"Forgehammer"

Lieutenant JG Corran Rex,
Vanguard One

First Lieutenant T'Shani A'Akledorian,
Vanguard Three

-------------------

=^= Deck 9, Section 4: T'Shani's Quarters =^=

T'Shani had just finished unpacking her things. Luckily the quartermaster from the Hood had been able to get everything accounted for and transported to her quarters. Her quarters...it was...nice. And big. No vie wports, though. But, that was alright. She was a warrior, and she didn't need such luxuries. No, all she had to do was survive. On this ship...

=^= Deck 37: Vanguard Division Offices =^=

~Dinner~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Arkedi Nitel'rajek
Zan Lanaka

OOC -- All dialog loosely translated from Mika'kardi.

"Cutter! How blow the winds?"

"Fine," Cutter said, much less enthusiastically than Arkedi. He was wearing very common Kenaran clothes, flashing a lot of skin. A white sleeveless vest, but no shirt underneath, black pants that reached down to the middle of the shin with pockets sewn on the outside of the leg, sandals, and of course, the long arm and head bands whose ties reached the ground, not that Cutter noticed. He barely even glanced at his old friend, purposely trying to avoid eye contact.

"Come in. What do you think of my new home?" Arkedi said, throwing out his arms in display of his quarters.

"They're smaller than mine, but bigger than the average civilian's. Hello, Zan," Cutter stated as he entered.

"Hey, Cutu. Feeling better?" Zan smiled as she set the table. She was wearing a yellow stomachless top that held her breasts together and displayed her cleavage, Cutter couldn't help but let his eyes rest there for a moment.

"They are a little small," Arkedi continued, "one can't even open their wings all the way in them. Zan's is the same way. How do you stand it?"

"What do you mean 'feeling better?'" Cutter asked, ignoring his friend.

"You were upset yesterday."

"I was not upset, I..." Cutter started, but a nudge on his arm from Arkedi stopped him. He turned his head towards the dark haired Fruna'lin, glanced down at his arm, then back to Arkedi before realizing what the nudge was for. "I don't know, Arku. I've gotten used to it. I fly in the holodeck, there's enough room in there," he answered, then turning back towards Zan, added, "I'm not upset."

"When's the last time you had a good Kenaran meal, eh, Cutter? I looked, these replicators don't have much to choose from," Arkedi said, "I made bubuk burbura." He walked to a small shelf behind the table holding two covered platters.

"You cooked, Arku? Where were you able to cook?" Cutter asked, lifting his nose and sniffing the air as Arkedi lifted the covers and carried the platters to the table.

"He found a community kitchen on the deck below," Zan explained. "He made Liuden pasta, too. Here, sit," she ordered, patting the chair to her left.

Cutter did as he was told, and Arkedi followed, taking the third chair at the table. "Yes, its a bit of an inconvenience, to travel that far to a kitchen, but it had a very interesting name. What was it..." he asked himself, his hands stalled as he was serving the spiced meat, concentration devoted elsewhere.

"A galley," Cutter said, patiently holding his plate under the dangling bubuk.

"It means 'pillow' in Ganwa," Arkedi said, placing meat on Zan's plate and then beginning to serve the pasta.

"Yes, I know," Cutter nodded. They sat in silence for a moment as each began to shovel food into their mouths, a very rare thing with Arkedi around. Finally, he perked up his head and opened his mouth to start a conversation, but Cutter preempted him. "So, why did you come to the Galaxy?"

Arkedi was thrown off slightly by the sudden question. Zan made a slight grunt through her teeth, and before Arkedi could respond, spoke, "Arku. I was looking around the Anthropology department today."

"Yeah? How was it?" he asked. Then he looked at Cutter, "FKS CSEP. I told you yesterday."

"It was fine. They mostly study things through computers. They'll scan and record artifacts so they don't actually have to be removed, but they had a few pieces from a planet called Quentin."

"That's too bad. I know how you like to use your hands."

"Out of all the ships in the fleet, you came to the Galaxy?" Cutter asked, "You didn't come to just study linguistics."

"Yes, I did."

"They were talking about some game that is being hosted by a Cassius Henderson, I think," Zan continued.

"A game?" Arkedi perked up.

"No, you didn't. You can study linguistics anywhere."

"I don't remember the name, Dances and Dragons? Digging and Dragging? Something Terran. I thought you would be interested."

"Yes, that sounds like fun! Do you know what it is, Cutter?"

"Its, uh, its a game. You haven't answered me."

"I told you, Cutu, I came to study linguistics."

"We came for you," Zan finally said with noticeable frustration in her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"We came to help you. You're not feeling well," she continued.

"Well, I came to study linguistics," Arkedi smiled. Then a wing lifted up behind him and knocked him in the back of the head, causing a fresh bite of food to fly out of his mouth and land on the table. "Oww!! Ist, Zan! Ka!"

"What do you mean? I feel fine!" Cutter said, his voice started to rise into a higher octave.

"You letters. You were becoming depressed."

"Not just work-y and serious like you sometimes get," Arkedi added, "you were clearly ill. You missed last year's Ra'kamil'kenara!"

"Then, you stopped writing and we thought it had gotten worse. So, we came to be with you," Zan explained.

Cutter was clearly shocked by this. He sat for a moment, his jaw agape, letting the revelation sink in. Zan waited, watching for his reaction. Arkedi continued to eat. "You came for me?" he muttered, then paused, "Ka."

Zan glanced over at Arkedi, contentedly dishing himself seconds and then back to Cutter, who sat in thoughtful silence. Without any other action, she slowly took another bite of food and continued to wait in the rare silence. Finally, Cutter looked up. "I'm fine now, you know," he began to explain, "I don't work all day anymore, I fly regularly, I...I'm fine now."

"Well, that's good and well for you, Cutu, but Zan and I are stuck here now for at least a year because of the FKS CSEP," Arkedi said with false displeasure.

Cutter smiled, "Well, I'm glad you're here."

Chad Vicenik
Caberation@aol.com

"Workout"

Primary Characters:
Lieutenant Commander Cassius Henderson
(Chief Tactical)

First Lieutenant T'Shani A'Akledorian
(Vanguard Three)

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 12
Crew Gymnasium

Cassius Henderson switched into his workout clothes, a simple shirt and shorts.  He didn't want to think about what he'd been through, and getting away from it all with his workout plan would help that.  The days troubles disappeared when he was exercising.  It was a stress reliever, and he needed that.  Entering the gym, Cass tossed his towel aside and started his routine with laps on the small indoor track that encircled the room.  While he did so, he settled into his usual, time-with-intelligence driven routine of watching the other officers in the room.

The doors parted as T'Shani entered the room, instantly becoming aware of the gym surroundings. She was dressed in a pair of black, skintight workout cutoff shorts, with a matching black sportbra. Several crewmen stopped their workout routine to oggle her well-developed...*features*. She was used to it. Not many people were used to seeing an Andorian, much less a female. It didn't help that she was also at the prime of her mating cycle, either; a three-month window in which her body pumped itself up for one purpose...mating. It wreaked hell on her, not to mention the males around her.

As Cassius finished his first mile, he noticed the Andorian woman enter the gym, dressed for attention.  Henderson watched her head for the heavy weight zone and surmised that it must be the new marine pilot.  He was familiar with most, if not all of the new arrivals in the officer grades, especially among the marines, flight controllers, operations, security, and of course tactical.  It was an old habit from intelligence.

She walked over to the antigrav squat-bar, adjusted the sitting stool, and set the weight bar to 180 kilograms, roughly 400 one-gee pounds. Although Andorians were slight of build, their muscle mass contained more than twice the density compared to a human.

She positioned herself under the weights, and was about to release the safeties, when she heard a voice behind her.

"Hang on a moment," Henderson said stepping of the circular track around the gym, deciding to take a moment and spot for her, "I'll help support it if you drop it.  That's quite a starting weight, even for an Andorian, and I'd hate to see you strain something in your first week onboard, much as that would only be a quick trip to medical.  However, it's Doctor Malgin's shift, and that could be a bit dicey."  He moved to step in behind her.

~Humans...~ she barely rolled her eyes, and curled her antennae in mild annoyance. Stretching both her arms behind the back of her head, she flexed her muscles; biceps, triceps, and deltoids standing out clearly beneath the sheek jet-black fabric of her workout clothing.

~Andorians...  Ever since they joined the Federation, some of them seem to think they have something to prove,~ he found himself smiling, ~Impressive display though.  This one seems to like showing off.~  He then remembered of a friend of his from Advanced Intelligence School, an Andorian who'd been one of his closer friends, and his intel partner during the war.  Only that same intel training allowed him to keep his face even.  It was a bad memory.

"I can handle it, 'Commander Henderson," she said in that soft, yet husky lisp common to Andorians. Most other humanoids didn't know what to make of her voice; something so deep and...strange-sounding for someone so slight of frame.

"I'm certain you can," he said, "However, and I'm worried at all, you'd be better off with a spotter."  He noticed that she'd caught his name without his mentioning it.  Had she known Celia?  She was much younger than his former partner.  No, he was just being suspicious.

T'Shani imperceptably smiled; she had her knowledge-base, as well. And she used it. One thing the Marines taught you: use *everything* you've got. *EVERYTHING*.

She continued, "...though, from what I've gathered about Lieutenant Commander Malgin, I will *allow* you to assist me in my repetitions." There was an added edge to the word 'allow', that Cass picked up on.

"Sounds good," he said, noticing her word choices and accents.  She was very Andorian, in a traditional sense.  His old partner had much of the same fire in her, though maybe not to this extent.

T'Shani ducked back under the bar, again, and positioned her arms around the bar. She felt Cass's hands brush her's--ever so slightly-- as he positioned himself to help support the lift bar, in case she dropped it.

"You may release the safeties now, 'Commander," T'Shani informed him, coolly.

Cassius nodded, reached down and released the safeties, then returned his hand, professionally, to the bar.  "You may begin.  I heard about your encounter with Ambassador Omar." ~ONE~  "He wasn't happy at being shown up, I'd imagine.  I read in your file about what happened to your clan." ~TWO~ "I can't say I don't understand your feelings." ~THREE~ "There are, however, three Rihannsu on this vessel." ~FOUR~ "One is the ambassador, who you've met.  Junior Senator Omar." ~FIVE~ "The second is my assistant in tactical, SubCommander tr'Khellian." ~SIX~ "He's here on the exchange program, and seems reasonable enough." ~SEVEN~ "The last is Warrant Officer Sostik tr'Riasau, who has served in Starfleet since he was 18 and enlisted as a tactical analyst.  He was raised by humans." ~EIGHT~ 

T'Shani paused, then hefted her shoulders up; the lift bar locking itself back in place. She merely grunted at the mention of the other Sl'uurg's that seemed to be on board. ~Gods, what the hell is going on here?~

She also didn't like the fact that Henderson had mentioned the atrocity to her clan. No doubt, he *would* have access to her files, but he didn't need to go advertising his knowledge to anyone.

"What happened to my people--with all *respect*, 'Commander--is of no concern of yours," she said bluntly. Then, realizing she may have sounded a little *too* harsh, "I do not wish anyone to discuss that."

With that, she turned back to Henderson, stood up, and looked him square-in-the-eye, her antennae bending forward, as if challenging his response.

Henderson resisted the urge to snap off a responce... Bit back the urge to snap off a response.  "No doubt.  As you said, it is none of my concern, unless you chose to make it thus.  I simply wish to offer advice.  Do not allow old pain to get in the way of new opportunities.  Also, do not allow old pain to interfere with your duties, or those of others onboard."

He paused a moment, "Though certainly I doubt anyone here would blame you for dealing with Ambassador Omar in such a manner.  He gives *his* people a bad name," he said, the decided to finish, "And I'm no innocent to the Andorian people.  I worked in intelligence with a woman not unlike yourself.  Don't treat me as if I know nothing."

He was finished.  He doubted it had gotten him anywhere, and if anything, he only felt worse now, but at least he'd gone ahead and said what he felt. That was who he was.  He watched the defiant young woman, so remenicent of Celia sh'Velta, who had died too young, awaiting whatever she chose to say. Likely a good bye or a threat.  He remembered Celia's angers, when she'd felt provoked.

T'Shani was just about to say something; something either sarcastic, rude, or threatening...or maybe all of the above. Who did this human think he was? Umarin, himself?

But....but....~There's something different about this man~ she thought. He wasn't backing down. He didn't seem intimidated by her, as most others saw her. In fact, it almost seemed that he could see right through her, right to the *real* T'Shani...someone *no one* had seen since she had been that little girl on Seltax VII...

~No~....She shook the thought away.

For a moment...just the briefest of moments...she let her guard down...almost imperceptably. Instead of scowling, she offered Cass a wry smile...just a *little* one.

"T'Shani A'Akledorian, 'Commander," she said, dipping her antennae in the Andorian approximation of a 'handshake'. Then, remembering the strange human custom, she actually...strangely for her...offered her hand, somewhat awkwardly, unsure if this was the proper procedure.

"As you well know, Cassius Henderson, Chief Tactical" he said, "I work out here most every other day, same time.  If you feel like talking, let me know.  For now, though, I need to go check on something in the tactical offices, so I guess I'll see you around."  He nodded his head in a close approximation of an Andorian antennae dip.  Body language was always important.

~Interesting...~ she thought as she withdrew her hand. ~He knows how to properly *greet*...well, for someone without I'ithmay's [antennas]~

She returned her face to the stone-cold demeanor of before. "Very well, 'Commander. Perhaps we shall see each other again."

"Perhaps," he said, then turned and left the room, heading for the showers. There was a lot more work to do. And he wanted to talk to Rima about the game. This had been an interesting morning. Now it was time for the real work.

"Setting the Stage"

By
Legate Kylar Curran
Chief Liaison Officer
USS Galaxy

Deck 3
Old Liaison Offices

"...and that is the summation of the events that have transpired, Ambassador-General." Kylar Curran sat rigidly upon his rather nondescript chair in his old offices on Deck 3. The original furniture he had requisitioned was now being set up and arranged in his new offices on Deck 17, stardrive section.

He didn't trust the new security protocols in the new offices yet. He was deep on the waiting list of Commander Suder's tasks, and no matter how hard Curran pressed, the Betazoid wouldn't budge. Kylar would simply have to wait.

He hadn't yet interviewed the Chief Engineer as yet, but that is for another day. Other more pressing priorities pulled at the Kelvan.

"And you are positive this wasn't some trick to entice you into this avenue of hostilities with the Hydrans, Legate?" Ambassador-General Natasha Mol was the highest ranking officer of the Diplomatic Corps. Under her supervision, the Liaison Corps, Federation Border Patrol, and Judge Advocate General's Office act as one unit since their merger in 2379 when the Federation Council passed the Emergency Measures Act due to paranoid military types after the Dominion War.

"If it was a trick, Ambassador-General, they went to great lengths to convince me." The 'living' timeship, the look of despondence on the Hydran Tactical Officer's face at learning the truth. It may not be the complete truth, but it was based in fact, at the very least.

Natasha's brow wrinkled. Her golden curls, grown somewhat longer and out of regulation, hung over her left eye. She casually brushed it aside. Rank had its privileges.

"You know I'm going to have to report this. Temporal Investigations will be sent out there." Her voice grew hard. No one liked dealing with Temporal Investigations. When they got involved, it was tantamount to one breaking the Prime Directive. It could cost some officers their careers.

"I understand, Ambassador-General." No one could be blamed here, he knew that. But when it came to the DTI, no one was safe.

"The debris recovered from the explosion at Quentin. Have you made any progress on identifying the compositions?" When the point of paradox had been identified, Curran, Karyn Dallas, and the diplomatic envoy were transported back into the stream. Dragos had inferred that he would be making one last act as Captain, but what that was, Curran could only guess. From the condition of the ship as they left it, he assumed they had self-destructed to take the Hydran ship with them, since the living ships would not fire on each other.

"None as yet, ma'am. Sciences has identified organic materials, and deposits of an unknown alloy. They are intensely damaged by heat, making it difficult to ascertain the dates of the debris. We haven't any signifant confirmation of it being from the future.

"This concerns me greatly, Kylar." Natasha leaned back, and steepled her fingers in thought. "I want you to keep in contact with the Border Patrols in the area. I'll send orders to those stationed to pay heed to your command authority in these matters, and to report any odd occurrences."

Kylar nodded. Border Patrol were not Starfleet, and therefore not party to the political overtures of the interstellar navy. They were a local militia and not subject to the inane peace-loving laws of the 'Fleet. They would serve well.

"Yes, ma'am. I have already been maintaining an eye on their communiqués with Outposts in the area. There have been some reported skirmishes near the Rihannsu Neutral Zone with unknown vessels. A few civilian ships have reported hit and run attacks. We assumed them to be pirates until further investigation has uncovered anything."

"Excellent. Re-route any available border resources to confirm or deny this threat either way."

"Ambassador?" Curran's senses tingled. Something was amiss.

"Yes, Legate?" Natasha had drawn back into her business-like shell.

"What do you know of the Hydrans? Have we been maintaining contact with them since last century at all?" Something Dragos had said. 'The Federation forgot about them.'

"All attempts at contact have stalled."

"All attempts when? How long have we been talking with them?"

"That is classified, Legate. You have your orders." Her eyes drew cold, and Kylar leveled his own gaze at her, just shy of what may be construed of as insubordination.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Careful, Legate. You're an excellent officer with a colourful career ahead of you. Don't push yourself into a corner where you are neither needed or wanted. You could get locked in, and you may not like where you'd end up." With that, she shuffled her pads on her desk and into the next topic, without waiting for an answer.

"Now, Kylar, your next mission is going to have need of your diplomatic talents. You are aware you have two Rihannsu on board the USS Galaxy?"

Kylar had included scanning the latest personnel files, and had noticed the senator and tactical exchange officer on board. What with all the activity the ship has faced over the last two months, he hadn't had the opportunity to interview them himself.

"Yes, I had, but I haven't spoken with them as yet. My staff has made themselves available for their needs in the meantime."

"Sub-Commander Savar and Junior Senator Ramir Omar will be all too important shortly. Build a relationship with them. Gain their trust if possible. They will liken themselves moreso to you since you are Kelvan. Become their trusted ally and friend." Kylar winced at the use of the word. 'friend'. He had no use for friends.

"Yes, ma'am. May I ask details on the upcoming mission?"

"The data is downloading now as we speak. It's all need-to-know. Classified. You may not discuss it with anyone. Not even Captain M'Kantu." This raised a curious eyebrow, but he nodded.

"Now, I am late for a meeting with Admiral Hoth. We'll talk again later, Legate. Mol out." With that, the screen pitched dark, and up fluttered the Starfleet logo, signifying an end to the transmission.

MAJOR BACKPOST: Sorry for hanging on to this so long guys, but I didn't want to release it until we were on hiatus. This continues the Karyn/Victor/Kylar subplot begun in "Memories of Home" (Victor attacks Karyn). Look for the three of us to explore the aftermath of these incidents in future JPs. ~Lori

"The Pendulum Swings... Counter-Clockwise"

by
Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Federation Liaison Officer

Counselor Karyn Dallas,
Wonder Woman :-)
USS Galaxy

Curran shook on his jacket just as he exited the turbolift to Deck 7. The homing maps still shone the way to Krieghoff's quarters.

The broad grey carpet felt light under his feet as he danced lightly in a trot over the fibers. The lights tracked above him, dim in the failing light of Beta shift until he came around a bend into the section which housed the Junior Officer's quarters. Slowing only as he passed each bulkhead until he located the Security Officer's assigned unit.

Composing himself as she would not be alone, he pressed the buzzer and waited. He would take Dallas to a dark corner and ring her neck once he stole her away from the Lieutenant who was probably whining angst, spewing weaknesses at the tower of corruption called Counselor.

This was Starfleet's way of tapping into the psyches of all their members to control them. The methods had been recorded for centuries. He wouldn't fall to the talons of this woman. Something nagged in his head. Flashes of her tousled face leaned over him, and emotions of anger and hatred turmoiled beneath his carefully stoic visage. He felt an urge to kill her.

And being the legal representative of the Judge Advocate General on the Galaxy, and not falling under Starfleet law, he could probably get away with it.

In fact, he knew he could.

His fists clenched into balls of white, he waited.

*****

The chime startled her, and the sudden start made her muscles seize in protest. An involuntary groan escaped her lips followed by a hitched sob. Hurriedly wiping at the twin tears that followed, Karyn did her best to calm herself. It would do no good for anyone to see her acting hysterically. She was going to be fine. It was over. The most important thing now was to keep it together so they wouldn't ask too many questions.

In her shock, she failed to question why those coming to her aid would bother ringing the door chime, instead offering the automatic, almost unconscious response. "Come in." Her voice was entirely too calm, entirely too small. Karyn was only certain of two things in that moment: She didn't want anyone to see her like this, and that she didn't have much choice.

*****

The door slid open to a fading light as the systems on the ship automated the day/night cycle onboard. Leaning in slightly, avoiding any potential embarrassing moments of finding the woman and Krieghoff in a passionate embrace, he took a quick survey of the room.

Nothing. No one to greet him. But the door had been unlocked from within. He'd heard the audible, hadn't he? He shook his head slightly, not wishing anyone passing behind him to alter their opinion of him at all. He enjoyed the air of authority he permeated the space he inhabited gave him.

Still, this was odd. Had the androids tricked him into coming here? A twisting wrench tore through his torso at the thought of those abominable machines. He hesitatingly took a tender step inside, keeping his body in the perimeter of the bulkhead to keep it open.

Karyn's breathing had slowed tremendously in the time since she had incapacitated Victor Krieghoff. She'd forced herself to slow her breathing so as not to hyperventilate, but it occured to her then that it might be a good idea to do so in order to stay quiet. Why such an irrational thought had entered her mind she didn't know, and she fought it. She swallowed hard, trying to rid her mouth and throat of the feeling it had been stuffed with cotton balls.

"I'm-" Too weak. "I'm in here." she called more loudly.

Curran's head cocked at the voice that carried to him softly from his right. It sounded... familiar. He hadn't interacted with much of the ship's crew under the senior officers, so it left him with-

"Dallas." What a fantastic opportunity! Had he caught her in an act of wanton pleasure he could use against her? Fraternizing with the junior officers was not necessarily approved of, and with Krieghoff of all people! But where was Krieghoff?

Then, he saw the toppled plant, the scattered goods strewn about as his eyes became used to the darkness. There'd been a struggle here, he could tell. Even if the two of them had become involved in gratuitous sexual contact - he felt a well of intense, radiant anger rise up in him for that -, a woman in a wheelchair couldn't have been a apart of it. It simply wasn't possible from his knowledge of the handicapped.

But then again, in his culture, the handicapped are sent to the oceans to die. They are of no use to the Kelvan military machine. So, his knowledge of Terran customs was limited in that regard.

Now, he had a decision to make. Was he to go to her, and be illuminated as to the nature of her lack of conversational skills, or exit the premises in the hope she becomes prey to her choices? If he went to her, the bulkhead would close, and he might become trapped. Locked in by a trick of an android to break him - again? Flashes of skin, faces, screams, came to him. He blinked the images away.

Armed with a sense of foreknowledge, he took a step outside the perimeter of the the door sensors, and slid them shut behind him.

"Computer, raise the light levels an additional 10 percent." He wanted enough light to move around, but not so much as to blind him in the event he was attacked.

The sudden increase in illumination startled her even as she tried to determine who the man was who'd ordered it. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited until she thought her eyes could adjust. Ever so slowly, she opened them, determined to meet the medical personnell with resolve. She looked like hell, and she felt like hell, but she was alive.

"I'm in here!" she called again, scanning the room for her would be rescuer. Gently she turned her neck toward the door. "I'm in h..." The rest died in her throat as her eyes locked on the only other conscious figure in the room. And in that very moment, she knew it was all over.

His eyes locked with Karyn Dallas' own. The light of hope glimmered out as he knew she knew he was there, witnessing her in all her glory.

Krieghoff had collapsed on top of her, his arms draped over her like a blanket. He could see her right eye was swollen shut, dark rings already forming around it. Blood had pooled on the floor underneath her, streaming down her face, bruised and swollen as it was.

Kylar felt a smile tug on the corner of his mouth, and crossed his arms.

"Quite a predicament you've gotten yourself into there, haven't we, Counselor?"

His cheerfulness washed over her like background noise. "I've called sickbay," she replied, "someone should be here any minute."

"But there isn't anyone here now, is there? Just you and me. Whatever shall we do in the meantime?" At this time he took careful well-meaning steps towards the Counselor, and knelt to the floor beside her. One knee placed carefully away from any of the mess on the carpet, the other upraised so he could dangle an elbow off it. He stroke his beard.

"Looks like someone took away all my fun, now. I was hoping to give you that black eye in a small way. Hmmm... what can I do to make your wait more.. comfortable?" His eyes simply glittered.

"Why are you doing this?" Dallas asked, incredulous.

"Doing what?" He made a singular effort to show innocence, but didn't give it too much. Why should he? She wasn't worth the effort. This handicapped, beaten, shell of a life. If you can call being trapped in a hoverchair a life.

"Trying to hurt me when all I did was try to help you." she replied. She was getting sleepy again and deep down she knew she was losing the battle to stay alive.

"You know, in my culture, it is a matter of honor to ask one to take their life in this circumstance." He gently ran a finger along her neckline, feeling for the artery. Her pulse-rate was slowing. "I could accomodate you on that." He saw himself wrap his arm around her neck to snap it. He could never imagine such a moment would ever present itself to him.

Karyn could feel his finger trace her neck, almost lovingly, but it could not rattle her. In a few minutes she would be dead, and it hardly seemed worth it to quibble over what or whom brought it about. She managed a self-assured smile. "That would be entirely too easy on you now, wouldn't it? I'll not beg you for anything."

Kylar raised an eyebrow without looking at her.

"Easy? No. Not easy, Counselor. Killing is never easy for us. A necessity, yes, but hardly enjoyable."

He leaned into her and brushed his lips across her ear. Krieghoff was slumbering peacefully away.

"Well, in some cases, I guess it would..." He whispered as he kissed just behind her ear as he gripped her neck with one hand, the side of her with the other. "It'll be over soon, Karyn, I promise."

Karyn shuddered as he kissed her and closed her eyes against the pain. She wanted to fight back but she knew without a doubt that she didn't have an ounce of life left in her to fight back. She was dying. "Come and get me, you son of a bitch."

With a grin as sly as the devil, Kylar knew he had the counselor at an extreme disadvantage. He strained to make the decision he had to make.

He snapped her head forward against his shoulder, burying her face in his jacket. He'd have to incinerate another one. His brows crinkled as he threw his arm further down Dallas' back using it as a brace.

He pulled her forward as he twisted his body under hers for better leverage. Human bones, cartilage, and flesh can be resilient unless you get the right angle.

He heaved with all his back strength, rolling the lion of a man off of Karyn Dallas, and onto the floor beside them. He slid back off the woman, coming to a rest on the balls of his feet once again, brushing the vestiges of human grime and dirt off his collar where Dallas had rested for a short time.

"Disgusting human blood. Or is that tears? I can never tell with you Terrans. I would be exalted to be in the position you are in, Ms. Dallas. Why do you not ask for peace in death?"

The scream died in her throat at the sound of the door chime...

****

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN
Chief Counselor/Nurse
USS Galaxy - A

Lt. Carolyn Shaw, Ph.D.
Chief Counselor
USS Arizona

"Timeshare"

Lieutenants Jeremy Savoie
and
Corran Rex

19:00 on the dot and Jeremy Savoie arrived at holodeck three.

"Computer, run holodeck program Savoie-seven-four."

::Unable to comply. Holodeck is in use.::

"Aw, for Chrissakes . . . who's using it?" he demanded. Savoie hadn't reserved the holodeck and waited all day to use it just to have some damn computer tell him he couldn't.

::Lieutenant Corran Rex:: the computer stated obediently.

"Well throw him the hell out of there!" Jeremy snapped.

::Unable to comply::

He sighed loudly. Erin was busy tonight and he was planning to enjoy a nice day at the beach, soaking in the sun and watching the sights - bikini-clad sights. "HEY! Whoever the hell you are let's go! You're time's up!" he shouted as he pounded his fist on the door. He knew his protests probably wouldn't be heard but it helped release his frustration.

"Computer, pause program." Corran instructed. "Arch. Open doors, let whoever it is in."

When Savoie entered, he found himself standing on... literally nothing. The inky blackness of space contrasted with the brilliant pin-pricks of stars as he walked into what seemed to be the recreation of a space battle.

One of the stars was, of course, larger and brighter than the others and was very familiar to both pilots. It was the star that the planet Quentin - which was over there on the right - orbited. Hanging in space, frozen in the holoprogram, were representations of the Starships Galaxy, Nimitz, Hood and Pershing, several squadrons of starfighters, and the Quentite Warp Ship, the Horus.

"Lieutenant Savoie." the Trill nodded as the ship's Chief Helmsman entered, moving his head away from a stream of phaserfire that connected two starfighters.

"Can I help you with something?

"Yeah, you can stop hogging the holodeck. Your time's up," Jeremy tersely replied, his eyes taking in the scene in front of, beside, and below him. "What the hell's all this?"

"Something that was and then was not." Savoie, of course, had no way of knowing that Jalen, Rex's very first host, was presently in control of the Corran's body. In life, Jalen had been a scientist. He was especially intrigued by the recent temporal incident, and was lending his considerable skills at memory into a recreation of the "Battle That Never Was"

Jeremy looked up from the floor -- or rather, the space -- below. "That's nice," he added flatly -- this guy was a loon -- "but I'm here for what will be: a nice, sunny beach in Florida with plenty to drink and wall-to-wall babes. So if you'll just take what was, what was not, and whatever else you've got going here, Poindexter, that'd be really great."

"I have four more minutes, Lieutenant Savoie. If you would like to assist me.... then do so. Otherwise, kindly cease your noise until I have finished. Computer, resume program." Corran/Jalen replied, and the various ships began to move in an eerie silence. The Trill entered various data into the PADD as the scene shifted, moving a ship here, or retiming a weapons blast, that sort of thing. Rex muttered softly to himself the entire time.

"Four minutes my ass! You need a new chronometer," Savoie protested as a small meteor passed to his left. He was about to instruct the computer to end the program when something caught his attention. "I'd never position the Galaxy that close to those fighters," he remarked. "Can't get a clean shot at anything with all them buzzing around."

"You weren't piloting the Galaxy, Lieutenant." Rex replied, continuing to adjust the recreation. "I am uncertain of who was. Mister Farrall, I believe."

"There's something that shouldn't have been," the helmsman muttered. "Fine, whatever, can you pack it up now so I can get some sun?"

"Pay attention, Lieutenant." Corran replied, still ignoring Savoie's requests for him to leave. "I am attempting to resolve a conundrum which is plaguing many of the people on this ship. Though your no doubt feeble brain likely has no recollection of it, the rest of us are having strange dreams, visions, sensations of deja vu in dealing with a recent temporal event that affected everyone on this starship. I am attempting to map out the exact occurrences of what happened. I believe that to be of more paramount importance than your self-flagellating flattery of ego you wish to no doubt persist in." For the reclusive Jalen, who'd never uttered so many words to anyone either during his life or well after it, on the few occasions when his personality emerged in Rex's body, this was a veritable soliloquy.

"Your 'conundrum is precisely why I spent an hour yesterday putting together a holodeck escape," Jeremy shot back. "Computer, end program!" he shouted, staring at Rex as the scene dissolved into the sterile perpendiculars of the holodeck grid. "So much for strange visions."

Corran closed his eyes for a moment as his vision swam - and Jalen relinquished control of the body. Fighting the obvious retorts, Corran simply sneered and Galaxy's Chief of Flight Control. "Fine, Lieutenant. Holodeck's all yours. Enjoy your ....sunbathing." he said, stuffed his hands and the small PADD into the pockets of his flight jacket, and stalked out.

"More Late Night Connections"

Primary Characters:
Lieutenant Commander Cassius Henderson

Secondary Characters:
Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau
Ensign Rima Pennington

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Cassius Henderson's Quarters

"...and that is the summation of the events that have transpired, Admiral."  Cassius Henderson sat in his quarters on Deck 8, still in uniform despite the late hour. He'd arrived about a half hour ago for his scheduled report to Fleet Admiral Irene Honor deMercereau, commanding officer of 12th Fleet, and one of the most respected Dove leaders. Henderson watched the screen intently, considering deMercereau's reactions.

Cassius's eyes were drawn to a picture above the monitor. He'd put it up there earlier. A shifting hologram of an Andorian Lieutenant JG in Intelligence black. Lieutenant JG Celias Daturan sh'Veltaysa. She'd gone by Celia among humans, and they had been friends.

He sighed. Sometimes they had been more than friends during the long hard months of their Advanced Intelligence Training and the early Dominion War. Then, like the songbirg referenced in her name, she'd flown away, killed by a stray shot by a Cardassian sniper during a failed infiltration mission.

"And you're sure that close to a hundred percent of the other crew members recall their experiences in this alternate mission?" deMercereau replied, looking Henderson square in the eye. She'd only just returned to the USS Relentless after it had taken severe damage in an explosion at Sorvens II.

"At the very least, the majority of the senior staff have experienced such memories," Henderson replied, "Captain M'Kantu informed me when I reported what Ensign Pennington and I experienced that he himself had experienced similar effects, as had Lieutenants Rex and Geluf. Today I spoke to my department about the experience. Many of them are having the same problem, particularly CPO Mirapoints, who remembers losing a leg in the initial encounter."

Irene deMercereau frowned, brushing at her whitish blond hair. She didn't like what she was hearing, "Admiral Hoth's crews are reporting similar things. As I'm sure you know, the Galaxy has been ordered to Wolf 359 for refits to the more experiemental systems. I expect you'll be kept there for some time while this is straightened out."

"In addition, I wouldn't be surprised if you see Davis Anderson from Federation Directorate of Temporal Investigations out there," she continued. She herself had recently completed a run in with Agent Anderson, a rising star in the agency, who had been investigating a case she'd thought was closed.

Henderson groaned, "Yes, Irene, I gathered as much. Davis would love to get his hands on such a high profile case? Any idea how he'll handle it?"

"From experience, we're looking at a general recall of Admiral Hoth, Captain M'Kantu, Captain Escalante, Captain DeSoto, and Captain Soorvak," she said, "During that time, who knows where you'll be..." she thought for a moment, "But now that you do mention it, I'll try to be the one sending the replacement CO."

"That would probably be preferable," Henderson said, "I can't say that I want to see another John Q. Bhrode, though I really didn't mind him much." He cracked his neck and replicated some water.

deMercereau clicked something offscreen, checking off the things she wanted to talk to him about, "And how is Ensign Pennington shaping up? I gather she wasn't happy at being replaced. There really was little I could do about that."

"She punched me, Irene," Henderson said, deciding to tell the Admiral exactly how he felt on this particular matter. He hadn't even really felt satisfied by his conversation with Lieutenant D'Tinya. Maybe deMercereau could help. She'd been his counselor in the past. And she owed him, for sending Rima.

"How's that?" deMercereau asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Rima hauled off and hit me, Irene. We were making progress, damn it!" Cassius swore, blowing out air in exasperation, "I was beginning to get her to feel comfortable with our work. She was starting to stop being so apathetic about everything, and...agh."

"Finished?" Irene asked, leaning back and steepling her fingers. When he nodded, she began, "I know it's not easy, and it can't be, considering Ensign Pennington. But consider this. For me to have blocked Savar tr'Khellian's transfer, I would have had to find a way to Aimee Huntingdon to turn the application back, then convince the Rihannsu governor who sponsered him not to press the case. During all of this, Commodore Huntingdon and I would have had to deflect attention from what was going on. All for one Ensign, who, as you'll recall, also punched my nephew, though I would probably count that as a good thing, considering that it made him realize how much of a fool he was being."

"Really? It just hurt for me," he grinned in responce, "I understand your point. I think I'm only getting so upset about this because..." He sighed again. "...I think I'm starting to like Rima Pennington in a way that is more than as my colleague.

Irene deMercereau's expression was one of shock and surprise, "Really? I thought it hurt? I guess that's why. And what makes you believe that you're falling in love with Rima Pennington?"

"Memories not of this time, for starters," Henderson said, "And just feelings that I'm getting now. Whispers of affection that I don't remember. We never acted on it, even during the alternate mission at Quentin. She's too proud to admit it. And wants to believe that she's too apathetic. We'll see."

"Good luck, Cassius," deMercereau nodded, "I imagine you'll need it. Well, Lieutenant Cooper is calling me, and I think it may be important. We're headed for Bajor and the trade meeting at DS9. As for you, all that I can tell you is to keep an eye on the Rihannsu Border. Ever since we dissolved the Neutral Zone with them after Galvanis, the tension there has been steadily increasing. I'm concerned, and so is Starfleet Command."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll have Warrant Officer tr'Riasau keep an eye on border for me. If anyone can get me more information than I normally would have access to, it would be him," Henderson said, "Good night, Irene."

"Good night, Cassius. And say something kind to Ensign Pennington when you next see her. It may help." The image flickered off, and 12th Fleet's distinctive Dove in Storm insignia appeared after it.

He nodded, and turned around, thinking about what else he had to do.

*Talk to Warrant tr'Riasau *Talk to Lieutenant' Rex *Say something nice to Rima...

"Right," he frowned, just as the door chime rang.

*DING DONG*

~What now?~ he thought, standing and shutting the terminal.

*DING DONG*

"Come in," he said, sitting on the futon nearby.

Rima Pennington straggled through the door and sank down on the far end of the futon. Her hair was a mess and she didn't look happy. "It's 0100, I can't sleep. Tell me why I can't sleep. You seem to think you can tell me everything else and it will be true, Cassius Henderson."

He thought for a moment. Now didn't feel like the time, but he knew deMercereau had meant it. He would try. "I don't know, Rima. I can't really sleep myself."

"You? I gather you don't know why either? God! I'm crying. For no reason. This! This is pathetic," Pennington said, tears streaking her face. She didn't bother to push him away when he moved to sit closer to her.

"Your emotions are overloaded, Rima," he said, wrapping her up in his arms, expecting her to lash out at him. "You've been through too much this last week."

Surprising even herself, she found that even she was too tired to fight with him, and realized that it was pointless. Or was it that she didn't want to. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that she felt safer with Cassius Henderson, and she didn't want to let go. Quietly, she just kept crying.

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Cassius Henderson's Quarters

Cassius stepped into his bedroon, pulled off his jacket, shirt and boots, and dropped into bed as he was, locking the door. Pennington was asleep on the couch, having dozed off and hour ago. He'd wrapped her in some blankets. He'd wake up before her and cook breakfast, then invite her to the game later in the day to help her relax. She was, in fact, and he thought it was cliche to the point of being ridiculous, beautiful when she slept. But we wouldn't tell her that. It was such a damn dysfunctional attraction.

"A Misunderstanding and Subsequent Rescue"

Lt (jg) Ammanalyn Lywhyn,
Counselor

----------------------------------------------

Ammanalyn Lywhyn was a tiny, waifish girl who looked no older than 16, though she was eight years beyond that. She had dark brown hair worn in medium length curls and large brown colored doe-like eyes. Her lips were finely sculpted like a porcelain doll's, and they would often widen into a large smile under a small, pixie-like nose. She had always been told she was pretty, ever since she was a young girl growing up at the university, but Am had always thought of herself as rather plain so she paid no real mind to whatever everyone else said.

She had gotten the notice only four hours ago that she was set to leave on the very next transport. She had been happy to go, having requested a transfer several weeks earlier. However, it had been a little bit of a surprise and quite a hard press to meet the transport in time. She'd flung about packing the remainder of her things and Tampatiaen had not been a happy camper either and has spent the time changing shape in extreme agitation, which only added to her own.

They were presently on their way across the transport station-- she hesitated to call it that, but that was the closest thing she could come up with to describe what it was-- toward the shuttle they would be taking to rendezvous with the Galaxy.

Tam had taken the form he seemed to favor above the others (though not quite enough to make an eternal commitment to it) of a snow leopard, whose spots glowed a brilliant silver again his sparkling white fur, while his pale blue eyes watched the area a cat's precision. He kept close to her in effort to avoid the other people bustling around, though frankly, most of them avoided him even more so, looking with an almost fearful suspicion toward the unimposing girl in the mid-night blue civvies with the large silver-white cat pressed close against her legs.

"Tam, you're going to trip me," she said, barely catching her balance, which was a feat against the weight of the extraordinarily large duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"I don't want to be touched," he responded. "The Incomplete don't pay much attention to me."

"I have a feeling they're paying plenty of attention to you now. We're parting the sea like Moses, if you hadn't noticed."

"I have noticed. This is the way I like it."

"Well that's fine. But back off a little bit. I have enough trouble with this duffel without you knocking me off my-" But at that moment they ended up tangled together and with the weight of the duffel (almost a full 60 pounds) all hope of regaining balance were lost and girl and Daemon crashed to the hard floor. She sighed as Tampatiaen flicked through several different forms before settling on the ermine shape and crawled up to her chest, staring at her firmly.

"You should be more aware," he chided.

"I told you that you were going to trip me," she said back, narrowing her eyes. "Honestly. We should have this down by now."

"If you packed lighter everything would be fine. You can replicate things when you get on the ship."

"I know, but that's not the same," she stated. A few people had paused to watch, but they'd seen the Daemon changing form and most immediately thought it was a Founder, so they were afraid to approach and offered no assistance, though one had gone to get a security detail.

Of course, neither Ammanalyn nor Tampatiaen knew this at the time, and while they noticed the eyes and the lack of assistance, they chalked it up to the Incomplete just being rude. He climbed onto her shoulder, holding onto the fabric of her clothing with his tiny front claws while she stood awkwardly, almost falling down again as she realized she was also tangled in the strap and tried to lug the bag back up. She sighed, brushing a piece of hair from her face. It was straight today, which was unusual, but she hadn't had enough time or inclination to make in look nice in its curly form.

"Oh, baent," she cursed, realizing the strap had broken. "Look what you made me do." She looked at Tampatiaen's silver-white ermine head and he looked back firmly.

"I told you to pack lighter."

"You didn't tell me why."

"I can't keep track of you all the time."

"Of course you can. You keep track of yourself, don't you?" She decided the best thing to do would be to pull the bag the rest of the way. She was just rigging it up so she could do that when Tam whispered a warning in her ear, and all of a sudden she was grabbed by a security officer's large hands. She shrieked with surprise and Tam had already flicked into a snowy owl, taking off into the air and shrieking a horrible noise. "What are you doing?! Let me go!" she shouted, batting at the man with a fist, Tam still shrieking.

"Want me to shoot it down?" a second security man, an enlisted officer, asked the ensign who held her as though she was nothing, her tiny fist but a pebble against his large bicept. He had a phaser aimed toward the fluttering Tampatiaen who was moving around as much as he could to avoid the man's aim.

"No! No, you can't!" Ammanalyn exclaimed. "He can't hurt you! He can't hurt you! Tam! Tam come down!" But she knew why he wouldn't because the moment he did he would be seized by the human's hands and that was too painful a prospect. "Please…" she was sobbing now desperately trying to get away, her weight flung back away from the man, her other hand trying to pry his from her wrist. Tam shifted into a smaller bird at that moment, making crying sound not unlike her own. "I'm a ‘lieutenant, I order you to let me go, I'm a superior officer… please…"

"Let the girl go!" a bystander shouted, stepping forward from the crowd, wearing a Captain's uniform. Ammanalyn didn't recognize him, but the four pips and red uniform were all that were necessary and she was immediately released. She fell backward from the suddenness, landing once again harshly on the hard floor, and Tam immediately flew into her arms, shifting into his fox form which was the size of a very small dog. He cuddled her with cooing noises as she sat, trying to stop crying, her face buried in his soft, beautiful fur. "What is the matter with you?!" the captain exclaimed.

"We were alerted that she has a shape-shifter, sir," the ensign said. "You've seen it."

"If it was a Founder, Ensign, it would have escaped by now rather than hovering and risk being shot down, did you ever think of that?" the Captain asked.

"Sir, we still have to take it into custody."

"No, Ensign, you don't. Go and do something useful, leave the child alone. I will take responsibility for her."

The Lieutenant paused a moment, a strange expression crossing his face. "Sir, I don't understand."

"The creature is harmless. I will make sure the girl gets to her shuttle okay, you go about and protect us from the real bad guys."

The Captain cast a glare toward the two security officers who hesitated before deciding to take the Captain's advice and began to herd away the crowd as the Captain crouched down beside the girl.

"It's not a good thing to lie," he stated, though his voice was kind and gentle. He had dark brown hair which was graying at the temples and pale grey-blue eyes much like Tampatiaen's. Ammanalyn looked up at him, her forehead crease.

"I didn't lie," she said, softly. "Thank you for helping me, but I didn't lie."

"You did. How can you be a ‘lieutenant when your Daemon still shifts his shape? You can't be more than fifteen or sixteen."

"I'm twenty-four. Tampatiaen is just indecisive," she said.

"Is he now?" the Captain questioned, looking at the face of the fox in the girl's arm as it tilted toward him and blinked softly, flicking an ear. "Well. His indecisiveness certainly caused a bit of a racket tonight, didn't it?"

"Yes. He likes to make a scene."

"I don't think he's the only one." The Captain looked at her with a small smirk and offered a hand. "My name is River Grey. What is yours?"

"Ammanalyn Lywhyn," she said, slipping her hand into his. He took the opportunity to pull her up to a standing position. "This is Tampatiaen. Again. We are grateful for your assistance."

"Not a problem. Let's get you up and to wherever it is you need to be."

"Shuttle 14."

"Perfect. I am too," he said, grinning. "My ship is at Utopia right now getting some adjustments, so I came down to visit my youngest son at the academy. It's his first year. But now, he's kicked his old man out and it's time to get back to the ship."

She smiled. "I'm going on to meet the Galaxy. I've spent the past year in the Psych Ward at Starfleet Medical, I'm read for a bit of a change."

"I can understand," Grey agreed, laughing. He had a nice laugh and a handsome face, but Ammanalyn noticed the wedding band around his finger and chided herself for even having the inclinations that would require the look. Besides. He had a son not much younger than she was. A blush crept over her cheeks but he didn't seem to notice.

He helped her carry the offending bag and joked about the weight, that it had to weight as much as she did and so on. She laughed good maturely, though she heard Tampatiaen in his ermine form scoff softly in her ear as he rode on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure you can bring the animal aboard, 'commander," the crewman outside the dock said as they were checking in.

"I'm sure it's fine, crewman," Captain Grey stated in a firm tone and the crewman said nothing more as they boarded.

"How do you know about Daemons?" she questioned as they sat across from one another in the main cabin, Tampatiaen curling up on her lap and falling carefully asleep. She was tired too, but in public places they made it a point to sleep at different intervals. That way, one of them could always guard over the other.

"When I was on my cadet cruise, we lent assistance to a Daedryn trade ship that had run into trouble. Several of them were injured and I was helping in sickbay getting some on the field experience, I guess. I ended up falling in love with a Daedryn girl. She was my age, and her Daemon had chosen his shape early, but over the course of the next two weeks, she explained to me about the culture, particularly Daemons. Hers was a beautiful golden butterfly named Panner."

"A gold Daemon?" Ammanalyn questioned. "They're rare."

"That's what she said, but nothing compared to silver." He gestured toward Tam, whose fur was glinting in the soft lighting of the shuttle.

"Very true. There's only 24 people living now with a silver-white Daemon," Ammanalyn replied. "When I was born there were 33. A lot of them are very old and are dying now." She shrugged softly. "There's about three million gold. I knew several at the university. Gold are very intelligent."

Grey smiled at that. "Yes, she was."

"What happened? Did she die?"

"No, she's still alive, I hear from her every once in a while: she's married and has children and a good career. I couldn't understand what it was, but she said that loving a... what was the word she used? An Andaeon?"

She blushed again. "Yes, an 'andaeon' is someone who's fractured, incomplete. Many people consider it a terrible slur for other worlders, now, but there is no real other word in our lexicon. We try not to use it." She meant she and Tam. Grey seemed to recognize that and chuckled at her embarrassment.

"Yes. Well. She said that it wasn't as fulfilling because we couldn't have the spiritual connection she wanted."

"It's a problem. When Daedryn fall in love their Daemons bond, often even stronger than the people do. It's really rather helpful, actually, because your first impression is never wrong. The Daemon have another sense about those things. You don't waste your time to find out you don't get along with someone."

Grey watched her speak with intense interest, it was as though she was the only person in the world. She took a deep, motivated by that to go on. "I bet she loved you very much though," she said softly, "she probably still does. But butterflies are usually very upper class, and she was probably promised to another upper class boy when she was very young. Butterflies always have a lot they have to live up to and they're always very intent on doing that."

"That sounds like it fits her," Grey agreed, watching the young woman in front of him. "And what does it say about a person if their Daemon still changes form as an adult?"

"I have no idea," she said, "but I'm sure we could both make some guesses."

An enlisted woman came up at that moment. "Captain, we're nearing Utopia now. We're just going to go ahead and beam you over as we're running later as it is."

"That sounds good to me," Grey said, standing, and offering his hand toward her. She took it carefully with a small smile. "It was wonderful to meet you. Try to keep him from shifting in public spaces."

"I'll do my best. Thank you again, Captain."

"You're welcome. Have a safe trip."

"You too." She grinned, and watched him disappear. She sighed and nudged Tampatiaen awake. "Tam... I need to get some sleep." He blinked up at her and then wordlessly crawled down and shifted into his leopard farm, sitting calmly as she laid down over two seats, her tiny form tucked up carefully. She slept soundly, one hand fisted in Tam's soft fur, knowing the ice blue eyes of her Daemon were guarding her against the rest of the world.

----

Coming aboard the Galaxy was a relatively simple task. She went through the required security checks, explained Tampatiaen about 18 zillion times and then journeyed immediately into her office, looking around. It was perfect. Small, befitting a lieutenant junior grade, but perfect just the same. She went through the psych profiles of all her patients: there weren't as many of them as she'd thought there would be, the foot soldiers having just been transferred to the USS Hood. Of course there were a good many pilots and will all the extra room, it wouldn't surprise her if they added another squadron.

She went about sending mails and appointment notifications to each, starting with the CO, a Trill named Corran Rex, who had quite the... unique history.

"Seinfeld"
subtitled: "The post about nothing in particular, and everything in general."

By:
Lt. JG Ammanalyn Lywhyn
Ens. Jasmine Heloi

Location: Lywhyn's Office

Ammanalyn sat on the sofa with her legs pulled up underneath her, reading through psych profiles on a pad. Tampatiaen, in leopard form, lay on the sofa beside her, head in her lap, sleeping peacefully and listening to her thoughts as he did so.

The door chime sounded and Ammanalyn looked up. She knew an appointment was scheduled, but she hadn't been prepared for the pilot to actually show! Tentatively, and not daring to get her hopes up, she bid, "Come in?!"

Jasmine Heloi stood just outside the doorway to the Counselor's office deep in thought. Why she was being called for a counseling session was beyond her. Sure, she had seen battle, but she didn't think she was torn up about it. If she was, her telepathy and her soul would be going haywire on her. But, Jasmine could never understand counselors even though she came from a race that essentially were counselors every day of their lives.

Heloi sighed to herself just as she was welcomed inside the Counselor's office. Stepping through the doors, she blinked a little at the sight before her. The young woman had a leopard of some sort sleeping beside her - something that was most definitely not typical. She could feel a buzz of some sort of telepathic communion between the two, but it was impolite to listen in. "Counselor? I'm Ensign Jasmine Heloi, you wanted to see me?"

"Hi! Yes!" the girl exclaimed, jumping up. Tampatiaen, slightly surprised by the sudden move, flicked shapes quickly -- ermine, fox, then bird, flapping up to her shoulder and flicking back into ermine shape as he draped himself around her neck, claws gripping her uniform. "Come in! Please, have a seat, I didn't think you'd actually show up because no one has yet, I wanted to -- well, see, Starfleet's issuing this new edict that says each combat officer has to have a regular evaluation with a trauma specialist, that would be me, and so on before they are cleared, so I figured I would get this month's out of the way and it would help me if I could meet all my patients early besides. Thank you for coming! I appreciate it, we've had to hunt people down, which is not pleasant. Please, sit down, tell me about you, I've been rambling, I'm sorry, I can do that sometimes, sorry." She clamped her mouth shut and sat down against where she was, directing Jasmine with a hand toward the sofa in front of her own as Tampatiaen snaked down from her shoulder and with a glare as he settled onto the sofa, shifted back into leopard form, curling there, putting a few inches space between he and his person.

Jasmine blinked a little in shock as the words tumbled out of the girl's mouth. She didn't think it was possible to say as much as she had without taking a breath - she was impressed. That the leopard changed shapes to different creatures was equally startling, but she had seen a great deal in her life and was willing to go with the flow as it were. With a soft musical laugh, Jasmine settled herself on the indicated sofa, "There's not much to tell about myself, Counselor. I was born on Betazed, went to the Betazed Royal Academy for Mechanical Engineering with a minor in fine arts, acted for a few years, took correspondence classes with the Vulcan Science Academy in Physics before finally joining Starfleet. I've been a pilot ever since." There was more to it than that, let alone all the joys of being a vid star and the minor details that filled in the blanks but she wasn't entirely sure just what the Counselor wanted to know.

"Why did you decide to join Starfleet?" Ammanalyn asked. "How about we start there?"

Jasmine leaned back into her seat and smiled slightly as she thought back to her reasoning. It had been just after she decided Starfire was going in a direction that she didn't care for and she had received her Masters from the Vulcan Science Academy. "Well, a lot of factors led up to it. For about six years prior to joining Starfleet, I was the lead actress on a vid series called Starfire." She paused for a moment to check for Ammanalyn's reaction. When she got no flicker of recognition she continued, "Starfire was a very popular show for it's entire run, but they brought in a new writing staff at the beginning of the new season and they were massacring the show in my opinion. I had been working on my Masters - correspondence courses through the Vulcan Science Academy - during this time since I had had the feeling that my acting career had a time limit on it. It was a good thing I did, since I got fed up with the show and resigned. I've loved flying since I was a little girl, so I decided to join Starfleet to fly. I've been doing that ever since."

Ammanalyn had never heard of Starfire, nor was she really well versed in any of the vid series that were popular. She vaguely recognized the name from her years at the academy -- maybe her roommate had a poster or something of it -- but not enough to really be able to hold a discussion of it or to recognize an actress. "What made you become an actress?" Ammanalyn questioned. "Was it something you wanted in your childhood? Or was it something you just fell into?"

"Acting wasn't a career choice that I had started out with as a child. I wanted to be an engineer, or something similar to it so I could work on ships. But, I caught the acting bug in college. I discovered that I was pretty good at it, enough so that one of FWBN's scouts found me and asked me to try out for a few minor roles in some of the more popular vid series. Then I got offered the role in Starfire and the rest is as they say, history," Heloi shrugged slightly and smiled.

"Hm," Ammanalyn murmured. "It's funny how things like that work out." She paused. "What do you think you gained from your acting experience?"

Jasmine released a breath through her teeth, "What have I gained? Well, I've gotten a better insight into the human psyche than I ever had before. Acting is a cut-throat business, what people say and what they are really thinking or mean are generally two different things. I'm actually rather glad I'm no longer a part of that, though most of the journalists still hound me even though it's been a few years since Starfire was on the air."

"It must be a difficult adjustment," Am said, "going from an environment like that -- where it is so cut throat and you are so well known -- to an environment where you're just one of a crew of more than a thousand."

Jasmine couldn't help it, she just had to laugh at it, "You'd be surprised, Counselor. Half the crew knows exactly who I am, or was, and wants my autograph - the other half either haven't a clue about Starfire or believe that I'm trying to pretend I'm my character or something. It generally takes a few weeks before things settle down on a new assignment and I'm treated as *me* and not Adora Starfire." Heloi shrugged before continuing, "I'm actually glad of the idea of being just one of the crew. The acting business really wears down on a person, especially when you live in a spotlight."

Am smiled slightly. The woman had a nice laugh and seemed like a genuinely happy person -- for the most part, anyway. "Back home, on Daedrice, we are in a similar situation. Everyone knows who we are, but rather than being famous we're more infamous. The scholars at the college where we grew up had to keep us behind the walls so that we would be safe because some people might hurt us. They were afraid of Tampatiaen, because of his color and everything there. It's nice for me, being here, where people don't understand. I still get weird looks and no one really knows how to react to Tam, but at least we're safe, for the most part, and eventually we're accepted. It's interesting, your position, because in a way you're trying to escape yourself so that you can be yourself... do you think that desire complicates things for you? Are you sometimes afraid that you're acting a role in your own life?"

Heloi had to consider that for a long time, "I don't think of myself as acting a role in my life. I think of it as more trying to wash away my association with acting so I can truly be myself. I can't tell you how much it bugs me when 30 plus year olds come to me to ask for my autograph when I'm on duty. But there really isn't much I can do about it. It's the general fate of anyone who was on a popular TV show - you get associated with the character you play so much that some people can't get past it. They see Adora Starfire and not Jasmine Heloi when they look at me, and I do wish that wasn't the case. With my fellow pilots, at least, they treat me as me. They see my abilities, know my past, and look past it."

"That's good," Ammanalyn said, smiling girlishly. "Well. Eventually, I'm sure all the stuff will disappear. I mean, as time goes by, I'm sure most people will forget about... what is it? Starfire? So perhaps that's a comfort. It's just a matter of waiting until then I suppose. Now... you're Betazoid, right? How strong is your telepathy?"

"That's right," Jasmine nodded, "I'm ranked as a T-3, according to the T'Prii scale." The T'Prii scale ranked telepathy from ten to one, with one being a telepath that could control the thoughts of others from great distances. Jasmine's ranking was quite respectable in those regards, but she held the same regard for people as the Vulcans. She would never do anything that went against her code of ethics.

"That's impressive," Ammanalyn replied. "From reading your psych profile though, you're well in control of it. Which is also good. A personal curiosity, I suppose, but are you able to read him?" she rested a hand on Tampatiaen's side. "We've never met anyone who could, and have always been curious if he reads as a separate entity or if he's connected to me in that way too. Of course, people have a hard time reading me as well, which is curious..." Her voice trialled off. "Sorry. It's a personal fascination of mine, trying to understand the link between us. Just a curiosity."

Jasmine smiled slightly, "Well, I can try." She closed her eyes and centered herself, something that was automatic but necessary before she attempted any sort of reading. When she opened her eyes again, they were directed towards Tampatiaen. The shields she kept carefully around her mind dropped a little and she directed her telepathy towards the Daemon. A jolt of liquid fire hit her mind and she blinked a little as she compensated, such power...flowing to and from the two and now towards her. She slammed the mental door shut and shuddered a little after the contact. "All I see is that the two of you are as one. There is powerful communion between you. If I had more power, I might have been able to learn more, but as is the contact was incredibly strong."

"That's similar that everyone has," Ammanalyn said, nodding. "I just don't know why." She paused and shrugged. "Do you have any questions or concerns for me? Anything that you want me to be aware of?"

Heloi shrugged, "Not that I can think of off hand. But," she suddenly smiled warmly at the Counselor, "I'd be pleased if you'd call me Jasmine." She turned her attention towards the Daemon and echoed the smile for him, "That is, if both of you would call me Jasmine. I don't know if he talks to anyone else, or even if he can, but if ever does...he's welcome to talk to me."

Tampatiaen lifted his head at that, blinking toward Jasmine with heavy, tired eyes. "He doesn't speak to others very often. More than most, but not very often." Ammanalyn rubbed Tampatiaen's fur affectionately and he rolled over, large paws in the air as he said something in a soft, melodic language. "Oh hush," she said. "He's a smart-mouth too, people should be glad he doesn't talk to them. Jasmine it is then... I'm Am. Ammanalyn is a huge mouthful and most people can't pronounce it right anyway."

"Pleasure, Am," Jasmine replied, "Is there anything else you'd like to learn from me? I suppose those leading questions are good for something after all," that last sentence was said more for her own benefit than for the Counselor's.

"Not that I can think of right now. i'm only trying to get to know people right now, not gather a full psychological analysis."

Jasmine laughed, "Thank goodness. I'd be afraid of what that might entail." With a brief nod towards Am, she readied herself to leave, but just before she stood she turned back towards the Counselor, "If you ever feel like doing something, dinner, go see a vid, whatever...feel free to give me a call."

"That would be great," Am said, smiling, "just let me know."

"You betcha," she said, once again using one of Della's catch-phrases. "Then I'll see you later, Am." With a brief nod, the Fighter pilot stood and headed towards the door.

"The Darkness Beyond the Window"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

Erin Friel (APC)
Ten-Forward Manager

"Another rum and coke?" There really was no need for a reply to the question; a fresh drink was already in Erin's hand when she walked up to the table where her boyfriend sat, moodily taking in the darkness of space.

Jeremy silently accepted with only momentary distraction.

Erin looked at him. He was distant lately, more so than usual it seemed.

"You know I'd join you if I didn't have to work."

"Yeah, I know," he answered half-heartedly, returning his gaze to the darkness beyond the window.

Jeremy was a complex individual, Erin knew that even though in the year since she'd met him he'd never been overly self-revelatory. She sat in the chair across the table from him and rested her chin on her hand. "What goes on behind those blue eyes when you're sitting here staring like this?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, a slight tinge of annoyance in his voice at feeling like he was under a microscope.

"I mean this isn't the first time I've seen you sitting in Ten-Forward looking out the window. I assume you must think about something."

Jeremy took a gulp from his glass. "You're a counselor now?"

"Kinda comes with the territory," she replied. "You know, you don't have to be so abrasive all the time."

"Oh, I'm abrasive now?" he retorted, downing more of the rum and coke.

"No, not just now. All the time," Erin corrected. "And I'm not the only one who's of that opinion."

Jeremy's eyes narrowed with annoyance. Girlfriend or not, Erin's accusation wasn't appreciated. "If I'm so abrasive why do you bother dating me?"

It was a debate Erin had no intention of getting drawn into. Instead, she calmly stood up and looked at him again. "I have my reasons." She paused and pondered the man seated across the table. What it would take to really get to know him? "But did you ever wonder why you spend so much time alone staring out the windows of this ship?" she challenged rhetorically. He was like these windows, transparent only to the darkness that lay just beyond. She decided to leave him to his thoughts.

Jeremy only half-consciously watched Erin return to the bar as her words echoed in his mind against his will. He briefly recalled the encounter he had earlier with the lieutenant in the holodeck and about his cold war with Curtis Geluf. They were only two examples of the kind of relationships Savoie usually had with people. So often feeling unimportant and lost in the shuffle, he somehow felt at odds with everyone. It was a feeling his outgoing and amiable girlfriend would never understand.

~It must be nice to popular,~ he thought back at her, finishing off his drink. Then he got up and left.

"Refuge" - Part 1

[Occurs immediately after 'Deja vu: First First Contact', Part 2]

Principle Characters:
Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Federation Legate Kylar Curran

****

A random Corridor
USS Galaxy

A wild-eyed Romulan was roving the corridors, pale and still badly shaken by his phantasmal visions. Attracting odd stares from passing crewmen and civilians, he desperately needed to be around people but found himself unable to approach a single one. He didn't know these men and women, didn't trust them - and they certainly didn't trust him. He felt utterly isolated, unable to keep these visions to himself and unable to tell anyone else, for fear of being branded insane.

"Computer," he said in a rasping voice, pausing at an intersection. "Locate... Locate Legate Curran."

"Legate Curran is in the office of the Federation Liason, Deck 3," came the monotonous response.

Curran. Curran would understand. Savar's mind went back several years to a time when he and his ship had been briefly recalled to the homeworld, and he had met the Kelvan at a formal diplomatic function, standing in for his father. Until the horrific visions had plagued him, tr'Khellian had no idea the Legate had been stationed aboard this very vessel - only to die in these visions. The two men had gotten along, had seemed to entertain similar notions, were both serving higher powers and their own ambitions simultaneously. And from what limited amount he knew of the Kelvans, these strange, so alien creatures beneath their humanoid masks, Kylar Curran would at least treat the addled exile with some respect, and hear his tale.

Curran was calling up the records for Sub-Commander Savar and Ramir Omar. Since Mol's supposition to get involved with the Rihannsu passengers was deemed an interpretation of indicative orders, he obeyed.

Either way, he needed the distraction. Whether it be in making 'friends' with a race of untrustworthy aliens, or as keeping them enemy close, Curran didn't much care. He wasn't into making friends for personal reasons, and neither were the Rihannsu. Whatever Mol and her Starfleet cohorts were planning, they underestimated him and their guests.

Firstly, he analyzed Savar's personnel file that had been transmitted upon his arrival at Starbase 212. Ultimately, his offices door chimed as he began interim scans of the file. Annoyed, he keyed the panel that released the lock mechanisms, allowing the vistor to enter.

Sub-Commander tr'Khellian stepped gratefully into the office. A small quirk of surprise registered itself on the Legate's face, but the Romulan barely registered the discrete way he slid the PADD he was reading into a drawer, without taking his eyes from the visitor. "Jolan'tru, Legate," Savar said huskily, giving a bow, his formal manners impeccably ingrained and functioning whatever the cirucmstances.

"Jolan'tru, Sub-Commander. We finally meet." Curran stood up from behind his seat and greeted the Rihannsu in a formal manner becoming his stature. "What may I do for you today, Sub-Commander? Is your stay not comfortable?" Curran knew this Rihannsu would feel as he did, but politics reigned. Pleasantries needed to be passed first. Savar would hate this place as much as he, he knew.

Tr'Khellian frowned and blinked, hesitating. Perhaps coming here had been the wrong thing to do. Perhaps he should make an excuse and leave. "My stay is," he said, his eyes oddly unfocused, "not as comfortable as it could be, Legate." He eyed the Kelvan for a long time, and then could bare it no longer. "Legate, until tonight I was unaware you were on this vessel," he said, in his clipped, faux-English accent.

"Understandable. The latest excursions have been trying on all our parts. Coincidentally, I had just completed a conversation with my superiors about your very presence on this vessel." He rounded the oaken desk to stand alongside the taller Rihannsu. "I have been told your talents are going to be required on this upcoming mission. Do you have any knowledge of this?" Something bothered him about this Romulan. Something.. familiar.

The next mission? For a moment the Romulan's sharp mind was intrigued, but he forced himself to put that aside - his mind was still coruscated with images of his own death. "Legate," the Sub-Commander said, raising a hand. "The reason I knew you were onboard is that..." he trailed off. How in the name of the Arch-Element could he put this? It was not a dream. The ache in his head and his ribcage told him that, the taste of blood in his mouth.

"I have had a very.. disturbing.. vision, Legate," tr'Khellian eventually managed. "A vision of our deaths."

This piqued the Kelvan's curiousity. "Tell me about this vision. Did it involve the destruction of the Galaxy on Quentin's surface?"

Savar's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly, whether with shock or relief it was impossible to tell. "Then you have seen it too?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper.

"No, I have not seen it, but I know of it." He gestured towards the smaller version of an Observational Lounge that was housed in his offices. The one used for delegations such as Princess DevoraH's when the Galaxy escorted her to lanjep early the previous year. "Please, sit, and tell me more of this."

As Savar warily passed into the lounge, keeping a keen eye out for sudden movement on the Kelvan's part, Curran hesitated. "You must forgive me, Sub-Commander, but you seem familiar to me. Have we met, previously?"

"On ch'Rihan," the Romulan explained, taking a seat. He exhaled with relief, still feeling queasy and dehydrated, but now relieved mentally: he was not mad; others had shared his vision.

He glanced towards the Kelvan as he took a seat at the opposite side of the table, unsure of whether to take offence at the other man's lapse of memory. But then, he told himself, remembering the cross-cultural awareness classes he had been obliged to take upon arrival in the Federation, it was understandable. The Kelvan had met many Rihannsu; Curran was the only Kelvan Savar had ever met. In addition, he remembered being told that to retain humanoid shape required great concentration for the Kelvans, and perhaps this affected their memories. And besides that, t