"Makeshift Malt Shoppe"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton; Nurse
Ensign Sanat Vijay; Flight Control Officer

Location: USS Sulu, The Swamp
Stardate: 57908.22, 00h15

***

"These are a little large," Mason said, putting a final scoop into the large glass he handed to Vijay for mixing. "We've got the food subroutines in our replicator fixed, but it's still stuck upsizing everything."

"Do you hear anyone complaining?" Cristobel jauntily asked.

Making a rather hideous mess with the first milkshake, Sanat called over his shoulder, "Does anyone think we'll be going back to the surface?"

"According to Sefton," Cris said of his mother, as he sat back more comfortably on the sofa, "the Captain wants every molecule of the virus on the planet to be destroyed. One would assume someone will still have to find them."

"It's not going to be me," Ainsley responded, taking a milkshake from Sanat. "I think I've had enough adventure to last me for another few years. She turned to Mason then. "But you sure know how to cheer a girl up. Real ice cream, and chocolate!"

"You bet," Mason said, topping off another glass for Sanat. "The real stuff always tastes better anyway. Hey," he added, filling a glass for himself and speaking more to the room than to a particular occupant, "while I've got you here, let me thank you all for letting me drag you off on that away mission. I appreciate it."

"The Medical department, at least, appreciates the away mission having happened," Cristobel grinned. "Its discoveries helped turn the gene therapy from an unwieldy phaser cannon to a precise laser scalpel."

Ainsley didn't comment but was happy that she had been able to go on her first away mission.

"I will always go for a joyride to ZZ Top, Admiral," Vijay said with a grin while accepting the second glass, "there's nothing like a little jaunt to the surface to spice things up." He poured everything in Espinoza's blender and started it after ensuring the cap was secured this time around.

It whirred into life mixing ice cream, chocolate syrup, and some milk into a creamy confectionary drink. The oft-used machine ran through its preprogrammed cycle and then shut-off.

Sanat grabbed the pitcher and poured the contents into one of their oversized replicated glasses. He asked Cris while handing him the milkshake, "Is Medical finally back to normal?"

"It's...on its way towards normal," Cristobel assented. "At least, 'normal' for Sickbay. The minor injuries are down to nil, but we've still got five patients with collapsed lungs."

"Hey, Sanat," Ainsley said, "why do you keep calling Mason 'Admiral'?" This wasn't the first time that she'd heard him call him that, and she had been wondering about it for a long time.

He turned from Cris towards Ainsley and in a mock display of amazement. "What!? You mean Mas...I mean the Admiral hasn't told you about his true status?" Vijay walked over to where Mason was standing and whirled him around to face both Chambers and Sefton.

With an over-exaggerated introductory wave of his arm, Sanat said with a deadpan voice, "I introduce to you, my fellow shipmates, the one...the only...Admiral Mason Farrell. Purveyor of peace throughout our galaxy...conqueror of Risa...phaserslinger extraordinaire...and obtainer of the impossible...."

The pilot stood back and rendered an obviously crude salute to Farrell. "Here to work covertly as an Ensign onboard the USS Sulu for a mission of vital importance to the Gamma Quadrant." He lowered his arm and asked his roommate, "Did I miss anything, Sir?"

"No no," Mason waved Sanat off with mocking haughtiness, and struck a triumphant pose. "I'd say that about sums it up, my good fellow."

With curiosity in his eyes, Cristobel looking from Farrell to Sanat and then back again to wryly ask, "So, the sex, is it good?"

"Better than words can express," Mason said, not missing a beat.

Sanat replied mere seconds behind Farrell in a perfect deadpan, "Literally, Mind-Blowing."

Mason looked to Sanat, held out his arms, and he and Sanat shared a big hug and a peck on the cheek. "And we've never been happier," Farrell chuckled, not able to stay composed any longer. Both men guffawed and recommenced their ice cream serving.

Ainsley shook her head at the two of them. "Men..." she said with a slight smile.

Nearly incomprehensible until the mouthful of milkshake in his mouth was entirely swallowed, Cris said, "I would warn you about the multitude of gossip threads you might have just created, but interest in personal relationships has become extinct in Sickbay. There's only one topic on everyone's lips." He licked the brown milkshake moustache from his own upper lip.

"And what topic would that be?" Ainsley asked, thankful to get off the subject of Mason and Sanat.

"Doom. Catastrophe. Apocalypse. At least among the nursing staff, all of us are expecting a constant 'No Vacancy' in Sickbay for the duration of this Mission Gamma," Cristobel shared cynically. "It's going to be all overtime, all the time, to keep up with the sort of injuries this crew is gonna suffer. It's probably why, even after the medstaff was cut, we're still a larger medical department than any Intrepid in the 'fleet."

"If Sam keeps escorting alien computer viruses on board, we're going to be in big trouble," Mason said, settling onto his favorite chair with his milkshake and a sigh. "I just don't know what to think anymore."

"How exactly did they regain full control of the computers?" Sefton wondered the way he did all of his thoughts: out loud.

"Well," Mason sipped, "we spent three or four days sitting on our collective thumbs before Sam decided to search the holomatrices, which he infected in the first place. Come to think of it, he didn't even think of it. T'Kal did. I guess sometimes paranoia works in your favor."

"Hunh," Cristobel vocalized his surprise.

"Anyway," he continued, "the Command staff ensconced themselves in a computer core and left the rest of us to stare at the wall and hope for the best. And I guess Sam redeemed himself on the strength of his computer skills." Mason gave a single wry laugh. "In the final analysis, I guess we all ought to just be thankful we survived."

Sanat listened while he finished making his milkshake. When the blender stopped whirring, he poured the drink into a glass and walked over to the only thing left to sit down on: the divan's footstool. Pulling it to where he could easily see everyone in the room, he sat down and started to take a slurp of his drink.

After a few seconds, Vijay asked with a slight gurgle lisping his words, "It might have been my imagination, but did anyone see Lyrr during this whole fracas? Rumor has it she didn't report for Beta Shift on the Bridge for two or three days."

Shrugging, Cris just shared, "I didn't hear much of anything about Lyrr."

With another slurp Sanat added as an afterthought, "I didn't see her for one watch changeover from Beta to Gamma...the one day I wasn't on the planet anyway...think T'Kal had anything to do with it?"

"I'm trying not to think about that, actually," Mason murmured.

Sanat let Mason's comment go unchallenged and instead looked to Ainsley. "Where's Scott or Potts? I haven't seen them either...did counseling help out in Medical?"

Ainsley shook her head. "I really don't know. Sometimes when I think back on everything I don't even know what I did let alone what everyone else was doing." She smiled slightly. "I think I heard that Potts helped out but I don't know about Scott."

"Potts and Scott both joined the nursing staff for the worst of it in Sickbay," Sefton affirmed. Guiltily, he admitted, "But I sort of avoided Scott. On the camping trip, it felt like she was assuming the worst emotional immaturity in everyone, and in my snarky responses, I used even less tact than usual."

"She has a way of constantly being in counselor mode," Ainsley said. "Possibly more than any other counselor that I know, that's something that can sometimes come off wrong when you're off duty."

"Aren't you always in counselor mode?" Mason ribbed.

Ainsley grimaced and then nodded. "In a way I think all counselors are, but Scott seems to analyze all the time. She looks for the reason behind everything." What was she doing? Criticizing her commanding officer in front of others? She immediately felt bad and wanted to change the subject. "I think I need another milkshake."

"Don't stop now," Cris enthused. "Honest expression is healthy. Complaining makes you live longer. We do all our bitching now, we'll be less likely to do so on duty, like when my mother feels it necessary to entirely embarrass hypocrites until they implode in tears, thereby embarrassing me too, instead of simply pointing out their hypocrisy."

Sanat sat back and smiled while Cris talked. He could just imagine having to work for his mother...the logic would've been stifling to say the least. Crushing at the most.

"It's just that counselors have a bad enough name for trying to fix people's problems as it is. People always feel like we're trying to analyze them no matter where we are. It's something that I find myself fighting all the time. And then along comes Scott and she is analyzing people all the time. It makes it that much harder for the rest of us to have normal friendships with people when we're off duty." Ainsley really hated talking about people behind their backs but she just couldn't seem to stop with Scott. "You know," she added, "I sometimes even feel sorry for her in a way."

"Sorry?" Cris asked, always recalling Scott as being a relatively happy person.

"Well she doesn't seem to have many friends onboard," Ainsley said. "People seem to steer clear of her. It's most likely the whole counselor thing there as well. And then her being the Chief Counselor seems to make her even less approachable."

Mason thought on that. "That is a shame," he said, meaning it.

"We should have invited her for milkshakes," Cris remarked, quite surprised at Ainsley's reveal. He seemed to remember counselors being socially involved with a crew. Before the war, at least. Sefton remembered his milkshake, then, which was growing warm in his hand, and he drank a large gulp of it to not let it get much more warm or runny.

"We can keep it in mind, I guess," Mason said, with an eye on Ainsley for reaction.

Ainsley thought of that for a moment. Bree Scott was her immediate commanding officer, she didn't really know if it was appropriate for them to be hanging out together. But then they had gone for dinner when they first met and Counseling wasn't like the other departments, things were a little more open. "We could invite her to have margueritas with us at some point," she said suddenly, "I mean, the more the merrier, right?"

"Sure," Mason shrugged. "So long as she doesn't go Freudian on us. Nothing's more irritating than people who buy their own propaganda," he added.

"That's one thing, at least, that no one can accuse Lieutenant Tagliesh of doing," Cristobel said. "She has been blamed for releasing the airborne virus based on I-don't-know-what, got stripped of her rank for leading us band of vigilantes to the surface without much consulting with command or security, and by sheer force of will, I suppose, here she is the Chief of Science once again."

The pilot cringed when he thought about Xayella. She tended towards snobbery and down right bitchiness at times, but the CSO had had the guts to lead their away team in search for a cure to the virus...that was more than could be said of the rest of the command staff. Vijay cleared his throat and asked rhetorically, "So what do we do the next time? Wait for permission or beg for forgiveness?"

"Hide behind Tagliesh," Mason joked. "Cozying up to the Captain's lady has its advantages, it looks like. We seem to have avoided trouble along with her. Knock on wood." He knocked on the low coffee table for emphasis.

"Captain's lady?" Sefton repeated in overblown disgust. "That's a horrible expression."

"What would you call her, then?" Mason asked, taking a sip of his shake.

"Lieutenant. Chief Science Officer. Xayella Tagliesh," Cristobel quickly suggested. "Hell, even 'Hey, that bitch' is more respectful to her as a person. At least it doesn't make her an object to be owned."

"I disagree!" Ainsley said. "When you love someone being called their lady is not disrespectful." She looked at Mason then.

"Then why isn't the Captain referred to as Tagliesh's boy?" Cristobel interjected.

"Tagliesh's boy," Mason repeated in a half-snicker. The conversation had one of those vaguely awkward lags, and everyone seemed to drink at once.

Mason was the first to speak. "Y'all think they actually love each other? The Captain and Tagliesh?"

Sanat let the comment-observation slip out before he realized it, "Is it possible for someone like that to be capable of love?" When everyone looked at him, Vijay realized he hadn't specified which person the comment was aimed at. "I mean...can Tagleash crawl down from her mountain long enough to love the Captain?"

"Everyone's capable of loving someone," Ainsley said. "Sometimes that's the only time a person is actually being themselves, the only time they don't feel like they have to prove themselves. We don't know what they're like when they're alone, we don't know what goes through their minds. Or at least most of us don't." She looked at Cris. "Besides, I don't mind Tagliesh. I spent a little bit of time alone with her on the away mission and she was fine."

"Perhaps you're right...she must save the most vitriolic part of her personality for those of us that are special." Vijay tipped his glass up to slurp down the last few sugary dregs of his milkshake.

"What does that mean?" Mason asked, curious. "Has she ripped into you somewhere along the line?"

He put down the glass and leaned back as far as the stool would permit before shaking his head slowly. "No. No, I've managed to limit my time around her to the absolute minimum...but Ensign T'Por sure hit the motherload one day not so long ago. And, I understand Tagleash and Savaar aren't on the best of terms either...heck they skipped right over him when she was relieved by the Captain." The half-Vulcan rocked his stool a little. "I think Xayella may be prejudiced against Vulcans or their offspring for some reason."

"Working with Ensign Ai'Pal could very well be that reason," Cris sighed. "He is less than pleasant. I've found Lieutenant Savaar to be practically personable, though. For a s'at-trained Vulcan."

"I don't know that she's prejudiced, necessarily," Mason said. "She hates everybody about the same, I figure. Of course, she does seem to be willing to take risks where others can't or won't, which I can respect."

"Alone in the Gamma Quadrant, are we better off with senior officers who take extreme risks or those who take none? Because I'm not so sure any of them are in the middle ground. Maybe they balance one another out?" Cristobel pondered.

"We'll see," Mason muttered. "We'll see."

---

"Celebration!!!"
by: Ensign Dwayne Sanchez

Location: Crew Quarters
Stardate 57908.22, 00h15

***

Holidays were his favorite. He loved them, a lot. Almost as much as I love my family, Dwayne thought. He started his little one-person party in his quarters, then he planned to move it to a holodeck. Who knows, someone may be in there to party with him, but he wasn't about to get his hopes up.

He started out listening to some of the old 20th-Century music he loved so much, then he began playing along, and before too long, and likely loudly, he began to play the music by himself.

Okay, this is stupid, a one-person party, who in their right mind would party by themselves? That thought got him to thinking that he needed to see a counselor.

After I've stopped being drunk...

---

"Lyrr Virus"
By: Crewman Emma Summers

Location: Science Lab 14, Life Sciences
Stardate 57908.22, 01h04

***

Science Lab 14 was a small cubicle. A single workstation, a Xanutronic Microscope, Gene-Analyser, a Sub-Micron splicer and a level ten containment unit for bio-agents. It was also currently vacant. In fact the entire lab was vacant, all ten cubicles. Emma logged in and commenced the sequence of her private access code. The workstation activated and she called up the course curriculum for the series of genetic studies that she had dutifully signed up for in dear doctor Sefton-Mind-Witch's Stretch Your Brain and Extend Your Skills Courses. It was a suitable cover. She was using her time effectively as she had no Counselling sessions. A small smile graced her lips.

The small vial of dark blue bio-matter was nimbly placed in the containment field and the system activated. The microscope came to life and she studied the star shaped virus. The sample was viable, and she went to work separating the most aggressive viral samples she could find. The work was tedious but she was skilled and very careful. All the while the smile remained as she prepared them for the Sub-Micron splicer.

Satisfied that she had what she needed she placed the rest of the JJ324c virus under stasis and thoroughly decontaminated the work area inside the microscope and the splicer. Next came the synthetic glove that she extracted from her jacket pocket. It was encased in a bio-sample bag and with a little added neutral fluid she smeared a sample on a micron slide. The blood was red this time and under the microscope she extracted several cells that showed viability. The sequencer scanned it and the DNA pattern flicked onto the workstation screen. She accessed the medical database to make sure - she knew where the glove came from - she had removed it from her own hand after operating on Lyrr Tayla. The computer identified the sample as indeed coming from the ship's executive officer. Bajoran DNA.

It took a further forty minutes to add the DNA sequences into the splicer. The two were side-by-side on the screen; JJ324c and Lyrr's. Simple. Elegant. Now the hard work.

Identifying the virus attachers for the JJ324c was simple - Sefton had already completed that. It was available and Emma's studies on the virus thus far had given her the information she needed to edit the virus. Laboriously, she began matching the triggers to the second DNA sample.

At 0423hrs she sat back and eased the cramp in her spine. The new viral DNA was in the warmer and she started the regenerator field on the microscopic sample on a culture dish within the field. The bluish stain spread rapidly and seconds later the computer announced a viable number of virus spores.

She moved it to a third vial. This one had its own micro-containment cell and the bio-gel fluid within it turned blue as she added the sample. The fluid would feed the virus cells effectively. It was no larger than her little finger and she once more decontaminated the area, until the small vial was safe.

She carefully lifted it from the small work area and slipped it into the purpose-replicated perfume dispenser. Now it was indistinguishable from a normal perfume spray; the vial sitting in the centre of the reddish perfume could not be seen. The spray nozzle was different. It sprayed perfume if pressed, but if twisted in a full circle it would dispense the virus.

She chuckled to herself. "Well, my pretty..." she whispered. "Welcome into the world...my little Lyrr Virus." She started laughing softly as she killed off everything remaining in the other vials, decontaminated the unit and erased the data. She used the lab's replicator to re-cycle everything else, so nothing remained but the small perfume bottle, which she made sure was secured in its sensor-proof box before she left the Bio-lab.

She went back to the Counsellor Office and made herself a coffee finally. She'd refrained as it made her hands tremble ever-so-slightly. She sat in the office with her feet up for the rest of her shift, fully satisfied in her long night's work.

---

"88 Ways"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Chambers' office, Auditorium
Stardate: 57908.22 08h00

***

Ainsley entered her office, a bagel with cream cheese in one hand and her coffee in the other. She placed her breakfast on her desk and then took a sip of her coffee. She sighed contentedly as the caffeine flowed into her.

She placed the throw pillows on her couch and then she made her way around her desk to check her messages before her first appointment showed up.

The first one was a little note that made her smile. "The last few days I've been thinking about why I'm so attracted to you. I can't put my finger on any one thing, though. There's just something about you. I tried to make a list of the ways you get to me, and I figured I'd go ahead and show it to you: The way you smile."

She looked at the message with confusion. "One reason?" she said out loud. It had said a list, where was the rest of the list? She looked to see if there was anything further along on the page and then mentally shrugged after a moment.

She moved on to the next message, hoping that maybe it would be the rest of the list.

It wasn't. It was just a normal duty related message from Bree about departmental goings on. She sighed with disappointment and read through the message. She spent a moment wondering what could have happened to the rest of the list and then moved on to the rest of her messages.

It was about 5 minutes later and she was on her last message when she was alerted that another message had come in for her. She had almost forgotten about Mason's list when she looked at this new note.

"The way you watched that sunrise with me."

Her grin widened. This was one of the things that she liked the most about Mason. He was so sweet and so romantic. She wondered how many more of these she would get. When another didn't arrive right away she began to pull up her notes about her first appointment.

5 minutes later she was alerted to another new message.

"The way I know you'll never give up on me."

She tried to review a duty schedule, and while doing so got "The way you look at me," "The way your eyes catch the light," "The way you're always there when I need you to be," and "The way you're part of my daydreams."

Daydreams! Ainsley thought with a slight flutter in her stomach.

Suddenly her clock beeped at her to let her know that her appointment was 2 minutes away.

She turned off the audio message reminder so she could meet with Crewman Kurtz from Security, who'd been having nightmares stemming from the chaos of the last few days. When the session finished, she had 14 one-line messages, including "The way we dance together," "The way you spark my creativity and imagination," "The way you laugh," "The way I always feel like you're with me," and "The way you love life."

She sat back in her chair and felt all warm and fuzzy. She wanted to find Mason and just hug him.

It took her about half an hour to transcribe her session notes on Crewman Kurtz, during which time she received "The way you won't let me compromise myself," "The way you surprise me," "The way we talk," "The way you present yourself with understated elegance," "The way you let me hold you," and "The way you treat people."

She had figured out the pattern now. Every 5 minutes she got a new "way" message.

Some were more or less mundane, like "The way you respect me," "The way you joke," and "The way you talk things through."

Some were introspective and touching, like "The way you demand respect but aren't controlling," and "The way you won't compromise yourself."

A few were quite romantic, particularly "The way your voice sounds when you whisper," "The way you look when you're sleeping," "The way you inspire me to be more than I am," and "The way you take my breath away with just a look."

"The way you throw a punch" made her laugh out loud. "The way you support me when I'm off track" made her smile kindly. "The way you demand honesty without being demanding" made her nod. "The way my heart skips a beat whenever you walk into the room" made her sigh.

And scattered throughout the incoming list were the ones that made her breath catch and her pulse quicken: "The way you feel against me," "The way you kiss," "The way your hair feels brushing against my skin," "The way you touch me," and other blush-inducing lines.

The shift flew by, with a new "way" arriving every five minutes. Finally, the chrono on the wall read 1600, and the silent flashing Message light perked up her console yet again.

"Auditorium, 01h00."

Ainsley grinned at the screen and then reached over and tapped it off for the night. She got up from her chair and left her office with a slight bounce in her step and a smile on her face. She knew she'd be looking forward to 01h00 all evening.

---

"Postmortem Review"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
and Ensign Raina Derrell - Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Chief Medical Officer's Office
Stardate: 57908.22, 08h10

***

Easily gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk, Damhnait Sefton asked Ensign Derrell, "How did you enjoy your free day yesterday? You've been put under extreme stress, both personally and professionally, for as long as I have been your department head. Lately, I have grown worried that you have not been fully processing that stress."

"Stress is part of the job. You say you've been concerned lately. Anything to prompt those concerns besides my hectic hours which the entire medical staff has been putting in?" Raina asked thoughtfully. "I had a quiet, relaxing day and slept in for once in a very long time."

"There has not been anything in your performance to indicate you are over-stressed, but you have not taken nearly enough personal time for everything that you've been through," Damhnait explained. There was no need to repeat Raina's public humiliation, hyperventilation, ceaseless hours of work during the crisis, and the loss of Amaya Chen. "I worry for you, not as a doctor, but as a person."

Raina nodded in agreement. "You're right. I probably haven't simply because the situation wouldn't allow it until recently. Indestructible I'm certainly not and hiding from everything that happened, no. But I wasn't about to leave duty unattended when the ship needed me most. Do you believe I made the right call for Amaya? I ask because I believe it was the only prudent choice but it would help to know if you'd have done the same in my place."

"I would have," Damhnait assured her. "Eric Corel would have died if he had waited for treatment while you attempted to resuscitate Crewman Chen, and it is extremely unlikely that you could have done anything that would have saved her."

"That's what I figured but not only Corel would have ended up on that list but maybe myself and many others. Thank you for being honest with me." Raina figured Damhnait would do no less.

Wearing something akin to a satisfied smile, Sefton said, "I have reviewed your logs, evaluated your medical record upkeep and interviewed your colleagues. My findings have been pleasing. I am impressed with your performance over the past week, and now that you have had time to digest your experiences, I am curious to know how you would rate your performance during the crisis."

For a long moment Raina just looked at her superior officer, then a small smile formed. "Thank you, Doctor. It was an eye opening experience I have to say. Even though I've been involved with rather chaotic and uncertain situations before, this was a good learning experience. There was a point where something a patient said to me forced me to question my own abilities yet I quickly realized there was nothing wrong with my skills. Always need to expand on my current skills and keep my training up to date as well as work on various things but overall I really don't think I make a bad doctor."

Grinning at that pride, Damhnait encouraged, "With all of the first aid that you had to administer, including the most common tasks from days ago, what are you most proud of achieving?"

"I'll be honest it's been a rough couple of weeks. I'd by lying if I said there was something to be proud of achieving considering the patients we couldn't save. But I did the best I could with the conditions we were given."

Damhnait's expression turned more thoughtful at Raina's admission. "I would not say there is nothing to be proud of; I was quite impressed with the precision you wielded in mending all of Crewman Boss' broken bones. There were mistakes though." Without a hint of criticism, she asked, "What mistakes did you make that you will never make again?

"Overworking myself, though that couldn't really be helped. Not putting enough confidence in my own abilities as well as that of others. Though I think in this case it was more my own. What mistakes did you see?"

"I didn't find any concerning technical mistakes in your art as a healer, but I felt that you have it in you to be a stronger leader of the staff than you were," Sefton admitted.

"Stronger? How? I'm trained as a medical officer and have the training in other aspects I've learned through various assignments and at the Academy, but you obviously see something more that I seem to have missed," Raina commented.

"I feel that you, or even I, should have explicitly rallied the medical staff. With several days of overtime to put in, both of us could have done more to encourage and inspire them. In fact, I would like to know what you thought of my performance," Damhnait instructed. Suspecting the question to be too open ended for a junior officer to be too terribly honest, Sefton focused the questions as, "How might you have better organised the triage? How would you have better tackled the virus crisis?"

Raina didn't flinch at Dr Sefton's question. Through experience she learned open-ended questions could be a great teaching tool. "You tried to utilize your personnel where they could best function. It worked but it also left us vulnerable in ways. By focusing your efforts solely on the virus you also risked burning yourself out just as much if not more than any of the rest of us. That type of work requires fine detail that sleep deprivation tends to hinder. If I'm too harsh you can say so but I'm not new to crisis situations and I know that senior medical staff are just as at risk as the rest of us, probably more so at times."

"You are correct, but as with your over-working, it proved to be necessary, since M'lira is the only doctor on staff, other than myself, with a history in virology. You have an observant eye; I could use that. Starfleet's hierarchy provides certain efficiencies, but no sole person can objectively evaluate an entire group of people. Not even myself," Damhnait stated. "Would you commend the performance of any of your colleagues? Is anyone in need of training?"

She nodded. "You're right - no sole person can objectively evaluate an entire group. I think we did what we could with limited resources. This medical staff was lacking in some expertise when they needed it most but that didn't stop us from working with the skills and talents the group possessed."

"Have you decided on a long-term goal for yourself? Something to have achieved once we return to the Alpha Quadrant?" Damhnait asked.

At that comment Raina paused for a long time. "I haven't really had time to seriously consider that yet, but it doesn't mean I haven't been pondering various things. Recently I realized my goals to extend myself professionally have to reach beyond just being good as a doctor."

"What general directions are those goals reaching in?" Sefton prodded further.

Raina nodded. "I realize it was necessary and yes I know we were lacking particularly in the area of virology. At this point I'd see it as a goal to expand my skill be become an effective leader as well as a healer. It's reasonable to say that includes getting some training in areas where I'm lacking aside from my current correspondence studies."

"It is always gladdening to hear that, but I do hope you will continue to take special care to hold some time for yourself. At the least, you should attain balance for all of the personal time you missed out on during the crisis," Damhnait affably suggested.

That made Raina smile. "I will certainly try. However I didn't want you to think I'm neglecting my duties or the goals you've set out for the medical staff."

"Now you know I won't think that way," Damhnait cemented. "You logged more hours than anyone in Sickbay. I have always told you that, as my emergency specialist, your schedule is very fluid. I didn't just mean that you are expected to work additional hours during a crisis, I also meant that you have the freedom to take the time you need to recuperate physically, emotionally and spiritually when we're not in a crisis. Even if you need that time to be during a regularly scheduled working hour."

Raina knew Dr Sefton was more than sincere in her comments. "Thank you. I will take that under sincere advisement. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss as part of this meeting?" She wanted to be certain she had the full intent of Damhnait's reason for the discussion understood.

"No, that was everything," Sefton told her. "I think we are about ready to look ahead for the next mission to come."

"Yes I think that is a good idea. Is there anything I need to know regarding that at this time or was that just a friendly reminder that time is soon to be in short supply once again?" Raina had to smile as she made the comment.

"I don't know what our next mission will bring." Sefton clarified, "I just mean that we should start putting our mistakes and victories behind us now, to make room for the new day to come."

Raina gave the CMO a polite nod. "Sorry for jumping to conclusions too soon. You are right, my mind however is running on automatic when it comes to potential disasters lately."

Lightly smirking over her own behaviour of late, Damhnait admitted, "You aren't the only one."

---

"Case of Absence"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
Crewman Sorg Jurell, Security

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.22, 08h04

***

Shirik was wide awake and waiting impatiently for Sorg to show up for his daily shift in sickbay. Her recovery since her gene therapy had been moving along well, and she could almost croak out a word or two, although her chest ached from even trying. Her lungs were beginning to function once more, but their attempts to move air in and out were painful. She expected it wouldn't be long before someone came in to drug her into a painless sleep, but she needed to talk to Sorg before she was unconscious.

The security officer that stepped into Sickbay wasn't Sorg. Derran Casey took a look around and gave the nurses a Number #1 smile. He paused for that split second to survey the new surroundings, testing with the honed senses of the perfect Starfleet Officer that he was. He stepped through Sickbay as if he owned the place, took a moment to glance at the beautiful woman through the CMO's office wall and smiled. She was striking, an older woman - but certainly not too old. He pictured her beside an open fire, big rug and lingerie.... Sighing he walked on through...the imagery dancing in his mind for a few moments before he stepped through into the isolation room.

He stopped inside the doors and caught sight of the woman on the biobed - a dark angel with luminescent violet eyes. The smile came on like lit neon. "Hey there," he said in his most charming. "I'm here." He let the statement rest for a moment before adding, "To replace Sorg. He's not well. Something he ate perhaps." Derran walked across the room and smiled down at the lovely Lektar. His uniform was pristine and perfect, along with his handsome good looks and flawless smile. "It's just lovely to finally meet you. I'm Ensign Casey. You can call me Derran."

It was obvious that she'd been waiting expectantly for Sorg's arrival, as she perked up the moment someone came through the door. As soon as she saw it was in fact a stranger and not Sorg, her expression fell, and then darkened into a hint of her old scowl. Her mouth moved as if to speak, but no sounds came out. Instead, her scowl deepening, she began tapping on her PADD. 'Where is Sorg? Is he ill? Has he reported to sickbay?' This would not do at all, she needed Sorg today of all days, and here was this... person instead. 'Who assigned you here?'

"As I already explained, Ensign, Crewman Sorg Jurell is unwell. I am his replacement." He explained it clearly, almost condescendingly but not quite. His smile was genuine though, the girl on the bed was gorgeous. "I am Derran Casey. Please call me Derran." He leaned against the bed, crossed his muscular arms across his chest and gave her the patented Casey grin. He was square jawed, handsome as a holostar, with a straight nose and ice blue eyes. His smile was full of pristine white teeth and a dimple that just accentuated his good looks. He knew that no female of any species could fail to be affected by his aura. He exuded power, as if he carried rank far in excess of the Ensign pip on his collar. He came from a family of Starfleet Admirals. It was his destiny, and he knew it.

She rolled her eyes. He couldn't even answer simple questions. 'Fine. Stand over there and be quiet.' She gestured over at the doorway dismissively and turned her attention elsewhere.

Clearing her PADD, she tried to see if she could contact Sorg himself. She hoped the comm system was functioning once more, and sent an urgent text message his way.

"Hey," Casey grinned. "You can order a Crewman around like you're an imperial princess, but with me, sweetheart, you have to have a few manners." He tapped her padd. "That's extremely rude. Has anyone bothered to teach you Federation etiquette, or some polite phrases?"

She might not have her voice, but the flash in her eyes was fire and ice at the same time. 'You are here to stand post, correct? Stand it over there.' She pointed once more.

He smiled his most charming. "Honey, please...I hold the same rank as you. I can stand post where the hell I like. If you keep up the attitude I'm going to have to lodge a harassment complaint. You wouldn't want that...now would you?" He sighed, a slow exhalation of breath and smiled again. "Hi," he said a little more brightly. "My name's Derran. Shall we start again?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. 'I don't give a damn what your rank is, and don't you ever call me 'honey'. Get your ass over by the door or I will have you removed.' She was very agitated now, her vitals rising. If the monitors didn't get a nurse in here shortly, she was about to summon one.

He grinned at the words on the padd and passed it back nonchalantly. "What are you going to do? Type in capitals so a nurse can hear you?" He laughed at his own joke and patted her hand. "Calm down, baby-cakes, I know you mean "cute ass" when you say that, so I won't take offence to it none."

Her eyes narrowed, her jaw muscles tightened, and the look on her face was all but murderous. It was probably just as well her kemla was in an unknown location at the time. She ignored him further, and turned her attention back to the PADD. This time her text message would go directly to T'Kal. She'd get someone to remove this idiot if she had to go all the way to the captain.

Casey leaned forward and with a very lowered voice said, "If you want to get Jurell into some deep trouble...just go ahead and send that."

She fixed her glare on him once more. 'You have 5 seconds to explain yourself.'

"Like I said earlier when I walked in, your ladyship, Jurell is sick and he asked me to cover for him. I'm doing the guy a favor by being here. Commander T'Kal has better things to do with his time than pander to a spoiled brat like you're making yourself out to be. Don't make me regret being here - because Crewman Sorg will be doing what I tell him to do later...and that'll be up to you. He either gets to come back here, or I give him the shittiest thing I can find. Your choice." Casey's blue eyes were hard as diamonds, his voice a purr, but hard edged. It had that tone of command built into it that was a Casey family trademark. When a Casey spoke - everyone listened.

Oooh, how she wished she had her voice. It certainly would lend more authority to her words. 'Do not threaten me, Ensign. Sorg's assignment here was by Commander T'Kal's orders, not yours.' His authoritative voice had no effect on her, and it showed in her expression, her eyes just as hard as his. A Princess of Drokar did not take orders from a male unless she chose to, especially one that didn't outrank her.

"You have beautiful eyes." Casey smiled in a more friendly fashion. "I wasn't threatening you, actually I was threatening Sorg. T'Kal assigned a security officer to sickbay - and that duty fell to Crewman Sorg. As long as there's a security officer in sickbay, that fulfills the roster. I'd hardly count on Commander T'Kal to change shift assignments based upon the whim of an Operations Ensign. You never know what kind of gossip that could start...do you?"

At least the man had some intelligence, she thought. He understood that arguing with her directly wouldn't get him anywhere. 'Threatening Sorg doesn't make you any friends here, either,' she informed him. 'And frankly, I don't give a khruth what rumors get started on this ship.' She took a moment to calm herself, and let her features soften a bit. 'Sorg is my friend, and I'm worried about him. Please tell me what he said to you.'

"I'm truly sorry, Ensign, I can't do that." This time Casey's words were couched in a serious tone. He held her eyes and left it at that. She'd said 'please', so that warranted a respectful answer. Not the one she wanted, but Casey couldn't tell her what Sorg had said. Sorg had requested the change of assignment on personal grounds with an explanation that had satisfied Casey enough to warrant standing in for him for the day until another officer could satisfy a shift change from Alpha to Gamma. "Please understand that I'm respecting Sorg's wishes. I can't say anything. If you are his friend, then you'll be satisfied with that."

She lowered her gaze to the PADD in her hands. His answer was enough to confirm her suspicions. 'He's not sick, is he?'

Casey shrugged. "Perhaps if things work out for you...and you survive this. Then you might want to look him up." His voice became gentle. "It would be very hard for anyone to watch someone as beautiful as you go through what you are going through...not knowing if you're going to live or die."

She hadn't seen Sorg since they kissed, the morning before her therapy, so he wouldn't know what Dr. Sefton had told her. She looked up at Casey, and all the anger had drained from her expression, replaced by a sadness. 'I am going to live, and be released soon,' she typed. 'If I don't see Sorg before then, I will find him.'

"I'm sure you will," Casey grinned. "Now, can we start again?" He held out his hand with the Red Squadron signet ring uppermost. "Derran Casey."

She took the hand reluctantly to shake it as was custom. She was sure he already knew her name so didn't give it, her mind was now elsewhere.

"Okay...now I'm going to go outside into sickbay and leave you alone for a while. I'm sure being watched like this is irksome for anyone. If you need me just buzz. I'll be here pronto."

She nodded, grateful for the time alone. She tried once more to reach Sorg by message, willing him to answer, but to no avail. She had no idea whether the messages were getting through or not.

She set the PADD aside and settled back into her pillows. Apparently she had no choice but to wait until she was released to get her answers. She stared up at the ceiling, feeling depressed, hoping eventually sleep would take her.

---

"Why Are You Here?"
By: Lt. Brennyn Scott, RN - Chief Counselor
C1C Ken Smith - Security Officer

Location: Counseling Department; Brennyn Scott's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.22 09h00

***

Ken stood outside the Counseling Department. It was 9 am and he dreaded walking through the door in front of him. Ken entered and looked around, hoping someone would tell him where to go.

"Crewman Smith, I presume?" asked Counselor Brennyn Scott, standing up from the couch in the reception area. She had to give Smith credit, at least he was punctual.

"Yes, ma'am, I am here for my ordered counseling."

Bree nodded and led the way. "I'm Brennyn Scott. Please follow me and we'll get started."

They entered Scott's office and Bree gestured to the sitting area. There were any number of chairs to choose from, along with the overstuffed couch lining the back wall. "Make yourself at home," she said with a smile, "and if I can get you something from the replicator, please let me know."

Ken flopped down on the couch. He rested his boots on the arm opposite of his head. "No thank you, Ma'am."

Bree felt her brows raise in surprise. Although she had encouraged him to make himself comfortable, she never expected him to "assume the position" so casually. Freudian analysis was not nearly as highly regarded as it once had been. "Well, first things first, Ken. Call me Bree, and lose the attitude. You've not been sent to the principal's office and you're not permitted a temper tantrum. I am not your enemy and neither is my couch you so unceremoniously flopped on."

"I didn't know I was throwing a temper tantrum," Ken said, sitting up. Let the mind games begin, get comfortable, sit up.

"I know you're angry and don't want to be here, but Lt. Commander T'Kal seemed quite adamant. Do you understand why you're here?"

"For doing my job." Ken related the events that had brought him to Bree's office, at least from his perspective. "I just didn't want to have an incident like I heard about from earlier, I was just trying to do my duty." Putting his head into his hands he dragged his fingers through his hair and looked up. "I just thought about what Chief had said: 'Don't give up the ship', and here was the whole of medical getting ready to cut and run with the order being passed."

"And that bothers you, the idea of running from danger?"

"Yes, our duty is to Starfleet. I know as member of the Security Department the danger I face, the expectation that is placed upon myself and the rest of the Department. I wouldn't retreat without an order to do so, I wouldn't jump ahead of others to leave the ship. Dr. Sefton asked me if the Captain was even still alive to give orders. I thought about this. I had talked to a runner a short while before the incident. He was alive then but at the actual time I didn't know, all I could do was trust in my training that someone was always in command and that no matter what the order would be passed. All I had was that faith standing between me and...." Ken cut himself off.

"Ken, why did you join Starfleet?" Bree asked.

"That is a question I have been asking myself for the past few days." Ken looked up from the patch of floor he had been admiring. "Kip wanted to go to the Academy more than anything in the world. He wanted me to go with him. We made a pact when we were 13 to go together, to become officers and see the universe. It was his dream, not mine and I ended up not going with him. We had always watched each other's backs, he kept me out of trouble, saved me, really, from a life of crime. I kept the bullies off his back. He pressured me to enlist when I wouldn't go to the academy, and finally I relented. I didn't care about seeing the universe, but he had...he had really saved me once. I owed him. He died two weeks before I left for Basic."

"So you're working out your grief by trying to be uber Security Officer while you're on duty? That hardly seems fair to the rest of the crew," replied Bree evenly.

"I think of it more as being the kind of man Kip was: Dedicated, loyal, law abiding." Ken looked off to the side, in a near whisper. "If only I had been there...."

"But you weren't, Ken," replied Bree gently. "And trying to alleviate that pain and guilt by trying to live up to this ideal of him is not going to work. At the end of the day, he's still going to be gone and you're still going to be expected to follow orders. You need to deal with your grief directly so it's no longer running your life."

"You're right, I wasn't there, because I didn't fulfill my responsibility. I got scared and didn't join him at the Academy. If I hadn't been afraid I would have been there to watch out for him." Ken sat back for a moment and thought. "What do you suggest?"

"I'd suggest that you and I keep talking and that you avoid pulling phasers on senior officers in the future. Sound ok to you?" Bree asked with a smile.

"I'll agree to that." Ken felt better, having talked to someone about Kip. He missed his friend, his conscience.

"Good," replied Bree. "I look forward to helping you, Ken."

"Good, when will my next scheduled appointment be?"

"How about tomorrow, same time?"

---

"What Do You Want?"
by Chief Petty Officer Sorien Case - Weapons Specialist
and C1C Ken Smith - Security Crewman

Location: Armory USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.22 09h30

***

The session had gone well. Ken felt better than he had in months, years really. He hadn't talked about Kip's death to anyone; aboard the Sulu he had only mentioned him to Marp. How good of a friend do I count him? Best and only so far aboard the Sulu. Though Cris seems amicable enough. How did the good doctor ever spawn him? Must be the father's influence.

Now came the hard part. Chief Case has a reputation for being a hard ass. Under other circumstances I would welcome that, but under these I don't.

The armory was busy and Ken asked the Duty Desk petty officer where Chief Case was and made his way to the weapons locker. "Chief Case, C1C reporting as ordered."

Case allowed a slight smile but kept his one good eye on the PADD in his hand. "Crewman Smith," Sorien stated as one bemused. "I didn't recognize you without a phaser in your hand." He lowered the PADD and looked through Smith. "I wasn't misinformed was I, Crewman? You do like to brandish the occasional phaser?"

"Some might say so, Chief."

"I'm asking you." The bemused smile became a memory.

"No, Chief. I have only drawn my phaser once, during a crisis where in no order to abandon ship had been given. I did so neither menacingly nor defiantly, I was simply reacting to the situation as had been presented to me, taking into account earlier incidents. Senior officers disagree with that assessment. Being part of a military structure, their belief overrules mine. If you want me to say I like to brandish phasers I will do so, but I will go to my grave disagreeing with the characterization." Still standing at attention Ken used the same thousand yard stare men and women of duty had used for centuries.

Case was on his feet as soon as Smith went beyond 'No Chief', coming nearly nose to nose with the smaller, younger man. "That talking thing you do might be amusing for the senior staff but I'm immune, Smith. There are two phrases you'll need to acquaint yourself with during our time together: Yes, Chief Case and No, Chief Case. Are you reading me, Crewman?"

"Yes, Chief Case," Ken said without blinking.

"Let's get down to brass tacks," Case snarled, hovering over the Crewman with more than a little menace. "I don't like you, Smith. I think you're a silly-looking sonofabitch that just made my job harder and since I'm getting downright lazy in my old age, I just about resent the very sight of you. You still following me, Smith?"

"Yes, Chief Case."

"Don't waste my time, Crewman," Case warned. "If you don't have an interest in changing my mind, you rip that patch off your collar right now and become a passenger. Now what do you want to do? Are you interested in changing my mind?"

"Yes, Chief Case." Ken felt a bit repetitive and yet he felt something strange, he did want to change this man's mind.

"You've got a long way to go," Case stated with some finality. They stared at each other for several slow heartbeats. "Petty Officer Mullens?" Case called out, still keeping his eye on Smith.

Mullens spun at the duty desk. "Aye, Chief?"

"Take Crewman Smith in hand," Case said, breaking off his glare and walking towards Mullens. "If he likes to play with phasers, give him more than he can count." Case continued on towards the door, the bemused smile returning unseen once his back was to the both of them. "Get on it." The door opened and shut, leaving Mullens and Smith alone.

"I think he likes you," Mullens said with only a little humor after a few seconds of silence.

"Every one should." Ken lost his military bearing and grinned from ear to ear. "So where are these phasers?"

Mullens motioned around the armory at the center rifle racks and the wall mounted lockers. "You're looking at them. We're in the middle of a maintenance cycle." He narrowed his eyes at Smith. "You are fully rated on maintenance for the Type IIs, correct?"

"And IIIs. You have to be fully rated in both to finish SBT school." He eyed the wall racks, tabulating the number of rifles and hand phasers mounted there.

"Good," Mullens nodded. "You can get started on the Compression variants. When you're finished with that, we'll go to the Weapon Locker locations and switch out the contents. Chief Case found a Type II with a cracked emitter housing in Transporter One nearly two weeks ago and he still mentions it every day."

"Oh Joy." Evil grins were genuine with Ken, smiles were any one's guess. Mullens handed Ken a diagnostic kit and a rag so he could get to work. "So where did you come from?"

Mullens ran the weapons inventory from the duty desk. "I was a Geologist Mate aboard the Inspiration but there wasn't too much for me to do on a historical vessel. So I transferred to a department where they'd have even less use for me."

"The old rig? My dad made a big deal when they recommissioned it. He tried to drag my mother and I to see it. I declined, I would have rather taken a tour of the 1701-E."

"I would have rather done my tour on the Enterprise but the closest I could get was the Sulu." Mullens looked over his shoulder at Smith. "What about you? Is this your first assignment?"

Putting the checked rifle back on the shelf he took the next victim back to the table. "I was supposed to go to the Tetsuo. Had guaranteed orders to her in fact. Fate intervened and I ended up TDY to New Berlin Security," Ken grunted as he took the casing apart. "Looks like we got a cracked coolant case." Picking up the absorbent cloth he had laid, Ken wiped down his hands and the weapon.

"What is the number? I'll need to log it."

"Yup." Inspecting it further Ken continued, "This one is going to need to have its coolant casing completely replaced than it is going to need a recalibration after that. Oh, umm...it is number zero six. Where should I put it?"

"Chief likes those needing work to be put over there." Mullens indicated a rack that had securing arms painted red. "You know how to replace a coolant case right?"

"Yeah, I will do it before I leave today. Saving it for last sounds good to me...that way I will know if I have to do any others."

"Good man. Now, as you were saying?"

Ken had snagged another rifle and was sitting down. "Oh yeah." Looking up from the rifle as he removed the twin nose casing. "Yeah so I was half way through SBTT when the Tetsuo was lost, so after I ended up in a kind of limbo. They needed people to assist in New Berlin so I was sent up while I awaited an open billet of Starfleet's choosing."

"Needs of the Fleet," Mullens observed sagely.

"You said it, any way." The coils looked good so he reattached the nose casing and moved on to the next section of the rifle. "I ended up spending most of the time working gate and patrol duty at the Fleet hospital. Nothing more boring than checking IDs, directing lost officers to their destination and walking the rounds of the nice quiet command. So one day Chief calls me in and offers me a drink, tells me I have orders and if I want to trade them for an instant promotion to senior chief. We had a couple of shots and then he handed them over: the USS Sulu with orders for Gamma quad exploration. It wasn't what I had wanted but it got me out of New Berlin."

"What had you wanted?"

"Back then I had wanted a ship in the occupation zone, now, I don't know. I have been kicking that around since I came aboard. I almost missed the Sulu too, the rendezvous ship I was on had to answer the distress call of a merchant freighter. I thought that was a sign of things to come, now I wonder."

"Well," sighed Mullens. "Chief Case can be a bit of a bear but personally I'm glad to be here. This is a singular opportunity. I'd bet there's a number of people in the OZ that would trade places with you in a flash."

"I'm warming to it." Another down, umpteen more to go. "This is my first chance to work with the Chief. He reminds me of Chief Rock, only more grizzled."

"Who's Chief Rock?" Mullens asked, turning back to the workstation.

"Don't tell me you never read a Chief Rock comic? During the war their PADD downloads took off. Chief Rock, grizzled philosophizing security chief. Imagine the most stereotypical Chief. Rock is a tough, grizzled and combat weary Chief who leads the men of Easy Detail through the peril and horror that war throws, as people, quipping "Nothin's easy in Easy!" The comics originally took place during a fictional war involving the Federation but once the Klingons broke the treaty the Chief was there and when the Dominion war started he went to the front. A year after the war ended Rock stopped getting published. It went from number 2 on the download charts to number 789 in a matter of months." Pausing thoughtfully at the Rifle rack: "I guess there wasn't much of a market for fake war stories when you could get so many for free just by walking down the street."

"I guess that slid under my sensors," Mullens mused. "I'm not a lot for comics but it does sound like you're describing Chief Case. He spent quite a bit of the Dominion War at the front."

"He has the look. You could tell who was there and who wasn't among the RDIs in basic, kind of far away yet ever scanning eyes."

"He doesn't talk about it much," Mullens shrugged. "I think it's hard for him. His family died on Betazed during the occupation."

"Hard to imagine him with a family...but I guess different races have different social structure than humans." Ken replaced the final compression rifle and started on the newest type III. "Ok I have finished the Compression rifles. I am starting on the Type IIIbs."

"Save it for now...we'll get out of here and do the locker inspections." Mullens stood up. "Hopefully, they'll all check out and won't need replacements."

"Sounds good...lead the way, Petty Officer."

---

"A Moment Forgotten"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
Lt. jg. Ilan Potts - Assistant Chief Counsellor
Ensign Galil F'Zal - Counsellor
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate: 57908.22, 10h00

***

Doctor Sefton stepped out of her office, when she telepathically detected Doctor Potts approaching Sickbay. She had misjudged his speed of approach, though, and a different counsellor, the Betazoid F'Zal, entered Main Sickbay twenty seconds before Potts did. Damhnait had called upon Potts for some personnel advice. She still found herself unable to unwrap her mind from around the JJ324c literature virus during her personal time, and so she desperately needed to brush up on subjects completely separate from the medical sciences. Damhnait had most of the topics in mind, but she required Potts to suggest some tutors; he had already been quite helpful in directing Damhnait towards Brennyn Scott's personal and professional excellence with Diplomatic Law.

"Cristobel," Counsellor F'Zal called out to Nurse Sefton, who had just entered Main Sickbay from PrivateExam-01.

"Is this about me missing my appointment?" Cristobel asked, perplexed and disoriented by the counsellor's sudden arrival. "Because I was working in Sickbay. I could get a doctor's note."

"No, I understand you were performing your duty, and your sessions are completely voluntary now," Galil told him with a warming smile as Cris approached. Galil offered Illan Potts a nod, as the Deltan entered, before explaining to Cris, "I am here because my wrist started hurting this morning. I believe I may have sprained it two day ago."

"Good!" Cris blurted, and only off of F'Zal's hurt look did he realise what he'd said. "...That you know I didn't intentionally avoid your office. Definitely not good that you hurt yourself when the ship went crazy. And speaking of which, I have some mighty wicked dreams to tell you about at my next session. You will be shocked. Shocked, I tell you."

"Never," F'Zal confidently assured him.

"Pfft," Cristobel breathed out. "Never say never."

Ilan and Damhnait stopped very suddenly in their short walk to the CMO's Office. They simultaneously looked to one another; Damhnait was quite obviously smirking and trying to hide it, while Potts wore a broad silent grin.

Cristobel and Galil shared a look of horrified curiosity, and Cris muttered, "What?"

Potts' beaming smile turned Damhnait's grinning eyes and upturned lips into a gentle laugh.

Turning to his mother, Cris repeated, "Wha-at?"

***

Two Days Ago

Despite the terror and chaos on every deck, silence had descended on deck five. The red alert klaxons in this section had died, all of the injured and medical personnel had found their places in escape pods, and all others seemed to be remaining at their posts. Damhnait knew it would not be long until the pods would have to be launched, and so she passively searched telepathically for the minds of the command staff. She needed to know if the order had been given, or if it was about to be given, or if there was no one but her to give it.

Ensign Shirik lay unconscious in the escape pod with Sefton, and Ilan Potts sat down in the seat next to Damhnait, once he tightened the support straps of Shirik's gurney. Smith stood guard out in the corridor.

"Well," Potts intoned, strangely cheerful. "I imagine we're playing the waiting game now. I would think an order would need to come soon." He looked to Doctor Sefton, whose face was slightly contorted with the efforts of her mental search. "We don't have much time left, do we, Commander?"

"No," Damhnait agreed solemnly. "Although, I believe we have longer than I would like. I suspect the Captain will not allow escape until there is only enough time to evacuate according to an ideal situation, rather than the reality of this one."

"That does seem a pity," Potts said a little gravely before brightening again. "However, I do suppose they know what they're doing. At least young Mister Smith relented and let us get the wounded ready for evacuation."

"Only because you rationally explained what I was ranting about," Damhnait said, still sour over that turnaround. "Dhia, how did that happen?"

"A sun sometimes shines on the backside of a Targ," Potts shrugged. He punched a few keys to initiate a system's check of the pod. "Personally, I think I was overdue a moment of lucidity." He smiled at her genuinely. "Don't you?"

"That certainly was overdue," Damhnait blithely agreed.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it," Potts said, turning his attention back to the running check. "I wouldn't expect it again for years."

"I am surprised to be experiencing another bout of lucidity from you this very moment," Damhnait admitted with a sad smile. She closed her eyes for a moment to telepathically check in on Cristobel and his team's progress. Apparently, everyone injured on decks one, two and three, as well as some scientists from the lower decks, had been loaded into escape pods by Raina, Amy and Cris.

"Sometimes it's easier than others," Potts said, matter-of-factly but also somewhat sadly. "I frequently seem to make more sense in smaller groups." Potts returned her smile. "And it seems easier with you."

"Why would that be?" Damhnait asked self-deprecatingly, without entirely meaning it. "I doubt Mister Smith would classify my disposition as calming."

"Well, there is the deep affection I have for you," Potts admitted, smiling at her. "Maybe I'm hoping to impress you." He looked away then, a little shyly. "And there is the fact that we've been intimate."

"There is nothing to gain from impressing me," Damhnait told him surely, but softly.

"It won't be happening again then?" Potts asked with only a sliver of a hopeful note. He already knew the answer.

"No," Damhnait replied seriously. She smirked then. "Not even an about-to-die quickie to match the thank-you-for-breakfast quickie."

"Pity," Potts admitted while finding one place to pin his hopes. "If we do evacuate, it could be some time before we are rescued....that is how my father and mother met, in fact." He looked at her again and smiled. "So never say never."

"Betazoid physiology is not compatible with Deltan," Damhnait stated dryly.

"Oh!" Potts exclaimed. "You're actually quite mistaken. There has actually been some extensive research into the matter by Doctor Kilninis of Cebreis III and her findi--"

"Betazoid physiology is not compatible with Deltan," Damhnait repeated with a significantly arched eyebrow.

Their commbadges -- tied into Espinoza's communications rig in the corridor -- chimed before sounding, "All hands, this is the captain. Abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship. Make for the planet, and assemble in the main city. This...this is not a drill. Abandon ship."

Potts and Sefton both let out ragged sighs then looked at each other. Potts gave a reassuring smile.

"Never say never," he repeated.

---

"Heartfelt Apologies"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lieutenant Brennyn Scott

Location: Deck 3, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.22, 15h15

***

Although she'd protested loudly, Lyrr Tayla was now grateful for Dr. Sefton's steely resolve in demanding she serve light duty. The thought of working only four hours seemed incredulous to Lyrr, especially with the state their ship was still in. What could she possibly accomplish in four hours? But now, weary beyond belief and sore as if she'd spent an hour on the springball court instead of four sitting in a chair, Lyrr could easily attest that Dr. Sefton's judgement certainly was sound.

Nearly unable to avoid dragging her feet, Lyrr set a careful pace towards her quarters, and the bed that would mean her salvation. Eyes half-lidded, Lyrr turned the corner, halted with eyes suddenly growing wide, and swung around to avoid the approaching officer. But, visual contact had already been made, judging from the hesitant smile she'd caught on the counsellor's lips before her attempt at evasion. Lyrr groaned inwardly, recognized her own cowardice, and overcame it by facing the counsellor once more.

After her treatment of the woman in sickbay, Lyrr was at least a little ashamed of her behaviour, but any apology given would only come to save future trips to a counselling office because of one overzealous counsellor's concocted 'anger management issues.'

"Counsellor Scott," Lyrr greeted tightly.

"Commander," Bree replied evenly, "good to see you up and about." She knew Lyrr was on guard and saw no point in prolonging the encounter.

"Well, it's good to be out of sickbay," she answered amiably. "I always get rankled when I go near places like that." She chuckled, but it came out sounding flat and forced. Stopped in the corridor, standing face-to-face with the woman now, Lyrr knew an apology was inescapable. Abandoning the guise of pretentious friendliness, Lyrr sighed and said, "Counsellor...I'm embarrassed when I think of how I treated you. Forgive me."

Bree sighed. "Under the circumstances, I can understand why you reacted the way you did. You have no reason to trust me, and you're obviously trying to deal with something very painful. I apologize if I came on too strong. I do that when I want to help someone, but I obviously made you uncomfortable. Forgive me for that."

"You were doing your job," Lyrr told her. "You were there to see to the patients' mental welfare after a traumatic experience, and I was giving you a hard time." Glancing briefly around at their location, lacking all privacy, Lyrr asked, "Counsellor, would you care to join me in my quarters for a moment? There's something we need to discuss."

"Certainly," answered Bree, falling into step behind Lyrr. She wondered what this was about and if this was another attempt on Lyrr's part to minimize the truth, do some damage control as it were. Bree swore she would lose it if it was.

It was refreshing to have the door open after only a single try, and as any good hostess, Lyrr allowed Bree to enter first. "Would you like something to drink?" Lyrr asked as she moved to the replicator, while offering Scott a seat on the sofa.

She smiled politely as she took a seat. "No, thank you." She had never been in Lyrr's quarters before. A first for any counselor she was sure.

Lyrr's order of tea resolved into a porcelain cup and saucer. With it cradled in her hand, she turned back to Scott and started for the adjacent armchair. "I asked you in here because I think you're far better at your job than I often give counsellors credit for," Lyrr began. She sat and set her tea onto the table. Leaning back and crossing her legs at the knee, Lyrr studied the woman with a measured gaze. "If you would indulge me...I'd like to know what your assessment of me is."

Brennyn nearly laughed out loud. A compliment and a loaded question!?! "My assessment? I'm not sure what you're asking for, Commander..."

"Oh, but I think you do," Lyrr answered with a nearly pleasant smile to counterbalance her stern look. "Why don't we start with what you told me in Sickbay? Something about...being hurt." She gestured to the woman. "How about there?"

"Alright," replied Bree evenly. "When I saw the remnants of scars on your breasts and the way you reacted when I saw them, it just confirmed what I already suspected: someone had hurt you in a deeply personal way. They didn't appear to be your average battle scars because they weren't all over your body, just on your breasts. This, coupled with the way you react when people try to get close to you, especially when I try to get close, leads me to believe you were sexually assaulted or tortured in some way in the past. Not surprising, really, when you consider your history with the Resistance. You alluded to your past as a soldier when we spoke."

"I alluded to nothing," Lyrr answered, unperturbed. "But I was a soldier, yes, and I did have scars, of course - many soldiers do." A grim mask solidified to ice over Lyrr's features while her gaze transformed into something wholly threatening and frightening. "As for torture and assault... If you repeat such notions to anyone, I will have your license and your pips for defamation and perfidy against another officer." Her smile was withering as she added, "If I were you, I'd forget all about that. It's simply ridiculous, Counsellor. Ridiculous."

"But true?" asked Bree quietly. "Believe me, I'm not about to tell anyone something this personal. You act as if you did something wrong, Commander, and I know that isn't true."

"And how exactly have my actions indicated that, Counsellor?" she asked with amused sarcasm.

"By suggesting that my suspicions are a defamation of your character when I should think it would be a defamation of the character of the one who hurt you. You are not responsible for his actions."

"Am I not responsible for my own?" she shot back, riled now and gripping the armrest of her seat in a vice-like grip. "Am I, Counsellor?" she rasped.

"No," Bree replied simply. "Not when it comes to surviving. You do what you need to do."

That seemed to placate Lyrr, but her entire demeanour indicated she was still skeptical. "That's right," she affirmed quietly. "And I did survive, so why must you people incessantly probe for memories that are better left alone? Do I look disturbed or insane to you, Counsellor? Do I?"

"You're not disturbed or insane, and you don't have to be to benefit from counseling. Are your memories truly buried? Everything we've experienced has an impact on how we behave, and there is more to life than just survival. You deserve more."

"You're in no position to decide that," Lyrr told her with slightly less rancor. "I already have more than I deserve, Counsellor: an executive officer position aboard this ship, a man who seems to appreciate me, even these quarters," she added, gesturing vaguely to the large room around her, "are beyond what I deserve. And you know, they might be right, most likely are, but I will perform my service to this ship no matter what." Lyrr fell pensively silent to study the tops of her boots, and finally glanced up beneath her lashes at Scott. "Which reminds me of another thing I wished to discuss with you. It concerns your Ensign F'Zal, and this crusade he has to get me in his chair and pick my brain, whether by telepathic means or through whatever apparent psychiatric abilities he seems to think he bears. I am uncomfortable with him, and I don't wish for him to lead my psychiatric assessment. But he's under the impression I have no choice in the matter." She paused, smiling ever so slightly. "Prove him wrong, Counsellor. Relieve him of the task and take it upon yourself. I want you to perform my evaluation, and only you."

"Because I'm not telepathic? You think it will be easier to lie to me?" Scott inquired frankly.

Lyrr was right. Of course she had a say in the matter, how else would people feel comfortable opening up to a counselor at all? There were of course exceptions. One could not see a counselor with whom they were currently or had once been romantically involved, and one could not see a relative professionally. Last she knew, she was neither of those to Lyrr Tayla. That did not mean, however, that Lyrr did not have an ulterior motive.

"Counsellor," Lyrr said, her tone chiding, "if I intended to lie, I know you're adept enough at detecting such a thing, now aren't you?"

Scott ignored her tone. "Not as adept as Galil F'Zal if he's using his telepathic skills. Why is it you're prepared to see me and not him?" She made sure to ask it in a way that indicated she wouldn't take anything but the truth.

"I don't trust him," she explained. "I hardly know him. And besides, I'd much rather prefer a woman to talk to, you know?"

She nodded, sensing she was being upfront. "I'll take care of your evaluation personally, Commander, if that's what you want. But I assure you, I will know if you're withholding something or playing me, so I wouldn't recommend it. I only wish to help you."

"With determining whether I'm fit for duty," Lyrr reminded her. "Anything else unrelated to my recent trauma is off-limits, understood?"

"For now," she replied. "But whatever could you mean?" she asked innocently. "My only concern is your fitness for duty."

Lyrr smiled knowingly. "Exactly. I'm glad we understand each other, Counsellor." Abandoning her tea, which seemed to have gone frigid when Lyrr had, the commander rose from her seat to dismiss Scott. "When should I see you, then?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Scott suggested.

"Agreed." The counsellor was escorted to the door by Lyrr, whose tightening chest had loosened upon her relief. There would be no telepaths boring into her mind now. "Thank you for speaking with me, Counsellor. I hope tomorrow is as productive." The door parted for Scott, as if hinting at her overstayed welcome. "Good day."

Bree smiled, and before exiting, replied, "Don't hope for it, Commander, plan on it." The doors closed, and Bree exhaled in relief. If what she suspected was true, forcing a telepath on Lyrr Tayla was not a very good idea at all.

---

"Evaluation"
by Captain Matthew T. Salinger
Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer
Lieutenant Brennyn Scott - Chief Counselor
and Doctor Ilan Potts - Assistant Chief Counselor

Location: USS Sulu, Conference Room
Stardate: 57908.22, 16h30

***

To: Captain Matthew T. Salinger, Commander Lyrr Tayla CC: Lieutenant Commander Sam, Lieutenant Brennyn Scott

Subject: Lieutenant Mark Thaine Annual Psychological Evaluation / Mental Fitness of Same

Attachment: Audio Session Log, Stardate: 57908.15, 17h08 to 17h27

Forgive the lateness of my report but it seems during the recent crisis quite a number of my personal documents have been deleted or altered or inadvertently sent on to Starfleet Medical marked 'Emergency Dental Records'. Still missing is my appointment book for the coming month as well as my latest literary endeavor Orion Slavers: Evil Misogynists or Just Really Into Green Women?. I was well over four pages into the introduction and will now be forced to reconstruct my sweet prose from memory. But I digress...

Lieutenant Mark Thaine did indeed show up for his Annual Psychological Evaluation with great hesitation and only some minor avoidance machinations. Naturally, I began an audio log before allowing him into my office but I'm shamed to admit that I forgot to mention this to the good Lieutenant. This deception was not my intent and I certainly would have informed Mister Thaine had I not been distracted by his expected and immediate uncooperativity.

Mister Thaine folded his arms in that defiant pose we've all come to adore almost upon arrival, distracting me from my normal disclosures. The Lieutenant accused me of purposefully altering my office's lighting system as part of "some damned counseling mind trick or something" and ordered them lowered without my permission, plunging my office into near darkness. My presumption, since the lighting seemed perfectly fine to me, was that this was Lieutenant Thaine's attempt to not only assert his area of expertise but show that he was not afraid to make adjustments to my environment. It is an old patient trick and certainly not likely to ensnare someone as wily as myself.

After some pleasant small talk, Lieutenant Thaine gently urged me to get on with the evaluation which in turn led us to a discussion about his relationships on board the USS Hikaru Sulu. He claims to have none although a review of his department as well as personal sessions I've conducted with other officers aboard the ship give the impression of a hard working department head that is generally well regarded by his staff and his peers. I have also observed the young man on several occasions engaged in some kind of discourse with our lovely Executive Officer...hello, Commander...and while I have no doubt that relationship is nothing if not professional...am I correct, Commander? ...I do think Lieutenant Thaine does have friends on board, even if he doesn't readily admit to them.

Somewhat surprisingly, transporter logs I reviewed prior to this appointment showed a couple sojourns by Lieutenant Thaine to Risa during the Sulu's recent shore leave while in the company of a Starfleet counselor signed into the Sulu guest log as Andrea Rhea. A check of the Starfleet personnel records showed Miss Rhea...a most lovely woman, to be sure...to be a counselor like myself. When the information I had uncovered seemed at odds with some of his denials, it led me to ask about his activities on the pleasure planet. It was at this time Lieutenant Thaine snapped at me, pointing his finger and engaging in some mild intimidation tactics. Lieutenant Thaine also took the opportunity to remind me that his life was really none of my business.

However, after this initial outburst, the Lieutenant did relent somewhat and deign to identify his companion. Knowing that I'd never get much more than that out of our Chief Engineer, I decided on the spot to engage in a bit of duplicity and claim that Andrea Rhea had once been a student of mine, in the hopes that a common connection may loosen otherwise tight, surly lips.

This tact did not create the common ground I had hoped for and in fact seemed to alienate Lieutenant Thaine further. When he denied his feelings for Andrea Rhea again I decided to check the depth of those denials by suggesting I contact the lovely Miss Rhea with the intent of engaging in a romantic relationship. This plan, I must admit not wholly a ploy on my part, was met with only more threats and attempts at intimidation. Ultimately, this reaction did reinforce my suspicion that Mister Thaine cares deeply for Andrea Rhea.

My impressions are that Lieutenant Thaine is an eminently qualified engineer under remarkable stress in an undermanned department. These stresses are apparent in the way he interacts with certain admittedly trying personnel, in his physical appearance, and in his acute paranoia. He often uses hostile body language and attempts to use his physical presence to intimidate yet I do not believe Lieutenant Thaine to be a violent man. In fact, it is during these emotional tirades that I feel Mark Thaine is being his most honest.

I recommend that Lieutenant Thaine's work schedule be shortened to no more than six hours a day with some recreational activities prescribed and followed. I realize that this may cause additional stress on the other engineers but a review of our personnel records reveals some small solutions to the manpower problem: Ensign Shirik has some engineering experience and may be able to do some occasional duty in Main Engineering. Certainly, Chief Petty Officer Boothroyd has knowledge and education that rivals the Chief Engineers aboard many ships, not to mention the loveliest green eyes I've ever seen. Perhaps even that nice Lieutenant Commander Zareb might be convinced to fill in for Lieutenant Thaine on occasion, hopefully taking some small bit of weight off the latter's shaky shoulders. I would also recommend mandatory counseling for a period of not less than three months.

While I would like to continue with Lieutenant Thaine simply for the challenge he represents, I do feel it is unlikely that he will ever grow in his trust of me...given the somewhat unorthodox method I chose to employ from the onset. Of course, I would acknowledge my duplicity before any further counseling could occur and I must admit that I might not feel comfortable doing that without security present in case my guess about the Lieutenant's temperament is misguided. But if Mister Thaine is willing, I certainly am. In any case, he desperately needs to see somebody professionally.

In light of my recommendation, it's important to warn you good folks from the command staff that a complaint about me from Mister Thaine will be forthcoming. It seems that Lieutenant Thaine's parents are quite highly placed and could make a bit of trouble for me and my career. I hope any influence he may be able to wield will be offset by my admittedly quirky, yet mostly excellent, Starfleet career.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Sincerely,

Dr. Ilan Potts Assistant Chief Counselor USS Sulu

Lyrr Tayla stretched out a hand to turn off the audio report from Doctor Potts but was interrupted by an unexpected post script.

I am realizing that my praise of Chief Boothroyd's eyes may have left a few of you feeling a little a little left out so I would like to take this opportunity to say that you all, from Captain Salinger on down, have immensely attractive eyes that are all quite fetching in their own way. Even Lieutenant Thaine has nice eyes, save for the dark circles, and I will be sure to mention that to him if we ever have a second session.

Commander Lyrr gave it a few heartbeats just to ensure that the report was finished before jamming her finger down on the appropriate LCARS key. She grimaced only slightly; her injuries were on the mend but it was her first day back from Sickbay and she wasn't taking it as slow as she should. As it was, she found herself almost wishing she were back in her biobed rather than here, shifting through the hodgepodge of Potts' thoughts.

"Are you all right, Commander?" Potts asked. He had slumped sheepishly in his chair through most of the report, occasionally smiling at what he probably believed to be some extreme cleverness on his part. For now, he was looking at Commander Lyrr, obviously concerned and more than a little fondly.

"I'm fine," she answered, neutralizing her features to mask any outward sign of exhaustion. "Although," she added, "that report has me a little...perplexed." Glancing aside at Matt, she realized he, too, had been attempting to stifle laughter throughout the playback. Lyrr finally let a soft chuckle escape. "Doctor Potts, I think your analysis may be a touch critical. Everything you've described about Lt. Thaine is exactly what we've come to expect from the man. Frankly, I don't think there's a thing wrong with him, even if he chooses not to fraternize with the rest of the crew." She shrugged. "I'm the same way, and there's certainly nothing wrong with me." Her slightly narrowed gaze dared Potts to challenge that declaration.

"Ah, but you're overdue for your annual evaluation as well," Potts declared, oblivious to the glare. "And I'm not suggesting that Lieutenant Thaine needs to change necessarily...only that he has been sorely worked during his tenure as our Chief Engineer." Potts looked around at the assembled officers: Captain Salinger, Commander Lyrr, and Lieutenant Scott. "The man has earned a little relaxation."

Captain Salinger raised an eyebrow. "Enforced relaxation?"

"Time off I should say," Potts answered. "With perhaps a prohibition against him showing up in Engineering during his off hours, save for the event of an alert status." Potts smiled. "Failing that, what he does with his own time is ultimately up to him."

"That's hardly fair," Lyrr protested. "We can't keep the man from his duty station because you think he requires a mourning period for some long departed love. That's ridiculous."

"Only temporarily," Potts reminded Lyrr, turning to the Commander. "And my concerns have more to do with Lieutenant Thaine being stretched a little thin, not simply the absence of Andrea Rhea."

"What is your assessment of the other senior staff, Doctor?" Matt asked. "Are all of the senior staff working too hard? Or is Lt. Thaine a special case?"

Potts considered that. "Certainly, it'll be important for us all to take our relaxations where we may. I realize we're only here for six months and it may be tempting to push and explore and analyze as much as we can but the crew will need some time to smell the roses. What makes Lieutenant Thaine unique is I don't think he's stopped to do that in some time...certainly not since he's been on board."

"I agree with Dr. Potts, Captain," replied Bree, "there are members of the senior staff who can be quite reluctant when it comes to taking leave," and here she couldn't help but glance at Lyrr out of the corner of her eye, "but they've done so eventually, voluntarily. In Lt. Thaine's case, however, he hasn't taken any steps to take care of himself, and shows little interest in it. That is what concerns Dr. Potts and I." She glanced over at Ilan. They certainly approached things differently, but at least in this matter, they were in agreement.

"Then why not strongly suggest he lighten his load instead of ordering him to take a vacation?" Lyrr asked. "If he doesn't do this voluntarily, I know he'll be too anxious about the state of his department to actually relax."

"I'm not sure Lieutenant Thaine would see such a suggestion any differently than an order...he's quite stubborn." Ilan's eyes narrowed at Commander Lyrr. "You're friendlier with Mister Thaine than most, Commander. Do you have any influence over him beyond your rank and position?"

"Excuse me?" she exclaimed, scowling at Potts. "What are you implying, Counsellor?"

"Why, nothing at all," Potts announced innocently. "I was asking if you consider him a friend and, more to the point, does he feel the same way?"

"How am I to know that?" she snapped indignantly. "And I hardly think that has any bearing on this meeting whatsoever. So if you would, Counsellor" --her eyes were hard and conveying displeasure-- "move on."

"It was your assertion that Lieutenant Thaine might respond to a strong suggestion," Potts pointed out, either fearless or oblivious or perhaps a bit of both. "I'm only trying to figure out if any of us are in a position to make such a suggestion. From either Lieutenant Scott or myself, Mister Thaine would see such a suggestion as us merely flexing our counseling muscles. And I think most crew would be hard pressed to see a similar suggestion from the Captain or First Officer as anything other than an order." Potts lifted an index finger then, pointing towards the ceiling triumphantly. "But a friend might make progress where the mighty falter."

Lyrr relented with a sigh, and quite the frown of resentment for Potts. "Fine, I'll speak with him if you wish it. He'd likely respond better to me than to someone of...your ilk." The hint of disdain in her tone was nearly detectable.

"Begging your pardon, Commander, but you can't merely speak to him and you mustn't order him either." Potts was shaking his head vigorously. "Any suggestions from me that filter out through you will be met with the same resistance as if they escaped my own sweet lips."

"Then what is it, exactly, you want me to do, Counsellor?" Lyrr asked impatiently.

"Be his friend," Potts explained, flashing a green-tinged smile. "Let the Captain and the Counselors be the bad guys and deliver onto Mister Thaine my few admonishments. And then he'll need you to talk to about it." Potts was rubbing his hands together almost gleefully as he schemed. "Then simply explore your friendship. Find your common interests and steer the Lieutenant towards them and away from perpetual duty. Allow him to relax. Perhaps a little dinner and dancing --"

"Doctor!" Lyrr boomed. "I am not going to seduce the man or do your job for you. I'll speak to him on the matter of his excessive work load, but I will not dupe the man into supplying me with information for your benefit."

"No?" Potts inquired. "Pity...a good seduction might be just what the man needs." Potts shook his head as if to clear it. "I certainly am not asking you to pump him for information. But you are the closest thing he has to a friend on board. Might you simply be that to him?" Potts asked hopefully.

Lyrr glanced alternately at all those present in the room before returning her gaze to Potts with a heavy sigh. "I could try," she relented.

"Splendid!" Potts clapped his hands happily. "You'll be doing angel's work, Commander. In the end, this could even save Mister Thaine's life!"

Scott rolled her eyes at the exaggeration, but once again couldn't deny the point. The irony of it was, Lyrr was the last person she'd expect to advocate relaxation and one of the first people she knew needed it.

Bree just hoped Tayla would see past the indignation she wanted to aim at Potts and realize the importance of the request. She nodded silently, her eyes encouraging Lyrr to avoid shooting the messenger despite the message.

"Well," Matt said, looking between them, "that sounds like it's settled then. Lyrr will try to get Mr. Thaine to ease up on his workload a little, as gently as she can."

Lyrr sighed. "I will, sir."

"Excellent!" Potts enthused as he rose to his feet. "This has all been a load on my mind...I'm glad to be rid of it." Potts looked back and forth between Lyrr and Salinger. "So, it'll be limited duty for Mister Thaine for awhile then? And mandatory counseling? Should Commander Lyrr break the news or shall--"

"Oh, let me," Lyrr cut in with a roll of her eyes. "I imagine I'm the only one among us he still tolerates."

"With good reason, Commander," Potts smiled. "This will all be good for Mister Thaine in the long run. You will see." He looked to the Captain. "Now, Captain...if I may be dismissed. My audio report has reminded me of my latest book and I'm anxious to start again."

"Oh really," Matt said, leaning forward with piqued interest. "A new book? Oh, yes, of course, Doctor. By all means..."

"Thank you, Captain," Potts offered, leaning across the Executive Officer to shake the man's hand. "It's a pleasure to see you twice in as many days." He looked to Lyrr then and offered her his hand as well. "And you as well, Commander. And this time in person, no less!"

Lips turned down and nose wrinkled, Lyrr reluctantly shook hands with the man. "Yes...a much more pleasurable experience this time around, Counsellor."

"Then let's do it more often!" Potts exclaimed. "I was just thinking this morning that individual monthly lunches between our wonderful executive officer and us assistant department head-types might be worth proposing." Potts looked at Salinger, distressed. "Of course, I was assuming that you'd be too busy, Captain."

"Well, we'll just have to see what our schedules look like," Matt said with a chuckle. "I know Commander Lyrr is busy as well."

"Oh," Potts said brightening. "We shall make it a threesome! Pencil me in at your earliest opportunities." Potts went for the door but stopped at it. "I'll look forward to hearing from you both!" Potts waved crazily once, then exited the conference room.

"Coming from a Deltan, I'm not quite sure what to make of that," Matt said with a raised eyebrow.

"Coming from a Deltan," Lyrr amended, "I'd be very afraid."

Bree looked at the now closed door, and whether it was half joking or serious, neither could be sure. "Be afraid, be very, very, afraid."

For once in their brief acquaintance, Counsellor Scott elicited a chuckle from Lyrr Tayla.

For once in a very long while, Bree felt comfortable joining her.

Matt laughed and shook his head. "Well, before we crawl under our desks out of fear of the power of Dr. Potts unleashed, let's go ahead and get back to

work. I'd like to revisit the Thaine issue in four days to see what progress has been made. Until then, dismissed."

Lyrr acknowledged him with a nod, and sighed heavily as she rose. "Permission to return to my quarters, Captain. I'd planned on some rest after my shift this morning, but I didn't expect an impromptu meeting...." Absently, she rubbed at the mild twinge of pain in her chest.

"Of course," Matt said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Go ahead and take the rest of the day; I think we have things in hand here. I'll cover the bridge, and have Sam step in when I get tired. Get well, Commander."

"Yes, get well, Commander," Bree echoed.

She thanked him with a tight smile, and Counsellor Scott with a nod, then took her leave.

Bree shook her head and looked at Salinger with a twinkle in her eye. "Like watching a tennis match, ain't it, sir?" A moment later, she chuckled. "God, I love my job."

"I don't think I've ever seen a tennis match quite this exciting," Matt said with a laugh. "Anything further on this little bout of excitement, Counsellor?"

Bree smiled. "Not right now, sir, but if you need anything...a tranquilizer for example, you know where to find me."

Matt laughed. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he said. "Good day, Counsellor."

"Good day, sir," she replied, rising from the table with Salinger.

Matt watched her go, and once she was gone, pulled out his book. As he delved into the pages, he couldn't help wondering what Dr. Potts' next masterpiece would be... Orions, he thought. Could be interesting...

---

"The Lucky Car"
By: Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Rachel Hansen; Engineering Officer [NPC]
Ensign Cristobel Sefton; Nurse
Ensign Annikafiore Szerda; Nurse [NPC]
Crewman First Class Jeff Davies; Operations Crewman [NPC]

Location: USS Sulu, Turbolift Car 3
Stardate: 57908.22 17h00

***

"So you've got this under control again?" Farrell asked, keying up his PADD as the lift doors opened.

"Control's my specialty," Davies quipped. "I've been riding it up and down the shaft for about ten minutes now, just to make sure."

"Nice," Farrell smirked as Davies sniggered at his own innuendo. "I'm just glad it's fixed."

"Me too," Davies nodded. "Me and this liftcar, we've got a history."

"What do you mean?"

"This is my lucky liftcar, sir," Davies said, as though Farrell should have known.

"I'm going to be sorry for asking this. I know it," Farrell said, his smile saying he was certainly going to ask anyway. "Why is this your lucky liftcar?"

"Remember that skirt party from a while back?"

"Yeah," Farrell said slowly.

"Carnal knowledge, in this car," Davies grinned, pointing both index fingers at the floor.

"Are you serious?"

"Sir, would I lie?"

The two men looked at each other and laughed.

"Did you at least clean up after yourself?" Farrell asked, looking around theatrically as the laugh subsided.

"Cleaning up's my specialty," quipped Davies.

"Good," Farrell chuckled, completing his mock inspection. "I'd hate to--" he cut off, looking around more seriously now.

"What?" Davies asked, trying to figure out what Farrell was doing.

"You just got me wondering," Farrell said. He stood in profile to the door, faced the wall, and reached for the stop button without pressing it. "Oh, wow," he said to himself. "This is the car."

"No way," Davies said. "You had sex in here, too?"

"No," Farrell grimaced at the question. "I did not. I did kiss someone in here, though."

"Excellent." Davies was duly impressed. "It's the lucky car," he nodded with satisfaction.

The turbolift doors opened again at Deck 9 - just as Davies finished his last sentence. Ensign Rachel Hansen waited outside to enter with an engineering kit in hand. She cocked her head inquisitively. "Lucky car, you say?" she asked, strolling onboard.

"Absolutely, sir," Davies said to the newcomer. "The lucky car. As in the car of luck."

"Don't tell me you two believe in superstitions?" Hansen questioned incredulously.

"What Davies here is trying to say," Farrell chuckled, "is that this is the car where several members of the crew have, in fact, gotten lucky."

"Deck 2," she ordered as the turbolift resumed its ascent. She took up a position between both members of the operations crew and stood quietly for a brief moment, almost reflectively. The pause created an awkward silence as various tales sifted through each of their minds.

Then Hansen asserted, "Don't get any bright ideas, boys. Luck will only get you so far."

"Luck's not nearly as overrated as you may think," Farrell quipped.

At deck five, the turbolift doors spread apart, and the awaiting Ensigns Cristobel Sefton and Annikafiore Szerda quite obviously silenced their discussion of what Cris had already telepathically overheard. They stepped onto the lift, which began to feel crowded, and offered one another a shared knowing look. Once Annika ordered the lift's destination to the Officer's Lounge, Cristobel looked to Mason, and confided, "I'm thinking this might be the turbocar where Lieutenant Tagliesh almost went down on that guy who ended up nearly raping all of the junior female officers on board."

"And I'm positive that this is the lift where Sanat wanted to have sex. But I stopped him so we could go somewhere more comfortable," Annikafiore chimed in.

"Your quarters?" Cristobel immediately assumed.

"God, no. A cargo bay," Annika blurted. "My quarters? Pfft. My wicked-crazy roommate is there." Spurned by Cris' sudden snickering, Annikafiore asked him, "Don't you have a turbo-tryst to share?"

"No, I once told Corran that I refuse to have sex in a turbolift. Tagliesh went to the brig when she was caught," Cristobel vehemently insisted, shaking his head at Annika. "But maybe I'll surprise Corran with a handjob the next time we're alone in this one..."

Cris lolled his head towards the other side of the lift, and noticed Hansen for the first time. "Oh. Hey. You were a Suluist for an even shorter time than I was. We've never been formally introduced. I'm Cristobel Sefton," he said brightly, offering her his hand for a friendly shake.

"Uh, hi," Hansen said, looking askance at Sefton's hand. Farrell looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose to mask the smile.

Cristobel let his extended arm drop down to his side, absently brushing some of the arboretum soil from one of his knees, just as the turbolift ceased moving on deck two outside the Officer's Lounge. Offering everyone a pleasant smile and a "Seeya", Cris and Annika stepped into the corridor.

Davies waved absently. Farrell was still trying not to look at anyone.

"You guys are nasty," Hansen said on her way out.

The doors closed. Farrell and Davies looked at each other, and burst into a gale of laughter.

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