"Ships Passing in the Night"
By: Lt. Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer

Location: Observation Deck, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.04 00h05

***

Benedict T'Kal dropped his guitar off in his quarters and retrieved his commbadge. Tapping it he asked the computer the whereabouts of Ensign Mason Farrell. He walked out of his quarters with a purposeful stride, having left Lyrr Tayla in her own quarters a short time earlier. A part of him was still angry. Angry that she had been attacked, angry that he hadn't been there to defend her - and angry that Farrell had witnessed, and stopped an attack on the Sulu's First Officer without informing the Sulu's Chief of Security - whose responsibility it was to keep the XO and the Captain safe from harm. Farrell had kept his mouth shut when he should have informed T'Kal immediately of the event. Knowing that Lyrr had probably threatened him with castration for telling was beside the point. Benedict's personal feelings on the matter coloured his whole perception of it, but regulations were very specific on this point. Attacks against the senior officers of a Starfleet vessel had to be reported to security. Especially ones of the nature Lyrr had described. He was angry at Lyrr too. For putting him in this position. It was his duty to report it to Captain Salinger. It was his duty to report it to the senior counselor. Yet he was helpless to do anything of the sort. His mind whorled with remonstrations all the way to Farrell's quarters.

He was half suspicious of the man to start with. Farrell had a reputation of being a Mr. Fixit. An arranger. Who was to say that he didn't arrange Lyrr's attack? Benedict remembered the bitter note in the man's voice every time Lyrr's name had been mentioned when they were both in the hospital together. Farrell was on Bajor and in the same city as Lyrr - unlikely? Coincidence? That he was on the same street when she was attacked? That he had fought them off? What with? Crew were not permitted to transport off the ship carrying weapons and certainly not to beam back with them. So either it was one fortunate miracle that he had been there and in a position to help Tayla - or he'd made sure that he was.

Benedict pressed the chime to Farrell's quarters and stood waiting. He was still dressed in civilian clothes. The same clothing he'd had dinner with Tayla in. Out of uniform. He could put what he had learned aside as unofficial - he wasn't on duty and he was out of uniform. It was also a paper thin excuse. One that Salinger, if he ever found out, would tear to bits in a nanosecond.

"Lieutenant, sir," came the voice from behind him. "I imagine Vijay's asleep. Something I can help you with?" The twang marked the voice as Farrell's.

Benedict turned and regarded the Operations officer. He nodded, "Ensign...." Waving a hand at the door he said, "Perhaps we can go somewhere to talk privately?" He took in the Ensign's stance and expression, casual yet guarded. He was still in uniform, just coming off Beta shift.

"Of course. We can talk inside," he said, reaching to open the door. "Vijay's probably asleep, but conversation won't bug him. Please," he gestured inside.

"I would prefer not to be in earshot of a Vulcan, Ensign." He motioned along the corridor. "Let's find a place more suitable. The observation deck should be suitable." He led the way. It was a short ride and a shorter walk until the two Starfleet officers were alone on the Sulu's observation deck.

"So what can I do for you, sir?" Farrell asked as he leaned on the railing.

Benedict turned to look at him and with a slight smile on his lips he said, "Tell me about Bajor."

Farrell smiled. "You grew up there, so I assume you don't want me to describe the climate. Did Doctor Sefton tell you about her wishlist?"

"I heard that you were involved in an incident," he said. "Want to tell me what happened?"

Farrell shrugged. "I made several trips to both the station and the planet proper to acquire supplies and such for both Doctor Sefton and Counselor Scott. It went without incident."

T'Kal nodded. He looked out at the stars and the arching pylon of DS9 climbing above the hull of the Sulu. "An attack on the XO of the Sulu is an incident, Mister Farrell. I want you to tell me exactly what happened." His voice was quiet and flat. Though he didn't turn to look at Farrell, he was acutely aware of his presence.

"The XO was attacked?" Farrell asked, concerned. "Is she alright?"

Benedict turned barely enough to give the man a hard stare. "That's about as far as your feigned ignorance will take you. I want to know what happened from your perspective, Ensign Farrell, I've already heard it from Lyrr. I want to hear it from you."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Farrell, frowning with thought. "Hear what? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Benedict straightened up and turned to fully face the junior officer. "That's the correct response to anyone else that asks that question. But not me." He stepped a little closer, his voice flat and even. "Lyrr has already told me part of your involvement, Farrell - right now I want to know the story from you, and whatever you say will remain off the record. Understand?"

Farrell remained at the oblique angle he had maintained throughout the conversation, casually leaning on the observation rail. He met T'Kal's gaze evenly, without guile, and chuckled a confused chuckle. "Sir, I," he shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea what you want me to say. I don't know anything about the Commander's activities on Bajor. What did she say? How am I supposed to have been involved?"

It seemed that lying came as second nature to Mason Farrell. Benedict regarded his false innocence with mounting anger. It made Benedict's suspicions even worse. "It seems that once again you were in the right place at the right time. Was that coincidence, Farrell? The last time, two of my men were killed - now Lyrr Tayla is attacked in an alleyway and you seem to be there...either you're very lucky - or there's another explanation. Which is it?"

"The commander was attacked in an alley and I was there?" Farrell was incredulous. "Come on, sir. What's this about really?"

"Lies only work out when the other person doesn't know the truth, Ensign," Benedict said quietly. "Lyrr informed me this evening of what transpired on Bajor. She also told me you saved her ass from a very unpleasant situation. I know that you either helped her, or you set her up. I want you to tell me what happened. You haven't exactly got a sterling reputation - and the one you do have allows a lot of latitude for coincidence. I know that you and Lyrr were not getting along, and I know that she's difficult on those she feels let the ship down. I know she was riding you and from what she told me, you insulted her. You've been the focal point of trouble since you arrived on the Sulu. So...you either helped her out - and I'd prefer to think you did, or you arranged the whole thing to make yourself look good, which is entirely possible with your reputation. From what I gather a crew member of the Sulu - you - attacked several citizens of Bajor - which isn't a member world of the Federation. I want to know if there's going to be trouble. If they go to the authorities and say they were attacked, I want to be able to do something about it."

"On or off the record, sir," Farrell shrugged, trying to stay casual under T'Kal's attacks, "I have no knowledge of any incident involving Commander Lyrr on Bajor. That's it. I can assure you I never ran into her on Bajor for any reason. Maybe it happened, maybe it didn't. But I sure wasn't there, I can tell you that."

Benedict sighed. He considered Farrell's attitude and nodded. "Okay," he said. "If that's the way you want it, Ensign. Dismissed." He turned away and leaned on the railing, staring out of the view port, his teeth clenched in anger.

Farrell chuckled. "What do you mean, if that's the way I want it, sir? That's how it is. You don't have to like it, but don't try and put out that it's somehow my fault." He turned to go.

"You have a very destructive impulse when it comes to your career don't you?" Benedict asked, still looking out the view port. "You're a convincing liar. That's not a quality I like in a Starfleet Officer. You have a blatant disregard for authority - and if given a choice you tend to choose the path of conflict. You've almost been killed a couple times that I know of - you push. One day you'll push too far. Either you'll get busted as far down as you can get, or you'll get killed. You're not an easy man to trust Farrell." He turned to look at him. "I don't trust you."

Farrell turned back to T'Kal and regarded him calmly. "Sir, we all tell little lies to get what we want and spare others' feelings. Me, you, Commander Lyrr, all of us. I don't know what she told you, but doesn't it feel a little convenient that she, who as you say dislikes me intensely, would include me in a story like that, that apparently she's only told you? The commander's not stupid. Surely she knew that telling you a story like that would immediately launch you at me like a longhaired torpedo. So the real question isn't 'what really happened?'. It's 'why would she want you to come after me?' Maybe you don't trust me, there's nothing I can do about that. But think very carefully before you go trusting Commander Lyrr too much."

Benedict took a slow and even breath as he felt his body relax. Farrell's words were a total insult. Not just to him, but to Lyrr. He'd just called Tayla a liar, and he expected T'Kal to distrust the word of not just the woman he cared about, but the First Officer of the Sulu. Instinct and emotion urged him to settle the matter - physically. Duty and command responsibility urged otherwise. The fleeting thought of doing damage was put aside, though his violet eyes had turned hard. He stepped a pace forward, his manner at once deceptively relaxed yet unmistakably dangerous. "Be very careful what you say about Lyrr," he said softly. "I won't tolerate insult to either her personally or for her position as the Executive Officer of this ship. She is your commanding officer, Mister Farrell - remember that. She told me that you had saved her from a dire situation - I wanted to know what happened. Your denials lead me to believe that you have things to hide. Very well. I'll make sure to look into it. Unless you missed it, Farrell, I'm a Bajoran - and I have ways and means to find out exactly what did happen. From now on, Ensign - I'm going to be watching you. Don't step out of line. That's the only warning you're going to get."

"I've heard worse from better," Farrell said nonchalantly, his entire bearing radiating a complete lack of fear. He tapped his commbadge. "Farrell to Commander Lyrr."

The response was prompt, though the voice sounded slightly tired. "Lyrr here. What is it, Ensign?"

Farrell met T'Kal's gaze flatly, openly daring the man to say another word.

Benedict shook his head, silently commanding him. There would be a time. The challenge was like a thrown glove. That was the way it was going to be. Benedict turned away and walked out of the Observation deck.

"Nevermind, sir, sorry to have disturbed you, Farrell out," he said after the doors had closed behind T'Kal. He stood at the railing for a slow ten count, his eyes intent but not focused. Finally, he moved for the door himself.

"Computer, location of Commander Lyrr," he called.

"Commander Lyrr is in her quarters."

"Portal check," he called, moving down the corridor. It was a simple Ops command.

"List portal."

"Entry, Quarters 2A."

"Listed portal is closed."

"Inform me if that status changes, one ping to my communicator."

"Acknowledged."

He smiled grimly. If the dozen-odd signals T'Kal gave off in that confrontation added up to their most plausible sum, the good Lieutenant was about to have a bumpy night.

---

"Objects in the Rearview Mirror"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Quarters 22C
Stardate: 57908.04 00h15

***

Mason sauntered into his quarters. Vijay was already asleep, and the lights were dimmed.

"Computer," he called, loud enough for it to be recognized as a command, but not so loud as to disturb Vijay. "Two oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, room temperature, and a glass of cold milk, 4 degrees Celsius." He slid out of his uniform and into some loose trousers and a T-shirt, returning to the living room to retrieve his goodies. He settled into a chair at the table, and had a mouthful of cookie when the doorchime rang.

Swallowing quickly and flicking crumbs from the corner of his mouth, he moved to the door to open it manually.

Ainsley had stood outside Mason's quarters for a few moments before managing the courage to ring the chime. She knew that she should have come to see him before now to tell him what had happened but she just couldn't bring herself to do that to him. Especially not after being the one to make him commit to being exclusive.

The doors slid open in front of her to reveal Mason. The sight of him took her breath away and she almost turned and ran from him.

"Hi..." she said.

"Have I ever missed you," Mason said, pleased to see her. "You're up late. Cookie?" he gestured back inside to the table.

"No," she answered a little faster then she meant to. "Err...I mean yes." She closed her eyes for a moment to stop herself from babbling more. "I'll come in but I don't think I'll have anything to eat."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "Come on in. Sit wherever. I was just doing a little snacking. I'm sorry I haven't been around the last couple of days. It's been a little hairy."

She stepped into the room and passed Mason, she took a couple steps towards the couch and then turned back towards him quickly. "I have to tell you something!"

Mason's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Anything. You know that," he hesitated. "Did Natalia come back again?" he wondered aloud. "That's unacceptable. Do you want me to try and talk to her?"

Ainsley shook her head. "No. It doesn't have anything to do with Natalia." She stood there rubbing her hands together, trying to figure out how to start, what to say. Finally she decided she might as well start at the beginning. "Can you sit down? This might take awhile."

He gestured her to the couch, and he turned his chair at the table so he could eat his cookie while she talked.

She sat stiffly on the couch, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. "I met Thomas Meredith in the library at the University of London..."

***

Ainsley made her way through the shelves. She'd only been at the university for about 3 weeks and the sheer size of its library still amazed her. She'd never seen so many books in one place before.

She was looking for a specific book, 'Cultures of the Indus Valley,' and there was only one in the library. She could have accessed the electronic version of the book from her dorm room but always found it much easier to concentrate on what she was doing if she actually held a book in her hand.

Thankfully she'd managed to find the exact code that the book was filed under and it was easily found on the shelf. She pulled it down and flipped it open to have a quick look. It was then that she heard his voice for the first time.

"Bother," he'd said softly, but with great humor. "You've beaten me to the prize."

She looked up from the book and up into the most handsome face she'd ever seen. His hair was a soft brown colour and it hung to just above his collar and he had a light stubble over his jaw. His eyes were a beautiful hazel colour and he had a small smile on his lips. Ainsley couldn't say anything for a few moments. "Sorry," she managed after a bit, holding up the book. "And it's the only one."

He smiled as he studied her for a moment, almost enough to make her blush. "And what would it take to get it from you?" he wondered aloud.

Ainsley considered that, thinking for a moment that all he would really have to do was ask. She grinned then. "Dinner couldn't hurt."

"Done," he quipped with a rakish grin.

Ainsley smiled in response, and felt a small flutter of anticipation in her stomach. She could not quite believe her luck.

She never did end up reading that book but she met who she believed to be the love of her life. She fell madly in love with him in a very short amount of time. He was a few years older then her and when she hung out with him and his older, more sophisticated friends it made her feel special, like she had something to offer.

***

"He was very coy and very aloof. It made me love him even more. That's the way I was back then, which I guess kind of plays into what Espinoza was saying the other night, if someone played hard to get I fell for them even harder." Ainsley took a deep breath and looked up at Mason. He was just sitting there looking at her.

She looked back down at her hands that were still clenched together on her lap. "He left for Cambridge, Mars Campus, at the end of that school year. I was devastated, and it took me all summer before I even wanted to do anything. I can't say I ever really got over him." She decided to leave out the part about somehow always believing that Thomas was the man for her, and that up until she started seeing Mason she had always believed that her life would be only be complete if she was with him.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a cookie?" Mason asked absently, staring at the plate. He looked like a man who was facing something genuinely frightening. He cleared his throat then, and looked back at Ainsley. "Why are you telling me this?"

"The other night when we saw him at the museum I was completely stunned. He was the last person that I had ever expected to see on Bajor. I was still feeling giddy from kissing you in the rain, and I was so happy, after we left the museum I completely forgot about him." She smiled then, thinking of how they had necked like teenagers in her quarters that night. After a moment though her smile faded.

"On the night that Natalia had come into my office, when I was feeling really upset, he called me and asked me to go to dinner."

***

"Well of course this woman's a complete lunatic," Thomas had said, continuing his supportive tirade even as he carved his steak. "It's a wonder Starfleet lets such deranged people stay in. She doesn't have access to weapons, does she?" he added.

Ainsley grinned, beginning to feel a little better. "I don't think so." She watched Thomas from across the table, enjoying everything about him. He'd definitely aged in the 10 years since she'd seen him but it had not hurt him at all. His hair was a little longer then it had been before but she loved it. She could almost feel what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair.

"And this Mason fellow. He's the one you were at the museum with?"

The mention of Mason brought her out of her day dream and forced her to realize that she was no longer in university. She was older and had committed herself to someone, and Mason meant as much to her as Thomas used to. "Yes, that was Mason."

"And do you trust him?" he asked absently. "I mean, is this woman's accusation even remotely valid? Could they have worked it out, do you suppose?"

"Yes, I trust him. I don't believe they could have worked it out, there was too much at stake. He knows how much he could have hurt her son and he never would have done that." Despite everything that Natalia had said and all the times she had thought over what had happened in their first meeting, she was still confident she had given Natalia the right advice.

Thomas thought on that for a moment. "You're right, of course. And why wouldn't you be?" he asked rhetorically. "You're the professional, after all."

Ainsley just grinned at him and took a bite of her dinner.

"It's great to see you again, Ains," Thomas said. "I thought about you all night. At first I thought it was terrible -- I couldn't get any work done," he chuckled. "But then I realized how much I've missed you. That's all that can explain it. I can't get you out of my mind because you've never really left it."

"We were close friends at one time," she responded quietly, but internally her heart was soaring. Was it possible that he really had loved her all those years ago and that he just hadn't realized it until now? Was it possible that he loved her the way she loved him for all these years?

"You were always the most wonderfully modest woman. So tell me what you've been up to in Starfleet."

***

"And we just talked all night. We talked about old mutual friends that we had, most that I hadn't spoken to in years but that he still keeps in contact with. I told him about what the Academy had been like, he told me about graduate school. I told him about shipboard service. He told me about professorships and teaching. I think it was exactly the night I needed. An old friend and old times to make all the crap that had gone on that day fade away. While we were walking back to the portal for me to come back to the Sulu he asked me to have dinner with him again. To be completely honest I accepted without even thinking about it."

Mason's tension didn't seem to have abated. "You met him the next night?"

***

They'd decided to go down to Bajor the next night, to a little restaurant on a beach. It was warm and the restaurant was an open concept with large open windows that you could step through to the beach or to the patio. There was a dance floor and a small wind and percussion band playing music.

After a drink and more conversation about what they had both been doing over the past few years, Thomas convinced Ainsley to dance with him. She was a little resistant at first but ended up letting him persuade.

As they began to dance she relaxed a little, feeling good in his arms. She closed her eyes and that was a mistake. In her mind's eye she saw a different dance partner. She'd only danced with Mason in a long time and suddenly she began to think of it as something special that they shared together.

She pulled back from him a little, but he held her tightly. "This is wrong, Thomas."

"Ainsley, I love you," he said, his words soothing, the phrase making her heart flutter. "I've always loved you. Nothing we do can possibly be wrong."

He kissed her, and suddenly she was 19 again, starry-eyed and breathless. He was 22 again, handsome and suave. She had loved him so deeply then. When he had transferred to Cambridge she'd fought her heart for months. She had wanted to run to him, to be with him forever. Now here she was, in his arms the way she'd always dreamed, losing herself in his kiss.

"Let me make love to you, Ainsley," he whispered, close to her ear. "The way I was meant to -- the way we were meant to but didn't because I was too proud and stupid to recognize my own feelings."

It took only a few seconds for what he was saying to get through the haze of emotion and desire that was stirring in her. 'What the hell are you doing?' Her mind screamed at her. She pushed away from him slowly. "I can't..." she responded quietly. He tried to hold her for a moment but when she struggled he let go.

She left the restaurant and, moving a short way down the sidewalk took her communicator from her pocket and activated it.

"Chambers to Farrell," she said.

Silence.

"Chambers to Farrell," she pleaded. Why wouldn't he answer? Could he already be asleep?

A grunt and muffled grumble came through, followed by a female voice saying, "Lyrr here." She sounded deeply unhappy about answering the communicator. Mason's communicator.

Ainsley's mouth opened to form a response and then snapped shut again when no sound came out. She couldn't believe it, it was the middle of the night. He wasn't just with some other woman, he was with the damn XO of the ship!

"Who is this?" Ainsley asked, her eyes wide.

"This is Commander Lyrr. Who is this?" The XO's voice was unmistakable, and now sounded indignant.

Ainsley disconnected the transmission immediately, tears welling in her eyes.

In a daze of confusion and hurt she made her way back to the restaurant where she and Thomas had eaten. He was still there, drinking. She made her way towards him, still not sure what she wanted to do, but knowing that she had longed to be with him for many years.

"Ok," she said simply and quietly when he turned to look at her. He smiled at her and kissed her hand.

He brought her back to his little cabin. It was beautiful, set in some trees along a river, but she didn't even notice. She felt strange, hesitant and quite scared. Not at all what she thought she would feel. Not at all what she should feel at a time like this.

When they entered the small home Thomas wasted no time at all. He gathered her up into his arms and began kissing her. It was marvelous, and Ainsley's mental protests almost died away beneath the intensity of his kiss. She closed her eyes when his lips grazed along her neck, and thoughts of Mason came to her again. The way Mason kissed her, the way he made her feel, and the way he felt against her neck. She knew she couldn't do this.

"Stop," she said weakly, pushing at him. "Stop!" she said again, more forcibly. "Thomas I can't do this. It's not right."

"Come on, Ains," he said, wheedling. He sat on the couch. "Don't be a prude. To the Deltans, sex is used to say hello to a total stranger. We're hardly strangers. Sex between us would be perfectly natural. Why complicate it? Come here," he waved her toward him and patted his knee.

This was so wrong. She cared for Mason. But she loved Thomas. She always had. Then she thought of the communicator again, and her resolve hardened. Mason was somewhere he'd promised he'd never be. He was breaking his promise. That meant there was no promise. Didn't it?

Still struggling with herself, she went to Thomas again. She sat down on his knee and kissed him, and then allowed him to kiss her again. Kissing Thomas felt wonderful, but her stomach began to twist. This wasn't what she wanted, they'd only seen each other a couple times since meeting up again and now they were going to be jumping into bed? This wasn't any way to restart their relationship. This was how Mason and Natalia had treated each other. But it was Thomas.

Thomas was kissing her throat again, and she sighed, relishing the tingle. She loved Thomas. And Mason had broken his promise. Mason... She kept thinking of Mason. She had made a commitment to him. She didn't know what was really going on. Without knowing for sure, could she be so petty? She closed her eyes tight. She couldn't do this.

She felt Thomas' hand under her shirt, warm against the small of her back. She tensed up and jumped away. "No!"

"Oh, Ainsley," he muttered, his voice laced thick with disappointment. "You're as bad as you were when you were a freshman. You kiss and tease and leave a bloke hanging. What do I have to do?" he demanded.

She wasn't sure what he meant. "What do you mean what do you have to do?"

"For you, Ains," he said slowly. "What do I have to do to get you to make love to me?"

"Is that what this is all about? All about sex?" She was completely confused now. Why was he focusing so much on sex?

"Of course that's what this is about!" Thomas was emphatic. "What do I have to do to get sex onto the negotiating table here?"

"Sex is not something to be negotiated, Thomas," she responded just as emphatically, "at least not where I am concerned. What's gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?"

"Why? You want to know why?" Thomas nodded his head to himself, as though he had anticipated the question but still couldn't believe he had heard it. "Alright, I'll tell you why. I made a bet, that's why. I bet some mates of mine back at University I could get you to have a go, and I lost. When I saw you again, I couldn't help but wonder, was it me? Was it something I'd done? Or hadn't done? So I decided to try again, and now I know it wasn't me. It was you, and your Holy Roman Prudery."

She stood there looking at him with her eyes wide. It had all been a bet? Back then and even now, it was still all about some bet? It had all meant so much more to her, but not to him. "I had wanted..." She broke off, knowing how ridiculous it would sound, especially now.

"You wanted what? A relationship? Commitment? Please, Ains, you were a freshman. I had things to do. Apparently you still are, and I still do."

All she could think of was that fact that she may have ended any chance of having a real relationship with Mason, when it was just beginning. She mentally cursed herself for being a fool. She had a good thing going and she may have just ruined it. "Mason doesn't think I'm..."

"Doesn't think you're a prude? He's a man, Ainsley. What makes you think he'll be any different than I am?"

***

"I ran from his cottage then and somehow made it back to my quarters." She rubbed her hands together and looked up at Mason, her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She didn't want to cry. "Do you think I'm a prude?"

Mason had propped his elbow on the table and cradled his chin in his hand. He had remained nearly motionless in that position for the duration of her story, his only visible reaction a gradual widening of his eyes as the tale went on. They were quite wide now, and he sat in stunned silence for what felt like a very long time. At last, he swallowed, and took a deep breath.

"I don't think you're a prude," he said, his voice oddly inflected. "I don't know what to think right at this moment." He sat back in the chair and idly rubbed his forehead. "But let me make sure I've got it all before I start trying to draw a conclusion. You met Thomas twice in these last few days, and you were going to sleep with him, but didn't?"

"Yes," she responded, clearly ashamed of what she had done. She looked at him again then and with no accusation in her eyes she said, "I called you in the middle of the night and Lyrr answered. I needed you and you were with Lyrr." She was really just stating a fact as she believed it to be.

Mason nodded. "I wasn't, in fact," he said simply. "I met the Commander on Bajor. We were on separate errands, and ran into each other. She needed to get back to the ship, but was out of uniform and didn't have her communicator. I loaned her mine."

He fingered a line in the condensation on his milk glass. "I understand your suspicions, given what I've already done. Thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt."

"I..." She began and then stopped, not sure of how to go on. "I didn't really. I went there intent on doing it...intent on sleeping with him." One tear slipped out of her eye and she immediately wiped it away. She hated it when women cried in situations like this, it always seemed like it was a ploy. "But I couldn't. It wasn't right, even before he told me what it all meant to him I knew I couldn't do it."

"For what it's worth, thank you," Farrell nodded. "And thank you for your honesty."

He looked deeply thoughtful. Angry? Perhaps, though she'd never seen him angry. "I need to absorb all this, and we're both tired. Can I call you later?"

Ainsley nodded numbly. She couldn't expect him to be all happy about everything she had just told him and she knew that, she'd known that when she came here. "Of course," she said quietly.

With that she got to her feet and headed towards the door.

Farrell did not watch her go, and made no move to stop her. He heard the door close, and sat for several long minutes. Finally he spoke.

"Farrell to Youssenian."

"Sir?" Youssenian's voice gravelled over the comm.

"I'm heading for your parlor. I need a favor."

---

"My Boyfriend's Back. . ."
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Thomas Meredith; Civilian Professor [NPC]

Location: Bajor, Meredith's Cottage
Stardate: 57908.04 00h55

***

"Thomas Meredith?" asked the familiar man at the door.

"Yes," Thomas answered, leaning on the jamb in loose pajama trousers.

The roundhouse caught Thomas solidly in the face, his nose giving beneath the blow. He staggered back into the living room and crumpled.

"Christ!" he wailed, rocking back and forth on the living room rug, both hands clapped to his nose, which was bleeding freely. The familiar-looking man stepped into the room and calmly closed the door.

"I've got an uncle who's got this saying," the familiar man said, "and it goes like this: If you hit a man very hard in the face, he will listen to every word you say. So listen close, mister Meredith. Don't you ever contact Ainsley Chambers again. Hear me?"

Thomas looked confused.

"Do you hear the sound coming from my mouth?" the familiar man enunciated his impatience.

Thomas nodded. The man's accent was familiar, too. He'd met this man, and his brain worked to place the face through the hazy pain of his smashed nose.

"Do you understand what I've just told you?" the man asked.

Thomas nodded again as realization dawned. "I know you," he said, his voice distorted by his bleeding nose. "You're Mason. The bloke Ainsley was with in the museum."

"Maybe," said Mason, "Maybe not. It doesn't matter either way. Do you understand what I've just told you?"

"What is this?" Thomas chuckled sardonically through the pain. "A duel? We fight, and if you win you get Ainsley?"

"It would be like that," Mason answered, "except for one thing."

"And what is that?" Thomas asked sarcastically.

"She's not either of ours to give, you selfish son of a bitch. She's made her choice, and that choice doesn't include you. I'm here to make sure you understand that."

The Englishman gripped a low table and rose to one knee. He was halfway to his feet when the Texan's fist crashed into his temple, sending him sprawling face-first into the carpet.

"Get up again. Please," Mason snarled.

Thomas rolled slowly into a sitting position, but rose no further, glowering silently.

"You get smarter by the minute," Mason mocked. "Now back to what we were talking about: do you understand what I've just told you?"

Thomas nodded sullenly.

"What did I just tell you then?"

Thomas glared at Mason.

"How hard do I need to beat your ass tonight?" Mason asked flatly.

"I will not contact Ainsley Chambers again," Thomas sighed.

"Good boy," Mason said, and turned to go.

It occurred to him that turning his back on Thomas may have been a mistake. Unfortunately, he had this thought a microsecond before Thomas came off the floor in a rush and caught him around the middle. The momentum of the tackle caromed both men off the closed door and they went down in a tangled heap. Both cursed each other savagely as they struggled over and through the fragile coffee table, trading blow after blow.

"Sumbitch!"

"Wanker!"

Thomas caught Mason with a vicious blow to the jaw just as Mason's hand clenched hard into Thomas' throat. Both reeled apart, staggered upright, and glared at each other, panting. Mason felt the blood of his cut lip. Thomas wheezed and rubbed his neck. Their eyes met, neither gaze holding anything but malice.

"Need some more?" Mason jibed breathlessly.

"Bastard," panted Thomas.

They crashed together again, falling over the back of the couch as they grappled. Thomas put a hard knee into Mason's groin. Mason smashed his forehead into Thomas' already ruined nose, and both men rolled apart again. Mason was up first, scrabbling upright long enough to close the gap before the pain in his crotch made him buckle. Thomas, effectively blind and clutching at his face, was now an easy target. Mason gave him two brutal shots to the kidneys before deciding Thomas was done resisting.

"Ainsley's off limits. Forever," Mason said, wincing as he rose; standing gingerly as he took stock of his parts. "Got it?"

Thomas just moaned.

"Good enough," Mason mumbled, making his way to the door and out into the Bajoran night. Youssenian would be standing by to bring him home and then sanitize the logs. He tapped his commbadge and signalled the Turk, and wondered idly as the light swept him away what excuse he should give in sickbay.

---

"378Alpha"
By: Lt. Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security

Location: T'Kal's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.04 02h24

***

Benedict T'Kal sat in a pool of light at his desk. It was the early hours of the morning and he was still working. His white shirt that he'd worn earlier in the evening was discarded on the floor. His hair was loose and straggly and his expression of concentration hadn't changed in two hours, apart from minor lapses to refill his mug of Raktajino.

His desk terminal was scrolling through data. Stopping and isolating elements every few seconds with a 'beep,' T'Kal would tap a key and let it continue. Finally it finished, and he sat back and rubbed his eyes. Yawning he tapped a few more commands and inserted an isolinear chip into the terminal base.

"Computer - run T'Kal Three Seven Eight Alpha," he commanded. The computer 'beeped' again. The screen changed as the program started. With a slow smile he patted the terminal upon which the words Program Active shone in red letters. "Computer institute security protocol T'Kal Zero Zero Nine Omega and attach T'Kal Three Seven Eight Alpha."

Accepted.

The terminal screen blanked out.

Benedict stood. The light shone from the reflective gold of his tattoo as he moved. Out of habit he looked up at the wall painting - a blank wall greeted his eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt. The painting was in storage now. Move on, he thought as he drank the last of his cold 'jino. His guitar stood on its stand against the wall and he snatched it up, wandering through the living space, stopping to stare out the port at the DS9 pylon that was right outside his quarters window. He watched a workbee moving against the stars. Activity on DS9 never stopped.

Sitting in his chair he took up the guitar and strummed a chord. It was melancholy...lonely. His fingers plucked slowly, adding to the thoughts running through his mind. He remembered an evening long long ago and his fingers began to pluck the music out of his memory. It was an ancient ballad. So old it had been forgotten and found again many times.

He remembered the slow smile.. "and she's buy - uy - ing a stai - ai - r wa - y...to he-aven..." The words came from a lonely place...echoes...arches...dancing...the words were his but the imagery was hers...combined memories that blew through his mind and her last smile...last thought...last goodbye echoed with fondness. She'd forgiven him in her last moments...restored him. Healed him. It was a gift. He sang the song again - the first song he had ever played her. It seemed fitting somehow that he should say goodbye that way. How do you say farewell to someone who lives in your mind? Can you? He had to. He had already - at least his heart had. He knew what he felt - how he felt. Would she forgive him for that too?

The song came to an end. The last note reverberating in the wood, fading away to eventual silence.

He sat staring at the stars for a long time.

---

"Locating Lifesigns"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger - Commanding Officer
Lt. Benedict T'Kal - Chief Security Officer
Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: USS Rio Grande
Stardate: 57908.04, 08h00

***

The barely-contained anxiety trembling within Shyla Moreau was better suited for the unrelenting activity swarming around the Rio Grande, rather than where she was in the silent and still cockpit. While the runabout was being prepared for the Jemison search and rescue mission by technicians and the rest of the team, Shyla and Cristobel had been tasked to calibrate sensors, which the pair already knew to be perfectly set.

As an automated diagnostic ran, Cristobel glanced looked towards Shyla, but then set his eyes on the screen before them. Softly, he asked, "Do you believe in fate?"

"I wanted to believe in it," Shyla admitted after a slightly embarrassed hesitation. As a student of science, the idea of fate was something she had always rejected but when she thought about how she had always felt about Ethan and how it'd felt to see the relationship finally realized, fate became a little harder to dismiss. At least it had been until stardate 57907.29.

"I don't particularly believe in fate or destiny. While I'm certainly not ready to accept it, it seems more likely to me that everything means nothing rather than there being a grand design to the universe," Cristobel stated assuredly, before his confidence faltered. "And yet, I think this could all be my fault."

Shyla turned to Cris, a microscopic part of her wishing she could seize on that ridiculous admission and blame him - she wished she could blame someone. Instead, she only asked, "How?" in a small voice.

With increasing uncertainty, Cristobel explained, "The other night, we were talking about how Ethan would be back soon, but how Corran could never return; it left me wishing that Corran could come home as quickly as Ethan. And now Corran is back and Ethan is missing, and I don't know - maybe some divine power out there heard my pleas and agreed to them with a surly, 'Fine, but don't forget about universal balance, bitch.' "

Shyla reached a hand out and placed it on top of Sefton's own. "You do realize that's completely silly, right?" she asked, even managing a sad smile. "If the cost of getting Corran back is going to make you and me and part of the crew feel absolutely awful, how is that balanced?" She looked down at the deck of the Rio Grande and struggled to stay composed. "They aren't related, Cris," she said, not looking back up.

"You're right." Watching Shyla, Cris said more clearly, "Dhia, you're right. I'm sorry. Plunging into fatalism will only introvert me, when I need to put observation of my own thoughts aside, to open my mind to Ethan's thoughts." Quirking half a smile, Sefton remarked, "I think this one time, he'll forgive me for intruding in his head."

"I think that's a safe assumption," she said, keeping the small smile on her lips until she looked back up at Sefton. "What do you think, Cris?" she asked, as it faded away. "Lieutenant T'Kal is convinced this will turn out on the bright side and Lieutenant Saavar seems to be of the opinion that what is lost must logically be found... What do you think? Or more importantly, what do they really think? You do know, don't you?"

"You know what I know," Cristobel assured her. "Saavar says precisely, precisely what he's thinking, and while T'Kal is more accepting than he lets on of the realistic possibilities of Ethan's disappearance, he..." Cris blew out a frustrated breath, wishing Shyla could telepathically receive the mental impression of T'Kal. "I think he thinks he can bring Ethan home with the force of his will. He's performed the impossible before, and perhaps he'll do it again, simply because he wants the opportunity to either commend or flog Ethan. I'm not sure which."

"With Ethan, they like to do both at the same time," she said with little humor. "I don't care if Lieutenant T'Kal intends to have him doing double shifts for the next year, just as long as he's back to do them." Shyla looked down at the sensor console and began tapping in the next diagnostic routine. "Some people think Ethan ran, you know. Because of what happened on Risa."

"Those people obviously never met Ethan -- making their opinions quite worthless," Cristobel said, convincing himself with his own words, and silently hoping that Ethan Storm's circumstance wouldn't be the story to replace the reigning champion of the gossip world, Amy Reese. "Didn't you say the worst of his troubles were already over, when..." Sighing softly, Cris trailed off as he finished, "When you wanted me to get back to the Sulu to meet the 'new' Ethan?"

Shyla moved her lips to respond but went instantly silent when she heard the door of the Rio Grande open mid-ship.

Benedict T'Kal stepped into the runabout with a small metal case in his hand. As he walked into the back section to the bunks he chose one of the lower bunks and stowed his personal gear. Stepping forward into the cabin he walked around the two-person transporter. "Everything set?" he asked the two sitting at stations. "Where's Ensign Vijay?" He looked at the medical officer - Sefton the Betazoid and nodded also at Moreau, giving her an encouraging smile.

"Nearly at the runabout's hatch," Cristobel perfunctorily replied.

Benedict nodded and seated himself at the tactical station. He began the first diagnostic on the systems as he checked the tactical relay to the Sulu. A practiced eye told him everything was fine after a few seconds.

Lieutenant Saavar stepped aboard and assumed his seat at the co-pilot's station. He nodded in greeting to each of the officers present. His features were neutral, this mission was extremely important and its success was weighing heavily upon the Vulcan. Not only was he responsible for the overall mission, but they were looking for a Vulcan ambassador of renown as well as a crew member of the Sulu. Looking at Ensign Moreau, Saavar knew that finding Ensign Storm was her priority, and he knew that if his mate had disappeared under similar circumstances, he would do everything possible to ensure her return. His logical mind however discounted anything that they could do to ensure it - they would find Jemison but whether it would be in time to save its crew...that was another thing.

Shyla turned to Saavar slowly as if she were reluctant to do so. "Sir, I confirmed the Sulu's repair schedule," she said in a low voice constricted by her worry. "She should be able to follow tomorrow, more likely than not. She'll overtake us before we leave the sector."

Saavar turned to regard the young woman. "It is my experience that matters relating to starship repair are often under estimated. Problems occur which otherwise are not accounted for - mistakes are invariably made, systems are sometimes incompatible - the list is long, Crewman. I have learned, especially when dealing with Human engineers, that they tend to rely on a great deal of optimism when compiling estimated repair times. Optimism is sometimes ill-founded." He saw the look on her face as his words registered. Of course he was being literal in regard to the subject of his discourse, however, being human, Shyla interpreted his words in relation to all things in which optimism was founded - rescue missions included. "If the ship is repaired to schedule - I would be astounded," he said without inflection.

Shyla looked at Lieutenant Saavar for a small doe-eyed eternity before turning back to her station where she struggled to keep her own hopes from being dashed on ill-timed, frustratingly logical rocks.

Vijay finished his preflight check of their runabout while also taking time to check the tac pod installation. Everything looked in order, but Sanat wanted to make sure it wouldn't shake loose during high warp turns or upon entering a planet's atmosphere...if they should have to do such a thing.

The flight controller stopped and closely examined all six mounting points looking for obvious signs of an improper mounting; he placed a hand on the pod shaking it to ensure the sensor package was snugly in place...a habit that came from flying atmospheric shuttles for six months on Ioterthe`. Things tended to shake loose when subjected to the torsional stresses prevalent in an air-filled, sometimes turbulent, atmosphere.

Vijay smiled and walked back around to the open hatch. He entered the 'Rio and promptly counted heads...five in all. Perfect. Everyone was here. Without a word to anyone, Sanat went forward to take his station.

He promptly sat down and activated the soft touch comm switch. "Rio Grande to DS9 Operations. Requesting permission to depart." As he waited for a confirmation of their permission to leave the station, Sanat's hands quickly worked with a practiced unison, activating the runabout's power grid as well as bringing the impulse engine, maneuvering thruster(s) and warp engine displays up on his station. A cacophony of beeps and chirps answered him as the different systems became active.

"Rio Grande, this is Lt. Nog. Your request to depart is approved. Good hunting."

As Sanat stretched an arm out to close the side hatch and proceed with the launch, a shadow fell across him and the others. It was merely the shadow of Captain Salinger, who stood beyond the two-man transporter at the rear of the cabin. The darkness and the Captain's near silent entrance had an ominous quality that choked all of them even as they sat up to pay attention. Only Cristobel Sefton seemed hesitant to look; he only hung his head and ruminated on the impossible words that were already echoing in his mind.

"There's no easy way to say this," Matt Salinger began. "There won't be a search mission." He swept his gaze around the runabout, to each of his assembled officers. "I just received a communiqué from Captain Waverly of the Spector. The wreckage of the USS Jemison has been found three light-years off its projected course. There appear to be no survivors. Organic matter was found on parts of the hull, and human and Vulcan DNA was found within. Starfleet is still sifting through and haven't released a full report." There was a moment of silence as Matt glanced to Shyla Moreau and felt a tightening in his chest. "It appears we weren't fast enough."

Benedict nodded as he turned to Moreau. His hand went to her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze as the news was delivered. He could see that it was a hard blow for the captain - it wasn't what anyone wanted to hear. "I'm sorry, Shyla," he said to the girl as he said the only words he could think of. What could he say? He felt angry that the mission had been delayed - furious in fact, but that wasn't anyone's fault. He was dismayed at the news - Storm had been a good man. "Thank you, Captain," Benedict said to the commanding officer of the Sulu.

Shyla had only looked perplexed as the Salinger spoke, flinching under T'Kal's touch but not dropping a tear. Her face was still a puzzle even after Benedict finished thanking the Captain and she rose unsteadily; her body already processing what her brain could not. A staggered step brought all the men in the runabout to their feet and Shyla looked around at them wildly, the color draining from her face. Her eyes finally fell on Cris and they pleaded with him as she struggled to speak.

"Why?" she asked him breathlessly before she pitched forward and the deck of the Rio Grande rose up to meet her.

The flat medical tricorder that Cristobel had hoped wouldn't be needed in this mission went from his holster to his palm once he saw Shyla's reaction. Even though he couldn't find anything particularly life threatening - she was breathing and her heart was beating normally - he still slapped his commbadge to demand, "Sefton to Davies, two to beam to Sickbay."

***

Damhnait and Cristobel Sefton stared down at Shyla, on Sickbay's central biobed, with the exactly same pensive look on their faces as Shyla slowly regained consciousness. "Crewman Moreau? How are you feeling?" Damhnait gently asked.

Shyla looked back and forth between the two Betazoid faces, confused and disoriented before her brown eyes finally settled on Cris in some semblance of recognition. And with that recognition, the Captain's words came flooding back to her and she began to cry. Without a word, she answered Damhnait's question as both telepaths were bombarded by waves of her inner torment.

The composed expression on Cristobel's face crumpled at the sight of Shyla's pain. The abstract notion of Ethan's disappearance, as final as it was, still left Cris with a numbness, but Shyla's grief was completely tangible. Cris managed to hold back any urge to cry, for now, and simply put a hand on Shyla's shoulder. He couldn't find any words that didn't sound trite, and her mind wouldn't be able to comprehend any telepathic projections, and so Cris simply met her gaze.

"Your condition appears to be stable, despite this stressful situation and despite your having missed several weeks of scheduled appointments with Dr. M'lira. In that time, you've had bruised ribs that went untreated, but have now been healed," Damhnait reported as sympathetically as she could, despite her irritation over the negligence. "In light of this, I will be taking over as your doctor."

"There was something else the biobed's sensors discovered..." Cristobel told Shyla, once Damhnait gave him a nod he was waiting for.

"What?" Shyla managed to ask, racked with sobs. If it was her Kelway's, it was last on a long list of misery and she just didn't care anymore...the absolute worst had already passed.

"...Shyla, you're pregnant."

---

"A Lifetime in Five Minutes"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57908.04, 09h11

***

Cristobel Sefton found a moment of relief in knowing that he was the telepath, and that Shyla was not, and would not be exposed to his thoughts. His mind was intellectually scattered, trying to comprehend the facts of Ethan's death and Shyla's pregnancy, which he understood, but couldn't yet emotionally accept into the reality of his life. He was leaning against the doorframe of the private examination room that Shyla had been moved into, and simply appeared to be staring at an unfixed position directly in front of himself. The Captain had made a ship-wide announcement of Ethan's passing, and so no one expected much productivity from Cristobel.

Shyla had shifted to her side on the biobed. To Cris' ears it seemed she had finally stopped crying but he could still feel palatable waves of pains radiating off her like she was a pulsar. Although Sefton tried to stay quiet, Shyla leaned slowly up on one arm and looked at him. Her face was streaked with tears and her hair was working its way out of her clip in individual strands.

"Hey," she said in a voice that threatened tears again.

"Hey," he responded. Helpfully, Cris asked, "Do you need anything?"

"Ethan," she said, forcing a sad smile. Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes were shining wet.

"I..." Cristobel let the silence hang. He took a single step towards the biobed, and just shrugged helplessly.

Shyla didn't break the silence either but she did reach out for Sefton and pulling him closer. She wrapped his hand in hers and clutched it to her chest, just over her heart. She put her head back down on the biobed and did her best not to cry.

"Just breathe," Cris whispered, squeezing her shoulder with his other hand.

Shyla exhaled raggedly and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Cris," she said on the next exhale, her voice still thick and low.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Cristobel assured her. "I mean, dhia, why are you even worrying about me?"

"Because you're worrying about me," Shyla sniffed. "I want you to know I appreciate it."

"Everyone is worried about you," Cris told her, offering a weak smile. "I think T'Kal was prepared to heroically take you in his arms and run you down to Sickbay himself."

"He's always prepared to do that I imagine," Shyla said, almost managing to smile. She exhaled again, long and low. "What am I going to do, Cris?"

"Drink something to hydrate you? Maybe flee Sickbay in favour of your quarters?" Cristobel suggested with half a shrug.

"That will cover the next few minutes," Shyla said humorlessly. "I was talking about the lifetime after that."

"Get through the next few minutes. Then worry about a lifetime," Sefton told her consolingly. "Do you really think you feel up for objectively considering all of your options?"

"No," Shyla admitted with another sniff. "I know I have to have it. There's not even a question about that."

"Was it intentional?" Cristobel asked cautiously, hoping not to intrude.

"No," Shyla shook her head and gave Cris back his hand.

"Then, how did you get pregnant?" Cris asked, masking most of his incredulity. Birth control being what it was in the 24th century, it was practically foolproof for all but the most careless. Neither Shyla nor Ethan seemed to fit in that category.

"That first night," Shyla admitted, the memory of it moving a few more tears. She wiped her eyes. "We were careful after that...Doctor M'lira prescribed trigamerine for Ethan. I can't take anything because..." she trailed off, even though she was sure that Sefton finally knew about her condition.

Feeling terrible for bringing it up, Cristobel worried aloud, "My mother only just gave me a telepathic refresher on Kelway's Syndrome, but couldn't a pregnancy be incredibly risky for both you and the baby?"

"No more than it was for my mother," Shyla said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. Her brow furrowed before she looked to Cris. "It's Ethan's baby, Cris. I can't just --"

There was a small sound of something hitting the deck and Shyla watched a hypospray skip up to Cris' heels. Shyla followed the angle with her eyes until she spotted Amy Reese standing just over Sefton's shoulder, a surprised look on her face. Cris turned around and audibly groaned.

Her mouth flapped, but produced no sound, and her eyes were wide open. Finally, she squeaked and hurriedly picked up the hypo, then sprang upright again with it hugged to her chest. "I...I heard nothing...I swear! I-I'm not even hearing this!"

"Amy," Shyla said, steeling her voice for one of the few times in her life. "If you say anything to anyone, I will go to Doctor Sefton."

Amy narrowed her eyes at Shyla, disregarding any sympathy she might have for the woman. "I said I wouldn't tell," she told her coldly. "You don't have to threaten me."

Shyla actually jumped down from the biobed, finding some strength in the conflict. "Amy, I --"

"You shouldn't be getting up so quickly," Cristobel told Shyla with concern, placing his hand back on her shoulder. He couldn't be sure if Amy would keep her word, but he also couldn't even look Amy in the eye. Her anger over the message he'd sent to Counsellor Potts crashed into Sefton's senses, but she apparently didn't want to discuss it yet.

Amy sighed. "Look...I just came over to see how you were...and to say sorry." Noting Shyla's distress, and well aware of their shaky past, Amy decided she was the last person Shyla wanted condolences from. "Just...comm me if you need anything," she muttered, and with scarcely a look at Cristobel, she turned away.

Shyla's steel gaze melted away on Amy's back and before the nurse had taken a step, Shyla's bottom lip went into a full tremble and she began to cry again. Nearly automatically, Sefton pulled her to him in a hug and kept her there. Shyla only croaked out a single "I'm sorry" of her own but who she was sorry to and what she was sorry about was a mystery.

"Don't be sorry; just be Shyla, and you'll get through this," Cristobel tried to comfort as Moreau buried her face into his shoulder and choked out more ragged sobs. It was a pitiful sound.

While Cris' arms were around her, another unseen, gentle hand squeezed Shyla's shoulder. When she looked back, through the haze of tears, Amy Reese was smiling down at her, clearly sympathetic and remorseful. "You're not alone, Shyla," she whispered. "Don't be sad."

In that moment, Moreau couldn't remember what Amy had done in the past that had soured their potential friendship...she only saw a sweet-faced girl with troubles of her own reaching out. With one arm Shyla also latched on to Amy, buried her face into the taller girl's shoulder, and without knowing she'd done any such thing, Shyla managed to bring the three of them closer together for awhile.

---

Although this post was retracted by one of its writers, we felt it was a very well written post that both worked very hard on, and it would be a shame if it wasn't added to the archives, so here it is!

"Emotional Responses"
By: Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Corran Quezith - Medical Doctor

Location: Saavar's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.04 12h45

***

Talking to a counselor had gotten Corran very little progress in terms of figuring out how to cope with certain aspects of his new and enforced lifestyle. Unlike before he'd fallen ill, now his mind was open to everything by necessity. He heard thoughts and emotions much like one would hear a subspace relay station's traffic, unfiltered, noisy, and senseless. Though he could filter it out, his hope was to avoid doing that out of respect for these aliens' privacies.

As such, he'd taken it upon himself to look up a Vulcan, only to have remembered that there was one in the Science Department he'd formerly been a civilian member of. He'd called on ahead and asked him if he had a moment, to which he'd answered an uncomplicated yes to.

Corran stepped up to the door to Saavar's quarters and pressed the chime, his mind wandering briefly beyond the doors to assure himself that Saavar was in effect still around. Once he confirmed that he was, he returned to a normal degree of open-mindedness.

Saavar was sitting at his table. For the second time in less than three days a member of the crew was seeking his 'expertise' in matters telepathic. He was almost beginning to feel out of his depth. His mistake with Xayella Tagliesh's mind meld (if it had been a mistake) was still troubling him. It was difficult for the Vulcan to face. He didn't want to contemplate what would happen when the Blood Fever struck. There were examples in the Vulcan archives. He could still feel her in the back of his mind, and now he was to try to assist an Achicarian.

He sat completely still. His breath flowing like a slow tide as he concentrated upon the tiny flame from his meditation lamp. He divested himself of his own troubles, banishing them with a minor effort of will. He concentrated upon his own mental metaconscious barriers and with a few moments of logical progression, summoned an image of a Kal Toh construct. he calmed his mind as he rotated the image, completely building a three dimensional construct of silver rods.

The image shattered as the chime sounded. "Come," he intoned emotionlessly. The computer obeyed his command and the door opened to reveal Corran Quezith. The Achicarian was tall, light brown hair and pale blue eyes stared at Saavar as he entered the Vulcan's quarters.

Saavar gave a slight bow of his head, his hands were tucked into the sleeves of his robe. His sombre mood had affected his wardrobe - and he wore plain black with no adornment. Vulcan robe with wing shoulders and white under-robe. His grey eyes and light brown hair were almost a match for Corran. He smiled at the scientist, motioning that he should sit. "Welcome," he said in Standard. "May I provide refreshment?"

He stepped through after having glanced inward briefly, taking in the few Vulcan objects he could see from outside the door, but once he was inside a strange sense of 'order' seemed to seep into him. It was familiar, for most Vulcans gave off an aura that unlike other natural things or forms of existence, seemed quite uniform and integral.

Corran smiled at Saavar in return, and neared him. "Only if it would entail a beverage from your world."

Saavar nodded and stood gracefully. "Please be seated," he said as he walked to the replicator. He returned a few moments later with a tray, two cups of Vulcan design and a steaming pot of Co'Vish, a herbal infusion similar to Terran tea in consistency, but far more aromatic and slightly spiced. It was a refreshing drink and not often served. Saavar had taken Corran's request literally. The Co'Vish came from a small pot he had brought with him from Vulcan - it did not replicate well.

He knelt and proceeded to prepare the drinks. Offering the earthenware cup to his guest. "It is an uncommon delicacy," he said. "I hope that it is to your liking."

They both drank for a few moments.

Unlike most Vulcan beverages and consumables, the tea had more flavor than what Corran would have expected. It coursed down his throat warmly, and seemed to have an effect spreading outwards from his throat to the rest of his body rather than waiting to reach his stomach. It refreshed him, and calmed him.

"It's a pity they don't have this in the replicator, or at least, not this good..."

"It is a complex blend," Saavar replied. "Not easily replicated." He placed his cup down after a period of introspection. Politeness observed he sat back on his heels. "How may I be of assistance," he asked.

The Achicarian observed his cup thoughtfully, but finally stopped his curiosity there. His eyes locked onto Saavar's as they changed to brown and he chose openly to communicate with him directly.

It has been a difficult return to the Sulu for me. There are many minds on the ship, very tumultuous. Few are as orderly as your own, and I was wondering if you could help me adapt more quickly to this environment rather than by merely exposing myself day in and day out to see if I will adjust.

Saavar pondered the request. He was not overly pleased with the immediate breach of privacy that mental contact with the Archinarian posed. Your invasion of my privacy is not welcome, he thought at Corran. However, for the moment it will suffice in order to assist your transition. He sipped from his cup, holding it between his palms and rolling it back and forth, an uncommon gesture for a Vulcan and that more than anything showed Saavar's unease.

You are not in Archinar now, he thought at Corran. You have once again voluntarily entered a sphere of space which is dominated by the non-telepathic. It is important that you respect the right to privacy of the individuals upon this ship. Your direct mental contact is disturbing. It is in fact an invasion, a breach of the rights of the closed-minded who share this ship with you. You must conform to the good of the majority - you must not force the majority to conform to you.

Corran's brow rose skeptically at Saavar, surprised to hear him saying the things he was, but he replied calmly, That's not an option. Closing my mind will cause physical and psychological damage. Sometimes I feel that speaking to others by means of telepathy won't be taken badly, it's obvious this isn't the case with you personally and has stirred you.

He switched back to his voice: "I come from a world where privacy isn't a thing we hold dear. My people, the Achicarians," he corrected Saavar in a passive manner, "respect individuals. We respect the feelings and thoughts of one another, and in our relationships with alien races the same stands. The only difference is we don't speak about the thoughts or emotions of those aliens. Vulcans, humans, and other races put value to that and we have respected that, and I'm sorry if those onboard can't accept that for me to not risk my life needlessly I need to keep my mind an open one to the crew. I have emphasized on not reading their minds or emotions actively and the few times that I have caught a thought or emotion it was either intentionally with a friend of mine that allows it or simply because it punctured the veil of static and chaotic noise produced by so many rather non-harmonic minds, and even then I make an effort to not pinpoint who it is because that would imply what you call an invasion..."

That was the problem to begin with. He couldn't close his mind, not for prolonged periods of time anyway. Only to protect himself if necessary. The last time he'd closed himself it had cost him weeks of recuperating while nearing death. His people had been able to undo it the first time, but the second time...there were no promises. Fear and anger manifested on his features briefly as he feared death, feared 'the masses' of paranoid aliens, and anger from the former.

"I am merely indicating to you that your values are not the values of others," Saavar said serenely. "Your open method of communication relies on a concept alien to the people you have voluntarily chosen to join here in the Federation. Privacy is held dear here. Your race is moving toward a level of operant telepathy that will one day cause your biology to change. Your vocal chords will be unused and so will be discarded by evolution. That is not the case today - you still have a vocal means of communication. I suggest that you use this method at all times when in the company of individuals not versed in your customs or accepting of your invasive method of communication. The mere fact that you are able to read minds at your whim is distressing to non operant races. The Betazoids aboard are capable of accepting this, but speaking of myself as a Vulcan, I am not. My mind is my own. It is true that I possess telepathic abilities - but they are restricted to those I touch and always only those who choose to allow that touch. As a matter of courtesy I do not touch anyone without prior consent." Saavar nodded at Corran. "It is the matter of consent that is the true issue here." He gave a slight shrug. "Perhaps that is the reason you are the only member of your race to willingly come to the Federation. You must comply to Federation standards. You are a guest, you cannot impose your will on the will of others."

"I am not the only one, and it was by request of the Federation as much as my and the others decision to come..." He sighed heavily; he wasn't in the mood to discuss this particular aspect right now. He'd come for help in other regards. "It doesn't matter, it's not like I'm imposing any will, it's a matter of immaturity and insecurity on their behalf. I'm respecting even that, but will obviously make mistakes along the way."

His eyes returned to their previously blue color as he idly wondered how it was that the Federation could work in such a fashion, by means of inhibiting the dozens or hundreds of cultures composing its infrastructure. He knew that there had to be a common ground, but from what he'd seen so far, it wasn't a very pleasant common ground. He figured that pretty much covered the reasoning behind why the Klingons or Romulans weren't open to simply surrendering to Federation ideology...they lived their life to the fullest of their ways.

"Can you help me adjust more quickly to the static field? Perhaps you know some techniques or could help me develop some techniques?" He hoped they could get back on track.

Saavar looked calmly at the man opposite. "It is precisely your attitude of superiority which I find objectionable. You believe that it is our immaturity and our insecurity which prevents us from accepting your enlightened state. You respect even that? It does matter. I will try to assist you, though I may be inferior to your mind."

He shrugged his shoulders at Saavar quite openly. "You might consider it feeling superior. It's nothing like that, but yes, I do think it's dumb that any being should have to sacrifice practically everything they are because of others. I understand the paranoia, but that doesn't mean I find it truly justifiable."

Corran shook his head thoughtfully. If anything the arrogant one had been Saavar. Perhaps this had been a mistake to begin with, perhaps he should simply ask Cristobel to help him rather than Saavar. The Vulcan would simply have him close his mind and atrophy his brain for the sake of a group of scared non-telepaths, a reduced group he thought, and it seemed that he didn't have the ability to comprehend what it was all about.

"You're not much of an explorer." The comment left his lips almost as a whisper. He sighed, remembering that telepathy had been what had driven neighboring star systems to attempt a cleansing against his people, precisely out of outrageous fears, and regardless of their goodwill from beginning to end.

"Look, maybe this was a mistake."

"Perhaps," Saavar replied. "However I fail to see the connection between my right to privacy and my ability to explore. It is more likely that you are closed minded to another species' point of view as it does not coincide with your own. Do I fail to live up to your standard of an explorer? Or is it simply that I choose to close the universe of my mind to your explorations? Truly, Corran, this is not a debate. You will recognise my right to privacy, as you must every being you encounter. We do not have the ability to reach into your mind, but you have the ability to reach into ours. The Prime Directive is one of the most important lessons learned by the Federation. We hold back our technology and even our presence to worlds which we feel are immature or insecure enough to cope with them. It is the very same principle which must guide you in your encounters within the Federation. If you learn nothing else from coming to me than that - then this discussion has not been a mistake."

"You can reach into my mind, anyone on this ship can reach into my mind. They only need to ask, Saavar..." His frustration had grown nearly to despair. He wasn't sure he should've come back to begin with. It was only the very beginning of his struggle to fit in without having to sacrifice so much, but it did seem hopeless.

"This is the way I am, who I am, this is the way my people are. I don't mean to discard this whole very bizarre appreciation of privacy your people have! I'm trying to tell you that I respect it in my own way. If I were to find some intimate thought in your mind or memory, it's not something I would discuss with anyone else. I might observe it for a moment as part of my exploration of Vulcans in particular, but it's something I'd tuck away, not something I would talk to you about unless it seemed you were in need of someone to talk to, and this is supposing I'd ever dare to enter your mind. I wouldn't! Not without your permission."

He rubbed his temples uneasily, the membranes on them becoming visible briefly as his eyes shifted over to green. He looked into Saavar's eyes and tried to explain further, "I'm not here to mess up your life or anyone else's life. You have your own ways of guiding yourselves through, largely based on privacy, but I also have my own way. My own way has had to adapt, most certainly, and this is why I rarely discuss how my telepathy works with people. They fear me knowing even the smallest detail about them through telepathy. I understand what their minds create as the very foundation of why they fear it, and the fear I'll use it against them, use it to destroy them, but I never have, I never will, and if I did then surely I am accountable for a very serious crime.

"I'm finding it hard to believe that by living and being who I am, that I'm somehow hurting everyone, violating them. In my eyes the only thing I could be doing by intentionally breaking the veil of static thoughts and emotions onboard and reading someone's mind would be for the better, I'd learn about their people and an individual a little more, and I might be able to help them. I've tried to always avoid it because of how terrifying it is to them to know that someone has been in their mind, but I consider that closure on my part more horrible than anything I could be doing to them otherwise."

"So you do know how terrifying it is for non-operants. Why do you resist the point of view that to delve into a mind that has no recourse to respond is a violation? You consider it acceptable that you respect our views in your own way - disregarding our view entirely. You state with impunity that should you find some intimate detail in my mind you might examine it for interest's sake and may not discuss it with others - but the mere fact that you do look into my mind without my consent is offensive. You go even further by saying that our belief in privacy is bizarre?" Saavar was almost incredulous. "There is no wonder that your species has faced near extinction. You simply do not respect the rights and beliefs of other species. You delve into minds to explore without regard to consequence of the mental health of those whom you mentally dissect for interest's sake. You actually believe that your superiority allows you to continue to abuse individual rights. An individual has every right to fear your kind, Corran. You see everything only through your eyes. Personally, I reject totally your belief that you have the right to examine my mind, and as you say tuck away my private thoughts or memories for later examination in your quest to study Vulcans. You fear your own state of mind over the good of the many."

Saavar sat back and his face showed the emotions that welled up within him. "Your lack of discipline and your complete disregard for the good of the crew of this ship will be your undoing, Corran." The Vulcan was angry. The negative emotion seemed to boil within him, disrupting his emotional control and displaying itself openly. Saavar was too far involved in the emotion itself to be disturbed by its sudden presence. His blood seemed to boil with it.

Corran had to visibly move away from him, it was instinctive, observant of his physical reaction, let alone that the air had seemed to grow darker and bitter. It made sense that the neighboring cultures surrounding Achicar had attacked for that reason, but they hadn't attacked instinctively, they'd done it based on malicious campaigns from the few that had feared them...as a matter of fact, few Achicarians ever left Achicar Prime to visit other worlds. It was left to a very reduced group of explorers, scientists and sometimes a few traders...

He flinched and nearly folded in on himself from Saavar's reaction. He shook his head and was unable to see through continuously blinking eyes as he denied everything Saavar had said and tried to respond. Saavar was talking about Achicarian telepathic abilities being a right when in fact they were a way of life.

From the disability to speak though, he found himself in a desperate need to communicate to Saavar the only other way he knew how. Please, don't, you're...it's...no... He stopped sending the telepathic message that would surely be interpreted as an intrusion of Saavar's mind, regardless of the fact that they went straight for the language center of the alien that might be involved, and not through emotions and thought. The message would reach both after having been sent, much like reading a letter...but very few would see that.

"Your people once destroyed themselves for having been such beasts that you continuously ravaged each other until some philosopher came out of nowhere and changed everything!" Corran shouted it out at him as adrenaline kicked in and helped him to stand back up. He looked around himself for something to support himself on and ended up sitting back down.

"Then after centuries of having followed those beliefs they were again modified to comprehend an aspect of your society that involved empaths. If I read what I was given right, they were discarded, considered the trash of your people for daring to use their empathic abilities to touch one another. Now there are even rituals concerning the use of those abilities. People stopped being afraid and saw the wisdom behind them!"

Corran looked around for a glass of water, but there was none, and Saavar's blind fury continued, or perhaps it did. Corran refused to even perceive the area where Saavar sat.

"You completely blew out of proportion what I said. Did I at any point say I did and do delve into your minds and take this knowledge from you without your consent? Even when it happens it's usually accidental now, but it happens because it comes naturally, because this is the first time a group of Achicarians is forced into living in crowds of people that have very different beliefs and principles. Before now we lived together on our own world, visitors were the ones that had to adapt to 'us', and even when we visited worlds we were usually kept apart on our own ships as part of an agreement and our understanding that we would be feared.

"Your Federation confronted the Dominion just recently, people that feared all solid creatures that weren't like them, and they weren't so far from the truth. Shapeshifters have been despised and shoved aside, disrespected at every turn, seen as a convenience instead of living beings."

A deep breath entered Corran's lungs and he continued, "You think I have invaded your mind Saavar, or I'm guessing you do, but I haven't. I don't know what you thought about me when I contacted you, I don't know what you think of me now other than because of what you said. I used my natural and open ability to check if you were in your quarters, but that doesn't involve peaking at your immediate or in depth thoughts.

"Had I been in your head you wouldn't be acting this way...I wouldn't... I would've expressed myself in my language and through my ability, which wouldn't have allowed for miscommunication as I'm feeling must be the reason for all of this... I learned Federation Standard by tapping into peoples' minds consensually, and over the period of a few months I learned it, but it has its failings!"

Corran used body language for much of what he was saying, but it was unlike that which humans tended towards. His eyes expressed his every emotion, his thoughts. His hands moved around quite differently. To most, it might provoke a humorous reaction, but no one here was laughing.

"I came here with my mind closed, never hearing thoughts, never in touch with others' emotions or even sensing the slight hint of them. It nearly killed me, but I respected you and everyone else on this ship at my own sacrifice. Now I have no choice but to keep my perception open at all times, I have to find a way to keep from diving into private thoughts as you're accusing me of doing. I need to also find a way to bear the toxicity of the noise produce by unconnected minds...you have no idea how much pain it causes, and how simple it would be to close my mind, only that it will atrophy my ability and kill me. I came to you for help in what 'can' be done, not for you to be my judge and juror based on misinterpretation. I say what I do of myself and my people because it cannot be changed, it is not a choice, much like it is not a choice for you to be a Vulcan anymore than it is a choice for a plant to always be a plant..." He could have also mentioned homosexuality back in Earth's earlier centuries, or the case of the race that had both sexes where a few identified as one or the other, but he was concerned this was falling on deaf ears.

Saavar used the protracted explanation by Corran to gather his wits and dampen his emotions. They seemed to burst from him without regard to his training and he struggled to cope with them. His personal lack of discipline embarrassed him. He looked across the low table at Corran Quezith and managed to compose his mind and his features. This was the second time his emotions had careened out of control and it was distressing. He didn't know why and now wasn't the time for introspection.

"We are not discussing plants," he said calmly. "You asked if you have said whether you delve into minds, and then immediately qualify that you do. Your arguments are circular and illogical, doctor. I accept that for you, your mental abilities are a fact of your life. You must accept that my sanctity of mind is a fact of mine. We are not at odds if you remain out of my mind. I believe that will be the case with any individual aboard this ship. You insist that you must retain the right to gather thoughts and keep your abilities open. That is a fact of your race. A fact of mine is that the rights accorded me by my culture demand that my privacy be respected. I re-iterate, doctor - you must respect my privacy. Even after telling you that I do not wish to communicate with you in a manner other than verbal, you insisted upon breaching my mind. I care not whether the mechanics of the communication reach my speech centre only - that is only your telepathic speech which you direct and interpret. The fact is that you do sense my thoughts, whether purposefully or accidentally - again I do not care which. Remain out of my mind at all times and respect my privacy. On behalf of those non-operant beings on the Sulu that cannot sense your intrusion, I would recommend that you abide by that rule. If you cannot live by our cultural restrictions, you are free to return to your home system."

This time Corran was angry, more than fearful or upset. "I already spoke to higher authorities than you on the matter, so get the hell off your podium and shut up." He was still trembling somewhat, but his eyes stopped their rampant fluctuations and he got off the couch, moving slowly, thoughtfully, towards the door. His hands balled into fists, rubbing the membranes on them to provoke the release of natural chemicals in his body that would hopefully calm him down progressively.

Saavar raised a single brow. Corran's anger mirrored his own. The man obviously wasn't used to someone having an opposite opinion, or being forthright enough to speak it. The truth of the matter was that Corran Quezith didn't want to listen to any argument other than his own.

He looked at Saavar coolly. "I'm not invading anyone's privacy on purpose and I haven't said I do. I've said it happens sometimes in an accidental nature. Reading a stray thought is more like overhearing that someone wants a cup of coffee, but of course, you wouldn't know that, and I doubt you'd ever want to."

Corran had other things to say, but he spared both of them saying the majority. What he continued with was merely to put closure on this matter and leave it behind: "You judge me without knowing anything about me, it's the worst class of racism, and yes, I'm accusing you of racism. Only those people around me that dare venture across the threshold, that dare explore my intimate thoughts, that dare even truly socialize with me are valid judges."

Saavar wondered if stating one's mind and what one was accepting of and wasn't, was racism. He did not recall offering an opinion that was remotely racist. His assertions had been defined and logical - only Corran didn't want to hear that. So he blamed it on irrationalities. It gave Saavar a sense of satisfaction that once again logic had won over emotionalism. Unfortunately Saavar's own emotions were acting up - and he had to do something about it.

Corran was finally in front of the door, and he added, "I thought I could come to you for help, Saavar, I thought you of all people would have helped me cope. That would've helped maintain the internal privacy of everyone's minds much better than me working on it by myself or hearing your arguments. You've accused me of horrible things, with no existing validity. I understand the fear, but I do not understand your personal reaction.

"I'm sorry I ever bothered you. Rest assured your mind is not subject to active scanning by my own, and I'm sorry I tried to communicate to you directly, but I am no Vulcan and my emotions sometimes get the better of me. In any case: it's unusual for people to be quite that perturbed by it."

"Unusual only from where you come from, Corran," Saavar stated coldly.

With that he finally walked out of Saavar's quarters. He needed to go back to his own quarters to meditate, concentrate, and take a nap. This little incident had ransacked the biochemical equilibrium of his entire system, which in itself bewildered Corran as much as Saavar's emotions bewildered the Vulcan. The irony: neither was aware of the other's thoughts, other than what had been spoken.

---

"Wildcats"
By: Delna Rona; The Quiet One [NPC]
Erne Sisqua; The Scrappy One [NPC]
Jayn DeJ; The Pretty One [NPC]
Monn Tasa; The Smart One [NPC]
Monn Jeraxa; Harried Mother [NPC]
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: Bajor, The Monn home's front steps
Stardate: 57908.04 12h12

***

The conversation lagged slightly, and the girls' attention went to their food. The tiny one took another huge bite out of her hasperat, the quiet one regarded her jumja, and the other two each tipped back drinks. The pretty one made a sound in her throat. It was the sort of humming grunt she always made when she thought of something to share.

"My mother is such a jorr," she said, setting her paperboard cup down next to her on the step. "Kam came over the other night? And we were talking and stuff?" DeJ's rambling stories always started like a string of questions for some reason.

"Oooh," mocked the tiny one around her mouthful of hasperat. "Kaaaam."

Tasa set her own drink down and leaned back against the steps, propping herself on her elbows, watching a hovercar go by as she talked.

"Shut your hole while you chew, Squeezer," Tasa said. "Let Deej finish or we'll be here all day."

"We will not," DeJ said huffily. "My stories are never that long."

"Just tell it, Deej, for the love of the prophets," Squeezer had swallowed and now spoke in her usual brash tone. "I'll shut up."

DeJ rolled her eyes with another huff and carried on. "So Kam was over? And we were in my room and stuff?"

Squeezer looked like she was going to say something again. Rona patted Squeezer's knee and shook her head. The tiny girl took another huge bite instead, chewing with her mouth open.

"And my mother kept opening the door!" DeJ finished plaintively.

The other three girls looked blankly at DeJ.

"So?" prompted Squeezer, talking with her mouth full again.

"So my mother doesn't respect my privacy at all," whined DeJ, petulant that no one grasped the point of her story.

"Did she catch you in The Act?" needled Tasa. She wiggled her hips, sighing, "Oh, Kam!" until DeJ started bouncing on the step whining, "Shut up!" over and over. Squeezer and Tasa burst into giggles, and Rona smiled and shook her head as she licked her jumja. A boy passing on a hoverboard hooted at the gyrating Tasa. She flung him a vulgar hand gesture, to which Squeezer added a string of blue-flamed profanities, and he laughed as he carried on down the street. They all giggled at that, but DeJ regained her composure first.

"It's not like that," DeJ spoke with haughty finality, her head bobbing horizontally to reinforce her point. "Kam's nice. He's not like other boys. He actually talks to me. He loves me."

Tasa shrugged. DeJ proceeded to launch into an incredibly long dialogue with herself about how great Kam was. Tasa ignored her. So long as they were close by to hear, DeJ didn't care if they were listening or not anyway. Tasa used the opportunity to observe her friends.

Jayn DeJ was gorgeous, with a mane of golden curls and bright green eyes that enslaved boys to her will. Tasa wondered why DeJ hadn't already convinced Kam to go all the way, and decided it was probably because Deej simply hadn't thought of it at the right time. Poor Deej rarely had a fully formed thought, and never at the right time. Tasa pitied her a bit for being so pretty and so stupid all at once. She needed the other three girls around just to keep her out of trouble.

Next to DeJ, Erne Sisqua looked like a skinned rat. Almost impossibly small for her age, everyone called her Squeezer, a name with two meanings. Squeezer could fit almost anywhere due to her size, and never got bigger no matter how much food she crammed into herself. Despite her size, though, she was far and away the loudest of the four; Tasa remembered her mother once saying that Squeezer's mouth was bigger than all the rest of her. Utterly obnoxious, she interrupted, talked with her mouth full, burped, picked her toes, sang off key for no reason, and did a whole host of other disgusting and offensive things. She was also the scrappiest of the four, with an amazing strength hidden in her wiry frame, and could fight like a wild animal. That made her the little group's champion in physical contests.

Delna Rona, placidly licking her jumja, was furthest down the stoop from Tasa. She was Squeezer's cousin, and her unofficial handler among the group. Tall and lanky, Rona was one of those girls whose mothers try and cheer them about their homeliness by accenting one feature above all. For Rona, it was her hair, which Tasa had to admit was absolutely beautiful. It was long and jet black, and fell to her knees when left unbound. Today it was in a complex braid shot through with ribbon and beads, and closed at the bottom with a pretty flower-shaped clasp. Rona was very quiet. Her mother called her reserved and dignified. Everyone else called her shy. A boy had tried picking on her once, going so far as to cut off a hank of her hair as part of a taunt. Tasa had held the boy down and Squeezer had stomped on his hand until it broke while DeJ stood delivering a blistering tirade about how stupid boys were to try and soothe the hysterical Rona. No one had accosted her since.

Tasa smiled. She remembered what she'd told Mason back in the market. Bajoran girls really would beat you up.

"What's funny?" Squeezer asked.

"Huh?" Tasa was broken from her reverie.

"You're smiling all big over there. What's the story?"

"Oh," Tasa smiled again, "Nothing."

"Sekk that," Squeezer pushed. "What is it?"

"Oooh," DeJ seemed to have an epiphany. "I bet my story reminded her of the Starfleet guy. He was so dreamy."

They all giggled. Tasa felt herself redden.

"Shut up, you," she said, trying to look somewhere else while her blush subsided.

"Tasa and the captain," Squeezer mocked, her voice dripping with false sugar and too much real hasperat. "Oh captain, I love you."

"Shut up," Tasa said, meaning it. "And he wasn't a captain. He was an ensign."

Squeezer laughed and took another bite.

"Is that higher than captain?" DeJ asked.

"I dunno," Squeezer shrugged. "It's higher than lieutenant, though."

"So it goes lieutenant, ensign, captain?" DeJ asked.

"It's the lowest," Rona said. "It's the lowest officer rank."

"Oh yeah?" Squeezer asked.

"Yeah. I looked it up when I got home last night."

"It doesn't matter," Tasa said, hoping they'd drop it.

"Yeah," DeJ said. "He was dreamy no matter what."

"What's an ensign do?" Squeezer wondered. "Is he in charge of anything?"

"I don't know," DeJ said. Like anyone thought she would have known. She was so stupid.

"He had a gun," Rona said.

"Oh yeah?" Squeezer asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Yeah. I saw it on his back."

"You were looking at his butt, huh?" Squeezer teased. Rona looked down and smiled. "Don't be all shy like that. We all looked at his butt, right?"

"Right," DeJ said emphatically. Tasa shrugged and nodded, and smiled again. "I saw him use it," she said simply.

"Oh yeah?" Squeezer asked, her eyes really lighting up.

"Oh yeah," Tasa said, satisfied that she had a piece of juicy information she could share. She rolled onto one shoulder so she could fully face her friends. "He snapped down two guys in an alley, like 'zip! zip!'," she made a gun sign with her fingers and shook it twice, "and saved this julo from his ship who was gonna get rocked."

Squeezer nodded appreciatively. "Was he rocking her?"

"No," Tasa said, disgusted. "She was all scarred and stuff, and besides, Starfleet people can't get in The Act with other Starfleet people. It's against the rules."

"You're sekkin' us," DeJ said.

"I sekk you not," Tasa quipped.

"I'm not joining Starfleet, then," Squeezer said. "No Act? sekk."

"That's a dumb rule," DeJ said.

"I don't think that's a rule," Rona said.

"Oh yeah?" Squeezer said. "It's not?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, I say it is," Tasa said defiantly.

"Well, let's ask," Squeezer said, looking past her.

"Huh?" Tasa heard a vehicle's turbines whine to a halt behind her on the street.

"There he is, let's ask him," Squeezer said, tossing the remnant of her Hasperat into a nearby shrub and standing.

Tasa looked back over her shoulder as DeJ squealed "by the prophets!" and scrambled to her feet. Mason Farrell was climbing out of the cab of a hauler with a couple of regular workers. He was in uniform, the gold band across his shoulders bright in the sun. He was gorgeous.

"Tasa," called Mason, starting up the front walk. "How's things?"

"They're good," Tasa piped. "What's going on with you?"

Squeezer wiped her mouth on her sleeve. Rona brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. DeJ started bouncing as she smoothed her skirt. Squeezer put a hand on her shoulder to halt the irritating movement.

"I've got a present for you," Mason said, smiling. "Is your mother at home?"

"Yes, I'm here," Jeraxa called from the door. "Mister Mason, what a pleasant surprise."

He kept his smile going, and stopped in front of the girls, who were blocking the door. He indicated the hauler. "You, uh, mentioned you didn't have a replicator." The workers were unloading crates onto gravpads and unpacking tools. "So I found you one."

Jeraxa took in a sharp breath. Tasa goggled at Mason's chest. He was tall.

"Mister Mason, this is too much," Jeraxa said. "I can't possibly--"

"Say no," Mason interrupted. "You can't possibly say no, Monn Jeraxa. You opened your home and took in complete strangers, no questions asked. Starfleet settles its debts, ma'am."

Jeraxa had no response.

Mason nodded. "Unfortunately, I --"

"These are my friends," Tasa interrupted Mason, wincing inwardly. That sounded stupid. Mason looked down at the quartet staring at him.

"Well," he said, "good. I think I saw you all the other night, but only as I was passing through. How are you girls today?"

"We're fine," DeJ meeped out. "We're pleased to meet you," Squeezer said. Rona nodded. At least they sounded stupid, too, Tasa thought.

"Good good," Mason said pleasantly. Then he looked back to Jeraxa. "I can't stay long. I've got to get back. We'll be pulling out of port tomorrow, and there are still preparations to be made. These workers will see that the unit gets installed properly. Tasa?"

She snapped her gaze to meet his. "Yeah?" she said, too quickly to sound nonchalant.

"When they unpack the programming package, you're in charge of it. I'll be back in six months, and I expect you to know every nook and cranny of this machine. Got it?"

Tasa was stunned. He wanted her to learn how to run a replicator? Who cared? He was gorgeous. "Got it," she said brightly.

"Good," he smiled. Then, to the assembly, "I've got to go. Ladies," he said to the girls. "It was a pleasure."

"Uh huh," DeJ nodded. Squeezer snickered.

Farrell chuckled and tapped his communicator.

"Farrell to Viraj, one to beam up."

The command acknowledged, he tossed off a jaunty wave as the blue light took him.

The girls sighed as one, then giggled at each other.

---

"The Auld Fleet Engineer"
Captain Matthew T. Salinger - Commanding Officer
Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer
Lieutenant Commander Jabari Zareb - Engineering Consultant
Lieutenant Sam - Operations Manager
Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh - Chief Science Officer
Lieutenant Mark Thaine - Chief Engineer
and Ensign Jackson Thompson - Engineering Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Shuttlebay and Conference Room
Stardate: 57908.04, 13h03

***

"Miscallin' technicalities but handin' me my chair
To drink Madeira wi' three Earls - the auld Fleet Engineer"

***

The shuttlebay aboard a Starfleet vessel was only rarely a hub of activity. While it might see a launch during a particular mission, it was always at its busiest in spacedock when the date of departure had finally arrived and every ship transporter started working overtime to supply the ship in question with the goods and personnel she would need for the journey ahead. At that time, the work bees would be buzzing around that ship like their namesakes, bringing in everything that the otherwise occupied transporters could not or should not. By the same time tomorrow, the USS Sulu's shuttlebay would likely be in such a state.

As if a prelude of things to come, a lone work bee shimmered through the shuttlebay door force field of the USS Sulu with a cargo carrier in tow. Work bees were a small single pilot craft; less than five meters in length and a simple external design that had hardly seen a change in a century of use. This particular bee busied itself with a container nearly six times its length and over twice as wide, floating in and soft landing the huge container, detaching the towing tractors right at touch down and continuing the smooth movement into a landing of its own.

Lieutenant Commander Jabari Zareb powered down the craft and stared through the cockpit portals at the only other two occupants of the shuttlebay. Both men wore the same service gold as himself and were looking to the work bee anxiously. One was a young man in his twenties, tall and lean with sandy blond hair and a PADD in his hands. The other man was closer to Zareb's own age of forty and Jabari could make out his enlisted patch and tiny bits of uniform grime from where he sat. He allowed himself a rare smile; Zareb could smell an Engineer through the vacuum of space and he firmly attached that label to both men. He also recognized that neither of them were Mark Thaine.

Jackson glanced up briefly as the work bee settled onto the decking, continuing to speak to the petty officer in front of him about the incoming shipment. As the crewman turned to walk off, Jackson began to walk back towards the shuttlebay's control room, noticing with surprise that the pilot of the shuttle wasn't the expected enlisted man but an officer instead. One who outranked him by a good bit, he mused as he pulled to a quick stop near the man.

"Hello, sir," he nodded in respect, his soft southern accent still slurring his words. "Welcome to the Sulu."

"Thank you, Mister." he trailed off into a question mark. His voice was a rich baritone and his Federation Standard was accented slightly, hitting the 'k' hard and turning the 'i' into a slight 'e'.

"Thompson, sir, Jackson Thompson."

Zareb made a face that said 'ah' without actually saying it and began to walk across the shuttlebay. Jackson followed close behind. "Jackson David Thompson," Jabari began, reciting what he knew of the man. "Born: Ayer's Island, Louisiana. Graduate of Tulane University and Starfleet Academy. Engineering Officer aboard the USS Hikaru Sulu. First posting."

Jackson was more than a little taken back. He didn't even know who the man was and he was spouting off his record from memory. It was more than a little disconcerting. "Um, yes..." He paused. "How did you..."

"I may not remember always a face Mister Thompson but I remember everything I've ever read." Jabari stopped and turned back to the Ensign. Jackson didn't usually have to look up at people but the Lieutenant Commander had a couple inches on him and was built like a Klingon. "Now, where is Mister Thaine and why is he there and not here?"

Jackson was never easily intimidated, but something about this man set him at odds. He was just so... Strange. It took him a few long moments before he clicked that Zareb was expecting an answer. "The Chief is in main engineering, I assume, sir. It is alpha shift, after all."

Zareb nodded silently, taking the hesitation as some attempt to be coy on Thompson's part. It was easy to imagine that Thaine was having a problem with this transfer though if the situation had been reversed, Jabari would have been down in the shuttlebay ready to greet a superior officer. Zareb tapped his combadge.

"Lieutenant Commander Jabari Zareb to USS Sulu. Initiate uplink and transfer all my command codes and access authorizations to Sulu mainframe."

"Transfer complete, the automated voice intoned after a short hesitation. "Welcome aboard the USS Hikaru Sulu."

Without an acknowledgement, Zareb's attention was back on Jackson. "Mister Thompson, I shall need a favor of you."

"Of course, sir," Jackson said immediately. He wasn't exactly sure, but he had a pretty good feeling that whatever was about to be asked of him he wouldn't like. And neither would Thaine. For the first time since entering Starfleet he realized that his father's lessons on the art of politics might just come in handy.

Zareb slung a duffle off his shoulder and dug inside, all without taking his eyes off the young officer before him. He produced a PADD. "This contains my orders pertaining to that," Jabari said, using the PADD to point at the huge cargo container he had just brought on board. "Under no circumstances is anyone to open that container. You will ensure that does not happen, Mister Thompson."

Jackson gave the container a curious glance, part of him instantly wondering what was in it. "Of course, sir."

"Arm yourself, on my authority. If anyone besides Captain Salinger, Commander Lyrr, or myself tries to defy the order I've given you, stun them. You will stay here until I arrange for a security detail. Are we perfectly clear?"

Jackson's eyes widened slightly. Stun a member of the crew? The man was crazy. He hadn't talked to Ainsley in a while, but maybe he should give her a call and get her to check on the new head of engineering. He shook his head, wondering what was so important in the container, as he walked to the nearest weapons locker. As he took a phaser he smiled slightly; maybe being armed around this guy wasn't too bad an idea.

Watching Thompson take up arms, Jabari tapped his combadge again. "Lieutenant Commander Zareb to Lieutenant Thaine."

"This is Thaine," came a faintly surly reply over the comm-system. "Got a problem?"

"Mister Thaine," Zareb said, resisting the urge to sigh at the posturing. He began walking to the shuttlebay exit. "Report to the Conference Room. Now."

"Sir," was the simple acknowledgement. "Thaine out."

***

"She's the USS Nightingale," Zareb said, referring to the cutaway of a Danube-class runabout on the display behind him. Lieutenant Commander Zareb was standing before most of the senior staff, all seated and holding PADDs that the engineering consultant had distributed. Captain Salinger was flanked by Commander Lyrr on his right and Lieutenant Sam on his left with Tagliesh next to the android. Lieutenant T'Kal had left a chair empty between him and Commander Lyrr. Lieutenant Thaine was not yet present.

"These are some pretty extensive modifications." Commander Lyrr glanced up from the PADD and narrowed her eyes skeptically at the engineer. "Are you certain there is nothing potentially harmful to this crew on that runabout?"

"Good point, Commander," Matt said with a nod. "This runabout has already gone through fairly extensive testing, correct?"

"We've done as much as can be allowed at Utopia Planitia and in the Alpha Quadrant. The truth is that some of these modifications are right on the edge of what is allowed by treaty and it wouldn't do to test them right in front of prying eyes. Thus, the Gamma Quadrant." Zareb looked to Commander Lyrr. "The Nightingale herself may pose no threat to the Sulu or her crew but I can make no such assurances about the testing team, Commander. Whomever we select must be willing to share that risk with me."

"And how large a crew will you require, Commander?" Lyrr asked. "Although your project is important to you, and its findings to the Federation, this ship also has a mission to complete. Our crew compliment is small to begin with; we cannot afford to lose officers to this project, whether it is by giving up their post temporarily to join you, or losing them to fatalities. You must understand our concerns, Commander."

"Aye sir," Zareb confirmed. "But with all due respect, Starfleet is not a summer camp." He looked to Captain Salinger and bowed slightly. "As you well know Captain," he offered before looking back to Lyrr. "My understanding was that the cooperation of this ship would be forthcoming. Have I been misinformed, Commander?"

"Of course not," she answered with a thin smile. "I just wish to know how many crew members this experiment of yours will be requiring."

Zareb let one of his arms fall behind him as he considered her question. "A maximum of six crew excluding myself," he said definitively. "I'll need one each from Flight Control, Operations, Tactical, Engineering, and maybe one from both the Medical and Science departments. Junior officers will be acceptable though I will have to upgrade their individual security clearances before they could serve on the team."

"What qualifications will be required of the officers selected for this duty?" Sam asked. "I can prepare a list of personnel suited to your requirements."

"I've taken the liberty of producing a preliminary list after reviewing the Sulu manifest," Zareb said, holding up his own PADD. "Most of these I've taken from Beta shift, as I plan on conducting testing in the early hours of Gamma." Zareb looked at his PADD even though he had committed all the names to memory. "Ensign Sanat Vijay at Flight Control?" he said, turning it into a bit of a question for the assembled officers.

"I haven't known him long," Lyrr answered, "though his record seems to indicate he's qualified. It is ultimately your decision, Commander."

Benedict was perusing the modifications on the padd. Sensor resistant Chromophasic Ablative Armor, tachyon/anti-proton sensor pallet, pulsed drives.... He frowned. Technologically it was a 'poor man's' cloaking device. He lifted his eyes to the Lieutenant Commander. "I'll volunteer for Tactical," he said, "with the captain's permission." He glanced at Salinger. "I've had experience with Romulan tactics, and I don't want to volunteer someone to do something I wouldn't." He frowned. "The Romulan Cloak is far superior to this technology - but I can see the benefits of cloaking the weapons systems. It may be nearly invisible to sensors, but not to opticals. It'll still occlude stellar phenomenon."

"The use of a Romulan-style cloaking device is still disallowed by treaty, Mister T'Kal," Zareb pointed out. "The purpose of the technology isn't to beat the Romulans at their own game... Politics being what they are at the moment, much of the original intention is still in a state of flux, I must admit. We are merely exploring options for vessels that may find themselves serving on the front lines of a very different Neutral Zone in the future."

"I'm well aware of the treaty, sir," he replied to the abrasive senior officer. "The sensor pallet makes it an ideal vehicle of forward detection - but couldn't we also place this on a sensor probe?"

"A tachyon/anti-proton probe has been both a project and a bit of a problem at Utopia Planitia but it is an extremely clever concept for someone not in an engineering or science field to realize," Zareb continued, complementing Benedict. "Unfortunately, the power needed to provide containment fields for both the anti-protons and tachyons would require a probe about as large as a Type-9 shuttle. It is a problem we are working to rectify."

T'Kal smiled. He'd been on an advanced tactical school during Starfleet Academy. He'd been on the Red Team back then - he'd played with many concepts. He smiled. "Then why not try a Mark V photon torpedo casing and a controlled intermix of the anti-matter reaction. It would work as a pulse sensor. Fire it in the direction you want and broadcast a pulse that can be picked up on passive sensors. A throwaway cloaking sensor probe."

"That would work in a pinch, Mister T'Kal," Zareb admitted, having some admiration for the Security Chief's ingenuity. "But the pulse could not be made to look like a natural phenomenon...you would be broadcasting starship presence to any hostile within a light year."

Benedict nodded, his mind focused on the problems, but with a smile on his lips. "You could drop the torpedo like a mine, activate it at range and send it from a different vector." He looked up at the faces looking at him and realized that he was getting carried away. "Sorry, sir," he glanced at Salinger. "I would like to work on the project."

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I believe the hours this testing will be conducted would preclude your participation," Zareb said, noting that Security Chief worked double shifts every day according to the manifest. "I had Ensign Ethan Storm slated for the position." He looked up from the PADD to see four grave faces. Only Sam seemed unbothered by the mention of the officer's name.

"Ensign Storm is no longer with us, Commander," T'Kal said softly. "In his absence and as I am precluded, I would recommend Ensign Bennett. She's got a cool head and knows her tactics. I'll speak with her before I confirm her participation."

Zareb nodded solemnly, a little embarrassed that his copy of the crew manifest was apparently out of date. "Ensign Bennett was back-up on my list," Zareb said, consulting it again. "Ensign Mason Farrell?" he threw the name out for consideration and looked up again. This time the faces in the room ran the gamut from slightly disapproving to bemused smiles. The Operation Manager's face was a typical blank but in this case his opinion probably counted the most.

"Ensign Farrell should be available for this project," Sam stated. "However, I would recommend a triple-fractal encryption algorithm as well as security guards armed with the new Type-IV Multi-Phase Phaser Rifles if you wish this project to remain secure."

Zareb gave the android a puzzled look. "You believe Ensign Farrell is not to be trusted, Lieutenant?"

"Ensign Farrell has been proven to have a devious and inquisitive nature," Sam answered. "I do not have sufficient evidence to suggest that Ensign Farrell might sell any information obtained to a third party, however based on psychological profiles of similar subjects, a locked door is merely an invitation to a man with such inquisitive impulses."

"But he is loyal to this crew," Lyrr pointed out, much to her surprise. Her expression was momentarily shocked at the knowledge that she had just defended him. She cleared her throat and continued. "I believe Ensign Farrell is organized and has an intimate familiarity with every aspect of this vessel. He could prove to be an excellent addition to your team, Commander Zareb."

Benedict looked sideways at Lyrr for only a moment before turning away. He felt a little uneasy about her defending Farrell, but he let it pass, remaining neutral. He could understand why - and it irked him. He didn't like what he'd heard about the man and Sam's assessment made him even more uneasy.

"We'll come back to Operations," Zareb declared diplomatically, moving down the list. "Science?" He looked to Lieutenant Tagliesh and allowed a small grin. "I'm embarrassed to admit it Lieutenant but I didn't get the opportunity to review your department. Opinion?"

"Oh, I have many," Xay quipped with a charming smile. "But regarding my officers, they have varying areas of expertise. If it's someone with a good grasp of many subjects you want, then I'm inclined to recommend Lt. Saavar for the task."

Zareb nodded as Tagliesh and he shared their smiles. The Chief Science Officer of the Sulu had caught and held Zareb's eye and it was only reluctantly that he looked away. "That leaves us with --"

As if on cue, the door opened, and the Chief Engineer of the ship stepped through.

"--Engineering," Zareb finished, looking at Thaine with a fair amount of disdain.

Folding his arms as the door closed behind him, Thaine responded by giving Zareb a cold look. "Reporting as ordered," he said. "Sir." He gave a nod to the rest of the assembled officers, his gaze softening slightly as it passed over Lyrr. "I was delayed. We had some trouble getting the new power conduits installed, and it was too critical to leave."

"We understand," Lyrr replied, with a smile meant to convey encouragement. She gestured to the chair next to hers. "We were just compiling Commander Zareb's team."

While Thaine made his way to the offered seat, Zareb retrieved another PADD from his open duffle on the conference table and slid it towards that spot. Thaine stopped its slide, placing a hand firmly on top of it, but sat down in his chair without giving it so much as a cursory glance.

Zareb let his glare linger momentarily on the PADD and Thaine's hand before he returned his attention to the rest of the assembled officers. "We should come back to Engineering when Mister Thaine gets up to speed," Zareb declared flatly. "I've made every effort to guarantee the safety of the Nightingale crew," Jabari said, directing his words to Captain Salinger. "I only planned to have a member of the medical staff on the team if you insisted sir. I take it you will?"

"For something such as this, anything can happen," Matt said. "Yes, I think it will be best. I'd recommend Dr. M'lira. She's highly qualified and rated in a variety of medical fields. Unless you had someone else in mind, of course."

"No," Zareb said, nodding in agreement and making a check on his PADD. "I find Dr. M'lira a fine choice, Captain." Zareb looked up at Thaine. "Which brings us back to Engineering," he said, looking at the junior officer.

Thaine shrugged non-committally. "You can have all the help you want, up to the point where it affects the safety and operating efficiency of this ship and its crew."

"That is not for us to decide, Mister Thaine," Zareb noted. He looked to Salinger. "Captain, the Nightingale will need only one Engineering officer for the test runs but I will require at least two on both Alpha and Beta shifts to aid with the pre-test ship preparations. Would that adversely affect the safety and operation efficiency of your ship, sir?"

Thaine spoke before the Captain could, ignoring Zareb's comments. "I can have a report on the risks these...experiments...are gonna pose to the ship and crew on your desk tomorrow morning, Captain." He looked back to the senior engineering officer with a scowl. "It's the Captain's decision, but my place to inform and advise him of the facts. If your ship is safe, you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

Zareb almost chuckled. "The Nightingale modifications are the result of two years' work by some of the brightest minds at Utopia Planitia. She will be tested in the Gamma Quadrant, Mister Thaine. To put a fine point on it, I'm not at all worried about that."

"Very good," Matt said, verbally stepping between the two officers before Thaine had a chance to say exactly what he thought about the brightest minds at Utopia Planitia. "Mr. Thaine, see that you have that report as well as recommendations for the personnel Commander Zareb will require on my desk first thing in the morning. Were there any other personnel matters that require clearing up, Commander?"

"Only the question of Mason Farrell," Zareb reminded the group. "However, I will await a final decision from you on that matter." He looked to Lyrr and then to Sam. "It seems his appropriateness is still open to debate."

"Agreed," Lyrr concurred.

"We'll go over those who meet your requirements and have someone selected for you before we hit the other side of the wormhole," Matt said. "Until that time, I'm certain that Sam will be able to assist you with any logistic matters that need attention."

"Thank you, Captain."

***

Lieutenant Commander Zareb lingered outside the Conference Room, watching the back of Lieutenant T'Kal grow more and more distant while waiting for the Sulu's Chief Engineer. Thaine emerged from the automatic door without a glance at the superior officer and was almost past him before Jabari put up a wall.

"Mister Thaine," Zareb said in his deep baritone, giving gravity to the name.

"Sir?" The Lieutenant seemed braced for a conflict, his arms naturally falling into a folded position.

"I feel like I must apologize to you Mister Thaine," Zareb began, but Lt. Tagliesh soon stepped through the doors and paused before the two men. She nodded curtly at Lt. Thaine, her pursed lips conveying clear distaste. As she acknowledged Zareb next, her features softened and she favoured him with an innately sultry smile.

"Wonderful presentation, Commander," she commented, then slipped between the two men, with a last look for Zareb, and continued down the corridor.

Both Thaine and Zareb watched her go with very different expressions on their faces but it was the senior officer who got back on track first: "As I was saying, Mister Thaine...I feel I must apologize to you."

Thaine regarded him with a carefully guarded expression. "Sir?"

"This has caught you off your guard and for that I apologize," Zareb allowed. "However, I'm afraid I don't have time or inclination for a long courtship with you," Zareb looked Thaine in the eye. "You don't have to like me, Mr. Thaine, but you will show me the respect that I've earned. Are we clear on that?"

"I don't have to like you, but I still have to call you 'sir'? Yeah, I'm clear. Sir." He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Commander, I'm not picking a fight with you. I'm just trying to keep my ship runnin' smoothly." He waved the PADD in his free hand. "You say I don't have anything to worry about?"

"Captain Salinger's ship is not my concern, Mister Thaine. No, you don't have anything to worry about."

Thaine regarded him skeptically, but yielded with a shrug. "If that's the case, then my report will show that. Sir."

"See that it does, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

---

"Tumult"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal

Location: Commander's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.04 15h45

***

T'Kal stepped into Lyrr's office without his customary smile. Clad in a standard Class A uniform, his hair was pulled back severely at the nape of his neck and his eyes were serious as he regarded Lyrr Tayla sitting at her desk, deep in thought. He pressed the actuator to close the door and its hiss brought the Commander's head up. "We need to talk," was all he said as he stepped closer to her desk and sat. "I need you to tell me what happened on Bajor - from the moment you woke up that morning to the moment you left Bajor. It's important. Did anyone know where you were going? Where you were, besides me?"

Lyrr frowned and she leaned back in her seat to gaze up at T'Kal with slight puzzlement. "What is this about?" she asked warily. "I told you what happened already, and I don't particularly wish to review it. Why are you asking me this now?"

He leaned back. "No, you didn't tell me what happened - not everything. I'm talking about the chronology of events. In particular why Farrell showed up on the same street in the same city as you. He's an Operations officer, and from what I've been able to discover, he's got a pretty little network set up on the Sulu for running things behind the scenes. He had the ability to know where you were - and be there. I talked to him last night. He lied to my face, and told me not to trust you. That he wasn't on Bajor with you - no matter what you'd told me. He actually insinuated that you'd set me onto him. I wanted to know what happened - and whether I could trust him not to use what he knew against you."

Lyrr's eyes narrowed and her voice dropped to a rasping whisper. "You did what?" She thrust herself from her seat and slammed both palms onto her desktop. "Why would you do that? I didn't tell you all that so you could imagine some conspiracy orchestrated by Ensign Farrell. Do you realize how insane that sounds!"

"Do you realize how absolutely unlikely it would be for him to be right there at the precise moment to rescue you? Suddenly saving you from trouble - appearing like a white knight after you've been riding him for so long? Suddenly he's gone from someone you would never trust to someone you defend? It's just too coincidental to accept without asking him how come he was there. I'm not hallucinating anything - but Farrell is quite capable of arranging things to happen so that his problems go away." He looked at her intently. "Up until a few days ago you were his problem." He paused for that to sink in. "Did he know you were there?"

Lyrr stared blindly at her hands flattened upon the desk, and concentrated on slowing her breathing. Farrell hated her, and she had hated him right back. But now, after her rescue? She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as she found her seat again. It was all too preposterous to believe, yet she still considered it as a possibility. "He was in my province," she began quietly. "We ran into each other the third day there. I didn't see him until...until the night it happened." Lyrr clenched her eyes tightly and firmly shook her head before snapping it up to regard T'Kal. "He didn't... He almost didn't make it in time, Ben! If he'd planned on having something like that happen, don't you think he would've stepped in sooner at least?"

"You saw him before?" he asked slowly. "He knew you were there. How did you run into him?"

"In the marketplace," she answered, more forthcoming now. "He scared off some thugs and I confronted him." Lyrr sighed sharply and reiterated forcefully, "I confronted him! If I hadn't approached him that day, he would have had no way of knowing I was there. He didn't plot anything, Ben. And even if he did, what purpose will proving it serve anyone?"

"So he was talking to some thugs? What made you confront him?" Benedict stared hard at Lyrr across the desk. "Were they the same thugs? Did you see them?"

"I-I don't know...no...." Lyrr gave a muffled cry of frustration and glared fiercely at Ben. "Stop interrogating me, dammit," she spat. "Why do you have to push this? I told you because I was confiding in you. I didn't confess so you could turn it into more than it really is! Don't you understand that I don't want to remember this anymore?"

"Your safety is my responsibility," he said slowly. "I am the Chief of Security. It's my duty, Lyrr. You should know that. What if Farrell did arrange it - like he's been arranging other things on the Sulu? He got you off his back by arranging to get you beaten? Payback and payoff at the same time? Think about it! I'll back off if that's what you want, Tayla - but I'm going to keep an eye on Farrell. I'm pretty sure that there wouldn't be anything that would incriminate him - he's good at covering his tracks."

Lyrr sighed. She could barely believe this was happening. "Fine," she muttered. "Do what you want. But I swear, Ben, if what happened to me on that planet comes out...." Her body trembled with contained fury, until it exploded again, with one fist thumping the desktop. "I told you that in confidence, Ben! I didn't tell you so you could turn this into a campaign against Ensign Farrell." Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper and she shook more furiously, but with grief instead of anger now. "I trusted you," she said, staring through blurred vision at T'Kal. "I won't make that mistake again."

"You seriously think that I would discuss this with anyone else?" He stood and looked down at her. "I gave you my word. No one will know what happened to you. It's my duty to inform the captain of an attack against the XO of the Sulu. It's my duty to inform a counsellor that you need help." His voice was harsh. "And for the first time in my life I've set my duty aside. For you. Because I'm in love with you - I want to protect you. I just don't trust Farrell. But I'll leave him alone because you ask me to."

"I don't need help," she told him, punctuating each word sharply. "And I've asked you for nothing except to keep one bloody secret! What happened to me on that planet happened to Lyrr Tayla, not Commander Lyrr. I can function and have been, but if you think otherwise...." She shrugged dismissively and relaxed into her chair again. "Go ahead. Report me."

He looked at her and shook his head. "I've kept your secret, Tayla. I will continue to keep it." His voice was calmer, softly spoken. "You can't separate yourself like that. What happened to you.... I'm sorry if you feel that way. I didn't mean..." He sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," she said with a weak chuckle. "You want to see Farrell brought down. And you'll use what I've told you to do it." She gestured for the door. "So...what are you waiting for? If you feel this ship and its crew are at risk because of him, you have a duty to investigate him." Lyrr again moved forward in her seat, and her brutally stern gaze softened slightly. "Ben," she whispered, "you may not think so, but you have to be able to separate your true self from the officer you are. I asked Benedict T'Kal to keep my secret, and he has. But Lt. T'Kal has an obligation to use whatever knowledge he's gained to protect this vessel. I understand that, and I won't fault you for it...." She sighed and hung her head low. "But I also can't put you in a position like this again. I know that...but I just don't know what to do about it."

He smiled. "Spoken like a true Japanese," he chuckled. "I understand," he said and nodded. "The Eight Fold Fence," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not after Farrell to bring him down." He looked back at Lyrr. "He's shady - slick. He's got a seedy quality about him. I don't trust him. I will keep an eye on him. Your first instinct was to not trust him - I believe in gut instincts. What happens the next time he does something and gets caught out? Will he use what he knows as a sword above your neck? I think he will. You can trust me, Tayla - the real question is how can you trust Farrell?" He frowned, making his brow ridges more pronounced. "He's got you in a real handy position to do anything he likes...you owe him. Right? In the Japanese tradition it's called Giri - a debt of honor and an obligation that has to be fulfilled. He's in a position of power." Benedict shrugged. "As for my position.... I've never done this before either...so we learn how to separate our lives. If that's what it takes - I'll do it."

For the first time since he stepped through her door, Lyrr regarded him with a smile, albeit a wan one. "I shouldn't be asking you to keep such things secret.... I'm sorry I put you in such an uncomfortable position." She paused to reflect upon her hands, folded together before her, then separated them and slid one across the desk, palm upturned, towards T'Kal. Her smile broadened. "I know about Farrell - about how he could use the incident on Bajor against me. But I won't let him, Ben."

He looked at her outstretched hand and smiled, sitting on the desk to take it in his own without having to stretch across the smooth surface. "I won't allow it," he said seriously, kissing her hand. "I do love you," he said looking into her eyes, "and I'll do what it takes to protect you."

Lyrr laughed awkwardly. "I'm still trying to get used to this...love thing. It really catches me offguard, you know?" Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "And I don't need protecting, Ben, not all the time. You can trust me to take care of myself, can't you?"

"No," he smiled. "If I did that I'd have nothing to do... I just wish I'd been with you on Bajor," he said quietly. "I should have been there.."

"You can't be everywhere I am," she told him gently. "And this was a mess of my own making...whether you believe Farrell is involved or not. I went to a bar to ask some questions..." She sighed and lowered her gaze to their hands. "I lied. I wasn't drunk nor did I go there to get drunk. I went... I went there to hire a man for an investigation. I never told anyone where I was going, including Ensign Farrell." Lyrr found T'Kal's eyes again and smiled tenderly. "Ben...I really don't think he arranged that. And it's in the past anyway.... I can't dwell on something like that. There's already too much weighing down upon me."

He nodded. How many times is she going to lie to me? he thought as he looked back at her. "What did you need an investigator for? If you'd asked me I could have used my own contacts. I still have a few." There were many people that owed him a debt of giri - people living now who would have died.

"I didn't want you involved," she told him. "I just...I needed to search for some people.... I figured it would take time, so...." She shrugged. "I just wanted to do it alone."

"This another one of those things you're going to keep to yourself?" he asked with a smile. "I'll make a deal with you...don't tell me rather than lie to me. Okay?"

Lyrr chuckled. "Isn't that the same thing, in the end?"

"Then at least you don't have to keep telling me you've lied," he said without humor.

Lyrr smiled and concurred with a single nod. "I think we have a deal, Benedict T'Kal. And to clear the air... Dinner tomorrow night?"

"Okay. My place. I'll organize the food. I'm not going to the skirt thing...." He smiled down at her. "I didn't imagine you would be."

"I'm not," she answered. "Nothing to worry about there." She grinned and looked down at their joined hands. "So...do couples always reconcile this quickly?"

"Couples...hmmm I like that." He grinned and shrugged. "I hate arguments," he said seriously. "But I like making up. You're cute when you're angry...all that energy."

Lyrr laughed softly and retrieved her hand from his to fold both arms over her chest. "Get out of my office, Lieutenant, before you really see angry," she ordered playfully.

"Yes, ma'am." He stood and grinned at her. "I'd better get to the Security Office, I have some work to do." His face turned serious. "I'll see you in the morning - I have to prepare for Storm's send off, so our game's off." He nodded. Funerals were sad occasions when no body was found. It left a vacant space. "See you then." He backed out of her office with a casual salute, "Commander."

Lyrr nodded stiffly, then softened the gesture with a smile. "Lieutenant," she whispered to the closed door.

Any contentment she had derived from their reconciliation seemed tainted by the memory of what T'Kal had done, and more so by what he implicated about Farrell. He despised and resented her - would he organize an attack against her to humble the "elitist bitch" and ingratiate himself with her at the same time? Or was Ben so infuriated and jealous that he would accuse Farrell of even the most far-fetched crimes if it would turn her against him? Lyrr sighed and covered her face with both hands. Life seemed to be growing more complicated by the day.

---

"Playing Cat & Mouse"
By: Ensign Kremer - Medical Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Ship's Corridors
Stardate: 57908.04 16h10

***

Kremer rolled his tired shoulders as he walked down the corridor. He opted to try and become more of an early riser and make it a point to try and interact with more of the medical staff themselves. He had no problems with most of the medical staff themselves, save for Szerda in particular. Kremer did not know what it was about her but something about that girl set his fur on edge. Idly he wondered if Szerda had ever considered Security as her major in SFA instead. Shuddering Kremer felt his tail curl up and he pushed the thought aside.

Szerda in Security? Pssh! That's pure insanity! The Caitian looked up, instantly spotting the young Drokari female that was currently the talk amongst some of the other male officers on board the ship. Kremer had to admit she was quite attractive, and her long snow colored hair made her look ever exotic. Part of himself couldn't help but feel for the young princess knowing what it was like to be far away from one's homeworld and customs. Quickening his steps he moved to the Turbolift and stopped next to the girl as she waited for the car.

Taking a small dark skinned hand in his large paw, he knelt on his knee and politely kissed her hand in greeting as he had observed by other Terran human males. "Hello my lady, I'm Kremer, I'm honored to meet you."

Shirik was waiting for the lift, lost in her own thoughts, and didn't hear the soft approach of the Caitian. But when something furry took hold of her hand she jumped in startlement, whirling to snatch her hand away, her free hand reaching behind her for her Kemla, which she had taken to wearing in a sheath on her belt as instructed by T'Kal.

She blinked and stared for a moment at the furry creature kneeling before her, the black blade held in her hand. Deeming him harmless for the moment, she frowned, slipped the blade back into its sheath, and composed herself. "Do you always sneak up on women to fall to your knees before them?" she asked. Or was it because she was royalty, she wondered.

Kremer stood and bowed in apology. "Only those of royal stature, I'm sorry if I frightened you, Princess." Clasping his hands behind his back, Kremer pondered if he should have gone with a handshake approach. On second thought it occurred to the Caitian that she would possibly less likely have agreed to that form of greeting as well. "I'm Kremer, Ensign Kremer."

"You startled me," she said, looking to see if the lift had arrived yet. "Ensign Lektar. Operations."

"My mistake. How are you liking it onboard the Sulu, Ensign? It must be awkward for you not being around faces you aren't so used to seeing, I can speak from personal experience," he stated, smiling slightly.

Shirik wasn't looking at him, but at the closed lift doors as she waited. "I spent six years at the Academy," she said, "and have served aboard four starships in the last year. I'm quite used to moving and seeing different faces."

The lift arrived and Kremer stepped onboard the car as Shirik did likewise. "Crew quarters-- Wait, cancel that command." He turned back to face Shirik. "Have you had dinner yet, Ensign? It's the least I can do to show my apologies for startling you..." Kremer spoke sincerely to show that he meant no intention other than to have dinner with the Ensign, and not try to trick her into something else altogether.

She thought about waiting for another lift car when she saw him step inside, but it wasn't a long ride to her quarters, so she followed. She opened her mouth to give a command to the lift when he spoke first.

She refrained from sighing, but did roll her eyes slightly before fixing her violet gaze on him. "Ensign Kremer. No apology is necessary. I am not interested in dining with you. I have my meals in my quarters, alone." She turned back to speak to the air. "Crew quarters."

Restating his own level request, Kremer pondered about this mysterious young woman who insisted that she preferred dining alone. Turning to face Shirik he asked, "Will you possibly at least reconsider my offer? I would at least like to get to you know you more..."

"Perhaps some other time," she said, realizing how rude her earlier response might have sounded.

Purring Kremer smiled slightly. "Thank you, if it makes you feel better, you can even name the time and the place."

The purr unnerved her as she glanced over at him. Everything about him unnerved her, it was like talking to an upright Gunthar. "I'll let you know."

"Excellent."

The ride continued on in silence, neither not apparently knowing what to think of the other. The car finally reached the desired level and Kremer stepped out. "Well, Ensign Lektar, it was nice meeting. I hope that if I'm to meet you next time, it will go somewhat smoother..."

Shirik was glad to escape the confines of the turbolift and proximity to the furry creature. "Indeed," was her only reply as she headed away to her quarters.

Kremer watched Shirik leave before heading down the opposite end of the corridor and shrugging his shoulders. "Hominids, they never cease to confuse me..."

---

"Look Me In The Eye"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla; Executive Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Bridge
Stardate: 57908.04 16h15

***

Relationships. Lyrr had always steered clear of them, and after her less than placid chat with T'Kal, she found more justification for having done so. It was far more drama than she needed in her life, but she didn't plan on breaking things off with T'Kal anytime soon. She was growing fond of him, though she couldn't comprehend how he was able to so easily love her; it was frightening and uplifting at the same time.

With a light, happy sigh, Lyrr strode straight-backed onto the bridge, but her mood plummeted into the depths of irritability the moment her eyes spotted the lone ops officer watching her from his station. He wasn't smiling arrogantly with arms crossed over his chest, as was his usual pose; his expression was flat and serious. Lyrr flicked her gaze away from Ensign Farrell, and focused on not growing angry.

"Evening, Commander," Farrell said simply.

Lyrr bowed her head slightly in response, but made directly for her chair without sparing a moment for pleasantries, especially not with Ensign Farrell. He'd fooled her one time too many.

The text message was waiting for her at her console when she sat: "How is Lieutenant T'Kal today?"

Lyrr frowned and deleted it with a single, decisive jab of her forefinger. Gripping both armrests of her chair to diffuse her simmering rage, Lyrr twisted her upper body around to glare at Farrell. "Ensign?" she questioned with a sharply raised eyebrow.

"Sir?" he asked politely. "Did you want to have a word?"

Lyrr smirked. "I was about to ask the same thing, Ensign." She saw Ensign T'rii at communications arch an eyebrow.

"Fair enough, sir," Farrell nodded. "Did you want to talk right here, then?"

Lyrr glanced around at the bridge crew, each of them surreptitiously sneaking a look at the two. She pursed her lips tightly, then abruptly rose. Pointing a finger at him, then thrusting it towards the entryway, Lyrr marched for the corridor leading from the bridge. She was waiting there, with back propped against the wall and expression conveying her disapproval when Farrell arrived. "Ensign, what have I told you about passing notes during shift?"

"Notes, sir?" Farrell gave a look of mock surprise. "I'm afraid I have no knowledge of any note passed on this ship, especially as it may pertain to a certain incident of which I also have no knowledge, but which certain other officers appear convinced I possess."

Lyrr cleared her throat. She knew this game all too well. "And...what incident would that be, Ensign?"

"A fine question, Commander," Farrell's voice was rapid, but still low, as they could conceivably still be heard on the bridge should voices rise. "I got a visit from Lieutenant T'Kal this morning, and he appears convinced I have knowledge of an incident I've never heard of. Would the Commander care to hazard a guess as to why he thinks that?"

Lyrr smiled wryly. "Because I told him, Ensign?"

"And what exactly was the Commander thinking when she decided to inform the Lieutenant?"

"I would think that her motivations were none of your business, Ensign," she answered delicately. "And she did not think the Ensign would call her a bald-faced liar when the Lieutenant did confront him."

"How would the Commander like me to go about continuing to have no knowledge of the incident? What would the Commander prefer I say?"

Lyrr sighed, ending the charade. "Admittedly, you were keeping your side of the bargain...but you've pissed off Lieutenant T'Kal in the process." She leaned in towards Farrell, and whispered, "He already knows. If he asks again, you can tell him what happened, Ensign. It'll save both of us some grief."

"And you'll call him off?"

She laughed. "Of what? Of asking questions?" Lyrr shrugged. "I tried, but I also can't ask him to cease an investigation if he believes it has bearing on the safety of this vessel and its command staff."

Farrell shook his head. "So you're hanging me out to dry."

"Excuse me?" Lyrr chuckled wryly. "I'm not the one who accused you of lying, Ensign. I actually defended you when T'Kal confronted me. You flat out called me a liar to his face. Who's hanging who out to dry here, Ensign?"

"I was doing what I had to do to keep your secret safe. I had no way of knowing what you'd told him, or if it was accurate, or if he'd pumped you as hard as he was pumping me, or even if he was just guessing. The guy was out of control, Commander. And he came roaring after me like a purple-eyed photon spread in the best jealous rage I've ever seen. Stonewalling him put me on his shit-list, and I need you to call him off before he does something to jeopardize his career."

Lyrr pressed her head back against the wall and groaned inwardly. She was in an inextricable quandary, and it was one of her own making, one it was her responsibility to set right. "Look, Farrell...all I can do is keep assuring T'Kal that you had nothing to do with my attack. I can order him to cease probing for evidence of your involvement...but anything else unrelated to that incident is fair game, as CSO of this ship. It's his duty to investigate anything that might pose a threat to security on this vessel...and even I don't have the power to order him from backing down." She lowered her voice and said, "I owe you and I will repay that debt...but this is something I can't do, Farrell. All I can do is hear your complaints, and if he is stepping out of line...." Lyrr sighed, hoping he didn't. "I'll do what's necessary," she finished reluctantly.

"Stepping out of line?" Farrell said, soft but emphatic. "Commander, this is Lieutenant T'Kal. Mister Intensity? This is the guy who haunted the ship in surface blacks so he could look more intimidating. This is the guy whose trap for the assassin on Risa did not include the use of a simple phaser-stun. The man thrives on personal confrontation, and you expected him to just nod quietly when you dropped this kind of bomb on him? He's a psycho, Commander. And he's going to come after me for protecting you. He's too far gone on you to do any different."

Lyrr smirked. "I don't know what you mean by that, Ensign. I really don't know why he confronted you, or where he got the idea that you were involved, but...." She sighed. He was right about T'Kal's motivations, but Lyrr held hope that it was about more than an overprotective reaction. The last thing Lyrr needed was to be smothered. "Look, Farrell," she said softly, "I'll keep an eye on him, okay? That's all I can do right now, except keep an open mind. I'm not siding with him, and I'm not siding with you. I'm trying to be impartial about this, as Executive officer on this vessel. This isn't about personal debts or emotional ties...this is duty. Believe me when I say that, Farrell."

"I can accept that," Farrell said, "and I know you can accept that. But T'Kal's not going to accept that. He's absolutely infatuated with you, Commander, and he's going to do something vicious. It may not be now, it may not be for a while. But he's got that whole Klingon vengeance-honor foolishness working on him, and this will snap us both in the ass if you don't expressly call, him, off," Farrell punctuated the last three words separately. "I'm not asking you to make him ignore me. Just tell him it's over and it needs to stay that way. You're the only one he'll listen to. You're the only one he'll believe."

Lyrr smiled weakly. "Not if you keep insisting I'm a liar, Ensign. Just...tell him the truth next time, will you?" She kicked absently at a patch of carpet below, watching her foot do so as she muttered, "It'll save us both grief."

Farrell watched her kick at the carpet, and looked back at her face questioningly. That was way out of character for the Lyrr he knew. His mind raced to put a name to the way she was acting. Guilty? No. And not angry, certainly. He'd expected anger, but it hadn't happened. What was with this mood? And then it hit him.

"Oh my god."

Lyrr wrinkled her brow at him and asked hesitantly, "What?"

"For the love of--" he broke off, rubbing his face with both hands. This was a bad dream. "You're gone on him!" he hissed quietly.

Lyrr bristled and jerked her chin up indignantly. "I am not," she protested. "I don't even know what that means!"

"You don't know what that means?" Farrell asked. "I'll tell you what it means, Commander. It means you're the captain all over again. It means you're compromising your command. It means trouble any way you slice it. You begged me, looked me right in the eye, with tears in your own, and begged me not to say a word. And then you told T'Kal? Why? Because he said something sweet and you melted? What else are you going to tell him someday? What if he wants to know something sensitive? Are you going to be able to deny him? Look how he's already reacting, Commander," Farrell was fervent, but not condescending. This was a real concern. "Take a step back and look at this objectively. Please."

"I am," Lyrr replied harshly. "I have been drawing, erasing, and constantly redrawing the damn line between duty and personal issues my entire career. I am not going to suddenly abandon that because of...whatever it is you think I feel for Lieutenant T'Kal." She snorted and shook her head. "Give me some credit here, Ensign. I defended you after all, didn't I?"

"Redrawing the line?" Farrell breathed, his eyes wide. "Commander, take it from me, somebody who's been on both sides of the line. The more you move it, the harder it is to keep track of where it's at. I lost track early, so I'm still an Ensign. If you lose track of the line and screw up now, people are going to die."

Surprise and distress flashed over Lyrr's features, and her body physically pushed back against the bulkhead as if attempting to flee. "What the hell are you talking about?" she gasped. Lyrr was normally able to rein in her emotions, but the potent fear he had triggered chilled her. "I am not going to put this crew in jeopardy." Her only avenue of escape was to narrow her eyes at Farrell, and lash out with: "Damn you for even suggesting it," before shouldering past him and seeking escape down the corridor.

"Commander, I don't want to fight," Farrell said quickly as she brushed past him. He glanced back at the entrance to the bridge, and caught a glimpse of Crewman Freebush as she whipped her head back out of view. Damn, he'd have to deal with that now, too. He turned and went after Lyrr.

"Commander," he called as quietly as he could and still have it carry. She was waiting for the turbolift, visibly trembling.

Lyrr shook her head quickly, the motion seeming to turn her body around towards Farrell. Her eyes were wide and pupils dilated to convey her inner panic, but her lips were twisted into a smirk. "You know my buttons...I figured that out long ago. I just didn't realize before that you knew precisely when to hit them to get what you want. That's the lowest, Farrell." Her voice regressed to a whisper. "The lowest."

"Commander, I don't want to hurt you," Farrell said, keeping one eye back toward the bridge for Freebush's head. "You've been hurt enough. I don't want to see you hurt again. That sounds stupid, I know, especially coming from me, but you've got to believe me on this one. You're in danger, Tayla," he risked the first name again. "Don't start redrawing lines. Please see this for what it is. Please."

Lyrr heard the turbolift beep, signalling its arrival, and her salvation. She chuckled at Farrell in disbelief, but the tightness around her eyes and mouth clearly displayed her consternation. "I don't know what this is, Farrell. All I do know is that you've succeeded in rankling me. Gloat if you must...but I won't be laughing." She stepped onto the lift and came about again to face Farrell. Before the doors could close, she shook her head agonizingly slowly, and whispered, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you matter," Farrell said gently, "and I don't."

And the doors closed.

---

"Charades"
By: Lieutenant Saavar; Science Officer
Lieutenant, j.g. Arthas Hex; Deputy Chief of Security
Ensign Kit Markham; Flight Officer
Ensign T'rii; Communications Officer [NPC]
Crewman Second Class Sally-Anne Freebush; Security Crewman [NPC]
Crewman Second Class Jennifer Hamilton; Operations Crewman [NPC]

Location: USS Sulu, Bridge
Stardate: 57908.04 16h17

***

Lyrr glanced around at the bridge crew, each of them surreptitiously sneaking a look. She pursed her lips tightly, then abruptly rose. Pointing a finger at Farrell, then thrusting it towards the entryway, Lyrr marched for the corridor leading from the bridge.

Six pairs of eyes followed their movement. Some oddball rumor had been floating around about Farrell and the Commander, but there'd been nothing definitive.

T'rii was deeply intrigued. She'd heard the rumor spawn in its entirety two days ago. Accidentally, of course, but she'd overheard Reese from medical comming Sefton to squeal at him about it. She wouldn't ordinarily have listened, but Reese's vocal pitch had sent a spike up on T'rii's console, and she tuned in just to make sure there wasn't a faulty transmitter. She'd sat on the rumor since, uncertain how to react. If Farrell and the Commander were beginning something romantic, they deserved privacy. But such a public display as this was uncharacteristic of them both.

She turned to Hamilton and arched an eyebrow. Hamilton shrugged as she stepped to the Ops console. With Farrell gone, it was her spot. Inwardly she cursed Farrell. Frazier had filled in the rest of the enlisted Ops personnel yesterday about the floater; she'd heard it from some dreamy engineer who was cursing her luck that Farrell was giving the Commander his time. Hamilton wondered oddly if anyone even noticed Chambers, and decided it was probably best if the counselor stayed off most people's radar. Farrell was a trouble magnet, and Chambers seemed too kind a person to get whipsawed into Farrell's life. It was probably a good thing that something lurid about Lyrr and Farrell was growing in force.

Still, this would probably kill the poor woman. Farrell had told Hamilton how Chambers had reacted to the whole Natalia thing, and Hamilton couldn't imagine her taking kindly to rumors about Farrell and the Commander. It was unfair to the counselor to hope that rumors would hide her existence. Hoping it wasn't true, she craned her neck as far as she could, but couldn't see down the corridor.

Hamilton did see Crewman Freebush slip closer to the corridor entrance. Freebush had an intent look on her face, and Hamilton cleared her throat just enough to get the security crewman to look her way. Freebush gave a dramatic sighing gesture of unrequited love and patted her heart with a smirk. Hamilton pointed a warning finger. Freebush smirked bigger. Hamilton made a horizontal chopping motion with one hand and gave her a hard glare. Freebush rolled her eyes and stopped looking. Hamilton was Farrell's little bitch, and of course she'd want him protected in this, Freebush decided. They'd probably have words later, but this little encounter was too juicy to ignore. She could already hear the intent whispers from down the corridor.

Lieutenant Hex looked from Hamilton to Freebush and back, and rolled his eyes. While he had no idea what was going on, his symbiont was hooting to high hell about it:

Oh yeah, Craz said, his meaning obvious.

Ease off the thrusters, Clavain responded. Is that all you think about?

You're a moron, Clavain, Craz shot back.

Both of you hush, Ashly chided. It doesn't look like much of an assignation. They just went to the hall. Looks more like a conference.

Ever the diplomat, Ashly, Gredala commented dryly. It's a spat.

Spats work, Craz quipped. There's always excellent sex after a spat when they make up.

What is it with you? Clavain muttered.

Shut it up. All of you, Hex called down. I'm trying to listen.

When all he heard were the sounds of beeping and chattering stations, Kit knew something was up. He glanced back behind him and noted the direction of everyone's stares, with one eyebrow arched high on his forehead, an expression that Amy always said made him look Vulcanian. A quick head count of the usual suspects left him two short. A second head count revealed the missing persons to be none other than the Sulu Featured Rumour of the Week: Ensign Mason Farrell and the voluptuous Commander Lyrr Tayla. He pointed in the direction everyone was looking and received an affirmative nod. He pointed again, rocked his hips in a rather lewd pantomime of intercourse, and then gave a questioning shrug of his shoulders.

Freebush grinned and pointed down the corridor, blowing Kit a big kiss. Hamilton glared. T'rii tried to get Freebush's attention with a wave. Freebush looked nonplussed by the Vulcan, who was trying to gesture her back to her seat. The security crewman looked at Saavar, who was nearly motionless at his station with his back to the bridge, intent on his scan calibrations.

Freebush flattened against the wall and slid to the opening, peering around just enough to get a look. She watched for a few seconds, and then turned back to the assembly. She frowned and shook a warning finger theatrically at no one in particular. Hamilton made a broad arm-wave to try and get Freebush away from the corridor. Freebush ignored her, continuing her own little charades-game. She stole another glance around the corner, then moved back to make a savage face and claw at the air. Apparently they were fighting down there.

Hex looked confused, then cocked his head as though listening, grinned, and kept watching Freebush.

T'rii could hear whispers, but they weren't loud enough to make out, even with her Vulcan hearing. They seemed to be growing in intensity, though. That was not a good sign.

Hamilton was furious, and kept looking at Saavar. She'd have ratted Freebush's nasty little namesake out to Saavar, if it wouldn't also bring the Science officer's attention to bear on everyone else as well. He had the rank, and he could shut everything down. She only hoped T'rii could hear what was going on. She gave the Vulcan comm officer a questioning look. T'rii shook her head, almost frowning, but appeared to be trying to mouth words as she listened.

Freebush gave another look, and then whipped back, clapping a hand to her mouth. She looked panicked for a moment. She'd been seen. Hamilton sneered at her. Neither Farrell or Lyrr would take kindly to an eavesdropper. Now Freebush was going to get it.

Kit glanced at Hamilton and shook his head, eyes rolling as he watched her seethe. He quickly tapped out a text message and sent it to Hamilton's station. Let them have their amusement, it read. And, don't forget the fate of Gui.

Hamilton read the message, and looked even less happy. She looked at Kit, gave a stiff nod, and stood still at her station, giving Freebush dark looks. T'rii remained intent.

Kit couldn't help wondering what Farrell was up to this time, and he found himself worrying for the Sulu's First Officer. Then again, with her reputation, perhaps he should be worried for Farrell. Or perhaps he should leave them both to it. No, he told himself, you should worry about her, especially if he's managed to fool her into some secret affair. He glanced back at Freebush, wondering if she'd be able to put on the innocent act in time. For her sake, he hoped so. Public flayings were always so unsettling.

Farrell walked back onto the bridge in thought. He stood in the corridor entrance looking at Freebush for a time before realizing everyone but Saavar was looking at him, as well. He looked down then and shook his head.

"Lieutenant Saavar?"

Saavar turned, his attention distracted from a particularly interesting scan of the Bajoran wormhole terminus. He raised a questioning brow at the Operations officer. "Yes, Ensign?"

"The Commander's left the bridge for a few minutes, and I need to check a diagnostic blip. You may want to call for Lieutenant Sam, sir. Just for a few minutes."

It seemed odd to Lieutenant Saavar that an Ensign should appear to be in momentary command of the Bridge. He had not heard the Commander leave - that in itself was decidedly odd. So were the expressions on the other Bridge Officers. Saavar was the senior ranking officer present. He frowned, then nodded. "Permission to leave the Bridge is granted Ensign."

Farrell nodded and left the bridge again.

As the Operations officer strolled into the turbo lift, Saavar walked across a peculiarly silent Bridge. He was missing something. The communications specialist knew instantly that the expressions of the Humans were false - they were 'acting' innocent by the looks of it. But innocent of what? In the absence of an order from Commander Lyrr he seated himself in the Command chair as if it was his by proclamation. "Proceed with your duties, gentlemen," he intoned with a complete lack of expression. He rather liked The Big Chair and he saw no need to call upon Lieutenant Sam. After all, they were only station-keeping.

---

"The Olive Branch"
By: Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal; Chief Security Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Security Office
Stardate: 57908.04 16h25

***

Benedict sat in the solitude of his office, sipping on a coffee from his USS Windsor mug. He was reading through status reports and the seemingly endless requests for detail assignments. He was a little put-out by the new engineering officer. Four security officers were assigned to baby-sit the cargo in the shuttle bay and the man had insisted they be armed with compression rifles. Benedict had compromised. He wasn't about to make the scene any more attractive to gawkers. A level ten force shield and light hand phasers were all that was really needed to secure the cargo. The security officers were also tasked to be on general alert securing the bay rather than the cargo. It brought less attention and was just as secure.

Three replacement officers had arrived from Starfleet Academy to replace the losses incurred recently. They were fresh-faced and very young - inexperienced. Benedict had assigned them to baby-sitters that would take them through the advanced training regimen that T'Kal was instigating on the Sulu. He'd lost three well trained and more importantly experienced officers and received what some of the more belligerent security officers liked to call phaser fodder.

The door slid open, and Mason Farrell entered politely. Lacking his usual swagger, he was all business this afternoon. "Lieutenant T'Kal, sir. A moment of your time?"

Benedict looked up from the terminal and put his mug on the desk before he spoke. He took in the different attitude and the way the man stood. Perhaps he'd thought about the ramifications of the previous night. Benedict was still thinking about Lyrr's words to him. "Certainly, Ensign." He remained seated and did not motion the other to sit, preferring to let him stand. "What's on your mind?" His voice was quiet, but his eyes were fixed squarely upon Farrell's.

"As an Ops Super, it's my job to ensure that this ship runs at optimal efficiency for eight hours of every day. Frankly, I'm concerned, and I'd like to share my concerns with you, officer to officer." Farrell assumed an at-rest position. Clearly he was used to being made to stand.

T'Kal leaned back and smiled. This is interesting, he thought to himself as he nodded. "Go ahead," he replied.

"You're on duty during Beta shift, so your efficiency is my duty," Farrell said. "Now earlier today we had a conversation that I fear may impair us both if we don't get clear of it. I don't have to remind you that an impaired crew risks loss, and loss is something we both find unacceptable, I'd wager. Yes?"

"Fair enough, Mister Farrell." T'Kal sat forward and regarded him with suspicion. "As Ops super you have responsibility over the systems' efficiency, that's granted. My efficiency is my own affair and I don't believe that our prior conversation impairs my efficiency in the least. Certainly I can understand that you might have concerns about being impaired." He smiled as he stood and reached for his empty mug. Turning his back to Farrell he went to the replicator and ordered a refill. "What do you suggest be done then?" he asked as he turned back. He resumed his seat and sipped from the steaming mug.

"The personnel are a system, sir," Farrell said politely. "This morning I played you pretty dirty. I'll admit that. I'm here to clear the air surrounding it. What I need you to understand is that I was filling a duty to a superior officer who ordered me to keep a secret. I've since spoken to that officer and received permission to fill you in on some details, which I am happy to now do, if you're willing to listen. Are you?"

"I'm always ready to listen," he said as he leaned back. He'd been talking to Tayla. He frowned a moment as once again he realized that she had omitted a few pertinent facts this morning. She hadn't told Benedict that she had ordered Farrell's silence. Under the circumstances that little revelation shed a lot of light upon the situation. He chuckled and shook his head. "Well, Farrell, that does explain why you were sticking to your story.. I'd be more scared of her than I would be of me if the situation were reversed. I can't blame you for denying it then." He relented and waved him to sit. "But for the Prophet's sake, Farrell, you could have adopted a less confrontational style.... So tell me what happened. All of it."

"Alright," Farrell nodded and sat. "Here it is. On the night in question, I was on Bajor in the Kendra province tracking down items for the medical department wishlist forwarded to me by Doctor Sefton when she came aboard. I heard a scuffle, and on investigation realized a woman was being assaulted in an alley. I intervened. Let me assure you, none of the attackers will be calling anyone to complain." He let that thought hang suggestively in the air for a moment.

"You killed them?" Benedict's question was direct - his eyes never leaving Farrell's.

"They won't be calling," Farrell repeated, holding T'Kal's gaze evenly. "The woman turned out to be Commander Lyrr, and believe me when I say I was just as surprised to see her as she was to see me. I got her out of the alley, and found her a safe spot to spend the night. And that's. . .it, really."

"You covered for her." Benedict sipped his coffee. "The reason I wanted to know what happened - I'll be blunt. It's too coincidental. You're at each other's throats one minute and suddenly you rescue her - and everything is sweet?"

"I actually thought the same thing when I realized it was Lyrr," Farrell said. "Of all the alleys in all the cities in all the world. But unlikely though it sounds, it was coincidental. As to everything being sweet, the Commander and I aren't pickin' out curtains or anything. As I was getting her settled for the night we had a couple of long talks and resolved a couple of our more glaring personal differences.

"Just between you and me, sir," Farrell continued, bringing his volume down a bit. "I think the whole thing was much harder on her than it ordinarily would have been, and she reached out for whoever was handy, which in this case was me. I suspect this has happened to the Commander before, so her reaction was very strong."

Benedict nodded almost absently. "Alright." He looked up at Farrell and regarded him. He bore the scrutiny for a moment and Benedict nodded again. "As the commander has already said, none of this goes beyond you and I. Ever," he stressed. "If I catch even a hint of it anywhere I'll know who to call on." He stood and walked around the desk to face Farrell. "For what it's worth; thank you. It's my responsibility to see to the safety of the Captain and the XO. She told me because she felt she had to. As to whatever may have occurred in her past - that's her business. I'd seriously recommend that you never even think about it. Understood?" He held out a hand in the Human fashion.

Farrell took the hand, and used it to pull himself up. "I hear you, sir. That was all I had. Did you have anything else, sir?"

Benedict shook his head and grinned. "No," he said casually, "I'll let the commander know that the matter is settled."

"Fair enough, sir. Have a good shift," Farrell said, heading for the door.

Benedict watched him go and sat down behind his desk. That minor incident behind him, he smiled to himself. "Computer. Location of Commander Lyrr?"

"Commander Lyrr is in holodeck three," the computer replied.

He frowned. He'd expected her to be on the Bridge. It was well into her usual shift on Beta. He got up and pondered Farrell once more as he walked out of his office for a walk to holodeck three. All the man needed was enough rope. Benedict decided to pay out a little more - there was time enough for it. He'd make a mistake sooner rather than later. Karma. It was all Karma.

---

"Doubts"
By: Lieutenant Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer

Location: Holodeck 3, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.04 17h10

***

You're compromising your command.

The black ball slammed into the far wall with force enough to flatten it, to silence the voice taunting her, but neither happened. The ball rebounded off the center circle, and the memories continued to replay. Lyrr Tayla growled and swung her arm back for another return.

If you lose track...people are going to die.

Her gloved hand slapped the ball back, delivering all her aggression, and grief, all her fears into the blow that nearly threw her arm free of its socket. It wasn't enough. Strike, after strike, every fall, every collision with the wall of the court, and still Lyrr's mind remained tortured with Farrell's words, and her own revelations. Had she failed to draw the line with Storm after their friendship blossomed? Had it coloured her judgement when it counted the most? She might never know.

Lyrr cried out as she twisted her body around to deflect the ball from behind her back. The ball launched off her glove and hurtled towards the wall, while Lyrr's momentum continued spinning her around until centrifugal force knocked her off her feet. She came down hard on her knees and the heels of her palms, with pain shooting up from both. It was pain she relished and deserved, as she had when Oresh felt inclined to inflict the same upon her. It had meant survival of her spirit, then, and it meant the same now.

She had let Storm down, and suffering was the only method of expunging her guilt and sorrow. If she hadn't given such a lenient recommendation because of their relationship influencing her judgement, he would be in a stockade now, but at least he would be alive. It took Ensign Farrell, of all people, to bring her negligence to light, which was by far the most troubling. If she was too blind to see her failure, then she was already letting down the ship and its crew.

Hanging her head low, she watched the perspiration plummet from her face to splatter against the court, one she'd helped Ensign Storm to design, one he would never play on again. How many more would she let down? And would T'Kal, the man who was stealing her heart, bringing her out of her insular existence, be next? As the ball rolled past her peripheral vision, Lyrr slammed her bare palm against the marked court and launched herself upright again with a cry consumed by rage, by deep-seated panic.

Breathing hard, with hoarse, heaving breaths and dripping sweat burning her eyes, Lyrr Tayla tore off her glove and flung it across the court. She collapsed onto the ground again with knees pushed up to her chin and back pressed against the wall, attempting to curl in on herself and search for a solution to her mental anguish. There she remained, exhaling convulsively after each inspiration, and with fingers threaded tightly into her hair. Her hands covered her ears, so that her sobs resounded deafeningly in her mind, one that seemed devoid of answers.

The doors to the holodeck hissed open as Benedict tapped out his command code. The program was listed as 'StormExtremeSpringball' and that surprised him, as Lyrr was inside according to the computer. She was commander of the ship during Beta shift and yet she was here playing Springball? He felt a momentary unease. His discussion with Farrell in the Security Office had brought him in search of Lyrr. She didn't normally switch shifts and to his knowledge she was still rostered for Beta. He stepped into the court and stopped. His whole attention was centered on the woman sitting in the centre of the court, sobbing. The doors closed.

She hadn't heard as her hands were covering her ears, and his concern was acute as he stepped closer. He didn't know why she was crying, but the program perhaps hinted at a reason. He'd had no idea she even knew Ethan outside of his security duties and her tears seemed wracking enough to be grief. She'd never mentioned it. She kept so many things secret.

He knew her enough not to sneak up on her. He stood a few paces away and stood uneasily. "Tayla," he finally said loud enough for her to hear but not harshly. Her crying was tearing him up - he hated crying females, it always left him feeling totally useless.

She seemed startled, turning her head away quickly and wiping surreptitiously at the streaming tears. Lyrr alternated between anger for the invasion of privacy, and shame for her display of emotions. She settled on casually rising and walking across the court to retrieve her glove. "Off-duty?" was all she said, just brief enough that he wouldn't hear the thickness of her voice.

He was torn between reaching out for her and her reaction to him. He nodded. "You okay?" Stupid question. Of course she isn't. "Why are you crying?" he asked softly.

"I wasn't," she insisted, then stopped in her tracks and sighed heavily. Don't say anything instead of lying, he'd said, and she had agreed. Already the promise had been broken. Lyrr shook her head shamefully at herself and turned to regard him. Her eyes were rimmed red and her cheeks still shone with shed tears. "I was crying...but I'm fine now." She laughed, though it was weak and hoarse. "Broke in here so you could ask that?"

He shook his head and walked toward her, only concern in his eyes. "Right.... I can tell straight away that you're fine." He stopped close to her and looked down into her eyes. "Tell me..." he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong," he amended.

Lyrr let the defenses drop, and her body nearly wilted with their supports now gone. She sighed, and resisted the urge to sink into his embrace, though it was a difficult task. "I'm confused," she admitted. "I'm confused, and anxious, and a little dispirited..." Lyrr smiled wryly and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Pain seemed to radiate outwards from the pressure point instead of subsiding. "Is this wrong?" she muttered. "Am I wrong to be doing this?"

"Crying? Absolutely." He reached out a hand and touched her cheek. "It depends what you're crying over. What are you confused about? Us?" He composed his spirit with effort, his voice was quiet and held no hint of his sudden nervousness. "No it's not wrong," he said. "Why would it be wrong? We live out our whole lives on ships - this is our life, Tayla - if having a relationship with a fellow officer is wrong more than half of Starfleet would be wrong. You know they built the Galaxy Class ships to cater for Starfleet families - so it's not wrong to find happiness. Captain Salinger could give you an answer to that question I think."

"But I'm not Captain Salinger," she explained. "My career is my life - it's the only thing I've had for years. I can't afford to let anything interfere with my duty, my obligation to this crew...." Lyrr turned her cheek away from T'Kal's hand, determined not to be swayed by his affections. "I'm closer to you than I have been with anyone in a very long time, Ben. What if something happens to you? Will I crumble like Crewman Moreau when Storm's death was announced? How can I function like that, Ben! This ship needs me and...and I can't afford to be weak or distracted." Lyrr held T'Kal's gaze, unwilling to display such a weakness now. "I need to focus, and it's been brought to my attention that I may not be doing so. And it's forced me to re-evaluate...things."

His hand dropped away and he stood looking down at her. He wondered who it had been that had brought that to her attention. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his hands going behind his back and clasping at the wrist to stop any thought to fidgeting or reaching out to her. "If anything happened to you, Tayla I would do my duty - as I know you would if anything happened to me. Neither of us is weak. We are who we are and what we are because we've been forged in pain and loss all our lives - like a good sword. You are neither weak - nor distracted. If I thought for a moment that you were I would be the first to suggest we end our relationship. As you said yesterday, we separate our private selves from our rank and duty. Both of us are career officers. There is nothing else for us but this life." His voice softened. "I can speak from experience when I say that love makes you stronger not weaker. It gives you resolution and meaning. Why do you think we're out here, Lyrr? Just to explore? No...we're here to forge relationships with other beings, to expand our own cultures with new places to live and raise families. We're not meant to live lonely lives."

He sighed and looked away. "If you wish to end it then it's your decision to make."

"I didn't say that," she whispered. "I just...I don't know if I'm capable of being in a relationship and performing my duty as executive officer of this ship. I mean...what if something happens to you, Ben? I don't know how I'd react, and I don't know if I'm strong enough to make the hard decisions that sometimes need to be made on a starship, ones that could send you into your death, if the final decision was mine to be made." Lyrr smiled wryly. "You're the only person on this ship I feel comfortable with. Can I really just end this?" She shrugged and watched T'Kal, who was proving quite talented in disguising his disappointment, if he was feeling any at all. "I don't know if I can, Ben," she told him softly. "I don't even know if I should. So you tell me." Reaching out, she cupped his chin in one tiny hand and gently brought his face forward. "Do I need to end this?"

Her response was enough to restart his heart and allow him to breathe, and in relief that was like a breaking wave he sighed and for just a moment and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he gently shook his head and for a long second he gazed into her dark eyes as he came closer. They were barely apart as his hand reached for hers. He wanted to kiss her, it was in his eyes, the relief and the fear. For the first time she could see his fear - open and exposed. The desire he felt for her and the fear of losing her.

"If duty calls me to give my life, Tayla, I will. You know that. It would never be your choice to make. Those kinds of decisions are made out of necessity - and you would make the right choice knowing that I would carry out my duty. I would die as I live, with honour." He was so close that her breath touched his lips and he brushed a strand of dark hair away from her cheek, feeling the moisture still there. He could fall endlessly into those eyes. It seemed as if they reached up to swallow him and he was helpless to do anything but gaze at her.

"But what about others?" she whispered, losing her resolve entirely. "If they don't respect me, trust me...it's no different than if I was neglecting my duties. There've been...doubts." Lyrr clenched her jaw and sighed sharply through her teeth. Farrell had placed those nagging doubts in her, and his intentions for doing so were not yet clear. "I'm losing my confidence," she admitted angrily. "For whatever reason, and it's tormenting me to no end." Lyrr watched T'Kal's eyes sweeping slowly over her features, taking her in as if he truly were kissing her. Her cheeks blushed under the intensity of his gaze, and his proximity to her. He was near enough that her chest brushed against his, and at once she was filled with apprehension, and curious desire. She sighed unsteadily. "Even if we were to end this," she told him shakily, "I still wouldn't be able to function...I don't think. How could I, knowing I'm making you suffer?"

He smiled slowly. "You worry so much. How can being with someone lose your respect, Tayla? They respect you because you are a fine officer and a good commander. The crew respects you because you've made the right decisions in the past, and who's to tell you this one is any different? How can making you happy be anything but a good thing?" He wiped away a tear with his thumb, gently as if he was touching something delicate and beautiful. "I respect you as a Starfleet officer, everyone does. You are no less capable in performing your duty to this ship and crew today than you were a month ago. Nothing has changed. You torment yourself for no reason other than doubting your capacity to love someone else. I have no doubts about you, Tayla. None..." he breathed as he gazed intently into her eyes.

She smiled slowly, searching his eyes. Was it sincerity, or was he simply attempting to lift the spirits of the woman he loved and the truth be damned? Whatever the case, she was flattered and her fears quelled. With one hand, she cradled his cheek, and everything Farrell had said to spook her melted away. Though, there was truth in his words. When it came to T'Kal, her mind could barely think straight, and that might mean danger for the ship in a crucial moment. But in that instant, as she felt her eyes flutter closed and her lips trembling as they sought his, none of it mattered.

She could nearly taste him, their breath mingling, and the warmth of his lips radiating to hers to sear them. There was no true fear, no images of Oresh invading her mind to pull her back. There was only Lyrr's own cowardice. With eyes still closed and mind giving a resounding sigh of resignation, Lyrr's lips altered their course and instead met T'Kal's cheek. She could nearly hear his heart sinking. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

He took her in his arms and held her. She was so light he almost lifted her clear of the deck. He didn't need words to express how he felt. He just held her and breathed in her perfumed hair. She didn't fight it this time, and he didn't want to let her go. He closed his eyes and smiled, being happy enough to let the moment last as long as he could. Finally he drew back and this time he kissed her softly upon the brow, feeling the ridges on his lips.

The tears were banished completely now, for Lyrr felt uncharacteristically secure and protected in T'Kal's arms. None of her concerns seemed valid any longer, but she cautioned herself to always be aware of them, and of Farrell's words. The bastard was constantly playing to her doubts and nurturing them...but he was always keeping her on her toes, which was more than she could say for T'Kal. She laughed softly as her feet cleared the floor and she wrapped her arms around T'Kal's neck for support. Her eyes smiled down at him as they gazed at one another. She wondered how he could possibly have such a powerful effect on her, and influence. "I should get out of here. I need a shower." Her cheeks flushed immediately at the less than choice comment, especially upon remembering one particular shower she would rather had never happened.

He grinned, her words and her flushed cheeks bringing back the memories of that night. "You're right," he said lightly, "you stink...."

Her face sank, and she frowned with slight distress. "I do?"

He laughed softly. "No," he whispered as he still held her.

Lyrr cleared her throat, and wriggled in his hold to get her feet back onto the ground. She stopped when the sensation of their closely touching bodies rubbing provoked an unexpected and unfamiliar reaction for Lyrr: arousal. She sighed, and her frown was now one of perplexity. "I really should go," she whispered.

"What if I told you I never wanted to let you go?" he asked softly with a smile. She was so light, he felt as if he could carry her forever.

Lyrr smiled ruefully. "I'd wonder why," she answered.

"Because...just because..." he said as he slowly let her down. Reluctantly he let her go, his hands resting lightly on her hips as he stared into her eyes. She was flushed and breathing shallowly and her pupils were so dilated it made her eyes look black. He just looked down at her upturned face and moved ever-so slowly, his gaze going to her slightly parted lips. He bent to kiss her, his lips grazed hers softly. A momentary touch of soft skin and mingled breath.

It wasn't an invasive kiss, and her body wasn't pressed so tightly to T'Kal's that she felt smothered; instead, she let it linger, exploring the novel sensation, although the act itself wasn't new to her - Oresh had forced his kisses upon her many times, but they'd left her gagging, not trembling with excitement. She smiled to herself and kept her eyes closed as she lowered her mouth away from his. Like a child eating her first jumja stick, Lyrr passed her tongue over her lips and savoured the residual warmth and taste of T'Kal upon her. She sighed softly and finally opened her eyes to gaze up at T'Kal. "What...what was that for?"

He was still very close, and his eyes had opened almost at the same instant as hers. Her trembling voice ignited a need to kiss her again, but he resisted it; instead he just smiled and beheld her, one hand lifted, grazing her arm as he brought it up to her cheek. "I love you, Tayla." They were the only words he could say. His throat was constricted and they came out sounding hoarse, trembling.

T'Kal seemed so vulnerable in that instant, and seemed to lend Tayla a sense of confidence she should not have normally felt in a situation where someone had gotten physically close to her. She held his gaze without wavering, and smiled serenely. "I don't want you to be discouraged," she told him, "because I can't reciprocate that yet. I don't want to lie to you and tell you something I'm not sure about yet." Lyrr hoped to quell his fears by allowing her lips to touch his again barely perceptibly. Her breath caught and she sighed as she once again stared up at T'Kal. "I care for you," she whispered, "and I'm willing to risk upsetting everything I know, everything I've established in my life up to this point to be with you." Grinning, she said, "I hope that's almost as good as a profession of love for you."

He smiled down at her and as she spoke he realized that she did love him, but she was just too afraid of the words. He ran his fingers through her hair, it was still damp, but he didn't care. His gaze softened and he nodded. "I can accept that," he whispered hoarsely.

"Good," she answered softly, smiling. "That means I can go shower, and won't feel horrible now because I might have to end our relationship for the sake of duty." Lyrr patted his chest lightly and leaned in towards him to whisper, "We'll save that for next time, hm?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're an evil woman, Lyrr," he said softly.

She smiled slyly. "That all depends on who you talk to." Her gaze lingered on his, as did her hand upon his chest for time enough to incite the urge to kiss him again, to warm her cheeks until they burned, but not long enough to give in to the desire. Lyrr exhaled slowly as she slipped past him, quashing the physical yearning T'Kal seemed to evoke in her despite her best efforts in ignoring them. She chuckled and wryly shook her head as she walked off the court, muttering, "And you, Benedict T'Kal, are an evil man."

---

"Waiting For It To Hurt Less"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Crewman 1st Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: USS Sulu, Sefton's Quarters
Stardate: 57908.04, 19h02

***

Red was the colour of the day, if not the week. Sporadic crying throughout that time prevented Shyla and Cris' eyes from being any other colour, unless either of them spontaneously decided to bring heavy black eyeliner back into fashion. Both of them still wore their indigo uniforms, although Cristobel had discarded his overjacket. Shyla was seated on one of the chairs by the dining table, while Cris was perched on the sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest. Cristobel was watching the stars outside the viewport, silently wishing they could be the spears of light apparent while at warp speed. Everything felt too still to Cris. And this scene felt all too familiar.

Sefton couldn't determine precisely how this felt to Shyla. The intensity of her grief would have required an entire bundling up of his telepathic senses to empathetically avoid, but he had made a promise, over a month ago, to keep the details of her head out of his own head.

Cristobel looked over at Shyla languidly; breathing out slowly, he asked, "Do you want to play a game?"

She looked down at the table. "Ethan loved games," she said, sniffing deeply. Cris opened his mouth but fumbled for words badly enough so as to be completely incomprehensible. Shyla slowly managed to smile.

"Cris," she said.

"Huh?"

"I was trying to make a joke." Her lips trembled a little with the words.

Snickering, Cristobel lightly shook his head. "You surprise me sometimes."

"Well, don't think I'm over everything yet," she said, looking up at him with an incredible amount of hurt in her eyes.

"Do you know how to play 15/51?" Cris asked, hoping a game really would be a good distraction.

"No..." Shyla admitted.

"Twelve Shots?"

"No..."

"Photon Phrenzy?"

"Cris, I was a studious child..."

"How about Four On The Couch?" Cris suggested desperately.

"Yeah," Shyla said with some enthusiasm, which was then deflated. "But there's only two of us."

"Right. And Kit and Amy are probably having sex now. And Viraj is on duty. And Corran would only make us three." Making a slow realisation, Cristobel's head dropped, his bangs drooping over his eyes, and his voice dropped as well, "...But I've been kind of neglecting him lately."

"You shouldn't," she said. When Cris looked up at her, she clarified: "Neglect him, I mean. I know you're trying to be here for me but you shouldn't do that at the expense of Corran. When I think back about all my stupid double shifts and all the extra time I spent away from Ethan, I feel sick about it."

Following a hard blink with opening his eyes even wider than usual, Cristobel admitted, "You sound like a Pakled."

Shyla's eyes opened up a little too. "At least they're smarter than they sound," she said, not really taking offense. "But I didn't think I was still being completely incoherent. At least, not like before."

"I just mean that your language sounds broken," Cris contritely explained. "Usually I can relatively cope with only hearing a person's verbalised words, without telepathically reading the intention of their communication, but I'm... everyone is exhausted. It's difficult. ...I'm sorry."

Shyla got up and moved over to the sofa, sinking down next to Cris. "Well, you don't have to stay out of my head anymore," Shyla said, reaching over and holding his hand. "You know everything now."

"Thank you," Cristobel smiled broadly at her trust. Suddenly concerned, Cris blurted, "...Not that I want to go mining through your thoughts. ...Not that I even could dig through anything other than your surface thoughts in any normal circumstance. I just - the Vulcans on this ship keep telling me that, in theory, I can deactivate my telepathy, if I so chose. I've certainly scoured my mind at a subatomic level, but I still cannot find that damn 'off switch'. Subconscious perceptual filters keep out excessive background noise, but it still takes effort to keep the thoughts of someone I'm otherwise focusing on out of my head. It just feels like there's more important things to direct my effort towards - especially in Sickbay."

"You'd think the Vulcans would understand your telepathy a little better," Shyla nodded, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry that it took a lot of effort to filter me out before. I didn't know it was like that."

"You made it easy," Cristobel reassured her. "Since the alternative was not spending time with you, the effort was worth it. And you had your reasons." Somewhat unsurely, he asked, "...You did have reasons for needing privacy, didn't you?"

"People treat you differently, Cris," she said before she squeezed his hand again. "Most people treat you differently, I should say. I told some people at the Academy and I didn't have friends anymore...I had people rooting for me." She looked down in her lap. "I didn't want that here. I understand it...it makes perfect sense to put some distance between you and a terminal but..." she trailed off, leaving the caveat unspoken.

"But it's gorram stupid," Cris insisted. "There's this moment to revel in. Even when there's not much to rev about."

"Don't swear," Shyla said, blushing a bit at the UT's translation of gorram. "Humans and Betazoids may look a lot alike, Cris, but we're so different culturally and from person to person. I imagine Betazoids learn to react much differently to many things, especially considering you get immediate feedback on what the person feels about your reaction."

"Then, I will trust that, from person to person, there are some Terrans on this ship who can appreciate that we're all terminal, regardless of various conditions," Cristobel decided. Again realising the implication of his words after he shared them, he amended, "Not that I'm going to be publicly announcing your Kelway's Syndrome."

"I appreciate that," Shyla said, her face passing behind a dark cloud again. "I'm just not sure if it matters anymore."

"Why wouldn't it matter?" Cristobel worriedly asked.

Shyla considered the question. "After everything else and considering what I have coming in the next eight months, it seems less important if I have friends or sympathizers." She looked at Cris and tried to smile. "I think I'll need both."

"The entire Sulu is your support system," Cristobel assured her, squeezing her hand back, before letting his voice change conspiratorially. "And, in case you didn't know already, I have an in with the senior staff in the medical department."

Shyla head sank down onto Cris's shoulder. "She's very good from what I hear." Shyla let a small yawn escape and squeezed his hand one last time before fading away. "Just like her son," she said in a sing-song just as sleep found her.

---

"Broken Pottery"
by Lieutenant Mark Thaine

Location: Mark Thaine's Quarters
Stardate 57908.04, 19h54

***

"Evenin', Chief," Petty Officer Hanako Ito greeted Thaine with a brief flash of a smile as he walked into Main Engineering, and handed him a PADD. "The latest warp fields analysis," she explained.

Thaine nodded, scanning the PADD. A few fluctuations here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. He looked back up at her. "You still on duty?"

"Yes...I'm covering for a friend. They wanted one last look at Bajor before we leave for the Gamma Quadrant." She didn't bother asking if Thaine was on duty. As far as she'd been able to tell, the Chief was always on duty.

Opening his mouth, about to speak, Thaine found himself interrupted by his comm-badge chirping. "Deep Space Nine to Lieutenant Thaine." The voice was young and male. Probably human, though possibly Bajoran.

With a sigh, and a roll of his eyes that made Ito smile, Thaine tapped his badge. "Thaine here."

"Lieutenant Thaine, there's a high priority transmission coming through for you. Would you like it put through to your quarters?"

"No, my office," replied the engineer. I'll take it in there. Who's it from?"

On the other end of the transmission, there was a noticeable pause. When the man finally spoke, there was a trace of puzzlement in his voice. "Admiral Jonas...Thaine?"

The engineers in his department had heard Thaine swear before, often and regularly. But never quite with so much feeling, as he stormed into his office and locked the door behind him.

*** Mark Thaine's Quarters, two hours later ***

It beeped again.

Thaine raised his book of Wordsworth (because, dammit - poetry belongs on real paper, not some electronic substitute), and raised it in a threatening manner toward the console in his quarters.

It beeped again.

Thaine changed his mind at the last instant, and threw his empty coffee mug instead. It missed by a wide margin, and smashed on the far wall.

Broken pottery lay on the floor, a rather fitting testament to his situation.

He hadn't spoken with his father in a long time, and he had no wish to change that. Nor had his father, the last time he checked. Which left him wondering why Admiral Thaine seemed so insistent. He'd been trying to contact him all night. Mark had refused to receive the transmission.

Well, first things first.

"Computer, block transmissions from Admiral Jonas Thaine to these quarters for the next 24 hours." After that long, he'd be in the Gamma Quadrant, and it wouldn't matter. "Don't notify me if he tries to contact me any more."

"Affirmative."

With a deep sigh, the engineer turned his attention to his report, due on the Captain's desk the next morning.

***

"....and so I must conclude the Nightingale poses little danger to the ship, or its crew, so long as adequate safety measures are in place, open bracket, see Appendix one point three one, close bracket..."

Thaine continued dictating to the computer, finishing up his report to the Captain on the Nightingale and her systems. He'd studied them intensely, almost hoping to find some flaw or deep rooted problem in the designs that would render them unsafe, but he had to grudgingly admit that there was little danger posed by the 'experiments' Zareb wanted to run.

He finished up the report by suggesting Lieutenant Ashbury or Petty Officer Ito. While he didn't really care to lose either, even for a short while, both had shown to be competent and efficient. As an afterthought, he added Ensign Thompson. It would be a good experience for the young officer.

His console beeped again, letting him know another transmission was incoming.

"Computer, is the transmission block from Admiral Jonas Thaine still in place?

"Affirmative."

"Then who's this one from?"

"Transmission received from Commander Marie Thaine, Starfleet Research and Development."

Marie Thaine. His mother.

Mark sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright...open the damned channel."

***

"Please, Mark..." His mother was always naturally calm. She'd probably have made a gifted counsellor, if her heart hadn't been set on research and science. "He wants to talk to you. This may be the last chance in a long while. The Gamma Quadrant is a long way away..."

"No."

"But...why?"

"You know why." He sighed, and ran a hand over his dark eyes. His mother often told him he'd inherited that dark gaze from his father. Certainly it hadn't come from his mother; her pale blue eyes were rarely anything close to stern. "He had more than twenty years to be my father. He should have done something then, but he didn't."

"He wants to correct that--"

"He can't!" Thaine's fist slammed against the desk next to his console, angrily, before he sighed and dropped his gaze. "He can't," he repeated, calmer. "He can't make up for all that time. And I don't want him getting involved in my life. It's nothing to do with him, and it never has been."

"Will you at least give me a message to take to him?" His mother still maintained her composure, though the engineer could see the pain in her eyes. He hated speaking with his parents. It was nothing but pain and anger all around. "Please, Mark..."

"Tell him I'll be back. And I'll be fine. I have been for a long time now."

Realising that was the only concession she was going to get out of him, his mother nodded. "Alright, Mark. Please, take care out there. And you know you have our love."

"I'll be fine, Marie."

She nodded again. "I'll speak to you when you return. Goodbye, Mark. Safe journeys."

"You too. Thaine out." The channel closed at the command, winking into blackness, leaving Mark alone with his broken pottery, lying on the floor.

---

"Sympathetic Ear"
By: Captain Matt Salinger
Lieutenant Xayella Tagliesh

Location: Captain's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.04, 23h55

***

Xayella Tagliesh sighed in her sleep and rolled over onto her back. One, bare arm fell across the empty side of the mattress, where Matt's body should have been, and her unconscious mind immediately recognized the inconsistency. Her eyelids cracked open and groggily shifted aside to the pillow still bearing the depression of Matt's head, and the folded-back sheets that alluded to his departure. She'd tried to lift his spirits earlier, attempted to soothe him with tender kisses and caresses, but he'd rejected even that. It was the first time he'd refused a night of lovemaking; she knew, then, that he was taking things harder than he let on.

Rubbing awake her tired eyes, Xayella sluggishly slipped out of bed. The skirt of her silken nightgown fell easily back into place over her legs, and tickled the tops of her feet as she walked across the bedroom. From the doorway, Matt was visible, sitting in his chair facing the viewport, and staring out at the stars. She smiled fondly at the image and leaned against the doorframe to watch. "Am I that unappealing that you'd prefer to watch the stars?" she asked softly, but with a touch of sarcasm.

"It's not that," Matt said. "I watched you for awhile, but...but you were sleeping so peacefully, and...I guess I didn't want to disturb your sleep by brooding and doubting."

Xay shrugged and started forward. "I wouldn't have noticed." She grinned. "I was sleeping, remember?" Stopping beside his chair and following his gaze out the viewport, she tentatively laid her hand upon his shoulder. The tension there was obvious. "I know what's wrong," she whispered. "Why haven't you told me?"

"It's difficult," Matt said. "To lose a member of your crew, someone you had sitting across from you at your desk, who you advised, who you...you judged. I don't know if we'll ever know what happened, how he..." He shook his head. "I keep going over my actions, trying to see if it was anything I did."

It was difficult not to, but Xayella withheld an incredulous laugh. "Matt...no one could have predicted something like that happening." Sighing, she stepped in front of him, drawing his focus completely on her. "Don't you dare tell me you blame yourself," she told him sternly. "He was your officer, and because of some stupid code you seem to have, you feel responsible for his safety...but in this instance, it's misplaced, Matt. It isn't as if you were ordering him into battle. This was just supposed to be a piloting mission. It isn't your fault."

"I don't blame myself exactly," Matt said, looking up to meet her gaze fully, "but I am questioning myself. Was there anything I could have done differently? Could this have been prevented if things happened differently? In the end, I keep coming back to: There isn't enough information. We don't know what happened. It's likely we never will. And, now...I guess I just feel...a sadness. I knew him. I talked with him and...and I was his captain. He wasn't some anonymous name on a Dominion War casualty list. The ones you know are always the hardest."

Xayella sighed, and softened her expression with a smile. "You're allowed to feel that way," she told him. She cradled his cheek in one hand, and felt him pushing into it. "I'm sorry it hurts. But he knew what he was getting into when he joined Starfleet. He would consider it an honour and a privilege to die fulfilling his duty to this ship, this crew." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Holding his gaze, she whispered, "And her captain."

Matt slipped his arms loosely around Xayella. "Thank you," he whispered.

She shrugged dismissively and gingerly sat herself across his lap. "The crew needs their captain," she explained. "We can't have you mourning forever. But, I imagine they respect you more knowing that you do care about your officers. It's comforting."

"There will be a memorial service for him tomorrow," Matt said. "Full Starfleet honours. Though, it'll all be guesswork. Perhaps Shyla Moreau can provide us with a little information about his likes and dislikes and what he might have wanted for something like this. Though, it may be best to open the service to allow his friends and colleagues to honour him in a manner of their own choosing."

Xay nodded slowly. "And...what did you tell his parents?" she asked carefully.

"The usual things," Matt said. "I assured them Starfleet would continue an investigation into the destruction of the shuttle. He was a good officer and a good member of the crew. I hate making those calls."

"Hopefully you won't have to make them too often, then." She kissed his cheek affectionately, then attempted to coax a smile from him with one of her own. "Are you going to stay out here much longer? It's lonely in there without you."

"No," Matt said. "I think I'm ready to come back. I'm sorry to get you out of bed, my love."

She smiled. "It's okay, I wasn't very tired." Eyeing him suggestively, she added, "Didn't have any reason to be."

"Oh, I think I'm getting a hint here," Matt said with a grin that matched the look she was giving him. "Shall we go wear ourselves out so we can sleep?"

"If you're up for it," she answered, though her smile indicated she hoped he was. "We can keep talking if you want."

"Why don't we head back to the bed and see what we're up for once we're there. We might be able to do both...for a bit."

Xay chuckled richly, then slid off his lap. Her hand now held his. "No more dwelling on things out of your control," she chided tenderly.

"No more dwelling," Matt said as she tugged his hand up, and he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. As he stood, his arms slipped around her. "So, let's go find a new view from which to enjoy the rest of the night."

"For you," she quipped as she backed them towards the bedroom, "it's the view from the top, tonight."

"Looks like my lucky night then," Matt said. "Though, I like the view from any angle."

She laughed lightly and embraced Matt as they moved. His spirits were up, but she knew the pain and guilt still ran deep. Only time could truly alleviate those.

---