice that to include stragglers
who happen by."
"And where will this take place?" Sikara asked
"Farezi Sands," Kit said. "You know the place?"
"Yes I do, and I know somebody who owns a restaurant just off the beach, I
may be able to use his kitchens. How much have you got in the way of funds.
I am not asking to be paid, however I will require money to rent the
kitchens and employ a helper or two," Sikara replied, taking a sip of his
drink.
"I've been able to get some money authorized by the ship and Starfleet. If
it costs more than I have authorized, I'm sure it'll be possible to round up
the rest. We can also pass the hat around during the performances, that
should also help raise some extra money should it be needed."
"Right, this all sounds good, I will get in touch with my friend on the
Sands, if you could give me a number I can reach you on." Sikara showed him
his finger-like phone.
Kit gave Sikara his contact number. "That will be routed through the ship,
but should reach me wherever I am. This is great. If you need anything,
or...well, anything, just let me know. This party's going to be great!"
"Alright, I shall contact you for anything then." Sikara stood and bowed
in his own customs and once again offered his hand.
Kit shook Sikara's hand. "It was nice meeting you," he said. "Farrell
speaks very highly of you, so I know this'll be amazing. I'll see you soon,
Sikara." With that, he headed back out into the much more breathable Risan
air.
"Analyzing the Unknown"
by Dr. M'lira
and Lt. Samantha Ashbury
Location: Science Lab Three, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 13h05
***
With the assistance of the computer, M'lira was able to track Lt. Ashbury
down in the astrometrics lab. The Caitian doctor approached, not wishing to
interrupt the woman from her research. Finally, the scientist looked up
from her work and noticed M'lira.
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," M'lira began. "My name is M'lira, and I have
a rather puzzling situation that I thought you might be able to assist me
with." She quickly explained the murder of Dalil V'ril as well as the knife
used to murder him. Finally, she got around to the unidentifiable substance
she'd found on the grip of the blade. "I have never seen its like before,
and I was hoping that perhaps you might be able to assist me. My own skills
in this field are limited, but I thought, as did Lieutenant Tagliesh, yours
would be up to the task."
"I'll be glad to help," Sam replied as she saved her work. "Do you have some
samples of the substance available?"
M'lira raised the case that contained the weapon. "The blade is inside here
with all traces of the substance still intact." She held up a padd. "This
contains the readings I took while examining as well as my examination log."
"Great!" Sam said. "Let's go up to the Deck 2 science labs. It has most of
the equipment we'll need."
"Perfect," M'lira said. "I do not know how helpful I will be, but I will
assist as I can." As they left the astrometrics lab, she regarded the human
woman. "Lieutenant Tagliesh has great confidence in you."
"She does?" Sam was amazed. She looked sideways at the Caitian doctor. "I
didn't think she knew my name. We've only talked once or twice; I don't see
her much working the beta shift. I always got the feeling she didn't approve
of me being assigned to the Sulu because of my background."
"I have no knowledge of that," M'lira answered. "However, that you're in
charge of the beta shift says something about your abilities and her faith
in you to get the job done correctly. I have very little experience with
Lieutenant Tagliesh myself; my recent conversation with her is the sole
contact I have had with her, and that was over a communicator. In regards
to the current case, Dalil V'ril and Andrea Collins' hotel rooms are open
for your examination if you feel such a need. I am not certain if the study
of the weapon will be sufficient."
"I'd never thought of it that way. I always figured..." Sam shrugged as they
got in the turbolift. It was of no consequence. "I will probably need to see
the hotel rooms. I'll arrange for some security officers to accompany me."
Sam didn't bother to mention that it would probably also be nerve wracking
for her.
"I would accompany you," M'lira said. "Unfortunately I'm the only doctor
currently on duty. If you need my clearances for anything, I'd be more than
willing to assist however I can."
"Are the hotel rooms currently under guard or quarantine?" Sam asked as the
turbolift stopped at Deck 2. She led the way down the corridor to the Deck 2
science labs.
"I believe they are currently being monitored by Sulu security officers with
additional personnel supplied by Risa."
Sam nodded as the doors to the science lab opened. Her first step was to set
the case on an optical scanner, allowing the computer to get a detailed scan
of the weapon inside. While the computer was busy with that, Sam pulled up
all known records of the weapon, including the preliminary analysis done by
M'lira.
After the optical scanning was done, Sam put the case in a level one
quarantine field usually reserved for hazardous compounds that might pose a
threat to the ship. M'lira's initial analysis had turned up some puzzling
results and Sam wasn't entirely comfortable in opening the case in the usual
closed door environment and possibly risking contamination of the blade and
the substance on it.
Rather than filling the field with the usual inert compound such as argon,
Sam opted for a vacuum field instead, even though it meant she couldn't work
with the blade directly. After a moment of thought, she turned around and
pulled a wafer from the storage cabinet behind her containing a series of
scientific nanobots. Rather than the medical nanobots so commonly used,
these bots were specifically programmed to operate in a scientific
environment that was deemed either too dangerous or too small for scientific
personnel.
Sam quickly programmed one of the bots to remove some of the substance on
the blade and to transfer it to an analysis tray via the transporter.
Because she was interested mostly in the molecular structure, a small amount
of the substance would more than suffice.
A chirp from the computer within just moments of the nanobot entering the
quarantine field let Sam know that the work was complete. A look at the
monitor verified that the nanobot had transported itself into a separate
wafer and initiated a deactivation sequence to await decontamination.
M'lira took a step forward to look over Sam's shoulder. "Did they find
anything interesting?" she asked.
"Very," Sam said slowly, running over the possibilities in her mind. She
leaned back for a moment in thought, going over the very basics of biology,
something she hadn't thought about in years. Amino acids were the basic
organic compounds that were essential to all life. Twenty known amino acids
serve as the basic building blocks of proteins for all carbon-based life
forms. Amino acids form polypeptides which, in turn, form proteins. The
structure of the compound resembled a highly complex polypeptide. Roughly
thirty percent of the structure resembled glycine, the simplest of all amino
acids.
Seventy percent of the structure however, was utterly indecipherable.
Realistically, the structure was too complex to exist naturally without
changing and adapting. That only left one alternative.
"I'm not sure what to make of it," Sam said, looking over her shoulder at
M'lira. "I can tell you one thing though: it is not naturally occurring.
This is a product of genetic engineering."
M'lira raised an eyebrow. "Genetic engineering? I knew there was organic
chains in its structure, but...engineered?"
"Look at the connection point between the known part of the compound and the
unknown part." Sam brought up a graphical display of the molecule. "The
recognizable part is carbon based. The unknown part is silicon based;
probably why the computer didn't recognize it. We don't have much experience
with silicon-based life. I didn't even know it was possible to bridge
carbon-based and silicon-based molecular structures and I can't think of a
single instance where this would occur naturally. Carbon-based life forms
and silicon-based life forms are completely incompatible. They can't coexist
naturally; it goes against every known law of physics."
M'lira raised an eyebrow. "Very well," she said skeptically. She had been
aware of the siliconoid structures in the sample, but she wasn't so certain
of Samantha's assessment. She would have to wait for the final analysis
however, and she would have to trust in the scientist's findings. "So, it
has been engineered in some way, but overall the substance would still
be categorized as organic. And, whatever it is, it was on that weapon. It
must be some link to the murderer, and possibly something as unique as a
fingerprint or DNA sample." She sighed and looked up at Sam again.
Something about the analysis was nagging at the back of her mind, but there
was nothing M'lira could do to put her finger on it. She sighed inwardly.
"I believe we're definitely going to need more information."
"I'll notify security that I'll need to see the scene, the autopsy reports,
and have a couple of security people accompany me," Sam said glumly with a
sigh. "We'd better do this by the book."
"I agree," M'lira said. "I believe the K'tarians would use any misstep to
their benefit in this matter, and they do seem very upset."
"They have a right to be," Sam said quietly, thinking of her own experience
on Calevere.
M'lira nodded. "If you need any assistance from me, Samantha, please let me
know. Though, I must remain here on the ship."
"I'll probably need some help in analyzing the tissue samples I'll get from
the autopsy reports," Sam said. "I'll let you know when I have them."
"Of course," M'lira said. "I will be happy to assist in any way I can.
Good luck, Lieutenant."
"Puzzling Investigations"
By: Lieutenant(j.g.) Samantha Ashbury
Ensign Kate Hansen (NPC)
Crewman Robert Daly (NPC)
Crewman Kaven Lucas (NPC)
Location: Sulu Science Labs, USS Sulu; Risa: Ambassador V'ril's and Ensign Collins' Hotel Rooms
Stardate: 57907,07, 13h30
***
Sam breathed a sigh of frustration as Dr. M'lira left the science labs.
She'd hoped to spend her afternoon working in astrometrics, looking over the
new supernova data that had come in the day before. To make matters worse,
Madison was under her watch this afternoon. In astrometrics, she could keep
an eye on her daughter. Now... With a sigh, she tapped her combadge.
"Ashbury to Rachel Hansen."
"Hansen... No, no, stop that you little goose!" A squeal of laughter emerged
over the combadge. "Sorry about that, Lieutenant. We're playing hide and
seek
here."
"Rachel... I've got to go down to the Risan surface for a bit. I hate to ask
but would you mind watching Madison for another hour or two? I should be
back by then. I'm sorry about this."
"The investigation?"
"Yes. Unfortunately..."
"Don't worry about it. We'll be fine. See you when you get back."
"Thanks, Rachel," Sam said with a sigh of relief. "I owe you one. Ashbury
out."
***Transporter Room 3***
Sam had requested three security officers accompany her to the surface. For
all practical purposes, the incident was still under Ktarian control and
any activity that was not done 'by the book' would be frowned upon. It might
also endanger the investigation, Ensign Collins and possibly the Sulu.
Walking into the transporter room with her science kit slung over one
shoulder and a forensic kit in one hand, Sam saw Kate Hansen, Kaven Lucas,
and Robert Daly.
"Afternoon, Lieutenant," Ensign Hansen said with a wink. She was well
acquainted with Sam, having babysat Madison numerous times.
"Hi, Kate," Sam replied with a small smile. "Okay, people, here's the
situation. I've been assigned to look at some forensic evidence in
Ambassador V'ril's and Ensign Collins' hotel rooms. As such, you get to come
along and babysit me." This last statement resulted in some chuckles. Sam
turned serious. "This has to be strictly by the book or the Ktarians might
use any irregularities to their own advantage. Kate and Daly, you'll stand
guard outside the rooms. I want one of you immediately outside the door, the
other at the intersection down the hall. No one is to approach while we're
in there. Lucas, you'll be inside the room with me. We don't know each
other, so no one can say the evidence or my investigation was compromised by
friendship. You're also familiar with forensic investigations so you'll be
able to ensure that everything went by the book, in case there are any
issues raised by the Ktarians. Any questions?"
All three shook their heads. Sam took a deep breath and stepped onto the
transporter pad, followed by the rest of the team.
"Energize."
***Hotel Lobby, 1400***
Sam felt the transporter release its grip on her molecules. She looked
around for a moment to get her bearings then started up the stairs to
Ambassador V'ril's room. At the first intersection leading to the room,
Robert Daly took his post. Hansen assumed her post immediately outside the
room while Lucas followed Sam in, stopping just inside the door and stepping
to one side, hands folded behind his back.
Sam had read the previous reports of the investigation. She looked around
carefully, being sure not to touch anything. The largest site of blood was
on the bed where the Ambassador had died. There were also spatters on one
side of the bed, along the wall. Sam turned slightly pale at the sight of it
all.
"Lieutenant, are you all right?" Lucas asked from behind her.
"I'm fine," Sam said faintly. "This just brings back some...unpleasant
memories."
With a deep breath, Sam set down her forensic and science kits in one corner
of the room and pulled out a tricorder. Moving carefully to avoid disturbing
any evidence, she scanned the entire room then paused to look at the
results.
The substance that was on the blade was also present here in the hotel room,
in much greater concentrations. The substance being in the room was no great
surprise; the high concentration was. With a deft tap of her tricorder, she
found the largest concentration at the upper end of the bed, where the
Ambassador had died.
Sam put away her tricorder and stepped gingerly across the room to one side
of the bed, scanning the substance carefully. She frowned in puzzlement and
ran the check again. The substance was basically the same as the one onboard
the Sulu; yet it also showed some minor variations. The tricorder readings
weren't specific enough to narrow down exactly what it was but... Sam shook
her head in silence, dismissing it to the complexities of the structure.
Then again, she'd learned the hard way before. On a sudden impulse, she
looked up at Lucas.
"Notify the Sulu that we'll need a shuttle to transport some of these
samples."
Lucas nodded gravely and raised a hand to his combadge.
Sam moved to a spot by the bed to gather another sample of the strange
substance. She'd need two from here and then the team could move on to Ensign
Collins' room. With her conflicting and turbulent emotions, Sam wanted
nothing more than to leave this place of death as soon as conveniently
possible.
***Science Labs, USS Sulu, 15h05***
It had taken Sam another forty minutes to finish her work at the crime
scene. She'd located three separate samples of the unknown substance on the
bed: one was the main depository of blood and two additional, smaller
locations as well as a small spatter along one wall. In Collins' room, she'd
located another four samples of the substance, one in the bedroom, where the
alleged weapon had been found, and three in the kitchen along with numerous
bloodstains.
Two samples from V'ril's room and two from Collins' had been sent back via
shuttle. The rest had been beamed aboard with the rest of the away team. Sam
immediately set to work on the initial samples while waiting for the rest of
the samples to arrive from the shuttle bay.
She scanned the first sample of blood and grimaced in surprise as the exact
same substance that had been found on the blade appeared. Another sample,
then a third revealed the same problem. The tricorder readings she'd taken
on the surface revealed a slightly different molecular configuration,
although she couldn't tell the exact configuration from the limited
tricorder readings. With an inaudible curse, she stared at the displays in
frustration.
A chime at the door diverted her attention.
"Come."
The pilot from the shuttle stepped into the room. "Afternoon, Lieutenant.
Got a delivery for you from the surface."
"Great!" Sam said with a wan smile. Now maybe she'd get a few answers about
this odd substance. "Just set them on the table over there," she said with a
gesture. The pilot set down the case where indicated, wondering why in the
world some lieutenant had requested that he fly down to the surface to pick
up four tiny vials of...something and fly straight home again. He could
have been enjoying some shore leave with some nice Risan girls right about
now... He was shaking his head at the duplicity of the universe as he left.
Sam pulled up the original scan of the substance from the blade, another
from the scan she'd just performed and got one sample from the set sent by
shuttle. A quick comparison revealed significant differences in the
molecular configuration of the substance. The first two were the same but
the third was altered and the third had come by shuttle. Sam sat back in her
chair, crossing her arms in puzzlement.
"Computer, run hypothesis using the available data from all three scans of
unknown substance Alpha. Note all variations in the molecular configuration
and submit possible reasons for said variations."
"Scan running. Estimated completion: five minutes."
Sam scanned the rest of the samples while the computer was running its
analysis, her mind churning over possible answers. A chirp interrupted her
musings.
"Analysis complete."
"Display results," Sam said with some excitement as she scooted over to the
main display.
The computer had found that the first two samples had been altered by
'unknown means' while the third was in its original state. That was
unexpected but not surprising. The question was what happened to the
substance? The only difference between the samples was that two had come
through a transporter and one had come by shuttle... Sam leaned forward.
"Computer, run following hypothesis: is this substance complex enough to be
altered by going through a transporter without a base pattern on record?"
"There is a ninety-six percent probability of alteration."
In other words, computerese for: 'Hell, yes!'
Sam let out a sigh of relief. She had one answer which hopefully in turn
would lead to another answer, this one more satisfactory than the last.
Science was so much like solving a jigsaw: once one piece fell into place,
the rest were bound to follow. She saved the data on the first two samples
and brought up the rest of the samples that had been sent by shuttle. The
configuration was vastly different from the original substance on the blade.
It no longer closely resembled glycine; now it could be considered more of a
distant relative. The structure had significant amounts of carbon in it
along with the usual components necessary for an organic structure: oxygen,
nitrogen, hydrogen, etc.
The computer had also found traces of what looked like silicate, although it
was slightly different from known silicate structures and bonded to the
hydrogen atoms; a very unusual configuration. From what she could see, the
uniqueness of the structure made it easily identifiable, on par with DNA,
retinal, or fingerprint scans. There still, however, wasn't an answer as to
what this substance was. Biological functions seemed unlikely given the
complexity of the structure. Sam rubbed her eyes and looked at the
chronometer. It was approaching 1600 hours.
That particular answer was going to have to wait for later. Sam transmitted
her results to Dr. M'lira and Lieutenant Tagliesh before saving them onto a
padd. She'd look it over later, trusting her subconscious to mull things
over and maybe come up with some ideas as to what this stuff was. Right now,
she really needed to talk to somebody about what she'd seen down there and
the best person for that...was working on a flybike at the moment, Sam
remembered at the last moment. She sighed morosely as she walked out the
door. She'd try to catch Michael before he went on duty. Just talking about
what she'd seen and the memories it had brought back of Calevere would help.
He didn't have to talk; he just had to listen. Just a helpful ear would be
good right about now.
"This Should Be Fun..."
By: Lt. (jg) Natalia Alexandria Druschev - Science Officer
Location: Palari Island Resort, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07, 13h40
***
Natalia wandered along the path that wound through the dense copse of trees
bordering the Palari Resort. The island was the third she had explored since
hopping on an Island Tour after breakfast. She couldn't believe how
beautiful this planet was! It had had a wonderful effect on Domenic too - he
was totally engrossed in surfing. Natalia thought that it had more to do
with the gang of children he had met that was his own age. Apparently they
had adopted him as their 'leader.' He liked that. So much that he'd asked to
stay behind and take part in the organized activities. It gave her another
day of freedom!
Waking up that morning had been like the dawning of a new lifetime. She had
felt truly free for the first time in ages. She hadn't even thought of
'what's-his-name' back at the Starbase. Chara had been perfect. Jamaharon
had been...indescribable! It was easy to see why people flocked here for
the pleasure - you just couldn't get it anywhere else! It was unique - and
Natalia could still feel the tingle if she closed her eyes.
She wandered along the path and admired the hundreds of blossoms that
cascaded from the trees and balconies in the gardens. It was a bright and
hot day, and Natalia wore her hair long and straight. She found a flower of
scarlet with a white center and picked it - placing it in her hair just
above her left ear. It matched the scarlet summer dress and white sandals
she wore. She smiled, still thinking about last night. She started walking
again and watched the people around her laughing and playing. There were
plenty of couples, but looking at them no longer brought her a pang of pain.
She kept walking and discovered the path led to a dome built into the side
of a cliff. The stair wound along the face of the cliff which dropped to the
sea with crashing foaming waves. The walkway was covered by a clear screen
and climbed upward to enter the dome. There was a steady stream of people
entering and leaving.
Peering upward she saw that a holographic sign flashed in a rainbow of
colors to display the name of the establishment. "Palari Casino." She
grinned to herself and started off. This should be fun, she thought.
"To A Far, Far Away Land"
By Lt. jg M'Lira, ACMO
& Dr. Corran Quezith
Location: Sickbay
Date: 57907.07, 15h00
***
Corran still hadn't seen Cristobel, but he'd been so busy packing that he hadn't noticed the time up until now. He was in a hurry getting his things together, exhilarated at the prospect of going home at all. If he hadn't been sick, he still would've been thrilled at the chance to go back home even if for only a day or a few days at that!
Now he was on his way to Sickbay. He wanted to see if M'Lira would give him some material to read on Federation medicine so he could start practicing in the field when he came back. He needed to do something with himself, as much as he could, in order to just not think about his illness. His hands glowed annoyingly and he found himself rubbing them continuously to try and stop them from doing that, changing colors, but he was too excited.
He walked into Sickbay and found M'Lira hard at work at one of the stations. He approached her with an anxious smile and then sat down in front of her like a little school child would in a principle's office.
M'Lira watched Corran's approach. She gave him a gentle smile, and then moved to sit before him once he was seated. "How are you feeling today?" she asked him as she pulled out a tricorder and ran a quick scan.
Corran smirked slightly. "I feel better, even though I know I'm not physically better." He hoped she'd prod for it; he liked having conversations with people, even if it was about something serious as his own treatment and whatnot.
"That smile is a somewhat good sign," she said. "Your condition does not appear to have gotten better, though it's no worse either. Will it be twenty questions, Mr. Quezith?"
He nodded enthusiastically before chuckling, "Sorry, don't mean to give you a hard time. The reason I feel better emotionally is I got in touch with the division of Starfleet that got me here to begin with and saved my people from being finished off. They have a civilian corporate ship that's faster than anything in the fleet right now and can take me home within a day or a few days... I can get treatment back home." His eyes shone like lights as they turned a piercing blue tone that made his smile all the more infectious.
"That's wonderful news," M'Lira said with a smile. "I imagine they'll be able to get you as good as new...well, probably very quickly. How long do you suppose it will take them to cure you of your ailment?"
"I hope no more than a day or two... Telepathic medicine is very advanced back home, and specialized of course..." He smirked uneasily, not wanting to make her feel bad for something she had no fault in. The Federation was huge and too diverse for its medicine to be so intensely focused on unique species. He smirked slightly., "I hope it's fast. I want to come back...and I'd like to start training to be a Federation doctor." He looked her in the eyes this time.
M'Lira smiled. "That would be fabulous," she said. "I think you would make a fine doctor, Corran. What area of medicine do you think you would study?"
"Uh...there are fields?" He played dumb. He knew the Federation had separated medicine into several hundred categories, but back home there were only a few and you specialized only if a doctor was needed in that specific category, otherwise everyone was a general practitioner, just...well, hard to explain. He winked at her and decided to explain, "I don't know, for now I'd like to go over the basics. Using medical equipment made by the Federation, first aid, emergency medicine, general medicine."
The Caitian doctor nodded. "That's a good plan," she said. "And, during that time, you could determine which areas interest you the most. These days, it's also not uncommon for some doctors to have several specialties."
"I'm one of them." His lips twisted around feistily while he glanced around them. "I just don't know my way around Federation sickbays and equipment, and of course a lot of stuff I should know about the alien races in and out of the Federation." At that he grinned cheesily, after all, it only took a hypospray with oxygen to kill humans and then of course there were all the meds and the allergic reactions or other bodily reactions that could occur... Complicated, very complicated...
"So I was wondering if you could set me up with the information I'll need so I could start studying on this trip of mine, maybe be ready to go into the practice by the time I come back?"
"Of course," M'Lira answered with a bright smile. She moved over to one of the desks and started to scan through some of the medical texts on file. "We actually have some very good texts available. Should I just flag them for you in the ship's computer? You'd be able to transfer them to a series of PADDs from anywhere on the ship."
"That'd be great, thanks." He smiled appreciatively with green eyes shining over to M'Lira as he hopped off the biobed and walked over to where she was flagging the files. "I really wanna help around here more than by just taking care of the new arboretum. I didn't spend my life up until now in the exploration division back home just to come here and slack it off..."
"I've heard rumors about your arboretum," she said. "I do hope you return soon because I have a few ideas for some plants that would do
wonderfully. You don't often find them outside of my homeworld, but in a controlled environment they should do very well." She finished with the computer and turned to face him again. "There, all set. Those are the ones that I found most helpful to me as I was studying."
He read over the names and memorized the key she'd used to flag them, then turned to smile at her thankfully. "Thanks again. As for the arboretum, put everything together and send me the data. If you have seeds or the plants that'd be a great help, otherwise I'll synthesize them in the lab I built for the arboretum with the science department's help." He winked. "You'll think you're back on Cait one of these days."
"That sounds lovely," she said. "I'll get those to you as soon as I can, and I'll see what I can imagine to acquire samples."
Corran's brow went up humorously as he leaned in, eyeing her as if to find that she wasn't a true Caitian. "Are you a Q or do you have an ability to create things out of your imagination some other way?" He was just kidding.
M'Lira laughed. "Well, unfortunately, I can't do that. But, I imagine that some flower and plant shops on various Federation worlds might have something from my homeworld. There may actually be a shop down on Risa that sells the blooming fire rose. It's a long shot, but I would like to do my part to help with the arboretum."
"Well, if you find anything you like, be sure to set them up in the lab there in the arboretum, though. The regional settings are still modifying the support systems and it'll be at least another week until we're ready to start planting anything... It's a huge dirt bay right now, hmm...so you have experience gardening?"
"Very little actually," M'Lira answered. "But, I've always enjoyed time I've spent in the natural world. I also keep a couple plants in my quarters on ship. It just helps...make things more soothing. I don't know if I could really explain it otherwise. I'm not a botanist, but I do enjoy the results of botanical endeavors."
"Well, consider me a teacher if you ever want to know more about botany, it's only fair if you'll be training me." He tapped the screen with the medical data she'd compiled for him. He smiled and then glanced at the door. "Well, I guess the last thing I need to know is if I should take any medicine with me on the trip?"
"I can send a pair of monitors along with you, as well as a small kit of hyposprays that might be helpful. I'll also include the replicator patterns in case you need more."
"That'll do." He smiled appreciatively yet again, then set a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "I'll try to bring back a translated medical archive from home so you can have it in the ship's records. We don't want another scare like this one, do we?" He couldn't read her mind right now but it was obvious to him that anyone that'd been involved in his ailment had been concerned, especially since as a telepathic race, the Achicarians were a unique one all right.
"I'd appreciate that very much, Corran," M'Lira said. "And, actually being able to study the medical history of your people will give me some greater insights into them. Thank you very much, Corran. Please keep in touch while you are gone; I'd very much like to keep up with your recuperation."
That said, Corran finally left Sickbay to keep getting ready. There was a long way to go still, even if this day brought in some good news with it.
"A Cinderella Ball?"
By: Lt. (jg) Natalia Alexandria Druschev - Science Officer
Location: Palari Island Resort, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07 15h00
***
Natalia grinned at the tall Tellarian. He was a thin emaciated looking
individual with a skeletal frame and large eyes. The gravity assistance
modules shone a dull silver under the casino lights as they hummed around
his legs and torso. The lighter gravity of the Tellarite homeworld made
their bones brittle and their muscles unused to the strains of the Terran
normal gravity of Risa. Ap'Otchik waved his six fingered hand and sipped
from a martini glass as he looked down on the dark haired Natalia. "My
dear," his voice emanated from the universal translator at his collar, "you
really must visit Tellar."
"That depends upon my next shore leave and where my ship will be when I get
one!" Natalia's strong Russian accent sounded fluid and merry as she
laughed. She had wandered the six floors of the Casino and played a few
games - actually winning a little. She had left off while she was 'ahead' -
there were a few gamblers that had that sad look about them that told the
world they were losers.
The Tellarite cocked his head to one side and said, "You're in the
Federation Starfleet?" He sounded incredulous, as if that possibility was a
wild speculation and somehow that it was also a little 'taudrey.
"Nyet!" she lied. "I am on leave from the 'Sea Sprite.' I'm a science
officer - commercial exploration." The lie was delivered with a smile, the
ship was straight out of one of her holodeck adventures - and she had
played a science officer - but the alien species she had discovered in the
adventure had been deadly...
He giggled. It sounded funny - somewhere between a nasal hiccup and a
clearing of the nostrils. "Brains and a body! My, my.." he sighed rather
theatrically. "Well the offer still stands my dear girl..." He reached over
and patted her arm. "I'd love for you to come and work for me..."
"Being a Dabo Girl is a little under my station in life, Ap'Otchik." Natalia
blew him a kiss and said, "I'll see you later maybe..." She had met Ap'Otchik
at the first table she had gambled at. He had seemed to believe that she had
brought him a little luck. He'd had a run of winning hands while she had
watched, standing next to him. After that he had shown her some of the games
and had won a lot more along the way. His offer for her to be a Dabo Girl
had an ulterior motive - he wanted the luck to run with the house! He was
on Risa hoping to hire a few Risan Courtesans for his own establishment.
Natalia hadn't let on that she was Starfleet. It seemed that there was
something happening on Risa that had caused a great stir amongst the guests.
A Starfleet Officer had brutally murdered someone. Natalia thought that it
would be wise to say that she was anything other than a Starfleet Officer.
The story wouldn't hold if anyone investigated, but for now it would do.
She wandered off feeling a little 'dirty' at lying about her profession.
Being Starfleet was something good - something to aspire to. She'd seen a
Starfleet Security Officer getting a hard time from a local and had stayed
away from the fracas. She wasn't 'officially' attached to her ship yet, so
she didn't appear on the Risan database as a Starfleet Officer - after all
she had arrived on a commercial ship and hadn't used a Starfleet ID. As far
as anyone would see, she was just a tourist. She felt like a tourist. Except
the lie had left a bad taste in her mouth. But then again - it was almost
like one of her holodeck adventures...maybe she should look at it as a real
life holodeck adventure! She laughed to herself at the audacity of it.
Yeah why not! she thought as she climbed a set of stairs to yet another
level. It wasn't unlike a few of the missions she had done with Martel - all
she needed was a dark and handsome man to complete the picture...
The large sign at the entry to the upper-most level made her stop in her
tracks and grin. It read: Grand Singles Ball - Midnight 07.09 - Black Tie &
Evening Attire Essential.
"Now that is something I'm gonna enjoy!" She
thought of the last time she had been dancing - and again it was a memory of
Martel in a dinner suit and she in a black dress... Hmmmm... She nodded to
herself. She'd seen a shopping mall earlier - and an afternoon of retail
therapy would be ideal... Shoes - she definitely needed shoes!
"Keeping Your Lunch Down"
by Ensign Ainsley Chambers and
Ensign Jackson Thompson
Location: A Beach, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 15h30
***
Ainsley jumped out of the boat, that had returned them to shore, with a bit
smile on her face. She turned to face Jackson who was slowly getting out of
the boat behind her. "Wasn't that the most awesome thing?" she asked him.
She noticed then that his colouring wasn't quite right. He actually looked
a little green. "Are you alright? You look like you are going to be sick!"
"You know, I think part of me believed that you were actually kidding." He
glanced back at the boat. "I never really believed that y'all'd ever get me
into that...thing." He rubbed his face slowly, hoping that he wasn't too
pale. Also hoping that he didn't throw up all over the pretty counselor's
feet. His mother had always told him that a true gentleman never pukes on a
lady. Well, she'd never actually said that exactly, but he was still sure it
wasn't kosher.
Ainsley touched his arm lightly. She was really developing a liking for
Jackson's southern accent. "Hey it wasn't that bad!" she said with a grin.
"At least you're still alive! Ok, your pick now! What are we gonna do next?"
He glanced around. "How about a place to sit, preferably one with alcohol."
"Excellent!" Ainsley replied. "There's a nice little patio pub back this
way." She motioned down the beach. "We can sit and have something to eat as
well!"
"Food?" Jackson looked at her as if she were crazy. "Let's try sitting
first..." He gave her a grin, "After you, Ms. Chambers."
"I always get hungry after trying a new sport!" She grinned up at him and
then began to lead the way down the beach. "I've heard rumour that some of
my ship mates are putting a party on a little later tonight down here on
one of the beaches."
"I guess that's the best way to meet everyone. First impressions and all,"
he smiled and looked at Ainsley. He was actually beginning to feel human
again, now that he was finally back on solid ground.
"Yeah, I was planning on making an appearance. You should come along!"
They walked along the beach and came to the patio pub that she had
mentioned. They found some seats and Ainsley ordered the slushy alcoholic
specialty that the waitress assured her everyone loved. She relaxed into
the wicker chair and looked out at the ocean. It was already getting late
in the day, the sailing trip had taken up almost the entire afternoon.
"I lied earlier.." Ainsley said, referring to the conversation they had had
when they first met. "Risa is beautiful even after you've been here for a
few days."
Jackson smiled and looked down at his own drink. He was never one for the
complex concoctions that most people seemed to enjoy, his tastes were a
little more conservative; he was a little more of a purist in preferring his
alcohol on the rocks. He took a sip of the Irish whiskey, a good single malt
that he was surprised to find so far away from Earth until he thought about
exactly where he was.
"Somethings are impossible to take for granted, Ms. Chambers. True beauty
is definitely one of those." He wasn't looking at the sunset.
Ainsley turned towards him and realized that he was looking at her. She
blushed and looked down into her drink. "Call me Ainsley...please!"
"Of course, Ainsley." He took another sip of his drink and looked around.
"This really is a nice way to start a career in Starfleet."
"Risa's a good way to start anything!" Ainsley replied with a grin. She
slurped the last sip of her drink and then looked at Jackson. "It's a little
bit of a walk to Farezi Sands, where that party is being held. Want to head
over now?"
"Sounds good to me." Jackson finished his own drink and stood, pulling back
Ainsley's chair to allow her to stand as well. He presented his arm to her,
smiling. "Shall we?"
"We shall, thank you!" She took his arm and they made their way down onto
the sand again. It was about a 20 minute walk down the beach to where the
party was taking place but it was still early so they decided to walk. The
party seemed to be in almost full swing by the time they arrived.
Jackson looked around a bit lost. He assumed that most of these people were
his fellow crewmates of the Sulu; however, he would have to ask Ainsley for
sure. It was a little overwhelming, looking out at the massive crowd of
people. For the first time he realized that he was the newest isolinear rod
in an already tried and tested computer core. He was the new guy. What fun.
"So, this is the crew of the Sulu, huh?"
"Well..." Ainsley looked around, recognizing only a few faces in the crowd.
"Some of them are. I think they invited most of the vacationers too...anyone who happened to be hanging around on the beach today."
"Oh, good" --he glanced around-- "I was really hoping you'd say something like
that, because if that turned out to be our Chief Medical Officer..." He
pointed to an older man who lay unconscious down the beach, a bottle still in
his hand.
"Hehee!" Ainsley let out a laugh. "No that's definitely not our CMO." She
briefly thought about Sean O'Shea. He seemed to disappear after their dinner
a few nights before. She wondered where he had gotten to. "So you wanna
find something to eat...or maybe meet some people...?"
Jackson put a hand on his stomach, trying to figure out if it had stopped
doing backflips. Nope, still turning. "I think meet some people, first... I
don't think I'm ready for food yet."
Ainsley grinned at him. "Alright then. Come on, I'll introduce you to the
ones I know." She led him off into the crowd.
"Purrfect Opportunity"
By: Ensign Kremer
& Lieutenant JG M'lira
Location: USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 15h30
***
Party, shipwide party? Kremer shook his head as he walked down the corridor,
trying to think of way to work around this situation. Back home it was not
uncommon for fellow Caits to join together in social gatherings, sharing
tales of their ancestors, talking of things old and new, and more
importantly practicing of their time cherished ceremonies.
Humans on the other hand were an interesting sort; here was a species that
could be from totally different tribes (families) or clans (nationalities),
yet they joined together in parties. Kremer shrugged his shoulders. The pink-skinned race still puzzled him to this day. Still some socializing couldn't
hurt, could it? He looked up upon spotting a
familiar face and quickened his pace.
Little socializing couldn't hurt anyone, even with perhaps another Cait!
he mused to himself, finally having caught up to Lieutenant M'lira. Kremer deftly tapped his tail on her left shoulder, not hard enough to cause
pain but just hard enough to grab the Lieutenant's attention, "Good day,
Lieutenant, how has this day been finding you so far?"
M'lira paused and glanced at her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow when she
saw a tail withdrawing. She turned and found herself smiling at the furred
face before her. "Ensign," she said with a smile. "I had not realized
there were more of us aboard. I am M'lira."
Kremer smiled as he touched her shoulders in greeting; slight pressure from
the pads of his paws and claws as was customary for informal Cait greeting.
Back home, other Cait greeted one another as though they were friends and
family, the greeting resulting in a brief nod of mutuality and a touching of
whiskers, both parties' ways of indicating their acceptance to the other.
"M'lira, it is wonderful to meet you. I am Kremer."
M'lira returned the customary greeting, happy to meet someone properly
rather than the usual mere touching of hands. "How long have you been
aboard, Kremer? It is so nice to see a face that isn't quite so alien to
me, though the crew of the Sulu is very welcoming and open. Have you
seen much of the ship yet? I could take you on a tour if you'd like."
"It's nice to know that I'm not the only Caitian serving onboard, though I
must agree the crew has been most welcoming. I have only been here on the
ship for a day actually, since departing with the crew of my old ship the
Crazy Horse I can't say I have seen much of the ship...I would welcome a
tour from you, M'lira," he answered, a smile spreading across his furred
features.
"So," M'lira said with a grin. "Where in the ship would you like to
start? Personally, I recommend from the bridge working down, or from
Engineering working up. Starting from the middle of the ship just gets too
confusing, and I speak from experience."
Offering his arm to M'lira, Kremer answered with a smile, "My lovely fellow
Cait by all means let's start from the bridge. Of course either way I'm
certain you're an exquisite tour guide," Kremer purred. It was one thing to
find one's fellow kind serving on the same ship but to find someone as
lovely as the Sulu's Asst. Chief of Medical was another thing all
together.
"I'll try not to get us lost," M'lira said with a smile. "Perhaps I can
work the tour for us to end in the lounge. I have found that the lounge is
an excellent place to end the day, but I am quite sure ending a tour there
will be equally excellent." She turned them around and started toward the
turbolift that would take them to the bridge.
Kremer nodded. "It sounds like an excellent plan. Say you didn't happen to
receive an invitation to a party did you? Something about a place called
Farezi Sands?" he queried as he walked along with M'lira to the turbolift.
"Actually," M'lira answered. "I have received an invitation, and I do
happen to have time off then. It's a rather rare occurrence for me,
getting time off when something interesting is happening."
"Whoever planned this party, must be pretty intent on getting the crew to
relax, even workaholics. So planning on attending? I was thinking of going
myself. It would be a wonderful opportunity to see how other species interact
with one another as a group...though I would only be able to take mental
notes..."
"I hadn't planned on going," M'lira answered. "However, it does sound
intriguing. It would be fun to see the crew interacting at a
party. Perhaps we could go together, and observe their interactions. I've
heard the band they'll be having is rather fantastic."
Kremer's tail wavered about happily as he stepped onto the Turbolift with
M'lira. "Wonderful! Shall I meet you later tonight about 17h00, Transporter
Room 2?"
"That will be perfect," M'lira answered as she twined her tail around
behind her. "I will need to find appropriate attire, though I think I have
just the thing. I am very happy to have met you here, Kremer. I am very
happy to have found another Caitian so far from home."
"Yes, likewise. I think I'll have to research a bit to find some attire
suitable for this occasion, but I can work something out I'm sure. As am I,
suddenly I'm beginning to feel more at home already."
M'lira smiled. "It is very nice," she said. "If you need assistance with
attire, I believe some of the crew have assembled a database of suitable
attire for vacationing on Risa."
"I will be certain to research the database to find suitable attire. I
should do fine, however keeping in mind that they have chosen attire suitable
for someone who sports a fifth appendage. But forget that now, let's get this
show on the road!"
"This way," M'lira said with a smile as they began the tour.
"Disciplinary Action"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Commander Lyrr Tayla
Ensign Niesha
Location: USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 15h45
***
"Captain!"
Lyrr Tayla hurried down the corridor, attempting not to dash as she sought
to catch up to Matt. Finding a moment to meet with him was proving rare
during shore leave, but she didn't dare entertain the rumours that it was
due to his spending so much time with his lover, Lieutenant Tagliesh; all
that concerned her now was convincing him to speak with her on an urgent
matter, though she was loath to admit she desperately needed his advice.
She grumbled as he made no signs of stopping and hastened her pace.
"Captain Salinger!"
The continued calling of his name finally slowed Matt's pace. He stopped
and turned, allowing Tayla the chance to catch up. "Commander Lyrr," he
said. "How is your day today?"
Lyrr frowned and upon reaching him, she grasped his hand and slapped a
datapad into his upturned palm. "Maddening, of course. Made especially
worse by that."
Matt glanced through the padd and frowned. At each page scrolled past, his
frown deepened. "She actually did this? All this after I--? She's still
in a cell, or has she been released to her quarters?"
"I've had her in the brig for the past day and a half," Lyrr replied. "I
didn't exactly feel confident about letting her roam the ship, or even
remaining confined in her quarters. Ensign F'Zal has been assessing her."
Lyrr pressed her finger to the padd and scrolled down to the psych report
for Matt. "He recommends counselling sessions twice a week... But I
really don't know. She's unpredictable and violent. She could pose a
threat to this ship and crew."
"Let's go to my Ready Room," he said. "Do you think we should call F'Zal
in as well? He's had the closest contact with the ensign recently, and
perhaps having a counsellor's opinion would be good now."
"A good idea. He's the only one who's managed to get anything out of her
aside from raving gibberish."
Matt chuckled. "So, aside from Ensign Niesha, how is everything going up
here?"
Lyrr sighed and shrugged her shoulders lightly. "It's not so bad...except
for the fact that everything seemed to go to hell the moment you stepped
off the ship. I'm beginning to think the universe has it in for me."
"What else has gone wrong?" Matt asked. "Is there anything else? I'm
keeping up on the investigation, but...what else has gone to hell?"
Lyrr found the urge to vent to Matt, but she was far too proud to complain.
She was committed to her duty as a Starfleet officer, no matter how
labourious the task was proving lately. "It's nothing really," she
answered finally. "Just...a few repairs here and there, keeping some
officers in line...that sort of thing. It's really not so bad around here."
"That's good," Matt said as they stepped into the turbolift. "I have every
confidence in you, Tayla. I know that anything I'd be able to handle up
here, you will too. You wouldn't be my Number One otherwise."
"I wouldn't be your Number One if Starfleet hadn't assigned me to the
position," she pointed out. "But it's nice to know you do trust me with
your ship, considering..."
"Having worked with you," Matt said, "I couldn't imagine having anyone else
there. Despite our differences, you're an exceptional command officer,
Tayla. And, besides, when we aren't having a difference of opinions, we
work very well together."
"But you must admit, we do have our differences very frequently." Lyrr
chuckled. "Ironically, I think I just need a vacation."
"You do realize we're in the perfect place for that," Matt said. "Put Sam
in charge of the ship for a bit, and just go relax."
Lyrr smiled tightly and readily shook her head. "I detest Risa...although
I've never visited before. I prefer quieter places, and ones without
crowds of half-naked people frolicking about."
"There's always the holodeck," Matt said. "There are also some fairly
secluded areas on Risa. You could go hiking or...well, pretty much
anything."
"It's alright, Captain. We have a long journey ahead of us, and you'll be
commanding it. I'll remain here so you can get your rest." She smiled to
reassure him. "I'm fine. Really."
"Sam doesn't require rest, you know," Matt said. "You could take the
vacation you just mentioned you needed."
Lyrr smiled politely, though her discomfort was evidenced by her suddenly
stiff posture. "I'm fine. I can handle it." And once the turbolift doors
parted, she made her prompt escape.
Matt followed after her as they headed toward his Ready Room. Once they
were inside, he moved to one of the chairs on the far side of the room,
away from the desk. "What do you recommend for the Niesha situation?"
"I know what I'd recommend," she answered, settling into the opposite seat,
"and I know we're going to argue about it. That's why I waited so long to
tell you about this."
"Give me your recommendation," Matt said. "You may be surprised. She
deliberately disobeyed a direct order from me. She may have issues, but
she willfully ignored what I'd told her and for no obvious reason other
than because that's what she wanted to do and didn't think she'd get
caught."
"I see..." Lyrr chuckled wryly. "So you don't believe she deserves a
second chance in this situation? That sounds very familiar..."
"I'd need to talk to her," Matt said. "It doesn't sound like she wants a
second chance though. She's not willing to play by our rules...or she is
as long as they're the rules she wants to play by. This ship is no place
for that wolf, and she's leaving us no choice. Not even Xayella was that
difficult."
Lyrr raised an eyebrow and hesitated a moment before repeating, "Xayella?"
She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat; she refused to give any
credit to the rumours surrounding Matt's supposed relationship with
Xayella. "At any rate, Ensign F'Zal's report seems to suggest she is open
to rehabilitation. I trust F'Zal...but I can't say I agree with him. She
told me openly she would do it again if she got a chance. We can't
tolerate blatantly impudent officers like that."
"Perhaps we should have a little meeting with her," Matt said. "We'll let
her know where we stand, and give her her choice."
"Her choice?" Lyrr sighed and slid to the edge of her seat, closer to
Matt. "Captain, I don't think she deserves a choice. She broke the rules,
chose to be insubordinate, violent, and unruly, and lost her right to
choose in the process. My decision is to have her dropped off at the
nearest Starbase and then shipped off to Earth for a court martial. I
imagine you'll disagree."
"I would say, we give her one more chance," Matt said. "We talk to her and
let her know that she has to agree to go by the rules, or leave Starfleet
service. We give her the choice to commit to a life as a Starfleet
officer, or as a civilian. And, if she steps out of line, she'll be
dropped off at a starbase, and have to find a new way to make it in the
galaxy."
"I already went through that with her," Lyrr told him. "Then she went down
to Risa, got insanely drunk and beat up one of her fellow officers. Does
that sound like someone who seems at all repentant to you, Captain?"
"No," Matt said. "Actually it doesn't. Would you agree to meeting with
her once more, you and I; and then we will make a decision about her
future. I want to speak with her before casting her out of this life, and
I'd like you there with me when we do it."
"I will join you," she answered. "We'll invite Ensign F'Zal as well. You
do have time today, don't you?"
"Of course," Matt said. "We have a longer break today while the Farehn'ti
debate whether they are willing to allow Lieutenant Saavar to sit in on the
discussions."
"Saavar as well?" Lyrr asked. "I though Lieutenant Tagliesh was already
acting as your advisor...even though I still can't fathom why you chose
her."
"Saavar asked me because he's interested in studying their culture," Matt
said. "I'm really not certain what he hopes to gain in this. Unless he
thinks he can solve all of the Farehn'ti's problems."
"From what I've heard of the negotiations," Lyrr said, "it doesn't sound
like anyone can." She rose from her seat with a heavy sigh. "Though,
perhaps we can solve one of our own right now. Shall I call for F'Zal,
then meet you in the brig?"
"Yes," Matt said. "And, let's hope for the best."
Lyrr smiled. "Always the optimist..." Then exited Matt's Ready Room.
Matt sighed and turned to his desk. He'd need to let Xay know he'd be
delayed slightly, but he'd make it up to her that night. With a smile, he
began planning their evening together. She'd definitely want
something...formal.
***
Lyrr was conferring quietly with Ensign F'Zal when Matt finally arrived at
the brig. She nodded slowly to something F'Zal said, then shook her head
none too happily. When Matt's presence registered, she thanked F'Zal
quietly and moved to greet the captain. "I've had Ensign F'Zal prep Niesha
for the meeting. He says he believes she'll be up to it."
Matt nodded. "Good," he said. "Hopefully this will go well, and we'll all
look back on this and laugh. Is her wolf still in the next cell?"
Lyrr frowned with clear distaste. "She insisted it remain with her."
Matt frowned as well. "Well, that doesn't cast this situation in a better
light, that's for sure. Do you think she realizes her wolf is the primary
source of this problem? She is putting her devotion to her pet above her
duty to Starfleet."
"Ensign F'Zal thinks it's more than that. He thinks the creature
represents the family she's lost. Her fierce devotion to her pet is really
her subconscious acting out some deep-rooted desire to recapture what she's
lost." Lyrr shrugged. "At least that's what he says..."
"Perhaps she should think of her fellow crew members as family," Matt
said. "If she could do that, perhaps she'd be more inclined to follow
orders, rather than being forced to break them for her so-called family. I
told her then, and I believe it now...a starship is no place for a wolf."
Lyrr sighed and extended her arm towards Niesha's cell. "Well...be my
guest. Though beware: she bites." Smirking, she added, "The dog too."
Matt laughed and started toward the brig cell. With Tayla at his side, he
stepped before the forcefield and took in the young-appearing woman inside.
"Ensign Niesha?"
She was sitting up, staring at wall, which she seemed to be doing a lot
these past few days. Her eyes wandered up to the ceiling and down again.
She had no idea she still carried the deaths of her family so vividly. She
often thought of her mother, what she would look like now, what she would
think of her now as a soon to be ex-Starfleet Officer... Would she still be
with her father?
That question there was no doubt. They were soulmates after all. She might
have even had more brothers, possibly sisters. But now she only had her
father, and he was off somewhere probably waging his own little war.
She looked up at the sound of the captain's voice and she instantly stood
up off the bed, standing to attention at seeing him. Then her eyes caught
her entering. Great... she thought, watching them both enter. My
lynching is about to start...
"Captain..." she finally said, staring at him. "Commander." She never
looked at Lyrr, only addressing her by rank though she was damned sure it
wasn't the best way to start this little gathering. Ash stirred behind her
but remained asleep, breathing softly at the back of the cell, his chest
rising up and falling down with each breath.
"I understand there's been a little problem," Matt said. "Why don't you
explain to me what happened, Ensign. And we can see about getting this
whole matter cleared up."
She looked at Lyrr for a brief second before her eyes returned to her
captain. "I'm sure you heard about me taking Ash out for walks during the
night?" She didn't wait for Matt to answer before continuing. "And the
heated discussion I had with Commander Lyrr? I've spoken with a counsellor
which has brought some issues, I hadn't thought were bothering, to light. I
want to stay on board, Captain, I want to remain in Starfleet... I'm an
excellent pilot... If you still want me aboard."
"Before we determine whether you'll be able to stay or not," Matt said.
"First, I want to know why. I gave you an order, and you deliberately
defied it. Why, Ensign?"
"Yes, sir..." she replied, her head lowering, her eyes staring down at the
floor in front of her through the force field, which hummed a step away
from her. "Ash is harmless, Captain, you'd never leave a dog in such
cramped quarters...or give such restrictions to. He needed exercise, space
to move around. It wasn't right just leaving him in there."
"I told you this ship wasn't a place for him," Matt said. "Do you believe
it's your right to choose which orders to follow and which to blatantly
ignore?" He held up a padd, waving it back and forth. "As to your pet's
harmless nature, Ensign Corrigan's story doesn't exactly corroborate that.
Unless you only use your wolf as an empty threat...then there's that bit of
the report where Blake indicates the creature would have attacked him had
the transporter not beamed you and Ash away first. Given all this, Ensign,
why do you believe I should allow you to keep your pet on board?"
She looked at Lyrr for support, anything...but got nothing. "Every pet has
some risk. A pet dog protects its owner as does Ash. He's well trained and
obeys my command. Yes he's a wolf but he's no different from a Labrador.
If I could take him to the holodeck every once in a while, during the night
if need be while everyone's asleep... He can even be a valued member of the
crew..." She was trying desperately to think of something - anything - to
help keep Ash onboard and perhaps give him some liberties.
Lyrr sighed impatiently, and finally had to interject. "Ensign, I think
your animal is the least of your problems right now. You should be focusing
on giving us a reason for keeping you on board. Right now, we don't see
any reason to give you lenience. According to Ensign F'Zal, your mental
health is in a state of distress, but he believes through regular
counselling he can help you through that. Now...it's up to you to decide
whether you want that treatment to take place on the Sulu, or in some
Federation stockade on Earth. It's your choice."
Niesha sighed inwardly, looking at the commander. Damn she can be a
real... She stopped herself from finishing that sentence; she knew this
wasn't easy for either of them. "I want to stay on the Sulu, if you'll have
me. But if Ensign F'Zal believes I need further treatment at a more
specialised facility...I'm willing to go."
"It matters what Ensign F'Zal believes, but they're just recommendations,"
Lyrr replied. "What do you want, Ensign?"
"I want to remain on the Sulu," Niesha said. "And in Starfleet," she added
a few seconds later. She heard her wolf stirring once again behind her,
twitching as he dreamt.
"Ensign," Matt said, "you have potential. It's good that you are loyal to
your friend and pet, to a point. Ash represents a conflict of interest
while you're here. Your recent actions indicate that you will willingly
choose him over your duty to Starfleet. We often receive orders we do not
agree with, or are forced to do things we do not approve of. But we do
them because it is our duty. I gave you the choice to keep your pet on the
ship where he would be confined to your quarters, or to send him somewhere
where he would have the freedom of space he deserves; you chose to keep
him here under the conditions provided...and then you chose to disobey the
orders you were given." He glanced at Tayla, giving her the opportunity to
add anything.
"And lashing out at your superiors did not help your situation either,
Ensign," Lyrr continued in readily. "We all have stresses to deal with,
and part of being a Starfleet officer is finding a way to cope with
that. Insubordination is not the way to do it."
"A formal apology for your planetside treatment of Ensign Corrigan will
need to be made," Matt said. "Shore leave privileges will be curtailed for
a period of eight months. Shipside recreation privileges will also be
limited, Commander Lyrr and I can provide details later. That is, if we
decide that you still have what it takes to make it as a Starfleet officer.
Will this ever happen again, Ensign?"
"No, sir..." Niesha replied, knowing this would have been a lot worse.
She'd gotten off lightly.
"And what will you do with your...creature?" Lyrr asked with a hint of
disapproval.
Niesha caught the slight tone with the last word Lyrr said. Niesha turned
and looked at the wolf curled up behind her and smiled despite herself at
the sight of him sleeping soundly. "I...don't know..." she said truthfully,
staring down at him.
She turned look back at her captain and Lyrr, looking into their eyes. "I
just don't know..." Niesha said, sitting down on the bed running along the
side of the cell.
Lyrr sighed and raised an eyebrow at Matt. They'd had debates on the topic
enough to know Lyrr didn't believe in second chances. This situation was
no exception. "Captain? It's your call," she said quietly.
"Can you excuse us for a moment, Ensign," Matt said. With that, he and
Tayla stepped aside until they were out of earshot. "I know you don't
think I should, and I'm inclined to agree with you...especially with her
wallowing. What do you think, Tayla?"
"You know what I think, Captain," she whispered. "She's trouble and I
think we have plenty of that particular kind of officer already. She's
violent, short-fused, and insolent. I really don't see any redeeming
qualities in her at all, especially not any that will incline me to give
her a second chance."
Matt was silent for a moment. "How about if I give her an option? She can
stay here without the wolf, or she can leave with him. She will have a
spotless record over a probationary period of six months, any break in that
will bring her up for a review and most likely expulsion from this ship and
a discharge from Starfleet."
"I really don't think the wolf is the problem, Captain. And I think
forcing it from her will only make things worse." Lyrr paused a moment to
contemplate the situation, and a fitting punishment for the ensign.
"Counselling sessions twice weekly, six months probation, and monthly
reviews of her status in a conference with you and I. As for the animal...
I would prefer if it was thrown into an escape pod and shot into Romulan
territory, but that decision's up to you."
"We'll find a good home for it where she can visit once she's regained her
shore leave status," Matt said. "Keeping the animal on the Sulu is a bad
idea, especially one as large as that. The creature needs real fields to
run in, not photons and forcefields."
"I think she's far too troubled right now to realize that," Lyrr said. "I
hope it isn't going to become customary for Starfleet to send all its
troublemakers to us. First Lieutenant Tagliesh, then Ensign Farrell, and
now this one."
"Tagliesh is improving," Matt said. "I believe if Starfleet fails him,
from what I've heard, Farrell has a career in selling used starships. Not
so sure about Ensign Niesha yet. Shall we go deliver our terms?"
Lyrr motioned for Matt to lead the way, feeling not at all comfortable with
his decision. But, she would respect Matt's wishes, as usual.
"After we're done with things here on Risa," Matt said before they reached
Niesha, "how would you like to have a dinner with the captain? Something
other than hotdogs---I think I still have mustard in places the sonic
shower won't reach. It'll give us a chance to get to know each other
again."
Lyrr smiled tightly, and nodded. "I think that would be alright. Though,
I imagine it'll only lead to rumours about you and I, in place of those
regarding yourself and Lt. Tagliesh."
Matt chuckled. "Well, I don't think the rumours of Lt. Tagliesh and I will
be so quickly superceded. I believe the crew likes the idea of the captain
having some illicit affair with the ship's resident bad girl."
"Yes, they appear to like it very much," Lyrr replied, casting a suspicious
gaze in Matt's direction. "But rumours about the Commander and Captain
having an affair somehow sits far better with me than ones about yourself
and Lt. Tagliesh."
Matt gave her a grin. "Why, Commander Lyrr, what are you trying to say?"
Lyrr bristled at Matt's jest and cleared her throat sternly. "I've said
nothing. Except that I will have dinner with you, Captain. In uniform, of
course."
Matt laughed and put a hand on her shoulder. "At ease, Commander. I was
only teasing."
Lyrr chuckled uncomfortably. "I know...I think."
Matt chuckled and removed his hand. "Commander, we need to get you to
loosen up a little. Take some things less seriously."
"I didn't get where I am by letting go, Captain," she told him. "I
wouldn't be alive today if I didn't take things even a bit seriously."
"I guess it's a finely honed trait to be able to bounce back and forth
between seriousness and humour. I don't mean to mock or lessen your
skills, talents or attitude in any way. I guess it's just...bouncing
between moods is just a trait I have. I hope it isn't too frustrating for
you."
"Not at all," she replied. "And I hope my consistently dour moods don't
frustrate you."
Matt grinned. "Not at all," he said. "So, when this is all over,
dinner. Perhaps we can even get Stencil to cater it."
"I think it should be something formal and private, Captain. We don't want
to lead anyone to false conclusions." She smiled at Matt regretfully,
realizing in that moment there was a rift so large between them, she wasn't
certain anything could mend it. "Let's just...do this and we can discuss
dinner some other time."
Matt nodded. "Of course," he said. They returned to the cell where Niesha
was being held. Matt watched her for a moment, a pang of guilt at sending
the wolf, whose head rested in her lap, away. He glanced at Tayla, and she
nodded. "Ensign, we've come to a decision. You will be under a six month
probationary period with monthly reviews of your status. Additionally, you
will be required to attend a counselling session twice each week."
She nodded at the captain. She could do that but he hadn't mentioned
anything about Ash. "And Ash?" she asked, fearing to ask the question.
"I'm afraid," Matt began, "that we'll need to find a good home, a better
one than a starship could ever be. Perhaps we can find him a home where
he's somewhat centrally located, and you can use your leave time to visit
him."
"Why not drop him off on Bajor?" Lyrr suggested. "We're due to arrive at
Deep Space Nine in a few weeks. They could always use an animal like him
on one of the farms."
Matt smiled. "I think that's a perfect idea," he said. "Bajor's a
beautiful planet, and I think it'd be ideal for Ash. And, as often as we
get to DS9, you'll be able to visit."
Her heart sank. If it could have reached the floor it would have smashed
through and ended up six decks down. She sighed, only nodding in reply,
stroking the wolf, his head now on her lap. Her fingers moved through the
thick fur. "I see..." she finally said.
It was then a thought came to her, like a bomb exploding in her mind, a
second of inspiration. "I have an idea who may take him. Can you send a
message into space?"
Lyrr frowned and muttered to Matt, "Now she's making demands of us?"
"What message, Ensign?" Matt asked.
"There's no location needed, a short but powerful subspace transmission
should do it. He'll hear it...one simple word: Come. He'll do the rest."
She smiled, knowing how well Ash got along with him.
The captain sighed. "Who are we trying to contact, Niesha?"
"My father..." Niesha replied, answering the question with a smile.
Matt thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Very well," he said.
"Though, if he doesn't come to pick up your wolf, we'll find a home for Ash
on Bajor."
"He'll come," Niesha said confidently.
"Very well," Lyrr replied. "I'll have some guards come to escort you to
your quarters."
"You can return to duty again tomorrow," Matt said. "And, you might think
about some nice things you'd like to say to Ensign Corrigan."
"Aye, sir..." Niesha winced inwardly, knowing that was going to be one of
the hardest things she would ever have to do. Apologising was never her
strong side, but that didn't come close to saying goodbye to Ash. She was
not looking forward to that in the slightest.
When the guards arrived, Lyrr motioned them towards Niesha's cell. "Keep
your creature back," she told the ensign, then turned away and whispered to
Matt, "We need to have a long talk, I think." Then she departed, leaving
Matt with a stern gaze.
Matt watched Lyrr go, then turned back to Niesha. He kept his look
neutral, perhaps even a little hard. "This is a second chance," he told
her. "I advise you not to mess it up." With that, he left.
"Dress Sense"
by Lieutenant Mark Thaine, Chief Engineer
and Lieutenant Andrea Rhea [NPC+], Counsellor
Location: Corridors of USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07, 16h45
***
Mark Thaine hurried along the corridors of the USS Sulu, his long strides
covering the distance quickly. Most of the crew was already down on Risa,
preparing for the party later that night. Only very few seemed to have
stayed on board as a skeleton crew. Even the lights seemed to have been
dimmed out, to save power.
As he continued toward the transporter room, through the near deserted ship,
he rubbed his chin and almost swore when he felt the stubble there. He'd
forgotten to shave, and it was too late now; she was already here.
He looked down at his clothes - his Starfleet Uniform. The trousers were
creased and crumpled from his earlier work in the Jefferies Tubes. At least
they were reasonably clean, he decided, running a hand through his dark
hair, and then he did curse when he realised how much of a mess it was.
As he rounded the final corner to the transporter room, the engineer almost
walked into a woman coming the other way. Opening his mouth to apologise, he
stopped and blinked in surprise
Andrea smiled, adjusting the travelling bag on her shoulder, and Thaine's
worries seemed to depart in that instance, replaced by the rather more
complex feeling of awkwardness. Fond memories of time spent on his previous
posting flooded back; one or two adding to the emotional chasm between them.
"Hi Mark," she said, smiling, and brushing a rebellious strand of blonde
hair back behind one ear.
"Andrea..." Thaine stood awkwardly, obviously not really sure how to even
begin the reunion. "It's good to see you..." he began.
"It's good to see you too!" She paused, her blue eyes regarding the
engineer fondly. "Don't I get a hug then?"
With a low chuckle, Thaine stepped forward and the two embraced, whatever
traces of awkwardness were left finally vanishing. Andrea gave him a kiss on
the cheek as she pulled away, complimenting the pleasant smell of her hair
she left him with as they moved apart. At Thaine's questioning glance, the
counsellor smiled. "Thought I'd pass along my proper congratulations on the
promotion."
"Thanks." There were almost the beginnings of a smile on Mark's face; it was
certainly present in his brown eyes. "You want to drop that off somewhere?"
He gestured to the counsellor's travelling bag.
"Sure thing. Have you got anything planned for this evening? And before you
suggest me getting some rest, don't. I've been cooped up in a transport all
day, and the last thing I want is more sleep."
Thaine took a breath, and made a suggestion. "There's a party taking place,
planet side...if you want to head down to Risa?"
The counsellor hesitated little. "If you want to...?"
"Yeah." Mark nodded. "Yeah, I think I do. Come on; we need to find something
to wear."
***
"Well?" asked Thaine. "What do you think?"
The counsellor collapsed in a fit of giggles.
Mark took the shades off, and looked at her with mock confusion. "What's so
funny?" he asked, which only caused her to laugh all the harder.
"Oh, Mark..." said Andrea, as she finally recovered, wiping tears from her
eyes. "And people say you have no sense of humour. Are you seriously going
to go down dressed like that?"
"I don't see why not," he replied with mock defensiveness, folding his arms
as if hurt. "You don't think it's my colour?"
The colour was, in fact, predominantly blue. The Caribbean shirt he had seen
in a holo-novel once, and torn between the choice of wearing a yellow
version or a blue version, he had finally settled on blue. There were little
pictures of palm trees all over it. He wore it open, with a white T-shirt on
underneath. The shorts, which came just to above his knees, he had found to
match. The lack of shoes and dark shades on his head seemed to complete the
comical image of the normally stern, serious Chief Engineer of the USS Sulu,
wearing clothes suited to a completely different type of character.
Andrea laughed, shaking her head. "I think it's perfect. Speaking of
which..." She gave him a twirl, showing off her own clothes. "What do you
think?"
Andrea's clothes were of a conservative nature; her long white skirt of some
flowing material fell just to below her knees, showing off enough of her
legs to be attractive but without giving too much away. Her blonde hair fell
loosely about her shoulders, and her cream top and sandles completed
the outfit.
"You look great," said the engineer simply, and walked over to her, offering
his arm with gentlemanly charm, in ironic contrast to his attire. "Shall we?"
The counsellor smiled, hooking her arm in his. "I thought you'd never ask."
"Invitations In Blue"
By: Ensign Tchalla Mel'Chir
Ensign Amy Reese
Location: Paruda Sands Beach, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 17h04
***
"Party tonight at Farezi Sands. Be there!"
Amy giggled and continued her rounds along the beach, the two Risan men
following her with their eyes as she went. They grinned. "We'll be there,"
the blond fellow called back.
Amy smiled over her shoulder at them, waved at both, then skipped away. She
had a whole beach to scour and people to inform. Their party would be
legendary on board if they pulled off everything without a hitch. She was
grateful she and Kit were still able to plan such a thing together; last
night at the concert had almost brought their relationship to an end, as
well as any further collaborations, like planning world-class parties.
Amy giggled
again with anticipation and hurried along faster, hoping to pass word onto
as many people as she could before the party began. Kit was in charge of
getting a permit for the party and Kelli was arranging the decorations. The
two had joked that Amy would be perfect for luring in attendees...especially
if she wore her skimpiest bikini. She looked down at the fiery red
two-piece barely covering her necessities and rolled her eyes, though it did
appear to be working in drawing attention to herself.
Amy put on her most
sultry smile for the three men approaching. "Sorry, boys," she said with an
apologetic, yet attractive pout, "I have things to do." Her grin returned
and she brushed a hand through her white-streaked hair. "We can meet up
later, though," she added. "Farezi Sands, tonight. There's gonna be a
party and I'll be there."
"Then so will we." The green-eyed one shot her a disarming, lop-sided
smile, then moved off with his friends, not without brushing up against her
as he did.
Amy purred gently at the man, then calmed herself with a deep breath and
carried on. She panicked slightly as
one of Risa's suns began sinking towards the horizon. That meant she had
little time left to promote their party, and to get to her room on board in
time
to change.
She was down to the last few people along this particular
stretch of the beach and mentioned the party to them, adding in an
attractive smile to ensure their attendance. Confident that she had four
more attendees, Amy skipped along towards the last of the beach residents,
a lone sunbather sporting a swimsuit that showed off a good majority of her
blue flesh, and wearing her white hair pulled back into a bun. There was a
vague feeling of recognition, but Amy figured if she knew the girl, she
would remember.
With a large grin, she stopped before the young woman, casting a shadow on
her. "Hiya! I'm Amy."
Tchalla Mel'chir looked up from the large towel she'd been laying
upon. She noticed the woman standing above her, a bright, cheerful smile
on her face. She returned the smile, though suddenly felt self-conscious
of her attire. She knew she should have picked the other suit. "Hi," she
said, in a voice that was soft, yet still held a certain music to it. "I'm
Tchalla. You're from Sulu, aren't you?"
Amy's smile broadened as she dropped to her knees upon the towel. "I
thought I knew you from somewhere!" She thrust out a hand to the Andorian.
"Amy Reese. I'm from medical. Which department are you?"
"Science," Tchalla answered as she shook Amy's hand. It was an odd custom,
but not unpleasant. She'd read of a few Klingon customs that were...less
than pleasant. "Tchalla Mel'Chir. I was...was just getting some
sun. It's nice and warm, though not as dry as home. I kind of like the
moisture in the air, but it takes getting used to." She shifted into a
cross-legged position and regarded Amy for a moment. "I thought about
going into medical."
"Really? It's alright," she said with a shrug. "I only went into it
because my mother was a doctor. Gotta please the folks somehow, don't you?"
More than the folks, Tchalla thought. Pleasing your entire species was
the tough part. She smiled. "My parents were very happy with me," she
said. "Though, my Zhavey wishes I were stationed closer to home."
Amy's brow furrowed inquisitively. "What's that? Is that your boyfriend?"
"Oh, uh, that's...it's complicated. She's my first mother. She'd be
closest, I believe, to your mother...I think. I'm still somewhat uncertain
on human familial structure."
Amy giggled and settled comfortably onto the towel, while wriggling closer
to Tchalla. "It's simple. I have a mother and a father. That's it! Well
there are also relatives...but they're not important."
Tchalla smiled. "I have two mothers, two fathers, and three
bondmates. Sometimes, those things that are simplest are complicated when
you are familiar with something similar that is completely complex."
Amy snorted. "Tell me about it. See...I have a boyfriend and a
girlfriend...and we basically share each other. Then...well...there's this
one guy who I sorta was with..." She shook her head and chuckled
bashfully. "Relationships are so difficult sometimes. And you with three
bondmates!" She let out a low whistle. "I think I'd go crazy."
"My people are used to it," Tchalla said. "Many of my people don't live
together with their bondmates...only returning and visiting when they
can. It's especially true of the Andorians in Starfleet. Though, there
are a few who all manage to arrange postings on the same ship or
station. I haven't seen my bondmates since I graduated from the Academy."
"Do you miss them?" Amy asked. "I know I'd miss Kit and Kelli if I were
ever away from them."
"I miss them very much," Tchalla said. "But I have people here. And, I
can always contact them by subspace. But given the choice, out here doing
this and being with them." She laughed softly. "Well, I guess I am here."
Amy sighed and congenially patted Tchi's bare knee. "I guess duty comes
first in everything, even love. But...there's always time for fun." Her
beaming smile returned as Amy said, "That's why you should come to our
party tonight. I can introduce you to Kelli and Kit!"
"A party? I've...I've never really been very good at parties. But...but
I'd like to come. I'll come, Amy. I'd like that very much." She gave the
young woman a smile. "Thank you."
"It's no trouble," Amy assured her. "You're a fellow crewmember...and I
know you and Kelli would get along great. I have to introduce you two!"
Tchalla smiled shyly. "I'd like that," she said, grateful for the
attention, yet still slightly embarrassed by it. "I'd like it very
much. Where is it? And, what time should I be there?"
"It's on Farezi Sands at 20h00 tonight," Amy replied. "You can come early
if you like. I'll show you around!"
"I'd like that very much," Tchalla said, her smile widening even
further. "I'll...I'll come early. Thank you very much, Amy."
"It's no trouble! We'd be glad to have you." She patted Tchalla's knee
then pushed herself to her feet. "Well...I have to get going. There's
still so much to do. So...I'll see you later?"
"Of course," Tchalla said with a grin. She stood up, staying on the
towel. The hot sand...was just a little too hot for her tastes. "It was
very nice meeting you, Amy."
"You too," Amy replied cheerfully. "And I must say, I really like your
hair. I should try that colour sometime!"
Tchalla brought a hand up to her silver-white locks and smiled. A purplish
blush coloured her cheeks. "Thank you," she said softly. "I think it
would look very nice on you."
"Really?" Amy giggled. "Thanks! You know, I think you'd look great in
black hair. Maybe you and I can go to the aesthetician together sometime.
We'll swap hair colours!"
Tchi laughed. "I'd like that. I've...I've only ever had this colour
hair. I think it would be nice to try another colour."
"It'll be fun," Amy assured her. "We can talk about it at the party, okay?"
"Yes," Tchalla said. "That will be wonderful. I'm so very glad I met you,
Amy. I haven't made many friends on the ship yet, so this means very much
to me."
"Well, I'm glad I met you too." She kissed her new friend's cheek
jovially, then skipped off. "See you later, Tchalla!"
Tchalla brushed her hand over her cheek, and then giggled. She waved after
Amy. "Bye, Amy! I'll see you tonight!"
She watched Amy leave with a smile on her lips. "A friend," she whispered
to herself. "I...I think I like having a new friend." As she lay back
down on her blanket, Tchalla laughed again. It definitely felt nice to
have a friend.
"I Think I'm Sorry..."
By Ens. Amy Reese, Nurse
& Dr. Corran Quezith, Civilian Scientist
Location: Amy Reese's Quarters
Date: 57907.07, 17h30
***
It was not proper Starfleet etiquette to run through the corridors for
anything other than a Red Alert emergency, but getting to the party on time,
in Amy's mind, was just as serious. With her arms crossed over her chest to
ensure everything that was supposed to stay in her bikini top remained
there, she rushed into her quarters and darted straight for her room. A
shower of rejected clothing was tossed about, and now littered the floor as
Amy scrambled to squeeze into an inappropriately formfitting skirt - or
appropriately, considering it was Risa.
Inappropriate in any situation, Amy emitted a choice expletive at the
annoyingly intrusive doorchime sounding. She was struggling with a
particularly stubborn shirt that refused to be pulled on, and the insistent
chirping was making matters more stressful. With a shriek, Amy hurried
blindly for the door, still fighting to find the armholes and failing to
find a place for her head to come through. In her flight, she narrowly
missed a head-on collision with a particularly dense wall, was not as
successful in avoiding a run in with the living area table, and even less
successful in stifling a pain-stricken curse after stubbing her toe on the
potted plant she'd always hated (even more so, now).
At the end of her
rope, injured, and still unable to solve the intricacies of dressing herself, Amy shouted a muffled "Come in!" and hobbled in the direction of
the door.
The doors spread apart to reveal a curious and blinking Corran Quezith.
After much thought he'd decided that he needed to smooth things out with
Cris' friend, especially since he had no desire to return to Achicar Prime
leaving unfinished business behind...but what he'd heard, and was seeing
now, left his eyes turning ice blue and babbling to himself.
"I...uh...hmmm...can...return..."
He rolled his eyes and walked in, seeing her predicament and deciding that
he had to grow up someday. He pulled the shirt down for her and then smiled
slightly. "Better?"
Amy blew a wisp of black hair from her eyes, and regarded Corran with a
mixture of uncertainty and eternal gratitude. She cleared her throat and
awkwardly looked around the room, anywhere but at Corran. She finally
looked down at her shirt with an uncomfortable laugh and said, "Well...I
guess I missed that class in Starfleet...you know the one where they teach
cadets how to dress themselves?"
"Errr, I guess that's why you're as naughty as you are..." He smirked
anxiously as he stepped back and regarded her. "Didn't mean to catch you
looking like that though, I swear! My telepathy is impaired!"
Amy smiled wanly. "I know," she said softly. "Crissy told me... A-Are you
feeling better? I mean...you look great!" she enthused, though it wasn't
too difficult considering what a hunk of a man Cris had scored for himself.
Corran blushed profusely, and even looked away for a moment as his eyes
turned green. After clearing his throat he answered her, "I feel a little
better. I got in touch with Omega Research and they found me a ride home
that'll also bring me back, all in under a week or two." He smiled warmly
before giving Amy a weird look. "And by the way, you're pretty damned hot
yourself." He winked before sticking his tongue out at her, not quite sure
if she'd been flirting or not, but doing it all for the fun of it.
Amy's eyes involuntarily widened. Corran had always seemed stodgy and far
too serious - characteristics that seemed to clash with Cris' spunky,
outgoing nature. She was beginning to think, now, that she'd judged Corran
wrongly. Overcome with giggles, she playfully swatted Corran's chest, one
that was pleasingly firm to the touch, and said with false modesty,
"Well...I try. You should see me without clothes on." Leaning forward, she
added, "Well...all of them, not just my shirt."
His brow rose at her and he just shook his head. "You gonna show me
something I ain't seen yet? What? Are you a Cardassian in disguise?" He had
to tease her about it; after all, by now he'd slept with dozens of men and
women of all races...excepting for anything too weird even for him, like
tentacled creatures.
Amy snickered and answered with a goofy, "No, silly." Then her smile took on
a sultry quality as she said, "Just a plain, old, fully blossomed female,
that's all."
Corran's eyes turned deep brown this time as he moved closer to her, his
voice softening and becoming sensual as he did. "If I didn't know better,
I'd say that's an invitation to trouble..." He reached out for her shirt
with his index finger, his eyes looking deeper into hers, and then...straightened it down over her as he stood back up abruptly and grinned at
her naughtily.
Amy chuckled uncertainly, though she admittedly liked the attention, as well
as the tingling warmth he managed to spread through her. "So...does this
mean you don't hate me anymore?" she asked, finding his eyes hypnotically
appealing to her.
"I guess it does. I came here to apologize to you for that little thing on
Risa. Usually I'm a lot more easygoing and playful than that...but, um...closing off my telepathy's been throwing me off a lot." He licked his lips
as he felt them dry up, his eyes still locked on hers as he spoke, "I'm
actually probably way too sexual for my own good." Why did he keep staring
at her?
Amy shrugged, still grinning foolishly at him. "Too sexual's not bad. I
mean...as long as it makes you feel good." Her cheeks flushed a deep shade
of red at the unintended double meaning. "I mean...it's not like you have
to act on your urges." She coyly looked away, but couldn't help a sidelong
glance at him that was far too suggestive for both their sakes.
Getting hot in here? The edge of his lip raised into a smug smile. "You're
right about that." His tone mirrored the look he gave her as his eyes took in
her body. He wondered why he hadn't flirted with Amy before. "Though in your
case I think you should follow all of your urges with Kit... When I could
read minds better I caught a glimpse of um...some of the action?" His brow
raised as he grinned.
Amy covered her mouth to smother the sudden bout of boisterous, bashful
laughter. Halfheartedly shoving him, she squealed, "You saw that!? Well,
we are a rambunctious duo... But from what I've heard from Crissy, you're
no slouch either. That's why it always puzzled me that you seemed
so...reserved."
Corran batted his eyelashes at her, his joviality returning. "Me?
Rambunctious? Are you insinuating I'm anything less than a sex fiend that
tortures his prey with over-stimulating every fiber in their being?" He
gasped at her and held a hand up to his chest in shock, but he couldn't keep
the show going too long and soon burst out into laughter. "Well, play your
cards right and you might just get some outta this boy-o, someday..."
"Really?" Amy chuckled lowly and ventured closer to Corran. "I have a
boyfriend, you know," she reminded him, but that didn't keep her from
lightly running her fingers over the curve of his shoulder. "You do too, if
I recall."
"Yeah, I do...but sexuality is very different in Betazoid and Achicarian
society..." His eyes followed her fingers, but returned to her eyes as he
smirked, "But you're right, you have a boyfriend, and I happen to have very
strict rules about interfering with peoples' relationships when their sexual
relationships are more rigid than my own." He reached for her hand and
brought it down from his shoulder gently. "Maybe you should visit Kit
soon..." He suggested it wholeheartedly. His telepathy cleared up with his
hand connected to hers, thanks to the membranes. He could feel her desire
and it was starting to cause a reaction.
Amy sighed and nodded solemnly. "I know... Did Cris tell you about
Dwayne?" She cringed even thinking about it. "I don't know what I was
thinking..."
"You were thinking you like him and that the sex was pretty damned good...actually..." He gave her a sheepish look. He'd read that off her mind during
their double-date down to Risa.
"Well...it was nice while it lasted," Amy admitted. "But it hurt Kit. I-I
shouldn't do it again." She smiled at Corran. "Though, it's hard with so
much temptation around."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully. "You're telling me! I just walked
by a lot of hot crewmembers on my way here. I can't believe I was blinded
this long!" He winked warmheartedly and added a chuckle to it. He felt good
talking to Amy this way even if it was too steamy at times, but he grew
rather solemn finally. "Look, if you really love him, the temptation won't
outdo your feelings for him. The trick is to decide whether or not you love
him that way, or if you just love him as a friend and what you really want
is something else. I wish I could tell you I knew right now, but I don't."
"Well...what about you and Crissy? He never told me you two were...free to
see other people. I mean...Kit does let me share him with Kelli..." Amy
couldn't help but giggle. "Oh, she's a feisty one when you get her alone. If
you're looking for someone enthusiastic..."
Corran laughed at her tone, but answered her solidly, "Things were
complicated. We didn't know I was ill and I started reacting like most
humans would to certain situations... It kinda comes to show that he and I
are deeply in love really. We're there for each other, and our lovemaking is
always incredible..." He looked off to the side thoughtfully, thinking about
all of the things they'd already lived through... It was going to be hard to
go back to Achicar Prime if Cris didn't go with him.
"Let's just say that sometimes temptation gets to be too much and rather
than deny what we feel we just do it. It's just sex...and if he or I fall
more in love with someone else it doesn't mean we have to stop seeing each
other, not by our standards." Somehow he doubted it would happen though.
"Wow, that's so wonderful," Amy said with a dreamy smile. "I wish Kit and I
could be that open. I mean...I know I have a problem with sex, and it'd be
a lot easier to just accept it than to try and change." She sighed, and
hiding her grin, slipped her arms around Corran's waist and nestled her
cheek to his chest. "It's hard having such a big heart."
He rubbed her back lightly for a minute, but then glanced down at her. "Well, you could consider making a holographic version of Kit whenever he
weren't available...though...well...could be weirder." He batted his
eyelashes again.
Amy giggled and snuggled in closer to Corran, finding herself far too
comfortable. "Well, I like weird. Why do you think my hair's this way?"
She sighed contentedly and turned her face into Corran's chest, brushing her
lips against the fabric of his shirt and sneaking a small kiss to the little
exposed flesh she could find. "You know," she mused, "I like you far better
now, Corr. Can I call you that?"
"Umm...sure..." His brows furrowed as he watched her. It wasn't that he
didn't like this, but they were getting too close to be right about this. He
kept thinking about Kit, so he just set his hands on her shoulders and
started to slide over to the doorway, calculating just how quickly he could
make a run for it if it came to that. "Well I guess I should be
goooooing..."
Amy smiled cheerfully and turned fully around to face him, with a slight
bounce in her step. "Well, if you have to... I've gotta get going too." She
gasped excitedly and rushed towards Corran again to press her body to his
and stare up into his attractively deep brown eyes. "Won't you come to the
party? You can bring Cris with you. It'll be fun!"
He grinned real cheesily this time as he clawed his way along the wall
towards the door, nodding enthusiastically. "Uh, sure, yeah, that'll do...
Umm...let me just...find him..." He wondered why Cris didn't read his mind
and come rescue him particularly now! His eyes turned an almost whitish blue
hue from his desperation to get out of there now.
"Well...okay then!" She managed to corner Corran against the wall long
enough to press a kiss to his cheek, then giggled as the doors parted and
Corran stumbled back through them. "I'm really glad we had this talk,
Corr," she told him, while passing her eyes over the length of his form and
smiling hungrily.
"Yeah, me too..." He kept backing up into the corridor, wondering if this
was the first time in his life someone had actually outdone him. "I'll see
ya down on Risa... With Kit, right, right?" His tone was probably too
hopeful, but it couldn't be helped.
Amy rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course...silly Corr." She waved
vigorously at Corran as she leaned against the doorframe in a seductive
pose. "Thanks for helping dress me," she called out, though her tone
suggested she would have preferred if his aid had been put towards helping
her undress.
Now he was nodding enthusiastically. "Umm, sure, you might try just one size
larger for that piece, the softer it looks on your fit the better..." So now
he was giving fashion advice to escape hypersexuality. Could this get any
worse? "You'll uh...see...with what I wear down to the...party." His eyes
kept gliding over her body. Jesus, this woman really was a wild sex addict.
Amy looked down at her skirt and slid her hands over the curves of her hips.
"You might be right..." With a grin, she regarded him again, then blew him
a kiss. "Thanks, Corr! I'll see you down there. Farezi Sands. Don't be
late!" And with a toss of her short locks, she slipped back into her
quarters, but not without shooting Corran an especially alluring glance over
one shoulder.
Corran finally turned to face down the corridor, then turned around as he
realized it was the wrong way. He started walking, more bewildered than
ever. The good thing was that at least he wasn't thinking about his
condition in the least...
"And So It Goes, Part 1"
by Lt. Brennyn Scott, RN - Chief Counselor/Nurse
Location: Galorah Research Station, Observation Lounge
Stardate: 57907.07, 18h00
***
Brennyn Mackenzie Scott could not shake the feeling she had been abandoned in this glorified truck stop Starfleet dared to call a research station. Of course, the sad truth of the matter was she had known it was coming, and horror of all horrors, had actually agreed to be dropped off and picked up by her new shipboard assignment.
It wasn't that she was ungrateful for the opportunity to expand her Starfleet experience, but now that she was here she wondered if her decision to leave the restoration efforts on Betazed and to take on another shipboard post following her tour on the Terra Nova was mostly influenced by the hounding she'd received by Admiral Norris more than her own wishes. Bree liked to think her life had always been self-determined, but in point of
fact that wasn't true until her junior year at the Academy. At times it saddened her to think it had taken the death of her parents for her to realize she had been living someone else's dream, and even worse that she
had been content doing so, but immediately those emotions were followed by guilt, because hadn't her life up to that point been wonderful?
The conclusion she had always come to was yes, but that always meant accepting she'd had her own life to begin with. In reality, she had come to see her previous existence as a mere extension of her parents' own dreams, her desire to please them so great she had been willing to do just about anything. The Occupation of Betazed and subsequent death of her parents had been shattering, but it had also awakened her to a universe of other opportunities outside of her precious politics and diplomacy. She could have continued her career in counseling on Betazed or in private practice, but she wanted access to the best education available, and with that access came a binding promise to return the favor to the service that had nurtured the young human in her journey of self-discovery.
That didn't really bother Brennyn, but it was hard to get over a distaste for starships when her earliest memories were of being left to her own devices and losing her closest friends to transfers and other military
realities she had never tried to understand. She tried to remind herself she was going where people needed her, but she couldn't rid herself of the sense that she was an imposter, a wolf in sheep's clothing who didn't really deserve to be in the uniform she had worn for quite some time now. Life on the Terra Nova had been fun, but even that assignment was temporary. After a year, she and the rest of the crew had been separated, scattered to the wind. Was that what was meant by the "Starfleet Family?" She felt every bit like the orphan trying to find a place to belong, and every bit like the orphan who was, deep down, afraid to try.
Bree turned to the viewport and stared at the stars. She hoped she would find peace in a view like this one day, but she sighed, realizing she was placing all her hope in only her second true journey among the stars. How was she supposed to find solace among them, a great unknown, if she had been unable to find solace in the depths of her heart, territory she thought she knew very well? Somehow she knew she would make it, but she was afraid to admit that more than a small part of her was scared to death. Would the Sulu become her home, or was it to be just another duty assignment?
She was startled out of her reverie by the clearing of a throat, an older man she knew, even before she turned. She was greeted by a dark haired Lt. Commander in a blue uniform which matched her own. "It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," answered Bree diplomatically, even though the beauty of the stars had been the last thing on her mind.
"I'm Jason Kennedy, CO of this glorified truckstop." He extended a hand, the twinkle in his eye quite evident.
Brennyn was too polished a diplomat to register her incredulity or her embarrassment. The man was probably a telepath, most likely from her home away from home of Betazed. Stepping away from the viewport with a wry
smile, Brennyn shook the man's hand warmly. "Lt. Brennyn Scott, glorified hitchhiker."
"Ah, you must be from the Terra Nova then. Your three cohorts are somewhere wandering the station. I gather they're trying to work off some energy. The Klingon, J'San, I believe, looked a bit stir crazy, though I can't
imagine why given all the spacious accommodations we offer," he stated, tongue firmly in cheek as he gestured around the small observation lounge.
Giving him a look that said 'you said it first' she answered, "Your station is lovely, 'commander, just not what I'm used to."
"I would have thought a fellow scientist might appreciate our mission and facilities more readily."
Bree was surprised the man hadn't read her deep enough to know that she was not a scientist in the strictest sense, but could respect the man's appreciation of privacy. "I'm not a scientist, and if that isn't blasphemous enough for you, hold onto your socks because I'm a shrink."
"A people person, eh?" There was a bit more amusement in the rhetorical question than Bree wanted to hear, but in a guy this attractive, she could hardly stay annoyed.
She nodded. "I'm soon to be the Chief Counselor aboard the Sulu."
He seemed to take a long moment to digest the new information. "You must be good at what you do."
Bree shrugged off the compliment, not really comfortable with flattery. "I don't know about that, but I am committed to being the best counselor I can be." The statement sounded cliché to her own ears, but he seemed to respect it.
"That explains your lack of interest for your surroundings. Were you not in the uniform, I would have thought you were a civilian."
She smiled. "I am, or I was, until Starfleet needed me more than the Betazed Ruling Council. I've been in Starfleet for awhile now and I know I probably should be more comfortable in space and the uniform, but the places never mattered to me as much as the people. I'm sure I'll come to see all this as more than just window dressing eventually, but right now I'm choosing to focus on what I know."
If he was insulted by her reference to the great unknown as being window dressing, he didn't show it, and considering he was a science officer, she found that to be admirable. "A piece of advice, Lieutenant, if I may?"
Brennyn nodded politely and he continued. "If you truly wanted to focus on what you knew, I imagine you would have decided to stay in a nice cushy office on Betazed. The real knowledge of your craft comes from observing the things you don't know, and overcoming the fear that pays for such opportunities. What's more, I think in your heart you know that."
Feeling utterly exposed, but appreciative of the candor all at the same time, she answered, "That I do, commander, that I do."
"Subsequent Check-up"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau [NPC+]
Location: Mess Hall, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07, 18h26
***
After an extensive conversation with his mother over subspace, Cristobel
took to wandering the Sulu mindlessly, as he focused on his thoughts.
There were decisions and preparations to make, starting with booking passage
on a transport ship.
Cris didn't consciously realise that he was sitting at a table in the mess
hall until he tasted a sip of sour fizz on his tongue. Blinking hard, he
trained his eyes on the glass at his lips, slowly placed the glass down at
the table, and then raised his head to take in the view of Risa through the
viewport. His vision of the planet was obstructed, though, by Shyla Moreau,
who appeared to be just as lost in thought, sitting alone at the table
across from Cris'.
Blinking again to firmly take a foothold in his surroundings, rather than
his thoughts, Cristobel cleared his throat, and said, "Hi?"
Shyla was slow in looking up but she soon broke into a clear grin at the
sight of Cris sitting there across from her. "Hi, Cris," she offered, one
half singsong and one half weary. "That was some show last night. Thanks
for the invitation."
Cristobel visibly brightened at her grin, but then his eyes clouded with
confusion. "Show?" Hardly able to remember what happened before noon, it
took Cristobel a second before: "Oh, right. The Suluists. I didn't
actually see it, myself. Or...perform it, obviously. But, yeah, I heard
that they were excellent."
"Well," Shyla began to tease, her eyes bright. "I thought it was your
pre-show performance that was the most interesting. Is that some obscure
Risan custom for opening a concert? Shouting out the sexual exploits of the
band members?"
"I doubt it. Most Risian customs are much more pleasant," Cristobel
deadpanned. "That performance wasn't exactly intentional," Sefton
explained, "I was just telling Amy that I hadn't been sleeping well, which
she took as a request for an erotic massage. She didn't notice that I was
horga'hn-less, and when I tried to tell her, my sleep deprivation made my
loss of temper very quick. She was the only one who was supposed to hear
it." Shrugging, Sefton continued, "Amy and Kit managed to deal with her
infidelity; I hope you managed to enjoy the rest of your night."
"Not really," Shyla offered, her gaze drifting down to the tabletop. "The
band did sound pretty good but I still slipped out in the middle. The whole
situation just wasn't for me. I don't think Risa and me go well together."
Shyla looked back up at Cris, genuinely concerned. "You're not sleeping
well?"
"Corran's been telepathically transmitting information to my brain, while he
sleeps, without either of us being aware of it. It keeps my mind so active,
I can't possibly sleep, and then when he awakes, and I do fall asleep, I get
nightmares from my brain trying to process the overload." Cristobel stood
up during the latter part of his explanation, and walked over to sit across
from Shyla at her table. "M'lira's looking into it."
Shyla simply gaped at Cris while he settled into the seat. It sure seemed
like everybody on this ship had such complicated problems. It kind of put
her own troubles in perspective. Some of them, anyway.
Nodding up to the dimmed lights, Cris said, "If Risa's not working out, at
least you'll practically have the ship to yourself. The way everyone's
rushing to the planet for that party, I'm surprised no one's resorted to
stealing escape pods."
"Are you going?" Shyla asked, sounding strangely and surprisingly hopeful.
"Probably not," Cristobel admitted. "I think I'm going to try get a full
night's sleep for once. I suppose you'll be sitting the party out?"
Shyla nodded. "But I wanted to get some kind of message to Amy and thank her
for the invitation. I wasn't really sure if she liked me or not, so I was
kind of surprised I even got invited. But I guess they invited everyone."
Shyla fell quiet as she again studied the tabletop for a long moment. "Do
you know if Ethan is going?" she asked without looking up.
"I don't," Cris answered. "I talked to him yesterday. I did him a favour
for that murder investigation. He seemed calm-er. And he only had to
restrain himself from hitting me once."
Shyla winced involuntarily. She wasn't always sure when Cris was kidding.
"Really? It was that bad?"
"No, it was - it was good," Cristobel said as comfortingly as possible. "For
the most part, he seemed to be the way he was when I met him on the
Starbase."
"Warm? Friendly? More fun than a barrel of monkeys?" Shyla began to giggle
involuntarily at her own rare bout of sarcasm.
"Of course," Cristobel playfully agreed with a laughing snort. "And he gave
everyone in the interrogation room a hug, before asking his questions
through song."
Shyla's giggling instantly turned into an out-and-out belly laugh at this
imagery. She tried a couple times to get her mirth under control only to be
foiled by Sefton's arched eyebrows and facial expression so finally she sunk
her head down to the table top with a light "thunk" and laughed even harder
with the Betazoid out of sight. Cris just snickered and shook his head; he
hadn't thought his joke had been that amusing.
"Cris, I am crazy," she said after awhile, finally stifling her giggles with
some limited success.
"You're not even approaching an orbit of crazy," Cristobel told her with
authority.
"Then why am I so preoccupied with such a moody, infuriating frustration as
Ensign Storm?" Shyla asked, her voice muffled by the tabletop.
"Because he isn't always a moody, infuriating frustration?" Cristobel
suggested softly. And then muttered, "In theory, at least."
Shyla didn't lift her head but tilted it and looked at Cris. "M'lira's a
good doctor," she said, feeling a bit guilty about just glossing over Cris's
problems. "Do you know what you're going to do?"
"Not yet. She can repair the damage that's been done, but we still haven't
found the source of the problem," Cristobel replied with a heavy shrug.
Shyla lifted her head off the table and looked in Cris's eyes. "I'm sorry
this is happening to the two of you. Of all the people on the ship, Corran
and you are my favorites...even if I haven't acted like it lately."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Cristobel said, any hint of a smile fading. "I
mean, I think I'm going to be taking the rest of my shore leave on Betazed -
a family reunion of sorts - and if Corran doesn't get any better by the time
I get back, he might have to return to Achicar Prime."
"You wouldn't be going with him?" Shyla asked, a little surprised. Corran
and Cris seemed so close, it was difficult for her to imagine them apart.
"Or he with you?"
Shrugging, Cris explained, "We have to talk about it. He doesn't yet know
that I have to go to Betazed, and neither of us know if he'll actually have
to return to Achicar Prime."
Shyla reached over and took Cris's hand in a friendly gesture of comfort.
"When were you going to tell him?"
"Once I see him," Cris responded. A little puzzled, he added, "He wasn't in
our quarters when I went there earlier."
"He'll go with you, right?" Shyla asked. "If he has to go back to his
homeworld, can't he just go from Betazed?"
"Most likely," Cris assumed with a nod, feeling quite touched by her
concern.
"You'll be together, at least. That something." She gave his hand a
comforting squeeze but her face grew serious as she reconsidered her words.
"Cris, that's everything, isn't it?"
"Corran's sick, I haven't been sleeping and I'm leaving the ship for a
while," Cris counted off on his fingers. Trying to take a humorous view on
his current situation, he deadpanned, "That's more than enough."
"I was talking about relationships in general," Shyla scolded with her
clear laugh and drawing back her hand. "Without someone to love and for you
to love back, there's not much else. Is there?"
"There's the search," Cristobel offered, after some thought. "It can be
just as precious as the find, if you let yourself appreciate it."
"Are you saying I'm not searching?" Shyla asked, her tone slipping between
flippant and serious. "Or that I need to be searching for someplace else?"
"Actually I was using a generic 'you,' " Cristobel muttered, feeling awfully
less perceptive than usual. "But...I guess I mean...relationships aren't
everything. There's also the happiness one finds in oneself..." Cristobel
cringed. "I'm...sorry...you really don't expect the sleep deprived to make
much sense, do you?"
"I haven't made much sense," Shyla said, grinning. "And I don't even have a
good excuse." She looked at Cris softly. "When are you planning on leaving?"
"Couple days," Cris told her. "Although I haven't booked transport yet."
"That shouldn't take long," Shyla correctly pointed out. "It's Risa. Lots of
ships coming and going."
"Speaking of which, I should get going. I really must find Corran to talk
with him," Cris said, growing serious.
"Would you both be up for dinner tomorrow night?" Shyla asked hopefully. Of
all the people on the Sulu, she felt closest to Cris and Corran. "We can
meet around 20h00 tomorrow and get our goodbyes all out of the way."
"Of course." Cristobel's sombre look warmed up to a smile, despite the worry
still going on at the back of his mind. "I'll definitely be here tomorrow
for dinner."
Shyla beamed back at Cris as a plan was already forming in her mind. If all
went well, by 20h30 tomorrow she could say her goodbyes to Cris and Corran
and hopefully make some small kind of peace with Ethan Storm. She knew she'd
have to find some help so she began to wonder if Amy was the type to hold a
grudge.
"I Feel the Need..."
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Nathalie Gui; Communications Officer
Location: Operations Office, Holodeck Three, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07; 18h35
***
Things were looking up. The bike was ready; Ashbury knew his stuff. The
location was known. Now all Mason Farrell needed was a driver. And someone
to move the bike.
He brought up a text message screen and tapped in the message.
"Hey Uhura, want to race?" It had come from the Operations Office.
"Always! What have you got for me, Chekhov?" Nathalie pulled herself higher
as she scaled the rocky cliff before her; currently she was attempting to
rock climb on a simulated area similar to Terra's Grand Canyon.
"Street Racing on Risa. I've got a hot bike, but nothing hot to ride it.
Your thoughts?"
"What am I, a hood ornament? Seriously though sounds interesting, what's the
catch?"
"Meet me in the Ops Office when you're done with whatever it is you're doing
and I'll fill you in. I'll be here 'til midnight."
"Gotcha, see you soon."
***
Nathalie yawned as she walked down the corridors taking her to the Ops
Office; her little climbing excursion seemed to have its desired effect. She
could only wonder what it was that Farrell had cooked up. First they were
attempting to get a Risan onboard for a head chef and now this. Shaking the
spiderwebs out of her head she walked into the Ops Office.
Smirking she snuck up behind the unsuspecting Farrell and covered his eyes
with her right hand. "Guess who?"
"Commander Lyrr?" Farrell guessed mockingly.
"You're way off...especially as far as rank is concerned." Gui laughed.
Removing her hand Nathalie playfully punched Mason in the shoulder. "So what
reason do you have for dragging me down here in the wee hours of the
morning?"
"Well," Farrell said, scratching his unshaven chin, "the basic situation is
that I've got this flybike, see, and I know where there's going to be this
race, in this particular spot outside the tourist area. I need somebody to
move the bike down to Risa during Beta shift, when I'm on duty, which would
be right about now. Then I need a racer who's willing to run in a no-holds
barred street race. Interested?"
"Street racing on Risa eh? Sounds interesting." Nathalie ran the scenario
and what Mason just told her through her mind a few more times attempting to
let everything sink in. A gambling bet perchance, or could this have some
connection to the current events on board the Sulu concerning a certain
committed crime? "Alright, I'll bite. What's the catch? Something tells me
that there's more than just money possibly riding on this race and I would
like to know what it is," she said, her tone turning serious.
"Sit down--" Farrell gestured theatrically "--and all will be explained."
"Cooking Up A Storm"
by Sikara [NPC+] - Future Head Chef
Location: Risa
Stardate: 57907.07, 19h00
***
"WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?" Sikara came over and smacked the
seasoning shaker out of the hired help's hands. "This does not require
tulip root, think about it."
The hired help apologised and went about putting the food he had been
preparing on display.
Sikara was now alone in his kitchen and was perfecting the last piece of
food. It was a Mocha crumb cake which he was now dividing into
mouth-size bite pieces and placing on a plate. Sikara walked out of the
kitchen with the plate proudly sitting in his arm. He wore the
traditional Terran white Chef's hat; he did this on purpose so that
people would know that he was the chef and hence talk to him.
Sikara desperately wanted to get onto the Sulu and wanted to make sure
people wanted him aboard.
Sikara placed the plate down on the long, long table which was covered
from head to bottom in food that had taken Sikara and his hired helpers
3 hours to make all together. Sikara let out a sigh of relief and set
about mingling in.
"The Party"
By: Ensign Tchalla Mel'Chir
Ensign Kit Markham
Ensign Kelzira Rax
Ensign Amy Reese
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 19h45
***
Kit Markham looked out over the assembled tents and people scurrying to get
everything ready, and smiled. It was going to work. They were only
minutes away from the start of the party, and things were coming together
nicely. He glanced across the stage where he stood and smiled at Amy who
was talking to one of Sikara's staff. There had been a slight mix-up with
one of the dishes, but everything appeared to be sorted out now.
He dropped off the stage and walked over as the man turned back toward the
catering vehicles. Amy grinned at him and he slipped his arms around
her. "You know," he said, "we're doing pretty well out here."
"I know. It's amazing!" she exclaimed. "We really should do this often on
board. You don't think the captain would mind monthly parties, do you?"
"I don't think so," Kit said. "Actually, I think it'd be great for
morale. Can you imagine, using the holodecks for themed parties? That'd
be great! Oh, think of Grixble if we brought him that!"
Amy giggled. "Oh, I hope he comes. And I even think I got Corran and Cris
to attend." She didn't feel it prudent to divulge to Kit how she managed
to convince Corran; in fact, she was too ashamed to even think about it.
Sighing, she pressed in closer to Kit and rested her head upon his
shoulder. "So...do we have time to just...relax before it all starts?"
Kit smiled and slipped an arm around her. "I think we have a few minutes."
Amy smiled contentedly. "Good. I missed you today. I had to walk the
entire stretch of beach and had all those men and women gawking at
me." She shifted against Kit and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It was
horrible!"
"Gawking at you?" Kit laughed. "So, how many did you proposition?"
She gasped indignantly and lightly slapped Kit's chest. "I did no such
thing! I mean...flirting doesn't count...right?"
"You'd flirt with the replicator if you thought it would respond," Kit said
with a grin. "I figure you probably flirted with every one you saw, and
nearly half of them invited you home with them." And of those, half
probably tempted you.
"But I wouldn't go," she said fervently, gazing down into Kit's smiling
eyes. "I mean...I know I'm still struggling with it all...but I'm trying
not to hurt you again, Kit. Please believe that."
Kit smiled and nodded. "I believe you," he said. "If I didn't, we
wouldn't be here together right now."
Amy's smile returned. "And we wouldn't be planning the biggest part on all
of Risa!" She laughed softly and kissed Kit's brow firmly. "So...let's
take a walk and check out everything. The decorations have to be perfect,
the place settings, the stage... Everything!"
"Come on," Kit said as he slipped his arm around her waist, "let's go check
out the north end of things."
Amy and Kit strolled lazily along the area of Farezi Sands they'd rented
for the evening and appraised their work. Decorations were still going up
around the stage, which was nothing more than a small platform that had
been dragged in for the occasion, but it was accented with one torch
standing on each of the four corners, as well as multiple strings of exotic
flowers fastened to a pole at the rear of the stage, and draping down to
overhang the band as they played.
All the food tables were laid out, but the food had yet to be delivered.
Sikara had been working feverishly all day to complete the
menu, but Kit seemed confident about his abilities, and Amy was satisfied
with that. Bonfires dotted the plot of beach they'd claimed as their own
for the evening, and once the suns fully set, Amy imagined the atmosphere
would be quite romantic.
"Wow," Amy sighed. "This is great... I just hope we're not too tired to
enjoy it."
"I'm sure we'll find a second wind here soon," Kit said with a grin. "We
do seem to have limitless energy...or have you forgotten last night
already?"
Amy pressed up against Kit's side and chuckled throatily. "Oh, how could I
forget that, my energetic little Kitty cat?"
"Oh, don't get me worked up here," he whispered playfully. "There's
nowhere to nip off to." He looked up and laughed. "Oh hey...our first
guest. Blue girl."
As Amy looked up, she too saw Tchalla Mel'Chir approaching. The young
Andorian had pulled her white hair back into a thick ponytail, exposing her
cobalt throat. She wore a halter made of a shimmering blue-purple fabric
and a long skirt that came all the way down to her sandaled feet. When she
saw them looking at her, she smiled shyly and waved.
"Tchalla!" Amy giggled boisterously and, gripping Kit's hand securely, she
dashed off towards her new friend, with Kit being dragged behind. "Oh, you
look amazing!" she beamed, coming to a halt before her friend. With Kit
hardly forgotten, but momentarily set aside, she threw her arms around
Tchalla and embraced her. "I'm so glad you came! Where did you get that
outfit!"
Tchi blushed slightly, but remained smiling. "There was a small shop on my
way back from the beach, and I saw it there... I thought it would be
perfect for tonight. I'm so glad you like it." Her antennae curled
slightly, which caused her cheeks to darken even more. She was just glad
that there weren't many around who could read Andorian body language very
well. It didn't do well to have people knowing you were embarrassed most
of the time...though, her blushing would certainly be a good indication of
that. "You look very amazing too."
Amy stepped back and assessed her own outfit with a giddy laugh. "Well, I
actually had on this other skirt, but then Corr told me I would look better
in a more freely flowing one so..." She giggled and added, "I hope the
wind's not too strong tonight or we could both be in trouble!"
Tchalla's face darkened even further, turning a rather nice shade of
indigo. "At least I...have...well, under...just in case." She giggled and
looked away.
"Lucky you," Amy replied, then leaned forward and whispered, "because I
don't." She snickered and kissed Tchalla on the cheek before pulling back.
Tchi didn't think it was possible to blush anymore, but she did. "Oh my,"
she squeaked. She couldn't help herself from lowering her eyes to Amy's
crotch, and then quickly looked away again in embarrassment.
While Tchalla slowly turned a darker shade of blue, Amy pushed Kit forward
and announced, "This here is my hunk of man! Tchalla, meet Kit. Kit...meet
Tchalla."
"It's very nice to meet you, Tchalla," Kit said with a smile. "Amy has
told me absolutely nothing about you."
Tchalla giggled. "There's really not much to tell."
"Well, it's very nice to have you at our party here tonight," he
said. "And, Amy's right. You do look very lovely."
"Thank you," Tchalla answered shyly. "I'm very happy to be here."
"Well...you're the first one," Amy told her. So...take a look around.
There's some chairs set up in front of the stage in case you want to get
the best seat for the show."
Tchalla nodded, and looked back toward the stage. "Thank you," she
said. "I think I want something to nibble on too, if the food's ready. I
saw all the catering people on my way here."
Amy looked back at the banquet tables and noticed trays of food were
finally being set down. "Well...looks like you're just in time," she told
Tchi. "You get first dibs."
"My lucky day," Tchalla said with a grin. "Thank you again for inviting
me, this is so wonderful." With that, she slipped off toward the large
tables piled with food.
Kit turned to Amy and grinned. "Cute girl," he said. "And, she helped to
solve an age-old, burning question I've had...well, since as long as I've
had questions. Do Andorians have belly buttons? I now know the answer is
a definitive yes."
Amy snickered. "You have a strange mind, Kit Markham." She gently took
his head in both hands and planted a kiss to his forehead. "And I love it,"
she whispered.
Kit laughed. "Okay, so that question has really never bothered me all that
much, but I certainly didn't expect to ever see Ensign Mel'Chir's bared
belly. At least not from what I'd heard anyway, both here and at the
Academy."
"She's a little shy," Amy admitted. "But just like Kelli, she's loosening
up." She cast a suspicious gaze on Kit, and asked, "And what exactly did
you hear about her at the Academy?"
"That there is shy, and then there's Cadet Tchalla Mel'Chir. Just...yeah,
very shy. And, I thought she was going to faint dead away when you were
whispering to her." He slipped closer and kissed her. "You really like
telling people you're not wearing underwear, don't you, my love?"
She smiled guiltily. "I do...but you're the only one who gets to see."
Kit grinned. "Well, me and Kelli," he said. "But, it seems as if she's
forgotten about us for the time being. Though, if someone asked nicely,
would they get to see?"
Amy answered with an enigmatic smile, then skipped lightly towards the
stage.
With a laugh, Kit followed after her. Once he was close enough, he skipped
up along side of her. "You would," he said as he danced around in front,
then proceeded to walk backwards before her. "You would if someone asked
you to." He leaned close. "I bet you'd love to for the cute, shy, blue
science officer, wouldn't you, my little vixen?"
"Well..." Amy couldn't help colouring slightly. "I-I might...but it
wouldn't go any further than that!"
Kit laughed and kissed her firmly on the lips. "She is very cute, and it's
okay if you want to. I imagine there aren't a whole lot of people who look
at her and don't think that. It's just the nature of things when you're
extremely cute. Though, my dear, I think you know all about being cute,
because you are the goddess of cuteness."
"I am?" Her cheeks darkened, and Amy emitted a shrill giggle.
"Well...you're cute too. And not just because I can fit you in my guitar
case."
Kit laughed and shook his head as he watched her. "I hope that's when you
don't have the guitar in the case," he said. "Was Kelli coming with
Gordo? I imagine they should be here soon."
"I'm not sure... They were supposed to have a date today, but I have no
idea where he's taking her." She stepped onto the stage and held out a
hand to Kit. "They're probably off being naughty already."
Kit slipped his hand into hers. "Well, she's quite good at that," he
said. "I don't know of many other people who can really compete with you
in that naughtiness department I love so much." He regarded her, and then
grinned.
"I like to think I'm a unique individual," she quipped, then jerked Kit up
onto the stage with a laugh. "Now, let's get tuning. Maybe the sounds
will lure people."
"As you command," he said, and moved to pick up his guitar. He watched her
as he started to tune it. "Have I mentioned that I love you yet?"
Amy paused with the strap of the bass in one hand and the instrument held
up in the other, while she contemplated the question. "You know...I don't
think you have. Care to try now?"
"Of course," Kit said with a smile. "Amy Reese, I love you." He then,
lowered his voice to a soft croon and sang it to her.
She giggled uncontrollably in response and hugged her guitar to her chest
as Kit's lyrical rendition of an otherwise simple profession had her
melting. "Oh, I love you too," she sighed dreamily.
"Hey guys," came a cheerful voice from down on the side of the stage. When
they looked, Kelli stood there, her golden hair done in ringlets. She wore
a long dress of a lightweight blue fabric. Her shoulders were bare,
exposing twin rows of spots that disappeared down into the bodice of the
dress. She gave them each a grin. "This place looks amazing."
Amy stared agape at Kelli, then emitted a squeal, shoved her bass into
Kit's arms, and flew off the stage towards her friend. She caught her in a
smothering embrace and kissed her friend ardently. "Oh, Kelli," she cooed,
her eyes passing lazily over the length of Kelli's very attractively dolled
up form. "You look so great... Oh, Gordo's in for a treat."
Kelzira grinned. "He is, isn't he? This is like the dress I wore when we
were out last night, but a little different. I think he liked that one
quite a bit too." She looked around, nodding with approval. "This is
going to be the best party ever, I think."
"So, does this mean you're staying?" she asked expectantly. "Or at least
stay long enough for one dance with me?" She smoothed her hands over
Kelli's hips, hoping to convince her.
"Oh, with an offer like that," Kelli said. "Actually, we're going to stay
here tonight, at least for most of the night. I can't imagine finding
anywhere else on Risa that'll be as fun as the party tonight."
"Great!" Amy kissed Kelli again, then clasped her hand and led her towards
the buffet table. "That's Tchalla, over there. Where's Gordo anyway?"
"He said he wanted to stop off at a shop on the way," Kelli said. "He said
he had a surprise for me." She glanced over at Tchalla. "Oh, I love that
top. I wonder if I asked nicely if she'd give it to me."
Amy snickered. "If we work on her a little, she might even take it off her
back for you right now."
Kelli gave a grin. "That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say. Is there
something criminal about having so many cute crew members on our ship? I
love her hair, and those antennae are so cute."
"So, talk to her." Amy pushed Kelli forward, which jostled Tchalla gently.
"Tchalla, Kelli. Kelli, our new cute blue friend."
Tchalla turned around when she felt someone bump into her, and was about to
apologize when she saw Amy. She glanced at Kelli and gave her a
smile. "Hi," she said softly. "It's very nice to meet you."
"My pleasure," Kelli said as she took Tchalla's hand. "I was just telling
Amy how blue is my favourite colour. And, I really love that top. You'll
have to tell me where you got it, and...maybe if you're up for it we can go
try on some clothes together before we leave Risa. All three of us."
Amy rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, here we go... No one is safe from
Kelli's urges." She grinned, then, and slung her arm around Kelli's
shoulders, squeezing gently. "But...how can you possibly resist?
So...shopping, Tchalla?"
Tchalla looked between them and then finally brightened into a smile. "Of
course," she said. "Shopping would be very much fun. I can show you where
I bought my outfit if you'd like."
Kelli grinned. "I really love that top," she said. "You'll have to let me
try it on."
"She's thinking right now," Amy explained.
"Oh my," Tchi whispered. "Well..." She looked around them and then
back. "It's...is there somewhere...private?"
Amy raised an eyebrow at Kelli, surprised Tchalla had agreed so readily.
"Well...there's a little cove down the beach," Amy replied. "You two could
go there."
Kelzira grinned. "Oh, but won't you come with us, Amy? You're our friend
too, you know. I'm sure that Tchalla likes your top too."
Tchalla blushed and looked away. "It's a nice top."
"Oh, I don't know," Amy said uncertainly. "I've...gotta go help Kit set
up. But you two are free to go."
"Please," Kelli said with a pleading smile. "You've been working all
day. You can afford a couple minutes of freedom to spend with your
friends."
Amy sighed and pulled Kelli aside. "You know I can't," she whispered. "If
we go there, Kel...you know things could happen, and I'm really trying to
be good."
"You don't have to join," Kelli whispered. "You can just watch. Look at
her, Amy. She's so cute and...and...aren't you just dying to see what she
looks like without that top? You don't have to do anything. Kit wouldn't
be upset if you just looked, would he?"
"Kel..." She glanced back at Tchalla, appraising their blue friend once
more. She was temptation, and Amy couldn't afford that, not when she was
still so vulnerable to it. Amy shook her head slowly, mainly to get the
images of what Tchalla might look like beneath her clothing out of her
mind. "I can't... I-I have to go back to Kit now. I just--" She
shouldered past Kelli and rushed off for the stage.
Tchalla watched Amy rush off with fearful eyes. She glanced back to
Kelzira. "Uh...mm...maybe we should wait until after..."
Kelzira pressed a finger to Tchi's lips. "We won't be long, my dear
Tchalla," she said. "Come on, it'll be fine." She slipped her hand into
the young Andorian's, and gently urged her along using soft, soothing words.
***
When Amy returned to the stage, Kit gave her a concerned look. "Is
everything alright?" he asked.
"It's fine," she muttered while slipping the shoulder strap over her head.
"Kelli's just gone for a walk with Tchalla."
Kit raised an eyebrow. "A walk? Should I be nervous," he asked.
Amy shrugged. "Probably. She really likes Tchalla."
"I see," Kit said. "The same way she liked that guy the other night? That
could be...well, interesting."
"It is," Amy admitted, less than delicately turning her guitar screws. "I
just wish she'd keep me out of it."
Kit nodded knowingly. "I see," he said. "She wanted you to go with her on
this little walk with Tchalla. It was difficult, wasn't it?"
Amy sighed. "I hate to admit it...but it was. I'm so sorry, Kit... I-I
was tempted...and her encouragement wasn't helping... I wish I could be
stronger, but I don't know if I can."
Kit chuckled softly and took a step closer. "Don't be so down, Amy," he
said. "Take a look around and see where you are. You were tempted, but it
looks like you were strong enough to come back here instead of going."
"I know," she whispered. "But...it was so hard."
"I imagine it was," Kit said. "But you overcame however difficult it was,
my love. You made it this time."
She glanced up at Kit with a trepid smile tugging at her
lips. "So...you're not upset that I was tempted then?"
"I'm not upset," Kit said. "I know you're tempted, but you
resisted. You're here with me. I'm very happy and proud of you, Amy. It
makes me love you even more to know that you're here with me now, that your
love for me is strong enough to help you overcome the temptations."
Amy swallowed hard, her guilt rising by the moment. "And...do you still
love me knowing that before I came down, I was getting a little too
comfortable with Corran?"
Kit swallowed and looked harder at her. "But, you didn't do anything,
right? You were just flirting with him? Teasing him and taunting
him? But, nothing happened?"
She shook her head quickly and stared at Kit pleadingly. "Nothing
happened. I swear, Kit. I just... He was flashing me that smile, and then
those eyes... He was coming on to me...and I just...it's like my urges
took over." Amy whimpered and looked down at her guitar. "I'm so screwed
up. I hate it, Kit. I hate myself."
"Don't hate yourself, Amy," Kit said softly. "He was trying to come on to
you. Nothing happened, so you were strong enough to stay away from
that. You're not as weak willed as you seem to think...but you made
it. It's not as bad as you think, my love."
"It just feels bad," she sobbed. "I'm hurting you, and I hate it. I'm
just a stupid slut and you deserve better."
"You're not a slut, Amy. You may enjoy sex and you may be more liberal
about sharing your body, but...it's not that bad. You're better than you
think. You're...you're my girl. And, you're here with me now after
showing the self-restraint to come back to me instead of letting Kelli
tempt you."
Amy nodded sullenly, sucking in shuddering breaths only to let out another
choked sob. "I-I'm your girl... That's what I wanna be, Kit." She tried
to smile for him, but failed miserably. "I'll come back to you always, if
I can help it. I promise."
Kit chuckled. "Well, if you did slip, I imagine slipping with Tchalla
wouldn't be that bad. Though, Corran could get tricky. I...I guess he
swings both ways though. A man with an open mind."
"I guess... Though Cris better watch out for him." She gazed at Kit, who
managed to almost reach her height in his thick-soled shoes, and smiled
wanly. "No more giving in to temptation. That's my goal, Kit. For you,
I'll do it, I'll succeed."
"I know you will," Kit said. "I can feel it. Especially with how you're
looking at me right now. I love you, Amy."
"I love you too, my compact, little Kitty cat." She smiled tenderly and
would have flung her arms around Kit if her bass hadn't been hanging from
her neck. "I think, tonight, just you and me. Kelli can get Gordo to
occupy her."
"I'm sure she'll like that," he said. "Though, I'm also sure she'll take
Tchalla if she can. I almost feel sorry for-- Oh my--" He was staring
off past her toward the beach.
When Amy looked, she saw Kelli and Tchalla returning. However, Kelli was
wearing the long skirt and halter while Tchalla was wearing the strapless
dress Kelli had been wearing just a short time ago.
"I don't believe it," Amy murmured. "She didn't...did she?"
Tchalla's cheeks were a deep blue and she was glancing around
nervously. When her eyes found Amy, there was a sudden look of hope. She
waved quickly.
Amy smiled awkwardly at Tchalla and returned the gesture with a wave of her
own. "Poor girl..." she said to Kit. "Kelli's going to turn her into a sex
fiend."
Kit frowned inwardly, but outside he kept his smile in place. "Maybe we
should...you know, help her. I think all of this is a bit too much for
her."
"Stupid Kelli," Amy grumbled, then shot Tchalla a bright smile and motioned
her onto the stage.
Tchalla exchanged a quiet word with Kelli, and then quickly moved up to the
stage. She slipped up the small set of risers on the end, and hurried to
Amy's side.
"That dress looks nice on you," Amy told Tchalla gently as she took the
Andorian's hand. "But...you really didn't have to trade clothes with
Kelli, you know...not if you didn't want to."
Tchalla looked down at her blue hand joined with Amy's. "It's...it's
alright. I'm just...just not used to...to someone so forward. It's a very
nice dress, isn't it? And, it's very comfortable too."
"It is," Amy said slowly. "But...what about how you got the dress on? Did
that make you comfortable? I mean...did Kelli do...anything?"
"She didn't touch me," Tchalla said softly. "She just...just looked at
me." She blushed then. "She...she said I'm...I'm very pretty."
Amy smiled, hoping her relief wasn't showing through. "Well, you are,
Tchalla. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"
Tchalla looked away, blushing slightly. "N...no, they haven't. I...thank
you, Amy. It means very much to me. You're very pretty too."
"Thanks," she replied cheerfully. "And you know, you can stay up here with
the band if you want. If you're too shy to go back with Kel..."
"I can stay up here? Thank you. I've always loved music, and your music
is very nice. I heard some of it the other night. I can really stay up
here?"
"Sure." She squeezed Tchalla's hand and gave her a smile, then called out
to Kit. "Do you wanna bring a chair up here for Tchalla? She wants a
backstage pass to the concert."
"One chair, coming up," Kit called. A moment later, he came dragging a
chair back toward the stage. "One chair for our newest fan." As he
positioned the chair near Amy's amp, he gave his girlfriend a questioning
glance to make sure everything was alright.
Amy smiled at Kit reassuringly, then turned her attention fully to Tchalla
again. "See? You can sit right here. You'll get the best vantage point
and sound from here."
"Thank you very much," Tchalla said as she sat down in the chair, smiling
up at Amy, then turning her attention to the audience. "I like it here."
"Of course you do. It's the beach!" Amy laughed softly and resumed tuning
her guitar, with her blue friend watching on with wonder and enthusiasm.
"Thank you for this, Amy," Tchalla said. "You're a very nice friend."
"I try to be," she answered. "And Kelli could be too...once you tell her
to lay off the touchy feely."
Tchalla blushed again, but nodded nonetheless. She glanced down where
Kelzira was talking to some other newcomer, and then up at Amy. "Before
the night ends, I should...I need to get...she has my...my underwear... I
should get it back." She blushed again, then giggled. "I'm like you now."
Amy's eyes grew wide, then she snickered. "Oh, Tchalla... Just remember
to keep your legs crossed."
Tchalla giggled. "Well, the skirt's long enough," she said. "So, I should
be okay. She...she said there'd be less lines."
"Well...Kelli knows best, of course." She shot Tchalla a teasing wink,
then turned away and approached Kit. "I'm really going to have to have a
talk with that girl," she said. "After the party, though. We have guests
to entertain...and from the looks of it, it's going to be quite the turn
out." She nodded to the growing crowd gathering near the food tables and
grinned. "All we need now is the rest of our band."
"I imagine Gordo will be here soon enough," Kit said. "Not sure about
Dwayne. And, is Cris coming as a member of the band or as a guest at the
party?"
"Not sure," Amy said. "Not sure if he'll even be up to coming. He's been
a little stressed lately. That's why he had that outburst at the concert
the other night. You know the one..."
"I have a vague recollection," Kit said. "Well, I guess we may be a duo
then tonight. Though, I have a feeling Gordo won't let us down."
"Well, he's supposed to be with Kelli... Though from the looks of it,
Kelli intends to be with everyone but him," she said sourly. "But, I don't
mind a duet. Should we get started?"
"Well," Kit said with a wide grin as he glanced at their new, blue
friend. Damn she's cute, he couldn't help himself from
thinking. "Yes. Yes we should. We don't want Tchalla to get bored up
here. Let's show her what a Kit and Amy party's really like."
Amy grinned at her love and pulled the microphone stand between them
towards her. The crowd amassing was increasing in size rapidly, and Amy
was surprised to find that many of those she'd seen on the beach earlier in
the day had accepted her invitation. She smiled back at one of the more
attractive men she'd met on her tour of the beach, though she hoped he
didn't plan on making too much of her previous flirtation during the night.
With a wink for Kit, then a smile for Tchalla, Amy tapped on the head of
the mic to gather the attention of their attendees. It took some doing,
especially with how enthusiastic they already sounded, but eventually all
eyes were on her and she dazzled them with one of her more enchanting
smiles.
"Wow...I'm glad you all could make it!" Sparse applause came from the
crowd, and Amy giggled bashfully. "Well...now that you're all here, how
about some music while you mingle?"
Cheers accompanied the applause this time, and with a nod for Kit, the two
broke into their first song of the evening and launched their first ever
party...Amy and Kit style.
"Dropping the Armor"
by Ensign Ethan Storm - Security Officer
Commander Lyrr - Executive Officer
Crewman Daly [NPC] - Security Officer
Crewman Farr [NPC] - Security Officer
with Brendan C. as Ensign Galil F'Zal [NPC] - Counselor
Location: Armory, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 19h52
***
Ensign Storm was making his way to the Armory at just about the exact time
the party was starting on Farezi Sands down on Risa. Storm had received the
shipwide invitation but hadn't entertained the thought of attending even for
a split second. Reportedly, Lieutenant Thalan had left the ship for good and
that was going to open up the whole Security Department. Now was no time for
the promotion-minded Storm to be resting on his laurels, relaxing down on
the beach with a bunch of people he hadn't yet taken the time to know. He'd
only been on the ship for just over a week but he thought he'd probably made a
good impression so far, save that small argument with Saris during the
search of V'ril's room on Risa. He couldn't imagine that had counted against
him, considering he'd been pulling extended and double shifts ever since
they took up orbit. It was just too bad his department head had left without
noticing.
When Ethan entered the Armory, Crewman Daly and Crewman Farr were apparently
resting not only on their laurels but other body parts, judging from the way
they sprang to their feet when surprised by junior officer Storm. As an
Ensign, Storm was at the bottom of the command food chain and although he'd
never admit it openly, he rather enjoyed the too rare opportunity to throw
his weight around with the non-commissioned officers.
"At ease, gentlemen," Storm said, smiling. "One would think you were up to
no good, the way you both jumped."
"Yes, sir," Crewman Daly and Crewman Farr said in unison as they sank back
down to their chairs, exchanging a glance with one another. To a casual
observer, they would have seemed ready for duty but Storm noticed the slight
slump in their posture and almost imperceptible sour expressions. It seemed
the whole crew had come down with Party-itis tonight but Storm knew that it
had begun even before that. The whole planet was a thorn in the side of
efficiency. While Storm could see the value of grabbing a runabout or
hopping on a civilian transport to visit Risa for the weekend, Storm didn't
care if he ever saw Risa again if it meant seeing a ship he was serving on
in this state.
Storm went over to the weapons rack, inspecting the Sulu's store of phaser
rifles and making notations on his PADD. When he noticed that fully half of
them had been replaced with less than a full charge, he very nearly laughed
aloud. Risa should have a General Order placed on it.
"Crewman Daly? Crewman Farr?"
"Aye, sir?" Daly answered with another furtive glance at his now silent
companion. The glance was one-half apprehension and one-half hopeful.
"You are both relieved," Storm said succulently, still making notions in his
PADD. "I believe there is some kind of crew function at Farezi Sands. I
insist you attend."
"Yes, sir!" the enlisted men answered enthusiastically, broad grins filling
their faces. They were at the door in a flash before Storm stopped them with
two words: "One thing..."
Crewman Daly and Crewman Farr halted just short of their escape and turned
to Storm. He was making notations in his PADD and had his back to them.
"If I ever find a single weapon with less than a full charge on this rack
again," Storm said without turning around. "You both will disassemble every
phaser we have and clean the individual components by hand. Dismissed."
Storm listened as the doors slid shut on the hopefully crestfallen Crewmen.
Storm sat his PADD down and bent over the weapons rack as he methodically
began to remove the energy cells from the offending weapons. On the last
rifle, the cell stuck and Storm had a muscle spasm, courtesy of his
experimental springball game with Commander Lyrr that morning. He stood
straight up and stretched his back, letting the cells in his hand tumble
onto the rack. Then he groped at the painful spot with both hands.
"Are you not well, Ensign Storm?" Counsellor Galil F'Zal asked gently,
having slipped in just before the crewmen had exited.
Still pawing at his lower back, Storm turned slightly and regarded the
casually dressed interloper. Ethan had slacked off reading the personnel
database since coming aboard but he vaguely recalled seeing F'Zal wearing
black and blue and pegged him to be medical staff sent by Dr. M'lira. Storm
stopped his strange dance and started to gather up the fallen cells.
"It's nothing," Storm said, not looking at F'Zal. "May I be of some
assistance...?" Storm trailed off a little, not knowing Galil's name or rank.
"I'm Ensign Galil F'Zal, and I'm wondering if I can be of some assistance to
you," the counsellor said. "It's come to my attention that you've missed a
scheduled counselling session."
Storm understood completely and even smiled. "No, Lieutenant Jhenal missed
my scheduled counseling session," he said as he took the energy cells over
to the charging station. "I was right there, in my quarters, waiting for
another surprise visit. Does the Sulu counseling staff ever use their
actual offices?"
"When our patients can handle the gruelling turbolift ride down to our
offices," F'Zal replied evenly.
"Touché, " Storm smirked. It seems the entire Counseling staff of the Sulu
had some small measure of sarcasm always at hand. "If you're here to
reschedule, I'll be happy to take the grueling ride tomorrow and we could
look through your appointment book. I should be free first and third Tuesday
sometime next year."
Without waiting a beat, F'Zal asked, "Why did you turn off the safety
protocols in a holodeck program seemingly designed for you to murder
terrorists?"
"And just how did you know that?" Storm, turning to F'Zal fully. When he
noticed the black irises of the counselor's eyes, his own narrowed in
suspicion. Why were so many Betazoids interested in his every move?
"I'm sure you are aware that the computer keeps records of the holodeck
safety protocols being deactivated, and the program itself was made
available for public access by its creator. Jhenal noted it all, and
intended to speak to you about it," F'Zal indicated to the padd in his hand
calmly. "I believe she was about to write a full report to the Captain and
your direct superior before she left so abruptly."
"Disengaging the holodeck safeties is a fairly mild offense," Storm said
defensively, turning back to the charging console. "I just finished writing
a springball program that has no safety protocols at all."
"Jhenal was not concerned with breaking regulations; she was concerned with
your choice," F'Zal said evenly. He checked for something on his padd,
and then frowned. "Would that be the same springball game that caused such
an irate report to be written by Doctor M'lira?"
"The same," Storm said with only a small puff of his chest. It was small
because he hadn't known M'lira produced a report over it and because his
ribs were still sore from that very game.
"Hm," was F'Zal's only response, and then he looked down to make notations
on his padd.
Storm popped the last cell in the charger, keeping his back to F'Zal. "What
are you specifically concerned about, Counselor?" he asked, the bravado
dropping out of his voice. "I'd like to put you and the rest of the
counseling staff at ease, if I can."
"Why did you deactivate the safeties?" F'Zal forthrightly enquired.
"I don't know," Storm said, believing he was answering truthfully and
knowing he couldn't lie to the Betazoid anyway. "Something had happened when
we'd played the simulation a few days earlier and I was feeling frustrated
and angry and so I just did it."
"Do you often become enraged while socialising?" F'zal asked, sounding
genuinely curious.
"Often?" Storm asked, considering the question. He soon shook his head. "It
feels more frequent than it actually is, I think. To be perfectly honest,
it's the socializing I'd rather avoid."
"And why is that?"
Storm nearly laughed aloud. "You've read my record, right?
"I have," F'Zal admitted.
"You know about the Yeager? And B'Twill?"
"The crippling of the ship under your command; the deaths of your father and
your fiancée..." F'Zal recited evenly.
Storm sank into a chair facing F'Zal. "Then you shouldn't even have to ask
that question."
"And yet, I did," F'Zal stated, still expecting an answer.
Storm glared at the Counselor. "I don't have to be someone's friend to serve
with them. If something happens to them, then they're just someone I served
with. If something happens to me, the same deal. It's easier on everyone if
we keep some distance in Starfleet."
"Easy," F'Zal repeated sceptically. "Would you truly prefer to have never
met and known Seja Krill - to have kept a distance?"
"Yes," Storm said quickly and with conviction.
"Do you think she would have been as quick to dismiss her feelings for you,
were the situation reversed?" F'Zal asked.
Storm's gaze drifted down to his lap and rested there. "No," he said
quietly. "I know she wouldn't."
Hit by palpable waves of guilt from Storm, the Betazoid counsellor had to
ask, "Do you still love her?"
There was a long pause while Storm struggled with the question and the truth
of it. "I never did," he finally admitted softly as his head sank further.
Waiting long enough to let the weight of the truth sink in, but not so long
to let the silence grow awkward, F'Zal inquired, "If I may... Why were you
engaged to her?"
"Because she loved me," Storm said, looking to F'Zal with a sad smile. "She
loved me in spite of her culture and her family. She backed out on her
bondmates even though it was doubtful that we would ever be able to have a
family of our own. She dropped the Andorian prefix from her last name. She
wanted to be with me. And I thought I would change."
"What did you hope to become?"
"Someone worthy of her," Storm said, after some thought. "And someone who
could love her back."
"Can you not still become this person?" F'Zal asked of Ethan.
Storm actually laughed though it was bitter and without humor. "I'd say it's
a bit too late for that now."
"Perhaps too late for her sake, but it's never too late to change for your
own sake, or for the sake of the other people still in your life," F'Zal
assured him.
"I don't have anyone in my life," Storm said.
"No one?" F'Zal asked, completely unconvinced. "Not the person you play
springball with? Nor the person who designed the holodeck program for you
to kill things? At the very least, you always have yourself."
Storm smiled a little bit, thinking of Sefton and Lyrr. Neither could be
considered close friends but they were probably the closest to it on the
ship. And there was Shyla, who was something else entirely. F'Zal was right
about one thing: He'd always have himself. Storm wasn't comforted by the
thought.
"I'll consider that," Storm said with honesty. "But as I've released Crewman
Daly and Crewman Farr from their duties, they now fall to me. May we
continue this another time?"
"Certainly. I'll schedule you for a time in the counselling offices,"
F'Zal said. He took a step towards the door, but stopped himself. "If I
may suggest, perhaps there are other crewmen who could be persuaded to
complete these duties. There is a party playing out on the surface of the
planet..."
Storm smiled. "Another time for that too, Counselor. Let me start slow."
"Of course, Ensign Storm," F'Zal agreed. "True change takes time. Have a
pleasant evening," F'Zal said as he exited the armory.
Storm sat in his chair looking at the doors F'Zal had gone through for some
time while the specter of their conversation hung in the air. It occurred to
Ethan that he'd shown more loyalty to Collins, someone he'd never met, than
he had to Cris (who was just looking for friends) and Shyla (who certainly
deserved much better than he'd given her). Storm figured it was time to
finally join the crew of this ship and decided to take another small step
towards the one person where it had not gone horribly wrong and was also
the one person least available.
He tapped his communicator. "Ensign Storm to Commander Lyrr."
A moment later, the response came. "Lyrr, here. Go ahead, Ensign."
Glancing at the chronometer that indicated it was well past 2000 hours,
Storm smiled and recalled Lyrr's criteria for getting together outside of a
springball court.
"How about a really late lunch, Commander?"
"Time to Party"
By: Ensign Nathalie Gui
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 19h55
***
The tangy, salty, sweet smell of the oceans instantly hit Nathalie's nose as
she materialised on the Farezi Sands beach. Upon further investigation she
could hear music playing along with a large crowd of growing people. The
party was looking to be a big hit.
For her party apparel, Nathalie had chosen a red and orange bikini, and wore
a long matching wrap around her waist and a pair of sandals. Her long brown
hair was pulled into a low ponytail, strands of shorter hair framed her
face.
Smiling she waved to a passing pair of crewmen from the Sulu, her cheeks
slightly flushing; during her time earlier on Risa she had learned that no
matter which planet you came from, if you were appeasing to the eye of
Risans they would come propositioning. Unfortunately thus seemed to hold
true if one was also a Terran female.
Pressing onwards through the crowd Nathalie took on the sights of Farezi
Sands lovely beaches. Music was in the air, people were partying and
dancing, the night promised to be a lot of fun. Deciding not to be a wall
flower, the Communications Specialist began to walk around the beach,
mingling with new and old friends at the gathering. Oh yeah it was
definitely a night to party.
"Vacation From Shore Leave"
by Corran Quezith
and Cristobel Sefton
Location: Quezith and Sefton's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07, 20h10
***
Cristobel was lying on the bed on his stomach, staring in an empty suitcase.
He knew he should be packing, but he had absolutely no idea what he would
need to bring. All of the drawers in their room were filled with Corran's
clothes; Cris always liked to replicate new articles of clothing, especially
when it wasn't a uniform.
And so Cris simply stared in the suitcase.
Perhaps it will fill itself, he idly pondered.
The door to their quarters slipped open and suddenly Corran, bright and
almost as if he had never fallen ill, found himself smiling at his beloved.
He leaned on the door to their quarters and just stared. "Is there a
wormhole or something in it?"
"No. It's just empty," Cris said softly.
Corran moved closer, the doors swooshing to a close behind him. He glanced
in, his brow furrowed. He turned around and grabbed a trinket, and let it
drop.
"Now it's not."
"That's yours. I'm packing for me," Cris said flatly, not looking up.
He didn't catch exactly what he'd said and instead composed that he meant
that he'd found out he was leaving...and from the look in his eyes, that he
was upset about it. Corran pushed the luggage out of the way and then
kneeled down in front of Cris, his demeanor sincere as he said, "I tried to
tell you earlier, didn't want to disturb you, and then I decided to take
care of a few things before I left and..."
"You're leaving?" Cristobel asked with more energy than he'd displayed since
Corran entered the room. "Where are you going? When?" His voice cracked
on the last word.
Corran shivered visibly and his eyes fluctuated in tone before he realized
his mistake. He looked at the floor. "I thought you were upset about me
leaving...umm..." He got up and walked over to a console near their bed and
activated it to an image of the DSS Delphin. "Omega Research found me a fast
ride home. I decided not to go through with the surgery and opted for
finding an alternative."
His eyes suddenly stopped at brown and he came walking over to him, his tone
growing excited. "They can be here in a day or so and get me to Achicar
Prime in a few days, maybe less if they chart correctly. I could go home,
get treated, and be back all in a week or two... I think..." He smirked
uneasily.
"Oh." Cristobel blinked rapidly. He wasn't sure what to make of all
that. He thought there would be more time before they'd have to actively
deal with Corran's illness. His sleep-deprived brain was processing slower
than it should have. "Wow." Thinking on it for a few seconds more, Cris
asked, "When did this happen?"
"After I woke up from my nap." He blinked, as if on a caffeine high.
"Must've been an impressive nap," Cris deadpanned. "And you didn't even
want to sleep."
"Not really... I kinda got up, and brainstormed...and things happened. I
even went to talk to Amy and apologize and... Did you know she is a sex
maniac?" he asked him accusatorily although they'd both known that since
before. It was just that he hadn't suffered her whimsical ways until now!
"Sex addict is more appropriate," Cristobel said matter of factly.
"Yeah, well, she came on to me... Granted I flirted with her, but geeze... I
fear for Kit's well-being now." His eyes bugged out.
Not wanting to hold it back from Corran any longer, especially over one of
Amy's problems that had already become incredibly clear to Cris the night
before, Cristobel blurted out, "I have to go to Betazed."
Corran reacted simply though, much the way he was known for behaving before
he'd obviously become ill. "Why?" He moved over to sit down next to him,
setting a hand down on his leg.
Leaning in against Corran, Cristobel explained, "The year my sister was
admitted at the Cataria Institute, because of her early developing
telepathy, sixteen other children were admitted with the same affliction.
All sixteen of them have been released to be reintegrated into society; the
last one, Nara Hamdi, was released just two days ago. And, still, no one
has any idea when Andraia will be ready to leave." Cris sat up properly,
and wrapped his arms around Corran's shoulders. "My mother is taking leave
time to go to Betazed. Of course, my father is going with her, and they
need me to be there with them. I have to see Andraia."
"Is something wrong?" He understood family reunions, but it sounded like
Cris was hiding something from him. He couldn't be sure, his abilities were
terribly skewed right now.
Gaping slightly, Cristobel enthused, "Everything is wrong. I can hardly
remember what it's like to sleep without having nightmares, I think some of
my friends hate me or have forgotten me, I went fishing for a fricken'
finger today, we just found out that your telepathy is deteriorating and
there could be even more that's going wrong with your body, and my sister is
the only patient her age at the Institute, which in all likelihood means
that she's never going to be able to leave. Never. She'll never be able to
come home. I just-- I can't... I can't..."
"And if you keep thinking like that she certainly won't." Corran chided him
softly for his attitude where before he might have even yelled at him for
it, but he took him soothingly into his arms and started talking to him.
"You don't know if what she needs is to feel that her family is okay to gain
strength to come out of the institute. You don't know if technology or
medicine will advance enough to help her leave that place... Hell, for all
we know I could go back home, find something in the Achicarian medical
archives that'd solve her problem, and if not eventually we'll be part of
the Federation for real and the information exchange and scientists and
research might help."
He pushed him away gently to look into his eyes. "And I'm going to be fine.
I'm sick, but not dying just yet. As I see things you can either sulk about
it or get up and do something. You're good at doing things, so take
advantage of it."
As heavy as some of what he'd said had seemed, his tone had been
surprisingly soothing and he hoped it had also been convincing. Cris had a
way of undermining himself when he got like this, and he supposed it was what
made him feel useful to him sometimes. He loved him, and thus hated seeing
him like this, but he'd always support him.
Cristobel had been wide-eyedly nodding throughout Corran's impassioned
entreat, but once he stopped talking Cris couldn't hold back a chortle.
Suddenly giggling, Cristobel 'pathed to Corran, If I didn't love you so
much, I would chide you for speaking so condescendingly to me.
Turning Corran's head towards his own, Cristobel pressed his forehead
against Corran's. Looking him in the eyes, Cris slowly explained, "What I
choose to do now is to sulk. Because, if I let myself feel what I'm
feeling to the extreme right now, I'll better be able to control myself, or
simply move on, later."
"Right, supposing you don't start bringing up worst case scenarios about me
dying back home or something." He stuck his tongue out at him playfully,
hoping to lighten the mood regardless of his commentary.
Unamused by Corran's suggestion, Cristobel seriously asked, "Do you want me
to go with you?"
Corran blinked lightly, only to follow it with a shrug. "Yeah, but I think
you need to see your family... Besides, they might put me in containment
which separates us anyway..."
"Right..." Cristobel nodded, trying to take everything in. He hadn't
even imagined that Corran would be able to go home and return in such quick
time. When it felt like his mind might crumple under the weight of thoughts
and concerns, Cristobel slid closer to Corran and rested his head on Corr's
shoulder.
"I'm thinking you need more bed rest than I do..." He smirked before laying
down on the bed, pulling Cris down with him so he could rest his head
against his arm and upper chest while cradled in one arm. "It's too bad I
can't exactly read your thoughts right now, they're usually always so
colorful."
"I'll try to project them louder and brighter," Cris whispered. "Tonight's
show involves a sonic shower, which of course has been refitted with water
shower-heads to your liking, and it's the night we went on the double date
with Kit and Amy. But we don't sit down at the table with those two,
because that Risian host of the restaurant is insistent that he receive a
tour of our quarters, and I don't believe a Risian word for 'no' even
exists..."
"Hmmm, keep going?" he insisted although he was also asking him where
exactly he was diving into with this story.
I'm sure you can imagine it too, Cristobel 'pathed, strongly visualising
water drops beading down bare skin. Projecting the imagination point into
Corran's mind, Cris asked, Can't you see it? In the imagination point,
one of Corran's hands tightened on Cristobel's shoulder as one of the Risian
host's hands rested on Cristobel's other shoulder - both hands pushing Cris
down to his knees.
Corran nodded a few times as he closed his eyes and let the scene absorb
much of his senses. He started to calm down, the adrenaline in his system
losing its effects on him even though the imagery was enticing. "Makes you
wanna shower...all the time."
"Yeah," Cristobel agreed, growing soothed by Corran's calm. The Risian host
vanished, and it was just Cristobel and Corran in the imagination point as
it approached its narrative climax.
"Good shower," Cristobel muttered.
"So what do you wanna do...? Corran asked softly.
Keeping his heavy eyes shut, Cris murmured, "Shower bad. Bed good."
"I'll stay with you until you fall asleep then..." He knew Cris had set up
separate quarters for himself based on M'Lira's analysis of the telepathic
issue he himself was having. He wanted Cris to sleep well this time.
I love you, Cristobel 'pathed to Corran, as he was nuzzling his nose into
his neck.
"As I love you."
"A Night of Fun"
by Ensign Taylor Bennett
with Ensign George Glickman [NPC]
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 20h30
***
The sand still held the warmth of the day's sun. A cool breeze was blowing
in off the water as she made her way toward the large array of tents. If
she hadn't seen the tents, the sound of music would have led her there. It
was definitely a party.
She found a friendly face near the perimeter. "Hi, George," she said.
"Hi, Taylor," George Glickman said as he gave her a grin. "Here for the
party? Of course you are. Well, drinks and food are in that way, you can't
miss the music, and...well, nearly everyone's here."
"So, how is everything, George?"
"The party's great," he said. "I haven't seen this many of the crew
together and having fun in...well, as long as I've been on the ship."
"It sounds pretty wild. No trouble?"
"Well, Kit and Amy, they're two of the ones up on stage, they're the
rumoured troublemakers, if you start listening to what people say. She's
been...well, rather liberal with how she spends her time and who she spends
it with."
Taylor raised an eyebrow.
"She sleeps around. At least that's what they say. I heard a few of the
guys were starting up a betting pool about who she'll be with next."
Taylor frowned. "Well, I guess Amy's personal life quickly outshadows all
those rumours of the captain." She shook her head. "With all these rumours
flying around, I think perhaps the black widow has the right of it."
It was George's turn to raise an eyebrow. "The black widow is a species of
Terran spider that eats her mate after copulation."
"Whatever floats your--"
"It was a joke, George," Taylor said, and then flashed a smile. "It's the
ears, isn't it?"
"You're scary when you do that, Taylor," Glickman said. "It's spooky to see
you Vulc out."
"I picked it up from my mother," she said. "Though, she's not quite so
Vulcan anymore. I think my father has even gotten her to smile more
often."
"Growing up at your place must have been an adventure."
"Every day," she said. "Though, I haven't been there for a little while.
Maybe next shore leave, I can visit. But, who'd want to go back to New
Vancouver when you can spend a week or two on Risa. I got one of those
massages today; I melted. My mother hates it here...far too hedonistic for
her. While I'm no Amy Reese, I'm not exactly a prude."
"Dressed like that? I would hope not."
Taylor looked down at her outfit: long, floral print skirt, halter, and a
pair of woven sandals she'd found in one of the beachside shops. "It's
comfortable."
"On grounds that might land me in sickbay, I shall not comment," George
quipped. "So, how's the investigation going?"
"Still fine, I think," Taylor answered. "I haven't been in the loop since I
was in on investigating Collins' room. So, since then, I've been enjoying
my shore leave. If you're really desperate for information, when the
festivities are done, I'll check in and let you know."
"I could find out for myself, you know."
"True," she said. "But, I know you'd rather have me do that."
"I'm not lazy, Taylor."
"Of course not, George," Taylor said with a grin. "But, you're afraid
you'll check in and they'll give you something to do instead of letting you
enjoy your leave."
"You're supposed to be part-Vulcan, not part-psychic."
Taylor laughed. "I love people, George, and part of loving people is
knowing how to read them. You're about as easy to read as the hull
lettering of the Sulu from twenty paces."
"You sure Starfleet was the best choice for you, Taylor? Stand-up comedy
seems so well suited."
She wagged an eyebrow at him. "I'll see you later, George," she said. "I'm
going to enjoy the party and the music."
"See you soon, Taylor. I'd tell you to have fun, but that'd be like telling
a Vulcan to be logical."
With a laugh, she turned away and started toward the party. The music was
great, and the food looked fabulous. As she took a large mug of some dark
liquid from a caterers tray, she found herself hoping she didn't end up
getting drunk tonight. Last time she got drunk, the next morning she was
called in to investigate Collins' room after the murder. By nature, she
wasn't superstitious...at least not too much.
She loaded up a plate of food and started working her way to the stage,
allowing the music to fill her. She found a convenient surface for her
drink, and settled in for a night of fun.
"Barflies, Bruisers, and Brawling"
By: Lt. (jg) Arthas Hex; Deputy Chief of Security
and Guest Starring:
Simon as Crewman Pico Chavez; Security Officer
Loren as Petty Officer Ner'c; Security Officer
Location: Second Sunset. Pillaio Island, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07 20h34
***
It was still hot from the scorching day temperatures and Pico Chavez wiped
the back of his tanned hand across his brow to take some of the sting out of
his eyes. The Crewman from the USS Sulu had been assigned to security detail
all day standing post at the Diplomatic Centre - essentially an empty
posting as the recent murder had hyped up local security measures and made
him all but redundant. Still - he was Starfleet and damned proud to wear the
uniform that said he was a professional security officer for the Federation.
Chavez was short but stocky - built for endurance and muscle rather than
agility and speed, and dark featured; raven hair and almost black eyes
beneath bushy eyebrows. His thin lips were like a knife cut in his face; he
looked like a guy you didn't want to mess with at the best of times.
At the
tail end of a boring duty shift he was surly and bothered by the continued
looks of suspicion cast his way by members of the various parties going in
and out all day. Someone had committed a murder while representing the UFP -
a wearer of the uniform... Pico Chavez was angry about that. He would gladly
have squeezed the life out of the bitch that spit on the uniform - if she
was the one who did it.
Chavez was loyal to Starfleet - and that meant being loyal to anyone who
wore the colours of the fleet. Until they pinned the crime without a doubt
on the culprit, then he would stand by her and even give his life for her -
hell, anyone wearing the golden badge of the UFP. That was what his training
was all about. Loyalty.
He kept eagle eyes open and followed the comings and goings. The delegation
of the two Farehn'ti factions were loud if not down-right hostile to each
other. They argued incessantly. He really didn't know how the captain kept
his patience with them! He guessed it may have something to do with the
gorgeous and oh-so-uppitty Chief of Science who accompanied him. As far as
Chavez was concerned she was a looker! The stuff dreams were made of...and
so what if the 'old man' was getting some? Chavez grinned to himself. What
would she be like? He could only wonder... Those dark eyes and those lips...
But hell she could make a man's blood go cold with just one look! She'd be a
hand-full alright...
He shuffled his feet inside his boots to keep the circulation going and
stood with his back to the wall just outside the doors. They swished apart
and the woman who had occupied his thoughts walked out. She gave him a
glance and the lingering smile that had been on her lips vanished as she
tossed her head and kept walking. He couldn't help staring at her rear end
as it swayed...and she gave him a look back over the shoulder and caught him
staring. She just kept going - and Pico Chavez looked away self-consciously.
He didn't want the Senior Officer to 'rip him another one' - she was awfully
good at that.
The talks seemed to be over for the day and a few minutes later the Captain
and one of the Vulcan science Officers from the Sulu walked out. The Captain
nodded to Chavez, just a single flick of the head, but the eyes said 'good
job' in only the way a captain's can. Chavez smiled in return as the two
officers kept going. Salinger - the 'old man' even though he was relatively
young, was a good captain. He cared for his people, and Chavez respected
that.
It wasn't long before Chavez heard the steady footfalls of his replacement.
The next shift would keep an eye out on the conference rooms used by the
delegations to make sure nothing was inserted without a security screening.
They were alert for explosives, biological agents and chemical agents -
anything suspicious. The tall frame of Lieutenant Arthas Hex appeared around
the corner along with Crewman Kittison. Kittison was a gangly twenty-three
year old from Arkansas - broad accent and red hair. Good poker player at the
Friday night games. He nodded in greeting as Hex stepped up to Chavez.
"Anything amiss?" the Assistant Chief of Security asked as he nodded toward
the conference room.
"Nothing sir," Pico shrugged. "Boring watch - the usual stuff." His voice
sounded rough - ill-used. He hadn't really said a word all day. "The Captain
left a few minutes ago. No-one's been in since the delegates left."
Arthas nodded. He turned to Kittison and smiled. "Have a good watch - don't
fall asleep!" Kittison gave him a sardonic grin and a mock salute.
The two security officers walked away and Chavez turned to Arthas. "Standing
post all day gives a man a thirst. Interested in a cold one sir?"
"That sounds excellent, Chavez," Arthas smiled. He really did need a drink
and was only planning on paperwork if he returned to the ship
"I know this beach bar not far from here." Chavez pointed along the avenue
of pines that stretched toward the white sands of a horseshoe beach. "Some
great chicks too.." he grinned. So far Risa had been wonderful - a different
woman every night - and man did they party! Especially when you grabbed one
of those little statue things!
Arthas raised an eyebrow. "Lead on," he said.
They found the bar "Cocujanos" sheltered in a natural grove of pines and
tiered bushes that gave shade and decoration to the place. It was on the
general tourist strip which meant it was clean, ordered and calm. A place
fit for Starfleet Officers still wearing a uniform! It wasn't long before
the two men were propped up against the bar with cold drinks and a couple of
interested ladies vying for their attention.
"This is the life, sir." Chavez touched glasses with his superior officer.
The crowd was getting larger as they watched - the tourists hitting the cool
beach as the suns hid behind the horizon in a splendor of red and gold.
Music wafted across the sands and people swam and played in the surf.
"It's Pico isn't it? Your first name I mean," Arthas asked after his first
gulp.
"Yes, sir," he grinned. "My friends call me Chavez though.." He took a long
gulp and said, "Don't much like my first name."
"Well, call me Arthas, when I'm off-duty anyway," Arthas said.
From the other side of the bar he caught a flash of a Starfleet uniform
colour. The Bolian Petty Officer Ner'c glided to the bar next to the seated
Chavez and Hex. "Sir, Chavez." He nodded to each of them in turn. "Good
evening to you both." He sat with elegant dexterity and ordered a shot.
"Evening, Ner'c, how are you?" Arthas began a conversation with the petty
officer. Ner'c opened his mouth to respond, but a louder voice from
elsewhere in the bar interrupted.
"I'm tellin' 'ya, it was the Ktarians!" called a Risan holding court across
the room. "It was his own people, I tell 'ya! Them Ktarians are fiends!"
"Shut up, Zheyn," came a chorus of drunken mutters.
"How come nobody listens to me?"
"Because everybody knows you're a lyin' sack of yamok sauce," called another
patron, eliciting much snorting laughter.
Chavez grimaced. He had thought to avoid the less pleasant crowd by choosing
a bar on the beach strip. It seemed that unpleasantness followed him around.
His professional appraisal told him that the three were local - they carried
themselves comfortably, and seemed at ease the way only Risan natives can
be. They were on a pub crawl by the looks of it and more than half way
there. The loud one was acting all indignant, but they weren't the violent
sort. Chavez relaxed, but his awareness kept tabs on them anyway. It was the
mention of the Ktarian race that tugged at his memory... He turned back to
Arthas and whispered, "Wasn't the dead ambassador a Ktarian?" He pointed
covertly toward the one called Zheyn. "Maybe he knows somethin'..."
"You read my mind," Arthas replied. "Follow me."
Chavez grinned and nodded to the Bolian. "Right behind you, sir."
"Truth can be found beneath the smallest stone," said Ner'c, as he floated
off his stool and followed last. It was spooky how the Bolian walked
without bouncing.
Arthas stood and grabbed his drink. He slowly walked toward the Risan, who
was now sitting at a table alone. He didn't make any attempt to hide where
he was heading.
Be careful, young Arthas. He won't respond to a show of force and Starfleet
can't arrest people here, Admiral Gredala Hex, a previous host for the Hex
symbiont spoke to him.
I'm not stupid, he replied silently in his mind. Arthas came to the Risan
who looked up a little drunkenly. The Trill put on his best acting voice and
spoke excitedly, "You were talking about a Ktarian? I've heard the rumours,
do you really think it was a Ktarian who did it?"
The Risan, apparently named Zheyn, looked the three officers over. "Yep.
That's what I said. And that's what I think. I heard one threaten him
myself."
Arthas continued his feigned excited voice "Really? Who was it?"
Chavez crossed his arms behind the Trill and stared coldly at the Risan. His
boss was playing up to the man, but Chavez wasn't into playing games. His
dark eyes drilled into the Risan and for a moment a silent communication
passed from one to the other: 'answer the question or else...'
Zheyn perked up at the prospect of someone listening to him. "It was--"
"Zheyn!" bellowed a mean-looking bruiser in the doorway. Zheyn jumped, and
looked nervously around. The man continued, "You owe me money, little man -
and I'm here to collect!" he shouted, and an extra pair of thugs came
through the door to collar Zheyn.
"Get off me! I didn't do anything!" Zheyn protested, appealing to the bar
patrons as a group. "I don't owe him anything! They want me silenced! I
know too mu-fff!" One of the thugs clapped a hand over Zheyn's mouth as
they wrestled him toward the door. Zheyn's' eyes were wide and frightened
as he was dragged away.
The leader of the group looked at the Starfleet Officers and said, "This is
local business - nothing to do with you. If you know what's good for you -
you'll ignore the whole thing." He pointed at the bar. "Have another drink,
friends."
Arthas jumped up and had a phaser aimed at the head of the lead goon in
seconds. "Put him down."
"Back off, Starfleet," the man said coolly. "This really doesn't concern
you. We ain't armed - so if you shoot that thing you'll end up in a
stockade." He stared at Arthas, totally unafraid. "We're leaving now. We
don't want any trouble with anyone - and this guy is no concern to you. It's
a family thing."
Chavez stepped forward. His hands were loose but he didn't go anywhere near
his own weapon. He could see by the frightened looks on the faces
surrounding them that the locals were more concerned with Arthas and his
weapon than the men who were dragging a helpless guy out of the bar. He cast
a look at Arthas - the goon was right - no one was armed and Starfleet
wasn't the local law enforcement. In fact Risa didn't 'have' law
enforcement. It would be more trouble than it was worth to have a firefight
with unarmed locals. Chavez nodded at Zheyn. "We were talking to the man,"
he said carefully. "You can have him when we're finished..."
Ner'c slid smoothly toward the door, alert and ready, but with phaser
undrawn. The goons holding the struggling Risan looked nervous. All eyes
were on Arthas' weapon.
"Get him in the hauler," the leader growled. He seemed to snap his men from
their hesitation and once again the two goons pulled Zheyn toward the door.
"Put him down, now!" Arthas shouted.
The leader stepped forward directly between his men and Arthas' weapon. He
stared pointedly at Arthas and grinned. "Go on...shoot me," he taunted.
"Shoot an unarmed man. Starfleet shooting up a local bar. Great headlines
for tomorrow's news." He waved at his men - shooing them out of the place.
They dragged Zheyn struggling out of the bar.
Ner'c made it to the doorway just as three more thugs entered, apparently
drawn by the argument. Now it was four to three - the Risan was still
struggling outside - being dragged toward a waiting vehicle.
"I would like to see anything that gives you the right to take this man into
custody," Arthas ordered.
The leader of the goons laughed. "Zog off!" he sneered. He started to back
out, his men on each side of him - the crowded bar was silent as they watched
the encounter.
Chavez looked at Ner'c - the Bolian was ready for action. The man facing
Arthas was not cowed by the phaser. He knew that a Starfleet Officer
wouldn't shoot at an unarmed man - or shoot first. The weapon was
meaningless in this situation. Tactically they were better off taking these
guys on using unarmed combat. They were starting to bundle Zheyn into the
vehicle - although the Risan was fighting and kicking. They had to do
something soon or they would get away. It was just too coincidental that the
Risan had started talking about the Ktarians and been dragged out before he
could say anything important.
Chavez caught Ner'c's placid but meaningful look, and got up onto the balls
of his feet. Ner'c tapped the nearest thug politely, and the bruiser turned
menacingly on him.
Ner'c lashed at him from out of nowhere, striking him in the chest, throat,
chin, temple, and jaw with a lightning flurry of blows that sent the goon
reeling to the floor. He finished his combination in a low stance, knees
deeply bent, crossing his hands in front of him, preparing for the second
goon. His face was placid. No one moved; not even the thug who'd been hit.
"Geyser bursting forth," he said calmly.
The second goon rushed him. Ner'c went into a horizontal split, and punched
hard into the oncoming goon's groin. The goon doubled over and rolled on
the floor whimpering. Ner'c snapped back up into his stance, his hands
crossing several times in front of his chest, the left ending in front of
him, fingers splayed, the right by his hip, elbow cocked.
"Monkey snares the peach," he murmured, his eyes flicking around for more
opponents.
"Take 'em!" bellowed the leader.
Chavez grinned. The goon on the right of the leader stepped forward as
Chavez threw his first punch. His fist connected with a loud crunch and a
spray of blood as the man's nose compacted and his head snapped back. The
goon dropped as if pole-axed. "Good old fashioned bar fight..." Chavez
remarked as he stepped over the prostrate goon. "Don't need no Fortune
Cookie sayings to kick some ass..." He made for the doorway, leaving the
leader to face off against Arthas. He needed to get outside before the
others stole the prize!
The leader made toward Arthas, who had now holstered his weapon. He had
hoped the goon would have thought that he would have shot him, unfortunately
this goon had a little bit of sense. Not too much however because he was now
lashing his fists toward Arthas.
It's about bloody time, said the excited voice of Clavain inside of Hex.
Try and get him when...
Arthas dodged another punch from the goon and said inwardly, Shut up, Clavain.
Arthas waited for the next punch and swept the goon's legs; the goon made an
effort of grabbing for a table and managed not to fall onto his back
Standing again the goon came back toward Arthas. "Very nice," he said,
looking at Arthas' collar. "Junior Lieutenant."
"I'll give you a moment to surrender," Arthas offered, almost laughing at it
himself.
The goon laughed and threw a punch that hit Arthas on his right shoulder.
Arthas had dodged however and much of the force had been minimized.
Arthas made up his mind on how he was going to finish the fight and swung
for the goon's jaw, hitting with his left hand and finishing with a crushing
blow with his right. A satisfying click made Arthas smile as his opponent
dropped to the floor and unconsciousness. Arthas checked him for any
equipment. Finding a small weapon he chuckled to himself. He was armed!
He spoke to the emptying bar, "We're Starfleet officers, and we apologize
for this." He grabbed the unconscious leader and placed him in a chair.
"He'll need to go to a medical facility," Arthas spoke, clenching his right
fist as he walked out.
In the street, the pair of thugs holding Zheyn had released their prisoner
to help their fellows.
Chavez took the steps outside the bar in a single leap and crashed headlong
into the two assailants. His compact muscular body slammed the largest of
the two thugs into the vehicle and scattered the other, leaving the helpless
Zheyn on the ground. Chavez made the most of the stunned second or two
following his collision by slamming his knee into the groin of the thug and
delivering a knockout blow to the back of his head as he collapsed forward.
He threw the man aside as the driver of the vehicle decided that things were
not going well and made a getaway.
As the vehicle pulled away the last thug saw Chavez step over the Risan to
deal with him - he made a choice and decided to leave too. He tried to
shoulder past Ner'c and run for it. The wiry Bolian shifted the attack
into an excruciating-looking joint lock. He stood calmly, holding the
thug's arm in an odd position as the thug hopped up and down trying to make
the pain stop. Ner'c looked to Chavez and Hex, breathing with exertion, but
smiling widely. Arthas came out of the bar and calmly walked down the steps
toward Ner'c as Chavez stopped beside the struggling Risan and clamped a
meaty hand on his shoulder.
Zheyn staggered to his feet clutching the side of his head and stood a
little behind the trio of security officers, obviously seeing them as safety
and wanting to stay around them. Good, Arthas thought as he walked toward
the thug.
"So, you want to tell me why you were taking this man somewhere?" Arthas
asked.
"Why would I want to do that?" the captured thug asked breathlessly. "Got
nothin' to do with you..." He winced in pain as Ner'c adjusted his hold by a
fraction and Chavez's thumb bit into his shoulder - just hard enough to make
a point.
"It depends on whether you would like to be able to leave now, or would you
like my friend there to give you enough pain to send you to unconsciousness.
And he won't do it fast," Arthas said, walking forward into the personal
space of the thug. They stood nose to nose and Hex grinned.
The thug winced again at a tug from Ner'c, and finally nodded his head. "The
truth is, I don't know." He jerked his head back, toward the unconscious
leader who was still in the bar. "Why don't you ask him? I don't know
nothin'...honest..."
"You wouldn't lie to Starfleet would you?" Arthas smiled.
Chavez leaned in close and whispered, "Come on, man...is it worth all the
pain?"
"A whining lion endangers only himself," said Ner'c to the pained thug. It
sounded encouraging, but damned if Chavez knew what it meant.
Zheyn came over and stood before the Trill officer, pain clearly etched on
the man's face. A dark bruise had flowered on his temple. "They said I owed
them money," he said shakily. "I ain't never seen these guys before - and I
don't owe nobody nothin'."
"So why do you think they wanted you?" Chavez asked. "Enough to want to drag
you out of a crowded bar?"
Zheyn looked scared. His eyes looked down the beach to where the vehicle had
vanished in the darkness. Only the crashing serf and a few patrons from the
bar gawking at the encounter were in evidence. He looked back at the
security officers from the Sulu and came to a decision. "I know who killed
that Ktarian Ambassador," he said bluntly. "The one the Starfleet officer is
getting the blame for."
Chavez looked pointedly at Hex and muttered, "Oh man..." He nodded at the
Risan to continue as he said, "Who was it?"
Zheyn looked from one to the other. "Kimar En'ta - he's a Ktarian Ambassador
to Risa - his wife was seeing V'ril, and-- " The lance of bright light
struck Zheyn between the shoulder blades. His body spasmed once as the
phaser discharge vaporized him in a cloud of effervescent particles.
All three Starfleet Officers threw themselves to the sand in the echo of the
shot. It had been a phaser rifle - the shot coming from the distant darkness
in the direction of the fleeing vehicle.
"The road grows rugged," Ner'c remarked, looking up at his comrades.
"Insufficient Consolation"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Location: Tayla's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.07, 20h35
***
Lyrr was normally accomplished at finding another way of venting her anger,
but in this instance, launching her datapad at the far wall just seemed the
more fulfilling option.
She sat motionless in her chair, gazing
distantly at the object resting on the floor of her quarters and thinking,
first, how durable those datapads were made, then how she could have allowed
this to happen to herself again. She thought she'd passed her gullible
stage when Sean captured her heart on Bajor then broke it, but he'd lured
her in again when he showed his face on the Sulu, and she'd allowed it to
happen. Now, she was suffering the consequences.
She consoled herself with
the fact that this time he'd at least given her notice of his departure,
but still no goodbyes. All she got was a message on a datapad, not that he
owed her more than that. But one last look at his dashing smile would have
been nice. Starfleet had recalled him, or so the message had said, and even
though the orders she'd received from Starfleet Command corroborated his
story, neither could give her any idea of when he would return...or if he
would at all. She didn't even know where he would be, or why he was being
taken
away again. She supposed it had something to do with the SI project he'd
participated in years ago, but it was all just speculation. All she did
know was that he'd promised her hasperat...extra spicy, and she'd hoped
maybe
a walk on some deserted beach on Risa. A kiss - her first ever from him -
would have been nice too, but she'd barely seen him after their
reconciliation and she blamed no one but herself.
She was a coward. She
could have made an impromptu visit to sickbay, pulled him aside, and
arranged a nice, quiet evening with him, but Lyrr couldn't gather the nerve,
or maybe it was her stubborn pride again. That same pride refused to allow
one tear to fall, not this time. She'd cried over Sean O'Shea once, and she
wouldn't put herself through that again. She was Commander Lyrr Tayla now,
and she was beyond pining for a man she never had to begin with. It was
foolish, immature, and illogical. Crying wouldn't bring him back; she knew
that from the countless times she'd shed tears over her parents' false
graves. But, it would make her feel a lot better, for at least a little
while.
Lyrr shook her head defiantly. Not this time. You'll accept it and
move on. And just when she began to believe it, just when she thought she
could push out of her chair and stride confidently through the corridors of
the ship, Lyrr's face fell into her hands and the first of many tears to
come spilled from her eyes.
She loved him - always had - and couldn't help
thinking that he would have stayed if she'd just opened herself to him and
let him know, if she'd just, for once, let one person see something other
than her stern, disapproving facade. But he was the only one in a long time
she'd even considered exposing her softer side to and he was gone. And the
nagging thought was that all of it was due to her cold demeanour, her
inability to open up, and her sometimes unyielding obstinance. All in all,
it was no one's fault but her own. That was the most mentally damaging
realization of all, and would haunt her for as long as she loved Sean.
It
seemed her life was full of wasted chances, denied opportunities, and
sadness outweighing any happiness she achieved. And Lyrr Tayla was tired of
it. Crying was her only consolation now, but when the tears dried out, she
knew nothing would change. She would still lock her emotions away and
reveal them to no one; she would continue to hassle Ensign Farrell because
it was the perfect outlet for her pent up frustrations, and it helped that
he kept fouling up and made himself deserving of her reproach. In the end,
she would still be the Lyrr Tayla everyone knew, but no one really
understood. It was the safest route, and with as brave as she had been
during the Occupation, now Lyrr Tayla liked it safe.
"Abstain, Not Omit"
by Ensign Viraj - Operations Officer [NPC+]
Location: Transporter Room Two, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07, 20h37
***
On Viraj's transporter console, the LCARS display prominently featured
purple-glazed lips saying, "...better than a night of laughter, food, and
dancing on the beach while the sea breeze wraps you in the scents and
tastes..."
As usual, of late, the Oath of Celibacy was on Viraj's mind. Fortunately,
his duty distracted his thoughts away from the tempting party, when an order
of "Energise" sounded out from the transporter room's communication grid.
With a transporter lock already on the two transportees-in-waiting, Viraj
simply slid three fingers up the sequence initiators, and the two
swimming-trunks-clad Ensigns materialised in the transporter chamber.
"...find your ring in under a minute?" Jade Kavana finished the sentence he
had started on the surface of Risa. "I mean, it took almost five minutes
for me and the two MedOfficers to find the finger that it fell off of."
Fionn Hunter simply deadpanned, "Magic." He would have come up with a
clever response, but he was too busy holding his hand up to the light, to
get a better look at the ring he thought he lost on the perfectly reattached
finger he also thought he lost.
Kavana stepped down off the platform, smiling a "thank-you" to Viraj, and
once he took another step towards the transporter console, he heard Amy's
recorded voice saying, "The party starts at 20h00 hours tonight. On the
south side of Farezi Sands Beach. If you don't know the way...just follow
the music."
Fionn heard the familiar invitation too, and blurted, "Holy god, we're
missing the party!"
Turning to Fionn, who still stood in the transporter chamber, Kavana
questioned, "Didn't Ensign Kremer tell you to relax tonight, once he let you
out of recovery?"
"Are you going to sit in your quarters during the party?" Fionn asked
doubtfully, already knowing Kavana's answer.
"Hell, no," Kavana admitted, hopping back into the transporter chamber. "I
hear it's going to be even wilder than Club Sjua."
Both officers looked to Viraj. Fionn ordered him to transport them to the
south side of Farezi Sands. Kavana, an Operations officer familiar with
Viraj, simply frowned and asked the Deltan, "You're not staying here
during the party, are you?"
The anxious look on Viraj's face revealed his plans to avoid Risa, and
before he could admit it, Fionn let out an exasperated sigh and said, "Risa
isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be. There's not going to be any
naked people grinding against you at the party. You could even wear your
uniform, if that'll make you comfortable."
"But," Viraj started, and Kavana interrupted, "You're not even supposed to
be on duty right now. You've been at that console since this morning. I
mean, jeez, I haven't been on duty since we arrived at Risa. I'm sure
there's someone in the Ops Office who can replace you."
"Really, I don't think..." Viraj pleaded, setting the coordinates to
transport them to the beach.
Flatly, Fionn simply stated, "Jade."
As Kavana stalked towards Viraj, it was exceedingly clear that the man was
awfully well muscled, for an Operations officer, considering he was dressed
only in a tight pair of shorts. Kavana changed the transport settings, to
make it an automatic transport for three, and then physically picked Viraj
up. With Viraj draped over his shoulder, Kavana walked back into the
transport chamber.
"You can put me down now," Viraj pleaded. "I won't run away."
Ignoring him, Kavana turned to Fionn to ask, "Do you think there'll be a
repeat of the performance Amy and her band put on last night? I mean, I'm
still not sure if they're musical performers or a comedy troupe."
"No need to get nasty," Fionn chided playfully. "All I know is that I'm
going to be asking everyone at the party: what colour is Amy's lipstick?"
"It is a pretty shade that probably would match very well with the black
and greys of a Starfleet uniform," Kavana nodded, and then smirkingly asked,
"What colour do you think it is?"
Moments before the three men dematerialised, Fionn offered, "To me? It
looks like she's wearing Fellatio Fuchsia."
"Lampoon's Vacation, Part 2"
By: Ensign Kremer, Medical Officer
Location: Risa, Shopping district, Njita Bar
Stardate: 57907.07, 21h00
***
Kremer sighed as he looked up at the sign that read "Njita Bar." Try as he
might, he knew there was no real way out of this safely, he would have to rely
on hope and gut instincts to see to it that he got this little game Agork
had set up with him done and over with. Kremer was certain that his Captain
would be none too happy with having to bust another member of his crew out
of troubles with the authorities.
His tail curled behind him before sweeping downward in a sweeping wave as he
stepped inside. He wasn't sure of it as of yet, but Kremer felt he was being
watched.
Sighing he stepped inside Njita Bar, and drew his hood closer over his head.
Many eyes fell upon him as he entered and two Nausicaans quickly grabbed him
by his arms.
"Agork has been expecting you! Come!"
Kremer could only offer a nervous
laugh intermingled with a sigh. Here we go... The two burly Nausicaans let
the Caitian go as they ushered/pushed him over to a table where Agork sat,
an Orion slave girl draped over him, sitting in his lap. Agork nearly tossed
the girl off of him as he stood and walked forward to greet Kremer.
"So, you decided to show after all."
"You left me little choice, besides one would be a fool to pass up your kind
offer."
Agork clapped Kremer roughly on the shoulder. "I like your way of thinking. Now sit, for I have chosen a particular game to settle our little
misunderstanding."
Pulling a out chair Agork sat down in front of an electronic table of sorts.
Kremer did likewise and took a seat. Agork made a gesture towards the table
in front of him. "This game is a fan favorite of sorts among my comrades, we
bought off the Black Market months ago." Tapping at the controls Agork
brought up a series of blocks, one set white the other black.
Kremer laughed. "Chess...please they had this game for centuries back on
Terra. Why I can recall a game...." Kremer stopped as Agork and the others
glared at him.
"This no chess game...it's something far more complicated and interesting."
Agork spoke something in a combination of Klingon and Chalnoth, gesturing to
one of his comrades who came forward and motioned Kremer to get out of his
chair.
"Observe."
Kremer stood off to the side as he observed the Nausicaan sitting opposite
Agork. The game started simply enough the way one would play chess; though
players could move as many as three pieces at a time.
And yet as the Caitian Starfleet officer watched the game take place he
could see this was indeed much more complicated. The blocks appeared to be
not a way of taking the board, but also capturing and using one's opponent's
blocks to
further cover their side of the board.
He jumped as the Nausicaan howled in anger as half of his board that he had
nearly covered, was disintegrated. "What did you do?" Kremer asked, leaning
closer for inspection.
Agork took a large swallow of his Blood Wine before answering Kremer.
"Trapped him, you see, unlike Chess once your opponent captures a select
number of your pieces they get to do whatever they want with them, including
setting up traps," he remarked, a sinister sneer on his lips.
The Nausicaan warrior moved his remaining pieces forward, capturing three
pieces of Agork's half. He laughed mockingly at the half-breed sitting across
him. Agork didn't squint. Speaking in Klingon he remarked, "Wise player, but
foolish moves." Tapping a button on his controls, Agork moved one of his
single pieces and it descended beneath the board lines spreading to his
players remaining pieces. The Nausicaan cursed as his remaining pieces blew
apart and reformed to the color of Agork's set. Smiling wickedly Agork
remarked, "I win." Gesturing to Kremer he ordered, "Sit!"
Kremer took the offered seat and sat down across the burly Klingon/Chalnoth
half-breed. "You understand the game now?" Swallowing, Kremer remarked,
"Fully." Agork laughed and withdrew a pouch, setting it on the game board.
"My credits." Unfolding the cloth he revealed a lovely crafted dagger. "A
cherished present from my Antican friends, few have managed to keep it,
after winning or losing." Swallowing, Kremer could only guess why.
Withdrawing his waistpouch Kremer withdrew a simplistic silver sphere. "A
puzzle sphere, simplistic in appearance, but worth its weight in latinum. It's a Vulcan rarity..."
Agork slammed a fist on the table. "Enough talk! Let's play!" Resetting the
board, new pieces on each player's respective side emerged; Kremer's pieces
were white and Agork's black.. Now a true battle of wits and strategism
would unfold...
"You go first, cat," Agork remarked, smiling wickedly.
Here goes nothing, Kremer mused. Tapping at the controls Kremer moved two
of his pieces forward, assuming a defensive position on his side of the
board.
"Ha! A man of defense, this should prove most interesting, if you can
withstand my strategies," Agork roared. Tapping at his controls Agork moved
three of his pieces forward, having them slide comfortably into what appeared
to be a pincer trap for his opponent's pieces.
Kremer moved his two white pieces forward, each going their opposite
direction of each other outside Agork's black pieces. "Unwise move..." the
large warrior across from the Caitian remarked.
Agork allowed his three
pieces to circle around Kremer's lone white piece, claiming a portion of the
board along with Kremer's lone piece. "Ah but you leave me open for a
surprise attack." Calmly Kremer moved two pieces forward along with his lone
white piece onto an unguarded section of Agork's board; Kremer had swiftly
captured a large portion of Agork's defense lines.
Pounding the board with his fist Agork barked, "Beginner's luck! We will see
how
you fare when I use the last of my pieces to reclaim my defenses."
Moving two of his pieces downward, Agork advanced them towards Kremer's half
of the board. Apparently Kremer's new friend was planning to pull off a
sneak
attack of sorts in an attempt to capture his own defenses.
Kremer moved three of his pieces forward and past Agork's lone advancing
piece, ignoring it completely. "Fool, you will not last long with your
defense unguarded!" Grinning, Kremer replied, "Or will I?" Agork moved his
lone piece forward and snuck towards Kremer's lead piece which appeared to
be the Chess equivalent of the King and quickly captured the piece. "The
King has fallen and soon shall his kingdom," Agork sneered.
"Really? Then what do you say to this my Warrior half-breed?" Kremer moved
two white pieces forward and captured Agork's Queen using the newly captured
Queen to then capture Agork's King. Cursing, Agork stood, an infuriated look
in his eyes as the board went white.
"It seems that I'm a fast learner." Kremer jumped as Agork stepped forward,
dagger in hand. "Indeed, you are the first of many to outwit me in 'Kalvak
Tahm.' " Unsheathing the dagger, he held it in front of Kremer who stood still
as possible, tail slightly twitching. Agork held the dagger up to him before
clapping the nervous Caitian on the shoulder. "You may go, with both your
possessions and your newly acquired winnings. However, come back again and I
will surely beat you."
Swallowing, Kremer nodded. "But of course, Great Agork.
I have been honored to be challenged by you."
Agork laughed. "I like your git, cat, now begone, and next time be sure to
stay out of our bar. I'm sure you and I both know there is more than one way
to skin a cat."
"Indeed." Offering a grin and a firm handshake to Kremer, Agork turned and
walked over to the bar. Kremer walked outside of the Njita Bar and let loose
a heavy sigh.
"Last time I come here for drinks."
"Gossip Mill"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers
Ensign Amy Reese
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 22h15
***
Amy's eyes went wide again as yet another lie sprang forth from the mouth of
a stranger, someone who had never met her, yet who seemed comfortable
weaving tales about her. This time, it was that she was responsible for
Niesha's confinement the other day, and it all resulted from Amy rejecting
the security officer's advances, which led her to seek consolation in some
Risan liquor and ensued by a brawl she instigated. And the group of
officers listening to the rumour took it in with raucous laughter.
Amy, who'd been standing at the banquet table piling a plate with food while
she waited for Kit to relieve himself, couldn't help but listen to the lies
besmirching her name. Because of one indiscretion with Dwayne, and one
big-mouthed nurse by the name of Cristobel Sefton, Amy Reese had suddenly
become the Sulu's resident whore. As the group standing behind her, unaware
of her presence, started up on a new bit of gossip, Amy set down her plate
hurriedly and rushed away.
She couldn't breathe and could barely see through the tears washing over her
eyes, but she managed to shoulder her way through the swarm of revellers and
find freedom from the lies and ridicule on an isolated section of the beach,
not far from the party. Here, she was free to sob and let her tears flow
freely, leaving black streaks down her cheeks. They didn't understand, no
one did. It was a condition for her and one she couldn't help. But that
wouldn't keep the lies from spreading.
A light touch upon her shoulder, as gentle as the breeze blowing through her
hair, startled Amy and had her spinning around. She sighed at the blonde
woman standing before her, but turned her head aside to conceal any trace of
her sorrow. Amy managed a smile, however. "Hi... Just...just had to get
some air. I-I didn't know you were coming to the party, Ainsley."
"I've been here for awhile," Ainsley responded. She'd seen Amy run off and
was worried about her. She searched the other woman's face with her eyes.
"What's wrong, Amy?"
Amy chuckled wryly. "What? You haven't heard?" She passed the back of her
hand across her sniffly nose, then laughed again tearfully. "I'm the ship's
whore. Everyone wants a spin on Amy Reese! And why not? She gives it away
for free."
Ainsley shook her head. "Aww, honey!" She put an arm around Amy's
shoulders. "How's things with Kit?"
"Fine," Amy replied. "Though, I wonder how much longer he'll stay with me
after he hears about all the other guys on board I apparently slept with."
Ainsley thought for a moment about that. "Well, how much of it is true? Does
he know it all already?"
Amy nodded. "He found out about Dwayne, and we got past that. Then there
was that close encounter with Corran, but nothing happened. And that's all.
I swear!"
Ainsley smiled. "I believe you! Tell it to Kit though. Tell him before he
hears anything from anyone else. Everyone knows that gossip runs like
wildfire around here; he's sure to believe you!"
"I know," Amy pouted. "I just... Why can't they just stop? Don't they
know how much this hurts?"
Ainsley nodded. "Yes, I think that's probably why they do it. They find
something that has a little sliver of truth to it, distort it, embellish it
and basically make it as hurtful as they possibly can and then pass it on.
That is the nature of the beast that we call gossip!"
Amy sighed. "Well...it's a stupid beast," she muttered. "Though... Do you
think there's some truth to what they're saying? I mean...is there
something wrong with me? Am I really a...you know...slut?"
Ainsley wasn't exactly sure how to answer that. She paused for a moment.
"Do you think you are? What defines a slut to you?"
"Well..." Amy shrugged. "Me? I mean...I can't control myself. A guy even
smiles at me and I'm ready to jump him. So... maybe they're right."
"It only matters what you think, Amy... You and maybe Kit... Maybe! If it's
bothering you that you can't control yourself and if you want to overcome
that then we'll have to work on it. If you really don't care then there is
nothing to worry about!"
"But I do care," Amy insisted. "And there is something to worry about!
But...I don't wanna ruin your night talking about it... Can I meet you
tomorrow or something?" she asked hopefully.
"Tomorrow would be fine," Ainsley replied. "I'll schedule you in when I
get into the office in the morning and I'll send you a message about what
time to come."
Amy sighed and thanked Ainsley with a smile. "I guess until then, I'll have
to find a way to ignore the rumours. And to ensure Kit that they're all
lies...most of them."
Ainsley returned the smile. "If he's worth anything he'll understand!" She
squeezed the other woman's arm for a moment. "Now go and have some fun!"
"You too," Amy replied. "And if you're ever in need of a cute date," she
confided, "I apparently know a lot of available guys." She grinned. "At
least that's what the rumours say."
After impulsively embracing Ainsley, Amy hurried back to the party, waving
briskly at the counsellor as she went until she disappeared into the crowd.
She still couldn't shake the rumours floating around and knew the mark they
would leave on her reputation, but she was faulted partly for that. If only
she could control her urges...
It seemed hopeless, until she came before the stage and saw Kit standing
atop it, flashing her a smile and strumming his guitar just for her. At the
arrhythmic beat of her heart, she knew she was in love, and that if anyone
could help her overcome her dysfunction, it was definitely him.
"Food + Drink"
by Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Ensign Tchalla Mel'Chir - Science Officer
and Ensign Viraj - Transporter Operator [NPC+]
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate: 57907.07, 22h22
***
It was something like a crab puff that did it.
Since joining Starfleet, Viraj had always strictly held to his Deltan diet.
It was perfectly healthy for his species, it provided a delight to the
tastebuds, and it was a piece of home that could always stay with him, no
matter how far he ventured. But since Fionn and Jade had convinced Viraj
into embarking on the adventure that was this party, via kidnapping, Viraj
decided to try the food that was presented to the partygoers.
Viraj had divided the number of tables among the number of hours he surmised
he'd be at the party, to calculate how much time he'd have to try small
portions of absolutely everything. When he ate a puff made of a local
shelled fish, Viraj felt it appropriate to take a look at the water. And
then it wasn't until Viraj was standing right at the shore and he couldn't
feel wetness on his bare feet, because of his heavy uniform boots, that he
started to wish he had changed out of his uniform into something more
comfortable.
He could have returned to the ship to change, but he was enjoying the
music and entire atmosphere of the party too much to leave it just yet. As
Viraj headed back to the buffet table that he had allotted himself for this
hour, the physical effects of so much food and drink started to hit him. He
forgot all about changing out of uniform, and looked around the grounds of
the party for any sign of small buildings or huts.
Unable to see anything other than more buffet tables and gyrating bodies,
Viraj spotted a somewhat familiar face - Mason Farrell - who'd been through
the transporter system several times in the past few days. The Deltan
walked up to Mason, who was conversing with a fellow officer, and delicately
asked, "Excuse me for interrupting, but, do you know where the lavatory is?"
Mason smiled genuinely. "First rule of parties: Know where the fresher's
at," he said. "If I recall, it is--" He scanned the beach, and then pointed.
"There." He indicated a small, squat, functionally constructed building. He
then leaned closer, getting conspiratorial. "And there's a little row of
shops just a few minutes off the beach. You could dump your uniform. Relax,
Viraj." He held up a hand to halt the protest before it could start. "Get
yourself some swim trunks and take a dip." He jerked a thumb toward the
ocean. "You won't need to worry about anything but amorous fish."
Cringing, Viraj corrected Farrell, "If I remove my uniform, I may have
to worry about amorous revellers following me into the water because of
Deltan pheromones. Some people are naturally more or less effected by them,
and it's nearly impossible to predict before it happens." Taking on Mason's
conspiratorial tone, Viraj apologetically said, "Even you could turn out to
become unwittingly attracted to my biological charms."
"Well," chuckled Farrell sarcastically, "I have always had a thing for
bald men."
Tightly smiling nervously, Viraj eyed the building Mason had pointed at, and
noted the excessively long line outside of it. Having missed the sarcasm,
Viraj somewhat seriously suggested, "I suppose we could try to convince
Corran Quezith to shave his head. Apparently he's looking to be more
social with the crew."
Farrell laughed, a long sound of genuine good humor. "That was good," he
said, calming at last, "but I'd better not keep you." He indicated the
lavatory.
Grinning at Mason's amusement, Viraj said, "Thank you," and headed in the
direction that Mason had pointed. He found his way to the end of the long
line outside of the small building, and quickly grew impatient. He was
about to ask a group of Security officers in front of him if they knew of
another lavatory, but they broke out into loud snickering about the colour
fuchsia.
By the time Viraj made it halfway across the beach in the opposite
direction, looking for another lavatory, the buffet tables tempted him
again. The foods he'd tried before had tasted curiously unusual, and yet
satisfying. Making his way through dancing revellers, Viraj lost all
thoughts of food when a motionless vision of blue standing near a buffet
table grabbed his attention. Viraj had never met an Andorian in person
before, and so he approached Tchalla Mel'Chir to ask her, "Excuse me; uhm,
do you know where the lavatory is?"
Tchalla was startled by the question. She looked around suddenly, on the
spot to answer a simple question, especially one directed at an intelligent,
scientific mind. She looked at the beautiful face before her, the bald head,
and the inquisitive look on the man's face. He asked you a question, she
told herself. An easy question. Lavatory. You passed it on the way in. Over
there. Two hundred meters behind the bandstand. Just tell him. "Uh," she
stammered, and looked around again, even looking at the small building that
served as the lavatory for this section of the beach. She looked back at him
again, blushing profusely. "It's...I....I'm not wearing underwear."
Somewhere in the back of her mind, an embarrassed voice quipped, That was
the wrong answer.
Captivated by the subtle movements of Tchalla's antennae and then a few
droplets of sweat trickling down the side of her neck, Viraj hardly even
noticed her blushing. Her words, though, caused Viraj to take half a step
back, and ask, without thinking, "Did you...uh...misplace them?" And then
he grimaced, his brow knitting, when he started to worry that perhaps not
wearing underwear on Risa was synonymous with wielding a horga'hn on Risa.
"I...uh, it's a difficult story," Tchalla said. "I...Ensign Rax, really
liked my outfit. So...she asked me if she could try on my top. I thought
that was very strange. And...then, well, we went and...and I let her try on
the top. We...we ended up trading...and...she's wearing mine...and this is
hers. She, uh, she said it was...better... Without." She swallowed, blushed,
and her antennae drooped. "Without underwear. Less...um, lines. I've...I
feel like..." She looked around. "It's...I feel like...like everyone's
watching me. That they know. And...and..." She sighed. "The wind..."
Nodding consolingly throughout Tchalla's uncomfortable story, Viraj suddenly
admitted, in a quiet voice, "I'm not wearing any underwear either."
Tchalla stared at him for a long moment before she finally giggled. "I'm not
used to it," she said. "I've never...never done something...this bold
before."
"Well then you should enjoy being so bold," Viraj insisted. "In fact, you
should be dancing right now, skirt-blowing-wind be damned."
She blushed again and looked away. "I...I don't...don't know how to dance.
And, I'm really not very good...when I've tried, it's... I just feel silly."
After some thought, Viraj said, "Oh. Well... good." Realising his
unintended slight, he blurted, "I'm-- I'm relieved that you don't want to
dance. Because I'm not much of a dancer myself, and I was starting to worry
that you'd expect me to. To dance, I mean."
Tchalla giggled. "It's alright," she said with a shy grin. "I...it's fine.
We can just keep talking...unless you. Oh, over there. Behind the bandstand.
Lavatory. If you still needed..."
"Actually, um," Viraj looked to where Tchalla referred to, and then looked
back to her. "I do." He looked towards the bandstand again, and looked
back to Tchalla again. "But I could come back?"
Tchalla gave him a smile. "I'll see you later then...Ensign..." She blushed.
"I'll see you later."
"See you," Viraj responded, backing away from Tchalla towards the bandstand,
until he walked into someone, apologised profusely, and looked in the
direction he was walking until he reached his destination.
"What You See... And What You Hear"
By: Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 22h45
***
The party was in full swing and Saavar was standing beneath the trees
listening to the music and drinking a fruit concoction that was made from
several varieties of native fruit. Saavar was trying to isolate the tastes
of each one on his palate as an exercise in utilising his taste sense. He
had identified six distinct flavors but the last three were elusive.
The crew was happy. It was evident in the faces and the relaxed attitudes.
After Mason Farrell had completed his game and drifted amongst his peers,
Saavar had sought a little isolation for himself. The diplomatic talks were
promanently on his mind, as well as several small projects that were on hold
until he could get some assistance aboard the Sulu. A Risan female stepped
up to him and smiled. She was attractive - blonde and barely clad.
"Mister Vulcan..." She held a flower of golden petals and smelled its
delicate perfume as she looked into his eyes. "I'm Clayanna - are you well?"
"Indeed I am well," he replied. "My name is Saavar."
"Saavar... Nice name..." She rolled the 'aaa's and terminated the 'r' in just
the right inflection. "I haven't been with a Vulcan before..." She smiled
coyly and Saavar knew that she wasn't talking about talking on a beach.
"Perhaps in time you may." Saavar kept his face impassive. "I have
experienced the Risan rite of jamaharon. It was stimulating, but it was an
experience that I need not repeat."
Clayanna smiled and gave a little giggle behind her flower. "You're funny...
Most beings find the rite addictive."
"I have no propensity for addictive behaviors," he replied. "I experienced
it out of scientific curiosity."
Clayanna stepped closer and looked up into his face. He could smell her
perfume. "Would you deny me a little experimentation of my own?" she
murmured. "I'm dreadfully curious about Vulcan physiology. I've heard your
race is stronger, with a great deal of stamina...endurance..."
Saavar raised a single brow and smiled. "That may be true. I am not the only
Vulcan on Risa."
"You're the only Vulcan on 'this' beach." She placed a gentle hand on his
arm. "You're also relaxed enough to wear unorthodox clothing for a usual
Vulcan. But you stand apart watching your fellow officers. You display
enough camouflage to blend in - but you don't feel that comfortable with it.
I noticed you watching everyone. Almost as if you're watching an experiment
in action."
Saavar motioned toward the laughing and dancing crew. "I am newly appointed
to the Sulu. As yet I know very few of the officers serving aboard.
Observation is a primary source of intelligence gathering."
"Science officer?" She grinned.
"Correct," Saavar replied deadpan.
"Then you might assist me in some intelligence gathering of my own..." She
leaned against the same tree as Saavar and watched the people on the beach,
standing close enough to touch him along one arm. "Would you help me?"
"If you are trying to justify an excuse to practise sexual relations with a
Vulcan, your logic is flawed."
"Flawed? In what way?" She looked up at him anticipating his argument.
"You assume that I would assist you in your studies because you are phrasing
your arguments in scientific terms. Your phraseology is meant to diminish
the emotive aspects behind your decision to approach me. You are a native of
Risa and obviously skilled in practising the rite of jamaharon. To emotive
beings the rite has addictive properties, it is one of the reasons that
Risans practise the art so often and with such vigor. You are curious about
Vulcan physiology because it would prolong your own experience of the rite.
Your argument centers around your own desire for that prolonged experience."
"And...?"
"There is no 'and.' "
"Okay..." she grinned. "How can you be satisfied with a single experience of
jamaharon? That would be like conducting an experiment only once and saying
that it proved a rule. Everyone knows that you wouldn't be taken seriously
as a scientist if you didn't establish a base line for your research and
then repeat the experiment to test for deviation." She looked at him
confrontingly. "You did say that you experienced jamaharon out of
scientific curiosity."
"I am personally driven to experience the unknown," he replied. "It is no
longer unknown. Your hypothesis would be quite accurate given an experiment
based upon data collection for an unknown. However the Risan rite has been
practised for a long time - my experience only added to the sum of known
data on the subject. Extrapolating from known data in the Federation
Archives allowed me to anticipate the experience logically - I simply took
the next step and experienced it personally. I am satisfied that that
experience was within known parameters for a Vulcan."
"But I'm not!"
"That is not my concern." Saavar sipped his drink thoughtfully. "I cannot
identify all of the fruits in this beverage. Do you know them?"
"Yes," she replied with a sly grin. "It's a Hajinaari Cocktail. Like
Risans - it's never the same twice. There's a choice in the smaller
ingredients - in the blend it looks the same - basically tastes the same -
but to the discerning palate - the differences can be worlds apart.."
The Vulcan looked at her. She laughed.
It was at that moment that the crowd stirred - hushed and then was abuzz
with conversation. The Captain of the Sulu had made an appearance and he was
holding the Chief Science Officer by the hand. It was a very public display
of affection and a public announcement that they were a couple. Saavar
watched with interest, his intent gaze enough to silence Clayanna.
Of particular interest was the behavior of the rest of the crew. It seemed
that the couple were the complete center of attention for the whole crew -
the women watching Xayella Tagliesh establishing her ownership rights on the
captain. The males watching the captain displaying his female partner - they
danced together and the body language displayed to all that they were indeed
intimate with each other. Saavar felt disappointment with Tagliesh. He had
advised caution and discretion. Now everyone knew. Everyone knew that
Tagliesh had the intimate ear of the captain. It would undermine the
authority of the First Officer considerably. Now Tagliesh's temper had a
different dimension to it. Salinger would come to the defence of his
partner - or he would suffer her tantrums.
Starfleet regulations didn't exactly prohibit partnerships, but Command did
place some importance on senior officer involvements. It created conflict
with duty and conflict in command decision making. It was a mistake to
become romantic with another officer that you had to work closely with. If
the romance disintegrated, so would the close working relationships. It
could endanger the ship given the worst case scenarios.
The couple ran off like a pair of Human teenagers.
"For a Vulcan with no interest in mating rituals you certainly watched
them..." Clayanna grinned. "I gather they were rather important?"
"The captain and the senior science officer," Saavar replied.
"Seems like she was very interested in him..." Clayanna commented. "Perhaps
she was conducting experiments... You know...scientific curiosity?"
"Perhaps."
"So...can I interest you in a walk along the beach?"
Saavar nodded. "Your analogy with the drink was very good."
"Thank you," she smiled. "Does that mean you might be interested in
satisfying my curiosity?" They set off in the opposite direction to the one
the Captain and his consort had taken.
"Perhaps..." Saavar remained non-committal.
"Nobody Home?"
By: Lt. Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Location: USS Belfast - Miranda Class Starship - En-route to Earth via Risa
Stardate: 57907.07 2245hrs
***
"Lieutenant T'Kal." The voice emanating from his comm-badge interrupted
Benedict's late evening meal in the mess hall. He was used to late eating -
he'd been Beta shift commander on the Windsor and his body clock was still
attuned to it. He'd even taken to maintaining the ritual on the Romulan
ship - it was the best time of day. He tapped his badge and said, "T'Kal."
"Lieutenant, we are approaching the Risan system. Captain Owen requests your
presence on the Bridge." It was the Operations manager, Lieutenant Commander
Goram. The Bolian's ever-present happy disposition came through in his
voice.
"Understood, Commander - I'll be right there." Benedict tapped the badge to
end the transmission. He looked longingly at the Rashivaa steaming on his
plate - the fish in a light creamy sauce was a Bajoran delicacy and the fish
itself wasn't replicated. It came from the private stores of the Belfast's
Chief Engineer who had taken pity on the half Bajoran T'Kal after hearing of
his epic voyage aboard a Romulan vessel for five months. The aroma alone
made Benedict's mouth water with anticipation. His facial expression was
almost comical - torn between hunger and duty; with Benedict duty always
won - but he couldn't resist a couple of hurried mouthfuls. He wouldn't
have time to eat it now.
A few minutes later he was stepping onto the Bridge. The Miranda Class
vessel was larger than the Intrepid Windsor, the Bridge was more likened in
size to the Galaxy Class vessel - Benedict had served on the USS Galaxy as a
Tactical Officer. It was where he had met Teb... The chain of thoughts always
seemed to lead him back to her. He smiled and shook the idle musings away as
he crossed the deck to stand before Captain Owen.
The grim faced Irishman glanced at Benedict and nodded as he said, "Helm,
come to course three forty five mark five one and drop to half impulse.
Mister Goram signal Risan traffic control for an approach course to the
Sulu." He was answered with a chorus of 'ayes.'
"Sir..." Benedict stood at-ease and smiled at the Captain of the Belfast.
Although off duty officially, Benedict still wore his class A uniform. On
the Windsor he had been on duty all the time - it had been a coping
mechanism.
"We won't be stopping here, Mister T'Kal. I wanted to say good luck - I
appreciated your insights into Romulan tactics - I'll pass on a favorable
report to Starfleet Command when we get to Earth. The Sulu is getting a fine
Chief Sec."
Benedict frowned. "I understood that I was transferring to the Sulu as a
Tactical Officer, sir."
"Your new orders came in from Starfleet a few minutes ago." Owen passed him
a padd. "It seems the Chief of Security on the Sulu has been transferred out
on short notice. You're it." Owen's face cracked a smile. "I think you've
earned it, Mister T'Kal. Congratulations."
"Thank you, sir." Benedict was pleased. He had given up a posting as a
Security Chief on the Windsor to follow a personal mission. He hadn't
expected to land a similar assignment.
Owen grinned. "You can pass on my compliments to Matt Salinger - last time I
saw him it was on Risa - jumping out of a goddamned runabout in low orbit. I
got a reprimand and he got a scar..." He laughed. "We served together on the
Hood."
The Helm officer reported that a course had been transmitted to him from
Risa and the expected ETA was six minutes to standard orbit. They would be
within transporter range of the Sulu in approximately ten minutes.
The Captain nodded and shook hands with Benedict. "Good luck, T'Kal," he
said. "You'd best get your gear together."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be sure and pass on your respects to Captain Salinger."
He left the Bridge and went to his quarters. His belongings were transferred
ahead of him and he was soon standing on the transporter pad waiting for his
turn.
He threw a careless salute at the Transporter technician as the pad was
energised.
Six seconds later he was assembled molecule by molecule on the transporter
pad of the USS Hikaru Sulu. He looked around as the transporter technician -
a Chief Petty Officer in this case grinned at him and welcomed him aboard.
"Who's commanding the Bridge?" Benedict asked as he stepped off the pad.
"Lieutenant Sam, sir. The Captain is on Risa. Most of the
crew is, actually. There's a pretty huge party on. Sir." He gave the Bajoran
officer a smile. "I've informed the Bridge that you've come aboard."
Benedict nodded. "Transfer my gear to my quarters will you, Chief?"
"Certainly, sir," he smiled.
"I'm off to the Bridge. Who's in charge of Security right now?"
"That would be Lieutenant Hex, sir. He's not aboard right now either..." The
Chief saw the look in Benedict's eyes.
Benedict nodded. He left the transporter room. He knew his way around an
Intrepid class ship and the trip to the Bridge was a short one. Standing
alone in the turbo lift he debated with himself about the settling in
process on a new ship and how he should ease into things. He'd arrived on a
Starfleet ship to discover that the captain, and senior
security officers were absent. It was the duty of the chief of security to
safeguard the crew and the ship - even if it was in orbit around a friendly
planet. If someone wanted to take the Sulu, now would be an ideal time for
it...
"The Game's Afoot"
By: Lt. (jg) Arthas Hex; Deputy Chief of Security
and Guest Starring:
Simon as Crewman Pico Chavez; Security Officer
Loren as Petty Officer Ner'c; Security Officer
Location: Pillaio Island, Risa; USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.07 2254hrs
***
The cool breeze coming off the ocean did nothing to cool the anger that Pico
Chavez felt as he stared into the darkness after blinking away the bright
after-image of the phaser shot. The waves continued their steady pounding in
ignorance of the events unfolding on the Risan sands. There was no evidence
to show the murder of the man who had given them a name. Chavez sat up and
turned to his two companions.
"I think we should take what he said seriously," Chavez spat as he brushed
sand off his uniform. "Whoever wanted to shut him up sure as hell did!"
"I agree, but there's no chance of finding out who he or she was," Arthas
sighed.
"We still have one of the assailants," said Ner'c.
"And we still have the guy inside," Chavez nodded his head toward the bar.
"Maybe he knows the score - we should take him up to the Sulu..." Chavez
stood. The other goon was still laying on the sand as if a shot from the
darkness might come for him too. The stocky Starfleet Officer stepped over
to the man and kicked him in the side. "Get the hell up," he ordered.
The Risan whimpered at the kick but didn't get up. Chavez reached down and
grabbed the neck of his shirt and lifted him to his knees. "Scared of
getting shot are we?" Chavez growled at him. "That's the least of your
problems man...you're coming up with us!"
"No...please...I don't know nothin' an' I didn't know theys was gonna kill
'im..." He looked at Chavez like a rabbit looks at a spotlight, his breathing
in ragged gasps - he was shaking in fear. Chavez wrenched him to his feet.
Ner'c headed inside for the leader.
Arthas tapped his commbadge.
"Lieutenant Hex to Sulu Transporter Room 1"
"Ensign Hamilton here, what can I do for you, sir."
"Crewman Ner'c, Crewman Chavez, myself and two Risans close to us to beam up
directly to the brig," Arthas ordered.
"Aye, Lieutenant. Energizing."
A moment of disorientation and the beach was replaced by the cool blue and
white shades of the Sulu's brig. Chavez was still holding on to the goon,
and Ner'c was kneeling beside the still unconscious leader of the goon
squad.
"Ner'c, get the unconscious guy into a cell and activate the forcefield,"
Arthas ordered. Then he turned to the other goon. "All we want is
information, you tell us the truth and I'll get nice Ensign Hamilton to
transport you back to the surface."
"I'm tellin' you, I don't know!" the goon bellowed, looking around
frantically. This had clearly not been in his contract, whatever it had
been. "Didn't that feyt Zheyn say something?" None of the officers knew
what a feyt was, but it sounded insulting.
"Kimar En'ta?" Ner'c ventured aloud, to no one in particular. "That was
the name Zheyn used. Something about En'ta's wife and the ambassador."
"Look" --Arthas walked up to the goon, who was still restrained by Chavez-- "I
really don't want to waste my time here. Tell me what you know and you can
go."
"We were supposed to find that Zheyn person, rough him up, bundle him in a
van, and wait for instructions. That's it. I don't know any more than
that, I swear."
Arthas coughed, and walked over to Ner'c.
"Do you believe him?" he whispered.
"Drones rarely know tasks beyond the smallest," Ner'c said softly.
"Agreed," Arthas replied, turning around and nodding to Chavez, who let go
of the goon.
"Thank you," Arthas said to the goon, who snarled at him.
Tapping his commbadge Arthas spoke. "Lieutenant Hex to Ensign Hamilton."
"Hamilton here."
"Transport the conscious prisoner to the surface, where we were transported
from a few minutes ago," Arthas ordered.
"Aye sir, energizing."
The Risan goon faded away and was soon gone from the brig. Hex looked over
to the unconscious leader. "You guys think we need to get a nurse
down here, wake him up?"
"Ermm, sir?" Chavez looked up at Arthas as he examined the unconscious Risan.
"I think you broke something.." He could see the swelling already starting
and the livid bruise around his mouth. "He needs sickbay..." Chavez stood up
and brushed his hands as if wiping dirt away. "He's in no state to answer
questions at the moment." He looked at Ner'c with a lopsided grin. "Think
you can chase up that name, mano?"
They left the man in his cell and went into the main security office close
to the Brig.
"The patient predator always succeeds," Ner'c quipped. At least, it might
have been a quip. The Bolian seated himself at a computer console and began
his task.
Chavez looked at his superior officer. "I think we might have to move fast,
sir - if they are rubbing out loose ends we might never chase down a lead.
It sure as hell was serious enough to kill for..."
"Let's get a nurse down here, it's too dangerous for us to take him to
sickbay. A nurse can fix whatever I broke and wake him up, that's all we
need," Arthas said and awaited any nods or comments from his fellow officers.
Ner'c was engrossed in his work.
Chavez shrugged. "Maybe we can give him something to loosen his tongue..." A
sly smile played on the Crewman's lips.
Arthas arranged for a nurse to come down to the brig and in the mean time he
said, "Do you guys want something to drink?" He indicated the replicator.
"Something involving fruit, please," said Ner'c, staring at his screen.
"No thanks, sir, I had a few down on Risa - mostly involving fruit - but
mostly the fermented kind..." He gave the Bolian a smirk.
Arthas replicated the drinks for the Bolian and himself while they waited
for a medical officer.
"I have found Kimar En'ta," Ner'c said, not turning from his screen. "He is
a diplomatic attaché working at the Ktarian embassy here on Risa. His
wife's name is..." He tapped another few buttons. "Inatona. Shall I contact
the embassy for an appointment?"
"We might get a nasty reception if we ring the bell..." Chavez shrugged.
"Surprise is a tactical advantage we shouldn't give up readily..." He glanced
at both Arthas and Ner'c as they turned to face him. "At least that's what
the Book says..." he added with his characteristic grin.
A medical orderly arrived at the security station just then. She looked at
the three security officers and hefted a medical case. "Where's the
patient?" She looked at the row of cells - one of them had a large dog
staring through at them.
"The one on the end," Chavez indicated with a wave of his hand. He walked
with her, leaving the other two officers to follow up the investigation on
the computer. As he came to the cell he turned to the nurse, who in his
opinion was rather cute. "He's a Risan - we picked him up tonight - he was
injured in a brawl on the planet." He didn't want to go into too much
detail - like Arthas Hex belting the guy so hard he broke his jaw... Security
Officers stood together - medical types could get so uptight about fighting!
The cell force-field dropped and the nurse bent to examine the
semi-conscious man. The small medical tricorder hummed and beeped for a few
seconds. She looked up at Chavez and said, "His jaw is fractured and he has
a slight concussion. It will take a few minutes..."
"No problem, doc." Chavez sat on the bench-come-bed and smiled down at the
woman. Her class A uniform showed a nice figure. "You missing the party too
huh?"
"Seems that way..." She worked with a dermal regenerator. "I pulled crew duty
tonight because I was late to shift yesterday..." She gave him a sour face.
"Punishment duty..."
"Bummer!" He grinned as he held her eyes - nice blue eyes they were...
"There are consolations..." she smiled at him. He wasn't exactly handsome -
but he had rugged dark looks - very masculine. He was also obviously
attracted to her. She could tell - like any woman could. She finished with
the regenerator and made a further examination to make sure she had covered
everything.
"Hey - you wanna hit a beach or somethin' tomorrow?" Chavez leaned back as
she stood up and put her instrument away. She looked at him briefly and then
smiled.
"Maybe..." she shrugged. "I'm on Beta watch - so my morning is free..."
"Cool." He stood up and was close enough to smell her perfume. "I'll see you
in transporter room three at 0900hrs? We could catch a little breakfast on
the beach..."
"Okay... I'd like that..." She was blushing as she snapped the cover on the
medical case. The patient groaned and stirred.
Chavez walked her out of the cell and re-activated the field. As the blue
buzz sounded he walked her back to the office. "I'll see you tomorrow then,"
he grinned at her. She nodded and disappeared down the corridor. He watched
her go and liked the way her hips moved...especially in that short short
skirt.
Arthas laughed to himself. "Right let's pay them a visit shall we?"
There was a silence as Chavez still looked toward the door.
Ner'c coughed diplomatically. "Chavez?"
"Yeah...?" he answered while still looking at the view.
"The Lieutenant has decided we will beam to the embassy and see about
visiting with the En'tas. Are you coming?"
"Okay..." he said a little distractedly. "As long as I'm back before
0900hrs - I ain't missin' breakfast!" He gave Ner'c a huge grin and clapped
him on the shoulder. "Mano - I just love those old style uniforms... I reckon
the 'old man' had it right to allow 'em back." Chavez chuckled. "I reckon
he's a leg man - me - I like..." He made a curving gesture with his hands at
waist height. "Nice..." he added wistfully as he followed Ner'c out the
door.
The team of security officers assembled on the transporter pad. Moments
later they were on their way.
"Bad Example"
By: Matt Salinger
Xayella Tagliesh
Monica Gainsborough [NPC+]
Location: Farezi Sands, Risa
Stardate 57907.07, 22h50
***
Xayella groaned again and turned her face into Matt's shoulder. "I ate too
much," came her complaint, muffled by the sleeve of Matt's shirt. "Why
didn't you stop me?"
Matt laughed. "You did not eat too much," he said. He tugged at the fabric
of her top. "See? More room left. You're fine."
"Well, I don't feel fine," she said miserably. "I feel sick. Why can't we
go back to the cottage? Where are you taking me?"
"It's just a small gathering on the beach," Matt said with an enigmatic
grin. "I think you'll enjoy it there. There will be more food, that we
don't have to eat. Then there's drinks and music and...well, you'll see."
Xayella raised her head to eye Matt suspiciously. "I'll see? I really
don't like the sound of that, Matthew Salinger."
"What exactly don't you like the sound of, Xayella Tagliesh? I happen to
think it sounds like a rather fun evening. Don't you think it sounds fun?
A beach side...thing?"
"Well..." She smiled uncertainly, then relented and laughed softly. "It
sounds wonderful. I only wish you'd told me beforehand so I could have worn
something more appropriate for the beach." She looked sidelong at him and
added, "Like nothing at all."
"We can stop somewhere on the way and find you something more appropriate,"
Matt said. "I hear that nothing at all is on sale right now."
"For you?" She chuckled. "You get it for free."
Matt laughed. "Would you like something different to wear? I think you
look great, but we can stop if you'd like."
"It's fine," she assured him. "Just surprise me already!"
Matt laughed and slipped his hand into hers. "Well, lucky for you, we're
almost there." He pointed to where the fire was blazing just down on the
beach. A bandstand had been erected and a band played for a crowd gathered
beneath a bunch of tents.
"Looks like some party," Xay commented. She took in the scene with much
delight, then pulled Matt to a stop and shook her head. "I don't think we
should go there. I saw a couple officers from the Sulu. They'll see."
"Actually," Matt said with a grin. "It's a Sulu party. Ensigns Markham and
Reese are throwing the party, and they invited the whole crew."
"And...you actually want to go?" she asked. "I mean...Lyrr will definitely
find out after this. You sure you're ready for that?"
Matt grinned at her, and was silent for several moments before taking her
hands and bringing them to his lips. "I've thought about this, and I'm fine
with it. I'm fine with other people, including Lyrr, knowing about us. I
don't want to hide what we are...I don't want to appear ashamed of loving
you, because I'm definitely not."
Xay grinned and felt her cheeks warming at Matt's sentiments. "Okay," she
said softly. "We'll go. Let's go, my heart."
With her arm linked to his, Xayella and Matt covered the rest of the
distance to the party, and upon stepping on the sand they suddenly became
the focus of all attention and conversation. Some seemed surprised, and
others seemed enthused that the stories they'd heard really were true.
Xayella ignored them all. "Well, at least now they won't need to make up
ridiculous rumours involving us."
"You have to give them credit for having rather interesting imaginations,
that's for sure," Matt said with a chuckle. "It is always interesting to
hear what they are saying about you. I must say I really liked the one
about us in EVA suits out on the deflector array."
"Wow. I wish I could've been there." She chuckled and leaned against Matt
as the two continued deeper into the throng of party-goers. "So...what
now?" she asked him. "We made our appearance so we go?"
"Do you want to leave?" Matt asked. "I was thinking we could go get a
drink, maybe dance to one of the songs, and then see what we feel like doing
after that. How does that sound?"
"Oh, the works..." Xayella grinned and veered Matt towards the nearest
refreshment table. "Being seen with the unruly Science Chief and drinking
alcohol? Oh the junior officers are going to have a field day with this!"
Matt laughed. "What will they do without their rumours to pass," he said.
"I mean, it wouldn't truly be as fun if they were just repeating the truth,
would it? Come on, let's go see what sort of refreshment they have for us."
Xayella and Matt strolled toward the table, and both noticed that the crowd
parted for them as they passed. They already heard whispers and chatter, no
doubt about them, but neither cared. They had a night of drinking and
dancing ahead of them and refused to let rumours spoil it. "They're
staring," she sang. "And it's rather flattering."
"Staring is fine," Matt answered. "Just as long as they don't start
pointing. It always unnerves me when people point. Especially when it's
accompanied by giggles."
Xay chuckled. "It sounds like you have some issues, Salinger. Were you
made fun of as a child?"
"Child?" Matt said as he began pouring drinks from a large punch bowl. "That
was the Academy."
She snickered and accepted a full glass from Matt. "Well, I guess it
explains why you're an optimist. You'd have to be to get through such a
traumatic situation."
Matt laughed. "I'm an optimist because I see the good in things, the
possibility to make things better. Though, this punch could not possibly
get any better. Damn this is good. You hungry for anything here?"
Xayella glared at him playfully. "You're trying to taunt me now, aren't
you? Or would you prefer I rupture my stomach lining, lover?"
Matt chuckled. "Very well," he said. "Should I sample, and see about
getting some for later for you to sample? Perhaps we can have some of this
catered for the next meeting with the Farehn'ti. Do you suppose they'd like
that?"
"Do the Farehn'ti like anything?