"Admiral's Perspective"

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50507.24

Captain M'Kantu is a fool. He allowed the Hydran senior staff on the Galaxy and refused to take them into custody for interrogation. It's obvious from their duplicity that they are hiding something on Mirusa VI. Why can't he see that?

****

Personal Log, Supplemental

M'Kantu has had me physically removed from proceedings with the Hydran senior staff. He had the gall to side with them while having me forcibly removed! Apologizing for me? He is not fit for command in my opinion, what with his catering to the enemy. He let them leave without further questioning! After they threatened my life. Starfleet Command will be hearing about this.

****

Conference Room Log, 50507.24

"Admiral, leave! You are *not* in command of this ship and are only here as a courtesy. You've now been informed, therefore your presence is no longer required. Security, escort Admiral Proctor to her quarters immediately."

"Belay that." Proctor was seething, Kedr'ni'van was silent, his features unreadable, Curran was silent, evaluating the situation. Proctor was obvious, and he'd been preparing for this eventuality.

"Captain, if this tn'plo'kan does not leave my sight in the next ten cyclans, I will tear her heart out fast enough for her to see it with her own cowardly eyes before she died, my teeth tasting the gristle as she breathed her last." The triad took a simultaneous step forward to back the threat up.

"Do something about this, M'Kantu, or I will."

The Captain and Legate crossed their arms in defiance; she took a step back towards the exit doors.

As the doors closed behind the Admiral, Curran turned to the Hydran commander, who for all appearances had not relaxed. If Hydrans relax, that is.

"I apologize for the actions of the Admiral, Commander. Her ambitions reach further than her common sense. Please accept our deepest apologies."

M'Kantu nodded in compliance. "Rest assured, her ideals are not shared by the senior staff of this ship."

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50507.25

I intend to enact General Order 8 to remove Captain M'Kantu from command for dereliction of duty, and putting his own self-interests above the safety of the crew and research teams on the planet below. I have requested of Starfleet to forward all relevant materials on legalities relating to the matter, and command authorization codes to over-ride his.

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50508.01

M'Kantu and Curran are in league together. For a protocol officer, the Vice-Legate has little ability to be forward-thinking in that M'Kantu is not acting in the best interests of Starfleet. Since returning from the Hydran ship, neither of them recognizes my efforts at maintaining our identity and superiority with the safety of the ship and crew at stake. It is my actions alone that averted disaster and emphasized we are not to be trifled with. You would think the Kelvan would see that above all else. I intend to petition for his removal when I take command of Deep Space 5 in three days.

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50508.04

My command... it's been violated. Instead of tracking the Hydrans, whose ships have been found in the graveyard, M'Kantu has chosen to remain and investigate the station. What use is there in searching a dead depot? We need to take action!

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50508.06

The Romulan Ambassador has been murdered. One less problem. Commander Henderson had been assigned to the investigation, but I relieved him of that dreadful waste of time. Of course, he complained to M'Kantu, who I am content to say, ceded to my wishes.

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50508.10

The two of them are trying to make a fool out of me. Playing games and pretending to be something they are not. Curran I cannot stand. Neither see fit to keep me apprised of daily goings-on with the ship, nor am I invited to any meetings, save the senior staff gathering to send out away teams. Even then, I could feel the eyes of all the staff on me. I know they are secretly tolerating my wishes because M'Kantu is spreading my reputation a little thin with them. There's no need to fear me. Do as they're told, and everything will be fine. It's their Captain that feels threatened by me, and he should. This ship would have been mine if the Admiralty didn't think I'd be more useful on the border defending our territory.

****

Personal Log, Stardate 50508.16

Damn M'Kantu locking out the Bridge and primary functions. If he hadn't lost the ship to the invaders, I wouldn't have had to take command. His senior staff are out of contact on the station that we shouldn't have been dallying on, he's been locked in the brig for allowing himself to be taken, and Curran is nowhere to be found since internal sensors are also offline. He's made poor judgment calls throughout this little mission of his, and now one of the most powerful ships of the fleet is at verge of disposal by the alien parasites.

****

Personal Log, Stardate: Unknown

I find myself in a sickbay, and unaware of the date. The last thing I remember is feeling pain in my chest, and Curran looking down on me. Even as I made the only effort to save the ship, it would be most predictable that the Kelvan would be the one to interfere. He was probably taken over by the aliens, or pretended to be to kill me in the confusion. All to save his Captain, no doubt.

****

Personal Log, supplemental

I am on the Galaxy. Apparently, my XO had attempted to kill me by ripping out my heart, but he barely failed. I'm told it was Curran that saved my life, but I don't believe that for an instant. Commander Sheridan is laying in the biobed next to me in restraints. Yet another error in judgment by M'Kantu, if he's still alive. Sheridan should be in the brig.

****

Admiral's Log, Stardate 50510.05

I have transferred my flag to Deep Space 5. The station has been sterilized and cleared of the dead. The structure that caused all the problems has been thrown into the nearest sun. The ion storms have receded, but not enough to allow long-range communications. Operations has been brought online and Commodore Jerdberg's log buoy retrieved for re-downloading into the core. The majority of the station's complement were killed in a cataclysmic conflict involving every flight-capable vessel in or docked with the station. The result is the ship graveyard. New security policies are to be implemented, and exploration of the area will now be done with the utmost safety. No more bringing anything foreign onto the station.

****

Admiral's Log, Stardate 50510.15

I have forwarded all logs relating to my assessment of Captain M'Kantu and his actions during the past several months to Starfleet Command. In my opinion, he is completely unfit for command on the fringe, and needs to be re-assigned to a smaller, less offensive-inclined ship. He's not cut of the cloth needed by those out here in order to maintain our borders and defend our way of life.

****

Admiral's Log, Stardate 50511.16

Starfleet Command has acknowledged my review and report of Captain M'Kantu and his staff, and confirmed they are sending representatives from Starfleet Security to the station to begin a formal investigation and possible hearing. They should be arriving in two weeks. I anxiously await their arrival. Deep Space 5 should be mostly operational by then having been guided by my hand. In the meantime, the Intelligence offices have reported something of a dire nature. It must be dealt with immediately.

****

USS Delaware
VIP Quarters
Conference Lounge

"Interesting case this will be."

"It must be tread upon lightly. They both have influential connections at Starfleet and on the Council."

"M'Kantu is known as a fence-sitter. Neither Hawk nor Dove. There are many on the Council who are very much supportive of him."

"And many who are against him. He needs to choose a side in these troubling times."

"And whose side should that be? Yours? Mine? Who is to say what side is right and what is wrong?"

"That isn't for us to decide."

"Oh, but it is. If he loses this bid-"

"You mean if Proctor wins."

"Either way, it won't sit well."

"The Admiral chose the wrong time to make her move."

"Politics. Illogical. Notions of right and wrong are lost in bureaucracy."

"Then it's up to us to right those wrongs. At least, out here. Let the Council play at its own machinations."

"Sakarian Moments: Black Tie Event"

Lt. (jg) Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Saia (APC)

***Sakaria, Leisie, Market Center, Main Hall***

It was a typical formal ball. Several ladies in formal dresses as the style of Sakaria dictates, this season being poofy skirts, and off the shoulder corsets. And several men in suits, in a similar style to Terran tuxedos, but the tail being pointed.

Even the military men and women wore civilian formals.

The four that entered stuck out considering they all wore their Starfleet formal uniforms. It was actually a fight to get Allas into hers.

It was the first time Nara heard them disagree since growing up. Allas was insisting they dress as Sakarians, but Gary reminded her they were all still in service to Starfleet, even her, though she was an ambassador. She was the Federation Embassador to Sakaria.

Nara was relieved her father won that one. At least she would be singled out for that fact alone.

Or so she thought.

The moment they walked in the door, everyone clapped. Gary looked weary a moment, but he forced and smile and nodded, holding up his hand to hush them.

Nara was embarrassed, as was seen in the coloring of her cheeks. She wanted to leave then, but held her stance by her parents. Allas smilng and her father starting to address them.

She felt someone squeeze her hand. It was Saul, his grip slightly tightened. He seemed very tense, but she thought the public occassion made it perfectly understandable. She was slightly tense, too.

Saia, in a dress Allas had gotten for her that day, hid behind Nara, but not in an obvious way. She just kept her distance behind the adults.

"This is a celebration for Sakaria," Gary started projecting his voice from the side of the room, "Don't make this about us. You know we prefer to not be honored as heros. Just citizens doing what any of you would do."

As the protests started, a sound system let out another voice. The voice of the Ruyel, "Do as he wishes. Let him enjoy some time outside the limelight."

Gary caught a wink from the Sakarian ruler as he stepped off the platform.

After several moments, they were mingling with the others.

Saul soon made it to the farthest corner, away from Nara's family. This event was insanity! With so many local celebrities and high government officials, and even the Ruyel himself, how could one Dutchman trader maintain low profile? He felt like a distress beacon in his white dress uniform.

His only hope was that the people who might recognize him, like Teto Karoue and other Bental family connections, weren't important enough to be invited to such a ball.

Finally, he found a sit in a position that will allow him to remained unnoticed, while being able to monitor some of the people on the central floor.

Naturally, his eyes were drawn to Nara. She was stunning even in dress uniform - a very difficult feat. He still couldn't believe that he told her that he loved her. It seemed the right thing to say, cuddled in the cave, after she told him what is probably her darkest secret.

He's going to disappoint her so soon.

Nara noticed Saul had slipped away, but she had decided to stay with her parents dutifully. Saia grumpily at her side. Growing tired of the political talk and reliving wars past, Nara whispered to her mother that she better go take Saia and sit with Saul for awhile. Allas reluctantly nodded.

Saia sat at the table opposite of Saul and picked up a candy out of the bowl on the table, studying it before taking a taste. Nara sat next to Saul, "This is worse than last night. I don't even want to be here."

"We had to do it, I guess.", Saul told her, then addressed Saia. "It's a stupid grown-up thingy called 'formality'. They think that things will look more official and important if they make a big boring fuss out of them. I'm not a big fan of formality. Let's hope there's good food and nice songs, and that no one will make long speeches."

Saia nodded, "Got good candy so far!" She offered one to Saul.

"No thanks. Toothache.", Saul said, but took the candy anyway. If the alien food will be bad, he could use the 'battle rations'.

Nara had a thought and looked at Saia, "Will you be ok here for awhile? If you need anything, look for Allas or Gary. They should be easy to spot with the uniforms." After the shrug Saia gave her, she turned to Saul as she got up, "Come on. I've got something to show you."

Saul smirked. "Will it be as interesting as the last time?", He asked as he rose from the chair.

Nara led him to a turbolift type elevator and went to the top floor. She led him up a flight of stairs to the top of the building. It was an open air roof and the chilly air gusted, threatening to loosen the bun she had her hair in. Seen over the edge were lights from homes and several lights lining the edge of the shore, as well as some boats on the water. The moon and stars shone bright over them.

Something moist and soft contacted her left cheek. It was Saul's lips. "I can understand why your father decided to settle here.", He told her.

Nara leaned her head on Saul's shoulder, "You never told me much about your home planet."

Saul sighed. "There's not much to say. Most of it is an ocean of water, sulfur, and chemical waste. The sky is violet. There is a central, arid continent. The colony is concentrated in several large cities near the coastline. It's very crowded, polluted, and neglected. It's away from the core of the Federation, and no one really cares about it. As a result, the law doesn't have a strong presence, there is poverty, and no Federal resources are allocated for further Terraforming of the planet, or even building decent domes around the cities."

He gazed at the distant night view. "I don't think I'll ever take you there."

Nara looked at him. This definately gave a better view of Saul Bental, "How long did you live there?"

"Seventeen years. Probably the worst seventeen years of my life.", He added bitterly. It wasn't completly true, like most of the things that came out of Saul's mouth. An average citizen of the Federation would consider Saul's childhood poor, and wonder how come children still have to live like this in this day and age. However, Saul enjoyed the freedom, and growing up in a place like Utrecht made him far less spoiled and more independent than many of the officers he served with.

Nevertheless, in the end, he ran away.

Nara didn't know what to say. She looked at him sadly, and touched his cheek softly. Then she leaned toward him and let her lips brush against his, as if a kiss would make it all ok.

The moment lingered until they heard steps coming up from behind them. A second after their lips parted, Allas emerged from the stairs. She smiled at them seeing them so close before saying, "Alirght you two. The Ruyel is about to speak."

Nara suppressed rolling her eyes and touched Saul's arm, "We better go." And they went with Allas back down.

* * *

After the speech, and some more time being bored out of their minds, Saul, Nara and Saia were finally allowed to leave.

Always the practical, Saul began checking transport scheduele once they reached their hovercraft. "We could leave tomorrow first thing on the morning, after getting a good night sleep.", He summarized. He couldn't hide his eagerness to return to the Galaxy. Sakaria was beautiful, but his presence here was risky, and there was much to do back on the Galaxy.

Nara nodded, "Sorry about all the social things. Last time was better I think."

"It's OK.", Saul assured her. He could survive boring events, and just hoped that he was not recognized. If any damage was done, there was no way to fix it now. Saul will just have to be in touch with Karoue and see if anything pops up.

He actually considered paying the man a visit, but realized that it would be better if the shopkeeper won't know if Saul's presence on Sakaria.

It could be hazardous if Karoue will connect between Saul's arrival and Nara's.

Nara.

Saul smiled sheepishly at her. "We could use some rest before tomorrow.", He told her quietly as he took her hand, leading her toward the bedroom.

* * *

The next morning, Nara woke from her troubled slumber before Saul stirred. She still didn't sleep well. When she did, she had nightmares. She had someone trained herself not to move or cry out too much after scaring Saia several nights and that poor child had her own nightmares.

She pulled herself up with her elbows and basking in the light that came through the window. She didn't know when she'd see that light again. Then she looked at Saul and smiled. So many mysteries. So much she didn't know. So much she could never know. She lightly touched his hair.

"Nm."

She smiled warmly toward the sleeping face and lowered her face toward him, kissing his nose.

Saul opened one, tired eye. "Morning, princess."

She snuggled up to him and whispered, "I want you to know how wonderful it's been to wake up next to you."

"Nm.", Saul mumbled again, and on his face surfaced the broadest smile she ever saw him smiling.

"Breakfast Themes"

Lieutenent Junior Grade Nara Roswell
Terran/Betazoid Hybrid
Engineering Officer
USS Galaxy

Ensign Zev Raynor
Terran Telepath Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

(OC: Takes place immediately after Radio Ga Ga)

Raynor stepped out of the room, and mildly to his surprise there was no security team waiting outside for him. He breathed a little easier, and realized that he hadn't had breakfast yet. He decided to head towards Ten-Forward and find out what the food on board was like... and the effects of his broadcast.

Ten minutes later after taking an awkard route there he arrived, and ordered some eggs, with dried mango strips on the side and dry white toast.

Nara walked into 10-forward with an amused smile on her face. Whoever had hacked the communications systems was in for a heap of trouble, but the things said, she couldn't help but laugh. It was a good thing to laugh after what had happened recently. She actually felt like she could eat something.

She walked up to the bar and ordered a stack of pancakes and an orange juice. As she waited, she let out a snicker after remembering what she heard earlier.

Raynor looked over at the woman who had just sat down beside him. Something triggered slightly he felt like he knew her, but after that intial second he knew he didn't know her at all. Someone who had died earlier knew her. This was going to be slightly awkard as he tried to place her. Might as well start a conversation, with the gold uniform girl.

"Hi do you know if the food here is any good?" he asked. "I'm new."

Nara, still smiling, turned and nodded, "Pretty good." She held out a hand, "Well, welcome. I'm Lt. Naranda Roswell of Engineering. Junior grade, but it can be bothersome to say."

"Ensign Zev Raynor, Intelligence... if you call it that..." took her hand to shake it. "Transfering from the Strife in the Gamma Quadrant."

"My boyfriend was in intelligence." It still felt knew to actually call Saul that. "It must be nice to be away from the strife." Nara said somewhat sarcastically.

"One would think... but then again I don't have to worry about meeting female admirals with penises back there..." Raynor joked.

Nara looked at him a moment. She leaned in close and whispered, "Was that you over the com system?"

"Sounded like me, but the transmission woke me up just like everyone esle," he said in half truth. He wasn't really awake until he started the broadcast. He was going to play the innocent card for a bit before fessing up to the crime.

She looked down when her plate got to her, "Well, he was hilarious. And SO in trouble."

"Definetly," he agreed "but I still would of loved an extra hours sleep." He looked down at his breakfast, and dug in... "His broadcast reminded me of the old Military Radio stations they used to have on earth..." he said.

As she ate, "Some people seem to enjoy going back to that time. Maybe he intended it to be so?"

"Possibly, but he's certainly doing it ass backward. And even they weren't that insubordinate back then..." Raynor commented. "But it is effective in giving everyone a laugh... god knows we've needed it, after... well... the station."

She turned serious and looked at him, "What did you see?"

"I was possessed." Raynor said silently.

"Me too." She replied simply.

The feeling got very dead in the conversation... Raynor hadn't been that badly effected by the possession, except for the fact that he was the only one still 'possessed' to some degree. Echoes of some of the Dithparu still existed in his unconscious. Worse still he had just effectively destroyed what he had tried to achieve with his broadcast for this person... he was such an idiot.

Time to try and repair the damage. "How's the pancakes?" he asked.

"Good as ever." She seemed lost in thought now.

Well desperate times called for desperate measures... time to pull out one his crazy ideas that were more humourous than serious, but had its applications... "Theme songs, people have should have theme songs on Starships..." Raynor said, with a quizical look on his face. "I mean when you leave the turbo lift everyone still has to look over at the turbo lift to see who's exiting... when you could have a theme song, that tells everyone who's coming. Before you get there..."

A smile broke across her face as she shook her head and swallowed before looking at him, "And what would yours be?"

Raynor had never thought of it really... "I never thought about that," Raynor said, pondering his answer. "Maybe 'We are the Champions' by Queen. It's good a song."

"What would be yours?" he asked after a momentary pause.

Nara thought a moment, "I guess the Sakarian anthem."

"Never heard it..." Raynor admitted. Then he put on a devilish grin... "How hard would it be to program the computer to play theme songs?" he asked

She smiled back just as mischeviously, "We could have Turbolift sense commbadges, which we could code each to set off respective audio files."

"Of course it would be a bitch to match a single song to each person... and then there might be conflicts if there are two people heading to the same deck... Hypothetically speaking of course" Raynor said, as he began to eat his dry toast. "But it would be pretty funny if you think about it."

"It would be quite a good joke."

"And also useful... I mean if boarders had a theme song too or just unidtentified aliens in general," Raynor said thinking of the actual practical applications. Harder for intruders to sneak around.

Nara thought a moment, "You mean like the intruder alert system?"

"The intruder alert system tells you there's intruders aboard, you could 20 decks away and it would still go off. This would give you their position on board the ship. Or at least where their going if they happen to use the turbolift." Raynor said.

She nodded, "Not a bad idea. Well, at least a song for intruders. Not sure about the songs for us." She smiled at him.

"Well I don't know... personally I wouldn't mind moon walking into a room every now and then... breaking into spontenous dance numbers... or orgies, if it just happens to be porn music..." Raynor joked. "Of course sneaking late for work would be a little diffcult..." He thought about that last statement for a moment. He hadn't actually reported for duty yet, and he been on board for a few days... oh well, a few minutes now wouldn't matter much... He wondered how his department head would react. Probably not well, but not well in what kind of way was yet to be determined. Raynor started on his dried mango strips... saying only one thing, "I still have to report for duty, and I've been here four days..."

"When were you supposed to report in?"

"Four days ago... but I've just been so busy learning to use the toliet again," Raynor said.

The looks she gave was all the question anyone needed.

Raynor just laughed. "Unless you people don't mind me going on your floors," he joked.

She shook her head, "No. I mean how could you forget?"

"Well its not so much remembering to use them, as much as it is holding until you can find one..." Raynor said. "Plus being in an intrepid style brig cell as substitute quarters, which for some reason have no obvious facilites of any kind, you learn to improvise..."

She shook her head, still not understanding, "But..." She sighed, "Never mind."

Raynor just laughed again... "Anyways, I better go before I get executed to set an example. See you around later maybe." He got up.

Nara nodded. She was still confused by the conversation, but it was a nice light-hearted change to things.

Raynor walked to the door but before exitting looked around the the room. Smiles, something he hadn't seen since coming aboard... maybe it wouldn't be so bad when it came down to the punishment. Then he he smiled himself... yea right, the XO would probably go all anal on him as any Executive officer can be expected too.

He exited Ten-Forward knowing he'd have to deal with alot of high ranking people in the next couple of hours.

"Madden Jayce meets a new friend"

CMC Madden Jayce
Counselor Brian Elessidil

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

Madden must have walked up to and away from the door a dozen times before she finally pressed the tell, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. It almost startled her when the doors swung open and Brian Elessidil appeared. He looked... tired. Worn. Depression wafted from him. She couldn't help the small cringe of pity.

At first, Elessidil wasn't entirely sure who this woman who'd come by his quarters at this hour was. The face was only very vaguely familiar... "Chief Jayce," he said, his eyes widening slightly at the recognition kicked in. He'd talked to her only twice before: once telepathically while she was on the station, and once while he was still under the possession of the Dithparu. Neither could really be considered an ideal circumstance.

"Hey. I wanted to see how you were," she said, her voice still hoarse. It didn't sound like hers, really. It was low and harsh, almost as dry and chapped as her pale lips. She then released a small embarrassed laugh, looking down. "No, that's ah... not truly why I'm here. I thought maybe we could drown our ghosts together." She lifted the bottle. "Found it. In the quarters they've loaned to me. Not even opened. Even from the vineyard not too far from my, ah... childhood home. Thought this would be better than swallowing it all alone."

Despite being tired from a full day's worth of back-to-back counseling sessions and his own continued struggle with the after effects of the experience, Brian couldn't help but laugh. Drowning a few ghosts might not be such a bad idea tonight.

"Please, come in," he said, stepping back from the door. "I was just doing some reading." Then, in the spirit of mutual honesty, he amended the statement. "Well, I was trying to do some reading, I guess," he sighed. "Anyway, please, have a seat. I'll grab a couple glasses."

She nodded with a small smile as she sunk into one of the standard issue chairs in his common room. She watched him move into the dining area and Madden sighed softly, opening the bottle of Betazoid wine with her hands. The wine was strong, old, dry. Just the way she liked it. The scent floated up, into the room. She closed her eyes; it reminded her of her childhood, of her parent's lavish parties. She would lie awake in her bedroom on the top floor of the east wing of their large home and she would listen despite being so far away, so isolated; it would have been impossible for her to hear it, really, but she could listen anyway. Experience everything.

"How're you doing with everything?" she asked, softly. "Because, I tell you. I'm not doing so well."

She took a drink from the bottle before she looked up. He appeared in front of her, handed her a glass. She poured herself some, then filled his glass in turn. "It's the silence," she said. "That's driving me crazy. One of them had to have crawled inside me as the drugs were taking control. I..." She laughed softly as a tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it away. "I meant to kill myself. I did. I wanted... I was so afraid." Her voice drifted down to a whisper. "I meant to kill myself. I thought it was the only way. To keep them away from me."

Glass in hand, Brian took a seat on the couch and listened intently to Jayce's story. She had endured the Dithparu's relentless attack from before the Galaxy even arrived at DS9. The fact that she was still sane, yet alone managed to keep them at bay for so long, was nothing short of amazing. But it had obviously taken a toll on her.

"But you didn't. Thank whatever God you want that it didn't come to that," he said quietly. He almost wished he could empathically sense something of the experience from her, but Doctor Artim's pronouncement that he'd be without telepathic and empathic sense for a little while remained true. Perhaps it was better that way. He had enough to deal with on his own. "I remember when I first communicated with you how you fought to keep them away and maintain your control. It was no small feat, Chief."

She took a long drink from the wine. It stung a little as she swallowed. The wine stung her throat, and the tears stung her eyes. "I've been psi-rated P11 since I was eight. Or. At least I was. Now there's nothing. There's nothing. I can't cope with it. All my life. You see, all my life I wanted it to be normal, I wanted to live in the peace and the silence most people know. But I can't deal with this. I... I need something to happen in my head that's not just me." She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're off duty, you've been going through this all day, I just. I need someone who understands, I need a friend, I need to think about something and feel something else..."

She finished the rest of her drink, then reached for the bottle and poured another. It was going to her head; that was a little embarrassing, but she was beyond caring.

Brian slowly nodded in understanding. "Very few people understand what it's like for those of us with telepathic ability to be without it. The sense of isolation can be overwhelming. Don't worry about me being off duty, Chief. I don't mind having another Betazoid around to talk to myself," he said, taking a drink from his glass. He hadn't had Betazoid wine in years and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

"Hm... it's been like working with a blindfold counseling people the past couple days. You get used to having that extra insight into people to fall back on, and when it's suddenly not there . . . let's just say I have all the more respect for someone like Karyn who does it without that ability all the time. I've been trying to distract myself with my work, and the traditional Omirii meditations... all I can say is that I understand how hard it is, even if I'm not quite the exceptional case that you are." He wished he could do more to help her through this very difficult period, but for now sharing thoughts and some wine was the best he could do.

Madden finished the glass and slid it onto the coffee table before resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together. "Where do we go from here? Do we just sit here and hope the fog is lifted? That suddenly we can hear again? Like when the sound returns after an explosion?" She stifled a sob. "When I was in the P-O-W camp..." She let her voice trail off. "No. Never mind. I don't even know what to say about that." She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath, swallow the pain. "I'm sorry. You don't even know me, you just happened to pick up the phone. You were there and you..." She smiled slightly, lifting her head, looking at him as she carefully brushed the tears from her eyes, resolving to stop being such a forlorn little girl. She was too old for this. "You're a nice man."

"Thanks," the counselor replied, one side of his mouth curled upward in an ironic half-smile. He reached for the bottle and re-filled his glass. "Funny, I don't *feel* particularly *nice* these days. I've been on edge a lot more than I would prefer, experiencing lots of 'warm, fuzzy' emotions, going from irritated and frustrated with everyone and snapping back at the slightest thing, to completely falling apart to the point where I almost feel dehydrated from shedding so many tears." Belting back almost the entire glass of wine, he smacked his lips and grinned. "But I'm expected to set all that aside so I can listen to everyone else's problems… present company happily excepted," he said, raising his glass in a grand salute.

She managed a small smile. "Well. I'd sure hope so." She studied him. "I'm sorry you feel like that. It must be a tough spot, for a counselor. Suffering in your own right. Listening to the suffering of others. I can't imagine." She brushed back her bangs over her center part. "In the Camp, I often played the role of informal counselor. They just needed someone to listen. We'd whisper back and forth, over the bowls of disgusting, soured Cardassian food, often the first food they'd given us in days. We'd huddle together, largely because it was almost always freezing. I don't know how the Cardassians did it. I guess it was because they hate cold, they thought it was just a, ah… another piece of the elaborate torture. We'd huddle together, eat this terrible food with our dirty fingers, and murmur back and forth, comforting each other, trying to give one another hope, trying to keep one another sane."

Her fingers tapped against her knees, then she reached forward and retook her glass, hesitating only a moment before she picked up the bottle of wine and procured herself a refill.

"I don't know why I told you that," she said, blushing softly. Perhaps it was the wine. "I don't… I don't like to talk about it." She sipped her wine, looked up into Brian Elessidil's dark eyes. "Are…" She cleared her throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Right now, I'm seeing you," he replied, sounding as if, at least for the moment, that was all he needed. He twirled his glass in his hand and smirked, silently philosophizing on how different things looked when viewed through a glass of wine -- literally and figuratively. "The answer is 'no', but if there are any good men you'd care to recommend, feel free."

"Oh," she whispered, blushing fiercely. "Gah. I'm sorry. I should have… I'm sorry, that was a stupid question. Goes to prove how much I'm accustomed to having extrasensory abilities."

Brian smiled and looked at her with the gentlest of expressions. Whether it was the wine or the company or some combination of the two, he was feeling more warmth this evening than he had in weeks, and he found himself wanting to get to know this person all the more. The story of her childhood, the horror of her experience as a POW, her boldness of personality that brought her here tonight, each was a piece of her that interested him and that he wanted to learn more about.

"There are no stupid questions, Madden... if I may call you that. Not between friends, anyway... if I may call you *that*. And if you've got some more time, I've got some more wine," he said, glancing at the empty bottle on the table in front of them.

"Of course," she said, matching his full smile. It felt good to stretch her expression into it again. "To all of the above." His stood and retrieved another bottle of wine. After he poured she raised her glass. "Here's to new friends: the good result of a bad situation." Their glasses clinked together. "Cheers."

"Madden Jayce and the job offer"

CMC Madden Jayce
Commander Cass Henderson

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

Madden tucked the piece of hair behind her ear as she paused in front of the XO's office. She was far more... together than she'd been in the past few weeks. Her telepathic abilities had all but returned, though the shift from silence to the background noise of other's thoughts was a startling shift -- she'd thought it would be easy, but in the beginning, the noise was a lot louder than she had ever thought; and in reality, she'd never really thought about it.

She'd spoken, on occasion, with one of her teachers on Betazed. Marnie and she had kept in contact since Madden was eight years old, which was a blessing, at least on her end of things. Marnie had counseled her to take this as a blessing -- it presented the opportunity to realise exactly what it was she had. You never know, Marnie said, you never know exactly what it is and what it means until it's gone.

She was right, of course.

Madden had physically been recovering. She was drinking less. Eating more. Was looking a little less like a ghost, though she was still shaky and found herself shying away from too much contact, too much noise.

The doors opened and she stepped through, and clicked her heels together as she stood at attention. "You requested to see me sir?" she asked.

"At ease. Come in and have a seat, Chief," Cass replied, swiveling in his chair to face the high ranked enlisted. Depressing a key on his work station, he switched off the monitor. It was nice to have the LCARS terminal working again. The aftermath of the Dithparu invasion had left the 'mind' of the ship as non-functional as the minds of the telepathic and empathic crew members.

His own sixth sense had been dulled over the previous months since Taru had purged the area around Deep Space Five of any trace of psionic power. In a way, he had felt even more exposed without that extra something in his perception than he had when his entire will had been subverted by the Dithparu dissident, Kazu.

As the experienced command master chief took her seat, Cass wondered how she was handling the gradual recovery of her own telepathic ability. After being stranded for so long on DS5, and then attempting to end her life to escpae the constant Dithparu assault, she had been through more in a few short weeks than most members of Starfleet did in their entire careers.

"How are you feeling, Chief?"

"Sir, I'm feeling fine," she replied. Then frowned a moment. "Well. Better at any rate. Removed enough so that I can look back at the situation and find a bit of... good, I suppose. Always has to be done, when you're involved in something like that. It's the only way to keep your mind about you, to keep from slipping into the abyss." She half-smiled. "I haven't had the best luck in my career. So..." She shrugged slightly. "Sir. How have you fared in this?"

"Decent enough. It's no secret that I'm barely a P3, so my mental transition has been pretty simple," he shrugged. Aside from a slight feeling of heightened awareness, it was business as usual. And of course, there was no real heightened awareness involved, just a return of what had been there before. "The biggest strain for me has been adjudicating all the conflicts between crew who had... altercations when one of them was possessed."

She nodded. "P3. That's fairly strong -- a human is considered a strong telepath at P2." She sighed. "For better or for worse, I sat out the altercations. Though they're beginning to find that I had some sort of immunity to the Dithparu anyway, so the attempt wasn't necessary." She brushed the hair back again. "And here I was thinking I was just well trained." She offered a thin smile. "If you all hadn't come, I probably would have starved to death, gone insane, or both."

"Another reason that this whole mess has been worth it," Henderson nodded in response, shifting himself forward in his chair. "Did you have any plans for where you'll be going, now that the invasion has been dispersed?"

Her mouth scrunched together, twisted up, and she shook her head. "Honestly, no. I've, ah... I think some people are encouraging me to consider taking a leave of absence. Trauma and all of that. But I'm hoping to stay in the fleet. I suppose I'll just go wherever they need me; I put in a request, but no one has gotten back to me. You know Starfleet. If it's not immediately life or death, they'll push it back. I'll probably end up a passenger here for months to come, taking up space, being rather useless."

"Well, we certainly can't have that. Starfleet's short on people as it is. I'm sure you've heard that because of recent revelations, recruitment numbers are at an all time low." Cass turned his monitor on and brought up a new screen, opening up the crew manifest. Pausing to scratch his ear, he looked back over at Chief Jayce. "It just so happens that out CMC decided to retire last week. I think the Dithparu were enough to convince her that exploration wasn't worth it anymore. A shame, really. But, as it seems you're made of sterner stuff, the job is yours if you'd like it. I certainly can't think of a better use for you."

Madden cocked her head to the side. "A better use for me?" she questioned, her smile crooked. "If you're offering me the job, Commander, I suppose I accept. What the hell else am I going to do? Is there anything you can fill me in on? Regarding the enlisted crew on this ship?"

Cass pursed his lips as he thought about it. What could you really say about such a huge group of people? Chief Westwell had mostly kept to herself, so there wasn't too much to go on. "They're a pretty diverse group. Keep an eye on Chief Mirapoints. There's a reason they call him "Tim the Terror". Your predecessor's reports were usually pretty short, so either that means she wasn't very good at writing reports, or you'll have an easy time of it. Oh, and T'Shani... I mean Lieutenant a'Akledorian, tends to keep her own people pretty well in hand."

He silently chided himself for using T'Shani's given name at work. However close they were, lines had to be drawn and protocol maintained. Perhaps with all that was going on, he was slipping into bad habits. He'd have to watch himself for that.

"And a'Akledorian... she's... Marines?" As his nod she inhaled. "That's fine. Marines and I don't necessarily get along too well. As far as my predecessor goes, I have a tradition of being rather hard core and hands on. I'll require that I sit in on all senior staff meetings and that I have regular access to you and, if necessary, the Captain. Enlisted officers make up a vast majority of the Galaxy's crew and I'll be sure to be a proportionate presence. And, as a small aside, I'm excellent at writing reports."

"To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what Chief Westwell did with her time here. She certainly didn't spend it in any of the staff meetings," he said, trying very hard to recall the last time he'd seen Elizabeth Westwell before her departure. "I hope you have small feet, Miss Jayce, because the shoes your filling aren't very big. Do you have any concerns you'd like to voice before I enter you into the manifest?"

"No. Not particularly. I just hope that I'm a suitable addition to the crew."

Henderson nodded, and entered the required information. "We'll find out, won't we?" he asked, rhetorically. "Welcome to the USS Galaxy, Chief Jayce."

She stood and took his offered hand. "Thank you, Commander. I look forward to the assignment."

"Tea with the Captain"

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu
2nd Lieutenant Branwen London

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Branwen tugged the hem of her tunic. It was a big day for her; today she would finally meet the captain. Of course she had seen him before in passing. But they had never talked; he'd never even acknowledged she was here. She had no idea how he thought about marines, not all captains liked them. Or for that matter, marine shrinks. So she was just a bit nervous, just a bit. Another check for her hair and uniform and a deep breath and she was ready.

The com unit inset in the door buzzed, and M'Kantu's voice said, "Enter."

Inside, the office was less like the spotless Starfleet offices she was familiar, a stack of padds and two coffee cups - one partially full - occupied the top of the desk, the furniture was shifted just enough away from the proscribed Fleet pattern of placement to be noticeable, and there was a faint, spicy odor to the air, as if someone was cooking something in the next room. M'Kantu was standing, waiting for her, a meter inside the door. "Lieutenant," he nodded.

"Eeek!" She was so tense and focused on the desk area that she had not noticed the captain standing next to the door. So Branwen jumped out of her skin when he suddenly spoke. "Oh dear, I am so sorry Sir." She blushed profusely.

"Don't be, Lieutenant," Daren nodded. "I believe that there are days when every Commanding Officer wants to close his door and scream - why should we be the only ones allowed that privilege?" He waved towards the chairs by the desk. "Please, have a seat. Coffee? Tea? "

"Thank you, captain. You are too kind. Tea please, diolch." She bit her lip, now she was even using welsh words talking to him. Nerves would be the ruin of her one day.

A few programmed commands later, she had a mug of steaming tea and the Captain some more coffee. "So, Lieutenant," he began after they were both seated. "Is there something you want to talk about now that you're here? I hate giving the same 'Welcome to the Galaxy' speech every time someone arrives."

"I have been here a while sir." She said. "I wasn't sure if you were pleased with having me on board. Not all navy personnel are, sir." She said respectfully.

"You're part of the crew, Lieutenant. Ultimately what I like or don't like is unimportant, because I have to see everyone the same way." He leaned back in his chair. "But I don't hold any particular animosity towards the Marines as a whole, or any individual Marines that are aboard."

"Thank you, sir." Bran said with a small smile. "I appreciate it that you support me, sir. The marines are starting to open up to me, and I even have some navy patients. I only have one problem, captain."

Daren thought about laughing but held off, waiting to see what the problem was. "If you've only got one problem, Lieutenant, then you're already ahead of the game. What is it?"

"It's Lieutenant Baile, sir. And I am not running to you to spite him, captain.' Her welsh accent was thick now. "He won't see a therapist and he says he is exempt because so much in his record is sealed. Now he doesn't like me, and I don't want him see me against his will, that wouldn't work. But I think he needs a therapist on the ship that keeps an eye on him. Just like with everyone else sir. For his own mental state of health." She said hotly.

Well, that was simple enough. "The Lieutenant sees a counselor, just like everyone else. No exceptions. There are sealed sections of my records, I see one. I think more of Commander Henderson's record is sealed than open, and he sees one. There are at least twenty crewmen aboard with varying degrees of access restrictions on their records, and they all see a counselor - in some cases *because*of those sealed sections in their service jackets." He set his coffee down. "If he refuses again, send him to Commander Henderson. He doesn't want this issue to formally make its way to me."

Branwen was relieved. "Thank you sir, thank you for supporting me. I will do so. And I sure hope he listens." She was so relieved that she didn't notice she was rambling on. "I know it is tough on him. He has been in the Marine Corps his whole life, and he has all this experience, and then they place a girl fresh out of the academy above him."

"If he hasn't gotten used to the idea of taking orders from individuals younger, older, taller, or shorter than he is by now, then I think it's high time he started, Lieutenant," Daren observed. "It's part of the job."

"Yes sir." She hesitated. "Was I wrong to tell you sir? I don't want to be a tattletale. I really didn't know what to do."

"Next time, you might want to try talking to your CO and then Commander Henderson first," Daren advised. "But higher command exists for a great many reasons, and turning to it when confronted with a problem is one of those reasons."

"Yes sir. I will I promise. It's tough figuring everything out. But I am not complaining." She said quickly. "I like learning new things, sir."

"Then keep doing it, Lieutenant. When you stop, then you... stop."

"I won't, Sir." She said determined. "Anything else, sir?"

"Probably," M'Kantu conceded, "but whatever it is can wait. Do you have any questions?"

She knew it was not her place to contradict a commanding Officer and yet she couldn't help herself. "With all due respect sir, if there is something you would like to ask me, I would rather hear it now. Otherwise I would just worry about it."

"Nothing critical, Lieutenant; certainly nothing you ought to worry about excessively. I simply wanted to talk about training."

"Training, sir?" she asked. "What do you mean exactly?"

"The Marine contingent aboard the ship is, for most purposes, isolated, Lieutenant. They eat, sleep, train, and recreate in a bubble, isolated from the rest of the crew. That's a problem, albeit an easily corrected one. I want to schedule some training exercises with various ships' departments. Not," Daren leaned forward, "competitions between them, although I'm sure there will always be an element of that, but actual training sessions where the Marines and the ship's personnel work together. Is that something that you have any thoughts on?"

"Shouldn't you be talking to my boss about this, sir? I think it is a good idea. We are Starfleet after all, why should we be so different. I would love to train together with security for example and exchange expertise. And I wouldn't mind helping the rest of the crew keep in shape, captain."

"I'm meeting with Commander Henderson later today, and then he and your superior will be meeting about the training sessions. I expect that you'll hear more about them after that - if you don't get roped into helping design and run them."

Bran shifted her feet nervously but decided to speak her mind again. "Sir, wouldn't it be easier to just meet with the four of us?"

Daren nodded. "It would - but welcome to the wonderful world of scheduling issues, Lieutenant. I have sixteen things that all have to be finished before the end of shift today, twice that many tomorrow, and about that many every day this week. Commander Henderson is, if anything, busier than that, since he's trying to run interference for me, and I don't doubt that your CO is busy herself. Getting all of us together - at least initially - isn't possible right now. But getting some of us together is, hence the separated nature of the meetings."

"I see, of course." She smiled. "If I can help, just let me know. I should probably not be keeping you any longer, sir."

"Finish your tea, at least, Lieutenant - there's time for that. And you still haven't answered my questions - was there something that you wanted to ask me?"

"Thank you, sir." She tried to sip the hot tea quicker not wanting to waste his time. "Not really, there was only the thing about Baile. And I guess you have answered how you think about marines and marine shrinks, sir."

Daren nodded and set his cup down. "The Galaxy's a good ship. She has a... well, certainly the most... different... crew I've ever served with, anyway, but she's a good ship. There's plenty of room for you and your fellow Marines aboard her, both literally and metaphorically."

"Thank you sir, that means a lot to me." She smiled. "So far I like it here a great deal." Almost burning her tongue she finished her tea.

"Then let's hope that it stays that way, Lieutenant." Daren set his mug back down again. "You know, usually it's the people that I'm chewing out that are willing to injure themselves to leave quickly."

She blushed profusely again. "I am sorry. You said you were busy, sir. I thought that was my cue to leave."

"A hint, perhaps, but not an order," he nodded, and stood. "I expect we'll be seeing each other at those training meetings eventually - I look forward to it."

She grinned widely. "Me too sir. And I will let you get back to work now." She saluted crisply and made ready to leave.

"Living La Vida Binary"

Principal Characters

Lieutenant (JG) Victor Krieghoff
2nd Lt Branwen London

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 35
Outside Security Main

"Hello there, my friend." Branwen linked her arm through Victor's. She had been waiting for him when he came of work. "Come on, you and I are going to have some fun, and bond some more." She gave him a radiant smile.

Victor looked at her for a moment, frowned, and shook his head. "No, Lieutenant, we're not." He reached down and removed her arm.

"Yes, we are. I know you have a break now. And like everybody else on the ship you need to relax badly. Come on, I have prepared a holodeck for us." She gave him a pleading look.

"I see you haven't gotten your hearing checked yet, Lieutenant," Victor observed. He wasn't certain what her attempt at looking like a pre-adolescent canine was supposed to accomplish in conjunction with the request. Perhaps he was supposed to think it was cute and acquiesce to the request because of that? Maybe if he'd had a dog when he was a child he would have understood, but since he hadn't - they always ran in terror or attacked him - he just let the emptiness inside him swallow up the thought along with everything else.

"I said," he tried again slowly and distinctly, mindful of his idea the last time the Lieutenant had persisted in this kind of behavior. "No, Lieutenant, we're not." Perhaps that would make a difference.

"Is something wrong with your voice?" Bran asked worried. "Did you take your physical yet? Did you see Commander Dallas?" She asked while she still wanted to take him along. "Please Victor. As a favor."

Apparently not.

"There's nothing wrong with my voice, Lieutenant. The problem seems to be your hearing." He began to walk towards the turbolifts again. "No. Yes. No. No."

"There is nothing wrong with my hearing, Victor." She followed him. "Does that mean you have seen Commander Dallas?"

Maybe if he did what Lieutenant Grey used to do and held up a padd with the words written on it, that would do the trick? "Like I just said, Lieutenant, no, I didn't. I saw someone else, instead. We all have to, remember? Alien parasites inside people's heads?" Maybe she'd missed that whole incident somehow, although Victor didn't think it possible.

"Yeah," Bran said softly. "I know. I am glad you talked to someone Victor. I was worried about you."

"Pointless," he observed as he shifted so a pair of ratings could edge along the opposite wall of the corridor from him unobstructed. "They should have spent the time talking to Lieutenant Hunter."

"Who and why?" She asked. "Why not you?"

"The Counselors. Because it was her mind and body the Diparthu used to torture the children, kill people and invade my mind, and her mind that sustained the link while I killed the first Diparthu and made the other flee my mind, the link, and the Lieutenant's mind." He shrugged. "She may be half-Vulcan, but that wasn't enough to keep her from being hurt in the process."

Bran looked at him. "You are worried about her."

"I'm supposed to, Lieutenant. That's my job. To make certain that nothing hurts or kills the rest of you so you can do yours. Don't make it into something it isn't."

Bran just smiled. "Sure, Victor. Come on, I have made a really cool combat program for us to try out."

The padd idea sounded better and better. "I don't train with other people, Lieutenant, for the same reason that I don't spar with them. Live, or in a simulation."

"I don't mind watching you." She said never giving up.

Victor stopped and turned his head to look at her. "That doesn't prevent the problem, Lieutenant."

"What problem?"

"I don't spar with people as a rule, and don't let them see me fight for the same reason," he said quietly, his words scrubbed clean of emotional context, just simple, stated facts, "because if at some point I have to fight you I the line of duty, it makes no sense to have either trained you to be a better fighter, or to have let you see me fighting. Either one reduces the chance that I'll be able to stop you in any way other than lethally, and the two together guarantee that I'll need to kill you to stop you."

"Victor we are on the same side. And besides if you would see me fight, you can figure out my weak spots. You shouldn't worry so much." She said gently.

"There are no 'sides,' Lieutenant. I've had to deal with people in Starfleet uniforms that were selling information to the Orions, that were stealing Starfleet property for sale on the Black Market, and that had decided that raping a Cardassian woman was perfectly acceptable because they belonged to the winning side in the War and she belonged to the losing one. I didn't have to kill anyone while they were possessed by the Diparthu, but if it had been necessary, I would have done that too. Whatever happy little white wooly ba-ba world you live in, where there are 'sides' and anyone in the same clothes as you is automatically on yours, it isn't my world. If living there makes you happy, then by all means, do so. Just don't expect me to."

"I am glad I don't live in your world, Victor," she said softly. "And no, I didn't have a cushioned easy life until now. I have seen more hardship then most people on the ship. You can bullshit me all you want, but I can feel the need in you to make friends, to have someone care for you. Someone you can trust. Don't even bother to deny it. You know I don't believe you." She stared straight at him.

Victor stopped and looked at her for a moment, head tilted to one side. Had that been an attempt at a joke? It didn't matter of course, but it was always nice to get these things right. "Lieutenant," he finally said, "it isn't of any particular concern to me one way or the other what you, or anyone else, want to think about me and what I may or may not need. I am what I am, nothing more. If I worried about other people's opinions of me then I wouldn't be what I am, I'd be something different. No one wants me to worry about things like that, Lieutenant - it's just not prudent. Not for me, and not for the rest of you."

"I think you could be so much more." She said softly.

No, she really didn't understand. Victor thought about showing her, but decided the court martial wasn't worth it. "I know what I can be, Lieutenant," he returned quietly. "That's why I don't let myself become it."

"You are afraid of one aspect of your being. That way you also repress all the good that is in you. It's a shame, Victor."

Victor frowned down at the Marine. It couldn't be that all Marines were like this. Gunny Goldstein hadn't been; she'd understood. Maybe it was just Marine officers? "I'm not a diamond, Lieutenant. I don't have hundreds of facets, each one a different aspect of me." He shook his head. "People complicate things too much, make things far more complex than they really are most of the time. That's not the way the universe works; the universe is binary, people are binary. Good/bad. Alive/dead. Right/wrong. Prey/Predators. You're prey - I'm not. As a predator, I have two choices: I can watch over the sheep I'm given, protect them from the other things like me that circle out there in the dark.... or I can be one of those monsters in the darkness, waiting for one of you to stray too far from the light. That's it, just those two. I made my choice, I know what I am. Wanting to be something different is pointless, because I neither am nor can be, anything else. Except the monster most!
of the crew believes me to be."

"You're not a monster. Believe me, I have known monsters." Her eyes clouded over for a moment. "You are not."

"Of course not, Lieutenant." He was, Victor decided, going to get a padd that day and start carrying it to type out answers when people didn't understand him. "I just said that people *think* I'm one. If I were a monster, they'd *know.*"

"Yeah, but the way you talk, I sometimes doubt that you believe it yourself," she said.

"That I'm a monster?" He shook his head. "No, I'm not - not right now. But I am a predator, a killer - and I could be a monster. If I let myself."

"You seem so scared of letting that side out, Victor," she observed.

Maybe he should get the padd now? No, that wouldn't solve the issue. But this would. "Go talk to Commander Dallas, Lieutenant. Ask her that question and see what she says. If she answers, then you'll know why it's a bad idea."

"I will. I just don't think you would hurt somebody," she said.

"In this case, Lieutenant, I think that I'm going to have to trust my judgment on the issue... because I can, I have, and there is always the possibility that I will again."

"I think you are exaggerating, Victor. Knowing Commander Dallas she would pull you off duty if you were really dangerous or had been dangerous."

"Actually, Lieutenant, I think that she would shoot me through the head from the greatest distance possible to still ensure a certain kill, " he replied tonelessly. "But that's neither here nor there."

"You are only saying that because she is your therapist. It is not unusual to be angry with them, you know."

"Lieutenant, I've explained that several times. If I were angry with Commander Dallas - or anyone else - I would have killed them. Since I haven't, I'm not." He frowned again. "I don't get angry. It isn't healthy for anyone near me."

"Yeah sure," she grinned. "If you really want to come across as a hard guy you have to practice harder, Victor. I don't believe it, so if you just go with me to the holodeck, I might give up pestering you sooner."

Victor supposed that it was possible she'd dealt with Marines who were more dangerous than he was, there had to be some, statistically speaking, but he doubted that any of them were really *like* him. "I don't have to practice what I am, Lieutenant, it comes naturally. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some messages to check, and a few calls to try and put through the ionic interference."

"I will try again next week." Bran said letting him leave. "I won't give up."

Descent

"Sins of the Past"

By

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Appearances by:
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor
Commanding Officer, Deep Space 5

Vice-Admiral Sindar,
Starfleet Intelligence

Phillipa Louvois
JAG Director

Commander Henderson (unauthorized)
Executive Officer, USS Galaxy

*****

Date: November 28, 2382
Location: Deep Space 5 Operations Deck

"Incoming message for you, Admiral. Priority 2 scrambled."

Opposite the communications officer who announced the incoming packet, over the main central hub of the center unit, Olivia Proctor had perked up from her inspection of operations functions.

Hands clasped behind her back, she carried herself with haughtiness and pride as she met the young ensign's gaze. Sheila Harrison, a raw recruit fairly fresh out of Starfleet Academy, cast her eyes downward at the beaded look Proctor gave her. She hoped her sleight wouldn't be noticed as she touched the earpiece with a single forefinger, in mock effort to focus on the transmission. Not that it was needed. The ion storms had abated enough to have begun receiving long-overdue communications from relay stations, buoys, and command operations from Deep Space 7 on through to the Sol system. Admiral Abrik had left a rather long-winded message about commandeering and overturning orders from SFHQ. Being that it was a message and not direct contact, Proctor had ignored it.

"Source and signature?" Many messages had come in from beyond the borders, and she had to prioritize each as they came in. Even priority 2 scrambleds.

Harrison keyed a transponder verification code in, and took a breath.

"It's the USS Delaware, sir. Vice Admiral Sindar wishes to speak with you directly."

Proctor nodded tersely, head bowing up and down with vigor. The call she'd been waiting for.

"Put it through to my Ready Room, Ensign."

"Yes, ma'am."

Olivia marched up and away into her personal offices.

*****

USS Galaxy
Captain's Ready Room

[Captain, incoming message from the USS Delaware. Priority 2 scrambled]

Setting aside an updated duty roster report by Commander Henderson, Daren turned to face his desk, rotating the terminal that bore the mark of the UFP flag.

"Send it through, Lieutenant." The image blinked away, to be replaced by a seated Fleet Captain in curling blond fronds.

"Fleet Captain Louvois. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?" Daren seated himself, pulling his steaming mug of tea towards his mouth, blowing gently as he sipped at it.

Phillipa Louvois's expression remained hardened. The lines had etched a little deeper, her hair was little greyer, but her eyes remained as full of life as ever. She was legendary in certain circles, after having set a precedent with giving the former Commander Data a declaration of sentience almost twenty years previous. It propelled her to a promotion as lead Judge Advocate General of the sector.

[I'm afraid you'll have to do a lot for me, Captain. To cut with the formalities, I'm officially relieving you of command of the Galaxy.]

M'Kantu almost dropped his saucer, but managed to avoid the embarrassment. Instead, he placed the shaking wares on his desk.

[This is effective immediately, pending the results of the investigation into your last two assignments. You're to report to Deep Space 5, where you're to have preliminary statements taken by the station JAG contingent until our arrival in two days time.]

"Yes, ma'am." Blood pounded in his ears like thunder. Everything seemed so far away.

[I'm sorry, Daren. Be sure to select defending counsel, unless you wish one appointed to you by Admiral Proctor's staff.]

The dark-skinned captain shook his head. He knew Phillipa was giving him a headstart, and he accepted it. "Thank you, Captain. I will." He blinked several times, still in disbelief. To lose his command, as well? He could understand investigations and hearings, but why lose his ship?

[Commander Henderson is to take command of the Galaxy. I've approved a field promotion to Captain for the time being, at least until the investigation is complete. He is to continue on to Starbase Atlantis as planned.] She paused to let him gain his bearings. She never did get used to this kind of business, but it was her job; it had to be done by someone. [Again, Daren, I'm sorry it had to come to this. See you in two days. Louvois out.]

The former Captain fell back into his chair and closed his eyes.

*****

Cassius Henderson's Quarters

[Commander Henderson. Incoming message from the USS Delaware. Priority 2 scrambled.]

"I'll take it here, Lieutenant." Cass cast a quick glance towards his kitchen, where the water could be heard running idly as Ekoma washed up after breakfast. Jogging to his desk, he switched on the terminal, to be presented with the image of a Vulcan Admiral, hands clasped in front of his dark tunic.

"Vice-Admiral Sindar." The Vulcan was a key player in the sector. No longer a field agent, but logistics and operations handler for this region of space.

[Commander Henderson, I am forwarding you a data packet of critical information that is required to be acted upon immediately. Review and commit to memory. You will be contacted shortly for follow-up and immediate briefing on the action.]

Cassius depressed the signal encryption key. In his position of Strategic Operations, being deliberately vague and cryptic was a way of life. The panel lit up upon completion of transfer, at which point the Vulcan merely nodded, and terminated the transmission.

The Galaxy XO opened the packet and began to read.

*****

Captain's Quarters
Deck 8
20 Minutes later

"M'Kantu to Henderson." Daren had completed packing what he needed. A small suitcase, with personal grooming materials and keepsakes and a change of civilian clothes. If he didn't return to the ship, he'd have his goods transferred to his next assignment, wherever it may be.

[Henderson here, Captain.]

"Meet me on the bridge, Commander."

[Aye, sir. On my way.]

*****

Main Bridge
Deck 1
Alpha Shift

M'Kantu entered the bridge from the main turbolift to the rear.

"Captain on the Bridge!" He waved down the Caitian Tactical Officer currently rewiring the arch. The Main Bridge had taken most of the overload damage his coffee order had relegated when it surged through the primary systems to burn everything out. Many panels were still dark; ODN fibers were extended from the ceiling in other places. The entire Operations station was unseated and laying on the carpeted floor beside the helm.

"At ease, everyone." He looked around as he stepped down the ramp, to find Commander Henderson waiting patiently nearby, at his own station.

Daren nodded to him, and walked past to take up a spot just ahead of the dismantled Ops console.

He admonished himself. He wasn't going to second-guess what he did and why he did it. He was going to have enough to ponder when he was thrown into a political arena in two days.

"Commander Henderson." Cass had been watching his Captain carefully, wondering why he had been called here. Something was up, obviously. He noted the small valise the CO was carrying. But why the big show if a minor trip to the station?

"Aye, sir?" He rose to attention and came to stand next to M'Kantu.

Reaching into his inner vest pocket, Daren retrieved a small box. Opening it, he retrieved two small gold pips.

"Commander, I have been hereby granted to award you with a field promotion to Captain as of this date and time, effective immediately." Reaching up to the XO's collar, he unfastened the dark metal fastener, and replaced it with the gold ones.

"Also, computer, accept transfer of command to Captain Cassius Henderson, authorization M'Kantu, Delta-Delta-One."

Henderson was taken aback, blinking in confusion.

"Captain?"

[USS Galaxy now under the command of Captain Cassius Henderson as of stardate 50511.28]

"I stand relieved." Daren extended his hand to Cass, who reluctantly shook it. "Good luck, Captain."

"Sojourners: The Historian's thoughts"

Audio Log Record: Excerpt File "The Historian's thoughts"
Circa November 2382

Begin Log:

Well that was a fiasco. This is the first log I've gotten around to since the Diptharu took over the ship. Surprised myself I took this long, but I had alot of work to attend to. Recording and compiling current events on the ship and in the Federation itself. In all considerations, I wonder if the takeover could have been handled better, and not just because I lost a toe in the duration. But then, what can you do when you have no control over your own actions. Those parasitic beings were killing crew in their attempt. Probably traumatising for those involved. Heard there was mandatory counselling for all of the crew, but I never got around to mind. As far as I know it's still scheduled.

Wether it's a good or a bad thing, Dr. Jack Slen is recovering nicely from that broken nose my forehead gave him. I've heard they probably won't have to change is personell file picture. Still the disgrace of hitting a fellow crewmate though. I wish it didn't have to come to that, but at least Rash'dar felt Jack's pain.

Meh, whatever. End Log.

End Log:

Begin Log:

Another supplemental log in addition to the previous one. I'm not sure I like Admiral Proctor very much. I know she's had something to do with Captain M'Kantu's departure. I've barely spoken to the captain, but he seems like a good man. But apparently, as part of my historical recordkeeping role, I have found that he had the Admiral thrown in the brig for disrupting negotiations with the Hydrans at Mirusa. Something tells me she was purposely trying to start s! omething. I've always hated extremists. I mean, how has it come to this impass in our culture? Hawks and Doves? From what I can tell, Captain M'Kantu is like me, on the fence.

Something tells me that Admiral Proctor probably has access to my audio logs, due to this being a personal project instead of private logs. But in addition to a disclaimer, this is also a symbol of my being a man who stands by his beleifs. And Captain M'Kantu is the kind of guy that I think shares that mindset.

History shows us that there is a time for aggression, and a time for tact, and as a historian I say this is a time for tact, patience, and virtue. End Log.

Begin Log:

Well, back to Atlantis....that's a wierd sounding phrase. Well, I'd like to speak with this "Captain" Henderson when I get a chance. Seems like an interesting guy, maybe. Hell I dunno. Maybe he knows something about Dr. Fienberg's disappearance.

Oh christ, why can't I forget about that damned doctor. Why do I feel obligated to Commodore Savage to solve this mystery anyway. I feel like I've accidentally drawn myself into something I should keep my big nose out of. Meh, I'll ask if I remember to. End log.

End Log:

"Effects"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

****

USS Galaxy
Cora's Quarters

From day one Cora knew full well she'd have to take chances. It had been more than just some leap of faith which led her to a career in Intelligence to begin with. Not something decided on a whim.

The 'Butterfly effect' as some called it managed to engulf Dobryin fully within its grasp. By normal standards she was desensitized to things that would phase any normal person. Then again how could Cora even think her life was normal when every move, reaction or simple act of being was watched closely by SFI or manipulated by that same entity.

In and of itself that is a risk she'd accepted simply by wearing the uniform. Watched closer because she was one of them, yes but that didn't change the fact they were aware of everything, no matter what. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last Cora had been responsible for acts that left more than a mere sour taste in her mouth.

Nightmares plagued her sleep pattern. Under other circumstances it would be nothing more than an annoyance. This time it was more than that.

Images.names.faces.

Every time it appeared time came to a complete standstill, a moment when Cora remembered nothing yet could recall everything. Memories of waking up in sickbay, very disoriented but afraid to slip back into sleep. The only way to truly describe it was like she'd been sucked into a black hole never to be spit out the other side.

Sure that particular day happened over 4 months ago but time had not allowed it to age, unlike some other things. Lt Dobryin wanted her life back. Sick and tired of reliving moments she'd rather forget yet couldn't. Feeling the distant ghost of absolute hate and need for ultimate revenge that her possessor had borne.

Caught squarely between doing her job and looking for ways to avoid Cassius Henderson because of what happened. Despite the fact he too had been under Dithparu influence at the time, Cora vividly recalled his features, his hands. Part of her refused to believe another soul had actually done the dirty work that nearly ended her life.

Overall the experience had changed her. Its fire molded Cora by a will all its own. What was done could not be undone. Certainly there were permanent effects from the incident but no one had been able to give her an idea of their full extent just yet.

That thought alone was chilling. Cora let out a deep sigh before letting her eyes wander to the stars once more. She was due back on duty shortly.

“Searching through the static” Part Three

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer
Lieutenant (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell - Engineer
Turan Trelar Quentite Ambassador – Engineer trainee, under supervision of Lt Eshe
Lieutenant Michael Jamson - Operations Officer

(This is set directly after the Engineering department JP “Scooby Gang”)

***En route to Main Engineering***

"Have you been on the Galaxy for long?" Jamson was interested in trying to make a conversation with Lieutenant Eshe. They were on their way to engineering, in order to modify some of the sensors that were blocked by the strange interference, and the EPS conduits. He hasn't seen her before on the Galaxy and was wondering why. After all, spending your time on a ship for awhile, you do catch a face here and there, and before you know it, you start recognizing people. If not by their faces, then by a distinctive move, uniform, clothing, or even by the most stupid, unimportant and occasional routines, such as remembering deck listing, duty shifts and meetings at the turbolift.

Dhani cast him a confused glance as they walked down the corridor. A little hurt and offended that he didn’t remember her she remained silent for a moment, she was also still extremely agitated over Roswell and was trying to calm down and return to a more peaceful outlook. But then the past two years on this ship seemed to negate any peacefulness in the young woman so she replied slightly snappy, “I *returned*,” she stressed, “a few weeks ago. I have served with the USS Galaxy since 2380.” She informed him slightly clipped.

"2380?" Michael was also confused, not realizing who Dhani really was. He returned to the Galaxy in 75' and then again at 81'. If she was already onboard, he should have known her by now. This was really odd, since Jamson had a great photographic memory, and could easily recognize people. "A few weeks ago, you say?" Michael felt the young lieutenant was a bit agitated. He wondered if it was Lieutenant Roswell, or his questions. "I apologize. I shouldn't have asked. I have a habit of, sometimes, minding in other peoples business."

Dhani looked at him, a side glance really, as they continued towards engineering. She was irritated but she knew that it wasn’t his fault that she felt like snapping something, or someone, in two. She flashed him a small smile, a peace offering really, although it was strained and probably came out more like a scowl. She shrugged brushing off his comment. “That’s fine I guess. Maybe someone should mind my ‘business’. I certainly don’t!” she said flippantly.

Jamson wanted to return the smile but as much as he felt comfortable next to Dhani, which was quite peculiar since he thought he just met her, he also felt a bit uneased. He was going through his memories, trying to find her face but couldn't, and it bugged him even more. He had the urge to ask away, and maybe one of his queries would hit the target, mid centre. An inner struggle was now forming inside of him. He had to know who she was, solve that mystery, but according to a certain counsellor on the Galaxy, that would be rude, 'inappropriate'. He had to let go, for the time being, they had a mission ahead, and hopefully it would keep him busy. 'Humans...' he muttered. He was human too, but social behaviour was sometimes so complex, he wished he could be like his childhood friends, a true Klingon. Then he would brutally inquire and get what he desired, without any sort of refinement or finesse but in a simple, passionate, vulgar manner.

The turbolifts' doors opened and revealed the renowned corridor that lead to engineering. Still trying to avoid thoughts of Dhani, Michael unsuccessfully attempted to shift his mind to other important and vital matters, such as their mutual task of enabling the Galaxy to 'see' again. The infamous commanding officer was about to raise the white flag, the clear sign of defeat when he decided to share his thought with lieutenant Eshe. "I am embarrassed to say...or admit, that I don't remember your face. I must be-" Jamson had a hard time "Getting old...".

“I sure as hell remember you though!” she said as they came to the doors of engineering. She stepped through as they opened and looked back at him as he seemed to ponder what she had said. She almost grinned at him before spinning back round and continuing towards the master systems display console.

'What?!' Jamson translated his headwork into a puzzled look. Was she taunting or teasing him? He didn't understand. Did she recognize him from a joint past, or incident? Maybe she served under him once, on the USS Ranger, or Station Beta II? This wasn't making any sense. 'Enough!' Jamson cried inside his mind, he had better things to do then to satisfy his own sick wishes. He was once a Starfleet captain, and with all the experience he had gained in many years of service, he couldn't let go of his emotions and stay focus on their goals. How shameful. This was pathetic, he was pathetic. Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and passing his fingers across his hair was the first step of relaxing, another trick he learned from Shivok, the Galaxy's first counsellor, and Jamson's only trusted psychologist.

*Meanwhile on the Bridge*

Nara didn't look up. She just kept looking at the screen. She was left alone with this man that could break her in two if he wanted. She wanted to do that to him before he had a chance. But she had some instinct deep inside saying she better not.

Turan turned towards Lt. Roswell. Dhani left them both alone. So according to the chain of command, the Lt. was his superior. “So what do you expect me to do?” he asked her.

She closed her eyes. Even at best times, it was a bad idea to ask such a thing. She had one charge as it was, and Saia was hardly demanding. She shook her head not thinking of a better response than to snap, "I expect you to know that."

She expected him to know that? So why did she think he asked? There seemed to be something deeper – not a problem with the chain of command. This rather smelled like a personal problem. First, all looked like a personal dislike between Dhani and Nara. But now her hostility turned towards him. Turan tried to figure out why but didn't come to a conclusion. “You're not happy I'm here with you, aren't you?” he addressed her.

"I'm not happy I'm here." She grumbled in response.

“I am.” Turan explained. “I had to beg for a long time until they gave me a chance to prove useful. I think without Dhani I would still spend my day looking out the window in 10-4. I came aboard because I wanted to study starship design. They thought it would be good to find out how things are handled in deep space. The named me ambassador. But I am none. I'm a student – nothing more and nothing less. All I want is to help. So give me a chance. I swear I won’t bite.” Saying so the giant Quentite smiled. With his chin almost touching his knees he looked rather funny. And his accent – sounding like a mixture of Indian and Spanish did it’s part, too.

Nara just narrowed her eyes at him sizing him up. Maybe he was adorable, she didn't notice. She turned and said, "Whatever. Keep an eye on those levels over there." She nodded at the console next to hers.

“Aye aye ma'am” confirmed Turan. He turned towards the levels as Lt. Roswell ordered. Not really demanding task as the levels were of the standard bar-graph type. The lower part glowing in green was followed by much smaller yellow part which usually had the meaning of 'not so good'. Up most there was usually a rather small area illuminated in red – guessed. That area used to bare the meaning of 'have you ever considered to make your peace with god?' Turan's levels nevertheless didn't even threat to come close to the yellow area. - No need to avoid small talk. “So tell me, where would you prefer to be instead?” asked Turan without out leaving the levels alone for longer than the blink of an eye.

Nara sighed at the man who asked a million questions, "No where would be good."

Nara blinked and in that blink, she thought of another answer, "Home would be nice. Not as many people there."

Now, Turan sighed, too. “Agreed” he confirmed. “Sometimes I wish to be home, too. Although I have two brothers and four sisters life there felt much more peaceful to me. Before I left Quentin, anything was a big adventure to me. I dreamed to boldly go where no Quentite had gone before. Not much of that remained, I must admit. They sent me to Leran Manev – you remember? The Starship that crashed on Trill? Then there was the battle against thy Hydrans and last but not least there was this Mission at Mirusa with those strange gods who threatened to kill me. Thank you – could have lived without those experiences.” Said Turan blabbering like a waterfall.

Nara didn't look up, but there was enough for her to concentrate on where she wasn't as biting. There was still a note of irritation as she asked, "So you regret coming here?"

“Not yet” Turan admitted “I learned so much. I'm really glad they gave me the chance to be here. Somehow I get the impression you regret to be here, aren't you?”

"That's irrelevant."

“I'll take it as a yes”

Nara sighed annoyed, "That's not what I mean, smart***."

“So what do you mean?”

"Let's just say at least I'm not stuck in my memories, running around a dead Trill city or running around tunnels playing some immortal creature’s sick game." She spoke of her own adventures while being here.

***Meanwhile in Main Engineering***

Dhanishta took a moment to lean against the console, both palms flat against the glass, and sighed. It was more a release of stress than a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment she tried to work the tension form her body, mentally relaxing each muscle.

"By shutting down some of the long range sensors systems we've mentioned on the bridge, such as the warp to sub-light ion detector, we'll able to save some energy and use it to our advantage. But unfortunately that's not enough", Jamson punched a key and pointed at the screen, following some of the power distribution conduits.

Dhani opened her eyes and looked at Jamson for a moment. The way his hair curled into a slight curtain at his forehead gave him a slightly boyish look, but his eyes, his deep hazel eyes, gave him away. There was just too much emotion in those eyes, too many battles that seemed to scar his outlook. Dhani pondered for a moment what he saw when he looked at her; a woman, or possibly even a girl in his opinion, as thin as a rake and then some, bedraggled and disbelieved, unattractive, ugly. She hated the way she looked now. Gone was her athletically toned figure, gone was radiant completion. When she looked in the mirror she didn’t recognise the woman she saw. Every morning it was like waking up to a stranger. Her body didn’t move with the grace it used to, she didn’t have the strength that she had spent years in training to get. She felt pathetic, she felt angry, and yet somehow unjustified in her emotions. It was her fault that her body had wasted away to skin and bones, wasn’t it? She forced herself into a coma… didn’t she? Dhani frowned as her mind riddle itself with useless questions. There was no point to it, except for the art of self destruction, hell that was the one thing she was good at; beating herself up!

"So, in order to increase power for both the added EPS mini shield generators that are protecting some of the sensors, and the increased array of additional sensors that we'll be adding later, we have to start planning an extended power grid that will range from here-" Michael marked a place on the saucer section "to there".

Dhani looked down at the panel and nodded, trying to refocus her slightly distracted mind to the task at hand, “About the shield generators, how are we going to accomplish it?”

"Yes...adding more shield generators isn't practical, since we need to use either utility tugs or EVA suits, which is unacceptable at the current state of the ship. So we'll just have to increase it's range and convert other systems on the hull" Jamson answered. This sounded much better on the bridge, and with no more crew members to help them, it seemed like it was going to take them forever.

Dhani took a deep breath. Something told her that after all this work it wasn’t going to work. She took a step forward and followed Jamson across engineering to the access tunnels, wondering all the while just when she became such a pessimistic person… she used to be a JFDI kinda girl, Just Fuckin Do It! She was the one that made the impossible, possible. Always looking outside the box, never taking ‘no capin’ we just don’t have the power’ as a legitimate reason not to try.

"Yep...I'll go into the Jefferies tubes, if you don't mind" Jamson offered.

Dhani nodded slightly and then stopped, looking at him with a deep frown. Her thoughts had consumed her a little too much, “NO!” she said firmly. ~JFDI~ she thought, a determined expression crossed her sharp features, “We both will!” she told him. Before he could protest she slung her tool kit over her shoulders and crawled in.

Not sure what to do after being shoved away, politely, Jamson stood there like a sucker and observed Eshe as she moved away. He was trying to be nice, as much as he could be, and she didn't seem to get it, the right way. She was irritated at him, and this this time, apparently for no good reason. On the other hand, he somewhat admired her tenacity, standing up to others, not being subject to rank matters or feeling inferior and sometimes even superior to others as many young officers arrogantly did.

***Bridge***

“Do you think I am stuck in that Leran Manev adventure?” asked Turan.

"Obviously not, considering you're standing right there."

Turan turned towards the Lieutenant. He didn't know what she wanted to say. Probably her answer was something like a joke. Jokes were something the transcomm was never able to handle correctly - and so was Turan – so he decided to change topic.

“I think I should devote on our task before I run the risk to violate the prime directive.” Turan's eyes refocused on the levels Lt Roswell ordered him to watch.

Nara looked at him oddly, "You're already ON a starship, dimwit. Can't violate it any more than that."

Turan didn't respond.

Nara rolled her eyes after he gave no response, "You don't act much like an adult. You remind me of Saia." With that she turned back to the console.

“How do you expect an adult to act? Probably Saia is much more an adult than you think. Is she your daughter?” asked Turan. The name Saia didn't sound as strange as it should be. Turan was sure, he heard that name before. But where? And when?

"No. But I am responsible for her." Nara replied simply, concentrating on recalibrating for the moment.

Turan glanced at his levels. “Warp is now at sub-light. Increasing the low frequency subspace seismicity sensor.” he reported.

“From the rest of the World” Part Two

Principal Characters;

Dr. Artim (Ens.) Medical Officer

Private Alliya Yhwalyan, Marine Resonance Scout. (APC)

Ensign Jeffries (NPC)

And introducing Dr. Waring (NPC) and her medical staff (NPC’s)

Previously;

With no barrier from her and the rest of the world, thoughts and feeling bombarded her in an array of pain and colour, her head felt like it was about to shatter. Her body curled tightly into a ball in ensign Jeffery’s lap. And then as all the energy was sapped from her, her body fell limp against the crimson carpet.

"Medical Emergency Deck 12 turbolift." The call came into sickbay, rousing Artim from his near sleep at his console that was displaying various test results. Within seconds a medkit was over his shoulder and he was leading two nurses down the corridor towards the turbolift.

***

As her senses began to come back to her she could feel the ebb of the fluids around her, hear the soft crescendo of a symphony of wood instruments and as strange as this sound and feeling was to the young marine for a moment it didn’t bother her.

*~*

As she began to question the randomness and nonsensicalness of those thoughts her body stretched out. She hadn’t thought about stretching out…maybe it was an unconscious act, prompted by the almost overwhelming contentment of this place. She could almost feel the barriers of the fluid itself, more like being encased in goo rather than any form of water. It almost seemed opposed to her flexing and stretching out her tentacles…

Alliya stiffened, she felt her breath still. ~Water? Tentacles?~

***

"What happened?" Artim said to the security ensign that was escorting the collapsed marine, already scanning her with his tricorder.

"Just passed out on the way down here.” He replied a little shaken. He stared down at the woman in his arms and shook his head, “Just collapsed… in my arms.”

And now the continuation:

"What’s happening to her doc?” Jeffery’s asked as he watched Artim work. If it hadn’t been for the fact that there was a collapsed marine on the table in front of him, he would have been more concerned about the size and appearance of the ‘doctor’.

Though he had been brought up not to stare at others, he would have, if not for the girl, be staring at the child in the lab coat. However with the presence of the marine and the circumstances that brought them into sick bay in the first place, the fact that the ‘doc’ was standing on a box to reach his patient didn’t bother the security officer in the slightest, in fact he barley noticed. It would be something however that he would overanalyse later on.

"She's out, but I don't know what's causing it. These readings...most unusual. Never seen anything like this before. Neurochemistry is way off...and I'm not sure what to do about it." Artim replied, puzzled.

He wasn't a neurological expert by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew enough to know that things were off here, way, way off. In some ways it was like the Vulcan’s he'd scanned earlier, but this was even stranger.

"Get Doctor Waring in here, she knows more about this stuff. That and I got a shuttle to catch.” Artim said urgently.

***

~Water? Tentacles?~

Panic began to rise in Alliya’s mind. Startled by the rising fear at the state of her own body, she opened her eyes quickly. And closed them just as quick! She had already established that she was surrounded by fluid; she just hadn’t expected it to be bright orange!

Slowly, attentively she reopened her eyes. One at first, testing the water so to speak. The brightness of the liquid faded as her eyes adjusted to the moisture. The amber …goo (?) surrounded her, she could feel it in her nostrils, inside her ears, did it fill her lungs too? Tingles of panic rushed through her body, up her spine and dispersed through the back of her head like pins and needles, warm pins and needles - incredibly unsettling; how was she able to breathe here?

Looking down through the amber haze she tried to make out what she saw; a dark blob with two points at the end that suspiciously didn't look like tentacles. Alliya couldn’t fathom for a nanosecond why she was bothered that she didn’t have tentacles! She didn’t want tentacles, she was happy with the body she had, thank-you very much!

Looking closer… she brought up what she thought were her tentacles, ~again with the tentacles~ Alliya though desperately ~hands, *I* have *hands*~ slowly focussing on them she puzzled as she listened to her mind,

~I still have hands from Terran form…~

~Well duh~ Alliya responded to the stupidity of herself, ~of course I have hands, why wouldn’t I have hands? …. Terran form… what’s that supposed to mean? When was I not Terran?~ Her frown deepened, ~What good are tentacles anyway?~ she asked randomly before the paranoia set in.

So far she had been quite calm, so now was the time to assess her situation; floating in amber goo, looking for tentacles, happy to not be around smelly humans… no, there really wasn’t a logical explanation to this…and there was nothing to shoot, not that she had a rifle on her, and well…. fuck it; panic was all that she had left!

Opening her mouth she screamed with all her might…

"Blub, blub, blub..."

She felt her breath catch in her throat, or her mind. A sensation of dread rippled through her and for a second she was mesmerised by the bubbles that floated from her mouth. And then her aspect changed as her body moved, head cocking to the side… squinting she stared at the environment that surrounded her. Everything was dark and muggy, like being stuck in a thick fog, just like the training session she had on Luna; suspended in the vacuum outside the settlement on the dark, formidable waste land surface; that had been one hell of a day. But this, this she had not trained for.

And then she heard the voice from inside, clearly, as the thoughts flowed…

~Where the hell was he? Everything about this place said he was dead, but why was he still in Terran form? Was he being punished even in death for his failings in life? Yet, here he was breathing in his purest Kelvan form in an underwater environment. Had he taken the Last Walk? But no, he couldn't remember it. The last thing he remembered was.... beaming down to Quentin with Galali and that useless counsellor.~

Kelvan? Galali? Last walk…. HE!!!!!!!!?

She felt her heart beat faster, maybe it was her heart… maybe it was a rush of blood to her head… but then this wasn’t her head… was it?

***

"What’s wrong Artim?” the middle aged female human asked as she entered sick bay.

"Neurological problem, way beyond my expertise. Looks kinda like what I found in those Vulcan’s and the kitty earlier, but there's something...odder at work here. I'm not sure what to do with it. I'm also due to go over to the station in a few minutes." Artim replied.

"Very well.” Waring replied, “Nurse,” she said turning to face her subordinates “get me 10 cc’s of Thorazine and let’s start a neurological workup.”

“Yes ma’am” the nurse replied with a curt nod.

Artim would have loved to stay and help, but he really had to get to the shuttlebay...

“You’re leaving?” Jeffery’s remarked in utter disbelief as the doctor handed over to his colleague and made his way towards the door.

"Yes, I'm leaving, or would you prefer to face Commander Dallas in my place? Don't worry, she's better then me at this sort of thing anyway." Artim said, not even turning around as he grabbed his gear and walked out of the room.

Before Jeffery could reply the doctor was gone and he found himself staring into his wake.

***

As she began to panic her body, his body (?) pushed forward….

The golden liquid enveloping her, him, them (?) still emitted its soft flowing music, relaxing, even in this alien environment. Alliya didn’t know what to think as the body kicked out against the fluid and began to move around the unfamiliar place. She stared into the amber haze, and for a moment switched off; hoping that this was maybe some strange dream. But still the body probed on, testing the boundaries of its environment. The walls, like membranes, didn’t budge as he, she, poked them with a finger, a foot and occasionally and elbow. She wondered for a moment if she were having a re-birthing experience….

The result of probing the ‘walls’ of this strange… womb(?) caused waves that coursed through to an adjoining chamber of sorts. Alliya frowned as she, he … whatever this was, flowed through on the tide. The realisation that this was not her body had long since paralysed her into a daze of slight acceptance of her situation. Like a hitch hiker she was along for the ride.

She watched through his eyes, she heard his thoughts, felt his emotions. And to her surprise found herself analysing them; He seemed calm in this place, his motion through the water, or whatever it was, was fluid, as if he had done this for years. But she, on the other hand, was screaming, she didn’t want to be here, she didn’t know how she got here, and there was nothing she could to do to get out of this place… it was like she was trapped... NO she *was* trapped… trapped in some Octopus wannabe aliens head and he was oblivious to her presence. Was he stupid? Could he not feel her? Could he not sense that something more was wrong other than the fact he didn’t have tentacles?

He swam upwards toward the top of the fabric curtain, but was stopped by the sudden image of Karyn Dallas' face floating on the other side.

Even Alliya knew that face, though she hadn’t spoken with her before. She had a feeling that after this she would be in psycho therapy for years! That’s if she ever got out of here, and that depended on where ‘here’ was!

Dallas was bobbing in the undulating waves caused by his progression into the other chamber. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared peaceful. He could only hope she was dead. He pushed again on the curtain, harder this time. The resulting current carried her away out of his sight.

Alliya wondered how anyone could wish another dead. She was a marine, but even so, she never wished another person to die. She was trained as a scout, to report her findings, though she had been given combat training, she was not the killing machine that others presumed all marines to be.

As the image of Counsellor Dallas floated away Alliya felt her heart sink. She wanted to reach out to the woman to call for help… but part of her knew that she wouldn’t hear her… couldn’t hear her. As the scenery changed, or rather went back to the amber haze, she held on to the image of the Counsellor, praying that soon she would be out of this nightmare…

Blinking slowly she half smiled as she spied the familiar sight of a bio bed beneath her, a tear rolled down her cheek, inside she smiled but it lasted for a moment as she felt her body shake….

****

Jeffery wasn’t sure weather he should stay or return to work. He paced up and down the waiting area of Sick bay like an expectant father, looking up at the nurse’s faces each time they passed him, hoping for news. Something, anything that wouldn’t make him feel guilty for staying, or going.

Suddenly there was a rush of activity in the OR. Hotfooting to the window that separated the operating room from the rest of sick bay, his nose touching the glass, he stared, mesmerised, as the body of the Marine vibrated on the table. The nurses pushed her down trying to keep her on the bio bed, first there was one, then another came and held down her legs, and then another… all the while the woman, that Jeffery’s assumed to be Doctor Waring, screaming for something that he couldn’t even pronounce.

“From the rest of the World” Part Three

Principal Characters;

Private Alliya Yhwalyan, Marine Resonance Scout. (APC)

Ensign Jeffries (NPC)

Dr. Waring (NPC) and her medical staff (NPC’s)

***

Blinking slowly Alliya half smiled as she spied the familiar sight of a bio bed beneath her, a tear rolled down her cheek, inside she smiled but it lasted for a moment as she felt her body shake….

***

Suddenly there was a rush of activity in the OR. Hotfooting to the window that separated the operating room from the rest of sick bay, his nose touching the glass, he stared, mesmerised, as the body of the Marine vibrated on the table. The nurses pushed her down trying to keep her on the bio bed, first there was one, then another came and held down her legs, and then another… all the while the woman, that Jeffery’s assumed to be Doctor Waring, screaming for something that he couldn’t even pronounce.

And now the continuation:

Alliya could feel herself shaking, she wasn’t sure why… maybe it was shock. Maybe the octopus was a dream, a weird one at that. But it was all okay now she was in sick bay they would make sure she was alright and then send her back on her way. She would be back patrolling the Galaxy’s corridors looking for murders in no time.

But the shaking didn’t stop, neither did the tears.

Alliya felt confused, where was the doctor to tell her everything was going to be okay? Where was the hypo that would calm her…. and where was her Department head? Surly she should be here, but then maybe it was for the best that her superior officer didn’t see her like this.

"You're going to have to help me with the stirrups."

The voice was so distant that Alliya didn’t know who it came from. Although the almightily trembling in the voice gave Alliya a clue that it was possibly herself. Opening her eyes she looked up into the face of the nurse that was now lifting her legs into strips.

Alliya bolted upright…. Well she tried to. But she couldn’t move. She felt the rising panic up her spine….

“What the HELL is going on” Alliya shouted.

"Of course," Anya replied softly, finishing the topical examination, slipping the final fibbers into the small evidence bags. She then draped the shivering woman with a thermal sheet before helping her into the position. Fighting her own memories raging through her consciousness, Anya concentrated on the task at hand, trying to look at it as a medical school test; as something not real in the least. It was just a test, just an exercise.

Alliya stared at the woman before her frowning deeply, “Of course’ isn’t an explanation to ‘what the HELL is going on.’” she said angrily.

But again the woman did not reply.

~She cant hear me….!~ The haunting realisation hit.

Alliya tried again to move, but still her body did not respond. With her legs spread wide, held up strips, she stared at the evidence bags in the nurse’s hand… and then looked down at her own naked body!

“What the hell happened to me?” Alliya asked, though she knew that no one could hear her. Not even she could hear herself. Alliya felt the rising sobs just itching to explode out of her. The shaking grew worse and she began to feel the chill from the air around her.

Trying desperately to make sense of this situation she heard a voice from inside her mind, ~What was it she always told people to picture during this part of the exam? Beaches? The stars?~

~Stars?~ Alliya repeated feeling the sobs wrack her body, ~Friggen stars?~ she almost shouted the anger rising. ~Is that supposed to be fucking comforting?~ Alliya screamed inside her mind.

"Almost done, Karyn." called Anya.

~Karyn?~ Alliya repeated slowly. ~Karyn? I’m not Karyn! I’m Alliya…. This isn’t me!~ the sudden overwhelming feeling of relief flowed through her and she could feel herself wanting to laugh, although she could still feel the tears flowing down her face… but it wasn’t her face. This wasn’t her body. She never felt more elated. She relaxed and breathed, happy that this wasn’t her, this wasn’t happening. She could lie here and just wait for it all to be over and soon she would open her eyes and find herself back in her own body, everything was going to be okay now, she knew it.

She found herself thinking about beaches …. Imagining herself lying on the warm sand somewhere in Reo perhaps. But as the intensity of the examination grew she found that she couldn’t focus on anything else but what was going on. There was nothing that could take away the reality of this situation, nothing that could erase this emotion, this feeling of worthlessness and humility, and above all helplessness. She felt bile writhing in the pit of her belly, the taste of dirt never left her mouth no matter how many times she swallowed.

She tried not to listen any more; she tried to switch off from it, like it wasn’t her. Well it wasn’t her, not at all, so she didn’t have to care, right?

But it wasn’t that easy.

As the nurse continued with her examination Alliya felt it, felt the rising cramps that crescendo through her abdomen. It was strange; she could hear and feel Karyn’s thoughts but she also saw it all from her own perspective, for the moment the pain she could ignore, it wasn’t her body that was being violated after all.

Stars, concentrate on the stars…. she could picture them all, glimmering against a back drop of ebony silk…. But then as the nurse began the swabs even Alliya winced. Flat on her back without the ability to move with a woman’s head between her legs… not really very dignifying. And what was worse was the fact that the examination itself was just as degrading as the prospect of rape itself. Just as humiliating and embarrassing and Alliya had to stop herself there, she didn’t want to think about it any more, if she just switched off then it wasn’t happening right?

But isn’t that what everyone thought in a situation like this? Sit back lie back and wait for it to be over?

HELL NO!

She was a marine, she had to fight she just had to!

Alliya was unsure now exactly whose tears she could feel flowing down her face in an unending torrent.

She felt her hair pull and her head snapped backwards as she sprinted, but still she pushed on, feeling the twig rake through her hair, until the last strand broke. The pain sent shivers down her spine but she didn’t stop, the blood rushed to her face and her heart beet in her chest and still she didn’t stop. The world whizzed past her in a blur, and her legs left like jelly. But she had to keep going.

Her eyes were open that much she could tell from the stream of moisture that was running from the corners of her eyes… or was she crying? The scenery continued to pass by in a blur of colour as she ran, sprinting for her life… or was she running a race? At this point who could tell?

Something with in her recognised the mountain side she climbed up, grabbing hold of anything that was hear by to help her haul her exhausted body up the hill. If she could just reach Raath Ra’Chuul, maybe she could reunite with her clan…

Alliya didn’t have time to focus on the thoughts that flowed through her mind, she tried to stop, tried to understand what was happening but her body took over.

Her eyes welled up at the thought of her clan. She looked down at her legs ... or rather what lay between; broken and torn folds of once-innocent flesh, the deep bluish-purple blood flowing down the insides of her legs.

The panic rose to a fierce pitch. Inside, Alliya was shaking and sobbing intently. But before she could calm herself to try and take note of what was going on this time, the rug was pulled out from under her….

"You're falling in love with her, Cassius," the voice spoke aloud, softly.

Alliya blinked trying to see who was talking, but all was a blur now, and again the voice changed.

He nodded, hesitantly, scratching absently the stubble that was growing around his jawline. "Yeah ... I guess I am ... At least, I think I am," he said, rolling the unfamiliar thought around in his mind. ~I love Ekoma Janx...~

Alliya heard the sound of the voice, she knew not who it came from, and as quickly as it came another did…

A dozen questions came to mind instantly, then fifty, then a hundred, then there were suddenly so many questions clamouring in his head that Victor winced and turned towards the wall as he tried to sort them out.

“I... You...." He stopped, took a breath, and pushed all the other questions away, leaving only the first one, the one he needed to know the answer to more than anything else. "You weren't lying when you said that? You... It wasn't just so I'd think someone had, before I died?"

And again the scene changed before Alliya could take a breath.

The sound of laughter echoed through the blur, a sound so happy filled with clicks and chirps. The sound of splashing water filled Alliyas ears, the gentle rhythm the feeling of weightless, and then another voice,

“Princess.”

It vibrated through the water, like a rock falling into puddle, the ripples emanating out, till they consumed everything.

And so it continued, voice after voice, situation one after another, until Alliya could no longer make out what was being said, each memory overlapped into another. Neither clear nor coherent.

And all Alliya could do was wait until it was over. She couldn’t fight what she could not see.

And then from out of the darkness another voice came. So distant, so soft like silk it uttered it words;

“I can make it stop. Give your self to me and I will make it stop…”

And Alliya did, without hesitation.

Like a snake it coiled and slithered inside her, consumed her whole. Slowly it opened its evil eyes and looked out upon the world.

“She’s waking up!” a voice called out, “Dr. Waring, she’s waking up!”

Dr. Waring looked up from the padd she was working on. She had been up half the night working on a cure for the Private. She was exhausted, rubbing her eyes and taking a slurp of her cold coffee she stood up and slowly crossed the infirmary stopping at the foot of Private Yhwalyan’s bed. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out her tricorder and began to scan the woman.

Alliyas body sat upright on the bio bed, her vacant