"Welcome to the Galaxy"

Principle Characters
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lt. Abaddon

***

Abaddon's Transport
Arriving Starbase 212

Abaddon's ship dropped out of p-shift, exiting the quantum continuum into n-space near the system he was to rendezvous with his new ship and crew. Likely, since the assignment was so fresh, it would be a few more weeks for him to acclimatize to the ship and the crew to him.

It had been one of the reasons SFI had asked that his people keep a low profile. ::Well:: his FP "Reno" offered sardonically ::THAT and the temporal Prime Directive::

::You are, as ever, so much help:: Abaddon rejoined. His FP was more "alive" than most of the others he made contact with through the Link; it likely had to do with how dry he, the Member, was. Since Gabriel had been destroyed... since Gabriel had been taken from him, there had been little love and humor left in him. And Reno had assumed what he had lost- at least he imitated it well enough.

That had been decades before, or later, he mused on the quantal ramifications of the events. Hovering on the edge of melancholy, he expertly evaded it by considering peripheral ramifications and conjunctive interstitial relationships. Temporal mathematics was not his strong suit but bending his mind to the physics of cross-temporal engineering ate up a lot of conscious processing power.

And it kept him from thinking about his Abyss.

Even Reno never mentioned it on its own, knowing what track that could lead them and religiously wishing otherwise. At least, as much as a fragmentary persona could want something.

Speaking of ::We are entering the system and making standard approach. Defensive measures are active and we are as yet, undetected. Which final protocol do you wish to enable?:: Reno was interfacing with the FP within the Crossbow, his interstitial scout, flying the vessel now that they were in n-space and on approach.

::Enable Achilles protocol:: he ordered and watched as the ship changed vector, arrowing straight into the system and making a beeline for the Starbase the USS Galaxy was ensconced within. A telltale display tracked the exact time to penetrate their near-space radii and registered defensive perimeter values based on color. Currently they were in amber and preparing to graduate to orange- close enough to attempt grievous harm on the defenseless ship with medium-range moderate yield devices. Idly he contemplated making an attack run on the facility (with negligeable armature) to determine responsiveness. But such an operation had not been authorized and this was not a Consensus facility.

If it had been he would have been challenged before he entered the system.

::<warm support/greeting> You have arrived near-space proximity to the Galaxy; this is good. See Captain M'kantu or Commander Henderson:: Jez' voice floated through the Link to him.

::<dry greeting/recognition> I am on approach now Jez'U. I will make contact as prescribed:: he advised in return. Jez'U must have some concern to make the appropriate impression. If that was so, he wondered at his choice of Members to post to this assignment.

::<wry humor/admonishing support> You are the correct Member in the correct co-linear development. Your presence will affect the latti significantly, regardless of success of individual missions. It is the character of your being that is required, not your tremendous good humor or impatient spontaneity:: The Jez'U was obviously poking fun but there was a lesson involved. Abaddon chose, as usual, to turn a deaf ear to it.

::<derisive modesty> The Jez'U is too kind- my character is anything but spontaneous:: he chose to ignore the remark about his sense of humor. He had none now; Reno took care of all of that. He knew dedication, duty and pride as well as rage, cold fury and vengeful sorrow. He functioned, so he must have enough.

::<Attentive imperative> Such emotions and thoughts have sustained you only because your loss is so fresh, so new. But soon, I think, such things will taste of ash as the embers of this self-loathing fade. Sooner or later you will have to face this:: Jez' Link-voice was strident but calm, imperative. ::But I pray you do not face THIS challenge alone::

::<Irritated frustration> You are not my parent Jez!:: he reminded his leader and sometime-friend forcefully. ::I will face my challenges as I see fit and I will prevail, or not, as I deem appropriate. You may order my service in many things but in this, you overstep yourself::

::<Contrite sorrow> I did not wish to offend you, my brother. I simply meant that the Link is always thre for you and I will always remain accessible as long as the Link remins:: Jez' Link-voice was a mere whisper.

::<Grumpy contrition> Ah- it is well between us Jez. I could never remain angry with you, even as 'Probates:: Abaddon was irritated he had lost control with his best friend and only real family, despite the Link. ::But you MUST let me handle this. If I am to have peace and to release this darkness, something must fill the Abyss. And despite the Glory of the Link and the Song, it simply pours into the void and never wins it over::

::<Meekly alert> When you are ready to allow it, the Light will banish the void and fill the Abyss. Until then, I will simply remain a Source for you::

::<Resigned affection> If I MUST::

::<Surprise/teasing> Was that a JOKE?::

::<Long-suffering tolerance> FareWELL brother::

::<Teasing humor> Light, Brother::

And Jez' presence in the Link faded away, leaving only the background Song and the flow of data through the PQ core. ::Beginning flyby:: Reno advised Abaddon, directing his attention to the external sensors as they looped the hull. They had slid in through the open doors easily enough, undetected by sensors.

::The data was accurate:: Abaddon observed as the damage-specs rolled in through the sensor arrays. ::T'Kith'Kin, Hydran, Breen- the weapon signatures are all over the hull. That is...Federation phaser signature at the base of that pylon?::

::Affirmative- the phaser signature matches that of a Federation fighter. Likely matching one of those assigned either to the Miranda of Galaxy:: Reno confirmed. ::Do you wish analysis?::

Abaddon was curious, very curious, to understand why a Federation fighter pilot had fired at the pylon base on an allies ship. He suspect an external boarding or tactical demolitions team, but the documentation was sealed and the regressive analysis was not complete at home. ::Please:: he asked with uncharacteristic polity.

As he watched the analysis began and the localized are of the pylon was scanned and the temporal-latti was determined. Once done, the regressive core ran the signature backwards along the interstitial latti until the moment of the phaser impacts was detected. Slowly an image built.

::Hydrans should never attempt EVA:: Reno observed, seeing the turnip-shaped aliens' EVA armor erupting and spilling their methane-breathing plasma-disrupted physiologies into space.

::End analysis and save for later tactical review:: Abaddon ordered Reno while opening a com-link to Starbase control. ::Starbase 212 Operations, this is Consensus scout-ship Crossbow requesting permission to dock with Galaxy secondary hull::

Pause. No doubt trying to find out where THAT had come from. Reno was amused; Abaddon was concerned.

::Er- scout-ship Crossbow, Starbase Operations does not have your position. Can you provide us with your vector?::

::Vector one-one-oh-mark-six-two at one-eight-four-by-sixteen-four-by-eight-nine-five relative zero:: he replied.

::Um, Crossbow that puts you inside the spacedock facility approximately ten meters off of the Galaxy's primary shuttle bay and relative zero velocity. Is that correct?::

::It is correct:: he replied and wordlessly commanded his ship to shift out of primary defensive posture. To their sensors and anyone looking there physically, it was as if he just popped into being. There was no shimmer, no delayed visibility; one second there was nothing and the next, a tiny ship floated there. ::I am sure that it is a great comfort that a cloaked vessel can not only get very close to the station but even come into the very berths of the starships housed here, undetected. I know I find this immensely pleasurable:: The derision translated well through the com-link. ::Recognize Abaddon-sigma-sigma-chet'ku::

::Uh- recognition codes are accepted...'sir':: came the appellation, a bit late. The officer was obviously young and on gamma, meaning he was low but on command-track.

::Thank you Operations. Is clearance given?::

::Opening bay doors via remote now. Commander Henderson is on duty at the moment- do you wish me to alert him of your arrival?:: the young male Ops officer asked diffidently.

::That is protocol, is it not?:: Abaddon answered.

::Uh, yessir::

::Then please follow protocol and I will meet with Commander Henderson when he is able to see me. Thank you Operations Control, Crossbow out::

And he closed the channel on the hapless officer before he could make any more mistakes. For himself, Henderson and/or M'kantu might have a few things to say about his own stunt. And if so, he would accept whatever observations they had to offer.

He passed through the force field without incident, noticing that a security detail and a man matching Cassius Henderson's profile were already waiting. With negligible ease he set the tiny craft down, spinning it around and into secure-station in the position for a shuttle pod near the same size. Tiny landing-gear unfolded from the smooth pewter hull, balancing the wings with the rounded oval in which he was housed. The entire 3.1 x 1.4 x 5.5 meter vessel was a flattened delta-wing with a featureless shell over it. It had no nacelles, no ports for weapons or sublight drives and no markings other than some odd pearlescent swirls in the hull that appeared to move slowly if you watched them long enough. In size it often reminded him of the old-earth superlight gliders humans used to employ as a sport vehicle.

Inside, he was cocooned in armatures, neuroptic synolinks and the tiny area that held the visual displays. Of course he used the mostly-internal displays and direct neuralinks but for those who preferred the manual feel, these ships were designed with interface panels at your fingertips. Disconnecting the primary interface and support linkages, the armatures retracted and the neuralinks popped out of their plugs, retracting back into his armor as he sat up. Without pause, he snatched up the PADD and stood up *through* the hull and interface panels of his ship, passing through the metarial and energy conduits as if they didn't exist.

They didn't really; not at that moment. They appeared solid but in fact, the entire section had phased immaterial at his mental command, allowing him egress.

He was met with stares from a number of workers, a half-drawn phaser from the security officer stationed on the hangar deck, and a nod from M'Kantu.

::This doesn't look enterprising:: Reno quipped as Abaddon stepped down to the deck, not stepping forward until invited to do so. But the PADD *was* held up and away from his body and he was apparently unarmed.

"Lt. Abaddon?" M'Kantu nodded. "Welcome to the Galaxy." He waited for Abaddon to approach and then offered him a hand.

'Surprised' was adequate to describe Abaddon's reaction to the Captain but he had been at this too long to betray that with any expression. He had expected reservation or outright hostility and the truth was far more pleasant. He instead smiled slightly to cover his hesitation and stepped up, taking the human's hand carefully. "Captain," he greeted the other man, "a pleasure to meet you aga- er, at last." Inwardly he shook himself and turned all of his attention to the situation; he'd almost made an influential mistake. He knew sooner or later M'Kantu would find out; he'd be told by somebody. But this was not the time for it. "It appears Galaxy has seen better times, yes?" He handed over the PADD with his orders and a short bio.

"She's had a rough year so far," M'kantu observed as he took the PADD. "But she's far from done." He skimmed the orders. "Nothing new here, Lieutenant, but then I didn't really think there would be." He nodded. "Before we take a walk, have you got anything to unload from your shuttle? We've got heavy traffic coming through all the time right now, and we need to keep the flight deck open. Have you made arrangements at the Starbase for long-term storage?"

"I have some equipment and a few personal effects," Abaddon replied, a little off-balance from the diffident manner the Captain continued to display. So very different from everyone else in Starfleet; even the Intel officers that knew about the Consensus for the last decade or so. "With your permission I'll move my things to my quarters?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

Abaddon nodded and after a brief pause said, "Thank you sir. And as far as Crossbow is concerned, storage isn't necessary. I can put it out of the way," he advised and made a small hand gesture at which point, the small vessel shimmered from view and detection.

Daren watched the shuttle vanish and frowned. "Exactly where did it go?" he asked.

"Much of our technology is based on phase-shifting sir," Abaddon replied easily, "crossbow is 'here' but no longer present in any of the phase nutations the Federation uses." So saying he stepped into the space that had been, and supposedly still was, occupied by his vessel. "Like this."

"And bringing it back is no problem?"

"If required, no." Abaddon frowned slightly as he said that. "Among my people, the use of a personal craft is neither necessary nor is it considered an appropriate use of resources. It is because of this mission that I am given a craft and it's resources."

Daren nodded, his frown slowly working its way out. "What, exactly, would cause it to return, Lieutenant? Subspace phenomenon? Interference from the warp field? Anything? Because I have no desire to see the craft rematerializing at an awkward moment - say, when another craft occupied the same space."

"Even were it to suffer a cascade synchronous-failure, when it materializes it merely pushes other matter out of the way or is in itself pushed out of the way, based on the mass in this phase it is entering." He assumed a slight pose, unconsciously, as if lecturing, "It also will not partially emerge within an object because of the law of cohesive constancy. Until such a time as those laws are suspended, which we do in certain cases, then matter can be brought through phase partially in one and partially in another. A warp field is a similar, if far less defined or technologically advanced, version of a partial-phase field." He stopped, looked a bit uneasy at his discourse and smiled sheepishly. "I apologize sir."

Daren shook his head. "Nothing to apologize for, Lieutenant." He looked at the space around Abaddon again. "It's carried along with the ship, correct? Not anchored to this specific spot in space?"

"That is exactly correct sir," Jez replied with a relieved smile and a nod. "We will carry it anchored to- well anchored to the Galaxy itself," he finished, trying not to proselytize his CO again.

"Good to know," M'kantu replied. "If you're ready?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Of course," and he stepped to stand beside the dark-skinned human, "at your leisure Captain."

"As you saw on your flight in," Daren began as the two started out of the shuttlebay, "we took a pounding on our last assignment. Starfleet and the ASDB decided to accelerate the refit to the Galaxy III Class based on what they learned from our performance thus far, which is why we're going to be here as long as we are, even counting repairs. We've got a new saucer section on the way, and a number of internal refits ongoing even before it arrives." He paused at the turbolift. "If nothing else, Lieutenant, I can promise you that, based on the year so far, you'll stay busy."

"I do not doubt that sir," he replied diffidently, "based on the logs, missions reports and repair specs I've read, the Galaxy has seen a greater share of battle and catastrophic events in the last year. A refit of this magnitude a year after launch is... dramatic. I will undertake the repair and reintegration of the new phase-variance designs Starfleet has approved. I am," he waved his hand as if to put off something, "somewhat knowledgeable with the technology."

Daren waited until they had arrived at his temporary office before continuing the conversation on a more than casual level. "I realize that you've already thought about the situation, Lieutenant," he began after they were seated behind a closed door, "but I'd like to know what your plans are for dealing with the possible... negative reactions and perceptions... that your appearance may engender in some of the crew."

"It is an unfortunate association," Jez replied with a nod, standing to one side, "but my resemblance to the Borg is only superficial. It is up to me to prove I am not a drone through my actions and how I conduct myself. As every being much prove itself on its own merits so must I prove myself on my own. There are inevitably some who will not believe and there are those who will not accept. I can do nothing than to be what I am and that will have to be enough."

It was, Daren reflected, as good a plan as anyone was likely to come up with given the circumstances. He hoped it would be enough. The Federation was built on the idea of tolerance and acceptance, but even among its founding members there were those that failed to live up to the ideal.

"Good enough, Lieutenant. Let's hope that everyone else is as reasonable." He leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Out of curiosity, Lieutenant, why the Galaxy? You could, unless I am mistaken, have selected any ship in the fleet and been assigned there." Except, perhaps, the Big E - Daren didn't think that Jean-Luc was, or might ever be, up to a Borg officer. "Why choose her?"

"By and large I have found Starfleet personnel to be reasonable," Jez prefaced his explanation. "Galaxy is an assignment sir," he explained hesitantly, "the Consensus has determined that we, and the Federation, are both served best by this assignment." And he paused, looking pensive for a moment. "Can I speak to you privately Captain?"

"Of course, Lieutenant," Daren nodded. "My door is always open - at least metaphorically."

"I assume you know that we have actually been working for the Federation and Starfleet for nearly a decade now?" He used a tone that indicated Daren should have known and should have been told but he was unsure. "I know what I was told, Lieutenant," Daren conceded. "And I can deduce a bit more from what I wasn't. Does that have some bearing on the reason for your assignment to the Galaxy?"

"It does," Jez nodded firmly. "Our first contact scenario with the Federation happened when an Intel interdiction cruiser entered orbit and made contact. Of course they knew we were there since Jean-Luc Picard had obtained permission by Command to leave us alone there. But this was only two years following their departure and they had detected our power signatures. One of our technologies is a prediction matrix that based on adequate data can predict trends and likely terminus. I have been assigned to Galaxy because of some undisclosed predictions."

"Unspecified predictions." Daren shook his head. "Not a good word set that. It can mean just about anything that one decides to make it mean. Am I to understand that you know what these 'unspecified predictions' are, but cannot discuss them until, or after, the moment they refer to has arrived and passed?"

"As in all situations in which the Tee-Pee-Dee is invoked," Jez replied apologetically, "I am not privy to all of the information though some of the data is available. Not to be the typical enigmatic alien but... 'upgrades are good'."

Daren frowned for a moment. "Our last experience with the TPD was enough for, oh, two lifetimes. I don't see any reason to add to that experience again - so I won't be asking anything else. You can tell me what you can, when you can and that will be enough for me."

"Of course," Abaddon replied with a nod, "Plus, much of the data forms based on the actions of thousands of beings and those results. Certain things we are specifically on alert for and will warn Starfleet Command as soon as probabilities indicate movement in those directions." He gazed at his own gauntlet thoughtfully for a moment before adding a paradigm, "The future is mutable."

Then he snapped out of his reverie, "Do you know if our new Primary will have the phaser lance already built on or will we have to do so in dock? Or is Galaxy to even continue with the weapon? I know only that the decision was being discussed."

That at least, Daren thought, was familiar ground. He'd been over it a number of times with everyone from his engineering staff to Starfleet Command. "We will retain the phaser cannon," he confirmed. "The new saucer section already has a redesigned version of the cannon installed. The ASDB claim that they've refined the design to remove some of the problems."

Jez snorted, actually *snorted* derisively, "I'll believe that when I've scanned it, taken it apart and put it back together and fired it at least twelve times. Starfleet has many great minds," he spoke laconically, "and I am proud to serve with them. But I would prefer not to find out in battle that the phase-coils were to be delivered 'next Tuesday'."

That would awkward, yes," Daren nodded. "There are fewer modifications to systems than there were in the last refit as a whole, which I consider a good thing. Just the removal of the third nacelle alone removed something like a half-dozen layers of complexity to normal operating procedures. If they managed to remove even one layer with regards to the phaser cannon, I'll call that a victory."

"I will endeavor to make sure that the phaser-lance is as reliable and a useful as possible then," Abaddon replied seriously. "With your permission and the assistance of both engineering and the Tactical department, I believe we may be able to maintain an extremely efficient defensive system. I will take some time to examine the specs and the current system and create an overview and prospectus of the predicted efficiency models. Then we'll see if we can overcome them." He grinned at the challenge, responding to the competitiveness of the situation and the lack of safeguards he would be facing on a non-Consensus ship or facility.

"I'll give you what time I can, Lieutenant," Daren replied with a shake of his head. "But I make no guarantees as to how much that will be - we've been short on that commodity when we really needed it for the last year, and I expect that will not be likely to change any time soon."

"Of course sir," he nodded formally, "my reports will be short with details for you to look over when you have time. And speaking of, it is likely I am taking up much of what precious little you have. With your permission I will retire to quarters and become established and go on duty shortly thereafter?"

Daren nodded and offered his hand again. "Once the new saucer section arrives we'll get you situated there, but with most of the crew missing, the quarters assigned in the Secondary Hull will, I hope be satisfactory." He paused, and then offered, "Welcome to the Galaxy, Lieutenant."

"Letting It Go"

Nara & Lee

Naranda grumbled before she pressed the chime. She was in that place between knowing you need help and resisting with every fiber of your being. She had things to deal with, and she knew she needed to or she would damage her psyche. But she really didn't want to be that vulnerable. She pressed the chime and crossed her arms like a child being told she had to go to bed early.

Lee sat at his desk in the counselling department. The department unlike most other's on ship had a few counselling rooms with facilities for the on-duty counselor's to do their work and see patients in the same area. Though the office's were not personal it was some private space, especially on gamma shift, when most of the counselors floated around the ship waiting to be required. As he worked he was listening to some music he had chosen, some slow rock, a 20th century artist called Phil Collins.

The music was interrupted by the sound of the door chime. Lee got to his feet and walked out of his office into the reception area.

"Computer end music..." he instructed. "Come in."

The doors slid open to allow access to female, human in appearance wearing an engineering uniform with her arms folded. Lee could immediately see something was troubling her.

"Hello," he offered. "What can I do for you?"

Nara looked at the man. He looked young. She wasn't sure he would understand. In fact she just realized she'd rather talk to a female. But she'd been putting this off for too long. She sighed and dropped her arms feeling defeated, "I'm not sure. I've been avoiding this for a few years."

Lee had been trained to deal with 'historic cases', a few years was quite common for victims to hold things and try to resolve them without assistance. Clearly something had triggered her into coming here, no doubt Lee would find out soon.

"Ok, come through, and have a seat wherever you're comfortable," he gestured towards the office he was using. "Can I get you a drink?"

Nara nodded and instead of sitting paced. She thought of how to bring it up. She thought, ~I'm not sure how to start....just ask me something.~ She considered mind speaking it to him, but thought better of it.

Lee went over to the replicator and ordered himself a coffee, kenyan blend. He looked over his shoulder and saw the woman pacing.

"What'll it be?" he asked. "I'm Lee by the way...you are...?"

Nara muttered her nickname, "Nothing thank you. Nara."

"So Nara," he said as he sat down in the armchair. "I can see there's something on your mind, it's never easy to talk about personal things to a complete stranger, but what you say, as I'm sure you're aware, is in the strictest confidence..."

He paused for a moment, she was still no more forthcoming.

"Whatever it is, I think the easiest way is probably just to tell me straight out and get it off your chest...but that's up to you..." he waited.

Nara stopped and looked at him. It was the typical "orientation" speech she heard her mother talk about. It was obvious something was on her mind. DUH!

"My mother is a counselor. Besides any intelligent being understands the etiquette of patient doctor." She paced again and spoke her earlier thought, "I'm not usually so open with information. Just start asking me something." She thought about something to give him a hint, "It happened in the Academy."

"Ok, when were you at the Academy? How old were you then?" he began.

"I was a year from graduating." Nara sat down then. "There was an instructor..." She trailed off.

Lee had a feeling he knew where this was heading, it was obvious the pain was very deep.

"And what happened with the instructor?"

Nara glared at him. What made her think she could trust him. She didn't know him until now. "He broke some serious laws." It was the truth, but not too much of it.

"What kind of laws?" Lee was trying to sound calming and comforting. "Does anyone else know about this?"

Nara sighed. "Cernu knows. I need to send a message to the captain, but otherwise no." Nara wasn't sure how to explain what laws. "The kind that strip a person of all dignity."

"I believe I know what you mean," Lee said calmly. "Firstly you should understand that before we continue I may need to pass this information on to the Captain, my duty as a Starfleet officer means I must do that. If you intend to tell him than this will remain between us at this time, and I can assure you it will go no further than you and I and the Captain should he need to be aware."

He waited, to see if she wanted to continue.

"I know I need to report it, but I'm not sure how."

"Ok, let's keep talking about what happened and then I can give you my best advice, or even take action for you if you'd prefer. What did the instructor do?"

Nara couldn't bare to say the words and she wispered, "He raped me."

Lee nodded, he had known from the start that it would be something so traumatising and serious. His first few week's aboard the ship and already he was going to be using every last ounce of his training.

"Do you want to tell me what happened? It's entirely up to you, take as much time as you need."

Nara frowned. When she "told" Cernu, she had simply let him see it. She looked at the young man, "I can allow you to see it using telepathy. It would be easier than trying to spell it out."

"Whatever's easiest for you," Lee replied. "Just tell me what I have to do."

"Nothing." Nara tried to think. He was sitting. There really wasn't a way to warn him. She thought back to the memory and to ease him into it, started a few moments before the class ended. She had to project to him as he did not have the ability to seek it out. The event unfolded.

Lee closed his eyes and could see the events unfold. He had only ever experienced a telepathic link twice before, one was with his previous counselor on earth, the second was at Med School, simply to 'get a feel for it'. He could feel the pain Nara felt, it was amazing, yet awful at the same time.

As she slowly pulled out and put the mental wall back in place, she remained still looking at the floor, not sure how he would respond.

"Ok..." Lee sat silent for a few moments, contemplating the things he had just witnessed. "How would you like to proceed with things Nara?"

"The only thing I can think of is to let the captain know and he can advice what to do next. I'm not really sure WHAT to do." She still hadn't looked up.

"That would be my advice," Lee replied. "What you must consider is this was not your fault at all, this man needs to face the consequences of his crime..."

"What if he keeps his word? I just began my Starfleet career." Nara brought her legs up into an indian sitting style. "People keep saying it's not my fault. I know it's not, yet I cannot ignore the fact that I could had fought harder." She let out a breath exasperated, "I'm a warrior! I can't believe I let someone do that to me!" She was near yelling now, but she ended and slumped her shoulders. Thinking about it brought quite a bit of defeat to her.

Lee thought back to his training before answering. "The reason you didn't fight is what's known as 'rape trauma', although it can be associated with anything which is a violent traumatic experience...basically your body goes into a state of shock and even if you wanted to you wouldn't be able to fight back, it's a sort of fail safe, a shutdown mechanism..."

He paused for a moment.

"And regardless of what he says, he doesn't have any defence against the traumatic memories, and I believe there are races in the Federation who believe in showing memories in evidence, and I'm aware that the biological effects are able to be traced even years after."

He allowed her to contemplate what he had said and waited for her to reply. Nara simply nodded. She wasn't sure what to do.

"Do you want to continue?" Lee asked. "Or do you want to see the Captain first and we'll continue later."

Nara looked at him feeling silly. Like a child asking her mother to hold her hand. "Will you come with me?" She didn't know this fellow, but just having him know this information she felt like hiding behind him when it came time to deal with it.

"Yes of course," Lee replied. "Anything you need."

It was more than he was required to do, but Lee felt the service he provided would not be complete without him helping Nara.

Nara nodded and stood. "I will message him and ask when an appropriate time would be."

"Do you want to do that now? I'm sure he'll still be awake," Lee offered, looking over to the computer terminal. He realised that if Nara put this off she may not in fact contact the Captain.

"Practical Magic" Pt. X

Senator Ramir Omar,
Ambassador
USS Galaxy

Lt. Brianna O'Shea,
SCE
USS Galaxy

"I'm really sorry about all this, Ramir. Not what I wanted to happen." Anna said.

“It’s alright,” he nodded with understanding. “Look, my father’s stabilized, and it looks like he won’t be awake for a good half day. Do you want to come back to the Omar estate until he’s better, stay on Romulus? You did save his life, after all.”

"Not sure that's such a good idea, Ramir." Anna said as she walked over to him and took his hands. "I mean your father has done labeled me a spy, really don't think it would be a good idea. Besides, the Federation Ambassador has stated for me not to leave the compound."

“Yes, you’re right,” he sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back to Romulus after all this. A few days ago, I was missing the luxuries of my home-planet, but now I’ll be glad to stay on the Galaxy for a long time.”

“Are you sure you can’t leave the embassy, just for a bit? There’s so much of the planet you should see before we go.”

"I'll have to check with the Ambassador." Anna replied. She then walked out of the room and then came back a moment later. "He said I could go if he the embassy could maintain a transporter lock on me, and if we could be transported to your estate."

Omar smiled with relief. “That’s great. Shall we go?”

Anna nodded. "We'll need to come down to the transporter room. There you can key in your estate and then we can transport over." Brianna said as she took his hand and began to walk with him. "So what are you wanting to show me that you think I really should see?"

Omar smiled. “Just Romulus, in general. Messy politics aside, it’s an absolutely beautiful place – whether you’re in the cities or out in the jungles.”

Anna and Ramir walked up onto the transporter pad. "Just tell the transporter chief where you want her to send us, and she'll do it." Anna said then smiled as she smiled.

The senator turned, and handed the transporter chief a sheet with a set of coordinates.

“We’ll have to transport some distance away from the house, somewhere on the estate’s surrounding land,” he explained to Anna. “Since we have transport scramblers installed all around the house.”

"Okay." Anna replied as she took his hand. "When your ready, Ensign... " Brianna said. She then felt the tingle of the transporter and soon she and Ramir where whisked away.

They re-materialized in the middle of a grassy plain – vast jungle on one side, the imposing Omar mansion on the other.

“Come on,” the senator said with a smile. “It’s a five minute walk.”

Brianna nodded and began to walk with Ramir. "So you used to play here when you were younger?" She asked as they walked through thick grass.

“Kind of,” Omar said. “I had a efw’khelh who taught me as a child.”

Seeing her confused expression, he explained. “It means defender, he was employed by my father, and he taught me many things – philosophy, mathematics, science, but above all: Rihannusu self-defense arts, hence his name. We used to train out here.”

"My father taught me martial arts.. said I needed to know how to make men respect me." She said then grinned. Taking Ramir's hand she stumbled into him the grass was so thick.

Caught by surprise, the senator fell into the foliage, dragging Anna with him. Thankfully, the ground was soft and he felt no pain when he landed. He grinned at Anna, wondering how she was.

Anna had landed sprawled out on top of Ramir, she smiled and looked at him and then smiled once more as she caressed his face. "Sorry about that.." She said laying on him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled back. “I kind of like this new position.”

hearing his answer her lips turned up into an even bigger smile. "Kind of like this position myself as well." Anna said then leaned down and kissed him softly, brushing her lips against his lips.

The senator immediately responded, bringing her closer. Yes, he thoroughly liked this position.

Suddenly there was a rustling behind them, and the Omar family butler appeared. On seeing them in such a position, his face reddened and he tried to back away.

“Apologies, apologies, my lord and my lady,” he stammered incoherently. “I, saw you both fall and thought you might be in trouble but…” He trailed off.

Breaking the kiss she looked over and then moved off Ramir to stand up and offer him her hand to get up. "Not a problem."

He took her hand and stood up, brushing himself off.

“Don’t worry, Tal,” he said, being nicer than usual to the elderly butler – he was in front of Anna, after all. “Just announce your presence next time. How about you make us an afternoon snack?”

“Yes, my lord.” The relieved butler bowed low and scurried away.

Omar looked at Anna with a grin. “So, where were we?”

"Well I think we were embraced, and I was wishing you would kiss me again." Anna said then grinned.

“Sure,” Omar said, moving closer to her.

Brianna smiled and looked at him as he felt his hands rest on her hips. "You could make me fall in love with you, Ramir... hope you know that." She said then grinned.

He smiled back. “The same applies to you, too. I’ve been glad, all along, that you came to Romulus.”

“Especially,” he added with a grin. “Right at this moment in time.”

"Then shut up and kiss me..." Anna said grinning into his face.

Omar did exactly that. “My pleasure,” he smiled.

After a long and savory kiss the two broke but remained in each others arms. "So, think we should go find Tal before he walks back up on us with the snack?" Brianna asked as she looked at Ramir.

Omar shook his head. “Nah, he won’t dare bother us again. Besides, I told him about my father just before we left the embassy. He’s probably bringing him some stuff now. They say my father’s going to make a full recovery – whoever tried to kill him made a rather pathetic attempt at it. No doubt my father will be after them very soon.”

"What would you do if your father told you never to see me again?" Anna asked.

“I don’t know exactly…” Omar pondered that question thoughtfully. “You’re right, my father is rather controlling – hence the Galaxy probably being a better place for me – away from all the troubles of my home-planet.”

"As long as your doing it for yourself and not just because of me." Anna said then smiled. She then kissed him once more then turned and looked around the high grass they were in.

Omar turned to her. “So, what do you think of Romulus so far? Politics aside, I mean.”

"I think it's not all that different from Earth. Colorful people, beautiful land and pride." She said walking beside him now.

Omar chuckled. “Yes, pride there certainly is.” He looked out, across his family’s estate, admiring the mansion’s hundreds of acres of grassland, lakes, jungle and forests – all surrounded by near-impenetrable tetryon energy fencing, and protected with the latest in transporter scramblers.

No, nobody would interrupt them here, at least.

Except for Tal, that is.

The senator sighed as the mansion doors burst open, and the middle-aged butler again trekked across the land to reach them.

“My lord,” he panted, exhausted from his frantic journey. “I have just concluded a talk with the Federation ambassador, and your father is recovering excellently. I have dispatched a hover-limousine to pick him up, and he will be here within minutes.”

“Would you mind coming inside, my lord, my lady? The general would like to speak with both of you upon his arrival. Also, I have prepared the snacks you ordered.” Tal finished.

Omar looked over to Anna.

"Stumbling In"

by

Dr. Tizarin Lias [Ensign] - Medical Officer,
USS Galaxy

Special Advisor Madison Amandine- Civilian,
USS Galaxy

========================================

Tizarin put a hand to her stomach. It was a habit more than a necessity. Lias had been inside of her for nine months now. She was used to the physical sensation of having the symbiont inside her. But during the early weeks she had served as a host it had been a bit of an unusual sensation to say the least.

Now, as a doctor, she simply reflected that she had carried Lias inside her as long as a human woman carried a fetus before giving birth. An irony ? Possibly. Just something her mind was reflecting on as she bent over a public food replicator in the food court on Starbase 212. Her left hand was stretched around four or five PADDs, and she was running a finger of her right hand over the menu, trying to find something hot, sweet, and relaxing to calm her nerves.

She had a lot to do to get ready for her new assignment, and the Galaxy was set to disembark from 212 very soon.

There was something about a Starbase food court that fascinated her. Madison Marie Evette Amandine sat at the table, leaning back in her chair, long fingers wrapped around the coffee mug, her large eyes surveying the people around her. She loved just watching, thinking about them, wondering. Were they coming or going? From where? To where? What did they want? Did they know? She sighed and sipped the steaming liquid, closing her eyes a minute, just relxing, feeling those around her. In the matter of a few days, she would find herself on a ship -- the Galaxy. She'd been on numerous ships over the course of her life, some big, some small, but never before had she been a part of the crew. Though, she supposed, she wasn't really. Merely a civilian advisor. Her security clearance was slightly elevated, but beyond that, she was a glorified passenger. But it got her away. It kept her moving. That's all that really mattered for the time being.

Not too far away from where Madison was doing her sipping, and thinking, Tizarin had finally made her decision. She pulled the cup of steaming liquid from the food slot, and lifted it to he rmouth to take a sip. Her eyes diverted for a second as she turned around, and she did not see the lumbering lurian that walked directly into her.

Hot liquid went everywhere, and Tizarin dropped her PADDs. She tried to turn to avoid the man's path, and ended up stumbling into a table. The same table where Madison Amandine was sitting. Tizarin fell flat on the table and rolled off onto the floor. Madison could hear a stream of profanity coming from the floor at her feet.

Madison opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow as she looked at the blonde Trill attempting to levy herself off the floor. "That has to be embarassing," Madison said, smiling slightly as she slid her mug onto the table and bent to look closer at the other young woman. "Are you physically injured, or is it just pride that keeps you down there?"

Tizarin stuck her head up so that her chin was even with the tabletop. "No... neither. I just have to collect my work. Besides if I get up I'm gonna smash that blubberhead but good. Not looking where he's going !" and then she stopped herself. Her eyes locked on those of the woman at the table- Madison Amandine. And she smiled.

Madison had a very pretty face. And there was no hint of anger in her eyes as Tizarin would have expected. The Trill relaxed. "Sorry... didn't mean to just blow off like that." her head dissapeared as she went back down to the floor to retireve her PADDs. "It's just that I've got this new assignment, and I've got to get ready... this guy comes along, and just bowls me over... " her voice trailed off. Madison could hear the sound of small items knocking togehter; Tizarin was retrieving her handful of PADDs.

"That's a vasta number of padds you have there," Madison said. "And if that is what you call to just 'blow off' then you have never spent time in diplomatic discussion. You missed one, it scuttled over there..." She gestured about a metre beyond the edge of the table.

Tizarin looked up at her, an amused smirk on her face. "Thanks." she said. She crawled to the PADD, picked it up, and then plopped the whole collection on Madison's table. "You expecting anyone ?" she asked, as she sat down across from Madison.

"Only my solitude," she stated. "If you need a moment to collect yourself, please take it. I shall be leaving in a moment anyway, and if you take the seat, it ensures it remains in your custody once I depart." She offered a smile, feeling the cold, diplomatic formality creeping up and overwhelming her personality. She couldn't help it. Whenever she was confronted by a slightly uncomfortable situation in a public place, that's what happened. She became a friendly ice bitch, as large a contradiction as that might seem. "My name is Madison Marie Evette Amandine." She extended her hand. "My father is Mathieu Amandine."

The Trill sat looking ahead with cold eyes as Madison spoke. "Dr. Lias. Tizarin Lias." she replied, offering the other woman her hand. "That name is familiar. Amandine ? The Ambassador ? Didn't he run for Federation President a few years back, or something ?"

"They tried to convince him to run in the last election, but he declined," Madison said. "Though it was something quite public, he was a favourite for quite some time and surely remains such. My father is an amazing man. The Federation would be fortunate to have him at the helm. But he believes that he... well. You don't want to hear the politics, few people do." She hesitated a moment. "Lias. I knew a Trill woman named Lias once. Several years ago. We met at a diplomatic dinner on Batazed honouring the closure of the war. Would she be a relation?"

"Small universe." Tizarin replied, a little less surprised seeming than one might expect. "I'd be willing to lay odds you're talking about my previous host. Mirana Lias. She was a Federation envoy. She negotiated early relations with the Daedryn. An unusual race. Very reclusive. I'm.. well, if I were a computer I'd say I'm searching my memory bank. But... you probably know I posses all the memories of my previous hosts. Some are muddier than others, but I'm sure I'd recall your face."

"Mm, maybe not," Madison replied, a small sly smile playing across her features. Her eyes danced playfully. "I'm sure you'll recall. Eventually. When the moments hits you right. That's unfortunate though, I'd not heard that Mirana had passed. I was hoping to... run into her again. But at any rate. I apologise, but I must leave you now. Places to go, things to tend to, people to meet, all that jazz." She winked as she stood and then leaned down, offering a hand, her body very close to the other woman's, so close they brushed, very slightly, and Tizarin could feel the warmth of the human woman's skin, the brush of the ambassador's daughter's breath. "It was very nice to meet you, Tizarin Lias, perhaps we shall run into each other again."

"I hope so." Tizarin said, without thinking of how it would sound. "But..." she took the other womans hand and squeezed it, trying to do so warmly, and not forcefully. "I'm shipping out on the Galaxy in a few days."

"What luck," Madison stated, pushing herself up and away. She glanced over her shoulder, pausing a step or two from the table, "so am I."

Tizarin blinked. Her only facial show of surprise. "Then... I'll see you aboard. Like I said. Small Universe."

But Madison couldn't say that she'd heard what the young Trill woman had said. All she could think was that maybe, this stint-on-a-ship thing could end up even more interesting than she'd initially thought.

“Her Arrival”

Ensign Miranda Sanchez
Medical Officer
USS Galaxy

Location: Starbase 212, Docking Bay 4
Time: 1300 Hundred Hours Two weeks prior to Galaxy’s docking on Starbase 212

~~~~

The last five hours had been quite ghastly. The young woman wasn’t sure what the fetid that had field the shuttlecraft after the last three crewman had entered, had stayed with them the whole trip to Starbase 212. When the shuttlecraft had finally docked, there was a pleasant smile on the half Betazoid’s face. Exiting when her time came, she tired not to bump into anyone, the smile staying to her rose color lips nodding her hello to the different crewmembers.

Once outside the shuttle, she stretched her back out, hands pressing at the lower back causing a few pops to come forth. Curls falling into her eyes, she nodded towards the approaching officer. By the ensign rank on his collar the man could be no younger than twenty-two, though he could pass for someone no older than fifteen. Hands crossed behind her back, she greeted the fellow officer with a warm and friendly “Hello.”

“Good afternoon, Ma’am. Name?” He however was not pleasant, and seemed to have much on his mind. Not many emotions came forth from him, this caused an arch of the brow from the woman standing in front of him.

“Ensign Miranda Xerx Sanchez. Arriving for the USS Galaxy. Medical.” Her name came out with a roll of the tongue, though she held no accent there. Miranda was a small woman the officer had a good nine inches on her.

“Yes, of course.” He was preoccupied with the small PADD that was in his hand. Miranda guessed he was looking her name up, and information to make sure her bags was transported to the correct location. He hadn’t once made eye contact with Ensign Sanchez, and this unnerved the woman.

“Sir.” Sanchez cleared her throat. When he glanced at her, she smiled “If you are going to be holding me up, I would at least prefer you for you to look me in the eye when talking to me, and allow me to know what you are doing?” It was a polite statement, level and soft was her voice.

“I do apologize ma’am.” The PADD went behind his back, “Ensign Etienne Ilguaskas. I am security personal for Starbase 212.” His smile was pathetic in Sanchez’s option, but he had tired and that mattered to the officer. “I am just making sure everyone gets comfortable, and things are taken care of.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ilguaskas.” Sanchez nodded, “I take it my bags have been placed in temporary quarters, until the Galaxy arrives?”

“Yes, and our Chief Medical officer is awaiting for you to check in with him. Your orders are to serve in our sickbay until they arrive.” Handing her a PADD that had been placed under his arm the whole time, he seemed to bring up her information on it, before handing it to her. “Your quarters are on deck twelve. All other information is on here for you, Ma’am.” His arms folded behind his back, “Is there anything else I might assist you with?” Though he stood there looking quite pleasant, and polite, Sanchez could sense the inpatients growing with him, he desired to move to the next arrival.

“No, Mr. Ilguaskas. Thank you for your time.” With a nod the ensign had moved on to another arrival, reacting the same as he had with her, not learning anything with their conversation.

Sanchez glanced over the PADD that was placed in her hands moments before, then glanced around the docking area. People were being seen to, and then leaving to do whatever it was they planned to do. Nodding to no one, but herself, Sanchez headed out into the corridor and towards the nearest turbo-lift. Wishing to settle somewhat into her quarters before taking care of everything else, she had had an unpleasant trip here, and wished to clean herself up before interacting with other crewmembers.

~~~~

<< Sickbay, 1430 >>

“Ensign Miranda Xerx Sanchez, reporting for duty, Sir.” The ensign was standing in the doorway of the Chief’s office. fresh and clean, with a pressed uniform on. Hands placed behind her back, she had been admiring sickbay before she was shown into the Chief’s office. Everything was in order, though they had quite a few patients in that afternoon, though their sickbay was far too large for anyone to believe them to be ‘busy’. Now standing halfway into the Chief’s office, she couldn’t believe how large his office was alone.

“Ah, yes. Here for a short period until Galaxy arrives, correct?” He was a polite man. The small wrinkles around the eyes, and mouth showed his age, though his eyes were bright blue; they were want cling to his youth. Piles of paperwork on his desk, he didn’t seem the least bit bother by this. When she replied to his question, his hands pointed towards the chair in front of his desk when he asked to enter and have a seat.

“Thank you, Commander.” Noticing his brow wrinkled at this response she realized he didn’t like being called by rank.

“You should know we medical officers don’t care to be called by rank. Kirk is what I like.” He lifted a coffee cup that was hidden behind paperwork and took a drink. He was half human, that she could tell, but his other species was not easy to tell.

“Thank you, Sir… Kirk.” Sanchez smiled, “I’m not quite sure how long it will be, before the Galaxy will be arriving, but I do hope that I fit in, in the time being.”

“Ah, yes… You are half Betazoid, correct? Therefore you are telepathic?” He did not seem bothered by this fact, only curious.

“I am half breed yes, but my telepathic abilities are very weak. I am an empath, which means I am able to read peoples feels, emotions, desires…”

“Ah, a man has to be careful around you, young woman. You’re beautiful, and I’m sure that embarrasses a lot of officers when they are around you!” He laughed; it was deep and cracked some.

“I find that more people are uncomfortable around me…”

“This upsets you?”

“Well, some, yes. I am a doctor, as you know, Kirk, most people already don’t like to be near us, add being an empath and it only makes things worse… Though, please do not misunderstand me. I am proud of who I am, and do not wish to change for any reason, I only wish people would give me a chance… Though, they tend too after being around me for some time.”

“Well, I can see why. You’re honest, pretty, and nice. You’ll fit in around her, and don’t worry no one will think anything of your empathic abilities. There are other Betazoids on the ship, and they are telepaths, so I believe he this crew is use to them, you will be no problem.” He winked, and she smiled.

“Thank you, good to know.”

“Well, I don’t think you should spend your first day on this beautiful Starbase. Get yourself settled into your quarters, though not to comfortable you could be leaving tomorrow. See the sites on the station, unless you would prefer to work today?” He asked with a high brow at the expression of confusion she was showing him.

“I do not mind either way, Sir…”

“Well, then you’ll spend the day off. We are covered for the day, no need for you.” Smirking, he looked down at his paperwork, than glanced back at the woman. “You may go now.”

~~~

Two Week After Arrival
Location: Starbase 212, Sickbay
Time: 1015

~~~

“Well hello.” The voice was higher pitched, and took on a different tone, a baby tone. “Aren’t you getting so big?" Laughing, Doctor Sanchez picked up the two-day-old Bajoran child. Her smile showed off her white teeth as she held the child close to her chest, supporting his head, Sanchez walked over to the bio-bed where his mother rested. “Say hello mum.” Sanchez supported the child by one arm, keeping the baby close to her body so nothing would happen, while she raised the bio-bed, so Lieutenant Groban could set up a little better. “Here you go.” Sanchez placed a pillow under the new mother’s arm, then placed the baby boy in her arms. “He is so beautiful. I think you did well.” Smiling, “I’ll leave you two alone together for a short time… Is there anything you need?” The doctor asked, as she helped pull the Bajoran’s hair from her face, so that she could look at her baby better.

“No, thank you Doctor Sanchez…. When are you leaving?” Groban asked as she placed her child to her breast, preparing for him to feed.

“Well, I believe the Galaxy docks today. I’ll report in some time today, though I believe the ship will be on leave for a short time, therefore I’ll probably still be around, just no longer with the Starbase’s sickbay.” The smile that came forth wasn’t that best, and almost seemed more like a frown for a moment.

“You will be missed. The Galaxy is lucky to have you. Not everyone is cut out for a Starbase, but you seem to do just fine, Ensign.”

Patting her arm, “Thank you, Lieutenant. Everyone has been so kind to me while I’ve been here. I hope the crew on the Galaxy is just as great as this crew is.”

“It’s a good ship… You’ll be in good hands, I know.”

~~~

<< Ensign Sanchez’s Quarters, 1300 Hours >>

The past two weeks had been great for the Ensign. The crew had taken right in, unlike the Ireland had. Not everyone feared those with empathic abilities, and that though helped the Ensign. Knowing there were a few other Betazoids onboard the Galaxy, Ensign Sanchez had no fear about joining the ship, she was just going to miss her posting on the Starbase, though she knew she would be here for a little while, since the Galaxy would be on leave, that placed the Ensign on leave. Part of her thought about seeing old friends back on Betazed, though she wanted to see what all would take place in the next few days, before setting any plans in stone.

Throwing herself down onto the blue couch, she watched ships go into warp from her quarter’s window. Space was a piece of art that Sanchez enjoyed. The stars, the different moment of the ships, and activity had cause and effect, and though it was always black, it just seemed to say something different every time she looked out on it. Running a hand through her curls, “tea, hot.” Standing and retrieving her drink, the warm liquid felt good down her throat. She would need to go and report in to her new Captain soon, as well as her new Chief. Looking forward to meeting her new crewmates, and Captain, the Ensign wanted to also make sure to give them plenty of time before she went reporting in, and what not. They had just gotten back from a mission, and she was sure there were lots for them to take care of, before they were ready to meet new doctors.

The music that played in the back came to a stop as the track ended. Sanchez stood, and moved into her bedroom to retrieve her uniform jacket before heading out of her quarters. It had been a couple of hours since the ship docked. The Captain new she was onboard, and would probably be wondering where she was at if she waited too much longer to go and check in. The quietness of being on a Starbase was kind of nice, though the Ensign looked forward to time on a Starship again, seeing different systems, and the adventure that came with it.

<< 1325 Hours, Outside Captain’s Ready Room >>

Sanchez had been outside of the Captain ready room for about ten minutes now. The bridge was just as beautiful as she imagined it would. The crew had been far to her, security seemed to watch her a little, until she was able to prove who she was, and so forth. The Captain was a busy man, and she understood that, though if he had the time she wished to speak with him briefly, and let him know she would be with his crew from now on.

“The Captain has about ten minutes, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Miranda kept her arms crossed behind her back and she entered the Captains ready room, “Ensign Miranda Xerx Sanchez, reporting in…”

~~~

Present Time Frame
Location: USS Mustang, Captain’s Quarters
Time: 1015

The hot coffee glass sat cupped in the palms of the Ensign’s hands. Her brown curls covered half of her face, legs pulled up to the left of her on the couch, tucked over a couple of pillows. She had been in the position for a little over an hour now; the coffee had been refilled four times now. Tomorrow she would be going back to Starbase 212 to meet up with her new ship, and go from there. Her thoughts were focused out the large window, watching the stars fly by. The past few weeks had gone by rather quickly, after deciding to spend her leave on her father’s ship. It had been some time since she had spent time with her father, as well as her little brother and Elizabeth. Everyone had been gone most of the day, her father doing his duty, as well as her stepmother, Elizabeth. Thinking about it, she wasn’t quite sure where her little brother, Jose had run too.

Drinking the hot coffee down, she came from her trance and glanced around the quarters seeing if anyone had entered, and she had just failed to notice, but she was alone, or at least in the living room area. She had forgotten how nice her father’s quarters were. The blues, burgundies, and woods were rich and beautiful. The Mustang was a bold ship, and was one of the best-decorated ships she had seen, but it also had more to it than a beautiful appearance, that was for sure. Her head felt heavy, as it fell backwards, resting on the back of the couch.

The doors slide open.

“Hello?” Sanchez jerked her head up, almost slipping coffee on her white cotton pants, and tank. Mumbling to herself, she sat the cup on the end table, and twisted her torso around, placing her arms on the back of at the couch, her white teeth showing as she smiled brightly at her little brother. “Where have you been? I’ve been stuck in this place all by my lonesome for the past couple of hours.”

“I have school, remember. I’m only thirteen, Miranda.”

“Ah, don’t get smart with me…”-She patted the seat next to her-“Come sit with me! You know I’ll be leaving tomorrow….” She arched a brow, “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, you know I hate it when you do that.” Jose tossed his backpack on the floor and headed towards the kitchen, the raise in his voice upset Miranda, as the anger she sensing wasn’t helping the situation either. Her hands gripped the back of the couch as she lifted herself over it, and followed Jose into the kitchen. “What is going on?”

“You, instead my head… It gets annoying you know.” The reply was harsh as he moved things around roughly.

“You know I don’t raid peoples minds… I can feel your emotions, yeah, but I can’t help that Jose… You know that.” Miranda walked over and disheveled his hair, “What’s wrong, Jose?”

“Nothing…”

“Don’t lie to me, it’s pointless. I can read when someone is lying to me, they emotions are off, and…”

“Okay! Gees, anyone tell you to lay off the knowledge books?” Sanchez laughed, her black eyes searching her little brothers baby blue ones for answer. “I just don’t get along with everyone in my class. Plus, dad is so busy with this dam”-the curse word caused an evil look from Sanchez-“stupid ship, and when you’re around his attention is even more stretched… Plus, I hate being in a starship all the bloody time!” Sanchez sighed, wrapping an arm around her brother, which pulled him in front of her for a hug. His back rested against her, head leaning back on her shoulder. “You’re special, plus you remind dad of his first love… I’m just…”

“Human?” She finished his sentence. “You’re special in your own way too, Jose. Listen, dad loves you just as much as he loves me, just in a different way. I’m a female, you’re male, that causes differences, plus I was conseaved with his first wife, I’m all he has left of her.” Sanchez frowned, trying to figure out the best way to put it.” Dad gets to see you all the time, he keeps comfortable with that, and tends to forget, I know… He never gets to see me, and what when you go into Starfleet.”

“Yeah, right! Like I would do that.” He pulled away from his sister.

“What does that mean? You don’t agree with what we do for a living?” Her arched brow wrinkled forward, her expression hard to read, though he had been around her long enough to know his was disapproval. “We all work hard at what we do. We help people, Jose, if you can’t agree with this…” “You risk your lives every day, for what? People you don’t know? Different speci….” His sentence dropped, noticing the color of red in his sister’s cheek, “Listen, I just don’t…”

“I’m half Betazoid, Jose! You don’t agree with Starfleet, is that it? You know, I wouldn’t be around if it wasn’t for Starfleet. My mother’s home world was almost destroyed in the Dominion war, but Starfleet helped that, if you don’t agree with any of this, than…” Her voice had risen slightly, though she had still managed to keep it level, and not quite as forceful as one might be at this point. Her breathing had been slightly harder than normal; she was upset, more for the fact that her brother had just told her he didn’t agree with anything she believed in. Didn’t believe in helping other races. Basically didn’t believe in her.

“Randy, your lunge…” Jose glanced over his shoulder, hearing the quarter doors slide open and the sound of Captain Sanchez calling for the two of them.

Sanchez brushed the curls from her eyes, and stared at her brother for a long while. “We’re in the kitchen dad.” Her voice was soft, as normal, no sign of anger, or emotions. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and claimed herself, her breathing slowing back down. She wet her lips and smiled brightly at her father as he entered.

“What are you two doing?” He crossed the floor to kiss his daughter on the forehead, and run a hand through his boy’s hair. Glancing from one child to the next, “Everything all right?”

“Of course, Daddy. What would be wrong?” Her smile brought forth her teeth, kissing her father back on the cheek. “Jose and I were just changing thoughts on Starfleet is all.”

“Speaking of Starfleet, I have an important dinner tonight with some guest who will be arriving shortly. So, if you guys can hold out on your own. Miranda, I know it’s your last night…” “Don’t be silly dad, you’re the Captain, duty calls. I’ll fix Jose something to eat, we’ll be fine.”

“Good to know. Elizabeth with be with me, so it shall be just the two of you.”

“We’ll be just fine, wont we Jose?”

“Yeah…”

~~~

Location: Starbase 212, Docking bay 4
Time: 0500 Hundred Hours

~~~

Space didn’t seem to have the same affect on Sanchez as she glanced out the window of the shuttlecraft she had been on the past three hours. Part of her was crushed from the night before. Jose had said he was sorry a dozen times, though she could feel he was speaking from his heart. He hated Starfleet, and disliked species outside the human race. Wetting her lips, she glanced around the shuttlecraft. People were sleeping, or doing their best to. It was around 0500 she guessed. She had decided to take the early craft, telling her family goodbye the night before, wanting to get back to the Starbase as soon as she could, and get boarded on to the Galaxy. She knew Jose loved her, and she forgave him, but she was still crushed. She was different from her family, and all this time she didn’t think it mattered, but now, now she couldn’t help but search her family feelings, seeing if anyone else felt it, or if it was just Jose. Her father loved her for her mother, which she knew, but sometimes wondered if that was the only reason. Scuffing at herself, she was a happy person. She would never let herself get upset over such petty things…

The shuttlecraft had just docked. Smiling, she ran a hand through her hair. Nodding towards the other passengers as they exited, she waited to be last and then stepped off. Smiling at Ensign Ilguaskas, she headed checked out, passing through security and making her way towards her quarters on deck ten. It was good to be back on the station, smiling at familiar faces, saying her hellos, after a little while she had forgotten her worries, and once inside her temporary quarters, she smiled softly, her troubles passing her by.

Entering her sonic shower after being back for a couple of minutes, she wanted to take a small nap before she had to be aboard the Galaxy. She had much to prepare for, and much to do boarding the new vessel. The Ensign was looking forward to it. Leaning back against the shower walls, she closed her eyes asking the computer to wake her in thirty…

{{OOC: The 'Bajoran Noon' series of posts takes place once the Valkyrie arrives to Bajor, an event which wan't posted yet in-game.}}

"Bajoran Noon – Homecoming, part I"

Ensign Miramon Terrik,
Flight Controller,
USS Valkyrie

Ensign Saul Bental,
Intelligence Officer,
USS Valkyrie

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

Bajor.

I always felt that the Bajorans are much like my own ancestors, the Jews.

People of an ancient legacy, proud and intelligent, religious and stubborn. People who were suppressed under the boot of a conqueror, held in concentration and internment camps, but never lost their faith.

People who rebuilt their homeland.

People who can make you both nod in admiration of their achievements or shrug with despair when facing their weaknesses and internal problems, far more dangerous to them than any external enemy.

Thank goodness Jews don't have to walk around all day long with these Bajoran earrings!

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

Bajorans knew a thing or two about riverboats.

The Bajoran culture had used Riverboats and sail ships as a central mean of transportation across the planet for a much longer timespan than the Terran culture. The boat Miramon and Saul were now operating was a great example of how more experience leads to better boats.

It was manually operated, just like Saul preferred it, and the central engine was two sets of pedals which reminded Saul a little of the bicycles they had in the Galaxy's gym. The boat's design was very sleek considering the fact that most of it was made out of a material not unlike wood, and it translated Saul's pedaling into an impressive speed.

Beads of sweat rolled down Saul's forehead and arms, but despite the exertion he smiled broadly at Miramon who was now standing on the deck, his hands rested on the railing. "The only way to go!"

Miramon looked slightly amused at that, especially since he'd rarely if ever used a riverboat in his childhood. Yes, it had been a means of transport used by his people to cross short distances, but it was hardly something commonly seen during the Occupation. After all, these had been an oppressed people, and expression of their own culture was suppressed as much as possible in order to prevent significant gatherings of Bajorans - especially so at things like religious gatherings. And if a Bajoran was heading downriver in a boat, where might they go?

Still, the Bajoran had been strangely quiet since they had arrived on planet. It was not lost on any of the crew from the Valkyrie when he had disembarked in casual clothing, as all of them had done, but now wearing the traditional ear-cuff of the Bajoran people, which was a symbol of their religious faith. Frankly, if he wasn't wearing it while on Bajor, he'd be looked down upon by most of his people, since it was also a sign of solidarity for their people, importantly so given the end of the Occupation and the resurrection of their culture and rebuilding of their home.

He looked over at his companion with a gentle smile, then nodded at the pedals. "Want to switch over, Saul? Shouldn't let you do all the work, and you're not trained to steer. I'm the pilot, after all."

"You're the pilot, but I'm the sailor." Saul indicated, retorting with a grin of his own. "But sure, one can't have all the fun."

With that, Saul gently decreased the speed of his pedaling, then stood up and allowed Miramon to take over. He sat down on the deck, allowing the Bajoran sun to bathe him with its warm rays.

Despite the years of the devastating Occupation, Bajor itself had not been significantly damaged in any ecological sense. It still had plenty of greenery and unpolluted water ways. Admittedly, the Cardassians had almost completely mined the planet dry of most of it's natural resources, but most of the landscape remained as beautiful as it had before the Occupation, at least as far as many of the older Bajorans and, of course, the history records suggested.

Of course, as some of his people had wryly put it, the air was all the cleaner for being free of Cardassians, though to be honest, that was expressed more by the free action of the people rather than by anything in the atmosphere.

All in all, Miramon had never really spent much time on his home planet after he had left home at 16 to join the crew of the K'Lyn. He'd stayed for a few years after the Occupation to assist with the rebuilding of their world, but he'd never felt comfortable on planetary soil. Still, it was nice to be back now. As they floated steadily down the river, the Bajoran had pondered what it would be like to see his home again - his family. He had never got along well with them, and seeing them again was not likely to be easy. He was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea, but the Commander had taken time to prepare some things before they went hunting for their missing officer, so he had given everyone time to take some brief shoreleave.

His companion, Saul, seemed to be fascinated by the terrain. He eyed the river banks eagerly, and waved at any person who watched them from the banks. Most of them returned the wave.

Eventually, Saul turned back toward him. The intelligence officer instinctively reached for his nose, but forced his hand back to its proper place next to his hip. Saul used the Valkyrie's medical facilities to slightly alter his appearance by adding a Bajoran nose ridge to his face.

Sufficed to say, the Bajoran with him hadn't been happy about that - given that the Emissary was human, no human had the need to disguise themselves amongst friendly Bajorans - not to mention that it would be dangerous if anyone found out about it.

Saul claimed that it was in order to avoid raising suspect or unnecessary attention, and he also told Miramon that this camouflage is going to serve a purpose he'll be told about later.

The two of them decided that Saul's cover story would be that of a Bajoran adopted by Humans. This way, his lack of control in the Bajoran language will fit in with the disguise.

"That's our dock, isn't it?" Saul pointed at the distance. Several hundred meters ahead, a small man-made construct invaded the river, and several masts could be seen rising above it.

Miramon glanced over his shoulder to where Saul was pointed, then nodded a moment later. "Yeah, that's it. That's about as close to home as we'll get from here by boat. Are you ready to go?"

"Certainly. So, we're going to pay your home a little visit, or not?"

The Bajoran nodded. "Sure. I guess we might as well, while we're here." His face looked somewhat resigned to the idea that they were doing so - after all, the arrival of a Federation ship in orbit of Bajor didn't happen everyday, and it wouldn't take a genius to get a copy of it's crew manifest, since such things were registered when the crew were given permission to beam to the surface.

The two slowed the boat to a complete stop, and activated the clamps. Two mechanical arms extended from the boat, grabbed sturdy poles which were fixed onto the banks for that exact purpose. Saul picked up a bag from the deck, and gracefully leapt out of the boat. Miramon quickly grabbed his own satchel and followed suit beside Saul, though he felt somewhat less confident about stepping off the deck than did the Terran, more because it was familiar ground that had it's own memories. Still, he didn't want to keep his new friend waiting, and nor was it very becoming of him as an officer to bawk at simply going home either, though the pit in the centre of his stomach was happy to disagree with that.

The two began walking at a slightly slower than usual pace towards the obvious settlement, which was a little further away from the docking area than most would have suspected for a town. The reason for that was simply so that anyone arriving at the dock would be seen by someone in the town long before they actually got there, which allowed the inhabitants to prepare to receive some guests, since most Bajorans were, or at least had been prior to the Occupation, kind and always happy to extend their hospitality to anyone who chose to visit. Things like that had diminished somewhat since the Occupation, with most Bajorans more than willing to pick up a phaser and shoot you rather than welcome you with open arms. Of course, once they'd been accepted as a Federation protectorate and with Starfleet maintaining their constant vigilance aboard what was now Deep Space Nine, the majority of Bajorans had begun to relax more and concentrate on building their society rather than jumping at anyone that came in view.

The town itself was not one of the larger Bajoran settlements - it had always been a quiet little place. Miramon marvelled as they walked through the relatively peaceful streets at how it had all changed - gone was the tension of earlier years when it was rarely safe to step outside your front door without a hand on your phaser, all to be replaced by a more...spiritual atmosphere. The town felt peaceful and relaxed, the first time he'd ever felt that here at his own home since he'd learned to understand exactly what such a thing was. It only really served to increase Miramon's discomfort, since it made him feel more like an outsider than any thoughts of family ever could.

He was well aware that all this was probably not lost on his companion. The peacefulness of the place and the Bajoran's clear discomfort were really obvious anyway, though he was doing his best to keep himself calm and relaxed. It really wasn't all that surprising when the two of them came to a dead stop, Miramon reaching out with a hand to point at a particular building a little further down the street.

Saul watched the house quietly, with interest.

It was a mediumly sized place - not too small for only one or two people to live there, but not big enough to look obvious or out of place amongst the others that were there. As with the other buildings in the town, it was built from the same warm stone, a rich light gold colour which was excellent at absorbing and storing heat, which was often useful if you were living in a home overshadowed by trees or other buildings and where the shadows overcast the sunlight pouring through the sky. And more than that, it was a beautiful looking colour - natural. The stone was curved in the traditional style of Bajoran buildings - a far cry from the large corrugated metal shelters that had been built as homes in many of the refugee camps when the Bajorans that had fled the Cardassians became scattered across the Quadrant. Somehow it felt more reflective.

Outside the house was a relatively well-kept garden - more than proving, as Miramon had suspected, that people were still living there - his family. His father had been a tall man, slightly taller than Miramon himself, and had always been a very stern man, very much a complete adherent to his principles - stubborn, as far as his youngest son was concerned. Miramon's mother was shorter than her husband and two male children, but very much as stern as her husband, so her presence tended to belay her smaller stature. That said, though, she wasn't an unkind woman - just very set in her own ways and a great supporter of traditional Bajoran ways, which in itself was understandable given the Occupation, but since the rest of the family had always supported the Resistance movement during that time, Miramon and his mother had never really agreed with one another, and their conflict inevitably led to the younger of the two leaving at 16.

His older sister was slightly taller than her mother, and she'd always been the one that tried to help resolve the arguments and keep a lid on the tempers of the household. She was very solidly grounded, and of everything he'd wanted on returning, she was the only person Miramon was truly looking forward to seeing. His parents kind of overshadowed that, though. As for Miramon's older brother, he was living away from home as well, though he had been initiated into the religious orders years ago, and was a monk in a temple some distance away. He'd never understood Miramon's wish to join Starfleet after he had returned home once the Occupation had ended, but since he was also very non-violent as a person, he had sympathised with his younger sibling's feelings regarding the Resistance, but inevitably stayed completely loyal to his family as much as to his home and the religion of his people.

"That's my home, Saul. Or rather, it's where my family live. My parents and my sister should still be there, so we'll stop there for a while. Oh, and I know I don't usually take to this, but my Bajoran name is always reversed to what we're both used to, so unless we're alone, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Terrik. It's my family name, and it's considered polite and traditional to address me that way first. My parents are both quite traditionally-minded, and they'd not understand if you didn't. Is that okay?"

Saul blinked. "Sure it is, but I must say that I was certain that your given name was Terrik and family name was Miramon. That's why I addressed you as Miramon, even though I just a crewmate and not a close friend... I apologize if I insulted you."

Miramon smiled in a warm manner, negating the possible feeling of negativity the comment brought around. Saul wasn't to know, after all.

"Well, my name is actually used differently to most Bajorans. Our names are formed the wrong way round. My actual name on Bajor is the other way around to how you'll have seen me use it before - it's Terrik Miramon. Hence, Terrik is my family name and Miramon is my given name. However, since I joined Starfleet, I changed the order of names to suit human custom, since it's less confusing for my crewmates."

The Bajoran smiled slightly, the first time he'd done so since arriving on the planet. "So, no, you've been calling me by my first name all the time, which is fine, of course. Especially since you've been addressing me without a title - no 'mister' or 'ensign'. So you're doing exactly what I intended when I switched my name around. Unfortunately, that custom isn't observed here, so that's just a warning."

Saul nodded, respecting the man's wishes, and began to walk toward the building.

The two didn't take long to reach the modest house, and as Miramon opened the gate, he winced in anticipation of the gate screeching on un-oiled hinges, which would alert people in the house to their presence before he was ready, but fortunately it opened in the way he'd always remembered it doing so. Nodding, he motioned for Saul to follow him through the small garden along the stone path that wound it's way towards the door.

Like so many things on Bajor, the house was maintained along very natural lines, so it didn't have all the gracings of large scale technology, other than basic things like a power generator and the replicator. The door, as a result, was made of wood, as opposed to being the bland metal constructs the two were used to seeing aboard Federation starships, so it made quite a contrast, though the Bajoran had seen this door so many times before.

He took a deep breath, then knocked lightly on the wood, listening to the ringing sound his knuckles made as it struck. The two waited a moment, and Miramon could have sworn his heart was beating hard enough to make the knocking sound as loud as a small breeze of wind would have over a grassy knoll.

The door began to open slowly, though Miramon could well remember when the door would never have opened without an inquiry as to who was present and his father's other hand holding onto a phaser as he opened it, in case the visitor happened to be unwelcome. But this was no longer the period of turmoil and danger it had been under the Cardassians, so he couldn't say he was overly surprised that the door was simply being opened.

As it swung gently on it's hinges, the door slowly pushed back to a right-angle from it's earlier position, the two were able to take a look at the person that was opening it. The woman was about 3 or 4 inches smaller than Miramon, and only really slightly older in appearance. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a relaxed fashion - not too strictly, but not so loosely as to make it appear unkempt. Her normally gentle eyes widened as she saw the two standing at the door, her eyes first looking at Saul - who by all appearances was just a normal Bajoran visiting the area.

It was the real Bajoran that caught her attention. Though it had been almost 7 years since the two had seen each other, it was clear that she knew Miramon, and that was obvious in her blue eyes, a gleam of recognition clear on her face. The woman couldn't have been older than in her late 30s, as indeed she was, being all of four years older than the man that stood taller than her - her younger brother.

It was only after a silent moment had passed between the two that she smiled at them both and nodded her head in greetings. "Miramon. I hadn't expected to see you for a while. It's been such a long time."

The Bajoran nodded, returning her smile with one of his own. "Yes, Ilana, it has." For a moment, Miramon wasn't sure how his sister would react to having her given name spoken outloud in the presence of a stranger, since Bajoran custom suggested that it was an honour to be allowed to speak a person's given name outloud in their presence, hence why it was something generally given only to close friends and family, but for some reason, his sister didn't appear perturbed by it. Or maybe she hadn't noticed.

He stirred and half-turned so that his sister could get a better view of his companion. Raising his hand and gently clapping Saul on the shoulder, he nudged him forward slightly. "This is Bental, a friend of mine from the Galaxy. Bental, this is my sister."

It likely wouldn't take Saul long to notice that he was being addressed by his surname in place of his first name - Miramon had literally only just remembered that Saul was disguised as a Bajoran - and his first name was a clear one, not one that could be construed as ambiguous amonst Bajorans, who would realise he was either shirking their traditions or not quite what he seemed. Nor had the Bajoran named his sister in introducing the two - while it was fine for Miramon to speak it, unless she allowed Saul to do so, he was not permitted to refer to her by it.

Saul resisted an urge to extend his arm, the shook his head. He hesitated a moment before openning his mouth, knowing very well that his first words would lead to a first lie about his origin. "It is a pleasure to meet you." he said simply.

Miramon suddenly became aware that Saul had an accent foreign to Bajorans, who always spoke with a slightly lilting emphasis on their words, whereas few humans ever did so. Thinking about it, and noting how quickly his sister picked up on the same thing, the Bajoran tried to do what he could to cover for it.

"Bental here was raised by humans, though he's taken onto Bajoran customs rather quickly."

His sister appeared somewhat perturbed by this, but didn't express her thoughts, instead speaking the only other thing truly on her mind.

"Where have you been, my brother? Mother and Father have been anxious about you for some time now. Still, you're here now, so you ought to come in and talk with them."

The way she said it made Miramon feel both guilty about having ignored his family for the most part and also somewhat reluctant to enter the house. Trying to cover his feelings, he turned to Saul with something of a trapped expression.

"Do we have time to stay awhile?"

"Sure thing, we're on call, the... Captain will let us know once we're nodded." Saul assured him. He wasn't sure whether Miramon was looking for a way out of the situation, or just asked a sincere question. Either way, he wasn't going to make the decision for the Bajoran pilot.

He glanced at Ilana. "You'll be glad to know your brother did some good while travelling around space in this funny uniform. Just recently we were involved in a dangerous situation where his piloting skills were one of the main reasons the ship wasn't grinded to radioactive dust."

Miramon's eyebrows raised at that one - the only thing he'd done of use with the Galaxy is steer her clear of a mine during their engagement with the Breen, and that had been using a standard manueaver he'd learned aboard the K'Lyn. Still, he smiled appreciatively at Saul, then turned back to his sister.

"May we come in, Ilana? If you've no objections to us staying here."

The Bajoran's sister nodded, then stepped aside, motioning into the house.

"Come on in."

<To be continued...>

"Welcome Back, North"

Attaché Richard North

Music: The Leisure Suit Larry Theme by Al Lowe (http://www.thedierks.com/allowe/midi/LSL1%20Theme%20SCI.mid)

Hart Senate Office Building
Washington, D.C.
Four weeks ago

"Ahh, Richard, come on in," Senator Martinson said as he extended his hand to the man who used to have his job a year ago. Richard North grasped the Senator's hand with his right hand and leaned on his cane with the other hand. "Good to see you, Alec," North said with a wink. "How's the leg?" Richard shrugged as he followed the Senator into his old office, "Same as always." North was surprised to see that Senator Martinson had primarily kept the office the same way that he had when he had occupied it during his term as a Federation Senator from the United States. A United Federation of Planets flag draped the left corner of the office and an American flag draped the right corner of the office, with a POW-MIA flag in the center. "Richard, I know I owe you a few favors after what you did for me and my team. Up until the time you showed up with the Minutemen...well, I thought we were goners." North put his hand up in the air to silence him, "That's all in the past, Alec. Besides, it was worth it. I saved the lives of three very good men and women." "Yeah, but we could have damn near bought it on the return trip, and you know it," Martinson thrust his finger towards North to emphasis his point. North shook his head, his cane tapping the ground in a nervous pattern. A small smile danced playfully across his face as he studied his old friend closely. "The reason you asked me here...is to talk me out of it." Senator Martinson glanced away for a quick second, then looked back at him. "No...I mean....well...yes...yes, that is why I asked you here." "Forget it, Alec. It's not going to happen. I made a promise. As part of my original campaign for Senate I promised that by 2384 I would have served two years in the Diplomatic Corps." "You should run again. Senator Jefferson from Maine's seat is going to be uncontested next year. You should run for his seat." North leaned back in his seat. "Do you really think I want to get involved with that again?" Martinson looked at him with a perplexed look. North stood up and started on his way out. "The pork barrel projects, useless bickering...oh...and I forgot my personal favorite...the back stabbing. Alec, the next time you invite me over to your office, tell me up or down whether it is a lecture or not, then I might listen to you...until then, good day, Senator."

Starbase 212
Lounge
Present Day
Music: Maine Stein Song (http://www.umaine.edu/stein.htm)

"Don't you miss the excitement?" asked the bartender. North sipped his bourbon and looked off into space. "No." "You don't miss lacing up your skates, taping up your stick, putting on your pads and jersey and going out there for the home town crowd? What happened to that stuff about 'fill the steins to dear old Maine' and 'shouting until the rafters ring'?" North placed his cane up on the bar in front of him and quaffed his bourbon back. "That was a life time ago. I'm not a hockey player anymore. Hell, I can't even skate let alone play hockey until someone does some more corrective surgery on this leg." The bartender shook his head as he wiped down the counter and placed another glass of bourbon in front of North. "Two time Frozen Four MVP...Starfleet Hero...Federation Senator...you're more impressive than you think you are. People care about you." "Look, yes, I am a two time Frozen Four MVP, a 'Starfleet Hero', and a former Federation Senator...but I don't go around broadcasting my resume to anyone in a ten mile radius. It's stupid. I'm not a has-been, I'm not a never-was, I'm just me. And if you don't start talking to me like you would to an average officer, I'm going to bop you on the head with my cane." The bartender winked at him. "Yeah, but you're not the average officer that comes in here. A lot of these boys and girls, well...they might work the day shift in engineering, or they might be a flight controller. But there is one thing that seperates them from you." "And what's that?" "You got more experience in ten years than they have since they've gotten out of the Academy. Some of them have been there for fifteen or twenty years. And you! You're a ROTC graduate. You're not supposed to have gotten all the publicity you did. They reserve that crap for the San Francisco kids. You were supposed to do your six years, get your schooling paid for in full and then go off to some stupid government job. Oh, but not Mister Richard North!" "Would you stop all ready? Jesus Christ...you're starting to get on my nerves." "No, Mister Richard North decided that he was going to get the most out of his time in Starfleet. With your Silver Star, your six Purple Hearts, a Starfleet Medal, and a couple others that you performed missions so secret that they've got them locked in a little room where you can look at them until those events become unclassified." North quaffed another bourbon. "Is there really a point to this public airing of my resume? Because if there is, I'd like to know..." "Oh, and by the way, after that daring rescue operation as commander of the Lexington Minutemen, where he was wounded three times and received three purple hearts, Richard North gets promoted to commander...when he suddenly gets a medical retirement from Starfleet. He runs for Senate...makes a campaign promise to return to Starfleet before running for office again and now he's here." North shrugged his shoulders. "What the hell does this have to do with anything?" "My point is...you really miss Starfleet, don't you?" "I should have left your ass back in that prison camp we busted you out of. Would have saved me a lot of trouble. The courts martial would have been worth it. They probably would have promoted me to Admiral instead..." Tim Matheson leaned in close to North. "Look...you really don't have to do this...I think any bad things you've ever done in your life were cancelled out when you saved our necks. You're making a mistake, Richard. You really are. You're not cut out for the diplomatic corps and you know it." North got up from his chair. "Yeah...well, Matheson...at least I can get up and look myself in the face every morning and say that I enjoy what I do." "You don't enjoy it, Richard. This is one of your silly campaign promises that you made. Campaign promises were made to be broken." North continued his fast hobble out of the lounge. "Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. And who said an honest man couldn't get elected to a higher office?" North was about to exit the lounge when someone ran smack into him and knocked him on the ground.

"Bajoran Noon - Homecoming, Part II"

Ensign Miramon Terrik,
Flight Control Officer,
USS Valkyrie

Ensign Saul Bental,
Intelligence Officer,
USS Valkyrie

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

Miramon and Saul both stepped into the house, following Miramon's elder sister at a slow, relaxed pace. They both placed their satchel bags just on the inside of the door, since it would be impolite to carry them further into the house without being certain of what their arrangements were likely to be. Miramon looked particularly thoughtful as they walked inside, having seen this same house so many times before as a child and now, eight years since he'd last stepped foot in here, he realised just how little anything had changed. Of course the house was a little brighter than he remembered - the privacy filters weren't dropped, so natural sunlight entered through the windows. Back in the days of the Occupation, the house was almost always filled with artificial lights, since privacy filters allowed nobody to see in the house, and the occupants to see out. It was usually best to keep them up when there were Cardassians around, or so his parents had always felt.

But inevitably there were so many things that were the same. The paintings, the position of the plants that his mother had always kept around the house to add some colour - even though these were definately not the same plants. Miramon was beginning to think his sister lived elsewhere - she was always one for changing things around, which was especially true since she was the only person in the family that had a really artistic sense, so she was always doing something to make things look more aesthetically pleasing. At least in their rooms, anyway. His parents had always kept things the same, but his sister was always painting things and had usually shared these with her younger brother. Actually, he still had one of her paintings in his quarters aboard the Galaxy - a river scene overlooking the Bajoran capital.

The Bajoran was jolted out of these thoughts when Saul nudged him and they entered into the main sitting room - essentially the largest room of the house. Like the rest of the building, it too was covered in sunlight, which in itself gave the room a completely new perspective - when everything else seemed to have remained unchanged by the years, the sitting room looked completely different. The room was in itself empty, at least of people. There were two large sofas in the room, perfectly matched to the colours of the carpet. At least there was consistency there. His father's old wooden desk was still pushed up against the far wall with that little blue lamp sitting on the top of it, just as he remembered it.

The two were inevitably surprised that there was nobody else there, but it was clear they were supposed to wait here. Miramon felt like a stranger, almost appropriately at such treatment, though in reflection, he'd not seen any of his family in years, and he had changed significantly as a result of Starfleet and the five years he'd spent in the Academy, which was enough to change anybody - turning you from the person you had been into a responsible Starfleet officer. Was that what he was now, he had to wonder? How did he seem to his family, or to other Bajorans? True, there were plenty of members of the Bajoran Militia serving in Starfleet now, but most of them remained on Bajor as part of their assigned security force, or on Deep Space Nine in orbit of the planet.

Even Saul seemed to be more at home than he did. The disguised Intelligence officer rested his back against the wall, closely inspecting the room with his eyes. He flashed a reassuring grin at Miramon, knowing how nervous the man must be after so many years away from home.

Within a moment, a somewhat tall man walked into the room, looking directly at Illana. He was taller than Miramon, though to look at them both, it was more than obvious that the two were kin, since they both had a very similar facial profile, though that of the taller man was slightly pinched by age, since he was approaching his mid-60s and his hair was permeated by streaks of grey, though his eyes remained vital and bright. At his entrance, Miramon almost made a start, but controlled himself so as not to appear quite as out of place within the room.

"Illana, I heard someone at the door. Who was it?"

It was only then that the man noticed the two standing in the doorway. He almost completely ignored Saul for a moment as he took a look at the person he obviously recognised, since he'd lived in the same house as him for 20 years in total numbers, and obviously saw some similarities whenever he looked in then mirror.

"By the Prophets...Miramon, that is you?"

The Bajoran nodded and made a slight bow from the waist. He wasn't really sure of the appropriate way to greet a man he'd never really gotten along with, especially after so many years of having not seen him. Frankly, he wasn't at all surprised at the appearance of his father - even with the Occupation, the man had always been hard working, rather than one of those who hid in constant fear of the Cardassians knocking at the door. Things clearly hadn't changed since then, but this in itself was in keeping with anyone's general impression of both the house and the man, if they'd known them prior to this.

"Yes, Father, it is. My ship is currently undergoing repairs, so we've been dispatched on a mission with our Executive Officer, and we've arrived here. I...thought it would be appropriate to take some time to come and see you."

Miramon motioned for Saul to step forward and looked back at his Father. "This is Bental, father. He's a friend of mine assigned to the same mission, so he's with me to visit Bajor in some familiar company. He was raised by humans when his parents were killed away from Bajor, so he's never actually seen it." Whether or not this last bit was true, he wasn't sure, since the Bajoran was simply repeating the cover story the two had discussed earlier to explain Saul's surgically-altered appearance, but it seemed like a good cover to explain the way the human had been acting for most of the day, as though he was a complete stranger to the planet, which he probably was, though he'd not had chance to actually ask him.

Saul repeated Miramon's gesture, hoping it wasn't a gesture kept only for family members. Judging from the pilot's body language, Saul assumed that it was a mild gesture, one that is used when meeting an acquaintance. It didn't take an observant Intel officer to see that there's a gap between father and son.

"Thank you for your hospitality, sir."

The older Bajoran nodded at his guest but said nothing, which really didn't surprise either of the two Starfleet officers. Miramon stepped up to his father, refusing to be intimidated either by the man's height or his age. He wasn't a child now, and it wasn't appropriate to act like one.

"Where is Mother?"

"Your mother isn't here at the moment, Miramon. She's away visiting your brother. Like you ought to do once in a while."

Miramon's internal emotions took this as a personal move, since he'd been verging on nervousness and irritation all day. He was angry he could feel like this about people he'd not seen in years, or that they were making him feel guilty for doing what he felt was best in life.

"So my career has to be put on hold for my family once again? I know you didn't approve my leaving, which essentially remains your problem, but I've done what my conscience dictated. I'd be lying to myself and to you if I didn't. What more do you expect of me?"

His father noticed the sudden aggressiveness in his son's posture, something he'd never seen there before. Sure, there'd been a very intense change in his son when he'd come home from piloting aboard the K'Lyn years ago, but there'd never been this confidence or sheer boldness to the Bajoran's expression.

"I don't expect anything of you, Miramon. I would have preferred it if you'd never left Bajor, stayed here like your brother and your sister. You could have a family by now, a home of your own and be doing something useful with your time. Instead you go galivanting around the Galaxy with barely a word."

Saul twitched a little at the man's scorn toward what they were doing, which was essentially keeping him safe. He took a step back, trying to be as invisible as possible. This rapidly escalating argument didn't need audience.

"Well, Illana is still here, isn't she? She's not married, has a home of her own, but I know damn well you'd never pressurise her into doing so. And she carries the family name, not I. I took it as a point that my presence here wasn't necessary, so I decided to go do something with my life that didn't revolve around what YOU wanted."

The anger in Miramon's tone was now quite unmistakeable. In hindsight he was amazed at just how quickly his father could provoke him.

"I never understood you, Son. You claim to love your people and yet you left them for Starfleet. You refuse to live among us, to do some good here. And even during the Occupation, you preferred to see our people die in camps than die trying to free ourselves from the rule of the Cardassians."

"Yes, you're damn right I did. I'd have preferred for them not to die at all - I wasn't going to be part of any movement whereby people would be going to certain death against an adversary better equipped, better trained and frankly less inclined to preserve life that isn't their own. They circumvented us quickly enough when they invaded, and you think we even stood a chance of fighting back? You're as naive as you are stubborn."

At this point Illana stepped in and took Miramon's arm, tapping him lightly on the shoulder with his right hand.

"Miramon, stop this. You too, father. We've had these arguments before. Father, Miramon is back for a while and you'd drive him away with harsh words. And you, brother, why come all this way to simply argue?"

"We didn't." Saul interjected. He glanced at Miramon's sister. She was pretty, in his eyes, but it was a bad habit to make moves on a friend's sister. Especially when she was much older than you and when you weren't quite sure what the 'moves' are supposed to look like.

"I really don't want to get involved," Saul added quietly, "but as... even as a Bajoran with no ties to Bajor other than my genetic heritage, I still felt that as a Starfleet officer I was doing my part to help our people by being part of an organization which helped protecting Bajor and bring it out of the dark age of the occupation and into the galactic community. Perhaps... perhaps it would be easier to look at Starfleet service from that point of view."

Miramon nodded. "Right. In case you'd forgotten it, Father, a large quantity of our own militia are now members of Starfleet. I serve with several other Bajorans aboard the Galaxy. We do our duty by protecting everyone we can, including the interests of our own people. Since Bajor is a Federation member, you ought to respect that decision."

"Very well. I presume you intend to stay here?"

Saul glanced at Miramon. He couldn't read from the man's face if he's interested to stay or not. However, the way things were going, he assumed that it wouldn't be a good idea.

"We're expected back on board by night-time. And after that we'll probably be needed for our... assignment... until the we leave Bajor. However..."

Once again Saul shot an awkward glance toward Miramon. "We could ask the Commander to allow us to stay the night, if it's possible as far as he's concerned, and if it's not a liability..."

Miramon nodded. "Okay. We'll contact our Commander and ascertain what our situation is. If you've no objection?"

The taller Bajoran nodded. "As you want, Miramon. You can stay here if you are able to. Your room is still empty, so you can stay there if you want. Dinner is at 2100."

"Same as usual. Bental, shall we?"

"We shall." Saul picked up their bags, and allowed Miramon to lead the way.

The Bajoran nodded at his sister and the two headed back the way they came to the stairs which led to the next floor of the house. The stairs were of the same stone which formed the walls and the exterior of the building, with another of his sister's painting being the only adornment. As they reached the top of the stairs, the Bajoran indicated that they should walk a little further on, before turning to the first door on the left.

As he opened the door, he noticed that the old wooden-designed door didn't screech when it was opened, so the hinges were clearly well oiled. The room was definately familiar, though everything he remembered having been there other than some of the ornaments and, of course, the furniture had been removed - now aboard the USS Galaxy some distance away, sitting in his quarters.

There was only one bed, but Miramon removed a sleeping bag from his own satchel bag and dropped it onto the floor along with the bag itself.

Saul placed his bags on the sleeping bag, and looked at Miramon. "Now I understand why you were so reluctant to go home."

Miramon nodded. "Yeah, no kidding. This happens pretty much every time I come home, so I don't tend to visit often. How about you? Get this much trouble from your family?"

Saul chuckled. "I wouldn't know. I didn't come back to Utrecht III ever since my escape."

Miramon raised his eyebrows curiously. "Escape, huh? Sounds like you have more problems than me."

Saul opened one of the bag, and pulled out a hypospray. He took his medicene, then returned it to the bag before continuing. "Yes, my escape. I was born on an industrious colony which is on the rim of the Federation in more than one way. Eventually, after dropping out of school and later after joinning and retiring from the planet's domestic guard, I just took a shuttle heading toward Earth and never looked back."

Saul surprised himself. He didn't tend to share that story with anyone, even in this laconic form where so many important details were left out. However, after finding himself in the middle of the Terrik family's argument, he felt that he should somehow 'pay back' for witnessing what must've been a moment Miramon probably preferred to keep private.

"Didn't have any objections from my close family, though." Saul added. His distant family, on the other hand...

The Bajoran smiled. "Well, I think I can empathise with you on some points. You can't go home, and I kinda wished I couldn't. But we shouldn't worry. Do you want to contact the Commander, or should I do it?"

"About Henderson, well... I was acting." Saul admitted. "Wanted to leave the choice in your hands. I spoke with him before we beamed down. Basically, we can stay here until tomorrow mornning. I have some work to accomplish about the AWOL officer, but I can do it from here."

"Well, let's get to it, shall we? We've got a lot of work to do before we return to the Galaxy, and I for one want to be ready to go."

Something Miramon said bothered Saul. "About not returning home... in my case, it's choice. I have nothing left there." Except for things which still chase me, he added internally.

The Bajoran smiled. "Well, in that case, you and I have something more in common."

Saul shook his head, agreeing, and the two of them began to unpack. Within an hour, the room became a small outpost of Starfleet. The two of them connected to public Databases, using SFI's advanced face recognizing software to try and compare Rima's face to the faces of every single Bajoran citizen. They also used software to go through the passangers' logs from recent month, checking if Rima or anyone with appearance similar to Rima's came in or out of the planet recently.

Saul knew it would take them days to locate her that way, and even then chances are she is not on the Databases available to them, but it was a start.

By the time they'd had dinner and finished off their work for the day, Miramon and Saul were pretty much exhausted. They didn't have much longer on Bajor on personal business, since Commander Henderson was expecting them back so they could return the Valkyrie. The meal had been a tense one, with very little conversation, except between Illana and Miramon's travelling companion. A pity he was here under cover of being a Bajoran, otherwise the two might have got along a little more famously.

When the rest of the house was retiring, the two had said their goodbyes to Miramon's family, since they intended on leaving early in order to get back to the Capital and rendevous with the rest of the team. All that remained was a little sleep, and they were away.

Miramon couldn't have been happier.

((OOC: Hi, I'm Katherine, and I'm glad to be back. This is an intro for my guy, and it starts earlier on in his life and moves on through to the current timeline, so each section will have when it happened at the top...I hope it makes sense and works! LOL))

"Tapestry." Part 1

Ensign Airaul Taern,
Tactical Officer

:: Aubis, Temple of Weovna, 21 years previous to current timeline (Airaul 16 years old) ::

Despite the cold making his fingers feel like heavy, clumsy weights, Airaul hummed as he added another two drops of Naril to the vial of medicine. False energy was still flowing through the 16 year old boy from his initiation ceremony...he was on the first step to becoming a Priest of the Temple, something that he had worked for his entire life. As the youngest child of the family, he was given over to be trained for service by the Temple at the age of ten, and although being a rigorously disciplined lifestyle, it made him proud to be on the way to completing the training.

The young man ran a strong hand through a mop of long, sandy coloured hair in an attempt to tame it out of the way of his hazel coloured eyes. They were colourings similar to most Southern Islanders, and the still growing youth was already of a good height. A little slender perhaps, but the strength was already there and it was clear his chest would broaden with age...and certainly if he continued on the physically routines as well as the studious, scholarly and religious duties of the Priests.

The amount of homeless and sick seeking sanctuary and help in the Temple had increased severely at the bout of cold weather afflicting the Southern Islands. The climate was usually hot or warm, and so the people reacted badly to the unusual chilling conditions, creating an even higher work load than usual on Airaul and the other Initiates and Priests who looked after them all amongst other demanding obligations. A shiver ran up Airaul's spine; cold weather was usually a grim omen or warning.

"Airaul, are you finished?"

He glanced around to the man in the doorway, quickly grabbing up the vial to shake. Pressing it into the wide syringe like instrument, he turned with a smile, pulling up his robe just enough to run gently to him without tripping over the traditional garb. "Yes! I apologise, I was just..."

"Dawdling." The Priest replied, but with a fond smile, gently messing his hair up. "Take the medicine to Castor, he has need of it for..."

"No time for that!" A strong voice echoed down the large, stone corridor in the old part of the temple. Both Priest and the first initiate hurried out to see Castor running toward them, a very unusual sight indeed. "We have a new young man seeking asylum... he is cold and hungry, and rather shaken. Airaul, you will see to him...find him some new clothes and take up a meal and sleeping aids. You will find him in the Panel Room." The darker haired man talked quickly and firmly as always, authoritative in both voice and stance.

Airaul watched with mild confusion for a moment... the Panel Room was usually reserved only for important visitors to the Temple, not those seeking sanctuary or simply a bed for the night and a meal or medical aid. Nonetheless, Airaul nodded, moving quickly to do as told. He yawned as he gathered the new clothes, hooking them over an aching arm...he'd been on his feet for sixteen hours, making rounds for the sick and homeless as was part of his duties on his time off from studying. Honestly, he couldn't wait to get to his own bed, so as he took the tray of food and drink from the kitchens, he hoped it would be the last he had to take up.

Knocking politely, Airaul slid gently into the room, carrying a tray to the table by the window that now only let moonlight into the softly lit chamber. "My name is Airaul, I have been sent to..." he glanced up, looking to the young man on the bed. The sight stopped his usually fluid and well practiced introduction. He must have been about the same age as him, but rather than having sandy coloured hair as most of the Southern Islanders, the long hair was black, and his eyes a violet colour. His skin was pale, although Airaul couldn't tell if it was a natural thing or from travelling in the cold, and his body tall and slender. He looked vulnerable... so very vulnerable, and a deep hurt and melancholy had settled both in his eyes and in his face.

"You look chilled to the core..." Airaul frowned, moving to kneel in front of him, taking his hand to rub between his own as he gently blew on it. "Have you been travelling long?"

"Twenty-four days." He replied quietly, his voice gentle as he watched him with a frown. "Is the food for me?"

"Yes." Airaul gave him a warm smile, moving to take the cup of stewed herbs. He pushed it carefully into his hands, urging the cold, slender fingers to wrap tight around the cup for its warmth. "I have new clothes for you here also, yet I think you would benefit from a night's sleep."

The dark haired young man took a grateful mouthful of the hot herb water, letting a shaking breath out at the way the powerful herbs relaxed him. He swung his legs up on the bed, setting the cup aside to pull the cover over himself. "I think you are right..." he said with a weak smile. His head settled all too easily against the pillow, having not slept for nights.

Airaul nodded with approval, s