"Walking Wounded"
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Commander Lyrr Tayla; Executive Officer

Location: Sweet Charity Hospital, Risa.
Stardate: 57907.11 02h15

***

Lyrr was almost lured into a moment of sleep, but denied herself the luxury. Her wounds had been minor, and once her shoulder and wrist had been mended, the injuries to her back seemed almost trivial. But she allowed the Risan doctor to tend to them at any rate. So, flat on her stomach with her entire back exposed to the comfortably cool air of the Risan medical facility, Lyrr waited for the Risan doctor to knit the last of her wounds.

As her one arm dangled over the side of the examination table, Lyrr studied her hand, still showing traces of T'Kal's blood. He'd been moved to another area where critical injuries were treated, but he would live. They all would, except Viata.

Lyrr had immediately contacted Dojit Terise, informing her of the situation, and she had sent a comm to the Ryuck faction. She received no response. It appeared they had picked up and left upon first sign of trouble, then likely attacked the Sulu. She would need to have a long talk with the Opai.

A cold hand came down upon her shoulder, and Lyrr reflexively shrank away from it.

"Your treatment is complete, Commander," the doctor's voice informed.

Lyrr nodded, and sent a thank-you to him over her shoulder. He departed with a smile. Again, Lyrr closed her eyes.

Murmured conversation arose from behind her, and the sound of a repulsorchair being steered into the room accompanied it. Lyrr had thought she'd be alone to at least find some privacy and perhaps a little rest before she confronted the Opai. But there would be none had. Sighing, Lyrr rolled onto her back, remaining there for a moment to test the doctor's work. Satisfied, she sat up and caught the bedsheet in time to avoid exposing her bare torso to the visitors.

"We'll return to help you into bed, sir," one of the cheerful, Risan nurses said. A muttered "thanks" was received, then she proceeded to leave, as Lyrr was planning on doing. She swung her legs over the bed's edge and leaned forward to reach out for her uniform, tattered and stained with blood, piled onto a nearby chair. Her free arm wrapped around her bosom to keep the bedsheet in place.

As her fingers grazed the uniform, Lyrr glanced momentarily aside, and paused. She withdrew her arm and used it to furtively stretch the sheets to cover her knees. "I...." Lyrr cleared her throat and sighed. "How are you, Ensign Farrell?"

Farrell was already looking politely at the wall rather than the nearly-naked Lyrr. "Sorry, sir," he drawled, reaching for the controls of the chair to pivot his view away. He had a device of some kind attached to his side and his face was puffy where a dermal regenerator had been used on him.

"Go ahead," he said, his back fully to her now. Inwardly, Farrell sighed. Of all the hospital rooms on all the planets in all the quadrant. . .

Lyrr laughed softly and again made a grab for her uniform. "I asked how you were, Ensign. You looked slightly battered when you came to our aid earlier."

"I'm still a little achy, but I'll be alright. They say I had a perforated intestine" --he tapped the small box attached to his side-- "but they repaired the damage and they say the wound will knit fine. They want me to stay overnight for observation." He shook his head, obviously not wanting to be stuck in a hospital. "I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner, sir. We came as fast as we could."

"You weren't even expected at all, Ensign," she told him, slipping her legs into her uniform pants, "so that you even came to our aid, no matter how late, is appreciated." Lyrr hopped down from the bed and quickly pulled on her red tunic. She thought she detected a slight knot in her right shoulder as she pushed her arm through the armhole. "At any rate," she continued, "you came. And I'm still grateful." Lyrr zipped her tunic with one swift pull, then began slipping her feet into her boots. "That alone has me quite perplexed."

Farrell chuckled, "You should have seen Firece's detail commandeer a van. Man, I haven't seen people duck for cover that fast outside of holonovels." He looked at his knee and shook his head, then hesitated. "Grateful? How's that, sir?"

"Okay, sir," said the cheerful nurse as she bustled into the room. "Let's get you into bed." Lyrr cleared her throat to disguise a chuckle while Farrell grumbled and cursed softly as he climbed stiffly out of the chair and got into bed. The nurse checked Farrell's monitoring device, smiled sweetly, and left.

Lyrr regarded Farrell from a distance, then casually made her way to his bedside. She said nothing, simply appearing stern and watching him with a single raised eyebrow. Finally she laughed softly and proceeded to adjust the pillow beneath his head. "You had me perplexed," she continued, "because I thought I had you figured out. I simply assumed you were here to bend the rules to your advantage, to advance your career." Once the pillow was sufficiently fluffed, she rested her hands upon the edge of his bed, and studied his face. She chuckled wryly. "You went quite the distance to exonerate an officer you don't know, to find the murderer of a man you couldn't care less about, and to come to the aid of a commander you despise." Lyrr shrugged. "I'm no longer certain what to think."

She was laughing, Farrell thought. And it was genuine. His thoughts jumbled. Was this a trick? Was she trying to get him to admit to something? Admit to what? She was right; he had put himself on the line to get things done. Was she actually thanking him? She had a nice laugh.

He almost reached for her hand, but stopped the move before it could get started. What was he thinking? He did despise this woman! And then she softened for a second, and all was forgiven?

"I did what needed to be done," he said neutrally. "But you'll think what you want no matter what I say." He managed a smile at that.

Lyrr narrowed her eyes playfully at him - as playfully as a woman like Lyrr Tayla could manage. "You're not getting stubborn on me, Ensign, are you? If you cannot accept an apology, then I retract it."

"Oh no no, Commander. No retraction needed." Farrell's smile got a little brighter. "I'll take what I can get."

Lyrr laughed quietly, wondering if it was the stimulants administered to her by the doctor that had her so cheerful. "Well...then you have it, Ensign. I know your intentions are honourable...but you do have a tendency to do things the wrong way." She shrugged. "I guess...I just have high expectations, Ensign, for everyone aboard that ship." Lyrr smiled wanly, and added, "But admittedly, because of your past, my expectations for you are higher, perhaps ridiculously so." Leaning forward to bring their eyes level, and to ensure they would not be overheard, Lyrr continued. "I know you're a good officer - or at least, you want to be. And my instincts told me, from the day you stepped aboard that vessel, that you had the potential to be an officer I could learn to respect. I've set my expectations for you so high, because I want you to meet them, Ensign. I want you to work hard and actually reach that level in your career I know you can achieve. And I don't want you to screw up, or get discouraged...." She smiled. "I want to be able to call you 'Ensign' without feeling as if the title is misplaced upon you. You're getting close, and...if you wish, I'd like to help you get there."

Farrell looked skeptical. "Define 'help you get there?' " he asked quietly.

Lyrr lowered her eyes to her hands, the fingers of one playing with the edge of Farrell's bedsheet. "Well...I can attempt to train you to become a better officer. You seem to have good intentions, but you go about accomplishing things the incorrect way. Yes, being a Starfleet officer demands that we abide by certain rules that may restrict us at times, but we all must find ways to follow those rules without sacrificing results. You seem to be locked in the mindset that you can't get anywhere without bending the rules, or breaking them." She glanced up at him with a knowing look. "Perhaps you can keep a log of those times you were required to do something, but were hindered by the Starfleet rules and regulations. If this were to cause an urge to...seek an alternate solution, one you know I'd disapprove of as well as any other superior officer, you can log it and perhaps we can meet and discuss possible solutions to said problem that would not incur my wrath." Lyrr tried to suppress a smile, but it grew at any rate. "Does that not sound reasonable, Ensign?"

"You've known me for a week, sir," Farrell said flatly. "And it's been a hell of a week. How about we all just get back to duty and you see how I do, and then we'll discuss things like regular reporting."

Lyrr chuckled dryly and straightened up again stiffly. "You presume too much, Ensign," she told him, her voice again reverting to the stern tone she found it always taking when conversing with Farrell. "If I wished regular reports from you, you would have no say in the matter. I was simply offering you a way to seek the root of your discipline problems. But if you don't want help...."

She chuckled in disbelief, and simply shook her head. "It's not that you don't want help," she told him, realization finally dawning, "you just don't want help from me." Lyrr shrugged. "Fine," she snapped. "But remember that I offered the next time I have to reprove you for doing something wrong." She turned on her heel abruptly and stalked back to her bed to retrieve her jacket.

"Oh, please, Commander," Farrell retorted, struggling into a sitting position. "This has nothing to do with anybody wanting help from anybody. The fact is, I don't need your help. You've got this mistaken notion that I'm some kind of rebel. That I can't handle Starfleet. I don't know where you got it from, but it's just flat wrong. If I've done something wrong, write it up. I'm tired of your sniping and your sanctimonious preaching."

Lyrr snatched angrily at her jacket, then whirled around to shoot off a scathing reply, but Farrell held up a hand that became a pointed finger. "No!" he said sharply. "No, you're done talking. I've taken your bilge for days, and I've had it. I've bled for this ship, and in the final analysis all I get is 'job well done,' and 'now, about your problems.' You could have stopped after 'job well done,' but no, not Commander Lyrr. Commander Lyrr's got to jump right back into control. 'Oh, no,' she thinks to herself, 'I'm actually thanking Farrell. He's my private whipping-boy, I can't let that happen.' and it's right back to the riding and the cutting. I don't know what the hell they teach in command school, but that can't possibly be on the syllabus. So give it a rest and let me work."

"Work?" Lyrr emitted a jeering, harsh laugh. "From the moment you walked aboard that ship, you've done nothing but step in shit to satisfy some quest to prove that what you did on Starbase 242 was just an accident, that the entire incident wasn't your fault, and that you truly are fit to serve!" She smiled coldly. "Well, it was, Ensign, and you aren't. You acted rashly, impulsively, and it all stems from the fact that you don't have any idea what it means to be a Starfleet officer." Lyrr stormed towards him, still wearing her feral smile. He cut her off before she could continue.

"What the hell qualifies you to make that call?" he snapped, his eyes full of challenge. "You're a transfer officer!"

"And I'm still a better officer than you will ever be!" she hollered. "And your actions that day prove that. In fact, I'm now convinced that you should've been discharged for what you did, and you should be bloody thankful that I was giving you a chance to redeem yourself. You're a screw-up, a crook, and a pathetic excuse for an ensign, and I'm ashamed to even count you as a Starfleet officer because you're a disgrace to Starfleet and everything it stands for." Lyrr stood tall over him and smirked. "I don't want you to be my whipping boy, Ensign," she said coolly, distaste clear in her voice. "Why ever would I wish to associate myself with someone like you?"

"You tell me, you elitist bitch. You offered," Farrell shouted back. "I have no idea why a strutting martinet brandishing her rank like a club would ever want to associate with somebody who was actually working. Oh, wait," Farrell said, the sarcasm heavy, "I know exactly why. It's because you're an insecure bully that can't function unless she's kicking somebody around. Now if you've got any other questions to ask, my Gul" --the word was venomous-- "ask them. If you've got a disciplinary report to write, do it. If you've got something legitimate to say, say it. If all you're going to do is dredge up actions of five years ago to prove some asinine point that's only valid in the world where you live, then shut up and get the hell out." He fumbled over the side of the bed and found the call button, and pressed it repeatedly.

Lyrr narrowed her eyes at Farrell, ignoring every word after his comparing her to the Cardassian monsters she so despised; nothing else would process after that, except for the persistent memories that plagued her, that he was always so good at bringing to the surface. The hasperat, the Cardassians.... Lyrr's gaze was briefly haunted, her eyes flashing with an inner agony she had always done so well in masking with her stern facade. It faltered, as it always did, in Farrell's presence.

"You're cruel," she whispered. "You're cruel, and oblivious." Lyrr looked away as her hands twisted her uniform jacket between them in stifled rage and growing anguish. Then it dropped to the floor as Lyrr stalked away, though clearly unsteady.

"Commander!" Farrell called to Lyrr. The Risan nurse was blocking the doorway, responding to Farrell's summons.

Lyrr danced in the doorway with the nurse, growing frustrated each moment her escape was hampered. "Can you move!" she snapped at the woman. The nurse gasped, and Lyrr finally squeezed past her, only to catch Farrell's gaze one last time. She made sure her expression conveyed pure hatred, only to conceal the pain.

Farrell stared into her eyes furiously, then looked away himself. "Forget it," he muttered, shaking his head.

Lyrr chuckled wryly. "You're right," she said thickly. "Forget I ever apologized. And forget I ever tried to be your friend. I know better now." And she finally escaped, seeking someplace to vent her ungovernable emotions.

---

"Getting Back To Normal, Part 1"
By: Captain Matt Salinger
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh
Commander Lyrr Tayla

Location: Risan Medical Facility, Risa
Stardate 57907.11, 02h45

***

For once, there were no security teams following her, and no one bothering her with questions, or reports of certain Starfleet officers misbehaving, yet still, Lyrr was too preoccupied to think clearly. She was incensed over Farrell's treatment of her and his complete lack of respect, and attempted to vent her anger by compulsively pacing in front of the Risan medical facility. He had touched a nerve, intentionally, without knowing what horrific memories it was connected to. She would never forgive him for that, and she would never forgive herself for allowing the fool to affect her as he was now.

The night air outside was warm, yet Lyrr still vigorously rubbed her bare arms to fend off the cold chill seizing her. She required a nice, long hour alone in her quarters - in her element and not on some strange planet - to reclaim her emotional stability, and to banish the memories that had been stirred too often that evening. There was a moment's pause in her agitated motions to swat away the tear dribbling down her cheek, one she refused to give Farrell full credit for. She cursed both at the display of emotion and at the hint of pain arising from her supposedly mended shoulder. It seemed Risa wasn't good for medical care, or Lyrr's sanity. But a few more things to do, and she could leave it behind. Just a little more perseverance, and she would survive that night with few lingering after-effects, mental or otherwise.

In only a couple more hours, Lyrr could return to her normal routine, where she performed her duty to the ship dispassionately and effectively, as she did all things in life. That was who Lyrr Tayla had become, whether dolts like Ensign Farrell approved or not, and that was who she would remain. It was simply the way of things.

***

Lyrr greeted the guards tacitly, with a nod, as she passed them on her way to Matt's room. She hadn't seen him since the night of his attack, which was negligence on her part as his executive officer and friend, but she didn't think Lieutenant Tagliesh would wish to see her, nor did she have the courage to face Matt, knowing what she now knew about his fraternizing. But he had yet to regain consciousness, so she wouldn't quite have to face him yet.

She thanked Ensign Glickman as he opened one of the doors to Matt's room for her, and was met with a lukewarm reception by Lt. Tagliesh when the woman spotted her.

"Heard you caught the murderer," she remarked offhand. She looked exhausted, and her pale face was offset by the dark bruises under her eyes. Lyrr had almost a moment of sympathy for the woman.

"We caught her," Lyrr replied, sighing. "Unfortunately the rest of them escaped."

Xayella nodded, slightly disappointed. "Well...at least that bitch paid for what she did." She went silent as she pensively regarded Matt, then sighed and slid out of her chair. "You probably want some time alone with him." Surprisingly, she smiled at Lyrr. "I was going to go get some coffee or something anyway."

"Oh...." Lyrr smiled back, though awkwardly. "Thanks. I'll let you know if anything changes...in that short time you're gone."

Xay chuckled and nodded. "So...did you want something? You look like you could use something to replenish your energy supply."

"No, I'm fine," Lyrr replied. "But...thanks anyway."

Xay shrugged, and finally slipped her hand from Matt's as she moved off towards the door. When they were abreast one another, Xay stopped, and stared straight on ahead as she confided, "I'm grateful for what you did...finding the killer and stuff.... I know Matt will appreciate it too."

But as Lyrr opened her mouth, seemingly to reply but knowing she was speechless, Xayella departed. Lyrr exhaled deeply. Lt. Tagliesh had her puzzled more than Ensign Farrell did, and that was saying something.

She was alone now, with just Matt and the various pieces of beeping equipment around his bed, monitoring every organ, system, and vital sign belonging to Matt. Lyrr found herself frozen in place, fearing what she would see when she looked at his face. Would she see a man withering away by the moment, or one who looked deceptively well and as one simply asleep. She was a coward when it came to facing life and death, mainly when it wasn't her own, but she needed to visit her friend.

Trepidly, she approached the bed, and sighed with slight relief at the healthy colouration of Matt's face when it came into view. She stood a distance away for a moment, studying him and knowing she could have been in his place tonight if all hadn't gone well. She would have gladly taken his place, however.

"You're--" Lyrr laughed wryly at herself, noting the five feet of distance between she and Matt's bed. Rolling her eyes, she cleared the distance and took a seat in the chair Xay had been occupying for the past two days. She cleared her throat. "I was gonna say that you're looking well," Lyrr said softly. "And that...well...I hope you wake up soon."

She sighed and shifted in the seat, uncomfortable speaking to a man who couldn't answer her back, who was incapable of reassuring and comforting her. "I've had a rough time lately," she admitted. "I never thought-- I mean, I knew being a commander meant there would be occasions when I'd have to take command of the ship and all matters relating to it... But, Matt...this has been the hardest few days of my life," she whispered. "I mean...is it me? Or is it that the Sulu has an inordinately large number of troublemakers? I've tried - I have, but everything just keeps going wrong, and I completely blame myself."

Lyrr paused to contemplate her hands folded tightly upon her lap. "I guess...I just miss you being in control. You're better at this than I am. Now, I know I chose the command track and I know commanding my own ship is something I wish to do in the future..." She chuckled wearily. "I'm just not ready for that right now."

Lyrr smiled ruefully as her eyes absently regarded Matt's hand, so still and motionless. She reached out her own and covered his, just to ensure it was still warm. "Matt," she whispered, closing her eyes against the despair, "can you please wake up? I can't do this without you.... I-I know I've fought you on so many things...but I do need you. I hate to admit it, as proud as I am, but I do." Then she chuckled softly. "Or is this a test? You're testing me to see how well I'd do with that ship full of maniacs, without your help." She grinned wanly. "Well...I'm not doing so well. So...wake up!"

Lyrr watched his eyes, hoping that would be enough to provoke him into consciousness, but nothing. She groaned miserably and dropped her forward onto the bed's mattress. "Fine," she muttered. "Leave me to suffer. But I'll never forgive you." Lyrr smiled to herself. "Okay...maybe I will."

"You try having a knife shoved through your chest," a weak voice answered, "and then we'll talk about suffering."

Lyrr chuckled in return, but gasped soon after and jerked her head upright once it struck her whose joke she was laughing at. Then, gazing into the blue eyes of her friend and captain, Lyrr laughed again, this time with overwhelming relief and mirth. "You jerk," she whispered fondly, then squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. "It's about damn time."

"I can only remember bits and pieces," he whispered. "I remember the pain...and not much else. I remember...her eyes. Hurt like you wouldn't believe."

Lyrr sighed. "I think I can believe," she told him gently. "And don't worry...we caught her, Matt. It was the Farehn'ti."

Matt nodded. "Fools," he said. "They played us for fools. What happened to them?"

"The Ryuck ran off...not before attacking the Sulu." She raised a hand to halt him before Matt could ask the inevitable question. "She's fine. Some damage, but nothing that can't be fixed. I'm going to be paying a visit to the Opai soon. I have a feeling they weren't completely oblivious to the actions of their colleagues."

"Good," Matt said, then nodded. He glanced around. "Where's...where is Xayella?"

Lyrr smiled tightly and subtly removed her hand from Matt's. "She's getting coffee," she replied. Lyrr sighed, knowing her tirade could wait until Matt was fully healed. "She...she hasn't left your side for days. Well...except for now, but...she hasn't left you alone since it happened."

Matt smiled. "She's a good woman, Tayla," he said softly. "And, I care for her very much...I love her. I know you don't approve, but...but I won't let my relationship interfere. I'm...I'm sorry I kept it from you..."

Lyrr shrugged dismissively, though her pursed lips conveyed her resentment. "You didn't trust me," she stated simply. "I understand. I just...would rather have found out differently."

"I'm sorry," Matt said softly. "I knew you wouldn't like it...so we tried to keep it quiet. Assassin sort of spoiled that, I guess."

"Well, you certainly weren't keeping it a secret from the rest of the crew," Lyrr retorted. "Made me look like an idiot for not knowing."

"I said I was sorry," Matt said. "If I had told you, how would you have reacted? I...I'm sorry... I shouldn't have kept it from you... I'll do what I can to make it up to you."

Lyrr sighed and shook her head. "I don't want you to make it up to me. I-I just want to forget it. Besides...now's not the time for that." She smiled. "You've just opened your eyes, after all. Did you want me to go find Lt. Tagliesh?"

"Not yet," Matt said. "I want to see her but...just a little more time. We are still going to do that hockey game, right? No hot dogs this time though? I think I know a game that you might like; I can play that in there...if you're interested."

Lyrr smiled grudgingly, then nodded. "Alright...we can do that. I'll have to debrief you on all that happened after your..." She gestured towards his bed, and monitors, then shrugged. "You know. There've been some changes on board...everything's just so different, Matt."

"What sort of changes?" Matt asked softly, growing concerned, more for Lyrr than the state of the ship. She seemed quite distraught and he could see the lines of stress around her eyes. "What's happened, Tayla?"

She patted his hand and smiled reassuringly. "Nothing.... I just need to--" She cleared her throat and slipped down from the chair. "I should go talk to the Opai...then probably get some rest. I'll find Lt. Tagliesh for you, then Dr. M'Lira, just so she can check you out."

"Thank you," Matt said softly. "It's good to see you again. Put Sam in charge of the ship for awhile and disappear for a bit. You could use the relaxation."

Lyrr shook her head adamantly. "No, I'm in charge while you're recovering. I'm not going to let you down, Captain." She smiled and added, "And it's good to see you again too."

"I know you won't let me down, Tayla," Matt said. "If I didn't have every faith in you, despite our differences of opinion, you wouldn't be my number one. I'll see you soon, and hopefully when I'm up and wandering around."

Lyrr smiled, and as she made her way towards the door, Lt. Tagliesh stepped through with a cup of coffee in one hand.

"So," Xay said with a mixture of humour and hope, "did he talk or is he still being stubbornly quiet?"

Lyrr smiled enigmatically, and stepped out of the room, leaving Xayella to figure that one out for herself. As she approached the bed and noticed one side of Matt's mouth pulled up into a crooked smile, Xayella gasped and stopped.

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes," Matt said with a smile. "Or, in my case, ribs. I hear you never left my side." He reached out a hand to her.

Xayella hastily set her cup down upon the nearest console then rushed to his bedside as she clasped Matt's hand; she realized her own was trembling. "You're awake," she breathed, afraid to do more than touch his hand, yet yearning to hold him fully. Instead, she laughed tearfully and kissed his folded knuckles.

"I'm awake," he said. "Oh Xayella, it's...you have no idea how good it is to see you, to touch you."

She sighed and sank down into the seat by his bed. "You had me worried there for a while," she whispered. "But I wasn't going to leave your side until you opened those beautiful eyes of yours."

Matt sighed and then squeezed her hand. "And, I didn't open them when you were here," he said. "I hope seeing them now will do. And, I'll make sure you get to see them a lot in the near and distant future."

Xayella smiled tenderly. "Thanks," she whispered, then leaned over him and, lightly at first, kissed his lips. After a moment, she kissed him more fully, expressing through the gesture how much she truly had missed him.

One of Matt's arms managed to slip up and around, holding her in an awkward embrace. When the kiss finally broke, he smiled into her eyes. "We're not a secret anymore," he said. "Even Lyrr knows about us."

Xayella smiled wryly. "I know. She was there that...night." Xay paused, fighting off the chilling memory. "I refused to leave your side even then. And she sort of...figured it out."

"It'll be nice not to have to hide anymore," Matt said softly. "I don't want to seem like I'm ashamed of our relationship. I don't want anyone to think that I'm not proud as hell to say that you're the woman I love."

"I know you are," she told him gently. "That's not something we have to worry about anymore. Now, let's just concentrate on making you well enough to get you out of here." Xay smiled as she kissed his brow, then pressed her cheek to his and sighed. "I've missed you."

"Maybe I'll be well enough that they'll let me return to the ship tonight. So, what's been happening while I've been...away?"

Xayella pulled back and gestured vaguely. "Oh...nothing much. Just been biding my time, waiting for you...." She smiled alluringly, while her fingers brushed along his arm. "I do hope you recuperate very soon.... I've been a little deprived lately."

"That makes two of us," Matt said. "I'd say we could try a quickie, but I think my bravado would fade far too quickly once the pain set in."

Xayella chuckled. "Don't worry...it can wait. I want you better so we can finish our vacation...together. I'm not leaving you for a moment, Matt, not again." She sighed. "If I hadn't left that night...."

"If you hadn't left that night, they would have changed their tactics and possibly gotten both of us. You can't accept the blame for this, Xay. Please don't try to take the blame."

Xayella chuckled wryly. "Funny...the counsellor said the same thing. I didn't believe her. I don't think I wanted to."

"It's true though," Matt said with a gentle smile. "You can't take the blame for this. It isn't you, wasn't you, and never could be you. They're the ones who sent the assassin, they're the ones who told her to kill me, and...and they're the ones who failed to do so. You didn't do anything wrong, Xay."

She smiled wanly. "I didn't do anything right either," she muttered. Then, she sighed and managed to brighten her smile for Matt. "But...you're well now and alive, and I get to tell you about all the bizarre things that happened while you were asleep."

"Really," Matt said with a smile, though there was a hint of alarm beneath the surface. "Bizarre? What sort of bizarre things?"

Xayella giggled softly and kissed his brow for reassurance. "Nothing bad, Matt. Just...curious, that's all. Now, I want you to close your eyes for a bit while I go get you something to drink and tell Dr. M'Lira you're awake. Then," she added, brushing a hand over his chest, "you can relax and I'll talk you to sleep."

"I like the sound of that," Matt said. "Maybe I can even make some room for you here on the bed. I'll see you soon, my love."

Xay pressed a hand to his cheek, then departed. She barely made it through the door before she halted, part of herself yearning to return to Matt for fear that something else would happen to him while she wasn't there. Xayella turned part of the way back before she realized this would be the problem always facing her, as long as she remained involved with another officer - she'd fear never seeing him again, whether it was during battle, or simply stepping out of a room. She imagined Matt had the same anxieties, and that it was something both of them would need to work through. And she would have to start now.

Bearing down on her fears, Xayella pushed through the doors and resisted the urge to return to Matt's side. She would have to be strong, as would Matt, or their apprehensions would drive them apart. Xay was too hooked on him to let that happen, and overcoming those nagging concerns would help to prove all those who doubted them wrong.

---

"Recovery Room"
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal; Chief Security Officer

Location: Sweet Charity Medical Center, Risa
Stardate: 57907.11 02h46

***

Benedict came out of the warm darkness and the cold dreams like a drunkard opening his eyes on a scene that he didn't recognize. He was flat on his back, semi propped on pillows under his shoulders that allowed his eyes to see the whole room rather than a cold white ceiling. He felt dry. Thirst hit him like a hot wind from a parched desert. His mouth felt horrible, and tasted worse.

A man was staring at him dispassionately from the other side of the room. This was a hospital. The memories rushed in. A fight that he didn't know the outcome of. He was still alive. The disappointment of that realization surprised him. Maybe next time.

"Evenin'," said the man in the opposite bed. "Ensign Mason Farrell. Pleased to meet you," he said, the words absent and automatic, the speaker preoccupied.

Benedict nodded. He did recognize the name. Rank... So he was from Sulu. "Commander Lyrr...?" he said the first words and grimaced with the taste of it. He didn't know whether she was alive and he needed to know. Had he failed? Had the assassin won?

"Damn, that's right," Farrell said with realization. "You've been out the whole time. Lyrr's alive." Something sounded off about Farrell's tone when he named the XO. "The Sulu was attacked during the assassination attempt. Me and a security detail had to respond by ground transport. We got to you just in time, so the docs say."

Benedict nodded. "The Sulu?" He was responsible for the safety of the ship - if she was attacked he needed to know just how deep his failure was. The tone of the Ensign as he'd said Tayla's name showed a disrespect that somehow felt personal to Benedict. He'd defended her life earlier and now felt the need to defend her honor in the same way.

"I don't know for sure," Farrell shrugged. "They made it through fine, I know. But I haven't got any details. I've been stuck in here." He chuckled hollowly, and looked around the room as though planning an escape.

Ben nodded. He reached out and took a glass of water that stood on the bedstand. A straw to suck it through - and it tasted bland and warm. He screwed up his face. He would have preferred Sake. He looked across at Farrell. "You're the one who was in the firefight with the Ferengi?"

"That's me," Farrell smiled wanly. "The one with the Ferengi."

"And you're in the hospital again?" Benedict chuckled. "You charge to the rescue, huh? I guess I owe you one." Benedict shook his head. "You ever think about changing to security? It seems you have all the right instincts."

"For getting shot? And stabbed? And kicked all to hell?" Farrell asked with a grin. "Yeah, I'm like a moth to a flame."

"You seem to live through it," Benedict grinned back. "So what happened after I went out of it? Do you know?"

"When we showed up, the Commander had been working on bandaging you up with pieces of bedsheet. The security detail took charge of the scene, getting Lyrr to sit down and checking your wounds. Commander Lyrr was pretty shaken up, but she'd never admit it." Again, there was something in the Ensign's tone. "The assassin was pinned to a wall -- Ensign Firece collected your sword -- and the place looked like a tornado hit it. The Commander had called local medical support, and they arrived shortly after we did. They trucked us all over here for treatment. You've been in surgery a while. They wheeled you in here about ten minutes ago."

Benedict nodded again. Firece had his sword. Lyrr was okay - and she had saved his life. He knew that he'd been on the edge of death. The assassin had obviously severed an artery. She had been extremely good - but too single-minded. It had cost her her life - and almost his. He closed his eyes for a moment but there was still that tone in Farrell's words when he referred to Tayla that irked him. He opened his eyes again and considered the man. "I can't help noticing... When you talk about the commander. You seem irritated..." He toned down his real feelings. "I know she can be...difficult?"

"Oh?" Farrell said blandly. "Have you ever been court-martialled?"

"No..." Benedict frowned.

"Demoted?"

"Never...although I've come very close...."

"Faced administrative discipline?"

"No..."

"Then you really have no idea how difficult she can be. Sir," Farrell said with finality.

"You in trouble?" It was delivered with a grin. "For coming to the rescue?"

"We'll see," the reply was rueful. "Fact is, I've been in trouble since I got aboard."

"I can imagine...." T'Kal eased himself into another position, His leg was numb and his chest itched where a dermal regenerator had been used. He was dressed in a typical gown and hated that! The med-sensors at the head of the bed hummed steadily - his medical status was incomprehensible to him. He felt light headed.

"My first meeting with her was less than perfect...." Benedict gave a slight nod, remembering. "But she does grow on you." He remembered other scenes too...more recent. "What did you do that upset her so much?"

"I got demoted," Farrell said flatly. "Five years ago."

Benedict raised a doubting brow. "More recently than that I think." He shrugged. "You don't want to talk about it, that's fine." He settled back on the pillows. "I haven't been on the Sulu very long at all. I served on the Windsor before the Sulu - and the Galaxy before that. What about you?"

"Ranger, after Starbase 242. What was Windsor's class?"

"Intrepid," he answered with a smile. "She's a small ship - but she's the best of her size. The Galaxy - now there was a ship. She's huge - but not as big as a starbase. I think I prefer the Intrepid. Crew is small and easy to manage - I remember the Galaxy as a ship with a city sized crew. You can't get to know a thousand people - but the Intrepid, she's a family ship." He wondered what the Windsor was doing now. "The last ship I served on was Romulan..." he said it with a grin. "A warbird to be exact."

"Yeah?" Farrell asked, moderately intrigued. "Some oddball officer exchange thing?"

Benedict shook his head. "Windsor is on the other side of the Romulan Star Empire and heading out into the Beta Quadrant. There's another Confederation out there - an emissary arrived in the Federation last year and extended an invitation. The Windsor is our reply. She's carrying Romulan, Klingon, Ferengi and Human ambassadors..." He shook his head. "You think Commander Lyrr is difficult? Try dealing with a Klingon General who wants to kill the Romulan Ambassador and whose sons tried, and a Ferengi who would sell his whole family to get a bargain and who was busy trying to subvert the crew...." He was missing the Windsor. It was in his eyes. But his promise to Teb came first. "I came back on a Warbird - a favor of the Romulan Ambassador. I'd saved his life...so they let me serve on the ship rather than twiddle my thumbs for six months. I learned a lot about cloaking tactics - and Romulan methods...it helped...." It helped keep his mind off his mission. Vengeance.

Pain, Farrell decided. That's what was in T'Kal's eyes. Private Pain. Farrell knew that pain, and knew better than to touch it. T'Kal needed room, and Farrell gave it to him. He nodded, and both men sat in the uncomfortable silence until the painkillers took T'Kal into sleep again. Farrell stayed awake a long time, idly watching the monitors and thinking.

---

"Getting Back To Normal, Part 2"
By: Doctor M'Lira
Captain Matt Salinger
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh

Location: Risan Medical Facility, Risa
Stardate 57907.11, 03h15

***

M'lira appeared around the corner and smiled when she saw Xayella. "Xayella," she said. "I was just on my way to check on the captain."

Xayella grinned broadly. "Well, good...because he's awake and I think it's time we get him out of here." She winked at the Caitian. "Don't you?"

M'lira laughed a soft, purring laugh. "I will examine him and determine whether he's ready to leave. Though, if he is awake, chances are good he's well enough to be moved. Shall we go take a look at him?"

Xayella's face lit up with hope. "You mean...he can really go if he's alright?" She grinned and linked arms with M'Lira. "Right this way, Doctor," she announced as she led the Caitian off.

More laughter followed as Xayella headed down the hallway with M'lira beside her. "He is recovering very quickly," she said. "His body is very strong and his will to live is...remarkable."

Xayella grinned proudly. "That's because he has me."

M'lira smiled. "I have found that when a person has something they care for very much, it makes their will to go on that much stronger. Judging by his efforts to stay alive, he must love you very much. You are quite lucky."

She smiled fondly. "I think I am. There's no one else like him, M'Lira. No one."

"I do not doubt you," M'lira said. "A man or woman has to be something special to begin with in order to command a starship. My sense is that our captain goes well beyond that. I'm certain you'll be spending nights alone again before you know it."

"Alone?" Xayella frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The two of you, together and alone," M'lira said. "Perhaps that is not the correct terminology. The two of you will be able to spend your nights with each other once again."

Xayella nodded slowly, then smiled. "Yeah...that sounds much better indeed." She pushed open the door to Matt's room for the doctor, then called out gently to Matt. "You have another visitor. Looks like you're popular, my love."

Matt turned and saw Xay standing there with a young Caitian woman. He smiled at her, a doctor by her look. He vaguely recalled her as she approached. It took him a moment to place her, and then he recalled serving with her in his early days on the Hood. He remembered a few other things from that time that he wasn't sure about now. Best solution was to just play it easy. "Dr. M'lira," he said, dredging her name from the dark recesses of his memory...and once he recalled it, so many other memories followed. "Please tell me I'm all healthy and ready to go."

M'lira pulled a tricorder from her hip and slipped it open. "Give me a moment, Captain," she said, "and I'll be able to give you a full prognosis." The tricorder warbled for a few seconds, she nodded at the readings and then sighed. "I am sorry to say that...that the Risans may no longer be able to entertain the hospitality offered by the Sulu's medical team. It appears that you are healthy enough to return to the ship, Captain."

Matt glanced to Xay and grinned. "Time to go home, I guess."

"You guess?" Xay narrowed her eyes at him playfully, then laughed and bounded to the other side of Matt's bed for a brief kiss. "So," she said to M'Lira, "will he have to stay in sickbay or can he stay in his room? I promise, I'll watch over him."

"I believe he can stay in his quarters," M'lira answered. "I'll want to have a medical monitor in place, just in case. And, nothing strenuous until I say."

Xay smiled knowingly at Matt. "We have no idea what you mean, Doctor." She chuckled at M'Lira. "Don't worry...I'll be gentle."

"Gentle," M'lira said with a knowing smile. "Just remember that the captain's health is of paramount importance. I'm certain you won't do anything to jeopardize his health. I'll begin making the arrangements for his release."

Xayella thanked the Caitian as she started for the door, then took a moment to kiss Matt...gently, as she'd promised. "Looks like we'll be finishing our vacation in your room, but I don't think it'll be too bad."

"Well, you never know," Matt said with a smile. "She may say I'm fit to be rambunctious again in just a few days, and we still have quite a bit of time left here."

"I know, but...would you really want to come back here after what's happened?"

"It's a beautiful place," Matt said. "I refuse to let the Farehn'ti taint it for me."

Xayella smiled and brushed Matt's hair back from his brow. "Then they won't. When you can, we'll come back, and we'll make love on the beach again." She kissed his forehead, then added, "And buy me a few things. I haven't been spoiled in a long while."

"That sounds like a perfect deal to me," Matt said. "I think we have ourselves a date."

As M'Lira re-entered the room, Xayella gazed up and smiled. "You hear that? We have a date planned. You think we can get out of here now?"

"Everything is settled with the hospital," M'lira said. "All we need to do is get the captain dressed, and we can return to the ship. They're standing by for us in the hospital transporter room, and Chief Riley is ready on the Sulu. I've brought a change of clothes for you, sir. If you'd like I could...or Xayella can...help you into them."

Matt smiled. "Please, M'lira, when we're in private, just Matt. We served together before all the promotions, so Matt...especially now and down here."

M'lira smiled and there was a rippling of her fur. "Thank you," she said. "I wasn't sure if you remembered me."

"I must admit that it wasn't easy, and so much has happened. But, yes, I remember you, and I'm happy to have you aboard my ship."

"I'm happy to be there, s--. Sorry. She's a good ship."

"She is," Matt said, and then glanced to Xay. "With a good crew."

"Who are always willing to help another officer dress," Xay finished with a grin. "Now, don't be shy, dear. We won't admire for too long." She shared a smile with M'Lira as she pulled back the sheets, hoping Matt wouldn't mind if she stole a touch or two along the way.

"Now watch out," Matt said as they started dressing him, "I'm ticklish."

It wasn't long before he was dressed, and ready to leave. Matt grinned at M'lira and Xayella as they walked through the corridors. He was moving slowly, as quickly as he could manage in his condition. "It's nice to be going home," Matt said.

"And I can already tell you're going to be a stubborn patient," Xay teased, supporting him on one side after he refused a perfectly functional hoverchair. "But," she added with a smile, "I know just how to deal with stubborn men."

"Oh you do, do you? I should be scared, shouldn't I? Well, my doctor will protect me, I'm certain."

M'lira answered with purring laughter. "It would be ill-advised for me to step into what is obviously a domestic situation. I believe, Matt, you are on your own."

Xayella winked suggestively at Matt. "And in my very capable hands," she added.

"I happen to really like those hands," Matt said with a suggestive wink of his own.

"Just see that those hands behave," M'lira said. "Your body is healing but...but certain activities could arrest that healing."

Xayella sobered slightly, and nodded. "I promise, I won't let that happen, Doctor. He'll get fully healed, no matter what."

M'lira smiled. "I know he will," she said. "I know that you will be the best thing for his recovery. Now, here we are. I'll beam up shortly."

"Thank you, M'lira," Matt said, then slipped his arm around Xayella's waist. "Come on, my dear, let's go home."

Xayella sighed gratefully. "Gladly, my love." Then she helped Matt onto the transporter padd and gave a final wave to M'Lira. It was over. Matt's attacker had been found, and Matt was going to recover fully. Xay could finally imagine herself getting a full night's rest...in Matt's arms.

She was momentarily unnerved when Saavar came to mind as she thought of spending an intimate night with Matt. She had no idea what the Vulcan had done to her, but he was there, somehow burrowed into her brain. Though that he was there because of something she'd done for Matt's sake almost made the after-effects worth it. Almost.

"When we get to your quarters," she told him as the transporter operator began punching in the coordinates, "I'm spoiling you. Anything you want."

"Anything at all?" Matt asked with a roguish smile. "I think I'm going to like this."

Xayella chuckled and leaned in for a kiss just as the transporter activated and surrounded them in a glittering stream of energy. She'd offered him anything, and knew he would receive it if he asked; combined with her vigilance in staying by his side over the past two days, she'd learned something important about herself and it was that she was far more loyal to Matt than she had ever thought she could be to anyone. It gave her confidence that what they had was genuine and that she'd finally gotten things right in her life. And Matt had helped her achieve that. That alone convinced her that he wasn't going anywhere, not if she could help, and not even if he wanted to. He belonged to her now, and she planned on keeping it that way.

***

Once they were on the ship, they made their way to his quarters. It was a slow trip since everyone they passed wanted to give a few quick words of encouragement to the captain. When they were finally inside the room, closed away from the rest of the ship and galaxy, Matt allowed some of his exhaustion to show. "I think lying down would be good," he said. "Especially with you at my side."

"Well...you first." She eased Matt down onto the bed, and helped lift his legs onto the mattress. "Something to drink or eat?" she asked while loosening his shirt.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Just some water, I think. I don't think I could eat any food just yet, but water will be nice."

Xayella curtsied, then grinned as she moved off towards the replicator. "Water," she told the device. "Cold." Once it materialized, she sauntered back to Matt's side, dangling the drink between her thumb and forefinger to taunt him. "Now, you'll get this only if you make room for me in there."

"Gladly," Matt said, then shifted himself over on the bed. It wasn't as difficult as he'd expected, and soon he was on one side of the bed, leaving the other open for Xayella. "There you are, my dear."

"Much obliged," she replied, and after handing him his drink, she began removing her uniform, layer by layer until only her undergarments remained. With a sly smile for him, she slid herself under the sheets and curled up against him. "Yes," she sighed, "much better than that stiff old chair in the hospital room."

"I'd like to say that I'd forgotten what it was like to curl up in bed with you," Matt said. "But, I haven't...I don't remember much of my stay in the hospital, and my last memories before that are of us in bed together. So, all in all, that's not very bad."

"Considering what happened afterwards," she said softly, "not bad at all." Xay sighed and closed her eyes as her head found a comfortable spot Matt's shoulder. Sleep quickly tugged at her soon after. "Never knew I was so tired," she murmured.

"We can sleep now," Matt said. He set his glass aside and stretched his body along hers. This was how they belonged, close and together. "We can sleep together, safe from harm here in our own ship, our own home. It's good here...together. It's good here...with you." He grazed his lips over the top of her head. "I love you, Xayella, and it is wonderful to have you in my arms again." He closed his eyes and allowed her gentle breathing to lull him closer to sleep. "I love you..."

"I love you too," she managed, and whimpered softly as she quickly succumbed to slumber. It came peacefully and easily to her this time. It always would, as long as Matt was near.

---

"Getting Answers"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Members of the Opai Faction

Location: Tomorian Towers, Diplomatic Wing - Risa
Stardate 57907.11, 05h00

***

With Ensign Glickman on one side, and Ensign Hansen on the other, Lyrr Tayla marched straight on without slowing towards the meeting chambers of the Tomorian Towers. Equipped with a datapad containing all the grievances caused, and offences commited by the Opai's opponents, the Ryuck, Lyrr was prepared to dispense a particularly blistering censure to the remaining faction, no matter what excuses they offered or how repentant they appeared. Lyrr would not be silenced.

Adjusting the replacement uniform jacket beamed down for her, Lyrr glanced aside at the two security officers and nodded. They stepped forward and each held open one of the two heavy doors leading to the meeting chamber. The Opai rose from their seats as Lyrr strode through, while she fixe a hard, unrelenting gaze upon each of them. They had complained, politely, about the early hour for her requested meeting, but Lyrr was firm in her insistence they not delay. And now they were all there, the Opai standing and smiling to attempt a congenial greeting, but Lyrr dismissing it with a withering glare. The delegates exchanged knowing looks that Lyrr interpreted as awareness of their compatriots' transgressions, which only spurred Lyrr's anger.

She stopped at the head of the table, choosing not to seat herself and to use her quietly furious demeanour to intimidate. Silence pervaded the room as she watched the Opai, wondering how truly deep their involvement in the Ryuck's plots ran. No matter what their level of guilt, they would receive the same scathing tirade.

"Greetings," she began coolly. "Have a pleasant rest?"

"I don't believe you could call it pleasant or restful, but we are here, Commander." A long sigh followed the words. "I only hope there can be some means by which our peoples can make amends."

"I'm afraid, Minister Alos," she said, "that the Federation is not fond of dealing with liars, conspirators" --Lyrr made certain her gaze passed over each of them-- "and murderers."

"My faction are not murderers," Alos answered. "I can assure you of that. The Opai would never do anything to so thoroughly damage relations with the Federation."

Lyrr smiled mirthlessly. "Oh, you may not have committed the murder of Ambassador V'ril yourselves, but you did have the power to prevent it." She let her accusation sink in, let their guilt, if any, surface. "You were accessories to a murder, an abduction, and an attempted murder. You knew your brethren were involved. You knew they were opposed to these negotiations and would have gone to any lengths to sabotage them." Flattening her hands atop the glistening surface of the table, Lyrr leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at the Opai. "You knew...and you said nothing."

"We did not know of their plans for Ambassador V'ril until it was too late," Alos said. "They came to us afterward, gloating. They knew then that we would be...be between the rock and the sticky place." An aide leaned close and whispered something. He sighed. "Hard place. They knew that once the deed was done, we had two choices, to approach the Federation and tell everything we knew, and lose the Federation petition for admission; or to say nothing, and hope that our silence would buy us the time to be admitted into the Federation. We were in a difficult position, and to return to Farehn without our alliance...it would have been our doom. In either case, it is our doom."

"An alliance?" Lyrr shook her head incredulously. "An alliance built on lies and violence! You knew they were opposed, you knew they would do anything to have your application rejected. They murdered one man, and you had no idea they would not stop there?" She chuckled wryly and brought her padd forward. After calling up the appropriate information, she read from the screen. "On Stardate 57907.10, the subject of your moon was raised in these chambers; more specifically, the substance formerly mined on that moon." Her eyes locked with Alos' as she gazed up, and slid the datapad towards him. "The same substance emitted by the Ryuck's vessel. Now, are you going to tell me you held no knowledge of its use as a component of the Ryuck's cloaking device?"

"And, what would Starfleet and the Federation's reaction be when they discovered that the Farehn'ti had created a cloaking device? What would the Federation's reaction be to know that our cloak was undetectable by conventional means? How would the Federation respond to that knowledge, Commander? The substance is a by-product on our cloaking device. In most cases, the quantities are so small that it is undetectable at the standard sensor resolution. We misled you, but only in the intent to clear up our internal problems once the matter of our admission to the Federation was complete."

"And what if that never happened, Ambassador?" she asked. "What if the Ryuck revolted? They almost tore our ship apart! If the Ryuck were to rebel against the Federation in protest, they would make worthy adversaries, unfortunately. Is that what you had planned, Ambassador? A war? If your planet was still suffering from internal strife, you had a responsibility to inform us. Instead, you attempted to pass off the illusion of peace, that the Opai and the Ryuck were in agreement over a potential union with the Federation." Lyrr smiled coldly at Alos. "I assure you, Ambassador, no such thing will be happening now."

"We are aware of that," Alos answered. "We are also aware that we cannot return home. In either case, Commander, the Opai were doomed to lose, the Ryuck made certain of that. Had we come before you, the results would be the same as they are now."

"If you had come to us before," Lyrr corrected, "we could have provided aid. Now, a man is dead, another almost joined him, and the Ryuck are now considered hostiles in the eyes of the Federation. This alliance was to start on a foundation of trust, and we trusted you, Minister. All we received in return was deception, and now, pathetic justifications." She stepped away from the table, conveying in her expression pure disgust for the men and women sitting before her. "My recommendations to Starfleet Command will be to reject your planet's application. If we could, we would have those responsible for the crimes committed on this planet punished, but seeking them out will likely lead to a war we aren't willing to engage in. That is your province, Minister, not ours, and likely to be your fate if you cannot stop cowering to the Ryuck, and begin solving your planet's social conflicts. The Federation is not, and will never be your salvation; that is the job of you and your people. I hope it is a task they're up to."

"Perhaps they will be," Alos said. "However, I believe this is a conflict that has grown beyond our capacity to resolve." He looked down at his hands and sighed. After a moment, he looked up at Lyrr. "We have done a great disservice to the Federation and to your ship, Commander. I do not know if anything we can ever do will make up for our actions. What do you believe will be the Federation's response to a request for mediation in the conflict between Opai and Ryuck?"

"That depends, Minister," Lyrr replied. "Are you willing to divulge everything to us this time, or do we continue to distrust you for our own protection?"

"We will cooperate fully, Commander," Alos said. "We will divulge all information that is requested, and some that is not. For the good of the Farehn'ti people, we must."

"And to salvage your relations with the Federation." Lyrr nodded to the datapad sitting in front of Alos, then folded her arms over her chest. "We can begin now. Everything, Minister. Absolutely everything." She gestured to the two security officers flanking her, and both seated themselves. Lyrr did the same and smiled tightly at Alos. "You can begin writing."

"I will include what I can," Alos answered. "Perhaps if there is time during a break, I can try to get a technical advisor to fill in the gaps that I'm certain to leave. I am a diplomat, and I know some of the basic concepts, but that is about all."

"A show of cooperation is all we ask, Minister," Lyrr told him. "I am not a diplomat myself, yet I have taken on that role because the situation required it. We are all called upon to perform tasks we may not think ourselves suited to accomplish," she said with a sage smile, "but we manage, now don't we?"

"Of course," Alos said. "Are you telling me that you are going to rely on my knowledge of the technical workings of my people's cloaking technology and other such devices?"

Lyrr smiled. "I'm not asking you to become an expert in every aspect of your society's various achievements...I'm just asking you to do your best, Minister, and show a little goodwill."

"I will do what I can, Commander," Alos said with a strained smile. "And, that which I cannot do, I will seek out those who can. The Opai will fully cooperate in this matter, I promise you. Now, our cloaking device is based off of the principle that..."

And, so it began as Minister Alos of the Farehn'ti began taking the first steps in an open dialogue with the Federation, in hopes of salvaging the disastrous mess made by the Ryuck. It would be a long road, but this road was much more open and fraught with far fewer obstacles.

---

"Wrench Cake"
by Ensign Nathalie Gui - Communications Specialist
and Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer

Location: Sweet Charity Medical Center, Risa
Stardate: 57907.11 07h03

***

Upon immediate entrance to being beamed down to Sweet Charity Medical Center Gui's nose was instantly greeted with the sanitary smell of a great amount of disinfectant cleaning agents, a scent of some kind not dissimilar to bleach. Taking a quick breath and then shrugging the smell out of her nose she walked over to where an all-too cheery Risan nurse was working.

"I'm looking for a patient; he was brought in recently. Mason Farrell, where can I find him?" she asked in Risan. The nurse, a bit surprised at first to have an obviously Terran woman speaking to her in her native language replied, a bright smile on her face, "Oh the cute Terran guy with the funny accent. Right this way please!" Nathalie didn't know whether to roll her eyes or laugh; instead she just followed the nurse to the room.

"I'll go in on my own. Why don't you go back to work," Gui remarked, turning to the nurse. Smiling again the young nurse nodded and uttered something to Gui about problems arising and calling her if they did. The door opened and Nathalie stepped inside; on one side of the room her eyes found the form of Benedict T'Kal asleep in bed attached to various medical instruments. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what the Chief of Security had dealt with down on Risa to have received such nasty wounds.

Then she saw Farrell.

The old Terran expression getting run over by a MACK Truck suddenly came to mind; not entirely sure what a MACK Truck was, she instead stepped over to Mason's bedside and watched him sleep for a few moments. "I think I'm going to have to start calling you Danger Boy; you seem to love getting beat up more than I do," Nat deadpanned, shaking her head.

"Well, you know," Mason cracked a smile, his eyes still closed. "Farrell does rhyme with Peril. I should have listened to you. I didn't last five minutes without my phaser," he chuckled, then opened his eyes. "Come to gloat?" he asked facetiously.

Nathalie chuckled and gently reached out to touch Mason's hand. "I didn't come here to gloat, I heard about what happened with your "Big Plan" and I wanted to come and see how you're holding out...from the look of things I'd say everyone got a piece of the action," she remarked, looking over at T'Kal's still form.

"Yeah," Mason said absently and without inflection, the response of someone who has no response.

"What happened to you down there? You look terrible Mason..." Nat gently squeezed his hand as she sat down on the edge of the bed carefully.

"Oh, it's not so bad," he said. "The lieutenant got it a hell of a lot worse than me. He got an artery severed. I just took a shank to the gut. But we're both here for observation. It's kind of funny, actually. When I got shot and my back got torn apart, I was out of Sickbay in half an hour. Here I'm kept overnight. Of course," he said with a wink, "the nurses are really something. There's all kinds of healin' going on in here." His accent was creeping in on him again, probably from fatigue.

"Starfleet Medicine; possibly the best medical care one can get," Nathalie said.

"Yep, but for TLC, I'll take Risa," Mason quipped.

Gently tracing her fingers along Mason's muscled arm Nathalie then remarked, her face totally pokerfaced, "If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to make me envious of those other nurses attending to you."

"You're looking to 'attend to me,' are ya?" Mason said, not shying away from the touch. Then she hit the inside of his bicep and he flinched, but not with pain.

Nat couldn't help but hide a grin...Farrell ticklish? Who'd have thought? "That depends," she began, face still void of emotion. "Would you let...rather would you want me to attend to you?" Gui watched his eyes carefully, suddenly noticing their unique blue color.

"The temptation is deep, my dear," Farrell said dryly, but with twinkling eyes. Then he nodded at the other bed. "But the Lieutenant needs his sleep, and if we're pantin' and moanin' and makin' the bed squeak over here, we'll wake him up," he finished with a smile, watching for her hand in case she tried to tickle him again.

Gui leaned forward and whispered, "I admit to being gutsy but even I'm not that gutsy, Mase." Pulling back she squeezed his arm, prompting a tickle out of him and smirked devilishly. Mason eyed her smilingly even as he flinched away again.

"I better head back to the ship now," Nat then remarked, teasing. "If you're extremely desperate to get out of here I can always smuggle a cake in for ya." Smuggling a cake in was one of many ways one could plan their escape provided the item was prepared a certain way.

"Well, seeing as how it's morning, they'll probably turn me loose in an hour or two. But I'll see you back aboard," Mason said. "And, hey," he got serious, and reached out to pat her thigh. "Thanks for coming down. I appreciate it. I do."

Lifting his hand from her thigh, Nathalie held it to her face. "Don't mention it. I had to come down to see you; I doubt Bonnie could plot and scheme on her own without her partner." She laughed half heartedly as she fought the tears forming in her eyes.

Mason smiled an honest smile and thumbed a tear from the corner of her eye. "Hey," he said gently. "I'm not dead. I'll be fine."

Nathalie could feel her body begin to tremble as she listened to Mason speak. She never cried. She was too brave for anyone to see her shed tears. But closing her eyes, Nat could feel the tears slip past them. "With this whole assassination attempt on the Captain and then Lyrr, I...I was...beg-beginning to think you'd...be next and t-that I wouldn't see you again...especially af-after...last night..." Gui hid her face in his hand; she was afraid but she didn't want him to see that...she couldn't.

Mason closed his eyes a moment, thinking, but only for a moment. Then he sat up in bed and held her close, letting her cry herself out. He whispered and cooed, and stroked her hair for a long time. It felt good to hold her. She was. . . comfortable. It wasn't an embrace of physical attraction, like so many on Risa. It was an embrace of friendship, and it felt good. He hoped she felt the same way.

Nathalie rested her head on Mason's shoulder, sniffing away her remaining tears. She tightened her arms around Mason's waist as though she was ascertaining for herself that he was here and alive. Since his near death attacks Nathalie was certain she was growing closer to him, deeply. This relationship couldn't just be one along the lines of lust and friendship could it? It does seem somehow deeper than that, Nat mused to herself. She had a few flings in the past, a good portion of them turning out to be mostly physical and a small handful love. But this...she would need time to think this over.

---

"Making the Morning"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Counseling Office
Stardate 57907.11 08h10

***

Ainsley munched on a bagel and went through her schedule for the day. She wasn't supposed to have a lot of appointments today but with everything that had happened over the last little while she was expecting to get some last minute visits.

The communications terminal on her desk beeped. The push of a button lit the screen, the Federation seal giving way to the face of Mason Farrell. He was in civilian clothes, and looked a little haggard, but his smile was genuine.

"Hey," he said, stretching the word to make it a friendly greeting.

"Hey you..." she responded with a large grin, truly happy to see him. "How ya doing?"

"This is going to sound silly, but thank you," Mason sighed, weary but appreciative.

She searched her mind for what he possibly might be thanking her for and could find nothing. "For what?" she asked with a confused look on her face.

"For smiling," he said. "It's been a hell of a night, capping a hell of a week, and you just made my morning. Thank you." He gave her a tired smile in return.

She smiled more. "It's dangerous to tell a counselor that you've had a hard week, you know. You should be in bed!"

Mason laughed. "I know. They kept me overnight in the hospital. I'm checking out soon, and I'll be headed back up to Sulu for a shower and some sleep. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I heard it got a little hairy up there."

"Hospital?" she asked, her concern evident on her face and in her voice. "What were you doing in the hospital? Is that where you are now?"

"Yep." He looked around at things she could not see on the small screen. "Sweet Charity medical center. I got stabbed" --he waved a hand dismissively-- "but I'm fine. They kept me overnight for observation, but I'm free to go now, so I'm gone."

Ainsley sat forward in her chair. "Stabbed? What is it with you anyway? First you were shot, now stabbed. Are you sure you're ok? Do you need me to do anything for you?"

Mason chuckled. "I was calling to be concerned about you, and you're turning it all around. I'm fine. Really. They patched me right up. I don't even have a scar."

She leaned back in her chair again, but the look of concern was still on her face. "If you're sure," she finally said and saw from the look on his face that he was. She smiled then, unable to resist his grin. "Thanks for worrying about me, but I'm fine. A little sleep deprived but that's really it."

"Good. I'm glad everything's okay," Mason said gently. Then he smiled cleverly. "Hey, I'm on Risa," he said conspiratorially. "Want me to pick you up something before I head back?"

Ainsley thought for a moment. "You know what I'd really like? Some chocolate, the real stuff. I indulged a few days ago, and probably shouldn't again, but I'll spend a little more time in the gym next week." She giggled, suddenly craving the sweet.

Mason bowed his head dramatically. "Your wish, ma'am, is my command. I'll catch you later today with a delivery. Fair enough?"

"Thank you, sir!" she replied with another soft giggle. "I look forward to it."

"Good," said Farrell. "I'm glad you're okay, and thanks again for starting my day with a smile."

"And I thank you for the call. I was sitting here thinking what a day I am going to have." She sighed. "Be ready to share some of that chocolate with me when you stop by!"

He smiled slyly. "Farrell out," he said, and terminated the connection.

---

"Good Advice"
By: Lieutenant Savaar - Science Officer
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: USS Sulu, Astrometrics
Stardate 57907.11 08h30

***

Saavar stepped into Astrometrics and for a moment watched the back of Crewman Moreau as she worked. She was engrossed in her study of some stellar analysis and he politely waited. Under the circumstances Saavar was content to wait; he was off duty, this being Alpha shift. He pondered the events on the Bridge the previous day and knew that the woman had felt uncomfortable about their seeming disagreement on tactics. The fact that her suggestion, though modified only slightly was successful, made this task an easy one.

She turned and caught sight of him standing by the door and reacted with surprise. He smiled and nodded. "Crewman Moreau, I would like to talk with you if you have a moment."

"Yes, sir," Shyla said, slowly rising. For some reason she didn't feel comfortable sitting while speaking with Saavar.

The Vulcan science officer walked over to the Human woman and clasped his hands behind his back before speaking. "I wish to draw your attention to the events on the Bridge yesterday during Gamma shift."

Moreau hung her head a little, dreading something like this. That she had been right didn't really matter in her mind - she should have notified Lieutenant Saavar of her plans before presenting them. "Sir, I should apologize to you," she began to give her explanation. "I--"

"I would like to commend you on your lateral thought processes leading to the successful application of your tactical initiative. It was surprising - but effective." He nodded amiably as he spoke. He could see that she had not expected this from a senior officer - especially not Saavar.

"Thank you, sir," Shyla managed, recovering quickly.

"The reason that I wished to speak with you, Crewman, was to allay any misconception on your part that offering such a suggestion - or even showing a disagreement with my own view, was in any way inappropriate."

"I just would have preferred to do it differently, sir." Shyla looked down at her boots. "So much happened so fast, there just wasn't a chance."

"It is our duty as Starfleet personnel to make suggestions to those whose responsibility it is to make decisions. It is our responsibility to offer as many choices as possible - utilizing our own unique abilities to do so. I admit to being reserved in my judgement - whereas you provided a somewhat risky, yet daring option to Lieutenant Sam. His choice was the correct one. I wanted to make sure that your perception of events did not deter you from making such suggestions in the future. It is unhealthy for any Starfleet officer to believe that they alone have the correct answer or course of action. "

He smiled and nodded. "You did extremely well, Crewman. You have displayed an adaptable mind, and you spoke up when it was right for you to do so. You also showed admirable restraint. When offered the opportunity to fire the adapted photon torpedoes, you declined in favor of someone better qualified to do so. That is the mark of a good Crewman. I will be putting in a recommendation for a commendation for your actions."

Shyla visibly brightened but did her best to restrain it. "Thank you, sir," she said, trying hard not to grin.

Saavar raised an eyebrow at the woman's stifled reaction. "It is perfectly natural for you to show happiness, Crewman - after all, I am the Vulcan." He smiled. "I am sure that Lieutenant Sam would second my recommendation. Well done." He looked around the lab and nodded. "I will leave you to continue your work, Crewman."

Saavar didn't get three steps before he heard his name: "Lieutenant Saavar."

The Vulcan turned back. A raised brow was all he needed to prompt her to continue.

In spite of Saavar's encouragement, Shyla had smothered her grin completely and was looking down at the deck again. She kicked at some invisible spot on it with her boot. "Do you know of Ensign Storm, sir? And his situation?"

Saavar nodded. "I have heard only vague inference to his situation. Recovering information and being placed under house arrest - that is all I know. He is a security officer and I do not have any direct relationship with him or his superiors." That said he stepped back toward her. "You are obviously interested in this young man?" Her body language was clear. Avoiding the eyes, shuffling the feet - embarrassment and trepidation in asking Saavar the question. "How can I assist you, Crewman?"

"I want to help him, sir," Shyla said, her body language still saying more than her voice. "I just don't know what I can do."

"You have a relationship with Ensign Storm?" Saavar asked without inflection.

Out of habit, Shyla had begun to shake her head 'no' before she remembered that things were different. "Yes," she admitted softly, as if not daring to say it out loud. "I just don't know all the options to help an officer in his kind of trouble. I've managed to avoid trouble during my time in Starfleet. I thought that maybe you might have some...advice."

Saavar nodded. "Indeed." He took a moment to think about what she was asking. "Crewman - the most effective advice I can give you is to remain at a distance. An association with a man who breaks regulations, willfully and without forethought would jeopardise your entire career. You risk compromising yourself for a man who - if in fact you do have a relationship, did not consider your own position prior to his actions. He is under arrest. A decision will be made by the Captain and possibly Starfleet Command due to the nature of his infraction. I would advise you to remain distant until the situation is concluded. There is nothing that you can do to help him. He has made his own choices, and has done so rashly."

Shyla frowned, mostly because the Vulcan's words had a wisdom to them. If it were anyone but Storm or if this were someone else's situation, she'd even be inclined to agree. She knew that she was too close to see things clearly.

His words were not having a positive effect on the young woman. Saavar had wanted to make this visit a positive one - and she had asked him advice of a personal nature. Why did Humans think that they could bring their personal issues into everything? He looked down at her and could tell that she was emotional. "Perhaps the Ensign should seek further advice from the Judge Advocate General's Office. Compromising a planetary government would normally be serious enough to expect a Summary Court Martial to be convened. The Captain will assess the Ensign's actions and take the appropriate course. There is very little that you can do."

The smile returned to her face, slowly and maybe even a little slyly. If Moreau had been an illustration from another century, there would have been a lightbulb over her head. "Thank you, sir," she said through the grin. "That's very good advice. I'll pass that on to him."

Saavar smiled. "I am pleased that you think so," he nodded. Perhaps Crewman Moreau would follow his advice - he was mildly surprised that she had accepted it so readily. "I will leave you to continue with your work. Let me know should you require my assistance." He left her to her own thoughts, wondering what the Crewman would do next. He was ninety nine point seven eight eight percent sure that she would not remain distant from the Ensign.

---

"En Passant"
By: Ensign Ai'Pal; Science Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Officer's Lounge
Stardate 57907.11 09h56

***

Farrell whistled as he swaggered down the corridor. Ainsley had loved the chocolates, unwrapping and tasting with gleeful relish. But the traumatized and the frightened had begun streaming in shortly thereafter, and he'd excused himself to let her work. Besides, he had other plans to lay anyway. He walked through the doors of the lounge, searching. It was very early for the lounge, and the place was deserted, save for an Ops crewman giving the serving area a thorough cleaning, and a Vulcan staring at a chessboard. Perfect.

"Ensign Ai'Pal, I presume?" Farrell drawled politely, having reached the stoic man's table.

The Vulcan known as Ai'Pal sat studying his chess board. He was about halfway through his game now and all moves had been made logically. He was aware that there was another at the side of his table, because the human had announced his presence. Ai'Pal logged the moves he had made, causing the man to wait a while longer, before turning to his guest.

"That is correct. May I enquire to who you are?" he asked. His face was an emotionless mask.

Mason looked at the chessboard briefly. Nothing had been moved. He wondered offhandedly if Ai'Pal was one of those players who did the whole game in his head. It was a hell of a boring way to play, as it took a lot of redundant thought, but it was a distinctly Vulcan style.

"Mason Farrell," said Mason, remembering Saavar and keeping his hands behind his back. "Pleased to meet you."

Mason didn't bother waiting for Ai'Pal to respond to the greeting. A genuinely logic-bound Vulcan wouldn't. So Mason carried on. "How long have you been playing?" he asked, nodding at the chessboard.

"I have been playing this particular game now for the last week. If you are referring to how long I have been playing chess in general - since I am able to recall. "

The Vulcan showed no sign of breaking his emotionless state.

"Is there something that I can help you with, Mister Farrell?"

Farrell seated himself. "Well, I understand you've been assigned to room with Ensign Chambers. Is that right?"

"That is correct."

"Then I need your help. I've got a gift for Ensign Chambers, and I wanted to be able to give it anonymously. I was thinking of leaving it in the hall outside the door, but I wouldn't want someone else to take it, which means I need to leave it inside the door." His gaze drifted from Ai'Pal, staring flatly at him, to the board. The pieces were nice; it was a nice set, well cared for. "Now I could just get in -- most internal doors are easy to bypass -- but I'd much rather get permission from an occupant, especially now that she's sharing quarters. Can I convince you to just let me in so I can leave a box?"

Ai'Pal looked directly into Farrell's eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Let me confirm what you have just said. You wish for me to help you break into my shared quarters and leave an anonymous package for my new 'room mate,' because you are unable to break into the room yourself without raising suspicion. This plan sounds most illogical. Why is this package so important?"

"Ah," Farrell said; he did not flinch away from Ai'Pal's gaze, and without looking reached out to move a knight. The Queen's Knight, above the front rank of pawns and in toward the center. "Now you of all people ought to know that humans aren't the most logical breed. Sometimes it's the exact lack of logic in our behavior that helps us get to know one another."

Without skipping a beat, the Vulcan reached over to the table and moved a pawn, on the opposite side of the board from the knight, two spaces forward. "Ensign Farrell, I would like you to appreciate that your proposal is a complete breach of security."

Farrell moved his King's Knight the moment Ai'Pal took his hand from the pawn. "It would be, if I didn't have permission from an occupant of the room."

Ai'Pal's hand moved to place his next piece. A second pawn two spaces forward. On the board sat two pawns and two knights, faced off. The Vulcan sighed. "Mister Farrell, maybe you can explain to me why this package is so important."

Again, the instant Ai'Pal's move was complete Farrell responded, this time with a pawn of his own, two spaces up the center of the board. "I'd like to get to know Ensign Chambers, and I decided an illogical introduction would be the best way to do that. It's all about inciting curiosity."

Ai'Pal went to move his next piece. He put his fingers on the left Bishop, but instead of moving the piece, he hesitated. Farrell moved toward his next piece and placed his fingers on it before he realized what had happened. The Vulcan stared into Mason's eyes, moved his hand away from the Bishop and instead moved the King's pawn forward one square. Mason smiled slightly and completed his move anyway, bringing the other central Pawn into a large salient in the center of the board.

"I am not sure I understand why you cannot express your interest verbally," said Ai'Pal. "Would this be the first time that you have come in contact with Ensign Chambers?"

"No," Mason said, motioning for the bartender while he waited for Ai'Pal to move. "We served on a prior posting together. But there's contact, and then there's contact. Want anything?" he asked as the crewman approached.

Ai'Pal had seen this particular tactic before; he had conceived it once. The Human would win the match in three more turns. It was inevitable that the game was going to end soon. He moved his right bishop two spaces into the middle of the table.

"Ensign Farrell, you play well on the board, but I am not so sure about your approach to this situation. I will recommend to Ms. Chambers that she meet you at an appropriate time and place where you can discuss your affections towards each other. I cannot compromise my position so soon after I made it.

"You will win this game by first moving your two knights forward into an aggressive position, then by moving your queenside bishop in alignment with my King. It will not matter what I do to defend myself - the game is lost. Your game plan is good.

"If there is anything else you wish to discuss you should do it now, Mr. Farrell."

"Coffee, please," Farrell said to the waiter. "We may be here a while." He sat back in his chair for a moment, waiting for the waiter to leave earshot.

"You're a scientist, right?"

"That is correct." Ai'Pal's eyebrow raised again.

"How much time have you spent actually living among humans?"

"Not long, this is my first posting where Vulcans are outnumbered by Humans."

"Then consider this an experiment in human behavior," said Farrell. "Let me in, let me leave the box. Watch Ensign Chambers' reaction. C'mon, it'll be fascinating," Farrell smiled.

Ai'Pal thought. If he went through with this plan then he would break the trust between himself and Ainsley, not to mention that he may put the ship's security at risk. On the other hand, this man may have genuine feelings and his approach to ask a roomer to help deliver the package was logical. He was curious about the Human's reactions.

"Here is my suggestion," Ai'Pal said at last. "You will present the package to me, and tell me what the package contains. If I am satisfied that the contents are safe, I will personally deliver the package to Ensign Chambers and pass on any appropriate message. You can find me here at the same time tomorrow." The Vulcan rose from the table.

The waiter was coming back with coffee. Farrell rose and waved the crewman off. "That's fair, but why here? Can I meet you in your quarters?"

Ai'Pal was being irritated. He didn't know it yet, but his meditation would take a while longer to get over this conversation.

"Very well, Human. If you will leave me alone, then I shall participate in your scheme. Come to my quarters at 0830 tomorrow, and do not be late. If you are any late I will not permit you to enter." And then he turned and left - he had some serious meditation to do.

Farrell watched him go, and sat back down, slouching to one side with a finger on his lip. Ai'Pal was intolerant of humans, which was unfortunate. But it was a general intolerance, not personal, which made it useful. Nice. Very nice.

---

"Kal'Toh and Other Things"
By: Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Ensign Ai'Pal - Science Officer

Location: USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.11 10h15

***

Saavar stared unblinking into the darkness of space. The stars were tiny glinting diamonds on a deep indigo backdrop, painted in rough strokes with an expanse of crimson that was the Cerese Nebula, one thousand light years away. Many lifetimes had come and gone for the light to travel the distance to reach Saavar. The age of the Galaxy and the Universe around him always made him feel young. In Vulcan terms he was still very young, his life barely begun. He yearned to experience, to draw to himself the secrets that lay out there. To be beyond the stars known by Man or Vulcan. To be reaching for the unknown and the unknowable. The mystery that was life amongst the stars.

The mess hall was quiet. Breakfast had come and gone. Saavar sat facing the view port with his hands folded on the table. Although he had superb hearing, the low buzz of conversation eluded him. His meditation was all consuming. His eyes moved minutely, cataloguing the stars he saw, identifying them as a test of memory, making the three dimensional calculations from his new point of reference. He could appreciate the beauty of what he was seeing, but his logical mind was directed to the spectral differences between the tiny specks rather than the overall magnificence of the spectral display. The Cerese Nebula was of course the initial starting point. The red ochre stroke across the sky gave him a reference angle from Vulcan, and the three significant stars at the very tip of the gaseous cloud gave him the correct angle of rotation upon which to base his three dimensional mental image. After that it was a simple matter of geometry.

He had spent an hour in silence. His brief visit to Crewman Moreau earlier in the morning had satisfied his personal need to fulfill his responsibility as a senior officer to the young Crewman. They had both given different options to Lieutenant Sam, opposing it was true, but Saavar had felt that Crewman Moreau may not have fully understood that it had not been a disagreement. Therefore Saavar had taken it upon himself to explain that she had acted correctly in providing an option for the command officers on the Bridge. It had pleased the Vulcan that he had correctly assessed her 'feelings' on the matter. He had interpreted her body language and vocal stress patterns correctly in Human terms. He had done as he had promised and sent a recommendation for a commendation for the Crewman to both Xayella Tagliesh who was officially the Chief of Science, and also to Commander Lyrr Tayla the XO. It was illogical that Tagliesh should ignore Saavar's recommendation, but still he had made sure that it was not dismissed by including the XO.

As Saavar's mind switched thought processes from stellar cartography to Human communication he came out of his meditational trance. His eyes rested on the small octagonal pedestal upon the table. The strands of silvered straws were tangled, seemingly random and jumbled like a bird's nest. The game of Kal'Toh was a Vulcan meditational pastime played for its complex and also simplistic logical forms. It was a mind game that turned the random chaos of the straws into a lattice of structured forms with each move. A move was a singular movement of one straw, placed in a position to link with others in a pattern that only logic could discern. One needed to extrapolate to see the whole. It was exceedingly difficult to play for non-Vulcans.

He examined to chaos of the straws for several minutes. Then with a deft move of one hand he altered the configuration into the first opening form. The centre of the nest turned into a triangular formed base. From here he would construct different forms as each piece was added. Finally it would complete a single perfect form.

Saavar was considering the second move when he noticed that Ai'Pal was standing close, politeness showing in his patience and consideration of Saavar's obvious concentration. Saavar turned to look up at him. "I was considering the second Pin'Tak." He indicated the game of Kal'Toh. "Would you consider playing?" He spoke in Vulcan, the language more fluid to his mind than Standard. It also created a sense of privacy between the two Vulcans. It was a complex language that not many non-Vulcans could easily master.

The sound of Vulcan, his own tongue, soothed Ai'Pal. It took him back to his homeplanet, to his land, and in the same moment, back to the lounge of the Sulu.

"Yes," he replied to Saavar. "This game would be acceptable, although it has been some time since I have indulged in such a pastime. I have been distracted by other cultures for too long."

Ai'Pal took a seat opposite Saavar. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reaching out to his place of peace, searching inwards for a quiet part of his soul. Having found that place, he reached out to the board, visualised the sticks coming together to form perfect shapes. Ai'Pal recalled the words of his mentors. Kal'Toh was essentially simple, it was the mind that overcomplicated the game. The essence of the game was not to win or to beat an opponent, but to collaborate and find a deeper sense of logic with a fellow meditator.

Ai'Pal made a motion with his hands and created a second instance of Saavar's triangle. Ai'Pal focused his mind. Shoatar, una'iin collamar - unite separate parts. Ai'Pal's triangle turned over and merged with Saavar's, forming a cube.

"Pin'Tak," Saavar nodded, giving his opponent the acclimation of the second move. It was the same move he himself had envisioned. It was only logical. He looked across the table at the other Vulcan and said, "I similarly find other cultures to be distracting on the occasion. I am pleased that another Vulcan is present on the Sulu. Perhaps we may benefit one another." He considered his next move of the Kal'Toh and after a minute of concentration he opened the cube once again. It formed an imperfect geodesic shape, allowing Ai'Pal to complete a new form with his next move. All the while Ai'Pal had allowed Saavar the peace to concentrate before replying to his earlier remark. To a Human it would cause intense frustration that the conversation did not flow with immediacy. One comment flowing into another without due pause for consideration. It was refreshing for Saavar to find such peace. Humans were so impatient.

Ai'Pal acknowledged Saavar's move. "Pin'Tak." His shape may have been imperfect, but the move was logical. For his move, he positioned a series of sticks to form a secondary pyramid on the side. If Saavar recognised the move, then a secondary geometric shape could be formed, adding symmetry to an imperfect object.

This game was proving to be more relaxing than Ai'Pal had first thought. "I recognise your sentiment, Saavar. On my last assignment, there were a significant number of Vulcans. I believe that I took this fact for granted. Humans can be so illogical at times - I did not realise how different we are to these other races."

Speaking in his own tongue cooled Ai'Pal. He had not lost touch with his own language and in comparison to the Federation Standard, a simple language, Vulcan added to the complexity of the game, adding to the meditation.

Saavar nodded almost imperceptibly, but enough to show Ai'Pal that he agreed. He was mildly surprised that Ai'Pal's move was other than he had anticipated. Instead of reaching for perfection he had opted to continue in Saavar's own imperfect construct. Saavar examined it carefully and saw three possible moves. A straight forward dodecahedron, a further expansion of dysfunction that opened more possibilities for Ai'Pal or by projecting the current construct he could see a means to lend it symmetry. He could gain a further Pin'Tak or give that again to Ai'Pal, or extend both into a more complex reach for a San'Tak - where both would be awarded equally. Ai'Pal had already given him an indication of how he was playing the game. Saavar decided to share the point. His fingers changed a straw and the object took on a different symmetry.

"Humans have a tendency to always rely on illogical thought processes." Saavar looked across the table at Ai'Pal who was yet to commence his examination of the Kal'Toh board. "I rarely find a time in which they are logical. It still confounds me that they can surpass the majority of races in their endeavours. I find that they have a talent for commencing at the beginning and jumping to the end - with no logical progression in between. They call it 'gut instinct' or 'intuition' and any number of concepts such as 'luck' or 'Gods.' I find it fascinating. I imagine that Humans' unpredictability is one of their greatest assets in dealing with other races. Simply put - we are alien to them, and in many ways - though we have left their emotive behaviour behind, they are alien to us."

Ai'Pal had hoped that Saavar would take this course. In this case, by adding to imperfection, a perfect shape could be formed. It was much like the history of his own people. They had once been an emotive race, like humans, but gave up those ways to avoid wiping out their race through war. He brought down a series of pins to create his shape. Together Saavar and Ai'Pal had created an exact replica of their earlier geometric shape, forming symmetry. From imperfection had come, a step closer to, perfection.

"The Human Race's unpredictability is one of their greatest strengths. Where we put our emotions to one side and strive to achieve cultural perfection through the suppression of emotions - the Humans agreed to be different and have succeeded because of their differences. I find it admirable that they have made such great achievements. I almost wonder whether they need our guidance anymore."

Saavar nodded. He made another move. Now that Ai'Pal's strategy was revealed he could anticipate logically what would be done. They were moving in a concerted strategy rather than an opposing one. The shape shifted once more - this time it made a perfect triangle built from thirteen triangles to a side.

"They will always require our guidance," Saavar replied to Ai'Pal's last observation. "We are an older, more established race. There are still many things in this universe that they have not encountered. The Human race will always require a logical option, and it is - as ever, the duty of the Vulcan to guide in such a manner. Their development has been astounding, but still, without the hand and the logical mind of the Vulcan, they would not have survived thus far. I refer to the many missions of the famed Captain James Tiberius Kirk, who forged a place for Humanity in this galaxy. If not for the assistance of Spock of Vulcan, his voyages would have ended in failure. Many times." Saavar smiled. "We will always be there Ai'Pal - always. It is our way."

Ai'Pal had contemplated his next move, but had been distracted momentarily by something. Had Saavar smiled? He tried to focus his mind and took their triangular shape and strung it out, 10, 50, 100 times forming a circular string of twisting triangular pyramids.

"And what of us, Saavar, what have we learned? Our people remain split in their opinions. Some find themselves resenting the Humans for their emotional ties, others choose to use emotions at times to aid their communications with the emotive races. It seems inevitable to me that our race needs them to continue, but ends up losing a part of the rich culture that we once enjoyed. I believe that we are still unprepared for the effect that our bond with this group will bring us."

"You are correct, Ai'Pal." Saavar nodded. "Inevitably, Vulcan will be moved to embrace change. Our culture is ancient and our ways have always been insular. Our superiority will not protect us from the influences that assail us. It is inevitable that Vulcans who choose to participate in the joining of our cultures will be influenced by the Human race." Saavar looked across the board at Ai'Pal; the other Vulcan stared emotionless at Saavar, showing no trace of his inner being. "That is precisely why there are so few Vulcans serving in Starfleet," he said. "The decision to join is a decision to participate in the very thing that changes us. We are comforted by the presence of other Vulcans, and in that fact alone we are revealed as changed. We are called upon to serve, and in so doing we inevitably succumb to their influence."

He moved another Kal'Toh piece and the circular form changed. "The Kal'Toh board is a representation of us," he indicated the changed shape. "We strive to produce order from chaos, always trying to conform to the strictures of logic while all around us the universe changes. Vulcan will change. If it does not - then it will go the way of countless other ancient yet dead races. I believe we will be successful."

"I hope for our sakes that you are correct." Ai'Pal paused for a moment then continued, "I would like to apologise. I was too judgemental on your emotional display. My reaction was most illogical. " He didn't wait for a reaction, his apology didn't warrant one.

"I would like to ask you about the situation that the ship has been in over the last few days. I understand that the murderer was discovered through telepathy. What do you know of this. I am interested to know more?"

Saavar sat back slightly. It was only a small movement, but enough to portray to Ai'Pal that he was surprised and a little put back by the straight-forward request. He realized almost immediately that he was the logical choice to ask; he had been present in the diplomatic exchange and would presumably know the facts. Ai'Pal did not realize how close Saavar had been to it. The request made Saavar look up at his fellow Vulcan and meet his eyes. He considered his request deeply. The seconds stretched on as the implications of any revelation were calculated logically - emotions firmly aside. A Mind-Meld was a very private thing - even amongst Vulcans, and indeed amongst mere associates as the relationship between Ai'Pal and Saavar was at present.

He had been vaguely troubled by the memories he held from the meld with Xayella Tagliesh. It was unusual for a Vulcan to meld in such a manner with a non-Vulcan. It had been outside of Saavar's experience and he was admittedly having difficulties with the severing of his bond with T'Sirra, his wife.

"I am familiar with the situation," he said. His total lack of inflection and studied immobility told Ai'Pal more than anything that Saavar was uncomfortable. "It concerns a private matter." Saavar might have left it at that, and normally would have done so. But he required at least one confidante on the Sulu. The counselors were all human and so were of no use in these matters. Perhaps a Vulcan insight may be of use. "Perhaps," he said, "we could discuss the matter in a more private location."

Ai'Pal nodded once to show that he had acknowledged Saavar's words. "Of course, Saavar, that would be acceptable. You may at any time visit me in my quarters. The Human that I share with works on a different shift to me. I have privacy."

Ai'Pal took a deep breath and studied the board that lay in front of him. He was aware that it was Saavar's turn to move his pieces, but had decided to take the logical decision to keep the game moving. The conversation was beginning to take over their meeting.

He manipulated the board and tapped the existing circle of geometric shapes. Then he twisted the shape to form two interlocking circles, both rotating and twisting in their own way. He settled back in his chair and closed his eyes; there were several directions that the game could go in now. The game could last minutes or several more hours and would depend on the level of meditation that the participants required, or in some cases, were capable of. Ai'Pal applied patience and awaited Saavar's response.

"Perhaps you might accompany me to my own quarters," Saavar said as he sat back. To Saavar the game was over for the present. His manner of speech indicated that he was intent on the moment. He had made a decision and to delay was illogical. He stood. "I would appreciate your perspective on the matter at hand. It would also provide you with insight into the affairs of which you asked."

Ai'Pal stood and nodded. "Very well, Saavar. Please lead the way." As the Senior of the two lead the way, Ai'Pal followed behind in silence.

The game of Kal'Toh put aside for the moment it was left as it stood on the table by the view port. The two men walked in silence to Saavar's quarters, as a Lieutenant, Saavar rated single officer's quarters, certainly more spacious than the crew decks.

They entered and Saavar indicated one of the two cushions that lay close to his low table. He lit several candles silently as Ai'Pal sat. He moved almost ceremonially as he attended to the lighting of the Vulcan meditational flames. He left the smaller Jo'Tusarr that stood in the centre of the table until last. As he sat opposite Ai'Pal he lit the lamp from a small taper. That done he ordered the computer to dim the lights.

They sat facing each other in a mirror of the situation with Xayella Tagliesh. Only this time Saavar was not as prepared for what he was about to do. Revealing anything of an intimate nature between Vulcans had connotations to it. In this way, friendships and bonds were made. Saavar couldn't help feeling that this situation was rather forced, and that he was in a way using Ai'Pal for his own requirements. It was the singular fact that both Vulcans had begun to seek each other out in off duty times that allowed Saavar to take this next step. A graduated process of revelation would normally ensue between Vulcan males, proper respect and careful consideration for the rights of the other, and a knowledge that a deeper understanding was being sought by both would be the Way. It was tradition. It was proper. It was only logical.

Saavar began the chant of five towers. It began slowly and gently, evenly with a syllibance that only true Vulcans could show for their mother tongue. It expounded the five basic tenets of Vulcan life: Logic, Truth, Mind, Knowledge and Spirit. It was a traditional chant that had two parts; Saavar intoned each of the five and Ai'Pal would reply with the next.

"Logic cannot exist--"

"--without Truth."

"Truth cannot be seen--"

"--without Mind."

"Mind cannot be directed--"

"--without Knowledge."

"Knowledge cannot be purposeful--"

"--without Spirit."

"Spirit cannot be focused--"

"--without Logic." Ai'Pal finished the round but it began again in the same way. Both Vulcans concentrating upon the words and the meditation that it brought. They carried on until Saavar found the inner peace necessary to share his experience. Perhaps an hour went by, it was a time apart from everything with both men concentrating on tones, inflection and inner tranquility.

Saavar ended the chant with, "Logic is the path to tranquility." The words left behind a resounding silence. It lasted for long minutes.

Opening his eyes Saavar felt that he was adequately prepared. He stretched out a hand, palm facing Ai'Pal in the three forked manner. It was an invitation to touch minds. Not a full mind meld; the Vulcan was capable of touch telepathy and a sharing of thought on many levels. It took training to perform a full meld, and Saavar did not want to submit Ai'Pal to the rigors of a meld, nor did he himself wish to share that deeply. He offered a simpler sharing of thought - simple words but much more eloquent than a speech or description of events. Instead he offered to show and tell Ai'Pal without hiding any of the truth.

Logic cannot exist without Truth. He needed Ai'Pal's logical assessment. He could see that his offer to link minds was not expected by Ai'Pal - in fact it would surprise any Vulcan to take this step so peremptorily in any relationship. It was a breach of personal privacy. Saavar was in fact offering a level of friendship beyond the bare association of crewmen.

Something that Ai'Pal had not been immediately prepared for. When Ai'Pal had been invited to Saavar's quarters he had imagined them having a private conversation, the choice of telepathy seemed rushed, but it was the logical course. There was no need to use words if he could see for himself in the same time.

Ai'Pal took a deep breath of air and raised his hand to match Saavar's. He brought it level to Saavar's but left a gap of about an inch. It was customary in this situation for Saavar to initiate the process, as it was at his request. It was important to the telepathic link for both parties to be ready. By his movements, he was.

"Very well. Let it begin."

Their palms touched. "My thoughts to your thoughts," Saavar began. "My sight is your sight." The process commenced with a smooth meshing of surface thought. It was far smoother than Saavar's initial contact with Tagliesh. Much less traumatic to his psyche. It was more like slipping into a cool pool rather than pushing oneself through a razor-wire grate. The customary sharing of lineage and self-awareness commenced. Ai'Pal learned of Saavar's Romulan father and the faltering of his s'at training. The awakening of his determination in understanding Unification of the Vulcan and Romulan parts of himself, the dichotomy of logic verses emotion. The sharing of himself went one way for now. It was completely left to Ai'Pal to choose whether or not to disclose his own self.

The events of the mind meld came next. The confronting request from the Sulu's First Officer and Saavar's decision to comply. Xayella Tagliesh and her highly strung emotional state, devastated by impending loss, and internally screaming for Matthew Salinger to live amidst the strength of her love for the man and the level of hate for his would-be assassin. Emotions of raw power and overwhelming brutality in their assault on Saavar's own mind. The effort of control it had taken to diminish them to a controllable level. Her memories were not shared, that would contravene Saavar's strictures for privacy of Xayella herself. However Ai'Pal could plainly see the root of Saavar's difficulty. He had a mating bond established with Tagliesh that had supplanted his own wife. The depth of the mind meld had been sufficient to establish the link. Xayella Tagliesh's mind was connected to Saavar on a subconscious level for the woman, but Saavar could feel it. More than that - he felt more keenly the absence of T'Sirra his wife. It produced profound discomfort. The emotional discharges of Tagliesh's mind caused Saavar something like pain. It was something he endured. It was the personal price he paid for attempting something he was not fully equipped to deal with. His break with s'at training allowed her emotions a chink in his armour. He wasn't emotionless enough to shrug it off, and he had no idea how long it would be until he could deal effectively with it.

Ai'Pal opened his eyes and studied his fellow Vulcan. He had seen the pain, the raw emotion that had been dealt from the Mind Meld. He could see the dilemma that Saavar now faced, but in fairness there was little that he could do. To establish a link with his wife, he would need to return to her and re-establish his bond.

The situation could not be helped any, not by Ai'Pal. "I understand your situation. If you wish to meditate or share your experiences then I will be available for you." The offer was sincere and genuine.

Saavar was grateful. Ai'Pal's simple understanding and offer of help meant a great deal. "Thank you, Ai'Pal. I would appreciate your assistance in this matter." That was all that really needed saying. It would take some time. But as Vulcans, they had all the time they would need, and both knew that they would deal with the situation and work together for as long as it took to reach resolution.

---

"Breakthrough"
By: Ensign Amy Reese
Counsellor Brennyn Scott

Location: Lt. Scott's Counselling Office, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.11, 10h45

***

Amy had chosen more conservative attire for this occasion, and that meant her uniform. She wanted to make a good impression on the counsellor, if only to convince her that she wasn't a lost cause, and that she really would benefit from sessions with her. Amy sighed and nervously tangled her fingers as she walked through the ship's corridor. She and Kit had had a wonderful night, one of the best ever, and she wanted every one to be like that. She'd never felt so strongly for anything in her life, and hanging onto Kit had become of the utmost importance to her now. She wouldn't fail him.

Stopping before the counsellor's door, Amy took a deep breath, then smoothed out her uniform. When she reached out to activate the door chime, she found her hand trembling. It was now or never. After a moment to compose herself, Amy swallowed hard and tapped the door console.

"Come in!" called Brennyn, rising to greet Amy Reece. Scott had to admit she was curious about this meeting. Until now, most of her sessions had been expected, either because they were "regulars" previously scheduled to see Jhenal, or because procedure required it.

The parting doors startled Amy. With a nervous chuckle, she stepped over the threshold and remained there. Awkwardly, she waved at the counsellor from where she stood.

"Hello, Amy. I'm Brennyn Scott, but you can call me Bree if you like. Please, make yourself at home." She gestured to the couch and the armchairs organized in her reception area. "Can I get you something from the replicator?"

"Oh...uh no...thanks." Amy smiled at the woman, and continued doing so even when she took a seat on the couch. She sat stiffly and her smile seemed just as rigid, but Amy never was comfortable around counsellors. "So..." she began, then giggled. "I'm here!"

Bree resumed her place opposite Amy and smiled politely, sensing the other woman's nerves. "Care to tell me what's on your mind?"

"Well, a lot actually," Amy admitted. "But...one thing, really...." She sighed and folded her hands tightly together. "I have a boyfriend, you see... And I love him very much," she told her. "But...things have been rough, you know? And I want to make them better."

Bree nodded. "Alright. Why don't you start by telling me what you mean when you say things have been rough."

"Well, you know how it is." She chuckled uncomfortably. "See, I've never really had a steady boyfriend...really. I-I usually just go with one guy...then move on. But with Kit it's so different!" Amy sighed. "See...I cheated on him, and we're trying to work it out, but I keep doing it and I don't know why."

Bree frowned, not quite sure she had heard correctly. "On some level you do, Amy. A person doesn't just fall into bed with a stranger without a sense of why they're doing it." Her tone wasn't accusatory or condescending, simply factual. Amy's problem was not like a disease she couldn't control, and she wasn't a slave to her needs.

"I know," she admitted sullenly. "But that's why I'm here...and to ask if you'd consider seeing both Kit and I on a...sorta regular basis. You know, like couples counselling or whatever."

Bree's tone was gentle. "Don't worry, Amy, I'm not here to beat up on you, and yes, I'm going to help you in any way I can. But first, I want to meet with you and Kit separately for awhile. It'll help me to understand the two of you as a couple if I can understand you as individuals. Would Kit be willing to do that, you think?"

Amy appeared opposed initially, then she sighed and shrugged. "I dunno... I mean...it's my problem, not Kit's. He might feel weird having to see a counsellor for something that's not even really about him."

"If he's serious about his relationship with you, it's a problem both of you need to work on together. You cheated, and I'm sure it hurt him and he's going to have to deal with that hurt, but there's no sense throwing blame around without moving forward."

"Oh, but you're wrong," Amy stammered. "He says he's not hurt anymore. He told me that...he's past that."

"I'm not sure anyone can turn off their feelings so easily," Scott replied gently, "and if he loves you, I doubt he'd give himself permission to feel hurt and angry anymore for fear it would just hurt you further. But, as I said, I think it would be best if I saw the two of you separately for awhile."

Amy nodded slowly, warily. If she wasn't there with them, she would never know what the counsellor was trying to convince him of, even if that was to dump her. Amy shook her head quickly and abruptly rose. "I-I dunno.... I'm thinking this might not be such a good idea after all. I-I think Kit and I can work this out on our own."

Bree leaned forward in her chair and her brow furrowed. "Amy, what are you afraid of? Talk to me."

Amy chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not afraid of anything. I just...I think Kit and I are fine right now. And...I don't want you to waste your time on us when there are people who really need your help."

Her reply was soft, gentle, almost a whisper. "And you feel you aren't deserving of it?"

"Undeserving?" Amy laughed incredulously. "Undeserving of what?" She snorted derisively. "I am not feeling anything but insulted right now, Counsellor. I was just saying that I didn't want to waste your time, and now I'm being accused of having low self-esteem. That is hardly fair."

Bree regarded her casually. "Something brought you here, Amy. I am simply trying to give the help you asked for. It's my time to waste, and I want to do what I can to help you understand why it is you want to hurt yourself and Kit by having sex with other men. When and if you're ready, I'll be here."

Amy swallowed hard, and absently nodded. Slowly, she turned and started for the door, but paused in the open doorway to glance back at Bree. "You know," she said quietly, "it did hurt. A lot. But the worst part is...it wasn't because I'd betrayed Kit; I hurt because I was degrading myself. That's what scares me."

"So when is that realization going to stop scaring you and start healing you?" replied Scott from her armchair.

Amy smiled wryly. "When I start caring about Kit instead of only myself, instead of my pain. But I don't know if that'll ever happen." She sighed and lowered her eyes. "There's something wrong with me, isn't there?"

Scott got up from her chair, walked over to Amy, and tucked a finger under Amy's chin so she could look at her. "If you're unhappy, then there's something that needs to be dealt with, but it doesn't mean you're a broken toy, Amy. You're not my science experiment, you're not a hopeless case, you're just trying to be happy."

"I know," Amy whispered. "But...I don't know how to be." She chuckled ruefully. "How can I when I've never felt it?"

Brennyn's smile widened. "That question, my dear, is what I call a very good start."

Amy sighed, then managed a wan smile for Bree. "So...does this mean you'll still see Kit and me for sessions?"

Bree clasped a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "If that is what you want, Amy, then I'll be happy to help you." She winked. "And just for future reference, there's nothing you can do or say to push me away or change how I feel about that. Now, as I said before, I'd like to speak with you and Kit separately before I meet you as a group, but if you're not ready for that, how about if you and I meet for awhile first?"

Scott could sense that Amy desperately needed approval and support, but that she also desired independence. Somewhere along the line love and support became conditional. Before Bree and Amy could get at the heart of why Amy was seeking love from other men, Amy had to know she could trust Brennyn to listen and to support her without limits. It was going to be a long process.

"Well...I can probably ask Kit if he'll do it," Amy replied uncertainly. "But I'd like to meet with you either way." She sighed, and let out a relieved chuckle. "This was hard. I'm so nervous about all this. I just...I don't want you to think I'm some whore or something...you know?"

Brennyn's eyes softened, and on an impulse, she pulled Amy in an embrace, wrapping her arms around Amy and holding her close for a moment. "You're not a whore, Amy. I know that, and over time, I hope to help you come to believe it as well. You're safe here, and...you're going to be ok."

Amy was taken aback a moment, and stood unyielding in Brennyn's arms until she sighed and relaxed into the embrace. "Thanks," she whispered, and found herself reluctant to pull away. She remembered such gestures offered by her mother, but couldn't recall them being so warm and truly expressing affection. Her mother accomplished that by reprimanding her for failing to make the top of her class at the Academy. Amy sighed, and finally pulled away. "I should get going," she told Bree. "But...should we arrange a session maybe?"

Bree pulled back and smiled. Perhaps some would say it was corny, perhaps some would say she was overcompensating for not getting any true affection from her parents, but Bree, like most counselors, was a true nurturer. And when the situation called for it, and she knew it was not going to embarrass the recipient, she was not afraid to offer a physical gesture of support. "That sounds like a plan. How about tomorrow after your shift?"

"Oh, I'm still on shore leave," Amy replied. "But we can meet at 16h00." She smiled. "I really am grateful, Counsellor Scott." And finding herself partial to hugs from this almost stranger, Amy embraced Bree one final time then chuckled and departed with a noticeable bounce in her step.

Brennyn watched her go, then permitted herself a smile. Most people feared her. Hell, most of the time her job was getting people to care about themselves and their emotional states and what she could do to help them. Being a counselor was not a glamorous job. It wasn't the job that was going to win her medals or admiration from future Starfleet hopefuls. It probably wasn't even going to win her a shot at command.

But Brennyn Scott didn't give a damn about any of that. Her rewards were measured in smiles and happy tears. Days like this reminded her why it was that she had the best job in the universe, one she planned to do until the day she died.

---

"Photonic Phace Off"
by Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
and Ensign Viraj - Operations Officer [NPC+]

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.11, 11h23

***

"I have conducted conversational intercourse with Starfleet Medical about your...condition," Ensign Viraj gently said. The Deltan nervously shifted his weight to the sides of his feet, slightly leaning against the doorframe of the Sickbay examination room. With the Mark II EMH (accidentally reprogrammed to look exactly like the nurse he might call his archenemy, Cristobel Sefton) standing in the middle of the room, Viraj didn't feel comfortable with entering and letting the doors shut behind him.

The medical staff in main Sickbay wouldn't be able to hear the Emergency Medical Cristobel Sefton Hologram shrieking at Viraj, if the doors closed.

Grimacing, Viraj suggested, "Mayhap you should sit down."

"I'm not programmed to lose my balance or get easily upset," the EMCSH snapped.

"If you say so..." After trailing off, Viraj recalled what he was supposed to tell the hologram, and apologetically explained, "Uhm, right; I talked with a representative from Starfleet Medical, and she has requested - or rather ordered - that we contort your code no longer. Unfortunately, we received these orders after Flummux decided to give you the, uh, 'bonus' of having the same vocal pattern as your current face and body." Viraj said the last part in a rush, hoping the EMCSH wouldn't hear it all, before more pronouncedly saying, "A specialist from the Holoprogramming Centre on Jupiter Station will be dispatched, at his soonest availability, to properly restore your program." Viraj didn't even mention that Flummux had managed to find a copy of the EMH's original physical profile listed in a holoprogram under EMHH, but wasn't permitted to use it, because of Starfleet Medical's current directive.

Visibly brightening, the EMH enthused, "How soon will the specialist arrive?"

"...He isn't...exactly en route yet." Viraj cringed with his entire face. "Since you're relatively functional, you're not a high priority. You won't be repaired until after shore leave, when the Sulu reaches Deep Space 9. Thusly, you will have to remain appearing to be--"

Only then recognising that his voice was no longer his own, the EMCSH contemptuously concluded, "Sefton."

***

"Messages," Amy muttered with contempt.

The last thing she wanted to do was spend a moment longer on board when her time was better spent on Risa, evening out her tan. Instead, her commbadge had chirped to signal the receipt of a message and sickbay was the nearest place to collect it. She entertained the idea of simply leaving it until after the shore leave, but her curiousity had been piqued now and Amy Reese simply couldn't leave it without that curiousity driving her insane. So she grumbled and complained, and wandered petulantly towards sickbay.

Despite her sulking, animated conversation filtering into the corridor caught Amy's attention, not in that such things were uncommon aboard a starship; it was who was speaking that held her interest. She halted in the corridor, and turned her ear towards the sound, noting the particularly sarcastic quality of one of the voices, one that sounded curiously like....

Amy gasped, and dashed down the corridor, the voice growing clearer the closer she came to sickbay, until it was undeniably--

"Crissy!"

An exuberant squeal followed as she bounced excitedly in the doorway, both Viraj and "Cris" looking stricken. Amy vocalized something that was a mixture of a giggle and a squeak. That was when she bolted from the doorway and charged 'Crissy.'

The hologram futilely attempted to back away, but was unable to evade the woman now sailing through the air with a look of unbridled joy in her eyes, though they appeared to be filled only with madness to the hologram that was soon to be on the receiving end of that elation.

Two long legs wrapped around his waist, and two arms around his shoulders as Amy latched on to the hologram. He staggered backwards, but maintained his footing, until he desperately attempted to avoid the puckered, blue-painted lips aiming for his by shaking his head wildly. Both came crashing to the ground, with Amy still giggling atop him.

"Crissy!" she exclaimed. "You're home!"

He could do nothing to prevent a kiss from catching him on the forehead this time, and leaving a blue, heart shaped imprint behind.

"Whatthehell is wrong with you, Reese?!?" the EMCSH hollered. He struggled to shrug his way out of her grasp, but his own shoulders weren't as rounded as he was accustom to, and so he gently placed a palm against her cheek and pushed her face away. With punctuated head-bobs on nearly every other word, he asked, "Suddenly decided that humans aren't virile enough to satisfy your urges?"

"Crissy!" Amy swatted away his hand then playfully punched him in the gut. "Stop that!" She pouted and jammed her fists into her hips. "What the hell are you doing here and why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

The EMCSH's face was the personification of incredulity. He hadn't thought that anyone would actually believe that he was Ensign Sefton, but, as it became abundantly clear that Amy Reese was fool enough to believe it, the EMCSH's lips played into a wicked smirk. Nearly every time the EMCSH could remember meeting Amy, she had been talking about her hair-colour-of-the-nanosecond. It had always irritated him, but he'd never been active long enough to tell her so.

He cringed dramatically and drew in a quick hiss of breath. In the best Cris impression he could manage, the EMCSH replied, "It's your hair. You went overboard, Reese. That shade? Shudder-ific."

Amy's face sank in distress while one hand went up immediately to her pink hair. "You don't like?" she asked, clearly upset. "Is it-- It's that bad?"

"When the hair on your head is a colour that couldn't possibly be found in the natural environment of any planet within the entire..." the EMCSH began to rant.

"Amy, you're sitting on the Emergency Medical Hologram," Viraj blurted out.

Amy looked between the two in complete befuddlement, and paused on Viraj to utter, "Huh?" Again, her puzzled gaze returned to 'Cris.' "But...why? You look just like Crissy!" She gasped indignantly, and jabbed the EMCSH's chest with one finger. "And you insulted my hair!"

"I'm just trying to give you some honest advice," the EMCSH sassed defensively. Waving a hand towards Viraj, he added, "I'm sure he knows what I'm talking about, but has been too polite to say anything."

"There were some problems," Viraj said loudly, hoping to draw Amy's attention away from the EMCSH's taunting words, "with Sickbay's holographic memory chips. Flummux was needed to reprogram the EMH to be able to operate on fewer chips, but we were at Cris' goodbye-party when I asked Flummux to make the final changes, and I think I may have worded my request inaccurately. I don't remember. Farrell gave me lots of beer." Viraj blushed brighter and brighter with the last few sentences.

Amy raised her chin haughtily in the air and removed her weight from the EMCSH as she rose. "Well...Cris was never this rude. Flummux certainly did a shoddy job." She glowered down at the hologram, then stalked away, not offering the EMCSH a hand. "Viraj!" she whispered once she was face-to-face with the Deltan. "You have to fix this! You can't have that thing running around as Crissy." She motioned her head over her shoulder and added, "He's got a bad attitude!"

Doe-eyed, Viraj practically whimpered, "He wasn't programmed to have the same personality as Cris - just the physical features. I think." Viraj took a small step back to reclaim some comfort space, as he continued at a whisper, "Regardless, Flummux isn't allowed to change his programming anymore, since the EMH is ending up further and further away from his original code."

"Then take him offline!" Amy shrieked. "He insulted me. Now, if I were a patient, that wouldn't really give me the motivation to get better, now would it?"

"Strictly speaking, you're not a patient," Viraj said contritely. "The EMH's program knows that and wouldn't think to treat you as one. Additionally, the EMH is most likely to be assigned to unconscious patients, whose healing abilities are not effected by verbal slurs or barbs."

Amy pouted. "Well...what about my healing abilities?" she asked. "I thought that was Crissy! And...and I was so happy and now...." She sighed. "That's not very nice, Viraj. You have to turn him off!"

Physically tensing up at her raised voice, Viraj practically shouted, as well. "Computer, deactivate EMH!"

"Oh, so when it's convenient--" the EMCSH started to grumble before he dissolved.

"Better?" Viraj asked, trying to put on a pleasant smile.

Amy exhaled a large gust of air. "Much better," she answered. "But you'd better hope Crissy doesn't see that thing when he gets back. I mean...how would you take getting slapped by yourself?"

Viraj appeared to look down at his shoes and squint in concentration as he considered the implications of being slapped by oneself. He imagined slapping his own face with his left hand. And then he imagined running into a twin of himself, and being slapped by the twin. And then he imagined slapping the twin himself. And then he imagined twin Amy Reese's bitchslapping each other, and then elbowing the EMCSH in the gut, before slapping the twin Viraj's. Remaining silent, his facial expression grew more and more perplexed as he considered more and more ramifications.

Amy finally sighed impatiently and threw up her hands. "Oh, forget it! You just make sure that thing stays offline." She turned and muttered, "Who does he think he is...insulting my hair." Then she snorted contemptuously and marched straight out of sickbay.

---

"Impractical Joke"
by Ensign Vincent Chan - Science Officer
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: Astrometrics, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.11, 12h02

***

It was barely time for lunch and Shyla Moreau had already worked a full eight hours. After the attack last night, the first thing Shyla had wanted to do was run and tell Ethan all about it but Lieutenant T'Kal had forbade visitors pending a formal hearing, forcing her to merely share the story in a written message that Storm wouldn't get it until the end of Alpha today. Part of his preliminary punishment was to work double shifts. This would stand until Captain Salinger handed down his official punishment.

When she had tried get some rest this morning, the frustration of being unable to see Ethan and exhilaration of having been on the Bridge during the battle combined with the conspired with her still slightly aching ribs to keep her from sleep. Rather than continue to toss and turn, Shyla had reported for duty at 0400 hours with the intention of losing herself in work and a little legal research on Ethan's behalf. Noon was slow in arriving.

Somehow Vincent Chan managed to squeeze out of the sensors room. He had been stationed down there to gather information about the surrounding star anomalies, but soon found himself to be quite uncomfortable in the cramped room. The sensors room was small and to add to that it was jammed packed with the majority of the ship's sensor equipment. If that was not bad enough, half-a-dozen grumpy science and ops personnel, all with their own agendas and pulling double shifts, all added to the stress of working in the sensors room.

He had managed to get out of the sensors room and decided to go to Astrometrics, where he could collate the data from the sensors. But Vincent didn't need all this. Vincent needed a break. It was around noon he noticed. He hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. He slumped back into a chair. He looked around the room. He noticed a young female crewman that he had not seen before working at the Astrometrics console on the other side of the room. She looked busy and focused on her work. It was time to play a little prank. Vincent smiled to himself... It had been a while...

Vincent grabbed his trusty old vinegar phial, took out the beaker and poured some bicarb soda into it. He was ready. He poured the vinegar into the powder and watched it bubble and froth, spilling out onto the console and floor.

"Get out of the way, Crewman!" Vincent shouted as the liquid snaked its way towards her along the console. "It's a highly corrosive acid! You will be hurt! Move it!"

Moreau pushed herself away from her console instinctively even as she blinked incomprehensibly at Ensign Chan, standing there with beaker in hand. She hadn't heard him come in and had no earthly idea why he'd be bringing a highly corrosive acid into an Astrometrics lab. As her eyes went from Chan to the spilled liquid, they went wide at the realization of what acid would do to her precious workstation.

"Computer!" Shyla almost shrieked the word as she came to her feet. "Lock down Astrometrics for Hazardous Material clean-up! Authorization Science 070-010!" The computer chirped in response as all the door operation nodes went red. Shyla nearly sprinted past Chan to the emergency station. She didn't want to give the acid the chance to do any permanent damage.

Vincent stood there dumbstruck. He was astonished. He had not anticipated this reaction.

Vincent understood it was risky, from a professional point of view, but he decided to play along.

"Holy God!" he shouted, leaping onto a workbench. "Get out of its way, Crewman!" he said to Moreau, frantically waving his arms. But it appeared that she was determined to clean up the problem. With an exasperated sigh, Vincent got off the table and joined in the "cleanup".

Moreau slipped into hazard gloves and as well as a full-face respirator. Acids could give off deadly fumes when reacting with other compounds and the respirator was a required safety measure. As she watched Chan put on one of his own, she openly frowned at him.

"What kind of acid is it, sir?" Shyla asked tersely, her voice sounding tinny as it came through the baffled mouthpiece.

Vincent smiled, hoping the crewman couldn't see his expression through the mask. Vincent thought for a moment. But the name of an acid just didn't come to him...

"It's Ni...citric...glycerin!" he stuttered out. It was a long shot. Vincent was hoping that the Crewman didn't know too much chemistry. He decided to keep going. "It's a highly corrosive compound acid...used to..." He lingered. The crewman was looking at him expectantly. "Used to clean hard poly-plastics. We better work a bit harder to clean it up."

Vincent turned back to the deck, a huge grin on his face.

Shyla stared at Chan's back, thoroughly confused. Glycerols were solvents and used in the plasticizing process but the syrupy nature made them poor cleansers. And highly corrosive? On poly-plastics? Not to mention that the word 'nicitric' was nonsense. There was something strange about this whole story.

However, she had to give the Ensign the benefit of the doubt and not question his authority. It had paid off last night but if she continued trying to outguess superior officers, she was going to develop a reputation. She went to her station first and began the clean up while Chan busied himself with the spill on the deck.

Five minutes later, the "acid" was still dripping onto the deck... He had used too much vinegar. He noticed that the Crewman was still taking the matter quite seriously. Vincent decided to end the charade.

"Crewman..." he said, tapping her shoulder. She shrugged him off, still determined to cleanup the "acid". "Crewman... Listen to me! It's nothing but vinegar and bicarb soda...Crewman!"

Moreau stopped her clean up and looked back at Chan, dumbfounded. "What?" she asked. "Why, sir?"

Let's hope she has a sense of humour. "What's your name, Crewman?"

"Moreau. Shyla Moreau."

"Well, Miss Moreau..." Vincent was thinking on his feet. "That was a test...yes, a test. A test that you passed with flying colors. Well done, Miss Moreau."

Vincent moved to shake her hand.

Shyla accepted his hand, almost reluctantly. Just this morning Saavar had praised her performance of last night. Now, just a few hours later, she was the subject of some bizarre impromptu test. For a moment, she wondered if Saavar's easygoing praise had just been a prelude to a harsh ongoing evaluation of her work. Briefly, she worried that maybe she'd made an enemy of the Vulcan officer and perhaps he had ordered Chan to see how she would react in an emergency.

"Thank you, sir," she said, nevertheless. "May I ask how frequently these kinds of tests are conducted?"

She had him there. Vincent just nodded. What was it that he had been taught long ago by his grandfather? That's right... "When you've won a battle you shouldn't have, make a graceful excuse and flee..." Vincent intended to do just that.

"Right, Miss Moreau... I'm off to lunch," Vincent said smiling. "Care to join me?"

"Uh," Shyla began, not sure what the agenda was with Chan and a little miffed that he just ignored her question. "I don't think so, sir. Even if this isn't 'nicitric glycerin,' it still needs to be cleaned up." As an afterthought, she added: "Thank you though."

Vincent gave her a small smile. "Lunch can wait. It's my mess," he said, bending down to help her. "I'll help you to clean it up."

Shyla had pulled off her respirator and was feeling a little foolish at her reaction. She shook her head. "No, sir. I can do it. It's okay."

"I insist on cleaning this up," Vincent said. "I also think that you should know the truth..."

Vincent paused for a breath. In all his years, through all his jokes, no one, had reacted to one as seriously as Crewman Moreau. This amused Vincent greatly, though it did also affect his conscience...

"Miss Moreau," Vincent began. "This was all a huge practical joke that just went completely wrong. It was stuffed...completely buggered..." Here Vincent paused again. Crewman Moreau did indeed deserve an apology. "I'm sorry I wasted your time..."

When Vincent finished cleaning up, he hurried to leave the room. Crewman Moreau had not said anything since his apology, and he was hoping she wouldn't stop him for a word. She did.

"Sir?"

Vincent stopped. He spun around on his heel and then gave her a small smile. The Crewman was after all only a few years his junior and he had had enough of all this "Sir" business. Besides he owed it to her after that joke.

"You can call me V.T., Miss Moreau. You were saying?"

"I should apologize to you," Shyla said, smiling. "You have to understand, I'm usually alone in here so I'm probably not the best of targets for a practical joke. Less so, considering the last couple of days. However, I'm just a little on edge."

Vincent could sense that the both of them could keep apologizing to each other all day and that wouldn't get them anywhere. He waved his hand dismissively, before giving her a reassuring smile.

"You're tired, aren't you, Miss Moreau?" It was a statement. "Take a break. Besides I think I owe you a drink. How about it?"

"I am tired, sir," Shyla said before she noted his sour expression at the use of honorarium. She shook her head. "I'm sorry but I can't call you V.T. when we're both on duty, sir. It just isn't me."

Vincent smiled. "Fair enough. I respect that."

"However, if we go on a break, then I guess it will be fine." Shyla smiled at the curious officer. "I think I would like some lunch, if you still want to go. You can tell me who else you've pulled that joke on since you've been on board."

"I don't like to pull the same joke twice, and frankly, I don't think anyone could beat your little performance," Vincent said with a grin. "But if you have any suggestions on who else I could play some jokes on...how about telling me over lunch?" Vincent said, leading Shyla towards the door.

Shyla slipped her arm into his innocently and gave the matter some serious thought. The first name that popped into her mind belonged to probably the only person on the ship to make her truly angry, aside from Ethan. Shyla smiled a rare, mischievous smile.

As the doors slid shut on the pair stepping into the corridor, Shyla asked, "Do you happen to know Nurse Reese, sir?"

---

"Lunch Date"
By: Ensign Dwayne Sanchez - Operations Officer
Cecily Torsten - Yeoman

Location: Mess Hall, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.11, 12h15

***

Dwayne had taken his time and made his way through his morning routine. Before too long, he'd gone and made his way to the messhall. He'd ordered his meal and took his tray to a table and sat down.

Moments later, he'd begun to eat, his concentration on what was occupying him currently. Cecily navigated her way carefully through the messhall; tray containing her meal balanced carefully in her hands. Finally finding the person she was looking for she asked with an impish grin on her face, "Hey stranger, is this seat taken?"

Dwayne glanced up to see Cecily and he grinned. "Nope, have a seat."

"Thanks." Cecily sat down across from Dwayne and she dug into her salad. "Sorry I was late coming down...you haven't been waiting long have you?" she asked after swallowing her food.

"No, not really. How has your day gone so far?" Dwayne asked as he took another bite from his plate.

"To be honest I just got here myself." She took another bite of her salad before replying. "My day has been going good so far, haven't had much of the chance to meet my roommate yet...I think they're outta there by the time I come in to go to sleep," she remarked, chuckling.

Dwayne chuckled, "Probably."

"And yourself? How has your day been going so far?" she asked, taking a drink of her iced water. "To be honest, I just arrived myself."

A grin spread across Cecily's face before she remarked, "Then I guess you could say we timed this meeting perfectly!" Cecily stated, laughing.

"I guess you could." Dwayne took another bite of his food and waited.

"So can you tell me what you've got in store today for our tour today? Or do you have some surprises you'd rather I not know about?" she added jokingly.

"I have a several hour tour of the bridge, since I'll be going on duty in about an hour-and-a-half."

"Likewise, I'm on Beta today. So anywhere else in particular you had in mind for the tour?"

"Well, later after shift, we could 'tour' the holodecks..." Dwayne said this with a smile.

"Sure, I'm up for it! You'll have to show me what kind of Winter Sports programs the Sulu has..."

"I'm not sure what's available. I prefer water sports over winter sports," Dwayne said with a grin as he pushed his tray aside.

Cecily finished off her meal as Dwayne did likewise. "So ready to take me on that tour, Ensign?" she asked, smiling.

Dwayne glanced at the chronometer. "Sure, but I don't have very long though."

"Let's not waste another minute. Ready to give me that tour?" she asked, smiling.

Dwayne shrugged. "Sure, let's go."

"Great! Let's go!" Standing, the two deposited their trays in the reclamators and then carefully navigated out of the messhall and into the ship's corridors, beginning their tour together.

---

"Escape"
by Captain M'kei Oshad

Location: En route to Farehn
Stardate: 57907.11, 14h33

***

"Status report," Captain M'kei Oshad asked as he stepped onto the bridge.

"All systems read normal, Captain," Sublieutenant Orash answered.

"And Viata?"

The sublieutenant bowed his head. "Her remains are being prepared. They will pay for this insolence, my captain. They all shall."

"Of course they shall," Oshad answered. "We wouldn't be Ryuck otherwise. I relieve you, Sublieutenant. Go and spend time with what remains of your beloved, and think not too deeply on our revenge, it will happen in time."

Orash left the bridge of the small vessel, leaving Oshad alone with his thoughts. The battle against the Federation ship had gone as they planned, better than they'd hoped. They had proven their strength against a superior foe. They had proven themselves strong and powerful, and capable of standing up to the behemoth.

Retrieving Viata's remains had been as much luck as skill. They hadn't expected the Federation's attack, at least not in that manner. Having their shields collapsed, however, opened the opportunity to beam Viata onto the ship...it also gave them the opportunity to relieve themselves of the Federation...woman.

One of the guards had expressed concerns of her intentions and claimed that she was getting far friendlier than a prisoner had any right to be. At least she was gone now. The Farehn'ti, and especially the Ryuck, were a warrior people; the Opai had forgotten that. The woman would not have survived the journey to Farehn, that was for certain. They had already proven themselves to be a true thorn in the Federations m'kut, but to steal away one of their own...it would have made the situation more tricky. And, there were far more...appealing targets they could have abducted. The Collins woman was far too wanton for Farehn'ti tastes.

He only wished he could have seen the look on the Starfleeters' faces when they beamed through their blocking field. With the help of their allies, and their own unique grasp of replication and transporter technology, as well as the extensive cloaking research they had conducted over the years, they had been able to break through the field after a little bit of probing. It was good technology, but it wasn't enough to defeat the Farehn'ti mind or will. He had no doubts they would also be curious as to how they knew just where to strike. The alliance between Farehn'ti and Cardassians would be a beneficial one, even if the Cardassians were unwilling to openly go against the Federation. Still, the information they had gathered and passed on was...vital. Keeping the Federation guessing would be crucial, and so far they were off to a good start.

He glanced at the readings on his station and smiled. There was no sign of pursuit, which meant they would reach home safely. They had made certain their approach vector was a straight shot to home, a calling card as the humans would say.

---

"Working Together"
By: Crewman Emma Summers - Medical Technician
Amy Reese - Nurse

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.11, 15h45

***

Emma Summers started shift in Sickbay with a smile. The casualties from the battle with the Farehn'ti were mostly taken care of. The two bodies were being prepped for burial on Risa - that made four crew dead so far to her counting. That was a high body count for a small ship like the Sulu. Sickbay was still needing to be cleaned up - and there were four patients in bio-beds.

She looked for the duty doctor and saw that M'Lira was busy in her office. The only other nurse on duty was Amy Reese and she was fussing over a crewman who was barely awake by the looks of it. Emma looked the part of a professional Starfleet Officer - smart in her class A uniform with her hair in a tight bun. It accentuated her long neck and slim figure. She noted the short skirted uniform that Reese was wearing and wondered whether she could wear the same - maybe later. It didn't fit her profile just now.

She cast a smile at Amy as the nurse left her patient. "Hi," she said, looking around. "I'm Emma." She held out a hand and when Amy took it she shook lightly.

"Amy Reese," she replied with her usual cheerful smile, then retrieved her hand to continue adjusting the settings for Crewman Marshall's monitors.

"Oh yeah!" Emma smiled widely. "I saw you last night. I didn't get a chance to say 'hi'...it was really busy in here!"

"Oh, I know!" Amy affirmed. "It was pretty scary too. This is my first ship, so I've never seen anything like this. So you were on board when the fight actually happened?" Amy gave a low whistle. "I would've been scared out of my mind, that's for sure."

Emma nodded, doing her best to look unsure about the whole thing. She'd heard a lot about Amy Reese - the resident ship's bike according to the gossip. "It was scary alright," Emma agreed. "I was with the Chief Engineer down in engineering and we ended up crawling through nasty Jeffries tubes looking for casualties." She screwed up her nose at the memory of the stench of burned flesh. "Not fun. I hate those things."

Emma grabbed a trolley and started to do the inventory check as she talked with Reese. She wanted to look busy at least. "I'm new on the Sulu," she said. "I'm working Beta in here - and Gamma in Counseling. Double shifts for a while until I get used to the routine. What's the goss in here?" she asked with a grin. "What does anyone do for fun?"

"Well, there's Risa for now," Amy replied. "Though..." Her mouth curled into a grin, and her eyes shifted from side to side to ensure privacy. Then she giggled and leaned in towards the woman. "There's the captain and the CSO, and they say the two are an item. I've been waiting to catch a glimpse of them together, but I hear the captain's still bed-ridden." Covering her mouth to stifle an especially shrill laugh. "And that she's sharing it with him!"

Emma grinned and tried to look impressed. "The captain? Wow!" She laughed conspiratorially with Reese. "I heard there was some really good looking guys around...though" --she looked away embarrassed-- "I never get to meet any..." She shrugged. "What about you?" She leaned in close and nudged her in the ribs.."You must have a boyfriend... How do you get away with wearing those old style uniforms?"

"He trusts me," Amy explained. Then sighed and admitted, "I mean...I wasn't always faithful to him and all, but we're getting past that." She smiled at Emma with her usual enthusiasm and returned her nudge. "I could introduce you to some guys if you want. You don't have to be shy! There's some good looking ones around here, and if it's just one night you're looking for, I've got some in mind. If you're interested, that is."

Emma looked shocked and put one hand to her mouth. "No!" She slapped Amy on the arm and shook her head. "I couldn't do that! Not someone I've never met! One night? You don't really...do you?" She looked totally surprised - in fact she hadn't even considered any such thing. The thought of fooling around and having fun hadn't crossed her mind.

"You mean have one night stands?" Amy asked, then grinned slyly. "I used to. All the time. But if you're not interested in that, we could always just hang out and I can introduce you to some guys."

"I don't know...." Emma went back to being unsure. "I'm not very good with men.. I haven't had many boyfriends... I'm pretty boring." She looked sideways at Amy and then smiled shyly. "I envy you..." she said rather wistfully. "It's easy for someone like you...you're so pretty!"

"Really?" Amy smiled bashfully. "Thanks," she enthused. "But you've no reason to envy me. You're not so bad yourself." She lightly brushed her fingers against the brown hair falling over Emma's shoulder and grinned. "I could probably do something with it, you know. I think you'd look so sexy with it worn up. If you ever wanted me to try, that is."

"You think?" Emma's face brightened as she regarded the other woman. "Would you?" She shrugged then, showing a hesitancy. "Not that it would really matter...I don't know...." She smiled wistfully, "I don't have a lot of confidence with guys.. I get sorta...I dunno...shy...."

Amy giggled gently, and laid a friendly hand on Emma's shoulder. "I have a friend who was the shyest person in the universe, and now she's a bigger socialite than I am!"

A bigger slut? She didn't say the words and kept it from her face, but Emma thought them with a savage malice. Amy Reese suddenly reminded her of Julia Reynolds - and Bancroft! She looked away as if she was too shy for a moment to tamp down on the sudden flare of utter rage at the thought of both of those women. Women in a past life that had shared Benedict. Be like them? No! But she needed someone like Reese. It was in the plan. It was necessary. So she composed herself and turned back after a moment and smiled. "If you say so..." she smiled. "What are you doing after shift?"

"I was going to go to Risa," she replied. "You wanna come with me? I'll introduce you to Kit!"

Emma smiled. "I'd love to - but I've got Gamma shift in Counseling. Maybe next time. I'd love to see Risa - I haven't been there before. Tell the truth I've been a little shy about it...you know...all the stuff you hear that goes on there. I don't believe a lot of it myself. I'm sure people just make up the stories...." She was shy again. "I'm sure you guys want to be alone anyway. I'd just be a third nacelle...."

"Not at all," Amy told her gently. "It's not like you have to go back to our bedroom with us. Hanging out with us would be great! But...if you really don't want to, that doesn't mean you and I can't get together some other time."

"I'd like to, honest, Amy, I have double shifts. It would be great to hang out with you...and Kit? It sounds great - I just have to sort some things out with the chief counselor, maybe transfer into counseling full time or medical." She grinned at Amy and lightly touched her arm. "I'd love for us to get together...really." Her intense gaze looked into Amy's eyes for a moment and she smiled. Then almost embarrassed, she let go of Amy's arm and began sorting the contents of the hypo units on the tray.

Amy watched the girl with an inkling of realization and suspicion that perhaps men weren't exactly her style. That didn't trouble Amy in the least...as long as she didn't become the focus of Emma's attentions. She was cute and reminded her of Kelli before her wild transformation. Resisting would be a difficult thing to accomplish. "Well," she began uncomfortably, "that's fine. You figure it all out, and just let me know," she finished with a forced grin. "It was really great to meet you, Emma. And welcome aboard."

"Yeah you too," Emma smiled. "I'd better get busy, I have to see the doctor when he's free." She indicated the office where the current doctor was still working. "I'd love to get together with you and your friends - I don't know anybody," she added. "I really miss my friends...." She gave Amy a timid expression. "Thanks, Amy...for making me feel welcome."

Amy smiled congenially, and waved at Emma as she moved off. The lingering gaze the girl gave her was slightly disconcerting, but Amy told herself she was becoming far too paranoid. Though, that smile.... Amy rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself. She had a potential new friend, and she, herself, would be Emma's first. It also helped that Emma didn't seem bothered by her less than sterling reputation. She smiled. Maybe she could start fresh after all.

---

"Strangers"
By: Lieutenant j.g. Natalia Druschev; Science Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Turbolift
Stardate: 57907.11 16h25

***

Farrell walked down the corridor checking his padd. Sickbay's inventory wasn't matching the manifest, and someone needed to take a visual survey. It meant hours of going through medical minutiae one piece at a time. Joy. He wondered idly as he walked if Amy Reese would be on duty when he got there. He hoped not. Of course, he'd be awake this time, and she'd know it was him, so hopefully she'd be able to control herself.

Thinking of control turned his thoughts to Nat. She was fun, and a good friend, but dangerous. She ran way out on the brink of whatever she did, always appearing on the edge of control. And she had a tendency to throw herself at him. That's what it was. She was a great flirt, but sometimes it felt like more than flirting. They could have crossed the friendship line yesterday in his quarters. It struck him as oddly lucky that Amy Reese had been in the room an hour earlier, so he had still been a little sexually defensive. If he hadn't been, anything could have happened. Nat was a little too physical; she'd thrown herself into that race headlong, with a ferocity that was a little unsettling. He shook his head and smiled.

Smiling made him think of Ainsley. Sweet and delicate Ainsley, with her great smile. Her smile was a whole-face proposition; her nose crinkled and her eyes squinted shut, showing genuine humor. She was altogether genuine. Maybe that's what made her so attractive. She had stripped him to the core of his soul in seconds during their date, though. She had altogether too keen an insight. Maybe that was what made her so attractive. He wondered how well she'd play poker.

He was wrapped up in thoughts of poker as he entered the turbolift, smiling at the idea of Ainsley in a green visor. He nodded to the dark-haired Lieutenant standing in the car, and gave her an absentminded "sir" just before calling for deck five and Sickbay. Something tickled in the back of his mind. Deja vu.

He wondered what he was 'remembering.' He always tried to do that when he had a deja vu moment: try and pin down exactly what it was he thought was familiar. It wasn't the turbolift itself. It wasn't going to sickbay. The way he had entered the car? No. The lieutenant? He didn't want to risk looking too closely at a woman he had just met, not in such close quarters. He tried to remember what she looked like from the glance he had taken as he entered the car. Full-figured, nicely curvaceous in her uniform. Not too tall. Dark hair. Blue eyes -- nice eyes. A scent.

A scent. That was it. That was what he was deja vu-ing about. She was wearing a scent, and a fine one, too. So it wasn't a mind trick after all. He'd actually smelled that perfume before. He was thinking of the lieutenant and her perfume when poker floated back through his mind, and his eyes widened as everything fell into place.

His head snapped over to look at the lieutenant fully. Apparently she had been watching him from the corner of her eye, because the motion startled her. "Have we," he hesitated. How does one ask this? Have we had sex? He decided to be a little more circumspect. "Have we met? Sir?" he asked, knowing the answer even before she turned to fully look at him.

"Natalia?" he breathed, his mind a torrent of images. Black lace. Perfume. Tango. Silken sheets and shuddering breaths and sweat. He felt a knee threaten to buckle, and put out an arm to steady himself against the side of the car. He accidentally hit the 'stop' button, and the car ground to a halt.

Have we met? The words rang in her mind as she caught her breath. "Mason?" Just saying his name brought a catch to her throat. How could this be? He looked like someone had hit him hard in the stomach. Natalia couldn't help staring into his eyes for a long moment, herself shocked by the suddenness of the encounter. She couldn't help looking down, her eyes resting on the lonely pip on his collar as she registered his words; he'd called her 'sir.'

The first impression was that he looked good in a Starfleet uniform - but he was out of sync with the image she still carried around in her head. She looked back in his eyes, not able to say anything and hoping that his reaction wasn't that she was the last person he wished to see. She almost took a step in his direction out of pure impulse, wanting to fly into his arms, but she held it back and gripped the rail of the turbolift instead. Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest and she was at once filled with delight and trepidation. She stared into his eyes hoping that they would tell her the answer: did he want to see her?

Time seemed to stand still.

This couldn't be happening, Mason thought, his mind whirling. It was flatly impossible for Natalia to be here now. This was a first break psychotic episode. A hallucination. He was imagining things. All the stresses of the last few days had finally gotten to him. No way was Natalia a Starfleet Officer. And a lieutenant? She outranked him! This couldn't be happening.

At least stand up straight, you idiot, he thought.

He straightened up, and took his hand off the stop button. The car resumed. He pushed the button again. The car halted, and a short warning beep sounded.

"Is it...really you?" he forced out the words, knowing how stupid they must have sounded, hoping that whoever this was that looked and smelled like Natalia would bear with him for a minute while he reoriented.

She smiled. He looked so shocked it brought her out of her own limbo. Gone was the machismo and suave control of the Gambler - instead she saw the uncertainty of a man who just couldn't believe his eyes. She reached out a hand and touched his cheek and maintained eye contact. She could hardly believe it herself - here he was, standing in a turbolift in a Starfleet uniform. She stepped up close, keeping her palm on his smooth cheek.

For a moment she savoured the reversal of roles - she felt in control and he was floundering. She glanced at his lips then back to his eyes. Slowly she leaned in and kissed him. It started as a gentle caress of her lips, but then when he finally responded she broke away. "It's me," she said huskily. She was entirely conscious that her body was pressed against him. "I thought I'd never see you again." She was staring into his eyes. Her hand brushed down his cheek and came to rest upon his chest.

"Me too," he said absently. It was Natalia. He touched her cheek in return. He remembered her skin, and he remembered her kiss. The tactile proof helped snap him back. He managed a half-grin.

"This is certainly a surprise," he whispered. "I don't know what to say."

She laughed and stepped away from him, just barely. One brow raised she used her thumb to brush away the slight smear of lipstick from his mouth. She breathed deeply and dropped her hand away and tried to hide the fact that she was shaking. "You walked out without a word," she said, brushing back an errant strand of dark hair.

"It wasn't the time for words," he said softly.

Her eyes held his as she moved away a little more to give him some breathing space. Did he want to see her? Was this going to be one of those awkward moments where the guy said 'I'll call you...' or 'I don't want to see you'? She wasn't breathing as she waited for him to tell her that it was only a single night and it didn't mean anything. So if it didn't mean anything why was she so cold in the pit of her belly all of a sudden?

She was waiting, Mason realized. Waiting for him to give her a sign. Yes or no. Glad to see you, or not. Which was it? Which was he feeling? Both? Neither? He had assumed that night on Risa would always be just a wonderful memory. Now here she was. Her eyes demanding an answer. The liftcar beeped again. Mason imagined it was growing impatient. As was she.

"Natalia," he began at last. He had to tell her. It was only fair. But he didn't. Before he even knew he was doing it he had crushed her to the side of the liftcar in a passionate embrace. His lips found hers, and they kissed deeply. He could hear the sighing moan he had heard so often that night as he drank in her scent. She was so beautiful.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered to the kiss. The uncertainty he had shown had been in his eyes for a moment and she had thought just for a second that he was going to say or do something entirely different. But he hadn't. He was kissing her with as much passion as he'd shown on Risa. She couldn't do anything but respond. They broke the kiss as if by mutual consent and she just looked him in the eyes and drank him in. The softness of his hair and the scent of him and the hard muscles that pressed against her.

She could see the eyes change.

She was so beautiful, Mason thought again. But this was so wrong. All he could think of was Amy tugging down her swimsuit and begging him to hurry, or Nathalie sitting on his bed asking if she could stay. He had turned them away because he knew the aftermath wouldn't be worth the act. Just like it wouldn't be now. Here.

The liftcar started moving again. Someone had overridden the Stop. They'd get to deck five any second.

"Natalia," he said, breaking the kiss. "Natalia, we can't," he whispered mournfully.

She dropped her head slightly not wanting to see what was in his eyes. But she didn't let go of him. Confusion raged a war on her nerves as she knew that it wasn't going to go anywhere. He wanted her - but he didn't. A tear fell from her cheek and she looked up at him with her eyes brimming. Why did it have to be this way? "There's someone else?" She whispered it, throwing it out and hoping that it would be denied.

Mason opened his mouth to reply when the doors swished open. Two chatty medtechs entered. Mason looked from the open corridor to Natalia and back. You've got two seconds, Mason, he told himself. Stay or go.

"Later tonight," he said quietly to Natalia, looking stricken, and stepped briskly from the liftcar.

She watched his back vanish as the doors closed and she drew a breath that felt like jagged glass. The two medtechs sensed the atmosphere almost immediately and made sure they steadfastly ignored a superior officer who was obviously crying. Natalia got off at the next stop. She had just completed her shift and she didn't want to go back to her quarters to face Domenic like this. She needed a place to think. She wiped her tears away with the realization that she wasn't as strong as she thought she was.

It had only been a night; she repeated it several times but it didn't sound right. It had been a perfect night. It had touched her in a way that she hadn't felt before. Seeing him again had made her heart soar, only to be smashed by the look in his eyes. He wanted to see her later tonight. Maybe to explain about the other woman, or something else that made what they shared less than what it was.

She hated herself for how she felt. She'd been played. She should just leave it at that and let it go. Could she let it go? Now? After seeing him here? How could she see him as part of the crew and not feel what she already felt? She hated that. She just didn't want to have him explain that she was being rejected. It was only a one night stand. She'd used him as much as he had her.

But the look in his eyes...that stricken look as he'd turned away. She kept walking and discovered herself back at the turbolift. She'd walked the circle of the deck without realizing it. Domenic was expecting her. She had to go back.

As she entered the turbo-lift a second time and gave her deck number, she regained some of her poise. To hell with it. He didn't want her - that was fine! She didn't need him. She didn't. Didn't didn't didn't!!

So why did it hurt so much?

---

"Child Care & Vulcans" (or "Oil & Water...")
By: Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Lt. (jg) Samantha Ashbury - Science Officer
Madison Ashbury - Child at Large [NPC+]

Location: USS Sulu
Stardate: 570907.11 18h12

***

Saavar was off duty. Dressed in a Vulcan style robe and carrying a walking staff, he was headed for the holodeck. In his off hours he sometimes enjoyed a strenuous walk in the holodeck version of Mount Arikkat on Vulcan. The desert landscapes and the craggy mountain slopes provided a glimpse of home and a good means of exercise that was more calming than the ship's gymnasium. Saavar preferred to remain aloof from most of the social gatherings on the Sulu - particularly those associated with physical contact or places where 'chatting' seemed to be the crew norm.

The mess hall was unavoidable - and so was the officers' lounge - both were places of congregation, but they served a purpose; the gymnasium was purely physical, but the Humans aboard treated it like a social event. He declined to participate. The holodeck, solitude and a long walk in difficult terrain did more to keep him physically fit and mentally calm than anything else.

His thought processes were interrupted by a childish giggle. Stopping in the corridor he looked down to see a small Human child. Female, perhaps four or five years of age. She was looking up at him and staring, with one hand clasped to her mouth and mischief in her wide blue eyes.

Saavar frowned. He was unaware of any children on the Sulu - not that he had looked for them. She smiled. Saavar cocked his head to one side. A glance up the corridor indicated no parent in sight. He looked back at her and she held her head in the exact position as Saavar's own. He raised an eyebrow.

She attempted to do the same. Both of her tiny brows raised and she giggled. "Your attempt at mocking me will have no effect little one," Saavar said in a serious tone. "I have little in the way of a sense of humour."

The child giggled again, clapping both hands to her mouth to hide. The sound was a merry one; she seemed unperturbed at his tone. "You have pointy ears!" She illustrated her observation with a tiny hand that pointed to Saavar as she simultaneously rubbed her own ear with her other hand.

"Indeed." Saavar nodded. "That is an acute observation." He looked up again as she giggled. Still no parents in sight. Saavar frowned. "I do not think it is appropriate that one so young should be unaccompanied by an adult. Where are your parents?"

"That's a pretty dress!" She tugged on Saavar's robe. "I have a pretty dress too!" She lifted her pale yellow dress and twirled around. "See," she said as she came to a halt. "Pretty!"

"This is a robe - it is not a dress." Saavar's tone was concerned. Where were the parents?

Madison frowned, mocking Saavar once again. She grinned, unable to maintain the seriousness of the Vulcan's countenance. "You're funny!" She pointed at him.

He ignored her second observation. "What is your name?" Saavar decided to take another direction in his quest for information on the parents.

"Madison Rebecca Ashbury and I'm five!" She held up a hand with her fingers spread. "What's your name?" She giggled again.

"I am Saavar and I am considerably older." Ashbury? Samantha Ashbury! The name registered as one of the Astrometrics Specialists. Saavar gave the girl a smile. It seemed appropriate. She responded with a giggle.

The Vulcan tapped his comm-badge. "Lieutenant Saavar to Lieutenant Ashbury."

The computer responded. "Further information required. There are two Lieutenant Ashburys on the Sulu. Michael and Samantha."

"Samantha," Saavar responded. "Lieutenant Saavar to Lieutenant Samantha Ashbury."

Sam's eyes opened blearily at the unfamiliar noise and she looked around in confusion. It took another moment for it to register on her senses that the noise was coming from her combadge. She tapped it, suppressing a yawn.

"Ashbury here. Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant, I am presently in the company of a child. I believe that it belongs to you." He looked down at Madison and she was examining the patterns woven into his robe.

She looked up with a smile as she heard the woman's voice."Mommy!" she called out and giggled again.

Sam's eyes opened wide and she looked around in a near panic, the adrenaline chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. Madison was nowhere to be seen. Her cat on the other hand was curled up peacefully beneath Sam's feet.

"You're supposed to keep an eye on her," Sam irrationally scolded him. One large yellow eye opened as if to ponder this accusation. His ears flicked one way then another before he went back to sleep. It was his way of telling Sam that this wasn't his concern.

She groaned audibly as she tossed her padd on the small table next to the sofa and stood up, trying to fix her hair.

"On my way, Lieutenant."

Saavar nodded as he regarded the small female. "I am on deck four, Lieutenant, holodeck two." She was smiling and her cheeks were a rosy colour.

"Is mommy coming?" she asked in her piping voice. She laughed and grabbed hold of Saavar's robe.

"Yes," Saavar replied. "Your mother will be with us shortly."

"Where are you going?" she asked, looking up at him and craning her neck, holding his robe for balance. "Can I come?"

Saavar frowned. He was outside the holodeck. He saw no reason to deny her enquiry. "I was on my way to the holodeck. You may accompany me if you desire." She laughed and nodded happily. Madison knew what a holodeck was - it was a place she could play! Mommy and Daddy had taken her into one lots of times!

He reached the exterior control panel in two strides, and Madison ran after him, watching him intently as he tapped out his access code and entered the program parameters. The doors slid aside and he looked down at her. She held up a tiny hand, oblivious to Vulcan etiquette. Saavar raised an eyebrow. She looked up at him expectantly with her hand still outthrust.

It was almost a battle of wills. She smiled. Her tiny face open and unafraid. The Vulcan gave in. Instead of taking her hand, he stooped and lifted her easily onto his hip. She seemed just as pleased to allow him to do that. She gripped the course weave of his robe and laughed. "Horsey!" she giggled. He looked at her and remembered when his son had been as childlike in behaviour. He would be learning to suppress his emotions like any good Vulcan child. Saavar stepped into the holodeck to the bright red sunshine of a Vulcan desert range.

The vista was breathtaking. A long ragged arc of peaks thrust skyward in deep ochre contrast to the vermillion sky. The mountain range turned purple with distance and fell two thousand feet to the flat rocky plains of the Tanu Shimar. Heat haze made the horizon waver and dance and the air was still. It wasn't tremendously hot in the high reaches; Saavar's favorite walking trail was a dim line etched in sand that wound along the crest of a high plateau. He set his walking stick into the sand and walked a few paces, allowing the holodeck doors to close. Samantha Ashbury would be able to enter freely, and he would not be far away.

"Ohhhhhh...." The childish exclamation drew Saavar to examine the child. She was staring at the mountains with a look of wonder. "Pretty!" she clapped Saavar on the shoulder and spurred her heels into his back and side as if indeed he was her mount and she desired him to commence walking.

She was no weight to the Vulcan, and he started off with a slight smile. "This is the Mount of Arikkat," he explained. "It is on the planet Vulcan." He pointed off into the distance and as he walked he started to explain the plants, rock strata and small reptilian life forms that scurried away as they approached. She seemed interested, always asking, "What's that!" and pointing. In fact it became a game that she would point, and ask and giggle as he answered, only to be asked again in an endless repetition of "and that!"..."and that!"

One thing a Vulcan had plenty of - patience. He kept walking and talking, inwardly pleased at the young girl's inquiring mind. She would try to repeat the names of the things he mentioned, tangling her tongue on the Vulcan, but attempting to speak, often trying more than once. Saavar decided that he rather liked Madison Rebecca Ashbury.

They were stood at the precipice of the plateau, not too close to cause discomfort, but Madison clung to him anyway. They looked down on the desert and the air was crisp and warm, smelling of the desert and sand. The sound of the holodeck door opening made Saavar turn.

Sam strode into the holodeck, looking around. She nodded in appreciation at the view.

"One of my favorite spots when I was at the Academy," she said quietly, as she walked up beside Saavar. Sam looked askance at Madison. "And what are you doing here, young lady?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Exploring," Madison said innocently.

Saavar nodded a greeting to the Astrophysicist. "She has been no trouble, Lieutenant. I have been making constructive use of our time together. Madison has an inquiring mind." Saavar looked out at the vista and added, "Yes - it is a favoured location for many Vulcans. I was unaware that you studied on Vulcan." The Vulcan raised his opinion of the Lieutenant. To study on Vulcan was by invitation. "Did you study our language?" he asked.

"I lived for a year with T'pal, one of the astrophysics professors at the Academy. Speaking Vulcan was a requirement in her house," Sam said with a faint smile.

Saavar nodded. "Your child is of an age where languages are most easily absorbed," he said in Vulcan. "Are you teaching her?" He looked at Madison who was still holding on to his robe. He was missing out on his own child's academic advancement. "I would not be adverse to spending some time teaching her. I have a child of similar age."

"I would like that," Sam said in surprise. "We've been teaching her German and some Bajoran and Vulcan. She tends to get Bajoran and Vulcan confused occasionally."

Saavar raised one brow. He considered the three languages - all of which he spoke fluently. "Yes - there are tonal similarities in some aspects of Bajoran to Vulcan. I also speak all three languages, perhaps you may alter the child's associative responses to aid her understanding. From now on, I will speak to her in Vulcan - she will associate myself with the language. Perhaps someone else may be identified who will speak to her in Bajoran and similarly in another language someone else. It will assist her to build associative patterns that diminish her confusion." He looked again at the child and she giggled at him.

"I have had very little exposure to Human children, Lieutenant, I believe that it will aid my understanding of the Human condition, therefore I also will be participating in learning. Our children are our future." He was looking at Madison as he spoke. "We should do all that we can to aid their understanding of our cultures and to foster healthy relationships which diminish misunderstandings." He looked back at Samantha. "I will enjoy teaching Madison."

"Thank you, Saavar. I think it will be good for her." Sam switched to Vulcan. "I've been worried that spending several years without other children might adversely affect her. She doesn't get to meet many other people and growing up in Starfleet is always hard. Being with you will help a lot I think."

"It will be a pleasure, Lieutenant. I am also sure that there will be times when you and your husband will require solitude. This is not really designed to be a family vessel. It is not like a Galaxy Class ship, with dedicated family quarters and facilities. I would be pleased to bring Madison into a holodeck to facilitate her learning. I can teach her much about Vulcan. I am also fully conversant in several tongues."

He looked at Samantha and smiled. "I can appreciate your concerns regarding her lack of childhood friends. She is sure to mature at a faster pace than others her own age. Her outlook will be adult, however I do not anticipate that it will adversely affect her. As you would be aware, Vulcan children are trained from a very early age. My son is six years old. Already his mother is seeking a suitable mate for him. He has commenced his s'at and soon with diligence he will learn to suppress his emotions and begin his long journey toward logic." Saavar's tone seemed saddened. "It is a fact of life that children grow out of their childish ways. Madison will be no different. As a parent you wish to spare your child from adulthood for as long as possible, to allow them freedom from the burden of choice and consequence."

"Very true," Sam said somberly. "Children are children, no matter what world they come from."

Madison held out her hands toward her mother. Saavar allowed her to be taken and looked out at the scenery. He did miss his son and now he felt more alone than he ever had. The telepathic contact with his wife had been severed. Of course she would also feel that. There was nothing either of them could do about it. It was a result of the Mind Meld he had participated in with Xayella Tagliesh. He could feel her presence on the ship. It was far from comforting for the Vulcan.

He nodded toward the distant horizon. He still had half an hour of holodeck time left him. "If you don't mind I will continue my exercise." He nodded to her. "I will see you again soon."

Sam nodded, sensing that Saavar wanted to be alone. She turned quietly and made her way off the holodeck. She'd missed talking with other Vulcans during her time in Starfleet. Most people tended to think of Vulcans as cold, unfeeling people but she'd learned during her time studying on Vulcan that this was far from the truth. Vulcans did express their emotions but most people - humans - never picked up on the subtleties involved. Saavar tended to express his emotions more than most Vulcans but Sam still found comfort in his logic. She found herself looking forward to their next encounter.

---

"Most Foul: Epilogue"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla

Location: Commander's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.11, 20h05

***

Executive Officer's Log, Stardate 57907.11.

Repairs on the Sulu are almost complete, but I am sad to report that the attack by the Farehn'ti vessel resulted in two fatalities on board. It would seem the Ryuck now bear the blame for more deaths.

Doctor M'Lira informs me that Captain Salinger will recover fully from his stab wound, but will not return to active duty for another week at least. Until that time, I will remain in command of the ship. The doctor also reports that Lieutenant T'Kal's injuries have healed nicely, but recommends he stay off his feet for the next couple days. I imagine keeping both men from exerting themselves will prove an arduous task.

As for the Farehn'ti, we have completed our discussion for the day, and I am glad to report that the Opai have been very cooperative, whether it is out of desperation for the aid we may provide them in the civil war they will likely return home to, or whether they truly are repentant for what has transpired on Risa. In either case, we have gained invaluable insight into many of the questions raised throughout our investigation of Ambassador Dalil's assassination.

They have testified that a substance they refer to as korazan has been used for decades to power the cloaking devices installed on their ships. The Opai decreed ten years ago that use of the korazan was prohibited because of its unstable, volatile nature. The space anomaly detected on board the Sulu on Stardate 57907.06 was attributed by the Opai to a misalignment in the Ryuck's cloaking device that led to a higher than normal rate of particle emissions. The traces of korazan found in the Ambassador's room, as well as at the scene of the other crimes they committed were also imputed to residual emissions of the korazan normally found on any vessel equipped with a cloaking device. If only we had known this sooner....

While the Opai have closed their mining facilities on the Farehn moon, the Ryuck refuse to do the same and have continued using the korazan to power their cloaking technology. This alone has been the subject of much strife on their planet, and one of the main motivations behind the Opai's application to the Federation. I have spoken with Starfleet Command, and they agree that the Farehn'ti will undoubtedly be rejected for membership at this time, but it would be in Starfleet's best interest to aid the Opai as much as they can considering the Ryuck's involvement with the Cardassians.

Although we cannot prove they were directly involved in the incidents that occurred, the Opai have verified that the Ryuck have aligned themselves with certain factions from Cardassia who wish to regain their world's former glory and power. In exchange for Cardassian technology and valuable information to facilitate the ruse the Ryuck perpetrated to mislead us, the Opai fear their brethren have promised cloaking technology to the Cardassians. If this is true, all does not bode well for our currently uneventful relations with them, and such an advantage as a cloaking device will provide them could likely lead to internal conflicts on Cardassia Prime that have the potential to end any peace we have achieved with them. The Ryuck are proving a threat that must be contained.

In an odd turn of events, during the space battle the body of Minister Viata was retrieved from the location on Risa where Lt. T'Kal had subdued her. Apparently, the Ryuck managed to neutralize the effects of the transporter inhibitors within the hotel room - no doubt with knowledge supplied them by the Cardassians. In exchange, however, Ensign Andrea Collins was returned to the planet. Sam suggests it occurred almost simultaneously with the retrieval of Minister Viata.

It would appear Ensign Collins was being held on the Ryuck vessel the entire time, and although she claims she was an innocent victim throughout all this, with her past it is somewhat difficult to believe. However, we must trust her word, no matter how dubious it might seem. The Ktarians have decided to drop their charges on the ensign in favour of pursuing legal action against the Ryuck. They will be discussing the issue with the Opai once the Federation ambassador from Starfleet arrives in two days' time. For now, the Opai will continue providing me with full reports on any information they believe crucial in renewing whatever good relations with the Federation were established during the negotiations. Admittedly, they have much work ahead of them.

Regarding Ensign Ethan Anderson Storm, I have returned his copies of the stolen vidlogs to Risan possession and, as expected, Dojit Terise dispatched a formal complaint to Starfleet Command. I have spoken with Admiral Gordon on the subject and, in a show of lenience, she is willing to take our recommendations on the matter following a formal review by the captain and myself, as well as Ensign Storm's department head, Lieutenant T'Kal. I understand that the Ensign's family has deep-rooted connections to Starfleet; it appears to have worked in his favour.

As for Lieutenant T'Kal, he will be receiving an official commendation for bravery following his valiant efforts in protecting myself, and in stopping Minister Viata. Ensigns Storm and Farrell have both been approved for commendations for loyalty to a fellow crewmember following their role in the investigation. However, reflecting upon Ensign Storm's recent illicit actions, his commendation has been revoked.

Crewman Moreau also proved invaluable during the attack, and showed quick thinking under pressure. Both Lieutenant Sam and Lieutenant Saavar have recommended her for a commendation for creativity and dedication, and I, as well as Starfleet command, have endorsed it. I believe she has made an exceptional addition to the crew.

Overall, this ship's crew has performed admirably and I look forward to a long service with them.

End of log.

---

"Women and Men"
By: Lieutenant j.g. Natalia Druschev; Science Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Druschev quarters
Stardate: 57907.11 23h52

***

"Evenin'," Mason said flatly as Natalia opened the door.

She looked at his stern expression and stood in the doorway. Folding her arms across her chest she said, "It's almost midnight." She'd been thinking about him all evening. None of it had been pleasant. He'd brought her to tears already in front of other members of the crew, and she knew how things stood as far as the rumor mill on starships. "I suppose you need to give me some kind of explanation?" She sounded as flat as he did. She looked away a moment, her eyes felt puffy and horrible. This wasn't how she'd imagined it. "You'd better come in - but keep the noise down, my son is sleeping in the next room." She stepped away from the door and motioned him in.

Son? Mason thought, almost hesitating in his step. This got worse by the minute.

The room was barely lit - only a reading lamp next to a chair and an open book on the armrest indicated what she had been doing prior to his arrival. It was a faded paper replication of a book by Jon'Re, a Bajoran poet. Morbid. Suited to her mood. "Coffee or tea?" she asked as she made her way to the replicator. She wanted to put some distance between them, and something else to do with their hands.

"I'm--" He hesitated. He was going to finish with 'fine,' but that was hardly accurate. "Coffee," he amended, "please." He remained standing, waiting politely.

She nodded and produced a couple of mugs. She walked across to him, standing there uncomfortably and handed it to him. The contact of their hands was warmer than the chill in the air. For a moment she looked at him and gave a slight smile. It happened almost against her will, but it was there. She stepped away awkwardly - self conscious that they were alone in her quarters, and that Domenic was sleeping next door.

She waved him to a chair - better than an all-too inviting sofa. She sat as well and took a defensive sip of her tea. She just looked at him over the rim of the cup holding it with both hands. Staring into the eyes that had held so much passion, yet now were unreadable.

"Natalia," Mason began, holding his mug absently. It was a great name, liquid and full-bodied. He enjoyed saying it. He enjoyed other things about Natalia too, but now wasn't the time to start thinking about that, not given what he was about to say. "I'm sorry about this afternoon." That seemed as good a way as any to start.

She was sorry too. She leaned back in the chair and sat the hot mug on her lap, still clutching it so that her hands didn't betray her nervousness. He was sitting forward, and she could tell that he was sincere about his apology. She waited for him to continue, giving away little about her turbulent emotions.

"I've been thinking about this all day, and I'm still not sure how to say what needs to be said. So please bear with me while I work through this. The night we had was one of the greatest nights of my life. I'll carry it with me forever, and look back on it fondly. But we're strangers to each other. I didn't know anything about you except that you were an exceptional dancer." He paused, and the barest beginning of a smile crept onto his face as he thought about their tango.

His words seemed to slap her. Yes they were strangers - but what about getting to know each other? She had to look away and blink back a tear as he went on.

"The night in the casino was fairy-tale magical," he continued, "but that magic couldn't have been maintained. It was Risa. It wasn't us."

She sighed. It was a gentle exhalation of breath as she closed her eyes briefly. "When I woke up..." She looked at him sitting there, sincerity written across his handsome face. "When you weren't there...I imagined it had been a dream..." Her voice was a bare whisper and she looked down at her tea no longer able to hold eye contact. "It was such a perfect dream. All I had of you was a small pin...and memories. I wanted to find you, but I didn't know your name...only Mason." She glanced up at him then and the tracks of her tears shone on her cheeks. "It was so perfect Mason...such a perfect start... I thought maybe it might be something more than just one night... I wanted that so much...." She looked away. "I still want it...and I can't lie to myself and say that it didn't matter - that you didn't touch me...that it meant nothing to me." She looked back as she said, "It means everything...and I don't believe that we are strangers, Mason. We can exchange small talk and get to know each other's past and dreams of the future - and learn things about each other, but in here" --she touched her heart with a trembling hand-- "we connected.... I know we did. I saw it in your eyes today...."

She drew a deep breath and exhaled trying to still the sobs that were trying to rise. "I don't want to walk away from that, Mason." Tears flowed freely and her voice broke as she asked him, "Can you?"

"If you'd asked me then, I'd have stayed. But now," he trailed off, thinking deeply for a time, absently staring at his mug. "The 'us' of that night isn't the 'us' sitting right here. Look at us. We won't even touch each other. If it were still the same, we'd already be in your bedroom. But it's not the same.

"We were both acting," his voice took on an urgent inflection. He set his mug on a side table. "We were responding to the Risan night. We connected because that's what Risa gets people to do. We can't duplicate that night. It was once-in-a-lifetime, and it was fantastic, and I'll never forget it, but I can't duplicate it. The pin you have is all that's left of that tuxedo. I was shot the next morning, and the medical staff cut the suit off treating me. All I have of that night are my memories, and they're memories I'll cherish. It's killing me to sit here and not sweep you into bed, believe me, but we'd both regret it. The collateral damage potential is too great to ignore." He looked at the carpet.

She looked up at him with concern when he talked about being 'shot,' and medical staff attending to him. Collateral damage? "So...you are married, or are with someone else?'

Farrell shook his head, but it wasn't in response to her question. He thought briefly of Ainsley. He could conceivably call Ainsley 'another woman.' But that was the coward's way. He wouldn't use Ainsley as a pawn in this. His mess. His fix. Besides, his Someone Else wasn't what this was about.

"How old is your boy?" he asked without looking up.

"He's nine. Ten in November and his name is Domenic." She wiped her eyes and curled her feet beneath her on the chair. She was still in uniform and was glad for it. Her pale blue eyes were red rimmed and she felt drained. She didn't want to cry anymore. It made her weak.

"Where's his father?"

Natalia shook her head. "He doesn't have anything to do with us." Her voice was flat and final.

He closed his eyes briefly before speaking, then looked up, fixing her gaze in his. "I'm not going to be the man his mother's shacking up with," he said flatly.

Natalia's eyes suddenly burned with anger. She stood up quickly and spilled her tea, but didn't even take notice of it. "How dare you!" she spoke softly but with vehemence. "I never asked you to be! You're just like every other man aren't you? Bastard! Get the hell out of my quarters!" She pointed at the door and she trembled with anger.

"You never asked me to be?" Mason kept his voice low, but the edge was apparent, and the aggression she'd seen in his eyes at the casino flashed in them. "Then what have you been asking me to be?"

She froze with the look in his eyes. It was almost as if he wanted to strike her and she flinched. She didn't expect him to react that way and it scared her. "I never asked you to be anything other than a man I wanted to get to know...." Her voice was shaking. "My son is none of your concern. I don't need a man to take care of him." She looked away from him. "I want a man to love me..."

Mason's look changed abruptly to one of shock. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. He sat back heavily in the chair, obviously thinking fast and hard.

"My father," he said, slow and halting, as though these words had never been spoken before and were unfamiliar, "died when I was young. My mother tried to fill the gap he left in her heart. She just wanted a man to love her. And I hated every man my mother brought home because that man wasn't my father. Some of them were good men. Some were fools. I hated them all, because they were my mother's lover, not my father. I won't be his" --he pointed to the door with the sketched 'Domenic's room, knock!' sign on it-- "mother's lover. The best you're going to get from me is close friend. It's what your son deserves. You can't separate yourself from him. You can't have something that he's not a part of. It doesn't work that way. I know it doesn't."

She dropped her hand and stared at him dumbfounded. The tears were still running down her cheeks as she covered her face in her hands. What he had said hurt her. It was almost the mirror of David - he didn't want Domenic either, and Mason hadn't even met him. He was making a decision without even seeing him. She was going to be alone. The worst thing was, Mason was right. So what happened to her needs? She just collapsed inside of herself and sat heavily in the chair. Curled up behind her arms she began to cry in earnest.

Mason watched her cry for a time, re-gathering himself. He hadn't touched that memory in a decade or longer, and he needed a minute to put his emotions back in order. He rubbed his eyes to rid himself of the tears that had just begun to well, and watched her. A cold logical part of him said he should go. He'd said his piece, she looked to be taking it in, and he was on shaky emotional ground. It would be dangerous to stay like this. But she was beautiful, and he had hurt her. Dammit. You always were too noble for your own good, Mason, he heard his brother say. Again.

"Natalia." He rose from his chair, and knelt next to hers. She didn't respond. "Natalia," he said again, and when she continued to keep her face buried he reached up to touch her hands and pull them gently from her face. "Come here," he said gently, rising and pulling her towards him. This was risky. It felt like pushing in all his chips.

She almost fell into his arms. She let him wrap his strong arms around her and she buried her face in his neck. Her hot tears dampened his uniform and she held on to him tightly. She was sobbing quietly and trembling. Not thinking about anything coherently, just surrendering to the wracking emotions that washed over her. After a few minutes of holding him and feeling him stroking her hair she stopped sobbing. All she was conscious of was his heart beating against her and his breathing and the comfort she felt in his arms. Eventually she looked up - her face a mess of tear stains and red rimmed eyes brimming with tears. She could see that he was feeling the emotion too. As she looked up at him she was very close. She arched her neck slightly, looking deeply into his eyes and gently touched his cheek with her hand. His face was wet with his own tears. For a long moment they were lost in each other's eyes.

"I don't know how to be what you need me to be, Natalia," Mason said softly, keeping her close. "Domenic needs a father no matter what you say. You need a lover. I can't be both." He sighed deeply and closed his eyes as he continued, "I'm no father figure. I smoke, I drink, I swear, I play cards, I womanize, and I'm not there in the morning. I'm no father figure. At best, I'm the crazy uncle who's been to brothels in five sectors and knows crude words for sex in thirty languages. The gambler you met on Risa may be the man you want. But he's not the man you need."

"I'm not asking anything of you," she whispered. "Only what you want to give. The night on Risa was still us; it was you and it was me," she breathed, her accent strong with her emotion. "We were playing parts, but that ended while we were making love." She brushed his cheek, feeling the slight stubble. "I don't need you to be a father for Domenic, Mason. But I do need you...." She brought his head closer as she slipped one hand around his neck. Her lips were so close to his so she closed her eyes and brought them together in a soft caress. She wanted him, wanted to feel him again, wanted him to take her again as he had before. She was pressed against him, and knew his body was responding to her touch as hers was to the kiss.

He kissed her back, feeling precariously balanced. He could take her again, right here, right now. Or he could push her away right here, right now. Either way, a decision had to be made. Right here. Right now.

She was infuriating and intoxicating at the same time, and it bothered him that this conflict still existed. No, it was more than just being bothered. She hadn't listened to a single damn word. He'd laid out all the dangers, all the problems, opened a piece of his heart he'd left locked for years, and she was still trying to get him into bed. She was probably the most selfish woman he had ever met, and it was maddening. But in spite of his heart racing with anger, he couldn't stop kissing her.

Natalia continued the kiss like an inner fire that needed quenching. A hunger had been awakened on Risa, and like a drug that addicted on the first hit, she wanted and needed Mason. She kissed him deeply, surrendering, yielding to his touch and his lips, wanting to be taken, to be ravished and devoured. She sighed and moaned as he crushed her to his chest and became what she needed.

He caught her scent again. That scent. That damn scent. It was what set the whole thing off last time. She wore it on purpose, he told himself, growing more incensed with each second.

Natalia didn't want to think about what she was doing. Didn't want to cope with consequences or the nagging doubts and the words he'd spoken. She wanted to erase it all with passion. In a part of her mind she knew what she was doing to him, knew that she could override any of his objections because she held a power over his body that he couldn't fight against. She wanted him and she wanted him to want her - at least for tonight. She couldn't leave it - couldn't let him go. Their first night had been so perfect and she wanted to feel that again. She slid her hands over his body, knowing the effect her long nails had down his back and the pressure of her hips against him. She let out a long shuddering moan in his ear as his hands inflamed her. Her lips found his neck and she felt him shudder.

Fine, he finally thought to himself, his balance gone. He felt himself falling as he walked her backward and through the door to her bedroom, even though a tiny rational part of his mind knew he was still upright. He was crossing a line, that little part said. There'd be hell to pay later, that little part said. And that little part was ruthlessly crushed by his wrath.

She moved with him, almost like a dance step, staring into his eyes - hers full of lust and desire and his filled with danger. He was angry and she could feel it, and it turned her on even more. He couldn't stop what was happening if he wanted to and she felt a thrill at knowing it. She kissed him again as they went through the door, reaching out for his uniform fastenings. She wanted him undressed - this wasn't a gentle thing - she wanted him now!

The zip-fastenings of her jacket tore loose of the fabric as he wrenched it open. He threw her to the bed as her door swished shut, and pinned her down with his weight, kissing her ferociously.

She felt his power - the raw maleness of his ferocity and was helpless to stop him from doing anything he wanted. She didn't want to stop him - didn't want to stop at all! She tore at his uniform in the same way that he attacked hers. His lips devoured her. His hands were rough and she felt a thrill as he ripped her last remaining garments away. She stared into his eyes and stifled a scream - biting her lip as their bodies came together. She felt like her skin was burning with heat as he drove her on, and she dragged her nails down his back hard enough to leave welts, biting into his shoulder - shuddering as she reached the first white-hot explosion.

It wasn't sex this time. It wasn't lovemaking this time. It was raw and primal and fierce. It was Mason working out his anger. It was Natalia willingly drowning herself in his embrace. It was two people searching desperately for something they could not find.

As anger and passion burned out in a mutual exorcism, they lay in a tangle of limbs. Natalia crushed beneath him as he had collapsed on top of her. They were both trying to recover in the aftermath, and Natalia was breathing in shuddering gasps that slowly calmed. Her hands stroked his back gently as they both avoided each other's eyes. She felt sated - as if it had been exactly what she had needed from him, but at the same time knew that it wasn't what she'd wanted. She'd forced him into this, and it made her feel ashamed at the way she had gotten what she wanted without considering his wants. By his own admission he was a womanizer - a man who got what he desired and left before morning. A part of her couldn't help feeling smug at making him feel what he would make a woman feel all too often, but it was balanced by a twinge of guilt. She'd used him.

She rolled him off her but held onto him, coming to rest beside him, still twined together. She looked him in the eyes. "Thank you..." she said softly. Her hair was a tangled mess, a sheen of perspiration made her skin glow in the starlight coming in from the view port. Her eyes were bright sparks of ice blue as she regarded his severe expression. She stroked his cheek gently as she said, "I won't hold you to anything, Mason...not if it's not what you want.... I just needed this...needed to know...."

Mason rolled onto his back with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "I imagine we both needed to know," he muttered through his hands, then dropped them to his sides and stared at the ceiling. A part of him was still angry. The sex hadn't helped. And he was getting angry with himself for yielding to that anger. He considered what to say next, and realized he was running out of words. "You've got duty in a few hours," he said quietly, swinging his legs out of bed and sitting up, his back to her. "You need to get some sleep." In the half-light from the star-filled window, the splashed disruptor scar was visible across his left shoulder blade, its new pink contrasting with his tanned back.

She rolled up onto the bed behind him, looking at the new scar on his back and her own additions to the tanned expanse of his flesh. She lightly touched it, and sat up more fully, leaning against his back, resting her head on his neck and wrapping her arms around him. "I'm sorry, Mason..." She whispered it close to his ear, her breath brushing against him. He was warm and she closed her eyes for a moment. "You're angry with me... You have every right to be.... We need to talk about this.... I mean really talk. I know what you said earlier was true," she sighed, stroking his chest with a languid hand. Just a caress that kept tactile contact rather than anything to arouse him. "I want to get to know you. I don't want to be strangers. I don't want this either; not this way." She meant it, although what they had both done this night was as cathartic as it had needed to be.

Mason closed his eyes. He suddenly felt very tired. No, not tired, he reflected. Drained. He was emotionally drained. He had nothing left. Even his anger was fading.

"Let's just--" He hung his head, thinking. "Let's just start again. Let's leave the Gambler and his Lady on Risa, and just be Mason and Natalia, and see where that takes us. Let's see if we can actually be friends before we start making demands and accusations. What do you say?" He tried to make the question cheerful, and hoped he had succeeded. He was glad he wasn't facing her so she wouldn't see that his forced smile didn't reach his eyes.

It was a forced cheerfulness. She knew it straight away. How could it not be? He was still upset and she could feel the way that he seemed to cave in when he sighed. "I'll do what ever you want," she said gently. "We can be friends...." She kissed him lightly on the scarred shoulder. "This wasn't here before," she said, examining the freshness of the scar tissue. "What happened?" She tried to keep her tone light, but the concern was evident. She leaned slightly over his shoulder and her long dark hair fell over his chest.

He gave a single soft chuckling laugh. "I got shot," he said. She was quiet, so he continued. "I interrupted an assassination attempt. Two security officers died."

She stilled the movement of her hand and gripped him, drawing a breath she was at a loss to say anything for a long moment. He'd almost been killed. He tried to make light of his own injury, but she knew that he'd come very close to death and that made her afraid. Tonight might never have happened. That was like a dose of cold water down her spine - she shuddered from it and held on to him. "Are you okay?" She managed to say the words but her throat was tinder dry. She could feel goose-bumps raising on her arms.

"I'm not sure," he said. "It's recent, so it still aches a little bit. Ask me again in a month."

"No, silly...." She stroked him gently. "I meant are you alright? The medics can fix almost anything - but it's you I'm worried about...." She slid off the bed and came around in front of him. Kneeling down in the dim light, she looked up into his eyes. "You could have died. That's not something to make light of." She saw the look in his eyes and pressed the point. "Have you seen a counselor?" She was so filled with concern for him that he could see it in her eyes. She came up close to him, and wrapped her arms about his shoulders, just holding him to her. "I might never have...." She tried to clear the sudden lump in her throat but it wouldn't go away. Instead she just held on to him.

"There are people on this ship who wouldn't care if I did die," he muttered, immediately sorry he had. Lyrr was an arrogant bitch, and Mason certainly despised her, but for all that he couldn't imagine her tapdancing on his grave. He looked at Natalia. She looked shocked.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching around her. "I've actually been thinking about counseling again." Saying that made him think of Ainsley again. That gave him a guilty pang that he reflexively suppressed. "I'll get over there eventually, I suppose. They'll haul me in forcibly soon, I imagine. It's protocol after a shooting."

She looked into his eyes, holding his face in both hands. Her long dark hair hung like a veil over her shoulders, surrounding him in a cloud of her perfume. She gave him a smile and brushed a lock of hair away from his face. "I'll haul you to a counselor myself." She leaned down and kissed him gently, breaking away before he could respond. His arms felt good around her waist, and the slight hair on his chest was tickling her skin - she thought about making love to him again. She wanted to. She wanted to make it a gentle, more intimate experience - she wanted to show him that she cared that he lived.

She gazed deeply into his eyes, an open invitation in her own to take it further. They had both faced dangers over the last few days. The battle in which the Sulu had been involved was still fresh in her mind. There was something about facing death that made a person yearn to celebrate life. Making love was a natural celebration of life. They stared into each other's eyes, the argument forgotten. "I've got a couple of hours before shift," she whispered. She smiled cheekily and added, "Then I'll kick you out."

Mason smiled a weary smile, and shook his head. "I should go. We both need sleep, and I can't sleep here." He carefully detached himself from Natalia and started feeling for his trousers.

She sighed and sat on the bed and watched him grope around for the clothes they had feverishly discarded. She lay back and languidly stretched, she was tired and he was right. But she couldn't let him go like this. She propped herself up on her elbow. "What's eating you up, Mason?" The question was a serious one. It stopped him long enough for him to look at her as he zipped up his uniform trousers. "I want to know. You can treat it lightly - but you can't hide it." Her Russian accent was fluid and rich with undertones. "Stay for a little while. Talk to me. I mean it. No fooling around - just talk to me." Her words were gentle and serious. She really did want to know what it was behind his eyes that said he was hiding from something - or someone. She pulled the sheet over her body and patted the bed beside her. "Please?"

He chuckled deep in the back of his throat and shook his head wearily. "There's too much going on in my head right now to try and sort it into speech. Memories, mostly. I'll tell you about it sometime, when I get it figured out, but now's not that time. Right now I need to be gone before your son wakes up to use the fresher, or get a drink of water, or somethin'." He found his boots and sat at the edge of the bed to pull them on.

She shook her head. "He's been given a sedative to help him sleep." When Mason looked around at her, she said, "The attack scared him. He's been having nightmares about it. I'm still wondering why I brought him aboard myself - is this any place for a nine year old?" She looked away and rolled onto her belly, her back to Mason. "I'd like you to tell me all about it." She went back to his memories. Without looking at him she said, "Do you want to see me again? Just you and me for a while? Think about it." She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'll wait for you.... I won't pressure you...."

Natalia felt the bed shift slightly as he rose. "Give me some time," she heard him say. "We'll see each other again. We can't avoid it on a ship this small. But give me some time."

She smiled in the crook of her arm. "You'll call me...right?"

"You bet," she heard him say as the door opened and closed.

She heard him exit her quarters. He was gone.

Natalia rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She suddenly felt empty. "You bet," she whispered to herself in the dark. She tried hard not to cry. But it was no use.

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