"The Longest Journey"

Lieutenant J.G. Tarin Iniara,

Ensign Saul Bental

*** OPS Office center, deck 9 ***

"Allow me to be the first to congratulate you about your promotion."

Saul smiled charmingly at the woman, extending his arm.

"Thank you," Iniara replied, grasping his hand firmly. Technically Commander Henderson had been the first person to congratulate her, she thought to herself. Then again, he had been the one actually giving her the promotion, so that was expected. And there was no use worrying over such trivialities anyway.

"I guess the post on the Valkyrie was some sort of a preparation for this," he told her, pulling a chair as he sat down. "Did you know you were going to get promoted?"

"The promotion was rather unexpected, though there have been several personnel reassignments as of late, so I'm not wholly surprised. But my guess is that's not what you came here to talk about."

"That's true." Saul was going to try and capitalize on his familiarity with the newly promoted Chief of OPS. That's how the universe worked, and he always tried to use the universe for his own purposes.

"What I wanted to discuss with you was the quarters arrangement." Saul told Iniara. He rested his elbows on the desk, and leaned forward. "I understand that I'm going to get a room-mate soon, since I'm a junior officer. I'm a man who prefers privacy... so I was thinking about something like this - how about you assign me to a smaller room, one of those quarters the other junior officers don't want to take because of their size, but leave me without room-mates? This way, everyone is going to be happy. I'll have my privacy, and you'll get rid of a room which no one wants to live in. What do you say?"

"Hm." Iniara paused in thought, considering his proposal. "Normally such arrangements would be handled by Quartermaster Maro, but since you're already here I'll see what I can do."

Iniara activated her computer console, calling up the master rooming list. A few seconds later she found what she was looking for. "It appears you may be in luck, Mr. Bental. There are two such rooms available on Deck 5, and one on Deck 9. Which would you prefer?"

Saul was about to say something, but then he found himself on the floor. It took him a moment to grasp the situation around him - the ship was shaking brutally. The Operations chief in-front of him was barely hanging on to her seat.

"Verdmond!" he cursed. "What's going on?!"

"I don't know!" Iniara regained her balance just long enough to rush from her office to the master systems display that occupied one entire wall of Ops. "Tarin to the Bridge, what's happening?" Iniara tapped furiously at the controls with one hand, barely holding on with the other.

"The warp field tests!" she exclaimed, finally realizing the source of the problem. Another shudder rocked the ship, throwing her to the floor next to the sprawled Intelligence Officer. Then everything went white.

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

This was not supposed to be happening. Lights were flashing all around her. She had to take care of it, and soon. Her life—and the lives of her comrades—depended on it.

Hefting her rifle Iniara turned, looking for her partner. "Kell!" she hissed. "Kell, get over here! Help me shut the alarms down!"

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

Time slowed down, and everything around him was dimmed. It was as though the room was suddenly filled with a white fog.

Saul saw that fog before, in the moors of Melara. He took a deep breath, inhaling the air. It was rotten.

A path lay beneath his legs. It was made of a stone found only here, on Melara. It was narrow, and led far far away. It was made by an ancient race which was extinct, and only its distant relatives survived. On the sides of the path was short, wet grass and some sparse swamp flowers. He could follow the path with his eyes, and it led him into the haze.

He knew it was a long journey to the end of the road.

Saul took the first step when he heard her wing flapping. A black, winged figure slowly descended on him from above. At first, he could not identify her features. But long before she landed next to him, Saul knew that it was Zan Lanaka.

"Hello angel bird." he said, reaching to touch her wings as he did during the first time the two of them were alone without Cutter or Arkedi around. Like back then, she smiled at him in a way that could be interpreted as either patronizing or jovial.

"Shaul Joop Bental."

Saul simply nodded.

"Are you ready to walk the longest journey?"

It was then that Saul pinpointed where they were. It was, indeed, Melara. And the four of them were about to attempt something very risky. In the end, all of them got out 'clean', but they did cause irreversible damage. Saul always regretted what he did on the reserve. It served no good, and ruined something other people worked so hard and so long to achieve. Zan told him that before, relating to an ancient Fruna'lin story about the planet of Melara. This time, it was not really Zan and she was talking about something else.

His answer, however, was the same.

"I'm always up for a good adventure, angel girl." he told her. Winds began to blow, but he didn't feel cold like he should have.

Her answer was also the same. "We have an old saying: 'Be careful when diving into a lava pit in hope to find Latinum'."

"It's better than remaining here."

She shook her head once, then bolted upwards, and soon Saul was left alone in the mists. He took a firm step ahead--

And his feet didn't land on the ground. He fell, fell fell until he hit the ground and all hell broke loose.

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

Before, everything around him was white and hazy. Now, the world was colored in gold, crimson and gray. He was wearing black, ragged cloths, and there was a mask on his face. He fought to start breathing again.

"Kell, I need you, now!"

Saul returned to focus as he recognized Iniara's voice. He pushed himself away from the floor, and stumbled toward her. She was standing next to a console of some sort, and looked very distressed.

"How... how may I be of assistance? Are we on Melara, or the Galaxy?"

"Melara? The Galaxy?" A thought passed through Iniara's mind: 'The Galaxy is on Orion's belt.' Somehow it seemed significant, but she had no idea where it came from, or what it meant. Shaking her head, she turned back to the console.

"We have to get these sensors shut down." She gestured towards the Cardassian text displayed on the screens. "I thought you could read this stuff! What does it say?"

"It's... I don't know Cardassian, but I can get the hang of it.". Saul's hands were covered with gloves, which slowed him down a little, but he could figure out the security console given enough time.

Time that he did not have.

"Cardies! Get down!" Iniara interrupted. Leaving 'Kell' to the console she flattened herself against the wall, rifle at the ready, watching through the open doorway as a group of soldiers ran past.

"That was close," she remarked. "Can you figure it out?"

"Perhaps, but we have no time for this." he replied hastily. "The alert already went on, instead of shutting it down we better get ourselves out of here!"

"That's what I'm...what??" That didn’t make sense. "No, if we don't get the internal sensors shut down we can't-"

"Intruders! In here!" Iniara's head whipped around just in time to see a single Cardassian soldier raising his pistol to fire. That was his first mistake, being alone, she thought. Instinctively she crouched down, missing the disruptor blast that was aimed at her head, and launched herself at the man. A tangle of bodies crashed to the ground, followed by a short struggle. Iniara emerged on top, a knee jabbed into the soldier's chest and one boot pinning his shooting arm to the ground, her rifle aimed directly between his eyes.

"Tell me how to shut this down," she spat at him, "or I will make you regret ever being born."

"I will enjoy watching you die," he replied smugly, ignoring her demand. "Or worse."

She thought detachedly how that was his second mistake.

Enraged, Iniara struck him with the butt of her weapon, forcing its sharpest corner into soft flesh between chin and neck plating where she knew it would hurt the most. Before he could say anything she had tossed the weapon aside, grasping the sides of his head, bringing her face within inches of his. He barely had time to notice the unadulterated fury in her eyes, and then she was inside him, tearing through his mind with all the precision of a bulldozer through soft earth.

The Cardassian's eyes locked on hers, unable to look away. Unable to even speak, he could do little more than open and close his mouth soundlessly. Iniara concentrated harder, pushing herself deeper and deeper into his mind, desperately searching for the information she needed.

And that was her first mistake.

Her arm suddenly erupted in fire and she instinctively rolled away from the blast, breaking the telepathic connection in the process. She could see more soldiers advancing, smell the burning flesh and charred fabric on her arm, hear a confused mass of shouting in multiple languages, all within the blink of an eye. This was not how they had planned it.

Saul shoved her aside, unsheathed his knife, and stabbed the Cardassian right through the eye. The blade sunk into the Cardassian's brain, until only the hilt could be visible. In real life, Saul would probably never have the guts to do such a thing, from such a close distance. This was not real life, however, and he was sure of it. This was real life gone bad.

His right hand was covered with blood now, so he used his left to pull Iniara away from the soldier. Another flash of light blinded them momentarily, the weapon hitting the wall behind them only five centimeters above their heads.

"Lieutenant Tarin!" Saul shouted into her ear. "Leave him be, let's get out now!"

Stunned, Iniara allowed herself to be pulled from the room, dashing through the red-tinged hallways. This wasn't how it happened, she kept thinking. But she didn't care anymore. Glancing sidelong at her masked companion she felt her heart swell with emotion. She reached down, grabbing his blood-soaked hand to pull him into a corridor that would lead them more quickly away from danger.

That was her second mistake.

Weapons fire erupted without warning from all around them. Iniara cut left, pushing Kell into a tiny alcove, attempting to shield him with her own body. Too small!, she remembered thinking as her back erupted in pain. Her vision blurred, but she could still feel the rough fabric of his coat in her fingers, smell the sweat and blood on his body. "We're getting out of here." Her voice was thick, slurred. "I'm not letting them have you."

"They're not going to get any of us," Saul said, incredibly calm, and looked back to see how many were following them and how close they were.

A single thought kept repeating in her head: This isn't right! I wasn't the one who said that! I wasn't the one who...who...

And then they were falling. A moment later everything went white.

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

In another world, two uniformed officers stood transfixed, oblivious to the chaos all around them. Warning lights blinked rhythmically as their tiny, sterile world was shaken and rocked by some unseen force. But they were somewhere else, living out a memory that seemed no less real.

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

Harsh sunlight beat down upon the grassy hill. From this vantage point, one would be hard pressed to find signs of civilization in any direction. Except for the two small monuments at the crest of the hill.

Silent and unmoving, Iniara stared intently at the two carved stone fixtures. Of the pair, one was clearly older, weathered, marked with only a name: Tarin Barel. Next to it was an identical, though obviously newer monument which bore the name Thorin Kell.

"Prophets, how many more must I bury on this hillside?" Iniara lamented to the skies. She received no answer.

There was a moan, and something moved on the grass just behind a nearby shrub. Iniara sensed she was no longer alone. Scanning the hillside she called out nervously, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

And then she saw him. No longer in the rough clothes of a Resistance fighter, he was now clad in a much richer fabric. Just as she had seen him last.

Her lower lip trembled. "Kell?"

"Iniara." he stepped closer. The man had Kell's walk, Kell's posture, Kell's cloths. But it was not Kell.

"Imzadi," she choked out, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Time and time again she had dreamed of this moment, hoping against hope that one day her beloved would return to her. This was how it was supposed to be.

"Lieutenant." he said again, taking her hands. It seemed like the right thing to do, Saul thought. His hands, now out of the gloves and clean from the blood, were cold to the touch. The wind blew on the hillside, brushing the grass. A single drop of dew sparkled on the tombstone of Thorin Kell.

"Who was he?" He asked, after a moment of silence.

Confused, Iniara looked up into his eyes. Brown eyes. Not the pale green they should have been. She blinked several times, clearing the fuzziness from her vision. "Ensign Bental...?"

"Yes, that's me. I'm not...Kell," Saul admitted. He let go of her hands, and was now observing the view.

Iniara turned back to the pair of tombstones. "We were Imzadi. He was my life," she began. "He loved me, protected me, gave me hope when I thought there was none. And in the end, he died to save me. I never forgave myself for that."

"He died during the raid I just saw?"

Iniara nodded slowly. She had no idea why she was telling him all this; ordinarily she was much more guarded about her past. But after what he had just experienced, she felt she owed him an explanation.

"Why are we here?" she asked him. "How are we here? Is this a dream?"

"I... I do not know." He faced her. "There was a problem with the ship, right? Either I fell unconscious after being hit on the head, or something really odd is going on here. I never had such a clear dream. And it seems so real... when I wake up, I'm going to ask you if this Kell really existed."

As they talked, the memory around them faded, first losing its color and then its substance. Soothing beige walls and soft carpet replaced the hillside as the pair returned to the present.

All but one thing. It was a trail, a path made of stone found only in one place. Saul was standing right in the middle of it, although it was very narrow. It led to the office's door, and then to the corridor.

"You see this, don't you?” Saul said, lowering his eyes.

Iniara bent down, reaching for the stone with one hand. Slowly, tentatively, she brushed her hand against its smooth surface. Still crouching, she looked up at Saul, searching for an explanation.

"Is this..." Her voice cut short as she sensed something, a series of jumbled thoughts that seemed to pour right out of her companion.

Throngs of people. A private alcove. A booth. Comm panel. Sofa. Snippets of conversation.

"It involves the loss of life." A Ferengi.

"...we're going to assassinate a Starfleet officer..."

"I'll do it." This time a man, human. Unknown, but somehow familiar.

"I must say, I never thought you as a murderer, Reiziger."

What was going on? What was she seeing?

Ensign Bental?

"I think I should follow it." Saul said to no one in particular. He neared the exit, then looked back for a moment. "I'm sure he loved you, dearly, he wouldn't want you to suffer because of him... I think. I'll see if I can find some help."

"Be careful." Iniara watched in disbelief as Saul walked away, following the stone path until he faded away. A moment later that too faded, leaving only the familiar floor of the Galaxy in its place. But was this the Galaxy? Was any of this real?

She touched the console in front of her. It felt real enough. But so had the cold walls and hot-blooded Cardassians, the sweat and blood, the tears which she had shed so long ago. Even the stone path that led off into nothingness, it too had felt as real as anything she had ever felt.

She had wanted to follow him down that path, to dig deeper into whatever she had just touched. The memory that was etched into Saul's brain, written all over his face for anyone who knew how to look. The one that had Ensign Roswell's face burned into his eyes like some afterimage that just wouldn't go away.

That couldn't have been what she saw. It made no sense. But if it was true...and he really was going to...

Bewildered, Iniara wandered out of Ops and into the hallway beyond.

"Benefit of the Doubt"

Ramir Omar walked imperiously across the bridge and into the captain’s office, not even bothering to chime the door and wait for permission to enter.

M’Kantu had summoned him several hours ago. The senator hadn’t been told what it was about, but he had a good idea – his new diplomatic attaché.

The captain was seated behind his desk when Omar arrived. Ignoring the ambassador’s rudeness, M’Kantu gave a customary greeting.

“Jolan’ Tru Hru'Llaudh,” the captain stood.

Omar raised an eyebrow in surprise. The captain had just given him the standard Rihannusu salutation for a high ambassador. Admittedly, his pronunciation was rather inaccurate, but it was nonetheless pretty impressive for a human.

The senator sat down, shortly followed by M’Kantu. When they were both seated, the Starfleet captain got right down to business.

“Senator, don’t you think it’s a bit quick to bring another potentially dangerous attaché onboard?”

Omar smiled slightly – this human obviously spoke his mind. “Captain, I apologise for the incident with my last liaison, but I assure you: this one is a civilian. He has no military connections, and no secret missions. I promise you that.”

M’Kantu frowned. “You expect us to believe that, after last time?”

The senator was getting impatient. “Look here, captain. Last time I was no accessory – it was purely my father’s political manipulations that led to the… end of Sub-Commander Savar. Starfleet accepts that, in the interests of a continued relationship between our two peoples.”

“But,” he continued. “If that type of incident occurs again, I will be considered an accessory – Starfleet isn’t a fan of coincidences. I suspect my diplomatic immunity would be stripped, regardless of dangers to the political consequences, and I would be held responsible for murder onboard a Starfleet ship. Therefore, it is in my best interests to not be lying to you? Understood?”

M’Kantu gazed out the room’s dominating window – watching the stars streak past at warp-speed. For several moments, he said nothing.

Finally, he turned back to the senator. “Very well, ambassador. I will give you the benefit of the doubt this time.”

“But,” he cautioned. “If there is a next time – I will make sure that you will be held responsible. Understood?”

Omar stood, bowing. “Understood, captain.”

He moved to leave, briefly turning. “But, I assure you, there will not be a next time.”

"Faded" pt.1

Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg

Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Identity: Unknown

The beach was unusually cold for the time of year.......the Pacific ocean unusually active.

~Strangely rough.....should attrack some surfers soon.....wait. How did I know that?~ Klaus found himself strangely aware of the area, the timeline. He still found it difficult to remember. The memory was faded. Whose memory though? Whose life? Klaus reverted to his limited awareness, and surveyed himself. His body felt like his own, but didn't feel out of place. The old worn t-shirt and faded blue jeans fit comfortably.

~I knew it....here they come.~

It was a warm evening, and the sun still glowed just above the horizon. The unusual oceanic activity attracted the oceans biggest fans in the area.

"Hey Mr. Fienberg!" waved one of the surfers has they lugged their boards into the surfed. Klaus waved and smiled, as if he knew them. In fact, their names came to mind. ~Artie and his friends, Scribbler, Molly, Elf and Mogly.~

In a random thought, Klaus pulled the wallet out of the back pocket of his pants and pulled out the driver's license.
~Hmm....Lars Fienberg......Long Beach, California.....It's fresh, crisp feeling. Must be new. Issue date, 10/24/14.~ He placed the license back into the wallet, and the wallet back into the pocket. On another whim, he pulled a crumpled receipt out of one of his pockets and checked the date. 5/12/15.

Klaus immediately thought back to a distance ancestor of his, Professor Lars Fienberg, proffessor of literature and anthropology at the University of Southern California.

After sitting on this warm evening beach for nearly an hour, Klaus got a sudden urge to leave, as if acting on the will of the memory, following it to the letter from this point on. Klaus approached the beach house that apparently belonged to the owner of this memory, but that wasn't the destination. He walked up the stairs and through the screendoor that faced the beach. The livingroom wasn't lavish, but it was comfortable. It was cluttered and cozy.

~No time to look around.~ Klaus searched with his eyes, spotting the target on an endtable. The Keys were weighty, a large number of keys and what appeared to be a rabbit's foot. He tossed them upward a short distance then grabbed them out of mid-air as they fell, rushing out the front door and up a walkway to the street. Looking around for a moment, he spotted the familiar vehicle, what appeared to be a 2000 Dodge Neon.

~Hmmm.....crude fossil fuel burner......oh well, not like there was anything better around.~

The car sputtered for a moment, then in a jerky motion beyond Klaus' control, shot backward into the street and quit, just as a large swerving SUV shot down the road. Klaus didn't feel the impact.

TBC

(The first of the grim memories. You'll see the pattern, and the wear on Klaus' mind from the pain they bring.)

"Inspections"

Lt. Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer/S.C.E.

iaison Ensign Naranda Roswell, Engineer

Nara switched her weight to her left foot as she worked at her station. Liaison Lady was wandering through Engineering today. Nara felt on edge. She looked over to the warp core and thought to herself, ~Yea, you're just waiting till she comes around to ME to breach, aren't you?~ She turned back around to continue working.

Brianna walked into main engineering and paused to look around. "Crewman... clean up these parts left on the floor.. store them where their suppose to go."

"Sir, Yes ma'am."

"Ensign," Anna said walking over toward Nara. "Lets see the diagnostic on the structural integrity of ship and internal damping... .." Brianna said now standing beside her.

Nara looked up and over at Brianna. Keeping a neutral face she nodded and took the PADDs containing the diagnostic numbers and an appendum of what she altered and handed them to Brianna. "Yes, ma'am."

Anna looked over the padd and then glanced over it to look at Nara. "Interesting..." She said then looked up again. "Why did you come to the calculations and making the altered changes?" She asked.

Nara wasn't sure she understood the question, but answered to whatever question she guessed she was being asked, "I made the alterations to increase performance. The numbers were fine by Star Fleet standards, but I knew they could be better."

"Okay... whom did you get approval for this alterations?" Brianna asked as she again leveled her eyes on the ensign.

Nara, still keeping her face neutral answered, "They were minor changes. I wasn't aware I needed approval."

"You did well.. I purposely changed the variables to make the diagnostic fail as it were. I'm pleased that you took the initiative and corrected it. Small problem with internal damping or structural integrity could have lost the ship." Brianna said.

Nara nodded. She wasn't sure if she was annoyed or impressed with this woman for such a trick. Perhaps both. "As I know."

"Good work, Ensign. Your dedication and drive will be a asset to this ship and department." Brianna said. "Now, tell me about yourself and your day to day routines in engineering." Brianna said as she made some notes on her data PADD.

Nara looked at her a moment. "I'm a Sakarian warrior who decided to serve in Star Fleet. As for my day to day duties, it's pretty much system analysis and diagnostics, maintaining ship's systems, and the occasional run to some part of the ship to make a repair." Nara didn't understand what the first part had to do with anything, and the second part was an obvious question that anyone could answer in textbook style.

~Friendly.~ Brianna thought. "What was the last task Commander Suder had you working on?" Anna asked as she looked back down at the data padd.

"I was sent along with three others to do some diagnostics on the shuttles in the shuttle bay."

"From now on, you won't be doing that again. There will be a separate team with the sole responsibility for shuttle maintenance. You need to work in other areas if you are going to be a well rounded engineer. Your next assignment," She said handing the ensign a data padd. "I want you to do to manual retrofit of a portable sensor array... this will be a test, I want to know you can break down the sensor array if I assign you the task... I want you to do hands on and when completed I want a break down, wrote up and on my desk no later then ten hours after you complete the manual retro overhaul.."

Nara took it and nodded. She thought tests were for the Academy, but she didn't have anything to worry about.

"Do you have any questions?" Brianna asked as she stood there squarely folding her arms over her body.

Nara shook her head, "No Mam."

"Good.. if you have any questions or problems.. you know where to find me." Brianna said then give the ensign a nod and turned to head out into another area of engineering.

"The Thunder King"

[Backpost- before the memory swaps]

Principal Characters

Lt. Ella Grey
Transporter Chief Hope Cannon

***

Ella got straight to the point. *WHAT HAPPENED BACK WITH KRIEGHOFF AND THE BREEN?*

Hope blinked. "Excuse me?"

*I HEARD SOMETHING HAPPENED DURING THE BREEN ATTACK*

"Ahhh... he... I..." She stammered. "Why do you want to know?"

*CAUSE HE'S MY FRIEND.* Ella wrote, frowning sternly at the woman in imitation of Victor. *SO WHAT HAPPENED? ALL I HEARD WAS IT WAS SOMETHING I WOULD WANT TO KNOW ABOUT*

The small Asian woman looked around the messhall nervously, sighed, and waved Ella towards a eat. "Sit down then. It's... conmplicated."

Ella raised an eyebrow.

"I knew who he was, you know?" Hope said after a moment. "I heard all of the stories, had seen him from a distance, but... You have to meet him to understand... you know?" She loked at Ella for understanding.

The engineer nodded patiently. Sometimes she thought she'd make an excellent counselor with all the patient nods she did.

"Anyway," the Chief continued, "I just wasn't ready when he beamed into the transporter room a few seconds after the saucer section separated - especially not with him half naked like that."

Ella's eyes rounded. *NAKED?*

"From the waist down. I think the clothing got lost in the passage through the shields," Hope nodded, her face darkening as she looked down at her plate. "He's... he's very scary."

Damn, Ella thought. Sorry I missed that.

"Then he started to talk to me and I thought that..." the asian woman's voice grew very small. "I thought that he was going to... you know... That he wanted something from me I didn't want to give."

Ella tried not to scowl at the woman. *HE MAY LOOK LIKE THE BOOGEYMAN BUT HE DOESN'T GO AROUND ATTACKING WOMEN. WHAT HAPPENED THEN?*

"He left to get something... I didn't know what. I conjured up all sorts of terrible things in my mind, so terrible that I took a shot at him when he returned." she made a face. "My hand was shaking so hard that I missed terribly- but he complimented me anyway, told me that it was a good idea to be that ready to shoot if the Breen came."

*WHAT DID HE GO TO GET?*

"Pants."

Ella mouthed an 'oh.'

"He went and replicated a pair of pants, then came back and put them on. Then he..." she shuddered and twined a tendril of her long blonde hair around a finger nervously. "Then he wasn't the person that beamed in anymore - he was something else. Something..." She shook her head. "He... *it* asked me to beam him down to Deck 17, where the fighting was. It told me that if I needed it, if the Breen came, I could just beam it back..." She looked up at Ella, her eyes looking for something. "It wasn't human - it didn't even have a weapon. I don't think it needed one." She hesitated. "And he wasn't wearing shoes."

There was a pause before Ella's hands flew in the air. Hope couldn't understand the words but it was very obvious they were not happy ones.

That...that....IDIOT, Ella fumed to herself.

Hope watched Ella for a moment, finger still twisting the tendril of hair. "Is... is everything all right, Lieutenant?"

*YES, HE JUST ALWAYS DOES DUMB THINGS. WHAT HAPPENED THEN?*

"Well I... I beamed it - him - away like I was told. Then I waited and just beamed groups of defenders from place to place during the fight. Everything was fine for while - as fine as it gets with alien marines shooting people on the ship anyway... and then the Breen started trying to force their way into the Transporter Room."

Ella nodded for her to continue.

The Chief pushed her food away and drew her legs up in the chair, to wrap her arms around them, the position making her look like a small, scared child. "I... I didn't want to die, you know? They were burning through the door, I could hear them outside..." She shivered once. "I was... I was so scared I couldn't think...."

She hoped the Chief hadn't locked Victor out. Ella would have to scold her for that, even if the woman was afraid.

"I... I...called him back, like I was told to."

Ella let out a small sigh of relief. *AND HE WAS OKAY?*

The smaller woman shook her head. "N-no."

She started frowning again.

"He... When he beamed in his orientation was all wrong - he wasn't standing wherever it was i pulled him out of. I think he was falling. There was some kind of odd light playing around him when he materialized, like he was glowing. I don't know what that was, but it looked like it was fading before I beamed him in. And he had a... a hole... in his chest."

Ella's eyes widened. *A...SMALL HOLE?*

"No. A big one - bigger than my fist." Hope held up her small hand and demonstrated. "It went all the way through him... Some kind of energy weapn must have done it, because it was all charred and burned. Just not a phaser." She shivered again. "I could see the transport pad throught it when he sat up. I don't know how he was still alive."

Ella realized she was clutching her computer PADD tightly and told herself to relax. He obviously had survived, since he had been seen alive since. They were going to have a very long talk however. *DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED OVER THERE?*

"No," Hope shook her head. "He asked me for my medkit, loaded up every hypo in it and just started injecting himself in the side of the neck with them, one after the other."

She was going to give herself premature frown lines, Ella thought, with all the scowling she was doing. Yup, definitely going to have a talk with the man.

"He didn't sound so bad after he'd done it," Hope offered. "He stood up then - I kept looking at the hole, I couldn't stop myself - and picked up a rifle he'd gotten from somewhere, one I hadn't seen before."

*ONE OF OURS?*

"No, not one of the Breen or Hydran weapons, or even one of the bug-people's. It was a chemically-propelled kinetic projectile weapon. It had two barrels, set one on top of the other, and opened up at the back, by the stock, on a hinge. He loaded the two largest kinetic projectile rounds I've eve seen into it..." Hope looked aroud and finally picked up the salt shaker. "Like this, only longer, and told me to open the door."

Ella gestured for the woman to continue.

"I... I did," Hope whispered. "And then he was someone... something else. Something... not human... any more."

Ella had only had brief experiences with Victor when he was like that. And even then... there were still things out there that scared her more. Maybe that was why she asked Hope Cannon what it was that she saw.

"I don't know. Not human... like... like he was something out of the stories our mothers tell us when we're children and being bad. The thing that comes for the bad children and people and takes them away so no one ever sees them again." She looked up. "If I had seen him as a child, I would have thought that he was the Thunder King, come to tear the souls from the bad people and carry them off."

*BUT HE DIDN'T.* Ella said. *HE'S NOT REALLY EVIL, YOU KNOW, EVEN IF HE SEEMS THAT WAY*

Hope looked at Ella, uncertain how to respond, and then settled on, "He didn't hurt me, no. He just killed the Breen... but...."

Ella Grey sighed and gestured for the woman to continue.

"He...." she shuddered and drew her arms back around her legs again. "There's something not right about him, Lieutenant. Something..." Hope struggled for the right word, "...something..." she sighed and closed her eyes. "Maybe he is the Thunder King."

*WHAT IS THIS THUNDER KING?*

"A mythological figure from Ancient China on Earth," Hope explained without opening her eyes. "Lei King is his true name, and he makes the heavens quake with the thunder that sounds when he swings his hammer. He is supposed to chase away evil spirits and punish criminals whose crimes have gone undetected. He's like... a force of nature, not a man. Or a devil."

Ella considered. *EVEN THE DEVIL MUST GET LONELY. AND VICTOR KRIEGHOFF ISN'T THE DEVIL. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME CANNON.*

Hope nodded. "I... When you see him... Would you tell him... Thank you? For saving me? I'm... I'm afraid that if I tried, the words wouldn't come out...."

The engineer nodded in return. *WHEN I SEE HIM AGAIN, I WILL. HE PROBABLY WON'T BELIEVE ME THOUGH BUT I'LL TRY.*

As Ella stood up, Hope looked up at her and smiled weakly. "Thunder doesn't notice little things like me, Lieutenant. I doubt he'll even remember it. But thank you for offering to try."

Ella smiled. *NOT TOO FREAK YOU OUT, CANNON, BUT THERE'S NOT MUCH THAT GETS PAST VICTOR.*

Unless you try to ask him out on a date, Ella thought as she walked away. Things like that he didn't really notice.

"You Can Check Out Anytime You Want..."

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer

Lieutenant JG Rima Pennington, Unassigned

Soundtrack: "Hotel California"

****

Executive Officer's Officer,
Deck 2,
USS Galaxy-A

Cass crossed the threshold of his office for the first time in almost three months. He'd spent the time since the Battle of Havras running himself ragged from Federation border to Federation border. He'd eaten lunch with Captain Kira Nerys of Deep Space 9, exchanged handshakes with Director tr'Dwerian of Rihannsu Naval Intelligence, and faced down a Hydran Battlecruiser in what had been an overpowered Defiant-Class Starship.

But now he was home, and his mission was a success.

If you could call it that.

They took their positions, him behind the desk and her in the chair before it. It was probably the most formal situation that they'd been in, in the three years that they'd known each other. He sighed, "Why do you have to make everything so difficult for me?"

Rima Pennington starred at the floor, unable to bring herself to meet his gaze. "You could have just let it go, Cassius. I didn't really want to be found. You know that all I wanted was to have my own life back." She couldn't really hear herself saying the words. It seemed surreal.

"And you know that I couldn't," he sighed and pushed himself up from the desk. The formality just didn't seem right. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't close to Pennington, and it would do a disservice to their relationship to dismiss it when faced with this decision, "Starfleet Security would have hunted you down for the knowledge contained in your mind."

He sat down across from her, in front of the desk, and gently touched her jaw, exerting just enough pressure to bring her head up. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. To want to live your own life is human. There are days when I want to run away from it all. But for you, as it is for me, we no longer have that option."

She looked up at him, willing herself to meet his eyes. "Because of what we know?"

"Something like that. It's more true for me, working for SFI. Did you know that when I retire, Cass Henderson dies?" he said. It wasn't something he wanted to face. It was what had kept him in the fleet after Dalson, and had drawn him inexorably back to SFI. It was, as he understood it, the reason that DiMillo had been allowed back into Intelligence.

"What?"

"Cass Henderson dies. When I retire, I'll have to fake my own death and move to an out of the way colony, under an assumed name and with SFI watching me," he admitted, "I know too much. I've seen too many classified reports. I'm a security threat. It's either that or I submit to selective mindwipes, and I won't do that. Do you understand now?"

"This is about Quentin, and the Galaxy-Class Weakness Report from last year?" she asked, realization dawning in her expression. "If I had known..."

"But you didn't," Cass interrupted, "Which is why we're here. Because you experienced Quentin. Because you read that report. Starfleet Security would never have let you go. That's why the Hydrans tried to kidnap you. Because Katrina Olegoski knew that you read a copy of that report, she sold you to the Hydrans. That's why Starfleet Security will never let you go, and that's why you can never just pack up and leave."

"I... I understand," Rima's head drooped, "So what now, Cassius? The stockade?"

He sighed and stood, walking to sit on the edge of his desk. He wanted a little more distance between himself and Pennington, for all it was worth.

"Actually, Rima..." he used her first name for the first time since they'd left the Ascendence Of Fate, "... The choice is yours to make. Your options are limited, but Captain M'Kantu told me that it was my choice, and in turn I'm making it yours. You can take six months in the stockade, then mindwipes, and be rid of the service. Or you can come back to work, take a reprimand, and forget that this ever happened."

"I..."

Cass cut her off again. "Don't answer me now. I need to go do some research into our other guest's background. I'll be back in two hours. Think it over."

He walked behind his desk and fished around in the top drawer. It took a moment, as his office had been damaged by enemy fire, and the contents had been scrambled, but he eventually found what he was looking for. Opening the small black case, he took the two slim cylinders and placed them on the desk.

"We can talk about everything else after you've made your decision."

He walked out of the room and down the hall to his quarters.

Rima Pennington starred at her rank pips, sitting on the desk.

When Cassius Henderson came back, she'd made her decision, and was wearing them.

"Sex makes everything more complicated"

Counselor Ammanalyn Llywhyn
Assistant Chief Counselor

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

It was not in Ammanalyn's nature to be a very sexual person.

It wasn't in the nature of any within The Order. While the men, occasionally, enjoyed the company of women, it was rare and not often spoken of-- they simply didn't have the same... urges as most people. And likewise, it wasn't in Ammanalyn's nature to *think* of herself, or of others, in a sexual manner. It was never anything that played too prevalent a role in her thought processes, and she didn't consider herself as playing too large a part in anyone else's sexual thought processes, either.

Which was largely why she had been surprised when Cadet Lowell approached her, shyly, and admitted a bit of an infatuation. Okay, not a bit, the other third year said, looking down, and scuffing a polished boot in the dirt of the gravel path through the Academy gardens. But a lot of one. Ever since first day, first semester, first year.

The thing was, Ammanalyn had been surprised the first time Cadet Lowell had said this and, Am was finding, even more surprised this second time around.

Because this had all happened before. Exactly like this. And it was all happening again. Exactly like before.

And the thing was, she couldn't stop herself from sticking to the script.

The engineering major was in Ammanalyn's core rotation and they'd shared the same "basics" schedule since day one. Protocol, standard defense, piloting level one, and so on. The tall, muscular, red haired human always sat to Ammanalyn's side, right or left depending, because of surname order. They conversed rarely unless teamed together and Ammanalyn never would have guessed she'd appeal even as a friend much less something else.

Especially not something else, it never made sense to her: not then, not later, not now. How could it, really? It was against everything. Dust. Reason. Nature. Possibility. Comprehension.

"I'm usually not so forward. It's awkward. You know? Especially with someone in the same core. But. I just can't ignore it anymore and I wanted to know. I guess."

"Know... what?" Ammanalyn questioned, forehead creased. Tampatiaen, beside her, was equally as confused. He looked up at her, flicked an ear, his brow furrowing over his eyes.

*Am. This happened six years ago,* he said, his Daedrae clear and precises, quiet, and unknown to the other cadet.

Ammanalyn looked at Cadet Lowell's slightly flushed, slightly nervous, slightly hopeful expression. Had it really? Already happened... maybe this is my second chance, Ammanalyn thought, maybe the Dust is giving me another chance. This human was one of only four beings she had ever loved, one of the four which was Tampatiaen, and the other two were long gone from her.

Just as she had thought this fourth was. In the present, Ammanalyn thought, Cadet Lowell is gone from me too, but that is my fault, that is my doing, because I was mean and selfish and unable to understand.

"I don't understand," Ammanalyn whispered. The statement, she realised, had a dual meaning. One, she did recognize everything about this moment: the weather, the feelings, the awkwardness, the words, but she didn't know why she was here, she didn't understand why she was reliving this memory, she hadn't thought of it for ages. She tried not to: not because this was an awful moment, quite the contrary really, it was one of the best memories of her life, but because of the results down the road, which were painful. Too painful. As painful as anything she'd endured.

Two, because she didn't then understand what the Cadet was saying to her, not really. Human rituals were a mystery to her then, especially if they had anything to do with sexuality. She barely understood Daedryn sexuality, much less that of human beings. Much less being on the recieving end of sexual feelings.

Cadet Lowell's nose wrinkled. "I don't know how else to put it. Except to be ridiculously cliche."

"Be cliche. I probably haven't heard it before," Ammanalyn replied, again, staying on script. Default setting, she thought; my mind is elsewhere, trying to figure this out: is this a hallucination? A revelation? a dream? Something else entirely?

"I think I love you," was the response.

Love? What's love? How can you love me? How could you even think that? After all I have done-- no, will do-- to you? Or perhaps it's not *do*, Ammanalyn thought, Dust knows. Perhaps it's *not* do. I wish I could have responded to you. I wish I could have shown you I cared the same. Told you once in a while. But I never could, I never could bring myself, because you weren't exactly what my expectations required, you never precisely fit, in any way, you weren't Daedryn, you weren't even...

"I can't stop thinking about you. Hell, Am, I actually look forward to Regulations, so I can see you."

Ammanalyn blinked. It was just as amazing the second time around.

"I don't understand," she said again. "But you're also-"

Cadet Lowell's hands were on Ammanalyn's face and the touch on her lips was soft, smooth, warm. Every hair on Tampatiaen's back stood up and goosebumps were raised on Ammanalyn's arms, under the jacket of her cadet's uniform, and a chill ran up her spine, pricked the back of her neck. Her breath was stolen by the kiss and their eyes locked. Ammanalyn's mind whirled, just like it had when the kiss between them had first occurred.

Even that first time, it was not Ammanalyn's first encounter with her own sexuality: not there in the Academy gardens. She had been involved with a boy on Dardrice. He was unafraid of what she was, at least, he was for a while, and their bizarre friendship morphed into more when they began to grow into maturity. It was an innocent experience-- neither of them particularly understood what had happened until afterward, when they lay there together, with their Daemons entwined. Morar held Ammanalyn as Tampatiaen held Gaerae, and everything just felt right. She was 14, he was a year older. And only months later, he turned from her like they all did, when Brother Lucean died. Sometimes, she and Tam thought of it, late at night, and wished they could be normal and have that always like others had it always.

But they only had each other. And often, that was enough, because they had a connection strange even amongst their own.

The human had made things more complicated. Humans didn't have Daemons, at least, not outside of them, so there was nothing to satisfy Tampatiaen, there was nothing to make a union between them whole.

The human also had a different idea of love, and sex for that matter, than Ammanalyn had ever considered. At least, as far as she, herself, was concerned. And certainly as far as her race, in general, was concerned.

Ammanalyn raised a hand and gently touched the soft red hair of the other cadet, confused, baffled even, even years later, reliving this experience. "But Bette..." she said. "How could it be right?"

"Forever is an awfully long time"

Lieutenant (jg) Ammanalyn Llywhyn
Assistant Chief Counselor

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

"Counselor?"

Ammanalyn blinked, looking at the ensign across from her, on the sofa, in the middle of a session. Did that really happened? she asked herself. Did I really go there in the middle of a session.

"I'm sorry, Ensign, you were saying?"

"Counselor, are you okay, you look at little flushed."

The observation made Ammanalyn blush further and she brushed a hand to her cheek. "I have had hot spells all day," she excused, "I'm sorry, continue. You have my complete attention."

"Actually, ah, you were the one who was speaking."

"I'm sorry?" Ammanalyn asked.

"Ammie? Are you alright?" Morar questioned, laughing. His hair was tasseled, standing up in all directions, and his bright green eyes-- unusual for a Daedryn-- were dancing in the low light of his room. His Daemon, Gaerae, a beautiful dark purple minx cat, was laying with Tampatiaen, her bright amber eyes half closed, smirking in Am's direction. They were in his dorm room. She'd forgotten he was a student there, one of the few, and certainly the youngest. It was how they were able to have a relationship in the first place. He was brilliant. And he was unafraid.

"What is going on?" Ammanalyn questioned, in Daedrae, adding a strong curse that solicited a nip from Tampatiaen, who sat on the sofa beside her. She glanced down at him. He was as confused as she was, she could see it in his eyes, but his expression told her, confusion and near madness was no excuse for profanity.

She could hear the chiding in her head. Not because he was expressing it there. But because he'd offered such a chiding more times than she could count.

"Emleigh, I am sorry, I'm going to have to end this session early, I'm not... I can't seem to keep track of much, I think I'm becoming ill."

Emleigh, a young science officer, seemed concerned, and stood. "Can I help you to medical bay?"

"No. No, I'm okay, I'm just, feeling odd. Nothing a bit of rest won't cure, I'm sure," she said, smiling, and standing as well. "I'll walk you out."

"Why would you walk me out, child?"

Ammanalyn turned and looked at Brother Lucaen, sitting at his desk, sipping his tea. He was grinning at her, handsome as ever, his robes pristine, his beautiful Daemon nestled close to his neck, ever attached. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, and tears came to her eyes. Whatever this was, she couldn't resist the urge any longer, and she ran to his side, hugging him tightly, not wanting to ever let go.

She knew this moment. She held on to it tightly, cherished it. He had just agreed to tutor her, to tutor her beyond the classic courses that the Headmaster had prepared for her: tutor her about the Order, about how to listen to the Dust. While it was an agreement that surely led to his death, that chain of events was overshadowed by the fact that he had loved her enough, that he cherished her enough to lead her closer to her destiny than any one had before been willing. He knew the possible consequences. He knew it too well. But he put her above all that: he put her and her need to know above anything that could happen to her.

It was that, which mattered. That, and what he would say to her.

Brother Lucaen laughed again, hugging her tightly to him, smoothing his thick, gentle hand through her hair. "Oh, child," he said, "I love you as though you were my own daughter, you know; how could I ever say no to something you ask of me? I love you more than words could express to you."

And his Daemon, his beautiful Maerae, had reached forward then, stretching out her neck, and touched her beak to Tam's head as he sat, in ermine form, on Ammanalyn's shoulder. That amount of affection from one Daemon to another filled their People with an understanding of love and affection that could not be communicated beyond them and Ammanalyn hugged Brother Lucaen tighter, her hands grasping the soft fabric of his robes.

Unlike with Bette or with Morar, her love for this man was far from sexual. That was something that did not need to be clarified, in her mind; rather, it was the love she'd have for a father, for a teacher, for someone whose approval and affection she craved more than anything. She loved him in a pure and innocent manner, a manner in which only a child could love.

And he returned it, to the extent that any adult could return it.

Ammanalyn blinked. She was sitting on the floor of her office now, tears in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. At some point, she must have managed to coax the Ensign out, and the door was closed, the lights were low, Tampatiaen was curled in her lap, trembling, face buried against her. She rested her hands in his fur and leaned her head back, thinking. What exactly was going on?

"We're going through memories, Tam," she observed. "For some reason, the Dust believes we need to revisit our memories. But why? Do you think? And why these three?"

All happy moments. Relatively speaking. Thrilling, life changing, brilliantly happy moments.

And yet, all with dire consequences.

Ammanalyn had, in some way, lost all three of them. Bette, she had hurt and pushed away, for far too many reasons, none of which held much water now, now that Am understood things so much better, now that she was less a little girl, unsure of herself, of the world in general, the universe. Morar had pushed Am away in much the same way: he became afraid, he allowed the School to brainwash him, turn him from her, because of a misunderstanding, because he was too weak to stand against common belief. Just as Ammanalyn had been too weak to stand against common thought when it came to Bette. And Lucaen... his love for her had resulted in his murder, Ammanalyn was sure of it.

"What is the Dust trying to tell me, Tam?" Ammanalyn questioned.

Tampatiaen turned his head up to look at her, and their eyes held each other's tightly, their faces creased with the pain of their mutual thought.

Would they somehow lose each other?

The room began to blacken around them, then, as though existence was fading away before their eyes and Tampatiaen trembled, shaking harder than before, quaking in her arms as his physical form began to flicker and shrink as he flashed between shapes. And, deep within her, came a voice, one that had always been there, but was often so quiet, it could barely be heard as anything more than a whisper.

It said, *Child, this is not what you might think.*

As the voice continued to echo in her ears, and its presence-- and it was very much a Presence-- grew around her, Ammanalyn felt a tug somewhere near her heart, and a fear more intense than anything she had ever before felt.

And Ammanalyn knew, instantly, what it was.

Tampatiaen was being tugged away from her. Forever.

"Faded" pt.2

Lt. Klaus Fienberg

The end fo the previous memory seemed to seamlessly transfer to another, as Klaus seemed to drift a nomad soul. His ancestor's meaningless and tragic death weighed heavily on his mind and soul, but soon the next memory came.

"Prof. Gru'lik, can you hear me? Professor? Are you alright?" A voice chimed in over a space suit radio. The suit felt strange, and everything was very dark, yet Klaus could see perfectly fine.

"I'm alright Steg."

Klaus seemed to know what was going on. His name in this memory was Professor Jael Gru'lik, a theoretical physicist and anti-matter systems specialist. He graduated the top of his class at Gunliss Hall University on the Kless homeworld of Kless'sha'neranu, and later returned to teach there. Currently he was assisting in the repair of an orbital facility housing the first Matter/Anti-Matter reactor the Kless had ever built. It would revolutionize all space travel for the Kless, if they could just maintain a stable reaction. A second reactor was being constructed that would stablize the reaction, but the first one was still being used for testing.

"Are you sure professor? That last explosion did quite of bit of damage. I'm not even certain the old girl and take much more, not to mention your suit."

Klaus spoke almost without control over his body. "Over my cold dead corpse will we be beaten by that new machine. This old lady has been through worse. I would like to get one last stable reaction before we retire her."

"Not sure if thats the best idea Professor."

Klaus seemed to be more of a passenger, vicariously playing his role like an actor. "Steg, My Boy. Have faith. Ok. How does the reaction chamber look?"

Steg chimed in quickly."Nominal."

"Alright. All magnetic fields holding.....yes. I'm going to position myself at the external systems readout."

"Ok Professor. Everything seems to be in prime condition. We'll be ready to initiate the reaction as soon as you're in position."

Klaus seemed to quickly scurry accross the outside of this station to a good sized panel, which lifted outward, then slid to the side with the push of a button. "Steg, we're going to run the reactor at full power, so I'm disengaging the safetly locks from out here."

"Professor. I severely suggest against that. The last time we ran at full power, the reactor was nearly breached from a power drain in the magnetic containment system----"

"I know Steg, I was there."

"Then you know that three tech---"

Klaus felt Jael's pain. "I know. But we're still running at fell power." He paused a moment as he disengaged the locks. "Alright. Safety's disengaged. Bring the reactor online."

The entire station shook and shuddered at the matter/anti-matter reaction ignited. There was a slight power drain, killing some of the already dim lights. But all the lights returned to normal at the reactor reached full power.....and stayed there despite the fears and expectations of all parties involved. Klaus fulfilled his role as Jael and remained at the system readout panel the entire 30 minute test.

Klaus felt Jael's pride in the memory. "Steg. I believe it is time to rest the lady. For the last time." He said, smiling to himself.

With a relieved and happy voice, "Aye, Professor. Shutting down all systems.......By the....Professor! Get away from that......(Static.) Shutting down.....Attempting Shutdown! Professor! It's Not shutting down...It's not...!(Static) Get away from that----(Static.)"

Fear filled Klaus and the owner of the memory he was visiting. "Steg? Steg? This panel has gone absolutely mad! I don't understand...." Jael seemed ready to accept his fate as the panel exploded in his face. His arms flailed about as he drifted off into space. The faceplate of his helmet was cracked. The last moment of his life consisted of Jael staring off into space as the cracked faceplate shattered and his suit depressurized.

Klaus' mind drifted away from this memory.

"Faded" pt.3

Lt. Klaus Fienberg,
CMO,
USS Galaxy

Klaus failed to understand what was going on. He drifted from memory to memory. The next one that took him fully was a somewhat familiar one.

Klaus couldn't move. A kind doctor was tending to him.....~or Her?~

Klaus began to realize a female form. One that he inhabited. The body was weak, and he couldn't move. The body was in pain. Finally he began to make out the form of the Doctor caring for him, and the sudden appearance of a little boy.

Klaus couldn't control it. "Otto."

Klaus' mind reeled backward in pain. How could he be in this memory. Why must he be made to suffer in this way.

"Shannon. Be still." Otto Fienberg turned to their son. "Come here Klaus, come see your mother."

The child was too young to understand. All he knew is that his father told him that his mother would soon be gone.

Through the eyes of his late mother, he saw her hand rise feebly to meet the child's face. Staying there for a moment, a bell rang.

"Ok Klaus....time for bed. God upstairs, and I will tuck you in a moment." The child nodded and slowly walked away, rubbing his eyes. Otto turned back to his dieing wife. "Shannon. You don't have much more time."

Shannon replied quickly for her feeble state, Klaus peering through her eyes, feeling her feelings. "Any day now?"

Otto nodded, then turned off the light, walking away in the darkness.

The night was wrought with pain, the same aching, seething pain that seemed to haunt Shannon in the last days of her life. Both Otto and little Klaus rose and came to see her. Older Klaus still trapped behind Shannon's eyes. Shannon reached her hands out, and grasped each other their hands, then died. She just faded out, as if falling asleep. But Klaus' mind lingered on for some strange reason, recalling what his father said.

Otto was honest with what had just happened. "Klaus....your mother is gone from this world. The Lord has taken her from her pain." He then walked the little boy out of the room, and Klaus' mind fell to black.

A single word resounded and echoed through the mind of the wandering soul Klaus Fienberg. ~Why? WHY?~

For what felt like ages, Klaus' mind was empty. A black pit. A void. When he rose from this place of despair, the pain he felt in his mother's memory had returned. His body felt different now. Male, old, overweight. These weren't so much feelings as they were memories of feelings. Opinions even.

His new body took the directive this time. Looking up to yet another familiar form. One that wore a starfleet uniform.....one with the lone silver pip on an ensign. A Young man that appeared to still have the hop in his step. The feeling of youth, the young enthusiasm of an officer fresh from the academy. His name was Klaus.

"Klaus....my boy. There's no poi....poi...point. Same as your mother, I am soon to die."

Young Klaus came to stand over his father. His older self staring out at him.

"No Father....No. I will find a way! There are Vulcan remedies I could use!"

Otto reached outward and grabbed Young Klaus' arm with unusual strength for his terminal condition.

"If I couldn't save your mother, you can't save me."

"But father!"

"Stop doing this to yourself my child. Please. Let me go."

Young Klaus pulled away, turning torward an open window, out to the city of Cambridge, England.

"All I request is that I be buried in Germany. Chances are I will not survive a move there. Now please. Let me die."

Young Klaus nodded, and obediantly left the room.

The hours passed, and the pain increased somewhat.

Klaus felt Otto's condition begin to fade. He was remembering his father's death from his father's point of view.

Young Klaus had a special monitor to alert him with his father's body was failing. He rushed in to his father's side. This was it.....nothing more could be done. All of the time he'd spent would be for nothing. "Father.....please....not like this!"

Otto smiled. "Would you rather...(Cough)..I be vaporized by...Nausican(Hacking Cough). Pirate?" Otto chuckled. "Please, my son. It is time for the lord to take me....Please, allow me to....die.....wow. This is aweful dramatic." Otto fell limp. A strange, happy yet painful smile remained on his face. Young Klaus closed his eyes, as the present Klaus seemed to look on from the outside.

It all faded to black in Klaus' mind. Pain and suffering had been all these memories had to offer. ~Why......~

But yet another Memory was to come. A Short one.....but an important one.

"Out of Control" -- pt. 1

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

Lt. Ella Grey
Asst. Chief Engineer

Somewhere, an ancient jukebox was playing an old Terran song by the Rolling Stones.

Not that anyone could hear it. The bar had turned into a free-for-all. Bottles and bodies were flung about as were tables and chairs and anything else not bolted to the floor. Grunts and shrieks and wordless cries punctuated punches and kicks and stabs. Broken glass crunched underfoot, heels skidded on the beer soaked floor, and, in the middle of it, Ella Grey was fending off three guys with a pool stick.

She'd come to the Holodeck with the need to hit something. Beat it into a pulp. Make someone else hurt for once. And she'd remembered the training programs that she used to do with Victor. And since Victor wasn't there to stop her, she'd moved up a few levels. Like four.

Might have been a bad idea, Ella thought as she swung the pool stick in a wide arc. The stick connected, finally, with a guy's head and he went down even as the stick shattered. She had a split second to think of naughty word or two before the other two lunged. Ella leapt back, watching one trip and the other run over him, and then swung her fist at the third guy's nose.

When the holodeck door whirred open, Jeremy had no idea what he was walking into. Without even sufficient time to inhale, he found himself on the wrong end of a barstool that someone had picked up and swung, connecting with Jeremy's legs and sending him to the floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK . . . ?!!" was all he managed before Ella was sent hurtling over top of him, her punch blocked by the third guy who had scooped her up and tossed her like a bag of sand. As the brute turned to come after and finish her off, Jeremy kicked the guy's feet out from under him, sending him to the crashing to the floor. In a flash, Jeremy was on his feet. As the guy scrambled to his knees, Jeremy grabbed him by the back of his shirt and with an almost barbaric yell and a tremendous heave ran him head first into the wall. A second later, the jukebox made the only sound in the room.

"That felt good," he muttered to himself, brushing off his trousers as he turned away from the crumpled body. He noticed Ella again and stopped. "Why am I not surprised to find you here in the midst of this?" he grunted.

There was a fresh gash above her left eyebrow from a stray beer bottle, assorted bruises all over her body, and a split lip but otherwise Ella was doing okay. Just very sore. She hit the key to pause the program, then pulled up a wobbly chair and sat down at one of the few remaining tables. She waved a tired hello to Savoie.

Retrieving the barstool that hit him when he came in, Jeremy deposited himself next to her and reached into his pocket. "Here," he said, brandishing a large, dark cloth, "I brought this to wrap around my head while I did some target practice, but you need it more right now. Wipe your lip, you're bleeding." His tone couldn't quite be called gentle -- it was too tinged with annoyance -- but for Savoie, it was as close to compassionate as he was going to get, under the circumstances.

Ella signed a thank you and took the cloth.

"Did something go wrong here or do you like getting the shit kicked out of you?" he asked tartly.

Ella scowled and keyed in a response in her computer PADD. *SO MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE GONE A FEW LESSONS AHEAD WITHOUT VICTOR'S APPROVAL.*

"Yeah, maybe," Jeremy flatly concurred, his eyes fixed on the PADD.

*WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?* Ella asked.

"I was wondering the same thing," he replied, absently massaging his now sore legs while glancing around again at the wreckage. "I came to run a target practice scenario to blow off a little steam, if you must know. You know," he began, abruptly diverting the focus of the conversation from him, "I'm convinced that you're just dangerous to be around. It seems every time I run into you I end up irritated or injured. Do you do this to everybody else, or just me?"

*IT MUST BE YOU*

"Must be," he grumbled in return.

Falling back on old tricks, Ella gave him one of her seductive stares before Curtis' face flashed before her eyes. She couldn't hide the flicker of disgust she felt with the image, or herself, and tried to cover it up by rolling her eyes and feigning annoyance at her wrist. *ASSHOLE HAD A GOOD GRIP*

For a moment, Jeremy was silent as he tried to sort out what he saw -- or what he thought he saw.

"That's what you get for romping around in a program like this. If you can't stand the rough-housing stay out of the holodeck." Again, he paused for a brief moment, then focused on her wrist. "Here, lemme see that," he commanded, taking Ella's hand in a graceful move completely unlike the tone with which he requested it. Gently, he probed her wrist, then slowly flexed it up and down. "Does that hurt?"

Her whole body hurt so it wasn't a lie when she nodded. She watched him carefully as he examined the wrist, mainly to examine her own reactions. She thought she might feel... uncomfortable being touched by someone after the incident on the planet, which made her frown slightly coming to that realization, but Savoie didn't unnerve her in the slightest. When he was through, she took back her hand and typed in a new message. *WHAT KIND OF PROGRAM WERE YOU GOING TO RUN AGAIN?*

"Target practice. I come down here every so often and blast the shit out of things with a phaser rifle to make myself feel better. I think the Captain would prefer that I do it this way than randomly shooting in the corridors for real," he mumbled, forcing back a smirk and keeping his eyes off Ella. He wasn't sure why he felt like he couldn't smile or really look at her right now, but something felt too . . . close. "I don't usually go for the hand-to-hand combat stuff," he added, glancing around the room again in an awkward effort to focus on *something*.

Ella made a 'hmmmm' noise, tapping the keys lightly before she entered in new text. *INTERESTED IN A FIGHTER PILOT SIMULATION? I HAVE ONE ON FILE THAT COULD BE FUN. I'LL EVEN LET YOU GO FIRST.*

He looked at her for a second. She had a fighter pilot simulation? "You're just full of surprises today," he commented. "Okay, let's do it."

"Out of Control" -- pt. 2

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

Lt. Ella Grey
Asst. Chief Engineer

Ella smiled and then winced and then stuck her tongue out at the form of the man who had attacked her. A few keys hit and the scene changed. They were sitting in the shuttle, green orbs lighting up the runway before them.

*GO GET 'EM, ACE* she wrote.

The fighter shuttle they sat in was not one Savoie was familiar with, but the controls were standard enough. "Where'd you get this design?" he asked, engaging the main thrusters as the runway lights quickly became a solid green line, then were gone. "And before some unknown life form suddenly drops out of some hidden panel, is this a typical simulation or did you lay awake for hours thinking up ways to make it more dangerous?"

Ella grinned. *IT'S TYPICAL ENOUGH. THE SHIP DESIGN IS A KIND OF HODGEPODGE OF PARTS... I LIKED TO FLY AT THE ACADEMY.*

"A 'hodgepodge' of parts?" Jeremy echoed, mildly incredulous. "Yeah, definitely something an engineer, not a pilot, would do," he muttered, his attention still on Ella and her PADD.

*THAT'S AN ENEMY SHIP.* She wrote out to him, sorry that she had to distract him with the PADD. *I'D AVOID IT.*

Spitting some generic curse, he brought them into a hard dive, passing under the other vessel.

Ella tsked at him and was rewarded with a glare. She smiled and gestured for him to sit back. Watch how a pro does it, Kiddo, she thought with amusement.

With a smirk, Jeremy surrendered control to her. "Go ahead, wonder girl."

Quickly, Ella had the ship's speed up and was darting around enemy ships without even blinking. She threw a quick look at Savoie to see that he was watching their progress with wide eyes. Grinning she increased their speed even more.

At first Jeremy was amused. "So, the quiet girl's a bit of a daredevil," he commented. This was the second time in this holodeck she had surprised him with an aspect of her personality he would never have guessed was there.

Then he got nervous.

The starfield in front of them quickly became more densely filled with enemy ships, small asteroids, and other menacing debris. And all the while their speed never decreased. Trying not to show his unease with Ella's reckless piloting, Jeremy dig his fingers into the side of his chair while interjecting random warnings and commentary.

"Watch that! Hard starboard, quick! What are you -- that's a fuckin' ejected warp core! What the hell's that doing here?!!"

Not being able to use her computer PADD, Ella settled for a 'bwak bwak' chicken noise.

"You're a lunatic!!" he exclaimed, still on edge. "That's it, you do what you want. I'm not looking." Then he clamped his hand to his eyes, making a mental note never to let her pilot a *real* shuttle while he was in it.

And then~~~

-she had always loved being pilot. Probably another aspect of always feeling under someone's influence when she was younger, when she was a pilot *she* was in control. She loved the power of it, the way she could manipulate the controls to make the shuttle speed up, slow down, just fly...

Too bad she wanted to be an engineer more.

*I'M SORRY, SIR.* Ella typed to the officer. *I DON'T HAVE THE TIME TO BE IN RED SQUADRON*

He wasn't sure if that was the case or if Red Squadron didn't have the time for *her*.

~~~

The flight had ended. Ella reached out to shake Savoie. She looked at him with concern. *IT WASN'T THAT BAD OF A FLIGHT WAS IT?*

"Well you got us through without getting killed. I'm not sure if that was a miracle or if you're just that good a pilot," he muttered, thankful to be out of the scenario. He stifled a smile. "Probably some of both."

Jeremy stared at her for a moment, still trying to reconcile his preconceptions with what he had seen today. "What's with you and the beat 'em up, blow 'em up simulations anyway? Shouldn't you be, I dunno, working on perfecting the next generation of androids, talking shop with Einstein or Cochrane, or hell, just going out for a long walk in a flowery meadow? Something that isn't destructive to you or someone or something else?"

*BUILDING AN ANDROID NEVER HAD ANY APPEAL TO ME. EINSTEIN AND COCHRAN ARE DEAD. I LIKE FLOWERY WALKS JUST AS MUCH AS THE NEXT SAP BUT I LIKE TO FLY MORE. AND I LIKE TO FLY FAST. IT'S... *

"Like thinking you're in total control when you're not," Jeremy said, finishing her sentence. "Like being one of those pompous pretty boys who gets tossed out on his ass!" Something happened at that moment, something Jeremy wasn't even fully aware of. He had heard what Ella said, responded to it, yet at the same time his thoughts briefly drifted back to his own academy days. A second later, he was actually *at* the Academy, and so was she. "You better start showing some control, Grey, or you'll be out of Red Squadron faster than a Ferengi on a shopping spree!" he snapped. But it wasn't really him shouting at her. Or was it?

Ella frowned. *HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT RED SQUADRON?*

"What are you talking abo- . . . ." The harshness of his tone subsided and the vision suddenly vanished. Jeremy paused, a look of confusion reflected in his eyes. He actually had no idea what she or -he- was talking about, and yet he had just seen it all in his head, as if he were reliving something from his own past.

She tilted her head. *YOU'RE DESCRIBING A MEMORY OF MINE*

"Red Squadron . . ." he repeated, barely more than mouthing the words.

Her astonishment suddenly turned to anger and she recoiled. *WHAT ARE YOU A BETAZOID? HOW DARE YOU READ MY MIND WITHOUT PERMISSION?*

"Why don't you just back off!" Jeremy snapped back. "I don't know what the hell that was about!"

*THEN HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN IT?*

"I said I don't fucking know! It all was just there, in my head, in front of my eyes. Red Squadron, you getting tossed out . . . I don't know!"

Ella frowned. Not that she liked the explanation but Savoie didn't seem... manipulative enough to lie about this. *THIS SHOULD BE REPORTED.*

He looked at her and frowned. "What? That I had a thought or a flashback or whatever it was? Maybe it was just a stupid coincidence."

Or maybe it wasn't.

"New Acquaintances"

8-ball had a new project.

It wasn't much of a project, or at least not one that would be considered a useful and advancing experiment to transform and uplift society, but 8-ball was engrossed in it all the same. Last month, 8-ball had discovered every form of video game imaginable, from ancient to modern. She had particularly enjoyed Nintendo and Super Mario Brothers, though for the life of her she couldn't understand why pretending to be a short little fat man jumping on turtles would be so amusing. Now that she had exhausted video games, 8-ball was ready for a new challenge: drinks.

Growing up partly in a bar, 8-ball was used to a wide variety of bar drinks, but she had found even more strange and new assortments during research. It was now her mission to try every type of alcoholic drink in the galaxy and explore strange new worlds. Needless to say, her supervisor on the ship had been less than enthused with this new plan which led widely to bad moods and strong headaches. Also somewhat unsurprisingly, 8-ball didn't care.

Now in Ten-Forward, 8-ball sat on a bar stool, sipping a Dead Nazi. She was trying to decide between a Friar's Luck and a Test Tube Baby for her next drink and waiting for something interesting to happen.

At that same moment, Vrih Himne – the new attaché to Senator Omar –entered Ten-Forward. He looked around, finding everyone and everything very unfamiliar. It disturbed him – perhaps he should have stayed back in his hometown, as an aide to the obnoxious governor, rather than come halfway across the quadrant to work for an equally obnoxious senator.

He headed for the bar, sitting down. Knowing that Romulan ale was illegal here, he ordered the strongest vodka he could think of.

Himne noticed the young Starfleet officer next to him. He wanted to make friends onboard the Galaxy, and she looked quite attractive.

“Greetings,” the young Romulan male smiled at her. “I am Vrih Himne, attaché to the esteemed Senator Omar. How do you do?”

8-ball looked at the guy sitting next to her. He wasn't a bad looking guy, as far as Romulans go, but she couldn't remember seeing him around before. "I'm 8-ball," she said, "and I'm not so bad. How are you, and while we're not at all on the subject, is it part of your job to distinguish your senator with nifty little positive words like 'esteemed', or do you actually like the guy?"

Himne’s vodka arrived. He immediately took a swig.

Ah… much better. He felt more relaxed already.

He turned back to 8-Ball, grinning at her last remark. “No, I don’t like the senator at all, but he’s very rich, and he pays me incredibly well – soon I’ll be rich too at the rate I’m earning from this job.”

“I’ve told something about myself,” he said, feeling the effects of the vodka. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

8-ball grinned back. Attractive men who were rich were always a plus, specially when it didn't look like they could hold their alcohol. One swig of vodka and Himne was already looking a touch soused. To give him any kind of chance at all 8-ball was going to have to try and catch up. She ordered a double and drank it down in one shot.

"Oh, I don't know there's much to tell," 8-ball said, ordering another double. "I've been working on this floating tub for awhile now. It doesn't pay nearly as well, of course, but it is a bed and some food. And I lived and worked in a bar for awhile. Tell me, young attache, do you like drinking games?"

“Drinking games?” Himne looked at her with surprise, briefly hesitating. “Why not?”

After all, the alcohol was making him feel more at ease with this woman every second – perhaps a drinking game wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all?

He ordered another two vodkas.

8-ball smiled. "Great," she said. She pulled a deck of cards out of her bag. "Now the best drinking games have a whole bunch of people involved but we just have two, sadly. So I figure we can play War. If you've never played, here's how it goes." She shuffled the cards and started dealing them out. "Now, don't look at them. We each get a pile of cards. Then we pull one out face up. If you have the higher card, I have to drink a shot. If I have the higher card, you have to drink shot. And if we tie, we put three cards down and then one more face up, and whoever has the losing card face up has to drink as much as the winner decrees. Got it?"

8-ball finished sorting the cards and flipped one of hers up. "An eight. What do you got?"

He looked glumly at his card. “Two.” The attaché took another swig of vodka.

Ten minutes later, the drinking game had come to its conclusion – with Himne drinking the most by far (which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing: he felt pretty good.)

8-Ball had lost a few here and there, but compared to the Romulan she had drunk little.

None of this bothered the thoroughly relaxed Himne, who now spoke.

“So, now we’ve done with the game, what now?”

8-ball smiled at the poor attache. She was really having too much fun, but screw it, people on Galaxy had absolutely no sense of adventure sometimes. "I don't know," 8-ball said, leaning closer to Himne. "That's up to you, I suppose. What do you want to do?"

Himne cleared his throat, feeling thoroughly saturated with vodka.

“This alcohol is tame,” he declared boldly. “I have a store of Romulan ale back in my quarters. If you like, you could… come and inspect it.” He surprised himself with such a bold request – the alcohol must have really got to him.

He leaned even closer, waiting for her response.

"You're right," 8-ball said, so close to the attache now that she was practically speaking in his ear. "This is very tame liquor. I've barely got a buzz on, and I could use something of a. . .stronger quality." She smiled then and touched his cheek. "If you want to take me back to your quarters," she said, "I'll inspect whatever you want."

“Great.” The Romulan grinned drunkenly. He then stood up, beckoning for her to follow.

I took less than five minutes to reach Himne’s quarters. Although the attaché was walking and talking fine, it was clear that the alcohol had seriously impaired his judgement.

When they reached the door, Himne stuck out his thumb and waited a second. A beep followed, and the door slid open.

“Greetings Erredn,” the male-sounding Romulan computer droned, recognising his thumbprint and granting him access.

The quarters were luxurious – though Himne was an anti-capitalist, he was a Rihannusu anti-capitalist, and that still meant he was almost as capitalist as a Ferengi.

On the ornate desk was a bottle of the illegal Romulan ale. The attaché grabbed it, then sat down on his bed.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked. Truth be told, he was drunk enough to do anything she asked.

8-ball sat near him on the bed and took the bottle away, drinking a long swallow of it. It was definitely good ale. Worth hanging out with a man for, though she kind of liked Himne. He was all drunk and cute. "Whatever you want," 8-ball said and kissed him. He was a good kisser, not clumsy and awkward like some men were. She broke off from the kiss and looked him in the eyes. "I'm open for anything."

“Great.” Yet again, Himne grinned drunkenly.

The night began.

"Tumbleweed"

By
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer,
USS Galaxy

On the whitehot beaches on the island of Cyprus in the eastern Mediterranean Sea, Daren Runako M'Kantu knelt facing the daughter he had not seen in many years.

The brisk grains clung to his feet, tumbled through his fingers, the absolute warmth of being planetside vivid in his vision. Behind him, the lapping waves rolled onto the sands, washing away his footsteps, carrying away all traces of existence to leave a blank slate.

"You cannot be my daughter, and I cannot be here. What have you done to my ship? Where is my crew?" He not-so-gently grasped the girl's upper left shoulder, causing her to wince.

"Papa, you're hurting me!" Her tiny fingers clawed at his hands mildly, as if afraid she had done wrong, but not terrified. This was her father.

"Answer the question. Where are my ship and crew?"

Bahiyah's dark pools welled up as they were caught by his stern gaze, and his heart softened. The memory of his only daughter, this interaction being the first in many a time tore at him. Even if she weren't real, this was an opportunity difficult to pass up. It was a sense of retribution for what had truly happened in his past - her future.

"I don't understand, papa..." She rubbed her arm as his grasp slipped down to her elbow.

"Bahiyah...!" Daren's gaze at his memory-daughter was pulled aside at the sound of a heavily-accented female voice, one he had not heard in almost as long.

Against the radiant sun, she approached down the beachline, the other children scattering along as their parent's called for them. She was a vision of beauty, her dark skin glistening from the natural sweat of a perfect summer day, her long legs curving out from her sari as the brightly coloured pleats swung out to reveal dark thighs.

"Daren..." Her beatific smile bore down on him in a scene he had wanted to remember as this was the last vacation they had taken together before Wolf 359.

As she reached out a hand to each of her cherished family members, and Daren reached out to her, her features began to peel and wash away in a myriad of colour that flowed upwards into the glowing sun above. He felt a chill frost descend on him as a new image replaced those of his ex-wife and family.

Darkness. The sound of electronics, and something... organic. A horrible cold that penetrated into his bones, but felt... normal. Even comforting.

As his eyes adjusted, they formed a blurred haze, a numbness, and disorientation of where he was.

Voices whispered around him, converging and overlapping as they grew in strength. Pinpoints of light appeared above him, growing brighter.... no... descending on him! Dozens lit up, dazzling him, blinding the environment beyond in inner shadow.

They approached faster, flaring in his irises, dancing behind his eyelids until he felt contact with his skin. Then the assault of pain as several pinpricks punctured his skin all at once. He tried to scream, but nothing came out, for he had no mouth that he knew of. A sudden terror overcame him when he realized he couldn't move. Complete paralysis set in. His eyes darted around in the darkness, searching, searching....

The pain stopped. The lights were gone. And he wasn't alone.

An image flared up in front of his eyes. A sheet of translucent green, overlain with grid markers, bio-neural sensors dictating suit integrity, body temperature, external sensors, connection strength... and an immediate onslaught of thousands upon thousands of other voices to which his own had been added.

[Ha'ran] A single voice rose above the din. Instinctively he recognized the impression of Thot Pran. [You are privileged to have your thoughts added to the elite Breen that form the Neural net. You are to be assigned Weapons Officer on the Gravnor with me.]

Upon release, Daren felt his head turn and fall upon the true form of the Breen standing before him, and it was....

... washed away again.

Over an undeterminable period of time, Captain M'kantu felt himself flow between several memories amongst the crew and passengers. From seeing through a child's eyes, to an aging Andorian and its fear of blindness after losing an antenna, to an innocent infant, to the conundrum of living as a Daedryn, to reliving Wolf-359, to the amplified thoughts of others as a Betazoid.... he tumbled through them all.

At last, he came to yet another memory of lying in cool blades of grass under a blue sky dotted with beautiful puffs of clouds. With the sheer tidal wave of memories on his senses, instead of exploring this one, he simply lay there to gather his faculties. The sun blazed overhead, but he felt no heat from it.

Instead, it approached him, but unlike the Breen memory, it didn't blind him. Other spheres of light darted about the sky above, but only this one appeared to come for him directly.

When it stopped to hover over Daren, it shimmered, like a pebble dropped in a bucket where it laps back and forth.

He chose to ignore it, believing it to be another memory, and instead clasped his hands together after he had leaned up against a boulder that lay nearby.

The image coalesces, M'Kantu closes his eyes.

"Daren..." Must be imagination. He didn't recall this place with June, his former wife.

"Captain M'Kantu..." One eye propped open on his official title being taken, and was taken aback when the image of his wife stood before him, also shimmering. Like he was looking into a pool of water at himself.

June smiled and also clasped her hands. Her beauty was radiant, still wearing the sari she had donned that day on Cyprus in 2366, just before Wolf 359 and the end of his marriage.

"Who are you and what is this? How did I get here?" He still remained hesitant that this was all just a dream or memory, so he remained seated up against the smooth rock.

"Come with me, so we can talk." She reached out a supple hand, the light still rolling off it in prismatic reflection. The other lights flew about her like fireflies.

"I've done enough traveling, thank you. I want answers." In his heart, he felt this was not part of the experience. He hadn't moved off to another memory for one, and this was not one of his own for another.

June nodded once, eyes closing on the downswing. They dark opals re-emerged on turning up her chin.

"Very well, Captain. You are here because we need your help. Our... lives? Yes... that is how your dimension would measure it... are in peril."

"Life Flashes"

Nara was looking at Erin, trying to figure out where he came from. Suddenly as quick as a blink, had she blinked, another face looked down at her.

Professor Mark.

She stepped back startled. She looked at what had become the classroom. No. Why this memory. She willed her mind to repress it, just for now. Professor Marks stepped closer, looking menacing. Her mind raced on how to get out of this. No solution came. No ideas about hitting her commbadge.

He grabbed her and pushed her down. She tried to hit him, but his hand grabbed hers to pin them down. She yelled,"THIS ISN'T REAL!" But it felt real. His disgusting smell, the weight of his body, the fear she felt. She struggled. She knew it didn't matter, but it was some instinct. Before she knew it, she felt as if her soul had been torn. She screamed and wimpered as he did his barbaric deed.

Suddenly she was out in the gardens. She wiped her eyes, but the tears she had cried before were gone. Someone approached her, "Nara?"

She looked up. Miguel. She felt uncomfortable. She spoke what she spoke then, "I'm sorry about last night."

He shrugged, "Well, I wasn't really expecting anything. I mean we're not dating."

Nara nodded. She didn't want to date anyone. Last night she had gone farther with any guy, and wanted to go much farther. Someone had gotten real alcohol to help celebrate graduation and she had a little too much. Something stopped her. She didn't know why then, but she knew why now.

There would be no point in explaining that to Miguel though. She just spoke what came next in her memory, "I'm sorry you didn't get a terran post. I thought maybe....well....if I wanted to date anyone."

He frowned and shook his head, "It won't happen Nara. You and I both know it. We were both drunk and I must apologize, but your mind was uninhibited as was mine, so I took a look."

Nara was shocked, "What? You know how I feel about telepathy."

He nodded, "I only searched for how you felt about me. I don't know why, but you're not wanting anyone to be close. We would likely spend years and I'd get frustrated and leave. I don't want to hurt you Nara. You have ghosts to deal with. I don't know if I'll be around then. And I don't think you'll much care."

Nara watched him walk away. He was right. She had completely forgotten him. He was a sweet caring boy, but she never really felt she could be in love with him. Did he know what happened? Why didn't he tell her. No. He couldn't had seen a suppressed memory unless he had tried.

She now found herself crouched in a tent looking over a map with Conzalas. She looked at him as he spoke. "Half could go up to this hill and the other half could travel around behind."

Nara nodded and stood. What was going on. These random memories. "Do that. We attack tomorrow." She walked out of the tent and looked at the army before her. Some played, some read, some wrote, and some just sat looking at the stars and talking.

She heard Conzalas behind her, "Do you ever get used to it?"

She turned her head to him, "Used to what?"

"The lonliness."

She smiled at him. He had become her confidante. Her second in command. "I know it's hard to understand being married and all, but I'm not lonely. There's no boyfriend or husband that I miss."

He looked at her with eyes telling her she was lying to herself, "You throw yourself into this or that and never allow for anyone to get that close."

Nara sighed, "Well, maybe when Starfleet calls me in, I'll have a chance. Engineering can be downright monotonous sometimes."

Conzalas laughed, "Maybe, but I hear starships get into scuffs."

Nara suddenly found herself in the room looking at a mine. Whoa. It was like a dream within a dream. This memory was all in her mind. She remembered feeling Cernu. His calm presence. She remembered destroying the mine.

When the explosion occured she found herself looking down over the cliff. Her home was down below. She looked over and some other children that had followed her. She was 5. They wispered with eyes wide. They had just learned about the legend of Gareth Roswell, The Resurrected Hero in school. Everyone knew she was his daughter, and the legend was told by parents, but the teacher seemed to spark a new interest. She didn't feel special, other than being the only human their age on the planet. She sure didn't like others thinking she was. She glared at one boy who had come closer.

She was on the floor looking up into the face of a boy K'Erin. "Come on, Nara. You gotta block better than that."

She stood. She stepped out of the holodeck. She was 7. "It's like my life is flashing before my eyes."

Erin laughed, "Oh come on! I didn't hit you THAT hard!"

She turned to look at his face and suddenly it was the 17 year old Erin again.

“Contracts Part 1”

Romulus, Capital City – 2381

Vrih Himne was approaching his target. The target meant nothing to him – he was merely another traitorous politician who had decided to delve in vile Vulcan practices.

The man looked around nervously. He had been using secret Vulcan meditation practices for the last few months now, but it had definitely been a mistake. He knew powerful people were onto him. He had considered getting out of Romulus via official channels, but knew he wouldn’t be safe. Therefore, he was standing in this seedy back street of the capital city – at midnight in the freezing rain. He had met a “broker” in transportation, who had met him two hours ago – and then left to make the necessary arrangements. A car pulled up.

The man hoped it was the broker – but immediately he knew it wasn’t. This ground vehicle was far too new: circa early 2370s. The broker’s vehicle was an ancient vehicle made in 2353, but this vehicle’s silver paint still gleamed despite the rain. It was built far too recently to be the broker’s. Not only that, but it appeared to be a government vehicle – it was the model they commonly used, and it was entirely unmarked.

The ground vehicle halted, and Himne stepped out – dressed in an inconspicuous grey overcoat. Before the man could move, Himne had drawn his gun. He knew the man would be unarmed – Romulan law stated that no ordinary citizen could bear arms. And this man was certainly ordinary – just another spent Romulan politician now practicing treachery in the form of Vulcan meditations.

Himne fired. Instead of being an energy-based weapon, his gun simply fired sub-sonic tritanium slugs. They made no sound leaving the barrel, and only a dull thud as they impacted heavily with the target.

The target fell down, and Himne walked over – putting another two slugs in his chest just to be sure. After that, the Romulan pocketed his weapon and inconspicuously moved back towards his vehicle. He was a true el'Ustlha – a professional at what he did.

Just before reaching his ground vehicle, he looked at his electronic notebook to see who his next target was. He grimaced when he saw the name. This one would be difficult.

Name: Omar, Ramir.
Rank: Senator

Suddenly, hands grabbed Himne from behind and he heard the sound of a stun gun discharging. He lost consciousness after that.

“Contracts, Part 2”

Romulus, Omar Estate – 2381

General Omar was most pleased with the results.

The babbling scientist was annoying, but at least he was competent. He explained his success in a nervous speech.

“General, after many hours of… experimentation,” he said. “The subject is ready.”

Omar smiled. His men had captured the assassin Himne on the outskirts of the capital city, having just killed an elderly former government official. The general knew his son might have been at risk (why did he insist on practicing those pathetic Vulcan meditations?) so he had sent his men to intercept.

And intercept they had. Himne had been stunned and brought here. Now, after eighteen hours of intense torture, he believed he was the young model citizen – with no memory of his violent past life.

To make things even better, the general planned to send Himne as his son’s new diplomatic attaché.

It sounded bizarre at first – to send his son’s former assassin to work for him. But it was actually perfect: Himne had no memory of his previous violent deeds, he thought himself a model citizen, and as such would be a brilliant attaché. He would have no secret mission (perhaps working for another section of the Romulan military) so there would be no chance of danger to his son. Admittedly, last time, he had been the one who had ordered a Tal Shiar spy to pose as an attaché – but this didn’t mean that his enemies couldn’t do exactly the same. With Himne, the general knew he was working for nobody except the state. And since Senator Omar was a member of the state – he would have absolute obedience.

Of course, he couldn’t tell his son about this, or else they might lose this new tactical advantage – not only over Romulan political opponents, but also over Starfleet and the crew of the Federation starship Galaxy.

“If you don’t mind me saying, general,” the scientist hesitated. “Diplomatic attaches are extremely well paid, especially the ones of senators. Isn’t that a strange way to reward a former assassin?”

Omar smiled. “Yes, he will be well-paid – but he will still be almost drone-like.”

Suddenly a young centurion barged into the ornately decorated room.

“What is it?” Omar roared – he had always hated interruptions. “I ordered not to be disturbed!”

“Apologies, proconsul,” the centurion said humbly, backing out of the room. “But the Tal Shiar chairman has arrived. Here.”

“Here?”

“Yes, proconsul.” The centurion bowed, rushing out. The nervous scientist followed him.

Seconds later, Chairman Koval entered the lounge imperiously. He was a mysterious man – little was known of him, except that he had controlled the Tal Shiar for the last fifty or so years.

Even so, he could not show such rudeness to the Proconsul of the Romulan Empire. The general reached for his alarm button, located under his desk.

Koval laughed. It was not a nice sound, more of a wheeze than a laugh, which wasn’t surprising considering his advanced age.

“General, my men prepared for my arrival at your estate,” Koval said confidently. “They disconnected your alarm system several hours ago.”

Omar stopped pressing the button, and stood upright. “It’s Proconsul to you, chairman.”

Koval ignored Omar’s last remark, stepping closer to the general’s desk. “You may think yourself an experienced senior, Proconsul, but know this – I was running the Tal Shiar when you were merely a child.” The chairman’s voice turned to a rasp but he continued to speak.

“Know this, proconsul. Though you think yourself powerful now, your time is coming to an end. In my half-century leading the Tal Shiar, I have seen many kings-in-all-but-name rise and fall among the Romulan government. You are but the next one.”

“Really?” smirked Omar.

“Yes,” Koval leaned even closer, appearing threatening now. “Really.”

"The Autograph"

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell Ensign Saul Bental

Nara looked at Erin again. "You may or may not understand this. You're either a figment of my imagination, an apparition created, or I somehow came back in time."

She shook her head. If she had come back in time, she was sure she just broke a rule by saying so. Oh well.

"I have to find out what's going on." She looked into his confused eyes and with a bitter-sweet smile, hugged him. She had missed him. They still wrote, but it was so long since she was actually able to see him physically. She squeezed his hand and turned around. She headed toward her parent's quarters. She wasn't sure what to do. How could she find out what had happened and how to get out of it? She stopped. Maybe her telepathy could help. Something scared her about taking her wall down here though. She decided to go about this as a non-telepath for now. She turned to the hall heading for her parent's and her quarters.

As she reached the threshold, she stopped dead on her feet. There was someone outside their quarters. The guard was nowhere to be seen, and instead she saw the person's back. He was holding a piece of paper in one hand and an Eqrist - a Sakarian tool vaguely resembling an ink pen - in the other. His attire was Sakarian, dark brown trousers with a thick, green linen/gauze-like tunic, and he was probably either her age or slightly younger than her.

Nara stopped. The cloths may be Sakarian, but being the base as long as she had, there were some similar fashions from other worlds. "Who are you?" She firmly demanded.

Saul Bental turned around slowly. He looked somewhat apprehensive. "I think... I think I'm here to get an autograph... Do you know who lives here?"

She saw his face and remembered. Out of sorts, she answered his question, "My parents...and me." She shook her head as she closed her eyes and looked again. "Saul!?" She walked up to the door and found it locked. She put a hand on the door. She looked at Saul again. "What's going on!?"

"I have no idea. Come to think of it, I don't really want anyone's autograph, so..." he looked down on his hands. He seemed much younger than what Nara remembered. "I've had the most bizarre day so far, I think... perhaps I'm asleep, and this is a strange dream. It's not the first time I dream of you. Although this... this seems so vivid."

He looked up again. "What is this place?"

Nara blushed at one comment. But no time for flirting here. "This is Deep Space 8. We came here when I was about 5 until I went to the Academy."

Suddenly the door swooshed and a woman peered out the door. "Nara?" Allas looked out and saw her daughter standing with a young man. She smiled. "Hello. I’m Allas, Nara's mom."

"My name is Saul, I..." Saul paused for a moment. His cloths were Sakarian, and he was going to take an autograph, and he waited here. It didn't take an Intel officer to connect the pieces.

"I'm a big admirer of your husband." He added, avoiding Nara's eyes. "I was hoping to get his autograph..."

Nara stared. Her mom looked younger. Suddenly she wanted it all to be real. She wanted a time when she was home on a star base where she blended in with everyone, and her mom and dad were there and so was Erin. She smiled, "Mom, is Dad home?"

Allas laughed, "He is, but he's working."

Nara entered and said, "I'm sure he won't mind seeing me!" She had completely forgotten Saul was there. She wanted to be with the father she knew before they were in a war together. Before he yelled at her for some mistake she had made. When it was just father and daughter, not commodore and commander. She saw him sitting at a console at the far end of the room. Gareth Roswell. She smiled and cleared her throat, "Dad?"

Gary turned and smiled, seeing his daughter. "Your mother told me you were accepted into the Academy! Congratulations!"

Nara nearly forgot about that. She kept smiling, "I just figured I'd see what the fuss was about."

Saul stepped from behind Nara, genuinely embarrassed. He stood there quietly, not wanting to interfere. He has already interjected with too many intimate moments since he came on board, and Nara for once looked very happy, not the zealous Sakarian patriot he was used to.

This must've been before everything went very wrong in Sakaria, Saul realized. Nara told him she went to fight only after she became a Starfleet officer. So right now he was seeing the original Nara. The darling daughter.

This should prove interesting.

Then, something else grew in him. An odd sensation. He was tense, angered. Was it... hatred? He observed Gary Roswell, slowly measuring him. Yes, it was hatred. But how could it make sense? He wasn't jealous of the man, the man did nothing wrong to him. Hell, the man gave birth to a girl Saul became very fond of, even if she did have her odd moments...

Saul glanced at his pen, and enlightenment came.

"Naieen..." he cursed beneath his breath.

Nara gave her father a hug and kissed his cheek. He touched her cheek smiling, "I thought you had plans with K'Erin and J'Lear?"

Nara thought a moment. She was going to help them with some wedding details. Her moment of euphoria over, she looked sadly over at the man who had not been part of this memory before, bringing her further back to the haunting reality this wasn't real.

Gary touched his daughter's arm, "What's wrong?"

Nearly overwhelm with emotion, Nara shook her head and swallowed the lump, "Just really glad to be home again." When Gary looked at her confused, Nara kissed his cheek and turned, grabbing Saul's elbow on the way.

She walked into another room. Her room. It was decorated similarly to her quarters on the Galaxy minus the weapons. There were just cloth hangings and a few statues here and there. Saul looked around for toys or puppets. There was a stuffed animal on the bed similar to an earth teddy bear.

Nara walked over to a console in one corner of the room and touched it to bring it to life. She looked at Saul, "I know it's not real. It was just good to see them again. Like this."

"It was real once, that was all that matters." Saul told her. He forced himself to put the eqrist and the piece of paper on the desk. For some reason, he had a strong urge to keep them within grasp. He began to analyze the possible causes for that odd sensation.

"Did anything special happen, or is supposed to happen, on this... day?"

"I learned I was accepted into the Academy earlier. I didn’t come into the memory until after that though." She thought a moment longer. "And J'Lear asked me to be her maid of honor. The wedding is in a few months. I don't leave for the Academy until a year from now." Nara shrugged, "What's going on." She looked at him again, "And why are you here? Looking years younger?" Nara pressed some buttons on her console. She sighed heavily and turned away, "I don't have access other than educational sources." She shook her head, "Not sure what I could find out anyway. Is it a time-space anomaly? Some mind control? Should I use my telepathy, or am I safer not?" She looked at Saul, knowing she was asking endless questions he likely wouldn’t know the answers to, but she felt helpless.

Saul sat on her bed, thinking. "Everything seems to be blurry, but I do remember... I was at the Chief of OPS' offices, and we were discussing quarter’s arrangements. And then... we were in a Cardassians installation, during some sort of raid. Somehow, it made sense. But after that, everything is just hazy."

There was Zan, of course. She left the strongest mark on him of all the experiences he had since being in the Chief of OPS' office. But Saul was not going to discuss her, or the longest journey. That's something he had to solve for himself.

He tapped on the bed twice, inviting her to sit next to him. Nara, whose face was still pinched with confused tension, sat by him.

"Unless I'm dreaming all this, which is highly unlikely." Saul continued, "I would have to say that your two guesses might be our best shots. I've read about anomalies like this before, in Federation history books. If there are telepaths able to toss this entire ship's crew into dream-world, then they frighten me. As for space-time anomaly... well, that's way out of my turf, I wouldn't know what to do with it."

Out of instinct, he reached for her head, touching her hair. "Perhaps it's a good idea for you to scan around with your telepathy, just keep yourself out of harm's way - OK?"

Nara searched his eyes. It was likely just in her mind, but she searched for the soul of him. Something told her it really was him. Even if just mentally in her mind. Her hand found his free hand to hold it. She closed her eyes as she took the wall down. She smiled sensing Saul. Yes, he was really there.

She broadened her scan. She felt other crewmembers. Having not really knowing any of them, she couldn't tell who was who. There were emotions of joy and confusion. She probed a bit deeper in a few and learned they were in different situations than she. Perhaps their own memories. Then suddenly she hit something. It blocked her access. Something was there. Her hand squeezed Saul as she tried to get into it.

Saul looked at her hand, then at her lips. They were slightly apart, and he could see a couple of teeth peeking from behind. Without realizing what he was doing, Saul moved slightly closer to her, silently waiting for her to awaken.

After several moments, Nara opened her eyes and looked at Saul. She was tired and weak. In mind anyway. Which as far as she knew, that's all that was awake right now. Their bodies were likely unconscious on the ship, or on another ship.

"There's something. Huge. Alien. I just know it's not one of us. The others are in similar situations. In memories aware that they shouldn't be here. Maybe it's keeping us here? Why? Why would it take us into our own memories?" She looked closer at Saul, "Still yet, why are you able to come to MY memory?" Well the scan helped a little. It at least let her know there was something out there to fear. "What does it want?"

"Perhaps it explores us, somehow. I recall reading about an occurrence on the Enterprise-D. The ship was engulfed by an alien life form, or forms. They wanted to explore the sentient beings on the ship, and even demanded the captain to order two of him crewmembers to have sex, so that they--"

Saul fell silent, and neared Nara even more. His heart was racing, his brain transmitting alarms and trying to shove some common sense into the rest of his body. He could feel her breath -

On the table, the miniature time bomb hidden within the Eqrist pen ticked one last time, and the explosion threw them to the corner of the room. Saul instinctively tried to shield Nara with his body, although there was no need.

Shocked, Nara looked at him. That didn't happen in the memory. She looked at him confused, "What was that?" She looked over at the table.

Or rather, where the table once was. It was vaporized along with the pen that was left on it, and a rupture formed on the wall behind it. On the floor, a road made of unique stones was formed. It leads into the rupture. Red clouds of smoke filled the room, making it look slightly like the inside of a major blood vessel.

"Was there an attempt on your father's life during this day?" Saul asked intently once the ringing in his ears began to fade.

Nara narrowed her eyes, "No."

"Interesting, so how does this connect to your memory. A reflection of another memory, perhaps. Whether it's that or something else... the path is here, I suspect I have to leave you now."

Saul placed his left foot on the stony path, and inhaled deeply - not a smart thing to do when the air around you is filled with red vapors of unidentified substance. He coughed twice, and only with effort kept his last meal from making a guest appearance on Nara's floor.

Nara grabbed his arm, "What just happened?" She looked at him. She wasn't sure what to think. "I'm not sure if I can trust you, but you're all that's here I know is real. I'm coming with you."

"You're not." Saul informed her simply, shaking her hand. He remained still for a moment, and then did something much unexpected. He leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek.

Nara looked at him. "Who are you? I don't know you at all. You're so kind to me yet conflicted. Then you appear in my memory and then something explodes. You seem...." Before she could finish the bedroom door opened. It was her father.

"What's going on in here?" Gary demanded.

"I'm beginning to figure something out." Saul said hastily, ignoring the man whose life or autograph he was supposed to seek. "Call it intuition, but... I suspect that you won't be able to follow me even if you tried. Let's see."

Before he could be stopped, Saul slipped into the rupture.

Nara stood dumbfounded. If she remembered any of this when they all finally came to, she’d ream him for information.

"Dangerous Friendships"

Nara had really enough of looking through tons of data for the diagnostics. She even stayed an extra shift. She was still too wound up to go to bed. She was going to go to her quarters and try anyway, but instead took a turn toward the holodeck. Work a little on her reproduction of her Sakarian village.

Abaddon sat on the peak of the Ladder of Heaven, legs crossed in the lotus position, fingers positioned in the madras of clarity as his unblinking eyes stared straight ahead. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body though it was tremendously chill, his skin healthy despite the wind and cold that should have chafed and frozen it already. His armor, which crouched nearby, remained on standby as it preserved its power and monitored his vitals.

Abaddon, for himself, was on a deep personal journey. It had been weeks he'd been here, not as of yet making contacts with the other crew and having only the most cursory of contact even with those of the Tactical department-or anyone for that matter. His contacts with the Captain had been formal, as he expected and as before he was treated well. But others avoided him.

As expected.

What he had not expected however was the hostility he would have to overcome. Conversations stopped when he entered the room and didn't start again until he left. Any attempt to speak garnered polite excuses and people left as soon as they can get away, some not bothering to try not to be rude. Of the entire Consensus, he had the worst luck with people. And so far, his luck was holding.

Inward however, he was working on the being he was, searching for the anger and sorrow within himself and trying to purge it. It could be handled much differently, if he so chose- he could simply purge the memories from his own brain, changing the electrochemical signals and coding changed to wipe away trace of the memories that made him so bitter; prevented him from reaching out to others.

It was difficult, there was so much attached to the events that led to the hardening of his heart.

He had withdrawn, even from his brothers and sisters of the Consensus, hiding himself from the Light and deafening himself to the Song. He had become Abyssal, losing himself to the darkness of isolation and wallowing in the negativity of his guilt and worthlessness.