"Minding the Store"

Commander Brian Elessidil, Assistant Chief Counselor
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Chief of Operations

**** Bridge - Delta Shift ****

'How boring...' Jamsons' thoughts ran through his mind, while his fingers were dancing on the console. Even though the latest happenings of Romulus were over, the ship was already docked at Deep Space 5, with the entire crew far from being relieved from the ordeals it has gone through. The newly assigned Operations chief, only a couple of months, back on the old saddle, was still struggling to find the time for the extra work he had 'neglected'.

Instead of taking his time to rest on the 'dead' shift, otherwise known as delta shift, he had tons of work to attend to.

Being the operations Chief, Michael could have chosen what shift to take, but he decided to stay on Delta. It was a quiet shift, nothing much was happening, and thus he had more time for himself, to rest if needed, or ponder on personal matters. "His own private time" as he once told Karyn Dallas. But after all the commotion of the battle of Romulus, it seemed like, time stood still.

The feeling of relative calm, which almost felt more like numbness, had become a common feeling aboard the Galaxy. The feeling of excitement following his promotion had been fairly short-lived, and the after effects of the experience at Romulus had settled into Brian's mind as well. The Betazoid sensed what had been going through Lt. Jamson's mind and thought it might do some good for them all to talk about it a little.

"I don't think Delta shift's ever felt quieter than it does now," he said, leaving the command chair and moving to stand behind the Ops console where he gazed out into the darkness of space.

'What in the name of...' Jamson glanced backwards in surprise. Last time he checked, he didn't say anything out loud, which could only meant one thing, someone listened to his thoughts or was monitoring his mind. Probably a telepath of some sort, and Michael didn't like this one bit. If there was something worse than telepathic beings, it was counselors or doctors, and usually, they were the same.

Looking backwards again, he mumbled something unclear as he focused on the Commander. He had seen him before, and knew who he was, but never had the chance of actually interacting with him. Following orders and nodding were the primarily actions on the bridge when you didn't know the ones you've been with on your shift. "I guess so..." Jamson replied after thinking of Karyn. He hadn't seen her in quite awhile.

"Sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to startle you," Brian said with a light chuckle. "I guess we're all a little jumpier than usual after everything. Were you here on the Galaxy during the encounters with the Hydrans?"

"That's alright" Jamson raised an eyebrow. A counselor that actually feels remorse and regret? That was a first. Michael had never encountered such a creature before. Astonished as he was, he still hesitated fearing an analyzing trap. "Yes I was. Unfortunately, I don't posses too much experience with the Hydran race", he continued with a sigh, while his mind acknowledged his idea with a simple word, 'pity'. They were supposed to be formidable warriors on the battlefield.

Arriving on the bridge just as the Hydrans were mentioned Kimberly's eyes snapped to the viewscreen, worried for a moment that her hopefully uneventful, and wholly unwanted duty shift here was going to turn into something even more unwanted. Seeing nothing more than the planet below, and no red alert warnings she relaxed a little and walked over to Commander Elessidil and nodded politely as she approached, "Commander, apologies for my tardiness, I had to stop by sickbay," she explained simply, "is everything ok?"

"All seems well enough so far, Doctor," he amicably replied. "Lieutenant Jamson and I were just musing on how dramatically quiet it is in comparison to the past few weeks. How about sickbay? I'm sure you saw more than your share of commotion too."

Logging onto the duty log Kimberly nodded slowly, "More than enough," she replied softly, "and there's still a couple of patients awaiting transfer," she added, thinking about some of the long term critical cases that were only now stable enough to be transferred off ship and back to more dedicated facilities. Sitting uncomfortably in the XO's chair she checked the ships logs for updates.

Jamson could only imagine the mess in sickbay during the fighting, and at these times, he was glad not be a commanding officer anymore. For too long in his career, from his days as a young officer to his fast meteoric rise through the ranks, he had watched his colleagues, commanding personnel and subordinates perish in the time of battle. So many names... all of those names, from the past and present, crew members, civilians. He wrote to so many families and recorded too many messages, while bearing the responsibility and burden of a high ranking officer. Such occasions turned his heart into stone, since he couldn't stand the grief.

"We have a rendezvous scheduled with the USS Aesculapius tomorrow," she said as she read the logs, "the critical cases will be leaving us then," looking up at Commander Elessidil she sighed, "how've you guys been?" she asked.

"Speaking for myself," Brian began as he returned to the command chair, "I'm just glad to be back on board." For better or worse, the Galaxy is 'home away from home'. And there's something to be said about the comfort of routine," he added as he reviewed some standard monitoring data from Engineering.

For once, sharing your feelings with others you don't know, seemed to Jamson, at times, more comfortable than with ones you do. As strange as it was, both the Commander and Chief Medical Officer made him feel more at ease than usual. "I guess I'm just content this whole hardship is over..." There were times when Michael longed for war, blood and action, however, this latest battle, and other events, changed his perspective. He was tired, and might even be, god forbids, frustrated. For a few seconds he stared at the console in front of him, ignoring the blinking lights of the LCARS system.

"You're in good company," Elessidil responded. "If anyone thinks otherwise, I haven't met them yet."

How true it was. The Galaxy always felt like home to Michael. There was no other place to offer comfort such as this ship, except, maybe his own command, and that was a big 'maybe'. He kept coming back for more, and that alone, said it all.

Silently nodding her agreement Kimberly sat in the XO's chair, watching the stars in the viewscreen before her for a moment, "I would hope we're all glad it's over," she said after a brief moment's silence, "and let's hope that's the last we see of combat of that magnitude for a while." Turning to face the other two she raised an eyebrow, "we can all hope the only combat we have to face is more food fights in the mess," she added with a wry grin, recalling the disheveled mess that had arrived in sickbay a few days ago.

"Heh, I'll take a volley of potatoes over torpedoes any day," Brian agreed with a smirk.

"Agreed, though the mess in ten-fore was apparently something to behold," chuckling a little she got up from the XO's chair, a little uncomfortable at being sat there and wandered over to join the others, "so what's happening here? Logs show everything's quiet, and I have to admit I haven't pulled a command shift in a while, what should we be doing?" Remembering that this was essentially her 'training' shift she decided to at least try and act a little enthusiastic.

"Mostly just minding the store," Elessidil answered, still engrossed in the latest reports from Engineering. "Making sure things stay quiet and addressing what doesn't. If you're bored, Engineering's going to be refitting some of the air purification systems tonight. Right up a doctor's alley, don't you think?" he said, glancing up to her with a wink and a smile.

Rotating in his comfortable ops chair, Michael remarked "I could use some fresh air, and not the recycling junk we're forced to breath, or any annoying medical examinations the comes along with it. I hope you're not offended, Doctor". Jamson made it clear he wasn't fond of physical checkups.

Coming to think of it, the veteran lieutenant hadn't filled the command chair himself for a long period time. Earning the most prized four pips in the past, and with the experienced Commander, they both were in the position to 'educate' Lieutenant Burton on handling the bridge, in command, during a shift.

"No offence taken," she replied with a grin, "I'm only too aware of how fond most of this crew are for their regular checkups. I think I might actually have to start offering incentives to some people to turn up one day, lollipops at least maybe." She deadpanned. "fresh air does also sound like a nice idea, but I'll pass on helping change the filters thanks, I get enough engineering practice fixing biobeds and tricorders."

"Out of curiosity, in the hopefully unlikely event that something actually 'did' happen while I was up here, would one of you like to tell me who flies this thing?" she asked, looking pointedly at the vacant conn position.

"That would be Lieutenant Selana," Brian answered, glancing from his reports to the open seat. "Since we're docked, she thought it would be 'logical' for her to spend her time re-calibrating the sensors in the navigation array, so she requested permission to spend the shift down there. Not much happening for helm up here, but I can handle it if need be."

Michael stared at the flight officer's position, thinking of the last time he actually had to use the helm. Vehicle Operations Department, back at the Academy, class 320 - Starship Helm Control. Students studied the physical dynamics of starship impulse and warp maneuvers, plus some navigation. Manual control of starship guidance systems and 3 dimensional thinking. Docking maneuvers, orbital positioning, tactical maneuvers. It was held in classrooms, using holographics simulations, taking place on the planets of Venus, Saturn and Phobos, where some of the Academy facilities existed. Eventually, you had to pilot real starships, putting the fear into students. And that was just a basic, mandatory course! Those who wished to continue in this path, had to undertake many advanced courses, for years to come. "I'll pass...." Michael said, reflecting back again.

"I can only handle shuttles, so I'm glad I don't have to." Kimberly admitted, while she had taken some of the basic piloting classes at the Academy, and was a qualified small vessel pilot, the thought of piloting something this big was a little daunting, there was so much more to think of and do.

"Speaking of which...I almost forgot. I'm sure you've all heard of the celebration event tomorrow, taking place at the station's promenade?" Jamson said cautiously and disrespectfully. "I trust you won't be going?", he slowly added. "I was appointed by 'Commander Iniara, to complete the list of attendees from the ship". He dared not say the name of the Admiral, lest she will appear and give him a lash through one of the closest turbolifts on the bridge.

"Yes, I heard the Captain mention it," Brian said, not surprised that the notorious commander of the station had commandeered its promenade for her own party. "I'm afraid I won't be joining in the festivities. I just received a summons this evening to greet the

Admiral in person at 0900," he said facetiously. "I'm really looking forward to that after being on bridge duty all night," he muttered.

"I have other duties," Kimberly said simply, thinking of the patient transfers that would be taking place, "so I have managed to decline." Not that she had really wanted to go anyway, the recent conversation with an Admiral who had turned out to be one of the 'Doves' of Starfleet had left her in a little confusion as to the changes in the fleet. Hawks and Doves, and the decision as to whether to stand and be counted as a Dove was one that she would soon have to answer.

"Some individuals are just lucky..." Jamson smiled for a nano second, before turning back to his console. He would have to come up with an excuse too. Exchanging reports with other ships in the area of the station, he understood not many would be there to congratulate the admiral for her birthday.

"Well I'm sure anyone who goes will have fun," Kimberly remarked, managing to avoid sounding too sarcastic, "I mean, what could possibly be more fun than cheering an Admiral who wanted to relieve the Captain of duty?" she asked

Brian chuckled lightly wondering if the captain was obligated to attend. For M'Kantu's sake, he hoped not; the poor man had been through enough lately.

"Reflecting Is Sometimes A Hard Thing To Do"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine, USS Galaxy

(Occurs after Lashing Out and a few days before the events of the DS5 attack)

**** The Brig ****

Having been held within the walls of the Brig not a scant day before, Steven wondered if this might become a more permanent home. Not that he'd complain about it. There was nothing left for him anymore, just memories and her personal effects, and after what he had just learnt and then done, he knew he'd never look at her the same way again. Not that he'd ever get the chance to look at his wife again. She had died in his arms, and he wasn't going to ever see her again.

Looking back at his attack on the CAG, he realized he hadn't gotten anywhere as much pleasure from it as he had hoped prior to striking the Trill. It should have been obvious to him just why that was but his anger at Faylin's deception had blinded him to the truth of the matter; that Corran Rex had had nothing to do with her hiding the truth from him. He had not done anything to make her betray his trust. Had he seen that before he had struck him, he might have skipped the possible career ending move, yet as it stood, there was nothing he could do about it.

So he had spent yet another night in the brig. Another night with just the walls, and forcefield, and the annoying voice of that young blonde Armory woman bellowing to the guards for more magazines. That and her annoying habit of talking to herself when the guard left the room.

He knew once the new JAG, whom he had not yet met, had had time to settle in, the hearing into his actions would begin. He'd receive whatever punishment he or she would deem necessary. Steven had had a lot of time to think about what he had done, sitting alone long into the night, and he was willing to accept whatever punishment was deemed appropriate. Thinking of what had happened in the past few days, the preferable outcomes, to Steven at least, were drumming out of the corps or perhaps being transferred off the ship. The former did seem a little extreme given his actions, but either one of them would force him to leave the ship, to leave all the things, and people, that kept reminding him of Faylin and her betrayal of his trust.

Somehow though, he doubted that he'd be afforded such a wish. It would be too much to ask for. They'd probably demote him again, or possibly give him some time in the brig. Given the results of the cases against some of the Marines he had known in the past, the latter was the more likely option. But it all depended on how the CAG was feeling, that and how harsh the JAG felt like being.

And there wasn't anything he could do about that.

He hadn't slept again for the second night in a row. He had been up all night wondering just what could make her be so cold and heartless. To take her life was one thing, but blatantly deceive Steven by not being open and honest, as he had been with her from the start, well he had struggled to try and figure out why and had yet again come up blank. Rex likely wouldn't know. And he doubted anyone else would. The only one who would truly know was now dead.

Pulling the wedding band from his finger, he threw it with all his might at the forcefield, only for it to bounce back and smack him on the forehead. "Figures!" he said to himself as he rubbed the area it had hit. "Even in death she still gets the last laugh." Looking up at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused as he imagined himself looking up to the heavens, he shook his head. "I hope you're enjoying the pain you're putting me through. I hope you are getting a great laugh out of the results of your bitter and twisted handiwork."

Sighing, he slipped to the cot and tried to close his eyes. He tried to let sleep overcome him, despite the lights now being back on. Yet he knew it wasn't coming. He had too much pent up anger for that to occur. Anger at Faylin for doing this to him. Anger at himself for believing her when she said she loved him, when she said that she wanted to marry him. Anger at himself for stupidly believing that she wanted to change. That she wanted to settle down. He was a fool. Plain and simple. For that's what he felt for believing in Faylin and her lies.

It was obvious now. For almost a month and a half she had fooled him. Tricked him with her "I love you's" and her warm kisses. And he had fallen for it. She had betrayed everything he had held dear. Everything he had believed in. He had always been honest with her, from day one. He hadn't deceived her, he hadn't tricked her. He had always presented himself, never hiding anything away. Sure he knew her past was something she couldn't talk about, something that she needed to keep hidden, but being so heartless as to hide that she had slept with someone hours before saying she loved the half breed, was appalling. Had she ever been honest about anything? Or was it all a lie? Was it all a ruse to tease and twist him to her will; to see if she could screw with another's life?

"Jonas!" The guard called out.

Steven tilted his head back, to see a Security Officer standing at the forcefield. Seeing him from his vantage point, the man looked like he was standing on the ceiling, and despite Steven knowing that it was just the way he was lying on the cot, he smiled at how funny he looked. "Yeah?"

"Time to go." he said as the forcefield dropped.

"What? That's it?" Steven asked, not moving from the cot.

"You were only being held overnight to cool off. We may see you back here depending on what happens with your case. But for now, you are free to return to your quarters and your duties."

Steven nodded, unsure of what to say. That hadn't happened the last time he had been in the brig for striking a superior officer. He stood and stepped out the door, heading for the exit.

"Jonas!" The man called out again. "You forgot this."

Steven paused at the exit and turned to see the man holding the ring. Reaching out he snatched it from the mans hand and shoved it into his pocket. Turning he started the long slow trudge back to his quarters. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. Everything was gone. Everything he cared about anyway. Perhaps a visit to the Arboretum might help clear his mind and ease the anger that burned within.

"The Trill Connection" Part One

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
&
Saia

(Set before Sleeping Giant begins)

***Location: Arboretum, USS Galaxy***

This ship was odd, Dhanishta decided at that moment. Sometimes it felt claustrophobic, a noose around your neck, never a place to be in peace, never a moment to yourself, never a time to be an anonymous face in the crowd. And then she stumbled upon the arboretum, and here inside this beautiful space that had seemed to miraculously survive the latest encounter, she found peace; for all of ten seconds.

As she walked down the small delicate meandering path through the trees she heard a soft sniffing. Dhanishta could almost hear the tears splash onto the dirt; she could certainly feel the sadness within. It matched her own.

Tenderly, Dhanishta crossed the grass to a clearing within the trees, following the sound of sadness, until she could see the owner of the tears.

A child, no more than ten or eleven, sat quite tranquil amidst the flowers upon a rock. She didn't seem to hear Dhani's approach, either that or she didn't care that a stranger saw her crying.

For a moment Dhani wondered weather she should intervene, she paused in her step taking a moment to reconsider. But alas, before she could make up her mind the girl turned around, and Dhani no longer had the option to adjust her course.

"Are you alright?" she asked tentatively.

Saia sniffed and wrinkled her nose a bit before replying, "Who are you?" If there was any indication she realized the woman was Trill, it didn't show.

Dhani took another step forward and crouched down so to be on eye level with the girl, "My name is Nishta." Dhani replied. It was interesting how that abbreviation of her name slipped out, there were only a few people that she permitted to call her that. She smiled softly at the girl, "What's your name?" she returned.

Saia looked at the woman suspiciously, "Why do you want to know?"

Dhanishta pursed her lips as she thought about an appropriate reply to that question. She shrugged, "It's common in greetings, I introduce myself and then you introduce your self." she paused at the icy stare, "Never-mind." she said with a wave of her hand.

"I came for the peace and quiet anyway." she continued gesturing to the habitat, "It's like a small oasis in the middle of a desert. Wish I had stumbled upon this place earlier, but its here now." She stood up and smiled softly at the scenery, "I finally find somewhere to just forget about life the universe and everything, and then I heard someone crying, saw you, put the two together…" she looked back down at the girl, "but you seem to be fine. So I'll be on my way."

Brushing down her pants from where she had knelt on the ground she once more smiled that breezy carefree smile that she had perfected and began to walk away.

"Do you know Nara?" Saia figured the don't talk to strangers rule was null and void so long as they weren't strangers to Nara.

Dhanishta whipped round, "That's where I know you from!" she exclaimed, "You're Naranda's little girl. I met you before, remember?" she asked returning to the girls' side.

Saia jumped a bit, moving back. Maybe the 'don't talk to strangers rule' applied ESPECIALLY if they knew Nara. "I am NOT her little girl. I just live here with her."

Dhanishta smiled softly. Her reply she kept to herself; for now at any rate. "So what you doing out here on your own?" she asked instead.

"It's the only place Nara says I can come to alone. Otherwise I have to be at Sam's or Jerik's or with some babysitter at home. Well, if Bran or Nara aren't there. All the adults on this ship are busy though."

Dhanishta nodded sympathetically, "Yeah, it gets like this from time to tome. Something big around the corner and everyone suddenly finds them selves pulling double shifts. If its any consolation, they are busy to make sure that you and the other civilians on this ship are safe." she offered.

"Then why are we on this ship?" It was something Saia considered. She understood Nara had a job, but how long WAS this job?

Dhanishta smiled softly, "I am on this ship because I chose to uphold the beliefs of the Federation. I believe in exploration, and I believe in protecting others. As for the others on this ship, the civilians, they are here because someone that they love is here, or for their own personal gain. As for you, why don't you tell me why you are here?"

Saia's mumble was barely audible, "Because one of these ships destroyed my home."

Dhanishta reached out and took Saia's hand, "Saia," Dhani said gently, "You…" she paused wondering how best to phrase what she wanted to say, what she felt she needed to say to the child.

"That's not a good enough reason to be here." she concluded, a little bluntly. Her tone was still soft, but her words… they left a lot to be desired. Dhanishta cringed slightly, and prayed that the girl wouldn't take it as coldly as it came out. For a moment she wondered if she should buffer it with something else, but as she looked into Saia's eyes she realized that even though she looked like a child, inside was something much older.

Saia grabbed her hand back and crossed her arms as she turned away. "Nara needed me."

"What about what you need?" Dhani asked, not realizing the question had slipped out until she had said it.

Saia shrugged, "I didn't have anyone else."

Dhanishta sighed softly and closed her eyes. "Do you like Nara?" she asked gently.

Saia looked at the woman like she was crazy, "Well duh! She's just being stupid or something right now."

Raising an eyebrow, "How so?" she enquired.

"She seems sad a-lot."

Dhanishta nodded slowly, contemplating if maybe she should say something to Nara. Pushing that thought aside as it wasn't her place to say anything, she looked back down at the child at her side, "You seem sad too." she stated.

"So?" Saia shrugged as if Dhani just said 'ooh a gnat'.

Dhanishta smiled slightly, "Maybe if you weren't so sad she wouldn't be either. Did you ever think of that?"

Saia didn't answer. She just plucked a leaf off a poor unsuspecting bush.

Dhani nodded to her self. Looking at this girl reminded her so much of herself. "You don't want to be happy." she said slowly, "You think that because of what happened, because of what you lost, you shouldn't be allowed to be happy. Is that right?"

Saia looked at Dhani as if she were crazy, "You sound like those counsellors. I still don't know what it means." A second later, Saia muttered, "tojo'Qa'"

"bIHnuch!" Dhanishta retorted rather quickly her eyes narrowing on the girl, "toH tIhIngan Hol DajathlaH 'e' DaneH'a'?" she asked looking at Saia. She could understand the child's frustration regarding the continuous hounding of counsellors. She had had her fill of them herself, been asked every question in the book and criticized by their analytical stares. She had also bitten off the hand that fed too, much like Saia was doing no doubt.

This girl was so much a reflection of Dhani it was scary. Anger; it was the only way Dhani knew, maybe it was the path Saia had to travel to unlock her emotions too. It was a pity this girl didn't realize how many people surrounded her that loved her and wanted to help. All the more to add to the suffocation, Dhanishta realised in retrospect of her own troubles. She sighed slightly, as the dawn of understanding washed over her like the sun over the mountains peak. She knew now.

"The Trill Connection" Part Two

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Assistant Chief of Engineering
&
Saia

***Location: Arboretum, USS Galaxy***

Saia looked at Dhani having only understood bits and pieces of that. "I am NOT a coward!"

Dhanishta blinked at that comment. "Firstly if you are going to curse at me in a different language, pick one that I am not fluent in." she chided frowning, "Secondly if you are going to curse and there for insult me, expect a come back; that is a life lesson right there, remember it! Thirdly if you are going to hide from your feelings and emotions, refuse to connect with them or face them then *that* makes you a coward. And I am sorry if that came out a little blunt but I don't talk down to children, most want to be treated as an adult anyway, so there you have it!" she took a moment to breathe after that slight onslaught.

Saia just looked at the woman before her with an odd look and finally said, "You're crazy."

Dhanishta smiled, "More than you know." she replied with a wink adding a bit of humour to the conversation.

Saia looked around a bit and back at Dhani, "What are you doing here?"

Dhani followed her gaze, "Talking to you?" she replied, her tone questioning at the bizarre question.

Saia sighed exasperated. "Why did you come IN here?"

Dhani took a moment before she replied, while she mentally replayed the conversation, and yes she recalled that she had already mentioned why she had come in here, but that seemingly went unnoticed. So she decide to change her original reasoning, Saia hadn't remembered the original so she wouldn't question it. "I came in here because I knew you were here, and I knew that talking to you would be the highlight of my day." her lips curled up into a smile.

"Look Saia," she began brushing off the joking façade, "I know that you didn't intend to have this strange conversation from someone that you probably still class as a 'stranger'. And to be honest talking to you and enquiring about the reasons why you are sitting her alone crying was not on my to-do list either. But I am here, and you are, and we have talked and I am going to be honest with you, if I may?" she paused to actually get Saia's opinion.

Saia crossed her arms and just looked at her.

Dhanishta groaned inwardly, children were difficult creatures she realised. This nut would be hard to crack, but persistence wasn't futile, "You are a tough one." Dhani let the comment slip through her mild frustration. She turned to fully face the girl and crossed her legs. "I can see now why Nara is so sad." she added.

"Oh?" The sass was obvious.

"Saia, talking to you has opened my eyes, I see so much of myself in you." she confessed shaking her head with the weirdness of it all, "You are a very intelligent little girl, and much older than your years permit you should be." her tone and expression conveyed the sorrow she felt at seeing this child go through so much at such a young age.

She softened her tone more lowering her voice, "Saia, I was there too."

"Where?" Saia was curious and a bit offended anyone dare compare themselves to her. No one understood. No one understood what it was like to have your life ripped away in an instant and have to start all over when you barely understand what life was even about.

"I was on Trill when the ship crashed."

Saia's face contorted angrily as she fought the tears. She sniffed, defying them as she shrugged, "So?" The facade was hardly convincing.

Dhanishta smiled lightly but pushed on. She realized that she needed to talk about what happened, even if Saia wasn't ready to yet. It was strange talking to a child who she knew was in pain, pain so raw that if you touched it, it would bleed, and there was no bandage big enough to cover the gulf that loosing her whole family had left. But when Dhani looked down at the miniature next to her, she didn't see a child. She saw something more than that; the young lady that Saia was going to become.

"I don't remember the crash. I was in a hospital fifteen miles out of the capital. In a coma. When the ship crashed I had been in a coma for about eight months, going on for nine. My sister Kala had taken a sabbatical, leave, and stayed with me hoping that I would eventually pull through. She was there when the ship hit and the lights went out. She didn't tell me everything, but she didn't have to really." Dhani paused and looked down at Saia.

"You see when I was about your age my family moved from Vulcan to Trill. It was very different from the desert I grew up in. But I remember my father taking me on all the tours, my father is a Trill and my mother is a Betazoid." Dhani explained her half heritage quickly, "He was so excited to be showing me and my sister his home. He grew up in the capital, and he had tried out to be a host, as most young Trills do. I remember my first tour of the symbosis pools and the art galleries and the mud baths and, well the list went on and on. I was enrolled in a school in the capital; in fact you might have gone there too." Dhani paused again, the memory of her tour made her smile with nostalgia. But as that memory faded the image of once beautiful capital emerged in ruins, smoke clouds, homes, business; everything destroyed.

"It was about three weeks after the crash that I was," Dhani wondered how to put this next line, "proclaimed dead." she shrugged and claimed the leaf that Saia had been playing with earlier for herself. Talking about this was uncomfortable; she fully understood why Saia took it out on the bush!

"My internal organs had failed, as had my brain. And my mother came, for the first time since I had been in hospital, and told the nurses to switch off the ventilator that was keeping me alive." Dhani tried to smile, but like Saia earlier it was a smile to keep the tears away; which was futile as they had already began to fall.

She tried to speak again, but the tears caught her voice so for a time she just sat there in silence.

Saia gulped. She was also trembling. The memories and images flashed in her mind as if they had happened moments ago. Her brows twitched as she fought the onslaught of emotion. She put a hand on Dhani's arm.

Saia hung onto the only good memory of that time; when she saw and helped a woman in a cloak who wouldn't speak. She was there for Nara and she was here now for Nishta.

Whether she really knew it or not.

Dhanishta swallowed hard, feeling the slight chill from Saia's hand on her arm broke her teary stare. She smiled at Saia as a tear fell on to the child's hand.

"I was lucky enough not to loose anyone that was really close to me on Trill." she said slowly, "Really lucky." she emphasised. "But I have lost people that I loved Saia, so believe me when I tell you that I know it hurts. I," she stammered slightly, she had never told anyone on the ship about Chang, not even Michael. But Saia needed to understand that there were others around who had experience in loss. She needed to know that she wasn't the only one and that there was a future after grief.

"I was engaged to a man named Chang, back when I was in the Academy. I loved him with all my heart. Still do. The Brean attacked Earth, and the building we were in was bombed. He died in my arms… and to this day I haven't let him go. Not completely. I haven't dealt with the pain loosing him caused. I pushed it away. Just like I expect you're doing." Gently she moved her hand to cover Saia's that still rested on her arm.

"The first friend I made on the Galaxy, a woman called AhDjiia, she died too, shot and killed on an away mission." Dhani recalled that dark day with such a heavy heart.

"It was after that I decide there was no point making any friends. There was no point in letting my guard down, letting someone in, having them in my life if all that was going to happen was that they would die. I mean what's the point?" she gestured to the universe around them pausing at her rhetorical question.

"But it's a sad way to live." Dhani concluded solemnly, "I have spent several years with that mentality now, and it's only been recently that I have let anyone back in. And while I am still terrified of loosing them, I don't think that I could really say I was living my life before."

She tucked a loose strand of Saia's hair back into place and cupped her moist cheek her green eyes glimmered as she looked into Saia's, "I find it infuriating that they all want to help me in their own little way. They all think that they understand me. That they know what I'm going through or what my life is like. They seem to think that they know how I am feeling and that by talking to them will help…" she gave Saia an exaggerated expression of ludicrousness, she didn't need to finish that sentence; she already knew that Saia had experienced those things herself.

She smiled softly, "There are hundreds of people on this ship that know a lot more about loss than you or me. Hundreds more that have come to terms with their grief, have felt it and dealt with it. Pushing it away, ignoring it…. believe me…" she looked up to the 'heavens' to emphasise that point, "…only makes it worse. There are a lot of people on this ship that love you Saia, they all want to help you get through this difficult time. And I know its aggravating," she smiled and whispered, "I have walked out of many a counselling session before today I can tell you!"

"But at the end of the day the only person that can help you get through this, is you. You have to be ready and willing to accept the help that's around you and wise enough to ask for it. And I think you are. So just remember, when you're ready, just call, okay?"

Saia took her hand back to rub her eyes. She just picked a blade of grass as Dhani's words sunk in.

Dhanishta wasn't sure if this would be the right thing to do but she did it anyway. Inching closer to Saia she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Saia clung tight to the fellow Trill as if they were the last of their kind. She whimpered as she fought the sobs.

"Let it out Saia." Dhani said softly gently stroking the child's hair. A lump rose in her throat and her eyes burned, "Let it all out." she whispered again into Saia's main of hair as she pulled her trembling form closer.

Saia didn't have to be told twice as she cried, dampening Dhani's jacket.

"Mustering" Part One

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara, XO
Lt. Savant, Fleet Logistics Officer
Sergeant First Class Thral, Marine Demolitions
Lieutenant (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe, Assistant Chief of Engineering
Ensign David Walker, Navigation Officer
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jonathan DarkSky, Intelligence Officer
Turan Trelar, Civilian Engineer

************
Crew Lounge 13
Deck 21, USS Galaxy
0850 hours
************

Twelve hours.

In less than twelve hours, two Ambassadors had been abducted. The circumstances behind both abductions seemed different enough, which probably meant that they weren't related and neither one of them had directly involved the USS Galaxy.

Regardless, that didn't stop both incidents from becoming their problem.

Naturally, Olivia Proctor had demanded Galaxy speed off and apprehend the Orion pirates that had stolen one of her ships, abducted a few dozen Federation citizens (including one of the aforementioned ambassadors, a Damiani by the name of Tyr'alla J'aeln), and caused serious amounts of damage to her precious station. But then a second call had come in only hours later, ordering Galaxy to speed off elsewhere and apprehend whoever had abducted the other ambassador: a Borg designated Three of Five, snatched from the private offices of none other than Admiral Price himself.

Orders from Starfleet Command were clear and carried with them the full force of some very high-ranking and influential Admirals. There was little that the lone Rear Admiral Proctor could do about that save grumbling and stewing and plotting Daren M'Kantu's demise (again). Whether she wanted it to happen or not, Galaxy would be soon departing for Barzan to retrieve the wayward Borg.

However, there was still one problem facing Galaxy's captain. When they made their escape from DS5, the pirates had abducted several Starfleet personnel, including several members of Galaxy's crew. M'Kantu didn't want to just leave them behind, to await an uncertain rescue whenever Proctor got around to it. But at the same time he couldn't send a team of his own.

Well, not officially.

"Assemble a team, volunteer only, keep it unofficial," he'd told his first officer, unofficially ordering her to head up an unofficial extraction team during an equally unofficial late-night meeting. So, not having a lot of time in which to assemble said team, Iniara had quickly scanned the files of a great number of junior officers and non-department heads, trying to pick out a handful of reasonably dependable personnel from various departments who weren't too vital to their departments, yet weren't complete screw-ups either.

She'd found about 15 people that fit the bill, and had sent each one of them a simple message, marked urgent. The text of the message was nothing more than this: "Your participation in an off-ship training exercise of a slightly unconventional nature would be most appreciated. If you are interested, please report to Crew Lounge 13 at 0900 hours."

It was 0855 now. Tapping one finger nervously against the padd she was carrying, Iniara paced slowly around the room, wondering who, if anyone would show.

She didn't have to wait long. The doors admitted Lieutenant Savant with little fanfare beyond the typical rushing whisper. She was a noticeable figure moving between the chairs. A tall Mediterranean-looking woman with long black hair and an immaculate uniform; she seemed taller and more imposing by the look of supreme confidence that lingered on her face.

Iniara met Savant's eyes as the woman (?) approached. She knew that Savant wasn't human at all, it was an android. Just as in the biography photo, however, there was no obvious hint of this - even her eyes were human. The android smiled briefly under scrutiny. "Ma'am. I don't believe we've met yet. Call me Savant."

"Welcome, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming," Iniara replied, a smile covering the bit of uneasiness she felt in being unable to sense anything from Savant. She'd grown so accustomed to the feeling that its absence sometimes unsettled her.

Moments later, a stocky older Tellarite marine entered the room with the usual swishing of the doors...and an oink? It would have been unusual enough for him to be here alone, going on a fleet exercise. It was extremely unusual that he would get the call at the last minute while taking the small pink and brown pot-bellied pig for a walk. Artie trotted obediently along looking way too prideful of himself. Looking up at the person he recognized only as the Galaxy's XO, Thral said in his rarely used apologetic tone, "I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't have time to take him back to my quarters. Sergeant First Class Thral, marine demolitions at your service. Oh, and this here is Artie, I'll keep him quiet ma'am."

Artie let out a short squeal as he was introduced as he made a motion that would resemble the pig snapping to attention. The android who stood beside the stout Tellarite smiled and crouched downwards to look closer to the pig and patted its head, commenting in a cheerful tone, "Why, isn't he cute? And a clever one."

"I like to think so, though a few people find him annoying. I love him though." Thral replied while Artie started sniffing the android, his snout moving up and down her leg like a tricorder scanning. A moment later though it wasn't quite so cute.

The doors once more slid open, prompting the small pig to emit a squeal of fright and retreat to the limit of his leash in the opposite direction of the door before the person entering had even crossed the threshold. Victor paused, frowned in the direction of the small animal, and continued into the room, stepping to one side to allow the animal room to continue circling to stay as far away from him as possible. That unfortunately meant that he was not going to be able to position himself outside the range at which he was likely to affect the sentient members of the meeting - particularly the XO with her Betazoid heritage - but he judged that they were less likely to squeal like... stuck pigs... because of it. "Commander, Lieutenant, Sergeant," he acknowledged in turn with nods to each. "Lieutenant Krieghoff reporting for training assignment as requested."

"Artie, heal!" Thral shouted hoarsely at the pig as it started squealing at the security Lieutenant's appearance. Artie squealed a protest that sounded strangely like 'hell no'. A moment later he got some idea as to why when Victor walked past and a weird and creepy vibe came over him as if the cloak of the grim reaper himself brushed by his leg. Thral of course had heard about this "Lt. Death" before, though that didn't stop him from shaking off the effect and reeling in the pig like a fish and after one more oink in protest it settled down next to Thral's chair.

Savant nodded at the Lieutenant in return, but already her mind turned in its circles and patterns. Something was different about this one. The records on his unique stature didn't do it proper justice. Proximity - to her android? - had an amplifying effect. What was this about, some sort of unusual Heisenberg-observer's reaction? Or perhaps it was unconsciously controlled by the Lieutenant and directed at what he believes to be acceptable recipients? Interesting. She scanned passively and watched.

"Good morning, Mr. Kreighoff." Iniara managed another smile, while at the same time strategically moving herself away from the man. Every time she thought she had learned to control her unconscious reaction to Kreighoff's eerie aura, he'd show up and she would realize that she wasn't even close to mastering that particular skill.

A moment later, yet another one of the officers contacted by Iniara arrived. David Walker shivered a little while passing through the doorway, feeling a sudden wave of coldness and dread wash over him as he entered the crew lounge. Was the ship haunted and someone forgot to tell him?

He quickly clamped down on the feeling, whatever it was, and offered the group before him a nod. "Ensign Walker reporting...in," he said, his voice shrinking a little as his eyes settled on Krieghoff. David cleared his throat and looked away from the creepy security officer, and started making his way to a seat away from him.

Walker paused, however, when he noticed the pig at the other end of the room, and finally he decided to compromise. He sat down exactly in the middle of the room, both as far away from either of the two as he could get and as close to them as he was willing to be.

Turan entered the crew lounge and took a quick glance at the giant clock opposite the entrance ... 0858 - just in time. The tall Quentite rearrange his pip-less uniform and searched for a group that looked like a bunch of volunteer for an off-ship exercise. How did volunteers for an off-ship exercise look like? How did volunteers look like? A bunch - that was quite easy. There was only one crowd of crew mates waiting in the lounge area and account the fact it was two minutes to deadline the chance they were where he was expected to report in. "Excuse me, ma'am" he addressed Iniara, the one with the most pips at her collar and the only face he knew. "Turan Trelar - I was offered to take part in an off-ship exercise. So here I am."

Words of Federation standard were such a beautiful weapon - especially in the mouth of someone who wasn't expected to be very familiar with them. "Awaiting further offers," he added.

"Good to have you, Mr. Trelar. Please, have a seat." She gestured at the table around which the other members of the team were congregating, then glanced at the wall-mounted chrono. Two minutes left, and the turnout so far wasn't that bad.

Jonathan DarkSky found himself to be one of the last of the personnel to arrive. Already several had gathered together, and short of the XO, he surmised that he knew more about the possible objectives of their clandestine operation than anyone present. Sometimes being in the Intelligence department was a burden - all of the nifty tidbits of information one could never divulge without getting into some serious trouble. At times like this, it could possibly turn out to be a mixed blessing. His departmental specialties lay in Visual and Field Intelligence, but that was just for the paperwork. Having lived 8 centuries - in this singular body, not as the adopted memories of various hosts such as a joined trill, too much information was lost as the symbiont couldn't possibly retain all of the information contained within the host neural pathways - Jonathan was known within his department as a Joat.

Jack Of All Trades.

8 lifetimes worth of experience. Engineer, pilot, bodyguard, marine, captain, go-fer (go fer this, go fer that) "Free Trader," "Gentleman of Fortune," and even a doctor once. Many of those skills were lacking to some degree than others, though he did what he could to keep them as up to par as he could. That made his analysis of what position he would fill on the possibilities of this expedition quite intriguing, for he could be any number of things. What he didn't want to do was lead it. Oh, heavens no. Captain the ship, perhaps. Overall command? Definitely not.

Having entered and allowing the doors to shut behind him he approached the group. "One Jonathan DarkSky, reporting in: highly appreciated." A bit of humor, perchance?

Iniara suppressed a chuckle as the El-Aurian made his way over. "Yes, quite," she replied dryly, making her way back to the lounge's entrance. As the chrono clicked over to 0900 she turned and tapped a key sequence that would lock the lounge's only door. Couldn't have people interrupting their unofficial meeting, after all.

"Thank you all for coming," she began, meeting eyes with each person (and pig) at the table. "Well, shall we begin?"

"Run over by a truck"

Commander Brian Elessidil
CMC Madden Jayce

---

She opened her eyes slowly to a very familiar sight. DS5 had, like its more famous sibling, been designed by the Cardassians, but a sickbay ceiling was a sickbay ceiling, and that was exactly what she was looking at now.

The sight was as familiar as the feeling of numbness that coursed through her body. She knew what this was -- telepathic inhibitors mixed with a healthy dosing of tranquillizers and anti-anxiety medications, a cocktail familiar to any "dangerously strong" Betazoid.

"I am so horribly embarrassed," she murmured, raising a hand to her head, bangs pressed between her fingers. "You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. I have a reputation to protect."

"Be glad your head's intact -- worry about your reputation later," Brian said, smirking. He'd been standing nearby for the hour or so she was out waiting for her to come to. "How do you feel -- other than embarrassed?"

"How do you think I feel?" she asked, looking at her friend. "Doped up and headachey..." She sighed. "At least it's quiet right now. What was happening? Are... are you okay?"

Brian smiled, "I'm fine. A couple medics came by, they woke me easily since I wasn't really out, but they were concerned about you. I explained what happened and we came here; I carried you. By the way, you might want to start laying-off the cheesecake," he said with a snicker to lighten the mood a little, but then continued without waiting for a response. "I've been hearing some of what's been going on. There was a series of explosions in several places on the station and they said all docked ships have been fused to their ports. I'd say whoever was behind this had it well thought-out."

"It's all muscle," she said, "I've been working out." She cleared her throat, looked out, around raising a hand to get a nurse. "Can I get some water? My throat is scratchy..."

The woman smiled. "Of course -- and I'll have a doctor come by and see you."

Madden returned the small smile, nodding softly, before looking back to Brian, sighing. "I'm tougher than I look, B," she said, reaching, touching his arm softly with her bent knuckles. "I've been dealing with this since I was a little girl. I can usually handle it; I was just a little... I drank more than I should have and I wasn't expecting-- it does funny things to my control, you know?"

"Scenes like that can be overwhelming for all of us," he said, referring to Betazoids in general, "but you're pretty unique, Mad . . . and I mean that in every sense." The counselor smiled tenderly at his friend, glad that it didn't appear she had sustained any lasting injury. "But you're still mortal, you know. You're allowed to admit that."

"Mmm," Madden replied. "Unique." She raised one eyebrow as she turned her head, looking back up at that beautifully, well-decorated ceiling. "I should be in the loony bin several times over." She smirked. "Any idea when I can get out of here?"

"Not too long, Chief," the doctor said, appearing and handing her a cup of water as he motioned for her to sit up. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay, all considering."

"You had quite the scare, there," the doctor said, looking at Brian. "Maybe he should--"

"It's fine, Brian's my family," Madden replied, smiling softly. "What's...?"

The doctor still hesitated, but then took a seat. "The over stimulation of your cortex is more than a little disconcerting, Chief. You're a P11 level psychic. Most of your level--"

"Are insane. I know. I had the training."

"Training can only take you so far," the doctor said. "As you age, it's only going to get stronger and you're nearing the point--"

"I know," Madden said. "I go in during my leave every six months. I do it by the book, Doctor, I just got careless. I had too much wine, was too comfortable, and happened to be somewhere I have pretty horrible remembrances of, so when... I was a little vulnerable. It won't happen again."

"You still might consider regular medicinal treatments."

"I'll think about it. May I leave?"

The doctor stared at her for a long, tense, silent moment, then nodded, looking down at his PADD. "Fine. Yes, I'll just need your thumb-print and you can go." She offered her thumb, pressed it against the PADD, and threw her legs over the edge of the biobed, standing carefully. "Chief, think about it."

She glanced over her shoulder, before taking Brian's arm and moving toward the exit.

As they left the sickbay, Brian kept silent for awhile, not sure what to say. Even when you were talking as a friend it was hard to get anyone to disassociate you from the counselor role. If a counselor was what Madden needed, that was her business. She was one of his few close friends and he wanted that line to stay clear.

"He has a point," he finally said. "I don't know that I'd be any more thrilled about it than you, but that doesn't make it any less valid."

"Starfleet's just scared," Madden said, looking at Brian. "Everyone knows that most P9 Betazoids are a little off; more than 90% of P10s are next to incapacitated without drug therapies, or at the very least they're criminally insane. And at my level?" She raised an eyebrow. "I should be closer to a drooling mess than a contributing member of society. Even with my training. So because of that, they don't know what to expect, and they're worried about what I might be able to do."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Scared. Of what you could do?"

"No. I know what I can do. I learned that in the POW camp. How do you think I survived it?"

"But like the doctor said, it's going to get...more intense," he said, purposely choosing not to say "worse" because he didn't consider Madden to be ill in any sense; she just had very unique abilities. "What are you going to do when even you can't control it anymore, assuming such a time comes?"

"Kill myself," she replied, moving out to the promenade. People in gold engineering and operations uniforms were slowly clearing debris and putting things back together, their small plasma torches and saws mangling with the traditional sounds of a promenade.

"That's not funny," Brian responded, sounding a little more serious than usual. He stopped and looked at her. "Madden, look, if there's something you can do now to prevent things from getting to that point, isn't it worth considering?"

"I'm not being funny." Madden turned to look at him. "I've thought about it since I was a little girl at the school. When everyone was telling me where I would be by the time I was thirty. I thought about it then, and when I went to the academy, and when I was in that fraking prison on Cardassia. When I discovered small opportunities to survive and took advantage of them." She cleared her throat. "You know as well as I do that the drugs are only a temporary solution. I really don't want to talk about it."

"This is about control, isn't it? It's not the drugs or the potentially dangerous nature of your abilities-- it's you and your need to feel like this is all under your control, no matter how illusory that may be. You've dealt with it since you were a child, you survived as a POW, and you know as an adult exactly what you're going to do every step of the way, up to and including your own death. But it's the fact that a possibility's been suggested that's not of your initiation, not in your plan; that bothers you the most." He kept his voice calm, but he was clearly irritated by Madden's obstinacy.

"Thank you for the psychoanalysis, Brian, but you need to just leave me alone on this one." She moved away, brusquely, toward the far turbolifts and, presumably, the docking pylon that Galaxy was fused to.

Brian remained behind for a moment, reining in his frustration. Yes, she knew more about her situation than he did; she'd lived through every day of it so far. But sometimes being in the middle of something was the worst vantage point; from there it was too easy to decide that you could see everything and discount all other possibilities and perspectives.

"This isn't psychoanalysis," he said stiffly, pissed at being accused of exactly what he was trying not to do. Maybe he wasn't as good at separating the role of counselor from the role of friend as he would have liked. "It's observation, and I'm sorry if you don't like what I'm seeing. If you-" He cut himself off, his lips taut as he looked anywhere but at her for a moment. His rational side told him if he pushed this too far she'd never listen to him at all. Maybe it was best to leave her on her own on this one; after all, she'd gotten this far that way.

He walked to where she stood, passing by her into the lift as the doors opened precisely when he got there. "Docking bay," he muttered to the lift, his tone and body language reflecting the effort he was using to keep himself under control. "Alright, never mind."

"Thank you. It's been a long day, Brian; I don't want to fight with you. And I'm running silent right now. That always puts me a little off kilter."

He understood that, remembering the first time they'd talked face-to-face in his quarters after they'd been left telepathically silent following the departure of the Dithparu. Brian sighed, his frustration at himself mixing with his frustration at her.

"I wonder where Andy ended up," he said flatly, though thankful something had come to mind to break the ensuing silence.

"I'm sure he's around somewhere. Andy's a pretty resourceful guy. I don't think we really need to worry too much." A pause. "Did you like him?"

"He seemed a decent enough guy, I guess, for what little opportunity we had to talk."

She nodded. "I guess that's true. I hope the Galaxy's okay."

Just then, a general announcement came over the station's comm system: =^=All officers and crew of the USS Galaxy report to your docking bay for imminent departure. Repeat, all crew of the USS Galaxy report for imminent departure.=^=

Brian looked at her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Guess we'll find out."

"First Impressions"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas, Marine
Lieutenant (jg) Juliette Rinali, JAG

(Occurs a few hours before the DS5 attack and prior to the Faysmell series)

****
Main Recreation Promenade, Upper Habitat
Ring Deep Space Five
****

Steven stood amongst the various guests. He wasn't sure why he had been chosen to go, and had even tried to decline, but here he was, mingling with the other guests. Though to the trained, and even untrained, eye, you couldn't call his standing off to the side eyeing up the alcoholic beverages with an eager eye as mingling with others.

That he was still hurting that Faylin was dead was an understatement. It had been why he had tried to decline. He wasn't in a partying mood and doubted he ever would be. But the Marines were asked to provide a few representatives for the party. Hence his being at the event. Most of the people he could see were naval personnel, and it chilled him that they were all celebrating someone's birthday (even an admirals) when they had done nothing to remember those that had died to protect the station and the worlds nearby from the eventually Hydran invasion of the Federation.

Taking a sip of orange juice from the glass in his hands, he sighed. Though he had been looking at the more 'serious' drinks, he knew he couldn't go back there. He wasn't going to back to it's warm, loving embrace. Turning, he looked out the window as several ships floated about. The Nova lay coupled to the station to the lower right while the Galaxy, if he got his bearings right, was on the other side of the station docked. It all looked so peaceful as he gazed out the window.

"Hi." Jules stated quietly. She was dressed in a dark blue dress with a short skirt, Japanese in style with her hair pulled back up at the sides, secured with two ornate wooden sticks. This particular style, set her Trill markings off beautifully. In her hand, the glass flute held a light amber liquid that helped to squelch her nerves. She knew all too well who he was, and he looked terribly lonely. With her free hand, she offered it to him in greeting. "Lt. Juliette Rinaldi....JAG for the Galaxy. You are?"

To say that he got the shock of his life to find such an attractive blonde woman coming to talk to him was an understatement. But nonetheless, Steven took her offered hand in his, shaking it firmly, but gently at the same time. That she was here to take over Faylin's job sent a spear of pain through his body. It was yet another reminder that she was gone. "First Lieutenant Steven Jonas, Marine with the Galaxy." he said in response.

"Ah, Steven Jonas. It's a pleasure to meet you." She tilted her head slightly to the side as her southern drawl was nice to listen to. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Not particularly. I'm not in the partying mood." Smiling slightly, he asked her the same question.

Her face dropped a little. "I'm sorry....I'm having an alright time. It's odd being the new crew member." She paused for a moment. "You look like you have a lot on your mind Lt. Jonas...."

"My wife took her own life a short while ago and as such, I do indeed have a lot on my mind." He returned, as he sipped the juice again.

Rinaldi's face softened, she had the worst urge to reach out and comfort him, to tell him that she was here...in more ways than one. "Would you like to go somewhere and talk?"

"Yeah, sure. It's not like the party is going to fall on it's face without me."

"We are in the same boat then Lt. May I call you Steven?"

Steven nodded.

"Thank you." She blinked slowly. "Were would you like to go?"

"Anywhere but here." Steven replied. "How about one of the other Promenades?"

"That sounds fine. I wished I could offer you some comforting words Steven.....however, I don't want to say anything that sounds....odd." 'Damn it.' She thought as she studied him. He had lost weight, his eyes hollow, lost, lonely. It was all she could do not to hug him.

"Odd..." Steven repeated. "I've heard all sorts of odd things in the past few days, from all sorts of people. I doubt anything you could say would be any worse."

"I don't know about that." Her eyes slightly held the overwhelming emotion that she was required to contain within her. 'Just look at me Steven.' Jules thought.

Steven looked over at the beautiful Trill woman. No disrespect to her, for Steven assumed that she was a great woman, but God how he wished it was his Fay standing before him and not the newcomer. "Shall we?" He said gesturing towards the turbolift.

"Yes." She followed him to the lift, and as the doors closed, Rinaldi turned her full attention on Steven. Perhaps, just maybe if he took a good look at her, she could reveal who she was with just a look. It was the way lovers that really knew each other communicated, by their eyes. However, it was not working. "You loved your wife very much, didn't you?"

It is said that one look can reveal a great deal about a person, could even show you that the person before you was actually someone else, someone you longed for but thought dead, but whether it was the tear rimmed eyes, or the knowledge that she took her life without any real explanation, he didn't see the look Juliette gave him; the look that should have told him that it was Faylin deep down inside the body of the gorgeous blonde beside him. Perhaps it was that he firmly believed she was dead. Either way, Steven nodded in response to her question. "I loved her greatly. Still do. Can't get her out of my head."

"I had a husband. He died recently.....on Romulus." Lie...God, was it a lie. However, it let her express herself, to show her tears towards him and tell him that she still felt. "So, I know. I know what you have gone through. I'm going through it myself. The pain is unbearable at times. It feels like your heart has been ripped out from your chest, and no one understands."

Steven nodded again. She knew the feeling well, yet with him it was more. She hadn't just died on some foreign planet, but in his arms after poisoning herself. "I'm sorry for your loss. You have hit the feelings I'm going through on the head. Yet for me it's much more than just that. Way more." Oh to only hold Fay in his arms once again. To cherish her the way she aught to be, yet he knew it was never gonna happen; She was dead.

"If I could just spend one more night with him, you know?" 'Oh, the pain....' Jules thought. He was right there damn it.....she could even smell his colonge, and not do anything about it. Her hands started shaking violently. She just wanted to hold him....hold him....he was within mere inches of her. His touch would calm her....yet it was not possible. Her breathing grew ragged as her hands continued to shake. "I'm sorry......." Bringing her her shaking hand up, she wiped waway a tear that had made a trail down her cheek. She wanted to release her inhibitions concerning Steven, but he would likely just shrink back in fear.

Steven turned to Juliette. "What do you have to be sorry about? Grieving is a natural process." Good god. He was sounding more like a counsellor than a Marine and it frightened him.

"It's just difficult." Jules stated quietly.

Steven nodded. "I didn't mean to bring memories of him to the surface for you." He wanted to reach out and lay a comforting hand upon her shoulder but decided against it. Though she was hot, he didn't want to seem like he was coming on to her. Faylin had been gone such a short time and he wasn't ready to move on. Even if that's what everyone kept saying was the best thing to do.

Steven stopped along side the new JAG at the top of one of the promenade balconies. The hustle and bustle of people going about their business simmered below as the duo stood at the railing. Noises galore, various languages, the clinks of objects, the sound of business at it's finest, the smells of the people, and their wares wafted upwards. "How do you get by each day?" he stopped, realizing that he hadn't explained himself well enough. "I mean, with memories of your lost love assailing you all the time, how do you get by? Cause I've been finding it very hard."

She turned to him as they meandered to the closest transporter padd. "I don't get by Lt. Jonas. He haunts me...every where I go. And, in a way, it's comforting because I still feel him. It's as if he's right beside me. However, what I fear most is the day he starts to fade from my memory. That's, when I'll start to worry."

Nodding to the transporter chief as they stepped up on their respective padds, she glanced over at him before speaking. "USS Galaxy" She paused, turning her attention to Steven. "I know that it's hard, but I also know that she still loves you, and thinks of you often, where ever she is." And with her finishing word, the two dissapeared into thin air.

(OOC: Backpost to before the DS5 attack. Sorry. ~_~)

"Bad Dreams, Worse Reality"

Lt. Cmdr. Tarin Iniara
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Intelligence Officer

************
Intelligence CIC, Deck 8
0754 hours
************

It was almost 0800 by the time Iniara made it to the Intelligence Offices, which was sad in a way because they were on the same deck as her quarters. Then again, there was no real point in showing up at 0500 if the ship's CIO was probably still asleep in his own quarters. So she had waited, biding her time until she was sure Lieutenant Bental would be around.

Stepping inside, Iniara noted with amusement that several screens within the central office immediately went dark, the computer automatically sensing that she didn't have high enough clearance to see what they were displaying. A cadet stood at the entrance, scrutinizing her. He recognized her quickly, and flanked her without a word. She shook her head, chuckling as she headed back to the Chief's office. The door was closed, so she rung the chime and then stepped back, waiting patiently.

"Enter."

Saul stood as soon as Iniara's fiery hair appeared at the threshold. "Oh, Commander!" He proclaimed, maintaining formality for Cadet Lennem's sakes. "Good to see you."

"Likewise, Mr. Bental," she replied, stepping inside the room.

With a wave of his hand, Saul hinted the cadet that it was probably safe to leave the ship's XO in his 'custody'. Lennem nodded and retreated.

"What brings you to the CIC, Iniara?" Saul asked as the doors closed.

"Saul, I need a favor," Iniara stated, sliding into the nearest guest chair. "No doubt you know of the attempt on Praetor Hitan's life, and the security footage of the event that was leaked to the public news feeds."

"Not just the public ones." Saul confirmed as he leaned toward the small replicator, pressing on the buttons. He, of course, knew what Iniara's favorite beverage was.

"I need to see the whole thing, but it's above my security clearance. But if there's one person on board Galaxy that can access the file, it's you," she explained, gratefully accepting the proffered drink: raktajino, extra sweet.

"Actually, I believe Captain M'Kantu also has clearance to the same version I have." Saul noted. In fact, he was given the full feed and some appended intelligence items related to the murder. The batch was sent to him and a handful of other key intelligence officers stationed closed to ch'Rihan by an SFI Commander aligned with Vice Admiral Sindar. Saul had a pretty good idea as for why the hawk-opinionated admiral delivered this information to their hands.

Saul had enough control of his body language not to shift uncomfortable in his chair. "I'll show you what I got, I owe you that much and more. But... it puts me in a rather uneasy situation. May I ask why it is so important for you to see the footage?"

"I have this...hunch." She hesitated, deciding to withhold the part about the nightmares for the time being. "It's a bit hard to explain."

Saul arched his brows slightly. He knew Iniara well enough to assume that she had a solid reason behind her desire to see the footage. She didn't strike him as a person who acts on whims, or as someone who would call on a favor from a friend just to satisfy her curiosity.

"Not convinced, eh?" She smiled. "Okay. It's weird, but...I think...I don't think it was Curran that did it. Killed the Praetor I mean." She was staring off into space, her eyes seemingly fixated on some point on the wall, one hand gesturing before her as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "I mean, it may have been him...his body, but something else was at the controls."

She sighed, dropping her hand into her lap. "I told you it was hard to explain."

"We don't know enough about Kelvan physiology, or Kelvans." Saul admitted. "And frankly, I don't know the man enough, either."

"True." Iniara agreed, wanting to say more.

He swiveled in his chair, activating the secondary set of eavesdrop jammers as well as the office's holographic projector.

"If anyone asks, say we've discussed the implications of Curran's capture. Here... OK, I'm warning you - this is not easy to watch."

Iniara knew the first part of the video well; she had watched it over and over since the nightmares had started, and knew almost every word of the Praetor's speech by heart. But as the footage continued to roll, as the glossy black tentacles suddenly appeared from nowhere and began tossing the Rihannsu officers around like sticks, she found she couldn't turn away. Iniara could do nothing but stare in stunned silence, her body frozen to her seat by a combination of fear and the realization that this was almost the exact same scenario she had dreamed over and over, night after night. She couldn't help but flinch as she watched the creature bound fully into view, leaping on top of Hitan's body, reaching for the man's arms, twisting the limbs, cracking the bones...

And then slamming its sharp beak into the Praetor's chest, tearing chunks of flesh and tossing them deftly into its mouth, green blood splattering everywhere. The creature kept going, tearing and chewing, until finally the heart had been torn from its place and the man lay dead beneath its massive bulk. Iniara brought her hands to her ears as the creature let out its last high pitched shriek, a terrible sound that seemed to contain equal parts anger and agony. She then watched in utter disbelief as the thing twisted and shrunk, returning once more to its humanoid form, a nearly catatonic Kylar Curran, shivering and convulsing on the floor. Rihannsu rushed in from somewhere off camera, and then the recording ended, the image of the Rihannsu soldiers midway through the act of hauling Curran to his feet frozen on the screen.

Several seconds passed before Iniara spoke. When she did, her voice was quiet, unsteady. "That...that is the true form of a Kelvan."

"Our own vice-legate."

"Prophets," she breathed, reaching for her raktajino. The act of sipping from her drink would give her a few seconds to collect her thoughts, to determine if her initial hunch had been at all correct. Perhaps this was the real face of Kylar Curran; perhaps his human form was nothing more than a façade, a cover for his true purpose.

"I thought the Kelvans couldn't shift between forms without a great deal of effort," she asked at last, meeting Saul's eyes once more.

"I don't know. I admit I don't know much about them in general."

He gestured at the frozen image on the screen. "Ever since THIS happened, several 'thinking groups' back at HQ try to analyze what led him to that. Some say the Kelvans instructed him to do it. I doubt it, unless they wanted to open hostilities with the Romulans. If they just wanted to destabilize the Romulans, they'd be much more subtle. Another theory claims that this is the result of some illness, following Curran's injury when his shuttle crash-landed. And a third one claims that he was working for the Hydrans, willingly or not."

Saul bit his lower lip. The fact they didn't know why Curran did this, not to mention stopping him beforehand, was a personal failure as far as he was concerned. Just like not revealing Faylin's identity or saving her life, and just like not finding out enough about the Hydran invasion force in time to prevent the defeat during the first battle of ch'Rihan.

"All of these are speculations," he concluded, "and will remain so as long as we're out of touch with Curran. I'm sorry to say this, but knowing the Romulans, there won't be much of Curran left when they're done with him."

"Which is, of course, quite unfortunate. We may never really know if he was or still is being manipulated by someone or something..and if my hunch was right or if I'm just losing my mind," Iniara added after a moment's hesitation, chuckling almost nervously.

"And the Romulans are using this incident, of course, as an excuse to 'burn' all the credit we should've earned for saving their homeworld." Saul commented. "I hope we WILL know the truth, and that I'm wrong about Curran's current situation."

He shut off the projector. "What makes you think you're losing your mind? Your guess is as good as anyone's."

Iniara sighed again, more deeply this time. "Well, would you think I was crazy if I told you I dreamed that?" She gestured at the now dark wall. "Since we left ch'Rihan, I've had the same dream every night. I'm alone on the bridge, it's dark, the rear lift doors open and out steps this tentacled thing...well, 'pours' or 'slithers' would be the more operative word... Anyway, somehow I know it's Curran, but it's not...it's like something else is moving him, controlling him or something, and by the time I can react he's on top of me. I usually wake up at this point, but sometimes the dream keeps going and...well, you can probably guess where this is going."

"This ship never seems to have a lack of weird psychic encounters, which is why I'm reluctant to dismiss these nightmares as the product of an overly powerful telepath who's been off her meds for too long. I mean, you've been witness to what my mind can do," she commented, thinking back to some of the strange things they'd both seen over the years. "Maybe I am going crazy. Maybe Galaxy was close enough to the Praetor's ship when this happened that I picked up some sort of psychic residue from the event. Maybe I picked up some sort of residue from Curran himself, when I spent so much time working with him after the Tru'Haran incident. Or maybe it's a combination of the three; I just don't know."

Saul nodded, listening carefully. "I don't think you should dismiss it; Any of those speculations could be right, or the dream could be the consequence of you being troubled about what happens to our liaison. What do you plan to do next?"

"I don't know." She picked up her raktajino again, finishing the rest of the drink in one large gulp. "I had considered talking to the captain about it, but I don't know if that would help anything. After all, until we get Curran back, what can I do but wait?" She paused in thought for a moment, then added, "I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

Saul contemplated this for a while. "My hands are tied." He finally admitted. "I'll voice my opinion to the intelligence commonwealth - that Curran was controlled or possessed - but unless Starfleet gets him out of ch'Rihan by force, I don't see what else we can do with the information. The Romulans sure won't care about it. Tell the Captain, though; You know he'll take it seriously and not dismiss you."

"I'll do that." Iniara nodded slightly as he spoke. She then stood and walked to the replicator, depositing her empty mug. "Thanks for listening."

"Any time."

"Home, Part 1"

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Rihannsu Ambassador

Elissa Skylark
Science Officer

= Aetthon, Nn'verih Province =
= ch'Rihan =

"Look, Lhhai," a servant said, "ch'Rihan is still burning."

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen stood on the observation deck of a private yacht as it banked slowly towards his home and looked upon the bruised face of his world. Smoke swirled slowly over the horizon. It was difficult to imagine how much was lost in its sad, sullen mourning dance. Across the planet funeral pyres burned and ruins of war smoldered. Under the ashes of the Hydran invasion, the beauty of ch'Rihan was buried.

Burned was the pride of the Declared, the hearts of the Rihan burned.

Aerv felt the heat from fires of Romulus in his eyes. He felt it in his chest. Each breath was difficult. Air burned. His blood boiled. His heart beat with such furious anger that he feared it would burst.

Even so, he stood perfectly still, completely Without expression, and he surveyed the broken landscape underneath him. He did this because he knew that the rage that consumed him then, consumed his people also. However, this was no time for rage, no time for revenge. There would be time enough for that later.... As the humans said, revenge was best served cold. In the heat of this moment, his people needed to see patience, they needed to learn to set aside their anger and rebuild.

And no matter how difficult it was for him, Aerv tr'Ahalaen always struggled to give his people what they needed. So though he knew that some of the little fires had been his friends, his comrades, or places where he had walked in his youth, he forced himself to burn in silence.

The Samurai, human warriors of old, would have understood him then. They had understood, in part, mnhei'sahe. "Death," they had said, "Was lighter than a feather. Duty heavier than a mountain." How well the Rihan knew that to be true.

The servant waiting upon tr'Ahalaen cleared his throat, "Lhhai...what will we do?"

Aerv turned his intense gaze away from the scene before him. "The only thing one can do to a fire, Chudiv. We will put it out."

The man bowed slightly, then as he was about to say something else, the door to the observation lounge slid open and Elissa walked in. Chudiv smiled at her, bowed again to Aerv, and walked away. There was a moment of silence. Elissa walked up to Aerv and saw what he could see. Then, ever so softly, she touched his arm, and whispered, "Hey."

He looked at her. His fiery dark eyes drank from the vibrant blue oceans in her own. His gaze softened. without realizing it, he smiled. "Hi."

Elissa squeezed his arm tightly, and her eyes danced as they took him in with sharp appraisal. "If they ever made a statue of you," she suggested lightly, "I think it would move more."

"To move is to be alive," Aerv replied with a small sigh, his voice tired, "And to see and to see all this and still feel alive...that is difficult."

She stepped forward and looked out at the shifting grey horizon of Romulus, with an unreadable expression that shifted like water to different extremes so quickly he could not identify all the emotions. She grew rigid like stone and then seemed as fragile as glass. "It kind of looks..." Elissa tugged on the words, swallowing. "Beautiful. But not... I don't mean to say that it's not a mess, but the world is vibrant and full of life, and there's something to be said for that."

Aerv put a hand on the small of her back and gently drew her a little closer so that the smell of her hair touched him. "I know what you mean."

She leaned forward against the rail, looking down on Romulus. There was a strange pause. When Skylark spoke, her soft voice pierced the encroaching silence. "Do you think you'll miss it?"

tr'Ahalaen laughed softly, "Well...we still have a month here. And after that - well, I carry Romulus with me."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't think I'll ever be comfortable here."

"Don't think," he whispered, "Feel. Here thought flows from passion." Aerv smiled, "A difficult concept, I know - but passion flows from love and love flows from family.... That is where I am taking you, you know...and I think you will like them. After that, you will understand Romulus a little better."

"Yeah, but," she shrugged. "Will it understand me?"

tr'Ahalaen snapped his fingers, "That reminds me...." Stepping away from her, he walked over to the comm panel on the wall, he activated it. "Chudiv. That package I asked for...." Instantly, the door slid open and the servant who had recently left walked back in, carrying a small box that he handed to tr'Ahalaen.

"Your efficiency is frightening."

"You flatter me, Lhhai." The man replied, bowing to them both, before leaving them alone once again.

Despite her best efforts to maintain a serious expression, a smile broke on Elissa's face. She shook her head at the failure to control it and crossed her arms. "This should be interesting," was all she said, eyes glued to the package.

He smiled and held the slender package out to her in the palm of his hand, "It is for you. Ask no questions."

"I'm a scientist," she deadpanned, staring at him for just long enough. Then she delicately opened the box, lifting the top. It captured the lights of the observation room immediately, reflecting them out in a circular dance of silver fire. She pulled the bracelet out. There were blue stones embedded in the ring of metal that she could not immediately identify. Lines of latinum flowed as she turned it in her hands, a river of immodest glamour. "I didn't know they made jewelry this..." she shivered, cold for just a moment, and looked up at him. "May I wear it?"

Aerv laughed, "Of course.."

"Oh. Right." The information didn't quite sink in, though. She slipped the bracelet on and admired it on her arm. "This is," she grinned, "It's..." Elissa blinked, and looked panicked. "I can't wear this. I can't wear this, Aerv. I really...."

He folded his arms behind his back, looking quite bemused, "And why not?"

"Because it's..." she winced and shrugged. "It's. Uh, It's sweet. It's beautiful, Aerv, but it's..." Elissa let out a deep sigh, then threw her arms in the air. "I don't know."

"And when has that ever been a good enough reason not to do something. I do believe your science would be very disappointed were you not to wear it."

"Oh, do tell, Ambassador," she teased.

"There is, actually, one more thing I should tell you.... When you are wearing it, by the way...." He cleared his throat, "One of the benefits of wearing it, you see, is that you will instantly be recognized as a part of my family, so no doors will be closed to you and you will be welcome everywhere. Just try not to mortally insult someone - not that you would - just... that would really be quite bad."

Her arm felt unnaturally heavy. His celebrity was something she'd never really thought about, but once they arrived, it would be impossible to ignore. Elissa clasped the bracelet with her free palm. "Umm, what part, exactly?"

"Mostly the blood feuds...."

"I meant, of your family."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I thought I told you not to ask questions."

"This one's kind of important. Hushed whispers and pointing fingers, right? I mean, I've heard them mention me in Romulan news so I'm not totally oblivious to the perceptions of the public, and, well... I have a reputation to maintain. Kind of." Skylark stepped forward and put her hand on his chest. "It's important to me, and I know you'd part the seas for me, and that's sweet. I'm taking advantage of that now, okay?"

"No hushed whispers," he promised gently, tucking her golden hair behind her ear, "No pointed fingers... okay, maybe hushed whispers, but that comes with me, I'm afraid. You would be... well - it is quite difficult to explain, since there is no real cultural equivalent. You would be...it would be rather like we were engaged."

She sighed. "That's what jewelry always feels like."

"Elissa...trust me."

She pushed her feet up and hugged him tightly. Pressing her face on his chest, she stared outward. "I'm wearing it, aren't I?" He moved to put his arms around her, but she pushed out suddenly. A bright smile on her face, Elissa patted his chest with her hands. "I'm going to change into something nicer before we land." She marched toward the door and looked back at him, nose wrinkled amusingly. "Darling," she added.

The yacht carrying them banked sharply and he could finally see the dark outlines of the black marble palace that was dohhae Ahalaen - Aerv's ancestral home. It sat on a mountain, in virtually the only permafrost to be found on a rather the tropical province. It was a symbol of his family's tradition of putting the needs of the people before their own.

"Go ahead then," Aerv said, "We are almost home."

"Home, Part 2"

Aerv tr'Ahalaen
Rihannsu Ambassador

Elissa Skylark
Science Officer

= dohhae Ahalaen =
= Nn'verih Provice =

When the craft finally landed among the signature domes and spires of dohhae Ahalaen, Aerv was the first to step into his home, aware that he was being followed by a shy and hesitant Elissa. A cool breeze caught his black hair, an eager child rushing to hug him. His obsidian gaze was forced to the ground by the brilliant sunlight of the day, turning his attention to the ground below him. In the house proper, there would be fire by a hearth, a drink by the fire. Then the Elements would have completed their welcome.

Three aged servants walked up to greet the arriving couple, and bowed when they got close enough. Aerv smiled. The Hru'hfe, first among those in service at the home, walked up a few steps further and addressed him. "It is a pleasure to have you return, Lhhai. Long you have been gone from the care of us few."

"Long have I wished to return to your care," tr'Ahalaen replied, as was required by ritual. "And long do I wish to stay within it."

The Hru'hfe bowed, accepting Aerv's words as was his due. "And you bring a guest?"

"Elissa Skylark... this is the Hru'hfe of the Ahalaen." He smiled at the old servant, "The man who, when I was a child, made sure that I never got into too much trouble."

"You have my eternal respect and admiration, sir," she replied with a smile. "I am honored to be taken under your wing."

"The honor belongs to...." The old man paused as the sunlight caught the bracelet that Elissa was wearing, confused for a moment - then he looked to Aerv, stunned, "You did not tell us."

"There was no time."

"Mollais Shikaen," the old man whispered, as the servants behind him knelt, "Mollais Shikaen. I am so sorry, Lhhei...Master tr'Ahalaen did not inform us that you were...."

Skylark tensed noticably. "It... well.... hmm." She shot daggers at Aerv with her eyes for just a second, then turned back with a gracious smile that felt forced and still not enough. She leaned over and put her hand on the man's shoulder, then closed her eyes tight and winced as she realized it would probably only freak him out more. For all her studying, she did not nearly understand the trappings of Romulus' elite society. "Please stand up. I see no slight, and I feel no dishonor, so... umm... please. Really. It's alright."

"You're making her uncomfortable, Hru'hfe. She does not stand on formality any more than I do."

"That is very little," the head of the servants said with a distinct air of disapproval. He gestured for the others to rise. "You are very gracious, Lhhei...and your heart is kind. For us, your word will be fate. Anything you need, will be yours...."

"Hru'hfe," Aerv reminded gently, "You are starting again."

The old man cleared his throat, "Yes, my apologizes." Then he went on in a much less formal tone, the old man turned back to Aerv. "There are none present here that you must see."

"It is tradition," Aerv told Elissa, "That when a younger family member comes back home after a long voyage, he must visit the elders of the home. In my... in our case, that would be my parents, my uncle, the weaponmaster and a few others. It would appear that none of them are home."

She nodded, a bit relieved inwardly. Any more of this and she might have had a heart attack well before her time. As it was, she clutched her side, doing her best to hide the discomfort from the old man lest he fall before her.

"However," the Hru'hfe said, "Both Sharien and Ael are here. Your sisters are very eager to meet you. They await only your permission."

Aerv pretended to give this a great deal of thought, began to say something, then stopped. Finally, he yawned and said, "It was a long trip, Hru'hfe, and I am so tired that...."

A cry of protest went up from behind a nearby pillar a few seconds later a young girl, no more than nine, came running towards them shouting, "Dianvm!" After a moment, with a little more hesitation and reserve, another woman appeared and walked toward them.

Aerv gathered up the young child in his arm, kissing her forehead. "Ael."

"You're mean, Dianvm."

"Really, Ael," the Hru'hfe broke in sternly, "This is most improper."

Aerv laughed, set the child down, and embraced the pretty young woman who was following her, "Sharien. It is good to see you."

"How did you spot us, Dianvm? We were well hidden."

"I do not need to see my heart, e'lev, to feel it beating."

Sharien smiled, shook her head, and turned to Elissa, "Speaking of your heart...."

"Ah... of course. Sharien, Ael - my sisters - this is Elissa...."

"Supergirl," Ael chirped enthusiastically, "We know. We saw you kissing on the holovids. And in the lake...."

"More importantly," Sharien said, with a small gasp, "Mollais Shikaen. Ia'Rinam."

"What?" Ael stepped forward and took Elissa's hand, lifting it up so that the sunlight caught the sparkling bracelet, "Oh...wow. So pretty."

"Ael," the Hru'hfe snapped, "We do not touch our guests without permission."

The child dropped Elissa's hand and stepped back, "Oh...I'm sorry."

Elissa smiled, winking at the girl on the side. Best not to break any more of Hru'hfe's rules until things had settled. "I'm very pleased to meet both of you." Her cheeks flared though at the Supergirl reference.

"We have to tell Father and...."

"There will time enough for that soon," Hru'hfe broke in, "Right now, as your brother said, it was a long journey and they are both very tired. The two of you can dote on your brother's Intended when she is rested." Turning to Aerv, the old man bowed slightly, "I trust you will be showing Elissa to your chambers now?"

"Ah...." Aerv cleared his throat, "Yes, actually - well...."

"Dianvm has the biggest chambers," Ael volunteered, having recovered some of her enthusiasm, "They are like...four different rooms, you know. There is the library, and the...."

Elissa seized on the opportunity. "A library! If it's all right with you, I'd like to have Ael show me. Ael?"

"Sure," Ael said happily, stuck out her hand, and when Elissa took it, the child shot the Hru'hfe a smug look before leading Skylark away, prattling on, "Do you like books? Dianvm has so many books. But he doesn't have any Supergirl books - I checked...but don't tell him that. Do you still have your costume?"

Elissa looked back at the Hru'fhe with an apologetic smile and nodded to him as the girl dragged her into the estate. The old man, quite used to the impertinence of all the Ahalaen children simply bowed slightly, then turned to look at Aerv.

"I have waited many years, Lhhai, for you to manage to do something quite this right."

tr'Ahalaen laughed. "I am a Blade of the Declared, Hru'fhe. I am the Rihannsu Ambassador to the Federation. I served....."

"Aerv," the aging servant said gently, abandoning his own rules of protocol for just a moment, "None of those things are the true measure of a man. You understand?"

tr'Ahalaen inclined his head slightly to indicate his submission to the point and his understanding.

"Good. Then I have not failed...entirely. Now, if you will excuse me, Lhhai, I will see to your Intended...."

OOC: Apologies all, this (and part 2) are set a little prior to the explosions on DS5.

"Impatient for Duty" Part #1

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Branwen London - Furies Counsellor

CMO's Counselling Office
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sat in her 'other' office, the one she had co-opted and set aside for any counselling clients she gathered, Kimberly waited for the arrival of one newly promoted Marine Lieutenant. After the incident in sickbay (pick one) with either the self inflicted wounds, or her rather strange objections to green 'alien' goo, it was high time for the welsh woman to sit down and have a long chat with one of the ships counsellors. Despite her request that Kimberly be her doctor second and her friend first, in this instance she had decided that the reverse would have to be true for a little while. Settling in her comfy chair with Branwens file and a coffee she read in silence while she waited, muttering to herself once or twice as she came across something that caught her attention.

Realising that this would probably take more than a few sessions she opened up her schedule on the PADD and made a note to set aside time for weekly sessions if possible, though Branwen might not like it, better to be prepared in case she agreed though. Some of her notes had been transferred from previous posts, as well as her academy records of course. Some of the information on there certainly made for interesting reading, for instance, it wasn't often you met a Terran who had needed standard language lessons at the academy.

Branwen walked into Kimberly's office. She didn't really want to be here, besides she didn't think she needed any heavy counselling at the moment. Except for her health everything was going great in her life right now. But still orders were orders and she knocked on the door. Although back on my duties, she still felt pretty sore all over.

Looking up as the door opened Kimberly smiled and stood, "Hi Branwen," she greeted the Lieutenant as she walked in, "How're you feeling today?"

"I hate my physical therapist.' She said with a smile. "But better. Slowly getting there." She said down a little gingerly.

Walking over to the replicator Kimberly indicated the device, "Who's doing the therapy with you?" she asked curiously.

"Battleaxe nurse Helga Lund. Can't you give her to me to use as a drill sergeant, Kimberly. She has no mercy. Hot chocolate please."

Ordering a chocolate and a coffee for herself Kimberly had to smile, Nurse Lund wasn't exactly the most subtle of therapists, but she did get results, "'fraid not," she replied and she walked back, "or else who'd we get to keep the patients in line," smiling she offered Branwen her drink, "how's the therapy going?" Even though she knew and got regular updates, it was a safe place to start talking.

"Slow and I am impatient. Right now I am only allowed paperwork and a few patients. And the marines are understaffed. I want to get back on active duty. You sure you can't cut any corners to help?" She grinned.

"Cut corners, you should know better than to ask that," she replied as she sat back down, "I let you go back on duty without a clean bill of health and something happens, then people yell at me," shaking her head, "no, I'm sorry but you'll just have to take it slow and easy for a while. Use the time to relax," she suggested.

Bran sighed. "So how much longer do you think?"'

"If you do as Nurse Lund and Doctor Mathieson say, and no extra curricular activities to push yourself, a week or two then you'll be back on light duties. Perhaps another week to ten days and you'll be ready for full duties," settling back into her chair she raised an eyebrow, "things would go a little easier though if you would help me understand a few things though," she asked curiously.

Bran groaned. "That long still. Alright, shout!"

"Shout? No, no reason to shout," Kimberly assured her, "but the reason I asked you here to day was to spend a little official time chatting about a few things that have happened recently, is that okay?"

"Sure, although I don't think I need it, Kimberly. I am doing better then ever."

"Well, we have an hour, and I asked you here because of what happened in sickbay, both recently and prior to the Romulan issues, would you like to start?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"I was afraid of the treatment. In the past I have known somebody who died during it. He was probably so severely injured that not even it could help him but it made me afraid. I was a child at the time, and my father said alien technology killed my uncle. Things like that linger." Branwen said honestly. "But I am past that now."

"It's true, childhood memories like that do linger, especially bad ones. If I may ask though, you must've had the regen rejection tests at the academy, and considering your reaction in sickbay to the suggestion of regen therapy that is one of the reasons I asked if we could talk." Getting comfortable she watched Branwen closely, watching her body language and posture as she spoke.

"I skipped those tests. I managed to fool them." She coloured bright red. "Sorry. It really used to freak me out. I guess it's less now, I survived, but still it was no fun." She fumbled with her hands in her lap a little.

Making a note to check her for any rejection symptoms, even though they would have probably occurred by now she tilted her head to one side and simply asked curiously, "Used to freak you out?"

"You didn't pay much attention to me when I was in sickbay. I know you were angry at me, because you were tired, and you thought I was being unreasonable and unkind to you. I probably was. Fr Nielsen sat with me a lot, and Commander Dallas. They helped me through the worst. Because I was weak I was very scared. And I cried through most of the procedure." She said it almost clinically without emotion. "I think I mastered my fear now, and I can undergo it without too much crying a next time."

"I wasn't angry, just a little confused why an educated Starfleet officer has such an unreasoning fear about something so commonplace," she tried to explain, "but yes, I was tired and if I sounded as if I was snapping I apologise," she said with an apologetic tone, "let's hope there is no next time though, but should there be we can always sit down and explore the procedure, perhaps understanding it better would help you accept it more?" she offered.

"It might. And I wasn't angling for an apology, I know now how tiring it can be to work in a hospital during emergencies. I have a lot of respect for you, Kimberly. I should apologise for being so childish. But I wasn't feeling well, and I couldn't help myself. I am much better now. No reason to worry about me." She smiled. "About there being a next time, I hope not, but I am not in the safest profession."

"This is true," she agreed with a nod, "however, it's not just your profession that seems to cause you some injuries is it?"

"What are you getting at?" Branwen stared back.

"Doctor Mathieson mentioned to me that there had been some injuries on your back that hadn't been properly treated," she explained, "and the timing of the injuries apparently co-insides with a security report that was filed a while back. Some blood was found in the ships chapel, a routine scan of the blood indicated it was yours." Looking at Branwen she remained impassive as she spoke, "there hasn't really been the time to follow up on it until now, but I would like to hear what happened?"

"That was something private, between me and my priest. We are sorting it out. It was also something that happened in my spare time, my work is not suffering, I have even been promoted, so I don't think you need to know." Branwen told her.

"Perhaps, and under normal circumstances I would agree fully, however as your Doctor and your counsellor, and the person responsible for certifying you fit for duty I have to ask. There are indications of injury, which based on the evidence are consistent with some form of weapon, and your failure to report or get them treated leaves questions that I'm afraid I have to ask before I can consider allowing you to return to duty."

"Don't threaten me, Kimberly. I have told you before that I am more happy now than I have been in a long time. The captain just promoted me, there is no reason to pull me off duty. I talked to my priest, so I did not keep it secret. You are just curious to know what happened to me, and you are not playing fair. Counselling is not about threatening people into telling things they don't want to tell." She seemed calm and continued to look at the other woman. "You still seem tired, are you sure that you are getting enough rest? You might benefit from some off duty time yourself, ma'am."

"I'm fine," Kimberly replied to the last simply, refusing to let the conversation drift off topic. "You couldn't be more wrong by the way, I'm not personally curious at all. However professionally I have to ask, and you of all people should know that while counselling may not be about prying in any way shape or form, but on a ship of the line the CMO's and counsellors duty is also to ensure that the crew's mental health is maintained, and that everyone is capable of doing their duty. You may well have been promoted, and congratulations by the way, and yes you may have been doing your job. Unreported injuries and security reports about your blood being found in parts of the ship however have made this a matter of official record. And therefore as the person responsible for certifying you fit for duty I have to ask why you did not report an injury, which I might also point out is against regulations in itself." Pausing for breath she took a mental step back and reminded herself that quoting the rules shouldn't be necessary.

"Impatient for Duty" Part #2

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Branwen London - Furies Counsellor

CMO's Counselling Office
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I'm fine," Kimberly replied to the last simply, refusing to let the conversation drift off topic. "You couldn't be more wrong by the way, I'm not personally curious at all. However professionally I have to ask, and you of all people should know that while counselling may not be about prying in any way shape or form, but on a ship of the line the CMO's and counsellors duty is also to ensure that the crew's mental health is maintained, and that everyone is capable of doing their duty. You may well have been promoted, and congratulations by the way, and yes you may have been doing your job. Unreported injuries and security reports about your blood being found in parts of the ship however have made this a matter of official record. And therefore as the person responsible for certifying you fit for duty I have to ask why you did not report an injury, which I might also point out is against regulations in itself." Pausing for breath she took a mental step back and reminded herself that quoting the rules shouldn't be necessary.

"Branwen," she said, still using the same professional tone she had maintained up to this point, "I shouldn't have to remind you that as a marine, your duty is to report any injury that could affect your performance, you didn't. Fleet regulations require all injuries to be reported, it's simply a matter of safety for the crew. You may well have talked to your priest, and I have absolutely no problem with that, in fact I'm glad you are talking to someone, but he's not the one who has to certify that you are healed, fit and ready for duty. If you've withheld information once, how can I trust you not to do it again?"

"Why do I have to tell you everything? You are not my doctor, and you are making yourself my shrink when I just want you as my friend. I I think I told my mentor. We went on mission pretty soon after it happened." She frowned thinking hard. "I'm pretty sure that I did."

"I'm not saying you have to tell me everything," Kimberly assured her, "and if you are talking to someone about the 'why' of what happened already that is great, but as the CMO of this ship i do have to ask about 'what' happened. Why you didn't report an injury. That is what i am asking about."

"Because I don't see it as an injury." She said honestly. "I was doing penance for my sins. And those wounds should not be dressed. They are supposed to be uncomfortable and painful. I finally had them tended to because not doing so would have interfered with my duty and that I cannot have. If that happens I put my job and the safetly of my marines first. I am not stupid or mentally ill." She looked Kimberly in the eye.

Returning the look Kimberly nodded, "Okay, a religious observance," she said evenly, thinking about Branwen's file she recalled a mention of Terran Christian religion ~ ? ~. "There are many cultures and religions that practice rituals and observances that might be comparable. The Klingons and their infamous pain sticks spring immediately to mind," she said with a small and involuntary shudder, "Leaving the wounds untreated and undressed though is perhaps not such a good idea. As you yourself said you finally had them treated because they could have interfered, so perhaps we can look at that. I'm not asking you to tell me 'why'," she explained again, "but there are regulations to consider, and ritual observances do have a limit. Klingons will at least bandage their hands after taking a blood oath, even they see the sense in not letting too much blood leak everywhere."

"In my religion I should put on a hair shirt after flogging myself to make the wounds more irritated.' Bran said casually. "But Ft. Nielsen has very modern ideas. He is not a fan of flogging. And we are talking about it. He has even given me a bible so I can read the word of God myself." Her eyes glowed. "But it is confusing. It is very different from what I was thought in my youth. And the penance was for allowing myself to be raped." It was almost thrown in casually.

Not letting the emotions show that rumbled around her mind at that comment Kimberly thought for a moment before saying simply, "Allowing yourself?"

"Yes. The person who raped me said it was my own fault. That I wanted it myself. I don't think so, but I didn't fight either. I am a marine, I could have stopped her. So on some level I must be guilty myself."

Thinking for a moment Kimberly let that comment hang in the air briefly before answering, she recalled something a while back just before Rihan about a JAG query between the Galaxy and the Miranda. As usual the warp powered rumour mill that was the USS Galaxy had done it's stellar job and let the information flow freely, though she rarely paid attention to gossip you couldn't walk through sickbay and not pick some titbits up. "This was before the battle at ch'Rihan?" she asked.

"It was. It was during the shore leave before that mission." Branwen admitted.

"And so despite the assault, you felt the need to punish yourself for what someone else did?" she asked in a querying tone.

"Like I said. I am the marine, I should have been able to stop her. I didn't think it was real, she told me she was hypnotising me so I thought it wasn't really happening." Branwen blushed profusely. "Look, I would like to forget about this. It makes me feel very foolish."

Nodding, "Okay, if you've been talking to Commander Dallas and your priest about this then we can move on if you like, if you're happy to do so. But I would like to discuss a bit more about your injuries? Harming yourself, even due to a religious belief is not terribly healthy, and failing to treat the injuries to let yourself suffer, well i was unaware that any of the christian belief systems still practised such activities on Earth anymore, though i have to admit my knowledge of judeo-christian beliefs is limited."

"I come from a very small community. And very strict." Branwen looked at her friend. "So what is your religion?" Anything to change the subject.

Spending a nano-second debating whether to tell a strict catholic who seemed to believe in the letter of biblical law that she was a practicing Wicca Kimberly decided to pause that particular question for a moment. It would be interesting, both professionally and personally to see her reaction, but it was a topic best left for the latter part of their chat. Smiling, "I have faith," she replied simply, "and we will come back to that in a moment if you like, for now though we're talking about you. I have no problem with people of faith, nor traditions or rituals from the diverse cultures that exist. However, I want your word that before you perform any more self harming rituals that you will speak with someone. Be that Commander Dallas, your priest or even myself. Okay."

"I am speaking to my priest about it. He doesn't want me to do it. He doesn't believe in it either. He is slowly changing my beliefs. And we are starting a bible group. If you have faith, maybe you can attend as well?"

"Then I shall leave you to speak with him then. However, if I hear about this again I will have a talk with Commander Dallas about your duty status. Is that understood."

"Yes ma'am." But Branwen smiled.

Making a mental note to have a quiet chat with Dallas anyway Kimberly continued. "And thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid that while I have faith I am not a christian," she replied to Branwens offer politely. "I follow different traditions."

She swallowed, but Branwen was learning to be open-minded. There were many religions on Earth. "There is nothing wrong with being Jewish or a muslim."

"Neither I'm afraid, I am a practising Wicca," she explained, "a witch."

The Welsh woman's eyes widened. "A witch!" She had grown up fearing those as much as aliens and Englishmen. "A witch. I'm so sorry." She stammered.

"Why are you sorry?" Kimberly asked curiously, not entirely surprised though at Branwens reaction, "My faith is an ancient and peaceful one, what do you have to apologise for?"

"Because you are a heretic, and you practice black magic. It means you will go to hell and I like you."

Sighing Kimberly shook her head, "Lieutenant, you have much to learn about who I am and what I believe. The term heretic applies no more to me than it does to you. And as a matter of interest the term itself is inaccurate, stemming from the Greek word to choose," she explained, "like many things it was adopted and modified by the early christians, in this case to describe those to chose to believe differently than they did. And as to where I will go after this mortal coil, well, that's a matter for our comparative beliefs," she explained.

"Oh, and I do not practice black magic," she added, "but that is a topic for another day." Filing Branwens reactions away for later she smiled. "Anyway, back to you. We'll schedule a follow up chat for next week, but for now I will remind you to speak with someone before any further traditions you have that require any form of self harm, okay. And next time we get together, if you like, we'll meet in sickbay and we can sit down and discuss anything you have questions about in sickbay, including the regen therapy, how does that sound?"

"It sounds good. But I would rather sit at home and talk as friends, Kimberly." She came to her feet. "I guess you have no objections to my working any longer?"

"We'll see after your next check up, assuming everything is okay, and Commander Dallas has no objections then no, no objections. However, as I said, any other unreported injuries and you will be back here." Nodding politely she stood and smiled, "Until next week then."

"See you then." Branwen said and left.

"Marching Orders"

With Admiral Robert E. Lee Price, former commanding officer of the USS GALAXY, current chief of Starfleet operations.
Also included: Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, Commanding Officer of Deep Space Five, and Captain Darren M'Kantu, Captain of the USS GALAXY.

Location: USS GALAXY, CAPTAIN'S READY ROOM
Time: Shortly after "Revelations" by Ian.

"This is an outrage!" Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor said sending her coffee cup sailing across the room where it shattered on the nearby bulkhead.

"This station, MY station has been assaulted by...by terrorists from the Orion Syndicate! One of MY people have been taken by these bastards and you...." she said stabbing a red nailed finger at Price's image barely able to contain the scorn in her voice, " you want the your precious GALAXY to go on some wild goose chase for a missing Borg drone?"

Ever the diplomat, Price struggled to keep a friendly smile upon his weathered face.

"I wouldn't quite put it that way, Mate." he said before Proctor cut him off.

"That Aussie charm won't work on me, Price! You're a glory hound! You always have been and since this time you can't sit in the Captain's Chair yourself, you want to live vicariously through that damn ship of yours! You know damn well that...."

The Admiral held up his hand to silence the ranting woman in midsentence. She glared at him, visibly seething as he spoke in a soft, yet undeniably authoritative voice.

"What I know Olivia, are two things. First I know that it is the decision of Starfleet that the USS GALAXY depart immediately for her next assignment. No further explanation will be nessicary nor given. The second thing I know is that I am stil