"Scratch Until It Bleeds"
By Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57908.03 08h15

***

When Amy Reese scampered into Sickbay, Cristobel Sefton immediately noticed that Annikafiore Szerda had not noticed Amy's entrance. Amy's skin looked sickly and she appeared to be walking awkwardly, as she quickly moved towards Cris and ushered him towards a door. All of this was missed by Annika, who had seemed pale and withdrawn since that start of her shift.

"Are you okay?" Cristobel asked Amy as he backed into the private examination room. Her movements still didn't seem as smooth and relaxed as usual. "If you're not, I think this might be the best day for it -- Annikafiore doesn't look up for making up rumours of you catching an STD. If you are okay, Doctor Sefton won't be amused by us gossiping if any patients arrive."

"This is not gossip," Amy snapped, then groaned miserably as the itch on her back flared up. She reached around and clawed at it desperately. "Put up the privacy screen," she begged. "I...I gotta get out of this uniform!"

Thankful for the soundproofing in the room's walls, since Annikafiore was still essentially on the other side, Cristobel simply apologised for the gossip assumption and tapped the freestanding control panel to raise an opaque forcefield. "What's happened?" Cris asked evenly.

"I don't know," she answered curtly, and grunted as she hastily tugged off her jacket. "I woke up this morning, go to jump in the shower--" Amy paused to scratch briskly at a spot on her stomach, then sighed and resumed divesting of her uniform. "All these splotches...so itchy," she managed between clenched teeth.

Synching his medical tricorder with the biobed's sensors, Sefton quickly diagnosed, "It only appears to be a mild rash. You could probably heal it with a dermal regenerator yourself, if that'd be most comfortable for you."

"What'd be more comfortable," Amy replied, while struggling with the zipper on her pants, "is if I could get these chafing clothes--" She cooed triumphantly as the zipper gave way, and soon her pants joined the rest of her clothing in a pile on the floor. Disrobed now, save for her undergarments, Amy gestured to the red splotches covering her body and exclaimed shrilly, "Look at this! I'm...a monster, Crissy!"

"I am certain that you are not a monster," Cristobel affirmed, even though he was on the other side of the privacy screen. "And even if you are, I suspect Kit ravaged you anyway." Cris looked away from the dermal regenerator he had begun to calibrate when the thought of not having sex flared up in his mind. Who wasn't having sex, Cristobel had no idea; it had sounded like a thought of his own, but since Corran's return, Cris' own libido wasn't being denied.

"Well, he couldn't," Amy continued. "We were both so scratchy that we could hardly do anything all night but scratch ourselves!" She looked down at the red patches across her chest, whimpered, then made a prolonged, wailing cry from deep in her throat that soon erupted into a full-out bawl with tears and convulsively shuddering breaths. "I'm ugly!" she blubbered. "Oh, Crissy...I want to be beautiful again!" Eyes glistening with tears, she gazed up at him through the screen, looking quite pathetic, and held her arms open.

Coming around the privacy screen, Cristobel comfortingly smiled at Amy. "You're always beautiful." Once he activated the regenerator in his palm, he added, "And in a few minutes, you'll believe it too. The discolouration will be gone, if the irritation doesn't completely clear up, I can replicate an ointment, and then Kit will never be able to resist you." And that was what reminded Cris of when Corran had resisted Cris' charms, three days ago in the arboretum. The realisation could nearly be seen in Cristobel's dark eyes, but he kept his voice collected, when he asked, "Do you have any thoughts on where you could have acquired the rash? It's not a symptom of Yxrk virus, thankfully. Have you done anything out of the ordinary in the past day or so?"

Amy frowned. "Out of the ordinary even for me?" She shrugged, which produced another itch and had her whimpering again. "Just the arboretum the other day," she sulked. "But it was only the grass, none of those weird-looking plants they've got growing there."

Running the regenerator's beam over her shoulders, Sefton wincingly asked, "I don't suppose you looked at any of the consoles in the arboretum?"

Amy huffed sullenly. "No," she answered, mouth in full pout now. "Why?"

Making sure to sound consolingly informative, instead of chiding, Cristobel told her, "They all had warnings not to touch any of the plantlife. Including the grass. It was all covered in a chemical treatment to aid growth -- it's not the least bit dangerous, but it's an irritant to most humanoid skin."

"Irritant?" Amy squeaked. Her bottom lip trembled, and she sniffled. Even with her best attempt to remain calm, Amy still broke into a new wave of shuddering sobs and profuse tears. Then she was embracing Cris and burying her face into his shoulder. "We were horny!" she wailed. "We...we didn't even notice the signs!"

An arm around her shoulders and one around her middle back, Cristobel cooed, "It's okay. I'm not gonna report you for having relations in a public area. You're both going to be fine. You...are... both fine, right? You and Kit? In general?"

Amy rubbed her nose against the fabric of Cris' uniform shirt, leaving behind a glistening streak, before gazing up at him. "We're...fine," she answered thickly. "He didn't go for the seeing other people thing.... He wants me all to himself, you see. And...and what about you and Corri? You two still fine?"

"We are. I mean, he's changed a hell of a lot for only being gone a month, but he's still the same in the ways that matter. Plus, he still likes apelsin soup at room temperature and sings the 'have's in 'Breath Out' just slightly off-key, so I know he's not a doppelganger;" Cristobel grinned, and then took up the dermal regenerator to continue his healing. "I think we might have to revise the rules of our open relationship, but that's quite doable for us. I didn't really think an open relationship would work for you and Kit, to be honest. I just hoped that if you had a project -- something to focus on -- you wouldn't have time for worrying about things you can't control."

"Like my voracious sexual appetite?" she asked, then grinned. Upon Cris' cue, she turned around to bring her back facing forward. "You know," she continued over one shoulder, "relationships are really challenging. I mean...I thought being with one man all the time would bring me so much joy and love..." Amy sighed. "But if that's the case, why do I always get this knot in my stomach everytime we part ways in the morning, like I'm gonna screw up and never see him again? Is it supposed to be like this?"

"There are no 'supposed to's in relationships." Sobered by that fear he could sense from her, Cristobel couldn't help asking, "Amy, what would you do, if you never saw him again?"

She looked away from Cris, and lowered her head as if ashamed of her own thoughts. "I don't know," she muttered. "I mean...this last time, I-I got the strangest ideas in my head. I was so sad and so lost.... I didn't want to wake up without him beside me." Amy trembled at the memories. "It was so scary, Crissy," she whispered. "It was like...I didn't want to live anymore. I've never felt like that with other boyfriends, who weren't exactly boyfriends anyway. But, with Kitty...my world just ended at the thought of losing him for good. Have you ever felt like that?" She again looked at him over her shoulder. "Have you ever just wanted to give up completely after someone you loved went away?"

"No," Cristobel responded vehemently without hesitation. Fear, more than anything, crept into his tone as he continued, "Corran enables and forces me to be more myself than anyone else I've ever met, but he does not 'complete' me. That -- what you're talking about -- I don't... I don't think it's healthy. Have you talked about this with your counsellor?"

Amy shook her head. "I thought...I thought the point of having a boyfriend was to find someone who could complete you." Whimpering, she asked, "Am I sick, Crissy? Is...is there something wrong with me that I need someone to make me feel whole?" She gasped, then, in a sudden panic, and took a full step away from Cris. "What's wrong with me, Crissy?" she asked desperately. "I don't wanna be screwed up!"

"Neither of us is qualified to determine if you're screwed up or not. The screwdrivers are in the hands of the counsellors," Cristobel insisted, not stepping towards Amy, but holding a hand out to her. "I'm just saying that I'm worried. Your search for completion within Kit isn't so much a worry as this feeling that you, on your own, aren't enough to be able to live your life."

"But...what's the point in living if you're not loved, Crissy?" She reached her own hand out and laced her fingers with Cris'. Studying both hands absently, she whispered, "Without love, life is pretty...disappointing, isn't it?"

Watching Amy's eyes, Cristobel enunciated as clearly as he could to avoid any sort of miscommunication. "Without unconditional love of oneself, life is largely disappointing. Without any love of another, life can seem disappointing, but I know that many people on this ship love you, Amy. Further special romantic love is simply valdoftane sauce. I feel it's an extra; it would certainly be a shame to never experience it in one's life, but it doesn't even compare in importance to the unconditional love of oneself."

"And that's what I'm missing?" she asked, her eyes growing wide with suddenly dawning realization. "But...I know I'm beautiful and sexy... How can I not love myself?"

"Beyond the physical, you're also a Starfleet Officer. You've passed extreme tests of your intelligence, emotion and skillful ability," Cristobel enthused, subtly taking up the regenerator to continue Amy's treatment. "I think that counts for a little bit more than being sexy."

She giggled. "So I'm smart and sexy." Amy's smile was gleaming. "I should so love myself!" As Cris passed the regenerator over her chest, she leaned forward for a swift kiss to the tip of his nose. "I love you, Crissy. How'd you get to be so smart?"

"Extensive practice through mistake-making, obviously. It's the only way to do it," Cristobel deadpanned. Removing the rashes on Amy's legs, Cris went on, "My mom's scarily brilliant. I suppose I must have inherited at least some of that, considering I too graduated the Academy, even though I kind of missed a semester."

"I don't remember hearing that," Amy said. "What'd you do that for?"

"Yxrk isn't the only Tholian virus. It was first semester of third year, after my survival course, which I have told you about," Cristobel said factually, but sounded haunted. "I recovered on Betazed - managed to take a couple of courses through Starfleet Academy's recruitment office. I ended up having to catch up by learning telepathically, which the Terran-centric Academy isn't terribly fond of, but allowed it in my case."

"Wow..." Amy breathed. "That sounds horrible, Crissy. What is it with these Tholians and their ruthless viruses, huh?" She sighed then, and laid a hand on Cris' shoulder. "But...everything's all better now, right? No residual effects?"

"Dhia, no. I doubt I'd be on the ship if there were residual effects," Cristobel admitted. Switching to ironic detachment, he remarked, "There are more recent horrors, such as Corran's illness, to occupy my mind usually, but even this relatively minor Yxrk virus and seeing Tuc again, brings it all back."

"Tuc?" Amy grinned slowly. "And who would this Tuc be, hm?"

"Sebarr Tuc. He was on the survival course with me, and he was my on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off boyfriend at the Academy. It turns out he's working on Deep Space 9. He ran into me, and I said 'hi,' which involved sex. Twice," Cristobel unabashedly explained.

Amy squealed and bounced up and down excitedly. "You never told me! Oh was it wonderful?" Amy's smile vanished and she paused in mid-bounce. "Wait...what did Corran say? I mean...doesn't he mind?"

"Normally, Corran would be okay with it, especially since I know Tuc and know what to expect from him. Un-normally, Corran has just realised that he hates Tuc, but he seems to be more broken up over feeling that hate at all, rather than over my dalliance with Tuc." Cristobel's serious tone was broken with a sly smirk, and then he bit his lower lip. "Tuc is Bajoran, which means he's got that fiery passion, and since he doesn't put it into faith, he puts it into his personal relationships. Plus, well, you know the ridges aren't only on their noses, right?"

Amy covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a raucous laugh. Once it was under control, she clamped both hands down onto his shoulders and gasped, "They do!?" She groaned then, as if the thought alone inspired an ache that required immediate attention. "Oh, if only I weren't with Kit...."

"You know... Sickbay is perfectly equipped for making temporary cosmetic changes... You can be with Kit and still experience what it's essentially like to be with an anatomically correct Bajoran," Cristobel suggested smirkingly. "Don't you two ever role play?"

"Well...of course," she answered. "I mean...does playing 'pirate' count?"

"Sure," Cris affirmed as he finished clearing off the discolouration on Amy's feet. "There now, I think I got it all." Holding out the dermal regenerator, Cristobel asked, "Are you going to be sending Kit down to Sickbay, or do you want to be his private sultry nurse?"

She giggled and snatched the regenerator from his hand without a moment's thought. "I think I'll make him squirm. Thanks, Crissy." She kissed his cheek. "And I think I'll read the signs before getting naughty with Kitty anywhere but in our room...or the shower."

---

"Advice On Ice"
By: Captain Matt Salinger
Commander Lyrr Tayla

Location: Holodeck 2, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.03, 08h15

***

SMACK WHOOSH BZAAAAA

SMACK WHOOSH BZAAAAA

SMACK WHOOSH BZAAAAA

Matt Salinger slid forward another half meter on the ice. He looked off toward his target, and smiled at the pile of black discs shifting beneath the netted half-dome. At least he hadn't lost his aim. He snapped his stick back and brought it forward to crack into the puck waiting in front of him. BZAAAAA

"Not bad, kid," came the voice from the other end of the ice. Matt turned and saw the white-haired old timer glide easily out into the rink. "Perhaps not so good as me in my prime, but still a good form. Careful not to put too much action into your hips. Have the ladies fainting with that little maneuver. Not bad in itself, but if they're all passed out, who'll cheer for you when you bull's-eye it into the goal?"

"Less hip--"

"-- more grip. You got it, kid."

"Thanks," Matt said and dropped his stick back over his shoulder. "Didn't expect to see you here today."

"It's my usual day off," the old timer said. "But, I'm retired, so I just do what I want. So, here I am. Thought you might be here, so I thought I'd stop by and warn you about those hips again."

Matt patted a hip and laughed. "Warned."

"Not much time for this sort of thing anymore, eh?"

"Duty before pleasure, even hockey."

The old timer feigned stumbling and going to the ice, hand pumping at his heart. "Oh, kid, ya kill me."

"I can't believe I ever thought I'd hear myself saying that," Matt said with a grin, as he helped the man up. "But, I've got a crew of one hundred fifty and a starship to take care of, to take through into an unknown, unexplored region of space."

"Sounds like you'd rather be playing hockey. Or maybe cleaning your skates. Or jumping into a freezing cold lake until you're singing like a little boy."

Matt chuckled and shook his head. "It's not that," he said. "It's...I am excited, very excited. It's just-- I had a member of my crew go missing. He was on detached duty, and...and we haven't found him yet. Hell, we've hardly been able to start searching with all the drawbacks. The targetting systems aren't interfacing with the newly repaired phasers, and our warp coils can't seem to form a sufficient warp envelope to go past Warp 2. We're not ready, and the runabout we were going to send is having the same sort of difficulties. I feel...I feel like someone shackled my skates just before the big game."

"Ahh, hockey. I know that. Phaser? Sounds like something you'd sharpen skates with. Particle weapons?"

Matt laughed. "Phased energy," he said. "Our ship is equipped with several banks of them."

"Never did like science fiction much," the old timer said with a hoarse laugh. "Though, put a Ray Bradbury story in my hand, and I wouldn't put it down. You know a man's a genius when he can make you interested in a subject you don't generally like. So, you have a man in the penalty box, so to speak."

"Sort of," Matt said. "Though, in this case, we seem to have misplaced the penalty box."

"Hate it when that happens," the old timer wheezed. "You're a good kid, Matt. Just keep your hips straight, and you'll pull through this. You may need to line up for some extra practice, and maybe a few more PT sessions to get everyone ready for the big game, but you'll manage. It's what a good coach does, and you are a good coach, eh?"

Before Matt could answer, the holodeck doors ground, revealing Lyrr Tayla standing on the other side. Matt waved her inside with a big grin.

"So, this was your surprise," she said to him. She came to the boards and stopped at them, not daring to step foot on the slippery surface. "I should've known," she continued, "when you told me to wear something warm."

"I thought you might want to try out a little," he said. "Lyrr Tayla, this is Mack Mackey. He's...well, he's a resident expert on hockey. Mackey, this is Lyrr, my executive officer and right hand on the ship."

"Pleased to meet ya," Mackey said with a nod. "So, you work with this clown, do you? With your phasers and warp engines? Doesn't sound as exciting as game night, but sounds like a good way to pass the time."

"I figured we could both use the time in here," he said to Lyrr. "I get tired of meetings in the ready room or the conference room or the briefing room. So, I thought a meeting in the hockey rink would be a nice change of pace."

Lyrr shrugged and folded both arms over the top of the boards. "A change of scenery is never a bad thing..." She chuckled. "So what's the meeting about? Phasers and warp engines?" She glanced in Mackey's direction.

"At this point, mainly just keeping updated," Matt said. "With the search, with the repairs, and then with our...our status of going through the wormhole. I know we're going to ruffle feathers turning back to search for Ethan, but I refuse to leave a man behind."

"And I don't think anyone aboard this vessel blames you," Lyrr replied. "Besides, this crew could use a little more time to prepare themselves. A lot's happened lately; it'll take time for everyone to adjust."

"I was thinking of Starfleet Command, who expects us to jump through the wormhole on time. It's not an easy situation, not by a long shot. But, I think this is the right thing."

"Only 'think'?" Lyrr asked with a grin. "Come on, Matt; when have you ever not gone with what your heart dictated?"

"I always do," Matt said. "But sometimes there are doubts. Going against orders, going after one man, it's...it's the right thing. I just hope the people who make the decisions in Starfleet know that."

"And if they don't, they're fools." She smiled tightly, and stared down at her finger compulsively scratching at a scar in the boards. "Matt? While we're here, I think there's something very awkward I need to discuss with you."

Matt nodded. "Of course," he said. "Anytime you need to talk about anything, I'm here."

"Well, I would like to talk now, before...well, before." She sighed and watched Matt glide towards her. Skating seemed a graceful, enjoyable sport, but she would only attempt it at a time when her mind wasn't preoccupied. "I feel I should tell you this," she began once he was propped against the boards. "You have a right to know, and it's my duty to tell you as your first in command."

Matt came to a stop just next to the wall separating them. "Go ahead," he urged.

Lyrr nodded, though her gaze remained lowered. "There haven't been any rumours, as far as I can tell...so it is unlikely you know. It's...um--" She cleared her throat, then chuckled nervously. "This is very uncomfortable. I mean...I never expected something like this, and I'm almost...ashamed that I could not prevent it."

"Lyrr, whatever it is, you can tell me," he said. "No need to skate in circles."

Lyrr shot him a quizzical expression, then sighed. "And before anything, I want you to know that I will obey whatever you order me to do regarding the matter." Lyrr paused to form the admission in her mind before she spoke it. Did she take an indirect approach, attempt to justify her actions before confessing to them? Did she simply apologize, then state her transgression? But before her mind could make itself up, her lips began moving to verbalize: "Lieutenant T'Kal and I are in a relationship." She let the words sink in, then exhaled slowly and met Matt's gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Are you happy, Lyrr?"

She smiled wanly. "In general?" She shook her head. "I've never been happy a day in my life, Matt. But am I happy to be in this relationship?" There was a heavy sigh, then: "I enjoy the company, but there is still much time before I will be able to grow comfortable with the entire situation. Because of my past, it's difficult to get close enough that I can feel happy being with another, instead of feeling completely paralyzed with fear."

"I don't want to play counsellor or pry where I'm not wanted or needed, but...but are you sure you're ready for this? I'm not a counsellor, but... Relationships shouldn't bring heavy sighs. I don't want either of you getting hurt in this, and not just because I need to rely on both of you to do your jobs on this ship. Two people in a relationship, committing themselves at different levels can cause big problems to the relationship. If I were to make a guess, everything has happened very quickly and you've been swept up and swept along, and you're doing everything you can to keep your head above water. Do you want a relationship, Lyrr? Or do you want a friend and companion?"

"I don't know," she answered ruefully. "Ben's the first man in a while that I've been almost comfortable around. I mean...he's not pushing anything; he's okay with us going slowly. But I'm still sorting through my feelings for him. And, he's helping me through a lot of issues." Lyrr shrugged, then. "He makes me laugh and smile... That's not so bad, is it?"

Matt sighed and shook his head. "No," he said. "I guess it's not. If you insist that everything's alright, then I won't press."

"Why?" she asked. "Is there something I should be worried about?"

"I don't know," Matt said. "I don't think so. It just seemed as if...as if you were uncertain about this relationship you're in. If you're okay, and everything is fine.... It just didn't seem like...I guess most people I know don't approach their relationships with grim determination."

Lyrr stiffened. "This is my first one, Matt. I...I don't know how to behave yet or approach it. Is that so wrong?"

"I didn't know how to behave or approach my first relationship either," Matt said. "But I knew it was something to be happy about, something I should enjoy. Something that when I talked about it to other people, I shouldn't make it sound like bad news or an apology."

"But I don't know if this is right on a professional level," she explained. "I'm his superior. It's inappropriate."

"I'm Xayella's superior officer as well, but I can't help how I feel about her. I know my duty, and what has to happen in decisions between my personal and professional lives, and only hope that the relationship can withstand any strain that it may cause."

Lyrr sighed and leaned her forehead into her palm. "Is it supposed to be this complicated? I mean...we've only ever had dinner.... What happens if it goes beyond that?"

"If it goes beyond that, you just have to decide what you want. If you don't know what you want, slow down and step back. I don't know how to say this without sounding like a protective father, but don't do anything at all you don't feel comfortable or don't want to do. And, whatever you do, don't hide your emotions and pretend that everything is fine when it's not. Too many people go along with something out of fear of rejection. Don't be afraid to go to station keeping if you're unsure. Given both of your positions, uncertainty here could end up jeopardizing both of your careers, and I speak from a position of experience in this. If something goes bad, you will have to figure a way to work together or look for transfers. I'm in the same shuttle with Xay. Just...just take things cautiously. I don't want to see you hurt by this, Lyrr. It just...it just seems very uncertain and fast to me."

She nodded grudging agreement, then managed a tight smile for Matt. "I'll go slow, you don't have to worry about that. And if you ever think it's affecting my work...please tell me, Matt."

"And, if you ever think my relationship is affecting mine, you tell me," Matt said. "Relationships within the chain of command is, and has always been, tricky. The right couple can pull it off and everything is fine. The difficulty is in being able to give orders you don't want to, but know you have to. The hardest thing to do is sending a loved one into danger. But, I know if there was a dangerous science mission and I needed my best scientist on the job, even if it might mean losing her, Xay would be first on my list. Watching her beam down would probably tear my heart out, but that's my duty as the commanding officer of this ship." A haunted look fell over his face, and his voice dropped to a tight whisper. "It's one of the hardest decisions anyone in a position of command ever has to make."

Lyrr looked away from Matt, feeling guilty intruding upon whatever ghosts from the past were summoned by their discussion. She sighed and regarded him again, with one hand covering his. "You've given me a lot to think about," she said softly. "Thank you, Matt. I knew talking to you was the right thing to do."

"Hopefully it always will be," Matt said. "Whenever you need someone to talk to, Lyrr, I'm available. Doesn't matter when, doesn't matter where. I'm here for you and all the crew. It's part of what this fourth pip is all about."

She chuckled and stepped away from the boards after giving his hand a final squeeze. "I may take you up on that sometime."

"I look forward to it," Matt said with a smile. "And, if you ever want to get down here on the ice and swing a big stick around, let me know. I'm sure Mackey would love to teach you a thing or two."

Lyrr laughed as the old man shot her a wink. "Oh, I'm sure he would. Thanks for the talk, Matt. I'll see you on the bridge."

"Check and see if Lt. Thaine's still having trouble getting those photonic particle converters into place." She waved in acknowledgement, and then departed through the holodeck doors.

"Nice kid," Mackey said with a nod. "Though, I don't think she needs a hockey coach, she needs someone to tell her about dating and stuff. Though, damn. Give me a spunky woman who likes to get her hands dirty over a prissy, dress-wearing delicate thing anyday."

Matt chuckled. "So true," Matt said with a grin. "Well, I should let you get back to your retirement while I get back to work."

"It was good to see you again, kid. Don't be a stranger."

"Am I ever?" Matt asked with a grin.

"Not as long as I've known you, so keep it up."

Matt gave Mackey a wave, and went off to change, contemplating his conversation with Lyrr, a slight smile of amusement curling his lips. "Congratulations, Lyrr. I hope."

---

"Another Scratch"
By Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Private Examination Room
Stardate: 57908.03 08h35

***

Medical Officer's Log Stardate 57908.03, Cristobel Sefton reporting.

At 08h15, I treated Ensign Amy Reese for a mild rash, and she has made a full recovery. In the course of the treatment, Ensign Reese made remarks suggesting recent motivation to hurt herself. Said remarks included, 'I didn't want to wake up without him beside me,' 'I didn't want to live anymore,' and 'Have you ever just wanted to give up completely after someone you loved went away.' She also admitted to never having shared these thoughts with her counsellor. I do not believe that there is any current danger of Ensign Reese harming herself or others, but I am not qualified to make such decisions.

"End log," Cristobel ordered the computer with a frown. It's the right thing to do, he mentally reminded himself. Regulations exist for reasons.

"Computer, send a copy of my latest log to..." -- Cristobel checked his PADD for the name of Amy's counsellor -- "Doctor Ilan Potts."

"Acknowledged," the computer intoned.

Sefton took a clean class A uniform jacket from the replicator, shrugged it on, and closed up the front. "Computer, while you're at it, send a copy of the log to Ensign Amy Reese."

Regulations be damned, it's the right thing to do.

---

"Underappreciated"
By: Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh
Lieutenant Mark Thaine

Location: Science Lab 1, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.03, 09h30

***

"I don't know how much more I can do for you, Lieutenant."  Xayella Tagliesh, sitting at the science console in Lab 1, sighed and looked over her shoulder at the Chief Engineer, frowning at his display.  She shook her head and swivelled in her chair to face him.  "What are you so interested in my sensors for anyway?  I thought all you engineer types cared about was your precious engines?"

"Because I know that people like you will have my head if I don't get your precious sensors working properly, Lieutenant," Thaine retorted. He picked up his coffee mug, and swore quietly as he found it was empty. "Right, try it now," he said, making a few adjustments to the calibration matrix.

Xayella sighed and shrugged as she turned to face the terminal again.  She activated the forward sensor array and programmed it to scan a nebular cloud already on file aboard the Sulu's astrometrics database.  Xay frowned, and sang, "Still not getting maximum resolution."  Casting a moderate scowl in his direction, she added, "Try again."

Inwardly, Thaine swore loudly. Outwardly, he swore equally loudly, but with slightly less colourful language. "It shouldn't be taking this long!" he exclaimed, his frustrations finally reaching a boiling point. "Two bloody hours for a sensor calibration? You sure you've got all the software properly configured?"

Xay narrowed her eyes at the engineer and abruptly whirled around in her seat to face him.  "I am doing nothing wrong," she snapped.  "And if it's taking two bloody hours, then maybe you're not qualified for such delicate work."

"I didn't say you were doing anything wrong," came the curt response. "I asked if the sensors and the computer were working together right." His own dark glare met hers full on. "And if you want to do this yourself - that's fine with me. I've got more important things than this do. My precious engines, remember?"

"Fine," she replied with a sweet grin.  "I guess I'll just have to ask the Captain if he can recommend someone else more...qualified for the task, hm?"

The glare, somehow, managed to increase in intensity. That was a reference to Zareb who was due on board any day now, he was sure of it. And as much as he hated to admit it, the Lieutenant had touched a nerve. "I suppose you think that's funny, huh?" He shook his head. "Good job I don't listen to the rumours that I hear down in Engineering, or I'd think that was almost a threat, too." He looked back to his console.

"A threat?"  Xay grinned with interest and leaned forward.  "Do tell, Lieutenant, and maybe I'll give you a break."  Her smile grew mischievous. "Maybe."

Still working on his console, the engineer shrugged, though did briefly look a little puzzled by her sudden shift in attitude. "I don't like to listen to the rumours you get, 'specially those below decks." He looked up, his face serious. "I like to make my own mind up about people."

Xay sighed dismissively and swivelled back to her terminal.  "Fine...I guess you'll just have to wait to hear the real reason Commander Zareb is coming on board."  She glanced furtively in his direction, concealed a sly grin, then regarded her display again.  "Still a one percent rate of bleed on the sensors," she muttered.

There was silence from the engineer's part of the lab for a moment, which was finally broken. Thaine's mind was rapidly reaching some conclusions about Xay, and he didn't like them at all. "What real reason's that then?"

She shrugged.  "Could just be a rumour," she began.  "But -- Still a little weak on the Theta band -- what I heard was that he's coming on as Assistant Chief.  Been a lot of replacements lately on the senior staff.  I guess they just want to have someone to fall back on if you don't work out for some reason."

There was more silence, and then a beep from the sensors as the calibration finally locked into place. Then there was a small sigh from Thaine, and the engineer shook his head.

"Well."  Xay gave a snort.  "It's about time.  For a moment there I was wondering if you'd ever done this before...."

"Y'know, Lieutenant, that was real low." He spun in his chair to face her, and folded his arms. "That line on Zareb? Really, really low. There's only really two places you could have heard that. And only one of them is actually likely to be true.

"There's all that talk you and the Captain are...close. So you could have heard it from him, right? In which case, that not only shows unprofessional conduct on his part, but on yours for then sharing that with me. And I really don't like to think the Captain is that unprofessional." The engineer continued on, relentlessly, as he stood up.

"And then, you could have just heard it from some of the rest of the crew. But sneaking on a new Assistant Chief, without telling me? That's not the sort of thing the crew finds out about - we both run departments, we both know that those sorts of decisions are kept well quiet. So why would you believe something like that you heard in the ship's gossip?" He shook his head. "I thought you were a scientist, and believing gossip like that just doesn't fit with a scientist.

"So." He regarded Xay, his glare now returned in strength. "You either did hear it, and thought you'd share it just as an attack against me, or you made it up - which is even worse." Thaine shrugged, and crossed the lab toward her. "So which is it, Lieutenant? Or am I wrong entirely, and you're just the sort of scientist who leaps to conclusions without facts?"

Xay again whirled around in her chair, using the momentum to throw herself to her feet.  "Scientists, Mr. Thaine, rely on observation and from what I've observed here today, you need all the help you can get," she shot back. "Simply because your position aboard this vessel appears to be at risk doesn't give you the right to insult me, Lieutenant."  Xay smiled smugly, then.  "If I were you, I'd work extra diligently to make a good impression on the Captain, or you may be on the next transport off this ship, leaving your good friend Commander Zareb in charge of your beloved engines. Not a pleasing prospect, is it?"

"Enjoy your sensors," Thaine all but snarled, as he turned and stormed out of the Science Labs.

"After waiting two hours for them," she called back, "I sure as hell better!"  The doors seemed to close shut with some haste, and when they did, she waved dismissively at them and petulantly took her seat. Shaking her head as she swivelled towards her console again, she muttered disdainfully, "Engineers..."

---

"Comparisons Over Lunch"
By: Ensign Tchalla Mel'Chir
Ensign Amy Reese

Location: Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.03, 12h15

***

Tchalla Mel'Chir glanced down at her plate, a slow smile spreading over her lips, though her eyes were obscured by her bangs falling forward. She set her fork aside, knowing the pretense of eating now would be silly. They were in the lounge, seated in a corner and sharing lunch. Kelzira was working on a project and Kit was busy in a flight control meeting. So, Tchalla and Amy Reese had decided to spend their meal time together.

"We went to the station last night," Tchi said. "We went to the holosuites. The one with the singer who sings old songs from Earth. He was quite charming, and his songs were very nice."

"I've got a man who sings me songs every night," Amy boasted with a dreamy smile. "Does Kelli ever sing to you?"

"She sang to me the night before last night," Tchalla said with a fond smile. "She has a pretty voice. I-- I sang for her too. Kit has a wonderful voice. I love listening to him sing, and you and he are beautiful singing together."

Amy sighed as she tilted her head into her hand, while her eyes gazed into the distance. "Everything's so much better.... We're even thinking of getting the band back together." She gasped as a thought struck her, and her head shot upright. "You and Kelli have to join! You could be back up singers!"

Tchalla's eyes went wide. "Oh...oh, I couldn't. My voice...my voice, it isn't... I'm not that good, Amy. I couldn't sing like that. I'd ruin the song!"

"It's only back up!" Amy assured her. "You'll just be in the background, and Kelli can always sing over you if you're so nervous. But it'd be really cool if you joined. Won't you think about it?"

"Oh..." Tchalla looked up at Amy, into her friend's eyes and blushed. "Oh, I'll do it. It'll be...it'll be fun. Right?"

Amy giggled boisterously and patted her friend's hand with excitement. "Of course it will be! I'll ask Kit about setting up a practice. This'll be so great!"

"I know I shouldn't, but I'm looking forward to it. I mean, I should be scared out of my mind. But...but Kelli will help me. Do...do we have costumes?"

She snickered and lightly swatted Tchi's hand. "No, silly! You just wear whatever you want, as long as it looks snazzy."

"Oh, Kelzira will have to help me with that. She has a better sense of fashion than I do."

Amy leaned in towards Tchi, and confided, "If you let Kelli pick your clothes for you, you'll be walking on stage naked, Tchi."

"Oh dear," Tchalla gasped. "Maybe I'll just get her advice. And, yours! You can help me too! Oh, Amy, you'll have to help me too!"

"I'll help you," Amy assured her soothingly. "We'll make you look great, and feel comfortable at the same time. In fact, you can come back to my quarters if you want and we can look through the database to choose an outfit for you." She squealed, then, startling Tchi. "We can even check out some of those little dress shops on DS9! How 'bout it?"

Tchalla's face brightened at the suggestion. "Yes," she said excitedly, nearly bouncing in her seat. "I'd like that very, very much. Oh, thank you, Amy! You're the best friend ever!"

"You can decide that after we get you a dress," she quipped. Amy looked down into her plate, then, still smiling. She glanced up at Tchi with a mischievous gaze, and finally asked, "So...have and Kelli...you know? It has been almost a month."

Tchalla blushed more brightly than Amy had ever seen her before. What followed was a series of giggles, and ended in a tentative nod.

For Tchi's sake, Amy refrained from shrieking and throwing herself at the Andorian, and instead squeezed her hand tightly with subdued excitement. "That's so great," she whispered. "Was it wonderful and passionate and electrifying?"

Tchalla nodded, her smile saying everything that needed to be said. "Yes," she whispered. "It was...oh wow."

Amy sighed whimsically, then gestured for more details. "Where did it happen? How was the mood? Tell me everything, Tchi!"

"It was the night we arrived at DS9," Tchalla said with a wistful smile. "We'd been in the holodeck in one of those murder mystery programs. We were a pair of detective partners in the late twentieth century, and we were trying to find a killer before he attacked again. There was a scene where we were in our office, talking about the case, and she brushed a finger along one of my antennae, and...and I touched her cheek, and it was a really long moment, just us, and I felt all funny. We...we finished that chapter, and...and were going to go to the lounge, especially since the new guy there is redecorating, and we wanted to see, but...but I looked at her...and we went back to our room...and, and it happened there. Oh, it was amazing, Amy. And...and it's still amazing. I...I think...I know I shouldn't because of my family and...and things, but I'm falling in love."

Amy emitted a burst of joyful laughter and squeezed her friend's hand again. "Oh, I'm so happy for you two! I know she feels the same way, Tchi. You can't worry about your family. You have to go with what feels right for you, or you'll never be happy."

Tchalla nodded, then broke into a smile again. "It feels so good and wonderful and happy. She wants me to come with her next time she goes to Trill."

"To meet the family?" Amy teased. "I wonder if Kit would ever want to introduce me to his... He never talks about them much. Family doesn't really come up in discussions with us."

"No? We talk about a lot of things together, and family quite a bit, though sometimes she starts telling me about Looryx's family or Epharyn's. It's cute when she realizes."

"I'm almost jealous," Amy said with a playful scowl. "I don't even know if Kit has parents!"

Tchi giggled. "I'm sure he does. You should ask him about them." She watched Amy for a moment, as she thought about it, then she leaned forward. "Do you guys talk much?"

Amy shrugged. "Some. We talk about our relationship and music... There's not a lot of time, what with our shifts being so different. When we are finally together, it's bedtime for me, and he's just getting off shift..." Amy smiled wanly. "But we find time."

Tchi frowned. "Everything's alright?"

"Oh, yeah, everything's great," Amy replied. "We make love almost every night. Things are great."

"That doesn't sound very encouraging," Tchalla said. "A relationship is about more than sex."

"But we love each other," Amy insisted. "And we write songs together. It's so much more than that, Tchi." She smiled. "Really."

"What's his favourite colour?" Tchalla asked. "And, his favourite food."

Amy frowned into her plate, then sullenly poked at her cold chicken cutlet. "I don't know," she muttered.

Tchalla gave Amy's hand a squeeze. "I think it's time to find out," she said with a smile. "I bet you guys will have a great talk. Nice and cozy, but not too romantic. Kelli and I tried that, and we didn't do much talking." She looked away and blushed.

Amy sighed. "Maybe... Tonight, if he doesn't get home too late, we'll try that." She brought Tchalla's blue hand to her lips and kissed it affectionately. "Thanks, Tchi. You're so wise."

"Not really wise, especially not in matters like this. But, it seemed right, so... You guys will be fine, Amy. And, tomorrow, hopefully you can tell me what Kelli and I should make when we have you and Kit over for dinner."

"Dinner!" Amy announced emphatically. "We'll definitely need to get you a dress, then. But," she added as she slid her legs out from beneath the table, "I'd better get going, so we'll need to plan it for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow night then," Tchalla said. "After we're all finished with our shifts, we'll have dinner together. But, tomorrow morning, you have to let me know what food, so we can make sure it's ready."

Amy nodded as she rose, but leaned over to kiss Tchalla's blue cheek. "Thanks," she whispered. "And I'll tell you how our chat goes."

"Good," Tchalla said with a smile. She moved to return Amy's kiss, choosing her friend's lips instead of her cheek. She smiled shyly. "Kelli says I'm getting more bold."

Amy ran a finger over her mouth, surprised at the tingle remaining. "Definitely bolder," she breathed, then giggled and thought it best to depart. "See ya soon, Tchi!" she called back with a wave.

"Bye, Amy," she called. "We'll find clothes for me later!" She waved as Amy made her way to the door, happy and content with the turn her life had taken. Happy and content to find herself happy and content.

---

"Life Among the Lowly"
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Operations Office
Stardate: 57908.03 16h20

***

"Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy / She'll beat you if she's able / You know the queen of heats is always your best bet"

The simple melodic line and the earnest singer met Lektar as she entered the Operations office.

"Now it seems to me, some fine things / Have been laid upon your table / But you only want the ones that you can't get"

The moment the doors to Operations opened, she heard music. Singing. Shirik shook her head. Why should she expect her department to be any more professional than the rest of them? She turned the corner and entered the Operations office.

Behind the desk sat what could only be Ensign Mason Farrell, mouthing along with the lyrics as he tapped at his console. A beep sounded then, and the music cut off automatically in the middle of a word. The last thing Lektar heard of the song was the half-word "Desper--" and then Farrell was speaking.

"Operations. Farrell here," he said, noticing Lektar, and giving her a wave and a smile. Apparently he was keeping it on audio.

Shirik stood just inside the doorway to the office, her expression anything but amused. She said nothing, standing with a pair of PADDs in her hand, waiting and listening.

"Hansen here in Engineering." The feminine voice was perky and pleasant, but the speaker was obviously attempting to sound stern.

"And how are you, Ensign Hansen? Still got that smudge on your nose?" Farrell smiled to himself and winked at Lektar.

Shirik's expression only became less amused, but she said nothing, waiting for the conversation to finish.

The woman on the other end of the comm giggled, and then cleared her throat. "The reason for this call is that I haven't got my final load of parts for today, and Thaine's going to skin us all if we don't complete today's tasklist. So what gives?"

Farrell sighed. "I know, Rachel," he said, motioning Lektar to a seat as he talked, "and we're on it. You folks are at the top of my list today, but DS9's fabrication plant can only work so fast. I'm going stationside for a few hours today to make sure Lieutenant Nog's either not taking bribes or will take one to bump us up in line, one or the other," he chuckled.

Hansen chuckled herself on the other end. "Always with the payoffs," she jibed.

Shirik moved one step into the office but made no move to sit.

"Well, you just have to know how to talk to a Ferengi. He's an officer, true, but he still likes his latinum. I'll get on him today. As soon as I know, you'll know."

"Thanks, Farrell. If you can keep Thaine off the warpath down here, we'll owe you big."

Farrell smiled. "I'll keep you informed. Farrell out." He cut the commcall, and leaned back in his chair, looking to Lektar. "Princess," he smiled, making the title a greeting. His drawling accent gave his words an easygoing quality. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"You may refer to me as Ensign Lektar," she said. She finally moved towards the desk with studied grace, and laid one of the PADDs on it. "I am simply delivering a report for Lt. Sam's perusal."

"I'll upload it to his messages for the morning," Farrell said. "You know, you can sit down, Lektar. I'm not your superior."

That was obvious to her from the moment she entered the room, although she didn't say it aloud. "I don't plan to stay that long," she said. "I just came to deliver the report." She glanced around the office, since she'd never been there before.

"Yep," Farrell quipped, following her gaze around the room. "This is where the magic happens."

She quirked an eyebrow in Vulcan-like fashion. "Magic?"

"Absolutely," Farrell nodded. "This is where the ship lives or dies. People will try and tell you it's Engineering, but those people are probably engineers," he smiled slyly. "Nope, without Ops, nobody else can function. This," he swept his arms open to take in the room, "is where the Ops magic happens."

Shirik folded her arms. "I've worked in Engineering," she said. "I found the work there more difficult, more important, and more fulfilling most of the time. Be that as it may, technically, a ship would be severely crippled with any single department removed." She thought for a moment. "Except maybe counseling. Although, on this ship...."

Farrell nodded at the comm. "You just heard Ensign Hansen. Without Ops, Engineering can't do their job. We're the ones who make it all happen. But you don't buy that," he finished, regarding her carefully, a finger on his chin.

"Without Ops, Engineering would simply have to get their own materials, instead of having another department get them for them," she shrugged. "Ops is simply a convenience, like having a maid and laundry service. Someone to do procurement for you so you can work on more important things. You might recall, originally starships didn't have an Ops department."

Farrell chuckled knowingly. "More important things," he mused. "Interesting. You're a royal, right?"

She paused for a moment. For some reason, coming from him, the question sounded offensive. Perhaps it was the way he worded it. "I am the Fifth Princess of Drokar," she said, not sounding all that thrilled about it, "which has nothing to do with my job aboard this ship. Why do you ask?"

"On the contrary, your grace," Farrell said. "It has everything to do with your job aboard this ship. You're finally living like the other half, see. Did you have a servant? Not just a butler or anything, I mean a personal handmaid sort of servant?"

"I've been a member of Starfleet for eleven years, it's hardly 'finally.' " She finally decided she might as well sit, since it looked like he planned to keep her here for a while. Noisy humans. "I had several dozen personal slaves," she said. "But that didn't mean I was helpless to do anything for myself."

"But while you may not have been helpless, they did do an awful lot of things for you, right? Lay out your clothes? Prep your meals? Turn down your bed? Clean your rooms? Run your errands? Deliver your messages? Am I missing anything?"

"Your point being...?"

"I'll bet your servants knew more about you than even your closest friends. Exactly how you preferred to take your breakfast. The temperature of your bath. The cut, fit, and color of your clothing. How well you slept last night, and with whom perhaps, and if you even slept at all. Am I missing anything?" he asked rhetorically, not giving her time to answer. "Think about the level of access enjoyed by a personal servant. What do they see? What do they hear? Think about that. Think about how much is known by the people a royal would routinely ignore. And now think of all the possible things those ignored servants could have done with that information. You work with the computer. You know it's all about the information. Whoever knows the most has the power." His playful smile had not slipped, though now it looked sly, almost wolfish.

She considered his words and finally nodded. "Indeed, that much is true. Which is no doubt why the slaves are not educated, nor allowed any access to computers or weapons," she said. "But slaves can listen, understand, and repeat what they've heard or know, and I'm sure they've been instrumental in many of the shifts in power over the centuries. Still, if there were no slaves, our society would not be paralyzed. We would simply perform all those tasks for ourselves." Although she couldn't really imagine her mother, the Queen, making her own bed... Her eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion at the look on his face.

"Then why don't you?" Farrell asked quietly, clearly enjoying the conversation.

"Probably for the same reason they still have Ops," she said. "It's convenient, and it works." She shrugged and got to her feet.

Farrell chuckled. "You have a good day, your grace. I'll see to it your breakfast is proper in the morning."

Shirik didn't offer any response as she headed out the door. Mason Farrell's name was firmly placed on her 'avoid' list.

"Lektar!" Farrell called after her as she was halfway out the door.

Only good manners kept her from walking on out the door. She stopped in the open doorway, and turned only just enough so that she could look back over her shoulder at him. "Yes, Ensign?"

"I've recently opened a hole in my reading queue, and I was thinking about finding a good Drokari biography to fill it. Can you recommend one?" His tone was a complete change-up. Gone was the smirk and the competitive edge on his words.

She looked at him for a long time in silence, weighing the sincerity of his words, and the likelihood of there being a charade. "I have some in my possession," she finally said. "However, they are rare and valuable, and I will not lend them out. If you are sincere, however, I can make them available in digital form for your reading."

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sincere," Farrell said plainly.

"Very well. I'll forward you one." She turned once more to resume her exit.

---

"Celestial Healing"
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
Ensign Kit Markham - Flight Control Officer
and Dr. Ilan Potts - Assistant Chief Counselor

Location: USS Sulu, Amy Reese's Quarters, Corridors, and the Shuttlebay
Stardate: 57908.03 16h57

***

A shower. That was the only thing to cool Amy's boiling anger. Cris had betrayed her - of all the people she trusted, he was the last she suspected would ever turn on her. She shrieked at the wall of the shower and slammed it with an open palm. There was soon a yelp of pain, then whimpering as Amy cradled her throbbing hand. "Stupid Crissy...." She was deterred from shedding tears of rage and self-pity by the door chime, audible even above the sound of rushing water. Sighing, she stepped out of the shower and sought out a towel.

As the door slid open outside, there was a clanking sound of metal on metal before Dr. Potts struggled half into Reese's quarters. The curious little half-Deltan was dressed in a floral shirt that seemed to be literally screaming along with off-white shorts that fell about halfway onto his glaringly white thighs. He wore black socks up to his knees with his feet strapped by his favorite brown syth-leather sandals and had a narrow brimmed straw hat perched on his large head. The cause of his struggle was the three lightweight metal-and-fabric lawnchairs he carried hooked over one arm.

"Miss Reese," he said pleasantly with his typical toothy grin. "I trust you are free to escort me down to the shuttlebay."

Amy stood in the entranceway of the living area with one towel in her hand, and another wrapped around her, but it was her bewildered expression that stood out. "Doctor? What...what are you doing here?" She motioned her eyes towards the chairs. "And what are those for?"

"It's a surprise, Miss Reese," Potts lightly scolded, wagging a gnarled finger at her. "If you would be so kind as to secure that towel and follow me. We can't have it falling off in the corridor. There would be a tremendous scandal among your fellow Earthers."

"But..." She looked helplessly back towards the refresher, then to Potts again. "I...shouldn't change? Is this part of the therapy or something?"

"No," Potts sighed, checking his watch-less wrist. "We have a few minutes. If you must change but do hurry...I cannot guarantee my surprise will keep."

Amy nodded quickly, then darted back into the refresher, nearly losing her towel in the process. It was minutes later when Amy rushed out again, wearing her Starfleet issued blue tank top with a pair of matching coloured cotton pants. She hopped towards Potts on one foot in an awkward attempt to place on her shoes. "Okay--" She blew a strand of damp hair out of her eye, then smiled. "Ready!"

***

Dr. Potts and Amy Reese walked down the corridor, the odd pair drawing more than a few looks. Amy had taken Potts' arm when offered and towered over the small man as they made their way to the shuttlebay. The lawnchairs swung chivalrously on Potts' other arm.

"Lieutenant Scott informs me that you've requested me as your regular counselor," Potts said, making small talk. "I must admit, I'm quite flattered. At Deep Space Nine it took more than a month before I got a regular patient."

"Why is that?" Amy asked, genuinely at a loss. "You're a wonderful counsellor!"

"Thank you, Amy," Potts said, patting her hand on his arm with one of his own, causing the chairs looped in the crook of his arm to make a terrific clatter. "But many people cannot see beyond the outside. And you can...it's a wonderful quality."

She snorted. "And it's what gets me into trouble." As she rolled her eyes, her gaze strayed to the corridor's bulkheads, and ceiling - all around until they rested on Potts again. "So...what is it we're doing, Dr. Potts? Is--" She sighed then lowered her voice. "Does this have to do with anything Ensign Sefton might have said to you?"

"I must admit it is a consideration," Potts said, glancing up at the nurse as they walked along. "However, this is something I planned on sharing with you even before I received his message." He studied her closely. "What do you think of his concerns, Miss Reese?"

Her chin lifted defiantly, and her tone was stubborn as she replied, "I think Ensign Sefton is a delusional blabber mouth who would do anything to sink his teeth into a bit of juicy gossip, no matter how far from the truth it is. His concerns are baseless, Doctor." She nodded with self-satisfaction. "That's what I think."

Potts nodded without really meaning it. "But he didn't gossip about this, Miss Reese... He referred it to your counselor. You do consider Ensign Sefton a friend, yes?"

She pouted. "I did until he went and did this to me."

"He did it for you, Miss Reese," Potts stated, smiling warmly. "Try to remember that when you see him again."

"If I see him again," she corrected, then sighed irritably. "Are we there yet?"

"Now now," Potts mock scolded. "If you kids don't pipe down, I'll turn this corridor around....you know very well where the shuttlebay is, Miss Reese. We're almost there."

Amy's good humour returned, and a dreamy smile replaced her frown. "Kitty's there. Are we paying him a visit then?"

"He's certainly more than welcome to join us," Potts said cheerfully, rattling the three chairs on his arm. "However, he may be a bit too large for the lawnchair I replicated. You don't think he'll crush me and eat my bones, do you?"

"My Kitty?" Amy shook her head vigorously. "He's a sweetheart. He's never ever beaten up any of the guys I flirted with. Not even Ensign Sanchez!"

"Ensign Sanchez?" Potts asked innocently. "I haven't yet had time to look through the notes from your earlier sessions...was he or she one of your...indiscretions?"

"Oh no," she replied. "I just had sex with him."

Potts mouthed the word 'oh' and nodded pleasantly just as they arrived at the overly large door to the shuttlebay. Detecting the pair's forward motion, the door slid open to reveal the Sulu flight deck, her contingent of

shuttles positioned in symmetrical patterns on either side of the deck. Ensign Markham stood near the giant open bay door, the vast void of space held back only by an invisible force field.

At the sound of the door behind him, Kit turned and waved, still somewhat dubious of the crazy man who had practically dragged him into a corner where no one could overhear to reveal his plan. "Hey," he said once they were close enough to not shout.

Amy grinned, and briskly waved back at Kit with a giggle. "What's going on here?"

"Ensign Markham," Potts said with mock-gravity. "I trust you have arranged for some privacy."

Kit looked around at the deserted shuttlebay, empty save for the three of them and the shuttles. "Some," he said.

Potts jostled the only slightly larger junior's officer shoulder, breaking into a large grin. "Perfection. Now, if you could use some of that infinite strength to help me set up the chairs."

Kit glanced at Amy, then raised an eyebrow. He could only imagine what being locked in an office alone with the counsellor must be like. "Sure," he said, and picked up one of the chairs to put in place.

"Um...why am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on here?" Amy asked. "Is...this a picnic?"

Potts slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead theatrically. "Now, that would have been a wonderful addition, Amy," Potts said, truly admiring the idea. "If you keep up those suggestions, I'll request you a transfer to counseling. I could use a bright assistant."

She giggled. "Really?" Then, she gasped. "Is that why I'm here! Oh, wow!"

Potts settled into his chair and wagged his finger at Reese for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Miss Reese," he lightly scolded, smiling all the while. "The only thing planned for today is a bit of wormhole watching...it's really quite spectacular and there is something special scheduled."

Amy raised an eyebrow at Kit, then shrugged and moved to the chair next to Potts'. With a heavy sigh, she reclined onto it and clasped both hands behind her head. "So...you gonna tell us what the 'something special' is or are we going to play a game and have to guess?"

Potts examined his naked wrist again. "You need only to wait, Miss Reese," he announced, dropping a little of the levity. His eyes narrowed in anticipation.

Amy thought for a moment it might be possible for Potts to tell time with his bare wrist because no sooner had his eyes narrowed than the wormhole burst open in a brilliant display. The ship and the station was far closer than Amy would have guessed - the wormhole nearly filled the whole of the giant bay door. Reese rose from her chair, regarding the phenomena with a mixture of puzzlement and wonder. It didn't look like the wormhole she'd read about: It was swirling with a rainbow mix of colors; reds, greens, dark blues, purples, yellows, oranges. And it was staying open far too long. With the lights flickering on her face, Amy stepped to the edge of the flight deck, mere centimeters away from the force field that kept the shuttlebay's atmosphere firmly in place. She could see a procession of small ships flying near enough to the wormhole to activate it but none were going through.

"Wow," she breathed, with one hand over her heart. It was beating out a rapid, steady rhythm now. "This is... Oh...we're going to travel through that?"

"Right through to the other side," Kit said. "I guess the lightshow inside is supposed to be pretty spectacular too. It's amazing that...it's a short cut to a place that it would take Starfleet years and years and years to reach conventionally, and poof we're going to be thousands of lightyears away. It'll be the farthest I've ever been from home. If my parents knew, they'd definitely accuse me of trying to get farther away from them."

Amy giggled and glanced back at Kit. "Same here..." Eyeing the celestial phenomenon again, Amy asked, "Is it always so colourful? In the database, the pictures we have don't look like that."

"No," Potts said, ghosting up beside the nurse. "The silithium filament stretching through the wormhole emits vertigon particles that usually get purged by the various ships when they travel through. However, there is occasionally a heavier than normal emission, requiring the Bajorans to fly their ships near to elevate the neutrinos and aid the purging...we can't have the Celestial Temple getting all loaded with vertigon particles, can we? They're harmless but it is their reaction to the neutrinos that produce the colors." Potts looked out into space. The wormhole was already starting to look its normal self. "Beautiful either way, don't you think?"

Amy sighed, and nodded happily at the counsellor. "It was a wonderful surprise, Dr. Potts." Twisting her upper body around, she embraced the little man. "Thanks."

Potts returned the hug, patting her back gently. The last ship made its pass and the wormhole snapped shut, like a rubber band shooting into infinity. Potts pulled away from the young officer and moved one hand up to cup her cheek. Kit walked up behind her, regarding the exchange a little suspiciously.

"There's an adventure waiting on the other side of that wormhole, Miss Reese," Potts said, smiling kindly at her. "No matter what happens with you and Paul Bunyan here, remember everything that's ahead of you. And as your counselor, you simply must promise to remember that when you see Ensign Sefton again."

Amy's frown returned and both arms folded over her chest in a petulant pose. "And whatever's ahead of me," she said, "Cristobel Sefton will not be a part of it. He betrayed me, Dr. Potts. I...I can't ever forgive that!"

"Forgiveness is an excellent quality and I believe you're full of excellent qualities, Miss Reese," Pott said, undaunted by Amy's dramatics. He pulled his hand from her cheek and went to fold up his chair. "Don't be too quick to judge Ensign Sefton's actions as a betrayal," Potts said, letting his eye wander over both Amy and Ensign Markham. "He cares about you, Amy. We all do." Potts slung his chair back over his arm and began his slow, shuffling walk to the rear of the shuttlebay.

She exchanged a curious look with Kit, then scampered towards the departing counsellor. "But...but I thought you were going to lecture me," she said, sliding in front of him. "I mean...Cris' note.... It doesn't worry you?"

"My only concern is your steadfast refusal to even consider Mister Sefton's act as one of compassion," Potts said bluntly with a wilting smile. "I gave my last lecture a long time ago, Miss Reese and while you may want one, it isn't what you need."

Potts glanced back at Markham watching from a fair distance away. Behind him, the wormhole opened again as a ship made its way into the unknown. Potts smiled and turned back to Amy, dropping his voice for her ears alone. "Go and spend time with your young man," he advised. "And remember what you owe to forgiveness, Miss Reese. Maybe then it will be easier to find it in yourself." Reaching up to her, he patted her cheek one last time before moving past her and out of the shuttlebay.

Amy smiled with mild perplexity at the man, though more at the glaring white legs peeking out from beneath his shorts. As odd as he was, at least he had a point. If Kit could forgive all her indiscretions, then she could certainly forgive Cris' small, heartfelt one. But, it would take time. With a heavy, airy sigh, Amy started back towards Kit, still watching the wormhole spectacle with awe. As she slipped her arms around his waist from behind and brushed her lips against his ear, she whispered, "Make a wish."

Kit leaned his head back against Amy's shoulder and smiled. "It's already come true," he said softly as he covered her arms with his own.

---

"Close...Too Close, Part 1"
By: Cmdr. Lyrr Tayla XO
Lt. Benedict T'Kal Security Chief

Location: Commander Lyrr's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.03, 18h00

***

Benedict T'Kal pressed the chime on Lyrr Tayla's door and stood back. He was dressed in a casual peasant shirt of rough weave, loose sleeves tied with laces at the cuffs and throat, though the ones at his throat were loose. He was clad in black trousers and boots and wore his hair long and loose. In one hand he carried his guitar, a twelve stringed acoustic of aged wood that had seen a great deal of use. He composed a slight smile as he pressed the chime a second time.

"I'm coming!" the muffled voice called out from within. The door opened soon after, and in the opening stood Lyrr Tayla, clad in a simple long-sleeve V-neck that followed every curve and a comfortable-fitting pair of slacks. She chuckled at T'Kal, but more appropriately, at his instrument. "And what, Benedict T'Kal, is that?"

He grinned. "It's my guitar - I'm sure you've seen one." He motioned with his free hand, "Can I come in or do you want me to serenade you out here in the corridor?" He looked left and right, but no one was in sight. With a flourish he swung the instrument into position and strummed a chord. His smile held a touch of mischief.

Lyrr, on the other hand, scowled playfully. Both hands flew out to seize his upper arm, and with a quick tug, she pulled him into her quarters. The door closed safely behind him. "You are truly a wicked person, Ben," she chided.

He laughed and strummed again, this time his fingers danced on the strings, making a playful tune as he bowed. "Thank you." He swung the guitar away and set it against the wall, still with laughter in his eyes. "So...missing out on lunch, and with the runabout still not available - I thought you'd be willing to settle for some dinner?" He gazed into her eyes for a moment. "And I did promise to play for you."

"But not in the corridor," she pointed out. Lyrr stepped aside and extended an arm towards the dining room table, which was covered in a burgundy cloth and topped with a set of plates on either side, and a single candle lit in the center. She laughed softly, almost bashfully. "Not the greatest, I know, but I tried."

"Simplicity is obviously your strong point." He turned from the table and looked back at her. "It's perfect," he stated seriously. He gave her a smile that said anything she did would be perfect. He held her gaze for a long moment and then led her to the table. The room was Spartan - standard issue Starfleet decor with only a few personal effects. Only one painting adorned one wall, and it was a dull portrait at that, depicting a nondescript country setting that was a blur of uninspiring colours; even the frame was ordinary and unappealing. The only vibrancy in the entire room came from the patterned quilt draped over the backrest of her sofa, and the finest piece of artwork was an intricately twisted glass sculpture atop her coffee table. Otherwise, Lyrr Tayla's quarters were quite uninteresting, but he appeared to approve.

Smiling, Lyrr gestured to the sofa. "We can have a drink before dinner. To get us settled...."

He nodded and settled into one end of the sofa, throwing an arm over the back and sliding a knee up so that she would have to sit at the opposite end. He was turned so that he could look at her as she went to fix the drinks. "How's the head?" he asked with a glint in his eyes. "I wouldn't have imagined you'd be one to get plastered," he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Your family visit must have been rough..."

Lyrr laughed softly. "No worse than it usually is," she answered. The white wine she'd chosen to accompany their fish dish that evening had been left breathing in an ice bucket by the table. Lyrr retrieved the bottle and poured each of them a half glass. "You know how mothers can be," she continued, and started back to the sofa with both glasses cradled in her palms. "She just expects so much from me, and it's just hard to take at times." With a smile, she held one goblet towards him. "It's some Terran brand. The captain recommended it."

The mention of how mothers can be stung, but he kept his smile. He wished that he did know - his memories of his mother were as a child, not a man. He nodded at the wine, and took a sip of the cold liquid. It was smooth, fruity but dry - nice. "Expectations by our loved ones are often difficult to reach," he replied. "I think my mother wouldn't have approved of my career choices either. I take after my father too much. He would have approved though," he nodded as he took another sip. He looked up into her dark eyes. "Mothers always want grandchildren..."

Lyrr chuckled and relaxed against the back of the sofa, while she brought her knees up towards her. She appeared even smaller and far more delicate curled up so compactly, but looks had a tendency to deceive. "I think Mother Yalen wants grandchildren," Lyrr replied. After a brief sampling of the wine, she continued. "She knows she isn't getting any from me, but it doesn't stop her from bringing it up from time to time."

He looked across at her and smiled. "Every chance she gets?" he asked with a raised brow. He nodded at his own question as if it was rhetorical. "At least I don't have to weather that." He shrugged. Benedict already had a son - he'd never seen him, only knew of his existence. Catherine Page had vanished like smoke while the child was still unborn. A part of him hated her for what she had done, and yet he still felt obligated. Not that he would ever have the opportunity to be a father. That would be impossible with Page. That was also past history. He looked up at the woman on the sofa, curled up on herself. She was already opening up more of herself to him, even though it seemed against her will at the start. "Children do not thrive on Starships. I can't see myself raising a family like the Ashburys." He smiled lopsidedly. "Basic job incompatibility. I'd have to opt for a safer career choice before I do something that rash." Subject discussed and closed. He smiled.

Lyrr chuckled. "Safe? You?" She shook her head then. "I think you'd wither away if you had to give up this life. It's the challenge that drives people like you, like me... Without it, we're just our boring parents who push their children to marry and procreate." Lyrr smiled again and unconsciously shifted closer to T'Kal as she regarded him instead of her wine. "Do you think you could ever give this all up? I know I couldn't. I'd be lost without...this."

He laughed. "My parents were far from boring." He unconsciously shifted to match her movement - mirroring her. "I couldn't give it up though," he agreed readily, looking deeply into her eyes. "I have no intention of giving anything up." He ran a hand through his hair as it fell across his eye, flicking it away. He held her eyes with a violet gaze, a slight smile playing about his lips. He glanced through the view port at the stars outside the hull. "I'm happy to be where I am," he added.

Lyrr smiled as she followed his gaze. "It's a wonder after all this time being in space," she mused, "that the sight of the stars shining outside still amazes me." She pushed her legs over the edge of the sofa, brushing her knee with T'Kal's, and leaned forward to continue studying the specks of light outside. "I think as long as I'm still filled with excitement and wonderment everytime I open my eyes and realize I'm flying out in space," she whispered, "I'll never get tired of this life."

"Neither will I," he said softly, still looking at her. By starlight her face seemed to glow, and her eyes were wide, filled with wonder. Her face was elfin, delicate and smooth-skinned, like fine porcelain. Her lips were slightly parted, a darker shade. He remembered her reaction when he'd reached out to her before. "You're beautiful in this light," he said. "I'd love to paint you sometime."

Lyrr chuckled and turned her head on its side, her cheek cradled in her palm, to regard him. "You paint, too? You really do have an artistic side, don't you?" She sat upright again and pivoted to fully face T'Kal, knees bumping again in the process. Lyrr folded one of her own beneath her onto the couch to eliminate the barrier, and moved in closer. She was near enough now that she could have reached out and combed her fingers through his raven hair. There was a moment of temptation, but Lyrr opted, instead, for following up on her previous questions. "Why security, then?" she asked with keen interest. "Yes, you can fight, no one will deny that, but you're just...you're gentle. I mean, you paint, you play a guitar, you speak like a poet at times... That doesn't seem to mesh."

"You should read some Terran history," he said softly as he too moved a little closer, just leaning against the back of the sofa, one hand propping his head up as he looked at her. It was as if the room just faded away; all he was conscious of was her eyes and the softness of her face. "My father was Japanese," he continued. "He was Samurai. Although that concept is ancient, the style remained through history and had a brief revival in the twenty second century. My father held with the beliefs of Bushido - and he taught them to me...it's all about balance. Yin and Yang." He smiled. "My mother wanted me to be an artist. My family on my mother's side were of the Artist Caste - she wanted me to continue in a family tradition so they sent me to study on Terra Australis, but by that time my father had taught me everything I needed to defend myself. He was a mercenary trader before he met my mother. She calmed his spirit considerably." He looked into her eyes, searching for the specks of amber he knew to be there in their depths. "Loving someone does that to you.."

She smiled demurely down at her fingers idly brushing against the fringes of black wool trimming the quilt. "So...you're waiting for some woman to come along and tame you, then?" Her eyes flashed up towards his, and the startling violet of them made her blush. "You want to find love again, don't you, Ben? It's very important to you."

He just held her gaze and nodded slowly. "It's as elusive as smoke," he breathed. "Sometimes you can see it plainly, but reach out to grasp it and it's not there...and sometimes you don't even see it but it's there anyway," he smiled, "and sometimes it's where you least expect it." He touched her hand with a long finger, grazing the skin. "Yes, it's important to me," he admitted. "What good is a life unless it's shared? It's what we are made for. Something that cannot be denied and should not be. I guess I've always looked for the kind of love I saw in my parents."

"I wish I could've known mine," she told him. She smiled at her hand turning over under his. Her own fingers brushed against his palm. "Their love for each other, and for me was greater than I can even imagine. I don't know if I can ever experience it - truly experience it. For all I know, such a thing is unattainable." She chuckled wryly. "Love has been unattainable for me for...ever, really."

"The best thing about love," he said as he took her hand, "is that all you need to do is ask for it. It's not unattainable." He looked into her eyes. "Not for you...if you want it." He looked at their hands, and he held hers with both of his, feeling the warmth of her skin.

Lyrr sighed at his offer; she couldn't keep him from giving his love and affection to her, but she was incapable of accepting it. As close as it was, love was still slightly out of reach. "I think that should wait...for at least a little while." She shifted her gaze to his, and smiled hopefully. "Shouldn't it?" Chuckling to inject some levity into the moment, she quipped, "At least until we've had our meal and you've provided the after-dinner entertainment."

He grinned, knowing that she was hesitant as always, but also knowing that she had changed a great deal since he had first met her. She didn't realize how much herself, but he could see it plainly as she kept reaching out to him. It would take time, he knew, but that was okay. He nodded, "I guess it can wait that long." He laughed softly, "It can wait as long as it needs to. I'm in no hurry, Tayla, none at all." She could see that he meant it, she could plainly see how he felt about her in his expression. "I'm not pushing you - and I won't." He reached out and lifted his wine glass, taking a swallow. "I'm starved," he grinned. "I missed lunch for some reason."

"Because I wasn't there?" she ventured, then grinned teasingly and rose. Her hand still held T'Kal's. "I know I said I'd recruit Sikara to prepare something for us, but I wasn't quite ready to take that step yet."

He shook his head as he rose with her, unconsciously linking his fingers through hers. "I was busy," he laughed. "You really hate to lose don't you?" he asked rhetorically. "Never mind, I guess I'll put up with replicated fare. You have to take the good with the bad...." He led her to the table and pulled out her seat.

"There'll be time for more elaborate dinners," she assured him, then offered a polite thank-you as she accepted the vacant chair. "And admittedly," she added once he'd moved to the opposite end of the table, "I was a little nervous about rousing suspicions. I mean, the commander requesting an exquisite dinner for two?" She chuckled. "No, that wouldn't raise a few eyebrows at all."

He laughed at that. "True," he said, nodding, "I'll work something out. You don't get to be a Security Chief without knowing how to do things without raising suspicions." He retrieved the wine bottle and topped up their glasses. "I left my commbadge in my quarters," he said matter-of-factly. "It will re-route messages here - but you'd have to be a very senior command officer to know that." He grinned. "You've programmed the meal?" he asked. At her nod he went to the replicator and told it to commence the first course.

"I thought this was supposed to be my turn for dinner?" she asked with an amused smile. "I can see that I'm going to be well-taken care of in this relatio--" Lyrr stopped herself before the word could leave her lips fully. She chuckled softly and stared down into her sparkling wine. "I've never been catered to like this."

His back was turned as she spoke but he caught her slip - he smiled to himself and didn't say anything about it. "You'll have to get used to it," he said as the dishes materialised.

A few moments later he brought two salads, and an assortment of table spices and the platter of steaming Hom'burrah - it was a deep ocean fish native to Bajor, with tender flesh and no bones. It was coated in a wine and cream sauce with capers, herbs and citrus fruits that gave it a tangy yet smooth texture and taste. He set it down between them and smiled. "Great choice," he complimented. "I love sea food. Have you ever tried Klingon Blood Crab?" He laughed at her expression. "No really - it's good. I'll have to try to get some before we leave DS9. You eat it live."

"Correction: You eat it live." She laughed softly and reached over her plate to apportion the two filets. "But, I've eaten worse during the Occupation. I think I could stomach just about anything, really. Was it the same for you?"

He shook his head. "No, we pretty much fed ourselves well. We liberated supplies regularly and had to keep up our strength for the fighting." He smiled. "Not all Klingon food is like Gagh - which I must tell you I find rather palatable. The tricky part about Blood Crab is actually keeping it on your plate while you're trying to eat it."

He made busy with the food, piling his plate with an assortment and adding the spices. He watched as Tayla did the same - but she continued with her spice shaker much longer than he. He laughed, remembering the dinner. "I'm surprised you can taste anything with the amount of spice you use. That dish at the Captain's dinner.... I swear I couldn't taste anything for three days."

"It was potent, yet tasty," Lyrr declared with a smile, then finally set down the seasoning. "And while we're on that subject...." Her eyes scrutinized his features. "Did you ever get around to visiting the counsellor?"

"Aye, sir," he responded casually as he took a taste of the fish. "I had to apologise for being a little rude to her - and I told her never to smile at me while you were around...it might be dangerous to my health." He finished with a cheeky grin.

Lyrr gaped. "You didn't tell her that...did you? She'll suspect something for certain."

"Oh like you warning her not to start a relationship with me?" He gaped - mimicking her expression. "I just pointed out that you have this jealousy problem and to take no notice." He couldn't keep a straight face any longer and laughed. "Don't worry, I steered well clear of anything relating to us - but she doesn't give up. She digs. I had to talk about my feelings about almost getting killed." He scowled. "I don't like counsellors. But I have to see her again. She insisted." He shrugged. "I think she likes me," he added maliciously to see Tayla's reaction.

"Really?" Both eyebrows lifted into high arcs as she looked down at her fillet, unconsciously stabbing it with the tines of her fork. "Well...if that's the case, then..." She sighed and set down the utensil before regarding T'Kal directly. "I think we need to get a few details out of the way, Ben. And...it's regarding whatever this" --she motioned to their surroundings, which encompassed the entire dinner and one another-- "is. Are we...is this..." She sighed, gathered her words, then blurted out, "Are we involved in an exclusive relationship?"

He leaned back, and regarded her seriously. "I'd like to think that you won't see anyone else...and I thought that I'd made my feelings clear to you." He stood up and walked around to her side of the table. No barriers between them. He knelt beside her and looked up at her. For a moment he searched her eyes and saw that she was in territory she had never trod before. There was uncertainty in her eyes. Fear. Anxiety. He smiled and took her hand. "I'm falling in love with you, Tayla," he said carefully. "There's no room for someone else. I'm not interested in anyone else. It's up to you to determine if this is a relationship - I want it to be. If it is...then I promise you that there will be only you. I couldn't...I don't do that." He explored her eyes still, his violet gaze steady. "So...are we?" he asked softly.

Lyrr chuckled timorously. "There hasn't been 'anyone else' for my entire life, Ben," she told him forthrightly. "I've never done this before...." Avoiding his gaze and focusing on her hand, so perfectly fitting in his, she sighed. "Although I'm unfamiliar with all this...I know honesty is important. I don't want to enter a relationship with you while there are things I've deliberately kept from you. I can't do that." Lyrr closed her eyes, searching for resolve, but finding only a tenuous shred of it. "I lied to you," she whispered. "And hearing you pour your heart out... I feel guilty." Lyrr laughed wryly. "That's never happened to me before."

He frowned. Lied? "Want to tell me?" he asked softly. Was it about O'Shea? He couldn't think of anything other than her past but she didn't have to tell him about that - they both knew. He held her hands in his, and felt them tremble.

Lyrr nodded without hesitation. "I'd rather not keep something like this from you, Ben. I feel so horrible." She opened her eyes finally and steeled herself mentally, though staring at his slightly concerned expression wasn't helping. "It's... On Bajor...I didn't lie when I said I got a little drunk. I did...but it was only after..." She chuckled in disbelief upon thinking back to her own stupidity. She only imagined what Ben would think of her. "I was at a bar," she admitted grudgingly. "I was seeking information, and I left... These thugs, they cornered me." Thinking back on the night, Lyrr amended, "They followed me and dragged me into an alley." She was surprised to feel her own body tremble at the memories, and noticed T'Kal's hold on her hand had tightened considerably. "I fought back, they just refused to stop..." Lyrr paused to steady her voice with a deep breath, and that was when she noticed the knot residing there. Soon after, her eyes began burning with unshed tears that had no place being there. "They meant to force me," she heard herself saying in incredulity, then more fiercely: "Those bastards wanted to rape me. But...Ensign Farrell was there. He...he got rid of them." Lyrr gritted her teeth, fighting back her emotions. Instead, she raised a hand to her face to conceal the distress likely there. "That's why I couldn't see you. I didn't want you to see the bruises.... And, I didn't want to admit that I was too damn weak to stop it." Her voice managed to hold up long enough for her to whisper, "I'm sorry."

He took it all in as she spoke, but his inner rage was like a ball of cold fire in his gut. He brought her into an embrace without conscious effort, just letting her head rest on his chest as his arms went around her. She was trembling badly. "It's okay now," he said softly. He was burning with sudden rage. The memories of what Marco had done to Tebrianne burned in his mind - the memories like a physical assault. "They didn't do what they wanted," he whispered into her ear. "You have nothing to be sorry about." He'd heard about Farrell since their last encounter. He was a master at arranging things to happen. Was it coincidence or had the man arranged to be in the right place at the right time? Had he paid a few thugs? Or did he actually rescue her? He would find out. That was a certainty. He would find out. "You're okay," he said again. "No one will ever touch you like that again." His voice was soft, yet there was steel in it.

She laughed weakly, and clutched the back of his shirt for security. "That's what I told myself before," she admitted. "And no matter how hard I fight, there is never any escape." Lyrr shook violently with a stifled sob, and exhaled it as a shuddering breath. "He's still in my dreams, you know," she said softly. "I see him there, and even then I can't defend myself. Is it a curse?"

"No." He closed his eyes and stifled his anger. It had no place here - right now. He was conscious of her alone, the way she clutched at him, trying to stop herself from letting it out. He was amazed that she had been able to admit this to him. He calmed his own hammering heart as he held her gently but firmly. Protective. Her face hidden in his raven hair as it fell across both their faces. "You need to talk to someone," he whispered softly. "The dreams can be taken away - they can. It used to happen to me," he whispered. "They are just memories. They have no power - only the power you give to them. We will deal with this - together." He was blind with his own tears. The thought of having to deal with her past. The images of someone trying to abuse her. It was akin to physical pain.

"I don't even know if I can," she admitted. "I really don't want to see a counsellor, Ben." Pulling back just enough to face him, but not so far that she left his embrace, Lyrr whispered pleadingly, "Don't tell this to anyone. If they know, I'll be forced to see someone. You know how important my career is... I don't want to lose that." Her features twisted into a mask of restrained sorrow. "He's already taken so much, Ben...please don't let him take anymore. Please don't say a word."

"You ask so much," he said as he held her. "You want me to watch while you suffer and do nothing. You want me to stay silent when I know that doing so will only prolong your pain." He reached up and touched her cheek so that she would look into his eyes. He needed to make her understand. He wanted her to let it go - she desperately needed help. "I'll keep your secret. But you have to talk to me about it. All of it. Don't keep anything to yourself. I'll help you - together we can beat anything - there's nothing you could tell me that would make me feel any less about you. Nothing you could say that would diminish who you are. It's all in the past. It's happened and it's over. It needs to be burned not buried." His eyes were fixed upon hers, unwavering, and she knew with no doubt that he spoke the truth. "You can trust me - you already know you can, otherwise you would never have been able to tell me this much. Your heart tells you the truth. Listen to it. You never have to face anything alone again," he promised.

Lyrr sighed and felt her cheek pushing against T'Kal's palm. There was no urge to shrink away, and it was more frightening than the prospect of being touched at all. "I do trust you, Ben," she answered. "But...even that's going to take time. I need to pace myself, and when the time's right, I will tell you everything." Lyrr held his gaze without wavering, and only realized her face was drifting towards his when she was forced to close her eyes. His skin was warm against her lips, and they detected a slight tremor the moment they met his brow. With a delicate smile, she pulled back and again met his gaze, which seemed at once surprised, and filled with muted joy. "Come on," she whispered. "Play me something."

He didn't really want to let her go. He could still feel the burning sensation where she had kissed him. It was strange, feeling this way without ever kissing her. He couldn't speak for the lump in his throat and he had to blink away the tears. He smiled, a little sadly, as he nodded. With an effort he climbed to his feet, still holding her hand, the meal forgotten as he led her back to the sofa.

---

"Close...Too Close, Part 2"
By: Cmdr. Lyrr Tayla XO
Lt. Benedict T'Kal Security Chief

Location: Commander Lyrr's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.03, 18h30

***

Benedict retrieved his guitar and sat next to her, pausing while he considered what to play. His fingers idly strummed and then picked at the strings. The guitar's sound was full bodied and vibrant, the notes began to take on form and direction as he began to warm up. He started with a classical piece, an old melody that was at once haunting and reminiscent of the wind, softly building and dying as he closed his eyes and let his fingers dance.

As the song built in tempo its strength came from a heart rhythm that pounded through it - a steady beat counterpointed by delicate notes. By the end of the song he opened his eyes to look directly at Tayla, but he kept playing and shifted into a well known Bajoran love song. He began to sing, softly, of a man who saw the rising of the day in his lover's eyes, the wind in her hair and the fire in her heart. It was a well known song, but played with a definite Flamenco style as Benedict's fingers brought the music to life and his voice gave the lyrics a perfect resonance.

Lyrr watched his fingers walk gracefully over the strings, and felt his lyrical voice vibrating through the sofa as she leaned her head upon the chair back. She sat facing him, with her feet on the pillows and her knees touching her chest; all the while, there was a serene smile on her lips. He was singing for her, that was apparent in his gaze and in the emotion infusing his every word. She could only wonder how she had suddenly become so deserving of his attentions and affection. She was a broken woman and would likely hurt T'Kal in the future...but she admittedly enjoyed his company. She now had to find a way to express that properly. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of learning an instrument herself and doing it through song, as T'Kal was, but she banished the thought with a chuckle. As she had said, time was the key. Everything would resolve itself in time.

When the last notes of the song were played, Lyrr sat up and applauded him gently. "You're good," she told him with a grin.

He laughed, "I've been playing since I was five." He strummed loudly and flourished it with a rising scale of notes as he watched her and launched into a laughing version of "The Maid from Peronia", a country song of harvests and wine and the maid who seduced a poor farm boy. It was a song that most Bajorans knew and could clap along to and it was a reminder of youth and better days. He finished it laughing and swung the guitar away, sitting back and catching his breath.

"When I was on the Galaxy and the Windsor I used to play in the crew lounge late at night," he grinned. "I enjoyed it. Maybe I'll do that here." He looked across at her, at the smile and the flushed cheeks and he decided that he wanted to keep her laughing. To erase the bad experiences you needed good ones. Lyrr Tayla hadn't had many of those. His violet gaze held hers and he was smiling broadly. "Though it might ruin my image," he laughed.

"Really? And what image would that be?" she asked coyly. "That of the strict, disciplinarian? The uptight, severe security chief who could instill fear into the heart of a Klingon warrior?" Lyrr chuckled. "Is that the one?"

"That's the one!" he laughed, pointing at her. "The captain put a dent in it already! I'm not allowed to wear SOBs unless I'm off ship." He laughed again. "Am I really uptight?" he asked. "I admit I don't quite live up to your reputation," he teased.

Lyrr shrugged. "I have to be stern, and it's what was instilled in me during my military time. Things get done a lot faster if people know you mean business." Favouring him with a teasing smile, she added, "Those SOBs did nothing for your eyes anyway. I prefer you in the standard uniform." She laughed softly, then, and lightly slapped his knee. "Don't tell me you put up an argument over the matter. Though, considering the hassle you just about gave me when I asked you to hide your knife, I imagine that was the case."

"Nope, he's the captain, I just told him I'd change immediately if he had an issue..." He laughed, "I can argue with you - not him. If you'd said you liked the class As better I'd have changed ages ago," he teased. "I'm not so keen on this Skirt Day idea...but then as the XO, you're going to have to lead by example aren't you.."

She raised a single eyebrow at him. "Are you saying I'm required to wear the skirted variant?" Lyrr's smile was mischievous as she said, "Fine. But only if you will."

He frowned. "I'm not a girl," he said flatly. "Besides, you have to set a ship-wide example - I don't." He grinned, "It's a command responsibility...it's your duty as the XO. As Chief of Security my image would be irreparably damaged if I wore a skirt. Yours on the other hand...." He shrugged. "You do have great legs," he teased. "You might like it... I know I will."

"And that," she answered, laughing, "is why I will not wear one. If it's an effeminate female you're looking for, Benedict T'Kal, you have certainly found the wrong woman for that."

"Have we had this discussion before?" he asked the ceiling. "Yes...I think perhaps we have." He laughed at her expression. "If I was interested in effeminate women I wouldn't be chasing you," he laughed. "I'd be having dinner with someone else!"

Lyrr gasped, then again swatted his knee, but with greater force this time. "What are you saying? Somehow, that sounded a lot worse coming from you than it did my own lips. I'm not effeminate?"

He grinned. "You're a contrary woman, Lyrr Tayla! Which is it? Are you or aren't you? If I say you are I'm in trouble - and if I say you're not I'm in trouble. Best to go straight for the chocolate."

"And how do you know I like chocolate?" she asked with an impish smile. Leaning forward, she asked, "How do you know anything about me, Benedict T'Kal?"

He leaned forward, almost meeting her in the middle and gazed into her eyes. "It's a written rule the universe over that all women like chocolate - besides I saw you eating that mousse at the dinner, and as for knowing anything about you.... I'm a keen observer and you, my love, are worth observing."

The affectionate title he used had Lyrr blushing slightly again, but her gaze held firm. Her smile, however, changed from defiant and proud, to quizzical and wondrous. "I do like chocolate," she admitted, her voice soft. Lyrr glanced down briefly to follow her hand as it came atop Ben's. She, again, gazed up at him. "And in answer to your earlier question.... I think this is exclusive. At least... I think it should be."

"You think?" he smiled. "I know it's exclusive." He took her hand. "Very exclusive..."

She chuckled. "Well...then I guess I don't have to worry about you searching for more effeminate women, hm?" Normally, his face would have been far too close for comfort to hers, with his warm breath brushing against her lips as he spoke, and the intricate pattern of his violet eyes magnified to a pristine intensity; now, it only caused a slight rippling of anxiety that she quickly tamped down. "We should wait," she murmured, still studying his features up close. "I mean...and not tell anyone. It could cause a scandal."

"Absolutely," he murmured, looking at the amber motes deep within her eyes. "Half the men on the ship would be heartbroken to know you were no longer available." He smiled and watched her own lips curl into a smile. He wanted to kiss those lips, though he daren't. "You'll never have to worry about me," he said softly.

"Then you'll never have to worry about me punishing you severely for having a loose tongue." She chuckled, while her eyes flicked towards T'Kal's loose hair, its gleam drawing her attention. They, again, strayed there and paused to study the strands of darkest black and deepest blue falling in cascading waves over his shoulder. The flow was disrupted by a thick band of white that Lyrr had puzzled over, but never considered truly before. She smiled curiously and saw her hand come into view as it brushed over the streak of white. "There are many unique things about you, Benedict T'Kal," she mused.

He smiled at the thought of her punishing him severely, though it was a very clear message that she didn't want to go down the same starlane as the captain - but then neither did he. Benedict was a very private person, and this suited him. Her hand brushing back the lock of white at his brow brought into focus his discussion with Ensign Lektar - he hadn't much thought of it - or the significance of it for a long time. It had just become fact. Something he no longer thought about. "Do you like it?" he asked softly, not really allowing her to see the significance of the question. The complete absence of color had represented the void he had felt - but no longer felt in his life.

She smiled curiously, then nodded. "It's interesting. And fashionable, if that's what you were attempting."

He shook his head slightly. "No." His eyes looked down at his hands as he thought about what to say. The evening was turning into a time of confessions for both of them, and he figured that she needed to know more about his past too. He kept his eyes on his hands as he held on to her. "I was engaged to be married five years ago," he began, and cleared his throat at the sudden lump. "Her name was Tebrianne Bancroft. She was the Chief Helm Officer of the Galaxy and we both were reassigned to the Windsor together. There was a mining station - it had been cut off during the war, an old Cardassian station that was still operating with Human and Bajoran prisoners. The Cardassians had pulled out leaving them stranded and starving." He sighed as he gathered his thoughts.

"A man by the name of Marco Raimus controlled the mine site - he was using death squads to cull the population, deciding who lived and died - who ate who...." His words were quiet and filled with memories. "When we got there to rescue the survivors and found out what had been happening...he didn't want to go quietly. He tried to force us to leave by taking a hostage. He...took Teb. Teb was a half Romulan-Vulcan - we'd been together for a long time and we had a mental bond. Marco brutalised and raped her and I felt the whole thing. He strapped a bomb to her body and said that he'd set it off if the Windsor didn't let him leave. One of my security team tried to diffuse the bomb - it went off. Teb died. I went after Marco. I didn't get him. It turned out that he was a member of the Orion Syndicate, and they were trying to take control of the mine for their own purposes. He escaped using Teb as a diversion." He'd gone over it so many times that the story was delivered in a quiet monotone. "We used to color our hair to match...it was silly really...just one of those things you do. After she died I...I had the pigment removed. A reminder of her. " He finally looked up into her eyes. "You see I don't love easily, Tayla, no matter what you may think. I don't cast things aside easily either. I don't need to hold on to that anymore. I have you."

Lyrr let out the breath she'd been holding and coaxed the colour back into her cheeks. The things they omitted from personnel reports.... Words failed her, and the only sympathy she could express was a tender squeeze of his hand. They were both so tormented, she wondered how either of them could ever comfort one another. Then, as her arms encircled him, and she felt him melt into the embrace, she realized there was hope yet of achieving that. "Seems the universe has dealt us both some rotten blows," she whispered against his ear. "Though...we're stronger for it, in some ways. We've survived this long, haven't we?"

He held on to her as if she might become smoke, nodding at her question rather than speaking. He realized that he'd been moving along without really taking part in life. He held her as if she was a life preserver on an ocean of empty horizons. "I don't want to just survive anymore," he whispered into her hair.

Lyrr frowned down at T'Kal's shoulder. "I don't understand...."

He pulled away slightly so that he could look at her. "That's what I've been doing...just surviving - walking through life without really taking part in it. Trying to suppress what I feel because no one else would understand. Looking at myself in the mirror and not seeing anything in front of me - always behind me. Thinking about how it could have been rather than how it can be. Just surviving." He stroked her cheek and breathed in her delicate scent. "I don't want to do that anymore," he whispered. "You've made me realize I don't have to do that anymore."

Lyrr smiled slowly. "Ben...I've hardly done anything at all. If things have changed, it's because you were strong enough to make them change on your own." She lowered her gaze to his lips, studying them. "I don't think you need me for that," she whispered.

"No," he denied softly. "I do need you...very much." She felt so good in his arms, there was no discomfort between them; she seemed to be holding him without even thinking about what she was doing anymore. She hadn't even flinched when he'd touched her cheek. It was as if nothing else existed. The universe could have ended for all Benedict T'Kal cared. There was only those dark eyes and long lashes, studying him as he studied her. It was a feeling and a moment that he knew would be etched in his mind like a painting on canvas. The textures of her face, the shadows and the light, warm tones and expressions were being imprinted in memory indelibly. He could feel her heart beating against his chest and the soft curves of her, yet it was far away from anything sexual.

"You shouldn't put so much faith in me," she heard herself saying, but only really processed the quickening pace of her breath and how it mingled with T'Kal's. She was too close - only a slight movement forward, and his lips would be touching hers. The unpredictability of what her reaction would be frightened her, but the knowledge that she wanted that kiss more than anything was far more disconcerting. Lyrr's teeth chattered and her lips shivered with the chill of fear; sucking in a ragged breath, she turned her head away and gently squeezed out of his embrace. "Oh...you have to go," she said, and twisted her body fully away. "I don't think I'm ready for what could happen here."

He was momentarily confused, and then knew that she wasn't talking about him. He reached out gently and said, "Nothing will happen, Tayla," but he could see that her fear had returned. He smiled. "I'll go if that's what you want," he said softly. "Thank you...for sharing...and listening." He stood and reached for his guitar that rested against the sofa. "It's better that I go." He looked at her fondly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

Lyrr blinked with momentary confusion, then abruptly stood. "Wait..." She smiled at him apologetically and reached out to clasp his hand. "I'm really glad we had a chance to talk. And if I weren't so uptight, and if this weren't only our second official dinner...I'd ask you to stay a little longer. But...slow, remember?"

He smiled. "Oh," he grinned. "Our second official dinner huh?" He laughed softly, but held on to her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed it while looking into her eyes. "I'll see you in the morning, for our unofficial breakfast."

Lyrr laughed softly, relieved that he hadn't taken offense. "Breakfast...definitely. It'll make up for what little dinner we actually did consume." Smiling tenderly, she added, "And thanks for the songs. You certainly know how to calm a restless soul."

"I'll have to write one for you," he smiled. "Sleep well." He squeezed her hand momentarily and let go. He walked to the door and it opened. He cast a long look at her, smiled and left quickly.

Lyrr sighed and fell back onto the couch heavily. Closing her eyes, she remembered the proximity of his face to hers, the warmth of his breath and intensity of his touch. And she'd enjoyed it. But she'd had the will to pull away, something that came to her with practiced ease now; though, it was a necessity, for she had no idea what her reaction might have been if they'd gone a step further that night. Chiding herself mentally for allowing it to get precariously close to the point of forbidden physicality, Lyrr pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and muttered, "Close. Too close."

---

"Black Ice, Part 3"
Lt. (jg) Natalia Druschev - Science Officer

Location: Holodeck 1, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.03 21h00

***

Natalia stepped into the holodeck dressed in a skin tight black leather suit. Her hair was tightly bound and pinned in a simple yet effective manner that ensured it was out of the way. The doors swished shut and locked. She smiled. Now she was in her own world. She had four full hours available and only planned to use two of them. She estimated that another two hours would take her to the next chapter at least. The holodeck was booked at the two hour mark anyway, and she couldn't get more than a two hour block thanks to an Operations allocation system.

She stepped into the center of the holodeck. The program was running but in paused mode, allowing her to resume her place on the darkened beach. Her equipment materialised and she stowed it, along with her weapons. Martel was frozen in time. She hated to do this to him, normally she let him continue to run in his own matrix, but in the middle of a mission, she couldn't. She had to do it all in real time.

Natalia gave the computer the resume signal under her authority code and the wind, sounds and Martel resumed as if time suddenly commenced. Natalia scanned the beach through the night scope of her Blitzkrieg rifle. Martel finished burying their chutes and HALO breathing gear. He signalled for her to follow and they entered the lush jungle. Their suits were the latest in chameleon technology, and both agents activated them, the colours shifted and blurred so that they were extremely difficult to spot even close to five metres.

The moon was large, unfortunate; they would have preferred to have a darker night to aid them in the mission but time dictated otherwise. Martel knelt in the sand and pulled out his HUD Band. It was a narrow strip of metal and darkened plexiglass that fitted over both eyes and adhered. Upon activation it served as a low light illumination system. Natalia did the same. The world turned green and black.

He pulled out a small reference map in a case from his thigh pocket. The map was a flexible sheet that showed the island and its contoured elevations. It had been compiled by a satellite with laser radar and was totally accurate. He activated the map's interface with their visor HUDs. The visors received the overlaid elevation map and everything they looked at had green lines showing ground contours. A red line showed a computer generated 'best option' tactical route to where they had to go.

"Okay, my love," Martel grinned in the green darkness. "Show time."

Natalia nodded. "Let's go then," she answered. She had what Martel called her 'Game Face' on. She was beginning to get immersed in the mission and the holodeck had already ceased to be on the Sulu. Natalia was an agent of the Eastern Bloc, Department One, The KGB.

She thumbed the safety off her rifle and activated its interface. Now where she pointed the rifle a target reticle appeared on her visor. It was set to three pulse bursts and fired an X-Ray laser pulse that was invisible to the naked eye. She set off after Martel. This was part orienteering, endurance and infiltration. Both moved off into the jungle undergrowth, melting into the trees like ghosts. The holo-program compensated for Natalia's lack of skill in moving silently, but she had done this many times and she was comfortable moving through the dense foliage.

The couple ran in tandem, the weight of equipment and the continual dodging gait took its toll on Natalia - her fitness level was high thanks to daily runs and gym exercise, but this stretched her to the limit. Her arms were getting tired carrying the rifle, but she couldn't risk slinging it over her shoulder. The trees were a blur and she could only admire Martel for his abilities as he ghosted along.

The clearing came quickly - both agents burst through the light trees at its edge as the ground fell away in a dell. The military styled jeep that sat in its center was a squat dark shape that was identified more by the computer identification system in their visors than their own eyes. The three men standing around it turned as one as the couple came over the crest of the slope, all drawing weapons.

Martel's reflexes were faster than Natalia's. He fired in a smooth motion of two bursts - taking the farthest guards in the head. Both men dropped as if poleaxed without a sound, their heads drilled through with high intensity X-Rays.

Natalia's gun came up a fraction of a second after his;, still moving she took the shot from the hip - her visor showing a red triangle centered upon the guard's chest. She fired and the three beam burst took the guard through the heart. He died with a strangled scream. None of them had fired a weapon. Natalia dropped to one knee and scanned the area quickly as Martel moved around the jeep, rifle held tightly to his shoulder, eyes looking through the open sights for more enemies.

Seeing no one, Natalia bent to her kill. Quickly searching the body she found a small tactical radio and small arms. She took the radio and threw it to Martel. He could speak Mandarin. He caught it with a free hand and slid it into a pocket.

The jeep had come from the north side of the island. A rough trail led off into the dense jungle. They didn't need trails - their destination and route were already clearly indicated. They dragged the bodies into the undergrowth and left the jeep where it stood. Once the clearing was 'clean' they set off once again. This time slower, so that no more could they be surprised.

***

Sweat dripped off her brow, running slowly down her cheek. Natalia was staring intently at her designated target as Martel moved off to the right of the rock face. The climb was steep - some places were sheer and others slanted back to an overhang. The wall at the cliff's rim was old - crenellated like an old fortress. A guard was walking slowly along the top of it, Natalia could clearly see his helmet and rifle as she knelt close to the stone and sighted along her rifle. She didn't want to take him out - but she kept him in sight until Martel reached his position.

Her partner's signal came over the comm. A single click. She moved fluidly against the cliff, shouldering the rifle. Martel was commencing his climb. She took a steadying breath and flexed her fingers inside her gloves. This was considered a level six climb. She'd done only one at this level before - which the program knew. It was a clear night and a three-quarter moon. She smiled to herself.

The rock face was cool, granite slabs with fissures and crags that extended upward in a rough eighty-three degree slope. She took a moment to pick her ascent path, the visor HUD plotting the course by locking on to the elevations (and following the program). She took a deep breath and started up, one hand and foot at a time.

It was slow going, her camouflage suit allowed her to blend perfectly into the rock face as she spider climbed upward with the aid of the climbing gloves and soft boots. There was no time for pitons or ropes. She could see Martel ahead of her only by the image intensification on her visor. The height was spectacular. She was glad she didn't suffer from any mental disorder regarding high places.

The chimney of rock that she had been climbing ended in a sheer face, and she had to laboriously move across the rock by only her fingers until she reached a small ledge. Her arms ached and her knees were shaking with fatigue by the time she rested with her back to the wall of rock. She unclipped her rifle and scanned the jungle below. Stowing it again, she checked the time: twenty minutes remaining of her two hours. "Damn..." she whispered. She started to climb to her feet, back against the wall to continue the climb when her foot slipped. She was fatigued and her reactions were a little slower. As she slid sideways she scrambled to grab the ledge but missed it. One hand flung out as she bit down on a cry as her fingers latched onto the rock. Her shoulder jarred as the full weight of her body and equipment was arrested suddenly. She bit her lip in pain and managed to swap hands.

Natalia hung on and found purchase barely with a toe. Time was running out and she had gotten careless. With a massive effort and a shoulder that screamed in pain she dragged herself back onto the ledge. She knew that to stop now was to give up. The program wouldn't allow her to ascend from halfway up. She was almost there, and needed to get moving. With a curse she tried to stand again, this time moving slowly and carefully, using legs more than arms. Finally she did it. Breathing hard and in pain she had to make a choice. End it now or try to keep going?

She looked out upon the dark sea and the moon. It was beautiful - in fact it was inspiring. The wind was cool, tugging at her slightly as she swayed a little upon the ledge. She smiled to herself. The thought of quitting banished. Her shoulder throbbed and that would be the biggest danger. Unhooking her rifle, she slung it across her chest. The thigh pocket on her uniform held a cylinder as long as two hands, it was compact and light weight. Unclipping the end tagged with a red band she pulled out a strap from its base, curling it tightly in her left hand and holding the cylinder like a baton, she lifted it above her head, searching with her visor. The top of the wall was a thin line in her vision. She aimed her rifle at the line and the visor registered the range - it was barely short enough.

With a deep breath she leaped out into space and twisted her body back to face the rock wall as she triggered the baton. The hooked line was fired by a compressed air charge. It shot upward, angled perfectly with her leap away from the wall. The hook went between the crenellation at the top and dug in as Natalia swung back toward the rock. Her boots hit solidly as the cylinder started its second function. It reeled in fast.

Natalia had to maintain her perpendicular stance as she started to run. Gritting her teeth and fighting fatigue she pushed away from the rock at every step, literally bouncing up the wall of granite. Her eyes scanned the lip of the wall as she brought up the stubby rifle.

A head appeared. Her finger depressed the trigger without conscious effort and the rifle spat a three round burst of energy. The head snapped backward.

Her shoulder was in agony as she hefted the rifle and kept running. The rockwall sped by as the line reeled in. Her left elbow was rigidly locked to her side so that she could stay on her feet instead of slamming against the wall. The lip was approaching as the time ticked by and with a last effort of straining muscles she flung herself through the gap in the wall.

She landed heavily on her back, left hand caught in the cylinder strap as she rolled. The top of the wall was a narrow stone walkway that curved away left and right. She landed next to a body sprawled in a grotesque heap, like a marionette with its strings cut. The top of its head was missing, but she didn't pay that detail any notice as she scanned the walkway to the left. Nothing. The footfalls were heavy. She rolled to the right and the soldier was almost on top of her before she could bring the rifle to bear. He was an orange, yellow and red image in her visor looming large as he brought up a darker shape that the visor identified as a Kalishnakov Mark VII Ripper rifle.

It wasn't happening fast enough. Her shoulder screamed as she tried to raise her gun. It was too late. He had her.

The image in her visor suddenly blossomed with white splotches across his chest. High intensity x-ray energy threw him backward just before he fired and he sprawled dead at Natalia's side.

Martel stepped down from the crenellation where he'd taken cover further to the left as he'd watched the female KGB agent run up the wall and take out the first guard. He smiled and gave her a nod.

Natalia slumped back to the hard cold stone and looked at the timer on her HUD. 00.45sec...00.44sec.... "Computer pause program. Save and exit."

The holodeck shut down, leaving her laying on the deck in only the black leather outfit she walked in with. Her shoulder was throbbing badly. It felt like she'd dislocated it, but she knew it was only a muscle strain. As she sat up it flared in agony. Great, she thought as she laboriously climbed to her feet and almost staggered to the arch. She had to hold her elbow to take the weight as the doors opened.

As she stepped into the turbo lift as she said, "Sickbay," through gritted teeth.

---