Along one side of the briefing room table sat the team: Mouazer at the end, Sanchez to his right, then the Trill, Pos, all from Ops. Next to Pos sat CPO Boothroyd and Ensign Hansen, from Engineering. On the other side, looking vaguely like a pair of red-collared goaltenders nonchalantly facing a full-court press, sat Commander Lyrr and Captain Salinger.

"That you for coming, sirs," Farrell began. He was standing at the main briefing screen past the head of the table. "As you know. . ."

***

"Okay, people," Farrell said, standing at the Ops office 'big board'. "Let's talk purpose."

Calyca had made herself comfortable in a spot where she could see well, nodding to the assembled group. She had a PADD in her lap and looked ready to make notes.

Dwayne sat there as the briefing continued. He hadn't said much and he even sat as far from the main body of the group as he possibly could. He, too, had a PADD in his hands, however it seemed to be more for comfort than anything else.

"Here's the situation. During the crisis over JJ324c, a whole load of our systems failed. We all know this." At the collected nods, he continued. "One of the most critical failures happened in communications, which left half the ship not knowing what the other half was doing. And we've all heard stories about what happened because of that."

"So with that in mind," Farrell continued. "Our job here is to develop a secondary communications system that can operate completely independent of the first. I thought the best place to start that would be to first review how the comsystem actually works, and see if that presents us with any options for developing something new. Sound good?"

Caly gave a nod and pulled up the graphical representation she made to follow along during the review.

Roades nodded, looking up from his PADD. "Let's get down to business."

"Intraship voice communication on Starfleet vessels is primarily performed via combadge," Farrell said. "A combadge transmits a signal that is picked up by local antennae running throughout the ship" --Farrell waved a hand vaguely as the schematic on the wall-- "routed to a local subprocessor, then through the ODN lines to a broadcasting subprocessor that connects to the receiving badge. Voice AI routines are quite intelligent, and able to understand conversational context cues to route transmissions properly. Because of that Voice AI, conversations can be started, ended, and re-routed pretty much automatically. So what we've got is three main parts," he finished, "the badge, the antennae, and the computer that runs everything. Thoughts?"

Caly raised her hand a bit and at Farrell's nod, asked, "Is the antennae array totally controlled by the computer, sir? Or can the hardware be used without involving the computer at all?"

"What did you have in mind?" he responded, half-turning to regard the wall schematic.

"Only that whatever backup system we design is going to need some form of antennae array and it would be much easier if we could use what's already there," Caly explained. "But you'd want to be able to totally disengage from the computer systems given what happened during the crisis."

Mouse nodded as he looked up. "Agreed. We all saw what happened during the JJ324c crisis - communications became nearly sketchy at best and most people were second guessing what was happening onboard the ship, resulting in the near riot Lieutenant Gui dealt with. The ship's communication systems go down, comm links start malfunctioning, people are going to get scared. My suggestion is we should to set up a backup communications system of some sort separate from the ship's power source."

"The trick would seem to be the 'disengaging' part," mused Pos. "If primary communications are down, we're going to want a system that can function independently. We can't predict all the different ways the primary can fail. I like the idea of using the existing antennae, but if those are what's going out, then our secondary system's just as useless as the primary."

"I don't think we'd want to use the existing antennae unless it can be operated independently of the established power grid and computer systems. It shouldn't be too difficult to hook it up with a stand-alone backup power source though," Caly suggested.

"The antennae are all over the ship," Farrell put in. "They're on every deck for maximum reception. They in turn relay transmissions to the communications subprocessors. It's a deceptively complex array. I've got to say I'm with Pos on this. Whatever we come up with ought to be able to operate without any dependence on the primary system, or its components. Unfortunately" --he looked to the wall-map again-- "I'm not sure what that leaves us."

"I think we can all agree that the number one criteria we have to meet is a totally independent system to avoid what happened in the JJ324c crisis," Hansen chimed in and glanced around, looking at people as they nodded their heads or made otherwise confirming noises or gestures. "Although using the existing antennae, if we could do it, sounds good, from a damage control aspect, we're going to be trying to fix the primary comm system if it's down, which could easily interfere with the backup. Why not go with what you already did that worked?" She nodded towards Mouazer. "Didn't you find a way to use the comms from the pressure suits?"

"We used the comm units from the EV suits to fill in for the local comms and we were lucky enough the transmitter was strong enough to receive and send shipwide communications without needing the ship's network. We kept them secure and running using the suit's powerpack. Perhaps we should think of a way to emulate the same results sans suits," Roades replied.

Caly nodded her agreement. "Using that design would keep us away from needing the antennae array," she mused. "And if we peppered the ship with transmitter boosters, then we could solve any signal strength problems. All they need is their own power sources?" She looked to Roades for the answer.

Mouse nodded to Calyca. "Bingo. Any ideas as to what would be a suitable power source for something of that size?"

"How big are we talking, sir? Would the sarium crystal power cell we use for the PADDs and Tricorders work?" Caly asked and tapped her PADD, indicating it.

"Those would do," Freya said. "But I don't think the transmitters would be able to stay in operation for long if working on a crystal. Depending on the traffic, I would guess...maybe a few hours. But that would be it. So if we want to make that system work, we need a larger power source."

Caly tapped her PADD and rubbed her fingers over her lips thoughtfully. "Another alternative is to just upgrade the combadges," she suggested. "They already have their own power sources. If we gave them their own internal transceivers and encryption systems they wouldn't need the computer or antennae array for badge to badge transmissions."

"Modifying all the combadges poses difficulties of its own," Farrell chimed in, now leaning casually against the wall, his arms folded. "The combadge system works well as it stands. And again, I'm not certain we want to use pieces of the primary to create the secondary. Let's work the EV suitcom angle for a bit and see where it takes us."

***

"Here's what we came up with," Farrell said to the assembly at the table, setting a box on the stone tabletop and removing a wrist beacon from it. He handed it to the captain, and keyed on the wallpanel as he continued speaking.

"What you've got there was once a basic wrist-mounted beacon light. This particular piece of gear exists in all the emergency lockers, and any crewmember assigned to damage control duties has been issued one. What we propose is to add this." He brought up a schematic on the wallpanel, clearly illustrating the modifications that were evident on the beacon the captain was holding.

"Built into the beacon rig is a communications unit. It's a larger-than-a-combadge transmitter and receiver. These transmitters contain their own antennae and have the range and the power to transmit and receive shipwide, and probably to very close neighboring ships, in fact. The entire rig runs off an enlarged power pack, with enough power to run for four days, a little longer if the light's not in constant use. They lack any connection to the ship's computer, so we'll need to do some training on more advanced communications protocols so people can manage their own conversations, but that can't be avoided."

"You mentioned that these devices are powerful enough to send transmissions outside of the ship," Lyrr recounted. "That is a dangerous prospect, Ensign, especially in the Gamma Quadrant, where accidental communication with enemy or other foreign vessels could place us at risk."

Caly raised her hand and waited until she was acknowledged before speaking. "It is possible to equip the devices with encryption modules and alternating frequencies that can only be deciphered by each other," the engineer offered.

Lyrr frowned. "Then why hasn't that been done already? Have you not assessed and accounted for all the risks that might arise through use of this device?"

Feeling the question directed at her, Caly went ahead and answered. "Yes, Ma'am. The risks have been assessed and addressed," she assured her. "And the precautions would be incorporated into the devices when they're assembled, of course."

"Go ahead and set up a working model of the unit," Captain Salinger said. "We can test the range using the Nightingale if Commander Zareb is willing. Add in whatever encryption you feel is necessary. Also consider running an internal backup communications system that's kept separate from the main system. If necessary, we can take a lesson from the past."

Farrell nodded, businesslike and thoughtful. "We did consider an internal system, sir. The principal concerns revolved around the failures we experienced last time. In order to ensure the functionality of an internal secondary system, we'd have to build it completely separate from any of the other ship's systems. That means completely separate antenna rigs, processors, power sources, the works. Rather than try and pack all that into already cramped conduits, the efficient solution appears to be something man-portable."

"And where would the raw power come from for this system?" Lyrr asked. "We are attempting to manage our resources carefully for the time being and I'm not certain we can spare the energy you require...unless you have some ideas regarding a renewable source...."

"The wrist beacon's own power pack is sufficient for limited use," Farrell said, indicating the unit in Captain Salinger's hands. "This prototype has an enlarged powercell to accommodate the additional load of the comunit. The mandate we were working under" --now he indicated the assembled team-- "was to build a system that could operate without any dependence on the ship whatsoever. Any ties to the ship's systems present a weakness, as so much of the ship is interlaced. If you're asking about charging the powercells themselves, that's easily done. We can add it to the emergency locker maintenance checklists and inspection protocols."

"And charging them won't put any more of a drain on the system than there already is because, idle, the powercells will last for several weeks before they need to be recharged just as they do now," Caly added. "The extra drain on the powercells doesn't come into play until the comm units themselves are actually being used."

Lyrr exchanged a look with the captain, and a shrug, then regarded the enterprising team of tinkers. "Have you yet planned testing for these devices? It might be a good time to work out any of the other kinks you haven't encountered yet. And, being so close to the protostar and its accompanying electromagnetic interference, it would provide a perfect opportunity to discover just how well your devices fare in less than optimal conditions."

Farrell and Boothroyd exchanged a momentary glance. "We have a material-needs assessment prepared for submission," he said to Lyrr. "We've drawn up plans for two units for testing, in addition to this one," Farrell said, again nodding to the one on the table in front of Salinger, "along with a signal repeater design should it become necessary in the testing stage, and filtering equipment for possible interference."

"Go ahead and run some tests, then come back to us with the results," said the Captian. "We'll proceed from there."

"Yes, sir," Farrell nodded.

"Dinner And A Massage"
By: Lt. Saavar, Science
Ensign Shirik Lektar, Operations

Location: Holodeck 2
Stardate: 57910.16, 16h45

***

Shirik ran. Her senses were focused on the red dusty path ahead of her, her footfalls on its surface, the sounds of the wind, her running steps, and her breathing. She thought of nothing as she ran, her mind cleared and focused only on running. She was in a state of semi-meditation, which she had managed to achieve after two months of practice. It made her feel very relaxed even as her body was working and growing stronger. Mental exercise in concert with physical exercise.

Sometimes Caly joined her, but Caly really didn't like running and got bored with it, turning to conversation. Sometimes Shirik preferred the solitude and peacefulness of just running alone, quietly. Caly was occupied today and wouldn't be joining her, but Saavar had invited her to join him, so she anticipated a quiet run. The two months of exertion had hardened her body nicely in all the right places, building her muscle tone, her strength, speed, stamina, and agility. Every week she increased the length of her run, so that now she was running ten kilometers and handling it easily enough to do other things once she'd finished. Today perhaps she'd go for a swim when she was done.

The High craggy hills of the Vu'Shaam stretched out before them, as Saavar jogged easily behind her. He too was in a state of mental repose. The Vulcan heat and the dry dusty air of the desert made him feel at home. The clear air above the desert roiled with thermals and wind eddies swirled dust and grit in lazy spirals in the middle distance. It was peaceful. Uncluttered by manufactured things - which was a strange concept seeing as everything here was manufactured!

The two runners slogged on. Saavar kept his speed low, easily able to both out-distance and out accelerate the smaller Drokari woman. He remained behind, breathing as she in the same meditation exercise that he had taught to her. She had come a long way in eight short weeks. Her stamina had improved significantly from what he could see. Her musculature was also quite well defined. She had lost her soft curves and instead seemed more sleek - more predatory in her aspect.

The trail wound up the valley and they would soon reach the V'alin Stair; the place where the trail switch-backed up the side of the broad canyon cliff face to the flat plateau above. Up there, in the heat lay the springs of Gul'Nat. A small underground water source that emerged inside a collapsed cave, giving it a sheltered alcove into which bathers could swim.

Given the heat she had forgone her usual black running suit for a loose-fitting white one, that more easily let in the breeze to cool her black skin.

Their surroundings were not all that dissimilar to the deserts of Drokar, where the Drevaki lived. She had seen them, visited, but she was better suited to the cooler climates of her own land. The heat was what was taking its toll on her, slowly wearing her down. But she voiced no complaints, ignored it and persevered, as was her way. She'd drop on the spot unconscious before she'd complain or give in to fatigue. She was far too stubborn and prideful for that.

The meditation helped. She was able to push her body's discomfort into some out of the way corner of her mind, and just focus on their footfalls, on the path as it came towards them then fell behind. The hardest part of the run was ahead of them, but the reward if she should finish was the pool awaiting them at the top. It was the incentive she needed to get there, if her body didn't give out on her.

The Vulcan watched her for signs of heat stress, exhaustion or faltering steps. From the many mind melds they had shared, he knew of her pride. It was her single greatest weakness. He fully believed that one day it would cost her dearly to be so prideful, but that ingrained in her. She was a Princess of the House Lektar and she would act the part, regardless.

Saavar ran on, his Starfleet issue running shorts, shoes and a belt with a water canteen were his only equipment. His bronzed torso was bared to the harsh sun, and his skin gleamed with perspiration. His eyes looked strange to one who did not know Vulcans. They were covered by a nictitating lens to shield them from the glare and the dust of the Vulcan deserts - the home of his people and the reason for such biological adaptations.

Running with Shirik was pleasant. She did not seek to talk, nor did she lag or complain. She simply ran. Meditating as she did so, the silence from endless chatter on a small ship in space was refreshing.

The pair reached the Stair and without a look upward at the trail as it cut in and out of the sheer face of the cliffs, Saavar and Shirik tried to retain pace. The going was tough.

It was just as well that Saavar trailed behind her. Had he been leading, Shirik would likely have been distracted from her meditations by his shirtless form moving in front of her. Enough time to look at that later. As it was, she didn't need any distractions with the rough going. Her pace gradually slowed the higher they went, and by the time they reached the top she was shuffling along, panting for breath and drenched in sweat. She was grateful at last for the rest, and slumped down onto a rock to sit and rest for a few minutes, wiping a sleeve across her forehead and listening to her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was squinting against the glare. Unlike Saavar, her kind had no extra eyelid, her eyes were adapted more for darkness than bright light.

"It is better for you to remain moving," Saavar observed. "It is not far now." He walked in a slow circle of the rock upon which she sat, his arms moving loosely. "Do you require water?" he unclipped the canteen and as he stepped in front of her held it out. It was still full and its thermostat kept it cold. Saavar had added electrolytes and minerals necessary for her Drokari metabolism. The water was for her, not him.

She only nodded and forced herself to her feet with a barely audible groan. She accepted the canteen and took a deep drink from it before gasping out, "Now I know how you feel about dancing." She shot him a small grin and handed the canteen back, unable to resist taking a moment to admire his glistening muscular form. "All right, I'm ready." She started jogging up the path once more. Not much farther, she told herself.

He watched her run and replaced the canteen. The flash of her eyes over his body was another sign of her familiarity. Over the past couple of months he hadn't seen her as much as he would have liked, but still he was satisfied at their relationship. She gave him the opportunity to explore emotional contexts and he found that he was slowly beginning to adapt, as she was to the Vulcan mannerisms that she had unwittingly developed.

He set off after her at a slow pace, yet still it was physically exerting.

She kept going, her eyes half-closed against the glare of the sun, her muscles beginning to painfully protest. Just a little farther, she told her tired body. Almost there.

The trail wound down across the relatively flat surface of the plateau. The desert ranges were a purple orange in the far distance rising to impressive heights closer in. The ranges made up a section of the Vulcan homeworld that was renowned for its severity and solitude. Vulcans regularly sought refuge in its peace and solitude, taking sabbaticals in to the desert. The springs of Gul'Nat appeared out of the heat haze that streaked the horizon into a shifting mirage. The rocky spire that marked its location was like an obelisk that cast a shadow long over the ground that seemed to reach out to the runners like a beckoning finger.

Three kilometers later the ground dipped and the trail led into the lee of the spire of rock. There some of the spiky bushes and cactus plants native to Vulcan held precariously to life. The lushness and verdant purple plants and wild desert flowers sprang riotous from the crags inside the shadowed rim of the cave. The water shimmered, steam evaporation misted the surface of the still lake of water that stretched deep within a natural bowl. The roof of the cavelet draped long fingers of plant and lichens toward the water, making it seem like a forested expanse upside-down. The rock itself was dotted with crystal outcroppings that reflected light and bioluminescence lending the cave a fairytale quality. It was beautiful, almost breathtaking in its natural wonder.

Saavar halted close to the edge of the water and kicked off his running shoes. He paused to admire the stillness. "This is close to my home on Vulcan," he said. "I have taken my son here often to swim."

Shirik could only nod, panting for breath. She sank down to sit on the ground within the shade offered by the cave, likewise shedding her shoes to let her feet dangle into the water. She closed her eyes and sucked in air, feeling like going to sleep right there. She tried to imagine Saavar and his son in this place, and wondered what they talked about, what the boy looked like.

"The water is deceptively deep. The underground source from which it springs is a deep complex of caves that stretches to the rim of the plateau several kilometers from here. It falls then into the river G'Shon. I have explored several of the underwater caves. They are unfortunately not a part of this program."

She nodded tiredly, not much caring for a geology lesson at the moment. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him, just watching him, taking in the sight of his form standing there. Finally she had regained her breath enough to speak. "Sit with me?"

He walked over to her and sat, side by side, elbows on knees he looked out at the water. Slow dripping sounds came from the depths of the cave. "You are perplexed," he said. "What troubles you?"

She smiled a bit. "Not troubled, really... tired, mostly. But I've been thinking. What we have...our relationship. It's not very dissimilar to what a marriage is like back home. Actually, it's more pleasant than some I've seen. I just hope when I do return to Drokar and marry, it's as pleasant as this has been."

"A marriage is not meant to be unpleasant," he pointed out. "Truly if we were on Vulcan the likelihood is that we would indeed be married. We are mate-bonded. Vulcans view that as the pre-cursor to marriage. Once a mate-bonded pair reach adolescence and the first Ponn Farr, they are wed. It is unusual that events such as ours would interrupt that union, and yet I too am not dissatisfied by our arrangement. You are very similar to an untrained Vulcan, and you are beginning to benefit from our association. Your mental processes have clarified, your focus of thought has sharpened, and I find that your intellect is stimulating. No doubt you will have noticed the changes, as an observer I can say that they are obvious. It pleases me greatly to be able to share something of value to you personally from our union, as you share something of equal validity: your emotions."

She nodded. "It's odd to hear a Vulcan speak of value in emotions," she said. "How are my emotions a help to you?" To her mind, the arrangement was rather one-way at this point. She was gaining valuable mental skills from their bond, but she couldn't see what he was gaining from it.

"I gain valuable perspective," he answered immediately. "I know how you are affected by emotion, it is not an intellectual treatise, but a certain profound knowledge. With that knowledge I am more able to anticipate and indeed emulate the emotive responses of others and to further explore the emotions that I cannot deny are natural to me. I am part Romulan, though in blood that matters little, in emotive state it matters greatly. The Vulcan mind has been honed to accept non-emotive ways of thinking for two thousand years. Vulcan minds are adept now at readily accepting the trained lack of emotions necessary to function as a valuable member of Vulcan society. I am part Romulan, my physiology - particularly mental is not so adept. I have struggled with my s'at training since I was a small boy. I did not know why. I did not know until I was adolescent that I was partly Romulan by birth." He shrugged. "It was always a point of contention with my wife. She did not understand my lack of control at times, particularly during Ponn Farr. Our first such Ponn Farr, the point at which Vulcans marry their mate, there was another suitor for T'Sirra. As was her right she decreed interest. It resulted in a fight to the death. I was uncontrolled in my emotions. Ponn Farr rose in me and I killed. It was the last time I considered taking a life. I have been an avowed pacifist since that point. Emotions are an undeniable aspect of who I am as a Vulcan, as a Romulan and as a male of my species. You are enabling me to understand this more effectively."

She laughed. "Nobody is supposed to have control during Ponn Farr, Saavar. To expect that is illogical." She grinned. She sobered as he went on, and although the information had been shared with her during their bond, it was part of a great many things she had not yet actually looked at closely and thought about until this moment. It now made perfect sense why he was a pacifist. "I think you could kill again," she said with certainty. "If there was good reason. Just as anyone could. But I understand why you choose peace. I too have fought to the death, and carry a scar from one of those fights. I don't deny that I may do so again in the future, if need be." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I've learned so much about Vulcans from you, and about you in particular. I have no regrets about what's been between us, I will treasure the experience and what it's taught me. Whatever it's brought you I'm glad to have given." She smiled, reaching for his hand.

He smiled genuinely, allowing some of his emotion free. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of her fingers in a very un-Vulcan way. "See, you have taught me many things." He waved at the water. "Come - it is time to swim. It will do us both good."

She nodded, getting to her feet with a soft groan. "I hope the water's cool..." She let go of his hand to start stripping out of her running garb, letting it drop to the ground as she stepped towards the waiting pool. It looked very inviting.

Saavar followed suit and stepped into the water. He let out a satisfied sigh as he waded to the ledge before it plunged deeply into blackness. His eyes covered over with his second lens and he swam under. With a powerful stroke he dived and the water grew colder. It was exhilarating.

She didn't waste any time wading. She found a place deep enough for diving and dove in, letting the cool water shock her system and wake her up. When she broke the surface once more she took in air and smiled. The cool water did nothing to ease her aching muscles, but it did wash away the heat and grit of the long hot trail behind her. She eased back and floated on her back, relaxing in the blessed coolness.

The Vulcan was under for close to eight minutes. He lay in the pseudo-water at depth and allowed his body to float. The Holodeck safety protocols were active of course and so drowning was impossible. He just imagined that he could not breathe and slowed his metabolic rate, bringing heart and respiration to almost nil. With his eyes closed in this way he regained peace, and allowed his mind to focus on nothing. He was aware of Shirik swimming lazily above him, and her contact with him was as strong as ever. He believed that it was stronger than it had been initially, which was only natural. They were bonded and had remained so for almost two months now. He chided himself on the overt use of inaccuracies...it was exactly fifty eight days sixteen hours and twelve minutes thirty-seven seconds.

Shirik was unaware of anything but relaxing and the dull ache of her overused muscles. More time was needed on the track, she decided, before trying to tackle this program again. Saavar's Vulcan physiology gave him a distinct advantage here, once she wasn't sure any amount of practice could allow her to overcome. But at least she had managed to complete the program, and not been forced to quit. It made the pool a sweet reward.

Saavar surfaced, taking a first breath. A slow intake as the nictitating lenses of his eyes withdrew and he trod water lazily. Shirik's naked form laying on the surface was like the black water itself had pushed upward to form the contours of her body.

He did not wish to intrude upon her mood, and so he too began to float, wrapping himself in a meditative state and beginning a silent contemplation of the hanging garden of growth which formed the roof of the cave structure.

"This is nice," she murmured, hearing him break the surface. "Too bad I'm so sore... I'm going to need a lot more practice before I run with you again."

The sound of her voice pulled him back. "The soreness will pass quickly," he breathed, floating. "We will shorten the runs and decrease the temperature in future. I am enjoying our times together and would not wish to place an obstacle in your path which prevents you from running with me."

She smiled. "No... no need to tone down your program on my account. You can simply run with me in my program next time. Although I like this pool...maybe we could add it on somewhere..."

"That will be a suitable compromise I am sure," he smiled at the ceiling, his voice sounding distorted through the water.

She idly paddled her way over to float near him, turning her head so she could watch him. She enjoyed her time with him, it was usually calming and peaceful. "I'm glad you invited me," she said.

"I also," he replied. "I find your company to be both peaceful and stimulating. I am growing used to your presence. It is a most satisfactory arrangement."

She smiled at his wording, knowing it to be high praise coming from a Vulcan. But her smile faded again after a moment, as she wondered what would happen in a few months, when she planned on leaving the Sulu. "What happens when the time comes to end our arrangement?" she asked quietly.

"Then I shall have to return to Vulcan," he said quietly. "T'Sirra is already seeking another mate. I will have seven years to find one for myself. T'Sirra was agreeable to the separation. It is best for both of us to seek someone more compatible. I admit that it will be...difficult."

"Why will it be difficult? I think you have many admirable qualities that any wife would want in a husband."

"Not Vulcan wives," he pointed out seriously.

She snorted. "Who says your next wife has to be a Vulcan? I think you can do better than T'Sirra's like, anyway."

"Yes," he admitted. "Perhaps. In any case, I am not eager to search and am not inclined to hurry. My present situation is satisfactory to my needs. I do not wish to change it."

"I know... but it will have to change... If I do leave the Sulu when we return to the Alpha quadrant, surely you wouldn't wish to remain bonded to me when I am no longer here."

"I will not anticipate the future," he stated matter of fact. "It may be true that at this point in time you are determined to leave, however I do not discount a change in your plans. We will cross that chasm when we reach it. You may alter your course of action for any number of circumstances. Your determination to run away may wane."

"Very well." She let the subject drop, not wanting to think about it too much just yet either. When it came time, then she'd worry about it. But for now it didn't much matter, she was satisfied with the arrangement as well, and had no foreseeable reason to change it other than her departure.

Her response drew a slight smile to the Vulcan's lips. Not even his jibe about her running away had elicited a response. He let silence descend. The passage of time was peaceful.

It was the computer chime that ended their holodeck session that disturbed them. Saavar climbed out of the water and donned his clothes, oblivious of Shirik doing the same. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Perhaps I can persuade you to dine with me in the Lounge."

She climbed out a bit stiffly, still sore from the run. She thought about his question as she dressed. But she didn't think anyone she knew would be in the lounge this time of day, so nodded. "All right. I think I'd like that."

Saavar nodded. "You are sore still?" At her nod he said, "I have a remedy for that. If you will permit, perhaps I may assist you with a massage treatment. It will not take too long, and you will benefit from it."

She laughed. "Dinner and a massage? What woman could say no to that?"

Saavar seemed to ponder that for a moment, clearly the question seemed rhetorical, but in truth there were many circumstances where a woman could conceivably refuse one or both. He raised a typical eyebrow. "I take it that you accept?"

She grinned at him. "Indeed. Although, I think it best we have dinner first, otherwise I may not want to move once I get relaxed."

"Things They Can Tell Just By Looking At You"
by Ensign Cristobel Sefton - Nurse
Petty Officer 3rd Class Shyla Lynn Moreau - Astrometrics Technician
and Cadet D'alla Cox - Cadet in Training

Location: USS Sulu, Sefton and Moreau's Quarters
Stardate: 57910.16, 18h33

***

As an afterthought, Sefton replicated a spicy vegetable medley. Cris spooned it out onto the main platter, making a moat of vegetables around the thinly sliced deigh falmair. There were four chairs placed around the dining table, but there would likely only be himself and Shyla sharing a meal tonight. Damhnait had asked to attend, but Cris suspected she might not show up. They had made it through the entire day in Sickbay together quite pleasantly, but he figured she still might end up locking herself in a holographic engineering deck to better prepare herself for her next bridge officer exam.

Cristobel wore a fitted burgundy sweater that bore an old Starfleet emblem designed before he was born, black athletic shorts, and his duty boots; his arms were usually too cold and his legs were usually too hot. He was about to head back to the replicator to get beverages, when the door chimed. He said the expected, "Come," to let the doors part.

Cadet Cox hesitated at the door frame in a way that didn't fit her look or her attire; the young Orion was still in a duty uniform but had changed into the skirted variant since Sefton had seen her in the afternoon. The bust and waistline of the uniform was cut tight enough to discourage breathing and the skirt exposed the gently muscular curves of her green thighs. While the outfit seemed perfectly suitable for a typical Orion woman, Cristobel couldn't help but notice the Cadet's discomfort. He could feel it radiating out from her and forming a curious mixture with the palatable waves of that certain Orion *something that had some men willing to kill for their alien embrace while managing to leave Sefton completely unstirred.

"D'alla, how are you?" Cristobel asked, a concerned edge to his voice.

"I'm fine...sir," she said, stepping over the threshold. She had a padd in her hand and she held it out to him. "I finished the EMH training program and I thought you might like to look at it."

Cris accepted the padd and perused it with a thoughtful frown, leaving Cox's eyes to drift over the prepared table. "Personally," Cox amended with a slight air of disappointment directed at the pair of plates. "I'm still of the opinion that we could just add these elements to her existing personality profile...but it may be that you know what's best."

"You flatter me. I really don't know what we should be doing. Ensign Viraj would know better than me. He's been more closely involved with the EMH's evolution and is becoming much more proficient in Engineering matters," Cris responded. With a silly grin, he told her, "I've only learned two things from the EMH. One, stay out of its arm's reach, and two, don't trust it with Engineering override codes."

D'alla laughed, perhaps a little too much, and seemed to realize it because she covered her mouth demurely. "I'm sorry to interrupt your meal, sir," she said, motioning to the table. She steeled herself. "And a little disappointed...I was hoping that I might convince you to join me in the mess hall."

"You didn't interrupt," Cris assured her. "You're simply a guest whom I didn't know was coming by. Would you like to sit?" Cris asked suddenly, playing the host, as Cox's intentions slowly shone clearer and clearer to him.

"It looks like you're expecting someone," Cox said, starting to shake her head. "I really didn't mean to dis--"

"I'm not expecting anyone who isn't already here," Cristobel interjected, to try to ease her discomfort.

"Oh?" Cox asked, smiling. There was something to that smile that managed to captivate even Cris but as he was distracted by the charming expression, a cold realization began to grow in him. As she settled into the offered seat, Cris could feel all her apprehensions drain away to reveal disturbingly unsubtle and relentless sexual drives that threatened to break upon his mind like waves on rocks.

Taking the long way around the table, to seat himself across from her, Cristobel retracted his telepathic senses to focus them solely upon himself. He feared that the primal sexuality pulsating within Cox would overwhelm his senses, perhaps cause him to black out. Worse, he feared he might love the intensity of her desire, and grow addicted to it for the fact of its intensity alone. It was even unlike a sexually-sophisticated Deltan's emotional patterns, which were so much more gently fluid. Once he was in his seat, his eyeline at the same level as hers, Cris uneasily asked, "You...uh...you don't listen to rumours - or even socialise with officers - much, do you? I guess being on Gamma will do that..."

"That's correct," Cox was nodding. "I'm a Cadet... It's not really my place to gossip about or socialize with officers." She smiled again. "I'm making an exception in your case."

"That's flattering. Really," Cristobel told her, almost apologetically. "But not quite the point I was trying to make. Y'see, the thing of it is--" And both his eyes and D'alla's went to Shyla sauntering out of her bedroom.

"Hi!" Shyla said brightly. She was in her bathrobe and double-checked the cinch at the sight of the stranger. "I didn't know we were having company."

"Nobody knew," Cris replied just as brightly. Flapping his hands around helplessly to direct them towards one another, he said, "D'alla, this is Shyla Moreau from Astrometrics. Shyla, this is D'alla Cox; she's on her cadet cruise and is studying Security and Holoengineering."

Cox was already on her feet and she didn't extend her hand. "A pleasure," she said stiffly. Even as she had some glimmer of recognition about the name, her mind was already leaping to radically incorrect assumptions.

"It's mine," Shyla said, pulling back her hand before she really offered it. An awkward silence hung between the three before Shyla pointed back at her bedroom. "I should dress for dinner, if you're joining us. My ratty robe isn't really appropriate for a visitor. Excuse me." She took a step in that direction.

"No," Cox said with some unintended harshness. "I only stopped by to give Ensign Sefton a report...I won't be staying." She gave Sefton a slight nod of her head before turning away. "I'm sorry to intrude, sir," she said over her shoulder.

"This isn't an intrusion. And I'm 'Cris', not 'sir'. D'alla, this isn't even what I was trying to tell--" But Cox had already briskly strode into the corridor.

Shyla stood watched Sefton's shoulders sag at the exit with more than a little confusion. "What was that all about?" she asked, picking a small piece of alien vegetable from the moat, taking care not to dip her fingers into it.

"I think Amy Reese needs to talk to D'alla, because she" --he motioned vaguely to the door the Orion woman had just passed through-- "doesn't think I'm 'girlish' at all."

Shyla's face went through a quick litany of confusion, realization, and near instantaneous mirth. "Well," she said, biting the tip off the root vegetable in her hand. "You're not, Cris. But I take it she doesn't know that you're also not interested?"

Mentally chastising himself for having used too many words before, instead of getting directly to what needed to be said to Cox, Cristobel explained by way of, "She thinks you're my girlfriend. Or possibly my indebted mistress."

"Are you telling me I'm not?" Shyla asked, making a show of her faux-shock.

"Dressed like that, you certainly aren't," Cristobel teased, but his blasé tone revealed his thoughts to be elsewhere, and his eyes lacked their usual gleeful glint.

"Oh," Shyla said, dropping that act. Nearly two months of cohabitation had made her sensitive to his quirks and she knew he was really bothered by what had just happen. "I'm sorry, Cris," she offered, apologizing for her flippancy.

"Don't apologise," Cris gently insisted. More emphatically, he went on, "It's just awfully disconcerting. I mean, her... infatuation with me felt incredibly strong -- dizzyingly so -- even though we barely know one another. And from that height, she's taking it so damn hard, just from being shot down by the mistaken impression that you and I are dating. How can I do anything but make this worse? What do I say? 'I'm not dating Shyla, but my boyfriend has suddenly learned to be the jealous type'? 'It's not you, it's that you're lacking a penis'?"

"Well, you'll have to tell her, won't you?" Shyla asked, pulling out one of the chairs. "I've always gotten the impression that Orions are the near antithesis of Vulcans - all raw emotion with the green on the outside. And as much as I adore you, I'm not really up for competing in this particular triangle. She --" Shyla indicated the door "-- could make a girl feel self-conscious on so many levels."

"I will tell her. I... Why doesn't she already know?" Cris asked, his voice getting hopefully high at the end. "Natalia was talking as if she, and people she talk with, assume that I'm feminine before getting to know me, apparently because I'm dating a guy. (Even though, my gender is male and I'm attracted to masculinity, and so how does femininity even come into play?) And then Amy talks as if the whole medical staff already thinks of me as 'one of the girls'."

Having just barely touched the fiery depth of D'alla's emotion and still having been overwhelmed, Cristobel wasn't sure if he could be as blunt with the Orion as he normally preferred to be. Her emotional backlash could end up hurting his own metaconscious just as badly as however his bluntness felt to her. And so Cris, sounding as if he recognised how ridiculous his words were, supposed, "Shouldn't that mean D'alla would know already? Shouldn't it be obvious that I wouldn't be able to see how she could possibly make you feel self-conscious?"

"Wait, back up," Shyla said, holding up her hand. Her expression bordered on incredulousness. "Are you absolutely certain your sexuality is at the root of this? Or do Amy and Lieutenant Druschev just think you're effeminate apart from it?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Cristobel stated, almost dumbfounded by the concept. "It could be both. I never did much reading on archaic Human gender roles, except for an article about how they were making a resurgence after the Dominion War, because Terrans are often comforted by recalling 'traditional' values - apparently regardless of the traditional values of every other species in Starfleet. Neither Amy nor Natalia felt what they were saying was malicious - they certainly weren't bothering to rationalise what they were saying in their heads - they just thought it was funny."

"That's just so...medieval," Shyla noted glumly. "Which is a certain fit for this ship, I guess..."

"What do you mean?" Cris asked. "We...wear heavy armour and wield broadswords?"

"There's that," she smiled, picking at another piece of vegetable. "And that it seems like anachronisms are the order of the day on the Sulu. Have you ever noticed the sheer number of people who claim interest in the late-twentieth, early-twenty-first century? Aren't the attitudes you're describing in Amy and Lieutenant Druschev a better fit with that time frame?"

"I suppose they are," Cristobel nodded, and served a couple slices of the deigh falmair to Shyla and then himself. "I always figured that obsession to be a typical, if not common, Starfleeter thing, and that it was some sort of coincidence for the Sulu to end up with so very many of them. Over the past few hundred years, everything has been documented meticulously, but from Earth, records are a bit more sketchy prior to the third world war. There could be this interest because there's a certain mystique to having this huge period of time in which people only know about the most largely impacting events. Why they obsess over Earth's misty history instead of, say, Betazed's or Andor's or Bajor's, well... I guess that's for the same reason that the Sol system is Sector 001."

"Starfleet did start with the Terrans...before there was a Federation even," Shyla reminded him, scooping up some of the replicated food. "But it is curious how everyone just seems to go along with our naming and numbering system," she admitted before taking a bite.

"It's not 'curious' when one remembers that Federation Standard was developed by Terran linguists, for the most part," Cris remarked, and hopped out of his seat to replicate drinks.

"But we do use some native names," Shyla protested once she'd chewed enough of her food. "Why do we use some but then insist on using our translations for others? And why do those species go along with it?"

"Because they don't care what we are calling their ball of dirt, since they can continue to call it whatever they like?" Cris surmised, as he brought two fizzing glasses to the table. "Or because they realise that nomenclature and labels are conveniences rather than things of depth or meaning?"

"I think the proper names of things can be very meaningful," Shyla said, picking up her glass and thinking about the protostar. "Lieutenant Druschev and Amy are putting a label on you, apparently because of sexual orientation. Does that feel terribly convenient?"

"It feels terribly lazy, but..." Cristobel paused to wrap some words around a coalescing idea, as he chewed on a bite of the *falmair. Shaking his empty fork for emphasis, he said, "That is pretty much the social norm for anything regarding sexuality on this ship."

"How so?" Shyla asked, bringing the glass towards her lips.

"In the rumour hub of Sickbay's waiting room, all that's ever said about anyone's sex life is poetry and blank verse," Cristobel clarified. "It's always 'Three-hour-long perfect bliss. Every night. Never been better. We're so in-love-in-tune-in-touch.' I'm not such the voyeur that I need specific details, but the bland bliss rings false to me. Somebody's gotta be lying. I mean, there are some nights after I come home from work when I just wanna get off. Or I just don't want to, but Corran does, so we do anyway. Drop all the candles and music and massage oils and hours of unending build-up into the replicator, because it's certainly nice, but I just can't deal with that every single time I have sex."

"That does sound embellished," Shyla admitted. "They are talking about it...maybe it's just a little harmless dramatization for the storytelling? Or maybe they're focusing specifically on the best of the best...uh...sessions." Shyla flushed a little at the subject matter. "Remember, pregnant or not, I'm hardly an expert on this particular subject."

"You're probably right, though," Sefton affirmed.

"Just a guess," Shyla shrugged, taking her fork back in hand. "So, you're going to have to talk to Cadet Cox...but what about Amy and Lieutenant Druschev? It sounds to me like you should be planning several discussions."

"And how does one go about persuading two very different but still strong-willed women to change their attitudes and beliefs?" Cristobel asked, skeptical of any of the conversations ending pleasingly.

Shyla surveyed him for a long while, some sympathy in her eyes. "It never really occurred to me how hard it must be for you."

"Which it?" Cris blurted, before he could drop his own tangle of thoughts to review her intentions.

"Well," Shyla said, drawing out the word and scraping her fork across the mound of food on her plate. "If someone is saying something that upsets me, I can ask them to stop. If they keep their opinions to themselves from that point on, the problem is pretty much solved." She looked up into his dark eyes. "But it's not that simple for a telepath, is it?"

"Not quite," Cris admitted, almost sadly, but then perked up, "Which is why we so often surround ourselves with genuine people, who are sincere about what they say." He grinned pointedly at Shyla. "That way, there's no need to worry about dealing with doublespeak. But, I don't even think I'd have to worry about that with Amy and Natalia. They're not going to change their behaviour just to be polite, and continue thinking up odd nicknames for me; they're only going to change if they recognise how peculiar their behaviour is. I mean, it honestly isn't upsetting me - it's too baffling. I'd have to be able to understand it to be offended."

"Good luck," Shyla shrugged, taking a bite and chewing. "I don't think I'll ever be able to understand that attitude," she added after a quick swallow.

"Just like I'll never understand how little D'alla Cox can make you feel insecure. If I was ever to get so drunk that I forgot my inability to be aroused by a woman, and was desperate for sex, you would be my exception," Cristobel told her with the endearing tone of the most heartfelt of compliments.

"Aw, Cris," Shyla gushed with twin affection though a little more demurely. She looked down at the table. "You'd be my exception too."

"Why do you need an exception?" Cristobel asked, but a smirk began to curl onto his face at her mirth.

"I don't usually sleep with femmy guys," she said, smiling mischievously at her plate.

"The Drinking Games Doctors Play"

by Lt. Cmdr. Damhnait Sefton - Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Brennyn Scott, RN - Chief Counsellor
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
and Ensign Annikafiore Szerda - Nurse

Location: USS Sulu, Officer's Lounge
Stardate: 57910.16, 20h14

***

The only banquet table in the lounge had been reserved for Medical - technically, it was simply two regular rectangular tables pushed together beneath an indigo table cloth - and tastefully placed by the viewports, so as not to be the absolute centre of attention. Damhnait had made a conscious decision to not wear her uniform, but had somehow ended up dressed in a knee length black skirt, and a dark blue turtle neck, which at least was sleeveless, hooded, and of a more gossamer material than Starfleet uniform tunics. Just as she had taken to doing while on duty for the past few weeks, Damhnait let her lengthy chocolate brown hair hang down naturally, with only enough styling done to keep it out of her face. As Chief Medical Officer, Sefton had seated herself at the head of the table. The head of an empty table.

To celebrate an excellent completion of the current crew evaluation and efficiency report cycle, she had invited the entire medical staff for drinks in the Officer's Lounge - even the currently-working beta staff for a water or coffee - but she supposed she had been vague about the precise time, or the staff simply hadn't taken the offer seriously. On the Oberon, Damhnait had shared drinks with her staff weekly; on the Sulu, aside from the few organised parties, she had taken to retiring to her quarters after shift. It had been a mistake to lose that sense of balance by not socially engaging herself with her medical colleagues.

And so she sat alone, gracefully sipping bubbling violet synthehol from a fluted goblet.

"Howdy," came the pleasant voice from behind her. Benjamin Talltree, said it as he settled into the seat on her left. He was also in casual clothing: loose trousers, a velveteen open-collared shirt and a wide headband knotted over his right ear holding back his long greying hair.

"Good evening, Benjamin," Sefton smiled a relieved smile. "I almost thought I'd be waiting until Gamma for..." Damhnait looked towards the sound of the lounge doors sliding open.

Alexia followed Dr. Talltree into the lounge. She walked up to the table, and stood, not sure where to sit. She smiled at Dr. Sefton and said, "Hello - I wasn't sure what time to be here. I'm not too early am I? I'm hoping that some of the others come tonight so I can get to know them better." She hadn't really known what to dress in, and as a result, her quarters were an absolute mess. In the end, she had gone with a casual but smart black mini skirt with a figure hugging red polo necked top and high heeled shoes. She, too, like Dr. Sefton, had left her hair loose and it flowed mid-way down her back. The whole outfit was designed to enhance her long legs and slim body, and she knew she looked good.

"Alexia, please have a seat," Damhnait pleasantly offered. "You're not late at all. The others...should arrive eventually."

Alexia glanced around the lounge, noting that no-one else had come in yet. She turned to Dr. Talltree. "I don't think we've been officially introduced. I'm Alexia, but my friends all call me AJ or Lexi. I'm really looking forward to hearing about your time away and to working with you on our project."

"Benjamin Talltree," the old amerind nodded, smiling paternally. "And the project is yours. I'm simply a resource."

"Well," said Alexia, "I hadn't really thought of it like that." She frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose it really is my project!" With that thought in mind, Alexia settled quietly into one of the chairs.

Raina arrived a short time later. It didn't take her long to find a seat at the table. "Good evening everyone."

"I do hope you are arriving here from your quarters, and not from a second shift," Damhnait teased Raina, because of the younger woman's predilection for workaholism, and also because of a twinge of guilt Damhnait felt for delegating so much of the Security first-aid training to Raina. So much so that Sefton had heard some security personnel referring to Ensign Derrell as an honourary security officer.

Smiling, Raina replied, "You know me too well, Doctor. Though I can safely say I wasn't on duty at all prior to this." Between keeping up with her studies and finding time for a good workout when she wasn't busy with work Raina was busy.

"Gratified to hear it. And, please, call me Damhnait all of you, since we are outside of Sickbay," Sefton insisted.

"Really?" All present looked past Damhnait to Amy Reese, absolutely beaming at her mentor and idol. She was in a long, black dress that dropped to her ankles, and her hair had been dyed a shade of brown almost matching Damhnait's. Before some else could, she slid into the seat next to Damhnait's and grinned. "I'm glad you invited me, Damhnait. This is going to be so great!"

Damhnait was momentarily struck dumb at Amy's latest state of mind and hair colouration transformation. Damhnait knew better than to gape, though, and simply smiled pleasantly once Amy sat beside her, in the chair across from Benjamin's. Eventually, but before anyone else spoke, Sefton simply beamed, "...Yes."

"It is refreshing," came the purring voice of M'lira as she approached the table, "to gather outside of Sickbay. A ship this small, it is nearly criminal that we have rarely ever met socially. It is nice to have the chance to know each other outside of our professional working relationships." She wore a loose skirt and sleeveless top in a cinnamon coloured fabric, with her tail swaying freely from behind her. "Thank you for this opportunity, Damhnait."

"It has been criminal," Damhnait insisted, and warmly shook one of M'lira's paws between both of her hands. "I am glad for this opportunity."

"So," said Talltree, in the manner of starting a conversation. "What shall we talk about?"

Alexia looked around the table, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Apart from Amy, she was the only nurse there so far. She really felt out of her depth at the moment. For all her partying and socialising over the years, she had never socialised with her senior officers, and it was a disconcerting feeling. She didn't think she had a great deal in common with these people, other than work related matters, but was determined not to be boring and resort to that as a topic.

She turned to Amy, and spoke softly so that she wouldn't be overheard by the others present. "Have you ever been in this sort of social gathering? With the seniors, I mean? What do we talk about with them?" She glanced up briefly and looked around the table again. "I feel like a little kid in a room full of adults, who's scared she'll wet her pants in front of them!"

Amy grinned. "Don't worry. Just...be yourself, though in my case, that's the worst thing I can do!" She winked at Alexia and waved over Sikara to begin their drink orders.

While the group sat quietly and talked amongst themselves, Bree entered the lounge looking much more relaxed than she had felt moments earlier. Wearing "two hats" as the senior counselor and a nurse certainly kept her on her toes, but she felt it extremely important to bond with both groups no matter what came her way. Unfortunately she and her schedule didn't always see eye to eye.

She had changed into a simple turquoise sun dress and heeled tan sandals which revealed her painted toes. The red polish made her feel more feminine but was usually properly masked by her Starfleet issue boots. She approached the table and smiled at the familiar and unfamiliar faces. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. It took me a little longer to switch gears today. How is everyone?"

"Quite well," Damhnait grinned at Bree. "And you're not late. You're still here sooner than Corran and Cristobel."

"Hello, counselor," said Talltree, smiling politely.

"Hello, Benjamin," answered Bree with a smile. "Good to see you." Scott admired Talltree's calming presence.

"Tell me, Brennyn," Talltree asked, "how do you balance your duties?"

Scott smiled mischievously. "The short answer? Very carefully. But seriously, it is a challenge going back and forth, at least for me mentally and emotionally." She shrugged. "I wanted to study nursing and counseling initially because both fields complemented each other and I knew I'd have the benefits of a more rounded education. Since I've been counseling, I have a better appreciation for the mind-body connection. If I'm to heal the mind, it really helps to understand the body." Brennyn smiled. "What started as a semester long semester quickly developed into a second career. And of course it was also because of get-togethers like these. Contrary to popular belief, counselors do not like to sit around and listen to their colleagues off duty." The last was clearly said light heartedly.

"Well," Talltree said, smiling amiably, and perhaps with a touch of mischief, "I think this brings us to a fine little something to do tonight. Personally," he said, waving over a server, "I'd like to hear about why each of us decided to become medical practitioners of one sort or another."

He turned to the server, a lanky man with a slightly crooked grin. "Mister..."

"Thomas," said the crewman, in an accent thick with lazy vowels. "Crewman Thomas, sir."

"Good evening, Mister Thomas," Talltree nodded. "Please bring us" - he began, then paused to count heads-- "eleven liters of good whisky. And a dozen shot glasses, please," he added. Thomas looked impressed and loped quickly away.

"Now," the old amerind turned his attention back to the table. "I'm sure we all have a similar story of nursing some small animals back to health while we were children and falling in love with healing and its related arts, and I'm sure by the fifth iteration of that story we'll all be asleep. So let's make it interesting, shall we?"

"Define interesting," Damhnait smirkingly requested for the sake of the non-telepaths.

Talltree smiled wide, a smile of genuine, guileless mirth. "When we tell our stories, there are words we need to agree to not use. Using them means one must take a drink. I'd like to start the list with 'doctor', 'nurse', 'medical', and 'healing'. Those are the illegal words. Unless anyone wants to add to the list?"

"We might as well make synonyms of those taboos as well: 'physician', 'practitioner', 'life sciences', 'medicine'," Damhnait chimed in. She grinned suddenly, because Cristobel then quietly entered the lounge and took a seat at the other end of the table, facing Damhnait. He was still wearing his burgundy sweater, and had put on dull-gold slacks.

"Sorry I'm late, still have room for one more?" Kremer asked as he quietly stepped into the Lounge. His feet were barefoot, on his legs were a pair of long dark grey pants made of some kind of wool material; he wore a sleeveless light grey shirt completing the outfit, his tail swayed about lazily behind him. Striding over to the table Kremer pulled himself out a chair and sat down. Leaving enough room to let his tail swing freely behind him he faced the chair backwards.

Sauntering over from the bar, simply clad in a slinky Class A uniform, Annikafiore Szerda spun an empty chair around to straddle it. Having overheard the rules of the game, Annika sassed, "I don't want to hear anything about 'mommy' or 'daddy' or parents of any sort." Then she grinned at Amy.

The serving crewman was back with the first pair of bottles and some shot glasses. Talltree reached across the table to set up for Amy. "Miss Reese, our lovely and talented head nurse. Care to start?" he asked, looking at the amber liquid, and pouring a dollop of it into the first glass for her.

She grinned falsely at those around her, wondering if it agreed with etiquette to start the evening with a swig of liquor, especially in front of her peers. Talltree's unchanging, stolid expression was what encouraged her to pick up the cylindrical glass and toss back the liquid within; she dared not deny him. Coughing as it went down, Amy then managed a smile for them all. "Let the games begin," she wheezed.

Damhnait comfortingly put a hand atop of one of Amy's hands, and told her, "He meant that you should start the game and tell your story. It's an easy mistake to make." Suspecting that Amy would be momentarily mortified, Dav offered, "How about I try it first: the majority of my education prior to Starfleet Academy was fairly specialised towards a focus on mathematics, biology and chemistry. It was an obvious path towards becoming a," --Damhnait paused and grinned for effect, before quite willingly saying-- "doctor."

Sefton gulped down her first shot, and only expressed any discomfort by a widening of her eyes, a visibly tightening of her jaw, and slamming the glass back down on the table where Talltree nonchalantly refilled it with more synthehol. Dav continued, "It seemed like the most important thing anyone could do. When I was particularly young, I thought that the only reason anyone did anything else was simply because they weren't good enough. Once it became apparent that I had the skill to do what we do, it seemed as if it would be an offence to the 'verse to do anything else. ...How I chose Starfleet is a longer, sordid story, but I think it is time for someone else to share."

Now recovered from her earlier blunder, Amy eagerly supplied, "I chose this path because I'm horrible at everything else And," she added, holding up a finger triumphantly, "it got me off Earth." With great zest, she threw back another drink, despite having avoided the restricted words.

Already having had quite a bit to drink, without bothering to shake away the effects, Annikafiore cavalierly blurted out, "I just wanted to work somewhere that would allow me -- nay encourage me -- to wear a skirt to work every day! Any patient can appreciate naughty nightshift nurses." The Gamma-shift nurse slung back her latest shot of whiskey.

"It's good to see the game really get underway," Talltree regarded the blitzed Annika with great amusement. "For myself," he said, fixing himself a glass, "I was more or less born to it. Medicine" --he threw back the shot, thumped a fist on the table, and glanced suspiciously at the server before continuing-- "was something I showed aptitude in early, so I was selected to study it with my people's--" He hesitated, thinking, then poured another glass and lifted it to the group. "Experts," he said, then drank before carrying on. "Apprenticeship. It's all I've ever really done, and all I expect to ever really do." He poured himself another shot for good measure, and looked down the table.

Taking a glass in paw, Kremer swirled around the liquid as he spoke. "As for me," he spoke as he poured his drink, "I was inspired by it. Healing." Downing the shot, the Cait let the liquid burn down this throat before slapping a paw down on the table for emphasis. Licking his whiskers he continued, "I grew up surrounded by the art."

Alexia looked around the table. She thought it might be a very interesting evening. Not only would she find out more about these people she was working with, but she also had an excuse to have a few drinks without fear of upsetting anyone. She chuckled softly to herself - there was no way she could get her story out without using any of the banned words, and she knew that she would end up having to down quite a few drinks in order to tell it!

She took a deep breath in, then began. "I was brought up on an ice-skating rink, almost from before I could walk. It was my mother's wish that I be the best skater in the Federation." Alexia stopped and picked up her glass, then tipped her head back and downed her shot like a real pro. Then she continued. "I chose nursing because it was as far away from skating as I could think to get." She took a second gulp, and smiled to the group. "Well, that's me in three sentences. I could go on, but I won't just yet. Who's next?"

"Oh what the hell," chimed Bree Scott. "I already told you why I chose nursing," she downed a shot, "but it was my father who told me it was the most appropriate choice for a prospective bride with my nurturing and tendency toward healing qualities." There was a distinct sarcastic edge to the admission. "How many was that?"

"I'd say three," Damhnait brightly asserted, and downed another shot of her own. Her pained expression that followed remained with her when she noticed Cristobel's suddenly sullen mood. He had been quiet, but smiling, when he'd entered, and yet had grown increasingly intensely thoughtful as the stories were gleefully shared.

Scott smiled wryly and took the mandatory remaining shots off the serving tray. With a drink in each hand, she managed to take one shot without gagging before turning to hear the next participant.

M'lira smiled and picked up her glass. "When I was very young," she began, "I was out running around as a young kist is wont to do. Suddenly, out of the sky, a ball of fire came down. It landed near to where my friend and I stood. Curiousity got the better of us, and we scampered into the woods. It was a Starfleet shuttle, and there was little left of it." She frowned at the memories, tail twitching behind her. "When you're young, nothing can hurt you, so we entered the flaming ruin. There was one man still alive, a human in teal. Science, not medical." She downed her drink in a gulp and poured another. "I had rudimentary skills, as any would who was a Wilderness Explorer. My skills weren't enough to save his life, though. He died as I tried to save him." She downed her second shot, then gave a smile. "I don't believe it takes a warp physicist to figure out what happened next."

Watching his fingertip run circuits around the lip of his shot glass, Cristobel detachedly stated, "I switched Medical from my minor to my major at the Academy after I let Ensign Nefertari Fuhr die." He drank his shot without looking up.

Amy Reese coughed up some of her gulp. "You did what?" she croaked.

"Like M'lira. There was an accident," Cris said soberly. "Except I was a Science cadet, who was minoring in Medicine, and I still couldn't save her. It seemed stupid to spend my time learning anything else, if I didn't even know how to keep someone alive."

"Do I hear a note of self-blame coming on?" asked Bree, who despite the occasion and the synthehol in her system could fall into counselor mode as easily as she breathed. It was an oft admired and cursed skill.

"I don't...think so. I mean, I know how to keep someone alive now," Cristobel replied, a mix of sudden realisation and uncertainty in his voice. More surely: "There wasn't anything I could have done differently then."

"That's very rational of you, Cris," Bree replied, bringing her other shot to her lips. Scott was bound and determined not to turn this into a counseling session. It would have been counterproductive for the evening.

"Rational of the counsellor I saw extensively at the Academy after it happened," Cris corrected her, unable to hold back a smile at her concern. "Who would try coping with something so massive without help? I'd just... forgotten how suddenly I made up my mind to switch to Medical."

"Sometimes all you can do is just jump and see what happens," said Talltree, pouring another shot for Annika.

"Likewise, I'm sure many of us have faced similar situations before," Kremer remarked, tapping his claws lightly on the table.

Emptying her shot glass, yet again, Annika then gleefully declared, "And to think: we wouldn't all be sitting here drinking tonight, if it weren't for that big pile of pissy parents and dead bodies!"

"To dead parents!" Amy saluted, and tossed back another shot, unfazed by her blunder.

Bree Scott smiled half-heartedly, raised her glass in her own silent toast, and downed its contents. She wasn't exactly glad her parents were gone, killed brutally during the occupation of Betazed, but damned if they hadn't helped her screw-up her life in some respects. She raised the empty glass and looked upward. "To dead parents and Sigmund Freud...for damning us before we even began."

"Things Change, Part 1"
By: CPO Calyca Boothroyd, Engineering
Crewman Sorg Jurell, Security

Location: USS Sulu, Boothroyd's Quarters, Holodeck Three
Stardate: 57910.16, 20h30

***

Caly hung the dress up and examined it critically, wondering if she'd be able to move much in it. Maybe she had the replicator spit out the wrong thing for a Jazz Club... She enjoyed jazz, but it wasn't like she'd ever been to a club before. That had definitely not been part of her Mother's dance etiquette tutoring. She squinted at the dress and a frown wrinkled her brow. Maybe she'd misunderstood Jurell when she'd spoke with him earlier. Not an impossible thing by any means and she reached back to remember just exactly what he'd said....

***

"Chief Boothroyd to Crewman Sorg," she tapped her comm-badge. She'd gotten his message a little earlier about going to the jazz club tonight. It had been short, slightly panting, to the point, and it had made her laugh. In a rush. Jazz club tonight. Pick you up at 2100 hours. There'd been a brief pause where she could hear him breathing and then more hesitantly, Unless that's a bad time, then let me know. 2100 if I don't hear from you. And that was it. The message had been a bit of a surprise as she hadn't seen much of him since they left JJ324c. He'd been busy with TAC Team training, and she'd been busy with repairs. She'd waited until she knew he'd be done with training before she called him back.

The comm-badge chirp preceded, "Hey Cal, I was about to call you...." She could discern the smile in his voice as he added, "Just a reminder...in case you were hip deep somewhere or you're playing with your widgets again." He laughed. "Did you think I'd forget?"

"Noooo...." she laughed and shook her head. She was hip deep somewhere though. "I just had a couple questions. Like... What do I have to wear, and do I eat first?" she asked. "Oh... And this isn't a date thing, is it?"

"Would you like it to be a date?" he shot back with a chuckle. "Wear something nice, and it's a restaurant and a dance club, so no, don't eat!"

"Does something 'nice' mean a dress?" she asked in that voice that clearly said she would, but under protest, not strenuous protest, just a good-natured grumbling protest. "And aren't 'dates' taboo?" she asked, her grin heard in her voice. "I think we decided that... Didn't we?"

"Absolutely," he laughed, "but if you change your mind, which is your prerogative, you being a woman and all...then I guess I could look at it again and see." He cleared his throat. "I like you in a dress."

"Oh, that's bull. I'd never change my mind just because I was a w--" Tthere was a slight pause. "You would?" she blinked and he could hear her soft intake of breath followed by that equally soft huff of an exhale because he said something that confounded her. "You do?"

"Uhuh." He grinned, nodding in the affirmative even though she couldn't see him. "And I have a present for you."

"You do?" She shook her head and made a soft noise of exasperation at herself. "Good gods, Sorg. You have me sounding like a damned parrot," she accused softly. "I console myself by convincing myself that you're as nuts as I am," she told him with a soft laugh. "What kind of dress does one wear to a jazz club anyway?"

"Something black, slinky black." He chuckled. "Just ask Shiri, she'll tell you...and dancing shoes."

"I can't dance barefoot?" she grumbled around a suppressed laugh. "Black, slinky... Right. I'll fake it," she told him. What the hell was slinky anyway? "Define slinky," she added.

"Ermm close cut...figure hugging...evening wear, girl clothes. If you dance barefoot risk injury!" He grinned. "Wing it - you're good at that!"

"I'll have you know I'm as nimble as they come, don't think I can't keep my toes out from under yours," she told him with a laugh. "Girl clothes, huh? Probably something my mother would have kittens over, I'll wager," she snorted softly. "2100, don't be late." He could hear the laughter in her voice.

"I won't, bank on it!"

***

So there she stood, studying the dress. It was black, and slinky and looked rather figure hugging to her.... And what was "close cut" anyway? She wasn't real sure, and the dress was just going to have to do, close-cut or not. She still doubted her ability to move freely in the thing though and she grumbled something about males in general, and girl clothes as she slid it down over her body. It fit her like a glove, hugging her curves and accentuating her very feminine attributes. It was cut straight across her collar bone with cap sleeves and was totally backless save for a thin strap across the shoulder blades and one midback. It fell to just below her knees with a slit up one leg to near mid-thigh, exposing a length of sheer black silk-clad skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, moving around, testing how much freedom of movement she had, and was actually surprised at how well the silky material hugged the motion of her body and didn't bind anywhere.

"I take back everything bad I said about you." She reached over and patted the replicator. Scattered about her quarters, mechanical spiders watched on with expressionless optical receptors. The only jewelry she wore was a gold necklace with a small teardrop emerald that matched her eyes, and a gold anklet.

The door chime rang exactly on time. Sorg Jurell stood outside bouncing on the balls of his feet dressed in a white dinner jacket, black bow tie and black trousers. His shiny black shoes reflected the light of the corridor they were so shiny.

Caly raised her head with the chime, bonking the back of it lightly as she did and uttering a quiet "oww". "Come!" she called out from the bedroom area. "I'm back here!" she added when she heard the whispering hiss of the door. "I can't find my other shoe. I think one of the spiders drug it under the bed. Damn cheeky spiders," she grumbled and stared at one of them.

Half a dozen spiders from various locations and with exacting telemetry tracked Jurell's progress as he walked across the threshold with a smile at her voice and turned to look through the small living space to the bed area. He saw Calyca side on, and the way she was back-lit by the bedroom lights made her figure a dark silhouette, but lit her face in stark brilliance. His breath caught in his throat. She was gorgeous...the dress was like a second skin and from where he was standing her figure in profile was awesome. It took a couple of seconds before he muttered, "Ohhh Prophets...thank you," and he smiled. "You look terrific," he called out. "The dress is perfect."

"You're lucky I can move in the thing, or I'd have it off in a hot second," she told him with a grin, her own gaze taking in the picture he made right down to his shiny shoes. "You look quite delectable yourself," she pronounced, gesturing at him with the one shoe she had in her hand. "Very mysterious. Devilishly so," she added with a grin. "Hang on and let me get my shoe. Help yourself to something from the replicator if you want." She gestured towards that before getting to her hands and knees and reaching under the bed, muttering at one of the spiders as she did.

"Ohhh Prophets." He turned away from the sight of her rear poking up at him from under the bed. Then he looked back, with a grin. He wished he could be rid of the dress in a hot second. "I can wait," he said, taking in her figure. I can wait, he thought to himself.

"I'm starving, by the way," she called out to him, her voice slightly muffled by the bed. "Ha! Gimme that." She snatched the shoe from the spider that'd dragged it under there and emerged triumphant. "Got it!" She stood and waved the shoe at Jurell to show him that she was now in possession of both her shoes. "I'm so gonna re-write his AI." She padded out to the living area, tucking one of the shoes under her arm and freeing her hand so she could run her fingers through her hair in a half-successful attempt to give it some semblance of order.

"You look amazing," he smiled as he leaned in and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek, making her squeak a bit at the unexpectedness of it. She smelled of soap and her fragrant oils and he couldn't help inhaling. "You know I'd like to have a couple of those things. I can find a few uses for them. Have you ever tried a Dragon-Fly?" In that split second he knew that her mind had just run rampant and the slightly glazed look that came over her eyes was the result of him triggering what he knew to be an awesome intellect wrapped in an equally awesome body...she was day-tripping again even as she was putting on her shoes.

"Dragon-Fly." His idea slipped musingly off her lips in a soft echo. "Wonderfully fascinating creatures... Flight would be tricky..." she offered after a moment, getting one shoe on and looking at him with eyes only half-focused as she reached a hand out to rest on his arm and steady herself while she slipped the other shoe on. "Not impossible, mind you... But tricky," she pointed out, gesturing with the shoe instead of actually getting it on yet. "Everything would have to be reduced further in size without losing effectiveness... I'll have to delve into avionics... And aerodynamics..." she added thoughtfully and chewed a bit on her bottom lip. "Hmmm... I always did want to learn how to fly," she admitted. "Alright," she nodded as if coming to a decision and gestured absently with her shoe again. "I'll work on it. Although the spiders are much more versatile in their abilities, I think. Not to mention their explosives... I really love their explosives." She finally took a breath and looked up, focusing on him with a faint blink of long lashes surrounding deep pools of green. "What would you do with them?" she wondered, and still hadn't managed to get her other shoe on.

He was smiling, and watching her mind tick over. It was a lovely sight. "Explosives?" It suddenly registered. "You don't mean to tell me these little monsters carry explosives? On the ship? Here?" He pointed at the largest spider that was sitting like a squat arachnid on her bed.

Caly blinked and gave him a look. "Of course not," she laughed at the look on his face. "Well, they do carry explosives. Or can. Just not at the moment..." She followed his pointing finger. "Oh, but not him. Shoe thief!" she called at the spider and finally finished slipping her other shoe on. "Watson's not allowed explosives."

"Oh...well...okay then." He eyed Watson who arched two front legs as if daring him. Sorg thought better of it. "As to what I'd do...you know there are many uses for a small sensor platform, say with an in-built tricorder function and transporter transponder darts." He shrugged, showing her an evil grin. " Nasty surprise if they were sensor masked."

Caly blinked at that grin and stared at him for a full heartbeat. "All easily doable. I built them with some of those very upgrades in mind," she told him. "As it is, they have the same components in them as the comm-badges do. And they spin gorgeous webs. All except Watson. Which is why he's not allowed explosives."

"Ahhh...you know we could discuss this over dinner. We'll be late." He smiled and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

"Of course," she smiled and took his arm, grabbing a sweater on the way out and calling a "behave" to the spiders. The pair made their way to the holodeck Jurell had reserved with this evening in mind, talking quietly along the way and laughing at shared jokes.

The Savannah Club was already swinging, as Sorg commenced the evening during the first set. Lois Castanova was playing Jazz trumpet, his dark skin and puffed out cheeks belied the smooth sexy melody that the Big Band eased along to; all brass, grand piano, snare drums and bass strings. The diners were chatting quietly and the spot was on the lone player. The room was dimly lit by table candles and it was by far a more romantic atmosphere than the last time he'd come here with Shirik.

The marble staircase wound downward in a gentle curve along the wall. A balustrade of white marble set with bright flower arrangements that spilled greenery down the sides followed it; all looking out upon the crowded dining room of circular tables and discreet alcoves along the walls. Black and white dressed waiters circulated the floor amongst well dressed men and women of varied races. There was a wide stage set against the forward wall, a semi-circular three step tier that held the twenty piece jazz band. A bar of polished wood lay along the far wall.

Caly took it all in, green eyes bright as she looked over everything, quite impressed with the setting and the music. The program was an exceptionally good one and the music playing in the background leant a very fitting and quite sultry feel to the place.

"Your usual table, Mr. Sorg?" the smiling Maître'D asked. He smiled obsequiously to Calyca and waved them forward. "May I take your wrap, Madame?" he asked further, indicating the sweater she carried. It was obviously not needed in the club. It was cozy and warm, the music only adding to the atmosphere.

"Of course," Caly smiled back at the man and handed him her sweater, following along with her arm curled in Sorg's as they were escorted down the stairs and shown one of the front tables, against a wall, so that it still remained somewhat discreet. It had a circular padded seat that they shuffled into, the setting was comfortably close and afforded an uninterrupted view of the floor and the band.

Miles Davis' "That Old Black Magic" started with the piano intro and quickly rolled into the trumpets' crooning sounds, played exactly as Miles Davis would have wished it. As they played Sorg leaned back and tapped his hand along the back of the bench seat behind Caly and grinned, his head bobbing slightly to the easy rhythm.

"What do you think?" he asked as he once again felt the snare of her eyes.

"Oh, I'm quite impressed," she smiled at him. "The programming is exceptional and the atmosphere perfect."

"I'm glad you like it. I picked this up on Risa of all places. There's a variety of performers and music and it changes each time you visit. I think there's something like six hundred music sets all randomized. I haven't heard the same song twice yet!" His eyes were alight with enthusiasm. "This program and my Adventure Simulation are my favorites. This is supposed to be what a real jazz club on Terra was like centuries ago, complete to every detail. I won it in a Dabo game." He grinned wolfishly.

"It's perfect," she grinned at him and leaned forward a bit, settling her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand as she watched his face light up. She quirked a brow at the wolfish grin and couldn't help the soft laugh of approval. "Shiri and I have been training for your Adventure program."

His grin turned positively feral. "Yeah, I can't wait for the first time you guys think you're ready. It's more than fun."

A waiter arrived with an ice bucket on a stand and popped the cork on a green bottle of replicated Dom Perignon Champagne. It was poured into the flutes with a flourish and the waiter was gone. Sorg held his glass up and said, "To fun...and things."

Caly quirked a brow at him and that feral look but quietly took the glass and held it up, laughing softly at his toast. "To things," she agreed and took a small sip, green eyes full of impish light as she looked at him over the rim of the glass. "You looked positively gleeful," she accused softly.

"One look at you in that dress...." He grinned, and sipped the drink. "You look fabulous." His blue eyes gazed back at her and his smile was almost embarrassed.

Caly laughed softly and wiggled a finger at him. "I think it had more to do with getting Shiri and I alone with dragons and sword fights and faeries... And into leather," she teased. "Mother said to always be gracious when paid a compliment.. Usually I just get flustered," she admitted. "But thank you."

"I said I had a surprise for you." He put his glass down and dug into an inside pocket of his jacket. He placed a slim dark plum colored velvet case on the table and slid it toward her. The velvet cover held a Bajoran design in golden script. "It's hand made. A crewman in Science made it for me. I hope that you like it."

Her eyes widened as she watched his movements and saw the box. She was cautious as she listened, and she flashed him a small smile. And now she came to the whole 'accepting a gift' protocol her mother tried to instill upon her. Notably when not to and when it was acceptable. She could hear her mother's words as Jurell slid the box towards her. Jewelry is the iffy-est of them all. Accepting it can leave the wrong impression totally. And then she'd gone into a list of who to never accept jewelry from. And ended with, With everyone else you'll just have to use your best judgment. Bajorans had been somewhere in the middle and was how Caly learned about the meaning of friendship and betrothal bracelets. She took a breath and reached out to pull the box the rest of the way towards her with two fingers and thumb.

"I'm not used to things like this," she explained and looked up to give him a quiet smile before looking back to the box and gingerly opening it, not realizing she was holding her breath until she let it out when she saw that it wasn't a bracelet. "Oh.... It's beautiful, Jurell," she smiled over at him, her look somewhere between relief and caution. "It looks just like yours," she commented as her fingers and gaze moved lightly over the design of the Bajoran earring. "Except without the rank thing and it's a wee bit smaller." Her smile was a little brighter and a little easier when she looked back up at him. "I have to admit that I feel a bit strange though," she told him honestly. "And please don't take this the wrong way, or get upset with me, or be offended... But Mother didn't cover Bajoran men and earrings." She offered him a small hesitant smile of half-apology and nervousness. "There's no special meaning I need to know about... Is there?"

He laughed easily, and had witnessed her nervous apprehension at taking the box. He correctly surmised her concern; had it been a bracelet? "Only that it's my gift to you," he said softly. "You admired mine, so I thought you would like it." He reached into his pocket and brought out his own. He had removed the rank insignia from it and so it was just decorative. He put it on, showing Caly how to affix the loop to the curl of her ear.

Caly's smile was one of genuine relief and she watched as he put his on. "It looks very good on you," she told him, tipping her head just a bit to better see. "Very nice. Exotic," she nodded with a grin. Her fingers moved over the one he gave her, easing it gently from the box and then she attempted to mimic his movements and put it on her own ear. After several fumbling attempts she just offered it to him with a soft sigh of exasperation. "It's probably fairly obvious that I don't usually wear jewelry."

He grinned and with gentle fingers and while holding his breath the whole time he put it on her. By this time he was very close and he stroked her chin as he gazed into her eyes. He bent to kiss her, one hand against her cheek the other on the back of the seat and it was a very soft kiss, a few seconds of brushing lips and he drew away only slightly, staring into her eyes.

She shivered at the touch to her ear and then looked at him expectantly when he was done. She didn't expect the kiss and the widening of her eyes told him that. "Thank you," she smiled, pulling back a little when he did. "It feels strange," she admitted and her eyes never left his. "Your eyes are very blue tonight," she observed quietly.

He smiled and leaned back against the seat. "And yours are very green." A statement that made her laugh softly and relax.

"We're an observant pair," she smiled and her attention turned briefly to the stage as the strains of a new song started. A new singer had taken the microphone, and they hadn't noticed, but as the music rose his voice was very clear and filled with rich tones. A tall black male in a black dinner jacket crooned into the standing microphone, hands cupped around the device as he sang with eyes closed and the Nat King Cole song of "You're Nobody Till Somebody Loves You" filled the club.

Jurell smiled as he gazed into her eyes, and his hand dropped onto hers as he listened to the music. "You're staring," she finally accused softly, her lips curled in a gentle smile.

"Sorry," he dropped his eyes, "I can't help it."

"Hey... I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Now I'm sorry," she smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

He chuckled. "I don't feel bad at all."

A waiter materialized and asked, "Will you be dining tonight, sir?" At Sorg's nod he presented them with menus. "I will be back momentarily. Would sir like some wine this evening? I have been told that we have a delightful Bajoran Summerwine."

Jurell nodded, seeing as he'd arranged the bottle beforehand. He'd bought several cases of it at Bajor and a kindly operations officer had agreed to stow it in one of the cargo bays for the cost of only a single case. No doubt that case was used elsewhere for other favors. It was the way of it. Real wine was a premium on a ship about to launch into the unknown for six months.

The waiter vanished once more, leaving them to scan the menus. It seemed that seafood was a particular delicacy tonight, and though it was all replicated, it was still delicious food. Sometimes Sorg wondered what the big deal was with some people. He still couldn't tell the difference between a cooked meal and a replicated one, and frankly preferred replicated - at least you knew that no real animals had been killed for their meat, or that the food was suitably nutritious and always contained the correct proportions that a body needed to remain healthy. Prophets sometimes he wondered whether Federation citizens knew what it was really like to exist without a replicator! The hours it took to prepare food! The manual labour of it all...the waste of energy, time and resources when replication was by far healthier, tastier and more time efficient.

"I think I'll have a seafood platter...with salads.." he murmured while scanning the choices. His one hand remained in hers on the table-top.

Caly had been only half reading the menu and was actually fairly distracted. She pushed the menu towards him with a, "Sounds good to me," and she propped her chin in her free hand and elbow on the table as she watched him with semi-focused eyes.

He looked at her for a long second, his smile fond. "What are you thinking about?" he asked her softly. He slid the menu to the table and picked up his glass, taking a sip as he regarded her.

She blinked and focused on him as his words grabbed the attention of her mind. "I don't know how to fly," she told him after a moment. "Don't know the first thing about what makes it actually possible... I don't know the theory behind it," she admitted.

He laughed softly. "Here you are completely holding my attention, and you're off somewhere else...trying to figure out the mechanics of flight...and I look into those eyes of yours and I already feel like I'm flying."

Now it was her turn to laugh softly and shake her head a bit. "But it was you who sent my thoughts there," she pointed out. "Now I just need to find someone to teach me."

"Let's order dinner shall we?" He tapped her menu. "Then we can talk about that...one thing at a time." He grinned and leaned forward. "Focus," he said softly and kissed the end of her cute nose which made her look at him cross-eyed and laugh softly.

"One thing at a time?" She quirked a brow at him and grinned. "I will try, but I give no guarantees," she added.

"I know," he grinned. He sat back and looked at the singer who was already winding up his song.

The waiter came back and took their orders and quickly melted away.

"How are things in engineering?" he asked.

Caly quirked a brow at the change in subject but smiled at him as she answered. "Quite well, I think. Things are getting back to more normalcy after the JJ324c havoc. What about security? And how's the TAC Team coming along?" She knew they were in intense training, which is why she hadn't seen much of him over the past two months. Their little outing this evening was a rare occurrence and the exception rather than the rule.

"Okay," he nodded. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "We're shaping up well, only a few rough spots. We're doing combat insertions twice a day at the moment. Armoured suit re-entry. So far we've done it in every kind of weather imaginable...from high orbit to low orbital slingshots." He smiled. "They're the most difficult. That was the first real drop we did over Seebli III. Dropped from a shuttle...that was hairy. We had to get below their satellite coverage, so it had to be low orbital and fast." He shook his head. "We got it done though." He shrugged. "Standard stuff really." Knowing that to be an understatement.

Both brows raised at the 'Standard Stuff' because she knew it to be an understatement as well as he did. "Uh-huh... Standard stuff...." Her voice contained as much skepticism as her gaze did. She knew that the slightest miscalculation could be disastrous, fatally so, but she left that unspoken because he knew it better than she did.

He grinned and patted her hand. "Don't worry," he said cheerfully, "they're only in the holodeck and safeties are always on...it's not like we'll have to do it again in a hurry. The likelihood of having to get down to a planetary surface that's transporter shielded in a covert op is...well...a thousand or so to one. We'll probably never have to do it again. But it sure is fun!" He laughed. It was fun; hurtling at several thousand kilometers per hour at a planetary atmosphere with a ballistic trajectory designed to get you down quickly and at exactly the right point, then diving into atmosphere and using the air friction to aero-brake...

Caly blinked. "My god... You are as nuts as I am," she told him, somewhere between laughter and incredulous. "More so, I think," she nodded, which made the earring brush against her ear, which made her blink and shiver and reach a hand up to touch it. "Definitely more so."

"I hope so, otherwise we'd be completely incompatible." He noticed her touch the earring and he smiled. "It looks good on you. You know...I went to Commander Lyrr and asked her about my earring. She told me that she had no objection to me wearing it." His eyes rolled. "I didn't believe it, but she's almost easy to talk to! So I can wear mine during duty shifts...mind you I wouldn't dare wear it around Chief Case. I'm sure he'd find an alternate place for me to wear it." He chuckled.

"Pretty tough, isn't he?" Caly chuckled and kept fingering the earring. "It feels... Odd..." she admitted. "I don't believe you went all the way to the XO," she grinned, teasing him a bit. "I think it surprises me that she's easy to talk to. Pleasantly, mind you."

"I did though. I'd just heard that it wouldn't be acceptable. So when I saw her I just asked. She smiled and asked me why I'd had the mistaken impression that she would be against it!" He chuckled. "Commander By The Book Lyrr...and she asks me why?" He grinned rather lopsidedly. "She said that she couldn't imagine Captain Salinger having an issue with it. Mind you, I haven't ever seen Commander T'Kal wearing one, so I guess I'll find out next time I see him. I don't know why I was so surprised really...I've never had the opportunity to speak to her...but as XO she has to be approachable for the crew." He nodded reflectively. "You know, T'Kal and Lyrr make a good couple. Well matched I think. It's a shame Shiri fell for him when she did. I feel sorry for her." He shook his head as he looked Caly in the eyes. "They were never meant to be together. One has to recognize the truth of that. We Bajorans understand...sometimes the Prophets decree that lovers should part because they are meant for diverging paths. We have a way of dealing with a Parting."

Caly listened with a quiet smile, her mind focusing on him and what he was saying and for the moment setting thoughts of dragonflies and flight behind. He seemed... Animated. Excited, happy. She chalked it up to the TAC Team, which he did seem well suited to. She agree with him about Shirik. For the most part at least, but his words did pique her curiosity and by the time he'd finished talking, she had her chin propped in her hand and her elbow on the table, leaning towards him as she listened. "You do? How's that? And how do you know it's the Prophets that decree it?" she asked.

He grinned. "Why, we ask them of course." He frowned, but it was in trying to put his thoughts into words. "There's a shrine on Bajor that is the place where lovers go when they come to their Betrothal. Or even before then if they want to." He waved a hand animatedly. "Anyway, we just ask and The Prophets always answer. Either yes we're meant to be - or no we're on different paths." He nodded, reflecting on the concept. "That might be hard for a non-Bajoran to understand...but that's just what we do. They love us, and so they want what is best for us. We've been guided in such ways for centuries. If the answer is no then we have a special three day Parting of The Ways. That's where the couple spends a whole three days together expressing their love and coming to terms with their separation. Finally we're able to part as friends. It's very civilized." He spoke while gazing into her wide green eyes the whole time, his voice soft as he told the story.

"It does sound civilized...and heart wrenching," she smiled. She'd listened to everything he said, the words touching places inside her and bringing her parents into focus. The concept wasn't so hard to understand really. Practical application was a bit trickier for her because it sounded like a matter of Faith, and she knew she'd be one that would raise a hand and say things like... "But how do you know when they're saying yes, and when they're saying no? Do they just...speak? Have they ever been wrong?"

"They do speak to us. Remember the Wormhole Aliens... The Prophets. We are coming to terms with knowing some of what they are thanks to the Emissary and learning that they have guided us faithfully for more than two thousand years. They have demonstrated their love for us, as we demonstrate ours for them. They have the ability to know and we trust them. They speak to us through visions, but those visions are distinct. We know that they are from The Prophets. They have never acted maliciously against us. They always have our best interests at heart. Knowing that we have their blessing on a union makes that union far stronger, because we know that we are meant to be together. It is a matter of faith. As a Bajoran I can walk in that faith because of past demonstrations of The Prophets' love and faith in us."

"Jurell..." she smiled warmly and moved a hand to rest on his arm. "I'm not doubting your faith, or your Prophets... It's just my nature to ask questions and search out details. I'm worse than a little kid that always asks "why". I was that little kid the whole time I grew up, and I still have that quality," she told him softly. "I don't question because I want to shake your beliefs, but because I want to know, to learn, and to understand."

"I didn't take your question as a doubt of my faith, Cal. I know you well enough to know you'd question your Human God if he stood right in front of you." He laughed softly. "I know... that's why I try to give you complete answers rather than half of ones...and I adore that quality in you."

"Guilty as charged," she smiled a bit crookedly. "And thank you for understanding. So many people would take that as an attack on their faith. I'm glad you knew it wasn't." Her smiled broadened a little and turned a bit impish. "So's that mean they give everyone the same thumbs up vision of kids running out your ears if they approve? And I take it they've never been wrong then?"

"No, they've never been wrong...and I don't know what the visions entail. I never had the opportunity of asking. Sometimes the truth is known before you get that far." He smiled sadly at thinking about Orelli.

Caly tipped her head a bit and studied that sad smile, understanding the cause of it. She offered him one of encouragement in response. "Isn't it better that you find out before you get that far though?" she asked softly. "I think if you had gotten that far, it'd be so much worse." She picked up her glass then and held it up towards him. "C'mon, let's make a toast. To Not looking back," she offered and then added with an impish grin, "Besides, don't your Prophets cover stuff like, 'living in the present and not dwelling on the past'?"

"Oh yes," he readily agreed and took the glass. "I was just thinking that if it had been different, I'd have never met you. I'm glad." He smiled. "More than glad," and he took a swallow to her toast.

"So am I," she grinned and drank with him.

"Things Change, Part 2"
By: CPO Calyca Boothroyd, Engineering
Crewman Sorg Jurell, Security

Location: USS Sulu, Boothroyd's Quarters, Holodeck Three
Stardate: 57910.16, 20h30

***

The meal arrived with three waiters. One for each serving and the wine waiter to present the bottle and open it, all very professional, polished and they melted away again as quickly as they had arrived. The steaming plates before them, Jurell took her hand and gave a traditional Prophets Blessing upon the food before chuckling and stabbing a large shelled King prawn. It certainly looked real, smelled real and when he bit into the replicated flesh, it definitely tasted real. He savoured it and nodded. "Excellent," he managed to say as Caly seemed to watch his relish. "Food...my greatest weakness," he admitted.

Caly quirked a brow at the blessing, but didn't seem to mind at all. She even gave him a warm smile during it. She breathed in the scent of the food and was glad her stomach didn't growl too loudly. "So I see," she laughed, watching him and taking a bite to test it for herself. "Mmm.... Perfect," she nodded her satisfaction and waggled her fork at him. "If that's your greatest weakness, I don't think you have anything to worry about... Other than getting pudgy," she grinned at him, obviously teasing because the man didn't have an ounce of pudge on him. "I think you're buttering me up for something," she accused, although it wasn't a real accusation. It was more of an acknowledgement of everything and her voice was tinged with appreciation.

He shook his head. "No...not really. I just...." He grinned, a flash of white teeth. "Enjoy doing things with you."

Caly blinked and looked at him with eyes wide for a moment, and then she broke out into delightful laughter. Which, of course, caused the earring to brush her ear, which caused her to reach up and touch it. "That was a deliberate ploy to make me laugh," she accused, this time for real and she was still softly laughing.

"Guilty as charged," he laughed with her for a moment, enjoying the proximity of her and the sound of her laughter. "I wish I could spend more time with you," he mused. "My training should begin to lessen soon. I think we're getting to the point where all the hard work is paying off. So I might be getting a few evenings free. When we can, I'd love to take you and Shiri into my Game program. Most of all though, I just want to spend more time with you." He smiled and munched on another prawn.

That admission made her pause with a prawn halfway to her mouth and she smiled at him. "We've been practicing," she reminded him and popped the bite on into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before asking, "How are you two doing anyway? Shiri doesn't say anything about personal stuff too much anymore and I was a little worried after the awards party."

"We...reached an understanding," he smiled. "In a way we've become better friends. We know each other better now. We've shared more and talked more, and it's helped the both of us see each other more clearly. I'm glad that we were able to stay friends. For a while there I didn't think we could. She's still so much an alien in a strange land. It's a pity that she's so different from us physiologically. Her life span and her body chemistry are so different that it will be very difficult for her to find a partner anywhere but Drokar. I think she sees her stay in Federation space as a temporary thing. Well that's understandable seeing as she's going to live for more than half a thousand years. I'm glad we stayed friends. I know I told you that I loved her before, and I still do - but only as a friend. We had a very long talk one night, just after the party...we got kind of drunk together...and it allowed us to get a lot of things clear. We've both seen each other differently since." He smiled fondly.

Caly ate as she listened, watching his face and the expression in his eyes, the way he moved his hands. She smiled at what he was saying, glad for them. She'd been more than a little concerned that Shirik would lose two of her new found friends in one blow, and was relieved she and Sorg had stayed close. "I'm glad I made her promise to talk to you then." Her smile deepened a bit. "I was afraid she'd lose you and T'Kal both as friends and that would have been a grave blow to her, I fear," she told him. "Maybe now she won't be so leery of getting closer to you. She was afraid of hurting you, you know."

He nodded. "She told me. That and a lot of other things," he smiled. "We have different needs Shirik and I. We're not compatible at all," he grinned. "Someday I want a family, I want to be with someone I can grow old with. I want to share my life with someone who I can fully understand and relate to." He looked into her green eyes and he shrugged. He wanted to say someone like you but he didn't. It was in his eyes though, and he paid attention to another prawn.

"And that's not Shirik?" she asked quietly. She saw the look in his eyes, and part of her mind went thoughtfully down that track trying to puzzle it out. "It's going to be hard for her, I think. And I'm afraid she really will go back to Drokar as soon as she can," she admitted with a wry little smile. "Which I'd hate," she added, and then went on a little hesitantly. "You don't want someone like me, Jurell. I'm not the mother type. I'd get focused on some project and forget where I put the kid," she told him with a little smile. "And that'd be on a good day."

He grinned. "You weren't the type to wear dresses either." He looked up at her. "We haven't gotten anywhere near that yet...but I know that it's not Shirik." He looked into Calyca's eyes and shrugged. "Who knows what the future has in store for either of us? Are you so sure that I wouldn't want someone like you? I'm not prejudging anything..."

"Yeah, pretty sure," she grinned. "You're so...family oriented. And me... I'm mechanical things and robotics and stuff that blows up," she admitted and smiled a little ruefully. "I think after a while you're gonna get tired of having to come drag me out of some access panel cause I forgot where I was supposed to be," she told him honestly. "You deserve better than that."

"I do? Wow...you know I'm so glad you pointed that out to me now so I don't waste my time." He sat back, grinning. "I can't imagine getting tired of anything you do. All Bajorans are family oriented, but it doesn't mean that we can't have a career you know. I'm not even remotely suggesting that I want to give everything up and settle down. Not for quite a few years yet, girl! We all change with time. Who knows? You may even get maternal in your old age." He playfully punched her arm. "Prophets you'd think we were dating or some--thing!"

"Maternal? Hey now!" She laughed and reached over to poke his ribs in retaliation. "We are not dating. We're just... Hanging out together... Or some-thing," she grinned teasingly. "Only you coerce me into wearing a dress. Next time I get to wear the tux and you can wear the dress." That impish look was in full bloom. "I'd look good in a tux." She smoothed one hand down over her ribcage.

"You look a hell of a lot better in a dress!" he laughed as she poked him. "I'm sorry, but I'm not that liberal. I don't wear girl clothes!" He skewered a piece of fish and ate, still trying not to laugh. "Besides, you're fun to hang out with."

"I will gladly admit the same thing about you," she grinned, those green eyes of hers sparkling merrily. "And besides. You do look better in a tux than I ever could." Then she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "I don't think you have the legs for a dress anyway."

"How would you know?" he asked with a glint in his eye. "I don't ever recall wearing something that shows my legs." He laughed and placed a hand atop of hers, lightly stroking her wrist with his thumb. A purely unconscious show of affection as he looked into her eyes. "Once we've finished dinner I want to dance with you," he said, grinning, and popped another morsel of sea food into his mouth. He chewed with a grin and took a drink of Summerwine. It was a good vintage.

"A dance, hmm? Just remember that my dance repertoire is very limited," she told him with a grin and stole a prawn from his plate, using it to make her next point before popping it into her mouth. "Not naked legs, no. But that outfit you wear for your workouts doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"That depends what you do with your imagination." He grinned. "Don't worry, I think you can manage to shuffle around the dance floor with me - I'm not a crazy dancer either!"

Caly laughed delightfully. "That and I have total confidence that you'll keep me upright," she grinned back at him. "And we are so not getting into my imagination." Her eyes twinkled impishly at him. "I live with robotic spiders, remember?" She absently plucked the glass of Summerwine from his fingers and took a sip of delicious vintage.

As she lifted his glass to her lips, he stole hers. "I'd like to steal a couple of those spiders," he frowned. "I'd like to check out their tactical capabilities. I'm sure Security would like to check out their specs." He took a swallow of her wine.

"You don't have to steal them. I'm more than happy to share," she smiled at him. "And I can probably draw up the specs for Security if you like. They're very tactically capable. Tell me what you want them to do, and I can make them do it." She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug."

"I will." He took another sip of Summerwine. The band was running through another set. This time a female singer was at the microphone and she was going through a melody that neither of them knew. "I love this wine," he said as he held up the glass. "It reminds me of summers on Bajor, during the happy times of my youth."

"Is this what summers on Bajor and the happy times of your youth taste like?" she asked with a smile. "This is the first time I've ever had it." Part of her attention turned a bit to the song that was being sung and the melody brought an additional smile to her lips. "That's a nice song."

"It is," he answered to both her questions. "Summers for me were working the farm. Acres of golden shale rippling in the wind, bright sunny days and swimming in the chain of lakes by the farm. We had a Cardassian overseer for the village but he wasn't the evil bastard that most made him out to be. He understood that you got a lot more productivity from happy people than angry and bitter people. He made sure we kept up the quotas alright - but he didn't need force to do it, even though it was available." Jurell looked at Calyca and gave a lopsided grin. "I still hated him though...and I ran away to join the Resistance when I was fifteen. My parents wanted to avoid the fighting and the killing. They were just ordinary people doing ordinary things. Farming was a way of life that was honorable and satisfying. I just wasn't cut out for it." He took a mouthful of wine and closed his eyes to truly taste it. "I found out that I was better at harvesting a different fruit."

Caly watched him as she listened, smiling softly at the picture he painted for her. She could see that young boy swimming and standing with his face turned to the sun...and stars. "What kind of fruit is that, Jurell?" she asked softly, entranced by the glimpse into his life. "Oppression is still oppression, no matter what kind of package it's wrapped up in," she offered rather quietly.

He smiled a little grimly. "Cardassians, Caly. I was very good at killing Cardassians...and I hated the lie that my parents lived, though I didn't blame them for it. My father died a few months after I left the farm. He was caught under a thresher. If I'd been there he wouldn't have been, but that's history and I don't dwell on it." He took a long swallow of the wine and finished the last on his plate.

"Ahhh... I think, given the circumstances, it was probably a very good thing to be good at," she told him and slipped her last prawn onto his plate before sitting back with a contented sigh and gentle rub to her stomach. "That was very good. And the wine," she tipped the glass she held towards him, "is perfect."

He nodded. The wine was good, and the food, but his mind wasn't on the table fare. He chinked glasses with her and took a drink, savouring the taste. A moment later he put the empty glass on the table and listened to the singer. She was singing about finding love. Even that seemed far away for Sorg Jurell at that moment. He ate the last morsel and sat back staring sightlessly at the pretty girl crooning into the microphone.

"Sometimes I wonder," he smiled sadly, "is killing really something anyone can be proud of? I mean look at you...and what you do." He looked back to Caly. "You build things. You've had a life of being constructive. You can be rightfully proud of your accomplishments. Me? I've spent my entire life soldiering. Okay I stand up for what is right, I wage war upon those who would wage it against me and mine...but in the end, I find it difficult to look back and see what my contribution has been. Fighting for freedom is an ideal, and it never ends. It's an on-going struggle that can never actually be won. Sure it can last for a while...a lifetime even - maybe more. But at some point someone out there thinks about robbing their neighbors and that's war - robbery writ large. Sometimes I ask myself, should I have stayed on the farm and found a pretty Bajoran girl to marry and have children?." He shrugged and poured the last of the Summerwine into both their glasses. "Sorry...I'm getting a little maudlin." He smiled at her and took a sip of wine.

Caly had turned her head, looking at him as he spoke rather than the singer. A light frown marred her brow by the end. "Don't apologize," she told him quietly. "And don't you see? If it weren't for people like you who are willing and able to do what you do and do it well, I wouldn't be free to build anything? I wouldn't have had a life that was constructive. I'd have had a life that was restrictive and controlled," she told him. "We have a new man in engineering.. One of the two guys they rescued that'd been shipwrecked and enslaved. I've thought about that. What it must have been like for him. An Engineer, like me. And you know what he did for eight years? Dug up ore, smashed rocks, cleaned out latrines... Whatever he was told..." She shuddered very slightly at her own words. "I'm grateful to you and people like you, Jurell. For making a place where I can build things. Never... Never discount the importance of what you did or may do. Be proud of it. I am."

He smiled at her, at the understanding in her eyes and he slipped a hand across hers to give it a slight squeeze. She was some special kinda girl. "Thanks," he said simply, meaning it. "Shall we dance?" His smile turned into a grin. "As good an excuse as any to give you a hug."

"Hugging me will usually get you smudged," she pointed out, grinning back at him. "I'd be delighted," she told him and made a motion for him to go ahead and he slid out ahead of her, still holding on to her hand as she followed him from the booth - shoeless.

"And you're welcome." She slipped easily into his embrace, her toes carefully keeping clear of his shiny black shoes while managing to stay close enough to follow his cues. Her hands went immediately to his shoulder, her fingers definitely noticing the difference in muscle tone between now and the last time they danced nearly two months ago. "Mmm... The TAC Team agrees with you," she commented softly.

He laughed softly as he slid his arms around her waist, drawing her closer and resting his cheek against hers. "It does too," he agreed softly. The Bajoran earring looked good on her, and he impulsively kissed her cheek, and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. The singer was starting a new song, and her voice was soft and sultry. As the lone piano accompanied her she began to sing, and Jurell closed his eyes and slowly moved to the music. The universe vanishing amidst the words and Calyca's soft breath against his cheek, and the smoothness of her skin as his hand brushed her exposed lower back.

"Mother never taught me to dance like this," she pointed out idly. She had a natural grace and a lithe, well toned body that moved effortlessly with his. She danced on the balls of her feet, as responsive to his lead as she had been the first time they danced, and she was unconsciously aware of where her body was in relation to his and every thing around them. "I think a part of you missed your time in the Resistance," she murmured softly, only half paying attention to what she was saying. The rest of her was very aware of the music and his scent, and the way his hand brushed over her skin causing her to shiver lightly. "It's why you clicked so well with the TAC Team."

Her words seemed odd, a counter-point to what they were doing and hearing. The TAC Team was the furthest thing from his mind, but he was becoming quite perceptive where she was concerned, whether he was aware of it or not, and he knew that sometimes she used words to fend off the discomfort that she found herself in when she was faced with what her mother hadn't shown her.

The girl at the microphone was singing about being in the arms of someone she loved, about how it made her feel safe and warm and loved. He wondered whether Calyca would ever feel like that. The words of the song made him examine the feelings that holding her were eliciting; he wanted to make her safe. That feeling alone was enough to make their previous conversation come into clear focus. If he could keep Calyca Boothroyd safe, then maybe a life of soldiering was worthwhile afterall. He smiled against her cheek. "I think maybe you're right," he whispered into her ear.

"Mmhmm..." she smiled, only half aware of what he was saying too. "This music is wonderful," she told him, turning her face just a bit, her cheek softly brushing against his. "I feel very sated at the moment," she laughed softly, murmuring words as they came to her. "And lazy. Very, very lazy," she admitted.

"Hmmm," the softness of her voice and her slight accent sent a shiver down his spine. He was so conscious of her body against his, her hips swaying to the music and her arms around his shoulders. He drew away slightly, so slowly, his cheek brushing against hers as he turned his face to her. He couldn't see the green of her eyes under her long lashes, the light was too shadowed for that. It was almost dark on the dance floor, the only illumination coming from the table candles and the lone spotlight around the singer.

His lips brushed her cheek, and seemed drawn to hers as he turned his face and she tipped her head back a bit to look up at him expectantly. Her softly murmured, "..hmmm, wh--" was lost as his lips brushed over the top of hers. It was a tender caress of lips, a kiss that started tentatively, but he melted against her, his hands pressing into her back to pull her closer.

She should have known he was going to kiss her because he did that sort of thing at the oddest times. Not that he'd done it all that much, and in reality the timing wasn't so odd, but he always seemed to catch her completely off guard. And like now, it usually made her draw in her breath with a soft gasp of surprise, which generally made him grin with suppressed humor. He wasn't grinning now though, and the timbre of the kiss, or rather the press of his hands and the melting of his body were affecting her quite a bit differently. Her soft gasp turned into a shudder and she pulled her lips from his, resting her forehead against his jaw and exhaling a breathless sound of confusion.

He kissed her forehead and moved again so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. He could feel his heart beating faster with the kiss, and he knew that what she was feeling was once again confusing her. She really didn't know how to handle what was happening between them, and he wondered when it would be that she would finally understand. It didn't really matter to him. This was all new to her. She was feeling emotions that she had never even considered before, and her inexperience was not just refreshing to the Bajoran, it was magnetic. He closed his eyes and danced slowly, allowing her to catch her breath.

She let out a soft sigh and he could feel her body start to relax against his once again. Her breath was warm against his neck and out of the blue, a soft, throaty laugh escaped her. He could tell it was a release of tension for her and he instinctively held her a little closer. "I think you're trying to keep me off balance, Sorg Jurell," she accused, and there was a light almost affectionate note to her voice.

"I wouldn't think of it," he whispered against her ear, "I might tread on your toes." The mirth in his tone was mixed with a tenderness that mirrored her own affection. "I've never met anyone quite like you," he murmured.

"Hey..." she shivered as his breath slid over the fine hairs on her ear. "Don't hang out with engineers much, huh?" she teased and slipped her toes up on top of his. She pulled her head back a bit to look at him and get her ear out of the range of his wicked, teasing breath. "I defy you to tread on them now," she laughed softly.

His grin was warm, and his strong arms held her tightly. She wasn't much weight on his feet, and rising onto his toes like that brought her closer to him. He gazed into her eyes and the urge to kiss her again was powerful, instead he gripped her tightly with his right arm around her waist and placed the other hand on her right hip and spun. Her feet left his as her body swung up and around, making her squeal in surprise and wrap her arms tightly around his neck. He laughed as she held on, and when he stopped he was holding her around the waist, his hands easily spanning its breadth, and she was looking down at him with her feet clearly off the floor. "Are you off balance yet?" he asked, grinning. Her closeness was making his head spin, and he wasn't at all used to this feeling.

"Oh hell yeah," she answered breathlessly and blinked a couple times, green eyes focusing on him as her own head stopped spinning. "That is SOOO cheating!" she laughed delightfully and warm fingers tugged teasingly on his earring-less lobe. "You have a definite size and strength advantage here," she grinned back at him. "I think I'm going to have to adjust my internal gyroscope before you spin me right off my axis."

"There you go with the engineering talk again," he teased. He grinned up at her and didn't want to put her down, but he did. Slowly he bent so that her feet touched the floor, gazing into her eyes the whole time and holding them mesmerized. "You've already spun me off mine," he said softly.

She held her breath as he literally slid her body down the length of his, eyes wide and staring up at him until her feet were once more flat on the floor. She let it out in a soft huff and drew in a rather shaky one hot on its heels before blurting out, "I didn't mean to! That wasn't my intention at all!" She was a little defensive, but not because he was accusing her of anything, and totally off balance, confused and at a loss as to what to do. She was also totally unaware that the hem of her dress had been dragged upwards until she felt it slide back down over her legs, causing her to shiver and start with a small jerk of her body.

"I know." He smiled, and let her go, so that they stood close but not touching. The music was still swelling around them and he raised his hands as if in a dream to cup her face. For a moment he just gazed into her eyes before bending again to kiss her. It was like a slow fuse burning. The kiss was gentle but no longer hesitant, and he was guided by her own response.

She breathed an almost audible sigh of relief when he let her go, but it was short-lived. Her hands came up and her fingers wrapped around his wrists when he cupped her face and she stared at him. She knew he was going to kiss her this time, but even so, it still caused her to softly draw in a half-startled breath and let it out with a small huff of confusion. Her body tensed a little as if she was on the verge of flight, and yet her feet weren't moving... Yet. She didn't exactly kiss him back, but she didn't pull away either. She was mesmerized by the sensations swirling inside her, and held spellbound for the moment by the soft pressure of his lips on hers.

He broke away, feeling her hesitancy. She hadn't kissed him back, and that was enough for him to realize that he'd pushed too much. He drew back, dropping his hands, and sighed, looking away he said, "Would you like to go?"

She blinked and her fingers fell from his wrists when he dropped his hands. If he'd been watching her, he'd have seen her looking back at him, confused, startled, and definitely at a loss. Her lashes lowered, shutting out the emotions reflected in the depths of her eyes and she looked down at - of all things...their feet. His were so much larger and clad in shiny blackness and hers...were much smaller and clad only in stockings. They looked so... starkly different in comparison that instead of answering his question, she blurted out the most inane observation possible. "Your feet are a lot bigger than mine. Twice as much, at least...."

He grinned, and shook his head slightly, marveling at her ability to completely throw him. "Is that a good thing?" he asked, looking down at their feet. He could make out the thin gold anklet chain beneath the black stockings and the petite shape of her feet as she wiggled her toes. "I'm glad I didn't tread on them then."

"I think you would have smashed them," she admitted, still looking down. She could almost see their reflections in his shoes and if she squinted, she could just make out his face. "I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not. I suppose so..." she mused thoughtfully. "I don't think it'd do if mine were nearly twice as big as yours."

He was confused himself. He was beginning to feel very strongly about the girl standing in front of him and for a moment he experienced a sense of panic. He hadn't felt that way since Ollie. It wasn't the same sort of feeling as he'd had toward Shirik even. When he'd told Shirik that he'd loved her it was more as an object of affection rather than a deeper response to her as a person. It had been superficial and he had subconsciously known that, and so his admission of it to the Drokari woman had been easy to make. For some reason he couldn't fathom, telling Shirik that he loved her had been too easy.

Now he was beginning to realize that he felt the first stirrings of real emotion for Caly, and it scared him. He didn't call it love, but it was the beginning of it. They had known each other for a couple of months now. A few dinners, a few lunches, an evening watching the stars here and there...an awful lot of talking...and spine tingling kisses. He felt his chest constrict as if he couldn't breathe.

She looked up suddenly, almost as if she could hear his thoughts. She couldn't, of course, but she saw the look in his eyes and it made her blink and raise a hand to place squarely on the center of his chest. "D-Don't kiss me," she warned softly, pleading almost as she experienced her own momentary sense of panic. Deep green eyes were huge in her face as she stared up at him. The toes of one foot slid forward and pressed against the toe of his shoe. "I... I can't think strai-- I can't think at all when you do," she admitted.

"I wasn't going to," he said, gazing into those huge eyes. "I'm sorry, Cal, I didn't mean to push. I won't." He lifted a hand as if he was going to reach for her hand but it stopped halfway and he dropped it again. The moment stretched... And he didn't dare move, or even breathe, while she stared up at him almost helplessly.

She finally let out the breath she'd been holding, drawing that moment to a close, and gave him a wry, confused smile somewhere between relief and disappointment. She pulled her hand from his chest and her fingers began a light, slightly nervous movement in the air as she spoke. "Look..." She chewed her bottom lip a little as she puzzled through what she wanted to say. "Don't be sorry, Jurell. I'm a big girl... Okay...not so big," she smiled a bit more. "But I'm all grown up and not afraid to speak my mind or say so if I'm being pushed more than I'm comfortable with. You're the only guy that's ever really pushed, you know," she admitted, rambling a bit now. "And I'm kind of out of my element here. And this is sooo why I don't do relationships. They're messy and confusing and distracting. I always say or do the wrong thing, like now. And honestly, I don't blame you a bit for being upset. I would be too... I think." She chewed on her lip a bit more before continuing to ramble on. "But I don't really know because I've never really been in any kind of thing... And I'm not even sure what kind of thing this is we're doing... I think it's the girl clothes. They're very confusing, you know," she pointed out. "And you can't do anything in them. You have to be careful not to get them dirty, and careful how you move, and worry about what's showing and what's not.... And god forbid if you fall out of them anywhere 'cause that would just be flat embarrassing... And then there's the shoes that pinch your feet and keep you off balance. And you can't scratch if you have an itch because that's sooo not ladylike... And guys look at you all funny like you just grew horns and fangs and a pointed ta--"

His finger touched her lips, effectively halting her ramblings. The smile on his face was bemused, but she had given him ample time to pull himself together. "I'm not upset," he said softly. "I think you're not as out of your element as you'd like to think Calyca Llewellyn Boothroyd. In fact I can't think straight when you look at me with those big green eyes and when I kiss you - I can't think at all."

She blinked up at him, the motion of her fingers stilling when he started to speak. The very errant thought crossed her mind that she liked the way he said her name. By the time he was finished, her hand and gently curled around his and she tugged his finger down just enough so she could talk again. She didn't ramble this time. At least not yet, and her voice was quiet, her words softly spoken. "I feel very out of my element, though," she told him, and her eyes slid from his, settling on his lips as she drew in a soft, shaky breath. "I'm glad you can't think either," she admitted with a breathy sigh as her eyes found his once again. "I don't feel quite so alone knowing that."

"I don't think that you're supposed to think...like that...when we...kiss." His eyes slid to her lips, so full and moist and kissable, and then back to those sea green eyes. He liked the feel of her hand on his and the way she looked at him. "You're...not alone, Caly." He gazed into her eyes, feeling their magnetic pull.

"No..." She drew in a breath and smiled a little hesitantly. "I guess I'm not. Neither of us are," she added. "So..." She let out a deep, rather pent up, breath and grinned a bit crookedly at him. "You gonna dance with me again, or take me home?" That impish glint was starting to come back into those magnetic green eyes of hers.

He slid his arms around her, with a roll of his eyes and a sudden chuckle. He swept her up and spun her around. "I can take you home later," he laughed.

"Whoa!" she squeaked and laughed as she wrapped her arms securely around his neck, hanging on while he spun her around. "No fair making me dizzy," she giggled and slid effortlessly into the dance steps he led her in, her body moving in unison with his.

They danced for several more songs before their time in the holodeck drew to an end. Jurell simply held her and danced as she hummed softly to the melody enveloping them. They were both content to be close, sharing the music and the feeling of their bodies swaying against each other.

"Girl Talk"
By: Crewman Emma Summers
Ensign Amy Reese

Location: Emma's quarters, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57910.16, 21h30

***

Emma Summers held the medical tricorder in one hand and the small sensor probe in the other as she passed it over her abdomen. She'd been pretty sure, but the tricorder didn't lie. She was pregnant. Two weeks by the scan. Her expression seemed odd, halfway between satisfaction and horror. It was an important element to her plotting for sure. It was why she had chosen not to use birth control in her relationship with Vincent. She needed something powerful enough to provoke the killing urge in the happy-go-lucky Science Officer. He was the perfect candidate for the plan she had dreamed up. He had been attached to her swiftly, his personality type lending him toward deep attachments. He was impulsive - the practical jokes done on the spur of the moment told her that, and so she just had to provide the right triggers and the proper circumstances. Vincent was also very proficient in hand to hand combat - he was amazingly fit and virile. He'd make a good opponent for T'Kal - but as she planned on drugging the Security Chief, she didn't imagine that he would be effective against her instrument of revenge. The fact that a baby would die to make it happen was immaterial. Just another death in a line of them.

Laying her plotting aside, she had to establish her pregnancy. Amy Reese was the perfect foil for that. She was a gossip - and that kind of news she would find impossible to keep to herself. Especially if she was told to keep it that way! Emma smirked. She tapped her comm-badge. "Summers to Reese," she said, summoning the acting skill required to make her voice breathless and giddy. She also wanted something else from Amy Reese.

"Reese here," came the reply. "Emma? What's going on?"

"I need to see you, Amy...please? Can you come see me? I'm in my quarters."

There was a pause, a brief one. "Okay. Let me get some clothes on and I'll be right there. Reese out."

Emma sat back to wait. She wondered how she would tell Vincent the happy news. Probably in a romantic setting...dinner. Candlelight and romantic music and some good sex before she hit him with the news that he would be a father. Well, not really. It wouldn't get that far. But now with the baby on the way Emma had a timeline she would have to meet. For the concoction she had to be effective it would have to be within six weeks of gestation. Four weeks to go. Or less. Preferably less. Everything else was ready - this was the final element.

When her door chime sounded, Emma called out "Come!" and the door swished open to reveal Amy Reese.

She was in uniform, but a hastily thrown on one judging by the half-closed zipper of her tunic. Her hair had also been carelessly smoothed down, with some odd strands standing erect. She stepped inside hesitantly, taking a quick look around, and with even more trepidation approached Emma. "It's late...what's going on?"

Emma grinned and stood from her sofa, waving Amy in so that the door would close. Once she stepped further into the shared quarters, Emma picked up the medical tricorder and composing her face to a more serious expression she said, "I need a second opinion." She held the instrument out to Amy. She was almost smiling, standing in her red silk pajamas with her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Her grey eyes were seemingly filled with excitement and she 'bounced' slightly on the balls of her feet as if she couldn't keep still.

Amy laughed uncertainly as she cradled the device, her eyes searching Emma's. "What...what am I giving a second opinion on?" Her friend's exuberance was infectious, and soon Amy was giggling. "Is this some joke or something?"

"I think I have appendicitis." Emma bit her lip and lifted her pajama top so that the soft curve of her belly was exposed. The diamond stud in her belly button winked in the light. "Can you check?" The amusement was evident in her voice.

Amy squinted skeptically, and nodded as she withdrew the probe from its groove. "You look a little cheerful for someone with appendicitis," Amy noted, but began the scan nonetheless. "You sure you're not just...drunk or something?" She glanced up briefly at her friend, grinning. "Drunk with Vincent, hm?" Snickering, she returned her full attention to the readings as the probe focused on her abdomen. "You're appendix's fine, Emma! There's nothing--" Her unadorned lips hung open and her hand trembled. Mechanically, Amy's eyes drifted up towards her tall friend's. "Emma?" she breathed. "There's.... Is this--?" At Emma's widening smile, indication that this was the surprise, Amy squealed and flung both arms around her shoulders. "You're pregnant! Oh my-- A baby! Oh...a little baby!"

Emma giggled along with her and jumped with excitement, holding Amy. After a few moments of exuberance she stepped back and said, "You're the first person to know...besides me of course," she grinned. "I don't know how Vincent's going to take it. Do you think he'll be mad?" Her eyes showed worry, and she clutched Amy's hands. "It's a girl." She grinned. "You'll have to help me pick a name!"

"Definitely!" Amy stammered, still recovering from shock. "W-When are you going to tell him? And what are you going to do? Will you give up your posting or...or...." She sighed and held her friend again. "You're so lucky," she whispered.

"I don't know. I only found out tonight!" Emma leaned in and gave Amy a hug. "You want one don't you?" she asked as she drew away again. "How's things with Kit?" she asked.

Amy shrugged, her wan smile giving her troubles away. "Let's just... Let's celebrate you," she enthused. "Champagne?" Amy was already making for the replicator.

"Okay it won't hurt!" She smiled slyly at Amy's back as she programmed the replicator. "Maybe I'll call her Amy...it's a nice name."

"Oh, you wouldn't!" Amy teased, then murmured an order of two chalices of champagne for them. They materialized in a glistening haze, and Amy gathered them up in her hands. "Now, we'll think of a proper name for your girl," she told Emma as she moved to join her on the couch. "Something...exotic!"

Emma looked a little hurt. "You don't want me to name her Amy?"

"You were serious?" Amy smiled slowly, tearfully. "Emma," she breathed. "Oh...that would be like...the greatest thing anyone's done for me!"

Emma grinned and threw her arms around her 'friend'. "It's settled then!" she exclaimed excitedly. "She's baby Amy! and you can be her Godmother...?" She smiled at Amy. "And maybe Kit could be her Godfather!"

"This is so great! Maybe I can even baby-sit while you and Vincent have your...you know, quiet time..." She smiled suggestively and nudged her friend.

Emma giggled. "Vincent doesn't know the meaning of quiet! Well...neither do I when he does...what he does..." She rolled her eyes suggestively. "Ooooh just thinking about it gets me going. He's so...fit!" she added with a sultry growl. "I hope he's not mad at me...but I suppose I can raise little Amy by myself. It's not like we've talked about a future together."

"Well, he'd better start," Amy stated. "He got you pregnant, so he should have to deal with it. You're not letting him get away with it that easily!"

"I got myself pregnant, Amy! I didn't use anything to prevent it. It's not like we have to get married or anything. I don't even want to get married! I'm not like you, Amy. I can handle this just fine without him if I want to!" She gave Amy a hug again. "Besides...I've got you, haven't I?"

She grinned emphatically and declared, "You're damn right," then tapped their glasses. "To baby Amy!"

"To little Amy Catherine, the new...page in my life's book." She chinked her glass and drank. "More." She held out the empty glass with a twinkle in her eye. "Let's celebrate...just you and me." Her voice took on a sultry quality as she looked into Amy's eyes.

"Celebrate?" Amy smiled quizzically. "What exactly, my voracious friend, did you have in mind?"

"Getting champagne tipsy," Emma drawled with a sly grin. "And having a private party." Her voice was suggestive. "A girls night...."

"A girls night," Amy echoed, as Emma slowly leaned in towards her. She gulped audibly, knowing the situation was growing worse by the second, especially with Emma's lips drifting closer. "Uh...I... Another drink!" Amy stammered, then leapt to her feet. "But maybe something that won't make you...you know..." She cleared her throat, and keeping way clear of Emma she retrieved her friend's goblet.

Emma laughed softly. "Come on, Amy." She looked up at her from the couch. "You know I really like you...and it's not as if you and Kelli haven't...and no one will know." She smiled. "It'll be our secret." She patted the couch next to her as an invitation to sit.

"But it won't be secret from me," Amy explained, pouting. "I'll know that I've cheated on Kit...again! Besides, you're with Vincent. You're having his baby! I mean...aren't you two exclusive?"

"No!" Emma scoffed. "Well I haven't been with another guy if that's what you're asking. Kit's a prude anyway. It's okay to share you around when he wants to - but when he says no - you just have to abide by his rules? You should be free to do what you want, Amy - he's the only one that thinks imposing unfair rules on you is okay! It's a joke - he's a joke! He just knows that he can't compete against someone like Case ... and so he wants to lock you up against your will. It is against your will, Amy." She stood up and looked at her, reaching out a hand to brush the back of her fingers along her arm. "He's the only one that thinks you have a problem. I don't." She held her eyes, biting softly on her bottom lip as she stepped a little closer.

"But...I love him," she whispered feebly. Involuntarily, she whimpered under Emma's silken touch, and yearned for Emma's lush, trembling lips to meet her own. Her lack of self-control brought tears to her eyes, if only for the pain she was causing Kit. "I-I really don't think..." Amy saw her hand come up and brush across Emma's abdomen, watching as if it were an independently thinking extension of herself, something completely out of her control. She sighed helplessly. "This is bad..."

"It's okay to love him, Amy," Emma breathed as she stepped close enough to feel the girl's heat. "It's okay to love." She breathed into her mouth, closing her eyes and sighing as Amy's hand caressed her abdomen. The red silk pajama top whispered aside falling to each side of her breasts, and Emma gave a tiny moan, one that she knew always ignited desire in the one it was directed at. She waited, eyes closed, anticipating Amy's soft lips brushing hers and goose flesh appearing on her arms. She breathed a little deeper and her breasts brushed Amy's.

"He's going to hate me," she whispered tremulously, and hated herself for pushing her hand upwards to cup Emma's right breast. Although her eyes were shedding tears, Amy's body was swaying towards Emma's and her mouth closing around her friend's. I'm sorry, Kit, was all she could think in that moment.

Emma slid her arms around Amy's waist, drawing her against her as she kissed her with increasing passion. The victory over the girl's will was a tiny thrill, once again proving to Emma that she was 'better', 'cleverer'.... She hated Kit's dominance of Amy, the way she wanted to please him was pathetic. She slid her hand inside Amy's uniform to run up her back, to cup her breasts as she fed upon her lips. The delight of kissing a woman, the difference in texture, the softness was thrilling. It ignited Emma's desire, and she pressed her aching hips against Amy's. "Just don't tell. I won't..." she whispered in Amy's ear as her lips enfolded the girl's ear lobe and her hot breath caressed her throat.

Amy groaned, a mixture of pleasure and grief, but still she clutched at Emma's shirt to drive it up over her chest. "I-I have to tell him," she told her miserably. "I always end up doing that.... It's hard lying to him like that." Holding Emma's breast with one hand and lowering her mouth to her throat, Amy stole her other hand into Emma's shimmering pants. The warmth and dampness that greeted her was unmistakable, and fed her lust.

Emma shuddered with desire, her soft exclamation of Amy's discovery was making her feel giddy, and light headed as she explored her. The long groaning sigh that escaped her lips accompanied her tilting hips as she pushed against Amy's hand. Her lust took over and her legs parted to give her access to what she sought. Her long fingers tangled in Amy's hair and she fed again from her lips. Sweet passion stole over her and her eyelids fluttered as she felt the warmth and heaviness in her center. "Girls are supposed to have secrets," Emma whispered, her voice thick with lust.

Amy's jacket was unzipped by a trembling hand and it slid off her shoulders. Emma drew Amy to the couch, her loose pajamas slipping free of her waist and falling to pool in blood red around her ankles. She stepped free of them and sat, pulling the jacket from Amy's arms and gazing from under demure lashes with a sultry smile.

"Kit'll be so mad," Amy fretted, but her mind and her body had long ago disconnected from one another, and both functioning on their own momentum. Even as she lay atop Emma, kissing and desperately trying to free herself from her uniform, her mind mourned for the man she was betraying. Emma gasped into her mouth as Amy's fingers delved in, probing Emma intimately. She was feverish and panting from the ache developing, and although Kit was the one she wished to quash it, Emma was more readily available, and all too willing. "I hate you," she whispered tearfully at Emma, at herself, at her insatiable sexual appetite, but still continued to spread her kisses over Emma's flushed chest while sliding down her body.

Emma was beyond caring about how Amy felt. The girls' torment only made this victory the sweeter for Emma. The more pain Any felt, the better it would be. All she wanted was to feel their bodies together, and Amy's probing was filling her with a tingling, pulsing heaviness that was building in intensity. Amy's top came free and she supped from her breast, sighing, her hips dancing under Amy's skilled ministrations. It didn't take long to get Amy's uniform completely off and Emma surrendered herself to the girl, allowing her to do as she wished, delighting in giving her control of the situation, as if it was Emma who had been seduced rather than she.

"I can't do this," Amy protested again, but continued slithering down, kissing exposed flesh as she went. Her lips found the flat of Emma's stomach, moved across to the tug at her studded belly ring with teeth, then dragged her lips lower to trace the curve of her hip. Amy sucked back tears, even as Emma spurred her on with moans and sighs. She paused, breathing heavily and trembling convulsively as her eyes focused on Emma's center. "Congratulations on the baby," she whispered grimly, then dropped her head between Emma's parted thighs.

"Ohhhh yes...Amy...." Emma reacted as if she'd been given an electric shock, jumping and clenching her fists, her breasts and throat blossoming red with the flush of desire. It was delicious, the feeling of Amy and what she was doing, and the thought that Amy had no control to deny Emma - that she couldn't say 'no' and mean it. It gave Emma a feeling of power - it fed her thirst for control, and satisfied her urge to wreck anything that smacked of love. Why should Amy have it if she couldn't?

Emma shuddered and her back arched and she was delirious for long, long seconds as she cried out in the throes of her release. She opened her eyes as she throbbed with the after-effects of it and drew Amy toward her, fingers meshed in her hair to kiss her wet lips and taste her own desire. She pushed Amy down, and started on her. Long slow laps of her tongue across her breasts, stroking fingers and soft bites at the exposed flesh as she repaid the girl for giving her pleasure. In her turn Emma devoted herself totally to making Amy writhe and scream with abandon.

Her reactions were habitual now, and even in her sorrow Amy exhibited signs of ecstasy. She combed her fingers through Emma's hair and clutched large handfuls of it with each spike of pleasure, or what she only assumed she was feeling. Amy couldn't remember when she lost the ability to distinguish between actual and imagined pleasure; Emma was caressing her in all the right places, so it seemed only logical that she experience arousal. But her tears and aching heart belied her bodily reaction to Emma's ministrations. With a groan, but nowhere near blissful, Amy lifted Emma's head away and drew her legs in towards her chest. She was breathing heavily and her skin burned hotly, but her head was shaking wildly. "I can't ... I'm sorry! This is so wrong, Emma. I'm so sorry."

Emma crawled up Amy's body, nuzzling her hot flesh. Her hands sought Amy's wrists and pinned her down. "It's too late for that, baby." She smirked. "It won't make any difference if you stop now or later...." She sucked upon the distraught girl's breast, pressing her body against her thighs and keeping them open. "No one will know." She kissed Amy's flat tummy and slithered her tongue into her belly button; the point of Emma's breast pressed wetly against Amy's sex, rubbing, the hard nipple causing friction against her. "Let me love you, baby...."

Amy groaned thickly, squeezing her eyes tightly to fight the warring sensations of pleasure and repulsion. She was sick to her stomach in the same instance as she experienced resurging arousal; the more she struggled, the tighter Emma's hold became and the more aggressive her motions. "Emma," she gasped, "stop..." The heels of her feet dug into the sofa cushions as she fought to push away from her friend, but her addled mind and body's primal urges lessened her conviction. She was surrendering against her will, albeit restively.

Emma let Amy's hands go as she slid her arms around her thighs, pinning her hips and dipping into the softness between them. She applied her hot lips with expertise, the slashing pressure and heat of her mouth driving her into a spiral of sensations. The girl struggled against it, but half-hearted, token resistance. "You know you want it," she growled, her voice thick with lust. The struggle and the act itself turned Emma on more than anything - almost as much as driving a glass shard into the heart of a man. It was power, but a part of her mind warned caution should she go too far. "If you really want me to stop...." She flicked the tongue across her. "I will."

Amy whimpered and failed to find her voice. Each jolt of pleasure, each caress from Emma...all of it weakened her resolve until there was nothing left but a broken woman, seizing and shrieking in ecstasy as her fingernails clawed at the fabric of the sofa. Satisfied physically, but still in anguish emotionally, Amy sucked in air as her tears began to constrict her throat and threaten to choke the life from her. She wished they would. "Stop," she murmured one final time, then closed her eyes.

Emma did. She slid upward, stroking Amy's flushed skin gently and kissed her softly - the girl's pain was delicious. She slid her arms around her and drew her into a loving embrace as she started to cry. "I'm sorry, Amy," she said softly. "But you needed to know. It's something that you can't control. No matter how many promises you make to him...no matter how much you love him, it's a part of you that you can't deny." She stroked her hair, now gentle, her voice soothing. "I won't tell anyone, Amy. I promise."

"I-I know," she whispered. Her eyes opened to stare at Emma's, and whereas she had been fighting her moments ago, Amy now sought comfort in her embrace. "There's something wrong with me," she continued. "I know that.... I didn't mean to be so difficult."

"There's nothing wrong with you!" Emma whispered fiercely. "You love to love people, there's no crime in that! Taking enjoyment as you find it is healthy. Kit's rules and restrictions are unhealthy." She stroked her cheek, now all loving and gentle. She twined her legs with Amy's, pulling her close and enfolding her in comforting arms. "Tell me, Amy," she whispered, her lips close to hers, "when you and Kit and Kelli were together, loving each other when you liked, were you happy? Before Kit imposed his rules? When he was quite happy to share...."

Amy sobbed and nodded against Emma's bosom. "I was," she admitted hoarsely. "I was so happy...he was so happy... Now everything's just so...dark."

"Marriage does that to you, honey. Rules...trying to enforce your will on others." Emma kissed her brow, stroking her back gently. "You were happy because he didn't feel that he owned you. Now he wants to own you. He wants to be selfish. He wants you to himself and he doesn't care that doing that and imposing his will on yours is making you dreadfully unhappy. If he loved you he'd want the best for you. He'd want to make you happy. He'd accept you the way you are."

"I know," she wept. "But...I love him. I can't give him up." Sniffling and eyes swollen from crying, Amy gazed up at Emma and asked hopefully, "I can change him, can't I? Make him see that he's wrong?"

"We could try." She smiled at her, and wiped the tears away with her fingers. "You know he just doesn't like you being with other men. That's all he's upset about. He was okay with you being with a girl wasn't he?" Emma's grey eyes were soft and alluring. "You know...if you told him what you wanted, and made it clear that he would have to comply with what you want, like he's trying to make you do as he wants...maybe he'd see it from your perspective. He might see that he's forcing you to do something unnatural for you."

"Yeah..." Amy replied thoughtfully. "But...how would I do that? Every time we argue...he just shuts down and cries."

Emma rolled her over slightly, holding her and idly stroking her hip, smiling as she re-positioned herself, twined together like lovers. Amy felt soft and warm, and she still desired her. She brushed her cheek with her lips and whispered, "He obviously wants you to be the strong one." She murmured. "Wants you to take charge...be the man. Tell him what you want, baby - let him deal with it. If he loves you he'll come around." She kissed her cheek, her hand stroking her flat belly. "I love you," she whispered, "and I wouldn't deny you anything.."

Amy's eyes grew wide, and her smile was one of wonder. "You do?" she asked in awe. "Y-You really love me? Really?"

"Haven't you known all this time?" she asked with a slight chuckle, as she smoothed over her ribs with a gentle hand. "I've wanted to be with you for ages...when we danced...." She kissed her neck softly. "Oh I so wanted you then. You knew didn't you...? I wanted to kiss you in front of them all. You made me so hot for you...like now."

"But...is that really love?" Amy asked. "Vincent makes you hot...and you don't love him, do you?"

Emma chuckled. "No I don't love him...and it's not just because of this." She brushed a lazy hand over Amy's breast. "I don't think I could ever love a man again. I did once, and all I ever got was hurt." She stroked Amy as she whispered, "They get so possessive, they're not gentle ...like you or me...." She kissed the corner of her mouth, softly. "You are so beautiful, Amy. I want my little girl to be just like you."

Amy sighed unsteadily, sucking back tears of desolation and sadness. She didn't wish her life on anyone, especially not a newborn child. Seeking solace, Amy kissed Emma fully, then nestled her cheek against her friend's bosom. "I feel rotten," she mumbled. Her arms were looped around Emma's slender waist, clinging desperately to her and her soothing assurances. "Can I spend the night, Emma? I like being here...and I don't want to go home."

Emma smiled wickedly to herself. "I'd love for you to stay," she whispered reassuringly. "You can stay as long as you want, honey." She snuggled closer, seeking Amy's warmth. "We'd better go into my room," she whispered tenderly. "My room mate will be back soon, she's on Beta shift." She made no move to disturb Amy's hold on her.

"And I should comm Dwayne in case he notices me missing," Amy answered, but sighed and closed her eyes.

"Dwayne should mind his own business," she drawled. "I can't believe they allowed you to move in with him.. how about we ask for a room assignment together? You could move in with me and no-one would be the wiser for it. Especially Kit. After all what he doesn't know can't hurt him. That's really all Kit wants you know. He wants to remain blissfully unaware, in his own little universe. That's what they all want Amy, all of them.. even Vincent." Especially Vincent, she thought.

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," she repeated flatly, believing it to be true. After pressing a kiss to Emma's left breast, Amy looked up at her, smiling ruefully. "Let's go to your bed now. There's so much more you have to teach me."

Emma regarded her with a sly smile. "There's so much more I want to show you, Amy." She sat up with her and kissed her new disciple hungrily. Drawing her to her feet even as they kissed and taking her hand with a sultry gaze, she led her into her room. "Move in with me..." she asked as the door closed.

"Yes, Mother, I Do Know What Time It Is!"
By: Ensign Alexia Johnstone - Medical Officer

Location: Personal Quarters, Deck 4
Stardate: 57910.16, 23h20

***

"Computer, music please."

Lexi reclined back on her bed, listening to the music playing softly in the background, feeling completely relaxed and pleasantly tired. She had just returned from the Officers Lounge where she had met some of the other medical staff for drinks and had had an enjoyable evening getting to know the staff she was now working with. They had played a game in which they took turns to tell their stories of how they became involved in the medical field, but a twist had been added where the use of forbidden words forced the tale teller to have a drink for each forbidden word used. She had had a few drinks herself in the telling of her story, and if truth be known, she was actually feeling quite woozy and a little light-headed!

The course of the evening had turned her thoughts to her parents and the call she had placed to her mother a few months ago. She had still been on Gamma shift then, and knew they would be going into the Gamma quadrant and would be out of direct contact range. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately depending on how she looked at it - she had put off calling her parents until it was almost too late. She had set her computer to remind her to call before they were out of range, then had promptly forgotten until the night prior to being out of range when she was nearly due to commence her shift. She had called her mother at 2230hrs, and her mother had not been happy! Mind you, Lexi had been very unhappy when she had finished the call. She made her mind up there and then, that she would try and rectify the damage done with a message home as soon as she could.

"Hi, Mum. It's me, Lexi. How are you?"

"Alexia! Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, Mum, I know it's late - I'm sorry, but we'll be out of range from tomorrow. This is my last chance to talk to you for a while. How's Dad?"

"Your father's fine. Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, Mum. I'm sorry. I know it's late."

"What's wrong? Why are you calling us now? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, Mum. There's nothing wrong! Can't a girl want to talk to her mother for the last time before she's out of direct contact range with her?"

"Alexia Jayne - that's no way to talk to me! I swear - since you joined that Fleet mob you've become more and more out of control! I just don't know you anymore! Do you know what time it is?"

Lexi's father had come on the line then. "Alexia, this is your father! Do you know what time it is? Why are you upsetting your mother like this? Do you know what time it is?"

"Hi, Dad. Yes, I know what time it is."

"Well, why are you calling now? Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to upset either Mum or you. I just wanted to say hi before it was too late and I could only send you messages indirectly. Can I talk to Mum again? I need to go to work soon."

"Alexia, this is your mother again. Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, Mum, actually I *do* know what time it is - it's about 2230 hrs, and I'll be having some dinner soon, then heading off to work."

"What time of the night is this to be eating dinner? Since when do you eat dinner at this hour of the night! This isn't the way we raised you! I don't know where we went wrong! After all we did for you when you were younger, the sacrifices we made for you. Do you know what time it is?"

"I know, Mum. I know. You did a great job raising me. Here I am, out in the middle of nowhere, trying to tell you I love you and I miss you, and that I'm finally enjoying my life, and all you can do is ask me if I know what the time is! Well, Mother, I do know what time it is - it's time to say Good bye!"