"Coffee Talk"
By: Ensign Monica Gainsborough
Ensign Niko
Ensign Firece
Ensign Tristan Finn

Location: Officers Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.25, 00h45

***

"Thank you," Monica said again as she and Niko entered the officer's lounge. They'd just left the main lounge and Monica had been thanking her friend since their departure. "I just couldn't take that any longer. I really don't understand people like that, who look at everything so negatively. It's so discouraging and depressing. Who would actually want a life like that?"

"I guess the whole crisis has made everyone a little fatalistic," Niko supposed. "But badmouthing the captain and the rest of the senior staff?" She sighed and shook her head disparagingly. "They're just asking for trouble. That sort of talk can get you thrown in the brig faster than Amy Reese spreads her legs."

"I thought that sort of behaviour was encouraged here though," Monica said. "Or at least not discouraged. But you're so right. And, really, the last mission didn't go so bad. Things weren't perfect, but it's not the doom they make it out to be. And, I really don't think as many people hate the senior staff as they make it out to be."

"Well, we know you have a particular liking for the captain himself," Niko teased, watching Monica from across the table as they sat. "But, really...what is it they want? It's not like they abandoned us when we needed them. I even heard the captain stayed behind to the last second with Tagliesh. They call that lack of leadership?"

"Maybe they expected the senior staff to stop working on fixing the problem and hand deliver notes to the entire crew. Sure some plague was unleashed on the ship, but they tried. They were a little on the busy side. I know I probably don't have room to talk since I haven't been in Starfleet that long, but the quality of officer in Starfleet really seems to have gone down a lot since the Dominion war. We sure don't seem to have a lot of heroes here like the crew of the Enterprise."

"And they seem to have gravitated to the Ops department," Niko retorted. "Those guys go around as if they can do as they please without consequence. I walk into Ops...and they're all hanging around as if it's a party in there while the rest of us are working our butts off to keep this ship functioning." She sighed and leaned in towards Monica to whisper, "It's that Farrell guy. I've heard things about him - that he had some trouble way back with Starfleet Command. I bet you he's behind that department's decline."

"I believe you," Monica whispered back. "I've heard he projects this very amiable front, but he's really quite devious. Something has to be done. There's this paranoia, and they're only making it worse. I've also heard he's trying to put together this little shadow command that operates outside of the real command structure. And...and I heard someone say something about...about mutiny."

"In the Gamma Quadrant?" Niko hissed. "He's got those poor fools brainwashed down there. Isn't someone going to do something about him?"

"They have to catch him, and in order to catch him they need proof he's doing something. But, he's got them all so tightly wrapped around his finger, they all think he's their best friend. Personally, I think they're all just backs he needs to step on to achieve his goals. They're also really careful about who they talk to about those sorts of things." She grinned. "Well, except for Jeff."

Niko snickered and playfully cuffed her friend on the arm. "Pillow talk, hm? What's he been saying?"

"Just stuff like 'Mason's keeping his options open' and 'What if their next mistake is even bigger?' " She shook her head. "They're all going to get into so much trouble with this. Especially since they don't have the people to support them. They talk like they're the majority, but most of the people I talk to are a little scared or worried, but they trust the senior staff enough to see us through this. It was rough, but they saw us through this last crisis."

"We're a team," Niko said. "We have to trust them and they have to trust us. If there are officers like the Ops gang sowing dissent...we might never make it home."

"I don't think they care as long as they make it home," Monica said. "Like Jeff says, 'Ops takes care of its own.' I could have punched him. I bit him instead and then I showed him how science takes care of things. But still, it's dangerous. If there's trouble, it's going to be because they caused it."

Niko frowned into her drink as she tried to stave off an uneasy shiver. "I guess we have to rely on the senior staff to figure all this out and put an end to it. You think they will?"

"I hope they do," Monica said. "I just hope that I can convince Jeff to step away from it before he gets into trouble. Starfleet really doesn't look kindly on those who try to incite a mutiny. I wouldn't want to be standing too close to Farrell when this thing blows up."

"Maybe Jeff can protect you when the shrapnel flies," Niko teased, smiling suggestively.

Monica grinned, then laughed. "I'm going to do my best to pull him away from this plot, and if I can't I'll do what I can to provide him with a solid alibi. 'No, Captain, he couldn't have been involved in that. He was busy rerouting my ODN nodes.' Oh, if only I could convince Matt to reroute my nodes."

Niko hastily shushed her, though she only managed to snicker. "You're horrible. Besides, he's helplessly in love with the CSO, remember?"

"A girl can dream," Monica said. "And, I know it'll probably never happen. But I'm happy how things are working out with Jeff. He really is a sweet guy, especially once he starts thinking for himself."

"Well, hopefully you can reverse the brainwashing." Niko grinned. "Though, I know you'll find a way...."

"Oh, and I'll have another chance tonight," Monica said with a grin. "We're going to be spending some time on the holodeck together. I'm a little afraid since I told him he could choose the program. But, it'll give me a chance to do some of my own brainwashing."

Niko giggled. "Brainwashing that will suddenly make him a one-woman man?"

"The day that happens is the day Matt notices me and asks me on a date. No, Jeff is still a slut. The other night he was actually telling me how much he wants to end up alone with Taylor Bennett. A few days before that we passed Lt. Druschev in the corridors, and he had a few lusty things to say about her. But if I'm the only one he sleeps with who's encouraging him to help the morale problem instead of hindering it, I think I have a shot. If Farrell sends Mercedes to Davies' bed to bring him back to their cause, I'm sunk."

"Well, if you ever need my help..." Niko grinned and winked at her friend.

Monica laughed. "With your help, I don't think he'd have a chance."

"Then comm me if you need me," her friend advised with a detectable note of sincerity. "But" --she sighed and pushed back her chair-- "gotta run. I have to reconfigure my workstation...again! Seems the ship isn't quite back to its old, error-free self yet."

"Well, depending on what sort of mood Casanova's in later," Monica said, "I'll give you a comm. I'll see you later, Niko. Good luck with your station. And, now I need to go get myself prettied up for my boy, Romeo."

Waving and smiling scandalously at her friend, Niko sashayed off out of the lounge.

As Monica gathered up her plate and raktajino mug, she looked up in time to see Firece walk through the entry of the lounge. His expression was more confused than usual, but he moved toward the replicator and started ordering a meal. Monica wandered over to him and offered a greeting as she waited for the replicator to be free so she could recycle the plate.

"It's kind of quiet in here," she said. "Most people are in the other lounge. So it's a great place if you want some peace and quiet, or to get away from the bustle."

"I hate bustle," Firece confided. "Those Ops officers get pretty rowdy, especially when they're together. I thought this lounge would be a safer bet." He turned away to input his order, then smiled awkwardly at Monica as he awaited it.

"That's why I'm here too," Monica said. "By the way they talk, you'd think they were in charge here. We just needed to get away. Me and Niko, that is. She had to get to work though. But, you should be safe in here from their doomsaying."

Firece took his tray from the replicator and turned, nearly colliding with Monica. He apologized with a bashful smile. "Well...I think I'll be coming here from now on, or just until the superfriends disband."

Monica laughed. "That's a great name for them," she said. "That was some sort of entertainment event from the past, right? A roommate in the academy had an obsession with the latter half of the Twentieth." She stepped out of his way to allow him to get to a table. "It's a very nice place here, and no superfriends."

Firece grinned. "And we're not forced to listen to their offensive gossip. I prefer to fill my head with security facts, not rumours."

"I just wish they'd get over themselves," Monica said. "Or at least stop acting like such elitist pigs."

He seemed shocked by her frankness, but in the same moment, he was amused and grinning. "Say...you wouldn't have time to sit for a drink, would you?"

"Sure, I should get ready for a holodeck outing later, but I still have time," she said. "I'm Monica, by the way. Monica Gainsborough. Science."

"Firece," he replied, and removed one hand from its hold in offering. The tray listed as it unbalanced, food sliding downwards to the inclining edge and Firece scrambled to save his lunch from falling. He managed to rescue all but his egg salad, which upended onto the floor with a wet splat. Blushing, he smiled at Monica. "A pleasure, Monica Gainsborough."

"A pleasure, Firece," Monica said. "Let me help you with that. Then, you can put your tray on the table, and we can shake hands properly."

He nodded readily and dropped to his knees with Monica, narrowly avoiding another mishap that involved his head colliding with Monica's as they both leaned forward. Instead, Firece hobbled backwards on his knees to increase the distance between them. Chuckling weakly, he again apologized. "I'm a klutz," he joked, "but I really am good with a phaser."

"Well, that's a good skill," Monica said with a laugh. "Especially as a security officer. You go put your food on a table, and I'll get this cleared up. Then, I'll join you at the table. How's that sound?"

"Oh...uh..." Firece grinned and scrambled to his feet. "I'll get you a drink in the meantime...or something."

"A raktajino please," she said as she started piling the spilled egg salad. It didn't take long to get it cleared up, and by the time she did, Firece was at a table with his food and her drink. "All better," she added as she slipped into the seat across from him.

He slid her the jino, even avoiding a spill, and smiled. "Thanks. I don't usually do that."

"Thanks," Monica said as she took a sip from the drink. "At least it was the egg salad and not that other thing there." She pointed to a bowl of...something. "That looks like it would have left a pretty colourful stain."

"Yeah...I can never pronounce the name right, but it's real good." He looked down into the stew, then again at Monica questioningly. "Want to try?"

"Sure," Monica said. "You never learn anything new if you're not willing to try anything new."

"Words to live by," came a voice near the door. The body the voice belonged to swaggered into the room, looked around, and then started toward the table. "Hey Firece, good to see you." He glanced at Monica and then back to Firece. "Very nice."

"Hey, Finn," Firece greeted. "You got driven out of the lounge too?"

Finn shook his head. "Operations. You would think after four years of Starfleet, they would stop behaving like spoiled children and just do their jobs."

"Well...they do," Firece said hesitantly, "but they just do it...differently than the rest of us might."

"They do things their own way, not the Starfleet way. And, it's going to get them in trouble." He glanced at Firece's plate. "You gonna eat that?"

He looked between Finn and Monica, resting his eyes on her. "I was," he insisted. "But" --he raised a spoonful towards Monica-- "ladies first."

"Oh, thank you," Monica said. She leaned forward across the table and took a bite from the spoon. She pulled back and savoured the taste and nodded. "Oh, that's very good. I wouldn't have thought they could do that with replicated."

Firece's eyes were wide and unmoving. That was the first time he'd ever spoon-fed another, especially a woman, and it was baffling. Awkwardly, he pulled back the cleaned utensil, while a smile stretched his lips. "Another?" he asked eagerly.

"Maybe another time," Monica said with a smile. "I just had something, so I'm pretty full. But that is very tasty. Thank you, Firece."

He nodded with slight disappointment, then lowered his head and focused on his stew.

"Hey," Monica said and reached across to touch his arm. "I did say another time, and I meant it." She gave him a warm smile.

Firece's face illuminated and with a grin he began shovelling up his stew happily.

Finn laughed. "Well, I guess I'll have to get my own," he said. "Be right back."

As she slipped away from the table, Monica leaned over toward Firece. "I think I'm glad Ops can be arrogant children. It was really nice meeting you."

"You too," he mumbled, gulped down his mouthful of stew, and repeated, "It was nice meeting you, too, M-Monica." He grinned and watched dreamily as she swayed out of the lounge.

Finn returned to the table with a full tray of food and sat next to Firece. As he started into the meal, he glanced at Firece and grinned. "I think she likes you. Way to go, Tiger."

He frowned slightly at the strange reference, but his smile held firm. "At our wedding, I'll invite the entire Ops department as guests of honour," he quipped.

Finn laughed. "Sounds like a plan," he said. "Now, eat up, I think you'll need your strength to keep up with that one."

Firece raised a questioning eyebrow, but shrugged it off and continued eating. Somehow, thinking of Monica, the stew tasted far more delectable that day.

---

"Cruisin' "
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Lieutenant j.g. Nathalie Gui; Security Officer
Ensign Sanat Vijay; Flight Control Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Holodeck 4
Stardate 57908.25 01h01

***

The wind whipped through the open compartment of the big convertible as the road wound out ahead of them. Mason, his left arm stretched out, cupped his hand like a wing against the rushing air. Ainsley bobbed her head slightly and tapped her hand on the top of her door. Sanat beat the air as though playing a set of drums while occasionally tapping his seat for emphasis. He eventually leaned back to let the music flow and catch a glimpse of his date. She seemed to be enjoying herself as the scenery flew by at a brisk 90 Kph. Nat played air guitar to accompany the swirling melody that filled the car to accompany the singer.

"Everytime I try to talk to you / I get tongue-tied / Turns out that everything I say to you / Comes out wrong and never comes out right

So I'll say why don't you and I get together / and take on the world and be together forever / Heads we will and tails we'll try again / So I say why don't you and I hold each other / and fly to the moon and straight on to heaven / 'Cause without you they're never gonna let me in."

The Oldsmobile rolled on, all curves and rounded corners, rich paint and gleaming chrome.

Sanat enjoyed himself as Mason's big yellow car rumbled down the sparsely traveled superhighway. Leaning forward during a break in the music, Sanat asked Mason, "You say there used to be roads like this all over Texas?"

"There still are, my man," Farrell called back. "There still are."

"Ah." He hadn't thought about that little minor detail...what sense would there be in removing them? Still, outside of his tenure at the Academy in New South Wales, Vijay had spent very little time on or near the home of his father.

The half Vulcan sat back and managed to grab another glance of Nat as they sped down the interstate highway. On one hand he was glad they had come to a truce of sorts, on the other, Sanat was nervous. Why? Maybe they could even come to like each other, perhaps even love each other, but their predilection for fighting was a hurdle that surely would have be overcome before anything remotely close to that was possible.

Nathalie leaned back in her seat, clearly enjoying the ride. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, to keep it out of her eyes, yet wore no sunglasses. She had glanced over in his direction briefly as Sanat chatted with Mason for a moment discussing the road. She was glad that for the moment the two of them finally formed a truce...to some degree, she wasn't sure why she always seemed to manage to get into a verbal sparring match with Sanat. The most she hoped to get out of this was to at least possibly form a friendship. Or was there more to it than that that she wanted?

Ainsley looked over and smiled at Mason, she was enjoying herself. She hadn't been on a double date in years; it was an excellent idea. She had a scarf around her head to keep her blonde hair from whipping around in the wind and had gotten the replicator to supply her with some dark sunglasses, wide ovals as opposed to the wraparounds Mason wore beneath his chocolate-colored cowboy hat.

An armadillo crossed the road just ahead of the massive '39, and turned to watch as the car disappeared over a hill, its vanity plate, 'YLOROSE', last to vanish.

***

"Alright, everyone. Time to eat," Farrell said with great relish as he turned the car off and climbed out to stretch. Before them lay a spread of kings. A pair of mocha-skinned, waitstaff-dressed Latin men stood at either end of a long table.

"Buenos Dias, senores y senoritas," the one closer to them said, stretching out an arm to offer chairs. The other fired up his grill.

"Admiral, what perchance is on this establishment's fine menu?"

"All the best," Farrell grinned. "Carne asada, fajitas, enchiladas, arroz con pollo, the ever-ready beans and rice. And all the fixings. Try the guacamole," he said, holding out a chair for Ainsley. "It's taken years getting it right for replication."

Ainsley sat in the chair that Mason offered and smiled up at him. She felt him run his finger along her upper right arm, that was bare as she was wearing a sleeveless blouse, then he took the seat across from her. She felt her arm tingling slightly where he had touched her; she rubbed her hand over the area of her arm and wondered at that for a minute.

"Excellent." Vijay emulated Farrell's smooth move for Nathalie, although not so smoothly or with an air of causal confidence that Mason was displaying. The chair tipped a little before Sanat managed to get it properly placed for Gui to sit in.

Nat smiled albeit shyly at Sanat as she took the offered seat. She was in no way telepathic but her linguist skills told her Sanat appeared just as nervous as she. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he managed before seating himself across from Nat. With a smile Sanat motioned to the waiter. "I think I'll try a beef fajita to begin with." After the holographic waiter moved to Ainsley, Vijay leaned forward and asked Gui, "What are you going to have?"

"The Mixiotes de Conejo. It's a type of spiced, fried rabbit meat wrapped in steamed maguey leaves. Little spicy but good provided you don't burn your taste buds in the process," Nat replied.

"Ah. Sounds tantalizing...what is a...rabbit? A Terran lizard?" His facial muscles had given way to a slight look of confusion as Sanat pondered what a rabbit could possibly be.

Nat laughed before answering Sanat's question. "A rabbit is a small furry creature with long ears, big feet, and a tail like a big cottonball."

"And it tastes like chicken," Mason added with a grin.

"Ah," Sanat replied. "Well, I suppose I'll try some, too, then." He smiled, hoping it was nonchalant and casual.

Orders were placed to the holoservants, and food was served; a massive banquet of food in a style Mason described alternately as "tex-mex" and "southwestern". As they began to eat, the conversation started to separate a bit, as the couples discussed their recent experiences and considerations of what was to come.

"So then I said, 'Smith, you're going to make me say something I promised myself I'd never say,' and he said--" Mason was cut off by a wad of refried beans that hit him in the temple. He frowned, and looked like he was about to curse, reaching up to wipe it away, when the volume from Sanat and Nat exploded.

"Fine! Throw food. You're such a child," Sanat was saying, the words biting and harsh, even as he wiped salsa from his chin and pitched a forkful of guacamole at Nat for emphasis.

Nat blocked the glob with her napkin, threw it down on the table and stared coldly at Sanat. "Please! If I had wanted to hit you so badly I'd have used my fist, or perhaps you'd rather I'd use a fork!" she added sarcastically.

Sanat threw his own napkin at Nathalie, and rose from the table. "Computer, arch!" he barked.

"Sanat, hey," Mason was saying even as the arch appeared. But the half-vulcan was already storming off the deck.

"What in the world?" Mason asked, looking from Nat to Ainsley and back.

Nathalie watched as Sanat stormed out of the Holodeck. She rose from her seat as she looked back to Ainsley and then to Mason. "I'm sorry, but it seems a certain pointy eared pain in my ass has yet to grasp when and when not to show his more charming aspects of being an arrogant ass, truce or no truce." The words Nathalie spoke were like acid dripping from her tongue, anger and frustration evident in her voice. Pushing the chair back to the table she turned and stalked out after summoning forth the arch once again, leaving the stunned Mason and Ainsley at the table.

---

"Down By the Riverside"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers; Counselor
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Holodeck 4
Stardate: 57908.25 01h58

***

Nathalie watched as Sanat stormed out of the Holodeck. She rose from her seat as she looked back to Ainsley and then to Mason. "I'm sorry, but it seems a certain pointy eared pain in my ass has yet to grasp when and when not to show his more charming aspects of being an arrogant ass, truce or no truce." The words Nathalie spoke were like acid dripping from her tongue, anger and frustration evident in her voice. Pushing the chair back to the table she turned and stalked out after summoning forth the arch once again, leaving the stunned Mason and Ainsley at the table.

They watched them leave the deck, and then looked back at each other.

"I--" Mason said, making a vague gesture instead of finishing the sentence.

Ainsley looked back at where the arch had just vanished. "Somebody has issues," she commented and then looked back at Mason. "Well, this was a good idea at least," she finished with a shrug.

"Well, either way," Mason said, getting the last of the beans off his face. "I think I've eaten enough. You?"

"Yeah, I think so," she replied, looking down at her half empty plate.

"Want to take a walk? There's a nice little creek just over there," he pointed.

She looked the way he was pointing and then nodded.

They got to their feet and walked down towards the creek in silence. It wound through the countryside, sparkling in the sunlight. A fish broke the surface, leaping for an insect, and gently splashed back. The scenery was beautiful, the air was fresh and words just didn't seem necessary for the moment.

"Tell me something," Mason asked after a bit, his hands in his back pockets, walking slowly alongside Ainsley.

"What's that?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to look up at him.

"Tell me about the first time you fell in love."

Ainsley remained silent for a moment, thinking about Mason's request. It had been a long time since she had thought about the first boy she'd ever loved. "The first guy I ever fell in love with was Mario. We had a mutual friend named Anthony and that's how we met. When I was in the 9th grade I was completely obsessed with Tony. He was quite a bit older than me, in the 12th grade actually. I thought he was perfect; I dropped everything to be with him. I lost some good friends because I stopped hanging around with them so that I could be with Tony. He was nice for awhile, until one day I got a little jealous of his attentions to another girl and told him so. After that he turned into an ass." She sighed then. "I was so mad at myself for being jealous, told myself that if I had just kept it to myself then nothing would have changed and he would still like me. That's when Mario came along." She smiled and paused then, thinking back to Mario.

"I was still hanging around with Tony and his buddies, which included Mario. I was trying to make Tony like me again. I think he thrived on the attention that I gave him; he was never really mean to me if other people were around but if we were ever alone together he either ignored me or insulted me. Mario knew how he was treating me and didn't like it at all, so he treated me the way I deserved to be treated: kindly and with respect. We became fast friends and then it didn't take long for him to make me see that I didn't have to be putting up with Tony. I say now that that was my first love because it was slow in developing, it wasn't the same as the obsessions that I had felt before. We had about two months together, and then he went to university on Mars. He told me before he left that he loved me but that he was too old for me, at least at that point in our lives, that I still had my whole highschool life ahead of me and that I was going to find someone perfect for me at some point. He told me to look him up when I got to university if I still wanted him." She smiled sadly then. "Unfortunately he was killed in a shuttle accident before I graduated from highschool, 'cause I probably would have looked him up." She looked at Mason, hoping her words hadn't sounded as disjointed as they'd felt when she was saying them.

"That was my first love."

"Sounds like a good guy," Mason said thoughtfully. "Sorry you lost him."

"Thanks," she responded with a smile. "It was a long time ago now and I like to think of the guy I knew in school instead of thinking of him as being dead." She shrugged and changed the topic. "Now it's your turn."

"Ah yes," Mason smiled. "Quid pro quo." He took a minute to think. "There was this woman who asked me on a date, which was intriguing by itself, since I'm usually the one who initiates things. We went to the beach and swam for a while, and talked all night. We watched the sun rise, and she was," he took a deep breath and shook his head, appreciating the memory, "she was so beautiful in the dawn light.

"I'll admit," he continued, "I was more than a little afraid of how I felt. Looking back, a part of me still is. It took me a while to figure it out. But every time I held her, I just," he paused again, smiling, "felt complete. She made me care. She made me want to be a better man." He closed his eyes and smiled. "She had the prettiest name."

Ainsley forced herself to smile, feeling a tinge of jealousy at the woman that he was describing so lovingly. "What was her name?" She asked.

"Leonora," he answered tenderly, watching Ainsley closely.

"Oh," Ainsley answered, not cluing in for a moment. "Oh!" She said again after a moment, looking at Mason questioningly.

Mason smiled. "I've been thinking for a while now about this. I actually came up with a great little speech about how amazing you are, but the last time I tried that kind of thing you stopped me before I could finish. I mean, I didn't mind the way you stopped me, but I never did finish that speech, so I figured I wouldn't even--"

"Mason!" she said, putting her hand on his arm, stopping their slow walk and turning him to face her.

"What?"

"What exactly are you trying to say to me?" she asked. "Just tell me."

"I love you."

The words hung in the air between them. Mason swallowed hard and watched her.

She just stood looking at him. She told herself that this wasn't really a shock. She'd been feeling it herself for a while now. She'd thought she'd heard him almost say it a couple times, but she'd just told herself that she was hearing what she thought she wanted to hear. Suddenly she realized that she wasn't breathing and took a deep breath.

"That was a little simpler than I'd planned," Mason said with a quirk of a smile, "but there it is. I love you, Ainsley."

"Wow," she breathed, and ran her hand up his arm. "I love you too, Mason." She mirrored his smile and shook her head slightly. "I mean, I think I have for a while now, it's been on my mind constantly."

He swept her into an embrace then, and they clung tightly to each other. "Promise me something," he whispered.

"Anything," she responded softly with a nod.

"Promise me you won't ever doubt it."

Ainsley lifted her foot slightly and looked down at the silver ribbon around her ankle. "This will remind me."

"I love you," he said, holding her close.

"I love you too," she responded and nuzzled against his neck.

---

"Friendly Visit"
by M'lira
and Kremer

Location: Sickbay, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.25 10h40

***

M'lira was very thankful they'd allow her to replicate her own clothing. She'd seen what they'd given Commander Lyrr, and was happy the same hadn't been given to her. She'd need to visit with the commander when Lyrr was taking visitors again. Her tail swished lightly as she padded down the row of doors until she'd found the one she sought. With a smile, she tapped lightly at the frame, claws gently scraping the surface.

"Come!" Kremer called out. Sitting up straight in his biobed he looked to see who he called in, half expecting it to be one of the nurses. He virtually leapt from it as he realized it was M'lira. He embraced her in a hug, tail wrapping around her waist. He purred happily before pulling back. "It's so good to see you again, and back on your paws no less. How are you? How do you feel?" he asked, pulling back, tail wavering happily at the sight of his Caitian friend.

"It feels wonderful to be able to walk," M'lira said. "I was lying in one place for so long, I didn't know if I would be able to again." Her tail swayed in a contented rhythm. "You are looking well, Kremer." She sat beside his bed, a smile in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Kremer sat back down on his bed, and smiled to M'lira. "Absolutely purrfect. I'm happy to be able to speak again without having to overexert myself just to choke out a single word. I heard Ensign Lektar was forced to use a PADD to communicate since she herself had lost her voice for quite some time..."

"I heard that as well," M'lira said. "The last several days are a blur of groggy wakefulness and bad dreams. I am very grateful it is now past."

"As am I." Wagging his ears mischievously the male Cait asked, "So would you feel up to getting some real food after we're free to leave Sickbay? You know what they say about how this hospital food gets to you."

"I would be delighted," M'lira said with a genuine smile. "Both to leave this place and to get food, real food. I have heard that Mr. Sikara is adept at a variety of cuisines. Perhaps we can see how well he can manage Caitian dishes."

"I don't see why not, perhaps this will give him a true test of his culinary skills! So given your medical expertise, any idea when we will get out of here benevolent, Asst. CMO?" he asked, a slight grin on his furred features.

"If it were up to me," M'lira said, her expression turning thoughtful, "I would say later today. They'll want to do some more tests, just to make certain. But, I anticipate we will be having that meal this evening."

Kremer nodded, understanding the information as well being from the same department. "So see you later tonight then in the Lounge?"

"In the lounge tonight," M'lira said with a nod of her head. She gave him a smile. "I am looking forward to it."

"As am I. Well I better get some rest, I'm certain the nurses will be coming to see me any minute to continue on with my treatment. Thank you for stopping to visit, M'lira."

"It was my pleasure, Kremer. I shall see you again soon." And, with that, she slipped out of his room and back toward her own.

---

"Planning Amends"
By: Lieutenant j.g. Mel'Chir
Ensign Rax
Ensign Reese

Location: Main Lounge, USS Sulu
Stardate 57908.25, 12h20

***

Tchalla nuzzled against Kelzira, her nose brushing against the line of Kelli's jaw while her lips brushed against her throat. One antenna brushed through Kelli's hair. They were in the lounge, and the public location didn't seem to bother Tchi, not after the near experience of just a couple days ago. Kelli wasn't sure if Tchi would ever stop touching...not that she minded at all.

Kelzira giggled. "She's been like this ever since they released her from sickbay," she explained to Amy, who had joined them for lunch. "You'd think she was happy to see me."

"I am happy to see you," Tchi said with a musical giggle. "There was a while when I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to again."

"So, Amy, how are things with you? Has life in Sickbay settled down any since the crisis, or are things getting back to normal?"

Amy sighed dramatically. "Tremendously! I can finally go a day without being stuck on two and a half shifts. How about science? Glad that Tagliesh is back?"

"We're busy, and she hasn't had much of a chance to yell at me. I don't know if she seems nicer or not, but she doesn't seem as grouchy as she used to be. Well, most of the time. She almost smiled at me this morning."

"Maybe she's starting to like you as much as she likes Tchi," Amy reasoned.

"Maybe," Kelli mused.

"I don't see how she couldn't like her," Tchalla said. "I think she just wanted someone to be upset with before. And, Kel was convenient. I think Chan is her new project, so she can like Kelli."

Amy giggled and raised her glass of water in salute. "To Chan!" she announced, and tapped glasses with Tchi and Kelli. The three girls laughed in unison, Amy sputtering as she tossed back a mouthful of the cool liquid.

"So, how is life with Dr. Sefton now?" Tchalla asked after they'd finished their toast. "I know you had had a few trouble spots with her. Is it better now?"

"Well...as long as I keep the gossip out of sickbay she leaves me alone." Amy smiled wanly. "So does everyone else. I just...see to the patients, keep everything strictly professional, and go home at the end of the day." She shrugged and lowered her gaze to her fork pushing the salad around in her plate. "Who says you have to be friends with your coworkers anyway?"

"That doesn't sound very nice," Kelli said. "Maybe you should convince Kit to switch to medical, and then you can work together. Like me and Tchi."

Amy chuckled weakly. "Oh...I don't think he'd want to do that at all. I imagine the less he sees of me, the better."

"What do you mean?" Tchalla said. "I'm sure he'd love to see you all day. Are you...are you having a problem, Amy? You and Kit?"

"When aren't we?" she muttered. "Ever since the accident he's been all...weird and distant. Sometimes, he doesn't even come to bed." Amy sighed and set down her fork, rejecting her meal. "I don't know what to do."

"What can we do to help?" Tchalla asked, leaning forward.

"Yes," Kelzira added, "whatever you need from us, we'll help."

Amy chuckled wryly. "Can you make him trust me again?" she asked rhetorically. "Can you take away his paranoia? If so...I'd really like to see you try."

Kelzira sighed. "I don't know how to do that," she said. "What are you doing to try to though?"

"We're going to see a counsellor," Amy told them. "But...there's so much going on with him, that I'm afraid it's going to take forever to get him back."

"You have to be as supportive of him as you want him to be for you," Kelzira said. "And...you have to make sure he knows you're the only one."

"How can I when he thinks everyone I look at is some new lover?" Amy exclaimed. "It's not fair to me...and to him! Can't he see that?"

Kelzira chewed her lip for a moment, then frowned. "What have you done to convince him that there are no other lovers, just him? And, what's happened to make him think there are others?"

"The words of another," she answered. "He believed what someone else saw to what I told him. He was ready to fault me before he even listened to what I had to say!"

"Well, maybe we need another double date so we can make sure that he does listen. Me and Tchi can sit on his back while you explain it to him." She sighed and took Amy's hand. "You love him, right? You want to be with him forever? You don't want to lose him?"

"Yes," Amy replied, "and yes, and no." She smiled. "Help me not lose him?"

"You can count on us," Tchalla said with a big smile. "We'll make sure he's with you and loves you and knows there's no one else but him. We have to have a double date, and we'll prove it to him. Or, help you prove it to him."

"Then a double date it is," Amy declared, then giggled and reached across the table with both hands. Her friends clasped one each with their own. "Thanks, girls. Screw-ups need all the help they can get, right?"

"Yes they do," Kelli said with a laugh.

"But don't worry," Tchi added. "We'll set him straight before he can screw up again."

Amy snickered and squeezed their hands. At least it was clear she had some friends remaining. "We'll go tomorrow night, okay? The sooner the better."

"Tomorrow," Kelli said. "And, it'll be great, you'll see. And, you'll get to see Tchi in her new dress."

Tchalla quickly shook her head. "No," she whispered.

"Why not, Tchi?" Amy asked gently. "What's wrong?"

Kelli giggled. "She thinks it's too sexy to wear," she said. "If she wears it, you'll be seeing a lot of blue leg."

"There's nothing there," Tchi said, blushing. "Sure it's decent and covers everything, but barely. It'd be...I'd feel..."

"You'd have me squirming all night, you little vi'shan."

Tchalla giggled. "I would?"

Kelli nodded. "And, I think you'll look amazing."

Tchi's antennae perked up. "I will?"

Amy grinned and chimed in, "You will."

Tchalla blushed again. "I will."

"Great!" Amy sighed and slid out of her seat as she said, "Time to get back. You'll comm me later to hammer out the details?"

"Of course," Kelli said. "Maybe we can come by tonight if you guys aren't busy. We can make the plans and get everything ready. But, you don't get to see Tchi in her new dress until the date."

Amy snapped her fingers in playful dejection, then giggled and frolicked away. "See you later, my lovelies!"

Tchi snuggled back up to Kelzira as they waved to the departing Amy. "Do you think we can?"

Kelli smiled. "If we can't, then it can't be done."

---

"Love Bites"
By: Lt. Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief Of Security
Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer

Location: Lektar's quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.25, 16h00

***

Benedict finished Alpha shift and tapped his commbadge as he entered the turbo lift on the Bridge. Tayla was still in Salinger's Ready Room and he expected her to be there for a little while. It was crew readiness report time, and after-action reports were heavy after the latest episode on JJ324c. "T'Kal to Ensign Lektar."

Shirik was working on her PADD, sitting up in bed, when she jumped in startlement. Getting commed always startled her when she was off-duty, especially when she was concentrating especially deeply on what she was doing. The voice brought an immediate smile to her lips. "Lektar here," she responded.

"Are you free?" he asked. "I need to talk to you." Just saying that was difficult. He'd been busy all day, and this was something that could not be discussed while duty called. He remembered what she had said to him the day after their dinner the first time. That he'd waited until she was on duty to tell her so that she couldn't make a scene. It wasn't going to be that way.

The way he said it made her smile fade. She wondered what this was about, it didn't sound like an invitation for some recreation time. She wondered if it was work-related. "Sure..." she said a bit uncertainly. "I'm in my quarters... Raina's not here, if you want to stop by."

"That's good," he replied curtly. "Be there soon." He ended the commlink and continued the ride, telling the computer to go to the correct deck for Shirik's quarters. It only took a few minutes, and he strode there like a man on a mission.

Definitely bad news, Shirik concluded. She decided to refocus on her work once more and compose herself, getting ready to absorb whatever it was that was coming.

He'd been considering this all day. The more he examined his feelings and friendship with Shirik, the more it became clear that to pursue it would be a mistake. There was no denying that they were strongly attracted to each other. But that was a physical thing, and Ben knew that it was just playing with danger. He trusted himself not to compromise Tayla or himself with another woman, but ever since Cathy Page, he'd been wary of women in general, and this friendship was just way too close. He could see it endangering his relationship with Lyrr and he couldn't accept that. She was going through a crisis of trust, and he wasn't going to give Tayla any reason to believe that his love for her had a doubt.

It had been the look in Tayla's eyes in the mirror, and her broken voice as she asked him if he could love Shirik. The truth was that he could. Yes, in many ways she was like his first wife Alayessa T'Kal. He was attracted to strength, to a woman who knew herself and what she wanted. He was drawn to women who presented themselves in a way that clearly showed strength. He couldn't help it. Tayla had drawn him to her in that way - and now that he knew her, they shared so much in common, so much of the same things - but she had a vulnerability that also brought out the strong protective instincts within him. He couldn't throw it away on a friendship that Tayla would always worry over. She would doubt, and that doubt would grow into a cancer that would eat at her until it became a reality whether that was true or not. Benedict T'Kal could not justify that. He couldn't let her think that he might be drawn to another woman - no matter how he felt about Shirik Lektar - and mostly because he did feel something for her.

He had to end it. There were no options. Until Lyrr grew confident in his feelings for her, he just wasn't prepared to call them into question. He couldn't do that to her. She was going to be his wife. Nothing could damage that. He had been going over the first dinner he'd had with Shirik; over and over, he'd examined it and he had come to the realization that if she had taken the initiative that night, if she had stepped into his arms and kissed him, he would have been on a very different course today. Without doubt he knew that she had had him that night. It had been too early to really know how he felt about Lyrr, and nothing had been set in ferrocrete then. He would have been in her bed. It wasn't even a question in his mind. It would have happened. He couldn't afford to have those thoughts circulating in his head any longer. The kiss that wasn't and would never be, could never be!

He pressed her chime and waited for the door to open. It did almost immediately and he stepped inside without hesitation. T'Kal stood just inside the door and one pace into her living area.

Shirik looked up from her PADD, studying his face for a moment to decide his mood before speaking. Oh yes, his face looked like a bad news face. "Do you want to sit down?" she asked.

She was sitting on her bunk and he gave her a wan smile as he nodded. He made his way to the sofa and she rose from the bed to join him, leaving her PADD behind. On her wrist was the glitter of the bracelet Sorg had given her the evening before.

Benedict sat and leaned forward, hands clasped before him and he turned his violet eyes upon hers. "I wanted to tell you in person," he said, an anxious smile playing about his lips. He was truly excited about his engagement to Tayla, but at the same time he knew that she would not take it well. He held her eyes for a moment and decided that coming right out with it was best. "Tayla and I are engaged."

The news was like a punch to her gut. She felt something very heavy settle in the pit of her stomach. For a moment her expression was blank as it sank in, but for her eyes. She blinked as they started to mist over, clamping tight control over her emotions. "I see," she said casually, although there was a slight waver in her voice for a moment. Her tone was quiet and almost subdued as she said, "Congratulations, Ben." She tried to force a smile. She was happy for her friend, that he was happy, but that sense of loss was back, even stronger than before. She folded her hands in her lap.

He saw the look in her eyes. It was what he had expected. He nodded and lost his smile altogether. "Thanks," he said and forced himself to continue. "How's your treatment coming?" he asked softly.

Who the hell cared about treatment now? she thought. "Fine," she said. "I'm getting stronger, hopefully soon I can get rid of this breathing...thing." She indicated the Benzite device attached to her sweater. "I imagine I'll be back on duty in a few days."

He nodded, for the first time noticing that she wore a Bajoran bracelet on her wrist. The right wrist. The complex weave of the twin metals was familiar; it bore the Sorg family sigil in the twisted design. It pleased him that she had a friend like Jurell. He knew that he'd saved her life, and that Sorg was one of his better security officers. Perhaps their relationship would develop. Benedict knew that it wouldn't if he and Shirik remained close. That was the final confirmation of what he had to do - for both their sakes. It was unfair to be a barrier to her relationships with others. She already shared a mate-bond with Saavar, and he was sure that Sorg was besotted with her. To Ben's mind, Shirik had just too many intimate relations. Benedict was monogamous. He always had been, and Shirik was not. Her whole culture looked down upon men. They were treated as slaves or playthings - she had admitted as much to him. How could a Drokari Princess possibly be happy with a single man? He knew that he was a passing fad for her. Her attentions would never last. She would live for the better part of a thousand years - Benedict would be long forgotten. She would lose interest as he grew older and she remained young.

He looked into her eyes and gave her an encouraging smile. She hadn't missed his contemplation of the bracelet on her wrist. "I'm glad," he said about her recovery. He looked away, unable to look her in the eyes. "I can't say that I wish it were different, Shirik. I love Tayla and I wouldn't change that. Not for anything. What we felt...wasn't love. It was just attraction." He looked up at her. "It was something that I would have explored had I not met Lyrr Tayla. But that's no indication that it would have developed into anything else. Maybe it would have. Maybe not." His violet eyes were steady now. "We'll never know."

She couldn't hold his gaze. She looked away as her eyes misted up again, not wanting him to see. "I know," she whispered. It was in that moment that she knew, that she understood why she was feeling like she was, why it hurt so much, why her gut was twisted in knots. She loved him. The realization sent a shiver of fear up her spine. Nothing good could come of it, only more pain. He didn't love her, even without Lyrr Tayla in the picture. She couldn't bring herself to say anything more, didn't trust her voice.

He nodded, looking away again. "I'd better go." It came out a whisper. He stood and looked at her, curled small on the sofa. "I'll see you later."

She only nodded wordlessly. She knew he wouldn't see her again, unless it was duty-related. She'd see to that.

Without another word he nodded and turned to the door. He hesitated a moment, but knew the decision she'd made - that they'd both made. He sighed audibly and then left her sitting there. What else could he do? It was for the best.

She didn't move or make a sound until the door had closed and he was gone. Then she surrendered, sinking down on the sofa curled in a ball and letting the tears fall.

---

"Sting"
By: Ensign Derran Casey; Security Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Rachel Hansen; Engineering Officer
Master Chief Petty Officer Kora Tawno; Ship's Purser, Chief of the Boat
Crewman Second Class Jennifer Hamilton; Operations Crewman

Location: USS Sulu, Operations Office
Stardate: 57908.25 16h00

***

"So Smith says 'no, chief,' and then lets out this 'arrr' right out of a pirate holo. I had no words," Farrell was saying as he and Hamilton walked into the office.

"You had no words?" Hamilton needled.

Tawno rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'd rather not remember, sir."

"I had no words," Farrell repeated. "Chief, how's the day?" he said to Tawno.

"Not bad. We're getting a handle on things, I'd say."

"Excellent. Go get yourself some dinner and have a good night."

"Yes, sir. Good night, sir," she graveled, stumping out of the office as Farrell moved for the desk.

Hamilton sat opposite Farrell and propped her feet up on the desktop.

"What are you doing?"

"I've always wanted to see what this was like," Hamilton quipped.

"Having your feet in the air? I'd have thought you knew what that was like," Farrell grinned.

"You offering?"

They both snickered. "You do have to get to the bridge, don't-- girl, how big are your feet?"

"What?" Hamilton asked, then looked at her feet. "I guess they are kind of big."

"Big, nothing. They're skis," Farrell said, putting his own feet onto the table. "They're as big as mine."

"Oh, come on, sir," Hamilton said, wiggling down in her chair so the sole of her boot met Farrell's. "Your feet are bigger than mine."

"Not by much," he said.

"Hel-lo," said a suave voice as the doors swooshed open. "So," the voice said sardonically as Farrell and Hamilton scrambled back into sitting positions, "this is what Ops does all day."

Farrell stood from his chair with a chuckle. Hamilton stood with him.

"Hey, how big are your feet?" Farrell asked the newcomer.

"Plenty big," the ensign said smoothly, with a look at Hamilton. "You know what they say about a man's feet, don't you?"

Hamilton stopped being embarrassed, and looked sideways at Farrell. Farrell didn't seem to have heard it.

"Hamilton, put your foot out. Tell me if this isn't the biggest foot you've ever seen, mister..." he trailed off, holding out a hand for the man's name.

"Casey," the newcomer answered, the voice all charm, and the teeth all straight. "Derran Casey."

"Well come here, Casey, and put your foot next to Hamilton's."

"Why?" Casey chuckled.

"Because her feet are huge."

"They are not huge, sir," Hamilton said flatly.

"They can't be bigger than mine," Casey said.

"Well, put it out, then," Farrell encouraged. Hamilton sighed and put one foot forward.

"This is silly," Casey said, putting his foot next to Hamilton's. "Mine are gargantuan. As are other parts of me," he snickered, mimicking losing his balance and caressing Hamilton's arm to stay upright. "Want to see?" he murmured to the woman.

"See what?" Farrell said, intent on the feet. "Your slightly smaller than huge feet?"

Both Casey and Hamilton looked down. Hamilton's feet were ever so slightly larger than Casey's.

"Damn," all three said in impressed unison. Casey tried to shuffle his foot around, making sure it was lined up properly.

"Well, hey," Farrell said. "Can't win 'em all, right?" He clapped Casey on the shoulder. "So what can we do for you, Mister Casey?"

Casey still seemed to be trying to shake off the fact that his feet weren't as big as Hamilton's. To his credit, he recovered quickly, his debonair smile back in place.

"I just wanted to report an error in my replicator," he said smoothly, studiously not looking at Hamilton.

"Sirs, I need to be getting to the bridge. If you'll excuse me," Hamilton said.

"Certainly, Crewman. Dismissed," Casey interrupted Farrell, who simply closed his mouth and nodded. Hamilton left.

"I really need to be able to dismiss my own people, Casey," Farrell said with obvious humor. He indicated the seat opposite the desk, and turned to retake his own.

"Having trouble with command?" Casey said sardonically to Farrell's back.

"You have no idea," Farrell grinned as he sat.

"You ought to do what I do," Casey said, sitting now.

"What's that?"

"Arm wrestle them into submission. Let them know who's boss. People respond to that."

"Oh yeah?" Farrell said, his tone unreadable.

"For certain," Casey said, putting his elbow on the table, fist forward, the Red Squad signet ring prominent. "I'll show you," he said, lifting his hand into the eons-old position.

"Show me what?" Farrell looked at the hand.

"Show you how to arm wrestle. You do arm-wrestle, don't you, Farrell?"

"Not on the first date, usually," Farrell said, wagging his eyebrows and slapping his hand into Casey's even as the other's face froze. "But I guess if you insist."

Casey reddened slightly, and Farrell slammed their hands onto the table.

"What the hell was that?" Casey said, letting go and rubbing his arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you said go."

"I didn't say anything!" Casey bellowed.

"My fault, then," Farrell said, his hands up in surrender. "What were you needing, then?"

Casey slammed his elbow back onto the desktop in fury. "Play it fair, you little pissant."

Farrell looked at him sideways. "You're upset."

"Damn right I'm upset!" Casey menaced. "I came in here honestly and you've done nothing but live up to your reputation."

"My reputation?" Farrell said with a half chuckle.

His laughter only reddened Casey further. "Yes. Your reputation as a sneak and a liar. Unworthy of the uniform."

Farrell sat for a moment, and then put his elbow on the table. Casey grabbed it, and applied immediate pressure. Farrell had anticipated that, but Casey was still far stronger. Neither said a word as Farrell's fist hit the tabletop.

"That's how it's done," Casey said, his ego apparently assuaged.

"I guess so," Farrell said lamely, trying to work his arm without making it obvious. Casey appeared pleased at Farrell's apparent discomfort.

"Now then," Casey said, "I have a replicator problem."

"Uh huh. How so?"

"It makes awful juice."

Farrell sat a moment. "Is it acidic? Frozen? Boiling?"

"No, it just tastes bad. I mean, don't get me wrong," Casey smiled his pearly smile and casually flipped a strand of hair back into place, "I wouldn't come in here just to complain."

"No," Farrell said affably.

Casey ignored him. "I was concerned the computer may be experiencing some kind of glitch that makes it create juice that tastes like bile."

"Right," Farrell nodded.

"So I was thinking you could send someone out to take a look."

"I'll put you on the list," Farrell volunteered.

Casey smiled. "You and I both know that's not good enough."

"Come again?"

Casey chuckled. "That's what she said. But seriously, I need to be at the front of your 'list'."

Farrell looked perplexed. He thought for several moments before simply asking, "Why?"

"Well," Casey said, slowly, as though explaining to a small child. "Because Caseys don't wait in line, you see."

"Oh," Farrell said, appearing to soak that in. "I see."

"Yes, I'm sure you do."

"Right," Farrell said. "I'll certainly move you right to the front."

"Good man," Casey said, rising. "Well," he corrected himself, "good, anyway."

Farrell looked down, and Casey turned for the door.

"Wait," Farrell said. Casey turned, to see Farrell coming around the desk.

"Yes?" Casey deigned to reply, now fully in control of the situation.

"Casey. As in Admiral Casey?"

"Generations of them," Casey said, striking a bit of a pose.

"Well, hell, Casey," Farrell said, grinning wide. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Pearls before swine, Mister Farrell."

Both men laughed, Farrell at the joke, and Casey at his superiority.

"I've got to shake the hand of a Casey," Farrell said, extending his own.

Casey took it haughtily. Farrell pumped it firmly, placing his other hand atop Casey's, a gesture of his eagerness to touch someone so pedigreed.

"Well," Casey said when the clasp had run its course, "I need to return to my duty."

"Oh yes, si--" Farrell cut himself off, and then grinned. "I almost called you Sir. But I bet I'll be calling you that soon enough anyway."

"Yes," Casey said, preening. "I imagine you will."

"Well, you have a good night," Farrell said. Casey nodded, and left the room.

Farrell stood a moment watching the door, then exhaled and looked nonchalantly at the Red Squad signet ring in his hand. Three minutes. Five, tops. That's how long he had.

"Computer," he said, manually securing the door, "engage enclave protocol on the replicator in this office."

He was across the room to the replicator even as the computer chirped compliance. Enclave protocols cut off the unit completely from the main computer. Access of any sort, including all recording functions, could at this point only be gained by standing directly in front of it.

Farrell placed the ring on the replicator pad. "Scan object for pattern acquisition." He glanced at the door and keyed his communications terminal, audio only.

"Damage Control," Ensign Hansen said cheerfully.

"Evenin', Rachel, how are things?"

She chuckled. "Fine so far. I've only been here a few minutes. Did you need something specific?"

"Just letting you know Ops beta is settled in, so you can start funneling us requests again."

"Excellent. I've got a half-dozen or so lined up here, it looks like."

Farrell looked back to his replicator. The 'complete' light was blinking.

"Great. We'll be here," he said. "Farrell out."

He turned back to the replicator. "Test pattern replication."

A ring shimmered into existence on the replicator pad. Farrell picked it up, and compared it to the original. Perfect. He recycled the duplicate.

"Save program to PADD, filename Orange Juice Sigma." He placed a PADD next to the download port. And turned to his terminal again.

"Operations to Casey."

"Casey here, Ops."

"You dropped something back here. A ring?"

A pause, then, "I'll be right there."

At the completion chirp, Farrell then commanded the erasure of all data and command logs pertaining to the scanning, saving, and replicating of the ring. He checked the PADD to make sure it held the proper program, unsecured the door, disengaged the enclaving, and was in the process of ordering a level 2 diagnostic on the replicator when Casey blew back into the room.

"My ring," he said, tightlipped, his hand outstretched imperiously.

"Here you go," Farrell said genially, dropping it into Casey's palm.

Casey turned and left without another word.

"Yeah, they wanted me in Red Squad, too," Farrell said to himself after the door closed, re-seating himself and putting his feet on the desk, "But then they found out my parents were married."

---

"On The Other Side"
by Lieutenant Commander Benedict T'Kal - Chief of Security
and Chief Petty Officer Sorien Case - Weapons Specialist

Location: USS Sulu, Commander T'Kal's Office
Stardate: 57908.25, 21h38

***

"Rinaro seems to be shaping up," Case said to Benedict T'Kal as the latter reviewed a PADD and sipped from a small porcelain cup. Case copied the move with his brushed metal tankard of raktajino. "I'm thinking when he makes PO, we can switch him to Gamma to be the shift Armory Officer. Cox is going off to train with Engineering at the end of next month and we'll be needing a replacement."

Benedict absently nodded. The shift rotations were finished for the week and he needed to scan his eye across them just to make sure. Lyrr was a bitch for detail - it was one of the things he loved about her. The thought made him smile. "How're things shaping up generally?" he asked. Looking up at Sorien he stared at his one good eye.

"The Armory is coming along faster than I could have hoped," Case said, halting another sip and smiling instead. "It takes a bit of barking now and then and the occasional threat of a bite but we've got good people on board." Case let the thought of the last Chief's meeting and Chief Jance's slight belly drift into his mind. "I'm still of the opinion that the security officers and enlisted could use a regimented exercise program, approved and implemented by the department."

Benedict grinned. "I run ten klicks every morning, in hilly terrain and sometimes with a full field load, then I swim and most often get in a game of Springball or a hand to hand session. I expect that the rest of the detail would do similar - unless you see some slackers, I see no real need to run them into the ground like you used to do back at the Academy. Though it might be good for some team spirit." He put the padd down and regarded Case. "You hear anything from Collins? She's a hard case with an attitude problem - not a team oriented person. She's too used to doing it her way and getting it done in her own time. I think it was a mistake getting her into uniform. Whoever offered her a commission should be flogged. So far she's been nothing but trouble. Maybe you could throw her in with a few of the others and force them to bond..."

"Consider it done, Commander," Case said cheerfully or at least close to cheerfully. "She'll be a tough nut and I can see her pulling rank if a mere Chief Petty Officer tries to explain things to her." There was a pause while he considered his mug with his one eye. "Of course, I've cracked a few tough nuts in my day but not commissioned officers. Maybe this one needs some softening up from you first."

"She doesn't take to pep talks, I've tried that..." He grinned. "There's always the hard way of doing it..." He chuckled. "You know...maybe she needs an Anbo-Jyutsu lesson. I remember receiving one of those once.. I think I remember being a lot like her..." In the Academy Benedict had been fresh from fighting Cardassians, a member of the Bajoran Resistance and a feared one at that - and he'd been a member of the Maquis then too. Case had been his first lesson in doing it the Starfleet Way...and like Collins, T'Kal had been full of himself and used to giving rather than receiving orders. "I'll arrange a lesson plan and see that she sticks to it. Put her in with a couple other problem children and let's see what floats to the top." He grinned rather evilly. "Try Lucas with her. He doesn't take a hell of a lot to boil..."

Case smiled at that, a little absently...his thoughts were still on Collins but moving her elsewhere. "It's a pity that Commander Zareb didn't want her for the Nightingale crew. Maybe a show of faith is the way to go with her." His face cleared a little as he caught T'Kal's eye. "Sorry, sir...I guess I'm still a little rankled about getting brushed off by Commander Zareb." He lifted his tankard in a small salute. "I believe that Lieutenant Bennett will do us all proud."

Benedict grinned. "Don't worry too much, Chief. Zareb distrusts everyone. We don't exactly see eye to eye." He considered what Case had said about Collins and nodded. "Okay - with Collins - I'll show her a little faith - I'll trust your instincts. Collin's isn't someone I'd put on Zareb's project though - he's a little... retentive, and Tagliesh is First Officer...poor Bennett..." He shook his head and chuckled. He lifted his own mug, "She will do us proud though."

Case nodded and drank, grimacing the strong alien coffee down his throat. "I agree that Commander Zareb and Ensign Collins probably wouldn't tolerate one another for more than a few seconds but are you saying you no longer have his ear? Even if he had no use for me on the project, I'd at least like a look at her weapons system."

"Forget it, Sorien," Benedict sat back and shook his head. "You aren't cleared to have a look at the Nightingale - and I don't think I ever had Zareb's ear. He's paranoid. Starfleet Security handled the background assessments of every member of his team. The engineering side of the weapons systems are not accessible by the likes of you or I." He frowned. "I can't believe that Starfleet Command would allow that ship to be tested outside of Federation territory. Regardless of what systems it carries, letting it loose in wholly uncontrolled space is not something I even like to think about!" He looked at Sorien Case for a second and said, "It smells. My gut instinct about Zareb...is not good."

"Well," Case began carefully. "Commander Zareb may be paranoid or protective of his project but..." he trailed off, frowning thoughtfully. "You've had a look at his service jacket, I'm assuming?"

"Of course," Benedict nodded.

Case looked down at his tankard. "The man's been in the fleet longer than I have and came up through the enlisted ranks. And I have to respect anyone who got out of Wolf unassimilated." Case's face went cold, remembering the boarding of the Roosevelt by Borg forces, himself wounded but still itching to fight and having to get pulled into the escape pod. "I want to think Commander Zareb knows what he's doing, sir."

"I've got no doubt he knows what he's doing as an engineer..." T'Kal left it at that. "It's Starfleet's decision to take the Nightingale into the Gamma Quadrant that I don't like." He looked at Case and pursed his lips. "I think we need to add some extra security measures to safeguard that ship. It wouldn't take much to lose it..."

"I thought the Sulu was merely a hangar for the Nightingale and this ship had next to no authority in the matter," Case said bemusedly, smiling a little at the small rebel that still lived in Benedict T'Kal.

Benedict grinned. "The way Zareb would have it that's true. We're just a glorified hangar for his ship. We may not have authority over what the ship does - but while it's in my damned hangar I'll make sure I don't get blamed for losing the bloody thing!" He looked pointedly at Case. "Who do you think will cop the blame if something does go wrong? Zareb?"

Case shrugged but kept the small smile. "It's his baby ultimately, sir. UP set the whole thing up and Zareb is picking the dance steps. If something happens, it'll fall on his head." Case turned his big sip into a small one when he tasted that his raktajino had gone cold. "But I agree that he might very well try to take a head with him if all goes wrong," Case added, setting down his tankard and wiping his mouth.

"It'll be Salinger's head you can bet on it," Benedict nodded thoughtfully. He considered the Chief's words and knew the man to be far more experienced than he in many ways. He'd been in Starfleet long enough to have seen just about everything. "On a more sobering subject...." Benedict raised a padd from his desk. "A few incidents that I'm not particularly happy with..." as he wagged it between his fingers. It was the After-Action Report from D'Naal. "We had a near riot during the period leading up to the captain's order to abandon ship. Both D'Naal and Gui were in the thick of it. Gui hasn't mentioned it...just that she wasn't in a position to give a description of the event. D'Naal says that the situation was Resolved effectively - but crewman Keffler from science wanted to clear his name. He came to see me. It seems that he was caught up in it. The science department had been given an order by the acting Chief of Science - Druschev to get all Beta and Gamma crew science officers to the life pods. He was following orders, and found himself in a huddle. It seemed that he wanted to know why the security department would want to prevent a duly ordered evacuation - and why he'd been phasered into going back to his post. Apparently he was under the impression that he would get into trouble. He indicated that it was Ensign Farrell from Operations that had shot him, and the rest of them. It seems Mister Farrell isn't shy about shooting fellow officers.

"I hauled D'Naal in here and she affirmed it. Though she spoke in his defense. I don't think either D'Naal or Gui expected what happened. D'Naal because the situation was largely emotive, and Gui out of sheer inexperience. It hit the fan when they were turned away, and the riot started. There's nothing but the reports to go on, and some details are sketchy. The fact that Farrell fired three times into the whole lot of them is clear enough. Wide angle heavy stun. He could have killed someone and he's damned lucky. The crew that were involved were the most inexperienced bunch - they'll think again before trying to throw punches at a security officer, but hell, Sorien, it looks bad all round. I have two of my security officers pulled out of a situation by a gung-ho phaser toting Ops Officer who thinks he should be on the senior staff. It seems Mister Farrell is getting used to solving problems with a little judicious force...he did it on Risa with that Ferengi, and with that civilian he beat senseless, and now here - with a weapon he's not supposed to have!" He chose not to reveal that he'd done the same thing in saving Lyrr, and that fact alone was what motivated Benedict to say what he said next. "I want you to handle this off-the record, Sorien. Speak to Farrell and get that phaser. I don't want to call D'Naal or Gui into question over this incident, nor do I want to crucify some inexperienced crew for a moment of panic and a couple of thrown punches, we both know what that would mean..."

Case was nodding but had a caveat. "If it's all the same to you, sir, I don't want to single Farrell out. Inexperienced or not, I'm just as uncomfortable with the crewmembers who weren't ordered to the pods having easy weapon access. Given the nature of the incident, I'd like to lock down the armory a bit...set up some strict arming guidelines for the non-Security personnel. With your approval, of course."

"Do it," Benedict nodded. "The more I look into this, the more it looks like a communications disaster. The supposedly rioting crew came from Deck 4 crew quarters. They were off duty science and ops personnel. Apparently they were told to evacuate by a runner from deck 8, where the acting chief of Science gave a valid evacuation order. She passed word for all Beta and Gamma shift personnel to move to the pods - which was prudent given the time frame. A staged evacuation would have solved a few problems ship-wide. The communications disruption took away anyone's ability to see the Big Picture. We'd better make sure that never happens again. I'll have a word to Lieutenant Commander Sam and rig an independent system for security personnel."

"A few evac drills might be in order," Case mentioned. "Any system we come up with still has the potential to fail in an emergency. I'd recommend the crew that tagged along with Science as well as those from the other incidences get extensive evac training. We can't have this happening again."

"I agree. I'll have a word with Commander Lyrr and work up the drills from her side of things." He sat back and considered Case. "I'm going to establish a Tactical Team on the Sulu. I'd like you to be 2IC for Casey. I think a six member squad will suffice. I'd like Sorg Jurell, Ken Smith, Kate Hansen, and Mitchell Mullens as the primary team and Mark Rinaro and Andrea Collins for back-ups. You can work them as hard as you want. Exercise them into the ground if you have to. I want them a crack team. Boarding and Anti-Boarding actions, Ground assault actions and hostage rescue. Maybe Collins will respond well, and if she does she can replace Mullins in the primary team. What do you think?"

Case considered the question, exhaling slowly. "I can't speak to all of them but I know Smith, Mullens, and Rinaro would need the additional work before I'd be comfortable with them backing me up. And they would all need extensive First Aid certifications. Does anyone on your short list have enough of a training jump start to serve as a Tac Team Medic?"

"Sorg Jurell does," he answered. "Smith needs to understand more about working with other departments, and he'd benefit from some medical training. Casey's a qualified pilot, and his service record speaks for itself - though he's got an ego the size of a small moon..." Benedict grinned. "I'll rely on you to see to the training regimen. Do it your way. Set an example."

"I'm looking forward to getting started with them, sir," Case said, allowing for a small evil smile that was only partially feigned.

Benedict just nodded with a knowing smile. He regarded Case for a moment. "Have you considered taking Officer's School?" he asked.

"They offered me warrant when I came back to the fleet," he said, shrugging again. "But what can I say, sir? I don't like using utensils when I eat." Case's broad grin narrowed along with his eye. "Why do you ask, sir?"

Benedict laughed. "You'd better watch yourself...we're out in the unknown and we're not going to get replacements... one wrong move and you might end up with a field commission." He chuckled. "I'd hate to lose a good NCO...but if you ever decide to, I'll be glad to back it up with a recommendation."

"That is exactly what happened to Commander Zareb," Case said, mock-gravity in his voice. "And you'd urge the Prophets to bestow the same fate on me? Paranoid and stuffy and oh-so dignified?" Case shook his head sadly but smiled. "And I thought we were friends, sir."

"I'm pretty damned sure you wouldn't turn into that...but seriously, Case - if you ever decide to - I'll be happy to back it up." Benedict was serious for a moment. "I won't force it on you."

"You'd only have to order it, sir," Case said, his smile growing warmer and his eye thoughtful. "And I appreciate the faith, Commander."

Benedict nodded. "I won't order it," he grinned and stood, walking to the cabinet behind his desk. He took out a bottle of Denebian Whiskey he'd been saving and replicated a couple of glasses with ice. Cracking the seal he said, "You like it neat?" The amber liquid poured with a pleasant sound and each was a double shot. He sat and put his feet up, looking into the glass and swirling it around.

Case eyed the glass warily. "I'm sorry, Commander," Case said, a little hesitant with the admission. "But I don't drink anymore. Not even synthe, I'm afraid."

Benedict shot him a surprised look. "Any particular reason?" he asked as he took a swallow of the fiery smooth liquid.

"I'm already impaired, Commander," Case said, looking slightly serious. He gestured at his eye. "Broken eye, crushed paracortex...adding alcohol to the mix is like taking a already dulled knife and blunting it before a fight."

"Fair enough." Benedict swallowed his drink in one shot. He grimaced with the burning sensation and popped a chunk of ice into his mouth. "Though I've never considered you as impaired..."

"I appreciate that, sir," Case said, leaning forward. "I have to admit it has a lot to do with this quadrant too." Sorien's single eye burned like black fire. "I've been on my toes since we came through the wormhole and I don't intend to get off of them for the next six months."

"You'll end up with sore toes," Benedict grinned. "I understand what you're saying, and to a point I agree with you, but you have to be able to relax - or you'll get blunt all the same."

"I'll make you a deal," Case offered as he stood up, his voice without a trace of jest. "If we get a month under our belt without a peep from the Dominion, I'll try to relax a little...and if we get back to the wormhole without bumping up against those rotten bastards even once, I'll have that drink with you." He offered his hand. "On the other side."

"Deal." He shook the man's hand with a grin. "On the other side it is."

---

"Aftershock"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations
CPO Calyca Boothroyd, Engineering

Location: Boothroyd's quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57908.25, 22h15

***

It was late, but Shirik knew the odds were good that her friend was still awake, and even if she wasn't, she'd still wake up for her. She rang the chime and waited, trying not to look as exhausted and depressed as she felt.

Caly was actually wide awake and stretched out on the couch, surrounded by electronic and robotic parts. "Come," she called out, unaware of how late it was or she might have asked who it was first. She was dressed in soft cotton drawstring pants and a matching camisole. She looked from the components in her hands towards the door.

Shirik moved inside and took in the mess of parts. "I didn't think you'd be asleep yet," she said. "Have you eaten?"

Caly blinked and rubbed her stomach absently. "Sometime today, I think." She smiled and sat up, moving the parts out of the way and rising to her feet, green eyes studying Shirik's face and eyes. "What happened?"

Shirik sighed. "Do I look that bad?" She turned to the replicator to get a bowl of soup. She wasn't really hungry, but she'd promised Saavar she'd eat something. Retrieving the bowl from the replicator, she moved to have a seat near the clean spot Calyca had made on the table.

"Probably not to someone who doesn't really know you," Caly offered gently, following Shirik's every move. "Did I ever introduce you to ice cream and chocolate?"

"No..." Her eyes misted over instantly and she lowered her gaze to the untouched soup. "Ben did..."

Caly blinked. Hoh-kay... That had been the wrong question to ask. "Oh, Shiri..." She moved to stand next to the chair she was sitting in and wrapped her arms around her friend. "What happened?" she asked softly, her voice pregnant with concern.

Shirik sighed. "I'm in love with Ben..." she said. "And he's getting married." That was pretty much it in a nutshell, and it was a pretty big nutshell. It was also one that Caly had expected so she wasn't as shocked as she could have been.

"Oh honey.... I'm so sorry," she whispered and hugged Shirik all the more tightly. To say it was a rotten thing to happen would be a gross understatement. What she said instead was, "It's okay to cry. Don't hold it in."

"I've cried enough," she said. "I'm pretty well dry now." She extricated herself from her friend's arms. "Instead of soup, maybe I will have some chocolate ice cream..."

Caly stepped back and looked into her face. She smiled a little and cupped her cheek for a moment. "Alright. Ice cream it is. Have you had it with toppings yet?"

"No, but I don't think I'm in an adventurous enough mood for that tonight. Plain will be fine." She managed a faint smile for Caly.

"Chocolate ice cream it is then," she smiled back encouragingly. She wanted to tell Shiri it'd be alright, but she knew that right now it didn't feel like it would and saying so wouldn't help anything. So instead she got ice cream for them both and handed the bowl of chocolate to her.

"Thanks." She took the bowl and scooped some into her mouth, and tried not to remember Ben as she ate.

"C'mon..." She tugged at Shirik's sleeve. "Let's go watch the stars while we eat." She nodded her head towards the door.

Shirik shook her head. "I'm ok here... I don't want to be seen by anybody."

"You want to talk?" she asked quietly, setting her spoon aside and watching her friend, worried for her.

"What's there to say?" she shrugged. "I told you what happened, you know how I feel...all there is now is to deal with it."

Hoh-boy. Caly narrowed her eyes a bit and took a bite of ice cream. "Oh? How?" She could feel Shiri starting to shut down and she wasn't sure how to combat that.

Shirik ate her ice cream. She was almost deceptively calm now after her earlier emotional outburst. She shrugged. "The only way there is to. Just go on and forget about him."

It was the 'deceptive' calm that bothered her most. Ice cream forgotten, she propped her face in her hands and elbows on the table as she watched Shirik. "I think you're in too close of quarters to forget about him, Shiri," she offered quietly. "Don't shut yourself off, please?" Which Caly knew was likely going to happen. It wasn't like Shirik was the type to fawn on men and have relationship after relationship. The fact that she was even interested in males like that had surprised Caly Not because her people looked down on males in her home world, because Shirik certainly didn't. At least not here, in Starfleet and away from her home. But because Shirik was not normally an overly-friendly or gregarious person. It was hard for her to make friends and when she did, it was the deep, lasting kind. And for the first time she fell in love to end like this... Caly feared it was going to leave some drastic and rather devastating scars on her friend.

Shirik eyed her friend as she swallowed another cold lump of chocolate. "Oh? What would you have me do?"

Caly drew in a deep breath and let it out with a soft sigh. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've never been where you are. But I can see your pain. I just don't want to see it make you jaded and turn you off of ever having a relationship again." She watched her for another heartbeat or two before adding, "And if Commander T'Kal wants the XO instead of you, then it's his loss because he'll never know what it would have been like to have a woman in love with him that has the depth of commitment you do."

Shirik frowned. "I met her once, just a few days ago in sickbay. She was afraid of me, I saw the fear in her eyes. She doesn't even believe that he loves her. She's a fool. Maybe he's a fool, too, to love her. He must see something in her, but I can't fathom what." She took another spoonful of ice cream. "You're right. It is his loss." Her tone was determined. Determined not to let him tear her heart apart, not to let the pain rule her. But she knew it was her loss, too, or it wouldn't hurt so damn much.

It was her loss too, and Caly wouldn't be able to deny that even if Shirik had said it, which she didn't. "I've not met her. I've just heard about her. I don't hold much with gossip, and I like to make those kinds of calls for myself. But your opinion I value," she smiled a little. "Maybe she's afraid. Perhaps he is too. Regardless, he'll never know what he gave up. What he could have had. And perhaps, just perhaps, there's someone out there that's better than he is and able to appreciate what he has when it stares him in the face. You were worthy of his love, Shiri. Maybe... Maybe he wasn't worthy of yours."

Her expression darkened. True, that was one way to think about it. But how could she love someone who wasn't worthy of it? Why would she? She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that, but it sounded good. "Maybe so."

Caly reached out and covered Shirik's hand, giving her a gentle squeeze. "And even if he was, he's a fool for turning away from it," she added. "Don't become bitter. I'd hate to see that."

"Not bitter...realistic." She gave Caly a faint smile, and set her empty bowl aside. "I promised Saavar I'd eat. I don't think he meant ice cream, but that's close enough for me."

"Hey now. It's a food group. Several in fact," she grinned. "We could have added nuts to round it out, I suppose. It's good with nuts. Of course I usually heap on the toppings in accordance with my woes," she grinned slightly. "You saw Saavar. After you spoke to T'Kal?"

"Indeed. He felt what was going on, in our bond.... And he would not take 'go away' for an answer. Drokari stubbornness has nothing over Vulcan stubbornness..." She shook her head. "He's concerned about me, in his own way... I'll be seeing him again tomorrow. He insisted."

Caly nodded and spooned a final bite of ice cream into her mouth, savoring it before asking, "I'm glad you had someone to talk to. Did you two talk about the bond at all?"

She nodded. "We did. Ben was wrong, as I'd hoped. His experience was based on the fact that he was in love with Tebrianne before they bonded. Saavar believes himself incapable of love, but I have my doubts. Although, love doesn't seem worth it any more. He's probably better off without it."

"Mmm... And if you go by what happened between him and the Science Chief... There was no love lost between them. The bond sure didn't make them love each other," she agreed and frowned a bit. "Love is messy. Takes your ordered life and turns it upside down. Something we decided a long time ago." She pointed her spoon at Shirik and smiled a little wryly. "Damn heart doesn't listen to rational thoughts, I don't think. Just does what it pleases."

"It can do as it pleases," she said. "Doesn't mean I have to go along for the ride."

"You gonna ignore it then? Turn away from it?" Caly asked quietly, troubled green eyes watching her friend. "Cut yourself off from it?" She smiled just a little wryly, a soft sigh escaping her. "Honestly... I don't blame you a bit. I think if I were in your shoes I'd feel the same way. Do you want to get drunk?"

"Saavar was right. Love is worthless," she muttered. "No, inebriation won't help any, and I need to keep my system strong. I'm still recovering, you know." She got to her feet. "I think I'm just going to try to get some sleep."

"Hey...." Caly reached out and touched Shirik's arm as she rose also. "It's not worthless. Saavar's wrong," she responded quietly. "It can be as wonderful and beautiful as it is devastating. I'm lucky enough to have two parents who are still very much in love and devoted to one another. And I love you like the sister I never had, Shiri. That can never be worthless. Saavar's wrong."

She shrugged, unconvinced. "Good night, Caly."

Caly watched her friend for long moments, uttering a soft sigh finally and offering her a gentle smile. "Good night, Shiri. You can stay the night if you like," she offered, worried but not wanting to smother her with mothering.

"Thanks, but I want to be alone tonight. I'll see you soon." With that, she headed out the door.

"Alright..." Caly watched wordlessly as Shirik left. She sighed heartily once the door was closed, at a loss for what to do to help her friend.

---

"The Petulant Perfectionist Enters The Pugnacious Pit of Party Planning"
By: Commander Lyrr Tayla; Executive Officer
Ensign Mason Farrell; Operations Officer
Ensign Rachel Hansen; Engineering Officer
Crewman First Class Rett Charla; Operations Crewman

Location: USS Sulu, Operations Office
Stardate: 57908.25 22h39

***

Organizing a promotions ceremony seemed a simple affair when she first began preparations, but after compiling a list of all requirements - having the lounge decorated appropriately and room set aside for guests, establishing a menu for the buffet tables, drinks, designing invitations - Lyrr Tayla wished she'd learn to suppress her selfless tendencies and think before committing to such a large task.

Lt. Thaine had yet to find enough free time to help her with the planning, but she understood his work load was large - repairing the ship held far more priority than ensuring there was enough dumja rolls for all attendees. But in that moment, Lyrr yearned for some assistance. She was hardly accustomed to organizing special events; command school had mentioned nothing of this, but a promise was a bloody promise....

Slapping the datapad against her palm irritably and compulsively, Lyrr muttered a complaint as she stalked her way towards the only source of salvation she knew existed aboard the still recovering vessel. With great reluctance, she entered the wretch's abode, and not even a foot inside she began frowning. This was his domain, the center of operations where he plotted his schemes, engaged in his nefarious dealings...where he kept out of her way, and for that she was marginally grateful. But, if she wished to get this party thrown together in time, it was his help she needed, and loath though she was, she sought it.

His smug demeanour seemed to carry over even in his manner of repose - seated at his desk with legs propped upon the tabletop and hands folded behind his head. It rankled her that he could be so laid back while the rest of the ship was bustling to make reparations. From the corner of her narrowed eyes, she noticed Crewman Rett seated at a console, and her expression softened at his imperceptible smile.

"No, Hansen, we don't have the manpower to spare right now on it," the man behind the desk was saying. "We've still got people playing traffic cop in the Jeffries Tubes. Turbolifts have got to get fully functional so we can mo--"

Lyrr nodded in greeting at Rett without slowing her approach. Focus redirected towards the ranking Ops officer, she halted before the desk, set down the datapad with an audible clatter and slid it towards him. "You're the party planner," she stated. "You plan."

"Farrell?" Ensign Hansen was saying through the com. "Damn comsystem," she muttered.

"It's working fine, Rachel. I need to call you back," Farrell said, looking at Lyrr but speaking to the com. "Farrell out."

He picked up the PADD and looked at it. "Ceremony?" he asked.

"Ceremony," Lyrr affirmed, hands now firmly planted at her waist. "There needs to be catering, music, seating...the works. You can pull this off, can't you, Ensign?" Her smile was challenging.

"What are we ceremonializing?" he asked without hesitation.

"Promotions, commendations, and an award granted by Starfleet Command to Lieutenant Commander Zareb," she replied.

Farrell made a thoughtful face for a moment. "When do you want the ceremony held?"

"Two days." Lyrr smirked. "Can you do it? Oh, and it should probably be noted...." She leaned forward, her expression smug. "You'll be working with me - rather, clearing everything with me."

"Fair enough. If you'd like to have a seat, sir." Farrell began reading the list on the PADD.

Lyrr frowned. "For what purpose? I've recorded all the necessities onto the padd. When I said 'working together' I just meant...you do the work, and I approve. It's usually called delegating, but..." She shrugged. "We'd probably get more accomplished if we weren't in close proximity to one another. Don't you agree?"

"Well, see, sir, here's how it'd go," Farrell said, looking at the PADD and not at Lyrr. "I'd have an idea, you'd say no, I'd have another idea, you'd say no, and a third, and a fourth, and so on. So rather than me comming you like Ensign Corrigan chasing a wolf, I may as well lay out the options to you right now and get some stuff denied right up front. So, if you'd like to have a seat, I think I've got a few to lay out for you."

Lyrr sighed, gazing up towards the ceiling in silent prayer to the Prophets for patience. She would need it. "A brainstorming session," she concluded unenthusiastically, then turned back to drag a chair forward. "Lt. Thaine owes me for this," she muttered, and planted herself into the seat. Smiling facetiously at Mason, she languorously gestured for commencement. "This had better be worth it..."

Farrell smiled. "Rett, would you please page Sikara and ask him to come on up at his earliest convenience?" Rett nodded, and turned to his station. "Now first," Farrell said, "We've got to establish why this party's being held. What's the goal?"

"To hand out promotions," Lyrr answered plainly. Upon reflection, she added, "And because Dr. Potts thinks we need a morale booster after the crisis." She rolled her eyes to express her opinion of the doctor's idea.

"Alright, let's go with the morale booster angle," Farrell nodded. "The crew does need the boost. Near-death experiences are pretty depressing."

Lyrr snorted. "Only in that the counselors develop an extreme interest in you. And besides...the crew doesn't appear too bad off. These sorts of crises are to be expected."

Farrell sat a moment, his eyebrows up. "You can't possibly believe that the crew will just buck up and move on. Two dozen people tried to jump ship."

"And they will be disciplined," she informed him dispassionately. "There's bound to be a bad seed or two on any ship, no matter how rigourously Starfleet attempts to filter them out."

"You think that's all it's going to take? A little discipline?"

"Well, what would you have us do with would-be deserters, Ensign?" she asked.

Farrell started to speak, and stopped himself. "I'd rather not answer that, sir. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"No, you're not," she riposted. "You never just...broach a subject unless you have some cryptic point to make. What are you getting at, Farrell?"

"Nothing you want to hear, sir. Let's keep this to the ceremony."

"Then stop digressing," Lyrr advised irritably, tugging at the hem of her jacket to further express her agitation. "We were talking angles." She raised her brows and motioned for him to carry on.

"Angles," Farrell nodded. "Alright, so we want to boost morale. So you're going to want to have some kind of mixer or gathering of some type. But you also want a ceremony to bestow some honors. So, how do you feel about a ceremony in the auditorium followed by a bit of a reception on a holodeck?"

"Sir, if I may?" Rett said, at just the right volume to be heard, and at just the right moment so as not to interrupt.

Lyrr smiled with genuine kindness at the older man, and nodded permission.

"The holodeck can't hold the entire crew. May I suggest a lounge?"

"Good point. A lounge, then," Farrell amended. "Your thoughts, sir?"

"It is a more formal setting and with the replicators easily accessible, we wouldn't have to worry about not having enough food." Lyrr bobbed her head thoughtfully, then with greater decisiveness. "The lounge it is. Thank you, Mr. Rett."

"Fair enough," Farrell said, tapping details onto the PADD. "What sort of food would you like served? Are snacks and cocktails alright? I'm sure I can convince Sikara to see if he can fit very small portions of Ardaly Cheth'Pri onto crackers," he added conspiratorially.

"And send all the guests rushing for cold water?" Lyrr asked with a growing smile that was altogether mischievous. "I'd like to see him try."

"We'll ask," Farrell said. "We'll want to announce this quickly. Get volunteers for the skeleton crew."

"I'll appoint volunteers," Lyrr told him, the contradiction lost on her. "Sikara has the food covered..." She pointed at Farrell. "What will you be doing?"

"Wait wait," Farrell half-chuckled. "Let's back up just a bit. Appoint volunteers?"

Lyrr nodded, straight-faced. "Yes. I'll approach specific officers, ask them if they would agree to join the skeleton crew and dare them to refuse." She smiled, only slightly humourously.

Farrell looked down and rubbed his forehead.

It was for a time she watched him, sought to interpret his particular demeanour, before Lyrr leaned forward with a sincerely befuddled countenance. "Ensign? What's wrong?"

"If I may, sir," Rett interceded again, just as Farrell was about to speak.

Lyrr, of course, gestured him readily to say his piece, and she listened attentively as he did.

"If I may, sir, consider what you're saying. If we're to host a morale-boosting gathering, and then select people who are simply not allowed to attend, the message is," he made a vague gesture, "contradictory."

"So...what would you have me do, then? Make an announcement?" She sighed, clearly unhappy with such a notion. "It's too impersonal, and who's to say we'll even get volunteers? If the crew is as distraught as you make them out to be, Ensign," --this to Farrell now-- "then won't everyone wish to attend an uplifting party?"

"Yes and no," Farrell answered. "There are those who'd volunteer, I think. There always are. Which would you prefer, sir: Skeleton crew, or party?"

Lyrr grimaced. "Point taken, but I am also unlike many other people aboard this vessel. Take Crewman Rett, for instance." She smiled genially at the sage ops officer. "What would you prefer? A party, or working a shift while everyone else is mingling and eating, and dancing to hideous music?"

"I would imagine that few if any of the Operations staff would actually be off-duty at the party, sir," Rett answered diplomatically. "Someone would have to do the serving."

"But they'd still be in attendance," she pointed out. Studying the man's kindly, meek face, Lyrr asked, "Rett...you're not going to volunteer to serve, are you?"

"If the call were made for volunteers to work the bridge rather than the party, I would consider volunteering, certainly. But I would be equally open to serving at the party. I think, sir," he said thoughtfully, "a compromise may be in order."

"A compromise in what way?" Lyrr asked, always interested in anything Rett had to say.

"Suppose the call was made for volunteers, and after those volunteers had come forward, then the command staff could make a few assignments to fill in any gaps?"

She chuckled. "You mean to satisfy my own need to order officers around?" Lyrr shrugged. "That is an acceptable idea. However" --she jabbed a threateningly pointed finger in Rett's direction for emphasis-- "you are at no time to be seen serving drinks, taking orders, or otherwise attending to guests at the party? Is that clear, Mr. Rett? You will not be serving at the party." She softened the command with a smile. "Understood?"

"As you say, sir," Rett nodded deferentially.

"Well, okay," Farrell said. "I'll get with Sikara, and have some decoration schemes for you to pick from by tomorrow Alpha. Will that be acceptable, sir?"

"Yes, of course. But keep in mind that we have less than two days. Is that enough time?" Again, her smile was challenging.

"Have I ever failed to deliver?" he smiled.

"Unfortunately not, in some cases," she retorted. Standing now, she bowed her head at Rett, then pointed a finger levelled at Farrell's nose. "Don't pull anything, Ensign...please."

"A 'pull'-free ceremony. Done."

It was with a skeptical, inspective frown that Lyrr departed. "And don't let me down," she whispered under her breath, for once depending on Farrell and hoping she wouldn't regret it.

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