"Back in Action"
By Captain Matthew T. Salinger
Commander Lyrr Tayla
Lt.(j.g.) Benjamin Talltree
Ensign Byron Klipper

Location: Byron Klipper's Quarters, Benjamin Talltree's Quarters, Briefing Room, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.15 0h15

***

Byron laid on his rack under his Starfleet issued blankets. It felt soft, good like a warm womb covering him, enveloping him. He felt something he had not in a long time: safe. He was back at work, working with a real ship again and it felt better than anything else he had ever experienced. He had sent his mother a letter telling her he was safe. He had tracked her down via the ship's database. He was ecstatic that no death records were listed for her. He was still scared to check on his wife, terrified in fact. He didn't know which would be worse: finding her remarried or still waiting for him to come home. The thought of her being dead had never crossed his mind.

He had been having a hard time sleeping in the past couple of weeks since he had come aboard the Sulu. The doctors had prescribed a sleep aide but he was loath to take it. He was terrified that he would wake up back in the camps, or worse: this was just a death dream brought on by the old warp core breach aboard the Ray of Hope.

***

"Commander she can't take it. This old bucket was falling apart when we got it, the next hit will shake her apart," Byron screamed into the ship's intercom above the racket of the engine room. He had three engineers under him, down four since they had taken the Ray, and they were all scrambling to keep the ship together now.

"Byron, we are going to skim the surface of the local star. You have to keep us together until we clear it. I want to drive those Son's of guns right into the star, their ships won't be able to take it," Commander Carr replied from the bridge.

"Sir, we won't make it!"

"Maybe but we will at rid the galaxy from scum." Carr cut out and returned to flying their bucket of bolts.

"Old dog crap on the lawn." Byron's favorite swear was often heard in the outdated engine room. The Ray of Hope had barely cleared warp five when they had taken her two years ago from their former masters. Byron had gotten her to clear warp seven now but only on rare occasions. "Glick, increase power to the shields."

"Where the heck are we supposed to get more power from? The shields are barely holding now, for the presidents sake!" Petty Officer Glick shouted from the upper level of engineering.

"I don't know! But if we don't we are all going to become very hot in a few minutes!" Byron was manning his work station, trying to balance the engine and keep it from overloading or breaching. Byron started to mumble to himself, a trait he had picked up while in the Camp. "I just don't know, more power we need more power more and more power, always more power."

"Byron we got a Warp Core breach that is eminent!" Jenny Green yelled. A crewman when the Maryland had crashed, Cmdr. Carr had promoted her to Petty Officer, one of two promotions that had been given out on their trip home.

"We have a few minutes. Let's just hope Carr can get us clear of this damn star!" Byron said a prayer that his mother had taught him. The Engine room was heating up quickly; Byron didn't have to check the monitor across the room to know that they were too close to the star.

"Attention! Attention! I own Byron a round the next time we get into port. Two raiders just became part of that star! The third is fleeing!"

"Glick get down from there. I am dumping the Core. I just hope we can cruise out of here!" Byron inched the engine up, taking every last bit of speed out of it, then he ejected it. The Ray of Hope sailed away from the star when the third raider turned around and came in for another pass. Explosions rang through the Engine room. Byron saw the cloud a second before its toxic gas filled his lungs. Glick on the next level collapsed in agony. Jenny Green flew across the room, her face peppered with shrapnel from the exploding pipe that ran above her workstation. Byron who was barely conscious was spared a good spraying of shrapnel because he was now crawling toward the hatch that would save him. Slowly blackness overtook him and he thought of his wife and mother.

***

Benjamin Talltree could not sleep. The Ray of Hope's drives had been so loud, and vibrated the ship so badly, he was having trouble adjusting to a place that was quiet and still. He stared at the ceiling for a time, then out the window at the stars passing by.

The stars. How many nights had he laid in a ratty blanket, staring up at the stars, wondering if he would ever voyage among them again?

***

"Doc?" It was Ensign Takashima, who had always been so full of life.

"I'm here, child," he had kept his voice quiet and calm, deep and soothing.

"My eyes don't hurt as bad in the dark," she had said. Something had crawled into her bedroll one night and bitten her. The alien venom infused in the bite had nearly blinded her, and was wracking her entire nervous system.

"That's good to hear," he had smiled. A smile was audible in the dark.

"I think I'm getting better," she said, her optimism unflagging.

"Good," Talltree had said, looking to Lieutenant Commander Carr and shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah. We've got to get home. I can't pull my weight if I'm laid up."

"True," he had said. "We'll need your help if we're going to get out of here. But for now, rest. Get your strength back."

She hadn't lasted the night. How many men and women had he comforted with encouraging words about someday getting home? How many men and women, in the final analysis, had he lied to?

"First, do no harm," he said absently to the quiet and still ceiling of his new room.

He swung slowly out of bed, and stood with a stretch and a sigh. Keying his door open, he went for a walk.

***

Byron awoke drenched in sweat. Tonight was better than most, he had slept for a few hours. He laid back down again after getting a glass of water. He stared at the ceiling and thought of more pleasant thoughts than the Ray.

***

Byron Klipper breathed the clean recycled air that filled Starfleet vessels - nothing in his life had smelled so good. He and Ben had only been aboard the ship for a short period of time, just long enough to clear medical. Now they were going to have to prove who they were. "Given the choice, Sir, I would like to resume my career. I know I must be the oldest Ensign in the fleet but the Universe has bound to have changed in ways that I can not yet begin to fathom. This way I will have a chance to readjust in an environment that I am somewhat familiar with." Byron looked down at his uniform. He found the gray shoulders and under tunic very different than his old working uniform.

Talltree sat to his left, the CO and XO of the USS Sulu sat and stood across from the two men. Benjamin had told Byron of the EMH in sickbay, a concept that had both worried the old Navajo and astounded Byron. The other survivors of the Ray were adjusting to life aboard the ship. Crewman Tamm was going home; a broken back had left him paralyzed. Petty Officer Areo had finally broken, the sight of his lover being explosively decompressed. Ensign Gardner had resigned her commission and decided to catch the next transport home, as soon as the Sulu came across one.

"I'm still concerned," Lyrr Tayla said, eyeing each of the men as she spoke, but studying them instead of addressing them directly. "Until they complete their extensive psychological evaluation, I'd prefer if they didn't return to duty yet, Captain."

"All things considered," Matt said, "not a bad idea. Counselling's been busy as of late, but I'm sure they can work in time to see to our new guests." He turned his attention back to the two former Marylanders. "It will take a little time to transition you back in aboard for regular duty shifts, both due to debriefings, medical and psychological tests, and retraining for changes that have happened in the last ten years."

"I can't speak for Benjamin--" Byron scolded himself for calling Talltree by his first name; it was a habit that they all had picked up in the Camp - even aboard the Ray all names and titles were interchangeable. "But I would relish the opportunity to join this ship's compliment."

"Agreed," Talltree said simply.

"Your desire to join this crew is not in doubt," Lyrr told them. "The status of your mental health is. Ten years under forced enslavement is bound to break even the strongest of wills. We want to ensure, for your own sakes, that you truly are ready for the stresses involved in serving on a starship again, especially this particular vessel."

"I'm sure our medical and counselling departments will be able to check you out and certify you without much hassle," Matt said. "But, after recent events, it's very important that we take certain precautions. I'm certain you understand."

"Completely, Sir," Byron replied. Talltree nodded agreement.

"You were an engineer on the Maryland, Mr. Klipper? What sorts of duties fell within your area of responsibility? I'm certain Lieutenant Thaine will be able to find a use for your skills, but I would like to give him more information about you."

"Structural and Electrical Engineering is what I specialized in: Hulls, bulkheads, decks, EPS conduits.... The ugly side of Engineering some might say."

"Only if you were building Galaxies," Matt said with a chuckle.

"Sir, how long will it be before we can get a spot on the couch?" Byron asked. He was anxious to get back into the rotation.

"Immediately," Lyrr replied. "That is if you truly wish to serve aboard this ship."

"Absolutely, Ma'am."

"I'll have Commander Sam assign you quarters," Matt said. "For now, you'll be in VIP suites, at least until you can be transitioned back into Starfleet."

"Understood, Sir." Byron wondered if the VIP suites aboard the Sulu would be better than the ones aboard the Maryland.

"With civilian level access," Lyrr added. "And, Captain, if I may, I recommend they be confined to quarters for the most part...until we have the counsellor's impressions of the two."

"Not a bad idea," Matt said. "We'll have the counselling department bump you up on their list of priorities. That way, if everything is good, you're not in there for too long. And, if there is a problem, we can know about it and correct it quickly."

"Thank you, sir. Will there be any thing else?"

"I don't think there's anything else at the moment, Mr. Klipper," Matt said. "We'll give you some time to get settled in your new quarters."

***

Byron held the PADD in his hand and studied. He had given up on sleep and the Captain had wanted them both to be up to speed ASAP. Bio Neural gel packs were more interesting than he would have thought. The testing for it was going to be easy. Setting it down he rubbed his eyes. On the other hand the advances made in holotechnology and weapons technology was going to kill him. The PADD he had just set down held all the information he would need to learn. The one he picked up next held something a little more personal. His mother had written him asking for more details, and when he would be home. Jennifer Stanz had asked the same thing; she had returned to Tarsas after the Dominion War and enjoyed minor celebrity after winning a Medal of Honor at the end of her service. Admiral James Hernandez wrote to congratulate him on his safe return home. Byron didn't know the Admiral and checked the header: Starfleet Command, Chief of Personnel. A welcome home letter from Starfleet Command. I better write my mom before she thinks I went missing again.

The crew quarters he had been assigned after clearing through the counselors were nice but no where near as nice as the VIP rooms aboard the ship. Then again it was a step up from the Ray's hard bunks. Anything really would have been a step up but Byron liked this room. His roommate was out for one of his nightly walks. We all deal things in our own way. Byron had been ordered to counseling twice a week, or as needed. They kept expecting him to have some kind of breakdown, everyone who talked to him was both friendly and tense at the same time. It was almost how people, including himself, had treated Lt. Tabar. She had survived the massacre at Wolf 359.

He wondered how she would have done in the camp, She had seemed close to the edge from the time she had come aboard. Do I seem like that now? The counselors cleared me, I have my required sessions, but I feel fine, they say I am well enough to serve. I am just glad to be back, to have this insecurity dealing with people again. I missed it, it is part of being human, sentient I suppose. I should have gone to Starfleet medical instead of Starfleet Engineering, would have made a better therapist.

***

Talltree's walk carried him to Deck 5. He padded barefoot down the dimmed-for-Gamma corridor and turned in to Sickbay. The doors parted, and he entered the room, standing quietly. The room was empty of patients. A single technician was sorting supplies. A single officer was reading a PADD intently.

He stood there for a time, saying nothing, simply letting the aura of the place fill him again. This was a place of healing. A place of calm. A place of spiritual focus, where people's energies were devoted to the elimination of pain. It was a place of care. A place of diligence. A place of hope.

Hope. He nodded to himself, inhaling deeply as though he could physically absorb the concept. Hope.

It was some time before either the technician or the officer noticed his presence. The officer was first. "Can we help you?" she asked politely.

Talltree looked at her, and slowly smiled. "You already have."

---

"Not This Time"
by Ensign Marp

Location: Marp's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate 57910.15 00h30

***

Marp entered his quarters and sat down at his desk. He was exhausted and depressed. Life was just not going well for him. Marp was very sure that he was cursed. Once again things were starting to fall apart, even after all the time he spent in the academy doing well. His bad luck life had returned after visiting that dead planet. He was assigned to bring back several escape pods, however, he only managed a few of them and those he had damaged extensively. The other flight officers had to pick up his slack. It was not the great start that he was hoping for.

Marp continued on, determined to shake off his bad start and even had managed to get a shift on the bridge. It was an exciting time for him, unfortunately. As his luck would have it they encountered Seeblin ships and his inability to follow orders fast enough in a crisis situation had pretty much got him thrown off the bridge. Since then his life had pretty much been about prepping and testing shuttles. His review had not gone well and he had not been allowed to fly anything outside of a holodeck simulator. Now the message he had been trying to avoid was standing before him on his console.

As the message began, the image of his sister Tigi appeared on the screen. Marp was surprised to see that she was wearing clothing. It was a very bold thing for her to do. Marp figured their father must be away on a business trip.

"Hello, Marp," she began, "I hope that you are doing well. I am afraid that this message bears sad news. Our youngest brother has been killed. He attempted to do business with the Nausicaans and apparently they felt his business tactics were questionable and they killed him." Tigi paused as if not wanted to say more. "Father is returning with his remains now. He has forbidden me to tell you about this but I ignored him. He does not want you to show up at Rog's desiccation sale. He thinks that you might ruin the price that he will get."

The bad news part of her message over Tigi continued on tell Marp about how life at home had not changed much. Marp was not listening. He had never been close to Rog and would not have gone home even if he had been invited. The last thing he wanted to do was return to Ferenginar. Marp angrily terminated the message from his sister. Yes, it is happening again, thought Marp. This time Marp decided he was not going to feel sorry for his bad fortune. He was going to fight it. He was not going to fail. Not this time.

---

"Leading by Letting Go"
by Commander Lyrr Tayla - Executive Officer
and Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Holodeck Two and the Officer's Lounge
Stardate: 57910.15, 00h45

***

Damhnait Sefton remained pensive as the entire 'verse evaporated around her. Her long chocolate brown hair was bunched back into a bun, except for the bangs that framed her face in ringlets of loose curls. The white dress uniform she wore was similarly pristine; at least, her uniform was pristine now that the holographic blood had vanished along with the other holographic surroundings. She actually felt that her performance had been excellent in this first examination of her Bridge Officer Certification. She supposed the worst case scenario aspects of the examination had been scripted to occur -- to test her responses under pressure -- no matter what her early actions had been. At least, that was what she told herself.

Leading the way out of Holodeck Two, ahead of Lyrr Tayla, Sefton stopped suddenly in the corridor. Despite serving on the Sulu for just over two months and having held several preparatory meetings with Commander Tayla during the past weeks of command study, Damhnait had never spoken to Tayla outside of duty. Amiably, Sefton asked Lyrr, "Would you care to join me for tea in the Officer's Lounge? We could talk about nothing or anything. ...Other than my first contact back there."

"First and last," Lyrr replied wittily, then agreed with a nod. "We should go over the scheduling for your next series of tests while we're at it."

"Of course," Sefton agreed. Striding down the corridor that led towards the lounge, Damhnait asked, "You attended Command School immediately following your time at the Academy, yes?"

Lyrr smiled. "My path was laid out all too clearly for me. It just seemed the logical choice for the headstrong, young ensign I was."

"I can't remember there ever being a time I yearned for Command," Damhnait shared, her tone thoughtful. "I don't even think I want command of a starship now."

"Because of that, in there?" Lyrr asked, jutting a thumb back towards the holodeck. "If you're going to quit so soon, Doctor, should I even bother telling you you did a good job?"

"I never said I wanted to quit," Sefton affirmed, regarding Lyrr fixedly to further communicate her resolve to continue. "And, thank you, by the way," -- Damhnait briefly digressed with a smile -- "But, what I mean is..." Damhnait struggled to find another way to explain it, and yet the most concise and direct explanation was the one she had already given. "I don't want to command a starship."

"And right now, Doctor," she confessed, "neither do I." Devoid of all but two officers, Lyrr and Damhnait found plenty of seating within the lounge upon their arrival. They opted for a pair of seats adjacent the viewport offering a clear view of the nebula outside. Even as they gave the waiter their drink requests, Lyrr had her datapad out, prepared to talk scheduling. "You'll likely need a good week to study for the engineering exam, I imagine."

"I agree," Sefton nodded. "Commander Zareb has been very helpful, as well as essential, in refreshing my previous engineering knowledge. There's still much to learn, though."

Lyrr nodded approvingly. "Then I'll add you in for Stardate 57910.22 at 06h00," she informed the doctor, already fitting her into the time slot. "The next exam is your bridge tactical maneuvers. You should probably schedule some holodeck time beforehand to ready yourself for that one." Without barely a breath in between, Lyrr was fully content to proceed with the present topic, but paused to ensure the silent doctor was still present. She glanced up at the woman from beneath her lashes and prompted, "Doctor?"

"That sounds perfectly--" Damhnait stopped, and her even tone noticeably shifted to an insistent tone, when she asked, "Why don't you want to command a starship?"

Lyrr lowered the padd and raised her head in puzzlement. "What?" Their previous conversation came back at a monumentally sluggish pace and Lyrr finally said, "Oh. That. Well...I'm not quite sure, Doctor. I mean, I don't fear the responsibility, I hardly lack the confidence or knowledge... I just simply" --she shrugged-- "prefer my chair to the captain's, I suppose. It just seems as if when something goes wrong, the captain is the first person everyone would wish to blame, and much of the time he or she is far too honourable to do anything less than take on that responsibility and admit failure." Lyrr smiled, a nearly feral gesture. "I never admit failure, Doctor."

As the waiter delivered their mugs, Damhnait shared with Lyrr, "I believe I can relate. I love what I do with the entirety of my being, and would not want to do anything else, even if it meant a promotion. I look at this as a growth opportunity to provide myself with the tools I require to perform my duty better. I will be able to make sounder decisions regarding the health of this crew, once I comprehend what is exactly required of the crew in the operation of the ship, and I will have greater authority to ensure my decisions are enacted. Just as importantly, I will be able to contribute to those of you performing bridge duty; allowing more of you to relax once cabin fever begins to set it. In turn, it will help to cement just what my place is on the senior staff."

Having already shared the professional aspects, Damhnait held little fear in sharing her more personal motivations. She still ended up sounding vaguely embarrassed when she said, "As Brennyn has helped me to clarify, I have at some... occasional times feared that there was more talk of action being taken rather than actual action occurring. As a duty officer, I will have more realistic expectations of what actions should be taken by the senior staff, as well as the power to take action, rather than talking of inaction."

Lyrr smiled with piqued interest. "Is there a specific instance you have in mind, Doctor?"

"There might have been a day or three towards the beginning of the Sulu's stay at JJ324c, before we fully understood the biological and computer viruses," Damhnait answered, matter-of-factly rather than accusatory.

"And this is when you felt you were guilty of inaction?" Lyrr asked, her tone bereft of the criticism it normally expressed.

Finishing a sip of her tea, Damhnait looked over the lip of the mug and responded, "Not just myself. ...Though as far as I am concerned, I realise I should have insisted upon shipwide actions taken, such as a curfew perhaps - limiting personal interaction to what is necessary for duty."

"And you lacked the foresight necessary to determine that was a step to be taken?" Lyrr pointed out with a touch of amusement. "You hadn't thought of it at the time, Doctor, and no one else had either. But, would it really have made a difference?"

"With nearly any other virus, it would have." Damhnait shrugged, trying to puzzle out her thoughts as she said them. "I suspect that I didn't think of it because I didn't expect the rest of the staff to take it seriously. Though, I'm not sure if it was the virus or myself that I did not expect to be taken entirely seriously at that time. And, really, the inaction itself was not what unnerved me as much as everyone's insistence that there never was inaction by anyone."

Lyrr closed her eyes briefly to tease apart the incomprehensible web of Sefton's thoughts. It was hopeless, and she gave up with a shake of her head to clear away the tangle. "Doctor, you're a well-respected member of this crew," she reminded her carefully, "and if you ever have a concern, no matter how you believe it will be received by the captain and I, you will only be guilty of inaction if you fail to approach us."

"I don't mean that I held back solutions; I simply focused my energies on developing the solutions that I would oversee. Bridge Certification should help me get past that self-sufficiency by adjusting my frame of reference," Damhnait explained, almost brightly.

"So, you hope all this training will allow you to trust in those under your command and, once in a while, rely a little more heavily on them?" Lyrr ventured.

"Them, and the other departments in the crew," Sefton agreed.

Lyrr's smile was satisfied, as she was that finally they'd reached the crux of Sefton's thoughts. "It is difficult, Doctor, to trust in individuals you, oftentimes, know nothing more about than their name and rank. But, there has to be that trust, and it's established the moment they put on that uniform and you're simply assured they will do all in their power to serve this ship to the best of their abilities." She shrugged as she raised her teacup. "Not all people are capable of developing that kind of trust, and that's why not everyone is qualified to command a starship. Admittedly, I don't trust easily, Doctor; I would never make a good captain in that respect."

"Have you ever rejected a command of your own?" Damhnait casually asked, since that sort of thing often would not end up in her record.

Lyrr was spurred to laughter at the notion that anyone would offer her such a position. "I haven't. This is my first go at being an executive officer, and if all starships are as this one is, I don't relish the day when I'm offered the captain's chair. I feel I would not be the most popular of commanding officers if I accepted."

"Not all starships are like this one," Sefton assured her intently. "And you already know that being popular is not the aim of a C.O. I suppose there are some advantages to leading with charisma, but that is not the only way."

"Leading by fear and intimidation?" Lyrr surmised. She chuckled, then. "Yes, I much prefer those methods myself." And it was only obvious the commander was teasing when she winked at the doctor and tipped the teacup to her lips.

"How could you possibly think you would not be a popular commanding officer of your own ship?" Damhnait asked, delighted by Lyrr's sense of humour.

"Oh," Lyrr answered with a shrewd smile, "I haven't the slightest idea. I'm absolutely adored on this ship; why wouldn't I be as the captain of another?" She gave a brief, wry laugh and sipped at her green tea.

Sefton regarded Lyrr blankly. She sipped at her tea when Lyrr did, and silently set it down before curiously saying, "The nurses may still whisper non-inflammatory gossip when they forget they're not alone, but I genuinely have little concept of what your reputation is. Perhaps the reputation you think you have isn't prevalent?"

"Perhaps," Lyrr allowed. "But I hardly have the confidence of anyone aboard this vessel aside from...well...Commander T'Kal," she finished demurely. "I don't know what my reputation is...but I imagine most don't think of me at all. They have far better things to concern themselves with."

"As you said yourself, you don't know what they think, either way," Sefton reaffirmed. Before the moment could become messily treacly, she asked, "What comes after bridge tactical manoeuvres?"

Lyrr exhaled deeply as she shifted focus to the padd on her left. She scrolled through the list and finally answered with - chuckling lightly, "Something you seem to be adept at.... Diplomatic relations."

"Lieutenant Scott seems quite confident in her ability to tutor me in Diplomatic Law. She's done a solid job thus far," Damhnait remarked.

"Then we'll see you in action on..." She turned to her day-schedule again and announced, "Stardate 57911.12 at 06h15?"

"I'll remember that." --Damhnait didn't even entertain the idea of needing to repeat any of the tests-- "I suppose I'll end up with a bridge watch almost immediately after I complete the final tiring exam. Is the chair comfortable?" Sefton suddenly asked. "Ergonomically, I mean."

"Ergonomically?" Lyrr lifted both shoulders slowly in an enigmatic shrug. "Well...you get used to it." She smiled, and while taking a brisk sip of her tea she stuffed away her padd and rose. Remembering her manners, Lyrr swallowed quickly and set down the cup. "It's late and we could both use some sleep, I think. And if I keep drinking this stuff" --she motioned to the tea-- "I'll never be able to get any."

"Agreed," Damhnait nodded, but then took one more long last pull from her mug. She tapped on the rim of her mug once she set it down. "Though you really should have ordered a liathghorm tea. It's not a stimulant."

"Ben's got me so hooked on this green tea," Lyrr joked, "that I fear my body would reject anything different." She smiled, an easy, warm smile. "Good night, Doctor. And really, you did well tonight."

"Thank you, Commander. Have a good night," Sefton warmly replied. "I look forward to meeting you in the holographic engineering. ...So long as I don't blow it up."

---

"A New Start"
Ensign Alexia Johnstone - Nurse

Location: Personal Quarters, Deck 4
Stardate: 57910.15, 06h00

***

Alexia woke slowly, stretched and sat up in her bed, and contemplated the new day. She was due to begin working the Alpha shift today, after having spent the past three months on Gamma, and wondered how the day would pan out. Gamma shift was so much quieter, and if the truth be known, she was actually quite nervous about this change!

She leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands, thinking, Wow! I've come a long way. How did I go from ice-skating to nursing? She chuckled quietly to herself. Her mother simply couldn't understand it - although if she actually sat and thought about it, most of her father's family were nurses somewhere somehow! Even still, no one in the family had gone into the Starfleet Academy! She had certainly broken the mold there!

She sat and thought about her brother Cameron - they had nothing in common at all - after all he was still living at home at 33 years of age, and he had absolutely no ambitions. She didn't like him, and he didn't like her. What she couldn't fathom, was how two very ordinary people like her parents could have two such different children! Cameron spent all his time either serving drinks in his local pub, or sitting in his room playing games on his computer - he really didn't have any social skills to speak of!

She, on the other hand, enjoyed meeting people and getting to know them better. She had quite a large circle of friends from her time in the Academy, and she realised that she was missing them more than she had thought she would. They used to party very regularly, and sometimes she thought a change would be beneficial to her health. She knew it wasn't good to drink as much as she had some nights, and she felt ever so sorry for it the next day, but it certainly was fun at the time! Oh well, Alexia thought, I guess this is my big chance for a whole new lifestyle!

Things had been very quiet over the past three months - after all - there really wasn't a lot of opportunity to socialise when you were working on Gamma shift! She found that she had spent most of her time fluctuating between Deck 4 where her quarters were, and Deck 5 where Sick Bay was - she really hadn't had any reason to go elsewhere! Everything she needed was right there on those two decks.

She wondered whether she would get much time to practice her skating - after all she had been the Bronze Medalist in the Melbourne Olympics in 2368! It was something she had found harder and harder to find time for over the years, first with her schooling, then with the Starfleet Academy, and she really did try to fit more 'rink' time in - but - sometimes life just didn't work out the way she had hoped. One of the benefits of being on Gamma, she had found, was that it meant she had time during the day to do things of her own - at least when she didn't want too much sleep, that is!

Alexia's thoughts returned to her mother then, and how disappointed she had been when Alexia had chosen to go into the Starfleet Academy instead of continuing with her skating. Still, with a wry grin on her face, Alexia thought, I guess you can't have it all, Mother! She often wondered whether all the pushing she had had as a child to be a top class skater was simply her mother's way of reliving her own childhood. Her mother had also, at one time, been a very good skater, certainly not in the same class Alexia had been, until injury had forced her to retire before she had reached her pinnacle. She had then become an executive secretary, because that was what was expected of her by her mother!

Sometimes, when she was younger, when her mother thought she wasn't looking, Alexia would catch a glimpse of yearning on her face, as if she were reliving her time on the rink. Alexia had seen pictures of her mother during her skating career, and as a child, had believed her mother to be the most beautiful woman in the whole of the Federation. Now, though, she looked at her mother through the eyes of an adult, and realised that her mother really was quite a sad and bitter person. After all, she thought, it must be so hard to go from having glory every day with her skating, to nothing except praise occasionally from her boss for a good day's work. Alexia couldn't think of anything more boring than being someone's secretary; maybe that was one of the reasons for her joining Starfleet - she certainly hoped she would be far away from the boring and mundane things in life here!

The next thoughts to cross her mind were about her father. He was a quietly spoken man, whose whole life had been spent teaching other children. He really hadn't had a lot of contact with her when she was growing up - it always seemed that he was too busy for her. Oh, of course he showed up to all her skating performances, and always told her she had to be the best she could be. Alexia knew he was ever so proud of her when she won her Bronze Medal, but he really didn't understand her either. He figured that the nursing side of things came from his side of the family, but Alexia knew he wondered where she got the idea from to enter the Starfleet Academy and the courage to see it through! After all, look at her brother Cameron - a no-hoper as far as Alexia was concerned - with no ambition - and here she was, with all of the ambition!

Alexia sighed deeply. Her thoughts wandered along, like a slowly drifting grass seed on the wind. Sometimes life could seem like a very strange piece of fiction if you let it, she thought to herself. She had often felt like an interloper after entering the Academy - so many of the others she had met there all had long family histories dating back for years and years through the Academy, and here she was, a brand newbie with no experience or history whatsoever! She certainly had seen some changes within herself during the time she had spent there. She knew she had become much more independent, and she could see how strong she now was as a person. She had worked hard to get to where she was now, and was looking forward to it with all her heart.

Alexia wondered about the staff she would be working with. Would they accept her? Would they like her? She had heard so much about them! She thought about the gossip she had heard about Amy and Cris - and their on-going feud - and was glad that things seemed to have settled down there a little - sometimes nurses could be so bitchy! Mind you, she thought, with a little chuckle, I could certainly give them a run for their money!! She usually found though, that most of the time, she got on really well with her colleagues. All of her previous nurse friends were lots of fun to go partying with. She was hoping that she would meet someone who would show her around, and who would introduce her to a new group of friends - what the heck, she figured, a new shift, a new start, maybe a whole new life!

If she was really honest with herself, though, the thought of working the same shift as Dr. Damhnait Sefton scared her. She had heard reports from some of her friends about how she had made three of her nurses cry - Alexia only hoped she didn't cross her path. It had been so much easier to keep out of her way on Gamma!

Alexia looked at her watch - and was surprised to see how much time had actually passed. It was almost time for her to get ready for duty. She hoped that her time on the Sulu would be everything she dreamed of - who knew - she might even meet the man of her dreams! She thought she might give it her best shot anyway. After all, as her mother used to say, stranger things have happened!

---

"Saying and Doing"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Deck Two Officer Quarters
Stardate: 57910.15, 06h15

***

"If you kill me, Security will take you down," Cristobel threatened the crocodile snapping its jaws out of the Bayou. The image of the crocodile appeared on the exceedingly large, and surprisingly heavy, painting that was just barely gripped between Cris' outstretched arms. He was standing up on the surface of the desk in his quarters, and was quite afraid of losing his footing. "...With much more ease than I'm having, I promise."

When Shyla Moreau had first moved into the spacious couples' quarters that Cristobel had once shared with Corran Quezith (despite Shyla and himself not being a couple in most senses of the word), Cris had plastered the place with iconic Louisiana artwork to make it more home-y for her. Upon first sight, Shyla had thought most of it hideous, but ended up being charmed by the intention behind it and said so. Despite his good intentions, Cristobel's impression of his own decorative effort had always matched Shyla's initial horror at the tacky artwork he'd chosen, and so, once a week, Cris would make a single item disappear from the main room while Shyla was sleeping.

Cristobel struggled to lug the crocodile painting into his bedroom, to hide it under his bed until he could get the unwieldy thing recycled, and had to pass through the curtain of silver and green Mardi Gras beads he'd hung in front of his door. He had similarly strung black Mardi Gras beads, with silver and white speckles, over Shyla's door.

From out of his bedroom, he brought a replicated replica of a piece of artwork his father had recently created. Fortu Sefton had obtained a few non-operational Starfleet phasers from a couple of designs ago, disassembled them, cut the pieces into thin slivers, and then arranged the slivers on a canvas in an abstract image that looked like a regular painting from a distance. It was Fortu's belief that no object was inherently destructive, and that even a phaser, which most people imbued with a purpose of destruction, could be imbued with a purpose of simple beauty.

Once Cristobel had the phaser painting hanged on the bare wall behind the desk, he sat down at the desk and activated its terminal. He knew it was time he should talk to his mother, and he knew she would be awake by now. After the visual communications connection was made and "good morning"s were exchanged, Cristobel told her, "You weren't in your quarters when I came by last night."

"I wanted to practice for my First Contact exam, and Annikafiore was kind enough to lend me half of her scheduled holodeck time," Damhnait Sefton explained forthrightly, as she appeared on his monitor wearing her Class A uniform without the black and grey overjacket. A grin appeared on her face, when she went on, "Judging from the few impressions Commander Lyrr shared and my sense of it all, I think it was time well spent on a successful exam. I believe Ty's horror stories greatly helped to desensitize my surprise towards the type of violence that can occur in a first contact scenario." Ty Bradach was an Academy ex-boyfriend of Cristobel's, who Damhnait had liked so much that she kept in touch with him longer than Cris had. Bradach was a First Contact specialist now.

Somewhat unenthusiastically, Cristobel quietly exclaimed, "Congratulations. Woo and Hoo (as if I never would have guessed that you would excel in a leadership position), but I asked you if you wanted to have dinner with me yesterday, and you said that you did."

"We also had an argument yesterday," Damhnait said, as if that was all of the explanation that was needed. When Cris looked back at her blankly, she further explained, "When you invited me, you could barely spend two minutes in my office. It was quite evident that you didn't want to spend even half an hour alone with me at a dining table."

Suddenly incredulous at her temerity to tell him what he was thinking, Cristobel insisted, "But I did verbally invite you to dinner, and never rescinded that invite. I mean, what we had argued about was you listening to my thoughts instead of my words. And so you thought it fun to do it again? Dhia!"

"You're not being fair. I still don't understand how that upset you. You told me you felt a patient needed to be prescribed cordrazine when you meant to say corophizine. How is it not helpful to prescribe the corophizine you intended to suggest and that I agreed with, rather than the dangerous cordrazine you accidentally asked for?" Damhnait demanded.

"It's the principle of it," Cristobel insistently whispered. "You've started doing it perpetually. Like when you asked me to assist on Ensign Larkin's surgery after the Seeblin skirmish, and I agreed to do it, but then you chose Amy to be your nurse."

"Despite what you said, I could clearly sense that you did not want to perform the surgery. You didn't feel entirely confident," Damhnait reminded him.

"I am mature enough to be able to choose to do things I don't want to do," he hissed at her, afraid to raise his voice with Shyla in the next room. "And generally, when I say something, I'm saying it because I mean it. Regardless of how uncertain I may be. When my mouth starts moving, it moves how I want it to."

"...I am sorry," Damhnait expressed, her eyes even more contrite than her words. "Why didn't you say that this was bothering you before?"

"Because it wasn't bothering me before," Cristobel admitted, accepting her apology with his tone.

"I'm still sorry for all of it. I will make a conscious effort to give your verbal words priority," Damhnait promised. Her smile became more akin to a smirk, when she asked, "Can I still accept your thoughts at face value when you speak to me telepathically, or should I wait for you to repeat yourself verbally?"

"You won't have to wait for a repeat," Cristobel replied, aware of her light ridicule. Sounding almost embarrassed, and a bit consoling, he added, "While you're at it, perhaps you could also try not to do that other thing. Y'know, when you assume that I've been riding your train of thought, while I've been doing my own work, whenever I enter your office? That way you can actually tell me what you're talking about from the beginning, instead of starting off with the middle of whatever you wanted to say."

Damhnait's expression crumpled into almost a thoughtful pout. "I don't do that. Anymore. Do I still do that? I thought I stopped that after I finished studying on Betazed. On the Proxima, you told me I stopped doing that."

Cristobel had to grin; he was terrible at sustaining a lie. "You did stop. Heh. You're such an easy mark, sometimes."

"You are a donas pàisde," Damhnait teased with conviction.

"Dad says you were the one who decided that I should learn how to talk," Cris teased back. "That means it's your own fault. He wanted to go all ubertraditional and teach me minimal Betazoid and Federation Standard vocabulary words so as not to clutter my mind, and limit my eventual telepathic vocabulary."

"Your father has a poor memory and an uberactive imagination," Damhnait quickly stated. "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I could replicate spicy cinnamon oskoid."

Cristobel gently declined, "I'm having dinner at Corran's tonight."

"I could join you there," Damhnait brightly suggested.

"Hmm. I dunno," Cris portended mock-gravely. "I'm eating dinner off of his chest."

Damhnait was aghast, but only because, "You just made that up. Right now."

"Doesn't mean I'm not gonna do it."

"What about tomorrow then?" Damhnait exasperatedly asked.

"Dinner with Shyla," Cris intoned.

"Are you going to eat off of her chest too?"

"No!" Cristobel replied. "So, yeah, you can join us."

"See you then. But I'll see you in Sickbay first."

"Seeya," Cris said, and he closed the communications channel.

---

"Another Morning"
By: Dwayne Sanchez
Amy Reese

Location: Dwayne and Amy's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.15, 07h30

***

Again she awoke, and again the place beside her was empty, cold. Amy Reese rolled onto her side with a whimper and hugged the unused pillow to her chest as if it was Kit in her arms. It had been almost two months without him, and even now she craved him to the point of delirium. The separation seemed to be working; she hadn't flirted or lusted after another man since she and Kit went their separate ways. Not even Dwayne, sleeping nude in the other room, piqued her desires. Amy was certain she was cured, but each time she insisted to Counsellor Scott that she was, the counsellor would point out another reason she was not.

Sighing woefully, Amy slid out of bed and shuffled to the refresher. She and Dwayne were in a temporary arrangement until new quarters could be assigned to her. Despite their past liaison, the two were getting on famously, and had found a confidante in one another, as well as a companion during the many lonely days spent holed up in their quarters. They were better friends than they had originally been, and for that Amy was grateful. The only complaint she had was Dwayne's tendency to spend an eternity in the shower...as he was now. Sighing, she leaned into the door and called to him. "It's not fair! You always wake up earlier than I do!"

Yeah, I wake up before you do, usually due to something that I can't control, was Dwayne's first thought. Out loud though: "I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure you will," she muttered, then louder: "Want something special for breakfast?"

"No, not really. I was thinking about skipping breakfast this morning," was Dwayne's reply.

Amy giggled. "No, you're not, silly. I'm going to replicate something for us and you're going to eat it, Mister!" She drummed on the door, then sauntered away, leaving Dwayne to his private shower.

Satisfied he was clean enough for duty, he slipped from the all water shower, hair still wet. He ran a comb through his black hair and pulled on his uniform. The uniform was the off-duty version and, since he was currently off-duty, it worked for him. He sat down and pulled on his boots. Satisfied that he looked okay, he stepped out. The steam that had built up from his hot all water shower flowed out behind him as he exited the refresher.

As Dwayne made his way towards the living area of the quarters he was again sharing with Amy, he noticed the many delicious scents of food wafting towards him. He followed the smells to the kitchenette and watched as Amy stood there replicating the hugest breakfast he'd seen this side of Mexico City. "What are you doing, preparing for an army?" Dwayne asked with a grin.

Amy looked back at him, beaming smile in place. "Aren't you hungry? I sure am!" With the next plates replicated, she hefted both and carried them off to the table. "And even if you aren't," she continued, setting them down, "you can just sit here and talk with me."

Dwayne grinned and sat down at the table. No, his plan wasn't to eat, he was just going to sit there. "How are you holding up?" He wasn't sure why she'd moved back in, just that she had. She kept that to herself, but he was grateful that she had. He was getting lonely. He watched her as she began to eat and the expression on his face was one of concern.

"I'm fine," she answered brightly, and crunched on a crisp mini-sausage. "I'm really glad we're friends again, Dwayne. I did miss you lots, and it's been fun." She giggled. "Though it'd be more fun if you'd let me dye your hair!"

An expression of abject horror crossed Dwayne's face as his hands flew to the top of his head to cover his black locks. "Oh hell no!!" he said, with a grin. "There's no way in hell I'm going to dye this hair."

"And why not!" Amy exclaimed, then snickered and waggled the end of her sausage under Dwayne's nose. "If you take a bite, I won't mention it again."

Dwayne looked at the smoked piece of replicated meat, almost going cross-eyed looking at it. "I told you, I'm not hungry." He hadn't told her why, exactly...he hadn't been eating much lately, at least not since the party.

Amy waved dismissively and consumed the sausage herself. "You're never hungry," she mumbled. "I think you're just not a morning person."

"You don't know me that well, Amy. Besides, my problem stems back to the party." He still remembered the red-haired woman's touch as she leaned in to him...and he shuddered.

"Yeah?" Amy paused in her gorging to study him inquisitively. "Wanna talk about it? I'm a really good listener...especially when I'm too busy eating to talk."

"You know that crewperson we picked up on Risa?" At her nod, he continued, "She had the disgusting taste to try and hit on me at the party. I've lost my appetite ever since."

Amy snickered and lightly swatted at his hand. "Why?! What's wrong with her? She looks pretty cute to me."

"You would say that." He paused a moment, then said, "I mean, what kind of woman is she? She throws herself at a perfect stranger, me, and then expects me to hop into bed with her? You know how hard that is...or...well..." And he blushed; he hadn't intended to bring up their shared indiscretion...and now he had.

Amy laughed softly. "Well...did she proposition you? Not any good, huh?"

"That's not the point. I think a woman like her shouldn't even be on board. You've heard of her background, right?"

"Yes," Amy answered slowly, "but as someone who's been the victim of vicious rumours and my reputation preceding me...I don't know...I'd want to at least give her a chance. It's the fair thing to do."

"The only thing about you that precedes you is that you like having a good time. Her idea of a good time, I've heard, is taking a knife and cutting someone up." Dwayne just shrugged. "I just don't see how Starfleet thought she'd get passed her...past." He grinned.

Amy chuckled and patted Dwayne's hand. "You're so caught up on this, I'm beginning to think you have a thing for her," she teased.

Dwayne's face had a look of mock horror on it. "There's no way in hell I'm going to let that woman come near me...at least not without either a weapon on my person, or a lovely woman on my arm." He grinned again...patting her hand in return.

"Well, if you need me," Amy announced, "I'm available." She snickered and slid out of her chair. "I'm gonna shower before I'm late." Laying her hands on his shoulders from behind, she leaned over him to plant a brief kiss to his cheek. "And don't forget to eat up," she told him, then skipped off.

Oh sure, eat up, after I'd told her I wasn't hungry... But after the conversation about what was bothering him, Dwayne suddenly felt hungry...and he started to eat what was left on Amy's plate.

---

"Holograms and Gel Packs Are the Stuff Engineers Are Made Of"
By: Ensign Byron Klipper, Engineering
CPO Calyca Boothroyd, Engineering

Location: USS Sulu, Main Engineering
Stardate: 57910.15, 07h45

***

"Good Morning, Cal....Chief." Byron was still working on returning to the rank and name system that Starfleet required. He had spent the past few weeks working on his exams for Engineering certification. Now he was paired with a Chief to give him his OTJ training.

"Good morning, sir," Caly grinned over at him, green eyes bright and focused on him. "You can call me Caly or Booter when we're working together like this if you like, sir. I don't think the boss would object," she referred to Lt. Thaine. "How are you feeling? Settling in well enough?" she asked conversationally.

"I feel excellent." Byron wistfully ran his hand over the console beside him, a gesture that did not escape the woman watching him. "So what are we going to be working on today, Booter?"

"Why don't we start with a tour, sir? We can walk through the different stations and you can get a feel for how she's put together and how sensitive she is," she suggested.

"Very well. Lead the way, Chief."

Caly nodded and smiled at him, green eyes sparkling impishly. "Yes, sir." She motioned for him to follow her and she began a circuit of Main Engineering. She stopped at one of the consoles and motioned for him to sit down. "Have a seat, sir and see how the controls feel," she told him.

"This station monitors hull integrity, correct?"

"Yes, Sir," Caly nodded.

"It is much more exact." Byron's hands moved across the controls bringing up information. "Than the one the Maryland had. Very nice, very nice indeed."

She watched the obvious pleasure on his face and noted the way his hands moved over the controls, his love for his chosen profession was rather obvious to her and won a measure of her approval. "And very responsive," she nodded her agreement. "I find she requires a light touch. If you'd like, sir, I can set up a series of hands-on simulations."

"That would be wonderful, Booter." Byron smiled.

"Then consider it done, sir." Caly made a motion for him to get up so she could set up the simulations. "I'll set it up so you can run through simulations for each of the different systems until you feel comfortable with them. I'll let you decide the pace and how you work through them. There's also some holoprograms that we can use if you'd ever like to do that."

Retaking his seat once the simulations were set up, Byron began working through them. He soon got back into the swing of things. The material he studied and his original training and education got him through them with ease, save for the occasional hiccup Caly had tossed his way which provoked his thinking along some rather interesting lines. "So, Booter, how long have you been in the service?" Byron said, looking up from his current simulation.

"Hmmm... I joined the academy thirteen years ago." She smiled at him, standing 'at ease' with her hands clasped behind her back, watching as he ran through the simulations and being pleased with the results. "You, sir? How long have you been in?"

"I started at the Academy sixteen years ago. I don't know how much you have actually heard about me, I know this is only our first day of work but I am sure the rumor mill has been running, so if you have any questions, shoot. I would rather people know the truth than second hand gossip." Byron had to restart one of the sims; Clay's monkey wrenches caused him to lose the ship.

Caly moved to lean against one of the supports so he could see her more easily and not have to turn too far from what he was working on. She grinned and started to tick things off on her fingers, starting with her index one. "Let's see... I've heard that you're an undercover agent," she raised another finger, "An escaped prisoner," the third finger lifted, "A refugee from a derelict cruiser," and her pinkie rose and wiggled, "And a rescued shipwreck guy," she grinned. "Personally I like the undercover agent one the best. Makes you sound all mysterious and elusive," she told him with a soft chuckle. "Actually, I figured that you'd tell me what you wanted me to know, sir," she added with an understanding smile.

"Rescued shipwreck guy would be the truth. I served on the Maryland, we were on one of the first ships tasked with exploring the Gamma quadrant. We missed a lot I hear, a couple of wars, Borg incursions, our own funerals." Byron grinned, finishing off the last of the sims. "Undercover Agent? Do I give off that vibe? Maybe Starfleet Intelligence is looking for recruits." Byron's grin beamed with sarcasm. "So how did I do?"

"Not bad for a rescued shipwreck guy, sir," she grinned at him. "Pretty damn good as a matter of fact," she commended him and tipped her head a bit to study him. "Intelligence, hmm? I'd say very covert looking, sir," she nodded seriously, but the fact she was teasing was evident in the depths of her green eyes. "Have you accessed the history files to catch up on what you've missed?"

"Yes, we missed out on quite a bit." Byron leaned back. "You know something funny? The entire time I sat in that camp, breaking rocks looking for ore and working around the place trying to survive I imagined every one of my friends back in the Federation was having a grand old time. Exploring the galaxy, I had no clue that they were dying and fighting just the same as I was. My fighting was a little different but it was the same in a lot of ways. I feel pretty detached from it all which is another thing I don't understand. 18 months aboard the Ray we barely spoke a word of the Camp, now I have a hard time not talking about it."

"That's perfectly understandable, sir. The more you can talk about it, the more you can put it in perspective and incorporate it into yourself, if that makes any sense," she smiled. "You need to find where it...fits into the person you are now. Or at least that's how it seems to me," she offered with a bit of a shrug. "I think that's probably why you feel detached. You haven't found that niche it's supposed to settle into."

"Are you sure you work in the right department?" Byron cracked his neck and stood up. "So what's next?"

If Caly had had gum, she'd have popped it and grinned at him, but she didn't while on shift. Not that she didn't have several pieces stashed on her person somewhere, because she did. Instead she just grinned and motioned for him to follow her. "One of my favorites, the Bio-neural gel packs."

"Ohhhh I have yet to see those. I have been reading extensively about them. Came out after I went out of circulation," Byron beamed. He had been enthralled with the concept of Gel packs since reading about them at the Academy in the Engineering Quarterly, the premier magazine for Engineering and related fields news.

Caly couldn't help the soft chuckle at his enthusiasm because she knew just how he felt. "Have you seen the specs on them yet?" she asked as she led him to where she had one laid out on a console. "Because that one," she pointed to it. "Is defective. And it is now your job to see if you can repair it.... Sir," she smiled.

"I have been reading up on them, I don't know if I want to repair this one so much as take it back to my quarters and snuggle it. I don't because I doubt my wife would like that very much." Byron's jovial mood changed suddenly to a more solemn one; all one had to do to tell was watch his eyes.

"Ahh... Well, you can do that too, sir," she offered with a smile. "I know I have before. I just have this horribly hard time seeing them as...well...as simply a part." She shrugged a bit, watching his face, her own softening some. "Have you contacted her yet, sir?" she asked quietly.

"No." Byron was silent while he worked on the Gel pack. "I think this one has had some kind of short circuit, ummm some of the neurons seem dead or inactive. That is the problem, though I don't know how it happened. I haven't written her yet. I am afraid she has moved on, and even more afraid she has been waiting all this time. I don't know which would be worse."

"Probably both. Just each in their own way," she offered softly as she moved to look at the pack over his shoulder. "At the moment it doesn't matter so much how it happened, just that it did. We determine if it's repairable and go from there," she told him.

"So you don't know either?" Byron was dismayed in the extreme. He felt what made him a good Engineer was the fact that he always liked to the know the why it broke in the first place, and not just the how to fix it. "So how do we fix it? Send it down to medical?"

Caly laughed a bit and shook her head. "No, not in this case. Although there are definite times when they do need medical treatment," she told him. "And yes, I know how it happened. A power fluctuation caused it," she explained. "I'll admit to being a 'how'd that happen' person myself, sir," she added with a bit of a smile. "And before we get totally side-tracked in trying to fix it right now, there are still things you'll want to see. Like the EMH."

"Ahhh another piece of new technology that came out while I was away. Is it true that they are sentient?" Byron followed the other Engineer, giddy as a school boy.

"Actually, yes, they are. The combination of a self-improving program with the bio-neural systems allowed the EMH to evolve into a being with apparently genuine emotions and intellectual capabilities," she explained as she guided him to the console. "Let's run a diagnostics on the test system so you can get a feel for it."

"Ok, so does it work the same as a regular hologram or is there anything special I should know?"

"If I told you that would ruin the test," she grinned.

"I see. Well off the bat from these readings I can tell that its speech matrix is wrong, it looks like it would come out as--" He paused, thinking. "Romulan or some ancient dialect of Vulcan. It also seems to have a huge chunk missing here." He indicated a blank section of programming code. "Is that supposed to be like that?"

Caly shook her head. "No. If the actual EMH had that blank section it would fail to operate altogether. Do you think you can recreate it?" she asked him, watching as the wheels literally turned in his head.

"If there is a back up somewhere I would just copy it into place. I don't suppose we should be so lucky?"

"We are," Caly said as she smiled approvingly at Byron's thinking. She told him where to look in the directories and he copied the missing code into the program. "Want to see it?"

"Yes!" He could barley contain his excitement. "But I thought they were confined to the Sickbay?"

"We have been installing holo emitters all over the ship so in an emergency the EMH can provide assistance," she explained. "We already have them down here in Engineering."

"Start it up, Booter!"

Caly laughed. He was like a kid with a new toy. "Aye, sir. Gotta love the smoke test," she grinned. "Computer activate EMH test simulation..." There was a slight shimmer of light along with a gentle hum and the projection stood before them.

The EMH appeared as a small, slightly heavy-set woman of Latin descent. The graying hair was piled on its head under what looked to be a generous amount of hairspray and it wore a thick pink sweater over modest, conservative clothing. For all the universe, it looked like a grandmother. "Ah, mijo, you are hurt? You scrape your knee? I will get the Bactine," the elderly Latino hologram pronounced.

Caly quirked a brow at Holograndma and gave the projection a rather thoughtful look.

Byron laughed out and covered his mouth as he did so. "It looks like my godmother, Louise! Even sounds like her, well sort of." Byron circled the EMH. It turned its head and eventually turned around to face Byron. They danced around each other for a few seconds; Byron became flustered when he couldn't get all the way around the apparition. "Hold still will you?" he finally muttered.

"Aw mijo, whatcha doing now? You are in need of some Bactine. Abuela will get it."

Byron looked pleadingly at Caly. "Can you freeze it or something?"

Caly had her fingers pressed lightly against her lips to keep from laughing as she watched Byron and the EMH dance around in a circle. "Aye, sir," she nodded. "Computer, freeze EMH test simulation," she commanded and the hologram obligingly froze in place.

Circling it Byron muttered to himself, "Beautiful, simply gorgeous." He hesitantly put his hand into the hologram. He turned to Caly with the biggest grin he had had in years. "This thing is amazing, give me a neural gel pack and one of these and I could spend the rest of my days experimenting and programming."

"That," she pointed to the EMH, "is not the original Mark II. It's a glitch that I thought had been taken care of. But it is amazing," she grinned.

"So, Chief, what is next on the agenda?"

"Lunch actually, sir. I am starved," she announced.

"Is it really noon already?" Checking the chrono on the consol next to him Byron shrugged. "I guess it is, time flies when you are having fun."

"Indeed, sir," Caly agreed before the pair adjourned for lunch.

---

"Trapped like a Rat"
By: Ensign Roades Mouazer - Communications Officer
Ensign Raina Derrell - Emergency Medical Officer

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate 57910.15, 08h55

***

Roades stumbled into sickbay, his clothing covered here and there with dust, leaves, and twigs. His uniform was absent and in its place he wore a dark gold sweater, black vest, long brown khaki pants and climbing shoes; on his hands were a pair of climbing gloves. Today he opted to help out in his department during Gamma shift as opposed to Alpha shift. Mouse had originally not planned on doing anything at this hour of day but after an offer made by Nathalie Gui to go rock climbing, Roades thought it wouldn't be a bad idea seeing as Gui was a well trained athlete.

Taking a nasty tumble down was not part of the plan and thus he now found himself here in sickbay.

"MEDIC!" Clumsily Mouse attempted to grab the wall for support but found himself nearly crashing into one of the nurses.

Raina came rushing to his side as one of the nurses did her best to grab him. "I'll take it from here." She glanced at Mouse. "Take it easy there. I'm Raina Derrell. Let's see to those injuries." Carefully Derrell began to lead him towards one of the empty biobeds.

Not one to argue, Mouse nodded. "Okay, I'm M-- ouch!" Squinting his eyes shut in pain, he blinked as Derrell led him to a biobed. "Pain, pain, ow my foot! God I feel like I spent last night in a rock tumbler!" he whined as the pair finally limped over to a biobed.

"Let me have a look at that foot. Can you tell me exactly how it happened?" Raina carefully began to examine his foot.

"Rock climbing. Nathalie Gui, offered me to go to the Holodeck with her and not wanting to be rude I went with her. She knows a lot about extreme sports and safety procedures so I knew I was in good hands. Though I'm not exactly a buff guy I do keep in shape."

"Well it doesn't matter if you're in shape when one of these accidents happens," Raina replied calmly. "But we'll get it taken care of, not to worry."

Mouse managed a small smile. "Thanks, just between you and me though I'm certain my clumsiness is genetic.

"Anyway all was going well as we scaled a lovely cliff-face in Bryce Park in Utah. I must have misjudged my footing because the next thing I know I fell downwards getting battered against the rocks like a ragdoll before landing on a ledge. The safety harness caught me, and I think I busted my ankle, that and my chest really hurts. Gui is talking to someone in Engineering about the Holodeck Safeties right now and is trying to find out what went wrong." Mouse coughed, holding his chest as Raina looked over his injuries.

Raina nodded. "I'll want to get a look at your chest as well. If you think you can stand it I'll look at that first then get back to the ankle."

"Sure that's fine by me. Do you want me take my shirt off?"

"Yes go ahead an remove your shirt. That will also allow me to see if there is any visible injuries as well," Raina commented.

Doing as told, Mouse first removed his black vest and then his shirt, laying them both down on the biobed next to him. Sitting up straight he allowed Raina to begin examining for injuries. "So how long have you been serving onboard?"

"I boarded the Sulu just before the ship left Risa," Raina commented, taking a good look at his chest and running a detailed scan to check for internal injuries as well. She noticed the bruised ribs, and another bruise forming near his upper abdomen

"Ah, you have been on here longer than I have. I joined the Sulu and co. just before we left DS9 for the Gamma Quadrant...how are you liking it here?"

"It's taken some betting used to but Sulu is a good ship." Raina picked up some instruments. "Your chest is rather bruised so I'll take care for that. Doesn't look like you did any further damage which is good."

Mouse breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good to know; seriously, Doc, how long have I got?" he asked, a teasing grin on his features.

"You'll live a long, fulfilling life," Raina commented with a huge smile as she finished up treating his chest then moved onto his ankle once again. "Granted this will leave you a bit sore for a couple of days but it's nothing to worry about."

"Great to know. How's my ankle look? I have a feeling I might be limping for awhile the way it's feeling..." he remarked dryly.

Raina just smiled. "Not so sure I'd call it limping. It will be sore but certainly useable once I'm finished." Carefully she used her medical skills to heal his ankle. "Almost finished here."

Roades watched quietly as Raina worked; she was dedicated to her service as a Medical Officer, he could tell by the way she worked. He also did have to admit she was quite pretty. He blushed as she looked back up at him, having finished with patching up his ankle. "All set?" he managed to squeak out. "My ankle I mean?"

It took Raina a moment to regain her composure though the smile never left. Rarely did she have patients look at her in that manner. She had to admit it was quite flattering. "Yeah I'm finished here unless there's anything else I can help you with?" She paused. "Don't hesitate to come back if you still hurt or things don't seem to be healing properly."

Mouse nodded as he began pulling his sweater back on. "Will do," he mumbled as he fumbled with the garment before pulling it over his head finally, grateful for the momentary distraction aside from the lovely doctor standing next to him. "Am I free to go or are you planning to keep me for more poking and prodding?" he asked, a playful smile on his face.

"No I'm finished with the poking and prodding," Raina smiled. "Oh I could invent reasons to keep you here longer. However I was really asking because you look like there's something else on your mind. That's all."

Trapped like a rat! Mouse nervously ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, as he interlocked his fingers in his lap before looking back up at Raina. "Well...actually... I was maybe wondering if...you would maybe like to meet for coffee or something. I mean no! That's not what I meant! Uh, I meant to ask is, wait, yeah, if you would like to meet for drinks, not that you, uh, don't have to, I mean... Oh what am I saying? You have plans, of course you do--do you?"

Raina's smile grew larger., "No I don't have plans and yes, drinks sounds like a very good idea. Just give me a place an time and I'll be there."

"The Mess Hall, at 07h00, tomorrow morning?" Mouse asked quietly.

In response to his inquiry Raina nodded, "I usually work Alpha shift but I can shift my schedule a bit. Besides I have to start my day out right anyway. I'll see you then."

Mouse beamed. "See you then, Raina, I mean, sir," he added quickly as he hopped off the bio bed and began to make his way towards exiting Sickbay. He stopped and turned on his heel nearly forgetting something. "I never told you my name. It's Mouse."

"Mouse," Raina replied with a smile. "I'll certainly remember that one. And I'd like to hear how you came by that name."

He chuckled, "Long story. I'll be sure to tell you sometime. See ya tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to it," Raina commented, hoping that Mouse didn't injure himself more in the process of leaving sickbay just because she kept watching him.

Turning, Mouse clunked his head against the wall as he turned too quickly. Giving a thumbs up and managing a smile to Raina, he scurried out of Sickbay before risking embarrassing himself further.

---

"Head Nurse"
by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
Ensign Raina Derrell - Emergency Medical Officer
Ensign Allison Jacobs [NPC] - Medical Officer
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Petty Officer Third Class Mercedes Frazier [NPC] - Communications Officer
and Corran Quezith - Civilian Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate 57910.15, 09h00

***

An impossibly long list of pharmaceutical products was reflected in the eyes of Cristobel Sefton and Corran Quezith. Seated in Sickbay's Life Sciences Laboratory, Cristobel was scrolling through the Sulu's medicinal database in an attempt to find the United Federation of Planets equivalent of a drug Corran had once used on Achicar Prime. The computer was unable to find a match on its own, but Corran had been unable to put every attribute into Federation Standard words. As such, he telepathically passed the information over to his Imzadi, Cristobel, who performed the computer-aided searching, since the Betazoid Sefton was more familiar with Federation medicines.

"Hamburger," Cristobel stated pointedly.

"They make drugs out of that?" Corran asked, his eyebrows raised high.

"Nooo," Cristobel enthused and chidingly knocked his right knee against Corran's left knee. "I'm hungry already. I need a thick grilled patty of beef. Maybe one that's still bleeding. It should be marinated in various spiced sauces with cheese melted on top. Three different cheeses, in fact." Uncomfortable in the chair, Cristobel pounced up to his feet, and stretched his whole body upwards, reaching his arms above his head and rising his heels to stand on the balls of his feet. "It should be on a big bun - crusty on the outside, but warmly soft on the inside. Or softly warm."

Jutting a thumb towards one of the doors, Cris said, "I'm gonna find out if we can get an early lunch later on." Not waiting for a reply, he sauntered out the doorway and across the narrow corridor connecting the laboratory to the main ward. As he walked, he dragged fingertips along the duranium bulkhead to his right, and rapped his knuckles against the transparent wall on his left. On the other side of the transparent viewport, inside the Chief Medical Officer's Office, Doctor Damhnait Sefton looked up from her desk and grinned.

Rounding the corner into the main ward, Cristobel was about to press the door chime to the CMO's office, when he was stopped.

"Nurse!" Petty Officer Mercedes Frazier called out to Cristobel once she stumbled into Sickbay.

Cris didn't move to respond initially, until he recognised that the female voice that had spoken was connected to the mind and eyes of the woman who was staring at him. He turned to face her fully, and dumbfoundedly asked her, "What did you call me?"

"Nurse!" Frazier repeated, incredulous at his questioning. "I called you a nurse because nurses work in Sickbay and you clearly are a nurse and I need a nurse because I'm--" Mercedes pursed her lips tightly, as her whole body shook with a retching motion and her cheeks puffed out. And then she wincingly swallowed hard.

"Oh... dhia... I... have to get a doctor to prescribe you an anti-nauseant," Cristobel apologetically told her. He pointed her towards an empty bed. "You just sit on that biobed, and think of something...neutral. ...But not the Neutral Zone if open space makes you space-sick."

Sefton immediately scoured Sickbay for Ensign Raina Derrell, she who was always calm in a crisis, but Raina had her hands full. Literally. Her standing patient had just passed out, and Raina deftly caught him. Catching sight of Ensign Allison Jacobs, Cristobel sprinted across the 'bay to ask, "Doctor Jacobs, I need you to--"

Cristobel lost the thought in his head when he realised that it was Nurse Amy Reese assisting Jacobs. They had once been confidantes, but harsh words had torn them apart; now they avoided one another outside of the workplace. But they still shared a history. As such, the most urgent matter on his mind took priority, and he worriedly asked Amy, "Do I look extra nurse-ish today? Have I gone insane and forgotten what a skirt is?" Pinching the cloth of his Class A uniform trousers, Cristobel asked, "Is this a skirt?"

"Is anybody going to help me?" Mercedes shouted, from her biobed. "I just swallowed my own--" Her words were drowned out by her vomiting all over the carpet beside her bed.

"Oh my god," Jacobs muttered, as she raced to Mercedes' side.

"So, do I suddenly look like a nurse today?" Cristobel urgently asked Amy.

Amy twisted her lips and narrowed her eyes while she pensively gave him the once over. She shrugged and shook her head. "You appear to be in usual Crissy-ish fashion," came the verdict. "Though if you usually do look like a nurse...." She left the thought unfinished and again her face screwed up inquisitively. "Why?"

"That woman called me a nurse," Cristobel explained in hushed tones, using a hand to indicate over his shoulder towards Frazier, as Jacobs approached her. "I've never met her before. She's probably on Gamma. She doesn't know who I am, but she called me a nurse," Cris pouted. The pout curled up into a shy smile, when he admitted, "Everyone always assumes I'm a doctor."

Amy's brow shot up critically. "Oh they do, do they?" she asked, unimpressed. "I had no idea that was the look you were going for. Getting confused for a nurse is hardly the worst thing in the world, Sefton, so don't go getting your" --she gestured vaguely-- "frilly briefs in a bunch."

"I'm not complaining," Cristobel promised, ignoring her incorrect guess at his undergarment. "I'm just surprised. Thrown. And confused. I mean, what would you say is my most nurse-like quality?"

"Your cattiness?" she answered without skipping a beat, her smile shrewd. At his frown, she waved an apology. "Well...I'd say...well..." Amy sighed and took a step back to better appraise him. She appeared perplexed. "You know...now that I think about it..." Gazing up at him, she finished, "You don't really have any nurse-like qualities."

"You mean I'm a bad nurse?" Cris asked, his voice going high at the end.

"I never said that," she told him, her tone soothing. "I just mean that...you don't look or act like a typical nurse, that's all. You're just...you seem always...disinterested, that's all." Amy nearly winced as the words left her lips. "Sorry," she whispered.

Slowly and precisely, in a sort of shock, Cristobel gaped, and then stated, "I was joking when I asked if I was a bad... When always have I seemed disinterested?"

"Well..." Amy's eyes strayed to Ensign Frazier across the way, leaning over the biobed Jacobs had laid her on and heaving into a metallic bin - Ensign Frazier, who Cris had moments ago brushed off. She smiled pointedly at him. "Really I have no idea," she quipped.

"Dhia, that was one patient. I don't yet have specialised medical training, like you; I can't legally prescribe medication, when not in extreme situations, and that's what she needs. I wouldn't even be able to comfort her, because I, y'know, already yelled at her when I got confused," Cristobel whispered, seriously concerned and unamused by Amy's levity. "When else was 'always'?"

"Well," she started hesitantly, "you're just...not pleasant, Cris. I mean...you always sound so bored and so put out when dealing with patients...it's almost like you don't even want to be here, that's all."

"Well, I suddenly certainly don't want to be here," Cristobel said darkly, and evenly walked towards the back of the 'bay.

Amy Reese sighed. "You asked," she muttered, then whirled away to Frazier's biobed as another violent retching arose.

Amy's back already to Cris' back, he gaped again to no one in particular at that classic kick 'im while he's down line. He couldn't imagine how he might have hallucinated all those times that he had been enthused about helping or getting to know patients, nor could he imagine how Amy might have falsely remembered his entire career on board the Sulu. Even more unfathomable was how Amy had apparently thought that way of Cris' abilities the past few months, and had never said anything about it. Not even hinted.

"Nurse Reese, can you join me in my office?" Damhnait brightly asked over Sickbay's intercom.

Excusing herself to Jacobs and the groaning Frazier, Amy smoothed out her jacket and marched straight-backed and tall to Sefton's office. She remained in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter and reluctant to disturb the doctor by announcing her presence. Sefton was hunched over her computer, brow furrowed in deep concentration; there were padds scattered, yet organized, across the surface of her desk and a single, rebellious strand of brown hair had broken free of the tight bun holding the mane in place to hang limply against her cheek, alluding to the intensity of her studies. Amy was afraid to simply clear her throat, but she did.

Damhnait's gaze snapped up to Amy's face and held for a moment until Damhnait blinked. Sefton considered the speech she'd been toying with at the back of her brain, but the files flashing on her monitor nudged her towards an economy of words. Carefully, Damhnait pronounced, "I would like to make you Head Nurse."

She was stunned, stricken, ready to curl in on herself, or vomit. Then, there was disbelief, uncertainty. Was Dr. Sefton so fatigued that she'd mistaken her for another, far more qualified nurse? Amy glanced over her shoulder, only to verify that she was the only officer within speaking distance. She swallowed back a whimper. "Head Nurse?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, her forefinger pressed to her bosom as if Sefton required help in identifying who she had been addressing. "I-Is someone transferring? Ensign Derrell...is she changing ships? I mean...or...or Ensign Szerda..." Amy exhaled sullenly. "Why me?"

"Because all of the nurses respect you. They may not always respect you as a person, but they respect you as a nurse. Your opinion matters to every one of them. You have been on the Sulu since its launch. You bring, and I quote, 'life and laughter' to Sickbay. You have studied at both Starfleet Academy and Starfleet Medical, while most of the others have only been to one of the two. Annikafiore Szerda was seriously considered, but I felt you were the best choice for right now. And Annika will have her own opportunity," Damhnait said, shifting from confident encouragement to ominous. "You will only be Head Nurse for seven days."

She frowned, and although there was relief, Amy also experienced disappointment. "Seven days? A test?" A competition, she added to herself, one she would definitely lose if facing off against the overachieving, aggressive Scandinavian.

"Not at all," Sefton assured her passionately. "I feel it important that all of the officers in the nursing staff get to experience a degree of command, especially while you are all of equal rank. There will be a rotating schedule, but during your weeks as head nurse, all of your temporary or even permanent changes will become law."

"So," Amy reasoned slowly, "there isn't going to ever be a single head nurse? We all get to play at it once every few weeks?" This time, she chuckled, the weight lifting from her chest. "Oh, good... I thought I was going to faint! I'm hardly an authority figure, Doctor, and no one ever listens to me...and half the time, I'm sure they're laughing behind my back. For a minute there," she continued, snorting with laughter, "I thought you'd gone nuts!"

Sefton quickly interjected, "While you are head nurse they will listen to you as well as any policy you set. If they do not, you will discipline them. If you do not, I will discipline you." The seriousness in Damhnait's words and face evaporated in the time it took one corner of her mouth to curl upwards. "You will learn to be an authority figure."

Amy's humour was stamped out quickly enough, and again her face paled. "So...this is a test. What-- What happens if we fail? Will there be reprimands? Will I never get a promotion?!"

"This is not a test. There is no expected outcome," Sefton firmly stated. "This is an opportunity. Do with it as you please."

Amy nodded thoughtfully, still acutely wary of the doctor's true intentions. But, if this was an opportunity, Amy was going to take it and prove to her associates that there was more to her than a loose tongue and morals. "I-I won't disappoint you, Doctor," she declared fervently. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will," Damhnait intoned, smiling again.

"Thank you, Doctor," Amy grovelled, bowing obsequiously to Sefton as she backed through the doorway. "I'll get started right away. I-I'll write you a report at the end of the day." Grinning enormously, she giggled and spun away into a hustle, already calling to nurses left and right.

Watching Amy's very sudden flurry of activity, Damhnait cringingly considered calling the nurse back in to ensure someone, somewhen had taught her the difference between inspirational leadership and overzealous micro-management, but Amy had picked up too much momentum already. Regardless of what she'd been taught so far, this would be a learning experience for all of them. Allowing Amy to continue on her own, Sefton regarded her console to make the necessary adjustments to Reese's Starfleet Record.

---

"Nebula-Gazing"
By: Captain Matthew Salinger
Commander Lyrr Tayla

Location: Bridge, USS Sulu
Stardate 57910.15, 10h35

***

Matt Salinger looked out over the bridge of the Sulu. The buzz of excitement and enthusiasm seemed to fill the ship, as the crew continued their exploration of the protostar. He looked back to the main science console where Xayella and Tchalla Mel'Chir were busy going over information. She looked up at him, as if she sensed him watching, and smiled. He returned her grin and nodded.

They'd been here for a week, and still were compiling data. He feared giving the order to move on because half the science department would want his head mounted on the deflector array. But, the mood was good, and spirits were high. They'd made a lot of progress since they continued on. And, at least the Seeblin were now behind them as well. He feared more encounters with the Seeblin, but it appeared they'd passed out of their territory.

He glanced back over at Xayella and smiled. In the middle of this, he thought as he watched her, you are shining like a star.

Invading his thoughts was the vague perception of Lyrr speaking to him. He caught the tail-end of her statement, which finished with, "...light duty for the rest of the ship, since this really isn't their field of expertise."

Matt nodded. "I agree," he said. "Though, we will need to remain vigilant. We don't know the extent of the Seeblin territory, and we may run across one of their ships here."

"Of course," Lyrr concurred. By her long sigh, it was clear staring into a nebula for hours wasn't as entertaining as it appeared to be for Tagliesh and Mel'Chir. It was a struggle just to maintain her upright posture.

Matt chuckled. "Why don't you go ahead and take some time off the bridge," he said. "I think I can remain vigilant enough here for the both of us."

Lyrr shook her head. "No, Captain. I knew this was a science ship when I signed on. I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities the minute things get too...tedious." She smiled teasingly.

"You never know, Commander," Matt said with a smile. "You may find some of this tedious activity to actually be quite interesting." He pointed at the viewscreen and the swirling mass of the nebula. "The birth of a star."

Lyrr studied it intently, then sighed and shrugged. "Interesting...but not titillating. But," she admitted, "at least we're not being chased by tiny, repugnant creatures, or fighting off fatal viruses."

Matt chuckled. "Commander, by the time our mission is through, perhaps some of this will be titillating for you." He grinned. "Perhaps."

"We'll see," she replied enigmatically, then smiled and turned to the screen once more.

"Yes," Matt said with a grin. "We'll see."

And as appealing a sight as the nebular cloud was, Lyrr was certain she wouldn't be finding any excitement that day.

Matt looked over at Lyrr, at the expression on her face and laughed. "Don't worry, Commander," he said. "I'm sure we'll find something exciting for you out here. But for now, it's just nebular gas and protostars. But, I say enjoy the calm before the storm, because you never know when we'll be tossed into the Maelstrom once more."

---

"Mister Manners"
by Ensign Raina Derrell - Emergency Medical Officer
and Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Officer's Lounge
Stardate: 57910.15, 11h55

***

Hunched forward in his seat across from Raina Derrell, leaning on his elbows against the table, Cristobel stared down at the hamburger on his plate. He had been uncharacteristically silent on the turbolift ride from Sickbay, after asking his mother to take Corran to lunch and inviting Raina to join him in the Officer's Lounge. Eventually, his eyes met Raina's and he glumly said, "Maybe we should start a club. You and me."

"Maybe," Raina commented casually. To date, her service aboard the Sulu had been nothing less than hectic. Not so long ago, her immediate superior had voiced concerns about how she'd been handling the stress and Raina thought she'd been doing ok despite everything that got in the way. "So besides a friendly invitation to lunch was there any reason you asked me to join you today?"

"Amy told me that I have no bedside manner - that I come across as disinterested and stand-offish to my patients," Cristobel summed it up matter-of-factly, but with a sense of irony, because of who he was telling.

Raina couldn't hide her smile. "Sounds like something someone recently accused me of. What prompted Amy to say that Cris?"

Approaching more of a casual tone, since he'd already had angsty time to process the event, Cristobel explained, "I was asking her what my most nurse-like quality is, and she told me that I don't have any. She told me that she's always felt like I was bored with my duty in Sickbay, and it didn't feel" -- Cris tapped his head in the universal symbol for telepathy -- "like she was lying. She's never mentioned this before, though, and she couldn't come up with any concrete examples. Of course, her first duty as Head Nurse was to bulk up my hours assigned to the lab and dwindle my hours attending to patients. Fortunately, Amy doesn't have the authority to do the same to you, after Tchalla's insult to your bedside manner."

Briefly she paused then continued, "Would it surprise you to learn that experience was an eye opener for me in more ways than one?"

"It would not surprise me and I am, in fact, eager to know what you've learned," Cris said, starting to grin.

"That if we question our abilities for reasons unfounded we do more harm than good," Raina replied simply, after listening to his comments. "Have you tried to talk with anyone about it including Amy? Or do you think there was more than just stress interfering? I'm not ready to think she's correct unless there are valid reasons for what she said. You're good, Cris. Really good."

"I dunno... When I try to think back to JJ324c, in particular, I don't remember how I treated patients. I just remember those moments when my telepathic control wavered, and I could feel exactly what my patient was feeling. I remember it perfectly. It almost physically hurts sometimes. I can't fathom where Amy could see disinterest in my behaviour most of the time, but, maybe when things get really serious, I don't--"

She held up a hand to stop him. "I've had instances where a nurse might have questioned my call, a couple months ago. You didn't. I appreciate it, but it also shows me you knew when to suck it up and do your job. Not an easy thing to do, especially under those circumstances."

"Thank you," Cristobel said, smiling genuinely. The more clearly he recalled that day on the lowest deck of the ship, his smile fell away, and he softly asked, "Do you ever dream about Amaya Chen?"

Now it was Raina's turn to seriously think, yet she knew her emotions showed it clearly. "All the time. I wonder what would have happened if we were there sooner. If I could have saved her. Cris, I wouldn't be a living, breathing being if I didn't feel. Yes, as I doctor I've learned to set emotions aside, but only for a time. Cases do affect me just like anyone else."

"How do you purge it, or at least deal with it, after you've set it aside for that time?" Cristobel asked, desperately hopeful for an answer. "I was almost okay for the rest of the time that things were serious, but what about now? I mean, a week later, a month later, a year later... I don't quite comprehend how my mother does it. Those feelings aren't just going to evaporate on their own."

Raina nodded in agreement with his final comment. "No they aren't, but it takes time. I wish I could have known Amaya better. There're times I have to remind myself I made the right call even though I know what doing otherwise would have meant. Purging those feelings, emotions, even the mental images of that day takes time. Eventually you'll remember what happened because we have to, yet it won't hurt like it does now. Talking helps but it's simply a process that has to go through its cycle without interruption no matter how long it takes."

Cristobel nodded, understanding Raina's words, but feeling unsure if time would be all that was needed to make the hurts go away. He, finally, had to ask, "Have you ever seen me seem bored by a patient?"

"Not to my knowledge. I've watched you since I arrived on this ship. You're good at your job. Very good at it." Her words were sincere.

"I appreciate that." Cristobel grinned. He teased, "I'd tell you what a good medical officer you are, but now you know better than to let the opinions of silly nurses affect you."

Raina had to laugh, "Not if you are serious in your assessment. It's not gossip if you're honestly giving me an opinion of my performance. I'm not against hearing where I screwed up."

"I haven't seen you screw up," Cristobel shrugged, but then suddenly turned foreboding. "...So far. Believe me, I would not be afraid to call you on it."

"Thank you," Raina replied just as sincerely. "I can't improve or make changes if I don't know there are changes to be made or if I've made some sort of error that catches the attention of others. So how do you relax after a rough mission?"

"...Well ...traditionally, I suffer a nervous breakdown and go back to Betazed," Cristobel admitted abashedly and absolutely seriously.

While she knew he was sincere, Raina had something else in mind. "Well let's see if we can change that. Have a program of Betazed you'd care to share with me?" She'd spent her own share of time on Cris' home planet healing and that wasn't always a pleasant thing.

"The Grioglachan Observatory," Cristobel quickly replied. "We can look at the constellations from the viewpoint of Betazed, and admire the Betazoid architecture. All of my mother's program from Betazed are of the natural landscape, but I always find myself awed by the structures people have built."

"Good. Then set a time and I'll met you there," Raina replied. "We need to find ourselves and work on celebrating Amaya's life. It's the only way to begin or further our process of healing. A nice tranquil place that you enjoy is a good way to start."

"You're right; I'll set it up," Cris promised. Noticing his untouched lunch, he took a big bite out of his hamburger.

A look of genuine concern crossed her features momentarily. "Seriously, Cris, are you ok? Your lunch is pretty much untouched. If there's anything I can do medically, let me know. I know that sometimes these things decide to manifest themselves in rather uncomfortable ways."

"Oh! No. No. There very well may be uncomfortable manifestations I haven't noticed yet, but I am definitely not losing my appetite." Cris took another big bite of his hamburger for effect, as trite as it was. Shrugging, he explained, "There's just been so much to say."

Raina smiled. "I'll accept that answer because there has been lots to say. However it's not that easy to just ignore the fact I'm a doctor either. Sorry if that side of me takes control when I least expect it."

With a light shrug and a sip of his juice, Cris assured her, "That's nothing to be sorry for."

That made her feel better, but she failed to stifle the laugh. "Only if my friends don't start looking at me strangely anytime that happens. Thanks for being there when I've needed someone to talk to recently."

"Glad to do it," Sefton grinned, and clinked his glass against Raina's glass on the table in an approximation of a toast.

She took a bite of her meal then smiled as her gaze shifted to the window. "It certainly makes things easier."

"Now we just have to take more time to talk outside of Sickbay when neither of us has a bruised ego," Sefton gently insisted around the hamburger chunk in a corner of his mouth.

Raina just looked at him with a big smile. "Yes we do. And I think you just hit on reason number two for why I suggested a quiet holodeck session."

"Very quiet. No holographic people, no storyline, no flaming meteorites; just the stars and the architecture. Did you have any favourite places on Betazed?" Cris wondered aloud.

"Yes the Observatory is one of them, there are also some beautiful serene places like lakes, et cetera that I'll show you after we've visited the Observatory in the holodeck," Raina commented.

"How are your correspondence courses going?" Cristobel asked, once he swallowed another bite of hamburger.

Raina smiled. "They're going ok, but I've only recently had any time to really get back into my studies over the past few weeks. So far I haven't encountered anything that's too challenging. Though I think your mother would be pleased if I start thinking beyond just correspondence courses."

"She is the Queen of the Multitasking," Cris agreed, and bit into his hamburger again.

"No I meant more like long terms goal type things," Raina added.

Snickering for just a second, Cris grinningly mentioned, "I seem to recall you being the one who first asked about long term goals in Medical a few staff meetings ago."

"I asked but that question was more related to long term goals for the entire department. Individual goals, since I've had little time to really think about it is a different story all together," Raina replied with a smile. "Career is great...I enjoy what I do but that's not everything."

"I hugely agree," Cristobel said immediately after he swallowed his last bite of hamburger. "After I get home from Sickbay, and after I put down my readings for class, I consider my time to be my time. Why come all the way out here if not to pause from the act of duty, and enjoy yourself? That relaxation in itself then allows one to be a better officer when needed. In fact, we should both slack off more often." Suddenly serious: "...But not now. Our break isn't quite over, but we should probably get back to Sickbay."

---

"Eating Crow"
By Dr. Damhnait Sefton
and C1C Ken Smith

Location: Chief Medical Officer's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.15, 12h10

***

Do it, Ken. Do it now before you lose your nerve. Shut up, I am walking, putting one foot in of the other, aren't I? Ken entered the lion's den, or as the rest of the crew called it: Sick Bay. He stopped and asked a passing Nurse where he might find Dr. Sefton and was directed to her office. The door chime echoed in his ears.

Doctor Sefton was standing only a few paces away from the door; she was about to get lunch with Nurse Quezith, when she allowed, "Enter."

Nope you have come this far no turning back. What would your mother say? run. And Kip? That's just low inner self. "Dr. Sefton. Good afternoon. May I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course," Damhnait replied evenly, almost flatly, as she backed towards her desk to allow him entrance to her office. "Did you want to review something from your last first aid training session?"

"No, Ma'am, I wanted to apologize." Ken swallowed the lump in his throat. "For my actions in the past," he added after a pause.

Her expression impassive, Damhnait's head cocked slightly to the right, and, curious about his intentions, she asked, "And why is that?"

"Because the situation could have been handled differently. We were both doing our jobs, only I was doing mine overzealously. I also jumped the gun, Ma'am. If I would have been more seasoned I would have not relied solely on what the runner had told me and would have realized that you were just trying to save time and lives when the order to load up did come." Ken's mouth felt like a dessert.

"I accept your apology," Sefton responded guardedly. "But you seem to have forgotten the most important aspect."

"Ma'am?"

"You honestly cannot imagine the one act that truly wronged me?" Sefton asked archly.

"No, Ma'am."

"You levelled a phaser at me," Damhnait stated, her tone roiling with disgust. "I have not stared down a hot emitter crystal since the Dominion War, and I have never. Never. Had a Starfleet phaser directed at me."

"I...I hadn't realized you felt that way. I didn't mean to upset you so much, I.... I don't know if there is anything I can say that would convey my regret, Ma'am."

Softer, but still clipped, Sefton said, "I would tell you that you don't need words to express yourself, but I would rather not be accused of telepathic rape again."

"Look inside and tell me what you think." Ken relaxed his defenses and waited.

Not warming any further, Damhnait told him, "I can already tell that you feel sorry that I was so affected, but it is unclear if your behaviour has changed. Will you still wield a phaser with such casual ease, perhaps only in a clearer situation of "good" and "bad", or will you actually prevent yourself from repeating your actions?"

"All I can tell you, Ma'am, is that I will never draw a phaser on a Starfleet officer again without being ready to fire."

"Your only regret is that you didn't shoot me?" Damhnait demanded, suddenly seething incredulity.

"No, Ma'am, my regret is that I drew my phaser on someone I had no intention of shooting. I had no intention of shooting you. I was scared, the ship was falling apart. Runners were telling us to watch out for rioters, you came barrelling up the corridor with a group of nurses and doctors behind you. I just overreacted, Ma'am."

Sefton nodded slowly, but her lips remained pursed. She didn't say anything.

"And I apologize."

"Thank you," Damhnait said, though her tone was more of an 'understood'. She had already accepted his apology. She could appreciate his general intent, but she didn't suspect she could like him.

"I won't take up any more of your time, Ma'am." Ken turned and walked away.

---

"Machinations"
by Lieutenant Commander Sam - Operations Manager
and Chief Petty Officer Sorien Case - Weapons Specialist

Location: USS Sulu, Corridors and Ops Office
Stardate: 57910.15, 12h58

***

The computer placed Commander Sam on Deck Two at the sensor alcoves and Case made his way there with an amount of apprehension that surprised him. He knew that Sam would be up to his elbows in work as the protostar had Science making all manner of resource demands. Unfortunately, that increased workload hardly offered Case an opportune moment to voice the concerns he had been living with for the last two months. But in that time, there had never been an opportune moment and Case was tired of waiting for one.

Lacking an official mandate from Command or the Security Chief, Case worried that Commander Sam would dismiss his concern and that would be the end of it. He would certainly be within Sam's rights as a sentient being to be completely unreasonable if he so chose. As Case entered the sensor alcove and ghosted up alongside Sam, he was heartened to see the android methodically measuring plasma flow on the EPS relays in this sensor alcove, oblivious to the stresses the protostar study was causing his department. More than anyone else on the ship, Sam was a rational, reasoned being. Case could count on him to see things clearly.

"Sir," Case greeted Sam. "I was hoping I could have a word with you." Sorien glanced at the female science enlisted standing expectantly behind the android. "In private."

"Certainly, Chief," Sam answered, then turned to the NCO. "Please excuse us for a moment, Petty Officer." The girl seemed about to say something but only bit her bottom lip and turned away. "Do you wish to go to the Operations office, Chief? We should be able to find more privacy there than here."

"Aye, sir," Case agreed. "But I think we can get the preliminaries covered on the walk." Case held out his hand in an 'after you' kind of motion for the Operations Manager.

Sam inclined his head in the approximation of a nod, and moved off in the direction Case had indicated. "How am I able to assist you, Chief?" he asked, as Case fell in alongside him.

"During our mission to JJ324c, I developed a particular security concern...one I've been remiss in addressing." Case faced forward as they walked, not looking at Sam. "It's about you, sir."

"About me?" Sam asked, as a puzzled expression tried to form on his face. "What is your concern, Chief?"

"We were beset by mechanical errors aboard the ship, sir," Case said, gently and not unkindly. "And for better or worse, you are a mechanism."

"As is every being aboard this ship," Sam answered. "Of an organic nature, but mechanisms nonetheless."

Case smiled grimly, pausing at the turbolift door to allow Sam to get on first. "My fear isn't that you're any more susceptible to some kind of outside control than any of us, sir." Case followed him inside. "It's of the damage you could do before you were stopped."

"I see," Sam said. "That is partially true, however the chances of such control are limited under most circumstances. My positronic net is protected by a multi-fractal encryption algorithm that will withstand the most determined of slicers."

"The same protection that Commander Data enjoyed?" Case asked as the turbolift doors whisked shut. He left unsaid the number of times Data lost control of his abilities.

"Some of the protections employed within my own neural network are upgraded from Commander Data's, however many are based on the same schematics."

"They failed more than a few times on the Enterprise, sir," Case pointed out. "But again, my concern is not that you're especially vulnerable to being controlled...even if android history tells us different...I'm worried about what it would take to stop you under those circumstances."

"What are you suggesting, Chief?" Sam asked, then to the computer: "Computer, Operations office."

"I would like to establish a shut down procedure in the event that you ever became compromised." Case looked at Sam with his one good eye. "Having a contingency plan in place could save us some of the headaches they faced on the Enterprise. And I'm of the opinion it would be safer for you."

Sam nodded his understanding. "How public would such a procedure be?" Sam asked. "If the procedure is too publicly known, it could be compromised and utilized by a threat to the Sulu as well."

"I'm thinking two remote shutdown nodes hardwired separate from the Sulu systems," Case said as the turbolift hummed along. "One in the Captain's Ready Room and one in Commander T'Kal's office. Accessible only by the Captain, Commander Lyrr, and Commander T'Kal."

"I believe that would be acceptable," Sam answered. "I would, of course, need to see the schematics to be certain there will be no incompatibilities with my own systems."

"Of course," Case agreed as the turbolift came to a halt. The doors whisked open just a few steps away from the Operations office and Sam stepped off. Case followed then waited politely for a crewman to pass before he continued. "Though...would there be a way to purge those schematics from your memory after the fact? If you know all the ins and outs, someone might be able to use that information to bypass the system."

"It is possible," Sam stated, "yet I am hesitant to do so. To remove such information from my own memory stores could put me at risk should the information fall into the wrong hands. Yet, I do recognize the reasoning."

"Are you even configured for a remote shut down?" Case asked, figuring that the decision Sam was concerned about would have to be made at a higher level. "There were rumors about Commander Data having what amounted to an 'off' switch but there's nothing in the official record...at least not the record I can access with my clearance."

"I am not equipped with a remote shut down," Sam answered. "However, I do have a deactivation switch."

The two walked into Operations and then in turn into Sam's office. "You would need a slight modification to allow remote deactivation," Case said bluntly once the door shut behind them. "Do you trust engineering to design it?"

"It is not something I would be...comfortable with," Sam said. "As Ensign Farrell once pointed out, I am not well liked among the crew. Were that information to end up in the wrong hands..." He let the words trailing off, not needing to speak them openly.

"Well, if you'll pardon me for speaking out of turn, sir, Ensign Farrell does not speak for the whole crew." Case leaned up against the bulkhead and crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in thought. "Unfortunately, we can't have it both ways...there would have to be a modification to your deactivation switch for a remote shut down procedure to work. Is there anyone aboard the ship that you could trust to design and install it? As well as keep it secret?"

"I would need to research the qualifications of the crew further," Sam said. "However, I believe if one cannot be found, I may be able to design the device myself. Installation would require a review of personnel files."

"I can appreciate that, sir," Case nodded. "And for what it's worth, the specifics of this plan will be on a short need-to-know list. At the moment, Captain Salinger, Commander Lyrr, Commander T'Kal and myself are the only ones that will be informed about what we set in motion. Any information you reveal will be kept under wraps."

"That will be acceptable," Sam answered. "I will begin drafting a schematic for a device that meets the requirements that you have outlined, Chief."

"I'll inform Commander T'Kal of our status," Case said, offering his hand. "Thank you for understanding my concern."

Sam accepted the offered hand. "I understand your concerns, Chief Case, and agree precautions should be taken."

"Very good, sir," Case offered, taking a step to and through the door. "I'll be in touch." The door slid shut behind him.

Sam watched the closed door for a moment, internal processors working at the schematics that would allow for the device Chief Case had described. After several more seconds, he moved to his desk and began drafting the schematics.

---

"Shyla's Star"
by Lt. jg. Natalia Druschev - Science Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Petty Officer 3rd Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician

Location: USS Sulu, Astrometrics
Stardate: 57910.15, 13h00

***

As had become his custom, Cristobel Sefton wore a long pale blue medical smock when he strode into science lab three. Mostly, he wore it to distinguish himself from the science personnel in science blue. The instant the doors had parted for him, his onyx eyes were unable to look anywhere but the massive astrometrics display on the opposite side of the room. Still, he had been able to notice that Shyla was absent, but would likely return shortly.

"Lieutenant?" Cristobel called out to grab Natalia Druschev's attention, but didn't break eye contact with the sensor composite until after Natalia's eyes were on him. Directly to her, he explained, "Doctor Sefton sent me to borrow your expert opinion: as we draw nearer to this protostar and areas of denser stellar gasses, could there be any potential for danger to the crew?" Flippantly, he digressed, "And she sent me, because she knew I wanted to have a look at that." Cris' eyes returned to the astrometrics display.

The expanse of gas that made up the nebula was a splash of blue and green covering three quarters of the Stellar Cartography Display that arched above the two officers in all its three dimensional glory. The Sulu was a bright pinpoint of gold sitting at its edge, the swirling coalescing proto-star was a milky white glow that burned brighter in its center and extended ribbons of pre-stellar gas undergoing its attraction to the forming gravity well of the star. The Sulu had been immensely fortunate - Astrometrics calculations on the gas density and rate of expansion and contraction of the core of the about-to-be-born star showed that it could literally explode into life at any moment. They had waited a week so far and the contractions of the birthing were critical. It was pulsing gamma rays at phenomenal amounts, but it was inside a thick cloud of charged particles - it looked spectacular, and Natalia had captured every loving moment of it on the forward sensor arrays and increased tasking time that she and Shyla had almost begged for from Operations.

Natalia stood back a little as she too took in the sight again and grinned warmly at Cristobel. She'd gotten to know the younger Sefton over the last two months due to Shyla's incessant chatting about him, and their co-habitation, and the million other trivialities that the exuberant girl had mentioned.

"You're looking at a very special star, Cris..." she smiled at him. "The Captain has given us permission to name it...Shyla has the honor." The Russian ethnic woman seemed particularly proud of that. "Seeing as both Shyla and this nebula are both expecting..." She walked over to him and dropped her padd on the central console. Leaning against it and leaning back on her hands, Natalia crossed her feet at the ankles and considered the rather handsome man. It was a great pity he wasn't interested in girls, she thought his eyes were rather dreamy...not to mention the rest of him, and then her eyes flicked back to his and she realized with abrupt embarrassment that he was a telepath...her face coloured slightly.

"That. Is. Alphanumeric," Cristobel exclaimed, and started to ponder what Shyla might call it. In this particular instance, he chose not to make a witty quip about Natalia's blatant appreciative glance; he knew she probably wouldn't be offended, but there was something else that he had to ask her. Looking to her, he conspiratorially said, "You're a mother, right?"

Natalia was instantly deflated. A Mother Figure...she'd become a Mother Figure. "Da," she assented with a wry smile. She crossed her arms under her breasts and cocked a brow.

Noting her disappointment, he smiled contritely, and then explained, "It's just: you're one of the only parents on board the Sulu, and I've been wondering if there are any peculiarities of Terran pregnancy that won't be found in a text book. ...Are there?"

Natalia laughed. "Ahhhh the concerned father," she teased. "Or is it Mommy?" Her eyes were filled with delight and she truly liked Cristobel Sefton. He was caring and he looked after Shyla, and she needed someone like him.

"...Concerned roommate and friend," Cris clarified succinctly, his wavering tone revealing his uncertainty as to how he could possibly fill a maternal gender role, particularly one by Terrans' strict limitations. Still, he was charmed by Natalia's liveliness, and, although they were still alone in Astrometrics, he leaned in to whisper his exuberant surmise, "Maybe godfather."

"Oohh." She impulsively hugged him and kissed his cheek. "I'm so happy for you...that's nice. We'll celebrate, you have to come to dinner and bring Shyla." She stood back and smiled. "You really want to know what it's going to be like? Having a baby? It's really a straightforward process. There's nothing you can't read about really...and if you're going to be there, and I hope you are...just hold her hand and let her take care of it." She grinned a little wider. "But it's very common for the female to want to tear your eyes out because you can't possibly know how she feels...and you are lucky you aren't the father because they usually get the blame right about then."

"Shyla won't be blaming--" Cristobel muttered, his grin faltering because he worried he couldn't say 'Ethan' without his voice cracking. Telepathically noticing Shyla approaching Astrometrics from a few sections away, Cris swithly bolstered his smile, and said, "But dinner! Yeah. Yum!"

"If you don't mind me inviting Ainsley? It can just be us girls," she teased.

Almost asking if that meant she didn't want him to attend, but then telepathically recognising her intention, Cris just affirmed, "Ainsley is a dear petal. I've been quite curious to get to know what she's like without her other half."

"Well I don't know about inviting him," she said. "I'll see. What shall we have? Shyla's father's secret recipe jambalaya is to die for. Have you had it? Domenic loves it...almost as much as he loves Shyla and Ainsley..." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly I don't know where that boy gets it from..." She smirked knowingly.

"If only everyone could learn to love as easily..." Cristobel said, holding no meaning other than the plain words themselves. "I have grown quite fond of Moreau Championship Jambalaya. Another dish of it will give me another chance to suss out the ingredients. I think my father was a tad cross that I told him about it without sending him the recipe."

"It's in my replicator log, Cris, and yours no doubt." She smiled. "Domenic really likes you too," she noted kindly.

In a deeper voice with a thicker Betazoid accent, Cristobel said, "A replicator facsimile of a meal designed by the daughter of the cook is no recipe, according to my father, the occasional professional chef." He grinned almost self-consciously, then, and talked like himself to ask, "This Domenic would be your son whom I've never met?"

"Da!" she laughed. "Shyla talks about you so often that he says he knows you and likes you anyway... no matter what he's heard from others..." Natalia gave him a purely mischievous look.

"Heard from others?" Cristobel echoed at a murmur.

The doors let out their distinctive hiss, prompting a turning of two heads. Moreau had her nose in a PADD, absently biting on the device's seldom used stylus. She took it out of her mouth and continued towards the display console without looking up. "Commander Sam assures me that we're getting all the resources we're going to get, Lieutenant. I think if we remodulate the frequency of the EM flux sensor we can get a little more resolution --" she looked up then and broke into a clear smile at the sight of Cris "-- and then we can give Ensign Sefton a real lightshow."

Natalia grimaced at the news Shyla brought, but smiled at the last. "When she collapses it will be beautiful," Natalia said indicating the pulsing proto-star. "It will be spectacular. We are sending a Class 4 probe into the star soon. When the core reaches the proper ignition temperature and it flares, it will cause a massive out-surge of gaseous matter that will clear away a significant portion of the nebula matter surrounding the star. We will have to move away before then, but don't worry we'll have plenty of warning."

"How come you never told me that they gave you a star?!" Sefton enthused towards Shyla.

"I only just officially found out...the Captain had to approve it first," Shyla grinned at Cris's excitement. "Beside it's not my star anyway." Moreau looked past Cris at Druschev and let a little sadness seep into her smile. "It's Ethan's."

"What's it called exactly?" Cristobel asked, trying to make his enthusiasm infectious. Storm being gone was still an ache, but this honour should be celebrated.

"I'm still deciding," Shyla said, looking at the display. "At least I have a little time...it won't technically be a star for another few days." She glanced back over at Cris. "I could use suggestions."

"We will think of something," Sefton asserted, since, in that moment, he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be trite. Thinking about the act of discovery, Cris had to slyly ask them both, "Has the Science department made any progress on puzzling out the origin of those century-old starship hull fragments you found a while back? ...Maybe something that didn't show up in the reports available to the general crew?"

Natalia smirked. "Cris...why don't you just make something up? I'm sure that'll be more interesting than the spectral analysis of a fragment of hull with no identifiable markings. Maybe it was the first Enterprise? Who knows?" She laughed softly.

"Oh, I have made up plenty of possibilities, mostly involving chroniton particles and space folds -- not the Enterprise, though -- but the reality of a spectral analysis is at least equally interesting even when it's not fantastical," Cristobel said. "Besides, Shyla's probably tired of hearing my theories."

"They aren't old enough to be the first first Enterprise," Shyla said thoughtfully, not at all tired of hearing Sefton's suppositions. "A lot of starships used to just disappear in the 23rd century but it still doesn't make sense. I don't even think the Federation even got out as far as Bajor in those days...certainly them making it here through the wormhole seems unlikely."

Natalia folded her arms and smiled. "One of my specialties is Temporal Physics. It is quite possible for a starship to have been caught in a temporal rift. The stresses of the sub-space flux on the old style hull structures may have caused catastrophic damage...a temporal rift could conceivably deposit wreckage at any time and as it involved folded space, distance is not an issue. It could have been destroyed in 2237 and the wreckage deposited over several thousand light years and various time streams, or even farther. It is not inconceivable. It is more unlikely that the ship was out here before us..."

"That's practically my theorem D; although I had supposed that the rest of the wreckage had remained within this quantum universe, but had been dispersed across different points in time," Cris said, having once devoted many hours to temporal mechanics when he'd been a Science cadet.

"I haven't studied all the statistical probabilities," Shyla admitted. "That seems as good a possibility as any...but certainly a lot less romantic than thinking they were out here exploring a hundred years before we were."

"That's something of a perverse romance, considering they all would have died without their discoveries ever having been known about..." Cristobel teased Shyla, but ended up convincing himself of the depressing possibility by the end of the sentence.

"In both scenarios they're equally dead," Shyla said, looking at Cris only a little gravely. "But in mine, at least they would have died as the trailblazers they were." Shyla shook her head as Ethan drifted inside it. "I'm usually more rational about this kind of thing...but in absence of positive proof, I think I prefer the romanticized version."

"Always go for the romantic," Natalia smiled at the girl fondly. "It always makes it seem less harsh than reality sometimes allows." She had that look in her eyes again and Natalia put a hand on her shoulder. "Rationality is for Vulcans," she said with a smile, "leave the idealism and the romance to those of us who can appreciate it...and I think you should name your star something romantic...he would appreciate that I think..."

"I didn't think it would be this hard," Shyla admitted, looking back towards the display. The white glow bathed her features in soft light. "Just using his last name doesn't seem appropriate...especially given the double meaning. But his full name doesn't seem quite right, either."

"What was that passage you wanted to read at his service?" Natalia asked quietly. "Perhaps there's something in there that you could use...something that isn't his name, but means the same thing to you and anyone who knows him."

Shyla smiled at the suggestion. "How does Dearheart sound to you, Cris?" she asked, her warm brown eyes misting over a bit.

"Generic," Sefton blunted and, spurned by the two vaguely hurt looks coming his way, he explained, "I mean, it's calling back to his funeral rather than his life. I was just starting to think of something more along the lines of a marriage between rationality and romance. Perhaps...encrypting his full name or Starfleet serial number with a simple algorithm that would end up turning it into a pronounceable cyphertext, which could then be easily decrypted by anyone who knows the star's backstory."

"So hopelessly arcane and coolly technical is preferable to generic?" Shyla asked, even managing a smile after the initial reaction had faded. She knew that Ethan's memory was as important to him as it was to her and even in the midst of her tease, she appreciated his opinion.

"Yes. Especially since it would be generically depressing." Cris' tone got softer, though, to express, "But those are just two options out of an infinite amount."

"Romantic isn't cryptic, Cris." Natalia shook her head. "I don't think Dearheart is generic. It has to mean something to the one person who counts here, and that is Shyla. So if she wants Dearheart, then that's what it will be."

Defensively shrugging at Natalia's statement, Cristobel nonchalantly said, "Not arguing with that. Shyla asked for my opinion, and so I offered it. It wasn't an order." Cris had to smirk at Shyla. "Have I ever given you an order?"

Shyla bobbed her head. "You ordered me to clear the table this morning after breakfast." Moreau looked to Druschev and smiled. "He's always throwing his weight around at home."

Natalia crossed her arms and raised her brow at Sefton with a look that said is that so?

"A flippantly toned order isn't a real order," Cristobel matter-of-factly insisted. "Everyone knows that."

"Tell that to Lieutenant Tagliesh," Natalia grinned in reply. "I'm sure she would understand." The Russian woman looked between the two. "Just how did you two manage to move in together? I'm sure there are regulations covering enlisted and officers sharing quarters...I didn't think it was allowed."

"But does Lieutenant Tagliesh present her flippant orders in rhyming couplets?" Cristobel asked rhetorically. Looking to Shyla about their living conditions, Cristobel uneasily said, "I think an Operations officer might have come under the mistaken impression that we'reacouple. Who are we to refuse such shiny quarters?"

Natalia looked at Shyla. "You told them you and..." She looked pointedly at Sefton. "Cristobel were a couple." She looked back at Shyla. "And they believed you?"

"Of course!" Cristobel blurted, faux-offended by the implication. "And we never blatantly lied to them. After Shyla moved in, we did tell Ops of the error. And they assured us that we would be reassigned to different quarters... when we have unallocated personnel coming aboard at the next official crew transfer. Which will most likely be the next time we arrive at Deep Space 9. And by then, Shyla will be entitled to family quarters of her own and Corran should be telepathically healed enough to move back in with me."

Natalia laughed. "Very clever...though I think it's a good thing," she added kindly.

"It's so much better than enlisted berthing," Shyla said. "And there are a few loopholes in the regulations we could have utilized...if they had been insistent on returning me to the dreaded lower decks."

"Well, seeing as we are not in a position to get any extra officers assigned to us until DS9, I don't think anyone will make an objection to a pregnant girl being roomed with her personal nurse. It's a precautionary measure...yes?" Natalia was grinning.

"Hunh. I hadn't thought of that," Cristobel remarked. Suddenly: "But, oh, that reminds me. You" --he pointed at Shyla's stomach-- "are practically due for your next prenatal examination."

"Practically?" Shyla smiled at him. "Are you ordering me to Sickbay, sir?"

"No, I am," Natalia smirked. "Carry on, Ensign," she nodded at the smiling Cristobel.

"Just one last look..." Cristobel asked for, and he led the way to Sickbay by walking backwards out of the lab, never taking his eyes off the astrometric display of the protostar.

---

"Ever Forward Progress"

by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
Lt. jg. M'lira - Assistant Chief Medical Officer
Lt. jg. Benjamin Talltree - Medical Officer
Ensign Raina Derrell - Emergency Medical Officer
Ensign Alexia Johnstone - Nurse
Ensign Kremer - Medical Officer
Ensign Amy Reese - Nurse
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Ensign Annikafiore Szerda - Nurse
and Corran Quezith - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Sickbay
Stardate 57910.15, 15h55

***

With the need for isolation rooms long gone, the Sulu's two operating rooms and two of the three private examination rooms had been reverted to their original purposes. The third private exam had been converted back to a conference and break lounge, which allowed for the majority of the medical staff to congregate without worry of leaving the medical ward unattended. It was still a very tight fit, though, since the room had never been intended to be allocated as a meeting space, and so Damhnait held separate officer and enlisted staff meetings. Having met with the medical enlisted crew earlier in the day, Damhnait was seated at the head of the table, with ACMO M'lira by her side, and all of their life-science officers surrounding the table. Corran was sitting in as well, since his education more closely resembled those of typical officers than the typical enlisted medical personnel on board this ship.

Completing the standard meeting itinerary and having announced Amy Reese's placement as the first Head Nurse, Doctor Sefton moved on to various concerns that were of the moment. To start, in a much more casual voice than the official departmental discussion, Damhnait asked, "Would any of you like to report on the progress of your research projects?"

A silence fell upon the room, vaguely suggesting that little progress had been made since Damhnait had assigned the self-directed projects. Sefton's eyebrows began to rise critically, since there had occasionally been entire days over the past month in which only the most basic of medical treatment had needed to be offered. Just before Damhnait was about to say something, someone squealed.

Gushingly, Annikafiore Szerda trilled, "I've been published! Not by any of the Starfleet medical journals -- it's more of an independent Federation magazine -- but I've been published!" Annika opened the small brushed-chrome case that had been sitting in her lap and she dealt out a stack of isolinear chips as if they were playing cards. "Admittedly, my research on the change in CMOs' allocation of tasks to nurses, in this post-Dominion War environment, was completed while I was serving on Starbase 147, where the countless medical staffs on countless ships were always coming to port, but I didn't start analysing my findings until I was transferred to the Sulu, and it was Doctor Sefton's urgings that got me to finally write them down. And get published!"

"That's great, Annika," Amy told her, though she came off sounding less than enthusiastic, and her smile was far too forced to be natural. Her attention strayed to Raina as the ensign spoke up.

Raina considered the CMO's question briefly then smiled, "No research project per say, Commander, but I've been making good progress in teaching Security and the TAC team first-aid."

Damhnait nodded appreciatively; though Sefton herself had performed all of the initial training sessions to the TAC Team and the rest of Security, she had delegated a great many of the subsequent sessions to Derrell. Sefton had found herself uncomfortable, especially with the Starfleet-backed assault team, with the thought that the biology she taught the security officers would be twisted into methods for causing harm. Focusing herself on the matter at hand, she encouraged, "I do hope we have more successes to share, even if they are on varied scales of success. Ensign Reese and I, for instance, have completed our thorough study of the mythology and anthropology behind the virus that was designed on JJ324c. I believe we are now prepared to continue our studies of the unconventionally-engineered virus with a much better understanding of the virus' genesis."

Cristobel Sefton unemotionally shared, "The Daystrom Institute finally confirmed that they are undergoing experiments to safely apply features from Borg maturation chambers to Starfleet maternal medical equipment, but they have encouraged me to perform my own research on the topic, and are looking forward to read my findings. ...Once I have any. ...And it's starting to appear that I'm probably going to need an Engineer volunteer to better understand the technologies involved. But there is forward momentum on my project."

"Accelerated growth in sentient species?" Talltree asked.

"Possibly, but the primary objective is to create an artificial environment in which extremely prematurely born children can survive," Cristobel replied.

"Ah," Talltree said, nodding. "I would be interested in seeing your findings, when you have something presentable."

"They will be available for everyone," Cris assured him.

Alexia sat quietly squeezed between Amy and Cris, looking around at her new colleagues, feeling slightly in awe. She wondered whether she had the courage to speak about her project. Taking a deep breath, she spoke softly. "I have begun to research the various races of the Dominion - in particular the Dosi and the Karemma and the peculiarities specific to them. The information I have compiled to date has been entered on the Federation database under Dominion races and I am slowly working through them. I thought it might be pertinent for one of us to have a greater understanding of the races that we might encounter in the Gamma Quadrant. I'll forward my report immediately."

Having said her piece, Alexia shrank back into her chair, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. She was feeling very tired after nearing the completion of her first Alpha shift; it had been a long day, and she was used to being asleep at this time of day - a strong hot cup of tea certainly wouldn't go astray! She wasn't used to the pace of Alpha shift, and her feet were killing her. Oh, how she hoped this meeting wouldn't drag on!

"I worked closely with a Karemma navigator for six months," put in Talltree. His voice, as was apparently usual, was calming and pleasant. "In that time, I was able to compile a limited database of anatomical and behavioral information. Would such a thing help your project?"

Alexia smiled. "Sure - that would be really helpful. Maybe we would be able to arrange a time for us to get together and I could assist you to enter the information you collected over the ten years you've been away onto the Database?" Alexia couldn't believe her luck - someone who had actually been out there and had first-hand experience! How exciting! She began to feel a little more positive towards her project - she had been struggling to garner information just recently, and this opportunity was like a gift to her.

"I'll try and beat my notes into something readable," Talltree joked.

"Oh, I forgot," Cristobel blurted, obviously mentally returning to the meeting from a distant reverie. "I completed the analysis of the ship's layout and crew compliment dispersal to recommend which locations on the Sulu are best suited for triage centres." It had been a project assigned to Cris, during all of his waiting to hear back from the Daystrom Institute, because of the difficulties that a lack of a stable communications grid at JJ324c had caused for the mobile triage teams. "I have also suggested a tentative assignment of Medical and Security personnel to each of the triage centres, based on the existing damage control teams."

As Cris used his PADD to transmit the report to Damhnait, a wave of nods spread around the table, just as had happened after each officer's report.

Kremer raised his paw before reading off his findings on his own research project. "Thanks to Dr. Potts, I have been studying some of the various plant life from the Seeblin's homeworld. The majority of the plants have just started budding and I plan to see if any medicinal value can be used from the fully grown plants; so far however I have discovered Vekl roots can be used to substitute as a mild depressant despite its leafy portions producing the exact opposite effect," the Cait remarked.

"I look forward to when your pharmaceuticals go into production." Choosing her words precisely, after another lull in the discussion, Doctor Sefton said, " Thank you all for the efforts that have been put forward. I can appreciate that the changes I have made to this department are sometimes challenging. Some of you have even solidly made decisions in your life to not serve as Science officers," --Damhnait's gaze at the entire group focused upon Ensign Kremer, Corran Quezith, and her son Cristobel for that-- "but we are serving aboard a science ship and I know that each of you are capable of being more than competent medics. We are not only out here to discover what is unknown about the galaxy, we are here to discover what is unknown about ourselves and each other." She held the wistful look towards all of them, until she looked down at her own PADD, and recalled another issue of the moment.

"In fact, there is one of us who needs closer scrutiny," Damhnait continued. "The Emergency Medical Hologram had its personality profile replaced by that of an elderly Terran woman -- a relative of a Sulu crewmember. It seems to be capable of performing its programming, but I am curious to know if any of you have noticed unusual behaviour from it. Should we leave it as is, contact Starfleet for a replacement Mark II or the upcoming Mark III, or create our own options?"

"She sure seems liberal in her prescription of bactine for every ailment," Amy noted, appearing perplexed. "I still haven't figured out what that is...."

Raina had to smile at that one. "It's the old 20th century prescription for keeping a simple cut clean. Now why an EMH would think it has any other useful properties I haven't a clue."

Nurse Sefton shared, "Cadet Cox eagerly located for me the automated logs that the EMH records whenever it completes a procedure. These logs do use the correct terminology for medication and treatments. Her verbally recorded logs, though, are even more rambling than my own, and are utterly useless, in fact. As Nurse Reese pointed out, the EMH refers to everything as bactine. Though many Terran patients do find her bedside manner comforting, I have noticed that many other patients don't entirely trust that she knows what she's doing. As such, I think that we need a Starfleet approved personality profile."

"Starfleet Approved tends to mean Exceptionally Dull," Talltree remarked.

"Not in the case of the Emergency Medical Hologram, sir," Cristobel could first-hand attest numerous times over.

"Oh?"

"Mark II's greeting alternated between 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency' and 'What the hell are you doing in my Sickbay?' And he slapped me. For instance," Cris said.

Glancing in Cris' direction Raina tried to stay professional but the smile showed anyway. "On a really bad day I attempted to punch out a Mark II once. Then I just shut it off because the limited vocabulary was more distracting than it was helpful."

"So, in this case," Talltree said, his own smile starting, "Starfleet Approved means Insulting Distraction?"

"Holograndma is hardly insulting or distracting," Amy protested. "She's really very nice."

"And not Starfleet Approved," Talltree replied. "I think that's been said."

Amy frowned to Dr. Sefton. "Does that mean we can't keep her?"

"For the moment, the EMH will remain as she is. ...She incites less violence," Damhnait decided. Her momentary cheekiness was reigned in, with the caveat, "I want all of you to keep watch of the EMH when she is active, in case she does anything unpredictable or inadvisable. She has no stress training or Starfleet discipline. I want all of her automated logs reviewed closely, to ensure she has not made any very bad decisions without anyone noticing. Task a nurse to that, Reese. I would also like a more detailed feasibility report from Engineering on the continued usage of this EMH and that of obtaining a new one. At the first sign of trouble or a shiny new Mark III EMH, her position here is slagged."

"Yes, Doctor," Amy replied glumly. "Right away."

"Once the meeting is finished will be fine," Sefton told Amy. To the rest of them: "Are there any other concerns or issues that any of you would like to address?"

Alexia shook her head silently from side to side. She really didn't have anything to add to the meeting, and was simply glad it was nearly over. She was getting more tired by the minute, and her thoughts were starting to jumble together. It had been a very long day for her, and she really was looking forward to that cup of tea.

There were thoughtfully shaking heads and silence; just as Damhnait was to end the meeting, Amy grunted quite primate-like and eagerly waved her hand in the air. "Dr. Sefton, I have one more thing!"

"Go ahead."

Amy smiled in delight. "I've started an evaluation report on the nursing staff, and you'll be pleased to learn that our efficiency and response time is up five percent from the last report." Taking pride in her own contribution to their success, as Head Nurse, Amy bowed her head at the other nurses present and commended, "Good work, ladies...Ensign Sefton included." She giggled.

Cristobel just stared at Amy in genuine puzzlement when a couple of others joined in Amy's giggle. Natalia had done the same thing earlier in the afternoon, and, the more he thought about, he recognised that Amy had done it the entire time they had been friends. "I don't...understand. I'm not J'naii or Hermat. Betazoids are born with one gender each, and mine is male."

Amy sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's a joke, silly."

"I prefer to be one of the ones laughing when there's a joke being told," Cristobel reasonably explained, although there was a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Explain it to me."

Glancing around apprehensively at all those gathered, Amy cleared her throat and leaned in towards him to whisper, "Well...you see, Cris, you're sorta...kinda...." She nearly winced. "Girly. I mean, you've got better hair than half the girls on this ship." Giving a snort of laughter, Amy added, "And it's been said that you're more of a woman than Tawno down at Ops."

"Tawno was born a woman. I was not. No behaviour changes that. And you say I'm feminine, but by what standards? Terran?" Cristobel asked, unamused but not angry. "Is it 'girly' to seem 'bored' and 'put out'?"

Amy frowned at the obvious jab regarding her criticism of his bedside manner, and looked away as she muttered, "Forget it...."

"I'm genuinely confused by your inconsistent descriptions of me," Cristobel told her, not willing to simply let it drop.

Doctor Sefton interjected, "You should all be pleased to note that all of the individual crew evaluations have already been completed and submitted." Pointedly, towards Cris, she said, "Very pleased. Meeting dismissed."

---

"Running Towards and Away"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Chief Petty Officer Calyca Boothroyd - Engineer's Mate

Location: USS Sulu, Holodeck Two
Stardate: 57910.15, 16h35

***

Ensign Sefton absently ran a hand through his messily-spiky, sandy-brown-and-metallic-crimson hair, while the rest of him, clad in a class A uniform with soil on the knees, ran towards the external console that operated holodeck two. He examined it to confirm that the occupants and program were the same as what the computer had told him from the arboretum. With a simple tap of the console, the heavy doors noisily slid apart.

While growing up on various starships and bases, Cristobel had always been told that if an officer were to be embarrassed by his or her selection of holoprogram, said officer should not be using a Starfleet holodeck in the first place. As such, Cristobel didn't hesitate to step into the holographic surroundings, and call out, "Hello?"

The scene was simple. A large open field with an oval running track, surrounded by trees, flowers, and mountains in the distance. It was sunny and pleasant, and there was birdsong to go with the scent of flowers on the slight breeze.

They were running today and at the call, Caly looked over at Shirik and then towards the sound of the voice. "Over here," she called out. She was in her typical clashing workout garb of exercise tank top, today's color a bright pink, loose navy running shorts over longer, form-hugging purple ones.

Shirik was dressed in a form-fitting running suit of navy blue, with gold stripes down the sides, and matching running shoes. Her hair was in the same braid she wore when on duty, flapping behind her as she ran. She stopped when she heard the doors open and gave Caly a questioning look, having not expected anyone to interrupt them. She jogged lightly in place while she waited for their visitor to join them.

Cristobel sprinted over to the pair, while saying as quickly as possible, "I was in the arboretum with Corran. We were just going for a run, too, because all the holodecks are booked and no one was appreciating the foliage there yet. So we were running, and I started talking, which got me off of my controlled breathing exercises, and so I started breathing harder, and he was starting to sweat... Naturally, he locked the arboretum, and we ended up near the faux-cave rockface to 'workout', and do you know what wasn't there? Tasmos."

Caly couldn't help the grin that spread over her face when he started talking. She was breathing easily despite their exertion. Working out with Shirik everyday had honed both women's strength, speed and stamina. She popped her gum half-way through his explanation and her smile turned somber, a frown creasing her brow at the end. "Uh-oh..." She looked over to Shirik for her reaction since she knew what Tasmos was and rather thought her friend was going to be upset. She even moved a step closer to the other woman.

Shirik just watched him with a look that said, 'So?' "Indeed," she said. "I've been busy, and haven't put much thought into that in some time. It wasn't so urgent that you needed to sprint here at top speed."

"Sprinting into a pretty holoprogram isn't such an inconvenience that there needs to be a need for it," Cris returned blithely. He shrugged then: "I had thought Corran or someone in Science had planted it in the arboretum already, but since it was never there in the first place, I suppose it couldn't have been stolen and sold to the Wadi."

Shirik smiled a bit at that. "It's likely a good thing I didn't get around to it yet, then, or it might have been, and then I would have been very displeased. You can relax, it's safely in the terrarium in my quarters, although it has grown quite a bit, so it will have to be moved soon."

"I can't help wondering what the Wadi would do with it," Caly murmured with a speculative half-grin and stood mostly quiet as the two plotted the planting of Tasmos.

"Well, what are you doing on stardate..." Grinning more brightly because of their smiles, Cristobel palmed the bronze PADD that was perpetually perched in his uniform's tricorder holster. He considered it for several seconds, and finally finished, "...Now."

Shirik's smile turned into a small smirk as she gestured at the scene around them. "Running," she said. "You're free to join us if you wish. I'm not needed in engineering today, so if you can wait until after running and cleaning up, we can see to transplanting the tasmos then?"

"Please do join us if you like," she added her invitation to Shirik's.

"Sounds shiny," Cristobel nodded and holstered his PADD. Waiting for their lead, he strayed his gaze across the trees and asked, "Where are we exactly? Any place in particular?"

Shirik turned to jog off down the track once more, her pace slow until they were running as a group. "Not really...just a generic program from the library, with a few minor additions, like the mountains over there."

"I think we should have different places every week. Complete with local wildlife." Caly moved into step with them, her stride surprisingly long for someone her height.

"Have either of you every tried running underwater?" Cris asked, keeping up to their pace. He suddenly enthused, "Oooh, or how about sky swimming?"

"I don't think it's technically possible to run underwater," Shirik said. "The density is too high. Is sky swimming like sky diving?"

"No," Cris rapidly replied, almost indignant at the intrusion of reality's laws upon holographic fantasy. "The forces of gravity are lessened, and there are no solid surfaces anywhere. It's just you and the colour-of-your-choosing sky."

"Is there any value to the workout though?" Caly wondered.

"The fun, mostly," Cris answered.

"So, it's similar to zero-G exercises...only with some gravity and an artificial sky," she mused. "What's the appeal of that...?"

"What's the appeal of this?" Cris asked of the track they were running.

"The only appeal for me is the company," Caly admitted with a grin. "I hate running."

"It's a cardio-vascular workout, that tones muscles and builds stamina," she said. "Floating in a sky having fun doesn't burn many calories. The whole point of exercise is to elevate the heart rate and burn calories."

"Right. I kinda digressed from exercise and moved more towards holofun in general," Cris admitted, breathing heavier now. "Good company is hugely a component of sky swimming, as well," he nodded towards Caly, who was chuckling at Shirik's answer.

"Aye, sir." She smiled over at Cris. "It would need to be. Have you ever done it?" she wanted to know.

"Only for countless hours. I think -- I think my parents started me on it during a trip to Risa, when they wanted to get out of the family fun areas for a day. And then it became a tradition." Cristobel's enthusiastic grin took on a serious aspect, but remained a grin all the same, when he said, "But, yeah, if you want to improve your workout, you'd be better off running on a simulation of a planet with stronger gravity than Starfleet standard."

"Uuuggghhh.... Don't make it a chore," Caly groaned, sounding dramatically pained, but one look at the impish glint in her eyes and grin lifting the corners of her lips would show she was teasing.

"I'm finding standard gravity just fine for my needs," Shirik said. "I've also been swimming, weight training, and going through various combat training programs."

"And I've been tagging along with her," Caly told Cris in a mock conspiratorial whisper. "Do you actually enjoy the air walking then?" His enthusiasm had been rather impossible to miss. "It's not boring?"

Although he liked to think of himself as fairly strict when it came to keeping relatively fit, Cris had to idly wonder if Shirik's vigilance was related to fully regaining the strength she'd had before her illness. Cristobel's tone was thoughtful when he responded, "Not boring in the slightest. And it's more like a combination of swimming, dancing and skating," even though his thoughts weren't on his words. They were on how he'd first met both Shirik and Caly: Nursing.

"Hey, you've both been patients of mine; would you say I was disinterested or put-off by either of you?" Cristobel had to ask, despite the great help Raina's advice had been.

Shirik blinked, taken off-guard by the question. "No...why? Has someone said you were?"

"Not in the slightest, sir." Caly quirked a brow in his direction and waited to hear his answer.

"It was a friendly observation from the new Head Nurse," Cristobel wryly replied.

"New Head Nurse? Who's that?" Shirik asked as she ran.

"Amy Reese," Cris replied briefly, skipping past all of the sordid backstory of their friendship, to be able to try to breathe controlled breaths, instead of the ragged, uneven ones that came from all the talking.

Amy Reese, Amy Reese... Caly had heard that name and the rumors attached. Not that she paid any attention to them. She hated rumors and liked to form her own opinions about people. "Perhaps she sees it from a different perspective, sir," she suggested.

Shirik snorted. "I wouldn't worry about any opinion of hers," she said.

Caly quirked a brow and popped her gum at Shirik's opinion without comment.

"Well, she is now seeing it from the perspective of," --Cris paused to suck a breath in-- "the woman who can reengineer my shift schedule."

"Is there an undesirable shift in sickbay?" Caly asked curiously and glanced over at him, noting his breathing and hoping she and Shirik didn't kill him or anything. She somehow didn't think the CMO would like that much.

"A shift opposite to Corran's would be" --Cris paused to breath mid-sentence again, not because he was out of breath already, but because he was counting off a specific number of seconds for exhaling and inhaling, to force steady control upon his respiratory system-- "inconvenient. And there are extra patient-free tasks I'm already being assigned to."

"Ahhh.... And you're afraid she'll change your shift to one opposite because she finds your bedside manner lacking?" Caly wondered.

"Maybe. I dunno. I don't think she's petty enough to intentionally punish me for this," Cristobel sighed, his running pace unintentionally slowing.

"I would hope not. Is this ship full of children, or Starfleet officers?" Shirik frowned. "The nursing staff sounds like the worst. I'm glad I don't work in medical."

"That and it would be highly foolish on her part to do that if she has any hopes of advancing. I somehow don't think the CMO would take well to her Head Nurse treating those she has seniority over with petty vindictiveness," Caly pointed out. "Or at least I'd hope she wouldn't...." She glanced over at his slowing pace and then over at Shirik, her own pace slowing some to so they wouldn't leave him behind.

Fully stopping, Cristobel defensively insisted, "She has not done anything inappropriate in her duty. She knows her duty." For a moment Sefton appeared to be genuinely puzzled to be defending Amy Reese, but quickly suspected it to be about the medical department as a whole. "We all do. This is all most frustrating because every single time Amy and I try to be anything more than merely civil coworkers, we somehow end up slicing each another to ribbons, until our insides fall out." Mostly to Shirik: "...I suppose Operations officers must never treat others badly in their personal lives?"

Shirik and Caly both stopped running when Cris did. "I can't answer that, really... I don't spend a lot of off-duty hours with other Operations staff. Most of my friends work in Security, actually, aside from Caly here.... But nobody should treat anybody badly in their personal lives, regardless where they work, if they're friends."

"Amy and I aren't friends. We both want to be, but we're not," Cristobel admitted soberly and sadly. "And I thought you were my friend, but... you think the entire nursing staff is childish? That's the impression you got from your week in Sickbay?"

Caly was about to interject her own opinion, and even had her hand slightly raised, but wisely kept her mouth closed for once while the two before her hashed it out.

That gave Shirik pause, and she thought for a moment. "We are, I suppose... Although I really don't know you all that well, I do trust you, and that's something. We're more friends than you and Amy, anyway." She shook her head. "No, actually. While I was there I was treated well, and everyone I met seemed professional. It's only when you listen to the flying rumors that they seem childish. And my own brief meeting with Miss Reese."

Lacking his usual exuberance, Cris could still find the humour in her statement. "The believing and expressing of rumour as fact is the very attribute that got us nurses a reputation in the first place."

"It's generally been my experience," Caly finally interjected with a smile at them both. "That the sort of problem you're describing usually stems from a misunderstanding that often continues to go unaddressed. Perhaps if you sat down and talked calmly?" she suggested.

"Our talks always start calmly..." Cristobel shrugged helplessly.

"Perhaps you should keep trying or enlist a mediator?" Caly smiled encouragingly. "What usually happens after the start?"

"Either I start expressing how dysfunctional some of her relationships and actions seem to me, or she goes immediately defensive and starts to switch over to a shrill offensive," Cris explained detachedly. "I think a mediator would probably just get sucked into the recriminations and ridicule..."

"I think my earlier advice was better. Just forget about her and find nicer friends." Shirik smiled.

"Obviously, I'm in the process of doing that," Cris swept a hand to indicate towards both of them. "But--"

Caly laughed a little at that. "But that doesn't fix their working relationship though," she observed. "And a good mediator knows how to avoid that pitfall," she told Cris.

"I think we prolly need more time before even a clever mediator can save us," Cristobel said, feeling suddenly sensible.

"Maybe you should go have ice cream together. Or get drunk together," Caly grinned.

"Indeed... that can often help," she mused, remembering.

"Pre-planned socialising is exceptionally more dangerous with Amy and myself than even these casual run-ins," Cristobel informed them, sounding regretful. "I appreciate the helpful advice, but neither of you have seen or heard Amy and me interact. It's like we're oil and... oil from another planet. It seems like we're the same and mixy, but once we're poured into the same bowl we start to disintegrate one another -- little bits at a time. If anything, I suppose the Suluists could save us -- a shared hobby outside of work where we wouldn't need to talk to one another, except for previously scripted lyrics."

"But you said you used to be friends," Shirik pointed out. "So there was a time when you did get along well together. Why can't you recapture that? What's changed between you?"

"I don't know," Cristobel replied in genuine bewilderment. "I don't have an objective view on the situation. All I saw is that when I came back to the Sulu from Betazed a few months ago, Amy seemed more intense in both her joy and her depressions. Apparently, very few others saw it. Amy detractors thought she'd always been out of her head, and Amy lovers couldn't see any flaws in her. I provoked her quite a bit, to see if she would prove me wrong - to prove that she was still stable - and time and again she simply responded to provocation with blinding anger and violence. She seems much better now, more like the Amy I once knew, but surrounding our pleasant history is the ablative armour of our unpleasant history. Every time I think we're gonna get past it, it regenerates itself."

"Maybe you should just get her some flowers and chocolates and apologize to her?" Caly half suggested. "Which, by the way, I think is totally inane, but there are women who seem to respond to that sort of thing... And it sounds like perhaps she might be simply angry at you."

"What on Drokar does he have to apologize for? She's the one who hit him..." Shirik frowned. "You need to just talk to her. And if she can't be spoken to without a fight erupting, then just forget about her. Maybe you should try just sending her a text message."

Caly blinked. She hadn't known that. Or rather, had discounted the rumors, not being one to believe in them as a general rule.

"I don't know what I'd say - or write - anymore. There's not even a specific feud between us. She wasn't trying to be hurtful. She's just hurt. And so am I. I think I just... I need a shower. I don't feel much like doing more running." Cristobel's wounded-puppy tone turned blasé at 'running'. Trying to smile, he said, "I still want to see you two in the arboretum, though. In, say, half an hour?"

"I'm free," Caly popped her gum and glanced over at Shirik since it was her Tasmos they were talking about planting.

Shirik nodded. She knew Caly hated running anyway. "Very well. Let's finish our run, then we can meet Cris in the arboretum?" She looked at each to see if that plan was acceptable.

Caly gave her a 'thumbs up' and grinned. Cristobel mirrored her pose.

---

"Why Me?"
by Ensign Byron Klipper
and Doctor Ilan Potts

Location: Dr. Potts Office
Stardate: 57910.15 16h57

***

Byron tapped his commbadge. The Counselor's reception area was nicely furnished, Byron noted for the umpteenth time since first entering these offices about a month ago. "Good Dr. Potts, I am here for my 1700."

"Ah Mister Klipper!" came the response from the com system. "Please have a seat...I'm running only a bit behind."

"Aye, Sir." Byron took a seat and picked up one of the PADDS left out for those who ended up waiting. Byron took the opportunity to update the PADD; no one had downloaded the latest edition of Engineering Quarterly, Arts&Entertainment Galactic, Or Writers Block for some time. He reclined and began to read A&E Galactic. He had just had a new Cello replicated and had started practicing three times a week - he hoped to be up to his old level of play with in the next few months.

The was a door hiss from the hallway and Klipper looked up expectantly. A lanky crewman in gold collar emerged and went for the main door without giving Byron a second glance. The engineer didn't recognize the younger man...he must have been Ops or Security but Klipper didn't have time to ruminate on it. In an eye wink, Potts was in front of him and practically lifting him out of the chair by his flurry of hand pumps.

"Mis-ter Klipper!" Potts greeted for the second time. "Always right on time...I trust the day is finding you well?"

"Every free day is a good one, Doctor." Following Dr. Potts into his office Byron cleared himself a seat. "How has your week been, Doctor?"

"Okay," Potts noted, settling into his own chair. He looked at Klipper suspiciously. "Have you heard something different?"

"No, well nothing I would tell my therapist about," Byron said with a smile. His whole life he had been a quiet man, now he seemed not to be able to shut up.

"Well, we have to talk about something, Mister Klipper," Potts pointed out, checking his bare wrist...for what Byron had no idea. "How are things coming along in engineering? It must be a strange sensation...being back aboard a Federation starship."

"Not so much strange as" --Byron thought-- "wonderful. I love fixing things and all the new technology that have been added to the Federation inventory while I was away."

Potts nodded. "But you must be looking forward to getting back to the Alpha Quadrant. Surely your various relations are watching the skies hopefully now that they know you're alive."

"My Mother, some friends, those that survived the Wars that occurred while I was away." He leaned back in the chair and thought. "And a wife."

"So you've been in contact with them," Potts noted shrewdly. "Your wife must be beside herself in anticipation."

"Not all of them." The pause lasted for some time. "I have yet to contact my wife. I don't want to find her married to some one else, living a happy life and then I come crashing in on it. I also don't want to find her sitting waiting by the window like wives did long ago for sailors lost at sea. I don't know which would be a more horrific discovery for me."

"Hmmm," Potts went into deep thought. In his mind, he couldn't help but think that another wife was always waiting around the corner but he knew that humans didn't usually see it the same way. "Either way, you will still have to contract her eventually...won't you?"

"Yes, I have recorded a message for her. I am just waiting to work up the nerve to send it. Doctor, is it normal to not feel anything after something as traumatic as, well as I have? I think I should feel something, like sadness, loss, something, but the harder I think about it the more detached from it I feel. Like it happened to someone else."

"Putting a certain amount of distance between yourself and a traumatic event can be a coping mechanism," Potts pointed out, sounding relatively sane. "Which is probably why you're avoiding talking to your wife...you won't be able to maintain that distance once you heard how the last decade has affected her."

"I think you are right, Doctor. I don't know what tell her, or other people. The camps were horrible but it sounds like everyone was facing horror while we were gone. It seems like I would be being a whiner if I thought my experience was any worse than anyone else. I mean, I don't know, I feel like a coward for not having been there for the Federation in its time of need. In the camps we had to survive, but I just wish I could shut out some of the things I had done."

"Tell her 'hello' to start," Potts advised. "And don't feel like a coward for missing out on the Dominion War. The Maryland was the first casualty in a war we didn't even realize we'd have to fight."

"That is easier said than done. I will send the message in the next log dump we make. I feel old, Doc. I am almost as old as the Captain of this ship, I am by far the oldest Junior Officer here, I don't fit in with them any more. Not like I did when I was a 23 year old Ensign. I connect with some of the Senior Enlisted I have met so far but even then I still feel like a young man in an old man's body. It is hard to pick up life again, a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"I can understand that," Potts said, his face growing unusually thoughtful. "I laid down this uniform once in my life because it didn't seem like it fit anymore. You never did that, Mister Klipper. Even as a prisoner and an escapee, you were first a Starfleet officer. You'll find your fit, Ensign. You'll make other connections."

"I hope so." Becoming introspective Byron paused. "Just so much has changed, not just the technology, but the people too." Byron's interest for the mechanical as usually superceded his thoughts of his fellow sentiments.

"Really?" Potts asked, leaning forward. "You find the people different? How so?"

"Ensigns seem more...green and mouthy. J.gs and Full Elltees are much the same as the butter globs. I look at them, listen to them in the galley and the corridors and I wonder: was I like them when I was their age? I always thought I was so much more adult when I was where they are now. And the slang has changed too, the uniforms for sure, peoples' attitudes. Every thing seems so much more relaxed. For example I saw a guy and a couple of gals walking around with multi colored hair; the COs of both the Maryland and Hickam had standing orders that only natural special hair dyes were allowed. One young Ensign aboard the Hickam tried pushing it with bright red dye, the skipper damn near blew a gasket yelling at that Ops officer. Then there are the Bajorans. When I left they had just started emerging from under the Cardi's thumb, now you can't throw a spanner without hitting one. I am not a xenophobe but we have not one but two Ferengi aboard! that just blew my mind! Is that common? When I left most people despised those little guys. I never had a beef with them, they always seemed kind of greedy but with a little work they could be a decent group. People seem, I don't know, more laid back than I remember Starfleet officers being. Am I making any sense or just talking out of my waste jettison port?"

"No, I understand you," Potts said with a smile, looking a little at the ceiling. "It is true that in some ways Captain Salinger does allow his crew quite a bit of freedom. The commanding officer is given a lot of leeway in just how his ship is run and it may very well be quite different from your experiences on the Maryland. As for the Bajorans --" Potts settled back in his chair and crossed his legs at the knee "-- you'll find quite a few of them in Starfleet these days...they were targeted for recruitment. However, there are only a very few Ferengi that I know of...which is a pity. It's nice to have someone you can look in the eye from time to time."

Byron laughed uncomfortably. "It is just different for me I guess. This must be how a time traveler might feel. Jump ten years into the future, you wouldn't think too much would change but if you had lived through those years it is like a whole different world. I suppose this is just culture shock?"

"A bit," Potts supposed, looking at Klipper intently. "Had you imagined making it back to Federation space these last few years?"

"Honestly?" Potts nodded. "No. I thought it was a pipe dream, in the Camp I...I had given up hope for the most part, the only thing that kept me going were my shipmates. I figured I would either die or be the last one and just not wake up one day. Then we escaped. I always thought I was dreaming. That I would wake up back there, starving to death slowly, getting a beating when we didn't meet our quota of ore. Hell I thought I was back there, that the escape was just some form of psychosis. I think that the Sulu might be too. But I know this is real, that we escaped. All that time on the Ray and I never thought we would make it back, or ever see a Starfleet ship again, let alone serve on one. I imagined my bones being buried on some foreign soil or the Ray's crew launching my body towards a star, or just dying in my engine room as the ship fell apart. We wanted to think we were heading back to the federation but beside the local maps on where to take the ore their star charts were pretty bad. We bought new ones but they just were not as accurate as a Starfleet starchart. The best one we had was a couple of light years off the further we got away from where we bought it. No, Doc I never thought we would see home, I never thought we would see the Federation again. That didn't stop me from working my hardest to see it once more. I just didn't think we would. It was my job to keep that wreck running so everyone else could have their Ray of Hope. I was the last engineering officer left. One of a handful of inexperienced junior personnel who survived. Why did I make it? I wasn't any better than the rest of those folk? Hell most of them were smarter, or more talented or had more for them back home... Why me?"

"I would imagine that there's a fair bit of luck involved with this kind of thing...who makes it and who doesn't." Potts looked down in his lap for a moment. "But it wouldn't do to discount your own resourcefulness... Remember, keeping that ship together not only kept you alive but the others as well. You all owe one another a lot."

"We do owe each other a lot. I remember this one time, Terri Walerko from Astrophysics was getting harassed by these two Dosi who liked her Golden hair - not blonde I mean she had bright gold hair. So any way Per, Commander Carr and I all went down to the end of the barracks hall where these two hulking guys were camped out. Carr was only about five foot five and by this time we were all getting scrawny, the Dosi had only been in the camp for a few weeks then. So Carr walks up, Per and I behind him, and starts yelling at the top of lungs using every swear I know and then some! Per was a big guy and he had borrowed some chain from when he had worked in the repair shop. I had a homemade knife I had traded for some of my rations. I don't...I don't remember what Carr had, something I am sure but I just don't remember. So the older Dosi, I think they might have been brothers, lunges at Carr. Per steps in faster than any thing else and smashes him in the face with his chain enclosed fist. He went down like a sack of something. The other one was coming at me with a pipe he had obtained. He got a good whack at my head but I gave him a nasty cut along his face, took an eye out. So there I am on the dirty ground looking up at the ceiling seeing stars and I hear that crazy Carr telling them and any one in ear shot that any one who touched one of us would get much the same. Then Per and Carr grabbed me under the arms and drug me back to our encampment on the other side of the hall. Terri thought we were all Heroes, Benjamin spent the next couple of days buzzing around me as he tried to fix my concussion and telling me that the next time I pull a stunt like that I better hope that a regenerator is near by. Terri sat with me for three days and took my shifts till I could see straight again and walk without getting dizzy. She would tell me how brave I had been and how I better not die on all of them because we needed every hand to keep each other safe. She died two years ago, a few months before the escape."

"You saved her once," Potts pointed out, detecting Klipper's regret. "And she was grateful for it."

"I was doing my duty. We had to watch out for each other or we would have died. I just don't understand, I didn't do any thing more than what was expected. There were others who went above and beyond to help the rest of us. Even crazy Commander Carr did more than I ever could."

"A bit of survivor's guilt is to be expected," Potts mentioned. "You feel bad about those you left behind so you diminish what you did to ensure your survival and the survival of others. I bet I could get the other Marylanders to come up with a list the length of your arm on all the different ways you saved them."

Byron sat in silence thinking about the doctor's analysis. "I don't know about an arm length list, but they probably have a few instances, we all saved one another at least once. I still feel like I should do something with my life, make something, build something, create something. I just don't want to waste it. There were people more deserving aboard that ship. What should I do if their families write me? I don't know how Starfleet will handle this whole thing back home. What are they going to tell the public, do you think any of them will write me?"

"It's entirely a possibility and one that you should prepare for," Potts told him. "You will not be able to control the content of such correspondence...it is entirely possible that one of them might ask the same questions you're asking yourself...'why did you survive and not my loved one?' But more than anything, I think they'll just be looking for information of the last days of someone they cared about. You can provide them a great service providing that information."

"I thought as much, I just wanted a second opinion. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mister Klipper!" Potts said, leaning forward again. "Can I confide in you, Ensign?"

"Well that is a change; the therapist confiding in a patient. Of course you can confide in me."

"I'm a bit of a writer," Potts admitted, nearly shy about it. "And I am making a record of our journey in the Gamma Quadrant. I would like your permission to include some of your experiences should I ever make a book of it...with full credit given to you and the other Marylanders, of course."

"I don't know. I guess you could. I was kind of hoping to someday write down our experiences. I started keeping a log aboard the Ray but that was lost when she was. Yes go ahead and use my tales in your book, but you should ask Benjamin also. Just to make sure."

"Well, I would never dream of stepping on a fellow writer's toes," Potts said, standing up, prompting the same move in Klipper. "I'll leave your stories to you on one condition."

"Name it."

Potts put both hands to Klipper's shoulders and pointed him towards the door. "You simply must start writing immediately!"

"I'll get right on it."

---

"Hot Fish Juice"
By: Ensign Shirik Lektar - Operations Officer
Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
and Chief Petty Officer Calyca Boothroyd - Engineer's Mate

Location: USS Sulu, Arboretum
Stardate: 57910.15, 17h20

***

Freshly wrapped in a newly-replicated Class A uniform, Cristobel was seated on one of the few chairs in the arboretum, with his legs propped up on one of the few small café tables, the way he wasn't supposed to. He idly watched the holographic sun setting in the relative distance, while he sipped on an iced liathghorm tea.

Caly strode into the Arboretum fresh out of the shower and dressed in a clean uniform and ever-present pack. She paused for a moment, eyes scanning the area and stopping when they spotted Cris. She smiled as she made her way over to where he was seated. "You look comfortable, sir." She nodded a greeting when she reached him, still smiling and with an impish glint in her eyes.

"Feel free to bask in the comfort as well," Cris offered, waving an arm towards one of the other chairs. "I tired Corran out in the sonic shower, and so he's napping in my quarters, unable to yell at us for mucking up his tables." His heels up on the table, Cris crossed his legs at the ankles.

Caly laughed and settled into one of the waved at chairs. "So I see," she indicated his feet with a grin.

Shirik followed only a moment later, also freshly showered and dressed for duty, in her usual Class Bs. In her hands she carried a round terrarium that looked like it was coated in black fuzzy sludge. She made her way over to the others. "Here we are...."

In a fluid motion, Cristobel swung his feet from off the table and onto the deckplate. He clapped his hands together, and rubbed them expectantly, as he asked, "And now we... What is the verb for what we're going to do? Does one 'plant' tasmos? 'Apply' it? 'Inject' it?"

"Seed it? Attach it?" Caly offered helpfully as she too rose to her feet, smiling a greeting to Shirik.

Shirik frowned in thought. "I'm not sure, actually...but we'll need to replicate a few things, probably. I made a list." She grinned in Caly's direction, causing the red-headed engineer to quirk a brow.

"Oh yeah? What kind of things?" Caly held her hand out and wiggled her fingers in a 'gimme' way. "Can I see this 'list'? Or is it in your head?" she asked with a grin.

She rattled them off. "We'll need chemicals, mostly. A solution to clean and prepare the rock surface for implantation, one that aids in adhesion, a rooting and growth promoter, anti-shock treatment, post-implantation food solution.... If we don't do it right, the Tasmos won't accept its new environment."

Caly nodded, doing a verbal "check" for each item Shirik listed. "I'll get them while you two go on ahead?" she offered and asked at the same time.

Shirik nodded, handing her the PADD tucked under her arm. "These are the ones you need. There are some tools on that list, too, including a light."

Caly took the PADD and nodded, glancing at it and giving her a thumbs up. "Yessir," she grinned. "I'll take care of it." She turned to head to the replicator, her lithe body sauntering rather gracefully as she went over the list in her hands. A soft pop of her gum could be heard as she walked away from the pair.

Curious, Cristobel asked Shirik, "Is there any excitement in Operations these days?"

Shirik quirked an eyebrow at him. "I imagine that depends on what you mean by 'excitement'."

"Anything that one wouldn't find in a standard operations manual," Cris proposed.

"Then...no, not really." she shrugged. "Mostly just cleaning and fixing up after our 'adventures', and exchanging crew for cross-training."

"Have you spent any time with Ensign Viraj?" Sefton asked of his Deltan friend. "The way he speaks of it, he's hugely enthused to be helping out in engineering, and getting away from the transporter rooms, for a lark."

"No, actually... I haven't really met him other than to give him his assignment. I'm glad it pleases him."

"I wish Corran had set the holoprogram to Achicar Prime today, so you could get another look at your handiwork - thank you for that, again - but he doesn't much like to switch holoprograms in the middle of a solar cycle." Cristobel flapped a hand towards the wall- and ceiling-hiding holograms.

"Did he like the work?" she asked.

Nodding and beaming, Sefton responded, "He adored the authenticity. He got a kick out of being able to give me a tour of all the new landmarks on Achicari - while he tended to the flowers - even though he's told me all of their names before."

She smiled. "I'm glad. It was good to have the project to work on." She turned to see whether Caly needed any help carrying the supplies, which it didn't look like she did. She was humming quietly to herself as she approached them, stopping when she spotted them to grin and nod and pop her gum.

"I got everything and then some," she told them. She had the supplies in a carry-all she'd replicated and some sticking out of her backpack. "I had an idea," she grinned and popped her gum again. Four words that were not a stranger to Shirik and generally meant Caly'd had some hair-brained scheme pop into her head.

"Is it a good idea?" Cristobel asked tentatively.

"Of course, sir. All my ideas are good ones," she grinned.

Shirik rolled her eyes. "All right.... spill it."

"Well, it occurred to me," Caly began as she started towards the cave, waiting till they were coming along too. "That preparing the rock was good and the adhesion is good... But wouldn't it be better if you could do the adhesion part without chemicals since you're chemical-ing it up to the gills already?"

"What do you propose, stick it to the rock with gum?" she smirked.

"Ha, ha, ha," Caly grinned back. "No, ma'am Webbing. Netting. I've got both," she told her.

"How will that aid in adhesion?" she asked, failing to see it.

"Spread the netting or webbing over the tasmos to hold it to the rock surface and let it adhere naturally. You're already giving it something to help it take root," she pointed out. "Less chemicals, less stress on the plant."

"We can use the netting in conjunction with the adhesion chemical," she said. "But I don't want to not use it... It's proven to work, and if the tasmos doesn't adhere properly, it will die rapidly. I can't risk that, since this tasmos is irreplaceable short of returning to Drokar for more."

Caly nodded in understanding. "Whatever you wish," she smiled.

Cristobel watched over the decision in progress with interest, but vaguely wondered how he had expected to be able to help. Even before he'd been a nurse, his specialties in Science hadn't included botany.

Shirik led the way to the cave, terrarium in hand. "I haven't really had a chance to give the cave a good look-over... What can you tell me about it, Cris? What are the surfaces like, and the light levels? Is there any water inside? What's the current humidity?" To her mind, he was the resident arboretum expert.

Caly just followed along behind them, acting as the plant-supplemental caddy extraordinaire.

In his professional sciences tone, Cristobel explained, "The surfaces are... rocklike. At the exterior, the light levels are as bright as the holosun offers, and at the deepest point of the cave, which isn't very deep, the light levels are... less light. The cave is... kinda damp. And the humidity is... not humid enough for me." Finally, Sefton shrugged, utterly helpless. "I just date the botanist." His apologetic clueless pout remained for a moment, but then he appeared suddenly resolved. Cris palmed his PADD and quickly called up the specific environmental settings of the arboretum to share with Shirik.

Shirik rolled her eyes before glancing at the PADD. "The light levels are too high near the entrance, we'll need to go as far in as we can. Caly, use that light I had you replicate... It gives off a green light, so don't be surprised." She stepped into the cave with her terrarium and made her way to the very back, running her hand over the rock surfaces to find the right place to plant her tasmos.

Caly glanced back and forth between the two officers, keeping any comments and laughter to herself. "Right," she nodded and pulled the light from her stash of supplies, lighting the way as they progressed into the back of the small cave. "Have you planted much tasmos successfully?" she asked curiously.

"Not in an environment like this," she said. "Although I've witnessed it numerous times. But I did transplant it into my terrarium, and it's done well. I'm confident this will go well, but just in case, I'm going to leave some of it in the terrarium."

Following the women into the green-lit darkness, Cristobel helped them the only way he knew how: making their lives a little bit easier. He took the handlamp from Caly, to let her handle the chemicals and netting, while Shirik had her hands full with the tasmos terrarium. He chimed in, "And Corran has read everything he can about tasmos. He's worked with mosses before, and he's going to spend some extra hours in the arboretum over the next few days to make sure the transplant is a success."

"What's its growth rate? And do you have any idea how long it'll take to root?" Caly pulled on a pair of gloves and offered Shirik a pair before she began handling any of the chemicals. And then all she really did was hand them to the Drokari officer when she asked for them. She even had masks if the fumes became an issue and handed those out along with the gloves.

"It grows slowly, usually. I'll be making the conditions as optimal as I can for growth. If successful, it should begin rooting within 48 hours, and be fully settled in roughly a week." She set down the terrarium and asked for the surface preparer first, then the adhesive, then began carefully removing most of the tasmos from its terrarium and positioning it on the rock face. "Your netting?"

"Surface preparer," she handed the chemical to Shirik. "Forty-eight hours is a good time frame," Caly nodded and handed her the adhesive, taking each of the items back and stowing them securely when she was done with them. "Spider silk actually," she grinned and carefully handed the webbing of gossamer fibers to the other woman. "Adhesive only around the edges."

She gave Caly a small glare. "You know I hate spiders." She set the tasmos in place and left the netting to Caly. "I trust that stuff will dissolve or decompose or whatever over time and vanish?"

"Vanish like it was never there," she smiled back. "And I know you do. Which is why I'm only handing you the webbing and not dragging one of the spiders out of my pack," she consoled a bit.

"You carry spiders around with you?" Cris piped up, obviously confused.

"Not live ones, sir," Caly smiled over at him. "Robotic ones. A project of mine," she explained.

Watching the webbing being applied, Cris asked of the spiders, "What do they do?"

Caly reached over and helped hold the edges for Shirik while she stretched the webbing over the tasmos. "Whatever I want them to, I suppose. I've given them some very sophisticated AI and they're capable of learning at a very basic level. They have video and audio capabilities, infrared included, have some pretty intricate sensor abilities, and spin some really gorgeous webs. Both inert and explosive. I'm still tweaking the makeup of the webbing and working on tensile strength. Why did you know that dragline spider silk is five times stronger than steel?" she asked and took a breath to continue.

"Your robotic spiders spin explosive webs?" Cristobel asked, unable to hide his delight at the absurdity.

"And they're smart enough to stay out of my way," Shirik smirked, remembering what happened to the prototype Caly had unleashed on her without warning.

"Hah! Poor Watson never has been the same since meeting you, Shiri," Caly grinned and popped her gum softly. "They can," she told Cris with a nod. "And explosive egg sacs too, of course."

"Of course," Sefton echoed. To Shirik, he asked, "How's the operation going?"

"Almost done," Shirik replied. The tasmos was in place, partially tucked into a crevice, the rest draping along the wall, the netting helping to hold it in place while the adhesive took effect. Next she applied the rooting solution, food, and anti-shock chemicals. Handing the bottles back to Caly, she inspected her work. "Looks good... We need to mount this light somewhere near the tasmos during the rooting process," she indicated the green light Cris was holding. "In its natural environment, tasmos often grows in the company of a luminescent fungus which gives off that frequency of light. It promotes the tasmos' growth."

"Ahhh... A symbiotic relationship... You should check into getting some luminescent fungus and plant it in here along with the tasmos," Caly suggested as she tucked all the chemicals away securely and pulled off her gloves.

Sefton set down the lamp -- its emerald glow casting oddly shaped shadows on their faces from its new location on the ground -- and he accessed the arboretum's environmental controls once again from his PADD. After he tapped the final command, he rapped his knuckles against the back wall of the cave. The surface of the sheer rock face rippled, and then solidified again, but glowed with the same green light as the handlamp. "The handy hologrid should do for now."

"Mmm... Very impressive," Caly grinned and nodded her approval, looking to Shirik for hers since it was her tasmos.

Shirik frowned in thought. "Just how much of this cave is holographic, anyway? I certainly hope we attached to a real rock..." She looked to Cris.

"The hologrid only masks the walls," Cris promised her. "This whole arch of rock around us is real. Imported from Risa."

"And I'm not sure real chemicals would have had an effect on a holographic image," Caly mused, adding a thoughtful two cents in.

Shirik nodded her satisfaction. "All there is to do now is wait, then."

"And we will be blessed with a never-ending supply of your foul brew, Shiri," Caly teased with an impish grin. "Ensign Sefton is excited, I can tell."

"Why?" Cris asked, suspicious and confused. "What does klaas smell like?"

"It smells strong and bitter. It's been described as a cross between strong coffee and battery acid," Shirik said with a shrug. "I don't drink it in public any more, so don't worry."

"Pfft. Not worried. My cadet cruise roommate used to drink hot fish juice," Cristobel shared, as if it were a medal of honour. "I think I can put up with acidic coffee klaas."

"It's an acquired taste," Caly smiled. "Not everyone appreciates Shiri when she drinks it. I don't mind it at all really. Can't drink it though. Strong coffee I can handle. But it really is like battery acid when you drink it. A sip's not so bad though."

"I've had complaints about my breath when I drink it," she said dryly. "Thus I will inflict myself on no one else while I am drinking."

"Not from me," Caly leaned over and confided in Cris. "I don't think everyone would complain, Shiri," she smiled at her friend. "Maybe it's just certain noses that it affects."

Shirik's expression darkened as she muttered, "Bajoran noses...."

"Maybe it's...yanno, the ridges...." Caly muttered and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Or they're just prissy," Cris shrugged.

"That t--" Caly blinked and backtracked. "Whoa... Wait... Did you say hot fish juice?"

"I did," Sefton nodded and cringed. "He's Benzite, and always bragged about being the perfect officer. ...I think he was kicked out of Starfleet recently."

"For hot fish juice breath no doubt." Caly wrinkled her nose which drew attention to the rarely seen smattering of freckles, or would have were the light not green. "I think klaas is much better than that even sounds."

"In any case.... The tasmos must be left alone while it establishes itself. No one must touch it at all," she said. "And no one is to pick any of it. Ever. Other than myself." She glanced at them both to be sure she was understood.

"I didn't even want to touch it to plant it," Cristobel deadpanned.

"And there goes the wild tasmos party I was planning," Caly commented.

Shirik rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean just you two... I don't want any botanists or whoever deciding to pluck some samples."

"Why don't you just give them a sample to study, Shiri? So they won't feel the need to get one for themselves?" Caly asked logically.

"Because I don't want my tasmos being studied. And even if I did, they could ask for a sample."

"They would ask," Sefton assured her, tapping on his PADD once again. "It's been registered as private flora, not Starfleet's."

Shirik nodded, satisfied. "Then we're done here."

---

"Friendly Interrogation"
Ensign Ainsley Chambers - Counselor
Ensign Sanat Vijay - Flight Control Officer

Location: Main Shuttle Bay, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.15 17h53

***

Ainsley had asked the computer for Sanat's whereabouts and had been informed that he was in the shuttle bay. "Deck 10," she said as the doors of the turbo lift closed.

She sighed and leaned against the back wall. She was worried about Mason; he'd been locking himself away from everyone, either in his room or in the office working. She wanted to get him out for an evening with some friends and hoped that Sanat, being his roommate, might be willing to help her out with that.

The turbolift slowed to a halt and the doors opened. She wasn't far from the main shuttlebay and it only took her a matter of moments to get there. She stepped through the doors into the open area and looked around for Sanat.

Making a notation on his PADD as he walked around the La Grange performing his postflight inspection, Vijay kept moving methodically around his charge checking for structural damage after taking a team to survey a nearby asteroid field.

"Sanat!" Ainsley called, and began to make her way over towards the runabout he was circling. When he looked towards her she waved.

Her presence here prodded Vijay's curiosity. "Intriguing," he murmured. The pilot gave Ains a small smile as she threaded her way through the busy hangar around engineers, operations and security personnel. It had been a busy day.

She nodded to a few different people as she made her way over towards her destination. "How are you?" she asked as she stepped up to him.

Sanat grinned. "Good. You?" He placed the stylus and PADD together in one hand, grasping it firmly, Vijay put both hands behind his back.

"Good, thanks," she responded.

"Excellent. I'm curious, what brings you down here?" he asked with an elevated eyebrow.

Ainsley laughed slightly. "Yes, I figured you might be wondering," she answered. And leave it to a Vulcan to get right to the point. "I've come to talk to you about Mason. He's kinda locked himself away from everyone, I'm sure you've noticed."

He nodded somberly. "I wondered when someone else would inquire." Sanat looked around and then said in a lowered voice, "Perhaps this is something best talked about in private, yes?" The pilot pointed to the La Grange's open hatch.

"Good idea," she responded with a nod of agreement. She preceded Vijay into the runabout and looked around for a minute while he entered as well. "I know a little about why he's been so antisocial, but to be honest I'm not too worried about the whys right now. I just want to try and get him out a little."

Sanat followed her inside. He stopped a few feet short of the blond counselor as she talked about Mason. "I see. And you want my help for that?"

She nodded again. "Yes, if you'd be willing."

"Yes, of course...what are roommates for? I believe I could be of some assistance in this endeavor." With a small smile on his face, Vijay asked, "What's your plan?"

"That's what I've been debating," she said. "It's been awhile since we got him out for some margaritas, we could try that again."

Sanat smiled lightly. "I don't think getting Mason out will be the problem as much as keeping the knowledge that we are setting him up will be...he has a remarkably good information network on the ship it seems...."

"True," she responded. "What do you suggest?"

He leaned forward and said in a low voice, "If you could get him to come to the crew lounge around...00h15...I could assemble the troops before hand and they would be waiting for you two inside." Sanat returned to his normal posture, and with a smile stated, "We both know he can't resist your obvious charms."

Ainsley giggled slightly. "Sounds like a plan!" she responded. "Ok, I should run. Thanks for all your help, Sanat." She put her hand on his forearm for a moment before slipping out of the runabout again.

---

"Moving On Up"
By: Ensign Ainsley Chambers
Ensign Byron Klipper

Location: USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.16 18h36

***

Byron pushed the anti grav sled he had borrowed from a cargo room down the corridors of the Sulu. He had been informed that he was being reassigned to new quarters today. He had been expecting the powers that be to split he and Benjamin up and had kept his measly possessions ready to go.

They consisted of a full set of uniforms, a couple of sets of civilian clothes he had had replicated only to find he was out of date yet again. A Para which saved space aboard a star ship and the cooking utensils, both items he had replicated while staying in the VIP suites, one of the advantages he guessed of being in them. The Para Cello consisted of several pieces that when assembled would transmit the movements through the speakers of any room he was in. No actual sound would emanate from it, that would be electrically reproduced. Byron didn't like the Para Cello, it didn't sound real to his ear but he doubted that he would find a quality instrument any time soon and wanted to practice.

He reached the number he was looking for and pressed the door release. Ops had done their job and the doors whooshed out of his way. Stepping inside he found a young blonde reading a book on Intermediate Risan language. "Oh I'm sorry, Ma'am I thought this was my new quarters?"

Ainsley looked up. "Ensign Klipper?" she asked, placing her book down on the couch beside her. At his nod she said, "These are your quarters, I'm your roommate."

If Byron had not been the same color as Ainsley he would have been glowing a bright red. "I hadn't realized I would be in co-ed quarters."

Ainsley got the impression that he was slightly embarrassed. She got to her feet and took a step towards him. "It's one of the new things that the Sulu has implemented. I think a few people have had problems with it in the beginning but you get used to it. My last roommate was male as well." She held out her hand. "Ainsley Chambers."

"Oh no, I am not embarrassed." He gave up the charade and shook her hand. "Is it that obvious?"

Ainsley grinned. "I'm a counselor," she said by way of explanation. "I catch subtle things that others don't."

"Oh, I see." The implication was clear; even though he had cleared psych some people still didn't think he was tip top. Byron decided he would just ignore those thoughts - they would only make him paranoid and then eventually prove he wasn't up to snuff. Another skill you pick up in a forced labor camp: the ability to ignore almost any thing that isn't standing over you, pummeling you or screaming from the bottom of an empty stomach. "Which closet is mine? I would like to stow my things."

She looked at him for a second, wondering what was going through his mind, what he thought about her being a counselor. "That room over there is yours." She pointed towards the door on the right hand side.

"Thank you." Byron started taking his uniforms to his room. "Oh could you get the door for me?"

"Sure," Ainsley commented and scooted around him to press the entry pad beside the door. "Want some help?" she asked as she stepped away to grab some of his belongings for him.

"Yes that would be great!" He had not expected help but surely needed it to get his possessions into his new room.

She scooped up a couple of the bags that he had carried in and brought them into the room behind him. "So how are you liking the Sulu, Byron?" After a moment she asked, "Can I call you Byron?"

"Yes, I would prefer that actually. I find Ensign or Ensign Klipper a little" --How to explain it?-- "alien after years of being Byron. The Sulu is nice, I am adjusting to the changes that have occurred since I went away a little more slowly than I had hoped. I don't know which has changed more: Me or Starfleet, probably both." With his roommate's help he had quickly stowed all of his belongings. "I play the cello, I will keep it low so it doesn't bother you. I had the computer replicate me a Para cello to play." He lifted the upper hand piece.

"It won't bother me," Ainsley replied. "I love music. And please call me Ainsley as well. If we're going to be roommates we should be on a first name basis I think." She grinned for him.

"So do I, Ainsley," he replied with a grin himself. "So do you play an instrument?"

She shook her head. "No I've never learned. I've always spent more time reading and learning languages, that is until I got into the Academy then I started skiing and such."

"I picked up the cello while at the Academy, among other things." Poetry being the other thing. He wondered what would happen if Addison Rogers suddenly began writing again after ten years of hiatus. "I was getting pretty good the last time I played. Now, I guess I just need to practice more." He sat down on one of the chairs in the common area the two shared. "Do you mind if I join you in reading. I am still catching up on my studies. Some very interesting advances have been made and I need to study harder if I am going to get up to peak performance."

"I don't mind at all," she responded as she sunk into the cushions of the couch again and picked up her Risan book. "I'm working on becoming fluent in the Risan language."

"I guess different strokes for different folks." Byron settled down with his PADD of Hull Integrity Certification manual. He had set it to show him the updated information with in the manual from the last time he had been tested on it.

Ainsley smiled as she looked at her new roommate. She got the feeling they were going to get along well.

---

"Efficiency Reports"
By: Lt. Xayella Tagliesh
Lt. Saavar

Location: CSO's Office, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.15, 19h25

***

Saavar stepped through the open doorway to Xayella Tagliesh's office and stood patiently waiting for her to notice him. He composed his features into an expressionless mask, typically Vulcan-like. Her behaviour had been cold toward him for a long time now, and he took comfort in that. Still, seeing her and knowing many intimate things about her, it had truly become an intolerable situation. At the core of his being he knew that he truly despised this woman. Her very presence disturbed his equilibrium.

He held several padds in his hands. The XO had demanded a full cycle of efficiency reports and it had been mostly delegated to Saavar as Assistant Chief of Science to conduct the staffing reviews. He had taken deliberately thorough examinations of the science personnel, and was now ready to hand up the reports, a copy of which had already been sent to the XO.

"Set them down there." Xayella Tagliesh didn't look up from the computer display she was studying, even as her finger pointed to the area of her desk she was referring to. "Have you got them all?"

"Would I present them incomplete?" he asked neutrally. He set them down. "There are some disturbing trends appearing in the efficiency reports," he observed as he stood back and clasped his hands behind his back.

She sighed and sat back to regard him blandly. "Sit down and then you can tell me what it is you're observing, Lieutenant."

He did as she suggested and stared back at her equally blandly. "Efficiency is down by twelve point eight seven three four percent from the last cycle. Morale in the science department is generally high, however there are instances of a lack of confidence in you personally. More over your command style. You are considered to be confrontational, resistant to new ideas or new methods of operation, likely to assign tasks that are menial and condescending to the officers with which you regularly interact. There are instances of depression, increased absences after you have counselled officers, and a general impression that you believe everyone around you to be vastly your inferior. It is causing resentment and a drop in departmental efficiency. My reports are comprehensive. The proof is resounding."

"Opinion," Xayella explained with a dismissive gesture. "These are your interpretations of observed reactions to me." She raised a finger to emphasize, "Emotional reactions. You're a Vulcan. What could you possibly know of emotions, Saavar?"

"That is my point exactly. I deal in measurable outcomes. Facts. The drop in efficiency relates to the indicators I have mentioned. I have counselled staff to take their concerns to the ship's counselling department if they have an issue, or to Commander Lyrr directly should they feel the need. Can you deny that you behave less than cordially to officers of this department?"

"When they err or don't pull their weight, of course," she admitted. "Perhaps they are feeling emotional, Lieutenant, because they have realized their own incompetence."

"You make my point for me," he said. "You believe everyone to be incompetent. Let me remind you of our very first encounter, Lieutenant. You were confrontational without having had a period of time to judge my competence. Ensign Ai'Pal relates the same initial encounter. Perhaps you hold a racial prejudice toward Vulcans."

She laughed, at once derisively and rich with amusement. "And you're deluded, Lieutenant. Do you really want my position that badly - badly enough to raise accusations of xenophobia?"

"I do not accuse. I merely point to a likely conclusion. I do not want your position, Lieutenant. Far from it. I do not seek to become what you are. My delusions are simple statement of fact. They speak for themselves. Your command style is causing problems. I bring it to your attention merely so that you may choose a course of action to correct it. If you choose to do so, I am sure that it would be appreciated by the department as a whole and the ship in general."

"I refuse to take orders from a negligent Vulcan," Xayella laughed. "You're hardly an exemplary officer yourself, Saavar. I seem to recall your putting a fist through my console...." She smirked. "I'll decide if there's a problem with this department. You are hardly qualified to."

"Firstly, Lieutenant, I did not issue you with an order. Secondly, I have not been negligent in my duties, and I point out that in assisting the XO with her personal request of me to aid you in remembering the assassin who tried to kill the captain, resulted in an unexpected and unfortunate circumstance. You ordered me specifically to take care of the issue without your involvement. I did so. The incident with your console was regrettable, but under the circumstances it was better than instigating violence upon another officer. Sitting upon your desk is the crew evaluations, efficiency reports and departmental briefing summaries, project reports and attendance records for medical, and counselling for science personnel over the last three months. If you wish to decide that there is a problem, then I would advise you to do so rapidly and attend to its solution. My qualifications certainly do allow me to make these observations. As your assistant chief in science it is my duty to bring these concerns to your attention. I have done so. How you handle this information is of course your own concern, as it will be the concern of the XO, who also has a copy of these reports and will certainly demand your attention to the issues indicated." He sat rather straight backed. "Is that all?"

"No," Xayella intoned jeeringly. "It isn't. You will sit there while I read through every single report and assess just how much you've exaggerated them." She leaned forward, hard stare fixed to the Vulcan. "Assistant Chief of Science is an illusory title, Saavar. Don't forget that, and don't make the mistake of thinking you have any authority in this department, or that your opinion means anything to me. I don't trust you, Saavar, even though you'll insist Vulcan's are incapable of duplicity." Xay smirked. "I don't trust you, Saavar," she repeated, "and that means your position is in jeopardy. When I complete a read-through of those reports, and if I even suspect you've tampered with them in any way, you'll be congratulating Lt. Druschev on her promotion."

"Again you make my point more valid. Is sitting here watching you read an adequate use of my time? I think not. The reports are neither exaggerated, nor duplicitous. I have more constructive matters to attend to, Lieutenant. I have performed my duties as requested. Having fulfilled those functions I will attend to my other projects." He stood. "Your title as Chief of Science does not require me to waste my time watching you try to interpret facts for which you are in complete denial. If you require my assistance further to clarify matters do not hesitate to contact me. I will be on the Bridge, where one of us is supposed to be."

"And one of us is, Lieutenant," Xayella shot back. "Ensign Gainsborough is handling things just fine on her own, so sit down, Lieutenant until you're dismissed, or have you no sense of etiquette?"

"I would prefer to work constructively. Sitting idle watching you read is not in the least enthralling," he spoke condescendingly. "However you may consider doing so as worthwhile. Do you have difficulty reading?"

"Your drivel?" she shot back. "Of course I do. It's always so tiresome." Chuckling derisively, Xayella swivelled her chair around, back-forward, and languidly waved his dismissal. "Practice your attempts at humour elsewhere, Lieutenant. I'll not have it in my presence."

Saavar simply nodded, a slight smile touched his lips. He walked out and left for the Bridge without a word. Of course he'd been exceedingly careful and completely accurate. The reports indicated a drop in efficiency for the reasons that he'd concluded. There were so many instances of personal ridicule, derisive behaviour, and outright harassment as had occurred just then in her office that it was seriously beginning to affect science department morale. There was no talk of mutinous behavior, simply that no-one besides Lieutenant Tchalla Mel'Chir had a good word for their department head. No one liked her. No one appreciated her presence. She was considered heartless and spiteful on the whole. She seemed to manage through division, setting one against another and watching the fallout.

As a senior officer on the Sulu, Saavar considered her a failure. It was her duty to set a positive example for which all her staff should emulate, instead she chose to be completely independent of the team approach to leadership. She simply did not know how to lead. It was true that she was entirely competent in her actual studies and her work as an individual science officer, but in the larger scheme of things, Saavar did not believe that she even belonged in Starfleet.

He would be totally remiss in his own duty if he failed to highlight this issue. It was for senior command to take care of. He hoped that Commander Lyrr would deal with the problem effectively. After-all, it was in her hands now. Going directly to the Captain was obviously a mistake. Especially where Xayella Tagliesh was concerned. He'd already proven that to the Vulcan. Overlooking him for the brief period that he'd stood Tagliesh down had been adequate proof that he sought only a single side of any argument - and he could trust Tagliesh to present only an argument favourable to herself. Not once had Salinger even approached him on the issue of what had occurred between Saavar and Tagliesh.

As Saavar stepped onto the Bridge and relieved Gainsborough at the Science Station, he set his mind to the task at hand. The protostar that lay in the Sulu's sensors in all its pre-birthing glory.

---

"Hello Mutha, Hello Father"
By Ensign Marp
& C1C Ken Smith

Location: Ken Smith's Quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.15 20h30

***

Hello Mom and Dad, Just writing you to let you know your son is still alive and kicking. The Ole Goat is still kicking our butts during TAC training, he railed up and down last week. Oh I should tell you about that. One of our officers was kidnapped by a race who thought he was a god, now if you had met this man you would be dropping your jaws right now. He is this little half Deltan, yeah I know how can he be half Deltan well I don't know anyway. So they sent us in to pull his butt out, which we did. Chief was not happy though, he said we looked like a bunch of drag [since Mom will read this let's just say he used some profanity] Orion teenagers drunk on Kanar trying to look and act the part of a TAC Team. He has been drilling us extra hard since then. I will include a photo of my self shirtless to show you how much mass I have put on. I thought the SSBTT school was tough but if Chief Case had been running it, it would have been almost impossible. I just left a training session tonight - we were working on phaser accuracy under fire. This drill consisted of Chief Case firing a Phaser rifle over our heads while we tried to hit moving targets. Of course he only told us that it was set to light stun, not full stun once we had finished the drill.

Ken looked at the letter, liked what he had written, finished it off and sent it out. The next transmission would send the letter and his shirtless body home, his mother of course would show the photo to all her friends who had single children. His parents had never asked which sex he liked, and he had never volunteered the information that he really didn't care for either.

The sonic shower empty of his roommate was quickly filled by Ken's stinking body. His body still ached, it seemed just when he had gotten used to Chief's grueling workout he took it up another notch. After his shower Ken put on his tan short sleeve and gray loungers; coupled with his flip flops he looked ever the bum. He made his way down to the mess hall. He arrived just in time to catch the back of Marp's head entering the Hall.

"Hey, Marp, wait up!" Ken started into a trot.

"Hello, Ken. Long time no see," said Marp. He looked at Ken. "You look like you are going on vacation.

"I wish. I have had my fun time eaten up between Bree's office, regular duty shifts, and the TAC team. What are you up to?"

Marp Smiled at Ken. "I was about to grab something to eat. Care to join me?"

"You bet, lead the way."

Marp grabbed some food from the replicator. He had long since decided it was best to eat food like everyone else. It seemed to him that people were repulsed by normal Ferengi cuisine. Marp was actually starting to enjoy some of the standard food the replicators had to offer. He sat down at a table and waited for Ken.

"Man, am I famished." Ken sat down with a plate of food cubes.

"So, how have you been?"

"Good. Busy," he managed to squeeze out between bites of cube. "What have you been up to?"

Marp frowned for moment and then forced a smile onto his face. "Well, you know, I have been busy keeping the ship's shuttles clean and ready to go for the pilots." Marp looked at Ken. "How about you? Security keeping you busy?"

"Yes, real busy. So you want to get together once you get off shift and do something?"

"Sure, Ken, I have a holodeck program that I have been working on. It is one of an old earth gambling establishment. I have been tweaking it here and there. We could test it out."

"Sounds good, what do you say we met at 02h30? That will give me 6 hours of sleep and then afterward I can just head off to morning calisthenics."

"Great," said Marp. Perhaps some holodeck fun would help him forget his problems. "I will see you then. What role you want to play in the casino, Ken? We could be anything we want. Highrollers, pit bosses, dealers, rookies...you name it we can do it."

"Highrollers, Marp. I feel lucky," Ken said with a wink.

"Excellent," said Marp, who had lost interest in eating. He needed to put some finishing touches on the program. "I will see you then." Marp paused and looked at the way Ken was dressed. "Remember to dress like a highroller, Ken. We must look the part."

***

Marp stood at a mirror. By Ferengi standards he looked silly in a humaan tuxedo but it was important to look and feel the part. You look good. Even in human clothing, Marp told himself as he grabbed two large cases and headed towards the holodeck. He pulled up the program and waited for Ken.

Finally Ken came down the hallway. Marp handed Ken one of the cases. "Here, Ken, this case is full of money. We will need it to get into the games. Don't be afraid to spread it around. We are high rollers."

"Sounds good to me." Ken had dressed in a tux also; he looked more like a paid goon about to protect an important client than a high roller but such things could not helped. "Computer, Arch."

The two men entered the holodeck and entered a large room and looked around. The room was buzzing with activity. Several rows of slot machines were beeping and dinging. Lights were flashing and people all around were laughing and enjoying themselves.

A man met them at the door with a startled expression on his face. "Welcome back, Mister Marp. If I had known you were coming I would have prepared your suite."

"That is ok. We won't be needing a suite," said Marp. "This is my associate Mr. Smith." Marp gestured to Ken. "We are here for some blackjack."

"Very good, sir. I will set up a private table for you. Follow me please."

"Swanky place, Marp," Ken said to Marp whose intern gave him a strange look. "What? It was in a comic book I read a few years back."

"Ah, yeah," said Marp as they followed the man into a large room filled with tables. Unlike the rest of the casino this room was almost empty and much quieter. They were brought to one of the tables. Behind the table was an attractive blonde. "This is Cindy. She will be your dealer."

"Excellent," said Marp. "Hello, Cindy."

"Hello, Sir. It is my pleasure to be your dealer tonight."

Marp placed his case on the table. "No chips less than ten thousand, please."

Cindy took the case and counted the money. She then placed several racks of chips in front of Marp. Turing to Ken: "And you, sir?" she asked as she carefully looked him up and down.

"The same pretty lady." Nothing like photons to get the blood pumping.

She counted Ken's money and gave his several racks of chips as well. "Here you go, Sir."

"Thank you, sweet thing."

A cocktail waitress approached Marp and placed a drink in front of him. "Here is your usual, Marp."

"Candi," said Marp. "It is good to see you again." He placed a poker chip on her tray. "Keep them coming."

"Sure thing, Marp," she said, pocketing the chip and glancing at the dealer who was giving her a disapproving look. "Would you like anything, handsome?" she asked Ken.

Leering, Ken said, "Well I don't know what kind of place they run here so I will have to settle for a drink," he said, placing a chip on her tray. "Dealer, deal me a hand. I feel lucky!"

Marp placed a stack of chips on the table and the game began. Marp expected to win big. This was a primitive game played with cards. This dealer was playing with 6 decks. It was easy for Marp to remember the cards played and what was left in the deck. Marp was more interested in seeing how Ken liked the game than actually winning or losing.

"What is the ante?" Ken asked as he arranged his chips. "This is my first time here."

The dealer smiled at Ken and said, "The minimum bet is ten thousand."

The cocktail waitress returned with their drinks. Marp took a drink and then pulled a long cigar out of the inside pocket of his jacket, lit it and said, "Let's play some cards."

Ken tossed his ante in. "Deal me a hand, pretty lady. Marp, my good man, where did you get that stogie and how can I obtain one?" He looked at his cards. Ten of hearts and a two of spades stared back at him.

Marp looked at his cards. He had an 8 of clubs and a 3 of diamonds. Placing another stack of chips on the table: "Double down." Marp flipped over his cards and the dealer added a King of Spades. "Beautiful," said Marp as he pulled another cigar out of his pocket and handed it to Ken.

Lighting up, Ken inhaled deeply. "Ahh good. Hit me, doll face." Hamming it up, Ken received a Jack of clubs. "Well that isn't very good."

"Bad luck, Ken," said Marp as he collected his chips."But, hey, it's early." Feeling lucky, Marp placed two stacks of chips on the table.

"Black Jack was never my game, poker however is. Deal me a hand."

As if on cue several men walked into the room and sat down at a nearby table. The dealer winked at Marp before saying, "If you would like poker, those gentlemen over there are about to start a poker game. They fly in every weekend from Texas. They usually do not mind other guests joining their game."

"Go ahead, Ken, give them a try. I will keep on playing blackjack," said Marp.

"Sounds good, Marp." Leaving the table and joining the other guests Ken grinned. "So what's the game? Texas hold 'em?"

"Well howdy, partner. Of course what else are a bunch of Texan sons of bitches like ourselves gonna play?" the big meaty Texan next to Ken said, following it up with a gulp from his tumbler. "Deal this young gun in." The dealer nodded and dealt the hand.

Marp looked at his cards with one eye and watched Ken join the "Texas Five". He was pleased with how his program was running. It also looked like Ken was more in his element at the poker table. He flopped over his cards. "Blackjack, honey."

Ken looked at his two cards. 6 of hearts, five of diamonds. "I am in." He tossed two chips into the middle of the table. He still had three cards unseen. Everyone at the table tossed in and the dealer flopped a three of clubs and a six of diamonds. Ken came up with six of spades for his third card and took the six of diamonds as the hand came around to him. He discarded the Five. "Well, boys, I will call Jim's raise and raise again myself." The pot was up to 15,000 dollars.

"Boys, this man has got to be a steer because he's got himself a pair on him don't he." The table erupted in a roar of raucous laughter.

The cocktail waitress returned to the table and gave each of them a beer. "Here you go, boys. Anyone need anything else?"

"No, sweetie, but here is something for you," Ken said as he put a chip on her tray and gave her a pat on the behind. The Texans all grinned.

"No, Sir Jack, this boy sure ain't no steer. Well let's have the showdown." Everyone made a final bet and showed their cards. Ken lost with his three of a kind to a straight.

"That's what I's talking about, boys," said Jim as he raked in the pot. "I got me a good feelin'. It is going to a good night for me." Looking at Ken: "You gonna be good luck for me, boy." He laughed. "Deal em up"

Ken had the sinking suspicion that he was going be very good luck for these gentlemen.

---

"These Cucumber Eyes"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton
and Corran Quezith

Location: USS Sulu, Quezith's Quarters
Stardate: 57910.15, 20h37

***

Draped across the sofa, Cristobel's legs were dangling over its right arm, while his head lay cradled in Corran's lap. Cris' eyes were closed, as he continued to exasperatedly explain, "--and when I told my mother, she was more concerned with what I was thinking, after Amy questioned my skills, rather than offering a judgement call on the fact that my nursing skills had been brought into question, which is what I was talking to her about. So we argued about that instead of actually talking about if she thinks I'm a disinterested nurse too. Of course, when I talked to Shyla, she just told me--"

Cristobel stopped talking. He didn't need to take a breath, but he empathetically felt an oddness from Corran. A blankness. It had become familiar over the past month.

***

Stardate 57908.23

With a sense of routine slowly reconstructing itself within the walls of Sickbay, Cristobel Sefton decided that, barring new emergencies, he could take an hour out of the main ward. As professionally as possible, Cris dragged Corran into the life sciences laboratory and sat him down at a console. Claiming the console by his side, Cris stared at the unchanging LCARS display for a minute. He had wanted to select a research topic, but he couldn't fathom where to begin.

~Maybe... how to find something interesting? As a topic?~ Corran had stared at the blank screen for a while, but then turned to face Cris. He'd felt much like a pigeon looking out at the great nothingness...contemplating the immortality of the crab.

~You should probably be pretending to do work of your own,~ Cris brightly suggested. ~Maybe looking into plantlife from the planet that could be incorporated into the arboretum?~

Corran smirked and made a face at him. ~Already did that. There were a few I considered, but nothing I thought would really do the trick. Besides, the samples that were brought back need to be studied for a while before I integrate them into anything. Last thing I need is a giant fungus growing in the dirt that'll devour everything...~

Corran activated his own console nonetheless and decided to check on some other experiments he was running in the arboretum. His eyes kept running from one side of the screen to the other, reading results... his mind worked quickly, calculating any modifications he would need to make.

Accessing the most recent Starfleet Medical Journal on his console, Cristobel, who had spent most of his shift that day with Raina and his mother, telepathically told Corran, ~I think my parasite exam went really well last night. I would have come over after, but I couldn't do much more than sleep.~

~That's fine... prince charming needs his beauty sleep after all.~ He winked over to him and smiled. ~So how're things with your mom?~

~She's on her way towards almost getting better,~ Cristobel telepathically said hopefully. ~She's still coming back from staff meetings grumpy and spending too much time in Sickbay, but I think I've almost got her convinced to work from her quarters tomorrow. She can only wear the Chief Medical Officer badge for a day, instead of staying here to switch between that and the Ship's Doctor badge.~

~I like her and all, but yeah, I don't think she was all that prepared for this mission. Like I told her, I think she did well, I even envy her, but this military life is pretty damned stressful. I don't know how you fleeters do it... I kinda prefer the Achicarian expeditions...~ Corran reminisced about those for a while. They weren't all flowery, but they were slower, calmer, easier to deal with even when things hit the fan.

Allowing Corran his tangent, Cristobel focused his search by looking for existing research papers on bleeding edge technologies, until he recalled the other thing he'd forgotten to tell Corran in the stress of his distance education tests. ~Shyla is about to be moving into the other room of my quarters. Operations wouldn't let me keep the large living space any longer on my own.~

~Huh?~ Corran blinked on that note and turned to look at him.

~I'm a junior officer. I can't live on my own. Rather than have to move, I'm arranging to have Shyla move into the guestroom in our - my quarters. At least until she gives birth, and then she'll probably be able to get family quarters of her own,~ Cris explained.

Corran straightened up in his chair slowly. His facial expression grew serious, and he said nothing. Not a single telepathic thought or word as he considered what he was being told...not 'their' quarters, but his... well yes, that was the case, but why so...

No, he refused to let his emotions course through on something of the sort... Cris was doing this maybe to keep 'their' quarters for a future return?

~Pregnant woman...Shyla.~ He corrected himself from diminishing her, but was being overwhelmed little by little by a sensation of.... he knew not what.

"Right..." Cristobel intoned unsurely.

***

Stardate: 57910.15

~Are you any closer to figuring it out, yet? How you feel, exactly, about Shyla having moved in with me?~ Cristobel bluntly asked Corran telepathically, from his spot on Corran's lap on Corran's couch.

Corran broke away from his work again so that he could face Cristobel. He was annoyed. The realization had settled in firmly a while before, and now he allowed Cristobel to know as much about this sentiment, but also that he found it confusing. Cris wasn't interested in Shyla, so there was nothing to be jealous about, but on the other hand, she was invading a space that had once been his.

It made him realize just how much he'd begun changing since having been exposed to Federation society.

While this would have been typical on his homeworld and people had more than one partner, commonly, because it was impossible to hide emotions... this wasn't true of most Federation species and races.

~I'm going to have to see my counselor again. This is getting ridiculous,~ he answered disdainfully.

~Do Achicarian explorers have any precedence of experiencing for themselves whatever they discover?~ Cristobel telepathically wondered. ~I mean, I've lived in the Federation all my life, and my Betazoid romantic beliefs aren't transforming to typical Starfleeter romantic beliefs.~

~We never interacted this deeply with other races or species, there just wasn't the technology to do it and it was rather frowned upon... I was one of the rebellious ones though, from the start. It got me in enough trouble on more than one occasion...~ He recalled a woman he had met on one mission to a cold world near their star system in terms of Federation standards... that had been quite a mess.

~I don't know if the others are going through the same things I am, I don't think so, both because of my personality and because of the fact I was the only one to return home for medical reasons.~ Maybe he was just a weakling that could be influenced by those surrounding him. Maybe psychologically he was looking for any place or anyone to turn to to find a new identity. After all, he'd left home soon after the attack, soon after losing just about everything he remembered as his own. Starfleet hadn't been the greatest experience for him though...but at least they were out in space looking for oddities. Back home people didn't 'want' oddities amongst the inhabitants.

Hearing Corran's diatribe, Cristobel promised, ~I am certain one of the counsellors on board can help you with this. Maybe Achicarians safe at home are more evolved, but in the Federation, there is nothing weak or even unusual about a crisis of identity. It's just something you work through; a crucible that provides you one of those rare opportunities to shape yourself into the person you want to be. ...Once you manage to figure out who you are and who you really want to be.~

Even with those thoughts in mind, Corran couldn't help but think that maybe this wasn't the right place to explore his innerself. He was distant at best, working just fine, but perhaps a starship wasn't what he needed right now. He couldn't believe he was back to this point again, even if it 'was' for very different reasons.

~What do you think?~

~I don't...~ Painfully tentatively, Cris asked, ~What do you need to-- What do you think is best for you?~

He looked over at Cristobel as he picked up on his emotions. He could sympathize, and it hurt him as well to see him this way, but he didn't know what he could do.

~I don't really have a choice right now. I don't want to leave you here.~

~How can I help?~ Cris asked, refusing to be useless.

~Just keep being who you are.~ Corran shook his head, having thought for a brief moment about the question, but time and again the counselor had reminded him that this was a voyage he had to make alone...

~Be with me.~

Cristobel's entire expression brightened entirely at Corran's seemingly simple words and the emotions behind them. He wriggled up to his knees, pressed his chest against Corran's, and took the Achicarian's lower lip between his teeth. Once Cris got his hands on Corran's lower back, beneath his shirt, Cristobel kissed him fully, and Corran began to undo Cris' trousers, so Cris could be with him.

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