"Hazard Team Business"

Lt Commander T'Chani Darion,
Hazard Team CO

Major Pete Shaw,
Hazard Team XO

USS Miranda

As she sat at her desk T'Chani ran a hand through her hair. Things had gone crazy or maybe it just felt that way. Somehow the Hazard Team CO had stolen a few private moment from other tasks, just to clear her head. To do so Darion retreated to a holodeck dressed in a gi, with her katana in hand.

T'Chani warmed up with a few stretches then some karate moves. Then she moved onto sword work. Near the end of her workout she summoned Shaw to join her.

Pete walked down the corridor. Whatever had been going on gave him one major headache, but it was more or less over now. T'Chani had called him to the holodeck, for what he did not know As Pete came up to the holodeck he saw that a program was running. "Computer who is running the program?"

["Lt. Cmd. T'Chani Darion,"] the computer replied.

Pete pressed tech button to open the door, and he entered and looked around for her.

The Hazard Team commander was standing on the far side of a grassy area just outside of a Japanese style structure. When T'Chani noticed her 2IC enter she stopped. "Thank you for joining me."

"Not a problem," Pete replied as he took a few steps closer. "You wanted to see me?"

She nodded, "Yes I did and I figured the holodeck was a nice change of scenery rather than my office. Either way a matter has come up that I think we need to discuss."

"I'm all ears," Pete replied getting ready for the news that she was about to give.

"What do you know about our newest addition to the Hazard Team?" T'Chani figured it was best to find that out before going any further.

"Not much," Pete replied. "Just that he is a great assett to the team, and his service record. That is about it."

T'Chani looked at him for a moment, "There's more to it than that. How much of it has actually gone into his service record at this point I don't know. Its a touchy matter."

"What do you mean?" Pete asked. This now sparked his intrest, something that was going on that he didn't know about.

"He's had some problems that require special attention," she continued by way of explanation.

"By that I am guessing you mean something to do with medical, and restricted duty?"

Solemly T'Chani nodded, "Thats exactly what I'm referring to considering he's being watched like a hawk. I want you to keep an eye on him and if what I've laid out is too much or there his mind is free to wander I want to know."

Pete nodded, "will do. May I ask what has led to all of this?" Pete asked.

"This doesn't leave this room," she replied then continued, "Felecium is the short answer. He ran into some forced to use it against his will."

Pete thought about it for a second. He knew what it was, and it wasn't pretty. To use that is like using 'Coke' or 'Pot' from the 21st centry. "I understand. Are we just letting him recover from this through medical?"

T'Chani answered him, "I had the power along with the Captain to end his career during the court martial hearing. It was only by the insightful thinking of Commander Brex that we chose to give him a second chance with heavy restrictions. Medical is handling the rehab side, Brex chose to see to his welfare as part of the ship's Rugby team. I've taken him off field ops until further notice and given him other tasks to accomplish."

"Sounds good," Pete said. 'Rugby team?' Pete said to himself. He must have missed a memo. "Is there anything special that you would like done from my end? Get him set up for admin work, that kind of thing?"

"Keep an eye on him make sure that he's not to overworked but at the same time doesn't have too much time to let his mind wander. The rest is up to him." T'Chani replied. "No matter what happens I need this team functioning at 110% all of us."

"Will do," Pete replied. "I will also set him up on some special assignments to get him certified in other fields. That should keep him busy and not overworked, and it will help the team out overall. I have been meaning to sit down and get some of the members certified in other areas, and I guess he will be the first."

"Good plan. Before I forget we're scheduled to meet with Lt Commander Corgan. It will be a good change to show off the team's capabilities." T'Chani fully agreed with Shaw's suggestion of further cross training.

Pete smiled at the chance to show the team off. "I will have something planned to show him," Pete said. "Maybe a good old rescue of the commanding officer."

His answer made T'Chani smile, "One officer to rescue is far too easy. Up the stakes a bit."

Pete thought for a second, "Captain and XO being held at gun point, deep inside a bunker. Lets say being guarded by Naussicans. They are a mean group."

"I like the way you think," the Hazard Team CO replied. "If we're going to show them what we are capable of we might as well do it right."

"And I will make sure we will. I will give the team a normal pre-mission briefing and help them form a plan on getting in, then they are on their own. Doing this by the book.... well as much by the book as I ever go by."

"Exactly besides a training exercise like this one is good for keeping our skills fresh. If that's all then I'll let you get back to your duties," T'Chani replied confident that Shaw could come up withi a tough demonstration to work the team as well as display their talents.

Pete nooded slightly. He had phased out the salute for her as they become more of friends then a CO and her XO and he respected her as a friend, even after the matter so many months back. Pete then turned and left leaving T'Chani to what she was doing, and to get to work on what he needed to do.

"Of Pastries and Scientific Progress"

Adrianne 'Adri' Laril-Prescott,
Miranda Kid

Selok,
Miranda Kid

*****

Children's Lounge,
USS Miranda

The diagram of the Sol system was perfect in every way. From the spectrum of colors to the relative mass and sizes of the planets and sun of the system, it was as much a work of art as it was a work of science. It suited the young half Vulcan in more ways than one, and he indulged himself in a small smile as he regarded his masterpiece. This was to be part of his science project, in fact it's crowning achievement.

Selok carefully placed the diarama on the counter and turned to grab the cover to protect it from his rather over-exuberent classmates when someone came charging into the room.

"Oh hey, Selok, exactly who I was looking for," Adri said as she whirled into the room, her trademark backpack firmly planted on her back. "I just finished baking some Algolian Sweet Rolls and wanted somebody to share them with. Oh hey, is that your science project under that sheet. Shoot. I really should get started on that."

"Yes," he agreed, though to what he didn't specify. This particular girl was more emotional than even his mother, and he arched an eyebrow at her, "The science project is due, after all, at the end of the week."

Adri laughed, "Oh, don't worry. I've got an idea fleshed out, I just haven't started putting it together yet. In any case, try some of these. I want to know what you think." She unrolled the wax paper package that she'd removed from her bag and laid out four sweet rolls.

"What are they?" he asked suspiciously. He did recall the last time someone had tried one of Adri's concoctions. He never realized that a human could turn quite that shade of green.

"I just said, Selok, Algolian Sweet Rolls... Hmm. I really need to get off this pastries tangent I'm on. Last week it was Bolian Crisps," she said, offering him one of the pastries, "Anyway, they have sweet grain in them. Hey, you're not allergic to anything, right?"

"Not that I know of," he replied as he looked dubiously at the treat in his hand, "Have you tasted them already?"

"Uhm... Well, no, but I'll go first," she said, picking up another one of them and tasting it, "Not bad. It could do with a little less sugar, I think, but overall not too bad."

He examined the pastry in his hands, as if his intellect could deduce it's ingredients...It was illogical to put anything in one's mouth that one could not tell where it had been nor what was in it. However, his illogical human half was winning the argument. He was the, as the human phrase went, odd man out when it came to the classroom. He was not as emotional as the others, instead he tended to be the more, well, grounded one.

He defiantly put one into his mouth and chewed carefully. Once he had completed the chewing and swallowing, he looked at Adri with a faint smile on his face, "It is not...that bad at all."

Adri breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. I was beginning to think I'd never make something you guys would like. John still hasn't quite forgiven me for the incident with the Hasperat."

"I cannot say that I blame him, Adri. He was, after all, sick for a good week," Selok replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Nope. Neither can I. There was no way for me to know he was alergic short of testing all of you, but it still wasn't any fun for him," she said, "So you're good at science, right? I'm good at the math aspect of it, but not really the conceptual stuff."

"Yes. Science is fascinating...the math, logic, the shear beauty of it amazes me," he enthused, for a moment looking all too much like a young human child with his first toy. Then the mask slipped back into place, "I apologize, Adri. I forget myself sometimes..."

She laughed briefly at the irony of it. "In case you haven't noticed, so do I," she said, gesturing toward John, who was working on something across the room. "Anyway, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me on my project. I was planning on doing something about the effects of phaser impact on different starship hulls, but I can't get past the chemical effects part. There's not enough information readily available for me to get a real grasp."

"I can help you," he nodded, "Though it depends on how detailed you wish to get on your analysis. My mother used to work at Utopia Planetia Shipyards on Mars and kept several manuals on ship construction should I prove interested in engineering. Should you desire it, I could provide those to you as an added resource."

"That'd be great," Adri said, "It'd certainly help with the Federation aspect. I was going to compare the different races hulls and their tolerances. I'll probably have to go beg Commander Wolfson for information. Provided she hasn't found out my unscheduled exploration of the Jeffries tubes. Oh shoot. Mouth went faster than the brain again. I don't supoose you could keep that a secret?"

Another faint smile was her reward for that comment, "I can indeed. Provided you can keep from Commander Mitchell my unauthorized excursion into the science labs." It was a fair trade in his estimation. "It might also be possible to provide you with details on a Vulcan hull. All that it would require is access to the ship's database and a query to the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Consider it done," the mostly Bajoran girl grinned, "After all, mum says Commander Mitchell is a self-important, self-centered prick. I think that's what she said anyway, and she'd just come back from a staff meeting. I get the impression that a lot of the crew agree. And I'd really appreciate that Vulcan hull information."

"That is my understanding as well. I will provide that information to you as soon as I can, Adri," Selok nodded, "Though..." he turned towards her, "Would you like to see what I have done for my project? It is an analysis of the effects of solar wind on the Sol system over the past thousand years." He lifted the sheet to show her the diorama with the tiny glowing sun in the center.

"Sure," she said. Selok always did a good job on the science side of thing. He could even give her friend Mika a good challenge, and it was usually a toss up to see who got a better grade on the project.

He explained some of the minor details of his project, pointing out the effects of the solar wind on the various celestial bodies in the Sol System, "Are you planning on creating a diorama of your project?"

"I was thinking about it, but I'd have to get some pretty hard to find materials and convince somebody to shoot them with a military grade phaser," she said, before it hit her, "Oh hey. We're sitting right next to a ship graveyard. Maybe Uncle Wes could take me out there."

"Uncle Wes?" he queried.

"Major Hammond, Rogue Squadron's Commander," she explained, "Not really my uncle, but he might as well be. I think I may have been one of the first people he met coming onboard.

"I understand. It does no harm to ask a question," Selok nodded, "Perhaps he would be so willing."

"So is yours finished, or do you have more to do?" she inquired, leaning in to examine the diagram that he'd painstakingly constructed, careful not to disturb it.

"I need to complete my summary on the paper. Otherwise, it is complete," he nodded.

"Well, thanks for the help. I should get down to the fighter bay, I guess," she said, starting to pack up. When she came to the pastries she turned back to Selok, "Do you want another one of these for later. I have more back at home."

"Certainly," Selok nodded, accepting the treat, "Thank you."

"No problem. I'll try to come up with something that isn't a pastry for next week," she offered, then said by way of salutation, "Walk with the prophets, Selok."

He held up his hand in the ta'al and nodded, "Live long and prosper, Adrianne."

She grinned, shouldered her bag, and ran from the room, regaining her aura of permanent motion.

"Passing the Test"

by
Ensign Tarin Iniara
Operations,
USS Galaxy

with
Ensign Aristi Ferguson (PCC/APC)
Navigation,
USS Galaxy

Location: USS Galaxy, Ens. Tarin's quarters and surrounding hallways

The day had been long and quite abusive on the feet. Even a pair of well-worn and by now extremely comfortable standard-issue Starfleet boots couldn't keep Ensign Tarin's feet from protesting their rough treatment. Omitting the three lowest decks (schematics had been enough to show her what was down there), Iniara had in the past few hours traversed the entire ship, from Deck 39 all the way up to Deck 1. Idly, she wondered just how many kilometers that amounted to.

Descending just one deck from the top, Iniara made her way through the broadly curved hallways to her quarters. She had completed her goal of gaining a basic familiarity with all parts of the ship, even if it had taken her well into the evening to complete the tour. Satisfied, her mind turned to thoughts of shedding her uniform, kicking her feet up, and relaxing a little before...

~Roommate?~ That word alone entered Iniara's thoughts as she stepped into her quarters, noting the obvious presence of another being in her newly acquired living space. A large, multicolored blanket lay folded up at the foot of one bunk, and several holoimages and various knicknacks were spread across the low shelf that ran across the head of the bunk. A couple larger pieces dotted the desk to her left. Some of the pieces looked like artifacts, others just looked like ordinary rocks, while one or two looked like a combination of both.

Musing on the artifacts and things Iniara wondered what her roommate would be like, and where she was at the moment since the room was obviously empty. She let her PADD, its smooth exterior now quite warm from being carried around all day, clatter to the other, empty desk. Apparently this one was now hers.

"Hello?" A muffled voice filtered in from the back corner of the room. "I'll be out in a second, just putting some things away." So the room wasn't empty after all.

The voice, apparently female, sounded friendly enough. It also contained an accent, maybe Terran, giving the words almost a melodic quality. "Take your time," Iniara called back, stooping to pull her duffel out from under the desk so she could unpack as well.

"Oh! I figured you wanted the right side of the room," the voice continued, "since your stuff was under the desk on that side." Iniara shrugged in indifference, although she knew the other woman couldn't see it. "I went ahead and took the left side. I hope you don't mind, but if you want to we can always swap, no trouble. Ah, finished!" Iniara heard something, a small trunk perhaps, slam shut.

A moment later the owner of the voice emerged, smiling widely. Close to Iniara's height and build, she was dressed in a smartly pressed officer's uniform, with a single gold pip gleaming brightly on her deep red collar. A subtle red sheen accented her glossy black hair, which was side-parted and swept back loosely from her youthful face and held at the nape of her neck by a dull silverish barrette. Her eyes, perhaps the most interesting feature on her face, were mismatched: the left eye was a nondescript brownish-grey while the right was a significantly lighter solid grey, almost a silver color, and most definitely artificial.

But Ensign Tarin saw none of this as she faced her new roommate. All she could concentrate on was the woman's high forehead, protruding facial ridges, pale greyish skin, pronounced neck...

Cardassian.

"You must be Iniara," she began, her voice and demeanor radiating excitement. "I'm Aristi. Aristi Ferguson. It's a pleasure to meet you, roommate!" Aristi stuck her hand out, still smiling.

For Iniara, the whole universe seemed to slow, as if she was now moving underwater. ~*ohnothiscantbehappening*~ She was only vaguely aware that her grip on her bag had loosened, allowing it to drop noiselessly to her feet with almost comical slowness. ~*pleasenotthisanythingbutthishelpmehelpmehelpme*~ She saw her own hand reach out and firmly grasp Aristi's, barely feeling the warmth emanating from the smooth grey skin. "Good to meet you, Aristi," she heard herself say.

~*dontpleaseletgosowarmhotgetbackrunawaygogogonow*~

Aristi's smile faded just a bit as she sensed something amiss. "You okay?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Iniara forced out, somehow managing to release Aristi's hand. ~*getbackrunawaynowdamnyougogogo*~ Her conscious mind had recoiled in surprise and near-horror; military discipline and a great deal of personal willpower were the only things keeping her together. "Just..." She took a deep breath, her mind screaming at itself to do something, anything. ~*GOGOGONOWGONOWGO*~ "Just realized I...forgot something. On...the...bridge." She took another deep breath, almost regaining control. "I gotta go. Be right back."

And with that, Iniara turned and almost fled her quarters, leaving behind a very confused Aristi, who really hoped it wasn't (but somehow knew it was) her appearance that had scared Ensign Tarin clear out of the room.

Out in the hallway, Iniara staggered away, clutching at her chest and gulping down huge gasps of air. She was no medical expert, but it certainly felt like she had been on the verge of a panic attack. Staring into the face of one's most feared and hated enemy was bad enough, but learning they were to be sharing your living space for goodness only knows how long was almost too much to take.

Iniara summoned the first turbolift she could find, almost falling into the tiny circular room. She tried to calm herself, eyes squeezed painfully shut as she screamed at her mind to just...~*thisistoomuchicanttakethiswhothefuckhowamigonnalivethrough*~

"SHUT UP!" she screamed to nothing in particular.

A split second later the computer chirped. "Please repeat the request," the turbolift asked in its pleasantly neutral voice.

Confused, Iniara stopped for a second. Then she laughed. At first it was a little chuckle, but the chuckle fed itself and grew until it was almost a sick cackle. She had almost lost it! Suddenly discovering a Cardassian in her quarters had jarred her like very few things had done before, but now it just seemed absurd. She was on a Starfleet vessel, and her roommate was a Starfleet officer. Not a sadistic Gul, not an Obsidian Order agent, just a plain old Starfleet Ensign. A friendly one at that.

Someone had stuck them together for a reason, there was no other explanation. Iniara had a good idea what that reason might have been, but she had no clue who might have had the final word in assigning them to the same quarters. Maybe it was a test, for one or even both of them. That had to be it, she reasoned. And with new resolve, Iniara exited the turbolift, striding down the hallway and back into her quarters.

"Get what you needed?" Aristi asked, now perched on the corner of her bunk.

"Yeah," Iniara responded, still relatively calm. "Sorry about that. So, where were we?"

She smiled, outwardly and inwardly. ~I can do this. I will pass this test.~

"A friendly body"

Commander Navarre Shinta
CMC Gabriel Mahler

Shinta was stretching, dressed in her workout clothes she was warming her muscles. "You know, even at your age you should try to stay in shape."

The old Chief of the Boat cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Excuse me?"

"Face it, old man, you are just scared I will whip your ass." Just being in the gym made her feel better. And she grinned at him.

He was fairly sure he wouldn't have to hold back very much. Shinta was a capable fighter, but he planned on landing a few punches just to get her off balance, maybe even make that self-control of hers, the one that was causing all the trouble, to crack for a few. Get her angry for real. Mahler pulled on the sparring gloves, adjusting the velcro for a good fit and rolled his eyes in response.

She put on her gloves still taunting him.

"You going to talk me into submission or do you actually plan to hit me at some point?" the old man grinned and bit down on the mouth guard, pulling the guard tight.

Shinta came at him using some kickboxing techniques, yet she was holding back not wanting to hurt him

Sensing she was holding back Mahler made sure she wouldn't do that again. A couple of quick jabs found their mark, not really harmful, but annoying as hell.

"You..." she mumbled and then put some extra effort into it. This was going to be more of a fight than she expected.

Despite his age Mahler had a good footwork. He refused to get cornered and kept waving his body back and forth while working with the jab, using the two advantages he had - reach and weight. His bodyhits, although certainly not at full power, still landed heavily. But again that was more to make Shinta angry than have any real effect.

And she was beginning to get angry, certainly not holding back any more. Shinta was now totally focused and trying to take him out.

"What?" he asked with a sly grin. "Surprised the dinosaur could move?"

"I will get you." She growled. "Don't think that after all this time you can win."

Mahler replied with a taunting grin, but was greeted with a hard hook to the side of his head. He pulled back, finding his rhythm again and went back to jabbing. When ever possible he went close and clinched Shinta, locking up her arms, once again using weight and reach to his own advantage. Anything to get her angry.

It was definitely getting to her. Now she was not holding back at all, and she was swinging at him with the beginnings of real anger. A lot of aggression was coming out.

He pulled the guard tighter, blocking most of the blows with his arms and hands. There were less precision in her swings and more power. Good. Her eyes had gotten darker too which was exactly what he wanted. He continued to jab to ruin as much of her own rhythm as possible, adding to her frustration. But in exchange he had to take a few blows that hit him squarely in the side.

Gabe was beginning to fade, she was beginning to see an object to hit, something at which to let the anger out. So the blows became less co-ordinated yet faster and harder as tears leaked from her eyes.

There was not much to do except let Shinta go at it. Dodging the blows would not have been too difficult, but it would also undo what was happening inside Shinta. Instead the old sailor tightened the guard even more and rolled with the blows as best he could. He'd feel it in the morning, but it would be worth it.

It took her several minutes until she realised that she was doing and then she stopped abruptly, horror on her face. "Gabriel, I am so sorry." She said between the tears.

Mahler took out the mouth guard and looked at Shinta with warm and friendly look on his face. "What for? You haven't done anything wrong."

"You weren't fighting back. I used to be an instructor, I should have..." the tears were still coming.

"I didn't have to.. you had your hands full fighting yourself." Gabriel told her calmly and took off the gloves.

A second later she hid in his arms and finally didn't try to hold back the flood any longer.

He wrapped a pair of strong arms around her, gently rocking her while the knots started to loosen up inside of her. Being a good officer was not always about being good with weapons. At times it was about being humane. Being able to make people believe in themselves, to make them feel needed and understand that it is alright to feel bad at times.

She had a long cry her whole body shaking. Then she released herself feeling a little bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's just... I hardly remember my father... and you..." she blushed. "It should be the other way around I should be there for you."

The Starfleet veteran looked at Shinta, his hand resting on her shoulder. "We all need someone from time to time... this time it was you.." Mahler told her gently. "Simple as that... and as for you being there for me, well.. you already have. More than you know."

She smiled slightly through her tears.

"I'm here for you. Whenever the sky gets to dark or the sea too rough, I'm here. I'm here even with blue skies and calm horizons." The white haired man promised her, a promise coming from a man who took his word very seriously.

"Thank you. It lifts some of the strain. I should do this more often."

"That's why I sail. It clears the head like nothing else."

"Usually hitting a punchbag does it for me... so how about we get that drink now?"

Mahler nodded. "Sounds like a good idea.. meet you there in thirty minutes."

"Certainly." She gave him another hug and then moved to the showers.

"Learning Colors From a Blind Man"

Lt. Ella Grey
Arkedi Nitel'rajek

Ella knocked on the frame of the open door and then waved when the occupant of the room looked up from what he was reading. She passed him the computer PADD with the prewritten message.

*DO YOU HAVE A MINUTE?*- it read.

Confused, Arkedi glanced back and forth between this new PADD and the one he was reading, 'Restricted Negative Adverb Movement in Federation Standard.' It contained only one line of text. Curious, he thought. He glanced up at the young woman who had handed it to him; a few inches shorter than he, brown hair and eyes, human, very cute, then back at the PADD. To bad he didn't know what it said.

"This is 'Standard' text?" he asked, then he shrugged, his large purple wings shifting upwards in the movement, "I cannot read Federation Standard text. You can just tell me that it says what?"

Ella blinked and then smiled. Trust a linguist to not know how to read Standard. She pointed to her throat and then shook her head.

Linguists rule number one: when you don't understand a communication signal, repeat it. So, Arkedi smiled, though it was more of an awkward half smile, took his own finger and pointed it to his throat. It spit out a sound, "Eh?"

Used to this, Ella repeated the gesture and then pretended to speak, only without words, and then shook her head again.

Arkedi watched her gestures with great, uncomprehending, curiousity. Finally it coalesced, "Ih! You cannot speak?"

The engineer nodded. She walked over and took back her PADD. *DO YOU UNDERSTAND KLINGON?* She wrote in Klingon. Ella had learned how to read the language during her stay at the Academy. It was the only other language that she knew.

Arkedi studied the PADD for a moment. Then he rotated it in his hands, and looked, then spun it again so that now it was upside-down. Then he craned his neck, rotating his head around in the opposite direction. The sound of a palm slapping against a forehead caused him to look back up. "Sema, itu. I do not know this text also," he apologized, handing the PADD back.

Ella sighed. This was becomming more difficult than it was worth.

"Ih! Ih, I know. Can you write Mika'Kardi?"

A blank expression crossed her features and then she shook her head. Ella held up her finger in a 'one moment' gesture and walked out of the office. A minute later she returned, dragging along the first hapless, Federation Standard speaking, ensign that she could find.

The ensign read the new message outloud. "It says, I would like your help to teach me how to speak."

"Teach you to speak? Teach you to speak Mika'kardi?" he asked confused, uncertain if the text translated correctly.

Ella pinched the bridge of her nose and then replied on the computer PADD. The ensign dutifully read. "No, I would like you to teach me how to speak Federation Standard."

"Ih, I see," Arkedi said, nodding to himself. He continued that motion silently for another moment, his eyes gradually losing focus before they jerked back up to Ella. "Huh?" he questioned, then looked over at the misplaced ensign, "She means what?"

The ensign looked around the room, as if he had just been woken from a nap by being called on by a teacher. "Uh..." he stalled, his eyes darting towards Ella and then back at the PADD. "She wants you to teach her how to speak Federation Standard," he read again.

"She knows 'Standard.' She writes it to you now already," Arkedi explained, peering at the screen and confirming the recognizable, though unreadable, text.

Ella litterally slapped her forehead and then wrote a long winded message for the ensign. "Uh, she says she has been voluntarily mute for a few years and she's trying to teach herself how to speak again. She says youre supposed to be good and wonders if you could give her a few guidelines."

"Am good, eh?" Arkedi repeated perking up in mock pride. "Well, of course I shall help then."

The ensign turned towards Ella, "You're voluntarily mute? I thought you were born that way, why on Earth would anyone choose not to speak?"

Ella, of course, gave no response save for a dark glare that Victor would have been proud of. The ensign took in a breath of air as he leaned back slightly, "Right, I understand."

"You have been mute for long time, yes? Many years? Forget how speak, ka kechakedi," the Fruna'lin mumbled, slipping into his native tongue. "Esema, examination one. Make sound."

Ella fervently shook her head.

"Oh," The ensign replied. "She won't talk in front of us though."

This clearly did not make sense to Arkedi. He turned to the ensign, his hand gesturing towards Ella, and opened his mouth to speak. "If she does not..." he started, but paused as the ensign pointed to Ella. Arkedi continued, redirected, "You will not speak to me, I will teach you how?"

"Tell me how its usually done." The ensign said reading her message. "And I will do it on my own."

"Speech, you learn, um..." Arkedi began, searching for the words. He put out his hands, passing them back and forth over each other, slowly decreasing amplitude until they met and stuck together. "You learn imitation and correction."

Ella tilted her head. That made sense, of course. She wrote on her computer PADD.

"Do you have any programs that I could do this with?" The ensign asked for Ella.

The linguist sat and thought for a moment, leaning onto the back of a chair. "Is much data I can give. And records, um, sound records. Imitation," he said, symbolically offering his hand. "But, computer cannot correct you; cannot figure out that you are doing what wrong. Not easy, very hard to do that. But I do, yes? I will teach you."

Ella pursed her lips in thought. She could probably create some kind of program in collaboration with this man that *did* correct her. Better a program to hear her than a real person. She asked him, through the ensign, if this was possible.

Arkedi shrugged. "Perhaps. But, I do not understand you will not let me teach you why?"

"Because I'm not ready to have anyone hear me...yet." The ensign dutifully read. "I suppose this is all top secret and that you will sick your lover on me to kill me if I speak word of this to anyone," he then asked his voice, Ella. He was again rewarded with another glare, though this one meant to confirm the seriousness of the situation rather than to strike fear. "Right, yes, obviously."

The Fruna'lin watched the two interact, trying to reason out thier implied communications and priorities, trying to understand the engineer's situation. He couldn't and the attempt made his head hurt. "You humans," he said, his face collapsing into his open hands, "you make no sense, do not understand. I will help, sema, of course." He lifted his gaze, "But, you .... are odd."

Ella smiled.

"Well, all right then," the ensign said, "now that I'm thoroughly late for duty, I'll be going now. He waved, more of a half salute, then turned to leave the office.

"Ynel! Er, uh, wait!," Arkedi called after, "Her name. I do not know, her name is what?"

The ensign stared at the alien, like he just said the universe wasn't expanding. "Ella Grey, in Engineering. You don't know her, you don't know Ella Grey? She's the mute, everyone knows Ella Grey. I hear she's really limber, if you know what I mean," he winked, clicking through the side of his mouth twice.

While it was true that she was pretty limber, she didn't really like the implications of that statement. Ella gave the ensign a long, appraising look that had him forgetting his girlfriend for a moment. And then he snapped out of it and walked quickly away. Ella chuckled.

"Wait," Arkedi pleaded, half towards Ella, half yelling down the corridor. "Wait, I, I do not....limber? Means what, I, I do not know 'what he means,'" he rambled, his voice becoming more desperate as the ensign retreated. But, he could get no answer, he could only get Ella's silent gaze.

"Elite and Lofty?"

By Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander Arel Smith
Commander Rayna O'Grady
Lieutenant Commander T'Chani Darion
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Major Peter Shaw

Location: Holodeck Six, USS Miranda

The meeting James was about to engage in was... intimidating at best.

Stepping out of a visit with Commander Navarre, Miranda's chief counselor and ex-crewmate of the Galaxy's chief of security, James hurried to his meeting with a feeling of forboding. Common pre-meeting anxiety, the usual Chudian Bolweevles in his stomach churning up acid all the way to his throat, the slightly wobbled step, the way the turbolift lurched that much more when he stepped in and asked to be shot electromagnetically upwards to the next deck.

All very normal.

James was about to meet more ex-crewmen for the first time in years. Commanders Arel Smith and Rayna O'Grady were on the Galaxy during his first tour of duty, and they were reliable officers. Rayna was a professional, all the more admirable since she balanced a family life with her duties. Arel Smith, the last he checked, was a Human with a Klingon heart... and a Klingon attitude which gave her a hot under the collar disposition. To reach the rank of Commander must have been a learning experience indeed!

The Hazard Team CO and XO were a mystery to him. T'Chani Darion, a Romulan/Betazoid hybrid, therefore James had to be on guard for stray thoughts and comments in which the Hazard Team leader could pick up (thereby, no deceit). Major Peter Shaw he knew not much about, but he was a Marine, and James' experience with the Marines on the Galaxy was less than positive. He would have to keep his biases to himself.

Lastly, Captain Elaithin Jii added to the mix of noteworthy members of the Miranda's crew. James served under Elaithin while Elaithin was the security chief. Seeing him with a red uniform and four pips on his collar was a sight he couldn't get used to.

Of course, James really had no way of knowing that was adjustment that had taken Jii quite some time as well.

All factors that led to his nervousness collided when he meet with the Miranda's counterparts. It was James that was going to be scrutinizing the Hazard Team and considering a Galaxy version of the team himself. James was the one that would access their readiness and effectiveness in combat and peacetime scenarios. Why was he nervous? Was it the weight and possible consequences, the pure fact that this meeting was going to determine if the Galaxy was going to have an elite squad?

Or was it the fact that he was the lowest ranking officer, taking advice from rank superiors? Technically, T'Chani was the lowest rank, with Shaw as her equivalent, but she was the CO of an elite squad, and he the Exec. James was the equivalent of a wheat chewing county sherriff. There was no way James could be their equals!

Corgan did not want to waste time with the introductions. "Good day everyone." James extended his hand out, "I am Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, the USS Galaxy's Chief of Security."

"Lieutenant Commander T'Chani Darion, Hazard Team CO," she kept her introduction short then turned to her XO. "Are we all set to go Major?" After a long trip back to the Alpha Quadrant she was looking forward to showing off the Hazard Team's abilities.

Captain Elaithin walked into the holodeck not a moment later, his step rushed. He'd just come from his breakfast with Captain M'Kantu, and the message of warning the pair had received. A million thoughts were spinning through his head as he'd returned to the Miranda, remembering that he'd made an appointment with 'Commander Corgan in regards to the Hazard Team.

"James!" he said amiably, hiding his concerns. They could wait for the moment. Nothing to be done until Command contacted them in a more official capacity anyway. For now, all he could do was quietly get the Miranda's crew ready, while Daren did the same for Galaxy's. "It's good to see you. Welcome aboard the Miranda."

"Thank you very much, sir. It has been awhile, and I'm glad to see that you are doing well." James vigorously shook Jii's hand, "I thank you for taking time off your schedule for this meeting, for I'm sure you must be very busy. I hear that you guys have something special prepared this morning."

"I'm sure 'Commander Darion will be more than willing to oblige." the Captain replied, stepping back to defer to the Hazard officers, who were the center of attention here.

"Major Pete Shaw, Hazard XO," Pete told the Galaxy's Security Chief. Pete looked back at T'Chani, "And we do, Commander. I have set up a basic assault mission, with the rescue of the Captain and First Officer. The team will have to get in, and get the Captain and First Officer out safely. All standard rules apply, if your hit, you will feel it, but it wont be lethal, even if its a shot to the head. The computer will also keep track of your health, and tell if you will be able to go on or not," he finished.

Commander O'Grady walked in, hearing just the tail end of what the Major was saying. The few months had taken a toll on her and it showed. She looked somewhat tired and a bit older too. Rayna didn't say much to anyone. She was told to report but was never told what it was about. She studied the people around her, resting her eyes on Corgan.

"Commander O'Grady!" James cheerfully greeting another ex-comrade, "Thank you for coming, ma'am. It has been awhile."

Rayna spoke in an almost monotone voice, "Thank you. A lot has changed since then."

Elaithin's heart went out to his former Executive Officer then. It had been nearly three months since her husband had disappeared, during their encounter with the counterparts from the mirror universe. Mike O'Grady had been a good husband to Rayne, who'd desperately deserved one. He'd been a friend to Jii as well. After an exhaustive search of the ship, the only conclusion left available was that he somehow remained on "the other side of the looking glass."

It was a sobering and frightening thought, and Miranda's crew could only hope for the best for one of their own, now lost in the woods.

"Oh... I... *ahem*." The Galaxy's security chief coughed, taken aback by O'Grady's response. He then shifted to a less calm and casual greeting, and back into a more businesslike form. His words were crisp and precise, without the jovial nature of before. His goal was to impress, and he forgot that his previous reputation as an unstable basketcase would be detrimental to his presentation. "Sorry to take time out of your schedules, Sirs and Ma'ams, but I wanted to speak to everyone involved in this meeting about implementing a Hazard Team onto the USS Galaxy."

Rayna stood there and nodded. She had no other comment at that time.

Pete stood there and listened. He stood straight up, not slouching at all.

James continued on with his speech, "You see, during my service as the Chief of Security on the Galaxy, I have found that we encounter threats that need more than a Security team to handle. Much like the USS Voyager, Enterprise, and the Miranda, the Galaxy has often encountered hostile forces. Since the major refit on our vessel, we have encountered Tholians, fought off Orion, beat back a Romulan ambush, survived a haunted starship and barely escaped a revolution that brought down the Gryphon Coalition. Since our ship has been refitted to be a war vessel, we are sent to some dangerous areas."

Settling his breath, James thought he was doing well. He wanted to wrap up his speech quick, for he feared being long winded. "Therefore, I feel that there is a need for an elite squad much like your own. I have come today to not only see a Hazard Team in action, but also ask questions about the Hazard Team's role on your ship, their integration into your crew, training, equipment... the works. To be honest, I have never done anything like this before, and I was hoping to get some consultation from people with experience."

To Pete it sounded like a good idea, especially for a ship like the Galaxy. Pete had taken some time to go over the Galaxy's records and found that they hardly ever had a peaceful mission.

Arel Smith, who was currently fighting back a hunger headache and the irritation she felt with a few of her security officers for various reasons, grunted "What do you want to know?"

"For starters, ma'am, I would like to know about the integration of the Hazard Team into your crew. I was wondering if there were any role conflicts among the Hazard Team and Security departments."

T'Chani looked from Arel to Galaxy's Security Chief and back again, "There have never been any conflicts between the two departments that I know of."

"I also know of none," Pete said.

Rayna confirmed what the other two said, "That makes three of us. They do their thing, we do ours."

"'Commander Darion formerly commanded and was a member of the Ranger unit aboard the Miranda, before that department was absorbed by Starfleet into the Hazard Team program." the Captain clarified momentarily. "As such, she's quite experience with both sides of the line, having been a Starfleet tactical officer before that. Commanders Smith and O'Grady are consummate professionals as well, so it's provided for a smooth working relationship for all involved."

"I would also like to learn about the Hazard Team's role when they are not sent on missions. Do they return to their original departments until called to Hazard Team duty like on Enterprise or Voyager?"

"We've always been a separate entity from other departments. Hazard Team is our main duty. That doesn't mean we don't encourage cross taining for other skills because that does come in handy. Our duty isn't your typical Security or Tactical role as you already know. In short our capabilities exist because we're trained to handle a wide variety of tasks within the team."

"I know," Pete started, "that I also work with the Flight Control Department, taking shifts here and there when they need a fill in. I have also been known to work down on the flight deck as deck crew, again when they needed help."

"Ahhh... that's good." James nodded, "I was afraid of conflicting duty schedules. I'm sure my Captain wouldn't mind if I put the Hazard Team members on part time."

The Captain stood back then, allowing his officers to answer more of James' questions. He was prepared to step in if needed, of course, but these were all grown men and women, not Toryl and his friends. They didn't need him hovering.

"Oh my!" James light clicked on, "The exercise. Shall we?"

"This a straight forward seach and retrival exercise. The team has a general idea of where our missing officers are being held but no specifics beyond that. Intel gave us a building layout and estimated number of guards. We're trained to operate as a single unit or smaller two person teams if circumstances are suited for that kind of thing.. It helps if we can get solid information to work from but thats not always the case."

James was watching the whole exercise on the viewing monitors patched into the holodeck. The Hazard Team moved cautiously to their objective, one after the other, a fast moving chain where everyone's back was watched, all angles aimed and scanned. Their progress to the Captain and the First Officer (their holographic representations) was steady, briefly halted by holographic terrorists. None of the enemy had the fortitude or smarts to handle Hazard Team's advance.

"They're good. Cautious. Cover all angles. Their training is excellent." Galaxy's Chief of Security smiled, "We still use the Starfleet Marine Corp. training schedule left behind by our former Marine detatchment. Quite stringent; it drives the new recruits ragged. Tell me, how often does the Hazard Team train? Can you also tell me about their training regiment? If they also work with security during exercise hours?"

"To answer your question we train constantly. If its not keeping up with our weapons certifications, its medical, communications, engineering, or some other vital skill that may be required. Our training regiment is based off Marine and Ranger unit training. The big difference is we don't just stick with the conventional methods of getting things done," the Hazard Team CO replied.

James watched as he listened, observing Hazard Team as they picked apart the mission, dissecting it with surgical precision.

The equipment facinated him the most. Starfleet security hasn't been issued Hazard Team style uniforms. "I haven't been given the specs on the Hazard Team uniforms, but I have heard a few good reviews from Janes. Protection from hazardous environments, limited decompression protection with the optional helmet, small arms protection... they spared no expense. How have they worked for you guys so far?"

"They are quite useful. Our mission parameters require the team to work in a wide variety of environments. More often than not when were planetside we have duties that would stand up to standard security issue uniforms or equipment," T'Chani answered his question.

Corgan breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank god. Security officers have been demanding uniforms with better protection for years. I'd feel alot safer with the Hazard Team uniforms. We don't have the replicator pattern on our ship yet. Mind if we copy yours?"

"I don't see a problem with it," T'Chani replied, "Though thats not really my area of expertise."

"Thank you very much." James shook hands on the agreement, and added, "Any other unique equipment I should be aware of?"

T'Chani glanced in his direction, "I'd say that is a question that varies depending on our mission objectives. As a top notch unit Starfleet makes sure we have what's require to carry out or misison. Every member of the team is capable of handling a wide variety of weapons beyond the typical security loadout. If a mission requires specialized equipment that we don't already have on board we can solve that."

Down below, the Hazard Team closed in on the Captain and first officer. Meters away from enclosing Hazard Team commandoes, a group of five Naussican mercenaries held the high ranking officers at disruptor point. All adversaries were barking in loud tones, and generally confused. One was rapping at a communications device while carelessly waving his pistol; most likely the leader.

On the other side of the wall, Hazard Team stealthily parked beside the entrance of the room. One member crouched down and prepared a photonic stun grenade, while a combat engineer patched the door's encrypted controls into his tricorder. The squad leader sign languaged his engineer. The engineer waved him off, holding two fingers up, and pointing to the door. Two other members hovered over the man with the grenade, rifles raised, one ready to shoot through the entrance whilst the other watched the rear. A sixth member spied the other end of the corridor, keeping the team leader's back safe.

"They are good, sirs, ma'ams." Admitted Galaxy's security chief, nodding and whistling his approval, "It's going to be difficult getting to this calibre. I was thinking about making our Hazard Team strictly a volunteer force, to draw talent that is already on our ship. How did you guys recruit?"

"All of our team ended up on the Miranda same as any other Starfleet assignment. Background wise they all came from previous Ranger commands or fields condusive to honing their training for a Hazard Team position, like Security or in my case Tactical. We don't operate on a volunteer basis. While one can request a transfer to the team all of those are handled with just as much scrutiny."

"Do you think volunteers would be such a good idea?"

T'Chani looked at the others, "I'd say it really depends on the candidate's previous background. A lot of what we do can't be mastered in a single training session or even a few. Sure one can improve upon individual skills or how to use a weapon. Hazard Team requires a different mindset than most other jobs within the Fleet. Those that end up on the team have trained for it long before they ever end up here and have accepted all that goes with an assignment such as this one."

"Ahhh. I see." James hummed, seriously reconsidering his thoughts on requesting volunteers from the ship, "I know there are a few talented individuals on our ship that could qualify. Its just a matter of finding them. And since we're off to Breen, we won't be able to pick up any professionals until the mission is over. But I guess it couldn't hurt to find a few individuals on our ship with the right stuff."

Down in the holodeck, the Miranda Hazard Team was ready to strike. The man with the grenade waited patiently for the door hacker to give the thumbs up signal. The strike team tensed up, while on the other side of the wall the Naussicans were becoming increasingly argumentative. The Naussican with the gun to the Captain's head waved it off, trying to illustrate a point to his subordinates.

The door hacker pressed a button on his tricorder.

The grenade tosser threw the photon grenade between the cracks.

A bright flash of photonic energy pulsed through the door and flooded the room. The Naussicans, caught unaware, were flung aside like leaves in a maelstrom, finding the hard floors and furniture as their only cushion.

The flood of action afterwards was fast, even by Corgan's experience in starship boarding tactics. The Hazard Team phasered any Naussicans whom tried to resist, fireman carried the unconcious Captain and First Officer, and ran out while covering their escape.

"I'd like to thank you all again for this wonderful opportunity." James shook hands with each officer again, "If I have any more questions, i'll let you all know."

His final glance down at the holodeck was whistful and satisfactory. "Thanks to you guys, we'll have some very high standards to approach and surmount, but I have faith in the fact that we can do it. Again, thanks."

"No problem at all, James." Elaithin replied, walking out of the holodeck with the man who now had his old job.

"Graveyard Duel" pt III

ROGUES
Major Wes Hammond, Rogue One
Flight Officer Pikarr Ekrayn, Rogue Two
Major Joral Anton, Rogue XO/ Rogue Five
Flight Officer Jeffrey Clemons, Rogue Six
Lieutenant Medea Sinistrari, Rogue Seven
Major Rena Starburst, Three Flight Lead/ Rogue Nine
Major Veronique (Deuce) St Melisande, Flight Instructor - Rogue 10

VANGUARDS:
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Vanguard One
Pilot Kell Tainer, Vanguard Two
Flight Officer T'Shani "Forgehammer" A'Akledorian, Vanguard Three
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard XO/Vanguard Six
Pilot Heather Lewis, Vanguard Seven
Pilot Jackson Stone, Vanguard Eight
Lieutenant Kettch, Vanguard Ten
Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven
Pilot Voss Ferris, Vanguard Thirteen

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

Tish heard Jazz's call, but couldn't do too much, as she was on Rogue Seven, with 'Prophet' right beside her, trailing 'Five'.

The Andorian pilot keyed her mic: [Forgehammer...Prophet, nice to see you. Stay back, it looks like they're going to split. There's a nice Ritak'in freighter hulk at Mark zero-zero-five by zero-seven-four. That's where I'd go and hide.]

[I see it.] came the terse reply. Voss had already been playing through the various flight vectors in his head, but he knew that it would eventually come down to instinct and reaction times. Still, it never hurt to have some sort of plan. [How do you want to play it Forgehammer?]

[Waste 'Five', then get your ass on afterburner to the other end of that freighter. I'm gonna put a 'skinner' on 'Seven', copy?]

Voss nodded. [Copy that. Prophet going in...]

Chuckling in his cockpit, Joral keyed his comm to Medea. "They know where we're headed, Babe. Let 'em close, then whip into the superstructure. Don't lose my signal as you cut through. I'll see you on the other side."

Joral gunned over the freighter's dorsal main-brace, letting loose a single torpedo, knocking the main-brace loose, and giving his pursuer one more thing to dodge. He checked the ID on the craft following him: Vanguard Thirteen.

The Major raised his eyebrows. ~Thirteen? Superior craft and superior numbers. That hardly seems fair...~ It didn't help that at least three Rogues were already out of the fight.

Voss saw the incoming brace and ducked it easily, though with a bit of irritation. Even with full shields, an impact at these speeds could result in a nasty outcome.

Tish veered with Sinistrari, as Rogue Seven did - indeed - veer toward the hulk. It seemed 'Seven's pilot wasn't paying too much attention to the rear of her craft, as she tried to power-down and attach to the underside of the freighter's broken superstructure. Tish smiled, while immediately keying her full targeting sensors to 'ACTIVE', lighting Rogue Seven up like the proverbial Terran 'Christmas Tree'...

Almost as if with a sixth sense, Medea took off into the freighter, adjusting her systems for maximum speed and sensors.

In the midst of his run, Joral had abandoned the exterior skimming and dove into the structure of the freighter. Hopefully, Medea wouldn't be missing him too much when he pulled out. After all, the two of them had already pulled this trick inside a Borg Cube once.

He tipped his craft to starboard, gunning straight across the central axis, then doubling back through the main container brace section. By the time he had looped out and thrown all his systems to passive, Vanguard Thirteen had completely lost track of him.

Joral smirked, whipping his fighter back around to the point that he expected both Medea and Vanguard Three to come out... in theory, at any rate. Keying his comm, he called Medea: "Dammit, Dea, where the hell are you? I can't wait around here much longer..."

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

Upon hearing Vanguard Six's request for emergency, Veronique contacted the station, "Rogue 10 to SimCon: Vanguard Six is Dead, declaring Emergency. Avionics Sour. Requesting tow truck to home plate."

"SimCon to Rogue 10: Unable to get tow truck out. Hold hands with Vanguard Six. You're fighter is no longer under SimCon control." As the words were spoken, her avionics came on line. As she watched, she got a God's Eye from the Station, showing the last known location of Vanguard Six.

"Roger SimCon," confirmed Veronique as her craft barrel rolled so, she was heading towards Vanguard Six.

As the fighter was going through the maneuver, another communications came out from Simulation Control on the station. "SimCon to all units: Rogue 10 and Vanguard Six are no factor. Repeat they are no factor. Disengage on these units."

Vectoring in on Vanguard Six and with the God's Eye from the Station. It wasn't too long before Veronique matched velocities with the other fighter. "Vanguard Six, this is Rogue 10: You're saddled with me. We're holding hands to get you back to home plate. Follow me."

"I've got station-keeping thrusters only, Rogue Ten, it looks like this avionics job is an electrical failure. These things are too tied in with the ship, blow one thing and the whole damn unit's trashed. It'll be a slow job, but inertia should get me there, "Jasmine replied as she goosed her fighter to follow the Rogue. "Good flying out there, Ten. I was looking forward to 'killing' you."

"Slow and steady wins the race, Six. Maybe if the techs can get you back in the action, we'd find out the truth. Still round two to slug out," returned Veronique. It was almost four hundred clicks to the station. Transferring main reaction mass to the quads, Six would have plenty of fuel. Averaging about 1 m/s2, they'd get to the station in about nine hundred seconds. "Set the quads for full. Get to the station in about quarter of an hour. You got auto-pilot? Or we'll slave to my systems?"

"I don't trust my system as far as I can throw it right now, Ten. I'd prefer to slave to a system that we know is working right now," Jasmine replied glaring at her avionics displays for all the good it did.

"SimCon has given me codes, your systems are slaved. Sit back and relax, Six. Rogue Airways will get you home. Hell of a lot better than that Vanguard mob," quipped Veronique.

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

Wes Hammond came in silent, drifting along, attached to a piece of debris from an ancient Algolian Star Liner. The opulence of the old ship could still be seen in the rich appointment of the room that he saw through the viewport he was attached to. 'Starbuck' West had been an interesting challenge, but had proven unable to keep up during their chase and had tried to power down and ambush him on the way back in. Unfortunately, Hammond had been keeping his eyes on the sensors, and had done most of the ambushing.

Eyeing a new target, he noticed Vanguard 11 off on her own. Angelienia, the Ktarian, if his memorization of the rosters was correct. The trajectory was just right too. Unless something changed, the spinning debris would allow him to pop off of it and catch her from behind. Monitoring the passive sensors, he planned out the movements ahead couple steps into the duel.

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

Corran and Rena momentarily paused in their stare down as they heard Heloi's call. Rex was about to take himself out of the fight to tend to his Exec when he heard a Rogue pilot - St. Melisande - deal with it first.

Keying the comm - and keeping an eye on Rogue Nine - he set it for Jazz' fighter. "Jazz, you good?" he asked simply, verifying that she hadn't been injured.

["More than mildly irritating, Lead, but clear. Keep on having fun."] came the former actress' reply.

"Roger that. You have my permission to take St. Melisande and get the drinking started."

["Aye aye, sir."] was the sardonic reply, and the comm chirped signaling a signal close.

Then Starburst made her move. The Rogue's impulse engines gunned do full, and she made a straight run for Corran's Vanguard fighter. Grinning, the Trill responded in kind, his own, newer fighter picking up quicker speed - and again on a direct course.

The space between the two ships closed quickly as both remained on a collision course, each waiting to see if they other would move.

Neither did.

Until, at the last moment, Starburst swore, and whipped her fighter down, around, and under, nearly scraping the two hulls together. Bringing up in a loop behind Vanguard One - or trying too, as he was no longer in his previous position - Rena swore again. "You used to give." she said, trigger a comm to her target.

["Times change, Red."]

"You really are crazy."

["That's the rumor."] he replied as she spotted his impulse engines flaring as he skimmed the hull of a burnt-out Excelsior-Class hulk. "You want me, Red, come and get me."

"Graveyard Duel" - Part IV

ROGUES
Major Wes Hammond, Rogue One
Flight Officer Pikarr Ekrayn, Rogue Two
Major Joral Anton, Rogue XO/ Rogue Five
Flight Officer Jeffrey Clemons, Rogue Six
Lieutenant Medea Sinistrari, Rogue Seven
Major Rena Starburst, Three Flight Lead/ Rogue Nine
Major Veronique (Deuce) St Melisande, Flight Instructor - Rogue 10

VANGUARDS:
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Vanguard One
Pilot Kell Tainer, Vanguard Two
Flight Officer T'Shani "Forgehammer" A'Akledorian, Vanguard Three
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard XO/Vanguard Six
Pilot Heather Lewis, Vanguard Seven
Pilot Jackson Stone, Vanguard Eight
Lieutenant Kettch, Vanguard Ten
Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven
Pilot Voss Ferris, Vanguard Thirteen

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

The displays in Voss' cockpit flashed intermitenly, and highlighted the brooding Bajoran's face through the transparent faceplate of his helmet. He had pulled back and powered down to minimum levels again once Rogue Five has ducked into the superstructure of the freighter...there was no use in trying to follow the target when the target eventually had to poke it's head out.

Instead, Voss had pulled Vanguard Thirteen up and away from the freighter to take up a position amid some impulse engine components, with a 'bird's eye view' of the zone. Now he just waited and watched...particularly, he watched the background sub-space noise levels. He watched as the sub-space static bounced with each and every comm signal, and made note of positional data...

"<Rhooz>!" Tish swore, as she caught the flare of Sinistrari's fighter take off into the hulk of the old freighter. Then, beneath the reflective blast shield of her helmet.....she smiled.

Switching to the 'ALLCOMM' channel: "Rogue Seven, 'Forgehammer'. Your green ass is mine!" Followed quickly by: "'Forgehammer': Fire Two!" as a brace of pulse-cannon fire rippled through space toward the Rogue.

"And it's a sweet piece of green ass at that," Medea giggled back as she narrowly avoided the shots fired and wove through the freighter. It was just like the time with the weaving though the maze of Borg construct. Though at least here fear of assimilation and a lifetime in bad S & M gear wasn't a concern.

She clipped a bit of debris with a wing, but still was grinning widely and now starting to hum "Incense and Peppermints".

If you could have seen it, under her helmet, Tish actually arched an eyebrow. "Not bad, 'Seven'. Though, a little sloppy on your pitch-and-roll. Your *sweet* ass is still mine," Tish replied as she accellerated to pace Rogue Seven. ~Gh'oor, this girl isn't half-bad!~ Tish thought to herself as Vanguard Three tucked under a section of the old freighter's impulse system.

"It's smoother when it's involving greased up midgets on a trampoline.", Medea replied as she dove down a deck and swerved over a twisted beam.

Smiling, Joral brazenly popped off through the comm; "Sweetest ass I ever did see..."

The display on Voss' screen jumped again, and the normally impassive Bajoran allowed himself a little smile. He had Five's position. Ferris powered up his systems and brought Vanguard Thirteen out of it's cubby hole, into a lazy sweeping dive... Medea's more raucous laugh filled the commchannel. "These buns definitely don't need honeybutter."

A number of chuckles signified that Medea had indeed been heard.

Switching back to her 'private' channel with 'Prophet': "Thirteen, I see your position. Come around to these coordinates..." she *tagged* the postion of Rogue Five with her HUD's TEDD... "and do a back-pop on 'Five'. The get ready for a 'Squeeze Box' on 'Seven'. Got it?"

[Acknowledged.] was the only reply. Not very chatty this one...

Joral's eyebrows rose when he watched the two Vanguards change vectors, then went into a spin when he noticed Three ping him on active. Clearly, she was trying to give Thirteen something to shoot at. "Medea, they're gonna try to catch us in a pincer. Let's give them a chicken trade."

The phrase was one that Joral had coined for a maneuver that had been entirely accidental the first time he'd done it. So far, however, it had proved to be the best way for two fighters to shake their pursuers at the exact same time.

"Will do.", Medea said, her grin unseen.

The Major keyed the clamp release for his secondary driver-coil - he'd disconected it anyway. The damn thing never worked right.. It was about time that he used it for something useful. He turned his fighter's nose directly toward Medea, and the two of them headed at each other at top speed. In his aft display, Vanguard Thirteen had turned to follow him tightly. The Bajoran smiled... the closer the better. Meanwhile, Three was preparing to scorch his girlfriend's tail.

When he and Medea were almost on top of each other, Joral jettisoned the driver-coil and detonated it. With no actual fuel in it, the blast was harmless, but he wasn't trying to blow Thirteen out of the sky, after all. The exploding coil did, however, create a nice wall of flak, completely obscuring Thirteen's view of him - or more accurately, his view of Medea, who was plowing straight into the flak and would come out the other side with Thirteen in her sights.

Joral flipped his fighter over, skimming mere meters below Medea's, and popping out of her baffles, Vanguard Three lined perfectly in his sights - exactly where Forgehammer quite probably didn't want to be. Just as he let loose with full forward weapons, he keyed his comm to her.

"Hey Three: Tag. You're it."

With that, he depressed full triggers at her craft and peeled off.

<tag Forgehammer> As Joral predicted, Medea came out just where she did and with a near cackle, she fired away at Thirteen.

And Thirteen fired back...in fact, he accelerated and aimed the nose of his ship directly at the oncoming Rogue. Had anyone been able to see his face at that moment, they might have noted the complete lack of emotion, worthy of the most disciplined Vulcan...but this expression was more than just stoic, it was blank.

Voss filled the rapidly closing space between himself and Rogue Seven with simulated phaser fire, creating a rain of artificial energy in front of him, all the while vectoring his very real, un-simulated, and quite solid fighter at the Rogue...

Medea didn't budge from her vector, continuing to fire as Voss did with her. Of course they took each other out. They would have to have been blind to miss, and neither Medea nor Voss had any vision problems to speak of. The automated systems took over as each scored a kill, and the Rogue and Vanguard fighters powered down...

Had this been actual combat, Vanguard Thirteen and Rogue Seven would have collided in an explosive display of stubbornness, with neither pilot having the common sense to veer away. As it was the automated "lame duck" protocol automatically fired thrusters to station keeping to prevent the "dead" ships from inadvertently colliding with a piece of debris within the graveyard.

The sudden deceleration caused both pilots to lurch forward against the restraints that held them in place. Blue-white plasma vented against the fighter's inertia, and brought both ships to a standstill directly in front of each other. There was a crackle as the two shield systems brushed against each other...

Voss peered across the short distance between himself and Rogue Seven, and at the pilot within. With a rather cold grin, he gave her a salute...

Tish smiled, predetorially, underneath the blast shield of her helmet.Though the 'blow-up-the-DCA' trick had gotten 'Prophet' off of 'Five's tail, it had created a nicely-ionized region of space, just above her.Using RCS thrusters alone, she flipped and manuevered Vanguard Three into the blind-sensor region...

Twisting around after watching his shots at Vanguard Three hit their mark, Joral started scanning for Thirteen, preparing to finish the job. As his eyes skimmed the HUD, he noticed the small region surrounding what had once been his secondary driver-coil. It seemed that there had been a secondary effect of creating a sensor-blind. That would be perfect for hiding from Thirteen, simply waiting for the other Bajoran to fly past - assuming that Voss hadn't already thought of it. There was one way to find out.

The Major brought his fighter about, angling towards the sensor-blind. He never made it.

As soon as he had come about, he found himself face-to-face with someone who shouldn't have been there: the 'dead' Vanguard Three. He saw her weapons ports flash, and his instincts didn't let him down. His hands came down on the firing controls, letting loose on Three, and disabling her as he had intended to do the last time.

Of course, by then it was too late; Three's shot hit Joral's fighter dead-on, and the simulation computer shut him down. His voice, luckily, didn't carry in the void of space.

"DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

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

Tyten had hung back and monitored the skirmish. Truthfully, he really hadn't been paying attention and he mentally scolded himself for that. Yesterday had been the anniversary of his being discovered by Starfleet Officers so many years ago. He knew that both Rex and Jasmine were going to chew on him for this. He just couldn't shake the empty feeling he had inside. What a time to have a mental breakdown, he chided himself. He watched on his monitor as Tish took out Rouge Five. He sighed. Everyone else was having fun, why couldn't he? It was time for this pity party of one to be over. He accelerated his fighter into the fray, looking for his first victim. ---------------

Major Starburst finally caught up with Lieutenant Rex as a chime sounded across all the fighter's comm units.

"Almost had me, Red." Corran said with a smile as he keyed the all-ship's comm. "Allright. All pilots back to dock, that's time. Everyone gets an hour R & R, then we'll meet back out here for Round Two. Good work, Vanguards - and you too, Rogues."

He didn't pay much attention to the chatter then. The pilots would all dock on the station, and spend the next hour regaling each other with stories from the faux fight they'd all just participated in. It would be worth a dozen training sims. Whichever squadron had won... Didn't really matter.

It was all in good fun.

Nonetheless, Corran still found himself tallying up the kills on both side. Just to harass Wes, he told himself.

"The Point"

by Cmdr. Jerri Wolfson
Chief Engineer,
USS Miranda

& Dr. Daniel Fraiser (PCC)
Temporal Astrophysicist,
Temporarily Assigned USS Miranda

---------

[Corridors of the USS Miranda]

As any engineer could testify, there was a certain 'feel' to every starship. Some ships were true ladies, as quiet as a whisper and as pristine as any lady's parlor. Others were the saucier kind, they could be quiet but mostly they liked to speak back to their engineers - just to make things interesting for all of them of course. Yet others were the fighters, it took a lot of dirt, grime, and elbow grease to get them to groan and give into their engineers' demands. The USS Miranda was a saucy lady, in the eyes of Jerri Wolfson.

The saucier ships would work one instant and the next choose to fight against the yolk. It made things interesting for engineers, and Jerri would always take a saucy starship any day of the week over a lady. The saucy ones would fight for survival - both for themselves and their crew.

The saucy ships were the ones that would come home.

The soft thrum of the main engines vibrated the deck under her standard issue boots. The feeling comforted her more than any sort of security blanket ever could - as long as that thrum existed, the Miranda was alive. With a small smile, Jerri gave into the urge to pat the bulkhead as she made her way through the corridors of the starship towards Main Engineering. The ship was running smoothly, efficiently, even at half strength with the crew shore leave rotations. Technically she was still on leave, but like most engineers she found it hard to stay away.

"Commander Wolfson?" a masculine voice asked from somewhere behind her.

Jerri turned, with the smile still evident as she turned to face someone whom she had never expected to see on the USS Miranda. Doctor Daniel Fraiser, temporal astrophysicist assigned to the Vulcan Science Academy, was also something far more insidious to her. He was the one who refused to leave her alone - insisting that he needed to speak with her about the past she still tried to forget. He was someone who tried to rip away the bandages around her soul to let the wounds continue to bleed and never heal.

"Doctor," she inclined her head slightly in greeting, but her tone was pure ice. He was not welcome here.

"You've been avoiding me, Jerri," Daniel smiled warmly at her, his eyes taking in her features and mentally comparing them to an image he had held in his mind for so long.

"Avoiding you?" she laughed, though there was no humor in her voice, "I believe it to be called avoiding when someone is stalking someone else. You wouldn't take no for an answer. You wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want to talk to you about the Chisholm, and I still don't."

"You can't keep denying your past, Jerri. Nor can you keep denying to talk to your own brother," Daniel replied, carefully gaging her reaction.

"Yes I...what?" the last word came out in a soft whisper as her expression reflected her shock. Surely not.

"Your brother," Fraiser repeated calmly - he really wasn't a bad man, he simply wanted to tell her the truth. The truth of her past, and the truth of his relationship with her. She had been avoiding him for years. Not anymore. "Or to be more accurate, your half brother. Your father is my father as well."

"You're lying..." Jerri said backing up slowly, refusing to believe her ears.

"Why should I lie? There's no benefit for me to lie, Jerri. But there's all the benefit for you. I know you've thought your father was a great man, but he really wasn't. He's only human, and...he fell in love with my mother. He was going to divorce your mother, Jerri. He wasn't happy, and then the Chisholm disappeared..."

"No," Jerri disagreed, shaking her head, "I don't believe you. I can't believe you. Leave me alone, Dr. Fraiser. I do not want to see you near me again." With trembling limbs, the Chief Engineer took what could only be called the cowards' way out. She left, first walking, then faster, and faster until it was a run.

She ran from Daniel Fraiser.

She ran from his words.

She ran from her past.

However, running would only suffice for so long. At some point, everything would catch up with her.

And it was that point that Jerri Wolfson found herself fearing the most.

((OOC: Takes place immediately after the Vanguard/Rogue training mission posts - Laurel))

"Deep Smit"

by Lt. Corran Rex
Vanguard Squadron CO

&
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi
Vanguard Squadron XO

------

Corran unzipped his jacket as he strolled into the Pilot's Lounge, a relatively unassuming name for one of the liveliest places on Starbase 212. Decorated rather garishly, the lounge was located right next to the largest shuttle and small craft bay the Starbase had.

Pilots of all types frequented it. Helm officers, starfighter pilots, freighter crews... it was an interesting place. Spotting various groups of Vanguards and Rogues, and saw Jasmine moving away from where she'd been talking to Major St. Melisande, the Rogue pilot who'd helped her in.

"Bad luck, that." the Trill said as he ambled up next to her.

Jasmine snorted in a rather unladylike way, "A thousand curses on the person who decided to install that Tellarite crap on our fighters. I didn't even get a chance to make a 'kill.' I'm going to have to send some sort of report into command. It's a damned good thing that didn't happen when I was in unfriendly space."

"One of the reasons I wanted a live test since they did those upgrades." the leader of vanguard Squadron replied. "I was hoping for a problem-free trial. Shoulda known better."

"Hah, no kidding. Were our test pilots drinking something when they gave Starfleet a go ahead on those installations? I swear that should have never gotten through - it's a good tactic that I used out there...and if it won't work because the avionics will die on us, that's a load of, well, crap. But I shouldn't be griping to you on this, you're practically the...what did they call it...choir."

Corran chuckled as he saw Jasmine's gaze linger slightly on something off over his shoulder. Following it, he saw her eying Major Wes Hammond, the commander of the Rogues.

Recognizing that particular brand of look, the Trill raised an eyebrow. "My dear Flight Officer, I do believe you are smitten."

"What?" Jasmine asked, blushing, "Corran!" She swatted his arm, "I am nothing of the sort. I'm just...admiring the scenery." She quite deliberately tore her gaze from Wes to look at the other pilots. Of course, she could not keep that charade up for long. Her gaze inevitably returned to Wes.

"Oh no. You've got it, alright. You're in deep smit." he teasingly laughed.

Jasmine just shook her head, smiling, "He's a very nice man." She told him, not quite including her thought that he was also a very nice *looking* man.

"He's a good man, too." Corran though, and then a thoughtful expression appeared on his face. "Snores though - we used to be roommates for awhile. And he's sort of arrogant. A little vain. Kind of snooty, too. "

"Oh really? And that makes him different from most fighter pilots...how?"

"Well. Not at all, now that I come to think of it. You're a little vain,arrogant and snooty, too, so you'd probably be well-matched."

"The feeling's mutual, Rex," Jazz grinned amiably as she swatted his arm once again.

"Yeah, but he's not my type." the Trill said, pantomiming like her swat had hurt. "Besides. I'm spoken for."

"I have a feeling Tara would have an issue if you decided to try something," Jasmine nodded, "So, Rex, you owe me a drink."

"I do indeed." the Trill replied. "You intending to collect tonight, or you going to go hit on your prince charming over there?"

"Actually, I'll have to take a rain check on that. I've got a dinner date to get to," Jasmine smiled, patting her superior's shoulder, "But have one on me tonight."

"Right then. Synthehol it is. I'm swearing off real liquor."

"Probably a wise decision," she nodded before heading towards the Rogue Squadron commander.

[BACKPOST]

"Why Fighter Pilots and Bars Do Not Always Mix"

Major Wes Hammond,
Rogue Squadron CO/Rogue 1

Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi,
Vanguard Squadron XO/Vanguard 5

*****

Jax's Dockside Bar & Grill,
Starbase 212

Jasmine Heloi twisted her hair out of the way and into a bun as she stepped inside Starbase 212's bar. She was dressed fairly casually that day, and she specifically attempted to downplay those assets that made her 'Starfire' and not simply Jazz, fighter jock.

She nodded at the bartender as she slid into an open stool and ordered an ale. It had been a long mission on the Galaxy and she needed the downtime, if only to escape Emmett Bregman's dynamic duo of a camera crew. The two just would not leave her alone. Sometime she wished she had never heard of Starfire. Shrugging slightly at her thoughts, Jasmine began sipping at her drink and regarding the pariphenalia on the back of the bar.

Wes Hammond nodded to the bartender as he walked into the bar. It had been a while since he'd been on base at 212. After all the stress he'd been through with the 'mirror' universe incident, he felt likt he needed to get off the Miranda for a spell and fly under the radar.

To that end, he was dressed casually. The only part of his uniform that he wore off-duty were his boots, pulled on over a pair of black trousers. Glancing over the occupants of the bar, he looked for somebody to talk to. Immediately passing over a tellarite merchant and a uniformed marine, Wes settled on an attractive redhead and walked over to sit down next to her. There was something about redheads that attracted him. Maybe it was the firey reputation they carried.

Jasmine looked up as the rather good looking human approached her. She offered him a slight smile before returning to her drink. She suspected that he wanted to talk to her either for a) her looks or b) because she was Starfire. If it was option b, she'd be out of this bar before the bartender could finish pouring her her next drink. Sometimes, like now, she was convinced that the burden of being a former starlet was not worth it. Especially when the show said starlet was on happened to be the most popular vid series to hit the Federation since Power Rangers: Redux.

Wes took the stool next to Jasmine, and waved the bartender over. "Morning, Jax," he said to the bartender, who he'd met once before. The bartender nodded his greetings. "The usual for me, and another one of whatever the lady's drinking for her." Wes cocked his head to the right to indicate Jasmine.

"Corvallis Brandy for you, Moulin Ale for the lady," Jax the bartender replied, setting out the glasses and starting to pour before Jazz had a chance to respond.

Jasmine turned towards her companion and arched a slender eyebrow, "You certainly didn't have to buy me another ale, sir. It wasn't necessary." Her musical contralto was warm in tone as she spoke, but she kept her eyes on him for any indication that he knew she was Starfire.

"I have credits to kill, and you certainly don't have to call me sir," he smiled, flashing a wide grin, "Wes Hammond, Rogue Squadron CO off the Miranda. And you might be?" She looked very familiar for some reason, but he couldn't place the face to a name. He suddenly hoped that she wasn't one of the women he'd left behind at various points in his life.

Jasmine smiled back at him, unknowing that it was one of her more famous smiles that she was using, "Then I really should be calling you sir, Major. I'm Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard Squadron XO off the Galaxy." Even though he didn't give his rank, she knew it all too well. How could she not when the Rogues were the top of the line in the fleet? Besides, she did have to admit that he had a very nice smile.

"Really?" he said, accepting his drink from the bartender and taking a sip, "Then we'll be training together soon. Lieutenant Rex contacted me a few days ago to talk about joint squadron training with the Rogues."

Then it hit him... Jasmine Heloi... that was a familiar name. "You wouldn't happen to be the same Jasmine Heloi that played Adora Starfire on the vids?" he asked casually. He'd seen them occassionally when he was at the academy in Tokyo.

PM): The first words that struck her mind were 'aw crap.' Definantly almost she nodded, "A lifetime ago, yes, that was me."

"They were fun, at least until season five," he said, noticing the subtle change in her features. She probably didn't like talking about it, he decided, and changed the subject, "But I didn't watch them very often. So you're out here flying fighters now?"

That was definitely a point in his favor when he changed the subject. "That's right," she said, perking up ever so slightly, "I always loved speed...so it only made sense that I turn flying into a second career."

"Career? Flying's too much fun to be called work," Wes laughed, "I think it's more of an adventure. That's certainly why I left Corvallis, where I was born." She was an adrenaline junkie. Definately a point in her favor. Well, and she was very attrative, even with her hair up, so two points.

"Corvallis, huh? I'm from Aduras, on Betazed. When you think of small town, Aduras should be one of the places to first come to mind. Racing was one of the only means to escape. And, of course, you're right. Flying *is* too much fun to be called a career. "

"Escaping. Yeah I know how that is. Corvallans tend to stay on Corvallis, and with my father being a local noble, that was even more true for me," he said, "I was lucky that my older brother broke the mold and joined Starfleet. He left a hole in people's expectations that my sister and I managed to escape through."

"Is your sister in Starfleet too?" Jasmine asked curiously, leaning against the counter. So, his father was a noble of some sort. Interesting.

"Kitty's a Tactics Specialist for the Phantom Hazard Team on the USS Relentless," he replied, "She was probably the biggest surprise for dad. He always thought of her as a perfect daughter. But I guess she didn't see life the same way he did, either."

Jasmine nodded, "I hear that's a good ship. How long have you been flying?" She took a sip of her second ale, feeling herself warming a little to her fellow fighter jock.

"I started learning in 2365, my freshman year of secondary school," he replied, feeling relaxed, "Went to the academy in 2369, and I've been flying for the fleet ever since. How about you?"

"I started as a kid on Betazed, when I was a teenager. Even when I was acting, I still enjoyed racing. I went to the Academy in 2373, and I've been flying in Starfleet since then as well. Mostly on the Dallas and the Galaxy."

"The Big D? No kidding," he said, "I trained with some people on the Dallas. Let's see, I've been all over the place. I started on the Concorde, then did a stint as the Starfleet Liaison to the border cutter Fern Prestwick, then served on the Typhoon, Relentless, Arizona, and Greencastle before I came to the Miranda."

Jasmine whistled thorugh her teeth, "You've certainly made the rounds. And now you're the CO of one of the best fighter units in the fleet. Not too shabby."

"No, I guess not," he smiled, "I certainly didn't think I'd be commanding it when the slot in Rogue Squadron came up. But then Lieutenant Commander Taalis and Commander O'Grady transferred, and I was given the job of replacing them. It's been an interesting process. You haven't done so badly yourself. I hear that the Vanguards are really getting whipped into shape."

"That's Corran for you. He's a harsh taskmaster," Jasmine replied with a slight grin, "He believes in the sim till you drop policy of training. Then going outside the ship and running through training games with your fighter and third power phasers. It's been quite the experience."

"Yeah, that is Corran," Wes laughed, remembering the Trill pilot, "But life isn't all flying... Well, it mostly is, but what do you like to do in your free time, when there is such a thing?"

"Painting, water skiing, white water rafting..." she ticked off the list on her fingers as she spoke, before looking at Wes, "And yourself?"

"Anything that'll get the blood pumping," he replied, noting that their interests matched up pretty well, "My current favorite is orbital skydiving, but I'm also a fan of kayaking and hiking. That and practicing with my guitar."

"Guitar, huh? I used to be in the Academy choir for a while, but I had to give it up when I started going for my pilot's license. I've never tried orbital skydiving before, though. How is it?"

"It's... a rush," he said, "You jump in an special envirosuit from just inside the atmosphere. It's not to be missed out on."

"Hmmm...that sounds like..." Before Jasmine could finish her response, she heard someone rustling up behind her. Suddenly, a hand was on her shoulder and her stool was spun around despite her protest.

"Shhhhtarfahr! Ah knew it wuz you," the obviously drunk human slurred, wobbling slightly, "Gimme a kiss, Shtarfar." And with that, the man had the nerve to actually kiss her.

Jasmine attempted to push him off, but it was not working. The man was too close, and too strong for her. Her muffled 'get off me' sounded more like 'umph git umpsh fff meee.'

"Hey, mister," Wes said, standing up. What the heck. Jasmine seemed a little overwhelmed, and he could never resist the urge to defend a lady in need. Tapping the man on the shoulder, he didn't get any responce.

~Oh well, gave him a fair chance,~ Wes thought, then grabbed the drunk by the shoulder and pulled him back, sputtering unintelligibly. Before he had a chance to do anything, Wes gave him a hard right hook to the jaw, sending him flying back onto a table which was, regretably, occupied by a group of Klingons.

With a roar, the Klingons stood as one and started towards Wes and Jasmine. Jazz, once she had overcome her shock at the drunken kiss, stood next to him. "Thanks for coming to the rescue, Wes." She loosened her stance as her eyes darted from Klingon to Klingon to see who would attack first. And, of course, the drunken Starfire fan decided to join the fray. "Are conversations with you always this...entertaining?" she said in an aside as the first fist started flying their way.

"I like to think so," Hammond said, and bent low to take one of the Klingons over his shoulder. The giant warrior was heavy, but Wes managed to throw him upside down against the bar behind him, though he didn't manage to duck a drunken right hook from the Starfire fan.

Jasmine ducked a punch and managed to throw her elbow into one of the Klingon's chests, "You're my kind of guy, Wes," she grunted as one of the Klingons managed to land a fist on her jaw. With a low growl, she launched herself at her attacker with a flurry of blows.

"If you wanted to mate, woman, you only had to ask!" the Klingon she was currently battling laughed heartily. Too late, she realized that to a Klingon a fight was a turn-on.

Sidestepping the drunken fan's next overextended, swing, Wes stepped in and punched the third Klingon square in the jaw, dropping into a boxing stance. It hardly phased the solid warrior, who launched himself at Wes and was rewarded with a sidestep that set him stumbling past into the warrior who had been thrown into the bar. "Glad to hear that, Jazz. Just give a shout if you need anything."

Jasmine launched a side kick at the drunken Starfire fan, sending him spinning into one of the Klingons that had been prepping to attack Wes. "You do the same, these guys really do like to play, don't they?" She used her palm to punch the Klingon who was directly in front of her in the nose, and with a burst of magenta blood the he collapsed.

It was, of course, that time when security decided to finally show up...

By then, the bar had erupted into total violence as the Starfire fan, in his drunked stupor, swung wildly at the other Wes, the other patrons, and anyone else around him.

"I think we should probably duck out of here before Security gets to us," Wes shouted to her, and tossed a couple strips of latinum to Jax, who caught them and then ducked back down behind his bar.

"Good idea," Jasmine nodded and she looked for some means of exit from the bar. Their choices seemed to be slim to none. "They aren't exactly being arbitrary about stunning people here. It doesn't look like there's much choice of how to get out of here. The front's covered. I don't know if there's a backway."

"There is," Wes said, and leaned over the bar, "Jax, the key to back would be nice." He dropped another strip of latinum next to the cowering bartender, who pointed to a drawer. Fishing around, Wes located the keys and pulled them out. "This way," he said, grabbing Jasmine's hand, and pulling her out of the way of one of the Klingons.

"Remind me to have you around the next time I get the urge to get into a bar fight," Jasmine quipped as they headed towards the door.

"Do you get those urges often," he asked glibly as he pulled her into the secret jeffries tube that lead out of the bar. Stuffing the key into his pocket, he started crawling. He'd give it back later. Jax knew he was good for it. It and the damage to the bar.

"Oh yes," she said as she crawled into the tube behind him, "It helps me meet interesting guys." Jasmine carefully sealed the hatch behind her and followed Wes. She actually didn't mind the view, and she smiled to herself at the thought.

"I suppose," he said, motioning for her to follow him to the right at a T shaped intersection, "That might be true if you consider that drunk interesting. Or did you mean me?" Humble? Okay, maybe not.

Jasmine laughed lightly, this one was definitely not the modest type. She decided she liked that. "I think I'll leave that, my dear Wes, to your imagination."

"Fair enough," he said. She was sassy and witty. He definately found that appealing. Not a sign of passive-aggressiveness or subservience. This was a woman who knew how to handle herself, and had handled herself well against the Klingons.

They came to an access hatch that lead out into a corridor somewhere a few decks below the bar. "Here's our stop."

Heloi smiled as the two exited from the tube, "You really do know how to show a girl a good time." She winced slightly as she scraped her hand against the side of the hatch.

"I like to tell myself that," he said, reaching for her hand, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just clumsy," she said as she held out her hand. The flesh had been cut, but mostly it was a minor wound.

"Ah. You'll be fine," he said, walking over to an access terminal, "This is a residential area. I'm sure there's an med station somewhere around here. There it is. Just a few corridors over."

"Yeah. Like I said, I was clumsy," she offered him a lopsided grin and a shrug. As they walked towards the med station, the Betazoid turned towards her companion with a serious expression on her face, "Thank you, by the way. For back there."

"Sure thing," he said, "I was honor bound to help you on two levels. Pilot to pilot. Gentleman to a very, very pretty lady. Anytime you need somebody to fend of the drunken fans, I'm your man."

"Hopefully I won't need you fight off drunken fans all the time. Though I would like to thank you, with dinner perhaps?" Jasmine certainly wasn't a shy woman when it came to what she wanted.

"If this is how you thank somebody, I should stick up for you more often. It sounds like a great idea. Your quarters or mine?" he asked. Now this was getting interesting.

Heloi smiled slightly when she caught the vibes coming off of him. "Actually, I was thinking my *ship.* Our Cantina serves a mean steak. Besides, after this station it is a great deal more...private not to mention calmer."

"The Cantina it is, then. After the joint training session tommorrow?" he asked. It seemed ideal after all. They'd have time to sound each other out on the field as well as off.

"That works for me," she smiled brightly, "I'll see you then, Wes." Boldly she reached up and kissed his cheek before she headed down the corridor towards the umbilical that connected the station to the Galaxy.

Wes watched her retreating figure, admiring it's smooth curves. Reaching up, he brushed his hand over his cheek. Now that was something you certainly didn't get from the everyday bar fight.

"Ghosts of Crewmates Past"

Captain Elaithin Jii,
Commanding Officer,
USS Miranda

Commander Felicia Khatroweena,
Chief Medical Officer,
USS Miranda

------------------- Main Sickbay, Deck Twenty Four, USS Miranda -------------------

Captain Elaithin departed the Hazard Team drill pleased that the team had performed so well in front of James. It made him proud of his crew to know that they were the type of people that other ships decided to model aspects of thier commands around.

But then, this was a crew, minus one or two people, to be proud of by and large.

As the Bajoran entered Sickbay, he still wondered why the Doctor had ordered this workup. True, the request for an appointment had come from Brooke, but the Captain had a security officer's distrust of medical personell. He knew Cat better, so he would see her.

Simple as that.

The Chief Medical Officer was behind her desk, and as usual for him, he let her know of his presence with a rap on the doorway. "I hear you want to poke, prod, and possibly extract some bodily fluids from me?" Jii asked, the customary half smile on his face.

"Jii, come in - this is a surprise," exclaimed Cat. She flicked the control on the padd on the reports she was reading. He might have been the Captain, but he wasn't a doctor. "As to the poke, prod and extract bodily fluids, yes I do Jii, or I should say, Doctor Brooke does."

"Be that as it may," he started to reply. "I'd rather have you do it. I've been to enough doctors in my Starfleet career that I prefer to keep with the ones I know well."

"Precautions, Jii, precautions. Especially with Jordan's pregnancy. I might be labouring the obvious, but you are Bajoran and Jordan is Terran."

"Really, I hadn't noticed."

The Caitian moved on as though he'd never spoken. "While genetically, you are compitable, there are things that have to be kept a close eye on. Especially for the babies' sake," Cat continued.

"Fair enough, Cat." was the reply after a moment's consideration. "Let's get this over with."

"Certainly Jii, another thing - If you could, it might be useful if you come in with Jordan. Doctor Brooke will be doing the same with her.

"Prophets." he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You just want me to spend all my time down here, don't you, Cat?"

Cat gave one of her closed mouth smiles and just nodded. She looked a bit more serious at Jii, "One last one..."

"Another one? You're not serious."

Cat nodded, "I have ordered testing on both Commander Smith and Commander Mitchell. Considering Commander Mitchell's stand on the paternal identity of Arel's child and his propensity to ignore people other than his 'august' self, I'd would like your support in making sure that Medical is able to execute it's duties and responsibilities."

"Of course." he said seriously, the topic having shifted to something that was never easy - namely, anything involving James. "If I have to have the two Brikars from Security carry him, he'll be here."

"Thank you Jii. You don't know how much."

As the examination began, Jii's expression grew thoughtful, something Cat had come to recognize in her Captain. As she began to take a series of skin and blood samples, "Jii? Latinum strip for your thoughts? she asked with a smile.

"I spoke to Price this morning, when I was having breakfast with Captain M'Kantu. - The new Captain on the Galaxy?" the Bajoran finally said.

"That's a name that's been bounced around for a few years," returned Cat.

"It was odd. He was trying to warn us about our next assignment. We'll be paired up with the Galaxy for this mission. He said it was something controversial, and he couldn't reveal it over an open broadcast. Admiral Ross will be here in a few days to brief Daren and I personally. It's something major. He gave me a hint, and I can't quite seem to figure it out."

"Ross coming all the way out here! Must be something really important. And something that Command is keeping very close to the chest. Hasn't been a squeak from Medical that was unusual. Could you sit up Jii?"

"I know. That's what's got me wondering." Jii said, sitting up as she instructed.

"What has you wondering?" she asked as Cat started to slowly traverse the MP over Jii's body.

"He said, "Say hi to Chris for me." I don't know if you know, but Chris Thomas became the XO, after Deiran Casey left the Galaxy."

"More names from the past," returned Cat. She looked at Jii, "It's sort of because of Deiran that you are here."

The Bajoran frowned. He hadn't much cared for Casey - the man had been a doddering self-important fool in the opinion of the at-the-time security officer. Thomas hadn't been much better. "How's that?"

"Miran, his wife - who was pregnant had severe complications and she lost the child. It was because I was reminded of that, I'm keeping a very close eye on Jordan and Arel."

"I remember that, now that you mention it." he replied quietly. He hadn't thought of the loss of Ti Miran's baby in... Years.

"So no real clues at all?" asked Cat.

"None." he replied

"We'll that is it, Jii. You can put your jacket back on." Cat turned to put the samples she took into the stands and sealed cases, to be taken to the lab. "You can escape now, but I want you to be here with Jordan."

"Of course. A temporary.. Reprieve..." he stopped, the word triggering something. A reprieve. Thomas had been granted a reprieve from being cashiered out of the fleet by being transferred to...

"Computer. Current assignment of Commander Christopher Kell Thomas?" the Captain asked, his head snapping up.

["Commander Christopher Kell Thomas is currently assigned to the Federation Embassy on Breen."] the computer replied helpfully.

The Captain and Chief Medical officer locked eyes. There it was: The Miranda and the Galaxy were going to Breen.

"Cat.." Jii started. "I think you're going to want your medical staff well prepared."

Cat gave a nod, "Last time I encountered the Breen, things did not go well. They are the sort that don't play well with others. Keep me informed, could you?"

Jii nodded as he headed out of Sickbay, the previous dealings with the Breen brought foreboding for the future.

"The Good Stuff"

Lt. Mark,
Counselor

CMC Gabriel Mahler

Some say old men has to rest a lot. Save their energy and all. Mahler would not have agreed with that statement. At times Mahler could be found in the bar, puffing away at a cigar and sipping whisky. Occasionally he would find himself a table, sit down and start reading one of his books. That was not resting. That, good friends, that was living.

Mark strode in smoking a cigar of his own. Living his own life as he saw fit. Right now, it fit him to get a drink to go with his smoke.

The old sailor could compete with a bloodhound when it came to cigarscents. He lowered his own cigar and looked up from his his book,