"Vibes"

Ensign Zev Raynor
Terran Telepath
"Intelligence" Officer

You wander the corriodiors of a ship long enough, you begin to pick up vibes. Vibes from the ship. Vibes from outer space. Vibes from the crew. You talk to enough people, witness enough conversations, listen to sounds of their steps, of their breathe, of their voice and you can tell the mood of the ship. Of the crew.

The vibe said tension. The kind you could cut with a butter knife. You could find yourself lost in an ocean of it. It's heat swallowing you whole and slowly building pressure until it errupts in a storm of rage. Well it actually hadn't errupted yet, but it would unless someone did SOMETHING to ease the pressure.

Raynor of course first waited for command to come up with something. But all they had done was seperate the crew and the Jem'hadar. That only slowed the pace, it did not stop it, or release any of the pressure, so of course they thought of the probelm as dealt with or dealt with enough... And now with the delay in transfering them over to Deep Space 5 or rather... as some would put it "getting rid of" the Jem'Hadar, on top of crossing the border into Romulan space... the pressure was just going to keep building and building. And unless something was done...

But why should he be the one to do it? It wasn't his responisblity... it's not like his efforts were ever recognised for what they were... and yet he knew he would have to something because no one esle would. Because the evil to fear most was the indifference of good men.

And while deep in this train of thought... Raynor figured out a way to attack this probelm on two fronts... thus diminishing the effect of the tension. He knew that would be those few individual crewmen he would not be able to reach with his plan, and that he needed help to lanuch the second front... but the first 'front' he could do alone.

And after many long months of putting it off... Raynor finally sat down, and tried to figure out how to structure his presentation... fiddling around with some of the seemingly trivial aspects of the show, but at the same time knowing that he had to sell it to as wide an audience as possible and that would mean figuring out... he had to do a survey without doing it in an obvious form so as to give away what was to come...

"Here's the Cheese - Where's the Trap?"

Captain Cassius Henderson,
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Ella Grey,
Acting Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Tarin Iniara,
Chief Operations Manager

****

Main Engineering,
Deck 36,
USS Galaxy

Cassius Henderson had not stopped by Main Engineering since just after Captain M'Kantu had departed for his competency hearing. Being of a more tactically oriented of a commanding officer, he relied on his Chief Engineer and Chief Operations Manager to keep him up to date on the state of the ship's systems. Usually, that worked just fine, and he didn't have to try to understand technology with inner workings that were, honestly, beyond him. Even when he'd worked for SFI, he'd left all of the gadgetry and technical aspects of their missions to Art Blackwelder.

Unfortunately, that policy might now be about to backfire in a very big way. Cassius knew that he had to act quickly to prevent it, before they were in orbit over the capital world of a galactic superpower not known for its stability.

Stepping into Main Engineering, he took note of his surroundings. The chaotic hustle and bustle of the ship's heart. Behind him, he could hear Tarin Iniara slowing down to walk behind him. Sighting Ella Grey standing at a central table talking to several engineers, he walked over to get her attention, Tarin in tow.

Ella saw Cass and nodded at him before finishing what she had to say to the other officers quickly so that she could join him. It was strange to think of him as the captain now, she had had tea with this man and even a chocolate syrup fight ages ago, but Ella was capable of being on her mostly best behavior. "Captain."

It was strange for Cassius, addressing her as the Chief Engineer. When he'd first come onboard, he'd had quite a crush on the small, silent engineer. From his position as the master of the ship, those days seemed so distant. In fact, he didn't see Ella Grey that often, and now that he did, he was reminded how cute she was. Corran was a lucky man.

But speak to her as Chief Engineer he did. "Good morning, Ella. Iniara and I need to talk to you in your office."

"Of course, Captain." The engineer replied.

They walked the short distance into the empty shell of O'Shea's office in silence. Before the events that had brought them to this meeting, the room had been dominated by hundreds of PADDs. Now it was eerily empty, the contents having been carted off by Lieutenant Dobryin's intelligence analysis team.

They took up positions around the desk, the only sign that the room had been occupied. "Chief, I'm sure its occurred to you the kind of damage that could be done by an entrenched and well liked Chief Engineer?" Cassius asked her.

"Yes." Ella said.

"I need you and Iniara to develop a schedule for a full systems diagnostic," he said, "I haven't a clue what that entails, only that it takes over a week. If you can, start with the simple, so that we cover every system on a basic level, and then move to the more complicated."

"No problem. We've already started looking at some of the smaller systems." The engineer replied and then looked at the Ops officer. "How do you want to go about this?"

"O'Shea was a talented engineer," Iniara stated, thoughtfully. "If she sabotaged the ship, she probably disguised it with other things. We'll have to wade through whatever distractions she placed to find the real threats."

"That's a very real possibility. According to Cora, O'Shea was in a position to access every major ship's system and most of the minor ones in the last month before we arrived at Tru'Haran," Cassius added, carefully schooling his features to avoid a scowl. If Iniara was right, then it would take a miracle to uncover everything before the Galaxy arrived in orbit of ch'Rihan. "We have a lot of ground to cover."

"Yes," Ella agreed. "Tarin, if your people did a cursory scan of each system, I could devote my department to a more in depth follow through.

"Yes," Ella agreed. "Tarin, if your people did a cursory scan of each system, I could devote my department to a more in depth follow through. As it is, we've been following our regular maintenance schedule sand trying to keep an eye out for any... creative malfunctions. We've turned up minor things here and there - timers on the grav controls in the whales tanks and other minor nuisances. But I can't believe that's all there is."

"Then we're in agreement," Cassius stated, wrapping up the discussion. Normally he would have been happy to consider all the options, but with the Galaxy due to arrive on ch'Rihan in a few days, the proverbial clock was already ticking. "I'll want reports at the end of every shift. Tarin, Ella, if either of you need more people, let me know and I'll get security on it."

"That'd probably be for the best, if Operations is just going to be doing a cursory scan," the Betazoid/Bajoran woman replied. "If you send me the Operations minors first, Captain, they should be able to spot the obvious things." Turning to Ella, she continued, "When they do, we'll forward it on to Engineering so that you can look for the deeper problems."

"Will do." Ella replied in her vocoder-accented voice.

"Then let's be about it," Cassius said, with a certain finality. "Thank you both. I'll leave you to work out the details. If you need anything, you know where I'll be."

"The Holding Pattern"

Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter, the Girl Who Never Learns

8-ball couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe. She sure as hell wouldn't trust it. She walked around the ship in circles, or as circular as you could get on the Galaxy without doing anything too strenous like crawling through Jeffries Tubes. She snooped. She investigated. It was true. She couldn't believe it.

NOTHING was happening on the ship.

Oh, there were some things, 8-ball decided. There were a bunch of Jem Hadars running around, and that was making everyone a might cranky. 8-ball herself didn't seem to have too much problem with them, as they mostly ignored her and she mostly ignored them---the only exception to this was when she ran into a few of the orphan children who reminded her far too much of children she had already met and let down. She avoided the children like the plague, any child, really on this ship. 8-ball had discovered all too well that she really wasn't good at dealing with them.

So some tension. . .some anger. . some unfound prejudices. . .but beyond that. . .

Not a whole helluva lot.

There were no possessions. No takeovers. No random memory swapping. No holodecks gone crazy, no admirals running around like psychotic bulldogs. NOTHING seemed to be happening at all.

The Galaxy was in a holding pattern. . .and it was scary as fuck.

Once she allowed herself to believe that really absolutely nothing was going on, 8-ball was actually relieved. Maybe they'd have a normal few weeks. Maybe everyone could stop going crazy for awhile. Maybe things would be happy and birds would sing and dandelions would dance. Even though there were no birds and no dandelions and certain no dancing dandelions. The point was, everyone would live happily ever after.

8-ball let herself believe this notion for about .0333 seconds and then laughed.

No, all this holding pattern meant was that big stuff was gonna happen. The shit was going to hit the fan; it just wasn't quite there yet. The longer the wait, the more the world was likely the collapse on itself. The eye of the storm, and all that. This was not a good silence.

Still. . .even though she knew that. . .and even though she knew she'd miss this quiet period once it was gone. . .8-ball couldn't help but being ever so slightly bored out of her skull. NOTHING was happening. It was so freakishly dull. Asking for excitement on this ship was wrong and dangerous and atrociously psychotic and yet. . .8-ball did it anyway. Because she was bored. Because she was discontent. Because she never freaking learned.

Maybe she should start a mud wrestling tournament, or something.

"Distorted Perception"

Ensign Keldan
Operations Officer, USS-Galaxy

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS-Galaxy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Keldan sat up, patiently waiting on the edge of the biobed for the attention of one of the medical staff. He sure wasn't going to fall asleep again. The dream still played far too clearly in his mind. It would be a while before the gruesome images could be silenced.

The biobed monitors stopped their regular beats and humming as soon as he left his reclining position. He cursed inwardly at his blindness. His sight had only improved slightly in the weeks since the away mission to the Jem'Hadar planet. At first he had only been able to make out large patches of darkness passing in front of him. Now his range of vision seemed to extend a meter or so in front of him, but otherwise, it was just blurs of colour. Doctors and nurses passed in front of him, and there was the constant din of medical chatter.

While he was still able to operate an Ops console, he wasn't much good for anything else until his vision was fully restored. Fortunately, his duty shift was late-night, but that could change at any moment. He'd busied himself reading the official logs of the Galaxy to get up to speed on recent events, allowing himself to fit in more quickly and efficiently. But a good number of the accounts read like something out of a Klingon sadomasochism handbook. Encounters with the Breen. The Hydrans, The Romul...er... Rihannsu, he corrected himself again. And of course, there were the recent events on Deep Space 5 with some kind of life form called the Diphtharu. It was a wonder that the entire crew hadn't devolved into stark raving lunatics.

He had stopped worrying whether the damage to his eyes was permanent. In most likelihood it wasn't since he was making progress. If it was beyond repair, he probably wouldn't be able to see anything at all. Damn retinal burns. Fixable, he thought, though it would take time before his vision was completely back to normal. Still, he was uncomfortable sitting there just waiting. But since he didn't have the expertise to fix his own eyes, he'd have to be patient. More patient. No wonder the humans considered it a virtue.

Accepting a PADD from her staff nurse, Kimberly quickly scanned it as she walked over to the young Ensign, "Ensign, Keldan," she greeted him as she stopped before him, "Hello, so how are you feeling today?" she asked, already having a good idea, but they how someone explained their complaints was occasionally enlightening.

"Just wishing this recovery process could move a bit more quickly." Not wanting to insult her, he added, "Sorry, I know you're doing your best, Doctor. I guess I'll just have to be a little more patient. I guess this is the price you pay for a little excitement that gets out of control."

Nodding as he spoke Kimberly opened her Tricorder and ran a scan of his head as she spoke, "I think we've all had our fair share of excitement recently," she said a little absently as she began to work, "life recently has certainly not been without it's highlights," she added, a slight twist to her voice, indicating the other side of the ward, "Na'Toha turned out to be okay though," looking at the Jem'Hadar physician who was deep in conversation with the EMH.

"So was Kor'A'Thus," he replied. "Extremely... efficient... at dealing with security threats to a satisfactory resolution." Painfully efficient, Keldan thought, trying to imagine the Jem'Hadar engineer who'd attacked Ensign Eytan and himself, hanging limply with his head and neck stuffed into a wall. "It was a cool reminder at how swiftly and efficiently they were able to achieve their military objectives back during the Dominion War."

"Efficiency, thoroughness and persistence, says it all really about your typical Jem'Hadar doesn't it," Kimberly offered thoughtfully, adjusting her tricorder slightly she rechecked a reading and activated the biobed systems.

Kel weighed over in his mind whether to broach one certain topic of discussion with the doctor. However, it seemed logical she might be in a position to shed some light on recent events on board the Galaxy.

"Doctor, if you don't mind, could you answer a question for me? I know that you're bound not to reveal personal medical information about other members of the crew, but my question is a bit more general in nature. What can you tell me about Dhanishta Eshe?"

Thinking a moment, "Well, nothing you probably don't already know I'm afraid, aside from a few meetings here, which I can't discuss," she added with a slightly serious tone, "I haven't really gotten to know her that well yet. Why do you ask?"

"She and I were acquai... Well, no, friends would be a more appropriate term, I suppose. Back when we are at the Academy. It was a rather traumatic period and she's not the person I remember from then."

"We all change Ensign," Kimberly offered sagely, "All I can say for now I'm afraid is that you're probably better heading up to the canteen, or down to engineering to ask her friends about her, or check the ships records you have access to," she offered helpfully, "I'm sure you understand why I can't discuss a patient," she apologised.

"Of course, Doctor." Well, he couldn't fault her professionalism, despite the fact that it was putting up another obstacle. However, it did make it rather plain that Eshe's and the doctor's relationship at the present point in time was simply that... professional. Since he remembered quite distinctly Dhanishta's fondness for doctors, counsellors and therapists (or lack thereof), that was apparently one thing that hadn't changed. Still, not gaining any insight was annoying, since he'd already finished checking all the public record information and official logs made by Dhanishta over a week ago.

"Would you mind laying back please," she asked as she picked up a retinal scanner, "I'd like to check your eyes. If I may ask though, what can 'you' tell me about the Lieutenant, as I said I'm still getting to know her, I'd appreciate any insights you might have?"

Keldan lay himself back on the biobed, opening his eyes wide for the doctor's retinal scanner.

"Well, I can really only tell you about the Dhanishta Eshe that I knew, and that was back before the Dominion War. When I first met her, I was working on a freighter and she was off to Qo'Nos or Trill or somewhere, I don't remember. What I do remember was how vibrant a person she was. Outspoken. Not afraid of anything." He stopped, trying to figure out what the doctor might truly valuable. "She was never one to talk openly about personal matters." He refrained from adding, 'like most women.' "Getting her to talk about her emotions was always difficult. Probably her Vulcan training. Or maybe her Klingon. Who knows?"

~ Vibrant, outspoken, hmmm, ~ "You wouldn't happen to know what she likes to eat would you?"

Keldan snorted slightly. "I don't know what she's been eating lately, but I'd wager it isn't enough. She's practically a walking corpse, at least compared to the last time I saw her. Since I suppose nutritional welfare falls under your area of expertise, it would seem prudent to mention it. However, Dhanishta never was particularly fond of going to see doctors," or anyone else she didn't want to see for that matter, he added to himself, "so good luck in getting her in to see you."

"I'm beginning to get that impression only too well," Kimberly agreed, "please, continue, tell me more if you would, I'd like to get to know her, but as you've said she's a little reluctant to see me, perhaps if I can learn a bit more about her I might help," setting aside the retinal scanner she picked up another instrument, this time a neural scanner and aimed it at his left eye, "this won't hurt, but please try not to blink, it'll interrupt the scan of your visual cortex."

"Well, she's half-Trill, half-Betazoid; grown up on Vulcan, Trill and Qo'Nos, of all places. Parents were famous scientists and moved the family all over the place. Of course, that's all in her file, which I'm sure you've already read. As far as knowing her... well, I thought I knew her, but after bumping into her onboard the Galaxy, I'm not so sure. I know what you mean when you say people change... but this is like there's an entirely different person inside. I don't know, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here." Actually, he was pretty sure he was getting ahead of himself. It was possible all this weirdness with Dhanishta could just be in his imagination... but he didn't think so.

~ She's quite a character alright ~ Kimberly mused to herself as she gently ran the scanner over his eye, recalling the few encounters she had so far with Dhanishta, "She's certainly been through a lot recently though, I mean since I've been aboard alone the whole crew has had Dithparu and Jem'Hadar to deal with, neither were easy I imagine on most people." moving the scanner over to his right eye she repeated the scan, "does she like sport at all?"

"Very much so. She was always up to trying... well, trying anything really. We kept each other... on our toes. Keeping up with her could be... a *challenge* sometimes. I can't say I was ever much good at that 'fencing' thing she introduced me to. But then, riding on the back of a saddled t'stayan was probably about as much fun for her as being poked in the eye."

Setting aside the cortex scanner Kimberly checked the results against her predictions for his recovery, ~ Oh why didn't the Retinax work! ~ she griped to herself, satisfied though that his eyes were recovering, even though not as fast as she would like she pulled something she'd had replicated from out of her pocket, "I just get the impression that if I could get together with her outside of sickbay, doing something she at least has an interest in perhaps we might be able to actually chat. I don't want to pester her too much right now, but I would like to keep an eye on her so to speak, if I have to make things official, it's not going to look good on her record," she said a little quieter, "anyway, try these on if you would," offering him a small case she opened it to reveal a pair of spectacles.

Keldan scowled at the case and spectacles, but didn't hesitate in taking them from her. He carefully unfolded them and lifted them to his face. His scowl changed to surprise, however, as he realized the archaic device actually managed to extend his vision a couple of additional meters. He squinted at the far wall of sickbay and then refocused on the good doctor's features. "Well that wasn't exactly the improvement I was hoping for, but I'll take what I can get."

"They're strictly for the short term only, and I'd ask you only use them when you really need to on duty, you eyes need to adapt on their own, but now your eyes have improved to this point you can have these, though you'll likely need to bring them back next week for adjustment," she cautioned him, "but if you find you're getting headaches wearing them come back immediately."

"Sounds good to me. Thanks, Doctor." Getting up from the biobed and heading toward the exit, he turned back for one final comment. "And Doctor... I noticed in your public file a hobby listed as riding something called a 'Harley Davidson'. I tried to find a listing in the Federation exobiology database but was unsuccessful. Perhaps at some point you could introduce me to this experience?"

Chuckling as she put her instruments away, "Instead of checking exobiology, look it up in Terran automotive history," she suggested, pleased someone had noticed one of the notes she had listed on the BBS, "it's an old Earth vehicle," she informed him, "once you've had a look, and if you're still interested let me know, I have a holodeck program you can try if you like, though we'll have to wait 'til your eyes are much better first."

"Intriguing. Sounds like another reason to be impatient about my sight returning to normal. See you around, Doctor."

"Revelations"

by
Ensign T'Rei

Personal Quarters

Glancing around her quarters, she felt at peace for the first time since her arrival on the Galaxy. Her roommate and her had gotten along, which was surprising, but the woman kept to her and did not conversant much at all. Amanda liked to be alone, liked things neat and organized, and was quite. Perfect in T’Rei’s opinion.

Replicating a cup of tea, she found it curious that her message box on the computer was blinking. Who would be sending her any type of document? Training had been secured for the next day, all the usual appointments had been made or completed, and her parental figures were off on holiday enjoying some much needed relaxation.

Curiosity got the best of her as she walked over and sat down at the counsel. Upon opening the document she received, her mind set about Vulcans instantly changed.

Star date:

Memo

To: Satark

From: T’Leone

Subject: Experiment 543 AKA Savannah Boost

We have made the final report findings concerning our twenty year emotional experiment with subject 543 and find that the results are outstanding. The subject has been totally assimilated into the Vulcan culture and has shown no signs of disintegration. The subjects mind is extremely disciplined, and in matters relating to mind melding and pinch execution, the subject shows vast improvement from year 10 through year 20.

The subjects emotions are non existent, and do not appear to have influence over her logic analysis of every day decisions and reactions to life around her.

It is of the opinion that the experiment is under continued observance upon her posting at the USS Galaxy through monthly reports from an inside source. It is also of the opinion that the initial stage of this experiment has been successful, and the next stage should be implemented right away.

Detailed report to follow

T’Leone

*End Transmit ion-Sender Unknown*

Silence filled the quarters as T’Rei sat in her seat, flabbergasted at the document in front of her own the screen. It was unreal to her that all the years spent in the Vulcan discipline were for a damned research project. Closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly back and forth. Leaning forward, she rested her head on the console for a few minutes. It was unreal…..her identity was a fake, a joke, and most illogical. Raising her head, she read the document at least ten times, each time attempting to grasp her identity each time she read it. Was this what she needed? Was this document proof enough to start acting emotional? And if she acted emotional, was she doing it the right way? What was the right way? Sighing, she stood with a padd in hand as she transferred the data onto the mobile unit. Shoving her anger, disappointment, and upset deep within her, she stood up, left her quarters, and made her way to her first counseling appointment.

*Backposted with permission* - Slight Content Advisory

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

"Starfleet's Grim Reaper to the Rescue"

Principal Characters

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London - Furies Counselor
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff - Security Officer
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

****

Planetside Hydran Research Facility
Laboratory 6

Her mind was shutting down. This could not be happening. These creatures were not talking to her. In fact she couldn't even understand them, it was some kind of foreign language. Bran was still paralyzed only her eyelids were able to move a little so she could shield her eyes against the bright glare of the surgical lamps.

****

Planetside Hydran Research Facility
Corridor

Victor would have preferred to have done this alone, just his skills against the enemy's, but that wasn't the plan he'd been given. He had others assigned to him, troops and support personnel to make certain that all the prisoners were returned. He'd considered telling Captain Henderson that he didn't need them, that they'd just be in the way, but Henderson hadn't waited to hear that before moving on with the assignments. With the loss of the Captain's attention, the desire to say something had just fallen away into the nothingness inside him. He'd do what he was ordered to. He always did, even if the people issuing the orders didn't understand that.

There were doors ahead, and a branching corridor to the left. A tricorder check showed the majority of the prisoners were in one area down the left side of the branching corridor. All but one. There was one on the right side, In a separate room.

"You four. That side." Victor pointed. "The crew goes back. The Hydrans stay here. Bring up the medics, they'll need them."

The others nodded and passed the orders back.

"I'll take the one on the right. We go on four."

The hastily-assembled troops looked at one another, shook their heads, and tightened the grips on their weapons.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"Four."

****

She still could not move, or see her captors. But she could feel, she could feel them putting things inside her, it hurt it hurt so badly, like they were tearing her apart from the inside out. Some tears managed to escape her eyes. But there was still no sound. Only the silent agony.

****

Victor came through the door silently, only the sound of the mechanism operating betraying his presence as he stepped into the room. He hadn't been certain what he would find, hadn't known what the Hydrans were doing, but this, this was nothing he'd envisioned. Not even the machines he'd seen in an abandoned Cardassian Interrogation post after the War had been so. Wrong.

He didn't try to restrain the red haze that rose up across his vision, didn't try to hold back the surge from within him as the thing inside him went from its normal controlled state to being totally unchecked in a single heartbeat. These were *his* people, not the Hydran's - and unlike the Diparthu, the Hydrans were here, they were physical, and he could reach them.

There were four Hydrans in the room, all in lightweight suits connected to an atmosphere generator supplying their methane breathing mix so that they could operate their machinery and monitor the results of their tests first-hand. Obviously they were used to the sound of the door mechanism, or were so absorbed in what they were doing that they hadn't heard it operate. Victor smiled Death's smile and the sudden surge of his presence slammed across the room like an explosion, causing all four of the aliens to look up.

A single phaser discharge severed the connections to the atmosphere generator and starting a shriek of escaping methane and other gasses as the four suits emptied out. Victor reached the first flailing Hydran in two silent steps, his rifle falling to hang by the sling as he reached for the alien. Phasers were too impersonal, too remote; for this offence, a more personal touch was needed.

Escaping methane was suddenly not the loudest thing screaming in the room.

****

Outside the door Victor had just entered Kimberly shuddered at the sounds from within, it was one thing to hear the high pitched whine of a phaser doing it's work, but the grisly sound of flesh meeting bone could be heard even out here...

"Ouch!" she muttered after one particularly loud and unpleasant sound, "that sounded permanent!"

Checking her own tricorder she saw the same readings that Victor obviously had, the bulk of the prisoners were on one side of the corridor where the majority of the team were even now working to extract them, Mr. Krieghoff it seemed was after one separate prisoner, ~ Interrogation perhaps? ~ she wondered. Looking to the Trauma squad gathered with a few guards in the corridor she waved to the team, "Follow the main squad as soon as they give the word," she instructed, "I'll see what's happening in here and follow."

Noticing that the sounds beyond were dying down she stepped cautiously through the door after Krieghoff, he may not be her favourite person aboard the Galaxy, but that was secondary to the mission right now, even so, she averted her eyes from him as she entered and surveyed the room.

~ Ugh! ~ was all she thought upon first seeing the carnage he had wrought.

****

Branwen knew something was happening. There was a lot of shouting, shrieking and they stopped touching her. There were still instruments inside her, but they had stopped twisting and turning them, hurting her inside. Still she could not move a muscle, she couldn't shout or look to see what was going on. Branwen just made a silent prayer that they would not touch her again. Anything but that. Anything.

****

Victor blinked once and the red faded slightly, enough that he knew someone else was in the room - and that they weren't a Hydran, which meant they were one of the others that had come with him. and that they weren't supposed to die.

He took a breath, the methane stink in the air choking him, but even that did nothing to make his voice less terrifying, to lessen the talons of fear that the words sent digging into Kimberly's spine. "See to." he looked at the person on the table for the first time and realized he knew her, "the Lieutenant here, Doctor - I believe she'll react better to you than to me." He turned slightly, the shadows and a curl of frozen methane making his face into something other than human. "The Hydrans don't need any assistance."

Branwen recognized the voice. And internally she sobbed with relief. It was Victor, her friend Victor who had come to save her. She knew he was a good man, she knew it. But then it sunk in, he was going to see her like this. He was going to see everything about her. And then she shrieked again within her mind.

Stepping over one of the now definitely deceased Hydrans Kimberly moved swiftly to the young Lieutenants side, glancing swiftly around as she moved she saw the instruments and devices that lay nearby, "Mr... Krieghoff... Have a look round please, It'd be nice to know what they've been doing here, I could use any data chips or crystals you can find, plus scans of any drugs you can see so I know what they might've used," she asked flatly.

Victor frowned and looked around the room. To him, at least, it seemed obvious what the Hydrans had been doing, although why they'd gone about it in this fashion when there were scanners and micro-transporter samplers that could have done the job for them faster and with less mess. As he programmed his tricorder to run scans, it occurred to him that the Hydrans had chosen this method deliberately, possibly even contemptuously, to send a message. If that were the case, then he'd need to make certain that they received one in kind.

"Hey Branwen," she said softer as reached her, looking the table over she winced internally as she saw some of the things there, and what had obviously been in progress, running her tricorder over the secured woman she ran a quick check before releasing her, "gimme a sec and we'll get you out of here," she assured her, without looking around, "I'll need a blanket as well!" she called to Victor.

Victor glanced around the lab, but saw nothing suitable for a blanket except some opaque foil-like sheeting covering a bundle of equipment. Wrenching it free, he handed it to Kimberly. "We can't take too long, Doctor. Their security will be responding soon."

A few tears escaped Branwen's eyes. She felt so utterly humiliated and degraded. A small part of her even wished she had not been rescued so nobody would have to see her this way.

Cursing inwardly at the abuse that had been heaped on Branwen Kimberly tried not to let it show on her face, her tricorder readings indicated Branwen's voluntary nervous system was inhibited somehow, as well as there being several devices within her, "Hold on, we'll have you out soon," she promised again, looking the restraints over again, ~ I'll need a key. or a phaser torch! ~ she realised.

"Doctor?" Victor repeated, offering the improvised blanket again.

Turning slightly Kimberly saw the offered material and took it with a nod, "We'll need the key or code for the restraints, failing that a cutter," she informed the looming officer, "but we'll be here for a bit, she's not moving 'til I check her and stabilise her condition, so I guess you get to cover me," she informed him and she covered Branwen's prone form.

Branwen felt something slide over her. They were covering her, covering the shame. But probably not until everybody had seen it.

"We won't have that much time, Doctor," Victor replied, his voice a soft whisper that dug under the skin and sent tingles of fear up the spine. "There will be a security response within three to five minutes, and self-destruct charges after that - assuming they bother with the troops at all."

Feeling the unholy shiver in her spine at his tone she closed her eyes for a brief second and tried to ignore the memories surfacing, "Just get her free," Kimberly snapped as she started working, "I'll be quick."

"Move." The single word was not a request.

Stepping around to the other side of the table she ignored his tone and kept her mind on her work, moving as swiftly as she could she made sure the devices either attached, or inserted, were either removed or posed no immediate danger to Branwen.

Literally as soon as Kimberly was clear, Victor stepped up to the table. "She'll have burns, Doctor, have something ready for that." Without another word he was lifting a hand, and a thin beam of blue-white light was lancing out from it to slice into the restraints, cutting through them in swift arcs.

It hurt. The burning brought tears to Branwen's eyes. But this was the kind of pain she could deal with. It was something her father would do when she was little. Hold her hand over a candle flame. This pain now meant they were getting her out of here. And it was a good thing.

"The burns I can treat later, just get her free. are you always this. fluffy?" she said, a slight sarcastic lilt to her voice as she gave Branwen a quick shot, "Two Hydrans incoming by the way," she informed the security officer, waving her tricorder slightly in the direction of a nearby door.

Victor frowned at the restraints and switched over to the second set. "I am what I am, Doctor," he answered as the beam sliced through the restraints on that side, narrowing missing Kimberly's foot as it sectioned off a part of the table as well. As the restraints and part of the table dropped free, he swung around without bothering to turn off the device - Kimberly finally recognizing it as a Phaser 1 of a model that hadn't been issued in over a century - the beam scorching a line in the floor and wall as he turned. "Even the Hydrans can tell that," he added in that same, terrifying voice, the words wrapping around the soft whine of the archaic phaser, blending with it so that it seemed that it was they that sliced into the floor and not a beam of energy from the weapon he held.

The door she'd indicated slid open with a hiss - just as the beam he'd dragged across the floor reached it.

The two Hydrans there raised their weapons, mechanically-translated voices stared to speak. and Victor's thumb shifted slightly on the weapon, the whine intensifying as the power setting was ratcheted up into the lethal range as he sliced them apart with the beam, the bulky aliens dissipating into soft white clouds of molecular gas that flared and vanished, leaving nothing to show that they'd ever been there at all.

Victor thumbed the weapon off and finished his turn so that he was now facing Kimberly again. "It appears that they've forgotten, though," he said with a smile, the sense of his presence shifting, as if something else had entered the room and stepped into him to wear his face like a mask, something that Kimberly knew well, something that she fought against for the life of every patient. "I think, perhaps, that they need to be reminded why it is that their children are afraid of the dark," Death finished.

Pausing involuntarily she shuddered at the sudden cold feeling that crept up and down her spine, this man chilled her very soul. Slapping her commbadge perhaps a little too hard she raised her voice, "Trauma team one, I need a stretcher in here now!" she ordered, her voice sounding strained.

=/\= On the way ma'am. =/\=

Looking at the intimidating security officer she took a deep breath and turned back to Branwen, "Just cover us for another moment," she ordered brusquely, "Branwen, can you hear me?" she asked a little softer.

She even managed to make a little sound this time. Maybe the poison in her body was wearing off. But she couldn't really speak or move much.

Letting her breath hiss out between her teeth in frustration she willed the medtech to move faster as she worked to disentangle Branwen from the table, stepping back suddenly she looked to Victor, "Cut the table," she announced, "take out the support column, we'll attach the antigrav stretcher to the table direct and take her as she is," she decided as the door opened behind them, "We'll get her off this back on the ship! Get over here!" she called to the techs urgently.

The thing that was speaking through Victor smiled again, a different simile than the last one - no less chilling, but different. "All right Doctor."

Directing the two paramedics she let them attach the antigravs to the underside of the table and directed them to activate them and step back once done, "All yours," she called to Victor, eager to be out of here and away, and not just because of their proximity to the Hydrans.

Bran found that she could move her head a little. Embarrassed as she was, she was glad to have Victor near now. She felt safe with him watching over her.

Without a word, Victor raised his hand again and used the phaser to slice through the support column attaching the table to the floor. As the table jerked and then floated free, he powered off the weapon. "Done," he said simply. He turned to look at Kimberly. "Get her out of her, Doctor. There will be at most one other Hydran security team before they decide this is pointless and evacuate. Once that happens, this installation's existence is no longer necessary - or desirable - from their point of view." Without waiting for a response, he tapped his commbadge. "So'ka. Report."

There was a moment's hesitation and then a voice responded: =/\= "Prisoners secured, sir. No fatalities. Commander Corgan is requesting a phaser." =/\=

"No weapons until he's cleared by Medical, So'ka. He knows the rules; if he tries to take one, stun him. Get everyone out."

=/\= "Ahh. Are you. staying, sir?" =/\=

Victor smiled Death's smile again. "Only for a moment; I need to send a message to someone."

There was a longer pause. =/\= "Aye, sir. Commencing evacuation now." =/\=

Still smiling, Death looked at Kimberly again. "Why are you still here, Doctor?" he asked with Victor's mouth. "Go - this isn't a place for you any more."

Looking at the security officer Kimberly found herself drawn to his eyes, and for a brief second found her gaze locked with his. Feeling an almost primordial terror grip her she did the only thing her mind would let her.

She bolted, just as she had before when she had first met him, and she didn't stop running until she reached the runabout.

As Kimberly departed, Death was bending over the remains of the Hydran scientists, making a pile of separated parts next to one of the scientist's transporter recall beacons and a box he'd dragged from by one wall and dumped out on the floor.

"In The Halls"

By Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

Ensign Zev Raynor
'Intelligence' Officer

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Counselor Kiel with still unnamed 4 y/o Jemmie NPC

Ensign Artim
Security Medic

****

Deck 32,
Crew Lounges

With the Jem'Hadar now safely ensconced on board the ship, it hadn't been difficult to cordon them into 'safe zones' in order to reduce the opportunity for any of the on-board saboteurs to do any serious damage. Still, being so close to the Phaser Cannon taps and Stardrive core systems, the need for an on-site security team in all major areas where the Jem`Hadar were allowed to propagate was mandatory.

Even so, Curran needed to make the effort to keep an ongoing rapport with their guest, since Captain Henderson had been ordered to divert from Deep Space 5 in order to deliver the former junior Senator Ramir Omar's body back to ch'Rihan for a proper burial.

So, here he was, lodged into the crew lounges on Deck 32 to help the Jem`Hadar adapt to a new way of life until a suitable transport or location could be found to take them there.

Raynor had no idea what he was doing on Deck 32. He was told to go make regular checks on what the Jem'Hadar were up to... but the way the order was given impressed upon him something along the lines of... "Don't come back until you have something you can nail these bastards with."

This assignment had landed him making hourly reports of conversations he had, and how they don't seem to be up to anything, which was not going over particularly well with the officer who gave him the assignment.

But the thing was, if they were going to do anything, they would of done it by now, while they were spread throughout the ship in various tour groups, when they could attack many places at once, making them damned hard to contain. But then again, maybe he gave them a little too much credit. They might not know the layout of the ship, as well as Raynor had assumed although he knew that the first batch of groups could gather intelligence that they needed for any attacks, and they could of tried using several methods of dividing the group up.

But it wasn't just that. His telepathic senses told him that there was no plot amoung the people he met. No feeling of deception. Just simply that they'd wanted to live peacefully. Ender, his one time Jem'Hadar ward would of been puzzled by these people. Not necessarily because they wanted peace but by the fact they seemed unwilling to fight even in self defence it would seem. How many of these peaceful Jem'Hadar died on the planet not fighting back.

Of course he knew the exact number buried into his unconscious mind and if he really wanted to he could search for it. But he didn't want to. Suffice to say he knew the mentallity these Jem'Hadar held towards combat. They were not soldiers.

He continued his walk... wondering how much longer he would have to keep this up, until everyone was convinced of the facts that Raynor already knew.

Nara was closing up a kit after fixing a unit on the wall. She looked over and saw Raynor. She stood and waved at him, "Hi, there."

Raynor saw Nara and wondered for a second, if she was stalking him, because they seemed to bump into each alot, without any sort of plan he was aware of... but he waved it off.

"Hey, what you working on?" Raynor asked, then jokingly added "The latest attempt at sabotage?"

"Wouldn't sink to their level." Then she started walking, Stuff needs fixing all over. It's my favorite part really, getting out, opening up the guts of the ship, making her happy again."

"She been happy before?" Raynor asked. "I thought she was always a grumpy mean old ship..."

*****Meanwhile on Deck 35*****

"Are you hungry," Kiel asked of his companion, as the mismatched pair came around one corner of the corridor which wound through Deck 35. On which, there seemed to be quite a number of non-Jem'Hadar among the deck's denizens. The ship's young El Aurian ensign walking hand- in-hand with the diminutive Jem'Hadar toddler, who's short legs were a flurry as the black-haired, shale-skinned child skipped about the hallway, tethered by the hold which the preteen counselor restrained the small child from bounding up the walls. The idea had been to let the bouncing boy exercise some of his superfilous energy while also getting him out around some of the other Jem'Hadar and letting him interact with some of his own people. With so many orphaned children and displaced adults, the Jem'Hadar were struggling to make do and, as such, they still hadn't found someone among them to care of the young Jemmie; whose name still hadn't been pried from him.

And so, Kiel continued to care for the child he'd pulled out of the wreckage on the world; which seemed to actually cull favor between himself and some of the survivors, enabling them to open up to the preteenlistener and talk about the massacre. All that aside, Kiel looked down at the boy. Craning his head around, the child looked up at the blond-haired ensign to cheerfully declare, "Yes! Want ice cream!"

Giving a quiet chuckle, Kiel shook his head as the preteen guided the tot Toward one of the replicators in one of the crew lounges. "How about something a little less... sugary," Kiel proposed, already certain that the child wouldn't be happy to compromise.

"Now now, what's wrong with sugar? We should be introducing them to all the great cuisines of the universe. Don't tempt me or I might make up a pan of brownies."

Artim smiled as he came around the corner and saw Kiel and his young Jem'hadar charge. The Miran had been avoiding them as much as possible though quite a bit of his time since he transfered to security had been spent chasing Jem'hadar kids all over the ship. At least Kiel had control of this one. "So Kiel, enjoying being a parent?"

Glaring over at the other uniformed kid, the young El Aurian shot a dark look in the Miran's general direction. "Well, it was really more of his idea than mine," the blond-haired boy replied slowly. His hazel eyes showing as a smokey silver as he leveled a sharp glance at the medic for the brownie comment. Like the Jemmie needed any more damn sugar...

As if on cue, the charcoal-skinned tot piped up. "What's a brownzies? Or a kwi... kiwi... kwi-zine," the small child asked, his voice demanding answers to these important questions; though at the sight of the somewhat unfamiliar Artim, the boy retracted so that he was closer to Kiel.

Reaching out with his free hand, the Jemmie hugged against the El Aurian's left leg.

"Food...rather yummy food." Artim replied grinning.

Looking down at the top of the child's head, Kiel gave a soft sigh as he glanced back up at Artim with an almost helpless expression, holding out a small toy which seemed to be broken. "I decided to get him out and try to walk off some energy after he trashed his favorite... whatever this is," the counselor explained, a sense of frustration underpining his words. "I don't suppose you know anyone who might be good at fixing these...whatevers?"

Artim took the toy and looked it, puzzling over what it was. After examining it for a few moments he returned it and said, "Well, I paid attention in basic engneering but I don't think I can do much with this. We could go find a real engineer?"

Artim was giving the only suggestion he could come up with as he grinned down at the little Jem'hadar. Perhaps if these kids could be made...docile the cycle could be broken. Perhaps the Jem'hadar can be taught...civilization. They appeared to be doing well back there, before their fellows who couldn't let go destroyed it.

With his hand now free, Kiel momentarily shifted his attention to the clingy Jem'Hadar that was wrapped around his leg. Reaching down, the El Aurian youth let go of the child's hand as he slipped his hands under the small boy's arms and lifted him up off the deck, settling the boy against his right hip as the preteen youth shifted his hold and balance so to comfortably carry the Jemmie. For his part, the gray-skinned child just rested his head against Kiel's shoulder, staring at Artim with his large, coal black eyes; the fingers of his right hand reaching across Kiel's chest to fiddle with the silver and gold parabolic pin afixed to the front of the counselor's uniform.

Brushing a strand of hair from out of the boy's face, the young El Aurian glanced back at the Miran. "Yeah, I've been looking to see if there were any around while we've been talking with some of the Jem'Hadar but... well, some like to talk more than others."

*****Meanwhile on Deck 32*****

As she continued to walk, she laughed, "To you she is. You annoy her crew With your bubble wrap and invading her comm systems for some practical joke."

"A: I'm part of this crew now, for better or for worse," Raynor started in His defense. "B: Better to be slightly annoyed, than in a deep brooding state of depression waiting for a handful of over booked counselors who decided handle the situation in a way that drains them, puts people on waiting lists edging over closer and closer to suicide... something that is not helped by the lack of natural sunlight on a ship such as this... a fact that does apparently effect humans... rather than group theraphy which would of at least given some people the bandage they needed until a regular counselling session was available... and that fling did happen to boost morale, and C: I still have to put together a stupid radio show together now. FOR A DAILY ANNOYANCE, as you seem to take it."

Nara laughed and shook her head as his ramblings started to endear her. Her new sparring partner--well, they've yet to spar, but she did run into him a lot--seemed to get started on some rant everytime she saw him, "Well a radio show seems up your alley. You love to talk."

"No... I love annoying superior officers. Talking is just a method of doing that," Raynor said. "Especially when you're handed an oppuntunity to talk back to the stupid ones... those guys always the most fun." He had a smirk on his face as he followed her around the corner...

...and ran into the ships Liaison Officer.

Kylar had been hovering just around the corner, listening to the exchange with mild displeasure. After having left the lounges in order to obtain an answer on several questions relating to the living and assignment arrangements of the Jem`Hadar, he'd grown exasperated and claustrophobic at the cramped slave pens the ship's Quartermaster called a 'safe zone'. They were hot, humid, and far too heady for his liking.

"And how is it you define stupid, Ensign? By surveying yourself in the morning while preening? Or by not taking care of watching your mouth while it runs on in a public corridor? If those are your criteria, then it isn't likely any person on this ship is as unintelligent as you are. Ironic considering the department you apparently are a part of." Kylar gestured to the black collar of Raynor's sweater. "You should take more care in how you phrase comments on this ship."

Raynor had a small internal thought... about oh how this entire loud mouth insubordinate idiot thing was an act so that every spy on board would peg him as incapable of doing anything right... spreading false information about personnel was part of the job, while gathering intelligence about every part of the ships crew so he knew the exact emotional states and capabilities. But of course with this never escaped his lips... as he kept his bright smile on.

"Nah... I rather be honest and allow everyone to know my thoughts rather than having to deal with the stress of keeping my mouth shut..." Raynor said in an ironic truth. Keeping up the act did in fact stress him out at times, but it was also fun as well, he made sure he his mouth moved often and loudly but rarely did it say anything that mattered in his heart, just random half baked ideas. "And your right, I should be in charge of the stupidity department... to bad this ship doesn't have one," Raynor joked.

"So how goes the talks with our Jem'Hadar guests?" he asked after a short pause.

"You're in Intelligence. You should know already." Curran felt this officer was either playing the idiot, or truly was one. He leaned towards the latter. There was supposed to be a level of professionalism to the uniform, and this... person... certainly was lacking that. So much for Intelligence officers being low-key.

Nara was just glad he hadn't heard her comment about the Jem'Hadar. She tried to hide her prejudice from people who would scold her for it. She knew deep down it was wrong. But it wasn't something lectures would cure. Like most things, it would take time. She just didn't trust them on the ship.

"These 'talks' with our guests are also supposed to demonstrate our level of responsibility, maturity, and impressions of overall presentation to a potential partner and member of the Federation. Would it make you feel any more consolation if you knew you drove the Jem`Hadar to align with the T`Kith'Kin and Hydrans? That's one sure-fire way to have yourself terminated from Starfleet. Only I think you'd find life much more difficult to survive on a day-to-day basis knowing your face and name are spoken on the billboards and breaths of trillions, with no one to protect you.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut, your opinions to yourself, and perhaps removed from any possible physical interactions with the Jem`Hadar before the rest of us have to perform damage control. Your opinions are not sanctioned by the diplomatic corps or Starfleet, so take them to your personal quarters and off-duty. I will be sure to corroborate this encounter with Lieutenant Dobryin so no errors in judgment occur from any party."

He nodded to Roswell as he passed through, "Good day, Lieutenant. Be careful of who you associate with. It may not bode well for your career."

Without waiting for a reply from either, he continued into the next series crew lounges, where he continued to search for Goran`Agar.

Nara just nodded, "Aye sir."

Raynor blinked for a second, watching the Vice-Legate storm off. "It's funny because I'm one of the few crewmembers who actually respect these Jem'Hadar for trying to overcome the hatred that exists against them, and forge a new racial identity for themselves despite all odds against them. And he just told to shut up because I'LL cause diplomatic damage... ironic isn't it?" He turned to Nara eyebrows raised.

She looked back at him and with a slight smirk, replied, "You would." She then walked off to her next item on the list of repairs.

"He Who Watches The Watchers"

Captain Cassius Henderson,
Commanding Officer

Pilot Paulo DiMillo,
Intelligence Liaison, Vanguard Squadron

with... PO3 Lysandra Stuart,
Intelligence Analyst

Major Sharien t'Riasau,
RNI Liaison

****

Flight Deck,
Deck 38,
USS Galaxy

"Pilot DiMillo," Lysa Stuart called up from the flight deck, cocking her head back to look up the cockpit of the DiMillo's starfighter. She was expecting a quick response. All of the intelligence personnel that served on the Galaxy knew her voice, as she often served as the messenger for Captain Henderson.

"Yes," he said climbing out. He didn't spend a lot of hours in these things, but it was required to get in one for so many hours a month. It was a nice change from sitting in a Runabout all the time.

Lysa leaned against his fighter as he climbed down, nonchalantly looking around the bay. On her homeworld, starfighters were raced for sport. It was a deadly profession, but it was often the only way to get enough money or fame to get off world. She'd always wanted to be a pilot, but in the end it had been easier to enlist in Starfleet.

"What can I do for you Petty Officer?" He asked as he stepped down onto the deck.

"I have an update for you from Lieutenant Dobryin," Lysa said, handing him a PADD. Other intelligence analysts frequently found themselves bringing reports to the liaison officers for the attached commands; Vanguard Squadron and the SFMC Furies. Coming from Lysa Stuart, DiMillo would know that there was no such update on the PADD.

"Ah, thank you," he said taking the pad and bring up the message. What he saw more or less shocked him, especially as he was expecting a report from Cora.

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

TO: Pilot DiMillo, Paulo, IL: VS
FROM: Captain Henderson, Cassius, SH: HS

Come to my office. I need an update from you.

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

"This isn't from Lt Dobryin," he said looking up and looking for her.

When he turned around, Lysa was already gone.

****

Captain's Ready Room,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy

"Come in," Cassius called upon hearing the chime. That would likely be DiMillo. Glancing over the shoulder of his guest, he confirmed that suspicion, and stood up. "Major, I'm sorry, but I have another meeting right now. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me a message. The guards will return you to your quarters now."

The Rihannsu Naval Intelligence Liaison nodded, standing to shake his hand. "Jolan'tru, Captain. If you require further consultation, the offer goes both ways," Sharien smiled, before spinning on her heel and walking out of the ready room, into the waiting arms of the security guards. She'd been under house arrest since Ramir Omar's murder, and although O'Shea had claimed responsibility for that action, both of them agreed that it would be best for her to remain in custody.

"Thank you, Major," Cass replied, waiting until the door had slid shut to continue. "Sit down, Pilot. Would you like something to drink?"

"Water is fine," he said. "Keeping up with the hours needed in a starfighter can be parching to the throat." He paused as he took the glass of water. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what it this about?"

Cassius didn't reply immediately, instead ordering two waters from the replicator. The glasses were appropriately chilled, ice cold to the touch. Returning to the desk, he placed one before DiMillo and took a drink from the other. "Paulo, do you consider yourself to be unbiased in your activities as a member of Starfleet Intelligence."

Paulo paused, taking a sip. "I would like to think so sir, but as you asked me, I suspect you have your doubts," he admitted.

"I am," Cassius nodded, reluctantly. These were the conversations he hated, but had to have anyway. The job came with it. "Do you remember the stated policy for intelligence operations in Hydran Sector, pursuant to unofficial and unauthorized investigations?"

"Something about don't," Paulo admitted knowing where this was headed.

"Something about don't?" Cassius bellowed, slamming a clenched fist down on Captain M'Kantu's desk, causing his glass of water to jump. With lightning reflexes, he caught it and lowered it back to the desk, catching a beat to calm down. "How can you be so nonchalant and still have a career in intelligence? These rules exist for a reason, and yet time and time again you flaunt them like they don't apply to you."

"This is not the first time you've conducted an unsanctioned investigation. Before this, there was the one into Bental, which was only retroactively authorized," he continued. "Starfleet Intelligence officers do not conduct their own investigations, especially not into family members, Paulo. I know you don't understand your sister's defection. But it's not your place, and you're only tying up the real investigation."

Paulo had been a little startled by the out lash, but had expected something. "Sir, with all due respect, you did miss one. The reason I went AWOL back when I was assigned to SFI between assignments here on the Galaxy." Paulo paused a second looking down at his chest at his combadge. "It is well within your right to ask for my resignation within SFI." He paused again knowing what that entailed. It meant a memory wipe of all his activities within Intel. His time with Cora, finding out he had a half sister, who had since decided that being a traitor was a better idea.

"I may not like the reality of having to step out of Intelligence, but you are right. I have gone against code three times, one that hurt me pretty bad, and two others that have caused SFI to look down at me. I have no delusions of coming out of this incident with my hide intact."

"Having to step outside of Intelligence?" Cassius questioned, maintaining a firm tone of voice. "What could possibly require you to step outside of the community, Paulo?"

"Sir, its apparent that SFI is not happy with me. If they had been I would have had at least gotten one promotion." Paulo paused seeing the facts in front of him. "I am also starting to think I joined for the wrong reasons."

"Don't dodge the question," Cassius said sharply. "Why did you step outside of the community and conduct your own, unsanctioned investigations on three separate occasions?"

"I am guessing I take things to personal," Paulo replied. "I was told at the Academy that. Guess that is the best answer."

Cassius sighed, doing his best to resist the urge to shout again. He often wondered when Starfleet Academy had stopped teaching protocol and decorum. Instead of continuing on to dress him down, Cassius paused. "Pilot, why did you join Starfleet Intelligence?"

"When I was little I had two very important things taken from me. One was my little sister, and the other was my little brother. The two where twins and where always together. They did everything together. On their 6th Birthday my little sister, for some reason ran out side. We didn't think anything of it at the time. The next thing we know, she was gone." Paulo paused remembering those events. "A few weeks later my little brother died from what the doctor called a "broken heart". He rationalized that his other half had been taken from him, and he couldn't go on without it. Since then, the driving force in my life has been to find out who did this. Who took my little sister, but I have gotten nothing. I had hopped that after Section 31 was taken down that she would have appeared, like Major Weber, but I had no such luck."

"Pilot, I don't want you to think that your loss, and more importantly your brother and sister's loss, was in any way unimportant," Cassius said, trying to think about what wisdom Captain M'Kantu would have offered in the same situation. He often found that he was too opinionated to give the same quality advice that the Galaxy's former commanding officer would have imparted. "However, that's a dangerous reason to join a group like SFI. You swore an oath when you joined the service to act in the interest of the Federation. In conducting your own investigations into casework you haven't been assigned, you're failing that oath. And to be frank, you're probably impeding the progress of the official investigation."

"The official investigation was ended years ago on my brother and sister." He paused. "And I truly don't have a good reason for as to why I was looking into Anna," he admitted. "And did you discover anything about your sister's disappearance that the official investigators didn't?" Cassius asked. "Nothing," Paulo admitted. "I thought I had a few leads, but they all turned up to be dead ends."

"Then what did you accomplish?" Cassius questioned, "These investigations have only compounded your problems. You spent time in the stockade. Starfleet Intelligence no longer trusts you."

"So I am gathering," Paulo replied. "What are my options?"

"Frankly, you don't have options. I'm inclined to agree with my superiors in this case," he explained, letting a pregnant pause hang in the air as he took a pull from his cup. "You're a loose cannon, Mr. DiMillo. We're in the business of keeping secrets, and SFI can't account for people they can't predict. I'm suspending your access to Starfleet Intelligence's Database until further notice, and placing a formal reprimand on your file."

Paulo was a little surprised. He hadn't expected them to be that harsh, but what did he expect. "I understand."

"You're dismissed, Pilot," Cassius said. It was time to wrap this up, as he had several more meetings to go through for Hydran Sector Intelligence and Strategic Operations before he could move on to ship's business. "And Liaison wanted me to convey to you that this is your final warning. Deviate from the SFI rules of operation, and you'll be facing retirement. I don't have to explain to you what that entails."

It was, after all, not that long ago that they'd discussed the difference between memory wipes and staying in SFI. That time it had been in reference to his budding romance with Lieutenant Dobryin. This time was more serious.

Paulo stood up, saluted and headed towards the door leading to the bridge. As he headed out of the door Cora was just ready to hit the chime. He didn't say anything. He nodded and kept on walking.

"Strained Resources"

Captain Cassius Henderson,
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin,
Chief Intelligence Officer

with... PO3 Lysandra Stuart,
Intelligence Analyst

****

Intelligence Center,
Deck 8,
USS Galaxy

After dropping off her handler's instructions with DiMillo in the fighter bay, Lysa Stuart made her was back to the intelligence center to complete her morning rounds. As she crossed the threshold, she could see that the room was bustling with activity. Crates were stacked in one corner, labeled as evidence in the O'Shea case, which was just getting underway. Lysa guessed that the crates contained the contents of O'Shea's office in Engineering, which had been cleared to make room for Lieutenant Grey.

Lysa made a beeline for the Intelligence Liaison's office, stopping only to accept a cup of coffee from one of her fellow analysts. Leaning on the doorframe, she rang the chime and waited to be called in.

"Enter," Cora called.

The slim petty office stepped into the office and over to Lieutenant Dobryin's desk with her usual grace. "HH wants to see you," she said, carefully pronouncing each letter of the shorthand for Handler: Hydran Sector - Captain Cassius Henderson.

Cora nodded, "In his office I presume. Make sure those crates don't go anywhere. I'll be back to run make assignment for the O'Shea case."

"Aye, Ma'am," Lysa nodded, "I'll see to it."

****

Captain's Ready Room,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy

"Come in and take a seat, Cora," Cassius called out. Compared to the unpleasant meeting with Pilot DiMillo, this would be much more satisfying. Dobryin was a professional, and their meeting would actual accomplish something. Cassius would take that over reprimanding sullen junior officers any day.

It occurred to him that he should have had somebody else in between the two, as they'd likely passed in the hall. But it was already done, and perhaps better this way. He could be up front with Dobryin about DiMillo's situation, if she chose to inquire.

The CIO took a seat, "You wanted to see me, Sir."

"Yes, about the current disposition of Galaxy's intelligence resources. But only briefly," he replied, handing her a PADD. "As of this morning, you're officially charged with a full investigation into the extent of Commander Brianna O'Shea's activities as an agent of the Hydran Sovereignty. Normally, this would be the purview of the Security Department, but because it involves a foreign power, it falls to you."

The Intelligence unit stationed on the Galaxy was a small one, the sort usually deployed to provide accurate intelligence reports on the ship's current mission. With the Galaxy being asked to enter Rihannsu space, they would already be working overtime. The O'Shea Investigation being added to that could push their workload to the point of impossibility. "We knew this was coming, and I assume you've been planning accordingly. How do you intend to counter in increased strain on your resources?"

"We'll be busy but I've set up a rotation schedule that will allow us to handle the added work load," Cora replied.

Cassius nodded, accepting her judgment. He had confidence in her ability to manage her people. She knew them better than anyone else. "Don't hesitate to ask Security for help, if you feel the need. Commander Corgan has some very talented investigators."

"I will do that Sir," Cora knew when too much was too much. "If things get too difficult I'll get help."

"Do you have a schedule for the investigation yet?" Cassius asked, curious what areas she'd be covering first, and in what order.

"After I leave here I'm briefing my staff. Theres a lot of containers in Intel but we still have to search her quarters."

"Well, I look forward to reading your report," he stated, before moving on to a new topic. "On the subject of Intelligence's other main focus, I need you to compile a report on the political factions currently operating on ch'Rihan, as well as the military disposition of the area. Get with Lieutenant Bental on that last one."

"Understood I'll get with the Lieutenant," Cora replied.

Her response wasn't what he'd been expecting, given her history with Bental. "I take it you and Mr. Bental have resolved your differences?"

Cora simply responded, "What ever our differences are Sir, I'm first and foremost an officer in Starfleet. I can act like a professional to get the job done."

"As it should be," Cassius agreed. Textbook answer, but it would have to suffice. She had every reason to be suspicious of Bental, but within the preparation of the report that he needed, they'd do their jobs. "That's everything for today. Before you go, I need to tell you that I've suspended Pilot DiMillo's access to the SFI Database. He's been conducting unauthorized investigations again, and SFI thinks he may become a security risk."

Slowly Cora nodded, "I have to admit thats news I wasn't expecting to hear. Unathorized investigations isn't a good thing thats for sure." It complicated things but Cora knew nothing about Paulo's actions until now.

"It's not the first time, Cora," he said, more informally. "You remember why he spent time in the stockade. Illegal investigation into the disappearance of his sister. Later, it was Bental, which we retroactively sanctioned. Now it's O'Shea. I'd call that a pattern. He can't be trusted no to strike out on his own when people he cares about are involved."

"Its a pattern yes," Cora admitted, "And you're right. However I assume he didn't take this news too well at all."

"He didn't seem to react at all, which actually concerns me more," Cassius replied, "I pointed out that what he was doing was only hurting his career, but he didn't seem overly concerned."

"Thats not good at all," Cora answered the question.

"I know that you and he are close. You should talk to him about it. He's more likely to open up to you," Cassius suggested, his tone indicated informality. "He's passionate enough, but if he wants to achieve his goals... and I won't pretend to know what they are... he needs to straighten himself out. Eventually, SFI is going to cut their losses, and he'll have to retire."

Cora nodded, "We're close yes. Probably more than I thought would happen but we'll see if he'll talk to me or not. You're right he's passionate enough but can he straighten himself out. I'll talk to him but there's no guarantees especially since I don't want him to think I'm the enemy for saying anything at all regarding this."

"And I certainly don't want you to be What happens between you should stay between you," he replied, clasping his hands together on his desk.

At that Cora simply nodded, "If there's nothing else, I have an Intel department to hate me for adding more to our work load." She smiled, "And yes I'll make sure they aren't too overworked."

"Do what you have to do, Lieutenant. If we have to push them hard for two weeks to get through this assignment, then that's what we'll do," Cassius stated, standing up to walk with her to the door. "Keep me posted."

*Note - Apologies, this one, and the previous one I sent in are set 'Before' "Pain of Words" - Where Bran Slaps Saul*

"Did You Know?"

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Branwen London
Furies Counsellor

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tapping on Branwen’s door, Kimberly looked down at the PADD she carried,

~ Kids, they'll be the end of me! ~ she decided, hearing the call from inside she stepped through the door, "Hey," she said with a smile as she entered, "how's you?" placing a bag on the desk she dropped inelegantly into a convenient chair, "how'd the shouting go?"

"Shouting? You mean training? Not bad. I'm not being too tough on them as it has been a hard time for everybody. They just have to be back in shape by the time Baile returns. I am getting there. Have a seat, Kimberley."

"Thanks," she replied, already getting comfortable, "So, since we skipped lunch I brought sandwiches and salad, interested?" indicating the bag on Branwens desk, "and a story about two troublesome girls."

"I am interested in both." Branwen seemed a little bit more relaxed than earlier. "I am very hungry, thank you Kimberley."

"Great," unpacking a selection of sandwiches and a large salad bowl she also unpacked some plates and cutlery, "How come everyone needs to get 'back' in shape? Everyone been lazing around while the boss is away?" she asked with a small smile.

"They were a bit shook up about what happened. And they need to learn how to work together, some are pretty new. And some actually also want psychological help to deal with what happened. All in all it keeps me pretty busy." She admitted.

"It has been hectic lately," Kimberly agreed, "how about you? How're you coping with all that's happened? And the extra work has to be taking a lot of your free time as well?"

"A lot, try all." Branwen leaned back in her chair. "I'm coping though. Yet it isn't easy. But back to the girls, that's why you are here."

Nodding, "Mostly," sliding some salad across the desk she followed it up with a PADD, "I've the feeling it might be better to talk with them both about this at the same time, I thought about approaching her parents, but I recalled you've been assigned as her mentor, so I thought I'd speak with you first."

"Yes our former captain decided that." Branwen smiled. "She is a handful."

"Well, I was running some diagnostics on the KittyKat, my shuttle," she added, "and unless I'm mistaken, it looks like the girls beamed down to Junction during our visit there, looks like they were down on the surface for quite a while, and partly during the troubles down there."

"She did what!" Branwen exploded. "She was on the planet! The stupid headstrong child." She went pale thinking of what could have happened to Samantha.

"Stupid is one word I used," Kimberly agreed, "but calm down for a bit, save it for the girls, I plan on having a 'very' strong chat with Sara- Jayne soon and I was hoping you'd be there to back me up and do the same with Sam?"

"Oh yes definitely." Bran said. "You count on that!" She was fuming.

"Has Sam done anything like this before?" taking a bite from a sandwich she watched Branwen as she obviously contemplated what to do with the teenager.

"Believe me, yes. She always gets into trouble. The child is amazing, I like her a great deal. But sometimes... I think I will have to be a lot tougher on her."

"As I will on Sara, I thought giving her a little trust and freedom was a good thing, but I guess I've a lot to learn about raising a teenager," shrugging, "I'll need to give them both a check up, they went down without any inoculations," she explained, "and there's other concerns... when do you think we should speak with them? Me, I'm more or less ready to do it right after school if you are?"

"Yes, sounds like a good plan. Samantha has been avoiding me, and that is never a good sign. I'm totally with you there."

"Good, will you talk to her parents? I mean, since you know them."

"First I want to talk to her. Then probably I will talk to her parents." Branwen said. She looked at her watch. "Don't have much time left."

"What are you off to next then?"

"Patients." Gwen said simply. "Loads of them."

"Mind if I ask when you plan to relax? And do something for yourself? Every time I've seen you lately you've been terribly busy?"

"That can come when my boss gets back. Hopefully not much longer now. Then I can relax a little." Branwen said.

“When’s he due back then?”

"I'm not sure. It is not as if he keeps me very well up-to-date." She said to her friend.

“Well you need to relax, remember our earlier chat?” she asked solicitously, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

"No. I told you before I will rest when my boss gets back. It is no big deal." She didn't look at her friend.

"It is a big deal! You're in charge of the Marines aboard, that's a lot of responsibility, plus you have your own duties to take care of and believe me when I say I know how involved you can get worrying about other people, plus I've just asked for help with the kids... What else is on your plate?"

"Oh that's about it." Gwen said casually.

"Are you sure?" giving her a direct look.

"Yeah." Branwen said. It was enough what she had going on.

“Okay then, well as I said, if I can help be sure to call okay, in the meantime I’ll get what I need from my shuttle and see you back here later about the girls, just so you know though, I’ve made sure Sara-Jayne can’t do that again, ever.”

"Sounds good." I will see you later. Branwen was already emerged in work again.

“Later then, but remember to eat as well,” she advised as she got up, nudging the salad closer.

"Yes mother." Branwen said smiling. "Shoo!"

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that,” Kimberly objected cheerfully as she got up to leave, “watch it kiddo, you’re only a few years younger than me!” she reminded the marine.

"To me you are ancient." She actually giggled.

“Watch it girl!” Kimberly mock threatened with a stern gaze, “just remember you have a physical coming up soon, I’m sure I can make that interesting.”

"Awwww mommy." Branwen teased.

“This must be what it feels like to have an annoying baby in the house then,” Kimberly teased back from the door, “watch it youngster, or I’ll have you sent to Kindergarden with all the other toddlers to play.” She decided as the door opened.

Seeing her leave Branwen actually felt good. It had been a while since she had even laughed.

“And don’t forget to eat something!” came Kimberly’s disembodied voice from the corridor as the door slid shut.

Branwen just smiled and went back to work.

"The Pain of Words"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London
Furies Executive Officer / Psychologist

Bran sat in a corner of the observation deck. She came here a lot lately just sitting in the dark and watching the stars. She selected times that nobody else was around. She didn't like to be around people much at the moment. This was easier, just being alone with her own misery.

Today, however, her wish to be left undisturbed was short lived.

"There should be regulations against pretty girls sitting on their own."

Before she could protest, someone sat next to her on the bench. The starlight revealed a face that she hasn't seen for a long while.

She looked away from him. "Please Saul. I am not in the mood." Bran said softly.

"That I can see.", He said, his tone turning soft. "So what is it that you see out there?", He asked, motioning toward the marvelous dark view outside.

"Nothing. And I like it that way." She was curled into a little ball.

"Bran.", He reached for her, but stop his hand in mid-motion. After all they've been through, touching her won't be a good idea, especially when she was in a clearly vulnerable state. "Don't tell me it's nothing. Why are you depressed? And don't tell me it's me, otherwise I'll just go ahead and throw myself out of the nearest airlock."

"It's not always about you, you know." Was all she wanted to say.

"So what is it about?"

"You are not my boyfriend, so I don't have to tell you." She really wanted to be difficult today.

"You know, Bran, if I was the one who was depressed I know that you wouldn't just let me be."

"No, but it is my profession. You are a spook."

"I'm just someone who cares.", Saul shrugged, and interlaced his fingers behind his head.

To tell the truth, he had no intention of being Branwen's psychologist. All he wanted to do is to tell her that he's back, and see that all was well with her before proceeding to do the same with Nyoko, Nieca, 8-Ball and the other crewmembers he befriended since he came on board.

In Branwen's case, obviously, not all was well. "The truth is, I actually need your professional opinion about a friend of mine. I recently got back from a long leave, and I found her sitting alone gazing at the stars with the most miserable expression imaginable on her face. As a certified psychologist, how do you advise me to help her?"

She gave him a dirty look. "Saul, why don't you go and be with Nara. She is home."

"I thought you said it wasn't about me.", Saul shot back. Nara was in fact the first person he came to see when he got back, even before the debriefing with Captain Henderson. But he had no intention of discussing Nara with Bran. "The fastest way to get rid of me, Bran, is to tell me what the problem is."

"What if it is personal and I don't want to talk about it. Maybe I came here for some peace and quiet. You are not the first one to ask me what is wrong, but I really hope you will be the last one."

"Obviously it's personal, and obviously you came here for peace and quiet.", Saul frowned. "Seeing you like this, I thought you could use a friendly ear. Just wanted to tell you that I'm back, anyway."

"Thank you for telling me."

Saul stood up slowly, and glanced at Bran. The woman looked as pale and worn out as she sounded. Or perhaps, it was just the starlight and the mind of a weary traveler.

He mindlessly patted Bran's hair. "I'll leave you for your peace and quite, then.", He told her, then added with a sly grin, "and be thankful that I can't torture you into telling me what's wrong."

The next moment he was on the ground the sting of the hand she had slapped him with hard, smarting. "You bastard." She hissed.

Saul didn't respond. His face burnt, as if someone attached a photon mine to his cheek and pressed the detonator. Everything around him turned, whirled.

"Naienn.", he cursed. He recalled that Branwen's was quite muscular beneath the lady-like appearance she had, it just never translated in his mind to a threat, until that very moment.

Somewhere among the echoes of pain, he decided to remain on the floor until he comes back to his senses enough to do anything. If he rises now, and the marine decides to give him a second course, he won't be able to defend himself.

Branwen however realizing what she had done, started to cry.

"Bran...", Saul muttered, finally bringing himself to a crouch well outside Bran's reach. Moving his mouth hurt. "What's wrong with you?"

"I am sorry for hitting you." She sniffed. "But you should not tease me with that, that was mean, especially coming from you."

"Tease you with what?", Saul asked, dumbfounded. He wanted to step forward and wipe Bran's tears, but the searing pain which began to spread up toward his temple and down toward the chin told him otherwise.

"You know how… you know torture…. the mission … my dad." She wasn't making much sense.

Saul suddenly felt stupid. He knew very well why Branwen was touchy when it came to torture. He saw her father abuse her with his own eyes, when he found himself in her dream last year. She was only twelve, and he was so intimidating...

"What mission?"

"The mission to the planet were we were taken by the aliens and stuff.' She mumbled with a red head now. "Let me look at your jaw."

Saul instinctively raised his hand, and took a step backwards. "I'll be just fine. If you're talking about what the Galaxy did while I was away, I didn't bring myself up-to-date with recent events. Thought I should see my FRIENDS first. Is that why you're upset? The mission?"

"Yeah." She said. "Don't be a baby, I promise not to hurt you again. Let me have a look okay."

"I don't think so.", He took another step back. "What happened in the mission?"

"We got captured by Hydrans." She didn't come forward. "I promise not to hurt you again. I said I was sorry."

"Hydrans.", Saul repeated dryly.

"Yes, hydrans." Now she did more forward.

She needn't say anything else. Saul saw what the Hydrans were capable of when it came to prisoners. He saw the tanks at Olor 50, saw the Deltan floating in the foul liquid, the cybernetic implants. The thought that Branwen would be victimize by the heartless tripedal bastards made him shudder.

He couldn't think of anything to say that would make her feel better.

"They'll pay.", He finally said. "Let's get out of here, Bran, this place is an invitation for bad thoughts and neither of us can afford bad thoughts right now."

"That's go somewhere else indeed. Maybe sickbay first, to check out I didn't break anything." She blushed. "I really am sorry. You just said the wrong thing at the wrong time."

"My expertise.", Saul tried to chuckle, but it was too painful to be worth it. He didn't want to appear in sickbay after being struck by a woman, but the goal justifies the means and right now the goal was to get Branwen out of solitude and to the company of people.

"No, usually you're very nice." She guided him out.

On their way out, Saul watched Bran's slender back, and couldn't help thinking about Eve.

Was he any better than the Hydran scientists?

"Confessional"

Second Lieutenant Branwen London
CO ad-temp, SFMC Furies Detachment

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

With brief appearances from some of the SFMC Furies 188th TSS Detachment

****

Marine Central Commons,
Deck 16,
USS Galaxy

The Marine Commons was practically empty. The day hadn't begun for the Marines yet. Unlike the various navy departments, the Marines didn't keep regular shifts. They worked and trained regularly, but didn't have the rigors of daily duty shifts. It was better that way. If part of the engine broke, an Engineer could head out from Main Engineering and fix it, but the Marines didn't have such duties aboard the ship. Their purpose was to train and assist with any incidents that occurred that required specialized warfare training. Anything from a full on battle to clandestine operations were fair game for the Furies. It was the way of things and they liked it that way.

It seemed that Tokka Razza, the Gorn-like Basik, was a glutton for punishment. He was here yet again, the fourth or fifth time this week, battling Chuckles at tri-dee chess. And from the looks of things, he wasn't in the best position against the Vulcan. A sudden banging noise, and several loud expletives, emanating from the adjoining Mess told him that Axl was hard at work preparing breakfast for the grunts. Yet again it was probably some lousy concoction of leftovers from the night before, all rolled up into some 'delectible' dish to be served shortly.

Amy VanDuren sat at one of the common tables, pulling her rifle apart. A hard ass if ever there was one in the team, the Private seemed to have a need to clean that rifle every morning. First Platoon was lucky to have her, despite her being a hard ass, as she was one of the best soldiers that the Furies had.

But none of that was why he was here this early. It was half an hour before they had their morning briefing and he had an appointment to keep. Meetings with Councellors were the bane of all Marines. Most of them were fucked up, having seen and done things that made others cower in fear. It was what they did, and no amount of talking to a shrink about it was gonna change that. Heck, knowing what he had previously done allowed Jonas to focus on the real gritty tasks, including the ones where you "Don't Exist", and gave him a sense of empowerment that they could be achieved successfully.

Lieutenant London had an office down a hallway on the far side of the Commons, and he was headed there now. Most meetings would have been during down time during their training sessions but with Lieutenant Baile away, her duties had increased and this was the best time available. The door neared and Jonas felt a pang of nervousness. He'd face a horde of Jem'Hadar soldier any day of the week, even the Borg, compared to what he'd find behind the door. Ghosts of Christmas Past would be coming out of the walls to get him in short order, there was little doubt of that to Jonas.

"That was an illogical move Razza." Chuckles' voice drifted from the Commons. "You have sacrificed a valuable piece."

Jonas couldn't quite hear the response from the Basik, but had no doubt that he was up to something. he was a crafty bastard. He had found that out the hard way during a training session in the holodeck one day. Pressing the buzzer at the door, Steven waited for the Lieutenant to respond.

In short order she replied, "Enter". The door hissed open.

"Ma'am, I'm here for our appointment." Jonas said, pausing a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room. Being so early in the day, Commons wasn't lit fully causing his eyes to strain at the elevated brightness.

"Come in, Lieutenant" Branwen called out.

Jonas stepped into the room. Her desk was situated in one corner, allowing more room for the dreaded couch amongst other possessions that the Lieutenant had decorated her room with. There were no ghosts, no monsters, just a standard office with trinkets and furniture. Jonas sighed in relief. "I hope I find you well, after your ordeal down on the planet that is."

It was something Branwen was struggling with herself. She would probably need some counseling to get the images of the torture out of my mind. But it was not something she wanted to discuss with a patient. It had been drummed into her very early in her studies to keep her private life private.

"It was a difficult time, Lieutenant, but I am coping." She said. "Have a seat, and tell me what I can do for you." She smiled.

"Eh ma'am, it's been a month since I joined the ship and haven't had my initial psych review yet." Jonas smiled, though it may have looked a little to forced. "You've all been busy it seems. Something about the last mission..." Jonas didn't need to finish the sentence. It was clear on her face that it had been a trying time.

"Yes. It has been a very busy time." As she had needed sometime herself to adjust and to digest what had happened to her. "But I have time now."

"Not to be disrespectful to you or your profession ma'am, but I hate these kinds of things. And since the initial psych session is mandatory, I'd like to get it out of the way. I know you had a rough time down there and if you'd like to postpone it..." Jonas left the rest unspoken, allowing the Lieutenant to decide what she wanted to do.

"Lieutenant, I am a Marine. I will handle whatever happened to me off duty. Rest assured that I am fit to talk to you. But if you prefer you are always allowed to talk to the naval shrinks." She said.

"No Ma'am. I'm okay with this arrangement. Where do you want to begin?" Steven asked. He eased himself onto the couch and tried, unsuccessfully, to get comfortable. Giving up on the impossible task, he focused his attention on the Furies XO. She was a striking woman, beautiful and youthful. Jonas doubted she was older that 25, and, as Executive Officer, very young by Marine standards. Most XOs had at least a decade of experience. Still there was obviously something to her to be given the XO spot over some of the longer serving marines. Her dark eyes seemed to have the uncanny ability to bore into your soul and help release the issues that were holding you back. Very appropriate for a Counselor.

Lost in his thoughts he missed what she had said. "Eh, sorry Ma'am, I kinda zoned out there for a moment. Could you please repeat what you just said?"

"Never mind." She said. "I would rather focus on why it is difficult for you to concentrate at the moment." She said looking at him.

"Well, I was just trying to remember if I had ever had such a young CO. Most of the time they were older guys who had been in the Marines for decades." Jonas sighed. "Plus I'm trying to figure out how I managed to end up rescuing a trapped young boy when I should have been rescuing you and the others."

"I am only the XO." She did not know what else to say, because it still baffled her as well being a such a position hardly out of the academy. "Did you save the boy?" Branwen asked him.

Jonas nodded. "Yes.We managed to free the boy. It was lucky that Chief Loret turned up. She was instrumental in the rescue." It was true. Without her it would have been a lot harder to get him out.

"The boy and his friend took off,heading home I think. They barely said a word of thanks." Jonas sighed. "But being Jem'Hadar, I didn't expect much from them anyway."

"It should be enough for you that you did your job, Jonas. That is important. There were others to rescue our party." Branwen smiled.

Steven nodded. "True. And they did a good job. Pity they couldn't find Falkor. He was a good Marine."

"yes." Bran said softly. She took it personally to lose someone under her command.

"So how are you settling in ? Are you making friends already?"

Jonas smiled. "You mean apart from the bunch of apes out there?" He threw a thumb in the direction of the Marine common area.

She grinned back. Glad the mood was a little lighter now. "Yup."

"I haven't really had much time to meet many of the Navy guys.. Seems our new CO has been pushing us pretty hard since leaving Starbase 5." Jonas winked at Branwen. With Baile away she had been in charge for a while now.

She smiled again. "We have to make an impression on the navy guys, Jonas.You guys have been doing great though. And I am sure you had some time."

Jonas moved around a bit, trying to get in a better position. "I met the secuirty officer escorting Chief Loret. Krieghoff I think he said his name was... Now he was a strange guy... Gave me the wierdest of feelings just by being in his presence. And one of the young Jem'Hadar children seemed to be frightened of him, very frightened. I shivered quite badly upon meeting him. And in all my years I'd never felt like that after meeting someone. It just isn't natural."

"Ah Victor." She smiled. "Victor is strange, I am still trying to get to know him myself to be honest."

"It seems thatthe uneasiness that I felt isn't isolated to just me?" It was more rhetorical than a question. Jonas carried on. "I guess the other guys in Security are used to being around him by now."

"Did you meet anyone else?"

"I've met a few people here and there. Mostly while spending some time in Ten-Forward. Or while jogging or swimming. I did meet the Chief of Operations while on the rescue mission. Nice lady. Seemed a bit distant and aloof I thought. Probably had had a visit by Victor on his way out of the cave."

She smiled. "And here in the Marine Corps? I know it takes a while to make friends though."

"Well, they all seem friendly enough... And work well together, from what I've seen of their training sessions." Jonas paused. "I still get an uneasy feeling from having all those Jem'Hadar onboard. It creeps me out."

"You are probably not the only one. But we have to learn to live with it. I trust you can be professional around them?" Again she was more the XO then the therapist asking that question.

Jonas nodded. "Yes Ma'am. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I doubt any of them will venture down our way."

"Not if they are wise." Bran grinned. "you will fit in here, Jonas. Give it some time."

"Yes Ma'am." Jonas grinned back. "I hope so."

Jonas coughed. "Ma'am, If I could speak freely?"

Taking her nod as an agreement, Jonas began bringing up a concern he had had

since returning from the planet. "I haven't read any of the reports from people on the planet, but from what I've heard some of the grunts saying, a lot of them got caught with their pants down, so to speak. Perhaps we need to up our training requirements in the areas of Observation and Reaction times. To try and avert this from happening again." He had gone off track from the Psych review, but thought he should raise the issue.

"We definitely have to. The boss is not going to be happy." She cringed at the thought of having to face Baile. But did not see what she could have done better.

"No, I can't see him being happy with it. But if we can get the right procedures and training is put in place before he gets back on active duty, then it might soften the blow a bit." Steven didn't really know Baile, and couldn't predict how he would react to the events on the planet. Still it couldn't hurt to try.

"Yes." Outwardly Branwen was completely calm. Inside there was turmoil, there was too much to do. Talking to traumatised people while she was traumatised herself took up a lot of her time and energy. And then there was the running of the department. Needless to say she didn't get much sleep.

"I'm sure you have a lot to do today, so perhaps we should end the session now. Besides, I'm sure you'd like me to finish that report on the expansion of the Marine Barracks that is due." In reality, he had completed the report the day before and all that was needed was to send it on to her. He just hadn't had time to do that, and he was sure that the CO had a lot on her mind and would welcome the peace of this Marine vacating her office.

"Yes, that would be fine." She smiled at him.

"Chance encounter"

Raynor
Branwen

She was late again, so Branwen was running through the corridors. Her two duties took her all over the ship, and she had planned to little time between them to get from A to B, and finally her tiredness was starting to catch up with her.

He was late again, so Raynor was walking through the corridors in no particular rush in the wrong section of the ship, not heading to Intelligence... He completely awake, yet appeared to be completely lost. He looked this way often, so no one could tell that he knew where he was going... some would see this as paranoid behaviour... Raynor saw it as a jest.

He saw a massive turn coming up and heard hurried steps... he decided to walk in that direction any ways... fully ready for the cliche collision. The

collision came. They hit each other with Branwen at full speed. Her papers went flying through the corridor. The young redhead began to curse in her native language as she started to pick them up.

Raynor picked up a few of the papers and handed it to her... "Sorry about that... are you alright?" he asked, as he made a quick glance trying to gather as much information as possible by her appearance alone... a marine Lieutenant... probably not too highly experienced... he guessed by the way she carried herself... and she probably got an unhealthy amount of stress. He tried to guess at what as he waited for her to take the papers...

"I am fine." She said still preoccupied. "Thank you." Branwen added belatedly.

"You sure? You seem distracted..." Raynor was trying to place her face... he had seen it before but where... then it hit him... on the rescue mission.

He decided to ask again more softly.

Branwen did not recognise him. "Why does everybody seemed to worry if I am okay. I don't even know you." She grumbled.

"Being the victim of an enemy test tube generally does that... and rumors spread quickly on any given ship in the fleet," Raynor stated. He knew this

from his own personal experience. But he dispelled that feeling within about three hours by punching the captain during his 'debriefing'. But the reason he was concerned he supposed was that he was of those people dispite his best efforts could not remain indifferent to others probelms.

Her eyes narrowed. "They are gossiping about me." She blushed wanting to get away from him as soon as possible.

"No they are gossiping about Hydran Test Subj