"What You Don't Reveal"
By Cpt. Matthew Salinger
& Dr. Corran Quezith

Location: Deep Space Nine
Stardate: 57907.31, 09h00

***

The trip had finally ended.

Corran stepped out of the airlock access to the Delphin and wandered through corridors until he reached the well-known Promenade of the former Cardassian Station. To most people, the architecture and how it had slowly been changed was something to be admired and appreciated, but all Corran could do was hope that he could get some good painkillers. The station had a great deal of traffic, and it reflected in his mind as a crowd of incoherent thoughts and emotions.

He shook his head as he walked towards another hatch that he hoped would lead him to the Sulu. He'd gotten the general gist of thoughts about it from a few people heading that way, but he stopped to make sure the computer had registered the Sulu docked at that Pylon. Once he did, he grabbed his forehead and started walking in that general direction with his things slung over his shoulders and back, feeling very much like he'd just walked into hell.

It didn't take long to get to the Sulu, but it was a small relief for now. He stepped up to the airlock hatch and registered with security as a member of its crew. Thankfully the Captain had seen to it that he'd been kept on the roster and even updated on the same...not that that stopped the officer from doing his routine scans.

Matthew, I'm about to board the ship... He hoped that the pathed message wouldn't be too disturbing, but once he'd relocated Matthew's presence through the chaos, it'd been very much like a beacon, or even a hopeful light that would rescue him from the insanity. He didn't shunt all of it out simply because he might not be able to open his senses up again.

Though there was no telepathic response, it was clear the message was both received and understood, and along with it, a mental smile.

Corran found himself smiling in return, but then blushed embarrassingly at realizing the security officer hadn't appreciated the gesture. He left his things with the man, giving him instructions to leave his things in his shared quarters with Cristobel, although he knew the Captain had probably already assigned him individual quarters. He'd deal with settling in, in a little bit.

For now though, he had to brave Deep Space Nine again, for Matthew was sitting in a café on the Promenade...

***

It's been a while since I've been somewhere so noisy! Corran exclaimed as he approached Matthew's table head-on. There was a loose grin on his face, but it showed that the telepathic and verbalized sounds around him were taking their toll little by little.

"Corran," Matt said, rising from the seat where he'd been drinking some dark beverage and going over a stack of padds. "It's so good to see you again. You just got in?"

He looked around them suspiciously for a moment, but brushed off the feeling of vertigo in order to move closer to give Matt a warm hug. Afterwards, he sat down and ordered a Earth-originating herbal tea from a waiter that came over, and finally answered Matthew. Yeah, the Delphin was faster than I thought it would be, even though we had some complications, but it's good to see you too!

"You actually managed to arrive a few days before we're scheduled to head out, so your timing is perfect."

That won a heavy sigh of relief as Corran slumped in his chair a bit. He wiped his forehead lightly as his eyes changed over to a light blue. That's great... I really need to get used to this again. It's a very diverse society, the Federation that is. He looked towards the side as an Andorian walked by. His antennae seemed to be buzzing eerily into Corran's senses. He blinked awkwardly and decided to try to absorb himself into their conversation.

Matt, did I already tell you that I've been conditioned to keep my telepathic senses open full-time at least until I've grown accustomed to the environment?

"I don't remember hearing that," Matt said. "Will you be alright with that? A starship is a fairly closed environment, and most of the inhabitants of the Sulu are accustomed to having their thoughts kept private."

I know. I don't intend to invade their privacy, to that end I certainly don't want to purposefully remember their thoughts or emotions or peek deeply into them. It's more like hearing subspace comm chatter with an emotional vibe... His tea arrived, Corran thanked the waiter, and then sipped it slowly in order to warm himself somewhat. It seemed to be cold on Deep Space Nine, although it was probably psychological.

I think I'll be fine, I'm just hoping I can demonstrate respect for the people I speak to one on one. Unfortunately their immediate thoughts and emotions will most likely leave an impression.

"I'm certain they will," Matt answered. "It's a difficult thing, I imagine, to deal with people who can't communicate in the manner you're used to. I imagine it was very similar before the advent of the Universal Translator for humans."

There was a minor degree of comfort in Matt's saying that, but Corran wondered if in his deeper thoughts, the ones Corran refused to invade, he were thinking something else. Worried, or possibly felt invaded.

Everyone's different, and I know that any variety of deviants could exist out in this galaxy, taking advantage of telepathic abilities...~ He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. ~How do you think I should approach this on the ship? Should I say anything? Should I just be quiet and be what I am?

"Be what you are," Matt said. "Though, I would recommend speaking with people vocally, and make certain they're okay with telepathic contact. For those of us who aren't able to, hearing you speak, but not hearing you can be a little awkward at times. Most species are accustomed to relaying thoughts and ideas by speaking."

"I'll do that, or try to, to my best abilities. It's not easy to speak vocally anymore for me, it becomes...stressful." Corran tried to project the image of what it felt like over to Matt so he could see what he was talking about. It was much like watching a human multi-task and not manage very well at it at all.

Matt smiled. "Welcome to my world," he said. "It's not always easy to convey a thought, to put it into words and make another understand."

"Which is why I enjoy human literature so much..." That brought him to another curious point. "Do you write anything? I mean, outside of your reports and personal logs?"

"I've tried my hand at holo-programming, but nothing more than a few lines every once in a while. Unfortunately, I'm not a very interesting storyteller. I do better in the stories than retelling them after."

That's a pity, from what you've shared with me before there's so much you could tell, so many things you could share...but that's also why humans appreciate intimacy to such a wide extent, isn't it? It just seemed to pop up in Corran's head. It was strange to be making so many observations as of late, or remembering ones he'd made before. He hadn't been away that long.

"Yes," Matt said with a smile. "I know there are a number of crew members aboard the ship that are very artistically talented. I know we have at least one band on board, as well as enough artists to make a Sulu gallery."

Why hasn't it been done? I would think that visiting aliens would best appreciate the Federation through art rather than its science, even if it's also appreciable?

"It's not something we've had time to implement yet," Matt said. "I'm certain, as long as we have room for it, it'll be done. And, it really depends on the culture. I doubt the Klingons or Ferengi would care too much about Federation art while Bajorans and Betazoids would."

Perhaps, but we are going into the Gamma Quadrant? A new frontier with new peoples that should have exposure to those aspects, perhaps? He hoped to convince Matthew into setting up art expositions in the crew mess or some other locale onboard where music could also be played. It would go nicely with an idea he'd had that involved placing a small café in the arboretum.

"If it is practical to do so with the equipment and supplies we have to take with us, then we may. But, exploration is our priority. And, the interests of alien species will be whatever they're interested in. This is the territory that was once ruled by the Dominion. It's hard to say what they'll be interested in. If we're able, we will. That's all I can promise."

Corran smirked, visibly disappointed, but also understanding that they had limited resources and space contrary to what replicators made people believe, or the sizes of starships in the Federation. He nodded his understanding, and sipped his coffee again, quietly wondering more about Matthew than ever before. Another curiosity to his new personality: why would he, a telepathic being by nature, want to know more than the details he could see already?

"I don't know if we'll have time to seriously consider a gallery before we head through the wormhole, but we will consider it."

He blinked out of his reverie and looked at Matt, ended up smirking humorously at his reaction. It's okay if it can't be done. I just wonder about you as a person. This is a mix of wanting to know about the others, but kind of centering on knowing you. I would've thought telepathy had all the answers, but it doesn't, there's much more to a person...

"Much more," Matt said with a smile. "Frustrating, isn't it?"

"Sometimes...it just becomes a jumble, rather incoherent. I understand more than ever what it was the Betazoids I met were talking about." Then Corran paid close attention to something that seemed to pass a contagious happiness over to him that came off of Matthew. "You're happy about that."

"I'm happy that we can still be some sort of mystery and that all of our secrets aren't just laid out for telepaths to see."

Are you afraid of me knowing your secrets, Matt?

"Being non-telepaths, most humans, myself included, enjoy the privacy of our mind. In today's day and age, what goes on inside is one of the things that is truly our own. It's the place we can keep our hopes and dreams, secrets and desires. It's a safe place to go when things grow dark and dreary. It's a place of privacy and self."

But are you afraid of me? Corran had understood that perfectly, but he wanted to know if Matthew understood that he would never hurt him, never intrude in such a way that his friend would come out worse from his privacy than he had gone in.

Are you afraid of me knowing you, truly knowing you?

"If I were, I wouldn't allow it," Matt said with a laugh. "Still, I'm leery of anyone who could potentially know me better than myself."

That got Corran grimacing playfully. Never! As much as I care about you and others I'm connected to, I don't want to know that much! He laughed in return, waving his hands in the air in front of himself.

"My feelings aren't directed or limited to you, Corran," Matt said. "It's telepathy in a more general sense, and those telepaths who aren't so careful or considerate with how they use their ability."

Even back home I'm considered strange in that sense, even more now than before. He calmed and folded his arms over his chest thoughtfully, his eyes lost in his telepathic musings with Matt. Why doesn't the Federation implement a telepathic patrol of some sort in your security divisions? People that could make sure things are well and that someone isn't misusing their abilities?

"I don't think that many people would appreciate a telepathic security force, on any level. People fear what they don't know and don't understand. Many would fear that abuses of power would occur. That sort of thing would be left up to the telepathic species themselves, not the Federation or Starfleet."

That's quite the precarious balance then, isn't it?

"It's not an easy subject to deal with, especially within a group of worlds and species that don't all share a telepathic gift. We have to make certain that everyone remains equal and one group doesn't rise above the rest due to some gift."

Corran frowned broadly. He understood the concepts, the philosophies, but the possibility of telepaths not upholding moral and ethical beliefs and actually hurting others, telepathic or not, was a real concern. Sometimes the evidence of someone doing something telepathically wasn't always provable or even conscious to the person being afflicted.

He sighed, not sure he would ever understand how the Federation didn't fall apart at the end of each day.

It's hard not to be worried, personally, about being on a starship bottled up with people that are by majority non-telepathic...even less when I can't close my mind without suffering consequences... He was basically saying he didn't know if he had the ability, any longer, to gain the trust of the people onboard that would cross his path or hear about him by chance.

"Best thing you can do is be open and honest with people. Don't hide what you are, and just communicate with them. People will fear you if you keep to yourself."

They will still fear me for the knowledge I might obtain of them, won't they?

"It's easier to fear what you don't know than what you do. Get to know them, and they'll have less cause to fear your gift."

"I hope you're right..."

"When have I ever been wrong," Matt said with a roguish smile. "You'll do fine, Corran." He clapped a hand onto his friend's shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod. "Welcome back to the Sulu."

---

"Silent Observations"
Ensign Raina Derrell - Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.31, 11h30

***

So far Raina's duty shifts had been rather busy. Earlier she received a note from the new CMO requesting a meeting. She looked forward to that. On her way to lunch Ensign Derrell passed by the deserted waiting room. Deserted except for a bunch of nursing staff on break that is. Once again their topic of conversation surprised her.

They enjoyed discussing the crew's personal lives in vivid detail. It appeared to be gossip central yet again. As usual Raina ignored it and walked away. Of course one of the nurses noticed and made a vague comment resembling something to the effect of, "Did you see her. She won't even give us the time of day."

Cattiness had never been on Raina's list of ways to spend her break. Part of her knew they probably thought she was distancing herself from the other staff. Not the case at all. Gossip didn't belong in sickbay, plain and simple. This wasn't the fist time she noticed some rifts among the medical department. Frankly all Raina hoped they could be solved by some strong leadership.

During one of her earlier breaks she'd reviewed Damhnait Sefton's file. Impressive...was the first thought that came to mind. The other thing which caught her attention, the new CMO was a Betazoid. Raina didn't have any problems with that one; she'd served there and spent quite a lot of time there prior to joining Starfleet.

Raina exited sickbay and headed for a turbolift. She had opted to spend her break in one of the holodecks. After a good Tae Kwon Do workout she'd grab lunch on her way back to duty. In the privacy of her quarters she decided to put some of her thoughts into words while she changed, since her roommate was also on duty.

"Computer begin recording. Save under files Derrell, Raina."

She paused. "Personal log Ensign Raina Derrell. I'm due to meet my new department head later today. It's an introduction I look forward to. Once again I noticed some rifts among the medical department. I can't be the only one that thinks catty discussions are totally out of place. That is not something I'll align myself with. My duty isn't to find out who's sleeping with who, who's cheating on who or any other topic someone can dream up. As a medical officer it's my job to treat patients to follow the CMO's orders and to be a competent officer.

"My personal life is none of their business. I don't think anyone's is anyone else's for that matter unless that particular individual chooses to confide in a friend or crewmate. Gossip is just plain hurtful. But I'll leave it there. Clearly the medical staff has a bumpy road ahead. Since I'm rather new I don't see much of a problem transitioning to new leadership, where others might have issues," Raina commented.

Briefly she paused one more time before turning the topic to more private thoughts. "How am I settling in? It's a question I've been asked by many yet there isn't a clear cut answer. I can adjust to duty easily enough; it's the social element that's a bit more difficult. Sure I know that takes time. But I'd like to think that it can come without becoming part of the gossip crew.

"End log."

---

"Mouthy Observations"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
Ensign Raina Derrell - Medical Officer
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Ensign Annikafiore Szerda [NPC] - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.31, 11h31

***

A gathering of nurses and technicians sitting in the corner farthest from the entrance and exit doors utterly contorted what had been a standardised chair formation in Sickbay's waiting room. Annikafiore Szerda, Amaya Chen and Tynann Taylforth had eaten quickly during their midday meal break, to spend more of their time talking. Doctor Sefton continued to insist that the nurses share medical knowledge with one another, instead of sharing the details of their personal lives, during slow periods in Sickbay. But, since they had chosen to spend their lunch period close to Sickbay in case of an emergency, they could usually get away with letting Cris and Amy handle the 'bay, and reporting back to duty a little bit late. Nurses Saffron Pakarinen and Tar'aA had no worries of being late, since they weren't on duty until Beta shift, but that didn't mean that they were entirely without worry.

"All I'm saying is that I don't want to be conscripted into working a double shift if Doctor Dammit sees me here. Or think-sees me here," Saffron said with a note of urgency, in reference to the Betazoid Doctor Damhnait Sefton.

Tynann, Amaya and Annikafiore all looked at each other uncertainly, to clarify if they had all heard what they'd thought they'd heard. Smirking, Tynann was the first to ask, "Uh, Saff, what did you just call her?"

"Damnate," Saffron said, full of exasperation. It wasn't as if she'd ever be allowed to call the doctor by her first name. "Whatever."

"More like Dom'nate," Tar'aA insisted conspiratorially.

"Like dominatrix. Cute, and near accurate," Annikafiore said smoothly, "But it's actually Dav-ven-net."

"Well then, would it be so difficult for her to actually put a 'V' in her name?" Safrron muttered. "Anyways--"

"Anyway," Annikafiore corrected. "Anyways isn't a word."

"Pfft. Popular usage determines a word's status. How do you think the singular 'they' became an official part of the Federation Standard dictionary?" Saffron said in an eye-rolling tone of voice. "So anyways, the reason I'm anxious about being called into Sickbay is that Hunter said he made reservations for later in this shift. And we haven't done anything reservation-y before -- just casual drinks and co-ordinating our work-out schedules. I wish I knew if the reservations are for a holosuite on the ship, or for something on Deep Space 9."

"Was it Hunter who left you that sparkly hypospray cartridge of..." Tar'aA started to ask. The doors from Main Sickbay parted for Raina Derrell, who took one look at the gossiping nurses, and walked right through the waiting room towards the corridor.

"Did you see her?" Saffron asked the others, loud enough for Raina to hear. "She won't even give us the time of day."

"She just doesn't care about your boyfriend," Tynann said to Saffron, but was polite enough to wait until Raina was out of the waiting room.

"Maybe she simply doesn't want to share about her own boyfriend," Amaya meekly suggested. It was clear to everyone that Amaya was talking more about herself than about Raina.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," Annikafiore said assuredly. "She's still looking for that right Starfleet guy with the style of a surly Cardassian."

Tar'aA let out a choked laugh of disbelief at Annika's audacity.

Only a little defensively, Annikafiore said, "You should have heard her, the other day, talking to Amy "On-Her-Kneese" Reese - announcing the way she'd been mistreated by the Cardassians. I suppose she wants more, but doesn't want the counsellors to know about it. If her cry for attention continues, I'll tell a counsellor myself. Because I care."

"Prepare to use that care on Jade Kavana, who's on his way to Sickbay. You're back on duty now," Damhnait ordered Annika, having stepped into the waiting room only long enough to hear the last two of Annikafiore's sentences. "And shouldn't the rest of you be busy making your correspondence course selections?"

***

"Look at her. Does she have to flirt with every officer that comes in here?" Amy Reese snorted derisively at the buxom red-headed nurse examining a young, strapping ensign from operations. Annikafiore laughed attractively and lightly swatted the ensign's chest with the back of her pale hand. Amy snapped closed the tricorder she'd been modifying and glared at her nemesis' back. "I can't believe her," she hissed. Her distasteful frown found Cris. "She thinks this is the lounge or something! Well...at least some of us are interested in actually healing people," she commented, raising her voice to carry towards Annika.

"And you are showing this 'care' by taking a break from ensuring that the medical tricorders can detect early symptoms of Yxrk in Vulcans?" Damhnait Sefton asked of Amy, as she walked up behind her. "Or by showing Nurse Szerda that you truly deeply don't care about her opinion by observing and reacting to her every breath and whisper?"

The smirk that Amy had caused on Cristobel's face slipped away quicker than it had arrived.

Amy paled and, apprehensively, her eyes shifted back towards the intimidating chief towering over her. Her head and body reluctantly followed. "I...I was almost done with the modifications," she explained feebly in her defense. Amy glanced furtively aside at Cristobel, silently pleading for salvation.

Knowing it pointless to try lying, Cristobel brought up, "I was about to ask her opinion on my Trill settings anyway."

"It's no wonder why you haven't yet incorporated that new Yxrk data we received from Trill. Can you even see the tricorder?" Damhnait disdainfully asked of Cristobel, as she brushed the bangs over his left eye to the side. She sighed when the bangs bounced back. "Are you certain your hair is of regulation length? Seeing a patient is more important than fashion."

Pulling over a cart of various medical tools, Cristobel looked for one in particular to ask, "Would you like to measure my hair?"

"That won't be necessary," Damhnait responded icily. This adolescent behaviour is growing to be intolerable. I highly doubt you acted like this with Doctor M'lira, Damhnait sternly said to Cris telepathically.

I highly doubt Doctor M'lira would have treated me like an adolescent in the first place, Cristobel responded.

Once Damhnait silently marched back into her office, Cristobel moved over to Amy's side to encourage, "Don't worry about her. Besides, Annikafiore definitely thinks this is the lounge. Her skirt has got to be shorter today than it was yesterday. I'm kind of starting to feel like a freak, since I haven't given into the skirted nurse trend."

Amy, still shaken by the encounter, managed only a half-smile. "Well...I bet your legs would look much better in one than icky Annika's." Glancing around this time to ensure the CMO wasn't eavesdropping again, Amy whispered, "Don't hate me...but your mother is scary. I'm afraid to even laugh nowadays lest she slap me with a formal reprimand for causing a public disturbance!" She giggled, then, as she dragged a finger across his bangs. "And I think your hair is the perfect length, though if she approaches you with a laser scalpel, I'd run."

"She wouldn't use formal routes to punish you unless you actually harmed a patient. It's not like she has it in for you; I mean, I get the feeling she just wants to keep you alert, since, as far as the nurses are concerned, you've got seniority around here, personally and professionally. She still doesn't seem to be quite sure if she wants to treat me as Cristobel, her son, or Sefton, a good nurse hanging out with a bad influence," Cris teased by elongating the last two words and poking Amy in the chest with an evil grin on his face.

"I am not a bad influence," she protested, playfully seizing his finger and twisting it away. "I bring life and laughter to sickbay and no one appreciates it!" Amy sighed as she released his hand and again flipped open her tricorder. "So...what are you gonna do about your mother?" she asked, tapping half-heartedly at the device. "She's gonna be here a long while, Crissy, and you two have got to draw the line now concerning your professional and familial relationship. And I'm not saying she treats you leniently because you're her son," she added with a glance up, "I'm just saying that she might...well...be a little more demanding of you, that's all."

"I suspect she's still gauging what my abilities are, before seriously upping the expectations," Cristobel told Amy, as he uploaded his Trill settings to the ship's medical tricorder database. "But you're right. If my mother doesn't settle her treatment of me by the time we leave Deep Space 9, we will be having a conversation."

Amy's eyes flashed concern. "How's that gonna go? Aren't you afraid of her, Crissy?" She snorted. "I sure am!"

Cristobel laughed loudly, but more quietly exclaimed, "She's my mother. I'm not afraid of her. I can see right through her bravado. In fact, she might even lay off suppressing your infectious laughter if you weren't afraid of her. ...Or she might try to crush your spirit. It's difficult to predict."

"Really?" Her wide eyes conveyed her anxiety. "As long as she doesn't forbid me from playing with you anymore...." She frowned. "She wouldn't do that, would she?"

"I dunno," Cris answered honestly, uncertainty filling his tone. "She did say it'd be okay for us to do our rounds together, and that we can pick virtually anywhere in the ship to check for officers showing symptoms of Yxrk virus."

"So...she approves, then?" Amy giggled and pecked at Cris' cheek. "I guess you can tell her now that I'm to be her new daughter-in-law," she joked.

"Maybe if you want to be the one trying to scare her," Cristobel giggled.

"I highly doubt anyone could manage that," Amy quipped. "But, as much as she does intimidate me," she added on a serious note, "I've got to admit, you're mom's a pretty amazing woman. I mean look at her! She's old and she's still got better curves than me!"

"I told you that there's nothing unsexy about a Betazoid with wrinkles. You'll just have to start taunting me about something else." Cristobel stuck his tongue out at Amy, as he looked down at his tricorder, which was updating with his and Amy's new settings, along with every other medical tricorder.

A boisterous giggle erupted as a thumb and index finger snapped out to trap his tongue. "Hasn't anyone told you to watch where you put that thing?" she asked with a sly grin.

Jerking his head back, Cristobel gasped and playfully answered, "Never. Most have been too busy being appreciative." Cris licked his upper lip quick enough, and boasted quietly enough, to avoid Annikafiore's obvious eavesdropping.

"Oh, you're worse than I am," Amy told him with a flimsy wave. "I don't know why Annikawhore doesn't gossip about you. Do you think she has a crush?"

"Nah," Cris dismissed with a wave of his own. "I just haven't been as popular as I used to be at the Academy. I...suppose we could try to change that perception. If we hurry, we could follow Jade back to his post, scan him for the virus, and then try to seduce him the way Annikafiore couldn't manage. At least one of us will be able to get him panting (if not both of us together), and then we can turn him down, because I'm not that kind of guy, and you're not an-icky-fi-whore."

Amy grinned. "Not anymore." She nodded at the tricorder's screen, presenting her with a message indicating Cris' transfer was complete. "Alright, all set! Though...will the evil overlord let us out of her lair, you think?"

"It is our duty to ensure the health and welfare of the crew. We'll just be going on our scheduled rounds a touch early." Cris' eyes went from Amy to Jade's backside as he sauntered out the exit. "There he goes, leaving behind poor lonely Annika."

"I guess he saw the tail peeking out from under her skirt," Amy retorted, then grinned mischievously. "Come along, then, Crissy," she sang, and after pocketing her tricorder, she strode haughtily towards the doorway, though she veered close to Annika. "Just so you know," she told the red-head, stopping briefly beside her and gesturing to her hair, "your roots are showing." Amy grinned facetiously as she set into motion again, this time backing towards the door. "And so's your moustache!" she called.

Despite the smirk on Cris' face, as he strode alongside Amy, he leaned in to seriously murmur, "...Probably not the best way to start impressing my mother."

"I wasn't trying to," Amy told him with one final wave to Annika. "Her face gets all splotchy when she's mad, and I just wanted to make sure the next patient that walks in gets to see it." She giggled a touch maniacally, especially when a cute lieutenant walked past them into the sickbay.

---

"High Enough From All The Waiting"
by Corran Quezith
and Cristobel Sefton

Location: USS Sulu, Arboretum
Stardate: 57907.31, 12h10

***

Solitude is what Cristobel Sefton searched for. He'd surrounded himself with people since he'd arrived at Deep Space 9 and then the Sulu, only allowing the barest of moments to just himself. He wasn't one for avoiding introspection or his own emotions, but there was so much old that he'd missed to catch up on, and so much new to experience for the first time. After several days, though, it grew tiring. He'd had a strange itch at the back of his brain for the entire day, and when he couldn't explain it, he knew that he needed self-reflection time. After some particularly mindless fun with Amy, he headed towards the arboretum to spend his lunch break, and hoped the increasingly popular location would have, at least, a single quiet corner.

When the doors parted for Cristobel, he discovered why that itch at the back of his brain had suggested he lunch in the arboretum.

Corran was dressed in what was possibly the dullest and most bland clothes that had ever been seen on him. He'd come to the Arboretum after dealing with a wide variety of matters, amongst which was getting his own quarters, and actually getting to the ship before then. He'd known Cristobel to be around, but his hesitation from the Delphin had settled in solidly.

Now though, he pulled back from staring through a microscope and the sample under it to look towards the hatch that Cris had just come through, a minor hint of a smile touching the edge of his lips, his eyes unchanging...

Corran? Cristobel telepathically asked with utter excitement, even though he moved towards the Achicarian with noticeable hesitation. There was still no hesitation in Cris' thoughts, though. How are you doing? Dhia, that's a stupid question. They wouldn't have let you return if you weren't fantastic. You are fantastic, aren't you? No more brain damage or sleep disturbances?

He chuckled warmly as he moved closer almost as hesitantly. I've healed, but I might have some sleeping problems over the next few months while I adjust. He didn't know what else to say for a moment, and so he just looked at Cristobel. He looked somehow different...

Cristobel flung his arms around Corran, and locked him in his grasp, nuzzling the side of his face into Corran's neck. I didn't know when you were returning. I didn't even imagine it would be so soon -- you are here to stay, aren't you?

I...wasn't coming back... The admission was sheepish, but he embraced Cristobel in return as he continued to path to him, I'm here to stay supposing my telepathy permits it. Though I shouldn't suffer anymore physiological damage, I can still go quite insane, moreso now than before. He chuckled again and hugged him even tighter.

Then why did you come back? Cristobel bluntly asked. I mean, I know this isn't a grand romantic gesture like the last time...

That was the actual problem with telepathic beings. It was hard or impossible to hide your feelings or thoughts from one.

Corran pulled away from the hug and just looked around himself, only to shrug. I don't know why I came back, I merely felt I had to.

How is it so far? Cris asked tentatively. Being back, I mean. Have you been back for long?

He shook his head. Not long, but it's felt like forever. So many species, so many thoughts and emotions. He was coping with it, but there were moments when desperation promised to overrun him already. He persisted though, if only out of his desire to not surrender to circumstance when it could be avoided.

Cristobel lowered himself to sit where there was grass on the arboretum's floor; his excitement was peeling away from a numb core. Looking up at Corran, he psi-said, I don't know what to say, or to do, or to think. This almost doesn't feel real... What...happened, what did they do to you to change you while you were gone?

They healed the damage in my brain...but there was an unexpected side-effect from having received treatment and what we suppose was a consequence of everything that happened mainly from the time I sought you out on Earth, and our coming onboard the Sulu. He turned off the microscope and came over to where Cristobel was. He sat himself sideways in front of him and leaned on his elbow. Do you remember when I told you about how my people could expand their abilities well beyond telepathy?

I do, Cristobel responded with more unease than he intended.

Corran picked up on his tension, and instinctively reached out to set a hand down on one of Cristobel's. He still loved him just as intensely as before...

My abilities expanded and changed. Nothing extraordinary for my own people, but it forced me into meditation, training, constant vigilance of my own health...and I cannot close my mind to those of the people surrounding me. If I do I could hurt myself again.

Wow. And all I did was write a few songs on Betazed, and pretend to be a tourist on Deep Space 9, Cris quipped. He grinningly leaned closer, placing his other hand on top of Corran's hand on top of his own hand.

He smiled appreciatively at the gesture, even though he'd picked up on what Cristobel had been doing with Tuc on Deep Space Nine both through Tuc (back when he'd boarded Deep Space Nine) as well as Cristobel. His eyes changed for once over to a dark blue as feelings of regret from having to ever have left settled in, in the company of sadness from Cristobel having gone to him...something that conflicted Corran deeply considering that before he probably wouldn't have minded at all.

You've had a good time then, I hope?

I...got by, Cris responded, leaving his thoughts completely open to Corran. What's wrong?

It's nothing... He smiled weakly, but there was a glimmer in his eyes from wetness that was difficult to hide. He took a deep breath and squeezed Cristobel's hand. I'm just glad to be back with yo...you.

Cristobel's stomach tightened painfully when he empathetically felt Corran's own pain. Holding Corran's hand firmer in his grasp, Cris leaned in to ask, Corran, please tell me what has upset you.

It's ridiculous, just, Tuc...through you, when I felt you onboard when I stepped onto DS9 there was something loud and...it...I can't believe it's affecting me. Just ignore me... He tried to smirk and chuckle, trying to convince himself and Cris that he would get back to normal sooner or later...

For a brief moment, Cristobel took great relief in realising that he could still know Corran's thoughts with perfect ease, despite their time apart, but the relief was somewhat dampened by Corran's resistance. When did 'normal' become more important than 'truth'? If I've hurt you, I don't want to do it again, but I need to understand why my sleeping with Tuc is hurting you.

And then for some reason, it'd skipped Corran's mind that it was a presently progressing situation, although now he just hoped he was catching that thought wrong. He tried to get absorbed in just answering the question. Because I hate him.

He was actually capable of hate and recognizing that he hated...indeed he had changed.

Cristobel recoiled mentally, if not physically, and the breath caught in his throat. Not needing his breath to communicate, Cris composed his thoughts slowly and then gently asked, Do you know why?

In part, maybe...only... He felt a chill run down his spine and his eyes shifted color again and stayed an emerald green tone. He swallowed hard as he proposed his theory. Because he's the man you went to when I first returned home, because you did it again when I left for Achicar Prime, because you have feelings for him and...and the rest is the rest. What he meant by that, he didn't know.

I'm sorry, Cristobel expressed along with all of his emotions over having hurt Corran. I hope you do also know that Tuc came to me this time, not vice versa, and that he now comprehends that I'm never going to be romantically involved with him.

Corran was more upset about behaving this way than because of the actual feeling of having been betrayed. It wasn't natural for him at all, it was a human concept, or so he wanted to believe... Had he been so insensitive and blind all this time to what people really felt or was it just him?

He bit his lower lip and just stared at Cristobel. He hadn't known those details in particular, but he didn't think he had to explain himself to him either. I don't know what's going on with me, Cris, this isn't the person I was. I'm afraid.

Enfolding Corran in his arms, Cristobel offered, Then you can choose to be whoever you want to be and further become. If you've really changed this much, then you can change even more.

At what cost...? He leaned into Cristobel's arms and took comfort in his embrace, somehow remembering his youth when his mother's arms had protected him from the universe...

I propose we instead focus on enjoying the rest of today. Existential crisis of self can wait until tomorrow, Cristobel whimsically insisted, since there was no easy answers to Corran's doubt. Is that attemptable?

He nodded at him after pulling away a little, thankful that he hadn't just shunted him away, or that Cris hadn't run away... He too had changed, but he was perceiving it as a good change from him.

Yes...I actually should...should try to get back into the swing of things. The Captain gave me permission to get trained as a Federation Doctor so that I can return to my old profession... He glanced around them thoughtfully as he heard stray thoughts and slowly pressed them to a quiet whisper so he could recuperate.

I need to meet the ship's CMO, I heard there was a new one finally. Do you know him, her, or it?

'She' is my mother, Cristobel directly responded, hesitant to discover Corran's response. I think you met her after my graduation.

I remember her... Or did he? His brow furrowed as he made a conscious effort to recall her. For some reason he couldn't much remember her. Possibly a consequence of the brain damage, he supposed. No, I don't. She's the boss? Should I be afraid? he joked tensely.

No, don't be afraid, Cristobel responded emphatically. She likes you; well, she liked you when she met you, and...you were a more than competent physician on Achicari? Weren't you?

He nodded affirmatively. Yes, but medical technology is fairly different between our two worlds. It's all based on the same concepts, but I have to learn the technical ways of Federation technology, plus learn the medical textbooks on Federation medicine. You've run across many more aliens than I would ever have, had I remained in the APIS fleet... He smirked thoughtfully. He'd advanced considerably with his training during his time away from the Sulu, but there were still two-thirds of the way to go, and he imagined that the Captain wouldn't want him practicing medicine until he had practice hours on the holodeck... I hate holodecks...

I'm certain you can manage. I'd offer to play a role in your holosimulations, to cut down on the depthless holopeople, but I have my own courses to study now, too, Cristobel clearly thought, as his fingertips teased Corran's bangs.

I'll manage, and it's probably for the best. I won't always be able to read the patient and in some cases even when I can, the messages will be too chaotic to interpret... Corran drifted on that as he briefly remembered treating his own people after the bombardment. It had been emotionally and empathically taxing, a very important lesson indeed.

Nodding, Cristobel wanted to find out more about the Corran of the now. Are you all settled in on the Sulu?

That made Corran grimace visibly although his eyes were returning to their dark brown color. I had to request independent crew quarters...it's temporary, but it could be months before I can...I can return to staying with you every night in the same quarters. That by far had been the largest blow for Corran. He wondered now how Cristobel would take it...

Cristobel simply frowned and whimpered sadly. These living conditions wouldn't be ideal, but he knew that they were for the best for Corran's health. It wouldn't do Cris or Corran any good for Cris to throw a tantrum about it. Cristobel lay back on the grass, stretching his legs out, to look up at the ceiling. After some time of mental silence and simply enjoying the heat of Corran's body near his own, Cristobel pondered, Maybe you should get some holoprojectors put into the ceiling. Have a fake sky and fake weather.

Corran wanted to say more, but he knew Cris had to have some time alone to digest all of this. He catered to his distraction and looked up at the ceiling curiously. I might try something of the sort. I'll have to discuss it with Engineering, I don't want to overdo it...or tax their systems too much... Otherwise, do you like it? In truth, Corran hadn't moved much of a finger at all for the arboretum since he'd left and then returned. He'd found out someone had been taking care of tweaking the system, but it was rather autonomous. Now he just planned to make things interesting on his own by means of manipulating structural codes in some of his plant samples.

I do like it. Cristobel had known the answer before Corran had asked. The arboretum didn't feel right without you tending to it.

So you've been coming here? he asked hopefully.

I couldn't. I've only been back for a few days, and every time I thought of coming down here, I'd think of how we behaved in your arboretum on the USS Miranda, and I'd miss you. But now I don't have to miss you anymore, and I can visit often, Cristobel grinningly exclaimed as he cuddled against Corran's body. Cris' palm groped across Corran's chest, feeling for every muscle through the shirt until his hand reached the shirt's collar. Hooking a couple of fingers into the collar, Cris pulled it down a few inches, to press his lips against Corran's bare shoulder.

Corran blushed at Cristobel's loving and apparently desired attention, but this wasn't a good time, or place for that matter. He reached up to Cristobel's cheek to hold it and pull his lips away from his skin so that he could look at him. Really not a good time, handsome, I'm afraid I set the system to give the grass and a variety of plants a treatment that'll cause a pretty bad rash...it'll basically be untouchable over the next five days... We should go somewhere else. His eyes twinkled and his naughty expression reappeared, the same one from before he'd fallen ill to begin with. Some things would never change, thankfully.

If it's automated, does that mean we can do lunch in my quarters? Cristobel asked cheerily, feeling no need to be suggestive in the tone of his thoughts, since the suggestion was already obvious.

By all means, he responded warmly.

The two rose to their feet and walked out of the Arboretum together, warnings appearing on the few screens available as the lights dimmed as well to initiate the treatment. The quietness that they left behind and the dim lights that remained seemed to be a testament to what the couple had always given each other: a place of comfort.

---

"Personal Assurances"
By: Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician
Ensign Ainsley Chambers - Counsellor

Location: USS Sulu, Security Offices, Corridors, and Shyla Moreau's Quarters
Stardate: 57907.31, 12h50

***

Benedict T'Kal had received the news as he stepped aboard the Sulu. He'd been recalled to the ship after leaving for Bajor earlier that morning. The waiting security officer had handed him a padd with a grim expression on his face. It took a few seconds to scan the brisk missive before Benedict scowled and cursed. He'd been enjoying the evening and now it was ruined. He walked out of the shuttle bay with a determined stride, taking the turbo lift to the Security Offices to gather what little they knew. He was still dressed in the civilian attire he'd left in. Dinner with Tayla, Jeremy and his wife Sally was going to be cancelled. He'd have to contact Tayla soon; she was still on Bajor seeing her folks.

Captain's orders were to accompany a planned Away Mission to search for Ensign Ethan Storm and the Vulcan Ambassador. Missing. The six security officers gathered in the office all looked at Benedict as if they feared his reaction. Everyone knew that Storm and he had words over Storm's conduct. Had he bolted? Had he just quit? The question was thick in the air as Benedict went over the sector maps and course details. Nobody asked it but it was there. He could see some faces with doubts, disappointment on a few.

Finally he turned to the assembled officers and looked each of them in the eye. "I know what some of you might be thinking," he started in a grim voice. "Nobody says it - I don't want to hear any doubts - especially on the grape-vine. Got it?"

There was a chorus of 'aye sir's and Benedict leaned heavily on the central tactical display table. "We have a missing crewman - something's happened to that runabout because Mister Storm isn't one to shirk his duty."

Chavez nodded. "That's right, sir, he ain't," the stocky security officer agreed. "I volunteer to go too, Chief. He's a good man - and if he's come to grief I wanna piece of the action..."

Benedict gave Chavez a serious stare. "Captain's already put the team together," he said. "But your willingness is noted, Crewman." He looked around. "The Sulu's in no shape to go hunting for the Jemison - so the Captain is sending another runabout to follow the course Ethan set. There will be several other Fleet assets in the region conducting a grid-by-grid pattern. We're covering all the bases. That's all we know. So I want a complete tactical work-up on the flight path before fourteen hundred hours. The Rio Grande will be outfitted with a Tac Pod - DS9 has been kind enough to loan us a Danube Class Runabout." He glanced around once more. "That's all - get to it," he ordered.

As they went after their assigned tasks Benedict thought back to his parting words to Storm. He was positive that the man was coming back. There had been no doubt in his eyes. He'd told Benedict he would be looking forward to instructing him - a parting shot, but serious enough that Benedict believed him. So - something had happened. He sure as hell didn't want the Captain to write a letter to Storm's mother regretfully telling her he was Missing In Action, but the circumstances of his leaving after the Inquiry - it would be all over the ship already. He thought about the pretty girl Ethan Storm had been saying goodbye to. He had a girl on the Sulu. She'd be going out of her mind with worry.

He looked at Chavez and signalled the swarthy skinned officer over to him.

"Sir?" Chavez asked as he stepped up to the Security Chief.

"Ethan has a girl...Science or Medical officer, I think... Know who she is?" He spoke quietly so that only Chavez could hear him.

"Aye, sir." Chavez nodded with a grim expression. "Name's Moreau - Astrometrics. Shyla - Crewman First I think."

Benedict nodded. "Thanks, Pico," he clapped the man on the shoulder. With that he turned on his heel and strode out of the Security Office. On the way to the turbo lift he tapped his commbadge and asked the computer where Shyla Moreau was currently situated. She was in her quarters.

A couple of minutes later, Benedict pressed the door chime.

Shyla Moreau lifted her head from folded arms on the tabletop in her quarters. Captain Salinger had ordered her to take a few days off when he'd informed her of Storm's disappearance and Moreau was finding herself in desperate need of a distraction. Her brown eyes bore the red-rims of several days' worth of tears, the most recent courtesy of too much time alone leading to too much speculation.

"Come," she said, choking heavily on the word.

The computer system of the Sulu buzzed disagreeably. "Command not recognized."

"Come," she said again, a little more clearly and with only a little more composure.

As the door parted, Benedict stood in the doorway with his hands clasped before him. He was still in civilian clothes of Bajoran style. He wore his earring and hair loosely bound. His violet eyes found Shyla Moreau and he nodded to her. "Miss Moreau, I'm Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security. We met once - in the shuttle bay." The explanation of their meeting brought back the memories of Ethan's farewell. He could see it in her eyes as soon as he'd said the words. "May I come in?" he asked more gently.

"Yes, sir," Shyla said with a slight tremble to her voice while avoiding looking directly at him. Although Storm had never said a single harsh word against Lieutenant T'Kal, to Shyla he had been at least a minor villain in their relationship - it was mainly the Security Chief's initial punishments that had kept them apart before Ethan's tribunal. Rationality usually ruled Shyla's thoughts but in her grief and worry it was easier to look for someone to blame. And she knew that blame didn't belong with Benedict T'Kal.

He stepped into the quarters and waited until the door was closed. She looked tired, red puffy eyes and a tear streaked face ample evidence of her feelings. The brief glance she gave him told him much. He approached the table and pulled out a chair opposite her. For a moment he glanced around the shared quarters and back. "I thought that I would come by and see if you're okay..." He watched her for a reaction, his words spoken gently. "We'll find him," he said with conviction. "He'll be back here in no time...you'll see."

"I hope so," Shyla said with a soft cracking, recognizing T'Kal's words of comfort as only that. Benedict had no way of knowing what even happened, let alone if they'd find Ethan. She probably would have appreciated the effort if a fresh tear hadn't streamed down her pink cheek causing more to follow.

As she started crying he felt completely helpless. He got up and moved over to her, putting a hand on hers. He squeezed it gently as he said, "I'll get Counsellor Scott for you if you want - someone to talk to..." He tried a smile of encouragement, but in the face of Ethan's disappearance it wasn't much to offer the girl. She seemed so young. He'd come to offer encouragement, to tell her that everything would be okay, that they would find Ethan, but her tears were wretched, her cracked voice echoed her loss. He sighed, patting her softly on the shoulder.

"I'll be okay, sir," Shyla said even as she very nearly collapsed under T'Kal's gentle touch. A sharp 'sniff' accompanied a squaring of her shoulders and the setting of her jaw. She looked up at T'Kal without bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Do you really think we'll find him, sir?" she asked flatly with only a trace of hope in her voice.

He smiled then. "Ethan is a good officer. He's adaptive, and he's capable. He'll be okay. We have three starships looking for him and they won't leave an asteroid unturned...we'll find him." He clasped her shoulder. "You're on the mission, so Lieutenant Saavar has confidence in your abilities - you'll be actively taking part, instead of sitting in here worrying yourself to death. Ethan wouldn't want you doing that...neither do I. You'll be okay - and so will he." He looked her in the eye and brushed away a tear, "Come on, how about I get you some tea...and I do think having a talk with one of the Counsellors would be a good idea. Some female company anyway...this isn't a time to be alone." He looked at her questioningly. "Okay?"

Shyla nodded and let out a long sigh that turned into a shiver. "Maybe Counselor Chambers," she relented, her voice still barely audible and thick with tears. "She met with Ethan before he left."

He nodded. "No problem. Now...you like tea? Or should I just go straight to the chocolate?" His smile was encouraging. "I've been reliably assured that chocolate salves all ills..."

"Tea," Shyla whispered in a small voice.

He got up to walk over to her replicator, and while he was walking tapped his commbadge. "Lieutenant T'Kal to Counsellor Chambers."

The response came back almost immediately. "Chambers here, sir."

"Sorry to disturb you, counsellor, I'm with Ensign Moreau in her private quarters. Is it possible for you to come see her? It's important." He tapped his request into the replicator as he talked. "I'd like someone to be with her, and she asked for you. Ethan Storm is missing - and they wer-- are close..."

"Certainly," Ainsley responded. "I'll be there in a couple minutes, will you stay with her until I arrive?"

"Certainly will," he replied. "See you soon. Thanks, Counsellor. T'Kal out." His commbadge chirped as the two mugs of tea materialised on the replicator pad. He brought them over to her, offering one and keeping the other. He sat in the chair opposite her again and looked at the distraught girl for a moment. "She's on the way," he said regarding the crewman. "We'll be leaving as soon as the Rio Grande shows up," he said. "Then we'll find him. The captain won't leave the Alpha Quadrant without him you know." He wanted to reassure her that all was not lost. His violet eyes were steady, offering a steadfast resolution to his words. "We'll find him, Shyla."

Shyla took a sip of tea from the cup in her shaking hand. "Sir," she said, her voice still as unsteady as her hand. "I appreciate your saying that."

He nodded. "Everything will work out. He's set on teaching me a few things when he gets back." T'Kal smiled ruefully. "He's a determined man. I can't imagine anything keeping him away from you."

"I hope," Shyla said, choking on the word. In absence of clear-cut proof of what happened to Storm, Shyla's isolation had led to increasingly wild theories, some of which had led her to shamefully wonder if Storm had skipped out just to avoid being with her. In her lucid moments, she had the strength to dismiss these stray thoughts but they had a habit of gnawing at resolve until there was a gaping hole in one's confidence.

Benedict looked at her. She seemed a pale shadow of the girl he'd seen on the shuttle deck. There was no other words he could say to her. So he sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping his tea and just being there. He reached over the table and took her hand, squeezing it. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. Shyla obviously felt that way about Ethan and he was torn by the look of desolate hope in her eyes. He remembered sitting alone for days after Tebrianne had died. Alone at a time when he wanted desperately to be anything but alone. He couldn't bring himself to leave her alone to dwell on the dark thoughts he saw in her eyes.

Finally the chime on the door rang out and he automatically said, "Come."

The door swooshed open in front of Ainsley and she stepped into the room. Shyla and T'Kal were sitting in the living area of the room. She approached them and held her hand out to the other woman. "Shyla? I'm Ainsley Chambers."

Shyla offered Ainsely a limp hand, a bit wet from wiping away tears. "Crewman Moreau," she squeaked.

Benedict stood and gave the counsellor a smile and a polite nod. She was a very attractive, petite woman with pale golden features. The most striking being her large blue eyes that indicated immediately her empathy toward Shyla. The Security Chief waited until Shyla had let the woman's hand go before he looked at Shyla. "I'll leave you two to talk okay?" At the girl's nod he smiled once more and gripped her arm. "You'll be okay - and so will Ethan," he said in an encouraging tone. "Thanks for coming, counsellor. I'd best get to the Bridge."

He gave them both a last smile before retreating toward the door. He left them to it, knowing that there was little anyone could do until the Rio Grande was ready.

---

"Mending Disconnect"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
and Ensign Raina Derrell - Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, CMO's Office
Stardate: 57907.31, 13h15

***

Damhnait was monitoring life signs on the console behind her desk, when Raina entered. Turning towards the junior officer, Damhnait smiled pleasantly, to say, "Ensign Derrell, have a seat. I realise we've already worked together in Sickbay, but I feel like it's long past time we had a formal introduction."

Raina took a seat as directed then smiled, "Thank you, I feel the same way." Over the last couple of days they'd been busy and with the few late night calls that required the Ensign's attention she'd worked some rather odd hours as well in between her regular duty shift.

Once she also seated herself, Damhnait asked, "I assume you've already settled well onto the Sulu? No difficulties thus far?"

"As well as can be expected from any new assignment," she commented. "The crew was still on shore leave when I reported aboard." There had not been any major problems thus far but then it wasn't Raina's first assignment outside of the Academy either so she was used to dealing with lots of changes.

"What about Sickbay and the medical staff in particular?" Damhnait queried, hoping for absolute honesty. "Is it what you expected, or would you make any changes?"

"Honestly I haven't worked with them enough to know. Just on general feel there appears to be some disconnect between the staff but then I'm just a junior medical officer," Raina commented sincerely. "But I have worked under high stress settings enough to know when a staff is cohesive and when they appear to be struggling a bit."

"You are a medical officer, no 'just's about it. I value your opinion as I would any member of the medical staff," Damhnait told her in a tone that belied how obvious it was to her. "I don't suppose you have specifically observed where - or with who - lie the greatest struggles of the staff?"

Derrell looked at her new department head seriously. "That is not something I try to perpetrate or to get into the middle of. If it becomes as detrimental to my patients or to getting my job accomplished then my concern becomes something more than just a passing thought."

One side of Damhnait's lips curled up into a spontaneous smile. "I respect that. In fact, I am pleased that your priority lies with the patients. Do keep it that way, and let me worry about staff cohesion. Now, what about introspection? What accomplishment are you most proud of?"

That was a difficult question. "I will be one of the first to tell you I've had quite a colorful career so far. If anything, Commander, I'm glad I made it through some of those experiences. However prior to the mess my work on Yassir Colony comes to mind. The frontier is totally different than anything most medical personnel will ever see in their careers. It is the exact reason I chose to specialize in emergency medicine."

"I had my children so early in my career that I've always stuck to comfortable starships," Damhnait told her without a hint of regret. "What do you think was your greatest medical challenge on Yassir Colony, prior to your time as a prisoner of war?"

Raina nodded. "Well, Ma'am with the lack of trained medical personnel in trauma type situations I was a prime candidate for taking that type of help to Yassir. My greatest challenge came in rendering adequate medical aid under adverse conditions. One can train in the nice pristine setting of a starbase or starship sickbay but the rubber really meets the road when you have to handle those same procedures in a less than ideal setting."

"Did you every try transferring back to a starship or 'base setting'?" Damhnait wondered aloud.

"You will find that I didn't choose medicine just because I showed some talent in it," she answered honestly.

"To answer your question did I ever try to request a transfer back to a more civilized setting. There wasn't a chance for that. Unfortunately I ended up as a POW well before that point." Raina's tone had become a bit quieter when she answered Sefton's question.

Sefton nodded, clearly taking in Raina's response, before spending a few moments considering her next question. "What aren't you good at? Are there any procedures you wouldn't trust yourself with?"

"I believe there is always room for improvement. Medicine is not a static field by any means. Lives are on the line," Ensign Derrell replied. "I'd like to think that I work on my weaker skill long before I become totally uncomfortable with any of them. By that same line of reasoning I know I am still gaining experience and that it is not unreasonable to ask for assistance when or if needed."

"It is" -- Damhnait paused for the briefest of moments when she realised she was about to say 'shiny', something she picked up from Cristobel -- "good to hear that." Not 'great', since Derrell hadn't been able to pinpoint any of her own weaknesses. "You see, most of the nurses have been encouraged to study a three-month correspondence course or two, while the Sulu begins its own study of the Gamma Quadrant. Is there any particular field you think you would be particularly interested in furthering your formal education?"

Briefly Raina thought about the question then a smile appeared. "I'm not sure there is a particular field per say since several areas come to mind." She paused. "Physiology and virology are two of them. I always enjoyed the first and particularly like to see how that is affected in more extreme environments such as space or underwater. The latter is another area I seemed to take interest in when I was at the academy."

"I'll ensure you receive personalised course syllabi," Damhnait told her. "I believe that's just about everything I was curious about to begin with. More importantly, are there any questions that you would like to ask?"

Raina nodded. "Thank you, Commander. Yes, I do have a few questions. First off what do you expect from your medical staff? It helps to know what each CMO expects. Everyone tends to have a different leadership style. Additionally what do you see as the role of an emergency medical specialist on this ship? There are things that I see but it also helps me to do my job more effectively if I know what my department head expects with regards to the varied specialties assigned to their staff."

"The only things I require from you, as a medical officer, is competence and an overwhelming personal desire to give aid," Damhnait replied without hesitation. As a sardonic afterthought, she twitched a half-smile. "Simple, really."

Taking a moment of consideration, Sefton then explained, "As an emergency medical specialist, I expect you to be prepared to cope with consecutive duty shifts during emergency situations. I expect you to have non-medical abilities, such as medical equipment repair and skilled transporter or shuttlecraft operation. During a ship-wide crisis, I will expect you to co-ordinate the damage control teams, and keep me constantly apprised of their status, even if you're crawling through the bowels of the ship as a member of a team. Of course, you also have your daily duties as a junior medical officer... Am I under-utilising you?"

"Not at all, Commander, those are all things that I already figured fell under my job description. But when I first reported aboard it was made clear to me that the individual I initially reported to was only acting in the position of CMO until it was filled on a permanent basis. That has made it a bit difficult up to this point to determine exactly how my services would be utilized specifically." Raina paused. "I've always worked to ensure my skills are well rounded and not just restricted to the medical field itself."

"Are there any unexpected skills you possess that I should consider when allocating personnel?" Damhnait asked in a direct manner, in the hopes of avoiding modesty from Derrell.

Raina didn't hold back as she responded, "One of my hobbies is diving and the medical knowledge I've gained from that could be useful someday and my skills in working in less than ideal conditions. I would say there's a good number of the medical staff that have rarely stepped outside the confines of some sort of medical facility for any prolonged length of time or at least had one close by if they were."

"I will doubtlessly give you acute consideration when choosing aides for away missions, but, while the Sulu is in the Gamma Quadrant, there is no guarantee of extensive off-ship operations. Are you sure you will be satisfied if you spend the next six months stuck within this Sickbay medical facility?" Sefton asked with concern. She had known many medical officers who simply couldn't cope with deep space exploration.

Ensign Derrell understood that. "I'll be honest with you, while I do enjoy getting out of sickbay. That provides a change of scenery and a challenge. However I'm new to the Sulu and you've seen my full medical file so it's no secret that regaining some sense of a normal life after my experiences on Yassir has not been easy. As such this six month trip to the Gamma Quadrant is probably a good thing."

"I hope it helps," Damhnait motherly said, while also mentally noting to re-review Derrell's most recent counselling reports. "Can you think of anything else you'd like to ask? You have permission to speak freely, of course."

"Do you have any concerns either as an officer or medically?" It was standard practice to ensure Raina was open with her superiors. That only made working relationships easier. Already she could tell this was one CMO she'd get along well with.

"No," Damhnait replied assuredly. "You appear to be both competent and devoted to helping people. I expect I'll be writing a thank-you note to whoever transferred you to the Sulu, by the time the Gamma Quadrant mission is over. You may be dismissed whenever you like."

Raina nodded then stood. "Thank you, Commander. I look forward to serving as part of your medical staff." She lingered in Damhnait's office long enough to get that final thought out.

---

"Deliver Us Not Into Temptation"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Thomas Meredith; Civilian Professor [NPC]

Location: USS Sulu, Chambers Quarters
Stardate: 57907.31 16h10

***

Ainsley stalked into her quarters and let out a small cry of anger and frustration. She couldn't believe Natalia. How could that woman show up at her office accusing her of such things!? She took off her uniform jacket and threw it down on the couch. How?

She paced back and forth, fuming. Nothing was helping. She just couldn't seem to get her feelings in order. And this wasn't going to help.

She collapsed down into the chair by her computer and punched the button to call Mason.

He answered in the Ops office. She could see the consoles behind him. "Operations. Ainsley?" he asked. "Hey hey. How's my lady?" he said with a grin, then frowned as he looked closer. "What's wrong?"

She tried to smile, especially when he called her 'my lady,' but she couldn't. "Natalia came to see me at my office..." She started and then broke off. "I don't want to talk about this over the comm. Can I see you?"

"Again?" he asked. "Was it an official visit?"

Ainsley shook her head. "She heard about you and I."

"Oh," Mason drew the word out, and then sighed. "This is a real Pandora's box, isn't it? I'm sorry, Ainsley."

"Do you have time to talk with me if I come see you?" she asked. She really did not want to talk about this over the comm and she needed a hug.

"Oh, wow," Mason said. "I really wish I did, but I've got a full plate already today. We're deep in the re-supply circus, and I'm going to be jumping through hoops all day making sure it's all flowing smoothly. I'm off at midnight. Will you still be up?"

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know. I mean, I might be, but the way I'm feeling right now I may just crash early." She forced herself to smile at him but it came out a little crookedly. She understood that he needed to get his work done and she didn't want to make him feel bad about it.

"I'm sorry." Mason shook his head and shrugged sorrowfully. "If you're still up at midnight, please call me. If not, get the sleep you need."

Ainsley nodded. "Don't be sorry. I know that you have work to do." She smiled again. "I'll let you get to it."

A beeping sounded from somewhere in the Operations Office. Mason glanced to the side. "I've got to go. Thaine's been on us like white on rice for today's load of parts. Sorry."

Ainsley shrugged. "Go do your work. I'll be fine."

Farrell glanced at the beeping again. "I'm sorry," he said again, clearly torn. "I'll catch you later?"

"Sure. If not tonight then tomorrow sometime." She smiled for real this time. "Go!" She waved her hand at the screen.

"You're the best, Ainsley," Mason said with a smile. "I'll be thinking of you," he added, and then terminated the call.

She sat looking at the screen for a few minutes. "Oh hell!" she muttered. She wanted to cry and she still needed a hug. She put her head in her hands and pressed her palms into her eyes. She wasn't going to cry over what Natalia said. Natalia was just a little witch who didn't know what she wanted.

Her terminal beeped an incoming message.

She looked up at the screen, a small glimmer of hope spreading in her mind. Maybe Mason had somehow managed to get some free time after all.

She reached over and tapped the message through.

Thomas' face came on the screen.

"Ainsley?" Thomas asked brightly. Then he frowned as well. "What's wrong, love?"

She knew that Thomas called every girl 'love,' but it still affected her. Made her remember what it had been like before, how she had been so infatuated with him.

She shrugged slightly. "A tough day at work."

"This looks like more than a typical tough day," he prodded.

She sniffed and then couldn't hold it back anymore. A tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and then said, "I had a patient come into my office and accuse me of malpractice."

"That's terrible," he said, his concern made evident by the way his accent crescendoed and his speech went rapid. "It can't possibly be true. Are you alright? God, of course you're not alright. You're weeping into the comm." He watched her a moment. "Let me buy you some dinner. You can tell me all about it, I can tell you what an idiot whoever's accusing you is, and you'll feel better. What do you say?"

For a moment Ainsley thought of saying no. Things were just starting with her and Mason, and things had never really been wrapped up between her and Thomas. She didn't want to risk anything...

But it was just going to be two friends out for dinner and a shoulder to lean on when Mason's wasn't available. It was no one's fault, he was just too busy and she understood that.

"Sounds good," she replied, mustering a smile.

---

"Damhnait Vs. Cait"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
and Ensign Kremer - Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57907.31, 16h15

***

Doctor Sefton looked to the timecode on her desktop terminal when she noticed the doors to her office open for Kremer. He was exactly on time. Standing from behind her desk, Damhnait smiled a broad smile that showed where she had acquired every wrinkle on her face. "Ensign Kremer, feel free to be seated. I've been so focused on ensuring that the crew is vaccinated that I've barely taken time to meet my staff. I've seen you around Sickbay, but I felt it important that we have a formal introduction."

Kremer studied the older woman standing before him; she was supposedly the new CMO and from word buzzing around Sickbay, Cristobel Sefton's mother. His tail wavered slightly as he approached the woman and offered his paw before sitting down in the offered seat. "Welcome aboard, Commander Sefton, it's reassuring to know we will finally have a CMO again." He sat down and folded his paws, waiting for the woman to reply.

"I have to admit, I'm most curious to discover what you think of the Sulu's medical department," Damhnait explained genially, once she retook her own seat. "What were your first impressions of Sickbay when you first came on board, and how have they changed? Would you make any changes to the department?" Damhnait hoped that the genuine curiosity in her eyes would prevent Kremer from withholding information for the sake of tact.

His ears twitched slightly in amusement at Damnhait's question. So she wanted to know what he thought of the crew, eh? This should be most interesting... Leaning back in the chair the Caitian's tail swept lazily behind him as he answered the Commander's question. "My first impression? I believe we have a competent Sickbay and crew; we have some skilled hands as demonstrated by my time working with the crew during the Sulu's stay at Risa...aside from a few, shall I say, oddballs? I think we have a very good team here...and I have not noticed any particular changes in the crewmembers here in Sickbay; Reese is as cheerful as ever, and Szerda...well she's Szerda."

"Where, in your assessment of Sickbay, would you place yourself? Please keep in mind that I've just arrived. I won't understand the context if you say Ensign Kremer is...well, I'm Kremer," Damhnait said with a slight hint of humour.

Kremer's eyes squinted slightly in confusion at Damhnait's question. "Where in my assessment would I place myself? I don't understand, do you wish to know of my quirks and personality or my skills as a Medical Officer?"

"I'd like to know both, Doctor Kremer," Sefton cordially prompted.

Well this was certainly quite an interesting catch of a CMO the Sulu has reeled itself in. "Commander I can assure you my bedside manners are within a number of patients and staff members' likings. As for my actual skills..." Kremer withdrew a PADD from his pocket and slid it across the desk towards her. "You will find that come the ship's stop at Risa, I performed various tasks from reattaching a man's severed finger to suturing the wounds on a man's shoulder torn open by a phaser blast."

"You're prepared," Damhnait remarked with an involuntary grin. "I like that." She only looked at the PADD for a moment, but the first thing she noticed was that Cristobel had assisted Kremer on the finger reattachment. She managed to fight off the urge to ask about her son's performance, since singling him out would be better suited for a conversation in the ship's lounge. A conversation that would definitely occur. While Kremer might have seen the brief distraction and hesitation in Damhnait's eyes, she was confident in voicing her next question. "What has been the greatest challenge of your Starfleet career?"

The Caitian couldn't help but notice a change in Damhnait's eyes as she reviewed the PADD over. Kremer speculated that it was either over his work or perhaps the fact that he had worked with her son...only time would tell. Letting the faux pas slide Kremer answered the Doctor's next question. "My greatest challenge?" He leaned back in his chair, tapping his claws against each other as he contemplated the thought to himself. He had faced many challenges in his life from his youth, to his time in Starfleet Medical...but which of them was the greatest challenge? "I believe the greatest challenge of my Starfleet career has been while I have acquired much medical and scientific knowledge in my selected field, I continue to remain an Ensign, I've known friends in the academy in almost similar scenarios to my own and they're already CMOs on other ships right now...I can't help but wonder if I'm doing something wrong..."

"You probably are," Damhnait said bluntly, but not entirely without sympathy.

Flattening his fur Kremer could not help worry as to how much of the Doctor's statement was true as he contemplated the situation in his mind. "Hmm..."

"I wish I could tell you what that might be, but I've only just met you," Damhnait apologised matter-of-factly. "I'm curious, though, if you are fearing that you could be doing something wrong, you must have some idea of what those mistakes could be...?"

"I believe that my mistake was attempting to juggle studying both Science alongside that of the Medical Sciences as well; early on I started in Xenology only until sometime later did I instead focus again on the area of medicine...perhaps I waited too long to start again in the medical field specifically that focused more on healing and treatments instead of just studying the biological aspects of it."

"Are you certain that you now prefer treating patients over studying Xenology?" Damhnait asked, since, considering Kremer's service record, he would probably gain promotion faster as a Xenology officer.

"Yes of course, I'm finding that I enjoy working more in Medical now then in the area of Xenology." He smiled slightly before adding, "I very much enjoy helping others and being around people, even if not of my species."

"Let's test your introspection even more. What aren't you good at? Is there any procedure you wouldn't feel entirely comfortable with performing?" Damhnait asked.

Kremer nodded. "Telepathic or perhaps particularly advanced neural treatment of the mind in particular; it's an area I still feel not prepared for yet as far as getting involved surgeries or the like. I still feel as though I haven't quite a firm understanding of organ itself...in Terrans or further Telepath races."

"I'll make sure that is on record. Just in case I become injured," Sefton deadpanned. "What do you think is your greatest skill or asset?"

Kremer felt his tail wrap around his waist briefly in embarrassment at Sefton's remark. "Certainly, Commander, mind you I will make a note to brush up on those skills," he quipped.

A beat. "My training in Emergency Medicine or more than likely working with others as a group I consider to be my greatest skills."

Nodding, Damhnait said, "I believe that is everything I wanted to ask, for now. Is there anything you would like to ask me? And you have permission to speak freely, of course."

Kremer shook his head no as he stood. "No, I believe everything has been covered. You've been quite thorough and to the point. I look forward to serving with you, Commander," the Cait stated, offering his paw for her to shake as was custom per human gesture.

Damhnait placed her hand on Kremer's shoulder, as per Caitian custom, and whimsically apologised, "I'm afraid I don't have whiskers to do this properly."

Smiling Kremer touched both her shoulders lightly with pressure from his pads and claws and instead bowed his head in greeting and show of mutual respect. "No need to apologize." Stepping back he nodded. "Good day to you, sir." Those words spoken Kremer turned and exited the CMO's Office and out into Sickbay.

Once he had left, Damhnait officially decided that her eccentric nursing staff must have been the price of having the honour of working with doctors as competent and pleasant as Ensign Kremer.

---

"Fortuitous Mistake"
by Doctor Ilan Potts - Assistant Chief Counselor
and Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Counseling Reception Area and Dr. Potts' Office
Stardate: 57907.31, 16h17

***

"Stupid Annika," Amy muttered as she dawdled into the counselling office reception area after a near-catfight with her voluptuous nemesis. She impersonated Annika's airy, bleating laugh, complete with head toss, and blindly made her way down the corridor to Counsellor Scott's door. "Oh, Amy," she mimicked in a high-pitched, nasally tone, "you really should do something about your hair. I mean, can you say 'last century'?" Amy growled in frustration and punched at the door console. "I'll show her," she muttered.

Her eyes flicked up to the name printed on the door and she internally winced as she realized it read 'Dr. Ilan Potts' and not the expected 'Counsellor Scott.' "Wrong room," she whispered and was in the process of carefully tiptoeing away when the door slid open a scant few centimeters, only enough for a pale blue eye to peer out at her. She didn't even know that a starship door could do that.

"Who are you?" a voice with the eye inquired suspiciously. Amy could tell the voice was high-pitched and a little whiny, even though slightly muffled by the duranium of the bulkhead.

She stared down at the probing eye curiously, then hesitantly leaned forward to speak into the opening. "Uh...Ensign Amy Reese. You're not Counsellor Scott..."

In answer, the door surprised her again by opening far quicker than she would have ever thought possible and two hands reached out and pulled her inside.

The lights in the office were dimmed low. Dr. Potts was in uniform, mostly, save for a pair of what looked to be pink house slippers on both feet. He was looking up at her with an intent stare and still had his hands on her shoulders. He gently maneuvered her towards a certain spot in the office at which point he released her and tiptoed back away with his hands out to his sides, as if she were a bomb about to explode.

Amy's eyes remained wide, though shifted from side to side as she scanned the darkness around her. With arms resting tightly at her sides as if she were afraid something was going to lunge out and seize her again, Amy cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak.

Potts held up a long tapering finger, silencing her. He cocked his head to one side and said nothing for a very long time until he asked, "Do you hear that?" He looked like he was listening for something.

Amy wrinkled her nose and squinted in complete puzzlement as she listened. And listened. And heard nothing. "Dr. Potts--"

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing at Reese in triumph. "Right there. It sounded like a voice saying my name."

Attempting to catch her breath after the start he'd given her, and with one hand pressed to her pounding chest, Amy sputtered, "I just said your name! Y-You didn't see my lips move?"

"It did sound a little like you," he accused, narrowing his eyes through the dim. "Could you say the name again, please?"

She cleared her throat once more. "Um...Ensign Amy Reese, sir."

"No, my name," he insisted, with a whiff of impatience. He closed his eyes and listened.

Consciously sliding a step away from the man, she answered uncertainly, "Dr. Potts?"

A smile filled with colorful teeth spread across Ilan's face. He opened his eyes and looked at her, his blue eyes twinkling. "I guess it was you. Problem solved. Now, how may I be of service?"

"I thought...." She glanced about the darkened room again, then her uptight pose relaxed, and with hands on hips and head tilted to one side, she asked, "Why are the lights off? Don't you trip over all sorts of things?"

"My eyes are acclimated, Mister Reese," Potts said. Almost on cue, there was a thump and a muffled thud in the dark followed hastily by, "But I realize yours may not be... Computer, increase illumination twenty-five percent."

The lights came up, revealing Potts' office. He had been in it only a day yet it already had that look of carefully controlled chaos where you just knew the occupant could easily and swiftly find specific things among the various PADD stacks and general clutter but a stranger could spend literal hours in the same search. Curiously and quite archaically, the walls had been lined with rather shakily constructed shelving that held actual bound and printed books. Potts was in the process of retrieving one from the floor when he looked up at Ensign Reese.

Ilan had no way of knowing it but Reese was dressed down. Her normally colorful hair was a dull blond and pinned tight to her scalp. She wore the Class-A variant popular among some of the female crew though she wore it a little less tight and with a slightly longer skirt than she had previously. Still, she was showing a fair amount of leg and Dr. Potts took note of it even as he was distracted by the variant uniform itself.

"Ah-ha," he nearly gushed. "You are wearing a skirt. I heard Captain Salinger was favorably inclined towards them." He tossed the fallen book back upon his desk and leaned casually on it. "Would you happen to know if they're only approved for female personnel?"

"I...don't think men are prohibited..." She frowned queerly at the man, as if her next comment caused her much distaste. "I'm sure you'd look great in one...Dr. Potts."

"I would," Potts remembered fondly. Supporting the theory that his mess of an office was actually a complex system only he could understand, he reached over and plucked a PADD from between two books on the shelf. He carried it over to Ensign Reese and passed it to her gently, as if he were handling a rare butterfly.

It was a 2-D holo rendering of a much younger Ensign Ilan Potts, wearing the blue 'skant' uniform that had been phased out slowly over the past decade. In spite of his youth, he looked to be about the same weight and he had both hands behind his head in some kind of bizarre caricature of a cheesecake pose. One leg was positioned towards the imager, and showed a generous expanse of pasty white thigh.

Amy attempted to suppress a horrified contortion of her features. She swallowed hard and squeaked, "It's great." Chuckling uncomfortably, she thrust the padd back into his possession. She sighed heavily. "Dr. Potts...is there some reason I'm in here? I-I just came around to see a counsellor...." Remembering the stomach-roiling image she had just been exposed to, she amended quickly, "I mean...speak with one, that is...."

"Your lucky day, Ensign Reese," Potts enthused, giving a long loving last glance at the picture of himself before tossing it on his desk and sliding into his chair. "My four o' clock just cancelled." He crossed his legs at the knee and gestured to the chair next to Amy. "Please, Mister Reese. Have a seat."

Amy frowned. "It's Miss Reese," she corrected, and reluctantly moved to the offered seat. A startled hiccup escaped as she came down upon a hard object poking into her rear. Amy rose quickly, rubbing her backside soothingly. "What--?" Dipping her hand behind the cushion, Amy grasped the object and tugged it out into the open. The phallic-looking, metallic item winked at her as the room's lighting angled off its reflective surface. She grimaced and set it down onto the nearest table. Consciously keeping a good distance between she and Potts, Amy again hazarded a seat.

As she settled in safely, Potts made a mental note of the Ensign's ignorance of Starfleet protocol concerning the use of masculine titles for personnel. Potts didn't want to throw stones - he ignored a fair number of Starfleet protocols himself - but if the Ensign's angst was performance based, perhaps a little re-education was in order.

"Thank you for finding that, Miss Reese, " Potts said, leaning forward a bit and indicating the cylindrical device she had handled with such distaste. "Now, what is it you wish to speak about?"

"I don't know," she replied in confusion. "You asked me to sit.... I was hoping Counsellor Scott was around... See, she normally sees me..."

"You came to the wrong office," Potts said, pointing back at his door. "Lieutenant Scott's is the one across from mine. In any case, her shift has ended." Ilan sighed but was smiling. "I am loath to step on the Lieutenant's toes...unless we were having some kind of Kerellian Toe-Fight, in which case, I'd be the odds-on favorite. You're welcome to talk to me if you're in dire need or you can see the good Lieutenant tomorrow. It is, of course, your choice."

Amy sighed, then, and scooted forward in her chair to bring them to a more intimate conversation distance. "But I have been to her before, and everything's still the same, Doctor. You see...I'm not getting better, and no one can tell me how to be."

Potts tilted his head curiously. "Is that what you expect from Counseling? To be told 'how to be'?"

"Well..." Amy wrinkled her nose quizzically. "Isn't that what you're here for? I know I'm screwed up. I need you to tell me how to not be."

Potts was shaking his head gravely or at least as grave as he could be, given the fact he was...well...him. "I can't speak for Lieutenant Scott's methods but I certainly am not here to tell anyone how to be or not to be or any other butchering of the Bard we might dream up. I'm here as a listener and a guide, Miss Reese. Any decisions you make concerning your behavior will be yours alone. What is it that you do that you think you should not be doing?"

Amy shrugged and sheepishly focused on her feet. "I...well...it's not such a big thing... I mean...I, maybe, like to cheat on my boyfriend." She looked up abruptly. "But I don't mean to! I-I promise to be faithful, then wham!" She smacked her palms together for emphasis. "I go and flirt or sleep with someone else. That's...that's just wrong...right?"

Ilan shrugged as if his Deltan and Human half were doing a tug of war. "What is 'wrong' is a bit relative, Miss Reese. The behavior you describe is common and acceptable on half a hundred worlds." Potts got a far-off look in his eyes and said almost inaudibly, "Beautiful, glorious, fun-filled worlds." He shook a little as he snapped back to the matter at hand. "I would ask you this: Do you believe it's wrong?"

Amy opened her mouth to answer promptly, but realized her intended reply felt incongruous with how she had always lived her life. But maybe her entire life until she met Kit had been a lie. "I don't know," she whispered in defeat. "It hurts my Kitty...and it makes me feel bad to do it....but when I'm with another man or woman and get that urge, it just doesn't feel wrong, and my conscience certainly doesn't see a problem with it, 'cause she remains absolutely silent." Her eyes went wide. "Or maybe I'm deficient. Maybe I don't have a conscience, Dr. Potts, and that's why I can't stop myself!"

"Your conscience obviously speaks up eventually or you wouldn't be here," Potts pointed out, though his face was slightly confused. "Am I to understand that this behavior adversely affects your housecat?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "Or is 'Kitty' a euphemism for your--"

"He's my boyfriend," Amy explained quickly. "His name's Kit...I call him Kitty. And yes, it affects him. He's almost broken it off twice with me...and he says if it happens one more time...." She sobbed gently, unable to continue and to imagine ever losing him.

"I know of Ensign Markham," Ilan said with a little mock distaste. Ilan leaned back to the desk, grabbed up a box of tissue and held it out to Reese. He had a certain mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I call him 'The Giant.' "

Amy tugged free a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes. "Kitty's not very tall, Dr. Potts." She sniffled, considered the squat man sitting before her, and realized Kit wasn't the shortest man on board after all, and that Dr. Potts' assessment of his stature was accurate. "But still...he's so short and compact...and perfectly handsome." Amy sighed dreamily. "Oh, he's perfect."

"Maybe I should see him," Potts joked. "He sounds a little more upbeat."

"I'm upbeat!" she protested. "I'm just a little out of my wits right now. I mean...Kit and I are trying to make a fresh start, but now I've got these ideas, you see. My friend, Crissy, he was telling me that maybe...well...Kit and I should see other people, but remain boyfriend and girlfriend. I-I guess he thinks that this will help us realize how much we truly love each other and that we don't need anyone else 'cause we have all we could ever want with each other." She frowned over her words, then sighed. "Does that make sense?"

"Maybe," Potts allowed, taking another mental note of Amy's tendencies to always use diminutive nicknames, assuming 'Crissy' was, in fact, not named 'Crissy.' "Have you presented this idea to your 'Kitty'?"

"I'm afraid to," she admitted. "He'll think I'm not interested in commitment and that before I hurt him again, he needs to dump me. I don't wanna be dumped!"

"I think your instinct is sound," Potts said as he steepled his hands and rested his chin on his fingertips. "From what you've told me so far, Ensign Markham seems unlikely to agree." Potts closed his eyes, obviously in deep thought. "Has your relationship with him ever been open?"

Amy shook her head sullenly. "He's found out about my...extra-relationship affairs twice, and he's almost dumped me twice."

"If you are so fearful of being 'dumped,' " Potts said, considering her words. "Why do you think you put yourself in a position that increases that likelihood?"

"I don't know," she answered irritably. "I like sex, I guess. It makes me feel...special, important." She shrugged and muttered, "Wanted..."

"Was there a time in your life you felt particularly unwanted?" Potts asked, picking up the thread.

Amy moved her head in an unreadable gesture, and lowered her eyes to the hem of her skirt being tugged at by restless fingers. "I got a lot of dates at the Academy," she answered. "No problems there. And I was always popular in school. Had lotsa friends, too."

"Was this popularity because of your hypersexuality? Or was your behavior different at the Academy and Secondary School than it is now?"

"I get a lot less sex now," Amy replied. "What, with Kit and all.... And I always figured I was popular 'cause I was...well...spunky." She gazed up at him with hopeful, doe-eyes. "I still am...right?"

"You are nothing if not spunky, Miss Reese," Potts said, smiling gently at her. "And I did not mean to insinuate that you were only popular because of your sexual habits. I only wanted to confirm that those habits were essentially the same as they are now. From what you've just said, am I correct in assuming that they were?"

"I guess..." she answered. "I've just never had a boyfriend that I loved before. That's the only difference."

"Yet you still don't feel wanted even though you clearly are," Potts mused. "And your boyfriend wants you for more than just sex. How does that make you feel?"

"I don't know..." Her face lit up, thinking of him. "He makes me feel loved." She sighed, then. "That's the first time anyone's ever done that."

"Anyone?" Potts asked, a little incredulousness creeping into his voice. "What about your friends at the Academy? What about your family?"

Amy shifted noticeably in her seat, and compulsively picked at the hem of her skirt. "I was loved," she answered uncertainly. "I mean...my parents always encouraged me to make something of myself. They always pushed me to succeed. That was love." She murmured, "I suppose."

It sounds a little...cold, Potts thought, recalling briefly his own childhood. Reese's body language was telling more than her words but Ilan fretted pushing too hard, too soon. "Are your parents in Starfleet?" he asked, hoping to obliquely approach the issue without making it seem like a clubbing.

She shook her head. "Mama is a doctor back home, and Dad is an architect. They are both really, really good at their jobs. They work hard." Amy chewed at her bottom lip. "Seemed they were always working, really...."

"Do you still speak to them? " Potts asked, feeling like he was the one being clubbed. Everything Reese was telling him was classic but it still didn't seem quite enough to send Amy down her particular path. Potts himself had been a neglected child and he turned out quite normal. At least that's what he thought, as he adjusted the pink house slipper that was sliding off his foot.

"Sometimes," Amy answered. She scratched idly at a bare knee. "Well...not really. Mom sends transmissions from time to time, but I either miss them or avoid them, but it's not that often. She says she's working on this research study...so she's got no time for chatting." Amy smiled wanly. "It's alright, though. I understand. Her work is important to her, and it keeps her mind off Dad."

"Why would you avoid the transmissions from your mother if they come so seldom?" Potts asked, choosing to stick with Amy and her problems with her parents rather than her mother's apparent problems with the husband. They would come back to that.

"I dunno." Amy's gentle scratching of her knee became deliberate rubbing now, mirroring her inner agitation. "She's always prying, you see, but you can tell she doesn't really care. I mean, it's like she does it because she feels obligated as my mother. You see, they always wanted a son and I'm a girl." She snorted. "Obviously. But I could swear they resented me for it as a child. I was always a tomboy as a kid - I thought it would please them." Amy sighed. "It didn't work. They just tried to have another baby, and that didn't work either." She was silent, staring at her knees, rubbed bright red now. "Mama lost the baby before he was born. And it was ironic, too. She was a medical doctor who placed so much faith in the field and all its advancements...but there was still no way she could use it to save Ethan - that's what I took to calling him, you see." Sighing heavily, Amy finally relaxed against the cushiony backing of her chair. "I guess she hates me because I wasn't Ethan. Silly, huh?"

"Not silly," Potts insisted, glancing at her reddened knees before meeting her gaze. "But based on a lot of supposition. Are you sure that the baby your mother lost was male, for instance?"

"Of course I'm sure," Amy replied defensively. "I mean...it just felt like a boy...you know?"

"How so?"

She shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess. I mean, whenever she and my dad used to refer to the baby inside, they said 'he' or 'him' or, 'Feel his little feet kicking.' That sort of thing. They really, really wanted a boy, Dr. Potts. I guess I was sort of a disappointment to them, in that respect."

"Okay," Potts nodded, not wanting to challenge her too much on her perceptions just yet. "You mentioned something before about your mother's work keeping her mind off of your father. What did you mean by that?"

Amy again fidgeted in her seat; one hand scratched incessantly at one arm, conveying her restlessness. "They're not getting along - haven't been for years. I think she suspects Dad's got a girlfriend...but she doesn't want to face it so she just works herself hard. They don't even live together anymore... Well, hardly." Amy sighed sharply and screwed up her face in an irritated expression. "Do we have to talk about this? I'm already having enough trouble as it is with all this Kit stuff...I-I don't wanna get into my messed up home life, too."

Potts smiled warmly at her. "No, we don't. But I do want you to understand that it all may be important to how you relate to other people and to Kit. It will deserve further exploration but we can stop here today, if you like."

She exhaled deeply and nodded. "I think I would. It's hard...all this talking stuff." Meeting Ilan's gaze, Amy smiled curiously. "I'm glad I bumped into you, Dr. Potts. I've talked to counsellors before...but you've really helped. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Potts said, rising from his seat. "I will be giving the notes from this session to Lieutenant Scott for her to make some determinations about your therapeutic path. However, if you would prefer to see me, you can make that preference known. I've enjoyed our chat immensely."

Not believing it herself, Amy shared his sentiment. "I think I may just do that. Say...do you think you'd like to meet Kit? Maybe you could see us both...you know?"

"I would be honored," Potts said, his blue eyes twinkling and a big grin spreading across his face. "However, if he thinks he can come in here towering over me and throwing his weight around, he's got another thing coming."

Amy giggled and thrust a hand out towards the peculiar little man. "Done!"

Potts ignored the hand thrust and actually leaned in to give a gentle hug to a very surprised Amy. It was quick, fatherly, and not the least lascivious, much to even Ilan's surprise. More than anything, he wanted to show her that someone could care about her without it being sexual.

He pulled back and regarded her with a warm smile. "You are a good person, Miss Reese. Spunky even, as I hear tell. Remember that."

She smiled inquisitively at the man, then whispered, "Thanks. I will." Despite his initial eccentricity, and his unnerving paranoid episode, Amy felt infused with hope about her previously hopeless situation. With a rigorous wave, she skipped away towards the door, catching one last glimpse at his pink, floppy slippers before she left behind his office.

Potts continued to broadly smile until the door slid shut at which point it grew slowly soft and waning. Sinking back down to his chair with a heavy sigh, he began to mentally compile his impressions of Ensign Amy Reese.

It was only a scarce few moments before his chime rang again for his 1700 hours appointment. "Computer, decrease lights twenty percent," he said, returning the room to its previous darkened state.

In the dim, Ilan shuffled over to the door and hit the switch that he had programmed to only open the door a mere few centimeters. Light streamed in from the corridor, illuminating one of his pale blue eyes.

"Who are you?" Doctor Potts asked suspiciously.

---

"Come Fly With Me"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh

Location: Deep Space Nine
Stardate 57907.31, 18h45

***

Together, they walked along Deep Space Nine's Promenade. It was busy with beings from various species travelling every which way. Matt gave Xayella's hand a squeeze. They were both dressed in civilian clothing, a more formal attire than was probably required on the station, but they were going to be in one of the most posh locales on the station. It was going to be a fun night, to say the least.

He glanced at Xayella and grinned. "You excited?" he asked for the third time since they'd crossed through the hatch connecting the Sulu with DS9.

"I am," she replied with a chuckle. "But I would be even more so if I knew where we were going." She adjusted the top of her sleeveless black cocktail dress with a free hand, wondering what he had in mind that required an outfit from Earth's twentieth century.

"Well, we're almost there," Matt said, as he pointed ahead of them to Quark's Bar. He was wearing a tuxedo, appropriate to the period they'd be dining in. He'd done a little research before planning their evening, and had come up with the outfits they now wore. At least now he knew where the discomfort built into Starfleet dress uniforms had originated.

"Hopefully there's someplace with chairs," she told him, and frowned down at her footwear - black, round-tipped shoes with thin heels that elevated her three inches from the ground and were secured around her ankles by thin, black laces; the bows they were knotted into matched the diamond bowties hanging from her earlobes. The dress fit more comfortably than her shoes, but despite her sore feet, she liked the overall look. "So, are we going dancing?" she asked with renewed excitement. "Or are you just showing me off again?"

"There will be dancing," Matt said. "And, good music, good food, and wonderful company. I hope you don't mind if it's just the two of us and the host. It will be a rather intimate affair--" he grinned, anticipating her next thoughts "--but not that intimate."

Her red lips spread into a large grin. "Oh, and why not? I thought you were used to making public spectacles with me by now."

"You're the one who fed me at that party," Matt said with a smile. "At least you didn't do that thing with my hair again. I swear, my love, if you ever do that in public, I will demote you. Either that or chain you up in my quarters and never let you out."

She chuckled throatily and leaned in closer to him. "Don't tempt me, Salinger."

"Oh, you know how much I enjoy tempting you though," he said. He gestured toward Quark's. "Shall we go tempt ourselves?"

Withholding a delighted squeal and overcoming her tender feet, Xayella crushed his hand in hers and hurried towards the bar. A call of 'Dabo!' greeted them at the entrance, accompanied by a cheer for the lucky winner. The Ferengi manning the counter broke into a lengthy, miserable diatribe, then scampered towards the Dabo tables with urgent haste. Xayella giggled. "This is your surprise? Very classy!"

"Not this," Matt said with a laugh. "It's going to be through those doors in the back. If we were going to be here, we'd have worn different clothing. But there, that's where the fancy clothes go."

Xay grinned. "Then let's go where the fancy clothes belong," she quipped, and started forward, hanging from Matt's arm. "You do know," she mused, "that there will come a time when you'll never be able to top yourself. What will you do then?"

Matt grinned. "You underestimate me," he said. "There are always choices and options." He gestured outward, to where the vastness of space would be beyond the station. "There is a galaxy of surprises out there, and many different ways that I can top myself."

"A galaxy to explore," she sighed, "and one you'll explore with me." She smiled tenderly. "I hope."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "I like the sound of that," Matt said with a smile, a smile full of tenderness and love, as well as hope. "I like it very much."

Xay's lips drifted towards his, and when they met, she sighed happily. Once they parted again, she smiled fondly, then chuckled. "Come on, handsome, show me this surprise of yours."

"Right this way, my dear."

With that, he led the way through the doors.

***

It was as if they had stepped back in time. The club was dark, yet bright at the same time. Things seemed to glitter and shine, and through the air, music drifted. It was old music that held a jazzy beat. From near the stage where a band played, a white-haired human approached.

"Hey there, pally," he said. "Nice threads. So, you cats here for the show tonight?"

Matt grinned. "We are," he said. "We have reservations."

"Right this way. Not too close, not too far. Enjoy. I'll be right back to check on you in a few. Get yourselves settled, then I'll get your drinks, unless you know 'em now."

Xay, at a loss but completely enthralled, looked to Matt and shrugged. "Um...what does one order in a place like this?"

"Well, we can order you up pretty much anything you like, doll," their host answered. "Within reason, of course. If you go orderin' one of those drinks Worf loves so much, we can't do that. Just earth stuff from the Sixties. No Klingon booze here."

She shrugged at Matt, then regarded the simulation with a naturally sultry smile. "The house's best wine, if you please."

"House's best it is," he said with a smile. "For the lady. And, for the gentleman?"

"The same," Matt answered.

"I'll be right back with you cats," the white-haired man said. "And, in case I've neglected to mention it, my name's Vic Fontaine, and I'll be the entertainment for the evening."

Xayella grinned with contained enthusiasm at the man, then at Matt, whose cheek she kissed ardently. "This is so great! It looks and even smells so real...though I don't know what real smells or looks like."

"I've been hearing great things about this place," Matt said as they settled into their chairs. "I just wanted to have someone special to visit with." He brought her hand to his lips. "So, whaddya say, doll? Should we enjoy ourselves tonight, or what?"

She fixed him with a curious stare, then snickered and gently bumped his shoulder with hers in a playful nudge. "I think, pally," she replied, "I like that idea."

"Here you go," Vic Fontaine announced as he returned with their drinks. "Enjoy these, they're on the house. I'm heading up to the stage for a song. When I'm done, I'll come back to take your food orders. Sounds good?"

"Sounds good," Matt said, then glanced to Xay.

She nodded in agreement and smiled as she watched the surprisingly life-like simulation make his way to the stage. Xayella raised her glass of deep, red wine and touched it to Matt's. "To your great ideas and my willingness to go along with them."

He raised his glass to his lips after their toast and smiled. "It's very nice here," he said. "This has to be one of the most advanced holodeck programs I've ever been in. It's amazing."

"It just...feels real," Xay commented. "Though, everything seems to feel that way now that I've met you." She smiled bashfully, then rolled her eyes. "And do I seem more overly sentimental to you, or is just the wine?"

"I don't think it's the wine," Matt said with a smile. "I think it's just that...you're in love, my dear. You see things differently now, I guess. I think when you're in love with someone, you tend to find more joy and hope in life."

"Joy, sure," she conceded. "Hope?" She smiled enigmatically. "Well...give me something new to look forward to, and we'll see about that."

Matt gave her a smile that, he hoped, would give her something to look forward to when their time here was done.

She chuckled lowly. "Now, that is what I mean," she said, then leaned into him for a fervent kiss, just as the song entered its chorus. She was too caught up in the heat and passion arising from the kiss to catch a single word of the song playing, though she imagined it had a little something to do with falling in love.

As they continued to lose themselves in one another, the song finally ended. As it did, Vic Fontaine made his way back over to their table. "Judging from the way you're carrying on out here," he said once their kiss had ended, "sounds like the two of you must be in some pretty serious love. It's good to see, though be careful. Don't want the boys up there to feel like they're at some peepshow, now." He gave them a disarming grin. "Now, about the food. You know what you want yet, doll?"

Xay gazed dreamily at Matt and sighed. "Oh, I sure do..."

Vic laughed and nodded. "I'm sure you do, doll," he said. "But, the cap'n here isn't on the menu. How about he's your dessert back at your apartment after we're done with the show here."

"Sounds perfect," she purred, then cast her sultry gaze in Vic's direction. "Two steaks, rare, with a side of mashed potatoes and string beans in garlic butter sauce. Oh," she added, motioning her eyes towards their goblets, "and bring the entire bottle of wine, will you?"

"As the lady wishes," Vic said with a smile. "A good choice, and practically the house special. You two make yourselves comfy, enjoy the music, and we'll have that food for you in a jiffy." With that, he strolled away to get their orders into the kitchen.

"I like it here," Matt said once they were alone again. "I think, this should be a regular stop for us whenever we're in the area."

"We won't be back for at least six months," she pointed out, then regarded Matt solemnly. "We'll make it, won't we? We can last past six months, right?"

"I think our chances are very good," Matt said with a smile. "Look at us. And, now that our relationship is out in the open, forcing us not to hide or sneak, I think we have an even better chance. I think our greatest trials will be in the Gamma Quadrant, but we'll survive them and our relationship will grow even stronger from it."

"And you'll become even more disgustingly sappy?" She smiled sweetly. "I look forward to that."

Matt chuckled. "Perhaps I will," he said. "Especially if it's something you're looking forward to."

"I look forward to a lot," she told him. "I look forward to exploring with you, to seeing where this whole arrangement takes us, and figuring out if you really will introduce me to the folks." Her eyes twinkled with mirth, though there was a sincerity behind them.

"I hope you can hold out for six months on that last one," Matt said with a grin, "because I really hope they don't follow us into the Gamma Quadrant. I don't think the Dominion or the other Gamma Quadrant species are ready for them."

Xay chuckled. "Are they that bad then? What are they like?"

"They're actually very nice, wonderful people," Matt said with a fond smile. "I guess in many ways I'm happy and lucky to have them as my parents. They're like the perfect Federation couple, though with enough flaws and hang-ups to make them interesting."

She sighed wistfully. "I wish I'd had that." Glancing at him, she smiled. "But...I think what I have with you can make up for that."

"I hope it can," Matt said with a smile. "And, think of it this way: would we have met if our lives hadn't taken the paths they did?"

"Probably not," she admitted, then laughed softly. "I guess I should thank my parents for being so rotten the next time I see them."

"That's one way to think of it," Matt said with a grin. "Though, perhaps different phrasing would be better."

"Like what?" she asked. "Like...thank you for ignoring me when I was a child? Thank you for caring more about your careers than me?" Xay shrugged. "Same thing."

"Perhaps it's best just to send them one of Nebbs' fruitcakes."

Xay snickered. "You'd be their favourite son-in-law," she joked, then cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I mean...if that were to ever happen...in the very not distant future, of course."

"Of course," Matt said with a smile, and then took her hands before she could nervously fidget with them. "Future. And, speaking of futures, I think we should drink to futures."

Her tense smile softened into her usually charming one. "I think we should...if Mr. Fontaine would bring us our complementary bottle of wine."

"Bottle of wine, coming right up," came the call from over near the bar.

Matt chuckled. "He's good."

Xay smiled. "He's Vic," she amended.

"He definitely is," Matt said with a grin.

A moment later, Vic Fontaine was back at their table. "Here you cats go," he said. "And, an extra special something for the special occasion, at that."

"Is there a special occasion?" Xay asked, her questioning gaze finding Matt's. "If it's the presentation of another charming necklace," she joked, "then forget the wine, I wanna see it!"

"This is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you," he said, then raised a quizzical eyebrow at Vic.

"When I see two people as obviously in love as you two, it's cause to celebrate." He tapped the wine and gave them a smile, as he started up to the stage, and quickly dropped into Come Fly With Me, giving Matt and Xay more time alone.

"A very considerate simulation," Xay noted. She leaned affectionately up against Matt and held her glass out. "Now pour, Salinger."

Matt opened the bottle and poured them each out a glass of the beverage, his eyes on hers as he did. "You look beautiful in here," he said. "It's like you were made for this setting, for this style. It's a side of you I'd hoped to see, and I like what I'm seeing."

Xay smiled demurely and lowered her eyes to the burgundy liquid in her goblet. "And what side is that, Matthew Salinger?"

Matt reached out and took her hand. "The side of you that allows you to look beautiful and composed wherever you are, as if you were born to be there. You are a natural for seeming at home wherever you are, no matter wherever you are. And, in this period, you fit. And, if you're up for it, I'd like to dance with you after we finish our wine."

Xay's lips split into a wide grin. In one smooth, deft motion, she tossed back her head, drained her wine, and set the goblet down less than gently. With the wine swallowed, she held a hand out to Matt. "So...that dance?"

Matt looked at her, eyes wide, then at his still-full glass. With a laugh, he set it back on the table, and stood. "I guess you really want that dance," he said. He placed his hand into hers. "Come on."

Adjusting to the mildly uncomfortable footwear, Xay gracefully strode to the dancefloor with Matt, then performed a half-spin into his arms. She made certain her body was held close to his. "Take it away, pally," she prompted, then kissed his cheek for good measure.

The music was easy to move to, and Vic Fontaine easily shifted from one song to the next, keeping a good tempo for their dancing. They moved well together, happy and graceful. Their eyes held love for each other as they moved from one end of the club to the other, not caring who watched, intent only on each other and the dance playing out in their hearts and with their bodies. "We move well together," Matt finally commented, then kissed her. "Very well."

"You hadn't noticed that by now?" she quipped. "I guess you'll need another demonstration tonight then, hm?"

Matt smiled. "And, I'm looking forward to that demonstration," he said.

She chuckled lowly and slid her hand to a lower position on his back. "Of course you are... That's the main reason you're still around, isn't it?"

"It's one reason," Matt said. "But not the biggest and the most important one."

Xay grinned. "And what would the most important one be?"

"The most important is that since I've met you, since I've gotten to know you, since I've fallen in love with you, my life seems more full, more vibrant, and everything is more hopeful."

She sighed airily and shrugged. "Well...I guess that means I'm stuck with you." Xay smiled warmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

A slow chuckle escaped from Matt's lips as he spun them toward the stage, then back the other direction. "Neither would I," he finally said. "So, tell me one thing you hope for while we're in the Gamma Quadrant."

"Discovery," she answered succinctly. "Some new life forms wouldn't hurt...but I'm not going to set myself up for disappointment. You?"

"New life forms would be very nice," he said. "I'm also looking forward to the possibility of first contact with a Gamma Quadrant species. I don't know how much groundwork we'll be able to lay on the other side of the wormhole, but it would be pretty amazing to make some."

She pressed a hand to his cheek and whispered, "And I like the idea of being by your side as you do."

"Me too," Matt said. "I think we work very well together, professionally and personally. I think that's what makes us as strong and stable a couple as we are. And, that makes me love you even more."

"So, you don't love me completely yet, then?" Xay clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "I'm truly hurt, Salinger."

Matt laughed. "Oh, I love you as completely and totally as any one person can love another," he said. "You don't think I'd bring just anyone to Vic Fontaine's, do you?"

"That depends on how many women you already have brought here," she shot back. She spun outwards, her hand clasped with Matt's, then spiralled back into his arms with a laugh. "Though, as long as you didn't do that with them."

"Not a one," Matt said with a wide grin. "And, I believe the current total is--" He paused for a long moment, apparently deep in thought, then finally nodded as the math seemed to add up. "One woman."

"Good!" She chuckled and loosely wound both arms around his neck. "Now," she sighed, pressing her cheek to his, "this woman wants to see what you've got, Salinger. So, hit it."

Matt let out a laugh, and did as she commanded. Using his fanciest footwork, he set to showing her what he had.

---

"It's a Small Quadrant After All"
(USS Sulu/USS Caduceus crossover)

Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer, USS Sulu
Captain Matthew Salinger; Commanding Officer, USS Sulu
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh; Chief Science Officer, USS Sulu

Special Guest Appearance by:
Lieutenant j.g. Cheyenne Trudeau; Operations Manager, USS Caduceus

Location: Deep Space Nine, Promenade
Stardate: 57907.31 18h46

***

The promenade. The street of dreams. Deep Space Nine's mercantile district had been highly romanticized in both news stories and holonovels. But when you took a real, honest look at it, it was just another shopping area on just another station.

Farrell swaggered down the street in search of the shop. He was compiling the items on Doctor Sefton's wish list, and it was a doozy. She wanted some real oddball stuff, some of which was exceptionally rare, and a few items that were only questionably legal. And Ops ran the procurement. So here he walked, looking for -- he checked his PADD -- 'Elarr's Extraordinary Exotics,' which the station directory and a short commcall had assured him carried some of those "questionably legal" items.

"So, are we going dancing?" a woman asked with excitement. "Or are you just showing me off again?" The voice sounded familiar, and was coming from behind him and to the side. Farrell slowed his walk a bit, but did not turn.

"There will be dancing." That was unmistakably the captain. Farrell's eyes widened and his mind raced. The last thing he needed was to be questioned by the captain right now. He thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't turned to look. But Salinger was continuing: "And, good music, good food, and wonderful company. I hope you don't mind if it's just the two of us and the host. It will be a rather intimate affair--" a moment's hesitation "--but not that intimate."

Farrell's slow pace brought the couple alongside him in the crowd. As they passed, he risked a glance. Tagliesh was stunning in black evening wear, and Salinger didn't look half bad himself in an old Earth tuxedo. Fortunately, they were lost in each other's company, and didn't notice him as they passed.

"Oh, and why not? I thought you were used to making public spectacles with me by now," Tagliesh was saying with a smile.

"You're the one who fed me at that party," Salinger said, smiling back. "At least you didn't do that thing with my hair again. I swear, my love, if you ever do that in public, I will demote you. Either that or chain you up in my quarters and never let you out."

Farrell decided he really didn't want to hear any more, and turned down a side passage as Tagliesh leaned close to the captain, her reply lost in the crowd. That was close. He'd need to get some distance between himself and the Ferengi's place, just in case.

He moved quickly down the promenade, and once satisfied that he was sufficiently distant from the bar, decided to have a little dinner himself. He was on a station orbiting Bajor, after all. He could take a minute and sample the local cuisine. He'd been itching to try a "real" hasperat ever since Sikara's beach party offering on Risa.

The hasperat vendor handed him a steaming pastry nestled in crumpled paper along with a disposable cup of something fizzy, and he turned to find a place to sit. Another officer was sitting at a table, alone, and he approached her.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked. Startled from her thoughts, she looked up from her meal. Their eyes met, and the memories took him.

***

It was the last day of his first week at the Academy. He'd finally mastered the mess hall lunch line, and was balancing his tray precariously atop a couple of PADDS containing homework he'd already been assigned. No longer would he be able to sit under a West Texas tree and study while the sun set. Everything changed eventually. But enough about that, he had decided. Now he had more pressing problems. Like where to sit.

On one side of the hall was a cadet eating alone. He had approached her, put on his most affable grin, and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Startled from her thoughts, she had looked up from her meal. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked back down. She had had amazing eyes, dark and dreamy, like she was looking past or through him. He'd almost dropped his tray when she gestured to the seat across from her.

"Mason Farrell," he'd said, taking his seat, trying to catch her eyes again. "Pleased to meet you."

She'd mumbled her answer, and he'd pressed a bit. "Sorry," he had chuckled, "I didn't quite catch that."

She had looked up then, and enunciated more clearly. He'd never forget her name again.

***

"Cheyenne?" Mason said, his eyes widening. "Cheyenne Trudeau?"

The confusion was evident on her face for less then a split second. "Mason Farrell," she stated as a matter of fact. She stood up and smiled at him. The years since the Academy had made him more handsome then she even remembered him being, and that was saying something. She put out her hand to shake his.

He had to put his drink down, and wiped the condensation on his trouser leg before shaking her hand and taking a seat. "Wow," he said. "It's been years."

Chey sat down again. "Yes it has," she managed a smile. "What are you doing out here? How long you been off that hole of a starbase you were posted to?"

Farrell chuckled ruefully, then remembered why she wouldn't know, and got somber. "It was a rough time for both of us, I reckon. I got myself demoted and transferred about the same time Jamie died. I guess it's no wonder we stopped staying in touch. I haven't been able to ask in four years: How are you doing?" He added the question softly, and it was obvious what he meant.

Chey shrugged and looked down at her drink. "I'm ok..." she said. "I'm on a good ship, having a pretty good time of it."

Farrell studied her for a few moments. "You're still not half the liar I am," he said softly, with a gentle smile. "It's in your eyes and the way they won't stay focused on anything. It's in that shrug. You're still grieving?"

"That's not it at all, Mason," she replied quietly and looked up at him again. "I don't want to grieve again." She felt like she could open up to Mason a little more than to anyone else as they had known each other for a long time. "I can't allow myself to get close. What if something happens again? Like what happened to Jamie." She thought of Dyl and how he was an engineer just like Jamie was. "Like what happened to my parents..."

"Cheyenne." Mason never could make himself call her 'Chey.' She remembered, "Jamie was a good man. I never met him, but I know you, and you'd have never fallen for him if he hadn't been a good man. You two shared something I...I can only dream about. It came through in all your comms: your face, your tone, your smile, your eyes. It made you glow. You two were crazy about each other, and it made you happy.

"He died to protect that. Sure, he's a hero. He died to protect the Federation. He died to save people." Farrell waved absently, punctuating the list. "But that doesn't matter. He died to protect your happiness. He was willing to sacrifice himself so that you wouldn't have to. So you could go on living and loving and smiling. So you know what you have to do now?"

Chey sighed softly. "What do I have to do, Mason?" She knew the answer before he said it.

"You have to do those things." He reached across the table and took her hand. "If all you do is mope, you punish him for dying.

"If there's one thing I've learned," he continued, as she was silent, obviously thinking, "it's that nobody can make you feel anything. We all make our own choices to feel what we want to feel. People can control your body, and people can control your career, but Nobody," he pronounced the capital, "can control your soul. Nobody. If you make a conscious decision, deep down in your soul, to be happy, then you'll be happy. And while I never met him, Jamie'd have been the biggest fool in the galaxy to not have wanted you to make that decision."

"I want to be happy, Mason, I want to fall in love again..." She trailed off, thinking about Dyl again, and how she really could let herself fall in love with him. All she would have to do is let go. "But I can't face that hurt again." She knew she was going in circles with him, but it was the same way she worked it in her mind. Constantly running in circles. Love equals hurt.

"So it's not that you're mourning. You're just hiding," Farrell said. It was a harsh statement, but he said it gently.

Chey looked down. He was right, she knew it and he knew it: she was hiding. She had been for years now. She got a lump in her throat; the sort of lump that usually precedes a good cry.

"I don't know what to do, Mason!" she said, soft but emphatic.

Farrell looked down at his hasperat. "My ship just got back from Risa," he said. "We're heading into the Gamma Quadrant to take a look around. But that's not important. The point is, while I was on Risa, I had a local chéf make me a Hasperat." He nodded toward the pastry in its paper wrap. "It was a really good hasperat, and I realized I'd never had an authentic Bajoran one. So I got myself one, and it's sitting right here."

She looked uncertain and skeptical, the same look she'd had for him whenever he'd proposed some outlandish solution at the academy. It occurred to him that he was probably talking too much again, but he carried on anyway. "My memories of the hasperat I ate on Risa are fine ones; it was a darn good meal. It's possible that this hasperat I'm about to eat is going to be disgusting. The vendor over there" --he jerked his free thumb toward the Bajoran cook in his stall-- "was a little sweaty, and was smoking a pipe. So who knows what I'm going to find inside this pastry? I could play it safe, keep my memories of the Risan hasperat close, and not risk eating this one. But you know what?"

She knew what was coming, she knew exactly what he was going to say. "What?" she asked anyway.

"I'm gonna risk it," Farrell smiled. "Because you know what? It just might be worth it," he nodded.

"But what if it's not good," she responded. "Or what if it's excellent but it makes you sick? Then won't you have wished you hadn't risked it?"

"Sure, this hasperat may be disgusting. If so, I won't finish it, and I'll be sure to keep my memories of the old one handy so I can reflect with a smile. But what if" --Farrell's voice got weighty-- "it's better? What if this hasperat is really really good? Then my memories of the first hasperat and my experiences with this one combine into something much greater."

There was a long pause. "But I don't know that I want to have anything better than Jamie," Chey finally said honestly. "I don't know that it's fair..."

"Without the memories, it wouldn't be better. I'm not going to forget my first hasperat," Farrell said. "I'll always remember it. And I'll always remember it fondly for opening my eyes to a greater world of spicy pastries." He smiled his most debonair smile. "C'mon, Cheyenne, I'm doing my best work here. Give me a smile, at least."

She looked at him, smiling at her that way, and remembered the young man that she had met at the academy. She smiled, she couldn't help it. "Thank you." She squeezed his hand.

"Hey," he said, squeezing back, "what are friends for?" He let go of her hand and poked his hasperat. It was still warm, so he picked it up. "You need to start writing again, you know."

Chey nodded. "Yeah, I know." After Jamie's death she had lost touch with Mason and Ekala Perll, the third member of their little study group that they had formed. "Do you hear from Ekala at all? I lost contact with her too."

"I quit writing, too, but when I started again she was really excited. You know she was always really shy. She was the only Elaysian in the academy her entire term. She missed us when we both got quiet. Now she writes me all the time," Mason said, taking a bite. "She's been wondering for a while where you went. Where are you, anyway? What's your assignment?"

Chey smiled then. "Chief of Operations, USS Caduceus. It's the medical flag ship." She was really proud of her current assignment and it was evident on her face. "You?"

"Beta Super, USS Sulu. Not nearly so impressive," he grinned. "Caduceus?" he asked. "That big Dawnstar-class on the outer pylon?"

"That's her." Cheyenne's smile grew. "She's a great ship."

"Really?" Mason's smile got sly. "Maybe you can do me a favor, then. We just got a new CMO, and she's wanting some serious stuff for our medbay, seeing as how we're heading into the GQ. Care to see if we can ship-to-ship some of this stuff?" He offered his PADD, and dug into his hasperat while Cheyenne perused the list.

As she looked the list over she noticed a few things that were certainly not available on the Caddy; she wasn't sure where he was going to get them and honestly doubted if some of them were legal. "I'll see what I can do about some of this stuff, but the rest of this... Mason, I don't know."

"Oh, don't worry about some of that." Mason set down his hasperat and took the PADD back, tapping a command to sanitize the list. "Sorry. Our CMO's a little unorthodox. Here, how about this list? Better?"

Chey nodded. "Yeah, better. Being a medical ship we should have a good deal of this in mass quantities. I'll see what I can do. I have a little pull with the Operations department." She grinned at him. "It's been really nice seeing you, Mason."

He swallowed his bite of hasperat and met her eyes. "You're still as pretty as ever, you know."

"And you, sir, are just as much the flirt," she responded with a happy smile.

"Yes I am," he quipped, smiling back. "Remember this smile you're smiling right now. It's real. You ought to show it to people more often."

"I know. Thank you, Mason." She reached out and placed her hand over his again. "We'll have to make sure we stay in contact."

"You've said that before," Mason said, smiling, his eyes distant.

***

"We'll have to make sure we stay in contact," she'd said. She'd taken his hand, and he'd let her.

"We will," Mason had answered, not really thinking about it. She'd been ready to ship out to the Circe, and they were saying a last goodbye. The three of them had stayed up late celebrating her assignment, but Perll had gone to bed before them, as she always did. The poor Elaysian tired easily in Earth gravity, even within her power-braces. That she had stayed as late as she had was a testament to her fondness for the two humans.

"Cheyenne," he'd said, the words slow in coming. "I'm going to miss you."

"We'll always be linked together in here," she said, placing her hand on his chest, right over his heart. "You're my best friend, Mason. We'll always have the academy."

Chey took one more step towards him, both her hands on his chest now. Looking into his eyes she knew that this would be the last time they were together like this. There was a tension that had developed between them long ago and neither had been willing to act on it. Not when they knew they would have to see each other the next day.

Now seemed like the perfect time. She leaned in and kissed him firmly.

It was an awkward kiss at first. In retrospect, neither of them really expected it to happen. It broke after a few moments, and they looked at each other, both knowing what was certainly coming next, and neither willing to fight it.

***

"It was quite a goodbye," Mason said softly.

"The best goodbye I've ever been involved in," she replied.

They smiled and watched each other's eyes for a time. Their look was one of deep affection. A look born of friendship, forged in passion, cooled by grief, and now renewed by this simple meeting. The look was love, but not the sexual love of a man and a woman. It was the love of two longtime friends who have finally found each other again.

"You're a good woman, Cheyenne. There's not a man alive that wouldn't count himself lucky to be with you," Mason said at last. He released her hand, gently but meaningfully.

"I think I've found him," she responded. "I hope you find someone, Mason. I think you need a good woman to take care of you!"

"I'm glad to hear you've got someone in mind," he nodded, his smile not fading. "As for me, I'm working on it." He regarded his hasperat.

"So," he said, his tone shifting as he lifted his pastry again. "You'll get back to me on my list?"

She picked up the PADD and tapped it lightly on the table. "I'll get on it right away and send you a note about it." She stood up. "It really has been great seeing you, Mason." She felt better then she had in a long time.

"Good deal," Mason nodded. "I'll let you get on with your day, while I enjoy this fine hasperat." He winked.

They both laughed, and she bid him goodbye. He watched her walk away, tall and leggy. A good woman. And a good friend. He thought of Ainsley then, and their date the night before.

"Yeah," he smiled to himself, washing down the bite of hasperat with a swallow of his drink. "I'm working on it."

---

"First Date...."
By: Ensign Vincent "VT" Chan
Crewman Emma "Buffy" Summers

Location: Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.31, 20h31

***

The crew lounge was busy. People were mingling and talking, animatedly, quietly or loudly - the crew were in good spirits. Emma Summers walked in on the noise and grimaced. It was just before twenty hundred and she was mildly surprised that she'd shown up at all, but Vincent had been cute. What was the harm? He was a joker - and it was nothing serious. Not like it was a real date.

She walked through the throng wearing her uniform, short skirt and boots, her hair loose around her shoulders. She picked up snippets of conversation as she passed. Most were talking about Risa, work, gossip.... She noticed a familiar face - Annika. The nurse sat on one of the tables with a martini glass perched on her crossed knee, short skirt hiked up to her upper thigh and at the center of a small cache of gossipers. She was giggling.

"Seriously," she said through her laughter, "he told me that Amy turned him down for sex." She popped the olive into her mouth. "Like - as if!" she pouted. "He's nothing special, but Amy'd go for anything in pants!"

"Or a skirt..." another nurse threw in. They all laughed.

Emma stopped and balled her fist. The whole crew had just been screwing everything that moved on Risa and they had the audacity to talk down at Amy Reese. Even though the girl was the resident Risan on the Sulu, they had no right to ridicule her for it! Especially Szerda. Emma didn't like Szerda at all. Didn't that cow ever stop? She wished she'd had a stake in her hand - she felt like ramming it through the bitche's heart. She smiled instead. Reaching out she took a full glass of something a deep scarlet from a startled crewman and smiled at him - blew him a kiss and turning into the small crowd around Annikafiore Szerda, Emma said, "Hi, guys!" in a cheery voice. They all stopped to look at her and they smiled, adding various "hi's". She just stepped right up to Annika and poured the glass of red liquid right down the front of her uniform.

Annika squealed as the cold liquid hit her and spread across her front. The nurses stopped talking and the closest people gawked. Emma spoke sweetly as she said, "You know, Annika, you're a real bitch. If you ever talk about a friend of mine like that again I swear I'll rip your tongue out." She turned to look at the rest of them. "Leave Amy alone." The tone of her voice made them all blanch - she almost sounded as if she meant it!

She walked away with a satisfied smirk on her face to a roar of laughter from several of the gawkers and a few claps. Annika was so furious she was speechless. The woman stormed out of the lounge as Emma made her way to the bar.

She saw Vincent Chan sitting at the bar and gave him a small wave as she approached - the incident with Szerda had put her in a good mood.

Vincent had observed all this quietly at the end of the bar. He had been there for about half an hour, waiting for Emma. He liked punctuality. And he wanted to see Emma as soon as possible. Vincent wasn't one to waste time.

Vincent had put up his hand and given Emma a little wave as soon as he saw her enter, but she had not seen him. Instead she had gone straight to the middle of a group and proceeded to spill a drink straight down the top of another woman. He couldn't help but smile and admired her courage and boldness. I probably would do something like that, Vincent thought. He waited until Emma was seated.

Vincent gave her a smile. "Hi, how are you? Nice entrance," he said gesturing towards the remnants of the group that had been around Emma's victim. "Drink?" Vincent asked her, turning towards the replicator.

"Yeah - I'll have a dry martini thanks." She perched herself on a stool next to his and crossed her long legs, demurely straightening the short pleated skirt. She wasn't wearing her uniform jacket and so only the sleeveless polo-necked shirt in medical green covered her torso. It was figure hugging and left very little to the imagination.

Vincent gave her the drink, taking a whiskey for himself. "So, Emma, tell me what do you do for fun? Apart from pouring drinks down people's tops, that is," Vincent added with a smirk. "Who was she anyway? And what on Earth did she do to you?"

Emma smirked with a self-satisfied 'cat got the cream' expression. "She's a nurse with a big mouth," she purred as she sipped her martini. "She was spreading malicious gossip about a friend of mine - she won't do it again." She looked at Vincent and leaned closer. "It was fun," she confided. "What do you do for fun besides get dressed up in old naval uniforms and play war games?"

"I play practical jokes on people. But I'm finding it slightly difficult on the Sulu. I remember an incident in the labs with Shyla Moreau... She went berserk!" Vincent said, smiling at the recollection. "I've also got this other sim... It's a horse ride through the Snowy Mountains of Australia... I'll take you for a ride someday. Interested?"

"Horses?" Emma grinned. "I love to ride." She leaned against the bar and sipped her drink. "You have a girlfriend?" she asked, looking into his eyes. They were dark almond shaped eyes, nice. He had a nice smile too. She crossed her legs and ran a hand over her skirt to smooth the material. He unconsciously looked at her leg and she smiled.

Vincent was starting to lose control. He knew Emma was slowly teasing him, keeping him hooked for more, but he couldn't help himself. "No," he said slowly. "Why?"

"I don't date guys with girlfriends silly," she smiled. "I don't poach from other girls...it's a personal rule." She gave him a demure smile and sipped the martini some more. "So...what's your science specialty? Tell me all about yourself." She leaned against the bar with her elbow and put her glass on the bar, slowly running a finger around the rim as she stared into his eyes, giving him her full attention. Dark tresses fell over her shoulder, exposing her long neck as she listened to him talk.

"Statistics...and astrometric physics, but mainly statistics," Vincent said. "There's not much to know about me. Born in Australia, Junior High in Japan, High School again in Australia, and then Starfleet." Vincent had deliberately left a lot of details. He knew Emma, but he wasn't that close to her...yet. "I'll stop there. I don't want to bore you too much. Unlike some, I like to keep my work and life separate. Don't you? What about you? Tell me about yourself."

The room melted away and Vincent could feel all his focus and all his concentration on Emma, as she began to speak. All he knew was that she had to keep talking. He had to keep hearing the smooth, sweet voice of hers. He was hooked alright. There was no going back now.

"I grew up on a station," she said with a smile. "Nothing really interesting - out on the frontier. Both my parents were killed in a warp core breach - I grew up on Starbase 16. All I ever wanted was Starfleet - so I enlisted. Here I am," she said with a slight wave. "I'm pretty shy most of the time - though since coming here I've met a few people...and being on the Counselling staff has helped me a lot. I'm not usually comfortable around guys." She looked at her drink. "You're...different," she said with an odd expression. "Funny...that's funny as in funny - not funny as in weird." She shrugged and laughed. "Well maybe a touch weird."

"Aren't we all?" Vincent replied. "What can you do about it?" He shrugged and finished what was left of his drink.

Vincent glanced down at his watch. It had just been over half an hour. "That drink really hit the spot," he said, sighing in satisfaction. The night was still young. He needed something to do to kill the time. Then an idea struck him. A nice romantic stroll. "Care for a walk?" he asked Emma. "Observation deck? Holodeck? Is there anywhere you want to go?"

She laughed. Okay, she thought, he wants to get me alone. She put her thoughts into words. "You want to take me into a less crowded place?" she asked. "I think we can sit here and talk for a while...I'd like another drink." She looked at her empty glass and slid it toward him. "I'll try a strawberry daiquiri please." Her smile was demure. "I've been on my feet all day," she explained. "I really don't feel like a walk. Maybe another time...."

Vincent shrugged. There would be more opportunities for him later. He got the strawberry daiquiri for her, ordering another martini for himself. "Sure, another time..." This was Vincent's excuse for asking for another date. "I've got a pretty busy schedule..." Vincent said. He didn't have a schedule at all. "How about two days from now? We'll meet on the holodecks and then you and I can go horse riding."

He waited expectantly for the answer.

Emma smiled and took a second to answer, playing coy she sipped the strawberry daiquiri and looked into his eyes... "I'd like that," she finally replied. "Maybe we can take a picnic?" she asked. She teased a strand of her dark hair between her fingers as she smiled at him. She liked his eyes, they were so dark, almond shaped and his irises were dilated so wide it told her that he was totally interested in her.

Vincent barely noticed the glint in Emma's eyes; he was far too focused on her fingers, which were playfully teasing her hair. He didn't know what it was, but he liked that about her. Her cattiness combined with her playful nature had him hooked. He had to take a deep breath and swallow before he could answer her question. "Sure, why not? Meanwhile we can stay here and talk the night away...unless you want to dance. I must warn you though. Despite my appearance I'm a hopeless dancer... It would be better just to talk."

She laughed and leaned in closer to him as she said, "Let's just talk." She sipped at her drink, the wide lipped glass held delicately in one manicured hand. Her red nails complimented the strawberry liqueur and crushed ice. She glanced at him as he watched her. He had a kind of innocence that was attractive and for a moment she wondered what he'd be like to corrupt. He looked fit, a toned muscular body without being muscle-bound, and she let her eyes rove over him for a moment. It was a shame that Shalya Morgan was in their shared quarters, she might have given in to impulse and dragged him back there. But that would break character. She chided herself on even thinking about it. She smiled at him as she realized that he'd watched her watching him. Silence had stretched out until it was almost unbearable. "What kind of food do you like?" she asked demurely.

The question distracted and surprised Vincent. He had been so focused on Emma's eyes, which were that distinct shade of grey, that made them seem deep and meaningful. It was hypnotic. He broke his gaze with her long enough to think of an answer. "Anything really... My grandfather always said, 'When there's food always eat plenty, because you never know when there's going to be a famine,' " Vincent replied. "He also said that the rule applied to most good things in life... Don't you agree?" Vincent said, giving her a small wink. The hint there was unmissable. What else could he be talking about?

"That depends on what you want," she replied. "It's no good gorging on Gagh," she grinned, "just because there's a bowl full of it sitting in front of you." She sipped her cocktail and said, "You still didn't answer my question. I mean - I love Italian food - pastas and all kinds of vegetables. I don't have a sweet tooth at all. But I don't mind chocolate - I don't think any woman does." She smiled. "What do you like most?"

"Ever since a little kid, I've loved pizza of any kind. As for sweets...I never really liked a lot of them except for licorice... That's my weak spot." Vincent mockingly put a finger up to his lips. "Now don't you go telling everyone, you hear?" It was meant as a joke but his tone had been so genuine he thought she was taking it seriously.

Vincent laughed. Then he gave her that boyish smile of his, crinkling his eyes. It usually dynamited them. His voice was now deep and hoarse. "But then again, I could never do anything to harm you if you did."

She laughed. "I'll make sure it hits the ship's gossip mongers then," she teased.

For the next hour they chatted about everything and nothing. Emma being careful - thoughtful in everything she said. She warmed to him as they talked, and was flirting outrageously. He was funny and he kept her laughing, and no one had done that in a very long time. For a while she almost managed to forget herself.

***

Vincent noticed her hand resting on the bench near his own. He was overcome with a sudden impulse to touch it. It looked slim, tender and strong. He could no longer resist it. He placed his hand over hers. It felt as firm and was as strong as it looked and her flesh was warm. "Honey, I hate to say goodnight but... "

She smiled at him and didn't object as he slid his hand over hers. She laughed. "But it's late," she continued for him. She slid off her stool and kept hold of his hand. "Walk me home?" she asked softly.

Vincent squeezed her hand and he felt her squeeze back. "Of course," he said, smiling. He was really starting to like her. In a single moment with Emma, Vincent had realized that all the women he had been with before accounted for nothing. This was different.

They stood in front of the door to Emma's quarters. The similarity to old-fashioned teenagers amazed and startled Vincent. He half expected Emma's father to open the door or start flashing the porch light. The moment was so corny. But as Vincent and Emma moved closer, he could not help but think that sometimes corny is good...

She rested one hand against his chest as she leaned closer, and laughed softly as he bent to kiss her. She slid her face to the side at the last moment so that his lips grazed her cheek. He smelled good and she was pressed against him, still laughing and making light of the moment. Just before he pulled away she kissed him. It started out as a soft brush of her lips against his, but she closed her eyes and melted against him, tasting him and feeling his arms slide around her. Her arms came up around his shoulders, one hand brushing the hair at the back of his neck as she kissed him more ardently. He tasted of whiskey and his arms were strong as she was crushed against his chest. It lasted a long time.

Emma finally broke the kiss and rested her forehead against his, looking into his eyes. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, exploring the curve of his muscles under his uniform. "You can't come in," she said huskily. "My roommate...." She shrugged and chuckled. "Sorry." She closed her eyes with a smile. "Pity..." she breathed softly. Her grey eyes flicked open as she brushed his cheek with a finger. "I'm not supposed to be thinking things like that...not on a first date anyway." She chuckled deep in her throat and bit her lower lip with even white teeth.

It took a moment for Vincent to catch his breath. He knew that all the brief amorous acrobatics that had preceded his meeting with this woman was meaningless. What he had just experienced had transcended the flesh and became a thing of the spirit - and if it was not love than it was the closest to it he would ever know.

Vincent's voice became husky and unsteady with wonder as he tried to explain this to her. She gazed into his eyes, listening to the words he had never spoken to another woman, and she squeezed him when he stopped talking - which was clearly a command to continue. When he did stop, he looked into her deep grey eyes to see if she had comprehended and what her reaction was.

Emma was a little taken aback by his frank admission of his feelings. She didn't want to laugh, she sensed that he was serious and she didn't want to make light of it. She just smiled. It was only a first date and she was sure that he'd feel different about it in the morning. Vincent had a serious case of infatuation and she took it as a compliment. "Vincent" --she looked him in the eyes and kept her hands on his shoulders-- "that's a wonderful thing to say to a girl on a first date...but it's only a first date...and I'd like to see you again." His face started to register what she'd said and before he could express any disappointment she kissed him again. It was a long kiss and she was breathing heavily by the time she pulled away. It had been a while.... "I really have to go in," she whispered huskily. She didn't let him go though. She just stared at his lips, feeling his arms around her and her own fingers laced behind his neck seemed to draw him back. His lips met hers again and she melted once again against him. She felt giddy with excitement, lust warring with caution as she responded to his kiss and his caresses.

He was driving her crazy and he'd only kissed her. To hell with it, she thought and gave in. "How about we go to your quarters," she breathed as his lips found the pulse at her neck. She shivered delightfully and bit his ear softly. "Please...now..." she begged.

Vincent heard his own heart thumping, the pounding filling his ears. His entire body craved to be with Emma. His mind had reservations and doubts, but they were quickly overruled by his body's own yearning. He had to admit, he wanted Emma, and he wanted her now. He didn't care who saw them. He led her by the hand to the turbolift. Each moment of waiting agonised him. He could barely hold out.

As the turbolift doors closed she kissed him again, pushing him against the wall of the lift as it started to move. Her hand snaked inside his shirt, feeling the ridged muscles of his abdomen. The kissing was feverish as she pressed against him, wanting him. She was about to reach for the lift controls when the doors shot open. They sprang apart like teenagers caught in the act, but it was the deck they wanted and no one was there. She giggled as she dragged him out of the lift.

His patience was at an all time low, and ebbing away as they reached the door to his quarters. They burst into the room. Vincent couldn't be bothered with the lights and he locked the door behind him, ensuring the couple privacy. The lust between the two was animal-like and instinctive. Vincent reached for her as she stepped back toward the bed, but she dodged away, slipping out of her shoes, and pulling off her shirt, almost ripping it in her haste. "Get undressed," she ordered, shimmying out of the skirt and flinging it away. Clad only in her skimpy laced thong, she climbed on his bed patting the covers. "Get over here, mister." Her smile was almost predatory as she watched him get undressed. "You need some severe counselling."

***

Vincent awoke to the soft buzz of the alarm. He rolled toward Emma but found only an empty bed. The sheets were severely rumpled, covers draped across the floor but no female clothing anywhere. He was alone. She had slipped out while he slept.

He got out of bed, slowly, cautiously. He felt tired and exhausted, and wasn't up to doing what he had done last night again, for a long while. She had better not be a one night stand. They had talked about some holonovels at the bar last night, but he wasn't sure, (read: so hungover he couldn't remember) whether they made a date.

Vincent showered, letting the hot water relax and massage his aching muscles. He pulled a towel around his waste and retrieved a pot of coffee. Emma was important, but right now he needed this more. He sat there contemplating his next move and then got dressed in a sombre silence.

---

"Andrea Collins"
By: Lt. Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Ensign Andrea Collins - Security Officer

Location: Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.31, 21h07

***

Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal stepped into the crew lounge in uniform. His violet eyes surveyed the crew gathered in the place and his presence brought a few eyes his way. He hardly ever came in here, working double shifts prevented a lot of free time, but he had a lot to do with his new department until he was satisfied. They were about to head through the Bajoran Wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant, and Benedict was going to make sure that his department was 'ship shape.'

He spied the face he was looking for. She was sitting at the bar with a drink of some description sitting before her. One of the bar lights above her head cast a pale illumination across her red hair. She seemed wrapped in herself. Alone in a crowd. Considering the lengths that the crew of the Sulu went to find her and prove her innocence, she had had a brief notoriety and then had seemingly worked hard to drop below the sensors. Benedict walked across the lounge and nodded at the few who took notice of him. He smiled as he approached Andrea Collins and pulled out a stool, seating himself. "Andrea, how are you?"

Andrea had been released from the brig after her run-in with the First Officer. She didn't like that woman, but that wasn't going to stop her from making her life miserable. She had kept to herself from that moment on. The only time she was out of her quarters was when she was on duty or when she was seeing the counselor as per the Commander's orders. Andrea didn't take orders too well, but this order was also per the Admiral's orders as well.

Hearing her name, she glanced up to see Lieutenant T'Kal next to her. "As good as could be expected, Lieutenant." That was as far as she wanted it to go. She liked keeping herself private, and that was how she wanted to keep it.

He nodded. "Sake," he said to the barman and turned back to her. "I'm not a counsellor and don't pretend to be, so speak plainly. That was the kind of answer the XO might get." He grinned at her. "I for one am glad you made it back - and I want to help you get settled. So...is there anything you want to talk to me about?"

A sigh escaped her lips. The overly friendly ones always made her cringe. And it seemed that this man was one of them. She took another sip of her drink and then turned to him. "Well, Lieutenant, there isn't anything I'd like to talk to anyone about...however, I have to make an appointment with the counsellor, so if there is some way you could help me with that, I would appreciate it."

Benedict nodded. "Just select a counsellor you feel comfortable with," he replied. "I'd go for Counsellor Scott myself. She's good - knows what she's about and isn't overly chummy." He regarded the woman for a moment. "Look, Andrea, I'm Chief of Security. If there's anything I can do to help you adjust to being on the Sulu then all you have to do is say so. There's a few rules I will enforce. You be straight with me and I'll be straight with you. There are no loners in the security detail. You become a part of the team or you choose another department and become someone else's problem. I watch your back and you watch mine. That goes for everyone in the detail. I know you've been through a difficult time - but there wasn't a single member of the security department that thought you'd done what they said. One of my people put his whole career on the line for you and went through a Court Marshall hearing for his actions because he went solo without thinking it through. Two security officers lost their lives and an Ensign from Ops got beat up, stabbed and shot...all to get you cleared so that you could join this crew." He poured a cup of hot sake for her and one for himself. "Rice wine," he said. "You'll like it." He pushed the porcelain cup over to her and lifted his. "Welcome to the Sulu, Ensign Collins."

She hadn't asked him or the rest of the staff for the sacrifices they'd made to get her aboard. "I guess that I owe you and the rest of the Security staff, huh?" She'd finished her drink and had been about to ask for another when he'd poured her some Sake. "Maybe."

"You owe us your duty, that is what we did for you," Benedict replied softly. "What's your problem, Collins? Why the attitude?"

Another sigh as she took a sip from the porcelain cup he'd poured the Sake into. Once she'd lowered it she replied, "It's a part of who I am. If my attitude bothers you, Lieutenant, then perhaps you should sign off on a transfer for me."

He grinned and shook his head. Not another Storm! he thought as he took a sip. "Do you want a transfer?" he asked. "If that's what you want it can be arranged - personally I don't give up that easy. I don't think you do either."

"How do you know that? You don't know me from any of your other staff, so how do you know that I don't give up that easily?" Of course, he was right, she didn't give up that easily. Never had, and she wouldn't ever. It wasn't in her nature to give up. But she wasn't liking the sickeningly sweet syrup he was pouring over her and she just had to test him to see if he really did know her that well.

"I'm the Security Chief, Andrea, it's my job to know. I've seen your record. You're not the typical Starfleet Officer - but then neither am I." He looked into her green eyes and smiled crookedly. "Tell me - when you were with the Knights did you work as a member of the team or did you just do your own thing?"

She looked at him, stunned. How'd he know about the Knights? She didn't say it out loud, but she was thinking it. Although the answer came to her almost instantly. He was her immediate Commanding Officer, of course he would need to know about the Knights.

"Team work was always encouraged, but the guy in charge also saw the benefits of the 'lone rangers' as well. Sometimes using just one was the easiest way because one in usually means one out again when the situation's a tight one."

"Well, team work is encouraged on the Sulu just the same. I have too many lone wolves," he looked pointedly at her. "Look - we're heading into the Gamma Quadrant for a six month tour of the unknown. All we'll have is us and I need to know whether you can be a part of that us - got me?" His violet eyes were hard. "I'll use every talent and ability you have, Andrea - but I need to know that I can rely on you to get it done."

What is this, the damned inquisition? she thought to herself. Out loud: "I told the XO I'd do my job. I'll use my skills that I learned with the Knights for you and this ship." She took a sip of the Sake. "However, when it's my time, I expect to have my time to myself."

Benedict nodded slowly. "Okay - just so long as you understand that it's not the XO you have to please. It's me. You can isolate yourself from everyone in your own time, but from personal experience, on a ship this small, that isn't going to help you to do your job. I'll arrange your counselling with Scott and you can work on what ever you need to." He stood after swallowing the last of his sake. "Like I said, Andrea, welcome aboard. Sorry to have disturbed your personal time." He turned on his heel and made his way out of the lounge

She frowned, but she didn't bother to watch as he left the lounge.

---

"Search and Rescue"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: Main Conference Room, USS Hikaru Sulu, DS9
Stardate: 57907.31 23h30

***

Matt Salinger looked around the conference room, at the faces of those assembled there. There was much less hope than the last time he had been in this room. The mood was dark and dour, a product of the reasons the small group was gathered. He took a deep breath and began.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what you're doing here, and why the urgent need. On stardate 57907.29, I received word that the runabout carrying Ensign Ethan Storm and Ambassador Serek went missing. They have not reported in, and they have not passed through any of the checkpoints. The last known position is here--" he indicated on a star map at the front of the room "--in sector nine-nine-seven, on stardate 57907.27. The USS Spector is currently conducting a search. As soon as our repairs are made and our supplies replenished, we'll be delaying our journey into the Gamma Quadrant, for an unknown period of time. I have arranged to borrow the runabout Rio Grande from Deep Space Nine, to begin a preliminary search of the area, until the Sulu is ready to join. You are here because of your qualifications for this sort of mission. Lieutenant Saavar will be leading this portion of the search." Matt turned to the Vulcan. "Lieutenant."

Saavar nodded perfunctorily and stood, motioning toward the star chart. His briefing pointer indicated a sector of the map and it zoomed in. "We will take the Rio Grande and follow the missing runabout's path. Ensign Vijay is to be pilot of this mission." He looked at the half-Vulcan. "We will traverse the path at a greater speed than the planned velocity of the Jemison. Your task, Ensign, is to match their course exactly to what was plotted." He turned to Shyla Moreau who was looking distressed and trying to hide it. "Crewman Moreau, I have downloaded the Astrometric scans of the sector for the duration of the Jemison's journey to date - your primary task is to assist me in trying to locate the missing craft." He looked at Sefton, the Betazoid nurse and nodded in his turn. "Ensign Sefton, your medical skills may or may not be required, but I am hoping that your mental abilities may assist in the search also."

He looked at the captain and received a nod. "We will depart as soon as the Rio Grande is available - I believe that will be within forty-eight hours. There are several fleet assets already tasked to the search, our presence is a commitment from the Sulu until she is ready to depart mooring stations. Any questions?" The Vulcan looked at the faces of the assembled officers.

"As an avid non-pilot could you explain to me how a runabout will reach sector nine-nine-seven within a reasonable amount of time before the search is complete?" Cristobel bluntly asked with a polite raised hand.

"The Rio Grande is a Danube Class Runabout capable of high warp speeds. We will be supplementing the sector wide search from this end of the sector," Saavar replied. "I would presume that the Jemison will be discovered soon by the ships already involved in the search. As the Sulu is incapable of joining the search at present, we would be providing a presence. It is not good for ship's morale to allow a search and rescue to be conducted for a member of our crew without taking part." He turned to look at Salinger.

Sanat had nodded when he'd received his initial instructions. The half Vulcan, half human's face was fashioned in a mask that exhibited no overt emotions. He too had doubts about their prospects, but remained quiet as Lt. Saavar logically (but roughly) countered Cris' perfectly reasonable question; he was the new person here and deigned it a sensible precaution to remain silent about his concerns.

The task sounded less than challenging, but then it did involve a highly maneuverable shuttle and definitely beat hanging around DS9 waiting for Engineering to finish repairing the Sulu He raised a hand and quietly asked, "What is the possibility of our runabout being outfitted with a Type 2B Tactical Sensor Package before we leave?" Without waiting for a reply, Vijay stated, "It would enhance our sensor capabilities by 37 percent, Sir."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Matt answered. "I'll talk to Colonel Kira about it. Any other questions?"

Cristobel's hand was in the air again before Salinger finished speaking. "Who's going to protect us if whatever potentially got Ensign Storm potentially comes after us? With the exception of Ensign Vijay, I only see Science-blue collars..."

"I've recalled Lt. T'Kal from Bajor. He will be handling the mission's tactical arrangements, and act as second-in-command. Against a larger ship, a runabout will be at a disadvantage. However with Ensign Vijay's flying and the Rio Grande's limited tactical systems, she should be able to slip out of most situations without too much danger. The mission is search and rescue, but I don't want anyone trying to push the odds. We have one missing officer, we don't need more."

Vijay shifted his eyes from the Captain to Cris and back again. He wasn't sure what the male nurse was trying to do, but for whatever reason, Salinger appeared remarkably composed given Sefton's increasingly pointed questions. His brain cut in with, What about Shyla? Sanat let his gaze dart over to the person most affected by this rescue attempt, Crewman Moreau. She sat there, nervously fidgeting and listening to the conversation without saying much one way or the other. Cris had explained to both Mason and himself about the relationship between the missing Ensign Ethan Storm and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Moreau in their quarters last night, and her reaction seemed to verify that they were indeed lovers.

Cristobel didn't have to look at Vijay to telepathically sense his confusion over Cris' own behavior, nor did he offer the pilot a look that might explain how his actions had sound reasons. Cris simply didn't know Sanat well enough to share his personal discomfort with runabout disappearances; Shyla wasn't even close enough to Cris to be told. Personal life aside, Ethan was missing and that meant Cris needed to know that this rescue operation would be performed right. Propriety be damned.

Saavar had encountered Cristobel Sefton's unique concept of over-dramatization when seeking answers to simple dilemmas. He said, "There is no indication that any foul-play has occurred. It is most likely an unfortunate mechanical or power failure that has delayed the Jemison thus far. Hostile encounters are duly considered, however with at least three Starfleet Front-line vessels already engaged in the search we will have ample assistance if required."

The Vulcan's reassurance drew his attention away from the reticent Moreau and back towards the mission commander. Saavar's words seemed tepid given the seriousness of the task at hand. The flight controller was no stranger to death; his large scar provided a daily reminder of how close he'd been to making its acquaintance...personally. However, the disappearance of Serek's runabout inside Federation space, and so soon after they departed, signaled that life still held a few surprises for them all, even for advanced civilizations such as theirs.

Clearing his throat, Vijay asked nondescriptly, "At what waypoint will we commence a standard search pattern?" It was an innocuous type of question, but Sanat was curious to know how far they would travel on the original heading before widening the search area.

Saavar looked at the helmsman. "Here," he indicated on the map. "The last known fix of the Jemison. The next waypoint was - as far as can be ascertained not reached. We will proceed on the basis that the runabout should still be on this course track if a mishap occurred. There are two planetary systems within reach."

"The Sulu should be able to catch up and assist within a day or two, once repairs have been made. Make certain to keep us posted on your progress, as well as the Spector, who should also be in the area. Does anyone have any further questions about the path the search will be following?"

Sanat had none and stared intently at the star map working out what would be the quickest way to cover more space in less time. Both Serek's and Ethan's lives could be at risk and a lengthy search did nothing to lessen that supposition.

"Capella," Shyla said so softly that no one save Saavar and Vijay was able to understand her. Still, the fact that she finally spoke resonated in the room and everyone looked at her, most of their faces twisted into question marks. She cleared her throat.

"Capella," she repeated only a little louder, looking to Captain Salinger. "You told me that the last known location was a light year out from Capella on route to sector 11-G. Right, sir?"

"That's correct, Crewman," Matt said. "That was the last known location."

Shyla looked down at the tabletop, her voice dropping low again. "There's a protostar on that course with several planetary disks forming in the system." Her voice went so low as to be near inaudible. "There were earlier reports of piracy. Could be an opportune place for them to hide."

"Is there a pirate alive who Ethan can't take down? Or a terrorist, for that matter?" Cristobel very softly asked Shyla, to his side. Referring even more specifically to their Intruder Alert game of a month ago, Cris tried to bring levity to Shyla's increasingly sour mood by tacking on, "Besides you."

It got only a sad smile. "It would've been a ship-to-ship fight sir," Shyla said, keeping it formal with Sefton in front of the others. "Eth...E...Ensign Storm would have been fine tactically but he is a security officer, not a pilot." Her gaze lingered on red-collared Sanat for a moment. "At least, not a fully qualified one."

He barely heard Shyla's pronouncement about pirates, but did not react physically to the suggestion that buccaneers or scallywags might be involved in the capture of a highly regarded Federation ambassador. Surely the lawless men knew better than to attempt such a feat? They would have to know that the UFP would unleash Starfleet's considerable assets onto their unworthy hides for such an act. Sanat waited to hear what Salinger or Saavar might say in rebuttal to her observation.

"We can speculate all we want," Matt said. "But it'll do us no good. Our best course of action is going to be getting out there and searching, not sitting here and wondering what myriad things could have happened. If there's nothing else, you all know what to do. Let's get ready to go find our missing crewman."

Saavar nodded. He accepted the captain's dismissal and nodded to the team as they all stood to leave. He watched Crewman Moreau leave, and the Betazoid nurse - Sefton. He had heard the exchange between them, and allowed a slight smile to touch his green tinged lips. The Betazoid was an empathic telepath, he would be disposed toward offering support to Moreau during this emotional crisis in which she was involved. Logically, placing her on this mission put her skills to use while allowing her the opportunity to be personally involved in the search for her mate. Saavar had considered the prospect of leaving her on the Sulu, but that would logically have led to emotional damage should the worse case scenario come to pass. He liked Moreau, she was a diligent officer and would have a fine career if mentored correctly. Saavar took his command responsibilities seriously, and in the vacuum created by Tagliesh's lack of personal leadership and mentoring of those under her command, he had assumed the unlikely role.

Passing Saavar, Vijay dipped his head as he left the room to pack a few things and conduct a little research of his own on the system they'd be flying into...Shyla might be right about the suspected pirate activity. With such strong forces at work, the system could be a perfect hiding place for captives and thugs alike.

Matt glanced around the table one more time before following them out of the briefing room. He just hoped they would be in time to find Storm before it was too late, if it weren't already. "We're coming, Ethan," he said softly. "Just hang in there."

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