"Five Cards"
By: Lieutenant j.g. Michael Ashbury; Engineering Officer
Lieutenant j.g. Samantha Ashbury; Science Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Nathalie Gui; Communications Officer
Lieutenant Saavar; Science Officer
Ensign Viraj; Operations Officer

Location: Ashbury Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.28 00h20

***

Mason cut the deck, and thumbed the halves together with a dull crackle.

"Everybody knows five-card draw, right?" he asked rhetorically.

Michael nodded, trying to remember all the rules. He hadn't played poker in years, since he was at the Academy. Samantha sat on one couch, simultaneously working on reports and watching the game with interest. She didn't have much interest in poker but the company was always nice to have.

Nathalie nodded also; the rules were nothing new to her. She could recall many a time playing with her fellow crewmates whilst serving at San Drego Colony. "Ready if everyone else is," she remarked, face emotionless.

Saavar looked across at Mason Farrell and nodded. "I have examined the rules, Ensign, they appear to be simple, although I have not yet participated in a game of five-card draw." He folded his hands neatly upon the table. "It will be a fascinating learning experience." He seemed to miss the significant looks of some of the players at his admission of never playing the game.

Viraj nodded with great confidence as he looked around the table for canvasses and drawing implements. Once he noticed the way Mason was manipulating the cards, he realised that they were not, in fact, drink coasters, and that they were going to be playing poker. He had only played poker once, during his fourth year at the Academy, but his dorm-mates had uninvited him after that first time, because his presence had accidentally turned the game into strip poker.

"Fair enough, then. The ante's one credit, with a twenty cred limit," he said as he began to deal.

The five players sat around the large glass table in the Ashbury quarters that normally served as a dining table. The usual bouquet of flowers had been removed for the poker night and a pile of chits sat in front of each player. Madison had been sent off to bed, although it was a foregone conclusion that, with all the company and noise, she'd probably be out sooner or later. Her curiosity knew no limits lately.

Saavar slid his chip into the 'pot.' His cards allowed for several possibilities and he calmly examined the faces and body postures of the other players for the minute clues that would allow him to anticipate the moves of his competitors. He would throw two cards away with his first bet, but held on to them until it was his turn. His face was set in the Vulcan manner - giving away nothing.

"How's stuff in Engineering?" Mason asked, looking at his cards and tossing a small white chip into the center of the table.

"Pretty interesting lately. Being a roving engineer keeps things from getting boring. Had a plasma conduit that blew up yesterday. Thaine wasn't too happy about it. Only exciting news lately is that we're apparently getting a new engineer at DS9."

"Oh yeah?" Mason asked. "They're not replacing Thaine, are they?"

"Not that I've heard, no. Just someone new with more rank and experience than most of the engineering staff. How's Ops?"

"We had a crash in cargobay two that needed attention. Things weren't stowed properly, and the load shifted all over the place. That was a joy. But the bike was out of the path of the avalanche," he smiled, "so at least that's something. And the EMH program got repaired alright, I think. Weren't you and Viraj working on that? Did you guys get it sorted out?"

"Well...sort of," Michael drawled. "The EMH had hysterics about only having a head and two hands though."

"Which was bliss compared to his reaction to being turned into Nurse Sefton," Viraj added. He blushed slightly and looked down at his cards to say, "...and to being ridden by Nurse Reese." Viraj wasn't embarrassed by Amy's habits, but he felt a little dirty for taking part in gossiping.

Mason gave a stunned half-laugh, and looked at his cards again.

"I hadn't heard about that." Michael grinned. "What happened?"

"We acquired enough memory chips to handle the EMH's entire program, and so I asked Flummux to give it a body back." Viraj stopped, and then sheepishly continued, "We were at Cris' goodbye party, though, and I suppose I was vague about which body the EMH should be given. When Amy saw the EMH, she was excited about it being Cristobel back from Betazed early. Very excited. She was quite cross when she discovered that it was just the EMH, and it started criticising her hair."

"It started criticizing her hair?" Mason asked rhetorically. "That's choice. Does it still look like Sefton?"

"It does, in fact," Viraj replied. "But I think Amy might have threatened the medical staff with verbal evisceration if any of them think of activating the EMH, since it still has the Mark II's personality."

"We ought to keep experimenting on it," Mason mused. "Hey Nat, we ought to use the kung-fu Vulcan. What a great EMH that would make."

Saavar raised a single brow at the mention of a 'kung-foo Vulcan.' It came to his turn to throw in cards and he slid two away.

Nathalie laughed as she tossed in a single white chip. "I don't know how a Vulcan like that would deal with patients. After the way he attempted to clobber both of us, I'm more than certain it has zero bedside manner."

Mason laughed, and gave Saavar the two cards he indicated he wanted.

Viraj decided against blackholeing the conversation, and so didn't mention that Starfleet Medical was quite insistent on no more tampering with the EMH. He tossed in a single white chip, as well, and muttered, "That'd be better manners than the Mark II has."

"At least the EMH talks," Mason said. "This Vulcan is one of Nat's holodeck torture devices. It just kicks a--" he stopped himself, looked at Sam, took a quick glance at Madison's door, and corrected himself. "It's violent. Really violent. It cleaned my clock pretty good."

"May I ask why you have chosen a Vulcan as a method of inflicting torture in a holodeck?" Saavar looked across at Nathalie Gui as he opened his cards. He closed them again without the need to play with them as he saw Viraj doing - sorting them out to see what he had. "Vulcans are a peaceful race," he added without inflection.

Sam chuckled quietly to herself at Saavar's comment. If there was one thing Vulcans could never seem to learn, it was a sense of humor.

Sifting through her cards Nathalie responded without looking up, "Because if I choose to fight with a Klingon opponent, I get beaten to the ground, an Andorian opponent, we'd spend half the time having a verbal fight, a Deltan opponent..." Nathalie looked over at the nervous Viraj and shook her head. "Well let's not go that far...Vulcans are excellent fighters, they focus on the match and nothing else."

The response seemed to satisfy the Vulcan as Saavar nodded. "Then your choice would be acceptable," he said. "However I must point out that you are relying on the parameters of a computer generated holographic opponent rather than a Vulcan. It may display the physical appearance and strength of a Vulcan, but it could not truly perform in the same way." He looked at Nathalie with a level gaze, his face immobile. "Otherwise you would not choose to fight one, as you have done with a Klingon. A computer cannot perform the Vulcan nerve pinch for example. Nor can it emulate the arts of Vulcan fighting, as much of it remains unknown outside of Vulcan. There are many dimensions that a computer simply cannot emulate."

Still examining his cards, Viraj shrugged and innocently suggested, "Maybe she just fantasises about beating up Vulcans. Logic has very little place in fantasy."

"That would be a logical assumption," Saavar said straight-faced. "There is no accounting for illogical Human behaviour. Fantasies take many forms - some are more irrational than others." He thought of Captain Salinger's choice of mate. "There is no logic in some decisions," he added cryptically.

Viraj looked to his cards again, once everyone around the table had thrown in chips. He knew everyone had seen confusion and disappointment on his less-than-poker face, and so he said, "I fold," and bent his cards in half. He winced suddenly, remembering that physically folding the cards had been what had, mostly, gotten him kicked out of his last poker game, and he unbent the cards and tossed them away.

"How's Tagliesh settling back into science?" Mason asked, looking to Saavar. "She still an ironclad?"

Saavar frowned. "I have not heard the term 'Ironclad' in relation to a person before. If you mean is she a..." He cocked his head and frowned in thought before continuing, " 'Cast Iron Bitch' I would say that is an accurate summation." He kept his face totally immobile as the players at the table looked at him. Farrell glanced at Madison's door again. "I have not seen her 'in science' as yet, Ensign Farrell. At present she has been busy with other more personal tasks." Saavar slid his first bet into the center of the table.

"From what I've seen, she's gotten worse since she's been with the captain," Sam said with a raised eyebrow. "She was bad before; she's almost intolerable now."

"Nobody to rein her in anymore?" Mason wondered aloud.

"That would be logical," Saavar said. "She now believes that her authority is backed by the 'ear' of the captain. If she cannot get her way, she will rely on his ultimate authority by utilizing her feminine physical and emotional leverage against him. I would predict that this will cause the captain some difficulty in the near future." He looked up at Sam and said, "I did try to inform her of that. She ignored my warning. I foresee grief for the couple - an association such as theirs will be nothing but trouble."

Sam nodded agreement as she stood up and made her way to the replicator. "Anyone want anything?" she asked before ordering some hot Bajoran tea. Mason asked for a beer.

"Nothing, thank you," Saavar intoned as he watched the other players consider their bets.

Nathalie slid her bet into the middle of the table before looking over to Samantha briefly. "Vanilla Red tea, preferably hot." Turning back to the game Nat asked, "Quite a colorful vocabulary, Saavar. I take it Tagliesh doesn't like Vulcans?"

"My vocabulary in Federation Standard contains many euphemisms that have no direct translation into Vulcan. I hope that I am using them in the correct manner. I would appreciate correction if my references are inaccurate. In answer to your question, I believe that she does not tolerate Vulcans well. She has not interacted pleasantly with either myself or Ai'Pal, my fellow Vulcan scientist." He looked directly at Sam and said, "As you mentioned - she is intolerable." It grieved him to have her at the back of his mind, and the Vulcan seemed irritated. A flash of emotion showing in his dark eyes.

"Glad I don't have to deal with her," Michael muttered. Sam hit him playfully over the head with her padd on her way back to the couch.

Saavar looked across the table at Michael Ashbury. "I have heard of an engineer hitting a piece of equipment to make it work - I had no idea that hitting an engineer with a piece of equipment produced the same results...."

"It does with him," Sam said with an impish smile as she sat down. Michael just cocked one eyebrow and grinned.

"Perhaps you simply need to spend more time working with her," Viraj suggested to Savaar. "A month back, when Tagliesh's temper was current enough news to be considered gossip and rumour, all of the junior Science officers I met were horrified by or terrified of her. But now, many of them have warmed up to her, since the shouting and the slapping has decreased."

The hand was turned up. Nathalie smiled and raked in the chips, and it was Saavar's turn to deal.

"The whole Senior Staff's too intense," Farrell drawled absently. "Lyrr just about went over the table at Scott during the 'welcome-back' dinner for the captain. And T'Kal kept undressing Lyrr with his eyes. It was disturbing."

"You think that's bad? Lyrr practically jumped down my throat at my suggestion to give Sikara a civil test. I was just waiting for her to have me hauled off to the brig; she thinks you've become a bad influence on me. That woman certainly loves living up to her role as Executive Officer of the ship," Nathalie remarked as she took a long drink of her tea.

Farrell shook his head. "Bad influence," he muttered. "You should have heard her the next day. When I met with the captain to discuss Sikara? She almost" --he held his fingers close together-- "accused me of using Counselor Scott, of all people, to advance my 'agenda.' Paranoia," he shook his head again.

"What does Lyrr suggest your insidious 'agenda' is?" Viraj asked, perplexed by the apparent paranoia. "Improving the quality of life on the Sulu?"

Farrell laughed out loud and looked at the cards Saavar had dealt him, tossing in his ante chip. "Apparently. It was a pretty awkward meeting, all things considered. The Captain was all business, Lyrr was all protest, and Sam," he shrugged, "just took notes, I guess. Poor guy. He was totally lost in the dynamic of that meeting. He's probably still analyzing the interactions. But," his tone brightened, "Sikara's on board, and seems to be doing fine, so all's well."

Chips were anted, cards were turned again, and play proceeded as the friends gossiped the night away.

---

"Security Matters"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Lt. Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security

Location: USS Hikaru Sulu
Stardate: 57907.28, 11h35

***

Benedict T'Kal stepped before the Captain's Ready Room and ran a hand across the chime sensor. The customary double tone sounded and he heard the captain bid him enter from within. As the door opened with a soft swish he stepped in and regarded the most senior officer of the Hikaru Sulu with a smile and polite nod, coming to attention. "Captain," he greeted the man. There was no need of formal introductions, as Salinger had met him on a few occasions now, but hadn't had the opportunity of a private chat.

"Benedict," Matt said with a good-natured grin. He stood and beckoned the security chief into the office and gestured toward one of the chairs opposite his desk. "Have a seat. And, is there anything I can get for you? I was just about to get myself some tea."

Benedict smiled and nodded. "Green Tea, thank you." He took the proffered seat and waited until the captain handed him his glass mug. He tasted it as Salinger sat. Placing the mug aside he laid a padd on the desk before him. "I'd like to run a few things by you, sir," he began. "I've discussed a full scale tactical exercise with Commander Lyrr - the intruder scenario I mentioned in the staff meeting. I'd like your permission to go ahead with it shortly after we leave DS9. Originally we'd planned to run it before then, but the repairs to the ship take precedence, and I'd rather not upset the Chief Engineer right now." He grinned and slid the padd over to the captain and allowed him to scan the data. The padd contained the outline of the scenario, with Lyrr and T'Kal coordinating the Red Team attackers in a boarding action designed to incapacitate the Sulu. The Bridge crew would be the primary hostages, with several critical areas of the vessel taken by hostiles. The Blue team consisted of the rest of the crew. The scenario would test the readiness of the entire crew and as a result plans could be made to improve responses to this type of eventuality. The surprise nature of the drill would add stress factors that would give a good indication of how well they would face the real thing.

When he finished reading through the planned exercise, Matt put the padd back on his desk and nodded. "It's a good scenario, though perhaps a little more than I expect we'll encounter in the Gamma Quadrant. However, it's never a bad idea to be ready, because fate has a way of high sticking you when you least expect it. How long do you anticipate the scenario running?"

Benedict shook his head. "I would imagine that the scenario would be resolved within hours. If it isn't, my security detail isn't up to speed." He grinned to show that he didn't think that was the case at all. "Near the end of Gamma shift - 0400 hours at the lowest ebb of the shift cycle."

Matt chuckled. "Very well," he said. "I imagine no one will sleep well that night, but it should be an interesting exercise. Very well, just let me know which resources you'll require, as well as which personnel you will require to play the part of the hostiles. And, I am going to assume you want this kept as quiet as possible until zero-hour."

Benedict grinned. "Yes, sir. It won't do to have the Blue team all prepared for us. Commander Lyrr will assist with Red team and I'd like to have Lieutenant Sam also; he's an unfair advantage to the home team. A party of twelve should suffice. I'll send the list of names closer to zero hour. I'm not briefing Red team until two hours prior. I thought you might enjoy leading Blue team, sir, as officially you won't be on the Bridge at zero hour."

"I'd be honoured to," Matt said with a smile. "Though, I don't know how well I'll be able to stand up against an android and a former resistance fighter. I guess we'll have to see how well my Starfleet training holds up, won't we."

"The android will not be used to its fullest extent, sir - that would be unfair to you as well. I'm just going to remove his abilities from the scenario. I'd seriously consider instituting an alternate computer security measure in case at some point in the future we are faced with a being capable of the same feats as Lieutenant Sam. Encryption systems for example. He could lock us out so easily - we should have a 'back door' into the system that only yourself and Commander Lyrr controls."

Matt nodded his ascent. "A good idea," he said. "We'll have to see about implementing something of that nature. Though, I have no doubts that given time, most safeguards can be bypassed or neutralized, and in some situations they will only slow someone down, but not stop them."

Benedict nodded. "Slowing 'em down is all we really need, sir. Time is usually the critical factor in any given boarding scenario. I'll get to work on it. Thank you, sir."

"Of course, Mr. T'Kal," Matt said with a smile. "Oh, one other thing, about your uniform. You do realize those are Surface Operation Blacks you're wearing, don't you?"

"Is that a problem, sir?" Benedict asked carefully. "I find they are comfortable."

"Comfortable," Matt said with a nod, then cocked his head to the side to regard T'Kal. "Of course. Do you allow the officers in your department to wear what they wish because they're comfortable?"

"If it's a regulation uniform, yes, sir." He sat back slightly and gave the captain a smile. "If there's a problem with my wearing this uniform, sir, I will change it."

Matt nodded. "It's as much of a problem as someone choosing their dress uniform as a duty uniform," he said. "Starfleet uniforms all have a time and place when they should be worn. Just because it's a regulation uniform doesn't mean it's appropriate for daily wear in all cases."

"Yes, sir. I will change it immediately," Benedict smiled.

"Very good, Lieutenant," Matt said. "And, keep me apprised on the details of the drill, at least those details you can give me."

Benedict stood and nodded, "Yes, sir," he smiled once more. "Thank you, Captain, I'll keep you posted." And spun on his heel and headed out the door.

Once on the Bridge he nodded to the security officer at tactical and told him to stand post while he went to his personal quarters. Fifteen minutes later he entered the Bridge dressed in a standard class A uniform. The security officer gave him an appraising look and smirked. "Don't say a word," the Sulu's Security Chief said as he took his station at Tactical. "Not one."

---

"Seeking Resolution"
By: Counsellor Brennyn Scott
Commander Lyrr Tayla

Location: Commander's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.28, 11h45

***

For the fourth time that morning, Bree sighed. She did not want to make this report, but she owed it to Farrell and to the Sulu to inform its Executive Officer of the current status of the crew, and since Farrell had been required to see a counselor following the incidents on Risa, Scott couldn't very well dodge protocol.

It was decided. She was going. But she definitely didn't have to like it. Thinking back on their conversation in the refresher, Bree's resolve soured. What in the universe had she done to deserve the treatment she'd gotten from a woman she had only met the night of the Captain's dinner? Putting the finishing touches on her hair and taking a last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in place, Bree hoped that this conversation wasn't anything like their last. For the sake of professionalism, Scott would not tolerate any tension between Lyrr and herself.

And there was more. Perhaps it was just her counselor's nature, but she couldn't help but wonder what the Bajoran was hiding under her cool, aloof exterior. If she could only base her concerns on the complaints of a couple of junior officers, Scott might have let things go, but Bree had seen and heard just how much Lyrr Tayla went out of her way to take the offensive. Again, she was left to wonder who Lyrr thought it was that was attacking? One thing was certain: she wasn't going to find the answers stewing in her quarters.

She headed to the turbolift and to Commander Lyrr's office. PADD in hand, she rang the chime, determined to keep an open mind and not let bad first impressions come between them.

When the call came to enter and she stepped through the receding door, she was met with a slight look of surprise from the Executive officer, then a stiff attempt at a pleasant smile. "Counsellor," she greeted. Lyrr set down her datapad and gestured Brennyn inside. "Is there something wrong?"

Scott shook her head. "Not at all, Commander. I just thought I'd deliver my report on Ensign Farrell's debriefing in person." She held out the PADD. It didn't reveal anything too specific so as not to breach confidentiality, but it did outline Scott's conclusions.

Lyrr nodded and accepted the device. She briefly glanced at it, then back at Brennyn. "Thank you, Counsellor. I'll review it at the first possible opportunity."

"Fair enough," she replied, turning to go.

Frowning quizzically, Lyrr said, "Was there something else, then? You could have simply sent this to my computer. Is there something about this report you wished to discuss?"

Scott turned back, debating on whether or not to reiterate what was subtly in her report. "The ensign's bravado aside, I think he really wants to do right by you and this crew, Commander. Now, I'm not saying his methods are the greatest, or that you don't have reason to tread carefully given his past behavior, but I'm concerned that deep down he feels that he'll never measure up and it's playing havoc with his self-esteem."

"He doesn't wish to measure up," Lyrr replied. Her tone held a hint of irritation. "Ensign Farrell believes he's doing everything any model Starfleet officer would. He doesn't believe he has anything to measure up to. Don't be deceived by him, Counsellor; Ensign Farrell is just fine, and quite pleased with himself, I might add."

Bree unconsciously folded her arms. "With all due respect, Commander, if you're mind was made up, what did you need me for? I'm simply telling you what I believe is going on with Farrell in my experience as a counselor."

"I asked nothing of you, Counsellor," Lyrr replied. "A psychiatric assessment is mandatory after what the ensign has been through; you assessed him, I asked for your opinion, received it, and now I'm telling you what I think." She folded her hands atop the desk as she leaned forward. The expression confronting the counsellor was not at all a kind one. "If counselling the members of this crew is too tedious a task - as you have suggested it is - then perhaps you should consider another field of study."

Bree looked up at her, amazed that the woman would actually feel that threatened by a simple opinion. "And I'm telling you that I respectfully disagree with your assessment, that during the evaluation of Mason Farrell I sensed a problem that could very well affect his performance. And as my job requires, a job that I am quite capable of handling I might add, I'm telling you how you might address it."

She met her gaze, sincerity in her eyes. "I don't know what he did to you, but I need you to put your differences aside and keep an open mind."

"I am quite capable of separating personal feelings from duty," Lyrr riposted. "Now, if you feel Ensign Farrell is having difficulties that might affect his performance and place this crew in jeopardy, it is your responsibility to say so, instead of attempting to find fault with my actions."

Bree held up her hands. "I'm not trying to cast blame, merely trying to find out what it is that happened between the two of you that could keep you from working with him in a way that is healthy and productive."

Lyrr nodded, deciding on a compromise instead of the full truth. "He disagrees with my methods, and me altogether. I feel the same way towards him. But, I am professional enough not to let it interfere with the operation of this vessel. If you believe otherwise, I would appreciate it if you told me now."

"It doesn't matter what I believe. If you truly want him to respond to you more productively, it only matters what you both believe to be true. I can talk to people until I'm blue in the face about what someone else may be thinking, but that doesn't mean a thing unless it comes from the source."

Lyrr shrugged as she settled back against her chair. "So then there's no problem here, now is there? As long as Ensign Farrell obeys my orders, whatever we feel for one another is insignificant. Perhaps you should try getting that across to him before he starts worrying that I'm interfering with his position aboard this ship. Frankly," she added with a smirk, "I could care less about doing such a thing. I have more productive matters to worry about."

"But is he following your orders? Is he making things easier? I'm trying to tell you there are things going on with him that are directly affecting how he responds to you and his duties. And I think you could improve things for both of you if you made an attempt to reconcile, or at least an attempt to hear what he has to say in an environment that won't foster hostility." Bree was trying to reason with a woman who was too caught up in her own opinions to focus on what was best for her crew.

"I have tried," Lyrr said firmly. "He shot me down, Counsellor. I am not trying again. If he wants to reconcile, he'll have to come to me."

Bree sighed. She supposed that was the best she could hope for right now. Of course, she would be there to make sure things didn't blow up in smoke again. "So you're saying you'd be open to working things out? You're willing to reconcile? I would like to be there as well. It's important that both of you remain focused, and I think I can help you do that."

Lyrr laughed, a touch sardonically. "I don't want this to become an intervention. If the ensign and I are destined to resolve our differences, it will happen, and without a counsellor's mediation. I want the ensign and I to interact in a manner befitting of professionals, if he is capable of doing so." She softened the verbal blow with a smile. "But thank you for your concern, Counsellor. I assure you, if I feel my conflict with the ensign is affecting my ability to perform, I will be the first one to tell you that. My job is important to me; I refuse to let anything interfere with that."

Of that, Bree had absolutely no doubt, but she wanted to make sure Lyrr understood where she was coming from. She would not be dismissed so easily. "Due respect, Commander, it's not your ability to perform that troubles me most right now. I realize you're Ensign Farrell's superior officer and as such you have to be concerned about his performance, but I think he will be more apt to hear what you're trying to say if he knows that you aren't coming at him like a trainer trying to control a wayward puppy with a history of peeing on the carpet. I know I don't have to tell you how important it is that the two of you work out some sort of understanding to salvage your professional relationship."

Lyrr might have been convinced that Mason was the one to blame and that he was going to have to come to her, but the truth was, it was in Lyrr's best interests to meet Mason half-way. She couldn't leave matters to destiny. The fact of the matter was that a problem in Senior Officer-crew relations was a disaster waiting to happen. And Lyrr had to be smart enough to know that she couldn't continue to speak of Farrell like that and then expect him to bend to her will.

"Oh, we have an understanding," Lyrr told her. "We interact simply for duty-related issues, and refrain from engaging in any form of communication whatsoever off-duty. It seemed an amenable arrangement to him."

Brennyn smiled. "Then humor a crazy counselor and keep your eyes and ears peeled for an opportunity to address matters again." Scott suspected that Farrell might have appeared to simply acquiesce to Lyrr's wishes.

Lyrr smiled blandly. "Of course, Counsellor. Now if there isn't anything more...."

Bree held up her hands. "Fair enough. I'll leave you to work." And with that, she left Lyrr in peace.

---

"Changing Tides"
By: Dr. Corran Quezith

Location: Achicar Station Kalingto
Stardate: 57907.28, 16h17

***

I'm not sure the station can continue to service much longer than this. We put it under a considerable amount of strain for an extensive period of time, and she was already old two-hundred years ago.

Corran walked alongside Silidahna, the Kalingto Station's Chief Medic, and one of his mentors from his days serving onboard Achicarian starships.

She had aged gracefully through time, but mostly everyone admired her for her spirit. She seemed to glow in the eyes of those that met her, or simply saw her from a distance, and Corran was sure that it was due to her beauty and peace of mind. She had been one of the pillars that had stood strongest during and after the crisis...

Unfortunately, her station did not age quite as gracefully, even though it had stood tall for a long time. It was nearly three-hundred years old now. It had gone through countless refits. It had been expanded and upgraded...but it had also been attacked and overpopulated over an extensive period while Achicar Prime had become inhabitable again.

I heard the council is considering transferring all Kalingto operations down to the planet, onto one of the new platforms... He wasn't happy about the idea of ships launching from a planet-side station or everything being done on it. Although in an emergency the platform could be contained or a ship accident taken care of, there was always the possibility that things would go terribly wrong.

Silidahna smiled appreciatively over to Corran, understanding his feelings and thoughts full well, and sharing them. She had fought with the council over the matter for a considerable time and had come out losing ground. With the Federation aiding them and making moves to pull them in as a member world, the Council had chosen to concentrate on planetside matters rather than orbital. Kalingto would be shut down within the following years and all operations shifted to other orbital stations while most of its load would be handed off to the new orbital platform that had actually been named Kalingto already.

What bothered her was that there would be new stations and new shipyards built in following years...including a Starfleet Starbase.

Let us leave this matter behind, young one. I am quite interested in the fact that you are returning to the Federation. I would have thought that this last experience would have made you change your mind and kept you here with us...where you're needed.

The two of them walked out of a corridor that ran along the center of the station, and into the bottom of the station: an enormous crystal dome that faced Achicar Prime in all its magnificence. There was an enormous metallic latticework holding the globe in place, protecting it from being destroyed, and providing separate platforms which people could float to and take a seat in order to admire the planet below.

Each platform was covered in a mat of grass and very few other plants. It didn't qualify as an arboretum, but it served its medical purposes well. Everyone on the station, patients or not, came here to meditate and relax. Guests came here to find even more tranquility than the Achicarians themselves usually offered.

Corran frowned softly at his mentor's words, but understood her completely. He'd felt bad each time he'd left because he knew that his talents could be placed to good use here, but he'd also seen an optimistic future with the Federation as being vital to their survival. They were in a sector where nearly every alien race had allied against them and tried to destroy them, and they didn't have the resources to protect themselves by any means other than hostile telekinesis and telepathy.

And violence repelled them to the point of...

There are others that can do as I did, or better, as physicians...but as a first contact explorer and diplomat I do have the advantage. I may have misbehaved time and time again by romancing the contacts...but I'd like to think it all came out for the best.

With the tap of a foot, both of them drifted up into the air and moved across the globe towards one of the vacant platforms. Silidahna's robes flowed around her gently, her long blue hair drifted silkily, and her serene brown eyes remained as calm as always. Her student's words could not hurt her, and she had known him well enough in this life to predict the answer he had given.

Corran took note of the people around them that had glanced back at the very least as they felt the familiar presence of Silidahna of Vahta, the last of her kind, the last of the Vahta caste that had died out completely during the bombardment and had long lived as the sacred branch of Achicarians that had maintained much of the peace and prosperity on Achicar Prime on their own power.

Once they reached the platform, gravity regained its hold on their bodies and they both fell to the soft grass quite gently.

It is my hope that in time you will return home, Corran. You were special before you left us, but somehow you have become...you have changed. She rephrased her telepathic words, but Corran heard everything in her mind and heart, it was a useless gesture, especially now.

He didn't feel quite that special, but he had won himself a reputation because of his former ailment. Things had changed for him, but he wasn't yet convinced that it was for the better. Much like his parents had once feared would happen if he expanded his abilities through training for the elite castes, he had changed in what he considered rather drastic ways. He continued to be charming, warm, and social...but he'd also become aware that he tended towards being quieter, much more analytical than before, and much more peaceful rather than rowdy.

How he wished he could merely claim that he'd grown older.

Maybe someday I will, Silidahna... He turned his head to face her, his eyes shifting from brown to blue. Right now I want to go back to the Sulu. I left a boyfriend behind, and though I'm fairly sure that he could live without me and that I would manage as well, and that the ship would most certainly go on without me as well as anything and everything of your choosing in the Federation... I feel that I need something.

What would this thing be?

She gazed out through the glass before her, down upon the main continent of their homeworld, and more specifically where the great city of the Vahta had once been. She did not think of them, but both Corran and she could feel a small glimmer of resentment from them no longer being there.

Corran shrugged his shoulders uneasily. Perhaps if I knew I would not be returning. I thought it was Cristobel...in part I suppose it truly is...but there's something else, Silidahna. It could be my desire to quench my thirst to see the unknown, but it's related to this expansion. There's something out there, calling to me, something I wouldn't be able to find by merely remaining here.

This time she smiled, and gradually her eyes changed color as she looked at her young student warmly. She knew what it was he was looking for, for she had once sought the same thing. No one she had known had found it, but perhaps Corran would on his voyages.

She reached a hand out over his, her telepathic membranes making contact with his skin. They linked together more closely, allowing them to share themselves more intimately. Humans might compare it to a mother's link with her child, but it was much more intelligible than that.

When you return, seek me out. We will have much to discuss, young one, and I would like you to become my apprentice, for once I am gone the Vahta will forever cease to exist unless I pass on that which we learned to a living Achicarian.

I will gladly do that, Silidahna, but only if you promise me that we will also rebuild the Vahta in physical existence.

Of all the things she could have imagined him answering with, she hadn't believed he would bring that up. Tears developed in her eyes and began falling over her skin. No one had ever offered her anything nearly as important to her... She had loved and been loved, but many of her relationships had been ruined by her having been a Vahta of stance in society. She had gone without child her entire life, never had a family, and had accepted decades before that she would not have one and allow others to continue the Vahta.

The final problem was that Vahta genetics could not be reproduced. What made the Vahta special and apart from normal Achicarians was not something they could decipher through gene structuring...it had to be natural.

Corran knew all of this, he had even spoken to Margaret about it during lunch the day before. He'd finally decided that he owed her at least that much. He wouldn't only just do it because of the Vahta though, it was also because his feelings had progressively changed about her over time. She'd visited him down on the planet a few times while he was healing and made him aware of it little by little.

Thank you, Corran.

***

Bluish energy came down on the transporter pad of the DSS Delphin as Corran materialized on the deck of the ship that would transport him back to the Sulu. The transporter room had been modified since he'd last been aboard and it seemed that it had been upgraded, but what Corran took most note of was the presence of Captain Adair.

Celeste had chosen to meet with Corran personally. She'd developed an interest in the Achicarians and in Corran himself since she'd transported him to Achicar Prime. They'd had dinner together on their way here, and she'd found him a welcoming personality... Now she wanted to know if he'd come back onboard well, and also wished to know more details about him and his people while they made their way to Deep Space Nine.

"Welcome aboard, Corran."

She stretched a hand out to him that he took firmly while stepping down from the transporter pad.

He smiled at her thankfully. "Thank you for coming for me like this, Celeste. How've you been?" He tried to keep himself in one piece as he read the minds of the crew of the Delphin, all separated, several chaotic... It was one thing to be pulled back into his peoples' Community, another entirely to come into this.

He wobbled a little as they walked out of the transporter room.

The Captain eyed him for a moment, and wrapped her arm around his both out of custom and to catch him if he fell over. She answered him once she was sure that he wouldn't just collapse.

"I'm doing quite well. How about you? I'm supposing they were able to heal you?" She guided him into a turbolift that would take them down to deck four, where she'd arranged for him to have quarters near Sickbay in case he needed to be treated.

Corran nodded his head reassuringly. "I'm fine. My treatment will be continuing for a while though, and I will have to meditate like never before. Things will be different from now on, but I hope it'll all be for the best." He smiled warmly as the turbolift doors split open onto their stop and they walked out. He was slowly adjusting to the minds of the thankfully small crew of the Delphin.

"If it isn't, we have two fine physicians onboard, other than yourself, and we can bring you back here or take you to one of our own medical institutions." She'd made the offer before, but he'd asked to come home specifically. She'd wondered about that for a while now.

"I'll be fine, I'm sure." They stopped at the entrance to what would be his passenger quarters. He glanced at the door for a moment, but then looked at Celeste and spoke to her telepathically rather than verbally. Perhaps he was insecure about speaking any longer, but he wanted to believe it wasn't that at all.

I'd like to be alone most of the trip. I have to get used to being amongst people such as your own if I'm to arrive to a station full of them and a starship as well...but, I will join you for a drink, or any meal that you wish.

She nodded her understanding, used to hearing telepathic voices in her head because of her daughter and son, but slipped her hand out from his arm and then patted it gently. "I thought you might want that. I had my engineers set up buffers around your quarters. You can activate them any time you please, and to any intensity you'd like, but it's programmed to trigger an alarm in Sickbay if you turn it to full power. Just a precaution, I promise."

Corran smiled at the mature human woman thankfully, and the two spoke for a short while after entering his quarters and trying out the buffer's settings. Once she left though, Corran felt himself relax considerably. He activated the buffer almost immediately and set it up to one-third of its capacity, and then opened his case to pull out a spherical crystal that seemed to contain a living flame.

The flame, to explain it quite crudely, was a telepathic energy waveform. It was a telepathic computer, latest model, and did everything that other separate and smaller units had done for Corran before. This one had been fine-tuned for him with some assistance from medics at the institute and had come with a new set of smaller more portable units that he could carry with him.

Of course, the single large unit was the best.

He laid down on the couch and held the crystal between both hands, and connected his mind to it immediately. He needed to escape into someplace where he could have some peace for now, and regain his concentration before he got a headache. The last thing he wanted to do was return to the Federation to succumb to permanent aches and pains...

---

"Skipping Stones"
By: Lieutenant J.G. Arthas Hex
and Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal

Location: Holodeck 3, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.28, 18h00

***

Arthas strode through the corridors of the Sulu's deck 4. He wore the springball outfit that he had replicated the day before. And felt confident of his abilities.

Hex's previous host, Clavain, had insisted that Arthas accept T'Kal's invitation to play Springball with him and Arthas had trusted the previous host. Clavain had not failed in preparing the Junior Lieutenant for the 'best game of the century' and Arthas had practiced for most of his time-off the day before.

He knew all the rules, how to play, the trick shots and everything that was needed to play well. Except experience. And for this simple lack of experience he knew that he would not beat his superior.

Arthas was not a man who took defeat graciously, but sometimes heading into certain defeat was favourable to offending a superior officer, or denying a chance to get to know his immediate superior.

Arthas found Holodeck 3 where it was meant to be and, after checking that the Holodeck was on and that T'Kal was inside, he entered. It wasn't a Springball court. Benedict was standing in a hangar bay and it stretched into the distance. Arthas had only seen bays this large in Starbases, and it had all the markings to indicate that was exactly what this simulation was. Next to Benedict's feet were two long sleek black aerodynamic objects - surf board shaped but with stubby wings on the rear and an impulse vent. Benedict himself wore a jet black vacuum suit with armoured segments like an insect carapace. He was casually standing with one foot on a board with his helmet in one gloved hand looking out at the orbital view of Earth.

As Arthas Hex walked in, Benedict turned to him and grinned. "I thought we'd do something a little more exciting than Springball. Ever been orbital surfing?"

Arthas felt Clavain's voice grumpily curse inside of him and begin to sulk.

"No, but I've heard it's exhilarating," Arthas replied.

Benedict waved a hand at the other board and said, "Computer supply one Orbital Entry vacuum suit for Lieutenant Hex." The shimmer of the transporter effect left behind an identical black suit to the one T'Kal wore. "I'll show you how it all hooks up. The board you're riding is set to mimic mine."

As Arthas began to don the suit over the Springball costume he wore, Benedict explained the operation of the board and how the control systems hooked into the board through sensors in the soles of the specially designed boots. They clamped onto fittings on the board.

"The idea is to use the speed of the board, which is powered by a mark VI impulse impeller identical to the ones in mark VI photon torpedo casings. Unlike the torpedo the board won't reach warp speed - the power is used to produce a force field that takes the brunt of the heat friction and protects the rider." He grinned. "The angle of entry on the board into atmosphere is shallow - allowing us to skip. Rather like a stone skipped across a pond. We ride the impulse wake in the upper atmosphere - makes a nice light show, too. When we're done we dip into the atmosphere and ride the board down, or we skip out to a higher orbit." He handed Hex his helmet. "Easy," he grinned.

"Sounds like it," Arthas laughed. He placed the helmet over his head and secured it. Standing on the board he smiled tentatively, "After you, si...I mean, Ben."

Benedict grinned and stepped up onto the big black board. Clamping his feet into the control surface he established direct control over the board, and started up the impulse engines in both boards. They rose smoothly off the deck and began a slow transit of the shuttle bay toward the huge exit portal. A few moments later they were out into clear space with the planet Earth revolving slowly below them.

The deflector shields activated and impulse acceleration shot them toward the blue and white world - the cradle of the Human race. Once they were close Benedict brought both boards to a stand-still. "Okay, Arthas," Benedict spoke through the vacuum suit's comm-link. "Spread your arms." He demonstrated. "Your rotation is governed by your arms." He dipped his right arm and raised his left and his board flipped over until he straightened them again. "You use that to turn into or out of the wake. Don't go farther than twenty degrees over or you'll flip the board and go head-first into the atmosphere." He bent his knees, leaning slightly forward and the pitch changed to drop the angle of the board. "Lean forward and the board dips, lean back" --and he did that too-- "and the board rises. Use that to alter angle of entry. Don't go deeper than fifteen degrees or you'll dive into the atmosphere. More than ten degrees back and you'll shoot off into a higher orbit." He looked over at his second in charge. "Got that?"

"Right. I think so." Arthas smiled tentatively. "After you I guess."

Benedict nodded and waited until Hex had climbed aboard his board. With a slight crouch and a deft shift in balance Benedict's board lifted from the deck. Hex's board matched the movement exactly. The deflector shields came up as both boards shot out of the large shuttle bay.

They accelerated smoothly, and Benedict took some time to show Arthas how to move the board. In clear space the movement was less spectacular than it would be at the fringes of an atmosphere, but twenty minutes later they dropped toward the planet.

"Ready, Arthas?" Benedict grinned through the visor of his helmet. He shifted forward and the boards shot forward. The friction built until the deflector shields were a rosy glow under the boards and the resistance started to feel solid. Benedict stepped back on the board and the tip lifted, digging the rear into the atmosphere. The deflector shield fanned out in a pre-programmed sequence acting like an aero-foil and scattering light and heat in a spectral display that fanned out behind both boards like a wake.

The feeling of speed was extreme now. It was exhilarating. He kicked the board sideways, banking into a tight turn that flashed the deflector shield and sent up a shockwave that Hex's board shot over and skipped. He crossed over Benedict at the apex of the jump as Benedict kicked out in the opposite direction and crossed under. He shouted out encouragement as he let Hex take the control of his board - the program would steer him properly, but now he could enjoy the ride.

Arthas felt it as Ben released control to him, as he immediately went off to one side. Righting his position on the board, he followed Ben across the atmosphere. It was a superb feeling, everything moving past so fast, the small continents on the planet's surface skimming by. After a few minutes, Arthas began to grow more confident and decided to push the nose of his glider down, to gain speed.

The computer, sensing a dangerous movement refused to allow him to do it.

You are hereby forbidden to do this in real life, Arthas, Gredala fumed from inside Hex.

Arthas laughed out loud.

Benedict laughed as Hex shot across in front of him. He could hear Hex's laughter as he banked the board and suddenly an atmospheric wave came at Benedict - his HUD on the suit's visor was interrogating the horizon line with a subspace sensor and he could see the waves as green lines spreading like ripples on an ocean of air. He hit the crest and shot upward and as he reached the apex of the curve he spun the board, momentarily cutting thrust and fanning out the deflector shield. He landed after performing a perfect 360 spin and activated thrust. He shouted with the joy of it and watched as Hex dug in hard and banked his board back toward him.

They were travelling at mach ten as they approached the terminator between night and day. The black line came at them fast and suddenly the air roiled as it cooled beneath them. The shields gave off a carnelian fire as they hurtled into the night. Lights shone below in the mighty cities like stars in a veiled night. It was beautiful. The time seemed to speed by as they rode the atmospheric waves, but it was tiring. The exercise involved and the sheer exhilaration took its toll on both riders.

"Okay, Arthas," Benedict grinned into the commlink. "Time to get back," and all he could hear was an exuberant yelling as the Trill security officer came at him from the port side. "If you feel like doing this again sometime," Benedict said, "you'll need some practice, but I have a real board in the cargo deck. You can do it for real."

---