"Bloody Telepaths!"
By: Crewman Emma Summers - Medical Technician/Counsellor

Location: Summers' Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.29 08h45

***

It was no use. Emma scowled at the screen of her personal terminal and pulled her hair at her temples. The long dark locks twisted between her fingers and her face screwed up in frustration. She growled deep in her throat and suppressed the urge to scream. It was infuriating! She rocked slowly on her heels, sitting in her chair with elbows on her desk. All her plans in danger of ruin! The new medical shift schedules were displayed on her screen, and clearly indicated were the names of two more Betazoids in medical. The new CMO was a Betazoid mindscanner-bitch! There was no way she could get away with avoiding the senior medical officer. She'd want to meet everyone on her departmental roster. Sooner or later the bitch would come across Emma Summers and know that she wasn't what she seemed.

The pain of a headache was hammering at her temples. It was frustration. She slammed her fist onto the desk top and broke a nail. What could she do? She could stall. The idea seemed to percolate through her mind, and she acted on it. The message she typed on her terminal was short:

Counsellor Brennyn Scott.

Hi, Counsellor. I've been working double shifts for the last few weeks in medical and counselling - and I'd like to request to transfer into Counselling as soon as possible. Thanx. Crmn. Emma Summers.

She sent the message. It was a stall. It wouldn't work for long - she had to do something more permanent. Her mind in turmoil she briefly considered the act of outright murder. But it was Benedict T'Kal she faced if she wanted to do that. She'd fail. He'd kill her for sure. No. There had to be another way. She thought about what she'd done to him before the Sulu - the Katarian-Borg technology that had almost succeeded in making T'Kal hers. Almost. Foiled by that Caitian bitch of a Medical officer on the Windsor. She'd made a pact with the devil to get that technology.

Her face split into a sly grin. The devil you know....

She accessed a comm channel off the ship. The subspace transmission she sent was short and to a commercial data transmission center. Innocuous in content it never-the-less held a hidden meaning. The Black Lotus Triad had links with the Consortium, who had links with the Orion Syndicate. A day or two and she would be contacted.

---

"Deep Space Nine"
By: Captain Matthew T. Salinger
Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh

Location: Main Bridge, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.29, 14h25

***

Welcome to Deep Space Nine.

Matt Salinger smiled and nodded, despite the voice-only communication. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said. "It's always good to come back. Sulu out."

The communications with the space station was cut, leaving the Sulu and her crew to themselves.

A glance to his side revealed Commander Lyrr, staring ahead with a thoughtful expression. He gave her a smile. "I'll have Sam distribute duty assignments for while we're here. We should be able to get everything fixed up and ready to go in our allotted time. So, you planning to stop by home while we're here?"

Lyrr sighed and managed a smile. "If I don't, they'll find out somehow and I'll never hear the end of it for as long as I live."

"Ah, yes," Matt said with a knowing smile, a smile of experience. "First year out of the Academy, the Hood stopped by earth, and...three hours over subspace, that's how long the discussion-that-wasn't-a-discussion lasted."

She laughed softly. "Well...I'll only take part of a day to visit. I'm needed here."

"If you want longer, we can handle things here. If you want the time, take it. You deserve a little time away, a little time to clear your head, just like the rest of us. Everything will be fine if you want some time, Lyrr."

"I don't need any time," she insisted. "Do I look like I'm coming unhinged, Captain?"

"Not at the moment," Matt said. "But, I doubt I did either before I had a knife in my chest. If you want the time, take it. You've earned it."

She shrugged. "Maybe just a day, then. But I'm really alright, Captain. Really."

Matt gave her a smile of encouragement. "Good," he said. "Are you looking forward to going through the wormhole, Commander?"

"More excited about exploring the Gamma Quadrant," she replied. "You?"

A grin spread across Matt's face. "I'm looking forward to that very much," he said. "It'll be my first trip into the Gamma Quadrant, so I'm quite excited. I don't know what we'll see there, and that unknown is one of the reasons I'm out here."

"And I'm here to make sure you don't go mad with excitement," she teased. "All in all, I think this arrangement will work out well."

Matt grinned. "I think so too," he said. "Now, let's see about getting our people to work."

Sam's voice interrupted their moment. "Captain, incoming message from Deep Space Nine. It is Commander Vaughn."

"Go ahead, Sam."

On the screen at the head of the bridge, the scene was replaced by a white haired human wearing a Starfleet command uniform. "Matt," he said with a warm smile. "Good to see you."

"Elias. It's good to see you as well. What can I do for you?"

Vaughn's smile dimmed. "It appears we have a slight medical problem. I'm going to have to ask you to keep your crew aboard for now. I'm going to have the Infirmary send over the formula for the inoculation. You should have no problem whipping it up."

Matt nodded. "Understood," he said. "Is there anything I should know?"

"We'll get you the details as soon as we have them in a format for a briefing. It struck pretty quickly, but Bashir was quick to come up with this."

"Thanks, Elias."

Vaughn nodded. "Anytime. Good to see you again, Matt. We'll have to hook up while you're here. Quark has a few of those programs you love so much." He gave a knowing grin, winked, and then let a poker face slide into place. "Nine, out."

Commander Elias Vaughn disappeared from the screen, once again replaced by the view of the station. Matt glanced at Lyrr. "Well, that was interesting."

"Quite," Lyrr concurred. "What holoprogram was he talking about? I know of Quark's infamous selection; I just thought someone of your stature and good taste would be above indulging in them." She gave him a teasing smile.

Matt chuckled. "Quark does have those sorts of programs, but he has others as well. The holoprograms Commander Vaughn was referring to are hockey programs."

Lyrr smiled knowingly. "Ah. Well, I guess that's the most chaste program Quark could conceive of." She sighed as her gaze drifted to the viewscreen, to the station still a little too far out of reach. "I guess I will go down to Bajor after all."

Matt smiled. "We'll contact you if there's anything, but I think you'll be able to enjoy your time away, Commander."

"Enjoy listening to Mother Yalen wonder why I don't visit more often?" Lyrr snorted. "Hardly, Captain."

Matt laughed. "Oh, I'm sure our mothers would get along famously," he said. "Well, good luck, and grab a phaser from the armoury if you think it'll be necessary. I've found heavy stun to be an ideal setting."

Lyrr grimaced. "For Mother Yalen, or myself?" She then smiled reluctantly and rose from her seat on the bridge. "I'll keep my communicator on me at all times if you need to contact me."

"I'm certain we won't need to contact you, Commander. And, enjoy some of Bajor for me while you're down there."

"I'll try," she sighed, and with a short wave she left the bridge.

"So, hockey?" a silken voice from beside him asked. "Am I invited?"

"You're invited," Matt answered with a chuckle. He turned to find Xay standing at his side. "Most likely Commander Vaughn will be there with us, but I'm sure it'll be fun."

She shrugged gracefully, now smiling. "Two men on either side... Definite fun."

"I see how it is," Matt said with a chuckle. "Well, you're still invited, just as long as you're not as unruly with your food as Commander Lyrr."

Xayella raised a single, questioning eyebrow. "You haven't told me about that. Holding out on me, Captain?"

"Commanding Officer, First Officer bonding of a sort. It helps us to work better together, as a command team, if we can spend some of our off time in an activity together. It seems that she thought that her hot dog would look better in my hair."

"Really?" Xayella snickered. "Well, as long as food tossing is all that goes on."

Matt chuckled. "Yes, that's all. Along with much shouting and screaming at holographic players, and arguing about which character is the better."

"Well, if it won't be an imposition, maybe you can take me to one of those games," Xay suggested.

"It won't be an imposition at all," Matt said. "I don't know how well it would work, but I think it might be fun to have a whole-crew night. I believe we might be able to accommodate such a gathering in Holodeck 1."

"Great." She shot him her most winning smile. "Just tell me when and where." Not daring or foolish enough to kiss him on the bridge, she settled for a wink, then moved back to her station.

Matt watched her go with a smile. He turned his attention back to the front of the bridge, looking ahead to all the things he had to look forward to. There were many of them, and despite everything that had gone wrong , the future looked good. He smiled a satisfied, hopeful smile.

---

"Meeting The Crew, Part 1"
by Ensign Shirik Lektar
Lt. Benedict T'Kal

Location: Security Office
Stardate: 57907.29, 11h35

***

Shirik made her way to the Security Office to meet with the first crewmember on her list. She had two things to discuss with him, and went over in her mind which to address first and exactly how to go about it. She liked to plan things in advance, and be ready with her words. Her uniform was in meticulous order, every hair neatly in place in her braided ponytail. She was aware that first impressions were lasting ones, and the man she was about to meet both outranked her and held a very important position aboard ship, so she wanted it to be a good one. But she wasn't nervous. Although on board this ship he was much more important than she, back home he was nothing more than a member of a slave race, and a male at that, while she was the Fifth Princess of Drokar. Nothing to worry much about.

She paused outside the office for a moment to collect her thoughts and make sure she hadn't missed anything, before stepping inside and taking a look around. It was Beta shift, and she expected T'Kal should be here, but one never knew who else might be about.

Benedict T'Kal was standing in his small office looking at the large screen on his back wall. It displayed the schematics of the Sulu - Intrepid vessel designs. He was smiling to himself and ticking off a plan in his mind. He didn't see the woman enter the security office, but he heard her soft footfalls. When they stopped behind him he turned his head to see her. He tapped the interface and the Intrepid display was replaced by a starfield view from the forward hull.

His first impression was that the dark skinned and white haired ensign was exotic - her eyes almost matched Benedict's own colour. She was Drokari - a Rennari specifically. He smiled at her, and gave a slight bow in recognition of her status as a Drokari Princess, but his voice and greeting recognised only her status and rank aboard the Sulu. "Ensign," he said, "what can I do for you?"

Shirik stood at attention before the man's desk, waiting wordlessly for him to finish what he was doing. She glanced curiously at the schematics on the wall behind him before he turned off the display.

Exotic was the word for her. Her features were angled, with high cheekbones and slightly almond-shaped eyes, her ears coming to delicate black tips peeking out of her stark white hair. Her eyes were deep violet, sparkling with intelligence and spirit.

When he turned around she studied him for a moment, taken by surprise by his appearance. Although she'd studied the crew roster and had seen his holopic, somehow the image hadn't quite captured him. Especially his eyes. They were so like her own, so like a Rennari noble. They were a small touch of familiarity in an otherwise alien place.

She inclined her head in return in recognition of his status on board this ship. "Lieutenant T'Kal. I hope I'm not intruding. I had hoped to have a moment of your time to ask you a few questions."

He smiled, waving to the chair that sat opposite his desk. "No, you're not intruding, please take a seat. What can I do for you?" He sat in his own chair and absently tugged at the Class A uniform he now wore while on board ship. His long black hair was caught up in a ponytail clasped by a Bajoran pin that he'd picked up on DS9, the white strand at his forelock gleamed. He examined the woman as she took her seat, she had a regal bearing that spoke of her life-time of being a member of her world's ruling class. This was a woman not used to taking orders, but she obviously did so. He'd examined her security file shortly after he had come on board, knowing that there were protocols involved in dealing with her as a member of her race and as a member of the Sulu's crew. She was 'imperious' - and her eyes were sharp, like a hunting Falcon focusing on prey that only it could see. He found her more than attractive - she was stunning.

Shirik took her gaze from him only momentarily while she carefully seated herself. Her every movement was measured, careful, as if she did nothing without being aware of it before she did it. She wore a class B uniform with yellow blazing across her shoulders, and from what she'd seen so far was one of the few on board who did. It made her stand out from the crowd, she thought, and she liked having the freedom of that small amount of non-conformity.

Once seated she fixed her gaze back on him again, taking in every detail of his features. She found his appearance unusual, in an oddly appealing way. She'd seldom ever had much interest of any sort in members of alien races, but even though the conversation hadn't gotten underway yet, she found this one sparking her interest.

She crossed her legs and looked for all the world as if the chair she was seated on was a throne. "Since you are chief of security on this ship, I thought my first question would be best directed towards you. You have no doubt studied my security file, as I have studied as much as I can about the rest of the crew, and I presume you are aware of my people's custom of always carrying a weapon with them?" She paused to be sure her presumption was correct before continuing. "My preference is to wear my Kemla at all times, and while I understand that may not be possible because of security protocols, at the same time, I feel rather...naked without it. If it is not possible for me to wear it at all times, or even just when on duty, I would wish to request that at the very least I be allowed to carry it with me if I am called upon to join an away mission. In my previous postings, I was able to make arrangements for when I was allowed to carry it, and it's been my habit to make such arrangements with the chain of command whenever assigned to a new vessel."

Benedict grinned. He couldn't help himself. This was a mirror conversation of his own with Lyrr when he'd come on board. She wanted to carry a knife. He leaned forward slightly and nodded, understanding her need. With his right hand he reached behind him and drew his Kut'Luch from its concealed sheath at his back. The gleaming silver blade was made of thick twin tines, jagged at the outer edges joined in the centre for strength and eight inches long. The metal gleamed as he laid it on the desk. The black hilt and gold pommel with the T'Kal sigil of his Klingon Family was plain, functional rather than decorative. It was razor sharp.

Her eyes flicked to it and back. "You may wear yours as I wear mine," he said carefully. "Concealed in a back sheath behind your belt. I am aware of the significance of your blades, it is the same as mine. Used to defend your honour." He sat back, leaving the blade between them. "Do not draw it against any member of the crew." He stared into her violet eyes, disconcerted that he usually only saw that colour in a mirror.

One eyebrow raised in a Vulcan-like way when he grinned. She hadn't quite expected that reaction to her request. But once he laid his own blade on the desk, it became clear. She uncrossed her legs to lean forward herself to examine the blade. "That's an impressive weapon," she observed.

Her gaze swept back to him. His response was better than she had hoped for, and she nodded in acknowledgement. Her honor. Had she ever had to defend that? "More often to defend my life," she said, "and that is the only time I would draw it."

Her gaze met his unwaveringly, although it wasn't often hers was met for any length of time by another. The smallest of smiles touched her lips, softening the hardness of her eyes.

He nodded. "I understand. The politics of the Federation are a little tamer than you're used to." His smile was casual as he retrieved the blade and re-sheathed it. She was an interesting woman - striking in her differences, yet familiar. It was her eyes. They were his mother's eyes. Her black skin was almost polished ebony, smooth and supple as she moved. The white hair was the same shade as the shock of white in his own hair. It was hard not to stare. "I'll list your blade as a weapon of cultural significance. I don't expect any trouble." His gaze indicated that he expected none to come from her.

"Most of the time," she agreed, her gaze indicating there would be none from her. "Thank you, sir."

Her eyes watched his hand as the blade was re-sheathed behind him, then moved to the sliver of white in his hair curiously. "Is that natural, or do you color it artificially?" she asked without even thinking, then wondered if the question was appropriate. She assumed if the question offended him, he'd let her know. She decided to wait for the answer before moving the conversation on to her second topic, as it could make a good bridge.

Benedict chuckled to himself and shrugged. "It's natural now. I used to colour it, but I had the pigment removed from the follicles. What vanity...." He grinned. "A long time ago I was in a relationship with a woman I loved, she used to colour her hair in a similar fashion. After she died I adopted this. I guess I never considered changing it." He was surprised at his own response - more open than he normally would have been. He looked back at the woman opposite his desk and smiled good naturedly. "No one's asked me that before."

Shirik relaxed once more, since her question didn't offend, and crossed her legs as she settled back in her chair. "I find it unique and interesting," she said, studying him with a critical eye. "It seems to suit you."

She paused to consider her words for a moment before continuing. "The other reason I chose to speak with you was something not job-related," she said. "And perhaps something of a personal topic, but something I have had a curiosity about. I haven't had much opportunity to speak with one of Bajoran descent, and I was interested in learning more about the Bajoran religion, specifically the concept of..." She paused once more with a small frown. "My pronunciation may not be correct. Is it pagh?"

Benedict nodded. "Yes, Paa-hh," he said it so that she could correct her pronunciation. "It is the spirit or strength of will within an individual. One can feel it - an aura. Bajorans can sense it by touch and it is considered a politeness of greeting to a traditionalist to touch left ears when greeting." He stood and walked around his desk, motioning her to stand. "I don't know if you can sense anything," he grinned. "But you greet like this." He slowly reached out and clasped her left ear gently, and looked into her violet eyes.

He allowed her to mimic his action. As his fingers pressed slightly against her lobes, he felt the strength of her aura. It was remarkable. She was very strong for someone not Bajoran. He knew that his own pagh was considered on par with a Vedek - it was one of the reasons so many had followed him during the Occupation years. He had been considered Blessed by the Prophets - and indeed Benedict had been guided by them in the past. He smiled down at her. "You have a strong spirit, Ensign." Her skin was flawless and he couldn't help marvelling at the contrast of their skin colours. He remembered doing this same ritual with Lyrr the first time he had met her. She had rejected it totally. Knowing what he knew now, he put it down to her past and her inability to handle close contact of almost any kind.

Her eyes moved over him as his form came totally into view around the desk, and she rose slowly to her feet. He was impossibly tall, towering nearly a foot above her, and it seemed her eyes had to go a long way up to find his once more. Another Rennari might have been intimidated by his stature, but not her.

Her eyes watched his hand almost warily as it drew near. "Some of my people are telepathic," she said, "although I've never shown any ability..." Her words died as his fingers touched her ear, her pupils dilating. For a moment she didn't move, frozen in place. He couldn't possibly know the significance of the gesture, to him it was a greeting, she told herself, and focused her attention on what she was trying to learn from the encounter. She reached up with her hand to imitate his gesture, taking gentle hold of his lower ear, and tried to focus her mind on what she was supposed to sense.

Her skin was incredibly soft and smooth, from years of the best pampering her world could provide, and much warmer than a human's. A gentle perfumed scent clung to it, unnoticeable for the most part unless one stood close to her. Her eyes found his once more and she replied quietly, "So do you."

She didn't need to be able to sense his pagh to know that, or even touch him. What it was she sensed in him was something intangible, something one only felt in the presence of a great leader. It was a strength of will, a fierceness of spirit, a quality she recognized in several of the nobility back home, but most notably in her mother. Was that pagh? She didn't know, but whatever she sensed, it was there, and in spades.

He smiled and stepped back, clearing his throat a little self-consciously. "The pagh is the source of strength and courage for a Bajoran. Our religion tells us that The Prophets renew our pagh." He sat back in his chair and smiled at her. "We are about to head through the Bajoran wormhole," he continued. "That is of special significance for me - it is the location of the Celestial Temple of The Prophets."

Shirik nodded a bit distractedly, still absorbing facts and sensations. She settled back into her chair, her gaze staying locked on him intently. "The Prophets...my research indicated that these were alien beings of some sort that inhabit the wormhole. Why do your people worship them? Or is worship not the correct word?" She eyed the earring dangling from his ear. "What is the earring symbolic of?" she asked curiously. "You do not wear one?" She was becoming more comfortable in his presence now, more willing to ask questions.

Benedict shook his head. "Only off duty," he said referring to his earring - or lack of. "Mostly we wear them as a cultural fashion - these days...." He emphasised his last words. "There was a time in our past when the earrings denoted the caste into which you were born. Bajor had a very strict caste system - one had to seek position in life or occupation based solely on your family's position within society. It's not like that these days," he added. "As for our reverence of The Prophets.... Yes we know now that they are a race who exist within the wormhole." He smiled at Shirik Lektar. "Nevertheless they have bestowed their love upon us for thousands of years - and guided us through the difficult times. We worship them out of old teachings, but now out of a certain knowledge that they exist - and they care for us as a people. They are not gods - but they are a powerful race of beings able to guide us - willing and able to guide us."

Shirik nodded knowingly. "It is similar on my homeworld," she said. She thought about these beings in the wormhole. "On my world, long ago, my people worshipped various gods. But now no one believes in them anymore. Your people are perhaps fortunate that their gods are real."

Benedict nodded thoughtfully. He regarded the Drokar Princess with a smile. "A great many Bajorans believe that The Prophets are still gods - though with the advent of the Emissary and the discovery of the Celestial Temple, scientific method has brought many divisions in my culture. We will learn to adapt with the change and we are still guided by the Tears of the Prophets." He turned introspective as he said, "Not many people believe that we are fortunate. Some blame them for not acting during the Occupation of Bajor - they are real, they love us, yet they allowed us to suffer. If they love us how can they allow that suffering?" He looked up and gave her a wry smile. "That's a question asked through the millennia about all gods. The answer is always the same. It comes down to Freedom of Will. We have to have the freedom to choose - to love our Gods or not. Without freedom to choose not to love, we are nothing but slaves to it - and it becomes meaningless." He thought about Lyrr Tayla. She would have a choice in the end - to choose Benedict or reject him. If she chose him, then it would make his love for her meaningful. It was what freedom of will was all about. If you loved something - you had to set it free, so that it could choose for itself. When you chose to love, you had to die to yourself. To find life you had to die to yourself. He smiled as the troubling imagery of his dream vision began to make sense.

She sat in silence, watching him for a time after he had finished. Finally she rose once more to her feet. "I have interrupted your work long enough," she said. "Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions. You've provided me with much to think about."

He nodded and smiled at her. She had a studied grace - she'd be good with the knife, he knew that instinctively. She moved as if she was always expecting trouble, but it wasn't a nervous movement - it was more calculated than that. It was almost the same way Benedict moved. He stood as she did. "No interruption," he said, "I welcome the chance to learn about new cultures and share my own. Some time you could perhaps return the favor - when we have more time."

She inclined her head slightly with a small smile. "At your convenience," she said. "It is only fair that you get to see my blade sometime."

"Later then," he nodded. "I'd be interested in a demonstration if you're willing. Lately I've developed an interest in knife fighting styles," he grinned. "Thanks, Ensign." He nodded in a manner that indicated dismissal.

"Demonstration?" she blinked. Nobody'd ever asked to watch her knife-fight before. "As you wish, Lieutenant." She nodded and made her way out of the office. As she headed back to her room to retrieve her Kemla, she pulled out her PADD and made a few notes next to T'Kal's name on her list, and decided who should be next to visit.

---

"Homecoming Hell"
by Ensign Amy Reese
Ensign Cristobel Sefton
and Ensign Viraj

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.29, 14h30

***

Regardless of the differences between the USS Hikaru Sulu's Sickbay and the original Intrepid-class Sickbay, the Chief Medical Officer's office has always been an inviting oval at the heart of the entire medical complex. The standard Starfleet-gray walls of the office only came up to waist-height, because the rest of the wall of one semi-oval of the office was covered in a massive computer console, while the other semi-oval was of transparent composition, to allow the CMO to oversee new patients entering the 'bay.

From the perspective of the Chief Medical Officer sitting behind the desk, the Life Sciences Laboratory was set up to the right, with a narrow corridor running in front of the office and leading to the Main Sickbay facilities to the left of the office. Main Sickbay was similar in style to the original Intrepid Sickbay, but it expanded much further to allow for twenty biobeds. It then led into several private examining rooms and private operating rooms, located behind the CMO's office, as well as the dedicated turbolift that connected to the Biological Sciences Lab.

There was no Chief Medical Officer currently occupying the central office, because the Sulu had no CMO of its own. Lieutenant M'lira had been informed that her services would no longer be required as Acting CMO, and she was reassigned to her duties as Assistant CMO, with no word as to her permanent replacement. Starfleet Medical had been specifically holding open the position for over a week, but provided no explanation as to why.

And so it was Ensign Viraj who was in the office at this time, curled up on the chair with his eyes closed. Amy Reese had ordered him down to Sickbay during early Alpha shift, even though he was on Beta, and the two of them had spent the better part of the morning choosing and applying holographic decorations for Sickbay, utilizing the EMH holoprojectors, to celebrate Nurse Cristobel Sefton's return to the Sulu. The ship had docked at Deep Space 9, where Cristobel was waiting and prepared to return to his duties in Sickbay.

"Oh, and I was thinking--" Amy halted in the doorway of the office, gaping at Viraj. "What are you doing!" She stormed into the office and briskly tapped his shoulder. "There isn't time for sleep, Viraj! Preparations to make!"

"Huh? Whuh? Not sleeping! Not." Viraj bolted out of the chair, and looked around the room with his eyes wide - trying to gain a bearing on his surroundings. "Not sleeping. Just...uhm...trying to mentally undress a holo I saw of a...a Betazoid party. To see all the base elements. Aren't our decorations too Terran?"

Amy frowned and jammed her fists into her hips. "Well if you slept less and helped me more, we could get this done to your specifications, Boss. Now are you going to help or not!"

Viraj bit back a response of 'What else do you want?' Sickbay had already been decorated with holographic balloons, lanterns, streamers and a flashing "Welcome Home, Crissy" banner. Taking a slightly detoured walk around the desk, to get to the doorway without walking directly past Amy, Viraj defensively said, "I'm helping, I'm helping..."

Amy's delighted smile returned, and fastidiously, she hurried behind Viraj, shooting off a list of tasks. "Now, do you think we should roll out a red carpet or something? He'd like that, right?" She gasped and clapped her hands together. "Music! We forgot music! When he walks in, his favourite song can play. Wouldn't that work?"

"Of course," Viraj assured her, as he walked up to one of the standalone consoles in main Sickbay. Behind him and Amy, medical technicians were replicating light Betazoid snacks. "Music's easy," Viraj continued. "Do you know one song that he favours? And did you want the carpet to roll out just as he enters as well?"

Amy shrieked with excitement and clapped Viraj roughly on the back. "That's a perfect idea! Let's do that. Now for a song..." She hemmed and hawed in contemplation, with a forefinger tapping her chin, then she exhaled in frustration. "I'll have to pick one for him. That Crissy is a tough one to read! Let's make it that song they played at our Starfleet graduation procession. I think that sounds regal enough."

Wincing at Amy's roughhousing, Viraj idly wondered if Kit was covered in bruises, but then focused himself on programming a holographic red carpet to roll out upon the entrance of Cristobel Sefton's commbadge. Once that was set, he considered the music. "Wouldn't he prefer music that's more...fun?"

Amy's eyes almost narrowed menacingly as she asked tightly, "Like what?"

Not looking away from the console to meet Amy's gaze, Viraj offered softly, "Something Betazoid. 'Gasp' by And Srice is pretty pretty."

Wrinkling her nose, Amy replied, "Never heard it." Then reflected momentarily, before nodding decisively. "The title sounds pretty. Let's go with that." And added a "Hurry!" for good measure.

Before Viraj could locate the song in the database, he received a text message from Ensign Jade Kavana in the transporter room: No time to talk. Doctor Sefton is en route to Sickbay!

Amy, having glimpsed it, froze with eyes bulging and mouth agape. "He's coming," she said breathlessly. She then squealed and hopped up and down frantically with arms flapping. "He's coming! Viraj, get that song! Crewman Yulik, get those snacks laid out. Doctor Sefton's coming!" After allowing her words to process, Amy stopped abruptly with her face contorted into a puzzled expression, then her lips stretched into a grin. "Oh. My. God! He's a doctor!" She squealed again, then flung her arms around Viraj's neck and bounced excitedly without sparing a single shriek from Viraj's ears.

Viraj kept his hands to himself and stood completely still. Cringing at the pain in his ears, he mumbled flatly, "Yes, I'm glad Cris got promoted, putting me in his position," as he waited for Amy to let go.

"When did Cris become a doctor?" Crewman Taylforth asked with a sizeable scoff.

"On Betazed, obviously," Nurse Szerda retorted.

"If he really went to Betazed," Nurse Pakarinen said conspiratorially.

"Oh, stop being so jealous and bitter," Amy snapped at them. "Where are those snacks!" The women rolled their eyes and got back to work with muttered grievances. "They're right though," Amy said after a moment. "He was barely a nurse when he left here, and now he's a doctor?" Then, she grinned proudly. "That's my Crissy!"

"Do we hide?" Viraj asked suddenly. "Are we crying out 'Surprise'?"

"Of course we are," she replied curtly. "It's not a surprise party if you don't shout 'surprise' with all your might. Now hide!" She fanned her hands to shoo them all to their pre-assigned hiding places, then shouted for the computer to kill the lights as she scampered towards a nearby freestanding console. The room went dark just as she crouched behind the device, and she covered her mouth to stifle an excited giggle. "Here he comes..." she whispered.

The doors between the darkened Sickbay and the darkened waiting room whispered open, allowing for the sound of rapid footfalls to enter the 'bay. They were abruptly followed by the crash of an antigrav gurney (piled full of Betazoid finger foods) smashing into a biobed, as well as a frustrated grunt and a muttered "Mo dhia" from near the door.

"Now!" Amy hollered, and she sprang to her feet, with the other nurses in the room following suit, along with a less than enthusiastic Viraj. A staggered chorus of 'Surprise' was shouted, with Amy's shrill voice coming through at the top of its range. Then, the strobing, multicoloured lights of the 'Welcome' sign activated, the red carpet rolled out, only to bump into the heels of their honoured guest's feet, and the song Viraj had recommended blared through the sickbay's comm systems. Instead of rushing towards Cris and embracing him, Amy stopped cold, and all in the room went silent. "Oopsie..." she muttered.

Standing at the doorway, with the carpet rolled over his feet, Cristobel Sefton was wincing in slight horror and slowly raised a hand to cover his face.

Closer to the assembled medical staff was a middle-aged brunette woman, whose normally delicate facial features were twisted into a mask of severity. She had orange valdoftane sauce dripping down one thigh of her pristine medical Starfleet uniform, but she was clearly more outraged by the balloon over every biobed, the streamers made from flowers crisscrossing the ceiling and that tacky flashy sign. No one said anything for a painfully pregnant pause, until the brunette woman bellowed, "Who the hell made a mess of my Sickbay?"

Amy glanced furtively at Viraj, for a moment wishing he would take the fall for her, then to Cris, who she should have been embracing gleefully but instead tacitly beseeched him for some help. Finding none there, she cleared her throat and hesitantly stepped forward. Attempting to allay the woman's anger with a nervously sweet smile, she raised one hand into the air and uttered a squeaking 'Hi' then braced herself for the verbal onslaught that appeared likely to come.

The brunette regarded Reese and could sense the palpable guilt radiating from her. "Computer, raise a level ten forcefield around Sickbay," the older woman firmly ordered, before calmly continuing to Amy. "I will not expose any of my patients to...this. I'm leaving you responsible for the welfare of anyone requiring medical services while the staff remains in a state of disarray. The forcefield will be lowered once I am satisfied that Starfleet professionalism has been returned, or created for the first time, in this Sickbay." Not waiting for a response, she dismissively walked away from Amy, and strode directly into the office. She sat at the chair behind the desk with the same authority and comfort as if it had been her office for two decades, and immediately accessed several files with the desktop terminal.

Cristobel inched his way closer to Amy and swept a hand towards the CMO's office, before almost flatly saying, "Amy Reese, meet Lieutenant Commander Damhnait Sefton. My mother and our new Chief Medical Officer."

Amy, still too overwhelmed to be ecstatic about Cris' return, gaped at him. "Doctor Sefton? You're not-- She's--" Amy looked in complete disarray between Cris and the office that now held their captor, then finally stammered, "We're trapped in here!?"

Cristobel put his hands on Amy's shoulders and offered a comforting, "It's okay. She just...needs to do these things sometimes. She's disappointed, but it's intensely impossible that she would have not been disappointed. I mean, when she embarked upon the Oberon's Sickbay for the first time, the entire medical staff was wearing dress uniforms, and situated at their emergency postings with tricorders and hyposprays in hand."

Making his way towards the exit, Viraj said to the computer, "Deactivate NonEmergency Medical Hologram 'Sefton Party'," and all of the decorations vanished, leaving behind nothing but a gurney covered in mashed up Betazoid snacks.

Amy frowned miserably as all her hard work was simply done away with upon a single order from Viraj. She was nearly in tantrum mode. "No one told us there was going to be a new CMO!" she complained. "Someone just told us you were coming back, and then there was an announcement that Doctor Sefton was approaching, and then this...and now she locked us in here all for trying to be nice!" Amy whimpered, and petulantly stomped one foot as her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. "My planning...all ruined! And now you'll never get the homecoming party you deserve." After sucking in a shaky breath, Amy pouted and let it out as a sob. "Not fair," she sulked.

"We can still have a homecoming party, maybe," Cristobel suggested consolingly. He rubbed one hand up and down her shoulder, and continued, "Tomorrow, in the mess hall."

"Operations. Did I see an Operations officer?" Damhnait announced as she stepped out of her office. She immediately spotted Viraj, who was nearly at the exit. "You. I need a door for my office." She pointed at the empty doorframe around her. "By tomorrow, thank you." Not waiting for a response, she lowered the forcefield and turned back towards her office. Viraj bolted out of Sickbay immediately.

Amy sniffled, then pushed the back of her hand across her nose as she watched the brash woman march off again. "So...that's your mother?" Amy shook her head slowly. "This is not going to be fun at all..."

"You never know, you could end up impressing her, and then be made the head of the nursing staff," Cris enthused. "And then you could order the nurses around and give yourself the tasks that allow you the most possible gossiping time."

"Cristobel," Damhnait said in her own unique way, managing to work in four or five distinct syllables. She hadn't even made it back to her desk, but she was glaring at something on her desktop terminal. "I need you to read Doctor Laine Rael's recent article on anesthesia practices. It was published two issues ago in Starfleet's Medical Journal." Suddenly sounding embarrassed for herself, Damhnait explained, "Doctor O'Shea's notes mention that he was concerned that you might not have passed all of your Advanced Anesthesia courses." She disdainfully asked, "I believe you took one of those courses by correspondence, did you not?"

Grabbing the nearest PADD, Cristobel curtailed any further public announcement of his shortcomings with an, "I'll read the article." Once Damhnait had walked all the way back to her desk and sat down, Cristobel turned to Amy and stated gravely, "No fun at all."

Amy looked down sullenly, then sighed. "So...party's over, I guess." She managed a wan smile for Cris, then glanced cautiously back towards the CMO's office to ensure she wasn't watching, and finally embraced Cris. "Welcome home, Crissy," she whispered.

Squeezing Amy tight, Cristobel said, "It's shiny to be back. I missed you back on Betazed."

"And believe it or not, I missed you on Risa." She grinned, then smacked a kiss to his cheek, leaving a brightly pink heart-shaped imprint behind. "We can catch up after our new overlord lets you go."

"Definitely!" Cristobel assured her, not making any moves to wipe off the lipstick. "I'll read veryvery fast." He hopped onto a biobed, and started searching for the article on his PADD.

>From the CMO's office, a handheld RTScanner gently arced through the air towards Amy, who caught it with both hands before it could smack her in the face. A dynoscanner similarly landed in the hands of Annikafiore Szerda.

Explaining the tossed tools, Damhnait said, "Nurse Reese, you will be pleased to discover that Doctor O'Shea found your skill with a resonance tissue scanner to be remarkable." The irony that the current design for the handheld RTScanner was overly phallic was lost on Damhnait, but not on half of the smirking nursing staff. "Nurse Szerda, he was equally impressed by your talent with a dynoscanner.

"Now switch," Damhnait commanded, and the nurses traded scanners. "If the two of you weren't so unreliable with the scanners currently in your hands, you would actually be useful nurses to me. Share your wisdom with one another!" Damhnait then went back into her office to continue examining personnel reports.

Amy and Szerda exchanged bewildered glances, then Amy sighed. "Yep. Fun's definitely over." She smiled wryly at Cris and patted his knee. "I'm glad you're back, Crissy, but you really should've left the excess baggage on Betazed." Gesturing to Szerda, the two women moved off to instruct one another, sharing whispered complaints about their new department head along the way.

---

"Basic Formalities"
By Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Controller

Location: USS Sulu, Captain's Ready Room
Stardate: 57907.29 14h30

***View port 37-A, Deep Space Nine***

He watched her slice through space adjacent DS9 as easily as a warm knife slices through creamed Orion butter. As the Intrepid class vessel glided in, it cast an appearance that was ultramodern, sleek, and from what he'd heard, a flyer's dream. A ship at home in an air-laden atmosphere as she was in the vacuum of space, a throwback to earlier terrestrial designs utilizing aerodynamics to enter as well as leave a planet's troposphere.

And quite a figure she cut as the stalwart vessel closed on a drab anachronism left over from years of oppression, DS9. It was a compact looking ship, smaller than the Kennedy, but larger than the Kodiak and it definitely seemed very maneuverable. The big question was...would her captain, his new CO, allow the helmsman to really put the Sulu through her paces when pressed?

Only the universe and Captain Salinger knew for sure.

Sanat kept visually tracking his new assignment as it eased next to an upper docking pylon. The pilot steering her wasn't too shabby...not too shabby at all...although it took longer than it should have in his humble, but informed, opinion. Whoever the controller was, he or she should have pushed the nose over with standard thrusters to negate the lateral dampener's natural tendency to gyroscope during side-to-side motion. Still, as she wallowed slightly, the USS Hikara Sulu was a space faring beauty, even as she became electronically tethered to DS9.

He smiled.

Yes, here was a challenge in the making. Vijay grabbed his duffel and started for the lift station that went upwards to where fate had so conveniently brought him. It'd taken the young human-vulcan from a massive wallowing behemoth to a well-honed ballet dancer...and he was going to grab her by the controls...maybe enough so to coax a nice pirouette out of her interlaced microfoamed duranium filament covered hull.

But it was early yet, and the ensign needed to perform a basic military custom that went as far back as Admiral Horatio Nelson's day. A custom that nowadays meant as much, if not more, than it had all those centuries ago aboard cloth propelled ships of an age. An age long passed but still remembered and honored by this simple procedure devoid of pomp and circumstance...plain to its very core. From Admirals to the lowliest crewman it was performed without hesitation or undue haste, and yet it was what it was; reporting to the senior officer on deck for duty. So simple, however, complex in the message conveyed: I'm here and I'm ready for your orders.

Even to death if so ordered.

He dipped his head to a passing warrant as he entered the small lift station chamber. Up, up, up and away.... Ensign Sanat Vijay, flight controller extraordinaire, mused to himself.

***14h45***

Sanat crossed the bridge, which slowly grew quiet as the hubbub of docking died away only to be replaced with endless system checks and thankless tasks needed to secure Sulu for her stay at DS9. He quickly located the Captain's Ready Room office and made his way over to it.

The nice yeoman that met him at the docking ring had mentioned that Captain Salinger should be on the bridge even though he'd been injured during an assault while on Risa. He smirked. Hopefully the CO hadn't gotten over exuberant during his stay on the renowned pleasure planet...but it was no business of his and he had a responsibility to carry out.

The half human, half Vulcan man kept walking until he reached a plastisteel portal guarding the Captain's Ready Room. It looked purposely intimidating as it stood there as a silent sentinel to all that passed.

Vijay paused at the door and straightened his uniform in a vain attempt to exorcise a few butterflies before meeting his new boss. This particular protocol still made him nervous. Why? Who knows? Perhaps it was the sizing up portion of each party involved. Maybe it was the uncertainty of finding out you'd made a really big mistake leaving one ship for another.

He chuckled to himself.

At this rate, he'd never fondle her controls much less fly her! Vijay tugged and adjusted his crisp uniform for a few more moments longer. Finally satisfied with his appearance, the ensign tentatively reached out to push the chime. His hand stopped shy. Sanat took a few deep breaths and then pressed it heavily.

"Enter," came the reply. The susurration of the doors sliding apart brought Lyrr's attention upwards to the young officer standing in the opening. She gestured him forward, then nodded in greeting. "Yes, Ensign...?"

He suppressed a powerful urge to swallow his tongue, instead, Sanat entered and briskly stood at attention. To his mild surprise, Captain Salinger was nowhere in sight. Instead, an attractive Bajoran woman with three shiny pips adorning her collar sat at the desk that belonged to his CO. She must be the exec., he concluded.

Giving his eyes a few seconds to roam the room, he took note of his new XO. She seemed young for the position...but then the war had effectively 'thinned-out' Starfleet's command ranks, and it appeared the Sulu was no exception. Bringing his focus back to why he was here, his voiced managed a husky, but quiet, "Sir, Ensign Sanat Vijay reporting for duty, Sir."

"Ah, yes." Lyrr leaned back in her seat and studied the man. If she hadn't already reviewed his record, she would've wondered what a man his age was still doing with an Ensign's rank; but, it was no lack of ability on his part, which banished any potentially forming doubts regarding whatever unruly tendencies might still remain within him. They already had far too many troublemakers for her liking, and she wouldn't tolerate another. "Welcome, Ensign," she greeted with a hint of a smile. "I trust you've received your room assignment?"

The quintessential greeting, nothing ventured, thus nothing lost, his mind quipped. It was true this musing spoken with a tiny bit of logic sprinkled with sarcasm, but he left the internal debate hanging to prevent any outward appearances of procrastination or disrespect. With a noncommittal face he answered, "Thank you, Sir." Sanat thought a second before adding, "Yes... Ensign Tor...Tortellini has already given me directions to my quarters."

Inside Vijay winced. While it was true he was a great pilot, his short-term memory for other people's names was abhorrent in the extreme. Somehow his pronunciation of the pert blond yeoman's name had gone wildly astray.... Unfortunately, in what way eluded him momentarily. It was a good thing the ensign could recall faces with an exceptional degree of efficiency and precision...otherwise, he'd been a frequent visitor to both the Kodiak's as well as the Kennedy's nacelle baffles.

(A punitive task that no one with any long-term space experience especially relished.)

Lyrr's lips formed a puzzling frown, and she reviewed mentally all Ensigns on board with names even remotely similar to Ensign Tortellini's. Finally she chuckled softly. "Torsten? Well, you're new here so forgetting a name or two is to be expected. You'll grow accustomed soon enough, Ensign."

Oh boy...quite an impression, he thought painfully. With a small grin he said, "Umm, Torsten...Yessir. I hope so." Trying to think of something intelligent to say, the ensign asked quietly, "What's our next mission Sir?"

His shuttle had arrived at DS9 late, so trying to find out was not an option. That coupled with receiving a vaccination for some oddball virus running amuck on the station prior to his arrival left Vijay little time to shake the gossip vines to see what might fall out.

"The Gamma Quadrant," Lyrr answered tersely. "Have you ever been through the wormhole, Ensign?"

He tried to divine if her answer was short on purpose, or if he had inadvertently pushed a hidden button with the exec. Sanat's demeanor changed slightly as he pondered Lyrr's reply. It went from the unease associated with first time reporting jitters to thoughtful and focused. As if he'd been invited to prove his worth.

Now here was something worth discussing! A wormhole was a tricky thing to pilot...sometimes you just kept her nose headed straight...other times you had to anticipate where to turn and how much thrust to apply when turning. Any miscalculations and poof. Maybe you end up in the Gamma Quadrant and then again...maybe not....

The real problem was that he had not been through a real one. Only facsimiles. And just those actually piloted by other Starfleet helmsman. There was no way to predict what might be thrown at you as the ship traversed it...but it offered a challenge, and a way to redeem himself in the eyes of his superiors. His voice was quiet and firm. "No, Sir. Only a few holo simulations, Commander." What Sanat didn't say was a few hundred simulations, and with the Kennedy as his flight model. Surely the Sulu would be much, much easier to thread through the constricted quantum space tunnel.

"Well, you might just get to fly your way through one in a couple weeks' time." Lyrr smiled. "Glad to be aboard yet?"

Sanat smiled with a silent determination. Well he wanted a challenge and now he had one...or it had him.... But, it was too early to tell right now. This was what he really wanted, to fly under the most trying of conditions, to make his charge live up to her full capacity and his as well. The ensign locked his eyes to hers and with a conviction that only a drunkard could've missed, "Thank you, Commander. I'll do my best, Sir." As he stood there contemplating what was ahead, without breaking the XO's gaze he firmly answered her question keeping his voice low and steady, "Yes, Sir. I'm looking forward to the task ahead."

"Well...we're glad to have you, Ensign. If you need any assistance, Lieutenant McKenzie can run through things with you. Is there anything you wished to discuss before I dismiss you?"

His right eyebrow arched slightly. She hadn't asked about his reprimand or his refusal to accept an overdue promotion to Lieutenant, Junior Grade. Was that a good thing...or a bad thing? Should he bring it up? Sanat debated whether discussing the incident might further prejudice his standing with Commander Lyrr. Surely she had already read his personnel file before he set one foot in here.

No. Now's not the time. I'll prove myself through my actions, he thought.

The flight controller replied, "Understood. No, Sir. If you have no further questions for me...." Vijay opened the proverbial door on his personnel records just a crack just to see if she was testing him or his honesty or even resolve to delve into a slightly sorted past.

Lyrr shrugged and gestured vaguely to the door behind him. "No questions, Ensign. I trust your time aboard will be a valuable experience?"

He started to leave and then Vijay stopped to regard Commander Lyrr. Her question caught him off guard. "Experience? I don't understand. What do you mean?" A look of puzzlement followed the question of intent; in fact he forgot to add the prerequisite title that embodied typical military courtesy when conversing with someone of superior rank.

"What do I mean?" Lyrr echoed, clearly in a state of perplexity. "I mean experience, Ensign. Such as the many you had on the Kennedy." Lyrr paused, beginning to understand the ensign's confusion. She smiled pointedly. "Though, experiences such as those encountered aboard the Kennedy are not the kind you should strive for, Ensign."

Ouch. So she did know about that after all, came a hurried thought through his highly efficient human-vulcan brain synapses.

"Yes, Sir." As his heart beat rose to a faster tempo, the Vulcan half of his biology howled out in frustration at letting himself get scolded that way on his first day aboard, but the human half quickly stepped in and tempered Sanat's reaction. The ensign's skin flushed slightly, however, that was all... his face quickly returned to a neutral state. "I shall endeavor not to repeat those experiences again, Commander."

Lyrr nodded slowly. "I'm glad we understand one another, Ensign. Believe me, it will make your stay aboard this vessel a lot more pleasant."

He dipped his head curtly in acknowledgement of Lyrr's statement. Indeed, they understood each other quite well now...she'd just put him on notice that his actions would be scrutinized. It really didn't matter to the ensign one way or another. Sanat expected no less than that, no matter what ship he went to after the Kennedy. At least Commander Lyrr was being forthright in what she expected of him.

Fair enough, he decided. The ball was firmly in his court now.

Sanat reinforced his body language. "Acknowledged, Commander." Resettling his duffel on a well-defined shoulder, the tall man patiently waited to see if she had more instructions for his tour aboard the USS Hikara Sulu.

"Good," Lyrr replied, satisfied for the time being. "Welcome aboard, Ensign. I trust you will become a fine addition to this crew." With a bland smile, she added, "Dismissed."

Sanat managed a small smile. Quietly he said, "Thank you, Sir." He wanted to add more, but kept his response as simple as possible. It was now time to prove that his war experience and recognized bravery thereof was no accident. The ensign executed a sharp turnabout and briskly walked to the door. As it slid open, he absentmindedly reached up and scratched the jagged scar on his neck; it had itching during his 'interview' and required some attention.

He stepped out and let the door close behind him. Sanat let his pupils adjust to the brighter lighting present on the bridge. It appeared that the Beta shift was now on duty. Vijay didn't recognize anyone from earlier when he had made his way through the cleanly designed nerve center. His eyes roamed around until they alighted on the flight controller console, soon to be his duty station. For a long time he sincerely hoped....

Taking a deep breath, he swiveled to his left and walked towards the turbo lift. It was time to find his quarters and get something to eat.

---

"Vaccination of Vitriol"
by Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.29, 14h50

***

Just as Medical Technician Taylforth handed Ensign Cristobel Sefton a hypospray loaded with a unique vaccination, Cris immediately spotted the intended patient, as she strode into Sickbay. The frost white hair was an attention grabber, since it was on someone who appeared to be fairly youthful. Intercepting her, Cristobel said, "Ensign Lektar, thank you for coming down to Sickbay. I'm Nurse Sefton."

Shirik reported as ordered to Sickbay. She wasn't sure why she was being asked to go, and wasn't overly enthused with it anyway. Any trip to Sickbay was never a pleasant one.

As the nurse introduced himself and she searched through her memories for the name in the crew roster she'd studied, she knew it would be even less pleasant than usual. Sefton...one of the few Betazoids on board. Even without telepathy, her body language and posture shift would tell anyone in the room she was even more on the defensive than she was when she came in the door, and she frowned slightly to herself as she imagined the nurse had probably already read all her surface thoughts. At least she'd have the satisfaction of knowing he'd already know how much she disliked him without her having to waste any words on it.

"I was ordered to report to Sickbay, so I'm reporting," she said, standing stiffly and folding her arms. "Why am I here, and how quickly can I leave?"

"Would you care for a private examination room?" Cristobel asked with rehearsed charm, as he led her towards one of the doors, regardless of her reply. He wasn't sure, yet, if she'd simply assume a person of her stature deserved a private room, or if she'd figure that he didn't particularly want her berating him in front of the rest of the medical staff.

She just narrowed her eyes, not moving from where she stood. "For what, exactly?" she asked. Her only assumption why one would be offered at all was that he thought to do so for modesty on her part. But, if she was sent here for an examination which required her undressing, she had no idea why. Hadn't she already been poked, prodded, and examined by enough doctors already? "I was already certified fit by the medical staff when I first came on board."

Sefton stopped, and turned to face her, but didn't move away from the entrance to the examination room. "The entire crew is being vaccinated for Yxrk virus," he responded in his clinician voice. "Since the Chief Medical Officer herself has only recently designed the Drokari vaccine, we'd like to monitor your immediate reactions here in Sickbay, and then put a portable monitor on you for at least the next twenty four hours." Cristobel swept a hand towards the exam room's doors, which parted for him.

With a small frown she made her way into the indicated room. She had already learned back in the academy how fruitless it was to try to argue with medical personnel. "I've never heard of this virus... How do you even know it affects my species?" Her natural suspicion was aroused, and thoughts of being poisoned, whether deliberately or accidentally, came to mind. It was not uncommon for such poisonings to occur back home, especially to those of the royal family. She had to mentally remind herself that such things didn't happen here...in theory.

She entered the exam room and seated herself on the biobed, waiting impatiently. With any luck this would be over and done with soon, and she could get out of sickbay and away from this Betazoid.

"I don't know; I follow orders. But the Chief Medical Officer, who has been extensively studying Drokari biology since she saw the crew manifest, suspects you could be susceptible," Cristobel explained to her genuinely. "If you would like, I could probably arrange for you to visit the only patient left in quarantine on Deep Space 9 to test your potential natural immunity..."

"Fine, just give me the injection so I can be on my way," she said. She hadn't yet met the CMO, but made a mental note to meet her sometime soon, and to read up on this Yxrk virus.

Nurse Sefton vaccinated Shirik, and then put the hypospray aside to check for adverse reactions. Cris stepped closer to the biobed, and adjusted the settings on its monitor. Silently, he looked over Shirik's vital signs, which all appeared to be remaining normal.

Shirik did her own monitoring, but didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. She kept a wary eye on Cris as he stepped closer, not wanting him too close. She'd heard the abundant rumors of the crew's social activities, but so far no one had made any passes at her, which was just fine with her. "Well?" she asked, hoping this was over with.

"Just a little bit longer," Cristobel muttered, as he continually considered the biobed monitor. He was going to continue watching the readings in silence, but thought after thought after thought in her head was increasingly repulsing him. Without considering what her reactions could be, he turned to her, and evenly stated, "I am a Starfleet Officer. I think I could control my urges, even if you were attractive. Which -- Oh -- reminds me. The majority of Betazoids in Starfleet actually do keep their mental senses to themselves, so you can tone down that telepathism. But, personally, I tend to subvert the majority. So..." Cris shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

Her violet eyes went icy cold at his remarks, and she levelled her gaze at him like a weapon. "Do they," she said dryly. "I find it interesting that every Betazoid I have met has been in the minority. I think in the case of your species, the exception is the rule." She slipped from the biobed to her feet. "Now, if you're quite finished I have work to attend to." She wanted nothing more at that moment than to get very far away from Cristobel Sefton, especially now that her suspicions about his brain probing had been confirmed.

"We're not done," Cristobel said genially, but forcefully. He took up the medical tricorder holstered on his hip, synched it with the biobed's monitors and continued the scans of Shirik. She folded her arms once more to wait impatiently. Struggling to understand her indignation, Cristobel said, "I'm sorry that you're uncomfortable by telepathy, but would it help to know that, in my case, I am in no way 'probing' your mind? If anything, it's your thoughts that are violating my mind, because of my senses, but, fortunately, I'm accustomed to it. It helps me to communicate. If I didn't have the background noise of thoughts, I'd have to ask twice as many verbal questions, since verbal diction is so indelicate."

"That may be so, but, in that case it would be my decision whether to answer or what answer to give, rather than you conveniently siphoning them from my thoughts whether I want you to know them or not," she said. "My thoughts are my own, and the decision to share them or not should also be mine." She'd had this conversation before, in the academy, and she already knew it was pointless. Betazoids never seemed to understand the value of privacy.

"In all of my experience, privacy causes more harm than value," Cristobel said, sounding defeated, also knowing the pointlessness of continuing to defend his own position. With half a smile, and his first honestly friendly tone of voice, Cristobel offered, "But, since you have taken the effort of openly expressing your discomfort, I promise to take the extra efforts necessary to keep your thoughts out of my head. From this moment forward." He added the last part, since he had listened to her thoughts right up until he made the promise.

"I believe in speaking plainly," she said. "If more people did, telepathy would be irrelevant." She studied him for a moment. "Why do you not take such efforts to begin with, with everyone, rather than promising to take them only after someone has voiced discomfort?" Her tone was not accusatory, but genuinely curious.

"Because I'm not comfortable with that," Cristobel admitted, a little self-consciously. "I've been told that my analogy is faulty, but it feels to me the same as asking Vulcans to cover one ear because they have better hearing than most other humanoids. If I'm going to make the effort to prevent hearing even the most inconsequential passing thoughts from a person, I need to be able to trust that that person will 'speak plainly' with me."

"In your analogy, the Vulcan has the choice not to act upon or acknowledge that he has overheard something private," she says. "Vulcans respect the privacy of others in that way. You could have chosen to say nothing as well, even if you did hear my thoughts. Those around you must trust you not to reveal or act upon their private thoughts, whether they want to or not, and as you know, trust must be earned."

"If I had said nothing, you would have continued to assume that I was constantly probing your thoughts. Isn't it better that we have come to this conflict so it may find a resolution?" Cristobel asked, occasionally looking over her unchanging readings on the medical tricorder.

"If you had said nothing I would at least have the illusion of privacy," she mused. "The only resolution is the one you have promised. Hopefully, your word is good, and as long as it is, we should have no further conflict." She glanced over at the tricorder. "Can I leave yet?"

"My word is good," Cris assured her, as he grabbed a ten-centimetre by ten-centimetre portable monitor from storage and affixed it to Shirik's left upper arm. With a gentle nod and smile, Cris said, "Now you can leave."

She couldn't quite stifle the urge to roll her eyes. "How long must I wear this?" Everytime she was watched and monitored and given special experimental vaccines, which was more often than she liked, she felt like a lab rat. The price of being unique in Starfleet.

"Twenty-four hours would be best," Cristobel replied automatically. "...But you could probably get away with taking it off after Beta Shift," Cris added with a wink.

She didn't smile, although the hard edge left her gaze and she unfolded her arms finally. With a nod she said, "Very well." And turned to leave. Almost as an afterthought she added, "Thank you," and headed out the door.

"You're welcome," Cristobel replied, and shook his head as the doors slid shut. Even once Cristobel had restored the examination room to its original condition, he was still feeling baffled. He knew he respected Shirik, but he wasn't so sure if he liked her. Worse, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to like her. He let it slip from his mind, though, when he took up his PADD to discover who his next patient would be.

---

"Tholian Yxrk Virus"
by Lieutenant Commander Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.29, 15h00

***

Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 57907.29

It positively astounds me how diplomats can feel that their work is important enough to warrant continuing it while ill, and yet never consider the dangers of inflicting their suffering upon others. At the same time, it doesn't particularly surprise me that an ambassador accidentally caused an outbreak of Tholian Yxrk Virus on Deep Space 9 two weeks ago. I'm not satisfied with Doctor Bashir's assurances that the virus has been eradicated, and since officers will be passing between the Sulu and Deep Space 9 without the biofiltering of a transporter, I have ordered each crew member to be vaccinated before being allowed to board the space station.

I am desperately hoping that the nursing staff will be capable enough to administer the species-specific vaccinations to the entire crew, as I would prefer to avoid sending my doctors out of Sickbay. Normally, I would not doubt the abilities of my nurses, but there appear to be fairly serious discipline problems in my staff. Of primary concern is that the nurses apparently put more priority on facilitating the gossip hub of the ship than on helping those who need to be helped.

One of the causes may simply be that most of the nurses are still fresh from the Academy. Their only field experience has been at Dorvali 449, followed by an extensive vacation on Risa, where the pleasure planet's own doctors provided nearly all of the medical services to the crew. I suspect a greater cause is a failure of leadership on the parts of O'Shea and M'lira. O'Shea may have been a brilliant doctor, but the logs make it quite clear that he didn't make himself available to the medical staff, or efficiently utilize the nursing staff in particular. M'lira tried her best to take over in a difficult situation, while shift schedules were flimsy and outright ignored, but, obviously, her efforts weren't enough.

"Pause log," Damhnait ordered to the computer from her office. "Switch to Personal Log recording."

Damhnait Sefton's Personal Log, Supplemental

Nurses Amy Reese and Annikafiore Szerda appear to be the epicenter of the nursing staff's discipline problem. Since they have been serving on the Sulu since its launch, it is possible that the other nurses use them as precedent for their own behavior, but I will need to make more observation and analysis to be certain. At the least, their inability to treat one another with respect is a problem of its own. I'd like to arrange for security officers to kidnap them in their sleep, put them on a shuttle and desert them on an isolated Bajoran moon to work out their vitriol, but I suspect the Captain would frown on that. Szerda was recently moved to Beta shift, at her request, but I am going to switch her back to Alpha shift, to force her to work with Reese. I highly suspect more forceful measures will have to eventually be taken to improve Sickbay's discipline.

---

"Stirring Things Up"
by Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Lieutenant Commander Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Operations Office
Stardate: 57907.29, 16h05

***

Mason Farrell sat in what was quickly becoming his favorite chair. He tapped his desk console, bringing up his own screen configuration preferences, and was in the process of choosing between Johnny Cash and Sonny Clements for background music when the door slid open.

Armed with a hypospray and a PADD, while also wearing a medical kit over his shoulder, Cristobel Sefton strolled into the office. "Ensign..." Cris trailed off immediately as he consulted his PADD. With a hint of recognition in his voice, he finally asked to the only occupant of the room, "Mason Farrell?"

"That's me," Farrell said with a smile, scratching the left side of his jaw with the back of his right thumb.

"You have to be vaccinated for Tholian Yxrk virus," Cristobel explained, advancing upon Mason with his hypo at the ready. "...Well, everyone does."

"Fair enough," Farrell said, opening his collar to grant better access to his neck. "Say," he said as Cris configured the instrument, "you're Sefton, aren't you? The one Reese and them threw the party for?"

"Yes, I am that one," Cristobel answered once he pressed the hypospray to Mason's neck. "I suppose you must be the Farrell from Operations who provided the real beer for my party that I wasn't even at. Thank you for that. I mean, don't even think of bringing glorified boiled weeds to another of my parties, but thank you all the same," Cristobel said as genially as one could, considering the content.

"Oh come now," Farrell said, lightly mocking. "You as a medical officer must recognize the nutritional value of beer. It's liquid bread. Have a beer and a salami and call it a sandwich," he smirked.

"And where exactly does 'salami' come from?" Cristobel asked, picking up on a vague mental image that didn't line up with any Terran plant or animal in his memory. "It doesn't particularly sound like something I'd be wanting to put in my body."

"It's a spiced lunchmeat," Mason answered. "Not bad with cheese. And maybe some sweet peppers. Now I'm hungry," he laughed.

"Damn. And you just started your shift;" Cristobel chuckled. "Meanwhile, I can just head to my quarters and replicate a pile of salami sandwiches to eat until I throw up, if I so choose." As he spoke, Sefton opened his medkit, on an inactive console, to reload his hypospray.

"This is a two-stage shot, is it?" Farrell wondered aloud.

"Not at all," Cristobel told Mason in a tone that clearly wondered why he'd suggest such at thing. Sefton pumped the hypo full of another dosage of vaccine, and explained, "Crewman Hamilton hasn't been vaccinated."

Farrell arched an eyebrow and looked theatrically around the room. He opened his mouth to speak just as the main doors to the Operations office parted to allow the entry of Crewman Jennifer Hamilton. Farrell looked down and shook his head with a smile.

"Hey, Jen," Mason said. "Tell Sefton here that salami's good stuff."

"I'm a vegetarian, sir," Hamilton quipped.

"You certainly are not," Mason chuckled.

"True, I'm not. But as far as salami's concerned, I may as well be," she said sarcastically.

"You don't like salami?"

"I hate salami, sir. What's up?" she asked, looking to Sefton, and then his hypospray. "Booster time?"

Cristobel replied, "Exactly. Unless you want to catch a Tholian virus."

Hamilton loosened her collar. "Can we catch Tholian viruses?"

"Not while the good Ensign Sefton's on duty, apparently," mused Farrell.

"There you are. Completely salami free," Cristobel said as he pressed the hypospray to Hamilton's neck.

Hamilton made a face. "Thanks. Salami's too spicy for me. And does gastric damage a lady shouldn't mention." She put a hand facetiously on her flat belly.

"So it's not that you don't like Salami. Salami doesn't like you," Mason sniggered.

"I suppose I should let you get to your work," Sefton said, clearly sounding as if he meant the opposite, and closed his medical kit. As he checked Hamilton and Farrell off of his list on the PADD, he suddenly recalled why else Mason's name had seemed so familiar - he had showed up in the Medical Logs an inordinate amount of times while Cris had been gone.

Narrowing his eyes, Cris asked Farrell, "But then again, preventative medicine is my most important job... What is it that you're working on today? Nothing life threatening, I hope. Is it life threatening?"

"Only if we feed Hamilton some salami and then lock ourselves in," Farrell quipped.

"I'll need to keep some salami around to keep you off me, then," Hamilton snorted.

"What are you talking about?" Mason asked, the trace of a smile showing.

"You and your swinging ways," Hamilton remarked, appearing to fall into a familiar pattern.

"Ignore her," Farrell said to Sefton. "She's pathological."

"Yeah, pathologically honest," retorted Hamilton. "What about your little turbolift encounter?"

"One incident," Mason held out his arms in sincerity.

"And the Counselor?"

"We're dating."

"Don't get defensive about it."

"I'm not defensive," Mason chuckled.

"Now you're defensive about being defensive."

"I am--" Farrell paused in mid-sentence and looked blandly at Sefton. "You see what I have to put up with? You see this insubordination?"

Snickering, Cristobel assured him, "You won't know how shiny you've got it until you work with the catty nurses in Sickbay, and I'm not talking about the Caitians. Since Annikafiore was yawning through Amy's demo of how to use a resonance tissue scanner, Amy was admiring her own fingernails the entire time Annika was trying to show Amy how to properly use a dynoscanner. Plus, the new Chief Medical Officer locked us all in Sickbay."

"No," Mason said, with mock disbelief. "Locked you in? Good thing nobody in there gets salami damage," Mason smiled at Hamilton, who gave him a good-natured sneer.

"I probably have a treatment for that just one hypospray away," Cris said with a wink and a tap on his medkit.

"Treatment for getting locked into sickbay?" Hamilton asked, leaning on the extra desk and folding her arms across her chest.

"No. Treatment for your embarrassing gaseous problems," Cristobel responded seriously. "Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Whatever," Mason said. "Hamilton's full of gas anyway. So what about this CMO locking you in sickbay? Some kind of oddball togetherness exercise?"

"Y'see, Amy put together a little 'Welcome Back, Crissy' party that went about as well as the 'Goodbye, Crissy' party," Cristobel explained, knowing that Mason knew better than he the lows of the Goodbye party. "And so the CMO's motivations were more about, 'I'm so embarrassed by you all; I don't want my patients to be exposed to you all.' Essentially."

"See, the party would have been better if someone had asked me to bring beer again," Farrell shook his head with a rueful smile at the thought of another Amy Reese production. "I bet the new CMO would have joined the party if there had been beer."

Laughing loudly, Cristobel assured him, "She would have sent the entire staff to the brig for being intoxicated on duty."

"She?" Farrell and Hamilton asked at once. She snickered. "Okay," Farrell said. "Her file's not even on board yet. Dish, Sefton."

Obviously unprepared for that line of questioning, even though he was expecting it, Cristobel flustered, "She's had a career spanning three decades, she provided one of the knowledge bases for the EMH, shesmymother, and she's coming from a Sovereign, which means she can handle the Sulu."

Both Farrell and Hamilton nodded, soaking that in. Then both frowned at once, and looked at each other before looking at Sefton. "Your mother?" they asked in unison.

"What? Did you think an act of dhia caused me to be spontaneously created in a cave on Betazed?" Cristobel asked facetiously.

"You weren't?" Hamilton asked in a flawless deadpan. She looked to Mason. "I thought all Betazoid babies grew in caves."

"At least it would have been cool," Mason riffed. "My spot under the cabbage leaf was really hot. Not enough shade."

"I think the stork that delivered me was on his last legs," Hamilton mused.

"What, d'he drop you?" Mason smirked. "Is that what happened?"

Hamilton smirked back. She looked at Sefton, indicating Farrell. "Ignore him. He's incorrigible."

"Yeah, incorrigibly right," Mason cracked.

"So Anyway," Hamilton said to Sefton, pronouncing the capital, "you were telling us about your mother."

"I don't think so," Cris insisted. "She will know if I fuel the gossip machine. You'll just have to meet her for yourself." Cristobel pressed his lips together firmly and folded his arms over his chest authoritatively. And then he said, "Or you can ask me 'yes or no' questions."

"Is she mean?" Hamilton asked.

"Yes," Cristobel replied evenly, before Hamilton fully completed the 'n' sound in 'mean.'

"Is she hot?" Farrell offered, immediately wincing at his own boorishness. "No, nevermind. You didn't hear me ask that. I didn't ask that. That question never happened."

"No kidding," Hamilton looked at Farrell, aghast.

"It just crept in there," Farrell said. "He's a Betazoid, he'd have heard me think it anyway."

"I did hear him think it," Cristobel muttered.

"That doesn't mean you have to ask it, sir," Hamilton said, rolling her eyes. "Were you dropped as a child?"

"Okay, okay," Farrell held up his hands in surrender. "I'll think of another one. Has she been in Starfleet for her entire medical career?"

"Yes, but she studied on Betazed quite a bit," Cristobel answered.

"Is her bedside manner better than the EMH?" Farrell asked.

"Yes, hugely so," Cristobel enthusiastically said.

"Why's she mean?" Hamilton asked.

"Because I don't have patience for incompetent questions like that one," Damhnait Sefton said in a nearly apologetic tone, as she entered the Operations Office. Looking to Cristobel, she added, "Nor do I have patience for nurses who don't check in for over half an hour after they were supposed to. Do you even realise that it is Beta Shift?"

"Yes," Cris replied indignantly to her condescending tone.

Damhnait regarded Mason, who had stood when she entered, and icily asked him, "Do I meet your expectations?" The 'your' clearly asked 'am I hot?' She wasn't particularly annoyed or surprised by Farrell's earlier question; in fact, she was more amused by how consistently Terran's tended to put physical appearance at such a high priority.

Busted, Mason thought to himself, more humorously than anything else. She was icy, but not intimidating. She'd probably been listening in for some time, but hadn't stormed in like, say, Lyrr would have. And she talked down to her son, as most any mother would.

And she was good looking, that much was certain, Sefton's mother or not. And of course she was probably pulling all this out of his mind anyway, so he decided to just brass it out.

He smiled genuinely. "Yes, sir," he said merrily, meeting her dark eyes with a twinkle in his own. This was going to be one fun officer to have aboard. "Yes you do."

Hamilton looked like she was ready to vomit in panic. "Sir," she said uncertainly. "Sir, I, uh...." She picked up a padd and tucked it under her arm, trying to look like she'd just been passing through.

"You may run along if you wish. I never caught your name, and I'll probably forget your face," Damhnait admitted to Jennifer in a comforting tone. Instantly ignoring Hamilton, who scurried out of the office, Damhnait said to her son, "Now, Cris, you really should make more friends like Mr. Farrell, here. Nurse Reese didn't have half as flattering things to think about me as he does." She arched an eyebrow. "Some thoughts are a little too" --she gave Mason a chiding look-- "flattering, but I'm sure those ones aren't intentional."

Mason smiled his most debonair smile and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll attempt to control myself. I ought to have your son teach me how to shield my thoughts, I suppose. On behalf of the Operations department, welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Ensign Farrell. It would be gratifying if I could rely on you to personally acquire the items on the medical supply wishlist before the Sulu leaves the Alpha Quadrant," Doctor Sefton said in a tone of familiarity.

"Done," he said confidently.

Watching Mason more carefully, Cristobel's eyes narrowed significantly. He started to remember the final reason that Farrell's name had sounded so familiar: the way the medtechs had spoken of it, Mason had slept with every female officer on the Sulu back at Risa. Considering a crew compliment of 150, with approximately fifty percent of them female, and then dividing by the gossip factor of ten, and then the male-ego factor of two, Cristobel supposed Mason's number was closer to three or four partners. Hardly scandalous, but disconcerting with his mother still talking to him in such a friendly manner.

Gratifying? Cris asked his mother telepathically, without giving any physical indication that he was speaking to her.

Hush, she replied, also without giving visual cues. He's just a boy, and sometimes boys need to be played with to get what you want. You're more of an expert at that than I am. Don't deny it.

But you're not attracted to him, Cristobel pointed out.

My patients have to come first, Damhnait reminded Cris.

Mother. It would be one thing to have sex with him if you found him attractive, but... Cris lectured in a tone she often used on him.

Finally looking at Cris, Damhnait affirmed, I wouldn't have sex with anyone just to speed up an order on medications that can't be replicated.

Mason stood there, watching the pair. He tried particularly hard to keep his mind more or less clear. He'd been around enough Betazoids in the academy to know when they were speaking to each other, and he hadn't met a Betazoid yet that could carry on concurrent conversation. Skilled though they were, they were still only capable of doing one thing at a time. Still, he was at a major disadvantage here, and it would be wise, he decided, to get clear as soon as possible.

"Well, Doctor Sefton, sir," Mason said after a second or two, keeping up the smile. "It was good to meet you. Get me your wishlist and I'll see you get what you need."

"You'll have it before the end of your shift." Damhnait shook Mason's hand briskly and immediately exited the Operations office.

"Seeya," Cris said with a wave, as he packed his hypospray and PADD into the medical kit. "I think I'm going to go find out what salami tastes like."

Mason nodded and watched Cris go. Once the doors closed, he exhaled and slumped back in his chair. Medical just got a lot more interesting.

---

"Tidiness Counts"
By Ensign Cecily Torsten - Captain's Yeoman
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer

Location: Access Port 12B, DS9 and USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.29 15h45

***

Sanat watched as the door slid open and two security personnel came out from the inner airlock to clear the outer air lock. The tough looking crewman gave him the once over with their eyes as he stood there patiently waiting for permission to enter the Sulu's access port. He moved several times to get out of their way as the dynamic duo scanned everything surrounding DS9's twin air-locking and docking system.

Very thorough, his brain signaled. It was clearly evident that it wouldn't be easy to simply sneak on board without being invited, he decided as they finished securing the airlock. The two crewmen reentered the Sulu and left him standing there by himself.

No one left the ship immediately, and after several minutes Sanat started to walk inside. As he entered the outer airlock, Vijay stopped short of his objective. There was someone standing in the section between airlocks; a female ensign in command red stood there looking down at a PADD. She was partially blocking the entrance just shy of the inner airlock.

He cleared his throat. "Yes...?"

Cecily nearly dropped the PADD from her hands as she looked up and immediately snapped to attention saluting Vijay quickly. "Ensign Cecily Torsten reporting, sir!"

Her unpredictable reaction almost made Sanat leap backwards. Catching himself before overreacting by performing a double back flip or something else totally ridiculous, he smiled slightly. Not so long ago, that could've been him before the war and all that had happened since.

"Relax...may I call you Cecily?" She bobbed her head quickly, albeit nervously though. "I'm not the Captain." He pointed towards his single pip. "I'm an Ensign just like you." When the pert blond woman didn't respond to his attempt to put her at ease, Vijay asked, "Is there something you require of me?"

Cece? The PADD containing the message? her mind rattled at her. Lowering her hand she stepped forward and handed the PADD out to Sanat. "Oh...here I'm su-supposed to give this to y-you, sir. It contains verifications that all o-of your personnel files, computer files, and th-the like have been properly transferred over..."

The human-Vulcan took the proffered electronic notebook from her. He glanced down at it, letting his eyes scan through the information listed by category. It was very complete and quite thorough...impressive considering how quickly he'd been reassigned from the Kennedy to the Sulu. (The Kennedy's command staff most likely expedited the transfer because they were glad to be rid of him and the resulting embarrassment he stood for.) Nice and tidy, because tidiness counts when transferring personnel records.

Sanat turned the PADD off and handed it back to Cecily. "Thank you. Everything appears to be in order." As she took it back from him, he asked, "Do you meet every new crew member, Cecily?" Vijay had a small grin on his face to indicate his attempt at casualness.

Torsten managed a small smile. "No, no, sir...umm I mean, Sanat." She clutched the PADD nervously in her hands as she looked up at the taller officer. "I'm sorry for acting the way I did earlier. I-I have only been on the ship a month...this is my first assignment."

He nodded and waved his free hand casually. "It's okay. I was pretty nervous on my first ship too." The ensign thought about something he read on the PADD she'd given him and queried her, "Ensign Farrell is to be my roommate? Correct? What is he like?"

"With...um out saying too much, he is a very nice man, honest, an affable fellow really. He has somewhat of a reputation on the ship for being quite the charmer around the...um...female crewmembers," she added, smiling shyly at remembering once meeting the aforementioned in the corridors.

The flight controller thought about what Cecily had said, and had not said when she answered his question. Retaining his polite smile, Vijay, merely replied, "I see." His brain thought though, This could be a pleasant assignment after all.

Sanat looked back at Cecily. "I see you wear command colors. What do you do? Flight Controller?"

"No, sir, I mean, Sanat, I'm a Yeoman."

He didn't let his disappointment show. She was cute in an innocent sort of way and it would have been fun to work with her, but maybe they would become friends at a later point in time. "Ah. That's an important job, working for the CO and XO. Do they keep you busy then?"

She nodded at his question as she replied, "That they do. I'm still adjusting somewhat to working constantly with others much higher in command then myself but I'm very much enjoying serving with them."

Sanat let his smile widen to a toothy grin. "Yes, I would think that would be a little intimidating." Changing his posture slightly, he pointed at the Sulu's airlock. "I must report in now that the ship has finished docking. Thanks for meeting me at the airlock, Cecily...I'll see you on the bridge."

Smiling she nodded. "I-It can be at times." Stepping forward she held out her small hand for him to shake in a welcoming gesture. "Oh and be-before I forget anything else, welcome aboard the USS Hikaru Sulu, Sanat."

"Thank you, Cecily." He released her hand and proceeded past the petite yeoman towards the bridge and his obligatory basic formality.

---

"Social Contagion"
by Ensign Ai'Pal - Science Officer
Ensign Kelzira Rax - Science Officer
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Science Lab 2
Stardate: 57907.29, 16h35

***

Since blue-collared Science Officers were at the very end of Cristobel's vaccination list for his first day, he had replicated a pale blue medical smock to make himself the centre of attention in the lab. Of course, when he'd begged Amy Reese to help him finish off the list, to get it done twice as fast, he'd done so by presenting her this opportunity to dress herself up in a smock as well. Where Cristobel's smock was long and had a tendency to flutter whenever he walked quickly or made sharp turns, Amy's was short and formfitting. Beneath their smocks, they had both changed into the vest variant of their uniform jackets, and "accidentally" forgotten to put the high-collared indigo tunics on underneath.

Having spent so much time on costuming in an empty Sickbay scrub station, the pair of nurses strut into the Science Lab prepared to do this hard and fast.

...Unless one of Amy's best friends was working the lab, and Kelzira Rax was very much present. That meant that the vaccinations were going to be done leisurely and gossipy.

Leaving Rax for Reese's tender hands, Cristobel loped over to a Vulcan officer, checked his own PADD quickly, and asked, "Ensign Ai'Pal?"

The young Vulcan looked into Cristobel's eyes. With no sign of emotion he asked, "What is it that I am being vaccinated for?"

"Tholian Yxrk," Cristobel replied professionally. In a friendlier tone, he explained, "There was a small outbreak on DS9, and they learned that jagged way that Vulcans, among other species, are not immune to Tholian viruses."

Ai'Pal's eyebrow raised. "In that case you may proceed." He took off his tunic, exposing muscular shoulders and arms. He extended his left arm indicating to the nurse that he was ready for his treatment.

Amy snickered at Kelzira, eyeing the hypospray warily. "No, it's not a love serum to lure you into my arms, silly," she told her. "It's a vaccine. Everyone's gotta have one." Amy grasped her friend's wrist and straightened out her arm. "Just one second, Kel."

"You don't happen to have one of those love serums in there too do you?" Kelzira asked as she glanced over Amy's shoulder toward the medical kit. "Or maybe one of those very cute smocks that I might be able to wear. It gets very hot and stuffy in here, and...and Tchi's working in Astrometrics today and I'm lonely" -- she glanced over at Ai'Pal -- "all alone in here. I tried to tell him about the time Looryx discovered a new species of fungus on Regalix II, but...he just went all Vulcany on me. It's not contagious, is it? Vulcanism?"

Amy depressed the contents of the hypo into Kelli's arm, while casting a glance in Ai'Pal's direction. "I hope not. That'd be the end of our sex lives!"

"At least for seven years," Kelli added with a giggle. "That is a very cute outfit you have on there, Miss Reese. I'm jealous. We don't have anything nice to wear in the science labs, except for these big, unflattering lab coats. They make me look...frumpy."

Amy looked down at her smock, then grinned slowly up at Kel. "If there's a secluded spot somewhere around here, we can swap for the day."

Kelli grinned. "Supply closet?" She pointed to the corner of the room where they kept various pre-replicated containers and sample kits.

With a giggle, Amy took Kelli's hand and pulled her up from her chair. Both scanned the room for spying eyes, then dashed for the indicated spot, hoping no clothing would be torn during the hasty exchange.

Ai'Pal, having been injected, replaced his tunic and stood up. He thought back to the words of the Ambassador Serek and about expressing himself in terms of those he was addressing. He thought about what he wanted to say and then went with something - a strange feeling in his stomach.

"Please excuse me, I must return to my duties. Um." He paused "You should be aware that even if I was in the season for mating, and interested in non Vulcans I would expect that your Human senses would be overwhelmed. "

"I'm not Human," Cristobel replied instantly with a touch of irritation. And then he made a silent realisation of Ai'Pal's full statement. While Cris' facial expression and body language clearly showed his offence, his voice was as flat as Ai'Pal's when he asked, "What did you just say to me?"

In that moment, in a moment where Ai'Pal had ventured out of the box, he had caused more chaos than amusement. He could picture the Ambassador being emotionlessly amused by his guidance for Ai'Pal.

"I was referring to a comment made by the other females that were here but a moment ago. One of them mentioned that their sex lives would be ruined if Vulcanism was contagious. I was simply stating a fact for all to hear. Unfortunately my words have offended you, for which I apologise."

Utterly unsure what to make of Ai'Pal, Cristobel merely said, "I...see..." Setting his empty hypospray down on a deactivated console, Cris changed Ensign Ai'Pal's status to 'vaccinated' on his PADD. Mostly to himself, Cristobel muttered, "Just a 'fact' based on the wrong-headed assumption that any of us would be interested in experiencing that with you."

Ai'Pal looked at his Nurse for the day. He had clearly upset the man. He knew that he wasn't ambassador material anymore. This was a clear indication for him to stick to his Vulcan ways, not to bother indulging in the spirit of other cultures. He clearly didn't understand them as they did not understand him.

"Your opinion has been noted, Ensign. Is there anything else you require or may I continue with my studies?" His tone was flat and emotionless.

"Feel free," Cristobel said with a sweep of a hand towards Ai'Pal's console. Sefton spent a minute opening his medical kit, and loading the empty hypospray with another cartridge. Since there was no one else to vaccinate, Cris had nothing left to do, but he couldn't leave without Amy, and he still wasn't sure what to make of Ai'Pal. "What is it that you're studying?" Cris asked him.

Ai'Pal looked up from his terminal. This would probably be a good time to recover from his previous blunder. "I am currently studying soil samples from Dorvali 449. I have already been able to determine the sample's molecular structure, but there is something here that interests me. If you step around to the microscope, you will be able to see for yourself."

He motioned for Cristobel to take his place at the scope, and Cris put down all of his equipment. As the Betazoid took position at the scope, Ai'Pal proceeded to explain the sample. "As you can see, there are clearly two organisms at work here. The soil is the first. Initially I hypothesised that the soil was self-sufficient because it had not degraded at all in storage. If you look closely you can see a second organism, resident to the soil. You will notice how it feeds on other bacteria, and excretes nutrients into the soil. Both matters are co dependant, which is what keeps the soil fresh."

Cristobel stepped back from the scope, stared at the console distastefully for a moment, and then turned to Ai'Pal. "I want to be interested - I really do - but it's dirt. Dirt that wasn't even important enough to store in stasis." Cris shrugged apologetically. "Yet again I remember why I switched out of Science... How is this fulfilling?"

Ai'Pal considered his answer for a moment before replying. "I have made it my personal quest to take my knowledge as far as it can be stretched. It is the way of my culture. Beyond this dirt I see life. I take great fascination out of discovering more about something that is essentially simple... I am fulfilled by the discoveries, that there is more to simple soil than just its appearance. If I can map how this organism relates to the soil, I may be able to translate that into a process that could benefit the Sulu, thus this micro-organism becomes beneficial to everyone. If I cannot do it, then someone else can and everybody learns.

"Maybe your discoveries did not excite you? I could arrange time for myself or Lieutenant Saavar to meet with you and help you rediscover your science if you would like that?"

"Potentially," Cristobel responded with reservation. "But it's not likely I'll have much time for it. With shore leave over, I've got to start taking medical correspondence courses again."

"Hey, Crissy!" A giggling Amy standing beside a grinning Kelli spread the flaps of her borrowed lab coat and performed a swift spin for Cris. She snickered as she stumbled out of it, but regained her footing. "I get to be scientist for a day," she told him, her smile slightly mischievous. Amy pushed Kelli forward, sporting the blue medical smock. "You get the Trill for the day." She grinned at Ai'Pal. "The Vulcan's mine."

"You're in luck, Nurse Rax," Cris enthused. "We've just run out of patients to vaccinate. You get to relax, while Amy does all your Science-y work."

"Oh, I like this arrangement," Kelzira said with a grin. "So, I can do anything I want, right? Oh, where is Tchalla? I think it's time for a girlfriend surprising."

Amy grinned. "And I get to surprise Lt. Tagliesh. You think she'll hate me too?"

"Of course she will," Kelli said with a grin. "But there's a trick. Somehow work Captain Salinger into the conversation, and she gets all happy and fuzzy."

Snickering, Amy replied, "Though, it's probably not best to mention him flirting with Ensign Gainsborough on the bridge."

"He didn't! Did he? Oh, well, if he did, I wouldn't blame him. She is very cute, especially when she's had a couple raktajinos."

"I like Lieutenant Tagliesh," Cristobel non sequitured.

Kelzira raised an eyebrow. "You like her? But she's so...she hates everyone but the captain. Well, and Tchi, but who wouldn't like Tchi? But that's beside the point. She hates everyone...what...what do you like about her?"

"She's so refreshingly honest! How can you not respect that?" the Betazoid replied genuinely. "I mean, while you two were changing, Ai'Pal," -- Cris p ointed towards the Vulcan-- "with the best of intentions, tried to speak to me with what he perceived to be terms I'd communicate with. He unintentionally insinuated that I'm a slut, which he could have avoided if he had simply unfilteredly spoken in his own voice."

"You called him a slut?" Amy asked indignantly. "Not a nice thing to say! And I should know. I'm this ship's resident slut." She giggled.

"No, no, dear," Kelli said with a smile. "You've given that up. I am now the ship's resident slut."

Ai'Pal looked up from his experiment. "I made no reference, intentionally or otherwise, to you being a slut. I simply made a comment that Vulcan love-making is far greater than that of any other race. I am not interested in non Vulcans or males." His tone was very matter of factly.

"This is my point," Cristobel said to Ai'Pal with exasperation. "Instead of talking to me in your own way, you tried to assume the sort of terms I'd communicate with, and now you don't even understand what you actually said. That 'comment' of yours made the assumption that I have interest in knowing about Vulcan love making. I mean, do you think that because I don't repress my emotions, I'm too unstable to control myself, while I'm doing my job, just because you took your shirt off? And that 'comment' also makes the assumption that I, as a Medical Starfleet officer, don't already know simple basics of Federation biology. I guess I'm just too unreasonable to remember my studies, since I don't repress my emotions."

Ai'Pal looked into Cristobel's eyes. He stood staring for a moment before speaking. "I believe that you are over reacting, which is a result of your lack of emotional restraint. Please ensure that you address full facts when you make reference to something I say. My comment had no hidden meaning and I made no literal comments on your lack of emotional restraint. Until now."

"You didn't intend a hidden meaning - I know that; that's what I've been trying to say - but the unintended implications were right there in your misapplied diction," Cristobel insisted. "And let me remind you again that I'm not Human. I'm Betazoid. That means I have full awareness of my emotions - I always know what I'm feeling and why I'm feeling it. I am using my emotions as motivation to not give up just because you think you can out-logic me."

Ai'Pal raised an eyebrow. "But what you don't understand is that this conversation is irrelevant. I wasn't talking about you, just to you. If you know that I had no intention of implying anything, and that my only mistake here was that I made reference to humans in this room, of which there must be one, that you took offence to. Why are we having this conversation?"

"I don't know... You've been the one getting overly defensive," Cristobel said with a shrug. "And I couldn't even get you to admit you had done that much, before we had this so-called 'irrelevant' conversation," Cristobel grumbled. He packed up his tools into his medical kit, which he than slung over his shoulder.

Ai'Pal looked back into his microscope. "I have nothing to be defensive about, Ensign. I have merely stated the facts as they are. But I accept your apology for overreacting. It has done little other than proving how susceptible people are to their emotions."

"Has anyone ever told you how disgusting bigoted generalisations are?" Cristobel asked, sounding wholly disgusted himself.

"No, Ensign, but I am sure that you are an expert on the subject. Would you care to lecture me or may I be spared to continue with my studies?"

"No. I wouldn't care to lecture you," Cristobel stated, with his disgust slowly shifting to disinterest. "It's kinda sounding like you wouldn't give my words any weight or consideration anyway, only because I'm choosing to express myself with emotion. Go back to your studies."

But by that point Ai'Pal's focus had already shifted back to the microscope. He gave no response to Cristobel's comment or acknowledgement for that matter.

"I think I'm done here, Amy," Cristobel said, barely hiding his annoyance. "I'm supposed to be trying some sort of luncheon meat about now. Thanks for staying late to help me get finished up," Cris offered with a hug.

Amy returned the embrace, and impulsively stuck her tongue out in Ai'Pal's direction while the Vulcan studied his samples. When she pulled back, she was smiling. "Thanks for inviting me, Crissy. And I think you showed that silly Vulcan up commendably."

With a smile and a wave sent Amy's way, Cristobel was heading towards his quarters, away from Science Lab 2 and away from Science Officer Ai'Pal.

---

"Day Trippers"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal

Location: Executive Officer's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate 57907.29, 16h45

***

Benedict T'Kal stepped up to the open portal to the Executive Officer's small office and leaned against the frame with arms crossed. He watched Lyrr studying something on her terminal, half turned away. She was so engrossed that she hadn't noticed him approach and he smiled at the deep furrows of concentration on her brow that seemed to emphasise her Bajoran nose ridges.

After a moment he coughed politely to let her know he was there. "Busy?" he grinned as it was plainly obvious that she was. "Got a few minutes to spare your security chief?" His voice was buoyant and cheerful, his mood seemed more up-beat than usual.

Lyrr swivelled around in her chair to face him fully and could do nothing to suppress the welcoming smile she greeted him with. "Whatever it is, it's not going to make my job harder is it?" She gestured towards the vacant seat in front of her desk.

He laughed as he pulled out the chair and sat in it. "Not at all." He put a padd down in front of her. "Personnel readiness reports for Security," he said by way of explanation. "I could have sent them...but I wanted to ask you something." He regarded her with a cheerful expression. "I was thinking of taking a couple hours after duty shift to visit Bajor - wondered if you'd like to come with me. I can show you around where I grew up. How about it?"

Lyrr's smile took on a skeptical quality. "Me?" She chuckled. "I was planning on going down myself.... My parents would forever torment me if I didn't visit them." Again, she regarded him inquisitively. "Are you really certain you want me to join you on the planet? You don't require some quiet time?"

"Quiet time?" He laughed. "You think if I take you it'll get all rowdy? Then again..." He felt his side with a wry grin, "I still feel this morning's game." He sat back and regarded her somewhat seriously. "I can meet up with you after you've seen your folks. There's a few people I want to catch up with, but after that - we could do some sight seeing...."

"Well, to make up for beating you shamelessly in springball...." She smiled, then shrugged in equivocal assent. "Shall I contact you once I'm settled on the surface, then? Now, you're certain I won't be intruding? This will likely be your last chance to visit Bajor for a long while, and I wouldn't want to take away from that in any way."

He shook his head and smiled. "I'd rather share it with a friend than alone." He held her gaze for a moment. Then got up. "I'd better get back to work. I've arranged for a friend to pick me up from here - if you want to hitch a ride you're welcome...."

"A friend?" Lyrr raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. "I don't want to intrude. You two go ahead; I'll find my own way." She smiled, then, politely. "But, thank you."

"Jeremy Banner is an old friend from the Starfleet Academy. He's stationed on Bajor and contacted me when he found out the Sulu was here. It's no trouble - he just offered a ride." Benedict wondered if she'd imagined his friend was another woman. He was beginning to suspect that Lyrr would always be suspicious; she certainly had displayed a jealous streak with Scott. "You won't be intruding."

Lyrr sighed after a long moment of deliberation. A trip to Bajor with Ben's friend divulging all manner of information regarding her Chief of Security sounded more and more appealing. "Alright," she replied, smiling with disguised mischief. "That sounds great. And it would spare the ship's resources if I share a transport with you instead of using one of our shuttles." Lyrr sealed the agreement with a decisive nod. "When do we leave?"

"After Alpha shift tomorrow," he wagged a finger at her. "I know that smile...." He raised a brow and laughed, "I'm sure Jeremy will fill you in on a few things and I wouldn't want you stealing Starfleet shuttles, especially when the captain made it clear that none would be available." He grinned impishly. "I'd have to lock you up."

Lyrr laughed softly as she folded her arms atop the desk and leaned forward. "I'd like to see you try that," she confided with a mildly challenging stare. It was disconcerting the moment she realized how truly appealing his smile was. She caught herself transfixed by his curled lips. "Until tomorrow then," she said softly.

"Tomorrow," he said with a nod. "Sixteen hundred in the shuttle bay." He shook his head. "You shouldn't challenge me, Lyrr Tayla, I might take you up on it.." His grin was mischievous. "You've had me at a disadvantage playing by your rules...we'll play by mine tomorrow. Oh five hundred - holodeck two - bring a gi." He turned away and laughed softly as he walked down the corridor.

Lyrr regarded the now-closed door with piqued interest and curiousity, then confusion. What was a 'gi'? She had to find out before oh-five-hundred tomorrow for whatever T'Kal had planned, though, puzzled as she was, she had no doubts that at least it would be an exciting morning.

---

"Home sweeteews emoH"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: USS Sulu, Sefton's Quarters
Stardate: 57907.29, 16h55

***

He didn't expect it to still look the same. The quarters Cristobel Sefton shared with Corran Quezith hadn't changed a micrometre since they'd left in a rush. Cris entered the main room for the first time in weeks, and silently stared at it all, until he started to wonder why he had even expected it to change. Corran's small garden was still thriving and everything appeared to be cleaner, because of the ship's environmental systems. All of the holosculptures were still right where Cris had originally placed them, because Viraj had prevented the couples' quarters from being reassigned.

While Cris had previously spent time in these quarters alone, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to spend the entire night without Corran. It wasn't exactly that Sefton was unable to spend a night alone, it was that he still had no idea if this night alone would be repeated for only another month, or for another year. He momentarily supposed he could invite Tuc over, but brushed away the thought because of the complications that would arise.

Suddenly afraid to think about the uncertainties of his future, since he'd undoubtedly think of them all night, he decided to focus on just getting through the next fifteen minutes. Cristobel blinked and stepped up to the replicator. With his conversation with Mason Farrell in his head, he ordered, "Salami sandwich."

A pair of sandwiches materialised on a platter in the replicator slot, causing Cristobel's stomach to lurch. He had programmed the replicator to serve everything for two when he'd first come on board with Corran, and now it was just him. He stood staring at the sandwiches for an indeterminate amount of time, until the door chimed. Cris looked harder at the replicator's reflective surface to check for unpleasantries; his hair was longer than when he'd left, and had regained its natural golden brown colour, without any of the metallic crimson streaks. His long bangs were styled in a perfect diagonal across his forehead and covering his left eye, just as they were in the morning.

"Come," Cris finally said.

As soon as the door opened wide enough to admit her, Shyla flew inside and into Cris's arms. He barely had time to see both the smile on her face and her wet eyes before she was pressed against his chest and her thin arms were locked around him in a surprisingly tight grip. Her thoughts were a jumbled knot and it took a moment before Cris's surprise wore off enough to remind himself that her head was strictly off limits. He couldn't be blamed for the slip - until that moment, Sefton was pretty sure he'd never seen a 'mad dash' before.

"How long have you been on board?" Shyla asked, releasing her grip enough to pull back and look at him. "Because if I find out it's been more than an hour..." she trailed off smiling, leaving the consequences unspoken.

With a slight wince, Cris admitted, "It's... been more than an hour. But I couldn't help it; duty and all that."

"Duty," Shyla tried to deadpan, barely smothering her grin. "Meaning Sickbay. Meaning Amy Polly Reese has seen you before me." She released the young Betazoid and even gave him a slight push away. "That's it. It's over, sir. It's going to be all business from here on out."

"Sassy," Cris commented amusedly. "I truly had no free will of my own. The new Chief Medical Officer insisted on my presence in Sickbay, and then Amy threw a little surprise party, and, hey, I don't recall seeing you waiting for me in the transporter room," Cris accused with a playful cock of his eyebrow.

"I have duties of my own, Mister," Shyla said with a mock sneer but she was already thinking New CMO?. Dr. M'lira had graciously switched Shyla's periodic scans to once every two weeks after Shyla had assured her that she would report any adverse symptoms immediately. The Sulu's last days at Risa had been so hectic that Shyla had been getting away with postponing her third scheduled check-up ever since. A new Chief Medical Officer was bound to notice and was almost assured to start insisting that change. Everything would have been much easier if they had just promoted Dr. M'lira. The Caitain was familiar with her case and Shyla in a way no newcomer would understand.

Seeking to put her mind back in the room and moment, Moreau's eyes fell on the sandwiches in the replicator and she gestured with her hand. "Were you expecting someone, Cris?" she asked, feeling a little like she was imposing. The idea that Amy had thrown a surprise party for Cris without even mentioning it to Moreau reinforced the feeling.

"No," Cristobel replied immediately, his voice just barely cracking. He continued in a pleasant tone, but didn't try to hide the sullen undertones, "I forgot that it always does that. The couple-y thing. I'll have to reprogram it for until Corran gets back." He smiled bittersweetly, and then had a thought. "...Unless you haven't eaten?"

Her large brown eyes had melted at the mention of Corran but the idea of food swiftly brought her back to practical matters. "Hmmmm," she mused, looking at the replicator and wrinkling her nose a bit. "What are they, exactly?"

"Salami sandwiches," Cristobel answered with a bewildered shrug. "Ensign Farrell highly recommended them. ...I'm still a little concerned that I can't suss out what vegetable, mineral or animal it originates from."

Shyla's face went a little stony at the mention of that particular name. "If it was Ensign Farrell's suggestion, my guess would be ham."

"What's wrong?" Cris asked -- mildly concerned, but lost without telepathic insight. "Should I order something else?"

Shyla looked down at the deck, both shrugging and shaking her head at the same time. "I don't want to spread rumors, Cris. It was just a misunderstanding, I guess. The sandwiches will be fine."

"What would you like to drink with it?" Cristobel asked, as he carried the sandwiches over to the dining table. "Liathghorm tea, or perhaps--"

"How about a beer?" Shyla suggested, a little quickly and rather bluntly.

Cris was polite enough to not express his mild surprise with a slack-jawed gape, and simply ordered, from the replicator, a beer for Shyla and a sour fizz for himself. Sitting himself down across from Shyla, he gently asked, "Now...what was a misunderstanding? It's not gossip or rumours if you only refer to exactly what happened."

Shyla settled into the seat and took a big sip of the amber liquid. "I went to Ensign Farrell to ask him to proctor some Starfleet courses for me after we go through the wormhole. I won't be able to do them in real time over the subspace network in the Gamma Quadrant."

"Hm," Cristobel nodded with his glass at his lips. He'd need a proctor of his own in the Gamma quadrant as well.

"While I was at the Ops office, he's saying these things that could be considered innuendo but also could be just friendly chat. Unfortunately, I had remembered the rumors I'd heard about Ensign Farrell and all I could think about was the alternative meanings to everything he was saying. So I ended up blurting out 'I have a boyfriend, sir.' "

Cristobel winced noisily. "He seems rather sensitive about the rumours -- I take it he didn't respond well?"

Shyla was mid-sip but her eyes went wide at the question. "He sat me down," she began as soon as the glass left her lips. "And started condescending to me like I just got my patch yesterday. He actually started going over a list on why I was mistaken."

Scoffing, Cris said, "So, he's intensely sensitive about the--"

"Oh!" Shyla exclaimed, interrupting. "After all his talk and his 'list' and his pleads of innocence, he had the nerve to ask me if Ethan was my first boyfriend."

"Ouch," Cris griped, while tearing a corner of the crust from his sandwich. "That's just frosty. ...You didn't slap him Amy-Polly-Reese-style, did you?"

"I kind of yelled at him," Shyla said, looking down into her beer. "A little." She was quiet for a moment, embarrassed by the admission. "I had never yelled at an officer before. Besides Ethan, I should say."

"I wish I'd seen that," Cristobel said with a subdued smirk. Smiling more fully, he asked, "Where is Ethan. I'm not keeping him from you?"

"He's doing some escort duty, " Shyla said, continuing to look into her beer wistfully. "He was asked to ferry back Ambassador Serek to the Spector." She brightened a little when she realized that he was now free to be contacted. "He should have arrived there today."

Looking down into his own bubbling synthohol, Cristobel very softly asked, "How do you sleep?" He'd left the tone ambiguous, to not make it obvious that he was asking for advice.

"I'm not, " she admitted, looking up at Cris and smiling her wan smile. "At least not until I'm just completely exhausted." She took a sip of beer and considered the changes in her life. "It's funny; I spent twenty years of my life sleeping alone with no problem. And two weeks with someone just undid all of it."

"Sleeping somewhere else can help," Cris offered knowingly. "But I imagine it'll make returning home alone all the harder."

"My problem should be taken care of in just a few days," Shyla said, folding her hands on the tabletop and resting her chin on them. Her sandwich was still untouched but the beer was nearly gone. She looked up at Cris. "When is Corran going to be back?"

"I don't know. I don't even have any clues on which to base hypotheses," Cristobel said, frustration edging into his voice. He shrugged helplessly. "I haven't heard from Achicar Prime since before I last talked with you. All I know is that he's gone through this comprehensive mind-body transformation. And so even when he does comes back, I don't know if he's going to be back. Y'know?"

Shyla took one hand out from under her chin and moved it to his across the table. She didn't say anything but smiled and gave him a comforting squeeze. She just wished there was something she could do or say to make it all better.

"It helps having someone to say it out loud to," Cristobel assured her softly. He hadn't needed to look into her thoughts to understand the feeling he couldn't help empathetically sensing from her. "It's like -- and I'm actually turning into a cliché with a pulse as I say this -- the jagged uncertainty that's tearing into me. Is Corran returning home or isn't he? Is he still going to love me, or isn't he? Is he going to talk, walk, think, smell, lick, sleep, eat, sing, write, breathe the same?" More uncertain than anything else, he muttered, "Am I going to love the person he is now?"

Shyla thought about the words and considered his concerns. "Your commitment to one another will count for something...at least it should," she offered finally. "I think you'll love him, Cris. I am absolutely sure that he's still going to love you." She smiled big at him. "I mean, how could anyone not love you?"

Cristobel had been fully prepared to embrace the sullen brooding he could feel rising within him, and so he tried to fight off the grin that was spreading on his face as a result of Shyla's words. In a moment of detached irony, Cris remarked, "Should I answer that in essay format or as an interpretative dance?"

"Dance!" Shyla answered enthusiastically, picking her head back up off the tabletop and resting her cheeks on both fists. She glanced down at their untouched sandwiches. "We should probably eat first. You'll need your strength."

"Mmmhmm," Cristobel smirked, unsure if he liked what he'd just agreed to. Lifting his sandwich in both hands, Cris took a large bite out of it. At first, he nodded pleasantly, as he chewed, to approve of his food selection, but as the flavours spread in his mouth, his smile turned into more of a painful grimace.

Chewing as well, Shyla shared the expression. "Well, this is really..." she began, once she had struggled with her mouthful enough. "...just horrible." She set down her sandwich and looked at Cris's sour face, which set her instantly into a giggle fit.

As Cristobel stood to get a pair of new meals from the replicator, he genuinely grinned, because he knew he had a few solid hours of distraction from Corran ahead of him. The endless night of worrying, most likely spent on the couch rather than the bed he'd shared with Corran, was still awaiting Cris, but that was still hours away.

---

"Missing In Action"
by Captain Matthew T. Salinger
and Captain William Waverly [NPC]

Location: USS Sulu, Captain's Ready Room
Stardate: 57907.29, 17h09

***

Captain Matthew Salinger slumped back in his chair, feeling like he'd been stabbed in the chest all over again. On the small comm viewscreen on his desk, Captain Waverly stared back at him, this time with none of the easygoing bravado of their last conversation. Bill Waverly's jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were fiery red. He waited impatiently for Captain Salinger to digest what he had just been told.

"How long?" Matt finally managed to ask. "How long is he overdue? When was his last check-in? Transponder logs should be able to track down his last known location. Where was the runabout last logged?"

"Storm and the Ambassador should have been with us twenty-seven hours ago." Waverly leaned forward and put his head in his hands for a long moment. "We had to pull outta 11-G," he said, his voice muffled by his palms until he dropped his hands and stared hard at the screen. "We were giving them some time to catch up. Last we heard, the Jemison was a light year out from Capella. A day and a half ago."

Matt nodded absently. "I understand," he said. "We still have a few days before we're supposed to hop through the wormhole. We'll run through the area for a sweep. I'll leave those that need to behind on the station to prepare for our departure, and...and the ship will do a search of the sector."

Waverly shook his head. "Matt, we're on it. You need to keep the Sulu at Deep Space Nine before she falls apart underneath you. We've got the Le-Matya on her way from Vulcan; the Normandy is in this sector. We're all over this."

Waverly leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, looking down at his lap. "I'm sorry to ask you this, Matt, but I gotta know... Did Storm run? Did you hit him with something so hard that he felt there was no coming back from it?"

Matt sighed. "I didn't hit him with anything other than what was warranted," he answered. "Perhaps I was even too soft on him. If he ran, it's not because of what transpired during the tribunal. If he ran, it was out of fear of having to face his childhood tormentor. When I told him where he was going, he went whiter than I've ever seen a man."

Waverly's face turned into a question mark. "What the hell are you talking about, Matt?" The incident which Storm had relayed to Salinger had been long forgotten by Waverly. In the life of a starship Captain, a little stern lecturing to your Executive Officer's misbehaving kid didn't even make a dent in the memory banks.

"It appears that he was playing a game of make-believe with something that wasn't intended to be used as a sword. You dressed him down for it, and it's stuck with him all these years. However, he was in good spirits when he left here. I don't believe he bolted, not with Ambassador Serek aboard. He's a good officer, despite the incident on Risa. He wouldn't shirk his duty, not after that."

Waverly nodded. He had known Richard Storm well and if Ethan had half the stuff his old man did, the idea that he would skip out on his ship was unlikely. "Matt, we ain't gonna sit around on this. The Spector will stay in this sector searching until we find something or until she's decommissioned. You have my word on that."

"Thanks, Bill," Matt said. "If you find anything, let me know. If I'm already through the wormhole, just send it through the relay. I want to know...I need to know."

"You're in the loop, Matt," Waverly asserted. "I promise I won't know any more than you do. I'll get Commander Littledove to set up an open channel with the Sulu and we'll update every quarter hour."

"If the Sulu can provide any resources, let me know," Matt said.

"Get your ship fixed, then we'll talk. Spector out." Waverly's face switched to that of the Federation logo.

Matt Salinger frowned. He wouldn't sit idle while a member of his crew was missing. Until the Sulu was repaired, there wasn't much he could do...but he'd be damned if he just left a man behind. Waverly may insist he had everything under control, but Storm was a member of Matt's crew and he wouldn't be left behind, orders be damned.

---

"The Creature in 22C"
by Ensign Nathalie Gui - Security Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer
& Joji - Canine Escape Artist [NPC]

Location: Crew Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.29 18h00

***

Joji's head peeked around the corner of the corridor of the Sulu's ship as she looked around. Nathalie was away somewhere with one of her friends and Joji was feeling outright angry for being left alone in Quarters without her master or the nice woman, Taylor. What else was there to do? The corgi decided to go exploring.

Ducking her head back behind the corridor, the little dog watched as a tall man walked past the corridor. He seemed to be a new officer, as Joji didn't recognize this person one bit. But what harm would it hurt in following? Quietly the little corgi followed behind, Vijay apparently oblivious to the small creature following him.

***

Sanat was heading back to his quarters from the dining room at a leisurely pace. He was tired after the introductory briefing from Lt. McKenzie and wanted to get back to his quarters to rest. Tomorrow, he would start his first duty shift and the ensign needed to be fresh for whatever happened. Vijay also needed time to familiarize himself with the various subroutines and flight protocols used on board.

{Regardless of the standardization prevalent throughout the 'fleet, every ship had its own unique control systems and nuances.}

The tall man turned a corner and stopped. Sanat turned to look but saw nothing. Odd, he mused. If he didn't know better, someone was following him. His eyes scanned the corridor one more time before he turned and continued towards the junior officer quarter's area.

***

Joji sniffed the ground with intent curiosity as she followed Sanat. No, definitely not a friend of masters...strange scent... Looking back up she quietly padded behind Sanat as he headed down the corridor. This area seemed familiar to Joji, not too far from her home if she remembered correctly.

Quickly slowing her pace Joji looked up as Sanat touched part of the wall before a door before he proceeded to enter the room. Now was her chance she remembered how these things work...1...2...3...GO! Joji quickly moved inside just as the doors whooshed shut behind.

She let out a low whimper as she examined her tail. Drats! I know I have to work on that better...uh-oh... Dashing across the room quickly Joji hurriedly made her way over to hide behind a large potted plant situated by a corner of the room.

Vijay paused when he thought he heard a funny noise behind him. He turned and looked for several seconds before deciding the door must need some maintenance. Making a mental note to himself for the express purpose of contacting Engineering in the morning, the ensign walked by an open, large glass container filled with a brown and apparently sticky substance left in the room for some unknown purpose.

He would place it in the recycling chute after getting cleaned up. It'd been a long day all things considered, and Sanat didn't give the fragile container another thought...unless this ship broke loose from DS9's docking ring. The jar would be perfectly fine where it sat on a low table across from the divan.

Stopping to rummage through his duffel on the oriental couch, the man opened it and retrieved some clean undergarments to go with his casual wear for lounging around in. Vijay started to close the bag and then opted not to. It would be more efficient to leave it open for transferring clothing to a close-by storage unit built for that purpose. With everything he needed in hand, Sanat left the living area for the bathroom.

Trotting around the plant Joji moved over to where the jar holding a strange brown substance sat. Leaning in closer Joji poked her nose into the jar to better examine the contents. The smell was strange; sweet and like some sort of candy.

Pulling her head back Joji batted at the object now caught on her nose. Not good! Fighting with her paws to get free, Joji clunked her head towards the floor only to have the jar stay on tight. Clumsily Joji knocked her head around before she eventually banged the jar into the table, shattering it to bits and causing it to fall off of her nose, which was now covered in the brown substance.

The crash was loud enough for Vijay to hear over the gurgling shower. He knew that he had a roommate named Mason Farrell, but the operations officer wasn't scheduled to return just yet. Confused by the noise, Sanat called out from the shower as he quickly decreased the water volume to hear better. "Hello? Is anyone out there?"

Turning on her heel quickly Joji's tail whapped into a second glass container, instantly releasing a feathery pollen of some kind into the air. Sneezing, Joji rubbed at her nose before she made a mad dash to hide under the couch. Whatever it was she spilled certainly bothered her nose and lungs.

Upon detecting a second sound that closely resembled glass breaking inside his living room, the ensign wrapped a damp towel around his waist and peered around the corner connecting both rooms. There was the ever so faint smell of something sweet still wafting around in the air. He couldn't see anyone present, but decided to look around just in case someone had mistakenly entered these quarters instead of the correct one by accident.

Grabbing a second towel, the human-Vulcan began drying his hair while walking over to the door. He took a moment to look at it. No. No one had opened the portal. But Vijay was certain that he had heard a noise that sounded like someone was vandalizing the place.

Joji quickly dashed underneath Sanat's legs and hurriedly the small pup made her way to hide underneath a blanket of some kind she remembered spotting earlier upon coming inside the room. Curious, she sniffed the blanket with her nose. This scent, it was familiar to her somehow...but how? Small eyes peeked from under the blanket as Joji watched Vijay, her tail oddly enough poked through a corner of the blanket like a furry submarine periscope.

The blur of movement caught his attention and Sanat snapped his head around to see what it was. He didn't see anything even as quickly as his visual acuity reoriented itself by the sudden change of direction. Shrugging to himself, the tall man moved closer to the center of the room still drying his hair. It was obviously a trick of the lights in here, or, his tired mind playing games with him. Nothing worry to about, it seemed.

I should probably get out of here. Master will be not be very happy if she finds out I snuck out...to heck with this, I gotta get outta here before I'm caught! Running out from her hiding spot Joji snuck towards the door only to see that the room's occupant spotted her...

That was when his bare foot inadvertently found the slippery substance splattered onto the room's floor surface. Sanat lost his footing as he tried to step off to pursue the small canine. Trying desperately to maintain his balance, Vijay knocked over his duffle as he fell face first into the brown goop all over the very short cropped carpet.

He landed with a thud and lay there for a minute trying to clear his head of the stars flashing in his eyes. Miraculously, the ensign had not fallen into any glass scattered around him, but one thing was certain, his clean body needed another shower. Giving himself a little more time to recover from the fall, Sanat finally propped himself up onto one elbow, and that was when he saw the potting plant falling towards him.

Joji ducked her head away as the large potted plant fell onto Sanat, covering him with potting soil, roots, and leaves. Whimpering she looked at the ground not certain as to what she should do. There had to be a way out of this room, right? The little corgi took a few steps towards where Sanat lay and cautiously sniffed the air. She hoped she didn't hurt this person. That smell? That smells like master's friend, the one who has that funny accent... Growling at Sanat her tail stood on end and her fur rose. What was this stranger doing in master's friend's home?!

The pot did less damage to Vijay's back and head than it did to his pride. Not only was he covered with some goop that adhered to his skin like a voracious Alderan leech, now there seemed to be a collage of dirt, leaves and pottery shards covering him as well. To make matters that much more ludicrous, now the canine invader was growling at him as if he'd been the transgressor in this whole bizarre affair.

Sanat glanced around him and turned back to his temporary companion. "I don't suppose you'd care to explain yourself?" When the dog looked confused by his question, the human-Vulcan started to laugh at the absurdity of this entire situation. And the more he thought about it, the funnier it got. Soon, the man was laughing heartily as he sat there in a pile of detritus covered by just a towel, and some syrup, and dirt, and now that he noticed it, a sock, and some leaves...and guarded by a short, growling dog.

***

Nathalie Gui stepped inside her and Taylor Bennett's shared Quarters and tossed her black gi jacket onto the couch. She wore a pair of long black fighting gi pants, and a white tank top, white athletic tape covering her feet and ankles.

She looked around confusedly wondering why Joji didn't attempt to tackle her upon coming home. Nathalie searched her bedroom and bathroom before coming back into the living area. Cursing in Andorian she walked over to her desk and withdrew a spare Tricorder and a small blue chip, which she attached to its top. Turning the device on she swore again, knowing all too well what Joji was up to. Exiting her Quarters Gui proceeded to search for her missing pet.

***

Mason swaggered down the corridor, bobbing his head. Two full kellicams. Two full kellicams of data in one of the subprocessor kernels had come up corrupted during the shift diagnostic. And that new Lektar ensign had gotten off shift. Which meant he'd theoretically had to go spend hours in the computer core finding the problem, fixing it, and trying to recover data. And he'd gotten it done in thirty minutes. Sometimes it was good to be so good.

Nathalie had been so deeply into reading from the Tricorder that she barely noticed the other officer in time; collision averted Gui continued to read from the Tricorder as she tried to sidestep the officer only to have her movements mirrored. Stopping she spoke as she continued reading, "Look, crewman, if you wanted to dance with someone that badly do it on your own damned time."

"No time like the present," Farrell quipped, sweeping her into his arms and waltzing her around the corridor, humming a bit.

Nathalie nearly dropped the Tricorder by the response she had altogether not expected from the other officer. Though after seeing it was none other than Mason himself, she knew better. Laughing Nathalie pushed herself away from Mason. "Do you do this to all the women you meet, or just unsuspecting Security Officers?" she deadpanned.

"Unsuspecting anybody," he chuckled. "You've got to catch people completely by surprise so they don't beat the hell out of you." He looked at her tricorder. "What are you doing out here with a tricorder and your ass-whuppin pants? On the prowl for hot men?"

"Joji snuck out. I'm trying to figure out where she ran off to...you didn't see her running around at all did you?" Nat asked.

Farrell thought a moment. "Nope," he shook his head.

Cursing Nathalie pulled out her Tricorder and began to tap away on it again. "Well it seems that's the least of our problems now. You have two unidentified Intruders in your Quarters," she stated gravely, looking up.

"Well, I'm supposed to be getting new roommate. I wonder who the second could be, though."

He opened the door and he and Nathalie took in the scene.

Laughter rolled out of the room as they opened the door. By the divan and coffee table, sat 'it'...the Creature. Composed of a disgusting combination of stuff, 'it' was laughing...and laughing hard. Situated around the creature was an odd slurry of clothes, dirt, leaves, broken glass, the remains of a potted plant, and whatever else could be imagined. And by the door sat a small-befuddled dog that looked up as they entered to confront 'it.'

"What the hell?" Farrell said absently, looking at the wreck of the room, and the wreck on the floor.

The half human, half Vulcan man managed to stop laughing. Sanat, AKA, the Creature, made a crooked Vulcan hand greeting and hoarsely said, "Greetings!" He was going to add, "Take me to your leader, Earthlings!" but neither human looked all that amused, so Vijay motioned at the mess and shrugged. "It seems that I had an accident," he said with a wry smile developing on his encrusted face.

"Cut the crap, state your full name and rank before I have you hauled down to the Brig for breaking and entering," Gui remarked sternly, stepping forward.

He raised an eyebrow (not that anyone could possibly see it beneath his impromptu urban camouflage). Who was this woman that dared challenge his right to be in these quarters? Moving his look from one golden-flocked uniformed officer to the other dressed in what appeared to be a martial arts uniform...at least a partial one, Sanat replied in an even voice without changing his grin, "And judging by your uniform, you are?"

"Ensign Nathalie Gui of ship's Security, and you are? The creature from the Black Lagoon?" she asked sarcastically.

The Creature answered dryly, "Yes...so it would seem." He started to stand and then remembered his skimpy clothing ensemble: one damp towel. Shifting to make his position a little more comfortable, and consequently dropping more unnamable things onto the floor; Vijay, keeping his smile fixed, answered, "Oh, just an ensign are you? There for a moment, I thought I was being addressed by the Chief of Security." Although he was calm and arrogant on the outside, he was beginning to seethe on the inside.

"I just cleaned the place up," Farrell said absently, still processing the disaster of the room.

Who does this ensign think she is?! Surely she can't be serious about throwing me in the brig?! The flight controller kept his eyes fixed on the female antagonist as he waited to see what she would do next. But then, the great mastermind behind this whole scheme stepped out into full view.

Joji waddled over and presented herself for appreciation.

Nathalie glared down at her pet who, like Sanat, only to a lesser degree, had a smudge of the brown gunk on her nose, and small bits of dirt and leaves clung to her fur. "You, I should have known you'd be involved in this somehow..." Joji lowered her head guilty as charged and quietly moved to hide behind Mason's legs. Poking her head around his ankles she whimpered.

Holding her head in her hands Gui then mumbled, "Mase, I'm so, so sorry...if there's some way I can repair the damage or make this up to you...I'm sorry..."

"Take it easy, Nat, it's not the end of existence or anything," Farrell said, making a calming gesture. "But, we still don't know who you are, oh great guru of the sticky dirt," he said mildly to Vijay.

The Guru turned and looked over at 'Mase.' Sanat thought, Ah. I see. So, this must be my new roommate. That's why he hadn't moved in to place me under protective custody.

Slowly speaking, wry smile intact, he asked, "Ensign Mason Farrell I presume?" When Farrell nodded at his entreaty, Sticky Dirt continued, "Ensign Sanat Vijay. Sorry 'bout the mess. I didn't realize you would be returning to our quarters so soon today."

He smiled broadly, but it was only for show. The fact that Gui's dog had created this quagmire of mayhem in the first place was still stoking his emotional furnace upwards, especially given the woman's attitude towards him. Sanat realized that he had to keep things passive, under control, to avoid hurling a long string of obscenities at Nathalie and her dog. He quipped with a mild tone laced with sarcasm, "But as you can see...I'm still entertaining my guest here."

Farrell sucked his teeth and looked at Joji. The little corgi put her head down and covered her nose with her paws. He looked at Nathalie.

Nathalie looked up at Sanat's sarcastic comment, and immediately felt her heart sink at realizing the one she accused was a partial owner of this room. Mason's new roommate. "Mason, Ensign Vijay, I'm very, very sorry for what happened...my pet...the accused," she stated dryly, looking over at her pet before continuing: "Joji...has a terrible habit of sneaking out of my Quarters. When she usually does, well she sometimes gets into trouble. I think her main reason for sneaking out is not so she can go cause trouble, but rather just find company...while I'm gone. I still, to this day, do not know how she gets out...but..." She looked to Sanat and then to Mason. "I'm really sorry for any trouble she has caused. If there is any way I can make this up to you, Ensign Vijay, name it and it will be done."

Both eyebrows rose at her words. Her unexpected apology had the effect on him just like a pressure cooker venting its pent up steam. Sanat's anger deflated almost as fast as it had built up. Almost. There was just enough left for one final jab, "Well. A most curious thing...a security officer who can't lock up her own pet...." It was to a degree, a decidedly delicious irony indeed.

His wry grin turned to a small smirk.

Satisfied that his displeasure had been acknowledged properly, with a causal nod he said, "Apology accepted, Ensign Gui." Sanat let his face transition once again to the typical neutral appearance he used most frequently. Inside he exclaimed, Just keep that dog away from me!

Picking Joji up into her arms Gui then simply remarked, "Mason, Sanat... I'll...we'll be going before my friend gets into more trouble." Exiting the duo's Quarters, Nat proceeded to head back to her own. One crewman walking down the hall passed by the open room as Gui was just exiting and quickly backed away upon seeing her glare. He looked back at the room not knowing whether to laugh or otherwise flee the scene, disavowing all knowledge.

Gui could only imagine how fast this rumor would fly around the ship.

As their door closed, Sanat, AKA the Creature, stood up and started shambling towards the bathroom for his second shower of the afternoon. Passing a befuddled looking Mason Farrell, Vijay pointed to a vacant spot on the floor, "Some Arnassion Swamp Lilies might look good over there." Without waiting for a reply, Vijay entered the bathroom and closed the door.

In his wake lay several mucky footsteps from the Creature of 22C.

---

"An Enchanted Evening"
by Lieutenant (J.G.) Arthas Hex - Deputy Chief of Security
And Ensign Cecily Torsten - Yeoman

Location: USS Sulu//Deep Space Nine
Stardate: 57907.29 18h10

***

Two weeks. 14 Days. 336 Hours. 20,160 minutes.

It had been two weeks since Arthas Hex, the Sulu's Deputy Chief of Security, thought to hell with it and walked over to sit across from Cecily Torsten, the Sulu's Yeoman, in the lounge.

Since then, the pair had indulged in the Holodeck, had a private dinner, a few more drinks in the lounge and also a walk in the arboretum.

The small time they had spent together had not been through choice. Unfortunately Cecily spent her time on Alpha shift, and when she finished Arthas manned the Tactical station during Beta shift.

All this changed today however. Arthas had managed to change his duty shift for two days, attending the security office for two days during Alpha shift.

Now the pair of young lovers had the opportunity to use Deep Space Nine's many facilities or perhaps a trip to Bajor.

Arthas smiled broadly as he headed to Cecily's quarters to tell her the good news.

Tapping the door chime button he waited for Cecily to open the door.

Cecily looked up upon hearing the chime to her Quarters ring. Instinctively she want to answer the door but she stopped as she looked herself over in her bathroom mirror; she was wearing a white terrycloth robe and her hair was freshly wet from just using the shower.

"Just a second!" she called out before hurrying across her Quarters. Quickly Cecily donned a pair of black cargo style pants and threw on a well-worn grey Starfleet Academy tank-top. Toweling her hair she walked to the door and called out, "Come!"

The double-doors parted and Arthas looked inside.

Looking Cecily up and down he said, smiling, "New uniform?"

She laughed before proceeding to snap her towel at Arthas. "No! This hardly qualifies as a uniform...so what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Arthas shrugged. "Got lost," he replied, the grin remaining.

Cecily laughed again before remarking, "Seriously what's up? Aren't you supposed to be on duty right now?"

"I got sacked." Arthas laughed, looking around her quarters.

Turning to face her he saw her impatient face. "Sorry." He laughed. "I've got news."

"News? What kind of news?" Her features grew worried for a moment, wondering if the news was good or bad...or both.

"Good news," he smiled. "You know that we haven't seen a lot of each other, due to the shifts..."

"Yeah we haven't got much time to see each other have we?"

"Well, seeing as though DS9 will be the last stop for a while, I asked a few people for favors and switched my shift for the next two days." Arthas smiled.

Beaming Cecily threw her arms around Arthas' neck in a hug. "That's great! So, then you and I are on the same shift for the next two days?" she asked, pulling back briefly.

"Today I have a day off, tomorrow and the next day I am on the same shift. We have 3 nights free ahead of us," Arthas beamed.

Letting out a squeal of pure delight Cecily wrapped her arms more snugly around Arthas and kissed his cheek before she pulled back to look into his eyes; her expression clearly reading pure joy. "That's even better, this is so great! What should we do?"

"Uh, get to the station perhaps? They're bound to have a restaurant or something. Have you eaten tonight?" Arthas asked.

Cecily shook her head. "No, I haven't."

Arthas thrust his arm in between her arm and announced, "Well, Milady. I am going to take you for a romantic meal."

Giggling she replied, "Sounds wonderful. Um...you think I should change first?" she asked, gesturing to her current outfit.

"No, it will give me something to look at." Arthas smiled, taking his arm back. "Go, on. Get changed, I'll wait here."

"You're terrible!" she remarked, playfully swatting him on the arm. " 'Kay be back in a bit." Cecily hurried off to her room and proceeded to find something more appropriate to wear. After doing a little digging around she settled on a pair of blue pants and a matching halter top. She put on a pair of flat shoes that went with the outfit. After changing Cecily returned to greet Arthas.

"This outfit okay?"

Arthas smiled and said "Näytät hyvältä." (Translation: 'You look great' in Finnish)

She gasped in surprise at hearing him speak in her native tongue. "I had no idea you spoke Finnish!" she added, smiling.

Arthas laughed. "I don't. I was a little bored and decided to look up some phrases. But I wasn't lying. I feel under-dressed," he said, looking at his uniform.

"Oh I think you look great in uniform," she remarked, reaching out to grab both of his hands. "Or if you feel that under-dressed we can use my Replicator to make something you'd rather wear..." she stated, smirking.

"If you think I look great, then who am I to argue," Arthas said, taking her arm again and walking toward the door.

"Have you had the inoculation yet? There's a virus on the station," Arthas said.

"Yes, I had to go to Sickbay not too long ago, and Doctor Kremer inoculated me before I left...so I'm safe."

"Me too," Arthas replied. "Let's head to the airlock."

"Okay, lead the way," Cecily added, smiling.

***Deep Space Nine - Promenade***

Arthas and Cecily walked, arm in arm down the long length of Deep Space Nine's promenade. Not unlike a long main street in cities across the alpha quadrant. Hundreds of different races converged on the station daily, exploiting its many highlights, during anything from business deals to holidays or to time off.

The busy corridor's high walls were littered with different shops, restaurants and cafés.

They passed Quark's bar, busy as usual. Once away from the loud noise emanating from the establishment Arthas turned to Cecily.

"What type of food would you like?" he asked.

"I've never had Bajoran food before, should we try that?" she asked, looking back to Arthas.

"Sure. I've tried it once before and enjoyed it," Arthas replied. "I'm sure there will be plenty of places to get some Bajoran food."

"Cool, so any place in particular you know of here?"

"No, I wish I had, though. Some many places to choose from..." Arthas shrugged. "We'll have to go on instinct."

"My spidey sense is tingling. Let's go there!" she stated, gesturing to a restaurant down the way.

Arthas frowned but nodded in agreement. "You have a 'spider sense'?"

She laughed as she and Arthas walked into the restaurant arm in arm. "An old Terran joke, I'll explain it to you sometime, come on."

"Alright." Arthas smiled, still unsure about the saying.

The pair walked into the Bajoran restaurant and were quickly ushered to seats near the window. The male waiter kindly helped Cecily into her seat and left Arthas to tuck himself into the table.

"Would either of you like to order beverages?" the waiter asked.

Arthas looked to Cecily and said, "Some Bajoran wine perhaps. Do you like wine?"

She nodded. "Yes, wine sounds good."

Arthas nodded at the waiter. "We'll have some wine please, I don't mind which type."

The waiter nodded, placing two menus on the table and backed away, leaving the pair of them alone again. The restaurant had a very welcoming atmosphere to it. Dimmed lights and dark furniture combined to give a warm feeling to the place. Arthas and Cecily felt extremely comfortable sitting inside, shielded from the noise from the promenade outside, yet being able to look out at the people briskly marching by.

"This is a really nice place," Arthas commented, mostly to himself.

"It certainly is a very nice place, cozy," she added, looking around.

Turning her attention back to Arthas, she glanced down at her menu briefly before looking back at the handsome Trill sitting across from her. "So any place in particular you wanted to show me, Arthas, after we eat?"

Arthas looked over to Cecily and smiled, taking his small hands into hers. "I can't tell you, it's a surprise," he remarked, a coy grin on his face.

"A surprise? Oh come on just one hint..." she teased.

Nuzzling his nose against hers, Arthas leaned closer to Cecily as though to impart a secret between just her and himself. Whispering in her ear he remarked, "The third letter in the word is "L"..."

"L? I dunno...a lot of words can have "L" in them...jolt? Call? Oh! Holosuite?" she asked excitedly. Arthas nodded, smiling as Cecily beamed at him, eager for more info. "What kind of program? Can you tell me, Arthas? Come on please?"

The Trill laughed heartfully as he dropped a quick peck on his lovely Terran lady's cheek. "It wouldn't be a surprise now then would it? I promise you this, you won't be disappointed. Just remember, don't forget your dancing shoes before we go." One of the workers returned with a bottle of the wine they had selected and poured the couple a glass each before acknowledging them that the waiter would return shortly to take their orders.

Lifting up her glass of wine, Cecily watched as the worker left before holding up her glass to Arthas. "So, to an Enchanted Evening?"

Smiling Arthas lifted his own glass. "To an Enchanted Evening." Clinking their glasses together the two toasted one another as they drank in celebration of the night they were spending together.

---

"Air Fresheners, Room Assignments and Admirals"
By Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
and Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer

Location: Officer Quarters, USS Hikaru Sulu
Stardate: 57097.29 18h30

***

The shower felt good.

Slowly, but surely, the water was rinsing out what was left of the 'incident,' cleansing his body of the last elements from a bizarre encounter from Hell with a certain runaway dog. However, the life giving liquid couldn't wash all elements of this sordid affair away...an over zealous officer named Ensign Nathalie Gui, who by the way, tried to ram him into the brig for no other reason than falling down in his own quarters had made sure of that.

"What gives on this ship anyway?" he wondered aloud.

Her 'let's shoot first' attitude really made him rankle at the thought of future visits by the trim security specialist to their quarters. It was obvious to a blind man with a forty-meter Klingon pain stick that she and Mason were friends of a sort. What kind, well, he intended to find that out, eventually. Just to ensure his self-preservation from her maniacal dog, Joji, if for no other pertinent reason. Sanat stuck his head under the steaming water to finish removing some leftover goop from Mason's opened jar. The container made an odd addition to the freshly painted room they were assigned; and the spacious quarters were also larger than his last accommodations. It seemed the Operations staff had a lot of pull when it came to plush room assignments.

Ensign Mason Farrell must have connections, he thought wryly.

In a way Vijay was glad Farrell was there to keep things on an even keel. The human-Vulcan was close to saying a few choice words that once spoken could not be taken back. Especially with regards to humans...he had learned that lesson the hard way...several times in fact. They never seemed to forget what was shouted in anger. Shrugging to no one in particular, he turned the shower off and proceeded to dry himself....

***

Farrell regarded the room with mild disdain. The carpet was a disaster. He'd need to get a recycler in here to clean it. It had been such a nice room earlier. He was replicating cloths and detergent supplies when Vijay returned from his shower.

***

He came out of the bathroom in a short, loose gray cotton shirt and sweat pants. Noticing Mason's progress with their temporary swamp, Sanat bent over onto his knees to assist Farrell. "I see you left something for me to clean up. Good." His face held a hint of irony.

Farrell tossed him a couple of cloths with a half-smile. "You sure know how to make an entrance, Vijay."

His mind immediately speculated, Yes. It will take some time to top that one. But what message did I send exactly? That I like chasing small dogs around in my quarters dressed only in a damp towel?

Snatching them from the air, Sanat returned the smile with a small one of his own. "They say the first impression is a lasting one." Positioning a cloth in his left hand, he bent over slightly to begin scrubbing the divan in order to remove a viscous layer of the unholy combination mixed by Joji. Without pausing from his work, Vijay added as a matter-of-fact, "Although that...high-strung woman you brought along makes me believe I need to polish my approach somewhat."

Farrell chuckled. "Nat's a pussycat. She's transferring into security is all, so she's a little intense sometimes. You know security types." Farrell puffed up and stuck out his chest. "You talkin' to me?" he said with mocking menace.

Sanat turned his head to glance at Mason's overstated impression. The ensign's dark eyes signaled his mirth at what Farrell was saying. Yes, he knew the type all right. Luckily, TJ Hooker, AKA Nathalie Gui, wasn't carrying a phaser...things might have truly gotten ugly...for Vijay anyway. He stopped to review his cleaning thus far. It wasn't working very well, so the ensign grabbed the other cloth to scrub some more; in the process of doing so, he asked, "A friend of yours?"

"Yep," Farrell answered, picking glass off the carpet and piling it on the table. "We came aboard the same day." He shook his head with a grin. "You know, the air freshener in this pot was supposed to last months."

Sanat made a wide sweeping motion with one hand while still scrubbing with the other. "Obtaining more will not be a chore for one so obviously proficient in procurement." The meaning was crystal clear to both parties present. Vijay simply grinned after making his point and went back to scrubbing, but with both hands now. The stain was proving to be a little more stubborn than he originally thought.

"I can neither confirm nor deny your assessment of my proficiency," Farrell drawled with a sly smile that confirmed it well enough. "I think we're going to need to recycle some of this furniture."

Pausing long enough to emit a muted, "Uh huh," Sanat increased his arm pressure to rub harder. But it only made the stain worse. He resisted an urge to mention what he thought of its parentage verbally, but finally asked his roommate instead, "What was in this syrup? Deuterium?"

"I don't know, really," Farrell replied. "It was some kind of organic air purifier and scent. I picked it up on Risa, and figured I'd try it out in the new quarters here. All the syrupy chemicals are supposed to evaporate over the course of weeks, leaving water that's easily recycled." He thought a moment. "You know, maybe if we just left it, it would turn to water. That would certainly make it easier to clean. I wonder how long it would take?"

Looking up at Mason's admission about the room, Vijay queried, "New room? This wasn't your original quarters?" He stopped rubbing the stain from perdition. Maybe Farrell's plan might work after all. It wouldn't make things any worse; it took someone else's dog for that.

"Nah," Farrell shook his head. "I had a little barracks-style thing before. When we started shuffling stuff around for the new personnel coming aboard, I went ahead and upgraded. A little perk of the Ops post," he winked.

Inside he smiled. "Ah." He was going to like having a roommate with connections such as Mason had. Maybe that meant he could wrangle a few extra hours of holodeck time for flying...if the ensign from Ops could be persuaded to rearrange the schedule a little.

Sanat tossed both rags onto the floor.

Trying to prod Mason about his level of operational responsibility without being too overt about it, the flight controller asked, "And how far is your reach, Ensign Farrell?"

Farrell laughed. "That's classified," he quipped. "I'm sure you'll hear all about my reach from the rumor mill. I assure you, it's all true," he finished with a smile.

The flight controller's eyes twinkled at the lie. So Mason Farrell was a gambler, and maybe even a prankster. This could be amusing. "Well, I suppose if we believe the rumor mill...your next promotion will be to Fleet Admiral, correct?" In a discreet fashion, Vijay had just called Mason a deceiver. An exaggerator of immense proportions; in short, a lying scoundrel.

"Sounds good, don't it?" Farrell laughed again, tucking his hand into his tunic like Napoleon and striking a majestic pose.

Putting his hands on his knees, Sanat answered with a touch of humor on his face, "Yes. Quite. So Admiral, do we wait to see if all this stuff becomes water? Or do we call in your staff to handle it?"

"We wait, I think. My staff's too busy brokering Galactic peace. I will, of course, take all the credit. Admiral's prerogative."

It was a good retort, enough for Vijay to chuckle in return. Giving Farrell a serious look that belied the sound of his statement: "Well as an Admiral, you are fully aware of the stipulations in Starfleet Regulation 101-2, Chapter 17, Paragraph 5, then." He raised his eyebrow for emphasis, "When a superior officer witnesses the humiliation of a subordinate in the line of duty, he must buy that officer a drink."

Farrell nodded sagely. "A fine regulation, that. I think I'll go ahead and do the buying myself, seeing as how my staff's busy and all."

They both laughed, and left the room to obey the cardinal rule that had governed bachelors from the beginning of time: Never clean when there's drinking to be done.

---

"Retrospect"
by Ensign Nathalie Gui - Communications Specialist

Location: USS Sulu/Nathalie Gui & Taylor Bennett's Quarters
Stardate: 57907.29 18h50

***

Lowering her head onto her knees Nathalie Gui let out a long heavy sigh. It had been almost an hour now since the incident with Joji, Mason, and his new room-mate Sanat. Why oh why the day had turned out the way it had to now she didn't know.

Upon leaving Mason's Quarters Nathalie returned home and spent a good half hour or so cleaning the gunk from Joji's paws and nose, successfully, though not without getting some of it on her herself in return from the troublesome dog. It seemed that one way or another Nat was going to have to spend a good amount of time cleaning off herself just to get the mystery goop off her hair, nails and skin.

Joji, thankfully to Nathalie's relief, now spent the majority of her time hiding away in a dark corner of Nathalie's room. The little dog knew she was in very big trouble and the last thing she wanted to do was upset her master further...she knew Gui could carry quite a temper when she was upset and Joji didn't seem very intent on seeing it surface again like earlier at Farrell and Vijay's shared quarters.

Nathalie on the other hand....she was feeling a number of things: angry, upset, embarrassed, confused. Nathalie was certain she would not dare wish to encounter or have anything to do with Sanat Vijay, especially not after today's miniature fiasco. It was altogether blindingly obvious that things seemed to have started off on the wrong foot already. If there was only a way everyone could be happy and she could make peace.

She couldn't help but laugh in spite of herself. Considering how well she managed to survive Lieutenant T'Kal's little survival course, she should be feeling anything but happy, proud even. The exercise itself still hung freshly in her mind along with its encounters.

She had managed to fend off and evade a small army of bloodthirsty cannibals that would just as soon eat her alive than to let her retrieve water from their underground springs for both herself and the injured shuttle pilot to drink. Keep the shuttle's pilot alive long enough until she could send a signal for help to the Sulu using her scientific knowledge of the stars and astronomy. Oh yes and she had also tangoed with a vicious desert worm that wanted both her and the pilot for its next meal.

That giant worm beast of the desert, a worthy opponent in itself seemed almost like a welcoming challenge to face with right now than that with which she had dealt today...

Lifting her head up Nathalie fell back onto her bed. Maybe it was just her, but God certainly seemed to have a sense of humor about life...

---

"Getting Daring"
By Ensign Ainsley Chambers - Ship's Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Lounge
Stardate: 57097.29 19h00

***

Vijay's face wrinkled up in puzzlement. "A dare?"

But before Farrell could explain further, Stencil set up their third round.

Vijay put down his empty glass and picked up the full one containing a reddish drink known as an Antares Fireball. He was sipping his drinks and keeping up a steady pace of imbibing comparable to Mason's.

They both watched a bombshell of a woman walk up to where they were standing and order a Venusian Corkscrew. She possessed jet-black hair and a really pert set of lips. And her eyes...they were an icy blue color that really contrasted well with her olive hued complexion. Her body was as impressive as her face, athletic, toned, but with enough curvaceous female contours to make any man pine for a chance to explore them.

The woman would be quite a catch.

While the Bolian bar tender started making her frothy yellow-looking drink, she turned and began critically appraising the Texan. After performing what could be termed as an 'intense visual scan,' she smiled and winked at him.

He looked his roommate in the eye after she walked away purposely swaying her hips for them to admire. Well, for Farrell anyway. "Are you genetically enhanced in some way?" Sanat asked before taking another sip. That was the third woman this evening to approach the pair, but they only appeared to be interested in Farrell.

"It's all reputation," Farrell said. "Ladies look at Crewman Davies the same way. It's an odd thing. Women don't like to be treated like objects, but they also do. It's a damn tough thing to figure out."

Sanat was not totally convinced that Farrell's reputation was the sole reason he seemed to be the star attraction tonight. Looking back at the dark-haired beauty that was still casting an occasional glance in their general direction, he said, "I think your reputation has become perception for a few onboard this ship."

Swiveling back around to face the bar, Vijay finished the small portion of liquid left in his glass and then selected an ice cube to chew on while they sat there. He wasn't quite ready for another drink yet and was still contemplating Farrell's apparent sex appeal.

"You're probably right," Farrell said flatly. "You ought to go get yourself a reputation."

"Oh?" He turned and regarded Mason with a curious look barely etched on his half-Vulcan face. Crunching the last portion of ice and swallowing it: "And how might one such as myself accomplish this? I mean, how can I possibly improve upon rolling around in organic air freshener on the floor dressed only in a towel?"

"Don't worry. That particular secret's safe with me," Farrell grinned. "See, you've got a clean slate. And this is a small ship. So whatever you do is going to automatically start building a reputation. Pick the one you want, and work on it."

Vijay let Mason's words sink past the slight buzz he had built up from his three drinks earlier. Due in part to his partial Vulcan physiology, alcohol did not produce as a fast a high as it might for a regular full-blooded human, and synthehol, barely scratched the surface in terms of purposeful inebriation. "So if I understand you correctly, one should not let their actions determine their...social standing?"

Stencil walked up and asked, " 'Nother round gentleman?"

Shaking his head no, Sanat lifted his glass to his mouth for another ice cube. After a moment of gently jostling the beverage container, he found one to his liking and tipped the glass just far enough for the intended target to slide into his mouth.

Farrell waved Stencil off politely and carried on. "Your actions will determine your social standing, like it or not. I'm saying you need to figure out what kind of social standing you want, and act accordingly. Reputation becomes perception. If you want women to think of you sexually first, sleep with a few. If you want them to think you're nice, be helpful and polite."

As Mason spoke, Sanat barely raised his brow at the words. It seemed that he had two choices: 1) to become a gigolo, or, 2) to become a monk...it didn't seem like there was any room between those two extremes for someone like him according to the sagely, worldly Mason Farrell.

The human-Vulcan let his mask slip a little as a modicum of doubt crept through his typically reserved behavior. "And...?"

"And what?" Farrell asked. "What kind of reputation do you want on this ship?"

"Yes." The answer was direct and quite blunt. There wasn't much in the way of emotion in his voice as he observed the man from Texas. It was perhaps the best way to gauge how his roommate thought about conducting one's self in regards to private interaction(s). In practical terms, Sanat was trying to learn the social conventions of the Sulu before committing himself to a course of action. He was the atypical crossbred Vulcan.

As physiology went, Vijay, for whatever reason, had never experienced Ponn Farr as a true Vulcan would every seven or so years. The genetic, possibly galactic, oversight also lent itself to his physical features too...one had to take a good look at Sanat Vijay to determine that his heritage contained both human and Vulcan DNA.

Consequently, he could and occasionally did, have sex with whatever partner he desired at the time. Or desired him. Sanat did not have to wait for timeless Vulcan primeval urges to make 'whoopee' or conduct a sexual relationship with whatever woman happened along. It was more a situation of finding a willing partner without certain entanglements that concerned him.

"Yes, you want a reputation?" Mason smiled. "Do you want a good one or a bad one? Speaking as one who's been here for a while, let me encourage you to go for the 'nice guy' rep first. On this ship, sex will likely come to you, trust me."

He considered his roommate's words for a moment. "Sounds logical. Too bad many women misinterpret one for the other," Sanat smiled adding, "And vice versa." Vijay put down his cup, and leaned on the countertop with his right elbow. "So, Admiral. Do we put this question to your staff, or, do you have a suggestion as how I might obtain a nice reputation?"

"As my staff is busy with the Galactic Peace conference, I'll go ahead and answer directly," Farrell winked. "Just be nice. Be polite, be personable, and be pleasant. Once you establish a reputation as somebody that people enjoy being around, you'll start attracting women that you'll want to be with."

"That can be tough, though," Farrell continued. "As guys, more often than not we're looking for the bedroom angle, but I'll tell you from experience that on this ship that's a bad plan. So we both need to change our thinking just a little bit. A shiny new strip of latinum says that you won't do the next thing a woman asks, without even thinking of payback."

"Ah yes, the proposition you mentioned earlier. A dare." He shifted his posture away from the bar. Giving it a little thought, Vijay summarized out loud, "You want me to perform whatever challenge you conceive for a strip of latinum? Correct?" Without waiting for a response, he continued, "And that applies to whatever the next woman requests of me?"

"Correct."

It seemed like a harmless enough wager. At the rate women came up to him as opposed to Mason...it was unlikely that he'd ever have to act on whatever was suggested anyway. Thinking back to something his first CO always said, Sanat replied with a glib, "Done and done."

"Good deal," Farrell thumped the table for emphasis, then stood. "I'm technically on duty, so I'd better get back to it. I'll be listening for rumors of your niceness," he smiled with genuine humor.

Sanat returned the smile and quipped, "I'm sure they will be many and varied."

Farrell turned and left, passing and giving a friendly greeting to a smallish blonde woman as he went. She watched him go for a few moments, and Vijay shook his head again, wondering again if Farrell was genetically enhanced in some way. Sanat sighed silently; things were bound to get quiet now with Farrell absent from the lounge area. The man turned back towards the bar and looked at his empty glass pondering what would become of this bet he'd made with his roommate.

After watching Mason leave the lounge and making sure he wasn't coming back Ainsley turned back towards the bar. She was here on a mission and Mason showing up at the wrong time could ruin it all. She spied the half Vulcan sitting at the bar and approached him.

"Ensign Vijay?"

Her voice snapped him out of his reverie. Sanat swiveled the stool around to see who might be calling his name...it was bizarre though, hearing his name being called by a female crewmember he hadn't formally met. As his seat stopped, he noted standing before him was a very attractive blond woman, the same one that had greeted Mason as he left 10 Forward.

Letting his eyes scan the small human, Sanat decided she was very pretty with her pale blue eyes and long golden hair. She was short, but well built and proportioned...all over. His face impassive, he cleared his throat, "Yes?"

"Ainsley Chambers." She held out her hand for him to shake.

Vijay gently shook her proffered hand. Releasing it he said, "Pleased to meet you." As she let her arm drop, Sanat asked, "May I address you as Ainsley?"

"Yes, please," she responded with a smile. "What should I call you?"

A small grin painted itself upon his face. "Sanat." The half Vulcan waited for her to make the next move; he was trying to follow Mason's advice after all; one never knew about these things, it might just work this being helpful and nice.

She decided to get right to the point. "I understand that you are Mason's new roommate."

---

"Growing Pains"
By: Dr. Corran Quezith

Location: DSS Delphin
Stardate: 57907.29, 19h50

***

There was a chilling vibration about the Delphin as it traveled in its unusual manner, moving through subspace realms that presented an alternative strata of reality that held a different attenuation to normal space, and it was that very sensation that had restricted Corran to his quarters for most of the day.

He had spent the morning exercising his mind, reaching out to the diverse lifeforms onboard, acquainting himself with their conscious and subconscious thoughts...it had been all that he could do to adjust, but then he'd stepped out of his quarters. The very moment he'd moved outside of his comfortable and protected quarters, his mind had been assaulted by something mimicking a horrifying scream.

It had taken the better part of an hour and eating with Captain Adair, but eventually he'd finally identified it as how the specific realm through which they traveled existed as a telepathically detectable presence.

Although interesting, he could live without it, and leave it to the professionals back home to study such things.

But it did make him wonder whether or not they were somehow hurting the fabric of subspace or space...it implied a great consciousness existing to that very fabric, and philosophically it didn't sound so farfetched, but again: he'd leave that discussion for someone's company and for some other time when he wasn't trying to reintegrate into a non-Achicarian society.

However, night had fallen onboard the Delphin, and there would be no more socializing excepting with the few crew members that handled the night shift and sleepless people. Normally that would have been enough to entice him into meeting new people, into exploring their psyches to see what he could learn about them and if they could become friends or how they could become friends, but even that had changed about him.

He sighed uneasily as he sat down in front of a viewport with a soothing herbal tea. There were no true starstreaks to be seen, no outer space, as the ship traveled across an enormous distance to Deep Space Nine. It wasn't a discomforting sight, what he saw, it was rather bizarre. Colors and shapes swarmed by the ship and the ship traveled through many of them in this near senseless realm...it was much like being under the effects of hallucinogenic drugs.

That brought him around to thinking about something else entirely: practicing medicine yet again. He knew how he would handle the ship's arboretum. He knew he was arriving to his own quarters. He knew he had to talk to Cristobel about that situation in particular... What he didn't know and was most afraid of was returning to medicine, and beginning as a doctor in the Federation.

It wasn't all that different, but it did have subtle differences, and there were hundreds of different races to consider. It would be very much like returning to medical school, only in this case, there was no telepathic database available. He would not be able to simply immerse himself in the enormous world of Federation medicine much like he and his classmates had done on Achicar Prime.

There was a project to translate Federation data over to telepathic datacores and viceversa, but there was a fundamental issue with it. Telepathic databases were more comprehensive, more detailed, more empirical, much like interacting with a holodeck, just adding a telepathic content to the media. Reading padds, like he'd been doing for weeks, had been tedious and very unenlightening. He knew the cause and effects of the diverse and miniscule details to every aspect of medicine now, with some more to take on, but it was essentially just blind information.

Had he practiced on a holodeck?

Yes. On the Delphin on his way home. It too had been rather tedious, for holograms on a holodeck did not have an emotional presence. Simulators back on Achicar Prime could primarily be provided by means of collective minds joining together for a session where they would simulate an artificial environment with their joined minds...from there, they would role play, or present experiences perceived during their lives. Whatever suited the situation best.

The problem with Achicarian simulations to this day was: they only encompassed, mostly, the world of the Achicarians. Corran had been one of a reduced group to experience the Federation lifestyle, and even then it had been incomplete. He'd been an inadequate telepathic receptor to truly be able to pass on experiences and information to others - mainly because of having fallen ill - also because he hadn't been practicing medicine.

In all this and more lay his insecurities towards the future. He was a capable doctor, but he had to balance his growing receptive ability with his practice and his understanding of each different race and how they perceived their sensations and emotions, or if they had those or more categories to take in mind.

Wait a minute...

As if there hadn't been enough to consider in his list, somehow it had evaded him to this moment that he would be working with Cristobel in Sickbay. That could be beneficial in some ways, but also detrimental in others...

Was he actually afraid of letting Cris see his weak side?

It couldn't be that, or at least he hoped to convince himself of otherwise.

Maybe it was vanity from a different aspect...maybe he'd never concerned himself with Cristobel professionally because they had worked separately for most occasions if not all. Cristobel was a nurse, a division of medicine in Federation culture that wasn't quite so refined in Achicarian culture (most medical personnel were that precisely, and if someone didn't know how to do something, they accessed the Community to receive help).

There was no way that he considered Cristobel less for being a nurse.

No...he knew what it was. Ever since he'd started falling ill he'd felt that he'd disappointed Cristobel in more ways than one. He had begun changing because of his ailment, and neither had known why until he'd practically had one foot onto the transporter pad that beamed him over to the Delphin. His recuperation had been lengthy as well...and he hadn't stayed in touch with Cris.

Now he was just coming back and he hadn't even had the decency to tell him, in fact, he'd hoped for secrecy. He was ashamed because this very person that would return would be unlike anything Cris had known of him before. He was afraid he wouldn't be well received, but more specifically, that it might just cost their friendship and relationship altogether.

He sipped his tea in the hopes it would quench such a fear, but the reasoning wasn't very shaky, it was a real possibility. Separate quarters and a different persona would make for questions and doubts, which could be answered telepathically, but there was no consolation prize: only a decision.

He had run out of options. It would be up to Cris and no one else, not even himself. He couldn't change who he'd become without drugging or hurting himself. Either Cris accepted the new Corran as he was, perhaps grew accustomed to him, or he would be too hurt based on everything that had happened to want to reconnect the bridges ever again.

"Computer, please show me the counselor roster for the USS Sulu, add anyone with counseling abilities or any Vulcans in other departments as well."

There was no holding off looking for someone that might just be able to help him keep his own mind and emotions more in check. He would certainly need it if he planned to survive the first months onboard the Sulu.

---