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“Hide”

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineer

(This is set after the battle, whilst the 12th fleet play ‘clean up’. Before Echoes)

**USS Relentless, sick bay***

RUN, RUN AWAY. Get away. Have to find somewhere safe.

The commands finally sunk into her bones and Dhani bolted. Her feet got caught in the blankets as she launched her self. She fell from the bed, sprawling on to the floor. She began to scramble, trying desperately to kick off the twisted sheets. Crawling across the floor her mind still racing with one single thought, GET AWAY.

Things kept pulling her back, something was stuck to her. She yanked backwards the force of which pulled the monitor over and the mask off her face. The commotion brought the attention of the doctor on duty who came running.

Dhani however was now searching for a place to hide. Her mind not registering where she was. Her eyes seeing only the light, the twisted fragmented light. Her hands were her only guide as she scrambled across the floor. She hit something, she didn’t even pause to rub her head. Her hands ran up it and found a handle. She pulled it and felt a door open, the size indicated it to be a cupboard. She pulled out its contence and crawled inside, pulling the door closed behind her, the twisted sheets still tangled around her feet got caught in the door. But she yanked hard till the door stuck. She was hyperventilating now, all alone in the dark. She couldn’t see straight even if the light were on. She sat in the dark, her fear eating away at her mind.

The door opened slowly and she scrambled to find its handle, to pull it closed. There were hands now, all over her, she could feel them she pushed and bucked. The thought that it might be help didn’t enter the little girls mind, all she felt was the fear, not the pain of being dragged down a corridor, hitting everything in sight and almost sucked out into space, no, nothing of what had transpired just hours ago. But the memory of years past.

She was lying on her back again, looking up into a bright light. She could see something coming towards her, feel it cover her face…… she could hear them now…

“Doctor!” a soft voice exclaimed full of trepidation, “look!”

Dhani had no idea where the woman was telling the doctor to look.

She didn’t even know what she was doing.

The doctor who was holding her down turned to look. His hands held a mask over her face as she had received lung damage whilst she was trapped in the wreckage. He almost lost his grip as he saw the sight before him.

Everything on the shelving unit was suspended in the air. He blinked and blinked again. And then looked down at the woman in his arms. And then up at the nurse, his facial expression was a mixture of surprise, horror and confusion.

She returned his look and added a shrug.

“VIP Pass”

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineer

(This is set after "If you can't stand the heat part 2 of 2")

Dhani re-materialised under a beautiful blue sky. The breeze was soft and cool compared to the blazing sun. She stood a moment to take in her surroundings, the grass beneath her feet; it had been such a long time since she had grass, real grass beneath her feet. She let Salem drop to the ground and took off her sandals to revel in the feeling. She had spent so long feeling trapped on the Galaxy, wanting so much to run free like she had as a child. And here she could do just that. However she restrained herself, shifting her bag on her shoulder she picked up her shoes and began the mile walk to the monastery. Salem trotted beside her like a lap dog, occasionally pausing to smell the flowers.

The walk was refreshing, she must have walked a-million miles on the Galaxy but nothing compared to the changing scenery of a *real* walk on a *real* planet. She half skipped and half ran along the dry, cracked, sun baked path.

As the monastery loomed up in front of her she took a moment to feel its awe, to wonder in it. She missed her home planet so much and rarely let her self feel that loss. Everything since Vulcan had been harsh and violent. Sure, she had found it easy to change, easy to fit in, but still nothing compared to the clarity of Vulcan; her birth place.

The sombreness of those thoughts creped across her features as she approached the building. She almost cried as a robed Vulcan stepped out to great her. All that was needed was the temperature to be dialled up a few degrees, several truck loads of sand and she was home!

She raised her hand in the classic Vulcan greeting and waited for a response.

The Vulcan returned the gesture. His robes concealed his face; that was the norm. Dhani was used to that; she actually wished that she had brought her robes with her. Her memory traced them back to a cargo crate on the broken ship and she mentally kicked herself for forgetting them.

“The monastery is closed to visitors.” The Vulcan stated simply.

Dhani looked up in surprise; the news brought her mind back to the here and now.

“Why?” she inquired.

The Vulcan, half turning to leave stopped and regarded the woman a moment,

“We have decided to close our doors to due to the dis-respect of those who wish to disturb our silence.” He replied.

Ever the cryptic, Dhani mused. She stood in thought for a moment while the Vulcan walked away.

“So the actions of the few outweigh the actions of the many.” she stated rather than questioned.

The Vulcan paused, though he did not turn to her, she could still almost see his stunned expression. After a few seconds he continued on his way leaving Dhani to wonder what on earth she was going to do now.

Half kicking the dirt she looked around for Salem. Typical, the needy cat had decided that he was more curious than worried about being left on his own again, had wandered off! She could see the small dark scamp as his form disappeared into the shadows of the monastery doors.

She ran to catch up with the Vulcan, who barley gave her a head tilt of acknowledgment.

“I apologise but my cat has ignored your wishes. May I be permitted to retrieve him?”

The Vulcan nodded though did not falter in his pace.

Dhani deliberately lagged slightly behind. Though she was not allowed to stay she would none the less soak up as much Vulan’ness as she could while she was here.

She walked inside and actually shivered, it was so much colder. The marble flooring was freezing and Dhani quickly slipped on her sandals while she waited for the ‘welcoming comity’. And then she removed them, just as quick. She had been away from ‘home’ for too long!

As another Vulcan approached a familiar chirp of a tricorder echoed around the large hall way. Dhani barley gave him a glance as she stared at *everything*. It was so beautiful, so contemporary yet traditional and primitive, with smooth lines and unemotional designs meant to focus the mind. She was too caught up in soaking in all the ambiance to hear them ask for her name.

“It’s just like home….” She murmured as her feet took her across the hall. She reached out and touched the wall, her fingers tracing the smooth surface. The sound of small pads and claws scraping and sliding against the marble floor caught her attention though.

“Hey there Salem-Sebastian,” she bent down and scooped up the black cat. She was too caught up in the wonder to chastise him, “What do you think?” she asked him, “Do you think Sark would like it?”

“Is that your name?” the Vulcan questioned louder. If it was at all possible, there was a hint of impatient in his voice.

“What?” Dhani asked whirling round.

“Sark. Is that your name?” he questioned again.

“No.” Dhani said shaking her head. “That’s the name of my mentor, back on Vulcan.” She explained.

“Sark was *your* mentor?” the Vulcan queered.

Dhani nodded. Her eyes looking past him, down the hall. Trying to catch a glimpse of what they kept so secret.

The Vulcan holding the tricorder stepped forward, “Then you are Eshe?” he questioned.

Dhani blinked and looked into his eyes, “Yes.” She replied a little more than surprised.

“What are you doing here?” the other questioned.

Dhani took a moment before replying, they were being awfully inquisitive. Quite unusual,

“I am on leave.” She stated. She waited a few seconds and then elaborated,

“I am a Starfleet officer. My ship is undergoing a refit, and so I came here.”

“Why?”

Dhani was almost about to, just leave. Never had she had to answer so many questions. Well that was if you took out the academy.

“Is ‘to meditate’ a clear enough answer?” she asked, “How about I was born on Vulcan and miss the logic? Or is that too emotional?” she questioned her temper rising a little, “You know what, I have my cat now so I’ll go if that pleases you.” She said curtly.

The Vulcan’s turned to each other, un-phased by her quipped replies and had what looked like a silent, eyebrow twitching conference.

Dhani audibly sighed and shifted her balance from one leg to the other while she waited.

“I would be honoured to show you around.” The one with the tricorder said as he whipped it shut and stuffed it into his pocket.

“What?” Dhani asked confused.

“A student of Sarks, one regarded highly as you are, Dhanishta Eshe, is welcome here.” he said as he proceeded down the corridor.

Dhanis brow knitted together in confusion, yet she followed him and her curiosity down the hall.

TBC….

"Practical Magic" Pt. V

Senator Ramir Omar,
Ambassador
USS Galaxy

Lt. Brianna O'Shea,
SCE
USS Galaxy

~Saint's forgive me.~ Brianna thought to herself. She didn't want to embarrass Ramir, "Permission to step forward, your majesty?" Anna asked and saw the though provoking look and the protest of her guards that was which quickly nullified by the approval nod of the Romulan Empress. Picking up her gown, Anna stepped up the steps and bowed once more before the Empress. Then whispered, so only she could hear. "Ramir is.. my friend, and lover, your majesty." Anna said, hoping to all the saints she didn't just hurt his career.

The Empress’ good-natured teasing had vanished – she evidently hadn’t expected such an explicit reply.

“I see,” she said with a pained expression, as Anna returned to her position. However, she quickly recovered, her face brightening.

“In that case, Anna, your families are intertwined – and, today, that is a very good thing, because I am here to reward Colonel Omar and his son, Senator Ramir Omar, due to exceptional service to the empire.” The Empress even smiled; glad to finally be on the topic of why they had come here.

“In your honor,” she said. “I have commissioned a public statue of you both – to be completed in the upcoming months. Engraved, on this monument, will be the reasons for the statue – your loyal and unwavering service for our people.”

Senator Omar saw that his father was grinning now – probably imagining a statue of himself standing in the center of the capital city. Omar realized his father hadn’t realized yet that the Empress would be included in this statue – and that (as was customary to portray royal figures) she would tower over both of them – making them look as mere servants of the Empire. Which, to be fair, they were.

“Furthermore,” the Empress continued. “The rank of General is to be granted to Colonel Omar – and he is not only to be put in charge of Tal Shiar Section 10 but I would like him to make an opening speech when the senate assembles today.”

“As for his son, the senator, he is owed by the state – and as such, may have anything he wants, within reason of our empire’s resources. That is all.” The Empress finished her grand speech. Everyone bowed their heads in approval of the speech – except, Omar noticed, Koval – whose silhouette hadn’t moved the entire time.

Anna bowed her head, breathing a sigh of relief. She didn't know Romulan customs, but hoped that intertwined didn't mean the start of being married.

When they finally left the senate building, a luxurious hover-transport was waiting outside. The very recently promoted General Omar nodded to the driver as all three climbed in. The doors automatically slid shut and the driver sped away.

General Omar was in a separate part of the vehicle, meaning that Anna and the senator were free to talk alone.

“That was quite stressful, I’ll admit,” Omar said. “But it was worth it – our family has benefited greatly. We’re going back to my family estate in the depths of the countryside now, away from the bustling city. Are you okay, Anna?”

"Yeah... I'm fine, though I was worried she was about to announce our marriage or something." She said then grinned. "I wasn't sure how I was going to explain that to Starfleet Command." She said then grinned. "Congratulations though to you and your dad."

“Thanks,” he said with a slight smile. “But congratulations perhaps aren’t in order – after all, my father got that promotion because he assassinated one of our own people onboard the Galaxy, and used me as a pawn in the process.”

"So what do you think she is wanting to address to the Senate?" Anna asked as she hugged Ramir. She was growing quiet fond of the Romulan Senator.

“To likely tell them she has made a politically dangerous man into a very dangerous man – with his promotion to general,” Omar said. “It’s not a wise move though, as my father is very unpopular with the senate – any senators who have opposed him in the past have not been tolerated.”

“Also,” he added. “Sub-Commander Savar’s father is a prominent senator. Although his political position was damaged because of his son's treachery, he still has considerable power. If he sees the Empress rewarding a man he loathes for assassinating a member of his family, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

"Least she didn't want me there for that." Anna said as she smiled up into Ramir's face. "We should at least be thankful for that."

“Perhaps,” the senator said grimly. “Now I remember why I left the comforts of home, for life onboard the Galaxy. At least there weren’t daily power struggles.

Even though the Omar mansion was far out from the city, the hover-transport was very fast – and there were few speed limits in the countryside. When they arrived, a thunderstorm was clearly brewing in the darkening skies.

The house was situated on hundreds of acres of land – it was large even for a mansion, with a very imposing traditional look to it. But to Omar, it was home, and as the driver opened the hover-vehicle’s doors and at the same time the mansion’s double doors were swung open by the butler – he at last felt glad to be back on his home planet.

His mother was always at the sports club this day of the week – the senator was disappointed not to see her straight away but at least he wouldn’t have to introduce Anna to yet another Romulan straight away either.

“A freezing night tonight, wouldn’t you say, Tal?” General Omar asked the butler, who was in the process of removing the military officer’s overcoat.

“Yes, I would sir,” the elderly butler agreed as he took Anna and Senator Omar’s jackets. A huge and ornate staircase – contrasting greatly with the traditional yet plain wood flooring – dominated the vast hallway.

General Omar left without another word – presumably to go to his study, in order to prepare his speech for the senate.

His son beckoned for Anna to follow him up the stairs, and while doing so he explained the origins of the house.

“It was built hundreds of years ago by a traditional aristocratic family,” he said. “When this family fell on hard times, my father bought the place and outfitted it with the latest modern technology – including the best transporter scramblers on the market. I like to think of this place as the perfect hybrid between antiquity and technology, modern and traditional.”

"Reminds me of Empire Architecture." Anna replied with a smile. "Almost Gothic in nature..." She said. "This is where you grew up? Any brothers or sisters?" She asked as they walked into a large room, she was unsure what it function was.

“No,” Omar shook his head. “I’m an only child.” As they reached the landing on the first floor – just as large as the entrance hallway, and with a similar style – he pointed out of the huge, intricately carved window panes facing towards the back of the house. Specifically he pointed to the large outdoor swimming pool, and the imposing forest beyond.

“I like to think there’s enough here to keep half of Romulus occupied,” he joked.

"Where would a man and woman go, if they wanted a few moments of alone time and have a quick kiss?" Anna asked as she looked over at him and grinned.

“To one of the suites along the hall,” he said. “But… Sorry, Anna but I’m not really in the mood for that kind of stuff now – I know I was on the way here, but now I’ve arrived…”

He trailed off, reluctant to disappoint her. “As I’ve said before, I really do appreciate you coming, it’s just a bit overwhelming how unstable our government is right now.”

“It’s always been unstable, ever since the Reman uprising two years ago that involved the assassination of the old senate. I might have been a target back then, had I not been the ambassador onboard Deep Space Nine at the time.”

"I'm sure things will work out for the best, Ramir. Just handle one thing at a time, it will." Anna said as she moved over and sat down in a chair and looked back toward the large windows looking outside.

Omar nodded. “Perhaps, but things aren’t like they used to be. When I was growing up, the old governments were respected – the senate ruled the Romulan Empire, governed by the Praetor and Pro-Consul.”

“Even after the Dominion War, our empire suffered very few casualties in comparison to the Federation and Klingons. Up until 2379, we were a prosperous, peaceful empire – although the Tal Shiar had nearly been wiped out after their failed joint-mission with the Obsidian Order against the Dominion.”

“Yet now, the new senate is more controlled by the Tal Shiar than by the Pro-Consul or Praetor, and political assassinations are a frequent thing.” The senator was shaking his head with dismay.

"Sounds like the beginning to civil war." Anna said looking at him. "That what your worried about?"

“I suppose I am,” the senator admitted. “Our empire is becoming increasingly divided – the Tal Shiar on one side, hoping to remedy our troubles with ruthless expansion, and the pacifist part of the military that Sub-Commander Savar belonged to, the group who wants to solve the unrest by declaring an end to all military conquests.”

“And then there is the senate, in the middle, whose power continues to shrink day-by-day.”

"Where do you lay in that expanse of things?" She asked. "Are you with Savar, or are you controlled by your father?" Anna asked.

“I am not controlled by my father,” he said with a slight undertone of hostility. “But my loyalties are to my family, not to some traitor. Yes, my father and I have had our disagreements, but we both believe that the Romulan Empire should continue expanding, just as it has for hundreds of years.”

"Did you even know Savar? Listen to his ideals, dreams for the Empire? Expansion is good Ramir, there are ways to expand the Empire without conquering people and enslaving them. Perhaps you and I will never agree on that, how can you be the person I believe you to be if you stand here and call Savar a traitor for living up to his ideals as you live up to yours?" Anna asked.

“That’s different, Anna,” Omar replied. “Savar denounced not only an entire Romulan senate, but he denounced the way we have lived for hundreds of years. He was exiled for a reason, you know. I, on the other hand, even in this day of turbulence, like to think of myself as being a model citizen for Romulan society.”

"Did you think Savar might have said the same thing about himself, a visionary for his people. Wanting to take them into a new era in the ever changing universe? Think about it, Klingons have changed, the Bajorans have changed from a once peaceful pacifice civilization to a strong military state. Things change over time, perhaps that's why the Romulans are having such turbulent times, don't want to face the changes they need to make." She said then stood up. "I'm not judging you or your people, Ramir, not asking you to denounce everything you know and everything you are. Just asking, have you ever stopped and thought outside the box, outside what is expected of you and held a thought. Maybe I don't know you that well, but you don't seem like the type that wants what your father does."

Omar hesitated at her words, recognizing their value.

“What exactly does my father want, Anna?” he finally asked, determined to know the answer.

"My dad says don't ask questions if you aren't ready for the answers..." She said then paused. "I just met your dad, granted I might be wrong but he strikes me as someone what will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. He acts for his own agenda, doesn't think twice about using, hurting or even killing people to get what it is he's after. I don't think he thinks in the best interests of his people, that I think is the difference there is between you and him."

Omar looked at her thoughtfully. “You may be right about my father, but what makes you think differently about me?” He stared at her, fearing her reply.

"Away mission"

by
Turan Trelar,
juvenile Quentite Ambassador
and wannabe engineer
with an unauthorized appearance of commander Henderson and Ensign Saturn from engineering (NPC)

"Turan?"

"Turaaaaan!" called Ensign Saturn

A dumb 'bang' sounded from somewhere behind a console on the upper level followed by several murmured Quentinarish swears. A large baldy head rose rubbed by a just as much oversized hand.

"Up here, Ensign. Whats the matter?" he replied.

"Commander Henderson feels the urge to have a talk to you." explained the female engineer.

"But I ... I have to finish this first ..." objected Turan.

"That's not an invitation for tea, Mr Trelar. You shouldn't let him wait." advised Saturn

Again, the tall wannabe engineer murmured something incomprehensible, dropped a tool back to his toolbox and with an "On my way" disappeared through the automatic door.

---- minutes later ---

Commander Henderson's office - there was always a reason a crewmate was called there. In most cases the reason wasn't anything good. Turan had a thought. No, there couldn't be any reason ...

The tall Quentite hit the chime.

<<tweedle beep>>

A 'come in' sounded from behind the door - commander Henderson's voice. The door swished open. Turan glanced at the desk where the XO sat reading a padd.

Commander Henderson looked up from the padd and smiled. "Mr Trelar ... come in and have a seat."

Turan crossed the room to sit down on the chair next to the XO's desk. Even sitting, he almost reached the height of a standing Terran.

"Mr Trelar, you know why you are here?" asked Henderson

"Not really, sir" answered Turan.

"Hmm ... I was told you asked to take part in an away mission. Right?" continued Henderson.

"Away mission? Oh yes ... I had a talk about with ensign Hunter" remembered Turan.

"Mr Trelar ... I decided to put your name on the list. Before I do so, there is something we have to talk about. What do you know about the prime directive?"

"The prime directive?" asked the Quentite boy and immediately quoted:

"As the right of each sentient species to live in accordance with its normal cultural evolution is considered sacred, no Star Fleet personnel may interfere with the healthy development of alien life and culture. Such interference includes the introduction of superior knowledge, strength, or technology to a world whose society is incapable of handling such advantages wisely. Star Fleet personnel may not violate this Prime Directive, even to save their lives and/or their ship unless they are acting to right an earlier violation or an accidental contamination of said culture. This directive takes precedence over any and all other considerations, and carries with it the highest moral obligation."

Commander Henderson nodded. "Not bad, Mr Trelar ... you know the words of the prime directive. But do you understand its meaning?"

Turan felt a little bit insecure. "I think it is meant to avoid the transfer of knowledge to a species which probably isn't ready to handle that technology in a sensible and responsible way. There is a risk to harm their technological development and their culture. They could become addicted to the "friends" who ever supplied them with technology. They could abuse the technology ... weapons for example ... against their own species or a third party or even against us. No question, that's something the Federation can't accept"

"Okay ..." Commander Henderson seemed to be content. "Do you agree to subject to the prime directive, Mr Trelar?"

Turan glanced at the XO and after a few seconds answered "Oh ... certainly ... Yes sir!"

The XO keyed something into the padd. "You will report at main shuttle bay 0900 tomorrow. Don't be late"

“Feline Sense”

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – USS Galaxy
Engineer

*** Vulcan Monastery***

She sat on her haunches sniffing the air. The breeze rippled through her fur. Padding across the grass she brushed up against the nearest tree and stretched, yawning; fangs glinting in the early morning sun.

Her guide trotted across the grass to join her, rubbing his head against hers. She responded in kind. He then began to sharpen his claws on the nearby tree trunk. She sat and watched, wondering if maybe she should do the same. She observed him closely all the wile her tail flicking from side to side. It was strange to have a tail, at first it had been much stranger to walk on four legs. After about an hour or so she had learnt to walk, jump and run on all fours, but the tail was still strange.

He turned to her once more, rubbing his head against hers and then trotted across the garden. He paused and looked back, his message clear….. follow me.

She slowly followed, curious yet slightly dubious of leaving the compound.

Quicker than she could process he was up a tree and sitting on the wall waiting for her to join him. She sat trying to work out the way he had gone, exactly which branch he had jumped on to get to where he was. Her mind had to work a different way. Not restricted by her own limitations, for she was no longer what she had been. She was an animal now.

Backing up slightly she bobbed up and down, like a baby learning to walk gathering the momentum and motivation. She squatted close to the ground and sprang up like a jack in the box. Her claws were out as she landed on the branch. Hearing her heart thunder in her chest she looked down and gauged the distance, her heart rate increased!

Clinging on to the branch for dear life, claws penetrating the bark so deeply she wondered if she could ever get them out, she looked across to her guide; he had moved on. Carefully she retracted her claws and walked along the branch towards the wall. Hopping on to the narrow stone wall she toppled slightly, her tail whipped to the side restoring her balance. She was thankful now for that extra appendage. Quickly she trotted along the wall and jumped off onto the soft grass below. Her guide was now sitting below licking his paws and washing his face.

***

Inside the Meditation Room within the Monastery’s ancient walls Dhanishta Eshe sat deep in trance. Salem sat opposite her, his eyes fixated on his ‘master’.

***

He paused from his hourly cleansing routine to admire her ‘punctuality’, while she actually marvelled in what she had just done. Sniffing the air he hinted that it was time to move on. Her belly began to rumble and she followed, silently praying for food, when was the last time they had eaten?

In her mind she visualised a nice bowl of pre prepared food, just like she used to give him. But he had other ideas. She lagged behind slightly as her saliva glands flooded her mouth and her mind produced image over image of steaming hot tasty food.

After a while she looked up, the scenery had changed a lot since the last time she had taken an upwards glance. The street they were currently walking down was dank, and dark, more like an ally way, she could smell the sweet food from the restaurant on the corner and figured that they were going to eat out of the garbage can. Kind of gross but then a cat had to eat, and if there was no bowl of pre prepared food, then the can would do.

She began to sniff the garbage trying to find something that looked and smelled edible.

Meanwhile he sniffed out his prey. He crouched close to the ground, his ears flattening against his majestic head. His black fur made him almost invisible in the shadows. He creped forward, the tip of his tail flicking from side to side. He had his target in sight; a small brown rat scrambling through the scattered rubbish. Slowly he made his move forward; his shoulder blades looked abnormal as he stalked his prey, almost as if they would pierce his skin at any moment. Silently he gained on the rodent and then… he pounced, springing from the shadows. The rat was dead with in seconds as the cats fangs ripped through its fragile skin and shattered its neck. Proudly and pompously he trotted up to her and dropped the dead rat in front of her.

She looked down at it and then back up at him, what was she supposed to do now? Get one herself? Or eat that one? And yuk! Instead she held her nose up and began to wash her face. Slightly dejectedly he picked up his offering and stalked off leaving her to fend for herself.

***

The warmth of the day turned to cold night and still Dhanishta sat in trance. Salem too. Three Vulcan monks stood and watched.

“Is this the student of Sark?” one questioned.

“Indeed.” the second answered.

“What is she doing?” a third questioned.

“She has performed a morph, and is now astral planning with her guide.” The second explained.

“And who is her guide?” the first asked.

“The feline.” said the second pointing to Salem, “They are in their eleventh hour.” he elaborated.

“Ten hours, fifty three minutes and sixteen seconds.” The third corrected.

The room fell back into silence. If at all possible it was an embarrassed silence, but then with Vulcan’s you never could tell.

****

The darkness consumed the ally way and ebbed across the plain. After washing herself several times she looked around for her guide, still hungry. He was no where to be seen. He had left her earlier and had not returned. She had waited for hours, watched the sun set, and still she hadn’t eaten.

The big wooden doors opened behind her and a fat middle aged man waddled out with a big black rubbish sack in his hand.

“Hey!” she shouted upon spotting her, “Shoo, Shoo...”

He dumped the sack and was surprisingly fast seeing that his gut hung over his belly, his white stained t-shirt was about five sizes too small and his apron sat around his hidden waist; obviously he was so fat that he didn’t notice boiling oil splatter his belly while he cooked. But still covered in all that grease and the challenge that gravity must have brought him, he was still fast.

She turned and darted across the road, and out onto the scrubland plain. She was truly alone now… right? Her ears pricked up, the amount of sounds the night reviled was astonishing, half of them her brain processed as none threatening. But a few of them caught her attention, and her saliva glands buzzed back into action, as did her belly growling. The smell of food flooded her nostrils; she lowered her self so that she was flat with the ground, no longer surprised that another living, breathing being smelled like food. The darkness wasn’t a problem as her vision was perfect, she could see every blade of grass and all the rodents before her. She began to stalk one, her ears flat, just like his had been. Closer and closer she got till the prey was within pouncing reach. Springing forward she felt the air whistle through her fur, she could sense the fear and liked the feeling it gave her; the feeling of power and control. First attempt and she had the food she had hungered for all day. And this time it wasn’t gross or beneath her, she tucked in hungered and soon all that was left was a carcass. She sat proudly and with much satisfaction began to wash herself.

She smelt him a long time before he appeared by her side, the winds had changed and it was again time to move on. The two of then wandered across the plains, jumping and skipping, pausing now and again for a play fight to hone her skills.

****

Three days had passed since Dhanishta had started her meditation. The Vulcan monks sat in wait for her return, knowing full well that the transition back to her humanoid state would be a shock to her system.

Salem was the first to stir, he shuddered with the cold and mewed profusely as he came round. The monks had prepared him some food and monitored him constantly with a tricorder to make sure he stabilised and adjusted without complication.

As Dhanishta came to her whole body went into spasm. The Vulcan’s responded quickly, having already requested and received her medical file. The oxygen mask was quickly slipped over her mouth and the muscle relaxant injected. Soon her body relaxed and she came too. She was quite disoriented and woozy. Carefully they hoisted her up and took her to her room.

It was beautifully plain, with stone walls, a small closet and an extremely comfortable bed. That surprised Dhani, but she was far too tired to notice. Within seconds of being placed in the bed she was out cold.

For the first time in over a year, Dhani slept. Even though it was a drug educed sleep, the Vulcan monks had certainly done their homework; it was still the best relaxation the body could get.

The monks entered once more and a purring, half asleep, Salem was laid next to her.

Together they dreamed of mousing, cat fights and climbing trees.

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder

Chief Engineer

Lieutenant (JG) Dhanishta Eshe

Engineer

OOC: Sorry if this is long, but... tough! Was having fun playing with Ethan in a really bad mood! I'm sure I did Kelly proud ;) What with the destruction and all.

"Get Around, Or Not."

Ethan strolled down a particular section of the ship that had been refitted. The lights were working well and the bulkheads didn't have a mark on them. Several officers passed him in the hall, he gave a nod or friendly salute on his way, also a very good smile.

"Round, round, get around, I get around." he started singing for some reason. He wasn't sure why, but he had heard that song somewhere and was stuck in his head. He turned the corner from the brightly lit corridor into a dark section that still had bulkheads everywhere. There were scorch marks all the way down the corridor. Several engineers looking tired and beat up were busy welding new bulkheads back into place or fixing computer system here and there. Ethan's singing had come to a stop, but he quickly shrugged and made his way down a different corridor, which like the first, had been repaired. "I'm getting bugged driving up and down the same old strip, I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip." He continued singing.

Turning round the next corner, he suddenly stopped and looked up at his Bolian friend, Jiiles. His singing seemed to stop abruptly also. He cleared his throat and looked around innocently before finally meeting Jiiles's surprised stare. "Sup?"he asked.

Jiiles at first shrugged, but then responded, "Your singing. You have a couple of bags packed, your guitar." He stated pointing at the bags Suder was carrying over his shoulders and the case in his left hand. "Where you off to?"

"I'm heading out to the Klingon Homeworld." Ethan said with a smile.

Jiiles stepped back with open arms and a big smile. "Get out of here, Ethan!" he began. "Your going to go find the lady and tell her about the world that can't exist without her?" he asked as if to rub it in.

Suder gave another smile and a nod and continued walking down the corridor, friend in tow. "I figured now's a good chance you know. Repairs are going well. I could probably use a couple of weeks to rest a little, and I'm in the mood to go find her."

"Damn, that shit is whack!" Jiiles added, to quote a popular 'Suder' phrase. They both had a slight giggle. "Why not just call her up sub-space style?"

"Because I'd rather get this over and done with in person. I can just show up, find out she's married with kids or something and say that I was just in the area doing an Engineering Conference with the Klingon Engineering council. It would be a little stupid to just call her up after all these years, 'just to catch up' wouldn't it?" he asked.

"Could be. Well, I'm off to help with the guys bring some stuff down for Engineering. But I'll catch up with you on your way back."

Ethan gave Jiiles a joyful handshake before turning round a corner and heading down towards what was left of the shuttlebay. Hopefully, it was in better condition. "My buddies and me are getting real well known, yeah the bad guys know us and they leave us alone." he continued to sing.

*** A Short While Later ***

After running the start-up procedure and getting clearance, Ethan was making his way passed the starbase perimeter. He had tapped in the course for the computers benefit. Opening one of the bags by his feet, he took out a flask and opened it up. Inside, was a real Betazoid coffee-like drink. He sipped some straight from the flask and sat back, his head resting on the headrest of the chair. After several minutes, he got out of his chair and grabbed his guitar from its case.

Making sure it was in tune, he began playing. "Talk to you." he started singing again, this time quietly, and softly. If anyone could have heard, they would have thought he was just talking to himself. "I long to talk to you. lasts for a heartbeat, but it's such a feeling, of being one, when we talk on the phone. You make me complete, you make me feel connected, to the earth, beneath my feet.." He screwed the top of the flask back on and placed it back in the bag. "You make me laugh, and you help me to cry." he continued. A couple of more minutes passed like this.

"You've shown me life, you've taught me, you let me see, what's real. whatever would I be, without you in my life, without the warmth of you in my heart.. Whatever would I be without the light you give me, without the thought of you in my arms.. And all I can do, is wait until the next time, that I hear your sweet voice, on the line... I'll feel home again, you bring me home, again.."

Then the computer began beeping. Ethan jumped forward in the chair and hit the reply button to the incoming hail. "Can I take your order please?" he asked with a smile that no one could see.

=/\= Commander Suder, we have a request here that needs your attention. =/\= the voice came through almost as chirpy as Ethan's.

"What's the problem?" Ethan asked.

=/\= There's some issues with the Galaxy that needs your immediate attention. I'm afraid we have to call you back. =/\=

Ethan thought for a second, scratching his jaw. Mental note: Freakin shave already! "There are plenty of officers around. Commander Sanders for example, why can't she overlook the issue?"

=/\= It was Commander Sanders that initially requested you, sir. We've tried to get around it, but they need you. I'm really sorry, sir. There's some work going on around the exterior of the shuttlebays, but you're cleared to dock with the Galaxy. =/\=

Ethan remained silent for a short while and then sighed. "Acknowledged, I'm turning around."

=/\= I'm sorry again, sir. =/\=

Ethan hit the button on the console with his fist ending the hail. "Me too kid. Me too." He looked out of the view port at the stars before him. One of those must have been the Klingon Homeworld. "Well princess, I guess you and me will have to wait longer. But you've probably got kids and a husband and stuff though right? So you're not missing out. I'd probably just show up, say hi, meet the family and just come straight back, wondering what the hell was I thinking in the first place right?" he said to himself with yet another sigh.

His hands flew across the console before him. Setting in a new course, he flopped back in his chair and grabbed the flask again. The Galaxy soon came into view along with the Starbase. "Why do I feel like you did this on purpose?" he asked the ship.

*** What Remains Of The Galaxy Shuttlebay ***

The large doors leading to the shuttlebay half opened. Jiiles could hear the mechanical parts trying to open the door further, but it was too damaged to stop trying. He shook his head and looked around. The clean-up crews had done a good job of removing all the garbage from the area. Some damage was visible here and there, the odd battle wound on a couple of the shuttles, but it was not too bad, considering some other parts of the ship.

The Bolian came to a halt and turned to look at Dhanishta as she caught up with him after dodging several large chunks of debris. He began twiddling his thumbs as he began the countdown for Ethan's shuttle to arrive. "I'll bet you drink and a shift that he won't be singing when he steps off that shuttle." Jiiles offered.

"Well that's not a fair bet." Dhani replied as she came up to a halt next to him. For a few more seconds, there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Then she spoke again after realising what he had said, "What was he singing?"

"Around. Get around. I get around. Round round round. Not sure, I've only heard it a couple of times, one of those songs that can get stuck in your head real easy." He replied.

Dhani raised an eyebrow in an incredibly Vulcan way, "Interesting." She remarked.

"However the 'bet' is flawed. The chief hardly ever sings. Therefore you would win. There is no contest."

If Jiiles had eyebrows, one of them would have been raised. "True." He stated. "It was good seeing him in such a good mood though. Don't tell anyone, but he was on his was to Quno'S to find ol' Key." He then thought about why he was telling Dhani this. He had certainly noticed the change in her personality since she had been back, not that it changed how he felt. There was still something about her that made him wonder.

"Interesting." She stated with a completely black expression.

"I have to quire the unfortunate position Commander Sanders has put us in." she said without a hint of emotion,

"For her to request him to return form a Vacation, an incredibly long awaited one at that, knowing full well that this disruption would incur his wrath, and yet she doesn't even have the guts to greet him..We are indeed cannon fodder." She remarked.

Jiiles gave out a slight chuckle. "You're right. Nice of her to hold rank over us and send us down here." He could now see the shuttle closing in on the shuttlebay. It was coming in slow. Jiiles didn't like that one bit. He wanted the situation to be over as quickly as possible. It felt like some dark lord of an evil empire was about to arrive. He continued twiddling his thumbs and gave Dhani a glance, who didn't move a bit.

"But I also think you've been hanging around Vulcans too long on your vacation." He replied with a chuckle.

Dhani glanced up at the six foot plus Bolian at her side,

"Quite possible." She replied whit a twinkle in her eye. Under her controlled exterior the woman he fell in love with was still there, sparkling like a diamond in the rough.

She stood to full attention as the shuttle landed and the rear door opened. She could feel Jiiles's trepidation at the situation as it unfolded, and waited in the unfolding silence.

Ethan stepped forward towards the small ramp that had just lowered. Straightening his uniform. Jiiles thought whether or not he should ask if he wanted a hand with his bags. But as quickly as the thought came into his mind, one of them came flying out of the shuttle. He quickly dodged to the side as the bag hit the floor, followed by another. He suddenly felt really hot. A little bit of sweat falling from his brow. Then he saw Ethan's feet as he stormed down the ramp, guitar case in hand.

Suder Slammed his fist on the console by the shuttle. The ramp began to close. He then took in a deep breath and looked at Jiiles. After a few seconds of 'turning him to stone' with his glare, he looked at Dhani. Without saying a word, he picked up his bags, slung them across his shoulder and stormed towards the exit.

Jiiles gave Dhani and shrug and quickly jogged to catch up with the Chief.

Ethan reached the doors and looked at them when they only half opened. He gave one of them a good hard kick. They opened fully and Ethan, followed by Dhani and Jiiles, flew down the corridor.

Dhani lagged a few paces behind Suder with Jiiles,

"If I had taken your bet you would be smiling about now." she said quietly so that only Jiiles could hear her.

Ethan paid no mind to the statement, only proceeded to his quarters, which wasn't too far now. Nothing more was said at this point. It couldn't have been sooner for Jiiles, but they reached Ethan's quarters. He threw his bags down and placed his guitar case on the couch. He thought whether he should replace his leather jacket for his duty jacket, but then decided not too. It didn't matter at this point.

He stormed back out of his quarters, Dhani and Jiiles following again. "So what did I miss?" Suder asked at last.

Dhani looked up at Jiiles, after all he was her superior, but Suder had indeed turned him to stone, well his vocal chords at least, or so it seemed.

"There was a problem installing the warp core." Dhani said simply. Noticing the flames that erupted from Suders eyes she quickly elaborated,

"There were too many spikes in the energy matrix as we inserted it. I recommended that we take it off line during the installation and then run diagnostics after it was installed. But due to time restrictions Commander Sanders believed that that would take too long, and you would be best present as you are more experienced than she at dealing with such a problem." Dhani finished her exceptionally mono toned explanation of the situation as they rounded the corned and stepped into the turbo lift. She and Jiiles flanked Suder, both staring directly ahead, showing nothing but respect for their chief.

Ethan crossed his arms and continued to frown. "Would have done the same thing myself." He almost snapped.

Dhani was about to say, I know, but stopped and took a puff of her inhaler instead. Not wanting to aggravate her chief even more. She had already had the debate with Commander Sanders and was just saddened that Suder had been called back to give the stupid Commander the same response that she had already given. Flicking the cap back on the device she stuffed it into her pocket and resumed her 'eyes front' position.

Until the turbolift came to a halt, there was complete silence. The doors hissed open. That alone seemed to be really loud. They all moved out and began making their way down the corridor towards Engineering. The doors slid open and all walked in and came to a halt.

Ethan looked around. Things were looking good, but he wasn't supposed to see this for another two weeks. He could see they were having trouble with the warp core right away. He approached the Engineers working on it.

"Jackson!" he snapped. "You have to realign the modulators before you can do that. And Saraj, those breakers need to be pulled out before the core goes in!" He stopped and put his hands on his hips and glared around Engineering. Not looking for anything in particular. Just observing the situation. His stare fell on Jiiles and Dhani. For about a minute, he looked at them both in turn before moving straight to his office.

Jiiles looked down at Dhani with an expression of 'we didn't do anything wrong, so why was he glaring at us?' Upon hearing a loud crashing noise Jiiles bolted, his parting words,

"I'm going to find Sanders." The literal translation being; "I'm a six foot chicken shit. You can deal with him, while I run away like a coward!"

The man could deal with a Breen boarding party, but when it came to his own chief, he ran and hid like a girl!

Dhani watched him as he almost skidded in his rush to exit the firing range. Slowly she turned towards the crashing sound, which was getting louder and more ferocious by the second.

She approached Suders office and entered without knocking. Another thing that she was sure would piss him off later. As she entered her first reaction was to duck, as a data padd came flying across the room and smashed against the opposing wall. Carefully she dodged further flying objects, taking a mental catalogue of each of them and proceeded to the replicator where she ordered Suders usual beverage and then turned to face him,

"Lieutenant Commander Suder," she half shouted above the sound of smashing items, "Commander Sanders will be here in a few minuets. And she has seen your office, in its previous non battered state." She ducked again, "I therefore request that you desist."

Ethan opened a couple of crates, full of data padds and other items. He began going through them and threw a load on to the desk. Then he glared at Dhani. "I'm sure she can file some sort of protest." He said going through some of the data padds. "Don't get me wrong, she's a great person and all." With that, he hurled another data padd against one of the walls. "Is Jason back on duty yet!?" he said through clenched teeth.

Dhani ignored his outburst and casually strolled over to his deck. Pushing the data padd aside she hopped onto it and raised her foot, resting it between his legs on the edge of his chair,

"Is this inappropriate behaviour?" she asked in a slightly smutty tone leaning in to him so that he could feel her breath on his skin.

Ethan put his hands on his hips and stared into Dhani's eyes. He was so surprised that she was this daring. Just about everyone he knew wouldn't be. At first, he wasn't sure how to respond. But then the thought came to his head. "Probably, but it's been ok for some Chief's in the past. Just following in their footsteps."

Dhani pushed him backwards so he hit the wall slightly,

"You were right first time Chief." She said holding out the glass for him to take.

"And throwing Starfleet property around is also inappropriate, especially for a man of you stature and position. It is also an offence." She added crossing her legs and folding her arms.

Ethan took the glass from her and almost through it across the room also. Instead, he put it on the desk next to Dhani and leaned in close to her. "I 'm pretty sure I remember your quarters going through some bad times. Starfleet property included. So the way I see it. We're even."

She raised an eyebrow and for a split second, pondered her reply, she could still come down the heavy, tell him that she had been just an ensign, but then he knew that he was in the wrong so instead she stuck out her hand,

"All right."

Ethan didn't see the point, but grabbed her hand, probably slightly firmer than he should have and gave it a quick shake.

"I'll be seeing you in Ten Forward later then for a drinking competition, followed by a punch up, a few broken bones and a vomiting session?" she said a slight smile dancing on her lips.

"You might just." He said bluntly with a frown. The doors to Ethan's office slid open and Jiiles popped his head in. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Dhani was sat on Ethan's desk in front of him, smiling. Ethan was right in front of her, eye to eye. She was a bit too close to Ethan and in a very provocative way. Earlier she had been very Vulcan like, and here she was, almost offering herself on his desk. At least, that's how it seemed. He swallowed hard.

Ethan finally turned his head and looked at Jiiles. "Is Jason back on duty?" he asked.

Jiiles nodded. "I think so." He said quietly.

"Get him down here!" Ethan snapped.

Jiiles gave Dhani a glance and then hurried off.

Then Commander Sanders strolled into the office and stopped immediately and looked at the debris around her. She then looked at Ethan, a look of "sorry" on her face.

Ethan sighed. "If you'll excuse me Lieutenant." He said to Dhani as he finally picked up his drink and sipped it.

Dhani nodded and slid off his desk. Standing up she tugged her jacket down, smoothing it with her hands before walking to the door. She gave Sanders a nod and a slight smile as she walked out.

The doors slid shut behind Dhani. Less than two minutes later, Ethan came back out of his office with Rachel Sanders. He gave a data padd to both Tom Jason and Jiiles. He then proceeded to leave Engineering.

Sanders watched him leave and then just looked at the floor once he was out of view. She felt so bad for calling him back. What she did was the right decision she was sure. But that didn't change how she felt. He so needed this vacation. To get away. To get to Klingon space. She frowned and looked at Jiiles and Jason. They then looked at each other and went their different ways.

Dhani watched Sanders from the shadows of the second level. She could feel her sorrow for what she had done. Little did she know that the engineering crew of the Galaxy would feel it for a lot longer. Dhani turned back to her duties, wondering how to get the engineering crew through this increasingly difficult time. It was bad enough that they had lost so many good officers, bad enough that their beloved flag ship had been practically destroyed, bad enough that they had to painstakingly repair it, and even more so now that their Commander and Chief was under permanent PMS!

OOC: I thought I could care for the planet's every day life.

"The new crossbow"

by Renara, hunter and weapon beta test volunteer [Trelar]

... somewhere on the mysterious planet ...

Renara kneeled down behind one of the larger rock which formed one border of her favorite shoot. The young hunter had already spent a rather long time watching the herd of frisams which were now calmly filling their stomaches with the valley's green herbes. Renara chose a male frisam -a young one, already grown up but with a rather small antlers - large enough to serve as food for the community for a week or two but not too heavy to be carried home before the rochas smelled its blood. An fight against a pack of hungry rochas was the last a hunter dreamed of. There was no cowardice in avoiding those merciless beast whenever possible - just a sign of intelligence, experience, wisdom.

Slowly, Renara took the crossbow Ekbar, the druid and weapon smith gave her for a test. This was not the first weapon, the old man developed. >From the day, Ekbar realized his idea of combining a bow with a stock there was a constant improvement in range, power and efficiency. This time Ekbar seemed to have found solutions for the problems Renara complained about. The crossbow was much lighter than the last one. The center of gravity moved towards the carved handle where the hunter's right arm carried the weight of the weapon. And there was an other improvement ... While previous models needed an enormous effort to draw the string, this one had a mechanism that made drawing an absolutely easy task.

Renara guided the string behind the hook at the small metal sled build into the crossbow's stock and turned the crank. Every turn of the small metal crank made the sled moved slowly towards the stock's rear end. Within seconds, the sled arrived at its final destination.

The young hunter took one of the arrow from the quiver attached to her left upper leg, laid it on the crossbow's guidance and aimed the massive frisam's neck. There was no need to aim far above the target as you have to do with a traditional longbow or with one of the new weapons predecessors. The much shorter arrows didn't have the tendency to stall and so didn't need a feather which previously led to a remarkable loss of height.

Renara held her breath, and without much hesitating pulled the trigger. Waiting to long would have tired her arm's muscles and so caused a shiver that made proper targeting almost impossible - a fact, a hunter learned long before she left for her first hunt.

Within split seconds the arrow traveled his deadly way to find its target in the animals neck, just a hand below the head. The frisam belled nerve-tearing. While the rest of the small herd fell into a stampede and left the valley, the deadly wound frisam jumped, then stumbled a few steps. Finally the massive body fell to the ground ... motionless ... dead - a perfect hit.

Renara reattached the belt to the waepon's stock, hung it over her shoulder and walked downhill into valley to looked for her prey.

"The Siren"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

[Starbase 212]

After the disastrous attempt to patch things up with Erin, Jeremy didn't need much of an excuse to find some way to get his mind off things. Only a few short hours after returning to the Galaxy - his newly re-discovered home - he already wanted nothing more than to get off it. Starbase 212 was a convenient escape.

Its multitude of cultures -- mixing and merging, connecting and clashing -- had an energy about them; one that was less about work and order than about unrefined, unrepentant joie de vivre. It was exactly what beckoned to Jeremy tonight, and only a few drinks and a couple short conversations later, he had gotten the low-down on a high stakes gaming room located deep within the recesses of one of the largest and most popular watering holes in the sector.

"Those people play for real," a bartender warned, overhearing the muffled exchange between Savoie and the somewhat mysterious Andorian who had filled him in on how to get in on the action. "They'll just as soon cut your heart out as smirk at you . . . starfleet or no," he added. Even though Jeremy had come to the base out of uniform, it wasn't likely someone like him would be here otherwise.

Jeremy gave the barkeep a patronizing smirk of his own. "Sounds like my kind of game." Finishing off his third - or was it his fourth? - drink, he rose from the bar, thanked the bartender and the Andorian, and started off to find the action.

Following the directions the Andorian had given him, he soon arrived at what appeared to be a lounge or club of some sort. Full of people and the competing sounds of loud talk and even louder music, the place had energy, but it wasn't as the Andorian described. There were no gaming tables, no dark and heavy atmosphere, no palpable tension of an unseen fight still waiting to erupt at any moment; this place was far too civil. Jeremy silently made his way around the large room, looking for some sign of what he had come for, keeping an ear open to glean what he could from the conversations that were going on all around him. Five, maybe ten minutes later, he still hadn't seen or heard anything useful. Inside, he started to boil, wondering if this had just been some sort of joke, something the regulars of the starbase liked to play on gullible visitors like him.

Then, someone caught his eye, or rather, he apparently caught hers. In a secluded corner, a woman sat alone at a table. Through long, cascading strands of straight brown hair, she stared directly at him. Knowing she had his attention, her sultry smile spread just a little further, and with a slight curl of one delicate finger, she beckoned him to her.

"Looking for some action?" she inquired as she watched him approach the table, her low, melodious voice somehow managing to cut through the surrounding din.

"I don't think so," Jeremy coolly shot back, assuming the action to which she referred would involve the exchange of some form of money and a private room. Tempting as the idea was, if Erin even heard a rumor that he'd hooked up with another woman he was as good as dead.

The temptress smiled. "I meant something more . . . competitive. A card game perhaps?"

"And what makes you think that?" Jeremy countered, playing along to see where it would lead.

"I know a lot of things," the woman answered with a slow, throaty chuckle. "Besides being telepathic, I'm also, shall we say, a hostess of sorts. It's my job to know when someone's looking for a good time." The twinkle in her eye suggested that she only sometimes limited her hostess duties to good times of a competitive nature.

Jeremy leaned on the table, holding her gaze. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Despite the woman's double-talk, he found himself warming up to her.

Taking a long, lingering sip from a tall, thin glass, the woman smiled with her eyes. The look suggested there was at least as much about her that -would- surprise him. She returned the glass to the table. "Why don't you join me for a drink?"

"Well, I really was hoping to get to the . . . festivities . . . before it gets too late."

The woman was amused. "It's never too late. They go on all day, all night. People come, people go, but the fun never ends. So since there's no hurry, let's have a drink together. I insist," she purred, delicately laying her unbelievably soft hand on Jeremy's. "Besides, you can't get there until I arrange for it, and I'm not inclined to be in any hurry." There was something in the woman's words that made the invitation sound more like a strong suggestion. It was obvious that doing anything but what she wanted wasn't going to be of much use.

Taking the seat next to her, Jeremy was about to flag a server when one appeared almost out of nowhere and deposited a heavy glass with a thick golden liquid inside.

"Don't be surprised," the woman said, leaning a little closer to her somewhat reluctant companion. "They know when to bring something to one of my guests."

"It'd be better if they knew -what- to bring your guests by asking first, don't you think?" Jeremy calmly retorted, holding up the heavy glass in an attempt to identify its contents.

"Don't worry. You'll like it, Lieutenant," the woman said with a wicked grin.

"So how'd you know - "

In one graceful motion, the woman had her finger gently placed against Jeremy's lips. "I told you I know a lot of things," she whispered. "A good hostess always knows her guests. For now, just relax and enjoy a drink with me. It's a rare liqueur I have brought in specially, just for . . . new friends." There was something seductive in her insistence that he join her for a drink, seductive enough to quell any rational concern on Jeremy's part. Their eyes locked on each other, she smiled when Jeremy lifted the glass and raised her own to lightly clink it against his.

The first sip went down easily enough, as did the second, and the third, and the fourth . . . . Before he realized it, Jeremy was talking freely with the strange woman, oblivious to the server who had refilled his drink not once, but twice.

"Mmm . . . it must be so . . . exciting . . . to pilot a starship," the woman intoned, her chin rested in her hand as she gazed at Jeremy with an adoring smile.

Jeremy paused, an intoxicated - in every sense of the word - smile on his own face. "You haven't even told me your name yet," he said quietly, by now obviously enchanted.

"Sarai," she answered. "You only had to ask."

"It's a beautiful name," Jeremy commented as he freely caressed her hand on the table.

Sarai stared deeply into Jeremy's eyes as if reading his very soul. His guard was down now, which made it all the more easy to do. It was time for the games to begin. "Are you ready to play now?" she asked, already taking his hand, ready to lead him from the table.

"Lead on," he answered, standing to follow her without taking his eyes off hers. "I'm ready to have the time of my life."

"And that's just what you'll have," she whispered into his ear.

A minute later, they were out of lounge and on their way to a shuttle bay.

"Practical Magic" Pt. VI

Senator Ramir Omar,
Ambassador
USS Galaxy

Lt. Brianna O'Shea,
SCE
USS Galaxy

"I don't mean this with disrespect, you know there isn't much of a career for you just being the Ambassador on a Federation ship. I'd say you even have wondered if your father manipulated the situation and got you placed there to further along his career and to keep you out of his way." She said then walked over to him and rubbed his back. "I'm saying all this to hurt you, or make you mad at me. When I look at your father and you, there is severely different. I trust you and I barely know you, your father... your father I wouldn't trust at all." Brianna said then paused. "I'm this to you so you'll at least think outside the box for once, maybe as a engineer as I am, I've grown to always think outside the box.... just don't be angry with me about what I said cause it wasn't meant to make you angry."

He nodded in understanding. “You are right about my father – he’s been a tyrant his entire life, in most things he did. He didn’t force me to be the Federation’s ambassador though; I chose that to leave behind the politics of Romulus. What I’m worried about however is that soon my father, the tyrant, will be the tyrant of the Romulan Empire, in deed as well as action.”

"Your father has grown into a dangerous position... he has favor with the Empress, now over the Tal Shair he controls the Senate. He will be the beginning of the dark ages of the Romulan Empire, Ramir." Anna said as she stood there behind him. "Do you have any favor with the Empress or anyone that could help?"

“What are you suggesting?” Omar asked, suddenly aware of what she was saying. “Are you asking me to depose the man who has brought our family to greatness?”

“Although we have had our share of arguments, I owe my privileged upbringing to him.”

Anna shook her head. "I'm not suggesting anything," she replied cause she could hear Starfleet Command ripping her a new one for causing a civil war. "In Starfleet a cadet learns that sometimes one has to sacrifice what he or she holds dear for the greater good. You have to ask yourself that, ask yourself, is your father what the Romulan Empire needs for a future... I don't know what he will do for your people future, you said yourself everything he has done is for personal goals, where does your people fit into that?" Anna asked then paused and turned. To Sit down on the ornate staircase leading up to another floor, looking at her gown and the beading work she looked up just as a ray of sun came in and illuminated her. "You have to ask yourself is it greatness that keeps your family in this position, or fear and intimidation that makes people accept what your family hands out." She said.

Omar shook his head fiercely. “It is not up to me to decide the future of my people. I am merely a humble servant of the state, and of the empire. My father may not be acting in the best interests of our people, and yes – civil war does worry me. But it has been three years since the revolt, and we have avoided war thus far.”

He examined her face closely. “When you say ‘could help,’ what were you suggesting? And please don’t say you weren’t suggesting anything, Anna – just as you know me quite well, I know you – even if we’ve only known each other for a day or two. What did you mean?”

"I don't know, it was wrong for me to come here. If your happy living and watching what this will do for your people, who am I to offer any suggestions?" Anna said standing up. "I should get off this planet, I will not start a insurrection here against your father. You must know what to do, do you want to be a servant to your father's agenda and be remembered in history for it, or do you want to be remembered as a savior that restored the Empire back to it's Glory. Empress is growing older, soon, not even herself will be able to stop your father." Ann said then turned and started down the steps. "I've got to get off this planet.. it was wrong for me to come here... I wish to see the Federation Ambassador and ask for asylum until I can be removed from this planet... my views are not like yours, if I don't get off this planet.. I"m going to cause a major incident." Anna said as she began to cry, she felt so strongly about this.

Omar stood up immediately. “Look, look, I’m really sorry,” he said apologetically. “Please don’t leave, it was great of you to come – it’s just I don’t come across your kind of perspective everyday. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” he said decisively. “You’re right. This has gone far enough. I’ll deal with my father right now if you want me to.” He struggled to pluck up the courage.

"No!" Anna said taking his arm. "I don't want you to act because that what I would do or feel that's what needs to be done. This has to be something you want for yourself... for your people." Anna said looking at him, her eyes soften. "I could be killed by your peoples standards for what I've told you here... I barely know you, you could very well turn me over and have them put me to death for treason and countless other charges. Sometimes... a very Wiseman once said, sometimes the many out weigh the one."

Omar recognized the quote instantly. “Ambassador Spock, correct?”

“I met him here on Romulus over ten years ago,” he explained. “I had just left the military – having only joined because of my father – and was unsure of what to do. After I met Spock, who was at the time the leader of the secret Vulcan reunification movement on Romulus, I decided to go into politics. He was indeed, a very wise man.”

"You can't look to someone else and have them make your future... you just have to be willing to answer the call of it." Anna said then.

The senator tried to act brave. “Look, Anna, you know I’m not going to report you to my government, or to Starfleet Command, so please, I beg of you, give me some guidance in what to do. I need your help.”

Was this how it was back in the middle ages of Earth, the time of Lords and Ladies, Kings and Queens. Was she going to be the woman making the man do what was right, in her heart she knew she should. Would she be remembered as good friend of the one who returned glory to the people, or the woman that started civil war? "You know what has to be done... accept it, act on behalf of your people." Anna said. "You have to make sure, by any means, he does not take his position." Anna said quietly. You have to face that, Ramir. You know that if your father takes over the Empire, we will be at war... I will be on one side of it, you on the other."

“Then I…” Omar hesitated. “I must deal with it right now.” He began to move towards the nearby communications panel.

"What are you going to do?" Anna asked.

Omar turned to her. “Do you really want to know?” he asked.

"Yes..." Anna said, if it was going to go down she wasn't going to let him take the fall himself.

The senator’s courage suddenly went completely. “Anna, how did we get from just a normal conversation, to talk of what we’re about to do? To think, if I hadn’t brought up the topic, we’d probably just be relaxing still. You know exactly what’ll have to be done if I go through with this.”

"I wish there was another way." Brianna replied.

“Another way?” The senator asked. “Sorry, Anna – no offence intended: but you’ve been on this planet less than a single day – why are you so concerned about Romulan politics?

"I'm not concerned about Romulan politics, you know well as I do this is not about politics. This is about what is best for your people, you know deep down your father isn't that." Anna said as she stood there. "Rest on it tonight, don't make your decision right now." She said then started down the steps. "I think it's best if I go to the Federation Embassy, for your safety and mine."

“Innocence Lost”

FLASHBACK 2375:
Starfleet Academy,
San Francisco,
Earth

Naranda Sol Roswell
Professor Marks (NPC)

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

“Cadet Roswell.”

Nara paused as she followed everyone out the door. A few classmates passing made some remarks. “Your gonna get it now Nara!”

She sighed and stood waiting for the room to clear. Professor Marks sat at his desk and spoke to the computer, “Computer, close door and go to complete confidential mode until further notice.” The door closed and a double beep indicated that there were extra measure to ensure eavesdropping would not be an issue. “Cadet, have a seat.”

Nara did as she was told and tried to explain, “Sir, I was only trying…”

He cut her off holding a hand up. “You may have your own ideas and believes Cadet, however, to be so admantly passionate as to begin to yell…”

Nara winced remembering the incident and slunk in her chair.

He continued as his voice changed to something more creepy, “I found it to turn me on very much.”

Nara looked at him confused, “Sir?”

He stood and sat on his desk too close to her and touched her face, “Naranda, you must be just as passionate in bed.”

Nara gulped. She wasn’t sure how to handle this. She suddenly felt weak and scared. “Sir, I’ve…never been to bed with anyone.”

She saw his grin grew to something menacing, “Well, my dear, we shall have to fix that.”

A sudden shiver went through her body realizing what he implied and a glance at his pants confirmed that. She jumped up and went to the door. It didn’t open. She felt his arms go around her, “Sir, I don’t believe this is appropriate.”

He spun her around, “I don’t believe I care.” He ran his hands over her chest and wispered, “I can ruin your career as well as your status on Sakaria. Best you not tell anyone or put up too much a fight. A little fight is ok. I want it to be worth it.”

With that he threw her to the ground. She fought with all she could, but the fat man weighed her down. He hit harder than would be expected of a man that size. She screamed in agony. Since the confidental mode was on nothing was heard. No one could hear her crying and screaming and his degrading yelling and hitting her.

When he was done with her, he got up and went to his desk to pull out a case.

Nara slowly and painfully pulled her uniform back on sniffling wondering when he would let her go.

He brought the case over and she moved away. He held her arm too tight. “Let me cover up your wounds. No one must know of this. Remember I can ruin you.” He ran the device over her covering up the wounds. It didn’t heal them, only disquised them. With that and a final warning he told her to leave.

Nara went home and showered and went straight to bed. The next morning she felt as if she’d awoken from a horrible nightmare. She couldn’t remember anything she had done the night before. She was sore. So very sore. There were no bruises or anything, so she thought she just slept wrong.

When she sat in Professor Marks class she felt uneasy. Almost to the point of a panic attack. She didn’t know why, but she was granted a transfer.

At her next physical the doctor and her had a heated argument about Nara’s virginity. The doctor even showed her where it proved she was not. He didn’t seem to believe that Nara would know if she had or not. He simply said, “Are you so sure about that?” He left her with that and Nara decided not to argue it anymore. Her body was just weird.

"Lord of the Ring!"

Chapter 3: The Inn of the Prancing Pony.

With Ensign Zeke Wikkins (Security) and NPC Leo Streely. Also included is the mysterious Stradler.

Previously: Our heroes were given an ancient nipple ring, said to be the key to unlocking a vast treasure. As nefarious parties conspired to reclaim the ring, Zeke and Leo were sent to the planet below where they encountered the nefarious Nizgurlz. They raced to the nearest villiage where Gandolfini Gray will be meeting them.

Let us continue...

"OPEN THE FRIGGIN DOOR, YOU WITHERED UP PILE OF MONKEY CRAP!!" Leo Streely bellowed as he hammered his little fists upon the weathered wooden gate of the village that both he and Ensign Zeke Wikkins had come upon after fleeing the NizGurlz.

The creaky door was opened, revealing a knotty old man with stringy gray hair that hung wet from the rain that was falling. "Hold on, keep it down, ye'll wake the dead." he uttered raising the lantern. "What business have ye here?"

"Nunya." Leo replied, "As in none ya damn business, you toothless old bat! I'm tired of this! Quaker, give me your phaser, I'm about to part this coot's hair for him."

Wikkins had almost gone pale.

"Brother Streely, I am Amish, not Quaker."

"And I'm getting friggin soaked over here, OK? Now move aside!" Leo spat waving his hands in the air and shoving his way past the old man. The lumbering security officer shrugged and placed a huge hand on the old man's boney shoulder.

"Please, Brother. Pardon the little one. He mean's no offense. He just gets excited when his short hairs become wet with rain."

The gatekeeper shook his head and offered a crooked smile.

"All right, young sir. I meant no offense. It's my job to ask questions. There's talk of strange folk abroad. One can't be too careful now." he said watching Zeke and Leo walk past him and up the muddy cobblestone road to the village.

A few yards into the ramshackle city, Wikkins shielded his eyes from the rain and pointed to their right. "Over yon. The Prancing Pony. And Leo...please...try to be calm."

"I am calm! I'm the picture of serenity here! See???" he said grabbing his own ears and rubbing. " WUUUSSSSAAAHHHH!!! See that calm's me down. Counselor Dallas taught me that shit."

Once inside, Leo shook off the rain water, staggered up to the bar and slapped his hand on the counter, getting the attention of the bearded bar tender. "I'm looking for Gandolfini Gray."

"Who might you be little man?" the burly man asked with a deep frown.

"Downwear."

"Downwear?"

"Down here!" Leo said grabbing his crotch. "Now let's stop stroking me around and tell Gray that the 'Big Hoss' is in the heezy, OK? Can ya do that, tough guy?"

Zeke leaned closer to the little man. "Wuuusaaah, Leo."

The bar tender just cast a strange glance at the larger man and then stroked his beard.

"Gandolfini...Gandolfini...Oh yes I remember. Older fellow. Big gray beard."

"That's the one. Let him know that he has company, will ya?" Leo said.

"No."

"No?... Did you just?... Did he just?... Quaker, he just told me no! Listen pal, before my large friend here stuffs your stones in your mouth with a piece of fire wood, you wanna tell me why you can't? Just because I'm a curious bastard, OK?" Leo said rubbing his forehead.

"Because I haven't seen Gray for 6 months now." he said matter of factly. "Now you two want a drink?"

Dejected the duo sat down. Leo gazed in his warm beer while Zeke downed a goat's milk. After some time had passed, the large man stood up. "I go now to relieve myself. Do remember to be calm. I shall be back in mere moments."

"Of coarse, of coarse, OK? Sheesh. I'm not that much of a hot head. " Leo muttered, then looked over at the man across from him with a purple feathered cape on.

"What are you looking at Liberace?!?! Take a friggin picture ya creep!"

The man got up and slinked up a stone stairwell.

Leo got up and followed him. He was just at the top of the stone staircase when a hand grabbed him and yanked him into one of the rooms and slammed the door shut.

"Do you have any idea what serious shit you just stepped in? And I mean the shit that won't shake off your shoe. It's that serious of shit." Leo said glaring at the man in the purple cape.

"You would think you would show a little more caution. That's no trinket you are carrying." he said as he latched the windows.

The man whipped off his cloak, revealing a pink leather bodysuit covered with buckles and zippers, sporting a built in feather boa. Adorning his bare chest was a huge medallion that caused Leo a moment of jealousy before he focused on the matter at hand.

"WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TRIPS YOUR TRIGGER THERE COWBOY, BUT I DON'T HIT FROM THAT SIDE OF THE PLATE, OK? ASK YOUR MOMMA! IF YOU THINK IM GONNA LET YOU SODOMIZE ME WITH A CHAIR LEG WHILE DRIPPING CANDLE WAX ON MY BAG, YOU GOT ANOTHER THING COMIN!!" Leo bellowed defiantly.

"What kind of deviant are you? Jeez. I just wanted to tell you that I know what hunts you." he said as the door burst down and Zeke Wikkins strode in. He looked at Leo and at the garishly attired man.

"Stand down, or I will have at thee."

"I think he would like that a little too much." Leo snapped.

"I WOULD NOT!" the man said.

"Me thinks the man in yon gimp suit protests too much." Leo whispered to Zeke.

The man cocked his head as if listening to something unseen.

"You can no longer wait for Gandolfini, Leo. They are coming."

"Who's they? How do you know I wouldn't like to meet them and more importantly, who the hell are you?" Streely asked.

Outside, the thunder of hoofbeats could be heard.

Leo paled.

"I am Stradler Now quickly, come!" Stradler said, fluffing up the beds and tucking the pillows."

"Not on your life, pervert." Leo said.

"Hurry!" he said, slipping out a back door and running into the barn across the street. Zeke grabbed Leo and the duo followed the man who took up a position where they could see across the street into their old room. They waited, watching from the shadows and finally saw the familiar black robed banshees gallop up the to the inn. The women dismounted with a shudder of armor and stormed inside with long, gleaming blades drawn.

Screams could be heard as the patrons of the bar ran outside in fear of their lives. Leo and company gazed into the window of their old room and saw the hooded women gather around the bed. They raised their swords and then stabbed visciously at the lumps. Pulling aside the covers, they shrieked loudly because their prey had escaped.

"What are they?" Leo whispered as the banshees climbed back atop their horses and rode off into the darkness.

"They were once men. Then they went to Sorefromman and asked to be turned into women to experience pleasure as a woman. After surgery he gave them nipple rings. One by one, they all went mad. When Sorefromman was exiled, they sought out the fabled treasure of Morehor."

Zeke grabbed is ears and began to chant to wash the craven images from his minds eye.

"Realizing that theirs was not the one true Nipple Ring to unlock the fortune, they have searched for it since. They are the Nizgurlz. Nipple ring wraiths. Forever drawn to the power of the treasure and the One Nipple Ring. They will never stop hunting you." Strider said watching the last Nizegurlz ride off with a shriek.

"We must go."

To be continued......

"Meeks"

By
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security,
USS Galaxy-A

Location: New Orleans

The city of New Orleans, of the continent of North America, was to outsiders an out of the way sort of spot, a city known as a great place to party, but one visited by only a few offworlders due to its rowdy reputation. Those who did visit the city happened to like it a lot, though they would loathe to admit it to their brethern.

To be fair to New Orleans, it was more than just party central during Carnival season. It had a rich history, being first a French colony, then a part of the nation state of the USA. It's old French Quarter had a charm unparrallel since the cleanup of 2190, where all the buildings that were crumbling or damaged by the war were painstakingly restored and polished. It was home to a rich musical history, a hotbed for rock and roll and blues, and the headquarters of a few prominent record labels.

One such label was a newcomer. A newcomer in everything, appearantly. In downtown New Orleans, this newcomer had it's home in a tower of glass and sandstone, jutting into the sky like a gleaming monolith, carrying the neon glow of a "CM" logo like a tacky church revival. The newest player in town, Corgan Media, was as part of New Orleans as their rock and roll museum.

At the centre of it all, in a penthouse office overlooking the city, was the CEO of Corgan Media.

She insists people to call her by an informal 'Courtney' rather than Miss CEO or Miss Corgan.

Courtney Fiona Corgan sat at a less than mere 5'8, and was thin and shapely, a trademark of the Corgan females. She had a cascade of curled blonde hairs from scalp to chinline, thick and volumous, which she played with nervously as she looked over last quarter's sales reports. She kept herself well groomed and dressed, for it was always the style of the powerful, except that she preferred light colours while her rivals wore darks, and she kept her dresses trendy and cute while her competition dressed in more serious attire.

There were other things eccentric about the Corgan sister, yet another family trait passed from mother to sister. Her office was bright and cheery, made of marble and glass instead of stark grays and beiges that emulated the powerful interior designs of starships. She kept a fountain in the corner; the sound of water relaxed her. And her office was decorated with various gold and platinum status records.

Not bad for a girl of 28. She took over her uncle's record business when he fell ill, her brother attending the academy, and her parents caught up with duties on the Odyssey. Using a blend of old rock (and all its derivatives), trendsetting style and a more relaxed corporate environment, Courtney turned a small record label into a media empire spanning multiple planets.

And she still yet managed to smile and have a good time doing it.

Though she regretted, as she poured over sales reports, that her brother didn't stick to music. She could have made him a star, but James insisted he stay in Starfleet, feeling at home among the stars. Personally, Courtney adapted to Earth just fine, but she did miss her brother, whom she never saw for months at a time.

That would all change with the buzz of her communicator.

She flipped the older hand held in her hand, patching her instantly to her secretary.

"Talk to me." Courtney chipperly responded.

Her secretary answered, "There is someone here to see you."

"Oh?" Courtney hummed, "Who is it?"

"He won't say… but he looks somewhat like you, and he wears a Starfleet Uniform."

Her serious, businesslike demeanor dropped a second later, replaced by a repressed squeal and the joy of being back to a girl of 16 again. Her brother, back again! How she jumped for joy to find her brother, the family's serviceman and traveller, back to visit again! Her hero, the brother she bragged about to her friends, the war hero, the security chief, he was back to visit! How she loved it! "By all means, bring him in!" She squeaked.

"I waved him through. Handsome one, isn't he?" Courtney's secretary commented.

Courtney giggled, "Shhhh… that's my brother."

"Oh… sorry…" The secretary giggled back.

**************

Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan had to admire his sister's work. What she did to Corgan Media, expanding it exponentially and greatly enhancing his own portfolio in the process, was the work of a busy genius. James had the wanderlust in his family, his sister the business sense. But this much? The opulence of her office was mind boggling. Marble fixtures, a crystal chandelier, a fountain in the corner, a while penthouse dedicated to the CEO. This could have been his fate, if James was more patient, less apt to travel, and not so hung up on the 24th century ideal of shunning material gain for knowledge.

James shrugged. Money didn't mean much in the 24th century, his sister was more happy with the challenge of running a corporation than the perks that followed, and James loved to travel. All was well. But one thing they did lack as a brother and sister, and that was frequent visits.

"Hey sis!" James greeted his sister with the biggest smile he possessed in months.

"Bro!" Courtney squeezed her brother in a vicelike hug, then stepped back as she appraised her sibling, "You… grew! What the f**k?!"

James had almost forgot about his changes. His sister looked oddly at the faded, pinkish scar across his right eye. He explained, almost apologetically, "Can't aim as well as I used to. Had to make up for it. Took more anbo jytsu, some phaser kata's… next thing you know… I have muscles. It's weird."

"Tell me about it." Courtney jokingly grumbled.

"I came to Earth while the Galaxy is undergoing a refit. I'm taking a Hazard Team up north for some training. My superior gave myself and my team the day off, so I thought a surprise visit with my sister would be great."

"You damn rights it was a great idea bro." Courtney playfully punched James on the shoulder, "But only one day?"

"Sorry sis. Only one day." James apologized.

Courney shrugged, "Ehhh… better than nothing. Must be a busy day for you."

"It sure was, sis…" James talked whistfully, "I visited Lieutenant Commander Reece at the Starfleet Central Medical Centre. She's the chief administrator, and she's engaged to a doctor." "Get out?!? Your Ex?! A doctor? Doesn't that rile you up?" "Not really… I'm happy for her." James nodded, "I meet the man. Nice guy. A real prince. He's just what she needs."

"So, what did you do without her? Played the role of the interstellar playa?" She jokingly jested.

"Heh heh…." His voice squeaked with embarrasment, "…well… me and women… you know…"

"Don't mesh…. Right." Courtney finished his sentence, "Unprecedented, even for a straight guy. Oh well. C'est la vie! Tell me about it when we get lunch. You know, you have to talk more. I get worried about you all the time bro."

"I know, sis, but I really don't want to talk about some of the things that…"

"Looks like you had a few scraps…" she said as she turned more concerned.

"A few. Story of my life."

"You know, brother… I worry every time you go out there. I heard about that Breen skirmish on FedNet, and that coup on Lammegeir. You're starting to scare me with those muscles and scars. I mean… ever since that time with…" "I know sis." James patted her sister on the shoulder. "I don't want to worry you too much with stories, but I'm fine. Really."

"You sure, bro?" Her crystalline blue eyes probed for weakness. "I remember… after mom and dad bought it, and you were part of the fight against the Borg… and the Dominion War… I don't want you to bite it after all that."

"I know, you're concerned, sis, and I can understand. But look, my job is dangerous, and if I don't do it, somebody else will have to take that burden, and I quite frankly don't have it in me to walk away when I'm needed. Do you understand?"

Courtney looked down, shamed, "I guess I do, bro." "It's not easy, but at least I am of some use there." "You're right. Forget what I said. I'm just being fretful." She apologized, "Let's do lunch. Forget all that and just have fun today. What do you say?"

James perked up. Food and James Corgan agreed with each other in ways women never could. "I like that idea. What do you have in mind?"

Courtney Fiona Corgan was now in her element as the trendy person in the crowd, and she knew all the good places to eat. "I know… there's a good place to get pizza in this city. I'll take you there. You'lll soooo die for this stuff! The cook over there, she makes the absolute best, I swear it!"

"You're the boss, sis. I'm just taking my day off. I'll let you decide where to go."

"Thank you, bro." Courtney crooned, collecting a greatcoat and a purse. She warned her secretary in advance of the change of plans, and cancelled meeting with some fellow from 'Interscope', a not very important meeting considering family was visiting. She brushed aside her plans and cleared her work table, all for her brother's visit. James was flattered, though he felt like an intrusion into her sister's routine.

What changes! James could notice that his sister was at home here. Her heavier step thanks to Earth's off kilter gravity, the way she didn't have to watch each step as she went, showed her adaptation to the mother planet.

Her accent, once clean and proper like a stuck up naval officer (common to all space boomers), took on th e more down home, farmerlike relaxation of a planetborn terran. If it wasn't for her height and thinner build, nobody would notice that she was a spacer.

"Hey sis… you have become an Earthling while I was gone, haven't you?" James asked.

"Sure did… and you became more of a spacer." Courtney commented, "How the hell did that happen?"

"Beats me. Let's go eat."

************** Papa Shango's Pizza, half hour later **************

Not what James expected of Cortney's selection of the best pizza in town.

Papa Shango's Pizza wasn't the fancy, trendy, hip kind of restaurant to be that James imagined his sister to frequent. It was a small corner of another gleaming glass and stone tower, tucked away until it was almost out of sight. On the weathered sign, it announced the name of the business, as well as offering the service of pickup and delivery. A small menu showing the pizzeria's specials hung loosely on the outside of the window, mostly dominated by Chicago Deep Dish specials. The interior was shining, with white and blue tile set in simple patterns around the floor and walls, but it was so austere that it lacked warmth and humanity. Blue tables and chairs scattered the area in a loose semblance of order, all empty under harsh lights. The back area was barely visible; more of the same interior but with gleaming metal cooking machinery, preparation tables, and half created pizzas.

Dinnertime rush was over. The place had a lonely diner feel to it.

"You'll love the pizza here James. It's the perfect meal. All four food groups melded together in a tasty treat. Those old school terrans knew their stuff!"

"Uh huh." James nodded. Oddly enough, he never tried pizza before, much less from an actual restaurant. He was skeptical at best.

An older man, tanned skin and salt and peppered hair, came out of the back. "Courtney!" He yelled out in a thick accent James couldn't quite pinpoint (Terrans were a varied breed, strange enough as is).

"Hey!" Courtney greeted, "Is Meeks in?"

"She is, she is!" The older man nodded, "Special for you and your friend?" "My brother." She corrected, "Two specials, please."

"Coming right up." The older man barked over his shoulder, "Meeks! Two specials!"

A soft voice came from the back, "I have finished one in the oven, sir. We can divide it up for the single slice specials."

"Do it, do it. We have hungry guests." The older man said impatiently.

James could have swore he heard that voice before. Not the older man, whom from the tattoo on his bare shoulder, was a Starfleet Marine from the Lebanese detatchment. The other person in the back, her voice drifted like chinook winds, just as warm and inviting, but also harried, as if under long term stress.

"Meeks?" James ventured to ask.

"She came to Earth a few weeks ago. We became friends when I came by here once… a bit drunk and looking for munchies… but she's the best at making pizza.." And slowly, the pieces came together, forming a mind's eye face for James.

"…she said she learned how during college…"

~"My god… it is…"~ James mental picture took a better form. One with a face befitting a nurse or a saint, with shortened hair…

"…while she waited to get into some prestigious school. And get this… she's…"

"Andorian?" James finished.

Courtney's jaw dropped wide, "How in the hell did you…" ~"NO WAY!"~ Corgan's mind freaked out, while saying, "Meeks?"

"James?" Peeped a voice behind him.

TBC?

"Time Falls"

by
Flight Officer Jasmine "Jazz" Heloi
Vanguard Flight Exec

A single drop of moisture coalesced on the pane of transparent aluminum and Jasmine Heloi followed it's path down the material to where it disappeared behind the console. After weeks of fruitless searching, weeks of nothing but failed lead after failed lead, Jasmine was ready to return home. There was nothing in the region to indicate a possible location of an errant Vanguard CO, no tidbit of information to lead them on yet another wild goose chase. It was time.

She sent a prayer to the mental winds for the return of Corran Rex, but she could not justify keeping the squadron on their leave time in this search. True, they had defeated a group of pirates who had attempted to hijack a luxury passenger vessel. They had delivered some much needed medicines to Voranis IV. They had even brought the reigning monarch of Enteres VI a Terran house cat. However, they had not found Rex.

The Betazoid rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. Enough was enough. "Vanguard Lead to Vanguard Flight. Set course for home, guys. I'll leave out feelers for Corran, but I can't tell you for certain if we will find him out here. Space is an easy place to hide in, after all."

["Jazz, do you think he's still alive?"] David "Starbuck" West asked her quietly over the private ship-to-ship channel.

"I don't know, Starbuck. I just don't know." Jasmine replied just as softly. After keying in the coordinates for their home port, she gave the order to jump to warp. Only time could tell if they would find Corran again.

And time was all that they had.

"The Wake"

-Rogue Squadron-
Major Wes Hammond, Rogue One/Rogue Squadron CO
Major Joral Anton, Rogue Five/Rogue Squadron XO
Pilot Seryn Rhone, Rogue Four/Flight Officer
Pilot Cole Slaton, Rogue Twelve/Flight Officer
Major Rena Starburst, Rogue Nine/Three Flight Lead
Major Veronique St. Melisande, Rogue Eleven/Training Officer
Lieutenant Solranth, Rogue Three/Flight Officer
Flight Officer Pikarr Ekrayn, Rogue Two/Flight Officer
Sergeant Jonathan Frost, Rogue Squadron Flight Crew Chief
Tech Sergeant Olivia Thomas, Rogue Squadron Flight
Crew Asst. Chief Adrianne Laril-Prescott, Rogue Squadron Mascot

-Vanguard Squadron-
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard Five/Vanguard Squadron XO
Pilot Tyten, Vanguard Six/Flight Officer
Flight Officer David West, Vanguard Nine/Three Flight Lead
Lieutenant Kettch, Vanguard Ten/Flight Officer
Pilot Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven/Flight Officer
Pilot Sanoe Nani, Vanguard Four/Flight Officer
Pilot Nick Lofton, Vanguard Twelve/Flight Officer
Sergeant Carl Stalansky, Vanguard Squadron Flight Crew Chief

-The Honored Dead-
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Vanguard One/Vanguard Squadron CO (MIA)
Lieutenant Commander Kedron Sylthan, Rogue Fourteen/Flight Control
Lieutenant Medea Sinistrari, Rogue Seven/Flight Officer
Flight Officer Gunner Ross, Rogue Six/Flight Officer
Flight Officer Jeffrey Clemons, Rogue Ten/Flight Officer
Flight Officer Todd Kehoe, Rogue Thirteen/Flight Officer
Pilot Richard Wilder, Rogue Eight/Flight Officer
Pilot Kell Tainer, Vanguard Two/Flight Officer
Pilot Heather Lewis, Vanguard Seven/Flight Officer
Pilot Jackson Stone, Vanguard Eight/Flight Officer

****

Rogue Squadron
Forward Launch Bay,
Deck 32,
USS Miranda-B

Major Wes Hammond sighed as he turned away from the ten open caskets.  Some contained bodies, and others were empty.  That was the thing about space combat. Sometimes there was no body to be returned to the family or interred in the cold, hard ground, or even shot into space in the traditional Starfleet fashion.

In keeping with his upbringing on Corvallis Colony, often referred to as New Ireland, Wes had organized a modern Irish wake for the honored dead from Rogue and Vanguard Squadron.  Nine had been lost forever, and many more had come close to losing thier lives as well.  And Corran Rex was still missing, so the numbers could go up.  Wes himself could still feel the pain in  his side from where Var'dyrr's living fighter and torn his craft apart, sending a shard of metal into his side.  He'd been lucky that Pikarr and Flight Officer Lennox from the Relentless had rescued him when they did.

As it was, the room was set up with the ten open caskets in a long line, end to end.  A padded kneeling bar was placed in front of each, allowing for the silent prayer or reflection that was a large part of the process. A grand piano was kept off to one side, and the guests had been invited to bring instruments. Adri, who Wes had declared Rogue Squadron's 'Mascot' before the mission, sat on the closed piano, tuning her Beli Clavien.  She seemed to be taking it all in stride, though he knew she'd been a friend to some of the pilots.

Offering his hand to Jasmine, he walked toward the doors to the shuttlebay.  The other squadron members would be arriving soon, and Pikarr could stand watch until the room filled.  "How are you doing, Jazz?" They hadn't really spoken while they and Pikarr had carefully prepared the room.

"Not as well as I had hoped," Jasmine replied softly, her eyes resting on the caskets arrayed before them. Perhaps it was selfish of her, perhaps not, but her eyes rested heavily on the casket that bore Corran's name.  While he was still listed as MIA, she still had hope that he would return.  She did not want Vanguard like this.   "I just wish that we didn't have to loose so many friends."  She squeezed his hand and sighed softly, "I don't want Vanguard like this, Wes.  Not without knowing for sure where Corran is, what happened to him."

Wes gave her hand a brief squeeze of support.  "I know, Jasmine.  It's never as easy as the recruitment posters would have us believe.  The worst part is that most of them were just kids.  The only way that I managed to sleep last night was that I know their deaths probably saved millions back in the Federation proper."  His thought flickered to Heather Lewis, the innocent kid from Arizona who he'd trained on the Greencastle.  She'd been flying solo against a group of Hydran bombers, eliminating the last one just seconds before a T'Kith'Kin biofighter had latched onto her craft and torn it to shreds.  There was no body.

Jasmine released his hand for a moment to rest her hand against the casket before her - Corran's, according to the name plaque - and uttered a few phrases that generally started the traditional Visitation rites from her homeworld.  She sighed softly and lifted her hand.  Once she faced Wes again, her face was calm, "On my homeworld, this would be considered a Visitation.  In that spirit, let us remember the dead.  Did I ever tell you how I first met Corran?"

"No, I can't say that you have," Wes replied, remembering the first time he'd met Corran.  "We haven't had much time to reminisce lately.  Unless it's too personal, perhaps you could share the story with everyone?"

"No, I don't mind at all."

As they neared the doors, the first of the mourners arrived.

Joral Anton stumbled in, wearing his uniform more unkept than his traditionally Marine-groomed crispness - far more unkept.  He stopped   in the door, looking for all the world like an enraged bull, and slowly approached the caskets, searching almost frantically for a specific name.

Somehow, he hoped it had all been some terrible nightmare, that he hadn't lived through what he never should have.  But as he scanned the names, he felt the cold blackness gripping his heart tighter.  "Flight Officer Gunner Ross"... "Pilot Richard Wilder"... that could only mean...

"Lieutenant Medea Sinistrari"

Tears streamed down the young man's face as he fell to his knees in front of the empty casket, oblivious to his surroundings.

Adrianne sat quietly on the closed lid of the grand piano, which she, Wes, Jazz, and Rayn had spent the morning assembling and tuning.  It was evidently a tradition of the Corvallis Reformed Catholic Church to play the piano at wakes.  Though Adri was a follower of the Prophets herself, she admired the balance and community spirit of the CRCC, which bore little resemblence to the Roman Catholic Church that it had left behind on Earth when the SS Corvallis and the SS Ciutric had left Old Earth behind.

Her 'Uncle' Wes had been kind and supportive to her ever since he'd come to the Miranda, even though they weren't related at all and he was still a little uncomfortable around her adoptive mother.  When she'd heard about the wake that he was planning, all she could think to do was offer to play.  She wan't to help support the other pilots, who she knew were going through the same loss that she was.  She'd been particularly close to Medea, who had often given her candy when she hung around the flight deck and the Rogue Squadron offices.

Gently puting her Beli Clavian down, she slipped down off the piano and padded over to Joral, her sandals brushing softly on the floor.

"Anton?"

The Bajoran major looked up at the young face and tried to smile, failing rather miserably. "Hello, Adri..."

Tears still streaming uncharacteristically from his eyes, he eventually just reached out and hugged the girl, much to the surprise of her and  everyone watching.

Sergeant Stalansky walked in slowly. He had mourned his fill of lost pilots, but had never been to an Irish wake. He was, however, raised Roman Catholic, so it may not be too alien.

Even though his policy was "Come back with your fighter, or don't come back at all," those who didn't come back were those to be remembered, and revered. His arm ached in it's cast. He had broken it when preparing one of the spare Bonzais for launch. He would have followed in a fighter of his own had he not fallen wrong.

Cole wasn't in any rush to get to the wake, he didn't really know much about it apart from the rumours and half truths he'd heard over the years. Not many performed the act now - apart from the Irish who kept the old tradiations alive. He hadn't know any of the pilots who had lost their lives so tragically, he was still only on greeting terms with most of the squadron, he'd probably not even recognise his own captain if he walked past him.

His eyes glanced around while travelling down through the ship in the turbolift, it was relatively packed with the El-Aurian pilot leaning against the back wall. When the lift came to an abrupt halt the door hissed open revealing the shuttle bay, everyone piled out like sheep following, stepping through the gates one after another in an ordered chaos.  He followed a few paces behind, looking around.

Veronique walked into launch bay, she was in her flight uniform, but this time, it looked like it had just come out of stores.  Walking over to the coffins, she looked at the 'sleeping' face of those who had the open coffin.  To the empty casket, she tried to pull up the face in her mind, to imagine each one of them, to 'view' them, this last view in life.

Cole felt it was a great injustice when he stepped up to one of the caskets, ten lay out in the shuttle bay, he was older than all of them put together.  It took a while to make the mental calaculations, the toughest part was trying to work out his own age, he'd stopped counting a hundred not really see much point in counting once he reached the three digits. ~All the lives they could have had... children... grand children...Such a waste...~

With a glass in hand, which he guessed was some brand of Irish whiskey, he toasted to the dead. "Ha'Rak bruvosh, Kapla," he whispered the Klingon saying honouring those who had fallen. It was the only thing that came to mind that fitted the scene, he knew dozens of El-Aurian, human and Klingon phrases, poems, writings from various authers. But those three words in Klingon were enough. He rasied his glass slightly bowing his head before drinking the double shot in one feeling the liquid running down his throat before the familiar warmth that spread out through his gut.

Carl butted in with a gutteral "Thats for Damn sure, I tell you what."  And popped down his drink.

David "Starbuck" West entered the wake feeling quite hung over after the night before.  The bottle had helped, some, but now it was time to face the day.  To face those that had died in battle, and to honor their memory.  He couldn't hide away in the amber reflexion of a glass full of liquour forever, after all.  He spotted Jazz leaning against the Rogue Squadron CO, and he nodded slightly at her.  She was taking this hard, even though she didn't seem like it.  He could only hope Hammond could help her.

Major Rena Starburst, the longest serving member of Rogue Squadron - and repeated decliner of both it's executive and command positions - entered with an unexpected compantion. Lieutenant Kettch of the Vanguards, a small Kowe that many human children likened to a teddy bear - ambled along at her side.

Veronique moved aside as Starburst came in, she really hated this part.  The farewells, the realisations that you weren't immortal - that it could  be your turn in that coffin in the next battle.  Hell, it didn't even need to be a battle, she had packed AWOL bags and had written condolences just on training accidents.  But this did one thing, it all was only worth something if it did that one thing - she remembered them, remembering them all.

After this, her job was going to be hard, she would find out what went wrong.  What split second indecision?  What incorrect choice had killed them? As the training instructor, it would be her job to dissect the telementry of all of the squadrons, but particulary those who died.  She was to find, in any of their deaths, could be something, a gem of knowledge that would keep the next pilots alive.  It would be then, that she would be Deuce - but now she was Veronique St Melisande, a woman mourning shipmates and fellow warriors.

Aside from the loss of both squadron mates, there was a more personal loss as well - Corran Rex had been a friend and fellow pilot for years.  During the War, He'd flown with the Rogues - as had Kettch and Solranth, and even Starburst. Clemons and Kehoe had been pilots from those days, too, back under Major - now Colonel - Et'zet. Loosing Rex, Clemons and Kehoe was like loosing family.

Sarge drank his drink and felt the pain. The loss of the Lieutenant was bad enough without the loss of the other Vangaurds. They had all be very good to "his" fighters. He raised his glass, and in his native floridian accent, "Noble men and women, fallen for a noble cause. You'll never be forgotten." Sarge remembered that the Lieutenant was reported MIA, but chances are he was just as dead as the honored dead before him. Tragery had befallen him a number of times before, but it was new, and just as painful every time.

Wes and Jazz made their way to the head of the crowd, in the middle of  the line of coffins.  Quietly, he waited for the last of the guests to give thier prayers and goodbyes, kneeling before each of the coffins in turn.  When the last officer had stood, Wes got their attention and began.

"Ladies and gentlemen.  For almost a year now, it has been my extreme pleasure to serve with and command Rogue Squadron.  For the past few weeks I've had the equal pleasure to serve alongside the men and women of Vanguard Squadron.  In a way, a squadron is a family. We live together, we eat together, we sleep in our own barracks.  We fight in pairs, flights, and squadrons. Never alone.  And when one of us doesn't come back, we mourn together."

"Today, it is my sad duty to preside over the wake of Corran Rex, Kedron Sylthan, Medea Sinistrari, Gunner Ross, Jeffrey Clemons, Todd Kehoe, Richard Wilder, Kell Tainer, Jackson Stone, and..." Wes struggled to force out the last name.  The one closest to him, "Heather Lewis.  They were all good people, who fell before their time so that others might live."

"We survive because of their sacrifices.  So it is only right that we proceed according to what they would have wanted.  Let us share food and drink together, in memory of the many meals we shared.  Let us share memories that we cherish, so that we might celebrate the life of those who have passed on.  We honor the memory of those who we have lost best by keeping them alive in our minds, and living on in this world, so that their sacrifices will always hold meaning."

Wes's head fell forward slightly, and he clasped his hands together.

"Father Owen Mulligan was kind enough to donate his time today so that this could be possible.  I'm ashamed to admit that I could hardly recall the customs myself," Wes smiled lightly at this, "Father Mulligan, they're all yours."

Wes stepped back to stand by Jasmine, and the young priest who'd been standing quietly to one side moved into the central place where Wes had been standing.

"What Wes isn't telling you, is that we used to play together when he was wee lad," Mulligan said, eliciting a few laughs when he held out his hand about three feet from the floor, "But Wes was never much for the study of the church.  Always dreaming of the stars.  For in the stars hold our future.  Now, in reverence to those children who have gone to the stars for the last time, I offer a traditional Irish blessing."

"May the road rise