"After Plak Tow"
By: Lieutenant Saavar - Science Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19, 00h20

***

Shirik woke to the sound of her alarm. Although she'd slept through the majority of Beta shift, she still felt tired and sore. But she had things to do, and slipped from bed to dress. She considered what to wear, torn between the formality yet protection of a uniform, and the comfort yet vulnerability of something casual. She decided to risk the casual, donning a grey pullover turtleneck sweater and black slacks. Her hair she tied in its usual braid, and made her way to Saavar's quarters.

She'd taken the liberty herself of removing the last piece of physical evidence of her presence there the night before, altering the replicator logs of his quarters, changing the replicated uniform and recycled clothing in the log to a mug of Vulcan tea, so it looked like nothing more than he'd had a drink and recycled the mug.

She reached for the chime at his door, expecting he would know who it was, sensing her presence.

Saavar had returned from the Bridge only a short time ago. He sat in the darkness of his room, staring at the stars outside of the view port and considering the implications of the previous evening. He had established a mating bond with Shirik Lektar, a Drokari, though in many respects he had discovered that she was very kin to Vulcan. He mused that there may be Vulcan blood somewhere in the Drokari ancestry.

The night had been mind-opening. Saavar had not realized how much of an effect a mate bond with an emotional species would have on him - especially with his Romulan ancestry. Romulans had foregone the emotional controls that s'at and the teachings of Surak had given the Vulcan race. Instead they embraced their emotions and lived the warrior's life, revelling in their ferocious blood. Drokari were very similar. Saavar could feel it through his new blood bond. He was free of Tagliesh, free of the irritant non-compatible mind that had rubbed him raw with uncontrolled energies and wild emotions. Instead he had Shirik Lektar's presence; a cool calm sea upon which he could rest if need be. His emotive control was reestablished, but he remained as before, free to feel if he chose. As his Bridge watch had passed, Saavar had considered his new situation.

He could ask the captain for a shuttle and sufficient time to reach Vulcan and back to reestablish his bond with T'Sirra his wife, or he could continue with his present circumstance, if Shirik was amenable, and explore the experience. It also had the benefit of retaining privacy and not interrupting the ship's mission.

The Vulcan officer was under no illusions as to his relationship with Shirik. It was one of mutual benefit only. She had saved his life, and he had assuaged her inner needs that she had locked away for over a decade. It was a freedom experience for both of them.

The mind meld had shown him many things about Shirik that she may well be unaware of - and one of those things was a growing desire for the Sulu's Chief of Security. Though he knew from her memories that he reciprocated some connection with her, he remained fully committed to Lyrr Tayla and Shirik had settled for a friendship. Shirik herself was still coming to terms with strange feelings she was experiencing - and none more strange to her than the new relationship she had with Saavar.

The Vulcan smiled. The facial expression was no longer merely a mimicked movement of one hundred and three facial muscles to achieve a certain shape. He felt the smile. He also had felt Shirik's sense of satisfaction that mirrored his own. In truth it was more satisfactory a union than Saavar had experienced with T'Sirra. T'Sirra was very properly Vulcan. Her pursuit of logic was irrefutable and correct for a Vulcan, but she had always been concerned for Saavar's own lapses. She had been concerned greatly after his return from Romulus and had briefly considered seeking a new mate, but Saavar had managed to argue effectively for their continued union. That would have been very difficult for Saavar, for finding another mate would have been almost impossible on Vulcan.

His thoughts were interrupted by the presence that had come to his door. Shirik was standing outside and he smiled as he felt her mind in proximity. She hadn't reached for the chime and he said, "Come," so that the computer opened his door. He turned to regard her, a silhouette in the doorway as light streamed in behind her. He turned his smile to her as he nodded for her to enter.

He stood in his voluminous Vulcan robe, metallic green and unadorned. He waited as she entered and the door slid shut, sealing them in darkness only illuminated by starlight. She was the same picture of black and white tones as the previous night. She obviously liked the dark grey and black in casual clothing. She was beautiful, and a composed vision of calmness that he appreciated.

Shirik stepped inside silently, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as the doors closed behind her. Saavar was one of the few who liked low light levels like she did; she always felt comfortable when she entered his room. "Suk mikil," (Good evening) she said softly. He was now one of the few on board who knew any of her language, and she found she liked that as well. In fact, she was surprised to find she liked a lot about what had happened here the previous night.

"Suk mikil," he intoned quietly, using her own tongue.

She moved into the room to join him where he stood. "I don't know if you were expecting me," she said softly. "But I felt I had to come here tonight." She wasn't even sure what she had come to say, but she had to come, she felt almost compelled to. Was that part of the bond? she wondered.

"I understand," he said in her own language. "I was neither expecting you nor surprised by your presence," he smiled. "I am pleased to see you. I hope that this morning wasn't considered a serious lapse of duty. I apologize for making you late." His eyes held hers and there was an open amusement in them. "Would you join me in some tea?"

"It's been taken care of," she said, not elaborating and purposely keeping exactly how it had been taken care of out of her surface thoughts, turning her mind to the present. "Yes, I'd like that, thank you." She switched to Standard, and moved to have a seat near the viewport.

She watched him as he went to get the tea, studying him in a way she hadn't before, as a man and a sexual partner rather than just a teacher, and as a friend. At this moment, there was no one on the Sulu she was closer to, in so many ways.

He returned to her with a small tray and prepared the tea. After serving to both of them he sat beside her, turned so that he could look at her over the rim of his cup. "I must thank you," he said in Standard. He gave her the courtesy of switching languages as she had moved away from her mother tongue, though he could easily have conversed fluently in her own. "We have much to discuss," he sipped some tea.

"Thanks aren't necessary," she said with a small smile, cradling the cup in her hands. She blew gently at the steaming liquid without drinking yet. "Indeed," she agreed. "Last night was...very unexpected." Her eyes studied his face, meeting his gaze. She decided to let him speak first, and see what he had to say about it all.

He nodded. "Yes," he said softly. "It seems that we met each other's needs." He placed his cup on the table, a part of him wanting to reach for her hand to reestablish the contact but he resisted the impulse. Instead he folded his hands together in his lap. "I have considered much in your short absence." His grey eyes regarded her intently. "You are aware of the implications of the bond we share. For myself it is a comfortable and satisfactory circumstance. I will not suffer Pon Farr for a further cycle of seven years, and I see no immediate need to reestablish the mate bond with T'Sirra until after we return to the Alpha Quadrant unless you have an immediate concern which would of course override my own desire."

"And then some," she smiled a bit. His desire for closer contact was shared by her, but for now she too ignored the urge. She sipped her tea then likewise set it down. She set one hand in her lap and the other on the back of the sofa, within reach should he wish to touch it.

Her violet eyes were bright and alert. She nodded. "It wouldn't be practical to do it any other way. If what you're asking for is my permission or approval..." she smiled again. "You have it."

He smiled then, and looking into her eyes he reached for her hand. The smooth meshing of surface and subsurface thought was completely without effort, as it had been with T'Sirra. His mind was alight with both gratitude and a comforting reassurance that he would respect her needs and privacy. She could clearly see that the bond had touched a deep part of Saavar and was awakening in him a desire to explore further what the emotional implications were for him.

She curled her fingers around his, liking the reassurance of the bond as it linked them more fully once more. She too had been touched deeply by what happened the night before. She had gone into it at first expecting only sex, but it was much more than that, it became a sharing of self the likes of which she'd never experienced before in her life. Unlike T'Sirra, she embraced his emotional side, welcomed it. She encouraged his explorations, what would only be a discovery of self, something no one should discourage.

Six months of this closeness didn't seem like any big hardship to her, and she was interested in exploring it just as much as he was. She was certain it would be a unique experience that would stay with her always, regardless of what happened with it.

Their agreement was a mutual duality of thought that rippled through their shared mind as Saavar reached to place fingers on her face in the traditional Vulcan embrace of the Meld. They stayed that way for almost an hour, intimate sharing of mind and exploration of memory that was truly unique to the Vulcan meld. Her memory became his and vice versa. Intellectually his cool thought processes and the teachings of Surak on applied logic would give her the ability to focus her concentration and assist in controlling her emotional responses. Her embrace of emotions and explorations of her past allowed him to gain perspective on his own, and her, desires and emotions. It was a mutual learning experience.

Saavar's fingers brushed her cheek and throat as he felt her pulse quicken with the memories and the twinned sharing of their previous night and the rage of the blood fever. It stimulated her which in turn did likewise for him. Vulcans, contrary to popular myth, did feel desire, only they chose to control it or suppress it. Saavar chose neither. He embraced it and fed it, and his lips found hers in a caress that once again ignited the flame of passion between them.

She sighed, and smiled against his lips, her eyes, which had been closed during the meld, opening once more. "Saavar.... I don't think I can do this again so soon..." she said quietly with a smile. Oh, she wanted to. But after the last two days, her body had taken a beating. "And I will not be late to shift again."

He drew away slightly and nodded, complying with her wishes, though he did want to explore the new sensations that she evoked in him. He smiled and stood, still holding her by the hand. "Yes," he said softly. "Your restraint is correct." He knew that he had not hurt her, and knew also that their ardor would not match that gained during the fever. He drew her to her feet. "You are most welcome to stay or go as you will," he said. "I too am tired and will sleep."

She wanted to as well, but not yet. Not now. She brought his hand to her lips to kiss it lightly before he helped her up.

He left the invitation open as he drew away, clearing up the cups and tray.

She stood there, watching him clean up, and was torn. She could sleep here as well as her own room, likely better. But she didn't want to risk being seen leaving here in the morning again, and she certainly didn't want a replay of this morning. But she wanted to stay. "I'd like to stay," she said quietly at last. "But I'll have to leave early..."

He gave her a slight smile and a simple nod of his head that said that was fine. "I will wake at the hour of your choosing," he said. "I neglected to do so this morning." He returned the items to the recycler and preceded her into his bedroom where he changed into a light sleeping robe.

"I think I should be away by 0500," she said. That would give her time to get back to her own room, get a tad more sleep, and go back to her daily routine. She shed her clothes and slipped into the bed naked, watching him change and waiting for him to join her.

He did. Slipping between the cool sheets he turned so that she could lay curled inside his welcoming arms. He smelled the perfume she used in her hair and the warmth of her body against him was both yielding and comfortable. He pulled her closer, curling his legs behind hers so that they touched along their whole bodies. She was quite small curled next to him, her skin was so soft as he stroked her thigh, just to feel the sensation of her skin. He smiled again in the darkness, listening to her steady breathing, and the gentle contact of her mind as he meditated toward sleep.

She snuggled against him, her warm back against his chest, and smiled in the darkness. She liked the feel of lying next to him, of not being alone. She'd forgotten just how good it felt to share a bed, and only now realized just how much she'd missed it. "Good night, Saavar," she whispered.

He slid his hand along her body until he held her hand in the darkness. "Good dreams, Shirik," he whispered into her hair. Her mind was curled against his, the contact soothing them both as they drifted to sleep. Saavar's logical mind counted the seconds until 0500hrs and he did not dream, only held Shirik in his arms and slept peacefully.

She smiled, at peace and very content. She felt safe and comforted, and trusted him to wake her this time. Her fingers twined with his and she drifted off to sleep.

---

"Dances With Tigers"
By: Lt. Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
Lt. Saavar - Science Officer

Location: Various, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19, 05h00

***

Saavar's eyes opened. His mind was clear yet fuzzy until he realized that Shirik lay curled against him, her mind still wrapped in sleep. She was facing him, and he was turned so that she lay in his arms with her face nestled in the crook of his neck. Her soft breath caressed his skin and she murmured with the first tentative stirrings of Saavar's mind. Her white hair was a cloak that covered the pillow behind her and draped off the bed it was so long. His hand brushed the small of her back, gently sliding up her spine as his thoughts roused her from sleep. The Vulcan felt her respond in her semi-doze, reaching out with her mind to find his, to feel the comfort of the bond as if she was born to it.

She nestled into him closer and he drew both arms around her, allowing her to feel his body's warmth and comfort as she could feel his mind. He woke her gently, whispering in her mind to call her to consciousness. It was a strange sensation for Saavar, to feel her immediate emotional response to his mind and body. He wasn't prepared for it, but he did welcome it. It was enriching his experience and lending more color to the texture of their unique bond. He realized that there was nothing in any of his prior experiences that rivalled this new found landscape of emotional terrain.

Shirik's eyes fluttered open with a soft sigh, and she smiled when she saw where she was. "Good morning..." she whispered. "Is it time?"

"It is 0500 as you requested," he whispered. "And yes, it is a good morning," he added softly.

She raised her head to kiss him softly. "I'd almost think you like having me around," she smiled.

He frowned slightly until he realized that she was using humor. "It is not difficult to discern," he smiled. "I am enjoying your proximity...mind and body." His fingers traced a line down her spine. He did not wish to move, he felt profoundly comfortable.

She shivered as his fingers moved along her spine. "Mmmm... I am, too," she murmured. For a long lazy moment she just lay there, also unwilling to move. But she knew she had to leave. "I wish I could invite you to spend the night in my room sometime...but alas, I have a roommate. Just another reason to get promoted." She smiled. She kissed him once more before reluctantly sliding away from him to get out of bed. "I have to get going..."

"There is no need for me to spend a night in your quarters," he said slightly puzzled, "unless there is some significance that I am ignorant of?" He allowed her to slip away and he watched her lithe body as she sat on the edge of the bed. He felt a tingle of desire for her, and yet did not pursue it.

"I know, it's just a silly sentiment," she said, braiding her hair as she sat on the edge of the bed. "There's no real difference, it's just that the room is mine, instead of yours." She smiled, feeling his desire in the bond. It made her feel good, knowing that she could inspire desire in him for her. She cast a sultry look over her shoulder at him. "If I had more time, I might stay," she purred.

He smiled and ran a finger up her back, making her jump slightly in the way that he had learned she particularly enjoyed.

With a grin she got to her feet and slipped back into her clothing.

"I believe I will begin early today," he said as he watched her get dressed. "I will work a double shift - that would be the most productive use of my time." He sat on the edge of the bed where she had just vacated. It was still warm. "I enjoyed your company, Shirik, you are most welcome to stay here when the situation allows. I am aware of the personal ramifications of what we are entering into, and I will respect your privacy as I know you will respect mine."

She turned back to face him and nodded. "I'm sure I'll be back to visit again," she said with a small, almost shy, smile. "Don't work too hard." With that, she turned and slipped from the room.

She went back to her own room, slipping inside, changing into her exercise suit, and slipping back out again. She felt really good this morning, and had energy to burn. She headed for Holodeck 3.

***

The holodeck was configured for Benedict's running program. He was making good time, pushing himself this morning to burn away the cobwebs. He wore a standard hot weather variant uniform and running boots with a sling pack and standard equipment. He held a phaser compression rifle in his hands - emulating a full field kit, he was conscious of a slight weight gain and was damned if he was going to keep it. It was all the late night snacks with Tayla - for some reason she loved to eat in bed.

He kept up the pace, looking forward to the swim at the end. His mind was still filled with the evening he had shared with Tayla. She'd taken Beta shift off and had prepared dinner and they had spent the whole evening together. He'd left her sleeping this morning and was going to wake her for breakfast after the run. He felt great.

He was jogging at a good pace when he saw two figures between the trees. A man and a woman, dark haired and dark eyed - just standing there staring at him. He frowned - no other simulated characters were programmed into the simulation but these two were there. He saw them and stopped but it was only momentary. A rippling wave of distortion erupted across the holomatrix and they vanished. It was a glitch in the system. There were glitches appearing all over the ship - and the holodeck matrix wasn't immune to it either it seemed. He frowned.

Shirik tapped her code into the holodeck and the doors hissed open. Inside the arch materialized between two trees and Benedict looked around as the doors opened. He was still breathing hard, but at the sight of Shirik coming in wearing her exercise suit he grinned, dismissing the apparition as a holodeck ghost. Shouldering the rifle he regarded her as she sauntered over.

"Good morning. You're late..." he said with a smile, teasing her as she hadn't said that she was joining him this morning. She looked good - positively glowing. He felt the same, and wondered what she'd been doing to look so enervated at this hour of the day.

She grinned at him. "I like to keep you guessing," she teased back. She eyed his equipment. "Training for ground combat this morning?"

"No...just running with a full field load," he replied. "I'll excuse you from such exertions." He grinned, "Come on - I don't want to cool down, you can run with me and warm up as you go." He started off into the trees at a brisk trot.

She laughed, setting out with him. "Don't worry, I'm sure I could warm you up if you cooled down," she teased. She grinned, feeling full of energy this morning, and had no trouble keeping up with him as they ran.

He laughed at her jibe, knowing exactly what activity she would love to warm up with - and it wasn't running! "You're in a good mood this morning," he noted as she ran beside him.

"Yeah, I am," she said, with a secretive smile. She did not elaborate, enjoying the run.

He caught the smile and the lack of details. He just grinned and ran, picking up the pace to really push her and himself. They came out of the trees onto the fields and the riot of color stretched to the hills with the wildflowers. A cluster of Purple Kings, a variety of Bajoran butterfly, took flight as they ran past and Benedict grinned. He'd added a few elements to the program, simply getting the computer to paste them in from botanical and literature texts.

She didn't mind being pushed this morning, and kept pace with him. She blinked in surprise as the butterflies took off, and she frowned slightly at herself. She'd been so busy the past few days she hadn't had the time to work on the program like she'd promised him. "I'm sorry... I haven't gotten around to working any on the program yet," she said. "But I will, soon. I promise."

"No hurry," he breathed as he looked at the horizon. The sky was a mix of azure blue and fleecy white cloud. "I added a few things." He shot her a grin. "You'll see." He gave a shrill whistle, using two fingers at his lips. The sound triggered an aspect of the program.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, his grin almost as secretive as her smile had been.

The long grass in the field suddenly rustled as a large shape began to move within it. It was still out of sight, but its approach was unmistakable. Grass stalks bent and flattened with the heavy sounds of a four footed creature running toward them. It was almost upon them when a low and deep snarl gave the first indication as to what it was. The face that emerged from the grass scant feet away from the running pair was huge. A Bengal Tiger, a fully grown female leapt upon the running track and bounded along beside Benedict. It gave Shirik a snarl as one of Benedict's hands reached out to ruffle its fur between its ears. "Meet Tala," he grinned.

To Shirik, the approach, the sound, and finally the feline form leaping from the grass was all too familiar from home. For a moment, she forgot where she was. That she was on a holodeck, with safety protocols, that the animal was only a hologram. Instinct took over as her mind saw a Gunthar attack, and she leaped off the trail into the surrounding grasses, rolling to land on her stomach with her kemla drawn. She ducked down in the grass, mostly hidden from view, and blinked. That wasn't a Gunthar. Feeling her face darken with embarrassment, she slowly peered up out of the grass.

Benedict had stopped as she made her less than spectacular dive into the grass. He started laughing as her face came up above the flowers. Pointing at her with an accusing finger he doubled over, dropping his rifle as gales of laughter erupted from him. The big cat just walked over to Shirik and sniffed at her, then looked back at Benedict as if to say, "What's all the fuss about?"

He laughed so hard tears came to his eyes and he had to sit down. Finally he dropped back and laughed at the sky, holding his stomach with mirth and hardly able to breathe. The running exertion coupled with the laughter had him in stitches.

The tiger sat on its great haunches and looked between the two.

As he started laughing, she lowered her head once more with a groan, her cheeks flaming. When the laughter just kept going, she finally looked up once more, and pierced him with a glare, shooting one at the tiger for good measure. She climbed to her feet with bits of grass in her hair, brushing herself off. Her face was still dark, and she folded her arms and just watched as Ben laughed himself silly. "Men," she muttered.

"Oh Prophets...." He sucked in a lungful of air and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes as he finally sat up and looked at the blushing Drokari. "The look on your face was priceless!" he grinned.

She glared. "It wasn't that funny," she echoed his words from their last meeting.

The tiger walked over to Shirik and looked up at her. It stood level with her chest, so it didn't have to look very high. With a great pink tongue it licked her face, the rough texture scratched and the sheer power of the animal almost knocked her over.

"She won't bite," Benedict laughed. "Not unless I command her to." He stood and retrieved his rifle. "Come on...let's finish the run." He motioned to the trail ahead. "Nice dive by the way." He smirked.

She made a face, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "Yuck. She has a rough tongue."

Turning her back on the big striped cat, she started off down the trail again. "Sure you haven't had enough exercise?" she said. "You looked like you were going to strain something back there..."

He laughed as he ran. "You know, the one thing you don't do...is drop on your belly when an 800 pound cat comes at you. You'd make a nice snack!" He looked back at her and ran faster. "You're only bite sized," he teased.

"I could have gutted it when it pounced on me," she said. She was still glaring, but her face had returned to its normal coloration. She sped up to keep pace. "Then maybe you would have made a more tempting target, food-wise."

"You'd have to be able to survive the 800 pounds crushing your spine first...and she wouldn't eat me." He grinned. "She loves me. You on the other hand...."

"I don't love you," she quipped with a grin.

As if to agree to his words the tiger snarled just behind Shirik as it ran past her, making her jump with the sudden noise. It sped away in front of them both with a tremendous burst of speed. For a moment she looked back with a snarling face and it mirrored Benedict's tattoo that at the moment was hidden beneath his uniform.

They ran on, the tiger urging greater speed and pushing the pace, which she was designed to do. Soon enough neither Benedict nor Shirik had the breath to talk as they ran. It turned into a gruelling ordeal as they negotiated the switchback trail that wound through the steep sided gullies heading for the ravine and the lake. The water appeared through the trees - a sparkling blue shimmer that was intensely inviting. The sound of the falls echoed off the cliff faces as they burst through the foliage on the edge of the rock strewn cove of fresh water. The tiger was sunning itself, laying on its back, paws in the air and scratching its shoulders against the rock. It turned and looked at them as if to say, "Where you been? and what took you so long?"

Benedict laughed as he dropped the kit and bent over to rest his arms against his knees. He was out of breath and panting heavily. "Prophets," he groaned. "That was like being back at the academy with Case...."

She was grateful to stop finally, gasping for breath. Her black suit was even darker with her sweat. "Who?" she panted, sucking in air.

"Case...Sorien... Chief...Petty...Officer," he panted. "Used...to...run...us...into...the...ground." He stood up, sucking air and pulling off his sodden shirt. "I...bet...he...still can." His pony tail loosened, he kicked off his boots, totally disregarding Shirik and any thought about modesty. This time when he dropped his pants he was wearing swimming shorts. He gave Shirik a grin and dived straight into the clear cool water.

She nodded, reaching to untie her braid. She kicked off her boots and quirked an eyebrow at his swimwear. With a small frown she seated herself on the rocks, unzipping her suit but not taking it off. She dipped her feet in the cool water and shook out her hair, still trying to regain her breath. She frowned slightly at a slight pain in her chest, but attributed it, along with her shortness of breath, to the run. She was sure it would soon fade.

He surfaced a little way out and shook his hair, treading water. She was watching him. "What's the matter?" he asked. She was frowning at him, and she looked gorgeous and sultry and totally sexy sitting on the edge of the rocks with her suit unzipped and her glowing white hair cascading around her shoulders. He felt the same tightening in his gut at the sight of her. She was certainly beautiful, but this morning it was different. Benedict thought about Tayla - wishing that it was she sitting there on the rocks and looking at him.

"Since when do you wear bathing suits?" she asked. "I don't have one, aside from this," she gestured at her black suit. Her frown faded a bit when she saw the way he was looking at her.

She sounded a little hurt. He hadn't thought that she would take offence but obviously she had. It wasn't that important an issue for him. He grinned, and laughing the water churned slightly and a moment later he held his bathers up in one hand. "I can say I wore them...for propriety's sake." He tossed them up on the rocks. With a grin he dived beneath the water, vanishing under the waterfall.

She still frowned, only now in puzzlement, confused by him. She sat there considering for a few moments more before shrugging and shedding her suit the rest of the way, slipping onto the water. She closed her eyes as the blessed coolness enveloped her, and felt herself relax once more. She broke the surface and shook out her hair, swimming slowly and lazily across the pool.

Benedict emerged under the falls, and let the edge of the cascade of water wash over him. She'd been offended, he knew by the look in her eyes, and after their first swim it was pointless wearing the swimmers. He felt guilty but at the same time he knew that he shouldn't. There was nothing wrong with being naked - and he certainly wasn't planning anything with Shirik. That was all it was. Nothing of consequence. He sat against the rocks and lay back, the water falling around him as he cooled off from the run.

Shirik was still confused by his behavior. She wondered if there was some subtle thing she was missing, perhaps it was a human thing...or a Bajoran thing... Why would he have been so open and unconcerned about being naked before, and then cover himself up this time? And then just as easily shed that covering? She didn't understand it. Maybe it was a male thing.

She swam over to where the tiger was sunning itself. She was no longer afraid of it now, and hoisted herself out of the water to sit on the rocks near it, where she could watch it as she squeezed the water from her hair. She didn't touch it, not wanting to until she was dry.

The animal snuffled at her, lolling her tongue out and rolling onto her back. She purred, as if inviting Shirik to rub her belly. The great paws were stretched and scything claws extended and retracted as the tiger stretched. She was almost nine feet long and three times the size of Shirik.

Shirik reached out to oblige. She was used to Gunthars, which were bigger than this cat, and considerably less tame.

Benedict watched from the falls and smiled. He was glad that he'd added the cat. It added a distraction. He dropped back into the water and swam underwater for a while, grazing the sandy bottom. He hadn't thought about fish! He broke the surface a little way from the rocks and regarded Shirik with interest. She was so dark skinned as to be a shadow on the rocks, he swam closer, there was no point in remaining distant.

Clambering out of the water he sat on the warm rock shelf, turning so that he could scratch the tiger's jawline. Tala purred. "Is there something wrong?" he asked absently as he attended to the cat.

"I was thinking of asking you that," she mused, turning her gaze to him. "Had I done something the last time we were here to make you feel the need to cover yourself up?" She wondered if she'd offended him somehow that she wasn't aware of.

He laughed a little uncomfortably. "Nooo...." He shrugged. "It wasn't you - it was me. I didn't mean to offend you." He looked out on the waterfall and smiled. "You're far too beautiful a woman, Shirik." He shook his head and laughed softly. "Would anyone actually believe that we are here like this and not doing something we should feel guilty about?" He turned to look at her with amusement in his eyes. "It's hard not thinking about doing something I'd feel guilty about."

"I was only offended because it felt like you no longer trusted me," she said. She shrugged. "Does it really matter what anyone else believes?" She smiled brightly at his words. "It's not like the thought never crossed my mind. It's a shame you would need to feel guilty about it. But I would do nothing to lose your trust, or what we do have. I value it."

He laughed at her frank admission. "Yeah," he agreed. "Conscience is a bitch isn't it?" He smiled at her. "It does matter what others think, especially on this ship. I don't want to do anything that would hurt Tayla, and gossip about us would...and it would hurt her position. There's more than just you and I to consider. The fact that I find you extremely attractive is beside the point. I want to be friends more than I want to be anything else...and trust is important. I do trust you, Shirik, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't feel that I could trust you. Though half the time I feel like I shouldn't be trusting myself!" He grinned. "It's only because of the situation with Tayla, that's all. It's difficult." His voice turned serious. He couldn't confide in a counselor. "There's some things in her past that are causing some difficulties now...and we have to work through them. I'm sharing quarters with her, Shirik, but we have to go very...slowly."

"I didn't mean because of your conscience," she said. "Despite popular opinion, I do have one as well. I only meant that it's a shame your culture is so different from mine in that way." She paused, listening. "I know you're sharing quarters," she said, not too pleased she'd had to find out from someone else, but then...it wasn't her business anyway, she thought. "I don't know what's been going on, and really it's not my business. I won't pry into your affairs, but I will be here if you want someone to listen, or to ask for advice. If I have any to give..." She paused, again, considering whether to say more, and decided not to. Not yet.

He nodded, still idly scratching the cat who lay now between the two, purring like a loud bellows. "Karma, Shirik - it's all Karma. I don't really know what to do at the moment except take each day as it comes," he told her quietly. "I don't know whether things are going to work out between Tayla and I yet. I want them to. I'm in love with her - I just don't know whether she feels the same, or if she even can. We'll see, I guess."

She frowned slightly in puzzlement, not sure what Karma had to do with it. She nodded. "That's all you can do, really," she mused. "Just live each day, and embrace what it brings you." She was speaking of more than Ben now, as she thought how that applied to her as well.

"That's very Klingon you know." He smiled. "Live today, for tomorrow we die." He'd said exactly the same thing to Tayla the night before. He stood. "Come on, let's swim." He looked down at her with a grin. "I'll race you...."

"They have a lot of sayings involving death, don't they?" she mused with a smile. She quirked an eyebrow up at him as he stood. "You're very competitive, aren't you?" she said. "I half expect you to challenge me to a food-eating contest at breakfast." She grinned. "I'll swim, but I'm relaxing, not racing. Besides, I think you only challenge me when you know you can win." She gave the tiger another scratch before getting to her feet.

He laughed, "Okay, you got me. I hate to lose." His grin turned mischievous as he stepped closer and scooped her up into his arms and in one smooth movement was leaping from the rocks.

She let out a squeal of surprise as he grabbed her, and her arms went around his neck to hang on as she saw his intention to leap off the rocks. "Hey!!"

The tiger rolled to its feet and leapt after them as Benedict let out a shout as they plunged into the water. He let her go as soon as they were under water and surfaced with her, grinning and splashing at her.

She let go of him once in the water, seeking the surface. "You're asking for trouble, mister!" she said, splashing back at him, pushing wet hair out of her face.

He grinned and splashed her and dove. The water was churning with bubbles closer to the falls and he headed right into it, coming up inside the waterfall. The tiger swam close to Shirik and then headed to the falls. Benedict watched her and grinned as he turned his face up into the water. It was colder under this part of the falls, but under water and inside the cavern the rock shelves turned into a sculpted hot tub, complete with water jets. He thought about using it, but then dismissed it as too close for comfort.

She grinned back at him mischievously. "Computer," she called out. "Night." The sun winked out as if someone had hit a light switch, plunging the scene into darkness lit only by sparkling stars above. Silently, she slipped underwater. She knew he wouldn't be able to see her now, unless he cheated, but she could see him, quite plainly, his warm form highly visible against the backdrop of cold water splashing around him. She swam her way towards him.

The night descended like a hammer and it took him by surprise, and he stopped for a moment. He could hear the sounds of splashing and the reflected light showed the great shape of the cat swimming toward the ledge. Of Shirik there was no sign at all. He looked around but couldn't see her - her black skin would be invisible in the darkness, which was obviously what she wanted. He grinned, waiting for her to attack him. He closed his eyes and concentrated upon the sounds around him.

She grinned as she swam closer, the darkness hiding her from sight, the water hiding her from hearing. She felt like a shark, closing in on her prey. She didn't go straight at him, but around, wanting to get behind him. Once on the ledge where he stood, she surfaced, and gave him a shove from behind to push him off into the water. "HA!"

It was the change in pitch of the falling water behind him. The sound changed from water on water to water on flesh. He practised in the holodeck in pouring rain with his eyes closed to hone his senses for just this kind of situation. As she surfaced and shoved he twisted and pulled, her arms hit air and the body weight shifting behind the shove made her tilt forward. She was over his hip and falling into the water before she knew what hit her. Coming at him from behind had been a mistake - he was in a familiar environment, she would have fared better if she'd stayed under the surface. "Ha!" he called after her flailing form and dived after her. She was right, he was competitive.

She silently cursed herself. She should have known better, she thought. But she still had the advantage, he still couldn't see her, while she could see him. She dove, twisting away from him until he couldn't locate her any more, to regroup and try a different attack.

Benedict laughed in the water and swam in a circle, treading water. She was invisible in the dark water and he knew she could see him quite well. He struck out for the side of the pool, swimming lazily and expecting her to come at him again before he reached the side. The big cat was standing on the rocks looking at him.

She swam beneath him in the water, following him. Satisfied that he'd lost track of her, she closed in. Her hand closed around an ankle and she pulled him under with a triumphant grin.

He was yanked under and almost swallowed water as he was breathing in at the time, but he let loose an explosion of bubbles and lost her again as he flailed in the pitch black water. He made it to the side, gasping and laughing and hauled himself out. The tiger wandered over to bestow a lick on his shoulder and to nudge him. He sat on the edge and waited for her. It was different in the dark, he'd never thought about it, but the pool could be very romantic in the darkness with only the stars. He smiled - he'd drag Tayla in here screaming if he had to. She needed to relax more and have some fun. He saw the water ripple as Shirik surfaced, her white hair luminous in the starlight.

"Time's almost upon us again," he said cheerfully. "Computer, two large bath towels." The order was received with a soft chirp and the required towels appeared on the ledge. He grabbed one and started to dry off.

She groaned. "Already?" She swam to the ledge and hauled herself up once more. "We really should spend less time running and more time enjoying the pool one of these mornings," she sighed, wrapping herself in a towel to dry. "Do you want me to turn the sun back on?" she grinned.

He grinned. "No, I kinda like it." He set to drying himself. "The swim is far better after a run," he said. "Swimming is a reward you have to earn, so no run - no swim! But you can use the program anytime you like, just skip to the ravine."

"But it's no fun alone. Maybe a slightly shorter run?" she smiled, drying her hair.

"Not likely," he grinned. He toweled his hair dry and looked back at her watching him. "You seem different this morning," he smiled. "More relaxed."

"Do I?" she asked, and shrugged. "I've had a good couple of days." She grinned at her own understatement.

Benedict raised an eyebrow. "How's Sorg working out?" he asked nonchalantly.

The smile never left her face. "He's...acceptable," she said. "I think we'll get along fine." She draped the towel over her lap and dried her legs one at a time.

"Wow...high praise," he grinned. "He seems happy with the assignment, but then who wouldn't be?" He admired her legs for a moment - it was impossible not to. "You seem more settled," he observed. "I'm glad to see you coming out of your shell."

"I could tell he was happy with it the first morning, when all he did was stare at me with this silly grin on his face," she chuckled. The towel moved down to her feet, then back up to her stomach while she talked. "I'm finding it easier to fit in here than I have on my previous assignments," she agreed. "I don't have many friends, but those I do have have helped a lot in that regard."

"Good," he nodded as he finished towelling his back. "I'll have a word to Sorg about the silly grin, I thought that he'd hide it better than that," he teased. "You free for dinner?" he asked.

"Don't bother, I think he's getting over it," she smiled. She looked surprised by the invitation, but pleased. "Certainly. What did you have in mind?"

"No idea, but eating alone doesn't thrill me and Tayla's on the Bridge until midnight. So we can hit the Officer's Lounge?" He started to dress.

"Sounds good," she smiled, towelling off the rest of the way and slipping back into her suit. "What time?"

"Nineteen hundred?" He shrugged into the singlet and boots. The field kit was replicated in the holodeck. He idly ruffled the tiger's fur as she sat next to him.

"Sounds good. I can meet you there." Her gaze went to the big cat and she had to ask a question that had been nagging at her. "Why Tala?" she asked, the obvious similarity to the name Tayla hadn't been missed.

Benedict grinned. "Tala is Bajoran. It's a slang term for a young cat, similar to kitty, it's an affectionate term used when something or someone is playful...like you sometimes."

"Oh, I see," she smiled. "Yes... I can be playful when I want to be. When I have reason to be."

He chuckled at the look she was giving him. Playful wasn't really the word that came to mind first when one looked upon Shirik Lektar. "I bet you are." He laughed. "I'm having breakfast with Tayla this morning, and a meeting with Hex later so I'd better get going. I'll see you at nineteen hundred hours in the lounge."

"Oh, all right." She was a tad disappointed at not getting to have breakfast with him, but she thought maybe she could have some with Sorg and his friends instead. "One of these days I'd like to meet your right-hand man," she said. "Maybe I'll look him up." She gave him a wink and sauntered to the exit.

"I'll arrange something if you like." He grinned. "Though Hex is off the market - he's in love." He gave Shirik a sideways glance as they reached the arch. "Not having much luck." He turned to look at her just before the doors opened. He wanted to say that if things didn't work out with Tayla...but he didn't. Instead he just smiled. Things were going to work out with Tayla. Last night had done a lot to diminish his doubts.

"Isn't everyone?" she sighed, but smiled. "I must have come aboard too late, by the time I got here, the whole crew was paired off, it looks like." She chuckled. She looked at him, waiting, since he looked like he was about to say more, but when he didn't. She shrugged it off. "I'll see you later, Ben," she smiled, and headed off down the corridor to get changed before breakfast.

He watched her go for a few moments. He knew without a doubt that if he hadn't met Tayla when he did.... He just sighed and shook his head with a slight grin on his face.

---

"Photonic Phantom, Part 1"
by Chief Petty Officer Sorien Case - Weapons Specialist
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
and Lieutenant Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security

Location: USS Sulu, Holodeck One
Stardate: 57908.19, 05h53

***

She stood nervously in the arch, watching Case savagely dispatching each of his opponents. It gave Amy greater pause. She'd missed a lesson, opting instead to spend time with Kit. How would Case punish her for that? There was an intensity about him that frightened Amy, even when he was smiling. He was powerful, mysterious, and he had an influence over her she couldn't fight. Just being there now put her relationship with Kit in jeopardy, but she felt obligated to attend her training session with Case; the potential consequences were too unsettling to fathom. Steeling herself, she moved towards the mat.

The oft put upon Vulcan hologram hurtled over Case's back towards Reese, flipped by the powerful Betazoid, and landed heavily at her feet. With a quick heave of its legs, the hologram was up in an instant and rushing at Case again, lashing out with a solid snap kick aimed for Sorien's midsection.

"Computer, remove characters," Case managed to say with the kick a scant few centimeters from connecting. Promptly, the Vulcan aggressor and various bystanders sparkled away as Case walked towards Amy, studying her carefully. She could not tell if he was angry or amused as both emotions seemed at war in his expression.

She swallowed hard. "Uh...hiya, Chief." Her voice cracked and her hands fidgeted with the hem of her gi's jacket. "All warmed up, I see."

"Over twenty-four hours late," Case observed, shaking his head. "You do realize you'll be doing push-ups for the rest of our time in the Gamma Quadrant?"

Amy frowned, trying to read Case's expression as conveying humour, or grave seriousness. She opted for bowing her head and whispering, "I-I understand. I'm sorry."

Sorien continued to study her but allowed the smallest smile. "Well," he began, drawing the word out. "Let's hear your excuse. If you were assigned duties planetside or in Sickbay, all is forgiven. We are in a crisis."

"I wasn't," she answered quickly and managed to look up at him. "It's just..." Her lips curled into a dreamy smile as she sighed, "I'm engaged."

Case was nodding. "I know," he said.

Amy's eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped slowly in amazement. "But...how? I mean...I didn't even really tell anyone...."

"I'd like to say it's because I'm Betazoid but --" he held a finger up to his head and spun it as he stepped closer to her "-- the paracortex is shot." He looked down at her hand and jutted his chin at it. "I noticed the ring. You don't usually wear jewelry, save for the bracelet."

She glanced down at her hand, the act requiring much effort considering the inextricable lock he had on her eyes. One look at the golden band encircling her finger and Amy sighed. "Kit gave it to me. I'm still trying to find something just as beautiful to give him in return."

"I think he already has something beautiful, Ensign," Case said, smiling. The words hung in the air between them in a moment that seemed to move in slow motion.

Amy felt her body sway towards his; the impulse to kiss him again was almost overpowering, but the cold metal of Kit's ring against her flesh was enough to snap her back to reality. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Amy looked away demurely. "You're so kind to me, Chief," she said softly. "It feels nice."

"It feels as nice for me as well, being kind." Amy felt the tug again briefly but when Case continued, his voice was more business-like and the spell shattered. "You intend to continue with your training then?" Case asked, his eye looking over her uniform obviously.

"I-I had," Amy replied, her bright smile returning. "I just...I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore-- To train, I mean!"

"I still want you, Ensign," Case said, smiling with the innuendo. "However, there is a matter of your debt."

She sighed, knowing there would be a punishment for her negligence. "I understand, Chief," Amy muttered sullenly. "Have at it."

Case was silent for a moment, doing some calculations in his head. "Twenty-four hours," he said with mock-gravity. "At five per minute late, your punishment will be 7200 push-ups. Push-up position, please. I will pace you. Count off."

She sucked in a quick breath to fuel a bubbling laugh, but one glance at his impassive, apathetic expression and Amy was convinced of his sincerity. Pouting, she trudged forward to the center of the mat and knelt upon it. There was one final moment where she gazed up at Case, imploring him with her most effective doe eyes, but his features remained unchanged. Amy whimpered and dropped her hands forward as she extended her body. Case began with 'down', and Amy's slender arms bent low for her first push-up. She was already feeling the strain.

"And up," Case said after a beat, carefully watching Amy as she pushed herself up the length of her arms and shouted 'one!'. He left her in that position for a moment, admiring the improvement she'd already shown in her upper body strength even though there was still a slight tremble in her arms. He left her that way a moment longer before saying, "On your feet, Ensign."

Amy did so without hesitation, but she was obviously bewildered. "I...I thought you said... I mean...my punishment? Don't I get punished?"

"Of course," Case said, placing one hand behind his back. "One push-up a day for the next 7199 days." He smiled. "I would recommend not being late again...as it is, you're mine for the next two decades."

She couldn't help the smile that stretched her lips and the thought that it would certainly be a pleasant two decades, indeed. "Thanks, Chief. I'll be here on time, tomorrow!" Giggling, she hopped up and pecked a kiss to his scarred cheek. At the apex of her jump, her eyes caught glimpse of a figure standing past Case's shoulder a distance away. She frowned. "I thought you removed all the characters...."

Case copied her frown even as he followed Amy's gaze over his own shoulder. There, standing a short distance away, was a tall, lanky man wearing a nondescript white robe. His thick swatch of hair was dark, as were his eyes, which stared at them and sent an icy tingle through Amy. She moved in closer to Case to allay her anxieties, nearing wedging herself into his arms.

"It's not one of mine," Case said, his tone serious.

"Then make it go away," Amy urged. "He's...I don't know...creepy." The man's arm raised, outstretched to them, and his mouth moved voicelessly. Amy felt herself pushing into Case's chest. "This is really weird, Chief..." she whispered.

"Computer," he began carefully. "Remove unauthorized character from Sparring Program. Authorization Case-Omega-4."

Amy watched expectantly. The simulation flickered and shifted, but remained. She clutched Case's jacket tighter. "A malfunction?" she whispered hopefully.

Case frowned thoughtfully. "No," he said with some authority but not elaborating on how he was so enlightened. He took a step towards the apparition, literally having to drag Reese forward as her feet resisted the move. "Hello?" he asked of the hologram, his body tensing for a possible physical response.

The man opened his mouth again and this time Amy heard a whispered word. She squinted to make it out. "What?" she asked it, though was certain she didn't want to know.

"Computer," Case said anxiously, surging forward to the holographic specter and leaving Reese behind. The computer chirped its response. "Create hololog of anomaly in Holodeck One. Begin recording." As the apparition's mouth continued to gape silently, Case leaned closer to the tall man and strained to hear the words.

"Case!" Amy whispered. "Don't stand so close! What if it--" Amy cried out as the man's hand abruptly gripped Case's arm. She rushed forward, her instincts driving her to go to Case's aid, but when she scampered to a halt beside the chief, the hologram had vanished. Amy was left breathing heavily, and quickly searching the room. "Where-- He's gone?"

Case was silent, regarding the spot on his arm where he had been touched. His other hand moved slowly to his combadge and tapped it.

"Chief Case to Commander T'Kal."

"T'Kal here, what is it Chief?" Benedict was walking back toward his quarters, still dressed from his exercise on the holodeck.

"Commander, we have an intruder on board."

---

"Unexpected Passenger"
by: Ensign Marp
and Lieutenant jg Grixble Flummux

Location: Holodeck 2, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19, 06h00

***

Marp stood outside holodeck two. He instructed the computer to run his shuttle simulation program. Marp figured that he should get some practice in himself before he made good on his promise to give Sikara lessons.

Marp entered the holodeck and sat down in the pilot's chair. Out the front window Marp could see shuttle bay technicians prepping for launch. "Computer, match simulation environment to that of the current Sulu location," said Marp. Might as well check out this mysterious planet, thought Marp as he began running the shuttle through pre-flight systems checks.

"Shuttle Sim09 requesting launch," said Marp.

"Permission granted. Have a safe flight."

Marp eased the shuttle forward out of the shuttle bay. Once outside of the Sulu Marp arched the shuttle around behind the Sulu and reduced his speed. He then began his descent into the planet's atmosphere.

This particular simulation had been programmed to include random system failures to test the skill of the pilot and no sooner had he entered the atmosphere than an alarm sounded. The main computer had failed. "Yeah, like that would really happen," said Marp out loud. The backup computer engaged automatically and Marp continued his descent through the planet's atmosphere.

Marp was almost through the atmosphere when there when the shuttle was rocked by severe turbulence. "Uh-oh," said Marp as the backup computer went offline. "This is not good."

Marp's hands furiously worked the shuttle controls as he manually guided the shuttle through the atmosphere. Marp decided he needed to find a place to land. The shuttle was falling towards the planet surface much too fast for Marp's comfort. He continued to work the shuttle controls and looked out the front window for a suitable place to land, however, what he saw next just stunned him. There directly in front of the shuttle floating in the sky was a man. He was a tall man with dark hair and he was, to Marp's astonishment, just floating there. "Computer freeze program," ordered Marp.

The entire simulation just stopped except for the man who continued to float. He was waving his arms towards Marp. Marp tapped his comm badge and said, "Marp to Lieutenant Flummux could you please come to holodeck 2? There is something strange happening here."

"--dear," came the frazzled response. "Oh dear, oh dear. This is Lieutenant Flummux. I'll...oh dear...I'll be right there, Ensign."

When Flummux arrived Marp just pointed to the Man who continued to float on thin air, waving his arms. "Please tell me that you see him floating in my shuttle sim too," begged Marp.

Grixble frowned at the man, humanoid by the look of him, and quite pale--especially by both Andorian and Bolian standards--floating up in the air. "I do see him," he said. "That is...quite peculiar. Yes, quite." He pulled out a tricorder and began scanning. "I don't understand, I don't. These systems, they're...everything is fine. I don't understand all the problems."

The man then flew through the front window of the shuttle right at Marp. He reached out to Marp and then vanished. "What do you think of that?" Marp looked at Flummux. "I have never seen a holodeck do that before."

"Well, it is all dependent on the parameters of the program," Grixble explained as he called for the arch and began running several diagnostics. "Some of the programs are quite sophisticated, especially those of the horror genre. I do not believe flight simulations are supposed to have such content however. Oh dear. I don't believe it's a cross-connected matrix, and the holo-regulators are fine. It's all perfectly fine and diagnostics are...oh it's all fine. There's nothing wrong. I don't--" He turned to Marp. "Oh dear. When did you notice the presence of the extraneous character in your program, Ensign?"

"He appeared right at the end floating in mid air. I was about to crash in the shuttle...I think." Marp could not believe he just admitted that he was about to crash. "I guess we will never know what happened?"

"There have been multiple reports of similar appearances in other programs," Grixble said. "I...I believe it's part of the other trouble the ship has been experiencing lately. I just hope it isn't a case of data corruption in the holo-recordings. I do not believe such a thing would be good for the morale of the ship this far away from...from a functioning holodeck. Oh dear." He looked around, then at Marp once more. "Is this the first sort of problem you've experienced in one of the holodecks?"

"Yes, Sir. This is the first real problem I have had on the holodeck. I have not really used the holodeck much since I came on board." Marp thought about it. "I do not think the data is corrupted, Sir. Other than the strange floating man the program ran flawlessly. He was like a foreign object...a virus in the program."

Grixble nodded his head in the Andorian equivalent of a nod. "Oh dear," he said. "It's all...oh, it's so terrible. We have been experiencing trouble with the holodecks, and...and I believe this is an extension of that same problem."

Marp looked at Grixble. "I am sure you will get it figured out, Sir. Is there anything else that you need me for, Sir?"

Grixble looked at Marp and meant to say something witty, but instead it came out: "Oh dear." After a moment, he added the very unwitty comment: "I'll contact you if I need you further, Ensign Marp." Jack Alaska would have had something witty to say, Grixble told himself. Jack Alaska always has something witty to say.

---

"In The Dark"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
Crewman Sorg Jurell - Security Officer [NPC+]

Location: USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19, 06h20

***

Shirik was showered and dressed for duty when she made her way to the crew lounge for some breakfast and maybe some company. One thing she had to admit about these morning workouts, they did stimulate her appetite. As the doors to the mess hall opened she paused for a moment to look around the room and see if there were any familiar faces there. She didn't plan to stay if there weren't.

Sorg Jurell was sitting with several security officers at a group of tables at the rear of the mess hall. He caught sight of Shirik and smiled at her across the room. He was sitting with enlisted security, and they didn't take too kindly to having an officer sit with them most times, but they were all willing to make an exception for the black skinned Drokari. A couple of the guys saw where Sorg was looking and the teasing started before she could get within earshot.

A few of them were able to watch as Shirik Lektar made her way through the throng. They were trying to keep straight faces as she made a straight as could be line for Sorg. As she reached the table Sorg stood and gave her a smile. "Sir, good morning." Sorg reflected that he could get used to this. It was doing some good for his reputation.

"Good morning, Sorg," she smiled, then nodded to the others at the table. "Crewmen. May I join you for breakfast?"

There was a stunned moment shared by a few of them and then a mass movement to make room. Sorg just grinned and said, "Sure." He waited for a space to be made and sat. He indicated a half finished breakfast of steak, eggs hash brown potatoes and thickly sliced mushrooms. "Can I get you anything from the replicator?" he asked.

"That's all right, I'll get my own," she said. "I'll be right back." She headed for the replicator, keeping one ear listening in their direction for anything that might be said while she moved off. She returned not long after with a bagel and cream cheese, and a mug of smelly klaas. She settled gracefully into the chair left open for her.

They exchanged grins and raised eyebrows, but the enlisted security officers weren't about to make any comments that could be overheard. By the time she returned they had settled back into discussing the assignments of the day - the away team explorations of the previous day were the prime topic of conversation and the strange quirks that were developing in the various systems they had to work with.

As Shirik sat a large Human with a tattooed face was shaking his head. "I put in a report to engineering this morning," he said. "Nearly drove me insane last night." He looked across the table at Shirik and gave her a smile that was all masculine machismo.

She gave him a polite smile in return then turned her attention to Sorg.

Sorg motioned to him. "This is Kaven Lucas, Shirik Lektar," he made a formal introduction and the big Maori nodded his head. Sorg continued on, "Brayden Jance, Mitchell Mullins, Mark Rinaro and Marcus Arrellian." Each in turn either nodded or waved and smiled. They were all enlisted personnel from Alpha and Beta shifts. Sorg leaned closer to Shirik and said, "Almost everyone has something to report to engineering this morning. Seems like the Gremlins are loose," he grinned. "Kaven was just saying he was almost driven mad by his door chime last night - it kept going off."

"Good morning," she said to them all. "Gremlins..." She searched her memory, recalling the word was a slang term for some sort of supernatural mischievous creatures. "There have been reports of minor malfunctions," she said. But she was bothered by these reports herself. Nothing was malfunctioning until after the away mission to the planet. Coincidence? She hoped so.

"Maybe it was that Druschev kid," Jance grinned as he lifted his coffee mug. "I've seen him walking around the decks. Not much to do for a kid 'cept maybe play some pranks."

Kaven shook his head. "Wasn't anybody. It was just going off. I called a duty engineer three times and they said they were busy with more important things."

So far everything in the core was functioning normally, and for that she was thankful. Whatever else went haywire on the ship, she was going to make sure nothing went amiss in her core. She listened to the conversation as she ate her bagel, washing it down with klaas.

"What is that smell?" Mullins screwed up his face.

"Wasn't me..." Jance said quickly.

"It's always you, Jancy," Lucas grinned. He looked over at Shirik. "You gotta forgive 'im, he don't know no manners," Lucas made fun of Brayden Jance's accent. He pointed at her mug. "That stuff stinks to high heaven. What the hell is it? Smells like battery acid."

Shirik smiled slightly into her mug. "It's klaas. Similar in purpose to coffee or raktajino, only stronger, as you can tell."

The big Maori grinned. "Can I taste? I could handle something stronger than 'jino."

Sorg smiled. "Bet you can't drink the whole mug, Lucas."

Lucas just grinned. "How much?"

"Two hours' credit," Sorg replied, meaning the common currency on board the Sulu - holodeck time credits.

Lucas laughed loudly. "You're on, Soggy!"

Sorg winced at the use of his nickname in security. He looked at Shirik and grinned, "Can you get a fresh, hot mug for Mister Lucas?"

Shirik rolled her eyes. The things males would bet on. "Very well... It should prove entertaining." She rose from her seat to get another mug, and set it on the table before the tattooed man before settling into her chair once more. She picked up her own mug and took a hefty swallow, giving him an almost challenging smile. She waited for the inevitable.

Lucas grinned and held her eyes as he lifted the mug. His nose wrinkled as the full aroma touched his olfactory nerves. As he lifted the mug to his lips to take the first taste his eyes watered. His throat started to convulse as he swallowed. A drip escaped down the side of his chin and he kept swallowing. His eyes never wavered from Shirik's face, but his fist clenched on the table.

They all watched him and there was a mix of grins and open anticipation of the result. Sorg sat back with a slight grin.

She just watched him, curious now as to whether he'd get the whole mug down before he puked it back up. That it would come back up, sooner or later, she did not doubt.

He was shaking a little as he placed the empty mug down on the table. His face looked pale beneath the tattoos that traced curved lines and whorls over the left side. His eyes were watering so much that a stray tear ran down his cheek. He smiled a victory smile.

Sorg raised a single brow and added, "You have to keep it down..."

Lucas's throat convulsed and he clamped his lips together, the smile slipping from his face as his stomach rebelled against the acidic brew that he'd swallowed. A moment later he frowned. Then he groaned between clenched teeth. The other security crewmen began laughing. Lucas looked stricken and clamped a hand over his mouth as he rushed out of his seat - heading for the door.

Stunned faces watched him leave the mess hall and the sudden loud retching sound just outside the doors signalled Kaven Lucas's complete failure to hold it down.

Shirik shook her head as she took another calm swallow from her mug. "Tsk. Some people just have to learn the hard way...." she smiled. "It's very unwise for your first taste of klaas to be an entire mug."

"I never knew that." Sorg looked at her in surprise. He started laughing a moment later. "It's truly disgusting, Shirik...and what it does for your breath." He waved a hand in front of his face and screwed up his nose. "You should carry some extra strong mints." He grinned.

She frowned at him, uncertain whether he was purposely trying to offend her. "Well, you would be the first man around here to complain about it..." she said.

"That was so cool." Jance laughed. "You know he's gonna want a piece of you later for showing him up don't you?"

"He took the bet," Sorg held up both his hands. "He owes me." He grinned at Shirik. "Holodeck time - about the only currency worth anything beside replicator credits on a Federation starship. It's not as if we actually get paid!" he laughed. The Federation was almost unique for not having a monetary currency. The Ferengi had thier gold pressed latinum, but Federation citizens wanted for nothing in a society where anyone could replicate almost anything.

"So, what do you plan to do with your extra holodeck time, assuming he pays up?"

"I don't know." Sorg sat back and gave Shirik a slight smile that said that he really did know but was uncertain. "You have any ideas?" he asked innocently.

"Not really. It's your replicator time, and I have no idea what sorts of hobbies you indulge in." She finished her klaas and set the empty mug aside. She glanced towards the door where Lucas had fled, wondering if he was going to return or hide somewhere until shift started.

Sorg looked a little disappointed as he started eating the remainder of his meal. He didn't miss the direction of her gaze. She obviously seemed interested in Kaven Lucas; he didn't think there was much hope with Lektar. She'd just made it quite clear that it was his replicator time, so she wasn't interested. "I'll figure something out," he said distractedly as he ate.

Her gaze returned to him, and she quirked an eyebrow at the sudden change in his tone. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it, given their company at the table. Instead, she ate the last bite of her bagel.

Sorg finished the last of his breakfast. "Time for shift," he said to the table at large. He gave Shirik a smile. "Shall we go?"

She nodded. "Indeed," she said, getting to her feet. "Have a good morning," she nodded to the others at the table, and headed out of the lounge with Sorg. She waited until they were in privacy of the turbolift before speaking again. "You seemed less than pleased by my answer about your replicator time," she observed, watching him.

He shrugged, not looking into her eyes. The turbolift started up. "I just thought you might be interested...don't worry about it." He looked up at her and gave her a smile. "It's nothing...really."

"Who said I wasn't?" she asked. "I didn't."

"I thought...." He seemed to run out of words. "Sorry." The turbo lift continued on, oblivious to the two occupants and the sudden silence.

"You didn't seem interested," he said a little later. He frowned. The turbolift was still moving at a fair speed, the lighting panel pulsing with the decks. It was fitted with its own inertial dampening systems so that they wouldn't feel the momentum or the direction changes. It had taken longer than the few seconds normal to a few decks.

Suddenly the lift stopped. It wasn't a usual slowing of the pulsing lights, it was an abrupt halt that, thanks to the dampening systems, didn't send either of them into the roof of the lift. The door didn't open either. Sorg looked across at Shirik. "Something's wrong with the lift." His voice showed concern. Gremlins at work?

She frowned. "Computer, open the lift doors," she said into the air.

"Unable to comply," replied the computer.

"Computer, open the turbolift door," Sorg said with a note of irritation.

"Unable to comply," replied the computer a second time. "Please rephrase the question."

"What?" Sorg looked across at Shirik. He tapped his comm-badge.

"Crewman Sorg to Main Engineering."

There was no reply. No answering chirp. He repeated his request - nothing.

"You're an engineer aren't you?" he asked Shirik. "Can you bypass the system to open the door?"

Her frown deepened. "I can try," she said, moving to the panel. "Although without any tools or a tricorder, what I can do may be limited." She started tapping controls. "Computer, run a level 5 diagnostic on turbolift three," she commanded. "This is ridiculous...." she muttered to herself.

"Unable to comply."

The control interface lit up and then went black. The lights in the lift went with it. Suddenly it was pitch black.

"Okay...I can see where this helps," Sorg's voice came from the darkness.

"Khrish!" she growled. On the bright side, at least she could still see. Enough to make out Sorg in the dark so she wouldn't walk into him, but not enough to see what she was doing any more. "Just wonderful..." She tapped her own commbadge, even knowing nothing would likely happen. "Lektar to anyone!" She sighed in the darkness. "Well...maybe we can climb out the emergency hatch?"

"And have the lift start up while we're outside it?" Sorg's voice was irritated but calm. "It'll be okay - maybe it's a short lived thing?"

She was already starting to prowl around the lift like a caged tiger. "It had better be," she growled.

"Well...let's see.... Oh yes. So...speaking plainly...how about dinner tonight?" Sorg's voice sounded almost amused. He leaned against the wall of the lift and listened to the sounds of her pacing.

She shot him a glare, even though he couldn't see it. But it faded after a moment. "I would love to," she said, "and in fact, I had been planning to ask you this morning, but I can't do it tonight. Maybe tomorrow night?" She stopped pacing only so she could more easily face his direction while speaking.

"You were going to ask me?" he sounded a little incredulous. It was easier talking in the dark. He didn't have to look into those violet eyes of hers and get totally lost.

"Yes. I did say we would have dinner some evening," she said. "I've just been somewhat lacking in time lately."

There was a moment of silence. "What about Saavar?" he asked. "Are you...seeing him?"

She thought about her answer, suddenly glad herself for the darkness hiding her face from him. "My relationship with Saavar is a complicated one," she said finally. "But it is not an exclusive one."

"Oh...." he sounded vaguely troubled. "He's married isn't he?"

"Technically, yes... But Vulcan marriages are not the same as human ones. Or Bajoran ones, likely... He may choose at any time not to continue his marriage."

"How very logical." Sorg's tone was skeptical. "Technically married...that's a good one - I haven't heard that one before. Is that the line he used on you?"

Her glare flared up again unseen. "I told you it was complicated. There's a lot more to it than simple choice, that I'm not at liberty to discuss with you." She paused, considering. "You're not jealous, are you?"

There was another silence. It stretched until it broke. "A little," he said sullenly.

Her glare softened into a small smile. "You don't need to be," she said.

He didn't quite know what to say to that. Silence descended again. He could hear her breathing and the slight shuffle of her feet. "Why is that?" he finally asked. His mouth had gone suddenly bone dry.

"I told you my relationship with him is not exclusive. And whatever may have happened with Saavar, I still like you." She wasn't moving any more, leaning against a wall of the lift like he was.

She liked him? His face split into a smile in the darkness. "Oh," was all he could say. He was listening intently but it seemed that she had stopped moving around. The darkness was total, he couldn't even see his hand if it was in front of his face.

"So...you didn't say whether tomorrow night was convenient for you for dinner...." she smiled.

"Yeah...that's fine." His voice seemed a little lost. "Tomorrow is good. No plans for tomorrow. Well, now I have...." He stopped babbling.

She chuckled softly in the darkness. "Good. What time would you like to meet, and where?"

"Hmmm I have some holodeck time," he grinned in the darkness. "How about nineteen hundred?"

"All right," she said. Dinner in the holodeck... that would be a first for her. "Just be sure to let me know which holodeck you reserve." She looked around in the darkness. "Although, if we get stuck in there and all the power dies, I'm not going to be happy," she mused.

"You okay? You sounded a little edgy at first?" He'd distracted her nicely, and managed to get a date at the same time.

"I dislike being stuck in small spaces," she said. "But I'm not claustrophobic, if that's what you were wondering. I just don't like being...confined."

"I don't know," he said. "I think the company has a lot to do with it." He chuckled. It was a soft wholesome sound. "In the dark you can't see the walls, so it's only your mind telling you they are there."

"True," she mused. "But I can see you." She grinned in the dark.

"You can?" he sounded surprised.

Shirik laughed softly. "Are you sure you read about Drokari?" she asked. "Yes... I can see into the infra-red spectrum in the dark... I can see you by your body heat."

"I didn't read that," he said. "Nice...I can't see you at all." He was focusing all of his attention on the location of her voice, but it was so dark that he was seeing spots.

"I'm right here, against the wall to your right, approximately five feet away," she said helpfully. "It's an ability that comes in very handy when the lights go out."

"I know where you are," he said softly. "That's a lovely perfume by the way," he smiled into the inky darkness.

She chuckled softly. "You're the first to mention it," she said.

"I'm probably the first to be trapped in a small confined space with you."

"That is true," she smiled. She hadn't thought of that. "Lucky man," she teased.

He laughed nervously. "It would be far better if I could actually see you."

"Oh?" she quirked an eyebrow over at him.

He laughed softly. He couldn't believe he was actually saying these things. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said.

She grinned. "The dark is making you brave," she said. "I wonder what else you might say if we stayed in here long enough."

He laughed at that. "I'm not that brave," he replied.

She laughed, too. "True... I am still armed..."

"I wouldn't put up much of a fight." He grinned.

"Tsk, where's the fun in that?" she grinned.

He shuffled his feet. "I wonder if anyone knows we're here?" he mused.

"They do if they're waiting for the turbolift," she mused. "Or at least, they know the lift is broken...." She frowned in thought. "If we didn't show up for shift, it's likely nobody would even notice...."

"We could be stuck in here for hours.."

She sunk down to sit on the floor with a groan, partially because it was becoming harder to breathe. "Great... Well, at least we had breakfast."

"Be thankful you're not in here with Kaven," Sorg laughed. "Or Jance..."

"Ewww. Indeed, Kaven would not be pleasant. Although I don't know anything about Jance..."

"Let's just say that Jance is deadly in confined spaces." He chuckled. Jance had an overactive bowel problem.

Shirik grimaced. "Oh. Indeed, I am thankful." She relaxed once more, tucking her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around them. "At least the company for being stuck here isn't bad."

"Thanks...not bad...." He did as she had done and slid down the wall, sitting with his back to it and putting his arms on his left knee as he stretched out his right.

She breathed deeper, suddenly feeling stifled. Could it be the confined space of the lift? Was she claustrophobic after all? "Is it me, or is the air starting to run out in here?" she said.

"No," he said softly, "The air's fine... Are you okay?"

"I just feel like there's less air in here..." she said with a frown. "It's probably just from being stuck in here." She put a hand to her chest, rubbing absently at a dull ache. "We should try to get out instead of waiting."

Sorg's hearing was quite acute after so long in the dark. He caught a slight wheeze as she breathed. The air was fine, could she be having a panic attack? Shirik just didn't seem the type, but then the situation they were in wasn't that common. He had to reassess the situation. The lift was out of power - maybe. But that didn't explain their comm-badges - they were independently powered and should be able to reach a comm-node anywhere on the ship. Something was affecting the power on all three devices?

He reached behind him and unclipped his phaser from his belt. In the darkness he flipped the setting from stun to kill and heard the tell-tale whine of the power coil upping the charge setting. So the phaser was okay. It was something else - and Sorg Jurell wasn't an engineer, but Shirik was.

"The power cell in my phaser seems okay," he told her in the dark. "But the elevator and both our comm-badges are inoperative. Can you think of anything that would do that?" It was best to get her mind working on a solution to a defined problem - it was easier to go into a panic if your mind circled nothing but your situation.

"No," she said, sounding distracted. The pain in her chest was getting worse, and she didn't know why. It was getting harder to breathe. She rubbed at her chest and started to stand up once more, then grimaced as the pain in her chest increased. "I don't...feel so good..." she wheezed. "I can't breathe...."

"It'll be okay," Sorg said as he sat up in the darkness and clipped his phaser back into its holster. She sounded distressed though. "You have a respiratory problem at all? Like asthma or anything like that?" He started to move around the wall of the lift toward her voice, feeling his way.

"No...never anything...like that..." she wheezed, sinking back down to sit on the floor. "I feel like someone's...sitting...on my chest..." She focused on trying to breathe, but it seemed like every breath brought her less and less air.

He didn't like the sound in her voice. The wheezing of her chest was now pronounced. As he came next to her he reached out and touched uniform material; an arm. He could tell even through the cloth that she was hot. He reached further up and his fingers found her shoulder, then her neck. The skin was burning, and slightly clammy. Her breathing was more pronounced and he was shocked at the speed with which she was being affected. "Prophets...you're burning up. Have you been feeling unwell before today?" His voice was calm, showing concern, but totally in control. His mind was slipping into high gear. She'd been on the Away Team with him - they both had - and the planet was clean according to the Chief Science Officer - could it be a planetary bug? He didn't know enough about whichever scientific discipline it was that studied that stuff. He did know that that had been T'Kal's chief concern.

"Not...like this..." she gasped. She started to say more, but even finding enough air to talk was becoming difficult.

"Shirik, I want you to keep focused on breathing - don't waste energy talking." He pulled her so that she lay flat on the floor of the lift. He felt for her pulse. He knew combat medicine, basic stuff all security officers learned. Her heart was hammering.

She nodded, closing her eyes. It was hard to stay calm, being unable to breathe. She was afraid. She focused on his voice, and on drawing one breath at a time. "Sorg...get help..." she whispered. "Harder...to breathe..." She felt dizzy, even in the dark the room was spinning. She groaned softly.

He tapped his comm-badge again, cursing silently. It didn't even chirp. He was in pitch darkness, he couldn't see a damned thing and Shirik needed medical help. The turbo lift controls were still dead. The access hatch to emergency egress was at the top of the lift and it would be a climb of two minutes per deck, his memory was running through the drill for evac. Not enough time, she'd be dead before he got out if she stopped breathing. His fingers still felt a pulse, it was strong and fast - obviously trying to pump blood starved of oxygen.

No communications, no emergency transporter...no power.

His hand whipped the phaser from his belt and he dialled it up four notches by feel. Kill setting on medium charge, needle beam. He raised the weapon above his head and fired at the upper section of the elevator wall. The bright beam cast a glow over Shirik as he looked down at her. He kept the beam playing on the wall. It wasn't strong enough to burn through hull and besides the Structural Integrity Fields would absorb more energy than his phaser could put out. However firing a phaser on kill setting inside a Federation Starship set off the internal sensor alarms. It was the only thing he could think of. He couldn't leave her - not like this. His hand squeezed her shoulder. The beam was making the upper wall glow now. The heat was being absorbed but slowly and the rosy glow filled the lift as Sorg stopped firing the phaser.

She heard the phaser firing but didn't want to open her eyes to see what was happening. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting air...in...out... Her hand went up to find his at her shoulder. She needed to know he was still there. Everything was getting dim, it seemed. Even the sound of the phaser fire started fading.

Dimly he could hear the alarm tone. It had set it off - probably on the deck above. He put the phaser next to his leg where he knew where it would be and concentrated on Shirik. Her eyes were closed and she was laboring for breath. Her face was covered in sweat, and her skin was burning up.

She didn't speak, didn't move. All her energy now was being focused on one task - getting enough air in her lungs to keep her alive. It was becoming more difficult by the moment. She opened her eyes partially, but could no longer see Sorg, even her vision was fading, it seemed. She closed them once more and hoped someone found them before she stopped breathing completely. This wasn't how she imagined it all ending. Laying on the floor of a dead turbolift, while her lungs stopped working. And she didn't even know why.

Sorg was concentrating on the sound of air going in and out of Shirik's lungs. It was shallow and rapid, her chest almost jerking with each intake. He held her hand and for the first time in a long long time he prayed to the Prophets for her life. The attack had been sudden. The only thing he could think of was a toxin or something as fast acting. It had only been a few minutes and she was struggling for breath. The sound stopped.

He held his own breath as he leaned down to place his ear next to her mouth. She was exhaling slowly as if deflating. Her hand went limp, the fingers losing their grip. He dropped her hand and felt for her pulse. It was still going, but raggedly. She didn't breathe in.

He didn't spare a moment for cursing. It was a time for training and control. He didn't know how fast security would respond to the phaser discharge alarm, or the elevated energy levels of the structural integrity field of the elevator. He dialed up the setting on the phaser and fired into the roof of the elevator - this time the corruscating energy was bright as daylight. It was enough to spike the shields and slag a section of the roof. If they couldn't find that on internal sensors they were in real trouble.

He dropped the phaser and started to breathe for her. Tilting her head back and beginning CPR, he prayed as he began the routine. Her heart was still beating - that was a blessing. He watched her chest rising and falling as he pushed air into her lungs.

Sorg Jurell prayed as he worked, he couldn't afford to stop. If he did - Shirik was dead, and he knew above all things that he didn't want that to happen. "Come on, Shirik," he said between breaths as he checked her heart beat once more. "Stay with me...please..." he begged as he took up the breathing for her again.

---

"Photonic Phantom, Part 2"
By: Lieutenant Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Lieutenant (jg) Arthas Hex - Deputy Chief of Security
Chief Petty Officer Sorien Case - Weapons Specialist
and Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Holodeck One
Stardate: 57908.19, 06h22

***

The apparition appeared once again, reaching out with his arms as his plain white robe fluttered in the still air of the holodeck. Once again, the mouth gaped soundlessly. One again, it reached out to grab an arm that was no longer there.

Benedict T'Kal stood with his own arms folded still in the hot weather variant uniform from his workout, watching the image as the short hololog repeated itself. Chief Case watched grimly as well though his one good eye did occasionally drift off the spectre to T'Kal, seeking a reaction. Hex had dressed hurriedly, woken from a deep sleep. He stifled a yawn that came from sheer exhaustion and was not at all a casual reaction to what he was seeing. Reese hung back behind the three men, regarding the mere copy of the hologram with the utmost suspicion.

"I saw the same thing this morning..." T'Kal stated flatly. "A man and a woman appeared in my own holodeck program. They faded with a holomatrix glitch. I figured it was a program anomaly - but in two programs?" He looked at Case. "I hate coincidences." Ben looked at Hex. The Trill was deep in thought now. "What do you think?"

"Could be a program ghost," Hex replied. "With all the ship malfunctions in the software there has to be a few erroneous files floating around. Remember that the core is a matrix design, it's not strictly a linear data storage system. Non-associative program patterns could filter into any number of specified holodeck programs given the right circumstances."

"But this was a singular Being," T'Kal pointed out. "In mine this morning I had two Beings - a man and a woman. Not the same patterns, but the same in look. And this one clearly responded to Case - it tried to touch him." He looked at Case again. "What's your gut tell you, Chief?"

Case was looking at the apparition intently. "There was an intelligence behind it," he said matter-of-factly but keeping his eye on the hologram. "My paracortex may be mostly a lump of dead tissue but I could feel something trying to get through." He looked to T'Kal. "Did your visitors say anything, sir? Anything that you could hear?"

Benedict shook his head. "Not a damned thing - but they weren't that close either. I couldn't make it out before the holoemitters re-initialized. Just a shimmering in the air like a heat haze and they were gone. I was running at the time - I didn't see it that quickly." He stepped back and looked around. Seeing Amy Reese almost hiding behind Case he gave her a smile. "Okay," he turned back to Case. "I trust your instincts. If there was an intelligence behind it it has to be attempting to communicate. Why else would it try to talk or reach out. It wasn't overtly hostile - or seemed not to be." He considered what had been happening lately and looked at Hex. "The software glitches." He said it with enough emphasis to make it a statement rather than a question. "No coincidences, Arthas. I need to speak to the captain. I think we have to assume an intelligence is behind what is happening." He turned to Case. "Getting this data capture," he pointed at the figure, "was quick thinking, Chief."

Case, still looking at the visitor-copy, almost shrugged. "It nearly wasn't fast enough," he said. "I just about missed it." He stared at the apparition, watching the mouth open and close silently and letting a thought form. He spun towards T'Kal. "Have we found anything on the surface that's given our people a jump on their language? Writings, recordings? Anything, sir?"

Benedict nodded. "A lot of scripture, documents...but we wouldn't know what sounds go with which notations. There's a shuttle mission underway at present to catch up with the planet's electromagnetic broadcasts. They are trying to recover some vocal transmissions from before the virus killed off the population. That might yield some results..."

Case turned back and stepped closer to the hologram, almost to where he was standing with the original. "Maybe we can get our communications specialists to analyze the mouth movements; see if they can isolate individual vowel sounds and feed them into the universal translator...maybe make out what it's trying to say." The hologram grabbed for his arm even as he looked back at T'Kal and then to Amy. He smiled at her reassuringly. "Worth a shot? Wouldn't you say, Ensign?"

Amy nodded hastily, her short hair bobbing as she did. "Anything to figure out what that thing was and how not to ever see it ever again," she declared.

T'Kal tapped his comm badge. "T'Kal to Captain Salinger."

"Salinger here," came the captain's response. "Go ahead, Comma--" The communications faded into a warping squeal of static, and then cleared. "--level four diagnostic. Sorry about that, Commander. Go ahead."

"Sir, Chief Case has something in Holodeck One that I think you should see." T'Kal looked over at the CPO as he spoke. "We'll explain when you get here, sir."

"On my way," the captain said. "Salinger out."

---

"Shirik's Rescue"
By: C1C Ken Smith - Security
Crewman Sorg Jurell -Security

Location: Turbo lift Shaft USS Sulu, Cargo bay
Stardate: 57908.19, 06h23

***

An hour and forty minutes left on rover watch and Ken was itching for a cup of Joe to keep him going for the rest of the shift. He hated coming back from being light limbed and sitting a desk in the security office to walking around the ship all night. He headed for the turbo lift and hoped he didn't have to wait long to catch it to the mess hall. Without warning the deck's internal sensor alarm sounded. The double tone warning filled the corridors, telling Ken that someone had just fired a phaser on a kill setting somewhere on the deck.

"Security personnel on Deck 9, we have a weapon discharge alarm in turboshaft three," Lieutenant Bennett's voice came over the deck intercom system from the Bridge.

Shit, phaser set to kill fired on the deck I am on. Ken broke out into a run toward the turbo lift, phaser drawn. He reached them and almost didn't stop in time to break his nose on the closed doors. "Computer Security override turbo lift door 3A, Security code Smith Gamma Epsilon Five One Nine," Ken ran through his security code just like he did when he practiced it in front of his mirror.

The turbo lift door whooshed open and tried to close again, stopping half way shut. Ken pried the doors a little further open and looked down to see the turbo lift's roof was emitting a pale orange glow. The turbo lift must have been disabled by the alarm and the idiot who tried to kill someone on my watch is going to burn his way out. This guy isn't a rocket scientist, probably a geology scientist, too many rocks on the brain, he thought.

"This is security, the turbo lift has been disabled, you will cease fire immediately." If Ken had known what was happening in the turbo lift below he would have fallen over laughing himself silly right about now. "If you think you will be able to burn a hole through the turbo lift you are mistaken."

Sorg heard the voice echo down the lift shaft. He was slightly winded. Breathing for Shirik was beginning to take its toll. He paused to check her heart beat again. "Smith!" he shouted upward as he knelt beside the unconscious Lektar. "I have a medical emergency here - Ensign Lektar isn't breathing, I'm doing CPR. Commbadges are down and I need transport to sickbay! Get down here!" He re-commenced CPR. The light was gone again, but he didn't need it now.

"Roger that." Ken slapped his commbadge and sure enough there was no chirp. It was dead. "What is wrong with Shirik?" he shouted down the shaft.

"She's not breathing!" Sorg shouted as he paused between breaths. "She collapsed - she's dead if we can't get her to medical and I can't climb her out of here. I need transporter assistance. Get to an intercom that works and get a site-to-site." He started breathing for her again. Then, "For The Prophets' sake, Ken move your ass. I can't keep this up forever!"

Nothing seems to work when you need it in the Fleet. Thinking to himself on how to get his two shipmates out of the turbo lift shaft Ken had a stroke of genius. I'm no engineer but I think this might work.

He jogged to the Cargo bay and once inside made quick work of locating a grav cart and found the portable power generator. Once on the cart he started out of the cargo bay.

"Attention in the Cargo Bay! Attention in the Cargo Bay! Decompression sequence has been engaged! Evacuate immediately, evacuate immediately." The Main doors were beginning their cycle open, air was seeping out of the cargo bay and the exit was slowly sealing. Racing with the grav sled to get through the door Ken tripped and sent the generator flying and then bouncing out the door.

Regaining his feet he raced to check his prize for damage. The isolinear chips were smashed beyond repair. He didn't know how to replace those and decided to use it for something else. Cursing the heavy piece of equipment he lodged it between the closing exit doors. He went back for another one, dragging it through sheer force of will and a steady stream of profanity. He heaved it up and over its counterpart when he reached the exit. Leaping out of the cargo bay he landed next to the generator and rolled onto his back. Giving the broken one a swift kick to dislodge it from door stop duty, he found it stuck, and he could see the Bay doors opening, a crack of space he could also see. A light wind began to pull at him. He gave the broken generator three more kicks with all his force and sent it flying, aided by the outgoing atmosphere, into outer space.

Wasting no time Ken dragged the heavy generator through sheer force of will and a steady stream of profanity. Down the hall he went dragging the heavy piece behind him. He reached the turbo shaft doors and took his phaser out. Smashing the comm panel with it he exposed the cables inside. Just as he had thought they were devoid of power.

Working swiftly he accessed the wall panel beside the elevator that exposed the EPS Grid for this section of deck. The main plasma grid fed energy through a smaller and smaller tributary network within the ship's superstructure - rather like a Human body's arteries, veins and capillaries. The power grid was down. He opened a secondary panel that exposed a power coupling feed line and he inserted the power jack from the generator. The portable systems were meant for damage repair teams to feed power into the grid for sections of the ship sustaining battle damage. Useful for opening doors, re-activating single work stations and powering minor ship systems, the generator was easy to use and every Starfleet Officer knew how to use one.

Ken activated the generator and the EPS grid lit up satisfactorily. Power surged through the systems and the turbolift lights came on. Sorg looked up and shouted, "Power's on - but I damaged the internal sensors down here! You'll have to try to get to them from down here!"

Ken nodded to himself and shouted, "On my way!" Without hesitation he climbed into the shaft and started down. It took only a minute to get into the turbolift, and dropping lightly beside Sorg Jurell, Ken looked down upon the unconscious form of Shirik Lektar. She hadn't been shot - he could see that so he nodded to the Crewman and got to work. It only took a moment to hook his tricorder into the sensor system. A choice bit of ingenuity, he activated the tricorder and used its own scanning capability to upload to the sensor network.

"Transporter room this is C1C Smith I need a site to site transport to sick bay for three. Lock on to my comm badge." He had heard the tell tale chirp but now he wasn't sure if it had gotten through to the transporter room.

"C1..Porter Room 1, I am locking on to...prepare to beam to sick...." The communication was garbled but Ken made out enough to know he had reached them.

A moment later the blue shimmer took them. They materialized a short distance from main sickbay - just outside in the corridor. Close enough!

The two men lifted Shirik's light body and carried her quickly into the busy sickbay. "We need help here!" Sorg called out. "She's not breathing!"

---

"Wreckage"
By: Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
Ensign Raina Derrell - Medical Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operation Officer
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Ensign Annikafiore Szerda - Nurse [NPC]
Petty Officer Second Class Eric Corel - Damage Control Crewman [NPC]
Petty Officer Second Class Malcolm Nebbs - Ship's Steward [NPC]
Petty Officer Third Class Luis Espinoza - Gamma Chef [NPC]
Crewman Sorg Jurell - Security [NPC]
Crewman Ken Smith - Security
and Crewman Amaya Chen - Sciences Technician [NPC]

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay and Deck 15
Stardate: 57908.19, 06h50

***

The sonics in her shower hadn't sung, the lights in her refresher hadn't brightened, and the replicator had offered her lukewarm green tea and a pornographic skirt for her uniform, but Amaya Chen would make it to Sickbay one way or another. The door out of her shared quarters had opened at one-eighth the usual speed, and the door to the turbolift had closed at two times the usual speed, even though Chen had briefly attempted to hold the door open for an approaching crewman. Alone in the 'lift, Chen sighed when it opened up on deck two. She had been transferred to the Science department, but the chaos in Medical had required her services back in Sickbay temporarily. She couldn't quite remember if she had asked for Science Lab One, or not, but this detour could be overcome by simply commanding, "Sickbay."

The lights in the turbolift went out, and all the whirring sounds of the car's mechanisms turned silent. Amaya started shrieking before the turbolift began its accelerated descent down the tube, and she didn't stop until her lungs, along with the rest of her body, was crushed between the twisting, rending, screaming metal of the turbolift car meeting the bottom of the turbolift shaft.

Amaya Chen would make it to Sickbay one way or another.

***

The internal sensors inside the turbolift activated with a whine of renewed power as the portable system took over the load from the EPS grid. As the sensors registered the three people inside the lift, their comm-badges like-wise chirped momentarily.

In Transporter Room Two the technician on duty had been waiting for the signal and as soon as he gained a secure lock he triggered the transporter beam. The three occupants of the turbolift evaporated in a blue shimmer as the now powered lift shot sideways along a ventral shaft.

Five seconds later, the kneeling form of Sorg Jurell who was still leaning over the unconscious Shirik Lektar and Ken Smith who had been working on the turbo lift sensors materialised in the corridor outside Main Sickbay. It was the only free space not occupied in proximity to the medical suites.

"I need assistance here!" Sorg called out as the transporter beams' forcefields dropped.

***

The PADD in Nurse Annikafiore Szerda's palm was screaming. "We must begin the cardiopulmonary bypass on Kremer now," Szerda demanded of Doctor Sefton, as Kremer's oxygen levels dropped again.

Helping a patient with a broken arm from the main biobed to one of the adjacent beds, Sefton asked back, "Is Kremer prepped for the sur--"

"Skott's on it. Tho' he should have commed in his status by now," Annikafiore testily remarked, with a glare to the door to Kremer's quarantined room.

"A turbolift crashed down the shaft!" hollered Crewman LeClair, from Security, once she pantingly burst into Sickbay. "There's been phaser fire in another!"

"How many injured?" Damhnait questioned sharply, revealing an unsaid 'Mo dhia'.

"Don't know who the passengers were," LeClair hissed out, barely in control of her breathing.

"Now M'lira's blood-oxygen levels are starting to plummet!" Annikafiore announced.

"Sefton to transporter room one," Damhnait called out, as she mentally noted that, in addition to nearly every medical officer crowding Sickbay, there was already a patient occupying every bed. Everyone in Sickbay was wearing air-filtration face masks, now that they were well aware of the entire scope of the virus' mutation capability.

"The communication grid is down in Sickbay," Crewman Taylforth reported from the wall console by the door. "Probably elsewhere too."

"Derrell, Cris: climb up a deck, and run to transporter room two. Have yourselves transported to the site of the accident, since we can't trust the 'lifts and you'll never make it down half a dozen decks in time." Once the pair scrambled to Sickbay's Jeffries tube access hatch, Damhnait continued, "Ensign Jacobs: take over Kremer's cardiopulmonary bypass, and get the EMH on M'lira's. Crewman Taylforth: run to the counselling office and get Lieutenants Scott and Potts in here. They've wanted to help, and I'm going to need more nurses. Crewman Psamtic and Corran: help the patients from biobeds five through fifteen" -- the ones allocated to the walking wounded -- "into the nearest crew quarters. Go out through the life sciences lab; I want the main entranceway clear. You," Damhnait ordered of the security officer, "Get me a status report. I need to know how serious and widespread these new system failures are."

"Dr. Sefton!" A harried Nurse Reese swung through the doorway of the waiting room. "We've got another arrival - massive cardiopulmonary distress. It's...it's Ensign Lektar!"

"Bring her over to the main biobed," Sefton demanded. "Is she infected with the virus?"

The grim expression on Reese's face was answer enough. "Should I take her directly to the quarantined area, Doctor?"

"No. All of Sickbay will have to quarantined for the moment, and I want to scan Shirik with the overhead sensor cluster at the main bed," Sefton responded. Addressing Sorg and Smith as they carried in Shirik, Damhnait demanded to know, "What happened?"

Before they could respond, she took Nurse Crowe aside and quickly ordered her to scan Sorg and Smith for any traces of the virus once Shirik was off their hands.

"The comm system is down, Site to site is a little shaky too, we wanted to land in here and ended up down the hall," Ken explained, glad that they had gotten their shipmate to sickbay in what he hoped was time. With a bit more concern than he wanted to let slip into his voice Ken asked, "Is she going to be alright?"

Disregarding the question she couldn't answer, Damhnait asked of Sorg, "What happened to Shirik?"

"She was talking to me - we had breakfast in the mess hall with most of Alpha shift Security. We left and stepped into a turbolift. Next thing I knew the power went out and it was pitch black. Shirik and I were talking - just biding our time till someone fixed the problem - she started finding it hard to breathe. Next thing she was struggling for breath and collapsed. She stopped breathing - it took about five minutes from being okay to being like that. I did CPR. That was maybe fifteen minutes ago.... I gave her mouth to mouth. You said a virus?" Sorg was worried now. There was no way he could escape being infected. He'd been breathing for her for fifteen minutes. He also thought of all the guys that had shared breakfast. Oh Prophets, he thought.

As they set Shirik down on the biobed, Damhnait told Sorg, "The virus probably has not mutated to affect Bajorans yet." She snapped her attention away from him to Shirik's sensor readings. "Her lungs have collapsed. Reese, prep for a cardiopulmonary bypass."

Sorg stepped away feeling numb. He nodded thanks to Ken Smith and walked out of the way, watching them get to work on Shirik. He felt exhausted, numb and shocked. Now that the situation was in someone else's hands he could let go of his control and he found that his feelings for Shirik made him shake with worry. He went visibly pale and had to sit down somewhere. He numbly walked out of sickbay, knowing that his presence was no longer needed.

Nurse Connie Crowe scurried after Sorg, and shouted, "Hey! Wait! You've gotta be tested for the virus." Guiding him back towards an empty biobed, she pointed to Ken, pointed him towards a biobed, and ordered, "You too."

Sorg nodded and complied, allowing her to lead him to the bed. He sat dumbly while she took a sample of blood and made him breathe into a medical sensor.

Looking at Nurse Crowe Ken covered his fear with a joke. "Now Nurse, you be gentle, it's my first time." You're a cheese ball, Ken. "I wonder where Nurse Sefton is, now he could take your blood gently."

With Doctor Sefton and Nurse Reese beginning their surgery on Shirik in the background, Nurse Crowe sombrely informed Smith, "Cristobel went to attend to whoever was injured in a turbocar that shot down the shaft."

"Well let's see how you do in this time of crisis."

***

"Man, this is goony duty," Espinoza said, his stylus clacking against his PADD.

"Yeah, but it's got to be done," Nebbs said, his voice muffled from within the access hatch. He poked his head out of the compartment. "Who else would do the checks on these things?"

Espinoza made a face of surrender and continued checking the PADD as Nebbs called off the okays.

"Hey, fellas," PO Corel called from down the hall. "How's it coming?" Espinoza chuckled at the loaded question.

"Come on," Corel said, embarrassed at Espinoza's willing misinterpretation. "It was a simple question."

"We're almost done, man," Espinoza said, grinning.

"Good," Corel nodded, then cocked his head, listening. "Do you hear that?"

The wrenching, twisting crash blew the doors off the turbolift, fragments of plasteel screaming down the corridor, clanging and ricocheting off the walls. Nebbs' head shot up, slamming into the open compartment hood. He fell flat with a yelping curse. Espinoza nearly jumped out of his skin, and Corel gave an incoherent shout of surprise.

"What the hell just happened?" Espinoza called, rising from the floor and touching his cheek where a fragment had grazed him, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Sounded like a crash," Nebbs said, lifting himself out of the workpod with one hand rubbing the back of his head furiously.

"The lift!" Corel bellowed. "Let's--" He hesitated while Espinoza helped Nebbs get clear of the cramped pod. "Uh, I've got a problem."

"What's up?" Espinoza said. "Corel?" he asked, as the engineer slumped against the wall.

"Corel?" Espinoza repeated, a little louder. He grabbed Corel's shoulder and turned him. "You alright?"

"Call sickbay," Corel muttered. He had both hands pressed to his side, and blood was seeping between his fingers.

Espinoza heard Nebbs on the com, and reached for the wall-mounted emergency kit.

"It felt like a push," Corel said absently.

"Get off your feet, man," Espinoza said, "before you fall."

"It didn't even hurt until just now," Corel murmured, sinking to his knees.

"No response from Sickbay," Nebbs reported. "How bad is it?"

"Not so good," Espinoza said, moving the engineer's hands to see the wound. A ten-centimeter length of plasteel from the lift doors was embedded in the man's side, blood seeping thick into his uniform. "Los medicos should be able to patch him up, if they get here soon. I guess we ought to leave the fragment in. It's kind of plugging the wound," he added. "I'll keep him talkin'."

"Good," Nebbs said, "I'll--" He gave a start. "Holy God. There was somebody in the lift."

Nebbs started toward the wreckage as the shimmering lights of the transporter came together on a pair of blue-collared officers.

Nurse Cristobel Sefton, to the right of Ensign Raina Derrell, firmed his grip on the antigrav gurney, grit his teeth and muttered a, "dhia." He had been steeling himself for the horrendous shape the turbocar's occupants would be in, but he hadn't expected there to be other injured parties nearby. Raina would have to determine patient priority.

Raina glanced around the area quickly, then got to work with initial assessments. As if her week wasn't bad enough without this latest incident. It appeared as though the chaos would never end. Not the first time she'd had to deal with multiple injuries on one call.

Spreading his mental awareness as he visually examined the scene, Cristobel quickly reported, "Malcom Nebbs appears unhurt, Luis Espinoza has a minor laceration, Eric Corel has an abdominal puncture, and... Amaya Chen is dying in the lift."

"We need to get to Chen ASAP or get her out of that lift. If Nebbs can escort Espinoza to sickbay that will help greatly. I want them both checked anyway. While it's critically important to treat Amaya as soon as possible I want a more detailed assessment of Corel's injuries as soon as it's feasible. My main concern is bleeding and making sure nothing important internally has been damaged." Raina was moving on autopilot as she surveyed the scene with her own eyes.

Starting a tricorder scan on Corel, Cristobel insisted, "We're going to need Nebbs and Espinoza to get to Amaya through the wreckage." Cristobel strode closer to the turbolift and the two operations officers. "Either of you ever take a turbolift apart from the outside? I don't think Chen would survive a beaming."

"It's already taken itself apart. This is all just clearing wreckage," Nebbs said, pulling another panel fragment from the pile. Espinoza moved to help, leaving Corel in Derrell's hands.

Raina was assessing the tricorder data quickly as she spoke, "Cris, see what you can do to help clear that debris." About to say something more when Corel's comment caught her full attention.

"On it," Cris called back, another panel fragment in hand.

"This is really starting to hurt now," Corel said absently to Raina, his endorphins apparently running thin.

"Just hang on," she commented calmly to Corel, "I'll see what I can do here. Then we'll get you to sickbay ASAP. " She could tell he was bleeding badly. What worried her as much as that was the first signs of shock. His face pale and skin a little clammy, only the beginning. "Corel can you tell me where it hurts?" Already working to deal with his bleeding and treat him for shock.

"Um," Corel pointed clumsily at his belly. "Here."

Raina smiled slightly. "We'll see what we can do about that. The best thing you can do to help yourself and me is relax. I'm going to see about getting you transported to some place more comfortable."

"Okay," he answered, his voice a little slurred. "I think I'll take a little rest."

That worried Raina. "Corel stay with me. Keep talking to me if you have to but I want you to stay awake." With that her attention shifted quickly to Nurse Sefton: "Cris what's your status on that debris and we need to get in touch with sickbay. I need both Corel and Amaya there yesterday."

"Maintenance of the tertiary EPS conduit chipset sockets," Corel intoned. "Step one . . ." he droned off into a soft mutter as he recited the steps to keep himself awake.

"Dhia, Amaya's heart stopped beating," Cristobel frantically reported his tricorder readings back to Derrell.

"Grab that end," Nebbs told Espinoza, and the two of them shifted a wide expanse of liftcar wall. Amaya's torso came into view. Her uniform and flesh had been sliced and mashed into an unmoving bruised and bloody mess. Chen's face was completely unrecognisable; her scalp missing, her eyes crushed, her nose broken, her mouth filled with blood. One hand was stretched out toward the corridor. One of its fingernails was torn away.

"How do we give her CPR?" Cristobel asked roughly, reigning in any urge to scream or retch.

From her vantage point by Corel, Raina could just make out the crumpled remains of Amaya Chen. It was one of those situations she never wanted to face yet had too many times in her career. "Cris we have to let her go. There's nothing we can do for her. Those injuries are too severe." That comment took all of Raina's will power to keep from giving into the pain it produced. "I need your help with Corel. We have to focus on those we can help."

It was almost too easy for Cris to turn away from Amaya, and run to someone he could actually help. "What do you want me to do?" Sefton asked, his expression steely, as he automatically helped Eric onto the antigrav gurney.

"He's going into shock. For now I have the bleeding under control. If anything changes in transit I want to know it. Until we have him in sickbay I want him awake," Raina commented.

Cristobel nodded his understanding, and double-checked to ensure the bandage-foam on Eric's abdomen was set, and hadn't been displaced by getting him on the stretcher. Holstering his medical tricorder, Sefton informed Raina, "Chen is displaying no brain activity."

"Computer record time of death for Amaya Chen as 06:58." It wasn't easy to make that announcement but it had to be completed. "Let's get moving we'll arrange to have Amaya transported to the morgue."

"Step six. . ." mumbled Corel.

***

Damhnait Sefton eyed the biobed monitor of every patient as she walked towards her target. She offered soft words of support to each staff member as she passed; she stopped to congratulate Raina, in particular, now that Eric Corel was in recovery from his treatment. Damhnait didn't mention Chen; she didn't want Raina to think about it; she would have medical technicians retrieve the body, and would try to find a pair who hadn't known Amaya when she had worked in Sickbay.

Sefton continued over to biobeds thirteen and fourteen, where Sorg and Smith sat in numbness and anticipation, respectively. They had been declared virus-free, and now Damhnait had more relatively good news to offer them. "Shirik has been stabilised, now that the oxygenator is breathing for her. She is in a coma, though. We still have time to do all we can for her, since she is not yet approaching the final widespread stage of the virus' infection."

I wonder if they are going to find a cure for this thing? Ken looked over at Sorg, he seemed to have more going on here than he did. Better let Sorgie ask about the cure for his dame.

Sorg looked up at the attractive doctor. "What can I do to help, sir?" He stood, trying to shake off the numbness. There was little use in sitting around. Action was better than inaction and he was trained to handle emergencies. "I know basic first aid - if you need an extra hand with anything...I'd like...I need to help, sir. Anything." The look in his eyes told her he was struggling with his feelings, his mind was full of worry for Shirik and panic about the virus and how close he had come to dealing with it personally and a screaming need to do something - anything to occupy his mind and do his duty.

"The best thing you can do is report to your duty station," Damhnait told him. "The Sickbay comms are back, and it seems it was only the turbolifts that suffered a major malfunction this time. If things get any worse, I will be sure to add you to the damage control roster."

"Well, doc, I've got to go file an incident report and do pass down for the next rover." Literally hopping off the table, the ever buoyant Mr. Smith gave Sorg a slap on the back, bid adieu and departed.

Sorg nodded to the man and thanked him and turned back to Sefton. "If you don't mind, ma'am, I'll report to the Security Office. I'd be much obliged if you'd let me know if Ensign Lektar's situation changes. We work together, you see - my duty station is usually alongside where she's working. We're friends. We had breakfast together this morning...a whole bunch of the security team from Alpha watch was there too. If she's contagious...there's a risk isn't there? We were in the mess hall...with everyone...." Sorg looked stricken at the realization that most of his friends were brought into contact with the deadly virus. To Sefton his mind was a wide-open book. He didn't spare a moment's thought to his own well-being, and his mind kept going back to the panicked seconds in the blackened turbolift when Shirik had stopped breathing.

"While Shirik must have been infected after her post-away team examination, she must have been carrying the virus for several days to be at this point where her lungs have collapsed. The entire crew will have to be tested for infection of the virus again. Fortunately, the virus has not had much time to mutate, and it only targets victims possessing certain DNA traits - traits that most of the crew does not possess. It is extremely unlikely that Shirik has infected anyone else," Damhnait promised him. "I will begin working on a gene therapy designed around Drokari genomics immediately, and you will be informed on her progress."

"Thank you, sir." Sorg gave the woman a tentative smile. "I'll be back later to visit if that's okay." He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He nodded and straightened his uniform jacket. "Good day, sir." With a last glance at Shirik and the activity surrounding her, he left Sickbay.

Doctor Sefton returned to the main biobed alcove, to formally instruct Amy, "I need you to manage the re-testing of everyone in the crew for signs of infections. I suggest sending roving nurses and technicians to examine personnel in their quarters and duty stations, since we don't have spare room. You can task whomever Raina doesn't need here in Sickbay. Can you handle this project?"

"I-I can," Amy stammered. "But...Doctor!" She looked around her briefly, then lowered her voice as she asked, "Do you think it's mutated? Are we all in danger?"

"It has mutated, but, aside from Shirik, we have done everything we can to quarantine this virus. From what I have seen, Terran DNA is still outside the range of the virus' targets." The muscles in Damhnait's neck visible tensed in revulsion as the following words found their way to her lips, "Even so, check your gossip communication channels to ascertain how Shirik behaves socially. Maybe she spends her evenings in her quarters, or maybe she spent every night in the Officer's Lounge. Find out. Raina, her roommate, would probably be a good place to start. As I understand it, she works in the computer core; that lack of colleagues might prove to be advantageous."

Amy puzzled over the request, but nodded acknowledgement. "Right away, Doctor." And still appearing disturbed, Amy rushed off, already tapping her commbadge to contact the various members of her team.

Suddenly alone, except for the comatose Shirik lying on the biobed, Damhnait attempted to focus on Shirik's vitals, and then on the computer simulations of her untested gene-therapies for the other patients, but her mind couldn't focus. Instead, she struggled to remember anything about Amaya Chen that had uniquely identified her apart from the other technicians on board, and did so without much success.

---

"Busted"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Lt. Commander T'Kal
Lieutenant Tagliesh

Location: Conference Room, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.19, 07h00

***

Matt watched Xayella as she entered the conference room, trying to gauge how this meeting would go by her body language. He looked over to where Commander T'Kal sat, his dark gaze fixed on Xay. Matt would have preferred to have this meeting alone, but the chief of security's anger over having had his department excluded from Xayella's away team would have made that difficult, especially considering his own relationship with Xay.

Preparatory to coming to the meeting Benedict had made an investigation of his own. The results of which were on a padd under his hand. It seemed that Xayella had left the entire organisation of the away team to Ensign Farrell in operations. Farrell had put the team together and made all the requisitions for the teams equipment and the flight plan for the shuttle. Farrell had made only enough equipment requisitions for the team - sans a security officer. It was very clear that no such request for a security officer was ever made. In fact Benedict had every logged request, comm-signal conversation and terminal command that Farrell had issued for the whole period. Either Xayella had specifically ordered Farrell to neglect a security presence, or Farrell had done so himself. Regulations mandating a security presence on Away Teams was clear. He sat quietly, listening and waiting.

"Please have a seat, Lieutenant," Matt said.

She did so smoothly and with no sign of anxiety. Her face was expressionless, but by her refusal to look directly at Matt, her desolation was just as clearly conveyed.

Once she was seated, Matt took his own. "Please begin by telling us why there wasn't a security officer on your team when you left the ship?"

"Seems the message got lost," she explained with a shrug. "Must've been another malfunction."

"I see," Matt said, his frown deepening. "As the leader of the Away Team, why did you choose to leave the ship without a member of your team, while knowing full-well the technical difficulties we've been experiencing recently?"

She could only be proud, and at once resentful of Matt's cleverness; it was what she loved about him the most. "I thought what we might uncover on the planet was too important to delay. I assumed there would be no security escort; we all know of Commander T'Kal's opinion of me. I presumed he was withholding members of his department from us out of spite."

Benedict almost swallowed his tongue at that line. Instead he sat up and bit back on the obvious comment that the science department may operate upon such principles, but never security, and he relaxed visibly. In a quiet tone he said, "Starfleet regulations stipulate that a security officer must be present on all Away Missions in hostile or unknown environments, Lieutenant. Personal opinion is not taken into account. Did you, as commanding officer of the Away Team, request either yourself or through Ensign Farrell for a security presence on the mission?" T'Kal's fingers drummed idly upon the padd before him.

Xayella smiled thinly. "I believe I have already answered that question, Commander."

"Lieutenant," Matt began, unable to hide his disappointment from his expression, "I strongly suggest you cooperate fully in this matter. Flippant answers to questions posed will only exacerbate an already bad situation."

"How, sir," Xayella asked, "is this bad? I've already told you both we requested a security escort but we were given none. Besides," she added, "the situation hardly required one. There's no one alive on that planet, Captain, therefore no threat. There were no fatalities, were there?"

"You requested a security officer, but didn't follow-up on it when you were departing," Matt said. "You didn't do so because of some animosity that exists between yourself and Commander T'Kal. That, Lieutenant, is bad. Going in, the situation was still an unknown, and should have had a security officer along. Luckily, there were no fatalities on the planet's surface...luckily, considering the entire Away Team was incapacitated for a period of time."

She sighed and shook her head wryly. "Captain, there was a security team on the last away team and now this entire ship is under siege by some virus that came from that planet. They couldn't prevent that, so what use are they really?" Her conceited gaze was fully on T'Kal. "There was a member of security on that planet with us, and we were still incapacitated. So really, what difference did it make?"

"Procedures are established for a reason," Matt said. "You ignored standard operating procedure, citing some sort of childish feud between yourself and Commander T'Kal as your reason for not having a security officer present. It was fine this time. What if it hadn't been? What if, rather than a gas, they had other forms of automated defense? You got lucky, Lieutenant. You gambled with the lives of the Away Team, and it paid off...this time. What will you do if next time your luck runs out? What will you do if someone dies from your negligence?

Xayella's eyes hardened as they shifted towards Matt. "They won't," she told him firmly, coldly. "A security officer was requested - verify that with Ensign Farrell. I went down to that planet today to save lives, those of the people aboard this vessel. All those who followed me down realized the absence of a security officer and raised no protest. They went willingly because their only interest was in searching for some way to stop that virus and these malfunctions; if you want to condemn me for computer error, that's your choice, but I can guarantee that anyone in my place would have proceeded with that mission despite the lack of security because we all know what's at stake, and that far outweighs Commander T'Kal's need for control of every situation. I was acting for the good of this ship," she declared. "In the end, that's all that matters."

Matt's jaw worked, flexing and unflexing, as he searched her eyes. "Your efforts are to be commended," he said in a flat tone. "Regardless, we have rules and regulations on this ship for a reason. There are standard procedures that must be followed. If we neglect that, we descend toward chaos and on this ship, out here alone, we cannot afford that. The situation is dire, but not so dire that the chain of command cannot be followed. Unless you're saying I should give up my pips and walk away from this because my authority aboard this ship is meaningless. You make it sound like you are the only one, you and those who followed you down to the planet, working to fight the virus afflicting members of this crew. You nearly snuck off the ship without telling me and then when you did leave, you left security behind--not even bothering to actually contact someone from the security department. Do you believe, Lieutenant, that my command of this ship is inadequate to deal with the crisis we are currently facing? Do you believe that you are the only one aboard, along with your hand-picked team, who is capable of dealing with this threat, and therefore you must operate outside of the established chain of command to reach the goals that you have set? If that is the case, Lieutenant, please let me know so that I may step aside, lay down my command, and cease to hinder your progress as the saviour for this ship, her crew, and the safety and sanctity of the entire Federation."

"Don't patronize me," Xayella snapped. "My only goal was to find a cure for this virus, and my team and I might just have. I know I am not exempt from following the chain of command - you've made that clear on many occasions, but in the end, it might have been the best thing for what we set out to accomplish. Commander T'Kal and his devoted followers would simply have stood in the way of that, and the situation was too dire to allow that."

Matt stood up. "I will not tolerate this feud that exists between the two of you," he snapped. "You will resolve this matter immediately and without bloodshed, or I will find new department heads who can work together. Lieutenant Tagliesh, you are relieved from duty until this matter can be resolved to my satisfaction. Commander Sam will verify that a message was sent to security requesting an officer for your away team. Until then, Lieutenant Druschev will be in charge of the science department. Lieutenant, you will alert me when you believe yourself capable to work as a member of this crew, rather than as some maverick along for the ride. Both of you are arrogant and full of your own abilities, don't think that I don't see that. Stow your conceit and work with me, or I will find someone who can."

Xayella raised an eyebrow at T'Kal, and regarded him with a mild smirk. At least his fault in the matter wasn't completely overlooked. "I accept your punishment, Captain." She faced Matt once more, though in her expression there was a hint of disappointment. "May I request you at least allow me to collaborate with Dr. Sefton to find a cure for this virus."

"If Dr. Sefton wishes for your assistance," Matt said, a sadness in his eyes visible only to Xayella, "then I will allow it. However, you will not retain your rank and privileges while you are assisting her. You will essentially be a civilian during that time. Hopefully this matter can be cleared up quickly and efficiently."

"Trust me, Captain," she said softly and with a significantly rueful smile, "everything's absolutely crystal clear." Xayella then lowered her eyes.

Benedict had followed the discussion thus far with silence. He was angry - the implied threat to his own department was disturbing as Tagliesh had done this alone. He had had nothing to do with it. "Captain, I have already ascertained that no message was sent to the security department. Ensign Farrell handled the logistics for the Away Team and he requested only enough surface equipment for his team - without a security officer. I'm quite sure there was no message. For what it's worth, Captain, Lieutenant Tagliesh's performance issues were raised only with you. I was in command of the first away team - and she made it clear that it was she who desired that command - and acted in a manner that was unprofessional. She was confrontational with almost every member of the away team - particularly Doctor Sefton. I refuse to accept any blame for this incident. If she perceives that there is some kind of lasting animosity between us, she is mistaken and so are you, Captain. With matters of duty I will act according to regulations - personal likes or dislikes do not come into the way I run security." He passed over the padd. "This is a complete data log of Ensign Farrell's requests, comm-traffic, terminal accesses during the period of the 18th and 19th. There were no requests to security logged - although that is untrue for flight control, shuttle assignment, science department, medical and counselling departments. Every member of the away team has an assigned request and authorization by their department head. Nothing for security at all." He looked at Tagliesh with a completely neutral expression.

"Commander, I don't care if the animosity exists or not," Matt said, then swept his gaze to Xayella. "But, as of this moment, it ends. Given the difficulties this ship is experiencing, the claim that the message never reached its intended target is not unbelievable, however the matter will be investigated. Lieutenant, we'll need to know what time you placed the request and from which terminal."

She inclined her head. "Of course. It was from the computer terminal in our--" Her smile wavered. "Your quarters," she corrected. "Around 04h35."

"Very good," Matt said. "I'll have Commander Sam begin the investigation from there."

"In the meantime," Xayella said, rising, "I'll be with Dr. Sefton in Sickbay." She cast a cool glare in T'Kal's direction. "Commander, a pleasure as always."

Matt stood up and faced Xayella. "Dismissed, Lieutenant," he said. "And, we'll talk later." It wasn't a talk he was looking forward to at all.

With a tacit nod of acknowledgement, she departed.

Benedict watched her leave and only when the doors shut did he turn to Salinger. "Captain - apart from the away mission, which was the first time that I have spoken to Lieutenant Tagliesh, I have not had anything to do with her at all. I do not know why you have the idea that I harbour any animosity to the woman. Certainly I would never act in any way unprofessional with her. Her behaviour is your concern not mine. I will not take responsibility for it, not take a share of the blame. Clearly she resents any form of authority. I would suggest that you talk to other members of the away team and make your own assessment of her conduct."

"I will talk to her, Commander, and I will talk to them," Matt said. "However, considering that she has implicated you in this matter, it becomes your concern as well, even if you don't want it. I'm not blaming you, but if you wish to only wash your hands of the matter and let others reach a solution...I understand."

"I really do not understand her attitude," Benedict shook his head. "I think she took it personally when you assigned me as the Away Team commander, and it's just gotten worse from there. She actually accused me of trying to aggrandize my position by sleeping with Tayla - right out of the blue. Honestly, Captain, I haven't said anything to anyone - I don't know why she wants to drag me into this other than to spread the blame. Farrell organised the whole Away Team." He indicated the padd. "Since Risa I've had the ship's computer compiling a security report on Ensign Farrell's activities. Every command he gives and every communication he sends or receives through his commbadge, workstation - everything. It's clear that he made all of the arrangements for the Away Team."

"Very well," Matt said. "I'll check with Mr. Farrell and find out if he requested a security officer for the Away Team. We'll see what his answer is, and go from there."

Benedict nodded. "I'd have Sam in attendance, Captain. He's less likely to lie. Some of his actions are questionable."

"Of course," Matt said. "I'll make certain to have Commander Sam present. Is there anything else, Commander?"

"No, sir." He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood and straightened his uniform.

"Dismissed, Commander," Matt said. "And, Commander, I will get to the bottom of this, and hopefully we'll all be able to rest easier as well as work together." Even if it means doing something I don't want to do...

---

"Sleeping Beauty"
By: Lt. Saavar - Science Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19 08h40

***

"If you will allow me, nurse." Saavar stepped up to the bio bed. His tone of voice indicated that there would be no argument. Nurse Annikafiore Szerda obeyed the implicit commanding tone and stepped away from the bed. The Vulcan science officer took a deep breath and looked down upon Shirik Lektar as she lay under the bio-sensor. The biobed was keeping her stable - and breathing by forced blood infusion rather than through her choked lungs. She could not breathe on her own, so she looked peaceful, asleep rather than on the edge of death.

Her long dark lashes were fluttering slightly, her violet eyes were closed, leaving her black-skinned face devoid of any color, save the slight flush to her full lips. The mane of white hair was curled out of the way. Saavar's first thought was that she was so fragile, yet he knew from recent experience that she was not. He thought that she looked beautiful and he remembered a very ancient Terran legend of a sleeping princess roused from a deep sleep by a lover's kiss. The Vulcan was not about to kiss her, but the similarity to the fable struck him as he reached out both hands and touched the Jan Tow points to initiate a mind meld.

"Your mind to my mind," he said softly, beginning the mantra that focused thought. "My thought to your thought." The immediate response of the blood bond told Saavar that her mind was receptive to his contact - they had shared the intimacy of the Plak Tow and Pon Farr and been in close physical contact for the whole night, and so Shirik's mind was as familiar a landscape as the deserts of his homeworld. She instinctively united with his mind and Saavar was gratified that her response was as keen as his own to touch once again.

He sent the first warming tendrils of thought into her darkness of subconscious dreams. It was more a presence than a clear thought, a gentle ripple on the still lake of her mind. Saavar closed his eyes and concentrated upon the warm cocoon into which Shirik's conscious mind had retreated. He held her, comforted her and surrounded her with his mental strength.

Awaken. Come to me, Shirik, his mind whispered.

Her voice floated, heavy and thick as if from a person drugged or not very awake. Peaceful.... sleep....

His mind smiled, and he encouraged her, lending his support as her sluggish thoughts began to take shape. Come to me, Shirik, he thought at her. The undercurrent of concern for her was rippling across Saavar's mind. From a night and morning of shared intimacy and inner contentment to almost losing her, the Vulcan's awakened emotions were eroding his self control. He needed to contact her. Doctor Sefton was diligently working on a cure for the virus, but there was no indication that she would find one in time to save Shirik Lektar's life and Saavar had felt a deep sadness that threatened his mental stability. The planet had been deemed safe by Lieutenant Tagliesh, and yet here was Shirik, like Mel'Chir on the verge of death.

No... she slurred. Peaceful here... her voice came. There was a long silence, and some part of her felt the bond, felt Saavar, and his smile, his concern. Saavar...?

Yes, it is I, he thought, his mind awash with relief. You cannot talk - you must communicate by thought alone. He cradled her waking mind, and smiled, this time the emotion was clearly visible on the Vulcan's face.

Annika was watching the Vulcan scientist as he conducted his mind-meld. He was handsome, and when he smiled it surprised her, as she could clearly see the emotionless mask that all Vulcans seemed to wear was not in evidence. His whole manner when he had walked into sickbay was unnatural for the stoic species. Annika had shown him to Shirik's bedside and been brushed aside. Now as she watched she began to speculate on the relationship between Lektar and Saavar - for Saavar to commence a mind meld unbidden was an indication to the experienced Starfleet nurse that there was more to this than there seemed. He clearly looked relieved and his smile was gentle, the kind of smile one bestowed upon a lover.

There was reluctance in Shirik's mind. Where she was was so peaceful, so nice... but Saavar was calling her, and she couldn't ignore his call. She wandered closer to consciousness. Where are you...? Her consciousness reached for him, seeking him.

Here, he called and her mind responded. The meld became one mind as she finally became conscious. Their mind formed a new whole, and Saavar suffused her with strength as they reaffirmed their bond.

Her eyes fluttered partially open and one hand moved, looking for his, needing physical contact with him. Saavar...? As she became conscious, she became aware of her body once more, and memories of what had happened before she lost consciousness. She was confused, afraid. She still couldn't breathe, and her chest constricted in fear. Saavar!

His eyes opened as one hand sought hers. They clasped, but her strength was extremely weak and he held it as if it would break. His right hand remained at her cheek and temple, yet he smiled to reassure her. "Do not fear," he whispered, "I will not let you go. I will remain with you." His mind still held doubts and fears that Shirik could plainly see. You have contracted the virus from the planet, his mind told her. We are attempting to discover a cure.

Annika could see the intensity of the Vulcan's gaze as he looked down upon Lektar. He was close, leaning over her and holding her gaze. His voice was gentle and the way he looked at her made Annika shiver. She suddenly felt as if she was intruding and it was plain that they shared a relationship. The Drokari's hand had sought his and now they were locked together in a meld that excluded everyone and everything. The Vulcan had a reputation of being somewhat arrogant on the Sulu - but she saw none of that as he looked upon Shirik. Annika only saw his deep concern and more startling was the open emotion. She stepped back a few paces and watched her patient, feeling a lump in her own throat. Shirik would probably die and her previous run-in with the Ensign was now forgotten as she surreptitiously wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Virus....? Her eyes widened. Sorg...where is he? Is he all right? And you? You didn't catch it, did you? Now she feared for those she was close to, that she might have spread a plague to. She closed her eyes once more, her next question unspoken but there in her thoughts. She wasn't even sure how she was still alive at all... but would she yet die?

We will find a cure, his mind was comforting, his will bent upon encouraging her. ~The viral strain is not viable in a Bajoran nor a Vulcan host, he thought to quell her fears. Crewman Sorg saved your life, and he has my gratitude. We are doing everything we can. We are considerably more adept at medical science than they were. We will prevail. His mind was adamant on that, but behind it was a fear of losing her, a purely emotional response that the male Vulcan could not help, nor deny.

She couldn't help but to smile weakly at him. Her hand tightened somewhat in his. Thank him for me if you see him, she said. She was comforted by his presence, and his stubborn insistence that she would recover. I'm sure I'll be fine... she said, wanting to comfort him in return.

The Vulcan gave her a smile, it was tentative, but his eyes gave away his true emotion. He was still a little emotionally bared after the night and the Ponn Farr. Have no fear, his shared mind intoned as he began a Vulcan mantra that slowed their heart beats in time and calmed the mind and body.

No... not any more... she murmured, getting sleepy. She closed her eyes, no longer afraid that she might not wake up. Saavar was there, and she felt safe enough to sleep once more. Sleep now... night, Saavar...

Goodnight, Shirik. He waited until she was asleep and then stood erect, still holding her hand. "I will remain here," he told Szerda. "She is asleep." Saavar's duty shift was Beta, and so he settled to await the passage of the next seven hours in meditation upon the experiences of the last day and night.

---

"Up in the Air Junior Birdman"
By C1C Ken Smith - Security
Ensign Marp - Flight Control

Location: Holodeck, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.19, 10h40

***

"Sorry I'm late, Marp." Ken saw his friend's exasperated look and felt the personal touch would be the best for apologizing to the officer in this off duty capacity, even though he was doing him a favor. "But a young couple was hanging up the turbo lift with some breath taking exercises."

Ken was trying to get his Intrepid Starship Qualification done, and needed to get a flight officer to sign off that he had passed the required exam. Which basically was Ken flying a shuttle once in the holodeck through a gravity storm and once for an hour around the ship. The latter one required all kinds of authorization, but the former only required Ken and Marp to sign off that their need for the holodeck was work related and any unlucky souls who might have reserved it would be bumped.

Marp finished selecting the shuttle program and the holodeck doors opened. "No big problem," said Marp. "Shall we?"

"Officers first." Ken followed Marp into the Holodeck and took up the pilot's seat at the controls. Marp sat down next to Ken in the Co-Pilot's seat.

"First thing we need to do it run the shuttle through a preflight checklist. You can call it up on the pilot's console." Marp pulled it up on his own console.

"Ok got it." Ken's fingers danced across the control panel. "Engines, life support, communications, and hull integrity are all in the green. Do you want me to signal Traffic control and request permission to take her out?"

Mark smiled at Ken, "You are the in the pilot's chair. Go for it."

"Shuttle control this is Shuttle Pod 3 requesting permission to leave the docking bay."

"Shuttle Pod 3 this is shuttle control, you have permission to depart."

"Thank you," Ken replied. Looking at Marp Ken continued, "Let's see what's out there." The shuttle eased off the docking bay's floor and began a slow maneuver toward the shielded bay doors. Passing through the shields Ken increased the speed and in the rear monitor Ken and Marp spied the Sulu getting smaller and smaller. "I have set the course for the Dytonis asteroid belt, and at present speed we should get there in five minutes. How am I doing so far, boss?"

"You are doing fine." Marp smiled. "You are a natural."

As the asteroid belt came into sight the shuttle began to shake violently, the gravity storm portion of the flight had kicked in. Ken tried to right the vessel but he failed to and the cabin went red with warning lights.

"Ok, Marp, my buddy, how am I going to pull this thing out." He knew that if this had been the actual test he would have just failed by asking the instructor what to do.

"Relax, Ken, reduce your speed. You are going too fast. And increase power to the shuttle's structural integrity. Just remember to take your time. This is not a shuttle race." Marp watched as Ken got control of the shuttle again. "Excellent!"

Taking a deep breath Ken heeded the advice of Marp and relaxed. He was drawing close to the field when the shuttle and star field ahead of them began to fade out and merge with the holodeck walls. After a few seconds the holodeck completely failed. Sitting in the empty room Ken turned to Marp and said, "Well that was certainly unexpected. What do you say we log this with engineering and go grab a bite to eat before you start your watch and I hit the hay."

"There has been all kinds of problems with these holodecks lately." Marp shook his head. "Let's go get some grub." Marp patted Ken on his back. "Not bad flying. We will have to come back when they get the holodeck's fixed." The two of them left the holodeck.

---

"Data Maze"
Lt. Commander Benedict T'Kal, Chief of Security
Lt. Commander Sam, Operations Manager
Ensign Vincent Chan, Science Officer

Location: Security Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19, 13h23

***

Sam found Commander T'Kal in the security office. The Chief of Security was frowning over a padd and sipping from a large mug. He glanced up as Sam came to a stop next to him and held out a padd.

"I have been unable to progress much farther in my research," Sam stated. "The terminal I was using experienced a power failure. The information I was able to gather, however, is contained on that padd. The results are intriguing. Piecing together the reports of trouble, the difficulties appear to have spread from the holomatrix through other systems. I have not yet been able to determine a time of origin, but I believe my research is drawing me closer."

Benedict examined the initial synopsis of the report and nodded. "The holo-matrix? Could someone have started this by initiating a viral program in the matrix?" He remembered a similar event on the USS Windsor; a Klingon member of the diplomatic party had almost succeeded in assassinating a Romulan Ambassador that way. "Perhaps we should tackle this from the computer core itself. We will need to examine all of the holodeck programs - their code, line by line if necessary - and I think it will be necessary. I will assist you, Commander." He stood and drank the last of his 'jino, grimacing at the bitterness of the strong Klingon drink.

He waved Sam ahead of him and left the Security Office with the android. Ten minutes later they arrived in the Engineering Hull Computer Core, having climbed between decks in Jefferies tubes to avoid the turbo-lifts. One of the cargo bays had evacuated its atmosphere - it happened to be the one with all of the collected samples from the planet. They were lucky that one of the crew had been fast enough to get everyone out before the automatic systems sealed the area.

The Computer Core was a small circular room with the central space taken up with stacks of white disks taller than a man. A ring of workstations surrounded the stack and two alcoves with seated stations were opposite each other in the walls. This was a duplicate of Shirik Lektar's usual duty station and Benedict smiled as he remembered their swim as he stood at the interface.

"I'll start with Holodeck Two, you start on One. I don't trust the diagnostic cycle, I've had reports of random failures in both level one and two programs so I guess we'd better do it manually." He grimaced at the android. "It will take a while, but we have to do it."

"That will be acceptable," Sam acknowledged. "I will have diagnostic equipment taken to both holodecks for our examination. Additionally, I believe it may be necessary to involve engineering in our examination of potential fail points."

"I agree - we need to get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can." He set to work calling up the holomatrix systems in Holodeck Two. The holodecks were pretty much in constant use, with one hundred and fifty crew and only four holodecks and three shift rotations it meant valued off-time, training situations and general maintenance cycles used them constantly. It would be laborious and painstaking.

"If we remove the holodecks from service in shifts," Sam said, "it should have a minimal impact on crew use. With as busy as the crew has been since the beginning of this crisis, if we were to take two holodecks offline, I believe that would provide us the opportunity to conduct maintenance on them. Given the nature of this problem, it would be advisable, as well, to examine the hololabs aboard ship as well, specifically the science department's since they have been a primary focus in the investigation."

Benedict nodded. "I think it would be wise to restrict holodeck use in total until we can conclude either way that they are safe. There is a risk that holodeck safety protocols could go off-line."

"Valid reasoning," Sam answered. "We should also communicate to the counselling department the need to boost crew morale should the loss of holodeck facilities have an impact."

Benedict nodded. "I think at the moment, Sam, the counselors have more things to worry about than morale, but if this takes a while that too is solid reasoning. There's also the holodeck ghosts to consider - perhaps we should leave one active but restrict access and monitor it constantly to see if one of those figures re-appears?"

"A logical suggestion," Sam answered. "I will see that Holodeck Four is left active. We can station either security or operations personnel on site. I believe it would also be prudent to have Lieutenant Flummux monitor the situation as well, considering his specialty is Sulu's holosystems."

"Yes, sounds like a plan, Commander," Benedict nodded as he worked. "I'm going to call up my own program from this morning. I had two visitors in my running program, that should give us a clue what to look for - if the program was altered in any way to accommodate them. It might give us an effective starting point." The program code began to scroll down the screen in holomatrix language. Benedict had to slow it down as he wasn't speedy with code reading

While T'Kal began working, Sam activated the shipboard communicator. "Commander Sam to Lieutenant Thaine. Please report to the Computer Core in the Engineering Hull to assist Commander T'Kal and myself in the investigation of the current system anomalies plaguing the Sulu."

"On my way," came Thaine's gruff reply.

With Thaine on the way, Sam opened a channel to Science Holo- laboratory. "Commander Sam to Ensign Chan," he said. "Ensign, we are looking into the current problems in the Sulu's holomatrix. Are you available for some tests and diagnostics involving the science hololabs?"

Vincent stopped what he was doing immediately and tapped his comm- badge to respond. "Yes, Commander. What do you want me to do?" Vincent adopted a most professional tone of voice for this response. This was really the first time that any of the Sulu's top officers had addressed him, but he was not to be shaken. He closed off waiting for a reply.

"We shall be conducting a variety of diagnostics on the ship's holosystems," Sam said. "We shall require your assistance to test the systems in the science hololab." Sam looked to T'Kal, who nodded readiness. "Instructions will follow, Ensign."

Taking the holodecks offline was always risky given the fickle nature of crew morale, but it was a necessity. Whatever hit the ship's morale would take, however, was inconsequential to the danger the Sulu's failing systems posed. In the end, the risks were worth it, and the beginnings of answers were found. The Sulu had an interesting dilemma indeed...

---

"Candy Striper"
by Doctor Ilan Potts - Assistant Chief Counselor
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Cadet D'alla Cox [NPC] - Cadet in Training
and the EMH [NPC]

Location: USS Sulu, Main Sickbay
Stardate: 57908.19, 13h27

***

Although wary of Ensign Derrell, Doctor Potts still limped into the Sulu's main Sickbay with one boot in hand and one foot bare, grimacing painfully. In his eventful days on board the ship, Potts had been content to let his toenails get downright unruly and it had only been a matter of time before one snapped. And when that inevitability passed, though it was only barely into the nail bed with very little blood, Potts had howled like a banshee and immediately removed his boot in the mess hall. There were no further diners for the better part of the next hour.

With all the various examinations, viral infections, and samples that had been beamed up from the planet's surface, Potts was not particularly surprised (and somewhat relieved) to find every medical officer and enlisted person busy attending patients. Doctor Sefton's staff was spread as thin as could be and in spite of his grievous wounding at the hands (hands?) of his Starfleet-issue boots, Potts had no desire to pull away a proper nurse from whatever duty he or she might be performing for the good of ill crew. In fact, considering Raina's ire towards him, it was one of the rare times that Potts simply wanted to get in and out of a space without causing a scene.

"Hullo, Computer." The answering chirp was slow and hesitant, as if the machine hated to be bothered. "Please activate the Emergency Medical Hologram."

There was a slight shimmer of light, a whorl of improper noise, and then the EMH appeared at Potts' left flank. Ilan turned, finding it curious that the EMH had appeared behind him and had not immediately asked him to 'state the nature of the medical emergency.' Upon sight of the EMH, Potts' face grew curiousier still.

"Hullo," Potts greeted, his face asking nothing but questions.

***

"Are you sure it's the EMH?" Cris Sefton asked from behind the main console as he eyed the apparition puttering around the Sickbay warily. Rather than the tallish blond snob that he was used to, the EMH appeared as a small slightly heavy-set woman of Latin descent. The graying hair was piled on its head under what looked to be a generous amount of hairspray and it wore a thick pink sweater over modest, conservative clothing. For all the universe, it looked like a grandmother.

"Quite sure," Potts nodded, his words slightly slurred as he worked them around a white stick coming out of his mouth. "She mended my broken toenail admirably and --" Potts removed the white stick, revealing a swiftly eroding piece of cherry red hard candy "--and she replicated me this lollipop. Very pleasant." Potts put his sucker back in his mouth.

"That can't be healthy," Cristobel muttered about the lollipop.

The doors to the Sickbay whisked open, allowing Crewman Rinaro to rush inside. Since the malfunctions had begun, various crew had suffered small hurts at the whim of their mechanical devices and crewmen like Rinaro were becoming a common sight: He was cradling his left elbow with his right hand and wore a pained expression. Instinctively, Cris started to go to him.

"Wait," Potts said, reaching out a long fingered hand and gripped Sefton's shoulder. The EMH was already doddering towards Rinaro. "This is my favorite part," Potts said expectantly.

"Aw, mijo...what you do?" the EMH asked of the superbly confused Crewman. It began to examine Rinaro's arm expertly.

"The...the...A-a-armory door slammed shut on me," Rinaro said, looking at Potts and Sefton with a question mark.

"You fracture your lateral epicondyle and lacerate your brachioradialis?" she asked, smiling at young Rinaro. Before he could answer, she patted the shoulder of his good arm. "I get the bactine."

While the EMH scooted over to the examination tray, Potts leaned towards Cris to speak conspiratorially. "She seems to know her stuff," Potts confirmed, twirling his lollipop noisily in his mouth. "And no matter what equipment she uses - skin regenerator, stim pack, derm patch, hypospray - she calls it 'bactine'. It's all really quite charming."

"Won't be as charming to the mess she makes of everyone's medical records," Cristobel stated uneasily.

"I think I have it," a muffled voice exclaimed from underneath the console, prompting Potts and Sefton to part ever so slightly. A lovely green-skinned Orion female rose from the spot they vacated. She was already punching her PADD.

"Yes, Cadet," Potts said, staring dreamily, his sucker-stick arching upward. "You certainly do have it."

Cox ignored the innuendo and chose to speak to Sefton. "The physical parameters and the personality subroutine for the EMH are gone. Deleted. The program could have been in the middle of a self-diagnostic and gotten wiped from the matrix. There have been reported failures in low priority programs."

"Hunh," Cris murmured.

"The EMH program is sophisticated, sir," Cox explained, smiling very slightly at the young nurse's feigned dumbfoundedness. "When it reinitialized, the program realized that the files were missing and went looking for them." Cox pointed at the EMH with the PADD. She was already running a bone knitter over Rinaro's bruised elbow. "That hologram has a personality profile and physical perimeters that are exactly the same size as the EMH's corresponding files. And they are similarly named. The computer simply copied them over to the matrix."

"Is it still safe to use?" Cristobel asked, affording Cox a glance away from his sceptically appraising eyeing of the EMH. Cox opened emerald lips to answer but Potts cut her off.

"She's an absolute delight is what she is," he said, gesturing at the EMH with his lollipop. "A far better thing than that snotty Mark II."

Cox glared brief daggers before continuing with Cris. "It doesn't seem to be a danger, sir. But we don't know who created that hologram and for what use. There could be dangerous personality quirks hidden in the code that I won't find unless I look for them." Cadet Cox looked over her shoulder at the EMH as it went about the business of replicating a treat for young Rinaro. "That hologram could be an assassin in disguise, a crazed genius, or a sex slave from somebody's private program. Someone says the wrong thing or makes the wrong move, they might get a surprise."

"Then we'll deactivate it, and look for the hologram's creator," Cristobel determined.

"I wouldn't, sir," Cox warned. "The reason this happened is certain files got deleted during the EMH's self-diagnostic cycle. We shut it down, actual medical files could go next. What if they get replaced with something from an engineering training program? Or security? We should keep it running until Commanders Sam and T'Kal make further progress." She impressed herself by managing to keep some bitterness out of her voice. It would have been nice to have been asked to join in on that examination.

"Fair enough, but she can't be allowed to continue applying her 'bactine'," Cristobel asserted. "We have to discover the holoprogram's unique attributes, and by 'we' I mean the royal we, and by the 'royal we', I mean you."

"I can get started on it now, sir," Cox said, smothering a laugh and looking at Sefton a bit shyly. "Hopefully there will be something in the program that will point me in the direction of its creator. As it stands now, we're invading someone's privacy."

"Privacy's overra--" Cris started, before Potts interjected.

"Have either of you thought of simply asking her?"

Sefton and Cox exchanged a glance indicating that they had not thought of any such thing. Potts spun in the direction of EMH. "My dear," he called invitingly, earning a warm grin from the older latina as she hobbled over.

"Aw, what's the matter, mijo?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "You scrape your knee?" She patted his arm. "I get the bactine." She started to walk away but Potts grabbed at her shoulders.

"No, no, love...my knees are quite fine for the moment." He turned her back around even as he winked furtively at Cox and Sefton. "We were just wondering if you had a name, dear?"

"Abuela," she answered simply though Potts imagined there was the slightest frown. The universal translator identified this as 'grandmother' for everyone within hearing range.

"Ah yes, very good," Potts smiled at the small bit of progress. "Would you happen to have a grandchild currently serving in the Starfleet?"

The slight frown became deeply thoughtful furrows very briefly before she broke into another smile. "Aw, what's the matter, mijo?" she repeated. "You scrape your knee?" Once again, a comforting arm pat. "I get the bactine." And she tottered away presumably to do that.

"What is bactine?" Sefton frustratedly asked at the hologram. It didn't answer.

"No doubt some regional curative," Potts guessed, watching the EMH. "Judging from her language mix and word usage, my guess would be the American southwest."

Cox nodded. "Which might be a place for us to start. We can search personnel records for crew from that location as well as those with the appropriate surnames..." Cox trailed off, fumbling for an alien word.

"In Spanish?" the Betazoid found the word Cox was searching for.

"Exactly, sir," Cox smiled easily at the Betazoid. "But I'll be up to my elbows with the EMH's holomatrix. In fact, I'll need to confer with Lieutenant Flummux about how we're even going to reconstruct the correct personality profile and physical parameters and he's busy monitoring Commander T'Kal's investigation of the holodeck malfunctions. I won't be able to help with the search."

"Who better to perform a personnel search than our very own Assistant Chief Counsellor?" Cristobel asked, grinning at Cox and then looking over to Potts.

Potts managed a grumble, taking the now clean white stick from his mouth and tossing it vaguely towards the reclamator. "But I prefer this version of the EMH," he pouted. "She gives you candy!"

"How do we know she won't ignore a dying patient during an emergency just to fetch you a lollipop?" Cris queried.

"He's speaking sensibly, Doctor," Cox offered. "She may have the medical knowledge of the EMH but her personality profile is another matter. Even if it is just a representation of someone's grandmother, we can't predict how it will deal with a crisis situation."

"In fact," Cristobel held up an index finger, as if he had a point, but didn't say anything else. After his silence was noted, he walked away from the pair, and returned to them after a brief stop at a replicator. To Potts, he offered, "If you help us, I'll give you these..." Cristobel held out a brushed-chrome mug filled to the brim with lollipops.

"Mis-ter Sefton," Potts said, somewhat indignant. "I am a Doctor, a Counselor, and Starfleet Officer. I cannot be bribed." Sefton shrugged lightly with practiced nonchalance and started to turn away. "However," Potts amended with a lilting voice, stopping Cris's movement. "I will aid you but only because I trust the competence of this lovely Cadet and because I want to do what is best for the ship." He let his words hang between them for a moment before liberating the lollipops from the Nurse's hands in a quick snatch.

"Enjoy," Cris sing-songed, in regards to the lollipops and the task ahead of Potts. Ilan merely grumbled again and with a charming smile only for Cox, left the Sickbay.

Cadet Cox was glaring at the door. "Strange man." Then, remembering her place in the scheme of things added to Cris: "No disrespect intended, sir."

"Meh," Cristobel shrugged. His gaze lazily shifted from the doors, to the patients who were all being attended to, and finally landed on Cox with a seemingly piercing intensity. "Just remember that I'll know what you say about me behind my back."

D'alla said nothing else but blushed a dark green. Cristobel couldn't reign in his telepathic curiosity, and Cox didn't try very hard to think of anything other than how attractive Cristobel was to her. He kept fit, without extreme muscle definition, and, even more importantly, he was one of the few men (and women) on board who had never openly leered at her for her green skin, pheromones, Orion mystique or just the tight body.

The EMH ghosted back up to Cox and Sefton amid light flirt, as Cris opened his mouth to mention that his un-gawking had more to do with lack of interest in her gender than purely noble intentions. The EMH had a new lollipop in her hand. "Where is mi mijo?" she asked, her eyes searching for Ilan.

"He's looking for your designer to find out if you're going to murder us all," Cristobel answered entirely seriously.

The EMH got a blank look on her face for a split second before she smiled brightly. "Bactine," she declared, handing the lollipop to the reluctant Sefton. He looked at it dourly. "Is good, yes?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

Cristobel tore off the plastic wrapping, and licked the lollipop. In his cheeriest voice, he exclaimed, "It could not taste worse, even if I had vomited it up and eaten it again."

The EMH beamed pleasantly until the doors of the Sickbay whisked once again, allowing Crewman Pfeiffer entrance. The new EMH regarded her sympathetically and began to walk over.

"Aw, mija...what you do?"

---

"What To Do When You Can't Read The Map"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
and Lt. Xayella Tagliesh - Chief Science Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Life Sciences Laboratory
Stardate: 57908.19, 14h00

***

With her eyes on the benign adeno-associated viral culture's growth, Damhnait Sefton took a long swig of Sefton Meal Replacement number seventeen, which possessed the natural stimulant of qava fruit, while pondering if her headache was caused by sleep deprivation or Sickbay's intensive sterilisation field. Looking over to Lieutenant Tagliesh, Damhnait asked, "How are the simulations of the JJ324c virus' potential mutations coming along? ...More importantly, why haven't we named the virus yet?"

"We'll name it once we truly know what it is," Xayella replied dryly. "Isn't there something about that in Terran mythology?" She waved her hand vaguely, trying to grasp at the reference. "Something about...only truly acquiring an identity once you've been named?" Xayella frowned as she puzzled over her statement, then gave up with a heavy sigh. "I don't know... Is it just me, or does your brain hurt as well?"

"Why do you think I'm babbling about naming the virus?" Damhnait responded just as dryly, cradling her left temple in her hand. "I suspect the virus' creators would have already named it. I don't believe it has been translated to Federation Standard yet, though." Physically shaking the thought out of her head, Sefton then asked, "What are the final numbers? How likely is it that, while mutating within a Drokari, the virus has attained the ability to infect Vulcans?"

Xayella sighed and reviewed her calculations. "It depends on what evolutionary path the virus takes next. Drokari and Vulcan DNA are alike, it appears, but there are major differences despite the similarities. There are approximately 1365 paths it could take - excluding projected estimates of each morph's viability. That means there's a 13.65 % chance it could eventually mutate to a form that would infect Vulcans."

"Their respiratory systems are more alike than they are dissimilar, though," Damhnait pointed out. "It has even been supposed that the Drokari are an evolutionary offshoot of the Vulcans, pre-dating the Romulans."

"Common ancestor or not," Xayella said, "their genetic profiles are different enough to have caused their peoples to diverge evolutionarily, if that is what happened. The virus could modify its machinery to target those conserved sequences in the Vulcan DNA, instead of mutating completely to seek an entirely new region...." Xayella chewed her lower lip pensively, while her brow twitched as if suppressing a troubling expression. "We should quarantine all Vulcans aboard the Sulu," she finally said. "I think it's the safest route."

"Probably," Sefton agreed, but then went to another console to look up a report. "It appears that all of the Vulcans have already been examined by the nursing staff. Each exam returned a virus-free result."

"For now...but as long as the only cases of it exist in this sickbay, they should be safe enough." She glanced up at Sefton, and added ominously, "Until it mutates again. Considering the short lifespan of this pathogen, and its accelerated rate of evolution, it could easily transform to target human DNA. We need to kill this thing...now. I imagine you've tried every medicinal therapy we have on hand?"

Returning to watching Xayella's screen over her shoulder, Damhnait softly admitted, "Even a couple that are only slightly less illegal, now that we're out of the Alpha Quadrant. Of course, any preventative vaccine will prove useless, because of the virus' mutation rate."

"So," Xayella interpreted, "you're out of ideas?" She smirked at the doctor. "Come, now...you're far more brilliant than that. I just procured for you databanks full of information on that bloody pest. There's nothing you can think of to stop it?"

"Oh, I know what will stop it," Damhnait insisted confidently. "I just cannot be certain if we still have enough time to use your new-found information in safely formulating the Plan B to..."

"I get the bactine!" an elderly, heavy-set Latina woman declared, in a 'eureka' tone, from the doorway. She wore a rankless medical Class-A skirted uniform, with the length of the skirt reaching down to her ankles.

Xayella blinked slowly in momentary perplexity, then shifted in her seat to face the unannounced guest. Her head tilted to one side as she studied the old, hunched lady addressing them. "Doctor...who's that?"

"The EMH," Damhnait simply said, mostly nonplussed. She strode over to the hologram, and looked over the proffered PADD detailing the current status of the virus' victims. She warmly told the EMH, "Thank you. Now, I'm sure Raina has more patients for you and your bactine."

Once the hologram left to return to Main Sickbay, Damhnait recalled her previous thought; "As I was saying, Plan B: we grow them new lungs, so to speak."

Xayella gave a bark of laughter at that. "You aren't serious. That could be far more dangerous than letting the virus run its course! There has to be another way, Doctor. You mentioned gene therapy at one point. Isn't that the most viable solution?"

"Gene therapy is what I was speaking of: using a benign virus to cause the rapid reproduction of differently-genomed healthy cells from where there are only infected and dead lung cells. After the gene therapy and subsequent regeneration treatments, their lungs will be essentially new as--"

"Simulation complete," the computer interrupted Sefton. While Xayella had been working on organising the alien laboratory's data into viable information, Damhnait had already set to work on using that information, as it was being processed, to design more refined treatments. "Therapy Caitian possesses a fifty-two percent chance of success. Therapy Arcadian possesses a forty-seven percent chance of success."

Damhnait sighed. "Of course, even with the virus' bible, it's a tricky thing to change a person's lungs enough to make them undesirable to the virus, but not so much as to cause the body to reject them. Judging from the condescension in your tone, though, I believe you've just volunteered to make the Cait and Arcadian therapies work."

Xayella frowned. "I'm a scientist, not a doctor," she quipped. "But I think, together, we can come up with something better." Folding her arms across her chest, Xayella rose and paced thoughtfully. "Now that we know what this virus is," she began slowly, "perhaps we can engineer a pathogen harmless to our patients, yet deadly to the virus. Once we weaken the virus through infection, wouldn't this increase the success of the gene therapy?" She halted and pivoted on her foot to face Damhnait. "If we don't remove the virus first, it'll continue to deteriorate the lung tissue, but once that process is stalled, we simply rebuild without worrying about keeping up with new damage." Xayella shrugged, as if it was a logical leap. "Right?"

"Ideally, yes," Damhnait agreed, clearly warming up for a, "but Tchalla Mel'Chir will not survive another twenty-four hours. If we do not administer a treatment of some kind within six hours, she will not live long enough to accept or reject any of our corrective attempts. Honestly, with the amount of damage already done to incapacitate all of their lungs, merely slowing the virus from causing more destruction is simply not worth the time it will take away from developing the gene therapies, considering that, yes, I am the only doctor on board who is currently fully capable of creating curative viral pathogens. For Tchalla and Yulik, at the least, the gene therapy will have to halt the virus' reproduction all on its own. If it works, it will not matter how strong or weak the virus is - the virus will lose all interest in continued reproduction. The Andorian gene therapy I have already designed is as close to perfection as it will get, all things considered, and its organic components are currently growing. In Tchalla's case, we were lucky that Andorian DNA is only barely within the target range of the current virus - designing the gene therapy was, relatively, straight forward. The others, particularly the Drokari treatment, are proving to be considerably more complex."

"Well...what about stasis," Xayella proposed. "Wouldn't that halt the virus' progression and still give you enough time to perfect a treatment?"

"In this case, I suspect it would not," Sefton affirmed, stressing the 'this case', since it was a completely valid suggestion. "I consulted our reports from the autopsies of the three individuals from the planet's surface, and compared them to the timeline you constructed of the virus' mutation. The results suggest that the individuals were infected with the virus before they entered the stasis chambers, long before the chambers were damaged. While stasis did somewhat slow further damage to their lungs, it did not slow the virus' mutation in the slightest. The virus practically thrived."

Xayella sighed, her frustration getting the best of her. "Then what!" she exclaimed. "What do we do? We let them die because your treatment isn't perfect?"

Feeling Xayella unravel gave Sefton the emotional resolve to hold onto the rational concepts she knew to be true, and retain an inner calm because of them. Blending fatalism and optimism, Damhnait stated, "We improve upon the treatments until we run out of time, and then we perform them on the patients. It's all we can ever do."

"Then let's do it," Xayella said harshly, and stalked back to her seat. The chair bounced as she dropped into it, and the computer seemed to cry out in pain as she pounded on its keypad with her fingers. "These people are not going to die," she declared. "And we're going to make sure of it."

Doctor Sefton nodded her agreement, and returned to her own seat in gentle silence, allowing Xayella to have had the last word. With her last glimpse of Mel'Chir's current vitals in mind, Damhnait took a sip of her meal supplement, and focused all of her mental faculties on the growth of the adeno-associated viral culture - each tiny organism a new hope for Tchalla's lungs and life.

---

"Bedside Visit"
Lt. Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
Lt. Saavar - Science Officer

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19 15h44

***

Benedict T'Kal had already had a harried shift and it looked like it wasn't going to end. He had abandoned any thought of signing off for the day, but he was up for a break - he needed one. It was only then that Sorg had caught up with him and informed him of Shirik's condition in sickbay. He'd gotten a quick description of what happened, but he knew already that it wasn't good. She was likely to die. The news had shaken him. Shirik was a friend - but it went deeper than that.

He almost ran to sickbay - the look on his face was one of worry; a dark cloud that hung over his features. When he stepped out into the main sickbay area his eyes scanned the biobeds that were filled with patients suffering a variety of injuries. Nursing staff were busy.

Lt. Saavar stepped out of the isolation area and saw the dark-haired T'Kal standing just inside the door. The Chief of Security was scowling and Saavar knew instinctively that the Bajoran was here to check upon Lektar. The Vulcan walked directly to him and nodded. "Commander T'Kal," he said by way of greeting. "You are seeking Ensign Lektar?"

Benedict nodded. "Yes - how is she?"

"Perhaps asking doctor Sefton in regard to her medical status would bring more answers than I could give. However, she is awake and alert after sleeping for the last seven hours. She cannot talk. The virus has infected her lungs and she cannot breathe by herself. We are seeking a solution as you know, Commander." Saavar was serious. He regarded the Bajoran for a moment. He had learned a lot about Shirik and Benedict's friendship during his mind-melds with Shirik. "She would be pleased to see you," he said softly. "It is quite likely that we will not be able to find a cure in time to save her life. There is no indication of how long she will remain lucid."

Benedict heard the words and simply nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant." He took a steadying breath. The fact that she might die was hard to take. He'd been discussing the situation with Tayla the previous evening - imagining that she could be in Shirik's position now - and he was a little shaken with how much it affected him. She might die. She was likely to die. She was one of his only friends - and in light of how this was making him feel, perhaps she was more than that. He stood as if transfixed for a moment and the Vulcan simply stood with him, sharing a silent moment as Benedict came to terms with what he'd been told.

"Thanks," Benedict nodded and stepped around the Vulcan officer. Saavar watched him walk to the door and pause again, before stepping through into the isolation area. The Vulcan felt a stab of sadness, knowing that Shirik's feelings for the Security Officer were deep. He turned and left Sickbay to commence his own duty shift.

Benedict stepped inside and was greeted with the sight of Shirik laying on the central biobed encased in the frame of the sensor systems. She was covered in a white medical sheet, her hair wrapped in a circular braid atop her head to keep it out of the way. He stood looking at her, her eyes were closed and he scanned the various medical sensors before looking back. He stepped closer and touched her hand, the delicate fingers and soft skin were so dark and he slipped her hand into his and held it.

Her eyes opened as someone took her hand. She expected Saavar, but was surprised to see Ben. She gave him a faint smile, her hand tightening in his. She couldn't speak, but she mouthed the word, 'Hello.' She looked weak, and pale, her black skin lighter than normal.

"Hey," he said softly. There was no point asking her how she felt - that was a dumb question, but it was always the first to come to mind when faced with a patient. He didn't know what to say. He just looked at her and squeezed her hand. It wasn't fair. At that moment he felt a stab of anger at himself for allowing this to happen. He'd been commanding the Away Team - it was his responsibility. More guilt.

Her lips parted, then she frowned as she was forced to remember that she couldn't speak. She couldn't even sigh, she had no breath. Her eyes showed her frustration. She knew no other way to communicate but to speak, and was suddenly grateful for her bond with Saavar that at least allowed her to communicate with him. She knew she might not have much time left to communicate with anyone, and so felt even more urgency to do so. She hadn't thought to ask Saavar for a PADD, but now as she had no way to speak to Ben, she wanted one. She gestured with her free hand, trying to ask for one.

He understood her frustration and her miming signals and nodded, giving her a smile. "A padd?" he asked. When she nodded he left her momentarily to find one. He borrowed one from a nurse and came back, handing it to Shirik. He perched on the side of the biobed and watched her as she started to tap on the interface.

She tapped awkwardly, laying on her back, and weakly, the lack of lung use and application of drugs having sapped her strength and left her slightly fuzzy-headed. She showed the PADDs contents to Ben. 'How is Sorg? I owe him my life. I would like to see him sometime soon, if possible.'

Benedict nodded. "Sorg is fine - and he's worried about you too. I'll make sure he comes to see you." He reached out and smoothed an errant strand of white hair from her brow. Her skin was clammy and blotchy in places, but his fingers traced the line of her cheek. "You should conserve your strength," he whispered. His eyes held hers for a long moment. Seeing her like this after the morning they had shared was difficult. "I saw Lieutenant Saavar outside...."

His touch brought a smile to her face, and a sparkle to her eyes. She nodded, tapping on the PADD once more. 'He stayed with me while I slept.' She didn't like being like this, and it showed in her expression. She didn't want to be seen this way, weak and dying, but she knew it might be her last chance to see the few people she cared about on this ship.

Benedict nodded and gave her a smile in return. "So he's the guy you didn't tell me about this morning." He held her gaze trying to inject a little humor and feeling not at all humorous. "I had no idea you were so close."

She would have sighed if she could. Instead she typed, 'It's a complicated situation.' She frowned a bit. There was no way she was going to try to explain it by typing it out on a PADD. 'I saved his life,' was what she settled for.

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Saved his life?" He couldn't think of any life threatening situations, unless the ship's malfunctions had caused something.. He shrugged and smiled down at her. He was holding her hand in both of his, for the first time noting that her hand was cooler than normal. "The ship seems to be falling apart," he said to change the subject. "We're having major problems. I'll be working through Beta shift and more than likely Gamma as well." He looked guilty. "So...I can't stay for long."

She was disappointed, but nodded her understanding. She tapped out, 'I know. I wish I could help.' Stuck in bed, for who knew how long. It wasn't a pleasing idea. She wished he didn't have to leave. She didn't want to lay there, facing death, alone.

Her eyes showed her fear. For a moment he had to swallow past a lump in his throat. He had to attend duty and leave her - and who knew if she would be here when he came back? He sighed, feeling the weight of guilt and the terrible certainty that she would be gone while he was away. He was torn between staying and going - but his duty was to the Sulu. He reached out again and touched her cheek, completely lost for words. What could he say? See you later? Prophets.... "I have to go." His whisper was hoarse. "I'll be back...to see you later. I'll send Sorg so that you're not alone." He stood and squeezed her hand, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I'll be back," he whispered. "Don't go anywhere."

She swallowed and blinked as her eyes filled with unshed tears. She squeezed his hand in return and nodded, offering him a smile of gratitude. 'Thank you,' she mouthed. 'Go.'

He nodded, but he didn't want to let her hand go. His own eyes were moist with emotion and as her tears fell down her cheeks he wiped one away with his thumb, looking into her violet eyes. He nodded again, finding no words. "I'll see you soon," he said and placed her hand down gently. He turned away then - he didn't want her to see the tear on his own cheek as he walked out. He wiped it away just before he stepped into sickbay and had to move out of the way as one of the medical staff entered Shirik's room.

She nodded, her face darkening with embarrassment as she wiped away her tears. She hadn't wanted him to see her cry. She wanted the medical staff to see it even less, so she made an effort to compose her features once more as Ben was leaving. Sorg would arrive soon, she knew. Ben would see to it. She wouldn't be alone.

Benedict walked out of sickbay and had to put it aside. He had a job to do. He had to find where these software errors had originated.

---

"Dissecting L-o-v-e"
by Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57908.19, 16h14

***

Repression whirled around Cristobel Sefton as he entered PrivateExam-03. Benedict T'Kal came marching out, biting back his tears even though Cris could feel Ben's fears that he would never see Shirik Lektar again. Shirik, reclined on the biobed and attached to several medical devices, was similarly blinking away any sign of discomposure, and Cristobel reined in even his passive empathetic senses when he approached her. He had a promise of privacy to keep.

"How are you feeling?" Cristobel asked in a professional tone, which twisted up to a sprightly lilt in the end.

'Great,' she tapped on her PADD, although her expression was anything but.

"Is that down from excellent or up from good?" Sefton asked playfully, taking a couple of steps towards her biobed. "I need some context."

She shrugged, typing, 'Since I'm not dead or in a coma, it must be an improvement.'

"Improvement for you? Yes..." Cristobel agreed tentatively. He looked from her PADD to the oxygenator's settings to Shirik's blood-oxygen level, and then teased, "Improvement for your medical staff? Uncertain."

Likely what had helped her so far is the fact that the air on her homeworld was so much lower in oxygen than Earth's. 'I know you're all doing your best,' she typed.

Her text caused a wide grin to split across Cristobel's face autonomously. "We are," he assured her. Although he held his sympathy like a banner, he chided her, "But we're going to need you to do your best to keep us informed. ...You've been having breathing problems for the past few days, haven't you?"

She frowned in thought. What she'd had she never even thought might be anything to worry about. She typed out, 'Just minor things, taking longer to catch my breath after exercise, a brief dizzy spell... I didn't think anything of it.'

"You're sturdier than the others. But if you get so much as a mild headache, do let someone know," Cristobel insisted. Taking a step back from the bed, he closed his eyes, wary of an impending headache of his own. Looking from PADD to monitor to patient to breathing apparatus certainly wasn't helping either. 'I suppose you do not know Federation Standard Sign Language?' Sefton signed with his hands.

Her blank look was her answer. She tapped out, 'Are you feeling all right?'

Snickering, Cristobel explained, "Sign Language. Speaking with one's hands. I had to learn because, on her bad days, my sister can't differentiate between vocal talking, intentional mental communication, memories, and passing thoughts. Her vision, meanwhile, is perfect. As yours is, I presume."

She nodded. 'I only know spoken languages. Good thing I have a PADD.' She paused, watching him for a moment, then typed, 'Will I get to use my lungs again?'

"My - uh - Doctor Sefton is still developing a Drokari-specific gene-therapy. If the genetic resequencing of your lungs is successful, the virus will halt its reproduction. At that point, we can repair your lungs," Cristobel explained, his words heavily dipped in hope. "Doctor Sefton is performing her Andorian-specific therapy on Ensign Mel'Chir at the moment. Even once she's complete, though, we won't know if it was a proper success until morning, but... Tchalla prolly won't survive long enough for a second attempt... But you - uhm - you were infected the day after her. The same time as the Caitians. They have an estimated twenty-four hours, before the virus spreads throughout their bloodstreams and..." Cristobel came to a full stop, rather than finish the sentence. Awkwardly, he went on, "Well, the virus appears to be reproducing at a lesser rate in your body, and so you have at least... You didn't ask any of these questions. ...I... probably should have had one of the Doctors tell you all of this..."

Genetic resequencing of her lungs? That didn't sound much better than the virus to her, or very promising, either. She typed out, 'That's all right. I know you, I don't know any of the doctors.' She offered him a small smile. 'You will let me know how Mel'Chir responds to the treatment?'

"Of course!" Cristobel promised her. Rolling the room's chair towards beside the bed, Sefton perched himself on it, and said, "Even after we beat the virus, you're going to be in Sickbay for some time to repair and then rehabilitate your lungs. I figure my shift is bound to end someday, likely one before you get out. I've been wondering if you'd like me to have your tasmos planted in the arboretum while you're in here. It would then be fully integrated into the ecosystem by the time you get out."

She nodded, sobering once more. She typed away. 'Yes, that would be nice. I've started a will, just in case. I was going to leave my Tasmos to your care, if I don't make it through the treatment.'

Cristobel's features couldn't seem to decide upon a soft smile at her trust or a frown at her fatalism. Eventually, he settled on his resolve face, and he told her, "You are going to thrive through the treatment. In fact, I have started working on a Betazoid-variant of Klaas, after I learned that there is a seaweed on Betazed reminiscent of tasmos. So, obviously, you can't die until you've tried Cris' Claas."

She smiled faintly. 'I like to be prepared for any eventuality,' she typed. 'But I will definitely try it if I'm able.'

"Is there anything else you've realised that you have to do, once you get through this?" Sefton asked, once he read the latter half of her sentence.

She was thoughtful for a time, thinking about his question. There were things, certainly, but mostly not things she cared to discuss with him. 'I think anyone in this situation would find some things,' she typed.

Choosing not to press the issue of her non-answer, since he had to be patient with his patients, Cristobel rested his chin on his hands, and his elbows on his knees, as he verbalised a stream of consciousness - each unedited word coming out the instant he thought of it. "Have I ever told you that I had another princess for a friend when I cadet cruised on the USS Miranda? We met because I was having sex with her boyfriend. ...No... wait... I wasn't having sex with him yet. I was only sleeping with him. And I don't think he was her boyfriend yet... Maybe... He definitely wasn't my boyfriend yet... But he is now. And we're having sex now, but we're not sleeping together. It's a whole ubertelepathy metaconscious thing."

One eyebrow went up, then the other. By the time he was done her entire expression was one of 'Huh?' She typed. 'Is there a point to this rambling story somewhere?'

"I suppose the rambling is the point," Cristobel told her in a sagely tone, and tapped his index finger to the tip of his nose twice.

She frowned in confusion. Her 'Huh?' expression was back. She just looked at him questioningly, hoping he would explain further.

"I dunno," he shrugged it off. "Must I make sense all the time? Must all stories have a moral?"

'No, I suppose not,' she typed. 'When you started your story off by mentioning a princess, I thought you were trying to make some sort of analogy to our situation. Is she still your friend?'

"Sort of. I don't hear from Le'Nina quite as much anymore," Cristobel sheepishly admitted. "She's less sure of her place in Starfleet lately. ...I probably should have thought out the analogy before I used it."

She smiled a bit. 'Maybe you should write her. She'd probably like to hear from you.'

"That'd cheer her up," Cristobel said with good-humoured sarcasm. "Hey there, 'Nina. How are you? I'm perfection personified. My ship is trying to kill me, if my best friend doesn't do the job first, and my boyfriend is nearly unrecognisable on a psionic level. At least... I think so... I can't remember what with the endless duty shifts. Call me. End letter."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, picking out something in what he said. 'Your best friend is trying to kill you?' She also noted the use of the word 'boyfriend', but filed it away for later.

"Only socially and emotionally," Cris waved it off.

'Why?' she asked, having no idea who his best friend even was.

"She had a fight with her boyfriend, threatened to kill herself if he dumped her, but then didn't react well when I felt that this was information her counsellor should know," Cristobel explained detachedly. "I take it you weren't at the Skirt Day party?"

She shook her head. 'I don't usually attend parties in any case, but I was not about to wear a skirt, either. Why, what happened?'

"She chose to take everything I said as a personal attack, and responded in bitchslapping-style," Cristobel said non-judgementally. Then he shrugged. "It's a thing we do at parties."

'She struck you?' she typed in surprise. 'And this is your best friend? Who is she?'

"Was my best friend. Just not used to that past tense yet," Sefton admitted sheepishly. "She's Amy Polly Reese."

She nodded with a, 'Oh, now I see' look. 'Having met her, I now understand. Believe me, you're better off without her as a friend if my meeting with her is any indication of her personality.'

"That's been my new attitude precisely. Gotta accept that I work with her, but otherwise move forward," Cristobel said positively.

She nodded agreement, but didn't know what else to say.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Cristobel offered. "Were I in that biobed, all the diversions in the 'verse wouldn't be enough to keep my thoughts from driving me insane."

She smiled a bit, nodding her agreement. 'That's why visitors have been helping a lot,' she typed. 'I have a lot of free time right now... Maybe I could work a little bit on that holoproject you were telling me about?' Everyone was always telling her to rest, but how much laying there sleeping could a person do? She needed something to keep her mind occupied, so she wouldn't think so much.

"Sure," Cristobel enthused, and began accessing several files on a PADD. "At present, there's only a single holoprogram featuring Achicar Prime, Corran's homeworld, which he fiercely misses. Since he has returned from his homeworld, he's brought very recently recorded holoimages of home, but they're stored on telepathic media. Fortunately, when he dined with my mother the other night, I snuck into his quarters and accessed them to create a rough miniature holoimage of Achicar Prime's current appearance. What I'd like you to do is to use the two images to create a program of Achicar Prime that can be used in the arboretum, to cover the walls of the cargo bay rather than substituting an entire holographic environment."

She nodded, reaching for the PADD and glancing over the information. 'It will give me something to occupy my time. Thanks.'

"Thank you," Sefton insisted. "Corran will love it."

'Who is Corran?' she typed.

"My boyfriend," Cristobel said tentatively, feeling awfully scatterminded for not having clarified that before. "He's a medtech in Sickbay, as well as the botanist in charge of the arboretum, which is why I want it to be able to look like his home planet."

'Ohh... I see,' she typed. 'The mate you spoke of?'

"Precisely," Cris brightly responded.

She nodded. That explained a few things to her mind. 'I haven't met him,' she typed.

"Most haven't," Cristobel shrugged. "He's civilian. He's also a telepath, but non-Federation, with very little positive experience in interacting with mouth-talkers. It's made him a little antisocial, I suppose."

'I can understand that,' she typed. Just as well to her mind. The fewer telepaths she had to deal with, the better.

"You have had trouble adapting to Federation social customs?" Cristobel asked with a touch of incredulity, considering her last guest and Savaar having remained by her side all day, against Doctor Sefton's warnings.

She smiled a bit. 'You don't know much about my people, do you? My people keep slaves. It's been a challenge adapting to this free society of the Federation.'

Cristobel's brow crumpled into furrows, and his mouth opened to express a confused, silent, 'oh.'

'I was very antisocial for a long time also. I felt it easier to keep to myself than deal with other people's opinions of my culture. I'm surprised at how accepted I've been here.'

"No one chooses a culture to be born into," Cristobel guessed at the reason for her acceptance. "No reason to hold a culture against a single individual."

She nodded, but did not delve into the subject further. Her culture and her views of it was a topic she usually avoided. Instead she switched topics. 'Do you love Corran?'

"I do," Cris answered, a smile playing back across his face. "I've never met anyone else who's forced me to be more myself, and is still so accepting. ...Plus, he's brilliant and built. Little social life gives him much time for working out."

She grinned at his description. 'That's always a plus. But how do you know you love him? What does it feel like?'

"I guess I don't know," Cristobel replied honestly, and with no trepidation. "All I know is that he's the only one who can give me this supremely pleasant feeling, and I trust that it's a concept close enough to be labelled as love. Because, if it's not? Real love's got nothing on this feeling."

She frowned. His answer only confused her further. 'I'm not sure I understand.'

"I don't know if it's love. I'm too much in the now to be aware of such things, without the clarity of hindsight. All I know is that I love where I'm at with Corran, wherever that may emotionally be, and I want it to continue," Cristobel explained earnestly. "...Well, and I know that I want this crisis to end, so we'll have more time for sex."

She grinned at that. 'The sex part I can understand. I just hope someday I can know for sure what love is. Will I know it when I find it? Or will I pass it on by without recognizing it for what it is?'

"If you do pass it by, it only means you'll be better able to spot it the next time," Cristobel encouraged.

'That's not very encouraging,' she typed. 'I want to recognize it the first time, so I don't miss it.'

"Then I would advise against thinking about it," Cristobel lightly insisted. "I can't imagine that love is something one can prepare for, and any preconceived notions of what it should be like, are only liable to confuse oneself at a later date."

She frowned. 'I just want to know how I'll recognize it. How I'll know when it is love.' She looked down into her hands, and the PADD cradled between them.

"Why does that certainty matter?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She thought for a time, then typed, 'I guess it doesn't.'

Cristobel smiled, hoping that she really would worry less about it, and then sounded an "Oh!" of recollection. He jumped up to his feet, and grasped the two hyposprays he'd set down on the countertop when he'd first come in. Holding up one for her to see, and then the other, he explained, "Dinner and a medicinal cocktail to wash it down."

She grimaced. 'Can't I have some real food?' she asked. 'Some klaas, maybe?'

"It wouldn't mix well with all of the medications you're on. Especially the klaas," Cristobel told her, as he pressed the medicinal potpourri hypospray to her neck.

The grimace stayed on her face as the hypospray hissed against her neck. 'My lungs are the only thing not working, right? My stomach still works, doesn't it?'

"It is, but your body has been through quite a trauma, and you are rather heavily medicated. None of your bodily systems can function as they normally do. I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't hold any food down," Cristobel said apologetically.

If she could have sighed, she would have, and it showed on her face. 'Something to add to my list of things I have to do when I get out of here,' she typed. 'Have a big meal and a strong klaas.'

"I can assure you: you'll be ready for at least that big meal before you get out of Sickbay. Somewhere around when your lungs start working on their own again, but probably before you're talking, you'll be strong enough to eat a feast," Cris enthused. But since that time was not now, he injected her with the meal-in-a-hypospray.

'Talking again would be nice, too,' she typed. 'I really miss my voice, almost more than my lungs.'

"You will have it all back," Cristobel promised again, stepping back to take another look at the biobed's overhead monitor. "In time."

'I hope so,' she typed. She turned her attention to the holoimage data, trying to take her mind off her impending death.

"I have to get back to the other patients," Cristobel told her with a slight touch of dread at how many more injuries would be awaiting for him in Main Sickbay. "Have a pleasant evening."

She looked up to offer him an encouraging smile. 'You too. Try.'

"I will," Cris said, and left Shirik to her thoughts.

---

"The Means To An End"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar
Crewman Sorg Jurell
Crewman Emma Summers

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19 16h45

***

Shirik was alone for a moment, laying in the isolation room with the only sounds those of the monitor over her biobed. She looked up at it, even her untrained eyes telling her it didn't look good. The drugs she had been given were only a temporary aid at best. She knew unless a true cure could be found and administered, her body would begin shutting down and it would all be over.

She stared up at the ceiling, one hand covering the PADD Ben had given her, for the time being her only way to communicate. She didn't want to die, she wasn't ready. There was still so much she wanted to do, and it wasn't fair. She closed her eyes. Life wasn't fair, and she knew it. Often times it was very cruel. Whether she lived or died wasn't in her own hands, but the hands of Dr. Sefton and the others working on the virus. She could only hope their hands worked quickly.

Sorg stepped through the doors into her isolation room wearing a mask that the medical officer had handed him. The sterilization fields were on full and the slight buzzing in his ears attested to that. The sight of Shirik laying on the biobed almost made him gasp in shock. She was very pale, her skin a dull unhealthy grey-black. He stopped and just stared as she turned her head and looked to who had entered. Sorg was still in his uniform, no one in security was given leave off shift today - there was just too much happening, and security officers were pulling extra duty to help the engineers, medical staff and science personnel who required a hand. Too many systems were failing now. Sorg had been given leave by T'Kal to stand post in medical. Specifically to watch over Shirik - and Sorg had been grateful to the Security Chief.

She turned her head as someone entered, and smiled at her savior. She knew by the look on his face she must appear ghastly. But those dying are allowed to, she thought. She gestured him over as she started tapping on her PADD, and held it up to him. 'You saved my life, Sorg. I'll never forget that. I would hug you if I had the strength.'

He read the words and bent over her anyway, hugging her. "You owe me dinner," he said as he backed away slightly. "You're not going to get out of it that easily you know." He smiled down at her. He'd already been told that she couldn't speak. That would be hard on her. "Commander T'Kal asked me to stand post in here. He didn't want you being alone without your minder."

She grinned, her first since being brought to sickbay. 'I'm looking forward to that dinner,' she typed. 'I was hoping he'd let you stay.'

Sorg Jurell grinned. "He ordered me to stay." He clasped Shirik's hand. "You know I always obey orders...sir."

Shirik laughed. Or at least, tried to. Without any functioning lungs, it wasn't going to happen, though, and it ended up as a jerking of her body and a short choke or gag sound. She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand, giving him a nod and a smile.

"So...telling you some jokes is out?" he asked brightly. "You know this is a great opportunity - you can't argue with me. Some of the guys send their best wishes," he said. "Kevan said he's surprised that any germ could survive someone who drank the crap you drink." He grinned.

She smiled, tapping out, 'Want to bet I can't argue?'

He chuckled. "I knew you'd find a way. So how are you feeling? You look crappy..." he added with a smirk.

'About as well as someone with no lungs can feel, I guess,' she tapped. 'I hate just laying here, though.'

"I don't know, you'd look cute in a medical smock. Does it open at the back?" He grinned. "Have you seen Lieutenant Saavar?" he asked more seriously.

She gave him a mock-glare for a moment, then she nodded. 'He was here during Alpha shift. He brought me out of a coma, I'm told,' she typed.

"Nice of him." Sorg smiled. "At least you're not short of male visitors. I'll have to guard the door and make sure they only come in one at a time."

She grinned, typing out, 'Unfortunately, one at a time is all I can handle now.' She emphasized it with a wink.

He laughed softly. He was still holding her hand and she hadn't made any move to let it go, and Sorg marvelled at the change in the dynamic between them. He felt immensely happy that she was here, talking to him through a PADD and not lying in the ship's morgue. Once again he knew that Starfleet's training program had saved the day. He gazed in the violet eyes of the girl on the bed and knew that he'd take a phaser shot for her without thinking twice. That was the way Sorg Jurell looked at things - he classified people into two categories: those he'd do his best for - and those he'd give his life for. It made being a security officer more tolerable. He got the impression from T'Kal that the Bajoran security chief might think the same way about things.

"The ship is falling apart at the seams," he said to change his thoughts. "The software glitches are getting worse and we don't know where it started or what's causing it. We're getting strange people showing up in the holodecks - and they aren't part of the programs. Commander T'Kal thinks that they might be trying to communicate with us."

She frowned, even more frustrated that she was stuck in bed barely able to move when she knew she could be of some help in this situation. 'I want to help if I can,' she typed. 'Even if it's just looking at code or logs. Let whoever is working on it know for me?'

"You will remain here and get well," Sorg insisted with a scowl. "There's no way you're going to exert yourself when you need every ounce of strength you have to fight this virus." He smiled. "Commander T'Kal, Lieutenant Sam and Lieutenant Thaine are working on it."

She rolled her eyes. 'How much energy does it take to read? That's all I'm doing right now with this PADD in my hand. If I have nothing to do but lay here and think about dying, will that be any better for me?' Her look was challenging, the spark back in her eyes.

"You should be sleeping when you can," he told her. "I'm just being totally selfish here and making you talk." He felt guilty and she could see it in his eyes.

She grinned. 'I just slept through most of Alpha shift, and my normal sleep cycle is Gamma anyway. How much sleep can a person get in a day? You're not being selfish, I'm enjoying talking. Typing. It's much better than the morose thinking I was doing earlier.'

"Don't think that way," he smiled and casually brushed a strand of hair away from her face. He did it unconsciously and when he realized the liberty he'd just taken he withdrew his hand. Though she didn't seem to mind and her smile was encouraging. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean...sorry."

'Don't be sorry,' she typed with a smile. 'I didn't mind.'

He grinned. "If I didn't have to wear this mask I'd kiss you," he said seriously. It was like throwing everything he had on a Dabo table on a long shot. He had no idea why he said it - but he meant it. Prophets that's pushing it! he thought, but she was holding his hand and he was feeling brave and Prophets knew...he might never get the chance to have dinner with her. The pang of sadness almost hurt physically. He didn't want her to die. It was so unfair.

She smiled softly at him. 'Save it for when I'm better and can enjoy it,' she typed. 'We'll still have dinner. Something's always conspiring to postpone it, it seems.'

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. There may never be a dinner. The virus was mutating it seemed, and the medical staff were trying valiantly to come up with a solution, but it may be too late for them all.

Just then a nurse entered and gave them both a smile. "Time for meds," she said to Shirik and held up a hypospray. "You need some rest - not constant visitors." She looked pointedly at Sorg who was still holding onto Shirik's hand.

This only prompted her to hold Sorg's hand tighter and fix the nurse with a defiant glare. 'I'll sleep on Gamma shift,' she typed.

Emma Summers grinned. "You'll sleep when we tell you to sleep." She stepped up to the bed and fixed Sorg Jurell with a tight smile. "Excuse me, crewman," she said as she readied the hypospray. With a deft movement she was between Sorg and Shirik and the soft hiss of the hypo was followed by a second as Emma took a small sample of Shirik's blood. She smiled and said, "There, all done."

Shirik suspected there was probably a sedative in the hypospray, either alone or in concert with whatever else she might have been given. But she didn't want to sleep. If she was going to die soon, the last thing she wanted to do was spend that remaining time sleeping. 'What was it?' she typed.

"Something to make you relax, a light sedative and a booster shot for a broad spectrum anti-biotic to prevent any complications." She checked Shirik's vitals and each of the lines that prevented Shirik's lungs from filling with fluids. She smiled. "You need to conserve your strength, Ensign." She took the padd from Shirik's fingers and placed it on the medical cart next to the bed. "Rest is the best thing for you now, doctors orders." She looked at Sorg and smiled more warmly. "I guess you can stay with her, Crewman."

Sorg nodded. "Thanks," he said curtly.

"Can I get you anything?" Emma asked the Bajoran security officer, turning slightly as she held his eyes. She dropped the sample into her pocket, just behind Shirik's head so that neither of them saw it, and Emma's smile and gaze made sure Sorg was looking only into her eyes. It was done in a moment and covered as she picked up a tray.

"No...no thanks." He smiled in return and looked back at Shirik. Without her padd she couldn't talk but they could just sit together. It was probably best that she did get some rest - maybe she would sleep.

Shirik frowned, stubbornly hanging onto the PADD, but the light sedative was already sapping what little strength she had left. What she did mouth luckily no one in the room understood. She hung onto Sorg's hand like a lifeline and struggled to stay awake, but inevitably she closed her eyes in a doze, still able to feel the warmth of Jurell's hand.

Emma patted Jurell on the arm. "She'll rest now, we're doing everything we can. Please don't worry about her." With a last smile she headed out of sickbay.

---

"What I Need, and What I Don't"
By: Lieutenant Mark Thaine; Chief Engineer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu Main Engineering, Chief Engineer's Office
Stardate: 57908.19 17h22

***

Farrell walked into Main Engineering, and as usual was impressed with the massive blue column that dominated the space.

"Lieutenant Thaine, sir?" he asked, all business, approaching the stern-looking man with the five-o'clock shadow.

Turning on his heel, the man wheeled upon Farrell, and regarded him with a stony gaze. "Yes?" he asked, with a harried air about him.

"Ensign Farrell, sir, from Operations. Pleased to meet you. I recognize that you're being pulled in a hundred different directions at once, and I'm sorry to add one more, but we need to have a word. In private," he added, glancing toward Thaine's office. His expression was grave.

It didn't take long before they were in the Chief Engineer's office, Thaine sitting down in his seat behind his desk, and gesturing to one for Farrell to sit down in. "Alright, Ensign," he said, "spit it out. What's this about?"

"Sir, I've recently been approached with a concern that I felt needed to be brought to you. With our apparent inability to trace the origin of the errors in the computer system, or the way they spread, a potential security risk has cropped up, and your input is very important in determining how to address it."

"Get to the point, Ensign. If you're going to say something, say it." The Chief obviously had very little patience for people who danced around issues.

"Do we have any way of knowing whether or not Lieutenant Commander Sam is immune to these spreading errors, sir?"

Thaine frowned. "Well, at least you had the sense to say that to me in private." He sighed, expression softening. "No, we don't. None at all. And you're putting me in a very difficult position by asking me this. If I were you, I'd take this straight to Security."

"With respect, sir, I was hoping to get some sort of confirmation on the possibility before taking it further. If anyone on board's an expert, it's you. I could have gone to security, and still will, but you'd have been contacted for your input sooner or later. Better sooner," Farrell finished, all business.

"Ensign, I don't have a clue what these errors are...what they're being caused by...anything. So yeah, there's a possibility. That good enough for you?"

"What would be your suggested course of action if Sam were to get infected?" The question hung in the air a moment as each man regarded the other.

Slowly, and with utmost care, Thaine answered, "I'd report it to security. And then look for some way to remove the 'infection'."

"What happens to Sam while you look, sir?"

"That's not my decision to make."

Farrell looked perplexed, and more than a little concerned. "Sir, with respect, it's absolutely your decision to make. If Sam turns victim, everyone will look to you to do something about it. Engineering's where everyone's going to look for answers. Command will do whatever you say if they're facing the worst case scenario. You've got to know that."

Thaine spread his hands, trying to stay neutral. "If the Lieutenant is still fit for duty, he'll remain on duty. If he isn't, he'll get treated the same way anyone else'd be treated if they couldn't think straight 'cos of some bug. They'd probably be taken off duty, and if dangerous locked up, while a cure was searched for.

"But all I do is offer my input to Command," Thaine shrugged. "It's their decision on what actually happens. That what you were looking for?"

"It's not really a matter of what I'm looking for, sir." Farrell shook his head slightly for emphasis. "It's a matter of what may need to be done. Sam's stronger, faster, and tougher than any other single member of this crew, and probably stronger, faster, and tougher than a whole gang of us. If he starts into a malfunction, he's unlikely to go quietly to a cell to wait while we find answers. Hell, he could kill half of us before the other half even knew anything was wrong. We may need to define a protocol for emergency shutdown."

"And I'll say it again," said the engineer, patience finally running out, "you've come to the wrong man. T'kal is the man you want to discuss security issues with. If he says we've got a security threat, and wants some help from engineering to stop it, that's where I come in. But before that, all this is doing is wasting my time."

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time, sir." Farrell stood, clearly recognizing Thaine's display of temper as a sign that the conversation was over. "For the record, then, you concur that Lieutenant Commander Sam may present a security risk, given our lack of understanding of this computer problem. Correct?"

"For the record, yes, I agree with you. Now, was that everything?" Thaine was stood up now, and giving the impression that whether it was everything or not, he was still returning to work.

"Yes, sir." Farrell did not move.

"Then you're dismissed." The engineer ended the conversation, and waited for Farrell to leave, drumming his fingers on one of the many PADDs scattered around his desk.

Farrell turned and left without a word.

---

"Care Package"
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Shirik Lektar; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57908.19 17h57

***

"Ah, mijo, did you scrape your knee? I get the bactine."

Farrell was in 'belong' mode, carrying himself with confidence as though he was exactly where he was supposed to be, such that the people who were really supposed to be there would ignore him. And it was working. Officers in all colors, coming and going from Sickbay, left him alone. He responded to the grandmother before he even realized he was doing so.

"No, abuela, estoy bien. Estoy aqui para ver una amiga," he said, looking for Lektar. He didn't even realize he was working in Spanish, until the grandmother spoke again.

"No bactine?" the grandmother asked again. What was this? Then she gave a shimmer that Farrell recognized as holo-correction, and he thought fast. If this was some flavor of EMH, it was soon going to alert the whole bay to his presence, and while he had a cover story, it was thin, and he'd hoped not to have to use it. This could be complicated. He needed to shut this thing up. But how to appeal to a grandmother? And what in the world was bactine? Then it came to him.

"No. Tengo un regalo para mi amiga," he replied, patting his kitbag. Lektar wasn't in the main bay. A nurse came out of an isolation room, then, and he caught a glimpse of ebon skin against the pale blue of the bedcover.

"Cual es tu amiga?" Grandmother replied, switching to Spanish herself. Excellent. She was programmed to help, whatever she was and wherever she came from. He wondered idly how many different EMH images there were.

"La morena en cuarto uno," he nodded toward iso-room one.

"Y, necesita ella bactine?"

"No, no." What was bactine? That hadn't been on Sefton's wishlist. "Tengo un regalo para ella," he patted his bag again with its referenced present and nodded toward the iso-room again.

"Me encantan regalos! Se lo damos juntos," she said, leading him to the iso-room. He stopped her at the door.

"No abuelita," he touched her arm lightly and whispered. He needed her to go away. "Es una sorpresa. Shhh." He put a finger to his lips and she smiled and nodded. "Tiene que imaginar que nunca me viste, o la sorpresa se arruinara."

"Ah. Ok, mijo," she said, patting him on the arm and winking mischievously, and turning away as though she never saw him.

He ducked into Lektar's room. Lektar herself was busily tapping on a PADD, and so did not immediately notice his approach.

"Psst," Farrell hissed, nonchalantly closing the door after a glance to ensure the other medstaff were engrossed in their respective projects and duties.

Shirik looked up from her work and blinked in surprise at seeing him. She hadn't expected a visit from him, and was slightly suspicious. She started to tap out a cautious 'Hello', when he reached out to stop her hand.

"No, no, no," he whispered. "You'll give us both away. I brought you a present." He glanced at the instrument clusters, and reached under the bed, glancing back up several times to gauge his efforts and make sure no one was entering the room.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as he went reaching under her bed, but she was curious too. What could he have brought, and why?

"Okay," he whispered, stringing a thin tube over the back of her biobed. He strapped it lightly to her water tube with a small piece of striptape, such that she could choose which tube to use.

"Sorry this took so long," he was carrying on. "I had to rig a container that could dispense liquid and mask smell. Try it."

Shirik took a tentative sip from the tube, and raised an eyebrow at the familiar taste of replicated klaas.

"You've got a liter and a half down there, but there's no telling when I'll be able to get back for a refill, so go easy on it. The tank self-stirs every few minutes, and has enough power to keep it warm for two days."

Both eyebrows went up, and she started to tap on her PADD again.

"Don't try and do anything," he stopped her hand over the PADD again. "You'll tip off the medgoons. Just get better," he whispered to her ear, in a tone so low only she could hope to hear it. She could hear the smile in his voice, too. "Who would I tease if not my favorite drukiv?"

Before she could tap out any kind of reply he was gone. She just looked at the door he had gone through with a small frown. Although she appreciated the gift, she couldn't help but wonder at his motive in bringing it to her. She also knew he would get into trouble for doing so, as soon as anyone found out about it. She knew it couldn't stay hidden for long, some nurse was bound to notice the extra tube.

With a shrug, she decided not to look a gifthorse in the mouth, and took advantage of the gift while she could, taking a long pull of klaas and closing her eyes with a contented smile.

---

"Too Little, Too Late"
By: Lieutenant Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
Lieutenant Mark Thaine - Chief Engineer
Ensign Mason Farrell - Operations Officer
Chief Petty Officer Sorien Case - Weapons Specialist

Location: USS Sulu, Main Operations Office
Stardate: 57908.19 18h05

***

Case and Farrell were tightly huddled around Farrell's console, fueling themselves with coffee and failing to look anything even resembling nonchalant. Junior Ops officers and NCOs still bustled through occasionally - complaints and repair requests were still coming to the Ops office at a fevered pitch - but most of them sensed the grave-heavy mood of the men and made a concerted effort to keep out of their way and to not look for long in their general direction. Whatever they were concerned about, it certainly seemed to be fairly serious business.

Benedict T'Kal entered the Operations Office with Thaine. The two men had been working closely all day and it would be a long night for them both as they attempted to track the problems within the Sulu's systems from the Engineering Hull Computer Core.

Benedict saw the two men standing at the workstation and greeted them with, "Gentlemen," and a querying look toward the ranking officer - Farrell.

"Sirs," Farrell indicated seats. "Please." He keyed the door closed, and secured it from the console.

Benedict cast an eye at the behaviour of the junior officer and sat in the indicated chair. "What's up?" he said to Farrell.

Farrell shared a momentary look with Thaine, and began. "I'll cut right to it. Lieutenant Commander Sam may not be safe from the computer errors we're experiencing."

"What gives you that idea?" Benedict asked. "Sam is an android and he's not hooked into the Sulu's systems. I've been working with him all day and he's shown no signs of being susceptible to the problems."

"With all respect, sir," Case said, looking grimly at his department head. "The malfunctions are getting more serious and we have mounting evidence that there's an intelligence behind it. We can't be sure that intelligence might not find a way to infect Commander Sam."

"He's right," Thaine grudgingly agreed. "We don't know enough about this to say anything for sure."

Case was looking at T'Kal, his one dark eye searching. "Sir, it does go beyond this crisis...for me anyway." Case cast an apologetic glance at both Farrell and Thaine before looking back to his superior. "I'm not suggesting that Commander Sam is more susceptible to being controlled than any other member of this crew. I am suggesting that he has the potential to do far more damage before he could be stopped."

Benedict nodded. "We've pretty much determined that the problems have an intelligence behind them. Okay - I accept there may be a risk. I pretty much addressed that point with the captain a while ago. There are steps in place to remove his access from the system should anything go wrong, but with his abilities I recognize that it will only cause a delay. You have something in mind?"

"That's why we're here, sir," Case affirmed, relaxing a little with T'Kal's tentative approval. "I'm of the opinion that a plan needs to be in place specifically designed to neutralize Commander Sam, should it come to that." Case looked at each of them in turn. "Do any of you have an idea how Commander Sam would react to that suggestion?"

"He'd be open to listening," Benedict said almost immediately. "Sam is an android - like Vulcans he's pretty much a logical mind, but he's also literal. He has little imagination - but if there is a concern and it has some basis in fact, he'll tackle it to the best of his abilities. I would recommend that we address it directly with him and allow him to make some suggestions. Of course, I'd be in favor of adding a few precautionary steps that he's unaware of. In the current crisis, he's actually working on the computer problems - as long as it doesn't take a great deal of time, I want him to continue with his work, but I see no reason why you shouldn't ask." Benedict looked at Lieutenant Thaine. "You agree?" he asked the senior engineer.

The engineer nodded. "Sounds about right. I can't see him having a problem with it. And he's got no feelings that might be hurt, at least."

Case was looking at Thaine. "He might still be apprehensive, Lieutenant. I would be asking him to share with me a method of deactivation, preferably via a remote unit accessible to only the Captain, Commander Lyrr, and Commander T'Kal. That would give any man...or android...a little pause."

Thaine shrugged. "You've got a better idea than asking him, then?"

Case smiled, finally. "I wasn't suggesting that there is a better course of action, sir. I was bemoaning the best option we have." Case looked thoughtful for a moment, then directed his gaze at T'Kal. "I'll be happy to make the approach, sir. Unless you think it needs to go to the First Officer for initial approval."

Benedict smiled grimly. "Let's keep it in-house, Chief. It's a security matter. As to the off-switch...." He grinned at Case. "It's a little different as far as Sam is concerned, Chief. He can be switched back on again - I can't say the same for you or I. I honestly don't think that Sam would have an objection to finding a solution to a foreseeable problem that would most probably end in his permanent termination should we not address it. I know this is a very un-popular view, but no matter how amusing and charming he is - to me, he's still metal, plastic and computer spare parts...and if it breaks down - it's just one more fancy paper weight."

Case's smile faded in thought. "No disrespect to Commander Sam but I happen to agree, sir." He glanced quickly at Farrell and Thaine as if searching for further ascent. "Still, I figure whatever he may be, he's earned his rank and therefore my respect. My only interest is approaching this carefully and professionally. Don't forget that I joined Starfleet in an era that had concerns about android enlistment. Commander Sam has probably researched his family history...I just don't want him to misunderstand."

"I don't think he's ever displayed feelings that can be hurt. As long as you stick to the specifics of the problem, he'll only see it from that perspective. Right now he's a damned useful officer - I'd hate to have to come up against him. So we share that concern." Benedict nodded. "Give it some thought."

"Aye, sir," Case said, already having a jump on that suggestion. It was all he'd been doing for days.

"If I may, sirs," Farrell said politely. "What exactly are you and the Commander working on? Sam's kept us all out of the loop, and I don't want to duplicate his effort."

"Trying to sort out these blasted computer errors," explained the Chief Engineer. "And before you ask, the answer is no. It's not going well."

"What's y'all's angle? Where are you looking?"

Benedict's impression of Farrell was that he wanted to be 'in the loop' but wasn't prepared to behave in the manner that was required to do so. He'd heard of Farrell's run ins with Sam - lying to a superior officer was not the way to be recognized as someone you could trust - especially with Sam, but he just couldn't stand not being a part of what was happening none the less. T'Kal raised one brow at his casual attitude but replied, "We are attempting to trace the initial point of the problems - we know it was in a holodeck system, however the logs are scrambled. It is an arduous task, but we are gaining ground."

"I've got a couple of officers trying to trace the actual point of entry to see how it got on board." Farrell appeared far more interested in the information than T'Kal's scrutiny. "Have you three found it? I can use my people on damage control if you have."

"That's what we are trying to do," Benedict nodded. "Put your people on damage control. We're working from the Engineering Hull Computer Core. We have determined that there are three apparently sentient entities within the systems. They appeared in holodeck programs this morning. They appear to be trying to communicate - and without a viable translation we can't do anything. We have a shuttle mission underway to try to recover some transmission signals from the planet's past. I believe they may be having some success. It will help with the translation."

"We brought back some extreme basics from a lab planetside. Their periodic table and a very basic scientific lexicon. Tagliesh should have those files," Farrell said, then exhaled thoughtfully. "No one has any idea how this got on board?"

"Probably the last thing we'll find out," commented Thaine, darkly. "But we aren't going to find anything out sat around here." Looking to Farrell directly, he asked, "Was there anything else?"

Benedict nodded also. "At this point we need to get back to what we were doing. You're right," he said to Thaine. "We're wasting time on something that probably will never happen." He looked at Farrell and Case. "Your concerns are valid - and discussing it with Commander Sam would be the next course of action. However at this moment in time, we have to get to the bottom of the computer problems, and at the speed Sam works, we can't afford time out to discuss possibilities - it's a little late for any precautions we could come up with." He looked again at Thaine as he stood. "Let's get back to work, Lieutenant."

Farrell watched Thaine and T'Kal leave, and when the door closed turned to Case.

"Won't happen, but the concerns are valid? We don't have time? Too late for precautions?" he repeated, each question more incredulous than the last, and ending with a stunned shake of his head.

"Commander T'Kal is out of his element," Case said, his eye still on the door. "Don't misunderstand me, sir," he clarified, answering Farrell's quizzical look. "The Commander is completely competent and he has my trust and loyalty but he's more comfortable with a problem he can solve by shooting or slicing...this kind of attack unnerves him more than anything." Case looked at Farrell and managed a smile. "And don't forget...he's still young."

Farrell smiled wryly at the crack; the irony that he was the same age or older than both the senior officers was not lost on him. "And Thaine's not going to even think about it until T'Kal tells him to," he said. "I'm surprised he even showed up to this meet." He sucked his teeth for a moment, thinking.

"So where do we go now?" he asked after a moment. "Sam himself? T'Kal and Thaine are on their way back to Sam right now. Do we dare interrupt again, or--" He shook his head. "Man, I don't want to do an end-run on this."

"We did our duty, sir," Case said, folding his arms. "We had a concern and we voiced it to our superiors and we got a bit of a brush-off." Case glanced back at the door. "Commander T'Kal didn't forbid us to take it to Sam...but giving them a little time might be wise." He looked back at Farrell, his face thoughtfully working on a segue. "Has Commander Sam performed some remarkable heroic service to the ship these past couple months, sir?"

"He was in command when the ship was attacked over Risa," Farrell said. "The Captain was hospitalized and Lyrr and T'Kal were both planetside trying to capture an assassin. The engagement wasn't really a win, but it certainly wasn't a loss. Sam kept the ship together."

"I see," Case said thoughtfully but keeping those thoughts to himself. His face was carefully neutral.

"What?" Farrell prompted.

"Lieutenant jg to Lieutenant Commander in just a few months," Case intoned, his good eye going to Mason with the last word. "I haven't seen anything like that since the Dominion War. It's curious."

"Chief, is there more to this than 'Sam's an Android'?" Farrell kept his tone polite.

Case tilted his head and let a smile slide onto his face. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked, slightly bemused.

"Just curious," Farrell said, serious. "You said earlier this went deeper than just Sam. I wondered what that meant."

"Actually, I said it went beyond this crisis, sir," Case said, seemingly turning wary and perhaps afraid he'd misspoke in front of an officer. He evaluated Farrell carefully with one ebon iris before he continued. "And what I meant is that when this crisis is over, I'll still have these concerns about an android serving on a Starfleet vessel. Our troubles at the moment have merely illustrated the potential for just how bad it could be, sir."

Farrell met the gaze evenly, but was still the first to look away. "Fair enough. Do you want to write up what happened here," he indicated the door through which T'Kal and Thaine had left, "or would you like me to?"

Case relaxed only a little but did cock another smile. "I can't speak for you, sir but I'm not committing anything to record until I speak to Commander Sam."

"This is exactly the kind of meeting that needs to be documented, Chief," said Farrell. "If something does go bad at some point, I need to be able to say warnings were sounded. When do you want to talk to Sam?"

"As soon as I can, sir...but it'll have to wait for a break in the crisis." Case looked at Farrell intently over his grin. "Commander T'Kal has said his piece and although I may not agree, I'll abide by it." His smile grew a little forced. "We were too late this time, sir. Let's just hope we get through it without having to regret it."

"I hear you," Farrell said grimly.

---

"A Touch of Klaas"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar
Crewman Sorg Jurell
Lt. Commander Damhnait Sefton

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19 19h15

***

Sorg Jurell walked into the isolation area with a mask on his face. He'd been assigned to help out in sickbay, primarily because he had some first aid training and could assist with injured crew recovery seeing as the transporters and turbolifts were not operational. There was a lull in activity and he popped in to see Shirik. As he walked in she was sucking on a tube attached to the bio bed. He didn't think anything of it as he walked up to her and sat on the stool that was beside the bed.

"Hey..." he smiled, the crinkling of his eyes showing the smile.

She abruptly stopped sucking on the tube and took up her PADD, looking as if she'd been caught doing something bad. She turned a charming smile to Sorg, tapping out a greeting on her PADD for him. 'Hi. How's my bodyguard doing?'

He grinned. "Doing okay... " He leaned down and gave her a hug, and in the brief moment of their contact he smelled Klaas. It was a distinctively acrid smell in the air. He drew back and narrowed his eyes.

She returned his hug, enjoying it and using the moment to fully compose her expression, so by the time he looked at her once more, she looked absolutely normal, no hint of anything amiss on her face. 'I'm glad,' she typed. 'I've been working on the computer problems a little. Commander T'Kal brought me some data.'

"What's he got you doing?" Sorg was interested in what was happening to the ship - things seemed to be getting worse.

'Working on devising encryption algorithms for the holomatrix,' she typed. 'Really exciting stuff.' She grinned at him.

"Uhuh." He nodded. The light was back in her eyes - she was doing something productive. T'Kal obviously knew how to motivate her. At that moment he was intensely jealous of the Bajoran Security Chief. He knew that he would never be able to get the same feelings from Shirik as he. They were friends though - and the more he considered what that meant, the more he knew that he didn't want to ruin that. He gave her a smile. "You'd better continue your work then. I'll sit here and not disturb you."

'That's all right, you talk, I'll work.' She smiled. 'I like the sound of your voice.'

He read the words and his mouth went dry. He covered it with a soft chuckling sound. "You're a tease, Miss Lektar!" he grinned and settled back.

She grinned at him and then put on an innocent 'Who, me?' look. She turned her gaze back to her PADD with a smile and begin tapping once more.

"It's good to see you smile," he said. "What shall I talk about?" he mused as he put his feet up against the base of the bed. He chuckled. "Once upon a time, there was this princess...."

She rolled her eyes. 'Just wait until I'm well enough to punch you,' she typed. She took another swallow from her drinking tube and tapped at her work with a smile.

"The princess was a mean girl, who liked to punish her faithful vassals at the merest whim," he grinned as she stared at him. "She had a dark heart and she lived in the perpetual gloom of her Master the Mysterious Core." He chuckled.

She merely quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting to hear the rest of this. Maybe she would punch him today.

He leaned forward his eyes alight, hands gesturing as he continued the story. "One day a knight - a chivalrous man - handsome, strong and valiant was assigned to guard her...very handsome - great sense of humor, a real warrior he was."

She let the PADDs lay on her lap and folded her arms, letting him tell this 'tale' while she sipped from her drinking tube.

He frowned. "I thought you were supposed to be working." He used a flicking finger motion at her and the padd. "Come on. the Dark Prince wants you to finish that!"

She rolled her eyes and mouthed something he didn't understand, then picked up one of the PADDs and started working again, listening but not looking his way.

He sat back. "Where was I.... Oh yes...one day, while the Valiant Knight watched his Dark Princess an evil spell was cast against the Mysterious Core and the Dark Prince came to steal the Princess's heart."

She nodded as she tapped away, stealing another sip from her tube.

"But the Valiant Knight saw through the magic - and knew that the heart of the Black Prince was like a stone, yet the Princess, in seeing him was captured...beguiled."

She looked up from her PADD. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more of this story. She started tapping out a reply when her stomach lurched. Her face went pale and she leaned over the edge of the bed as her stomach rejected the contents she'd been putting into it for the last few hours, all over the floor.

"Awww damn!" Sorg lurched to his feet and backed away from the splash. It stank; an acrid odor that was burning his sinuses. It was Klaas - he could smell it thickly. "Doctor!!" Sorg's voice reached a commanding shout and he stepped up to the bed and held her steady as she retched again, making sure that she didn't choke. "Doctor!" He shouted again and heard running footfalls as the medical staff responded to the call.

The only good thing about non-working lungs and being on an oxygenator was that at least she couldn't choke. Sure, her lungs could get filled, but at this point, would she really notice?

She was surprised, embarrassed, angry at herself, and a little bit anxious. They'd take her klaas away now, she knew. Why did it make her sick? It never had before. She gave Sorg an apologetic and embarrassed look. She didn't want to do that in front of him, much less almost on him.

"S'okay, don't worry about it," he smiled. "I didn't mean to make you sick," he said with mock levity as he held her so that she was over the side of the bed. "That stuff did the same thing to poor Kaven...must be a bad batch."

After her first step into the isolation room, Damhnait Sefton noted that Shirik's oxygen levels were stable; after her second step, she noted that Shirik was conscious, but had possibly just retched up a liquid substance; after her third step, Damhnait's expression turned dour. Sorg had shouted out as if this were a dire situation, and yet his mood was suddenly very light. Sternly, she stated more than asked, "What. Happened."

Shirik was definitely pale and greenish by now, holding her stomach with a pained expression and trying not to retch yet a third time. All she could do was shake her head at Sorg's words, then eye Dr. Sefton with something almost approaching fear.

Damhnait cocked her head to the side, and the look of her eyes softened at Shirik's increasingly pained expression. The doctor looked among the hypospray cartridges already set up on the counter for an anti-nauseant.

"Can't keep her lunch down," Sorg said lightly, though his look was anything but. It was one of those expressions that betrayed worry while trying to maintain humor, a complex balance of controlled panic and a plaintive plea for assistance.

"You" -- the word was elongated and punctuated, with Damhnait pumping a hypospray onto the desired cartridge, while her eyes narrowed towards Sorg -- "are not authorised to medicate or feed her. Shirik is not supposed to be eating solid foods. The only thing she can ingest naturally is" -- Sefton eyed the second tank by Shirik's bed -- "water?"

Sorg shook his head. "Not me, doc." He cradled Shirik's head as she convulsed again. More foul liquid splashed to the floor, some landed on Sorg's boots and he groaned. "It's that foul Klaas stuff." He looked at Sefton. "She's been sipping it from that tube I guess." He indicated the offending article with a nod of his head.

"Where did you get klaas?" Damhnait looked to Shirik, her eyes wide with incredulity. She quickly administered the drug to Shirik, and began examining the Drokari's blood chemistry on the biobed's monitor, as she waited for an explanation.

Shirik just shrugged mutely, taking refuge nearer Sorg and not meeting the Doctor's eyes.

"Lying to a senior officer; now, that's classy," Damhnait sarcasmed. Unceremoniously tearing the klaas tank away from its purchase on the water tank, Damhnait evenly told them, "No matter; I don't think I need to remind security and operations officers that every entry and exit from an isolation room is logged." Her eyes hard on Shirik's, Damhnait continued, "Unfortunately, it seems I must remind you that any change in your currently delicate blood chemistry will affect the efficiency to which your blood will carry oxygen. Your oxygen levels are still stable, even if your stomach is not, but you will need to be even more heavily medicated to fully stabilise your blood in time for your gene therapy, which - fortunately, I guess - will be delayed from 12h00 tomorrow to approximately 14h00 tomorrow, because of other childishness."

Shirik shot her a defiant glare, knowing that the Betazoid probably already had sucked the name from her mind in any case. But the glare didn't last in the face of the doctor's scolding, and faded to a contrite look as she leaned herself against Sorg for comfort. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed.

Shirik closed her eyes as the room threatened to spin once more. She really didn't feel well, but the medication was starting to take effect, for which she was thankful.

Sorg just looked helplessly at the doctor. "That stuff is a pretty heavy stimulant, doc," he said. "Will that do anything bad?"

"Unchecked, it can disrupt the haemoglobin in her blood, along with all of the pharmaceuticals in her system. Catching it now, I believe I can counteract the effects," Sefton explained again, while taking up her own PADD to record a precise prescription of the needed medications.

Sorg looked down at Shirik, who was still holding on to him as if he was a life preserver, and gave her a smile. "If you think I'm going to clean that mess up, you're badly mistaken, sir." He winced at the acrid odour."Prophets that stinks."

Doctor Sefton looked up from her PADD slowly, to appraise Sorg disdainfully. "If you think I allowed you to work in Sickbay to offer 'moral support', then you are badly mistaken. There are wounded officers who need attention in Main Sickbay. Or does the sight of blood make you uncomfortable, too?"

"Er...no, sir...ma'am. I was only talking to Ensign Lektar, ma'am...making a joke. I didn't mean anything." He looked totally flustered by Sefton's attention and her disdain. "I don't mind blood - I've seen plenty of that. But vomit...I can't cope with that. I'm doing my best not to add to it right now...just hearing someone do...that...makes me want to...puke myself." He looked green around the gills even talking about it.

The conversation had wandered to somewhere Shirik really didn't want to go. She finally released Sorg and reached for her PADD. Hoping to turn the conversation elsewhere, she tapped out a question for the doctor. 'Why is my therapy being delayed tomorrow?'

Though she'd chide herself for it later, Damhnait rode the wave of irritation she'd felt toward Sorg, which was severely strengthened by thinking of the other foolishness. "The only person on this ship, who intimately understands the JJ324c virus as a unitary whole as well as I do - and has been my liaison to the Science department - has been stripped of her position and rank by Captain Salinger and Commander T'Kal in the middle of a gorram crisis, because she pulled an eminently childish prank," Damhnait ranted, but kept her tone reigned in. "It took considerable time, this morning, to re-learn how she, as a civilian, would be passing along portions of the virus to be studied by the Science's staff. I suspect she stubbornly kept most of the tasks to herself."

"Then she knowingly endangered lives and failed in her duty." The scorn and anger in Sorg's voice was instantly apparent. "She deserves being stripped of her rank if she's that kind of person...sir. If Shirik...if anything happens to Shirik and it's her fault...she'll face charges." It was quite plain that Sorg was thinking of a far different fate for Tagliesh that involved an airlock and an accident. Not necessarily in that order.

Sefton's expression turned entirely to neutral stone. It was easy to berate Sorg when he was being irritating, but there were few ways of dealing with the sort of hate radiating off of him. Calmly, she said, "Even if she had kept her rank, I would not have allowed her to leave the life sciences laboratory for the remainder of this virus crisis. The only one left to be harmed by Tagliesh would have been, and continues to be, herself. If anything is risking Shirik's life today, lessening Tagliesh's usefulness is right up there with her own actions. Fortunately, despite everything, we are making positive progress on developing the Drokari-specific gene therapy."

Shirik laid a hand on Sorg's arm and gave it a squeeze to try to calm him. She tapped out her next question to the doctor with the other. 'How is Mel'chir? Did she undergo therapy?'

Sorg calmed down with Shirik's touch. He couldn't believe how selfish and stupid Tagliesh's behaviour was. Wasn't she a Starfleet Officer? Wasn't she the Captain's girl? Why would she behave in such a careless and reckless manner, endangering lives.... He just shook his head and stared off into space as Sefton and Lektar continued their written and verbal discussion.

"Yes, she has healthy cells growing in her lungs. It will be some time, though, before we know if the virus will be unattracted to them," Sefton shared.

'Shouldn't we know the final results of that therapy before beginning mine?' she asked. What if it didn't work, she wondered. 'Will I be sedated during the procedure?'

"We will know if Tchalla's was a success hours before we proceed with your therapy, which you will not have to be sedated for. The hard work is designing the adeno-associated virus; once that is complete, I simply have to administer it to you through a hypospray," Sefton informed. Softer, she admitted, "Tchalla's success or failure will have absolutely no bearing on whether your therapy will succeed or not. Every therapy has had to be designed uniquely for each species involved."

Somehow that wasn't very comforting. It was sounding like success or failure of the therapy was a crap shoot. She might just as easily die anyway, even with therapy. She nodded.

"You should get some rest," Sefton instructed Shirik. "It would be best to allow your body some time to naturally work the klaas out of your system before we remedicate you." She offered her patient a comforting smile, despite the blatant lack of faith that Shirik held for Damhnait's abilities.

Sefton looked back to Sorg, as she holstered her PADD, to haughtily, without being threatening, suppose, "I trust you will choose to no longer derelict your duties to Sickbay by spending so much time in here with a patient whom you don't have the skills to attend to? I mean, if one of those endangered lives out there were to be lost, you could be stripped of your rank and freedom. You're not that kind of person, are you?"

Shirik decided not to get into the middle of this conversation, and that now would indeed be a good time to rest. She lay back on the biobed and tried to relax, now that the medications had taken away most of the nausea and the room was no longer spinning.

Sorg looked down at his feet, momentarily ashamed of his previous outburst. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you're right of course." He looked up at her, his expression contrite. "How can I help best?"

"Find a patient, and help however you can," Damhnait summed it up, sounding vaguely sage despite the simplicity of her words. "Raina or one of the doctors will be around to guide you from there." Without another expression, Sefton spun on her heel and exited the isolation room with the klaas tank under her arm.

Sorg looked down and smiled at Shirik. "I'd better do as she says." He leaned down and as he did so he ripped off his mask. "See you soon," he said and kissed her soundly before departing without looking back.

She nodded, closing her eyes to rest. They snapped open a moment later when his lips met hers, and she just stared at him as he made his exit. After a few moments she smiled slightly to herself and closed her eyes once more.

---

"Something To Divert The Mind"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Lt. Cmdr. Benedict T'Kal, Chief of Security

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19 19h46

***

Benedict T'Kal stepped into Sickbay and cast his gaze around at the activity. The place was full. He nodded to a very attractive nurse, who looked at him and stared for a moment before looking away hurriedly. She made a point of ignoring him and he frowned. She was dressed in a Class B uniform with her long dark hair in a braid down her spine. He wondered what he'd done for a moment but didn't recognize her so he shrugged it off and made his way to the isolation area. He donned a mask before walking into Shirik's room.

"Hey," he smiled. "Got a minute?"

Shirik had a PADD sitting on her lap and was staring down at it thoughtfully. She started at the sound of Ben's voice, so engaged in her thoughts she hadn't even heard him come in. She blinked, her cheeks darkening a bit as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't be, and composed herself once more, a grin finding her lips. 'Hi. I always have a minute for you. Have a seat,' she typed at him.

Benedict read the padd and grinned. "Here, a present for you." He handed her the padd he'd brought with him. "I'm working with Commander Sam and Lieutenant Thaine on the computer problems we've been having. I thought you might want to help." He sat in the chair and watched her face as she looked at the new padd.

Her eyes lit up with the prospect of something to work on, some way to be useful. She scanned the information on the PADD.

"The padd's connected to the system, remote to the terminal I'm working on in the Engineering Computer Core. The worms we've been tracking are sentient - at least Commander Sam thinks that. We tracked it from the holomatrix, although we haven't gotten the initial point of entry yet. We're trying to lock them out and in the meantime come up with a means of eliminating them - though so far they've shown up in holodeck programs as people. I have the suspicion that they want to communicate - I saw two of them myself this morning - just before you entered the holodeck. If you have any ideas - I'd be grateful."

She looked up from the PADD to him, and typed away on her communications PADD. 'Why didn't you mention it to me this morning?' Not that it would have made much difference, probably. Before she got anywhere near a terminal she was in a coma. A sentient worm? She frowned in thought. 'What did you see, exactly?' She looked over the data to see how many sightings there were, and what had been seen.

"Two people, a man and a woman, both humanoid, dark features. I thought that they were just a program glitch because they vanished as quickly as they appeared. Sorien Case had the presence of mind to get a recording capture of the one that appeared in his holodeck program this morning. Until then we really didn't know. Now we think they are trying to communicate - perhaps something from the planet that we didn't know came on board. We're still trying to locate the starting point." He gave her the padd back and smiled to see the interest in her eyes. He knew that this would be good therapy.

She frowned. 'Sam and I ran some code from the planet's computer through one of the holodeck imagers. But he assured me he had taken precautions to make sure any viruses or other such code couldn't get into our systems.'

"When was that?" Ben sat forward. Sam hadn't mentioned that fact at all. Typical android thinking - if he'd taken precautions then it couldn't be him.

'Yesterday...I think...my memory is a little fuzzy,' she typed.

"Okay, but Sam will know the exact time." He grinned. "Thanks - that will help a lot already. If you can do something to design a worm killer program...in case we need it. I want to try to communicate with them first. I don't think this damage is malicious - if they wanted to do real harm there's easier and more effective ways."

She frowned. 'I heard that at the time when I was brought in, a nurse got crushed to death in another turbolift. That sounds like real harm to me. I'll get to work on it.' She knew it was just luck that she and Sorg hadn't been in that turbolift, or they'd be the dead ones now.

Benedict nodded somberly. "Yes, Amaya Chen," he sighed, his lips in a hard line. "Real harm would be opening the airlocks, or depressurizing the primary hull, or shutting down the structural integrity fields and kicking us into warp...starting a warp core breach, increasing the internal gravity to four or five gees.... There are many ways to be malicious." He looked at Shirik. "I hate you being in here...I feel useless to help you."

'Those things may happen if things continue to get worse,' she pointed out. She looked up at him with a small smile. 'That's how I feel, too. Sitting here in bed useless to help out while the systems go haywire, and people like you working around the clock while I'm sleeping most of the time. Which reminds me, when is the last time you slept?' She peered at him.

"Last night," he grinned. "Do I look that bad?"

'Only to someone who knows you.' She smiled. 'Were you just stopping by on your way to get some sleep?'

"No - taking a small break to come see if you could help." He slapped his knee. "I'd better get back to it," he said with a grim smile. "It's going to be an all-nighter by the looks of it. I don't want you stressing about that." He pointed at the padd in her hands. "But if you can help...and it's also an instant message system to my terminal." He grinned. "We can talk...while I work."

She wished she hadn't said anything, maybe he would have stayed longer. She smiled a bit. 'I wouldn't want to distract you from your work with trivial things like hello,' she typed. 'But I will message you if I come up with anything on this. Do try to get some sleep, ok?'

"No...I'm going to be working on this until it's solved," he said seriously. "Sleep is a luxury I can't afford." He smiled as he handed the padd back again. "And saying hello isn't trivial - I'm glad you can still do that. I owe Sorg. I'm glad he was on hand. He's got a cool head in an emergency."

'So is missing something vital because of fatigue,' she frowned at him. 'You better get some, or I'll tell the doctor on you.' She smiled a bit at that. She nodded. 'I thought I was going to die in that lift. I don't know how he ever got me here in time. If I'd been alone, I wouldn't be here now. I'm glad I decided not to be antisocial for breakfast. Can I recommend him for a commendation?'

"You certainly can, and I'll second it," he nodded, "though he'd only say he was doing his duty." Benedict stepped closer to the biobed and leaned in and hugged her. "I'll see you later - I'll drop by in the morning sometime."

She grinned, setting down her PADDs to return the hug. 'I'll be here,' she typed when she could once more. 'Try to have a good shift. I'll talk to you later.'

---

"That Loving Feeling..."
By: Ensign Vincent Chan
Crewman Emma Summers

Location: Crewman Summers' Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.19, 21h40

***

Again that familiar nervous sweat greeted Vincent, and again as always he wiped his hands onto trousers. He had been thinking hard all week. Ever since Becky's birthday, he had weighed up all the facts in his mind. And now he had come to a conclusion of sorts. Becky was his past. Emma was his future.

He had arranged a meeting with Emma, to "talk." He was feeling more and more attached to her now. Hell he might even love her! Vincent thought to himself. He had not been available all week and now as he was about to see her. Vincent's pulse quickened in anticipation. He was outside Emma's quarters. Her roommate was out and it was just the secluded, private place he wanted for his outpouring of emotions.

He had played the scene over and over in his mind so many times. He would walk in, they would rush into each other's arms, and make passionate love, before he opened his heart to her. Well that was how he planned it at least...

Vincent pressed the buzzer.

"Come in," Emma called out from her bedroom. She sat at her desk, poring over data padds she had downloaded in medical. She'd briefly assisted with the rash of patients earlier in the day and had gotten a look first hand at the virus that was affecting several members of the crew. She was Human, and so with great relief she knew that she would be spared the effects. However, no one wanted to be on a plague ship. What if they were never allowed back into the Alpha Quadrant? What if the viral strain mutated to accommodate Humans? There were just too many big nasty IF's.

So she had surreptitiously downloaded everything she could get on the virus and the tests done so far. Sefton was a bright medical doctor - and she believed in cross pollination between sciences - medical, life science and anything else that could help in the hunt for the virus killer. So the data had been easy to access, with Emma's medical clearance and her counselor protocols. She worked Gamma shift, and had been in her office all night long going over what had already been done.

One fact was evident. The virus was a nasty piece of gene-engineering. It was a fabricated viral strain. She knew that from experience - as Catherine Page, she had been a geneticist specialising in xenobiology on one of the flagships of the Federation fleet. She had designed her own viruses - for good and for ill. This one had all the hallmarks of an engineered strain.

She was deep into the examination of the viral data when her door chime sounded. She wasn't pleased at the sudden interruption and resented it. She stepped quickly out of her bedroom into the joint living space that she shared with her roommate just as the door whisked open.

Vincent stood in the doorway. She frowned. "What?" she asked sourly as his face momentarily brightened at seeing her and just as quickly darkened at her tone.

Vincent frowned. It was not quite the reaction that he was expecting. It had caught him off guard. He let his irritation show through as his voice carried the full force of his possible sarcasm. "Hi, Emma," he began, "I missed you too..."

She scowled. "I'm in the middle of something important." She put both hands on her hips and smirked. "Did you really miss me or are you just trying to get laid?" She was dressed in an oversized tee-shirt and little else.

Vincent intentionally looked hurt. "Now do you really think that I would sink that low just to get laid?" He broke into his classic smile, teeth flashing and with a little crinkling of his eyes, that usually dynamited the girls. "Mind you... You are worth it..."

She laughed. "Yes, I think you would!" She stood aside. "You may as well come in then." She turned away and started back toward her bedroom, the tee shirt hitting the floor before she got halfway and a sultry grin appearing over her naked shoulder. She hadn't been wearing anything else...

***Later***

Emma curled up against Vincent and gave him a lazy smile as she ran a long fingernail across the ridges of his abdomen. He was still breathing hard. Her chestnut hair was draped across his chest and she could hear the thunder of his heartbeat. She felt the warm glow that good sex always gave her, yet she was still edgy. They had made love like there would be no tomorrow, and she had let herself go, and surprised herself by totally enjoying it. He was learning what turned her on the most and now he was using that knowledge to best effect - and she had a faint headache that came with the earth-shattering orgasms he'd given her. He was certainly talented in the oral department. It made her ache just thinking about it again. "I think I'm going to chain you to the bed," she said in a sultry voice and gave him a wicked smile. "Keep you as a pet...."

"You wouldn't need a chain," he said, stroking her hair affectionately. "I wouldn't want to run away." He smiled as he bent over to kiss her. "There is something I want to talk to you about though..."

"Hmmm?" She propped herself up on an elbow, her hair brushed against his chest and the warm swell of her breast pressed against him. She smiled. "You want to talk too?" she teased.

"Yes, Emma, I do," he began. "About us and how we feel for each other... Is that okay?" He looked intently at her face, to try to gauge her reaction, to see whether or not he should continue.

She rested her chin against his chest and shrugged. "Okay." Her voice was a little guarded.

"Emma, I think that a relationship, one that is at our level should be open and without reservation. Do you agree?" Vincent asked. He did not bother to wait for her answer. He assumed that she did. "I've noticed that when you think I'm not looking, you look at me as if you hate me. Dark shadows come over those lovely grey eyes of yours," Vincent gave her a sincere look. "I can honestly and openly say now, that I love you, Emma." He gazed into her eyes. He was really opening up his heart to her now. "Do you feel the same way? Are my emotions reciprocated?"

"That's silly!" She slapped him playfully and laughed. "Why would I look at you like that?" She sat up and pouted. "Do you think I hate you? After what we just did?" She leaned over him, purposely dragging her breasts across his chest. Her dark hair draped over them like a curtain as she kissed his lips. "I don't hate you," she whispered as she kissed him again. She started to kiss his throat, trailing down ward, biting and kissing as she went. She knew exactly what to do - what he liked.

He began to feel aroused. He liked this. He liked this a lot. Maybe it was just his overcautious mind over-exaggerating the situation. He was reading too much into what wasn't there instead of looking at what he had. To think he almost gave this up for some baseless suspicions! The idea seemed laughable now.

"Don't you want to know why I wasn't honest with you before?" he asked her. It was time to come clean.

She laughed softly, the sound muffled as she bit him softly. His indrawn breath and soft groan was accompanied by a shuddering sigh as she gave him a little more attention. "You were dishonest?" she asked in a purring tone and before he could answer she moved her lips over him completely and then let him go. She looked into his eyes, tempting him. "Tell me...."

"Before," he began, "at the academy. There was a girl. Becky Cohen. We were both doing the science course together. We were crazy for each other." Emma made a sound as if to interrupt, but Vincent indicated he wished to continue. "We were in love. I thought I still loved her... Might get back together someday. That was until I met you." He gave a sheepish grin. "I actually asked her to marry me... Do you believe it?" He smiled. "Anyway... I think I can be sure now that I love you with all my heart. I will never forget Becky though. But I will never love her like I love you either." He bent over to kiss her. That was a big speech she had had to sit through. "I feel better now I've come clean. I hope you don't mind do you?"

"That's it?" she asked a little bemused. "That's your dishonesty?" She laughed and shoved him back flat onto the bed and climbed over him. "Becky, huh?" she purred as she slowly lowered herself and smiled at him. "You'll forget all about little Becky," she said with a sexy moan to her voice as she began to move upon him. "Don't worry, darling, I won't hold it against you. Puppy love is so cute...." She giggled as she gave herself up to the feeling and just pleasured herself. Inwardly she laughed at his devotion, knowing it to be lust not love. He loved the way she fucked him - that was all it was. He'd die of fright if he knew what she was really like. What she was planning.. She raised her arms above her head as she rode him, feeling his strong hands gripping her thighs as she gripped him, moving her hips to the slow grinding beat of her own pleasure. The sexual thrill of thinking about what she was going to do with the Bitch Lyrr Tayla - the slut who had stolen into Benedict's bed! Emma was an accomplished genetic engineer - specialising in Federation xenobiology - the sample of Shirik Lektar's blood was choked with viral strands of a very nasty engineered strain...and with a little coaxing and a splice here and there...it could be made into a silver bullet with Lyrr Tayla's name written into its genetic code! She started laughing softly, imagining the contorting spasms of the Bajoran woman's death throes and she climaxed gloriously!

She opened her eyes and looked down at Vincent with a demure, flushed face that radiated a sexual glow. "That was nice, baby...." She leaned down to kiss him and whispered, "I have a lot of things I need to do. Can I see you tomorrow?"

Vincent sensed something amiss, but putting it again down to his tendency to over-exaggerate, he smiled and joked, "Sure. What are you doing anyway? By the way you describe it, it sounds like you're about to create some super weapon and take over the ship... Just kidding," he added, noting the look upon her face. He held his hands up, palm's forward, in a gesture of surrender.

"Look, I'd better be going now," he said, barely stifling a yawn. "Tagliesh has me working Gamma bridge watch, as well as double shifts all over the place...I need sleep...badly..."

Vincent left her room giving a small wave over his shoulder. Again that feeling that something was amiss bugged him. He shook his head. He didn't care. He had been tired and Emma had made him more so, depleting all his stores of energy. All he needed now was sleep. He did his best to push that bugging feeling out of his mind.

---

"Fingers in the Leak"
Commander Lyrr Tayla; Executive Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Crewman First Class Rett Charla; Operations Crewman

Location: USS Sulu, Ops Office
Stardate: 57908.19 23h41

***

Farrell sauntered wearily back into the Ops office rubbing the back of his neck. Crewman Rett was already seated at the backup console, intent on his screen.

"At it a little early?" Farrell mustered a smile.

"Ah, sir," Rett smiled slightly, looking up. "I actually had a thought and wanted to check it out. This old man doesn't remember things so well sometimes."

"Bull," Farrell said, "but it was a clever try." He and Rett shared a smile. "So may I ask what your thought was?"

"I've been considering the problems with the replicators," Rett began. "I've been trying to find a pattern in the malfunctions that would lead to the root cause, but I haven't found one."

"You and all the rest of us," Farrell nodded.

"Indeed," Rett affirmed, and carried on. "In my error-tracking, I noticed that a single replicator on board has actually had no errors at all. Well, not that would correspond to the current situation, at any rate."

"Oh?" Farrell perked up. Rett pointed at the screen and the location of the error-free replicator, prompting Farrell to lean in as Rett looked at him expectantly. Farrell regarded the screen for a moment, then gave Rett a wry look. "You want to check it out?"

"Indeed, sir."

***

"Good evening, Commander," Rett said pleasantly when she opened the door.

Lyrr smiled curiously, and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe. "Good evening, Crewman.... Come to triple-check your repairs?"

"In a way," Rett nodded, returning her smile with a soft one of his own. "I found something interesting and wanted to get a reading from your unit directly."

"Well, then..." Lyrr stepped aside and gestured him in. "The replicator's been fine, actually. I haven't had a problem with it at all."

"Indeed, sir. Your replicator hasn't logged a single error since the candle incident. It's the only replicator on board that appears to be immune to the systems problems. Ensign Farrell and I wondered why, so here I am." He moved to the replicator and knelt for the panel again.

"Oh, yes," Lyrr acknowledged as she took a seat in her usual chair, one nearest to Rett as he worked. "I think Commander T'Kal has something to do with that. He hasn't confirmed, but I believe he added some extra security measures to protect our replicator system."

"That was our suspicion, sir," Rett said offhandedly as he pulled the panel and opened his kit again. "And we'd like a look at how he did it, for the sake of broader application." His face and demeanor were calm, but she thought she could detect the faintest trace of excitement in his voice.

Lyrr smiled and waved vaguely at the device. "By all means, Crewman. And maybe this time you will stay for a drink?"

"I am on duty, sir. But, so long as the replicator works," Rett trailed off dryly. He plugged his diagnostic module into the replicator and keyed on his tricorder.

"It works," she assured him. "Which would make it the only thing on board that does. Has your department been quite busy, then? It must be hard keeping up with all the complaints."

"It's been harrowing, yes. And no end in sight," Rett said, eyeing his readings. "But if this security program on your replicator is effective, we may be able to make some headway."

"Upgrading every system on this ship could take some time," Lyrr pointed out. "But it's a shot we have to take. The bay doors in Cargo Bay 9 malfunctioned today and ejected all our cargo. We lost all our samples collected from the planet, and other supplies we picked up at DS9." She sighed gravely. "We can't afford another accident like that. It would mean turning back home to replenish our cargo, and Starfleet Command would not look too happily upon that."

Rett thought on that for a moment. "Perhaps we can resupply from the planet? Some of us in Ops had considered the idea. We may need trade goods here in the quadrant, as well as extra replicator mass to replace the old stores."

"You mean pillage from the dead?" Lyrr jibed.

"Not exactly the words I'd have used," Rett smiled back. "But . . . yes. Occasionally pragmatism must carry the day."

Lyrr laughed gently. "You are quite right, Crewman Rett. I shall broach the idea with Captain Salinger."

"As you see fit, sir," Rett nodded. His tricorder beeped. "Interesting. Excuse me, sir," he added, tapping his combadge.

"Rett to Farrell."

"Farrell here."

"Sir, I've located the subroutines buffering this replicator. They're a heavy fractal code. I'll transfer their file location to you for analysis."

"Thank you, Rett. Say hello to the Commander for me."

Rett was about to say something more when he caught Lyrr's scowl. "Indeed, sir. Rett out."

"So, Ensign Farrell sends you on errands for him?" she observed, then nodded, her disapproval clear. "Do you enjoy taking orders from him, Crewman? I mean . . . is he someone you enjoy working under?"

Rett went about performing the data transfer on his tricorder as he thought. "Ensign Farrell is the duty officer on Beta shift," he said at last. "I've not previously worked with him, as Ensign Sanchez oversees Gamma. I'm afraid I don't know enough about him to truly assess his style."

Lyrr nodded skeptically. "But you have no opinion regarding Ensign Farrell as you've known him in the short time the two of you have worked together?" she pressed.

Rett made a thoughtful face and scratched a temple. "Ensign Farrell seems a decent enough sort. He does his job with pride and dedication, and while he may suffer from an," he hesitated to find the right phrase, "overabundance of personality," satisfied with that, he carried on, "he's pleasant to work with, and for."

"He is?" Lyrr asked cynically. "He doesn't ever ask you to do something you might think twice about?"

"Not me, no," Rett shook his head and climbed into the chair opposite Lyrr with a grunt. "And if the rumors are to be believed," he mused, "he tends to do his questionable deeds alone."

Lyrr nodded grudgingly. "At least he's not recruiting others to do his dirty work for him, you're right. But I just can't understand why he feels the need to engage in clandestine, at times illicit activities. Does he not trust the captain and I enough that he has to work against us instead of with us?"

Rett arched an eyebrow. "Is he working against the captain, and you?"

"I don't know," she replied with a touch of a sly grin. "Is he?"

"Not to my knowledge," Rett said, reaching into his bag again. "In fact," his said, setting the beautifully fluted bottle on the table, "he appears to have your best interests at heart."

Lyrr's eyes fixed on the burgundy liquid swaying gently within the transparent glass as she oscillated between irritation and amusement. It seemed long ago when Farrell had offered her the bottle of authentic Yridian brandy as a peace offering, and even longer when she had donated it to Stencil in a fit of rage following a particularly savage argument with the Ensign. It was half-empty now - she hadn't touched a drop. Lyrr sighed. "So . . . how long's he had it? And why did he assign you the task of delivering it to me?"

"Oh, it wasn't an assignment," Rett said, smiling paternally at her obvious conflict. "I asked if I could check your oddly working replicator, and he asked if I'd deliver this along the way. I have no idea how long he's had it. I assume it carries a history?"

She smirked as her finger traced the bottle's curves. "It was his way of ingratiating himself . . . or so I thought. To this day I'm still not sure why he gifted this to me." Lifting an eyebrow, and her eye to go with it, Lyrr smiled slowly at Rett. "Thirsty?"

"Indeed."

***

Lyrr's magnified eye stared through the bottle at Rett as the last of the Brandy dribbled onto his tongue. She pouted at the small puddle of red liquid pooling around the inside of the bottle's circular base; they'd drained the entire thing in less than half an hour, talking little, but sharing in laughs nonetheless. Sighing, Lyrr raised her head from where it was laying flat on the table, craned her neck and upended the bottle over her gaping mouth. Only a thin stream flowed from the bottle's opening, then petered to nothing but tiny droplets that left her unsatisfied. When she brought it down again, she snickered at her misjudgement of the tabletop's distance, and instead of the bottle gently settling, it landed heavily and tipped. She continued laughing until the clatter of it bouncing ceased, then grinned at Rett. "There wouldn't happen to be another in that bag of yours, would there?"

"No," Rett forced out through a wheezing chuckle. "Just my tools."

They looked at each other, then snorted into laughter in unison.

"So this was Farrell's plan," Lyrr exclaimed, still chuckling. "He wanted you to distract me with this tasty brandy" --she flicked at the bottle, causing it to barely spin-- "while he does something mischievous. Right?"

Rett shook his head slowly with a smile. "You don't trust anyone, do you?" It was not an accusation; asked more rhetorically than anything else.

She sighed, smiling wanly as she watched the bottle settle to a stop. "No...I don't really. I-I do trust Ben, though. I mean...he stopped me. Any other man?" She shook her head emphatically. "They wouldn't have."

"Who--" Rett stopped, trying to blink away the haze, "What? Stopped you?"

Lyrr chuckled. "I said," she repeated, raising the volume of her voice, "Ben! I wanted to...do things to him last night, and he wouldn't let me." She threw up her arms. "I don't understand it! I mean...first he's sleeping naked, doing things to me, a-and now, when I want to pleasure him, he stops me. How--" She hiccupped, swallowed back a belch, and finished, "...am I supposed to get anywhere if he keeps confusing me that way?"

"Pleasure him," Rett repeated, considering the phrase. His eyebrows rose as he considered the possibilities. "Well," he waved a hand absently, as though directing words forth from his throat, fighting for coherence, "Why . . . did he say anything?"

She frowned and shrugged. "He just said...something about..." Lyrr squinted, attempting to recall their conversation; they hadn't spoken much after he stopped her. She sighed heavily. "I don't know...something about he just wants to hold me and be with me...even though I thought that's what I was trying to do." Squealing in frustration, she pushed herself upright in her seat. "I don't know what he wants from me! I-I offered to satisfy him, he refused." Leaning in towards Rett, she confided, "And I'm very good, so I can't understand his reluctance. Oresh taught me well." She smiled grimly, and winked conspiratorially at Rett.

"Oresh?" Rett asked, one eyebrow trying to climb all the way over his head, highlighting his stunned expression.

"Oh, yes," Lyrr answered with a low chuckle. With a dramatic sigh, she lay her head upon her folded arms and said wistfully, "My Cardassian lover."

Rett's eyebrow now threatened to climb off his head completely. He looked like a vague cross between a panicked animal and a suffocating fish, his face contorting as he tried to work through what he'd just been told. He started to speak a half-dozen times, but could only manage half-syllables.

"Commander," he managed at last, regaining a measure of composure. "How old were you?"

Lyrr sighed as she held a hand up to her face, silently counting off with her fingers. "I was...sixteen or so." Her hand dropped back down onto the table. She swatted the bottle again and this time it spun briskly. "I was angry and sad at first," she reminisced. "Then I think I loved him. But I was stupid...." She shrugged and stopped the bottle, its mouth pointing at Rett. "Your turn."

Rett had closed his eyes, pained at the revelation of her age. They opened at her last words. "My turn?"

Lyrr nodded unsteadily. "I answered a question and now you have to answer one of mine." She paused to frown, then snickered. "I should probably ask one then, huh?" Still shaking with silent laughter, Lyrr grasped the bottle and raised it to Rett's lips. "Tell me, Mr. Rett, did you love your Cardassian?" She shook the bottle, goading him to reply. "Hm?"

Rett tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Commander," he ventured, then appeared to give in. "Yes. Kirill was good to me and to my family. He treated us with kindness and respect, and we returned it."

"But," she stressed, jutting the bottle forward for emphasis, "did you love him?" Her eyes held a barely discernable note of desperation. If she wasn't the only one to love a Cardassian, perhaps she there was nothing wrong with her after all.

"Yes," Rett said simply. "We tried to follow him to Cardassia when the occupation ended."

Lyrr smiled ruefully, and lowered the bottle slowly. Rett's visage blurred as stinging tears washed over her eyes, but they were not summoned by despair; instead, she was relieved. "Indeed," she whispered and set the bottle down fully. A long, heavy silence fell over the two as each completely absorbed what the other had confessed. Lyrr no longer experienced disdain for the man who had willingly served a Cardassian, for she had done the same - the only difference was Rett's Cardassian had reciprocated his affection. Oresh had not. The first of her tears fell, and Lyrr chuckled mournfully as she allowed her head to fall onto her bare arms.

She cried for a long time. Rett sat and watched for the duration. Not a word was spoken; his presence alone was enough to comfort Lyrr, to keep her from plummeting into the inescapable maw of despair that seemed always ready to consume her when the past dealt its merciless blows. It also kept Oresh far away. She appreciated the security Rett provided; Lyrr unconsciously stretched her arm across the table towards Rett's, seeking further comfort. He took her hand in his own. Lyrr didn't pull away, feeling the skin of his hand, dry and slightly papery. It was a clerk's hand, an aged hand; much different from the calluses and muscles and hard planes of Ben's.

"Commander?" he ventured at last, when her sobs had run their course.

She sighed deeply, and raised her head, revealing her red-rimmed eyes. "Yes, Crewman?"

"It is good to love," Rett said gently.

Her lips stretched into a wry smile. "Is it?" she asked. "I imagine I'll have to see for myself one day, hm?"

He nodded introspectively. "You will," he said, the two simple words conveying a wealth of concepts. Understanding. Encouragement. Care.

Lyrr closed her eyes, the affirmation instilling in her a calmness and assurance that was soothing to her restless soul. She imagined, if she'd allowed Derna to, and if she'd known her own father, they would have accomplished the same Rett had. Smiling serenely, Lyrr closed her eyes and again rested her head upon her single folded arm. The other remained outstretched, her hand still gently in Rett's hold. "You're a good man, Rett Charla," she murmured. "You can have a drink with me again anytime."

"Thank you, Lyrr Tayla, though next time I'll need to remember to wait until I'm off duty if we'll be drinking real alcohol." He blinked heavily and cleared his throat. "If I may suggest, sir," he continued, "you need sleep. It's late."

"I guess so..." She groaned as she sluggishly rose. There was a brief totter, but Rett was by her side to keep Lyrr upright. She clung to his hand tighter. "Thank you, Rett Charla," Lyrr whispered with sincere gratitude, and for more than simply his rescue. "Thank you for listening."

"Indeed."

---