"Conduct on Becoming an Officer"

Ens. Leronem Risdanach
Medical Officer

Leronem still felt vaguely ridiculous about the whole affair, and suspected that his discomfort was precisely why Admiral Iskossala had insisted on it. She had of course claimed that there was a P.R. benefit to having a formal commissioning ceremony for him, that people would be interested in the advancement to officership of a 40-year Starfleet veteran. But there was only one reporter present and his complete lack of enthusiasm indicated he thought it was some sort of punishment. Frankly, Leronem could relate to the feeling. He would have much preferred to just take the oath somewhere private with whatever flag officer was available and be done with it. But he could hardly refuse the Admiral her opportunity to make a fuss. Besides being his dramatically senior officer, he owed her personally.

So, there he stood in his dress uniform at the front of a large room at Starfleet Medical, looking out at the friends and comrades who had managed to attend. He was actually surprised how many had showed up, especially several people whom he had lost touch with years previously. The Admiral had probably pulled a couple strings to get so many of the old Ahwahnee crew back together. He had to admit, even though he hated the fanfare, it was good to see them. Admiral Iskossala was reading a summary of his service record and it brought back memories with each of them. It also made him look to the empty seats, imagining there the faces of comrades whom he had seen fall during his long career. Inevitably, though, before his thoughts could become too morbid, someone would catch his eye and smirk or pull a face, reminding him how little he liked to feel on display.

The Admiral then pulled out a very formal looking piece of paper. "Prior to commissioning as a line officer, Chief Warrant Officer Risdanach must be discharged from his current warrant." Then, reading from the paper, "Honorable discharge from the armed forces of the United Federation of Planets. This is to certify that Chief Warrant Officer Leronem Risdanach was honorably discharged from Starfleet on stardate 60703.05. This certificate is awarded as a testimonial of honest and faithful service." She handed Leronem the paper and during the brief applause whispered with a grin, "Now's your chance to get away with an honorable discharge." He remained expressionless.

"Seeing as Mr. Risdanach has been discharged from Starfleet," continued the Admiral, "his jacket along with all Starfleet insignia will now be removed. I believe his long-time friend and colleague retired Master Chief Petty Officer Rakin will do the honors."

A tall Rigellian in the front row stood up and walked over to Leronem. The two embraced briefly before Rakin removed Leronem's warrant officer jacket and returned to his seat.

"I will now administer the officer's oath," said the Admiral.

Putting his left hand above his right, palms up, in front of him, in the Efrosian gesture of adjuration, Leronem repeated the oath of office: "I, Leronem Risdanach, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Articles of the Federation against all enemies, foreign or domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of office on which I am about to enter."

He returned his hands to his sides as the Admiral turned to retrieve the white dress jacket of a Starfleet line officer, which she then helped him to put on. She then opened a small box and retrieved the single golden insignia of an Ensign and affixed it to his uniform. Turning him to face the others, she announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present Ensign Leronem Risdanach, Starfleet."

After brief applause, Admiral Iskossala continued, "Although the salute has been dropped from the day-to-day protocol of Starfleet, there are traditions to be maintained at times of ceremony. And it is an honored tradition that the newly commissioned officer give something of value to the first non-commissioned officer to salute him. Master Chief Petty Officer Rakin, front and center."

The Rigellian again stood and moved to the front of the room, but this time much more rigidly and formally. He stopped in front of the Admiral and briskly saluted her. When his salute had been returned, he lowered his hand and turned to the new Ensign. Again, he briskly saluted, adding a crisp "Sir!" Leronem responded in kind and when they had released their salutes, pulled a brass coin from his pocket and handed it to his comrade. The coin was a rare one, centuries old, from his home planet of Efros. Rakin recognized this and thanked him before returning to his seat.

"Ensign Risdanach, the floor is yours," said the Admiral, and then took her seat.

A slightly uncomfortable pause.

"All I wanted was to become a doctor, and they had to go and make me an officer too," said Leronem finally to some chuckles. "I want to thank Admiral Iskossala for making sure there was sufficient pomp and ceremony for this illustrious occasion. She knows I wouldn't have it any other way. And it's nice that she was able to bribe or blackmail so many of you into coming. But honestly, it's great to see so many old familiar faces. It helps make mine seem less old. Not that I really mind the age. I may not be the youngest Ensign in Starfleet by a few decades, but I sure am the prettiest. And I still have some fight left in me, so the next one of you to call me 'sir' better know what you're asking for. I never know how to end a speech on the rare occasion that I'm forced to give one, so I'll leave you with an Efrosian benediction: Ris-tol vuthl mos, 'May your heart never freeze.'" Finished, Leronem sat down.

Admiral Iskossala rose and said, "Thank you, Ensign Risdanach. I have been asked to invite you all to join Ensign Risdanach for the traditional wetting-down party at the Iecur Club. He will be shipping off for his next assignment, so let's make sure to make it a night he'll either never forget or never remember. Dismissed."

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

The events of the wetting-down party were memorable, if a bit hazy. There had been drinking, and stories, and drinking, and singing, and drinking, and some harmless fighting, but mostly drinking. He even thought he remembered Myren, that is Admiral Iskossala, trying to kiss him; but he couldn't be sure. Maybe he had been trying to kiss her. Maybe it had been someone else. Maybe it had been a dream.

When he woke up the next day, he found himself suffering the classic symptoms of excessive alcohol consumption. He kept his eyes closed until he could get a handle on it. There was an odd humming or buzzing that he didn't remember being a standard part of the hangover experience, but nothing too troubling. Carefully, he got out of bed and moved to the door. He found it and it swooshed open much more quickly then he had expected. He found himself face to face with a young crewman who looked as though he had been about to call on him. "What are you doing here?" asked Leronem, a little too bruskly. "Did I do something last night that got me in trouble?"

The crewman looked at him apprehensively. "As to that, sir, I can't say."

"Don't call me 'sir!'" barked Leronem. "'Doc' will do fine; or 'Doctor' if you're feel the need."

"Yes, si..., um, Doctor. That is, I was told to give you a few hours notice before the rendezvous to, um, freshen up." At that moment, Leronem realized he was still wearing his dress uniform which smelled of all the alcohol that had been poured over him the previous evening.

"I don't have any rendezvous planned; I'm leaving Earth on a runabout this afternoon. That hardly leaves time for a rendezvous." It took a couple seconds, but before the crewman could respond Leronem's mind was finally able to catch up to the situation. "Except the whole schedule got shot to hell, as is customary in Starfleet, and I was unknowingly put on the runabout already. We've been flying for several hours now and the rendezvous you're talking about is with the USS Renegade, which will take me the rest of the way." The crewman looked relieved not to have to explain all that. "All right, fine. I assume that my gear also got stowed here and that I'll find a shower in the back."

The crewman nodded, "Yes, Doctor. Let me know if there's anything you need."

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

The trip to Deep Space Five was long and uneventful. Fortunately the Renegade was well-equipped to keep its crew and passengers occupied during its long voyages. Leronem spent a lot of time talking shop with the ship's medical staff and was able to use the holodeck to break in the Nausicaan sword he had recently received as a gift. Given the famed lack of Nausicaan subtlety, he had expected it to be a simple blade. But it was slightly cork-screwed and double-edged which made for unexpectedly interesting and engaging swordplay. When he reached the station, he had some hope of finding a Nausicaan to spar with, but there were none passing through the station while he waited for the arrival of the Galaxy.

When it did arrive, it had come from what sounded like a fairly intense encounter with the Borg. As his orders did not become effective for a few days, he elected to allow them some time to recuperate before making them deal with a new officer. The day before his orders were to be effective, he sent a communique to the XO of the Galaxy, requesting permission to come aboard and assume his post. He also sent one to the ship's chief medical officer, letting her know he was anxious to join the medical staff and requesting the appropriate lab space. He then sent a final message to the chief counselor to let him know that there would be one more psychiatrist on board, should the counseling department ever benefit from his help.

~Cutting Open the Universe~
The Return of Cutter Kara'nin

"Part III: The Descent"

Dr. Virgil Maro watched through the cockpit window as he and Bertrand Crow descended down the gravity well towards the black hole in a specially designed shuttle. Virgil was not much of a 'spacer,' as the term was commonly applied. He grew up on a planet, and he lived on a planet, but he had spent a great deal of time in space, in transit from on place to another. He specialized in the psychology of people stationed in the long term aboard far out space bases, among other places, so he had experienced a number of bizarre, lonely corners of the galaxy. He was comfortable in space.

But this black hole made him anxious in a way he had never felt before.

Out the cockpit window, there were no stars. There was no light. There was no warmth. There was only cold blackness. Deep and dark, blacker than any black he had ever seen. He had never before felt so separated, separated from the galaxy, separated from all other life. Never before had he felt so separated from God.

To his left, Bertrand Crow was humming softly, a cheerful tune.

"What do you think about living on a black hole," Virgil asked suddenly.

Bertrand stopped his humming, "Huh? Oh, y'know. Fine, I guess. It's just another job."

"You're not afraid?"

"Of what?" Bertrand asked sincerely.

"Of," Virgil started, then paused for moment to think. "Of the anti-grav generators failing and you falling into the black hole?"

"No," he laughed. "No, the chances of that happenin' are the same as the life support failin' in a Starbase. It's possible, I s'pose, but unlikely."

"What about the research? How do you feel about that?"

"I don't understand it," Bertrand said.

"You don't understand the point?" Virgil asked. He didn't. He didn't understand why these scientists were so obsessed with something so dangerous.

"No, I don't understand what they're researchin'. It's over my head. Well, I guess I don't understand the point, either. That's also over my head. I'm just here to make sure the computers run good."

Virgil and Bertrand sat quietly after that and they continued on their shuttle ride to the main station. And Virgil prayed again. Another simple prayer, assuring God he loved him and respected him and politely asking for his protection if anything should go wrong, and begging, if nothing else, to not be abandoned. He wondered if any of the scientists prayed.

He also wondered why he couldn't yet see the station. "Does the station have external lights?"

"Yeah," Bertrand smiled. "You wonderin' why you can't see it?"

"Yes."

"The lights get red shifted, 'cause of the intense gravity. If you had infrared eyes, you could see it, probably," he explained, surprisingly clearly, considering his claims to ignorance earlier. "It's fixin' to be visible in, oh, five minutes or so."

So, they sat quietly once more, and once more, Virgil stared out into the black. After several minutes, he could begin to see a slight red blur. And after a few moments more, he could begin to see detail - subtle shadows and highlights in the crimson haze. Slowly, before his eyes, the main science station was born from a pool of blood, and then it caught fire as the light wavelengths shifted to orange, and then to yellow. It was a remarkably demonic image, and the anxiety Virgil felt suddenly hardened to a stone of dread in his stomach.

"We call it the 'decent into Hell,'" Bertrand said suddenly.

"What?" Virgil asked, startled.

"The trip. We call it the 'decent into Hell,' 'cause of the way the station starts off red. Corbin's name, really. I kinda like it. It's pretty."

"Ah," Virgil said, silently, but strongly disagreeing. It most definitely was not 'pretty,' he thought as the station cooled and the light that illuminated it became white. It wasn't much longer before the station filled the cockpit window, sitting solemnly, as if ignorant of its bloody and violent appearance.

"SSAlpha, this is the Acheron," Bertrand spoke into the comm as they made their final approach, "requesting permission to land."

"Granted, Acheron," the voice spoke curtly. Before them, on the station, the docking bay door opened, and Virgil wondered if they would have to wait for repressurization again before he could leave. But, as soon as the shuttle touched ground, Bertrand reached up and flipped the toggle to open the shuttle door.

"Welcome to the 'hole, Doc," Bertrand said as he climbed out of his chair.

They exited the craft, Virgil had to get out first because the door was on his side, and Bertrand immediately walked around to the back to begin unloading the supplies they had brought down with them.

"Welcome, Mr. Maro," a short Indian man said, approaching them slowly. He walked with a heavy limp and a cane in his right hand. He was bald, but for a thin ring of wispy white hair around the side of his head. His eyes were deep set and mildly squinty. "I'm Dr. Rudra Brahman."

"Dr. Maro," he corrected. "Dr. Virgil Maro. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm sure," the old man said, though there was no courtesy in his voice. They stood in awkward silence for a moment while the old man considered the visiting psychologist. "You've come at an interesting time," he eventually said, the words slow and steady, but spoken seemingly with considerable effort. Virgil could not recall any speech impediments listed in the scientist's file. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall a limp either. Rudra Brahman was supposed to be in excellent health, but it was obvious that this was no longer the case.

"Oh?"

"We are about to initiate Dr. Kara'nin's personal project. We will be the first living things to peer inside a black hole."

The announcement struck Virgil with considerable dread. There was a reason why no one had ever done such a thing before, why it was so difficult. God had forbidden man from this part of the universe. To peer inside a black hole, to defy nature in such a way was an affront to God. "What do you hope to see?" he asked cautiously.

"That is the question, isn't it?" Rudra replied, turning. It seemed the welcome party was already over. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something that will force us to rewrite the laws of physics. Perhaps we'll even see God himself."

That was what Virgil was afraid of.

"I've arranged for you to meet with Dr. Kara'nin in two hours," Rudra said. "He is eager to get this 'examination' over with so he can concentrate on the final preparations. Once Bertrand is finished unloading the shuttle, I'm sure he will be happy to show you to your temporary quarters, so that you may rest."

And then Dr. Brahman slowly limped out of the docking bay.

"Tradition." Part One

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck Five***

Looking around the holographic re-creation she had selected for her ritual and prayers Kimberly sighed, somehow it just wasn't the same she decided. Holodecks, while okay just didn't seem to be the best of places for her occasional devotions. While there was the arboretum, there were times privacy was preferable and the arboretum always had someone wandering through it, day or night. The holodeck at least offered a measure of privacy.

The simulation was a simple one, a woodland glade set in summer time on Earth with a fresh clear stream running along one side. The trees around were all tall solid oaks, and their canopy around the glade would provide a cool shade from the warm sun above. Checking the position of the sun Kimberly guessed she had a couple of hours before the sun set, ~ Perhaps a bit too long. ~ "Computer, adjust local time, reset to half an hour to sunset," she asked. With an acknowledging beep the sun shifted in the sky until it was below the canopy of trees and the light in the glade dropped to a near twilight level.

Satisfied Kimberly walked over to a large flat rock that sat in the exact centre of the glade and started unpacking her bag. Placing candles, incense and other items onto it she turned to the nearby brook and carried her pack over. Carefully undressing she folded her clothes and tucked them under the pack then laid out some soap and oils and stepped into the cool stream.

Immersing herself in the stream she relaxed and let the cool water flow over her. After a moment she held her breath and slid under the water, floating in the gently flowing brook she tried to let the water wash away her tension and worries. Staying under for as long as was comfortable she drifted in the gentle current for a moment, emerging slowly she took a deep breath and stood in the waist deep water, then started to bathe at a slow and unhurried pace.

After she had finished washing she stepped out of the stream, picked up her towel and carefully dried herself, slowly combing her long hair back so it was flat against her scalp. Picking up the oil she had brought she started to gently apply it. Spending several minutes she relaxed in the simple ritual and let her mind wander as she rubbed the cool liquid onto her skin. Realising just how long it had been since she had relaxed this way and had the chance to actually pray properly she sighed and tried not to wonder what would happen next. Losing herself in her preparations she closed her eyes and worked by touch alone, letting her hands work the oil in slowly and gently.

Opening her eyes once she had finished with the oil she realised the sun had set and she was now in near total darkness. Looking up she saw the glow of the full moon illuminating the tops of the trees, an eerie and ghostly sight in the darkness, made even eerier due to the absence of woodland sounds, the only noises to be heard was the sound of her breathing and the breeze in the treetops, gently rustling the branches. Guessing she had perhaps half an hour before the moon rose enough to illuminate the glade entirely she packed her oil and soaps away by touch and walked carefully over to the stone in the middle of the glade. Again by touch she arrayed the candles and incense on the rock, as well as the other items she had brought with her. As she worked she shivered slightly as a cool gentle breeze caressed her bare skin in the darkness

Reassured by the feel of the familiar items before her she felt the symbols carved onto the candles and arranged them around the edge of the top of the rock and began the rest of her preparations for her devotions. Looking up she smiled as she saw the full moon starting to emerge from the canopy of trees, casting its soothing white light across the far side of the glade. Picking up a wrapped bundle she unfolded the cloth and pulled a dagger with a foot long blade from the folds of the material. Carefully polishing the silver blade, the jet handle and the icy blue pommel stone she set the cloth down on the altar and picked up a bowl. Stepping away from the stone she began to speak, walking deosil around the rock as she chanted, dipping the dagger into the liquid in the bowl and flicking the water on the ground as she went.

For the next five minutes the only sounds that were heard in the glade was the wind in the trees gently whispering in the darkness above and the sound of Kimberly's voice chanting and praying softly as she cast her circle and called upon the Elements and her Goddess.

After completing three circuits of the stone she returned to the rock and placed the bowl and the dagger between the candles and slowly lit all five, and with each lit candle came a prayer to each element and her Goddess again, softly but passionately intoned she immersed herself in the ritual, forgetting work, Starfleet, the ship and all other concerns she thought only of the here, the now and her faith.

Once each of the candles were lit , the incense was burning and an invocation had been said to all Kimberly stepped back a pace and knelt, crossing her arms and placing her hands on her collarbones she bowed her head and prayed.

"Hecate, I call thee, Witness this rite, Bless me with wisdom, Bestow me with light." "Hecate, I call thee, From underworld to sky, Mistress of all realms, Crossroads, to storm's eye."

"Hecate, I call thee, Wolf, dog and snake, Guardian of instinct, Titan, awake." "Hecate, I call thee, Witness of life, Keep the ways clear, In peace and through strife." "Hecate, I call thee, Witness this rite, Bless me with knowledge, To balance day and the night."

Falling silent she remained kneeling, listing to the beating of her heart and the soft gentle rhythm of her breathing. Thinking of a simple meditation she relaxed, illuminated only by the flickering light of the candles and the moon now overhead. Meditating for some time she lost herself in her thoughts, letting her mind drift where it would.

"What person in their right mind would leave the doors unlocked whilst running a program?" Dhani muttered to herself as the large doors closed behind her with a slight clank. ~Will have to get that looked at too!~ Dhanishta thought scathingly eying the door with a look of distaste. She had only been on board a short while and had already noted several systems that were in dire need of repair. In fact after the tenth major thing she added to the list followed by fifteen minor violations of health and safety protocols she stopped compiling said list, she was going to need a padd to do so properly and a month if not more to scour every part of the ship, and that month would be without sleep!

"Kimberly are you in here?" Dhani called out as she made her way through the holographic shrubbery, pushing low hanging branches out of her way as she walked blindly down the moon lit woodland track.

She couldn't help but tut as she walked, her head was full of future conversations she would be having soon. Every time she came back to the ship lately it was screwed in some fashion. True, she didn't know what the ship had been through but she was dammed sure in all her time serving as acting chief she never let it get this bad. Another prime example of why she should have been *on* the ship given the nature of the mission instead of on some poxy training mission to rescue a bunch of random people. Leaving a junior officer in charge Engineering when the odds logically lead to a confrontation with the Borg no less was … well it was so utterly *stupid* it was beyond her comprehension. She sighed, she had already been over this, and at the end of the day she was just an officer and officers had to follow orders - no matter how ridiculous they were.

After narrowly missing a fallen tree stump Dhani grinded her teeth. "Kimberly!" she hollered again her aggravation increasing, "Where the…" she paused as the tree line opened up to reveal a secluded glade. If she hadn't been so pissed off she would have taken a moment to stare in wonder at the beauty of the holo recreation, however her mind was firmly set upon finding her friend and taking out all her frustrations in a huge command griping bitch session about Proctor the dumb ass mission, Victor von death… (possibly omit that verse) the ridiculousness of Thral's pig, the confines of the ship she had to endure the utter indignation of meal times….

Oblivious to the approaching engineer Kimberly opened her eyes after a while and looked on the glade that was now almost completely lit by the high moon. Full in the sky it cast its soft light over the glade, leaving only the edge that was covered by the tree branches still in shadows.

Standing, Kimberly returned to the stone and picked up her dagger and bowl and again began circling the rock, chanting and casting water as she did so again with her dagger, but this time in a widdershins direction. After another three circuits she paused at her starting point and bowed to the stone and said clearly, "May the peace of the Goddess be in my heart and in my mind always. Blessed be."

~Goddess!?~ Dhani questioned silently as she watched her friend from the tree line, all thoughts of a major bitch session put on hold as she regarded her. ~Alrighty then!~ she said to herself upon seeing Kimberly waltz round a rock, chanting no less! She shrugged ~each to their own~ she mussed. She had to admit this was the first time she had seen Kimberly like…. this… Perhaps this would add a new depth to their friendship, as long as Kim didn't expect her to take part that was all fine. Dhani may have Betazoid blood in her veins yet nudity wasn't her thing.

It struck her then, when she realised she hadn't averted her eyes, nor had she made any attempt to shy away and leave, as would be the polite thing to do, that perhaps she had more Betazoid in her than she would like to admit. ~an analysis for another time~

"Kimberly?" she questioned taking a step closer, and only now, keeping her eyes away from Kim's exposed flesh, "Er… what ya doin?" her voice sing-songed with curiosity from the shadows.

"Marine Style"

First Lieutenant Branwen London
Marine XO

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine

**** Steven's New Quarters ****

"Hi," Steven said as the door opened. "Come in."

"Thanks." She gave him a quick hug. "It's good to see back in one piece." Branwen have been afraid to lose him as well on top of all the other veterans that had died during the mission. It was something she had not come to terms with completely yet. But she had to be strong around the troops.

"Oh, nothing much. Just thought that I should move back here. For the men. They need their command team close." It was all a lie, and he was pretty sure she knew that. It was too much of a coincidence that she was here for her not to know.

"I know. It's been tough on them again." She looked at him. "I just spoke to Faylin."

"Gee, what did she have to say for herself?" he asked as he indicated for her to take a seat in the lone chair in the room.

"I understand you guys are having trouble." Branwen said Hesitantly . "How are you?"

"You could say that. But if you've talked with her, you probably know more about why I'm in the dogbox that I do."

"Not really know. I thought you guys were so much in love." Bran was not completely honest but some things should not come from her.

"All I did was be a pawn in her sick game to capture the leader of some fanatical group." He didn't want to say too much as he wasn't sure just what he was allowed to say. "Suffice to say, after finding out she was alive and her saying she was back and wanting me in her life, she pushed me away faster than a speeding train."

"Maybe she is afraid you will be angry for using you?" She offered. "Have you really talked to her since you came back?"

"I can't tell what she really thinks. She doesn't seem to think I'm good or important enough for her to confide in. Besides, I told her I didn't care who she really was, or 'what' she was, that I loved her and wanted her in my life. And she tossed me out." He sighed as he sat on the bed, not noticing that the duffel bag moved as he sat.

Branwen sat next to him. "Give her some time. But we must make sure that you cope, okay. I need you, Steven."

"I gave her all the time in the world. Heck, she had the whole month or so that I thought she was dead, and yet the moment she pops back into my life, she bails."

"She might have some issues. I hope she speaks to someone." She had promised to. "Are you going to cope?" She remembered too well what had happened last time.

"She has more than a few issues. But I doubt she'd ever speak to someone. She barely gave me the time of day when we last saw each other. And no, I doubt I'm gonna cope well. I've been thinking of getting away fro a while. Not sure where, but I think I need to leave the Galaxy."

"Steven!" She said shocked. "Please no!" Was all she could say.

"I don't see much choice. She doesn't want me. And I can't get her out of my head. She haunts my dreams. She is in my thoughts when I wake up and when I go to bed. I don't know what else I can do."

"I.... I understand." Bran swallowed. She needed to be professional now and not think of her own needs. "Maybe... yeah some time away is good for you."

"Do you ever think about transferring to the Miranda? To be with him?" he asked, having heard a rumor ages before that she was in a relationship with a guy over there. "Would you do anything for him?"

"I... I guess so. I do miss him."

"He's a Marine right? Maybe he might transfer over here if you need someone to fill in for me. Just a thought."

"He is a superior officer, but it is a thought." She smiled. "I would still miss you."

"Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to do than talk to a Marine who was stupid enough to think that the woman of his dreams actually cared about him."

"No, that is my job remember." She said softly. "And you are my friend."

"We are still married as far as I am aware. I think that is something I'm gonna have to correct." Steven said with a shrug.

"Oh Steven." She ached for him. "I am so sorry, I know how much you love her."

"Yeah but how I feel doesn't rate with her at all. I guess I'm not very good at picking the right people to fall in love with."

She rubbed his shoulder not knowing what to say and how to help. "Don't forget you have friends who love you as well."

Steven squeezed her hand. "I know. I just thought she was the one." He sniffled, trying to fight back the tears that he knew wouldn't be long in streaming down his face.

"It's okay to cry." She whispered holding out her arms. She found it very hard not to cry herself.

Steven sighed. He didn't want to cry any more than he wanted to leave the ship. But given that he had been finding it hard to cope without her, and then to find her alive but wanting nothing to do with him had made his mind up for him. So when the tears began, he didn't resist. He just let them flow.

She just held him biting back her own tears and slowly rocked Steven back and forth so he could vent his emotions.

"You... might want... to look at finding... someone to... lead second platoon." His mind was made up. He was leaving the ship. There were too many reminders of her for him. Heck just seeing Saul or Zev in the hallways or in Ten Forward would send him off the deep end with his feelings for her flooding back. He had to get away; get a fresh start. It was the only way.

"yeah." No point in telling him there was no one else. "We will find someone."

Steven knew the pickings were slim. They had been managing with no one 'officially' leading First platoon for a while. "There are several good candidates from the senior NonCom's that could probably transition up to Lieutenant with little ease."

"Sure." He had no idea how many they had lost down on this last mission, how many 'I am so sorry to let you know' letters she was writing again. Bran didn't want to pressure him into staying against his will.

Steven tried to smile. "I hope I'm not putting you in a bind by leaving?"

"Of course not." She put a brave face on it. "Don't worry, we will be fine."

"Good. I don't want to make things worse for you." He smiled somewhat.

"It's okay. I am a tough Marine, remember." She tried to smile as well. But they both were not really up to it.

"As am I supposed to be. But here I am blubbering to you about something that I should have seen coming from day one and avoided. I guess we both need to toughen up a bit. Marine style, of course. Get in there with the men and go through some of the drills we make them do every day. It's been a while since I had a turn on the obstacle course." He grinned and patted his ever so slightly overweight belly. "I think I am in need of it."

Branwen certainly wasn't fat. After she was injured she had lost a lot of weight. But it had been a long time since she had been allowed to do practice full out and she was looking forward to it. "We will do that before you leave." She promised.

"Sounds good to me."

"Severing Ties"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas

Lieutenant Junior Grade Faylin McAlister

**** A Hallway ****

Steven walked along the hallway with a PADD in hand. Having spent the better part of an hour chatting with Bran, he had decided that what he was about to do was the right course of action. A few days before, when he had found out Faylin was alive, he wouldn't have dreamt of doing what he was about to, but given that she obviously didn't care about him anymore, and that she seemed to be sleeping with Raynor, he had chosen to sign the divorce papers that had been delivered and finally be free of the whole mess.

Even though it pained him to do so.

He stopped outside her door and raised his finger to press the chime. He paused, having second thoughts. Shaking his head a moment later, he pressed it.

"Yeah...enter." She called out as she came around the corner. The area on her shoulder still stung a little from the operation, but the prize sat in a jar of liquid on her desk. A constant reminder of just how much her father *loved* her.

"Hi," he said as she opened the door. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her standing there in that JAG tshirt of hers.

"Hey. What's up?" She responded.

"It seems we have different ideas of what 'needing to sort out the IS mess' means. I assumed it meant you needed to take a break and focus on that. I didn't realize it meant you wanted to take another man to your bed."

"What?" She stated between a few giggles. "Who did I devour this time without my knowledge?"

"So you didn't invite Zev Raynor to your bed the other night?" he asked.

"WHAT?!?!" She coughed out through a fit of laughter. "Zev??"

"So you haven't slept with him?"

"Oh honey no......He's as pure as the day he was born." She contained herself for a moment, then the thought struck her again and she chuckled. "Oh god...."

Steven shook his head. "Cause after the way you keep kicking me away it sure seems like you're eager to bed him."

"Oh yeah...I really want to add him to my list...right up there with you and Rex." She stated in a sarcastic tone.

"Gee, way to rub it in. I believe you wanted this back." He handed her the PADD.

He let her look it over while he reached up and took off his dogtags. Slipping the wedding ring from the chain, he placed his dogtags back on and held out the ring. "Since you obviously don't want me in your life anymore, this is also for you."

"I don't need it....do what you want to with it. Good day First Lt. Jonas." Faylin stated icily as she crossed her hands over her chest and waited for him to depart.

"Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to make you this way?"

Her head tilted slowly to the side, blinking once, her eyes resumed their nature yellow color. "It's the way I am Steven." Her voice was different, more natural to her species with an almost exotic accent to it. "You want to see what I really am? You never have?" She was tempting him, wondering if he would take the bait. "It's really quite disturbing to some races.....a hairless being, with large yellow eyes."

Steven sighed. "It doesn't really matter what I think or what I want. You've already decided that you don't want me in your life. That's pretty obvious with the way you kicked me to the curb the other day. So quit with your pathetic games Faylin. I gave you everything I had and you toyed with me, torturing me before throwing me away. If you really loved me, you would have been a little more loving and a little less heartless bitch."

"I am heartless and yes, I am indeed a bitch. However, what do you expect when I have the soul of a killer Steven? I don't change, I never will."

"The only reason you can't change, is cause you're too fucked up to want to try and change."

"Oh, thank you Mister Counselor." She spat.

He ignored her snide comment. "So what was the month or so before you faked your death? I thought you loved me. Was that all an act? Cause if it wasn't then why can't you try and be that Faylin again?"

"Cause I don't want to be that Faylin again. She was soft, weak, and especially so after Olivia died." Her voice became gravely with a sinister smile cemented on her lips. "Anything else?"

"Just to say thank you for completely wrecking my life. I won't wish you happyness , and a good life. You don't really deserve it." He dropped the ring onto the small table since she didn't want to take it and walked to the door. "Oh and if you want your mutt back, he's in the ship's kennels."

Resolving himself to what he had planned to do next, he smiled. "Goodbye Faylin. I'm leaving and I doubt we're going to ever meet again."

With that he turned and walked out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

"Girl Gone Wild!!"

With interstellar man of mystery Leo Streely, last seen manning the Captain's Chair on the USS Akira. (Two missions ago.) Two friggin missions ago? Has Joe really and truly slacked off that much? It's too cold for strip clubs! What the hell has he been doing, eh?

Also included are some wacky NPC's from the Navigation Department:

Lt. Otis "Hambone" Bisbee, Terran

Lt. Guff Rahkow, Dwarf

Lt. John Burton, Terran

Ensign Gydian, Hermat

Time: Just before the official kickoff of the next mission: "Road Not Taken"

Location: The Navigation Dome, Main Navigation, USS GALAXY

"If your Indian pal catches us in here, he's gonna tack our scalps to the wall of his wigwam. You know that, right?" Lt. Burton said, flipping the brim of his ever-present baseball cap.

Leo Streely simply waved his hand at the four officers, his golden pinky ring gleaming in the warm, ambient light of the Navigation Department's main office.

The ring, a 1/116th scale replica of Admiral Kirk's face, was what he though to be the perfect accessory to the ruby sequined Captain's uniform that he wore - open at the neck naturally to properly display his ever present medallions.

"Me and Raven are like this, OK?" the little man said embracing Ensign Gydian tightly, while not so subtly resting his hands upon hir behind.

The Hermat wrinkled hir nose at the nearly overpowering scent of "Hai Karate" that Leo had seemingly bathed in.

"Are you…policing a feel?" Gydian asked curiously.

"It's copping a feel, babe." Leo said with a sloppy grin. "Policing a feel takes two hands."

"I think I'm going to be sick." Rahkow grumbled, holding his stomach.

"I hate to break up the little love fest here but before you two start swapping spit, shouldn't we get down to business before someone catches us?" Burton said waving a strip of latinum.

"Besides that, I'm getting hungry again." Bisbee said.

Streely winked at the Hermat as though he had a hunk of Paklid fir caught under his eyelid and pocketed the latinum.

"I told ya, OK? You got nothin to worry about. I'm an official Starfleet Captain now. If anyone walks in, I'll just tell 'em that we're involved in a TOP SECRET training mission or something." He said confidently.

The Hermat squatted down on hir haunches.

"That brings up another point. Last anyone saw you, you were acting Captain aboard the USS AKIRA, systems shut down, playing dead while surrounded by Hydrans. Would you care to enlighten us a little as to how you managed to get out of that little mess?" Gydian asked.

Leo looked at his feet, suddenly humble.

"We'll I don't know. I don't like to brag and you know, there ARE matters of Fleet security…"

"I'll give you another strip of latinum." Burton said. "This should be good."

Leo's hand shot out and latched onto the money.

"So there we were, all systems shut down. Death and doom were eminent. Those damned Hydrans were slithering all around us. There was no way we would be able to fight our way to the safety of what was left of the fleet. It was at that moment, I uttered a two-word plan of escape. Two little words that my crack crew were able to turn into an ingenious maneuver that will forever be taught at the Academy as "The Streely Maneuver." He said, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Forward torpedoes?" Burton asked?

"Warp Nine?" Gydion said.

"Escape Pods?" Rahkow snorted.

"Lunch time?" Bisbee said, more reminding them of the time of day then anything else.

"Not even close. Instead I told them: OH SHIT."

The four stared at him in silence

"OK, OK, OK. When I gave the "Oh Shit" command, my science officer knew that I wanted to purge the waste matter replicators. As you know from when you were kids, shit can be set on fire, so we let loose the biggest bag of flaming dog doo that the galaxy had ever seen and when the Hydrans scrambled to deal with this unknown weapon, unsure of what effects it would have upon their ships, we hit the thrusters and got the hell outta Dodge."

"Flaming dog doo…" Burton said shaking his head. "Amazing."

"The Fleet thought so. They were so impressed with the way in which I saved over 700 lives that day that they made my Captaincy permanent. Held a big parade and everything. Now I'm here in my new position as Starfleet Heroism In Tactics Specialist. I'm sure they have an acronym they use but I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Even have my own official quarters in the Ambassadorial wing." Leo said.

Gydion put hir hand over hir mouth and suppressed an amused giggle.

"Sounds like a dirty job." S/he said.

"I ain't in it for the glory, toots. Now then, if you have no further questions…" Leo said gesturing to the open doorway leading to the unusually darkened Navigation dome. He took a strip of latinum from each of the four for admittance fee and then walked them all to the chairs he had set up.

They all took a seat and faced Leo who stood before them as some sort of perverted master of ceremonies.

"Gentleman and Hermats," he said winking again, "You have all seen her. You all know how god damn hot she is. Umm. Umm. Umm. Booya!!! Now I offer you a chance to see Chief Dakota Willis in her most intimate setting! Her very own room, where anything and everything can and WILL happen!! I give you…GIRL GONE WILD…brought to you by the one and only Captain Streely and the universe's largest IMAX Theater!!!"

With a press of a button, the Navigation dome, which usually was filled with a dizzying three dimensional holo-projection of space around the ship was now replaced with a larger then life holo-projection of Dakota Willis' bedroom.

And there, standing in nothing but a towel was a 16-foot image of the Navigation Departments buxom mechanic. She turned towards the adjacent doorway of the shower room, dropped the towel to reveal a perfectly tanned backside and sauntered casually into the steam.

"Do I deliver or what?!?!" Leo said with a smile, tucking the latinum in his pocket, eyes focused on the screen.

"Tradition." Part Two

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck Five***

"Kimberly?" she questioned taking a step closer, and only now, keeping her eyes away from Kim's exposed flesh, "Er… what ya doin?" her voice sing-songed with curiosity from the shadows.

Turning at the sound of the familiar voice behind her Kimberly smiled, pleased that Dhanishta was finally back. "Hey Dhani, welcome home," she greeted her friend as she saw Dhani's vague form in the tree line. "This?" she replied, indicating her surroundings, "I just felt the need to relax, pray and try to centre myself. I had a rather unpleasant chat a little while back with someone and it upset me a little." She said, running her hands through her drying hair to loosen it up.

Folding her arms across her chest Dhani kept to the tree line, there was a certain amount of foliage that, if she positioned herself just right, and Kimberly stayed where she was, prevented Dhani from seeing Kimberly's entire birthday suite and thus protected her modesty - at least a little… Dhani wouldn't tell her that she had stared at her in the buff for at least three minutes, that would be reserved for confessional or her last dying breath... although she failed to imagine a situation where she would want to confess that small morsel of information during her last moments in this existence… saying that she had never really though about 'how' she was going to die, nor when or who would be with her when that happened, again. After all lets face it - she had died several times and … she paused, bugger! Each time she had failed to give any memorable last words…. That was something that defiantly needed to be worked on for next time…

Tilting her head she looked at the leaves before her, twiddling one absently between her thumb and forefinger, "So, who do I have to kill this time?" she asked before realising that was an incredibly stupid thing to say given what happened on their last away mission together, quickly she rephrased; "Er who ticked you off?" she asked in a louder voice to cover for the earlier infraction.

Carefully picking up the dagger on the altar Kimberly wiped and polished the blade as she spoke, ensuring no moisture was left on it. Unconcerned at her state of dress, or lack of it, she continued talking as she cleaned the knife. "Well, no names I'm afraid, but I'm still kinda upset after a chat with a crew member a while back before Barzan. Some rather archaic attitudes toward my Faith that I thought our people had left behind a few centuries ago. It made me wonder if we are actually as tolerant to the unknown as we like to believe."

"Ah… I… see." Dhani replied slowly her focus not on the explanation at all as she kept her eyes trained on the dagger Kimberly so expertly handled. It gave her pause, she couldn't deny; this woman that, as far as she was aware touched no weapon of any sort, had her hand clasped around a rather large, rather sharp and extremely pointy dagger... or was it a small sword? She strained her eyes in the light to read the glyphs on the blade. Her head tilted as a frown of concentration and puzzlement crossed her features. She didn't recognise the writing style, nor did she recognise the construction of the ceremonial tool. How bizarre for a pacifist to handle such a thing, even if it was purely ceremonial, it was still a weapon, it could still harm someone, she shook her head. ~Totally hypocritical~ although she would perhaps share that thought another time; when Kimberly wasn't the one holding the dagger!

"Yeah, so anyway," Dhani began shifting her weight against the tree she was leaning on, "that 'training mission'," she air quoted, "I went on was …."

"It's, it's, Arrgghh!" Kimberly suddenly burst out.

Dhani flinched slightly. Pushing herself up on tiptoes she peered out from over the foliage screen and stared at Kimberly with raised expectant eyebrows.

"I wish I could tell you everything," she complained as she sat down on the grass with a thump and folded her legs under her, "but it was a counselling session so I can't say who. But someone said something very insulting about my Faith…." Taking a deep breath she started talking without waiting for an answer, gesturing occasionally with her arms and hands (and dagger) as she spoke to emphasis certain words. "On Earth, a long time ago people who believed as I do, Witches and Pagans, suffered because of ignorance and religious intolerance for centuries. But the reaction I got from he… this crew member belongs in the Dark Ages, I mean, we're supposed to be better than that right?" she asked, her voice rising somewhat at the end of the statement.

"Er... right." Dhani replied glad that she had kept her distance; Kimberly was waving that knife around as if it were an extension of her hand! Crikey she could have her *own* eye out with that!

Looking at Dhani's confused face as she rambled on she realised she was making no sense whatsoever to the perplexed looking engineer. "On Earth, over two thousand years ago a religious group emerged that slowly spread, becoming one of the dominant belief systems on the planet. It's called christianity. But the followers of this faith at that point were not as pleasant as most are today. There was a time on Earth, called the 'Dark Ages' which were actually caused by these early christians!" Sounding angry at the mere memory she started playing with her hair as she spoke, twisting one lock violently as she continued, wrapping it around one finger so tightly it seemed to cut the blood supply to the unoffending digit. "A time where anyone who spoke out contrary to their religious beliefs was persecuted, mutilated or out right burned at the stake. Science was suppressed; followers of different beliefs were persecuted and killed. Anyone who spoke out against their Frelling misogynistic views was hounded until they recanted or they died. Frequently the latter"

Dhani stepped forward and out from the shadows. The frown still etched across her face, her focus still on something other than the words. Tentatively she stepped forward, still wary of the knife that her pacifist friend possessed. Crossing the green she knelt beside Kimberly, "May I?" she questioned reaching out to take the knife from her.

Looking at Dhanishta with a raised eyebrow Kimberly thought for a second as two things passed through her mind. One, was that the Athame was a blessed and consecrated blade she used for her devotions, and there were those she knew who would let no one touch their consecrated tools. But this was her friend, and if she couldn't trust her, whom could she trust. The other thought was less of a personal debate and more one of ~ What 'has' she done to her hair! ~ as she finally got a good look at Dhanishta in the pale moonlight, ~ A 'nose' ring? What the… ~ Carefully reversing the blade she offered the large knife to Dhani slowly, her eyes though briefly taking in the recent changes in her friends appearance.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she gently took the blade from Kimberly she closed her eyes as she set it down on the rock that Kim had been using for what she presumed was an alter, thankful to 'whoever' that Kim had relinquished the blade without a fight. For a moment she took a second to regard the inscription upon it, memorising it for analysis later. She wondered about the prejudice Kim spoke of. Had she been anyone else, she herself may have balked at the vision she had entered into, turned and left with her impression of the CMO tainted. After a second she shook her head - that would never happen. Well maybe if she walked in on a ritual sacrifice… again she shook her head, ~nope done that once… wasn't an issue really…~ she shook her head and shrugged. She had seen a great many things in her life, there was little that surprised her, or offended.

"What happened?" Dhani enquired further as she sat down next to Kimberly offering her hand in support. This topic clearly agitated the normally serene and calm CMO. Dhani felt a small smile appear across her face, it was nice to see Kim talk with such passion. Even if the topic made her angry and upset, still she had a faith. Dhanishta had never known this. And while Dhani bequeathed to no 'God', she understood the nature of belief in a 'higher power'; faith could be good, if used correctly.

Taking the offered hand Kimberly held onto it as if it were a lifeline, gripping her hand tightly. "Before catholicism was adopted as the official religion by the Roman Empire, one of the major powers on the planet at that point, there were earlier empires like the Egyptians and the Greeks, and they were the source of a veritable wealth of knowledge, and many infamous people from that time are looked up to as visionaries and the founders of their fields of study in today's society. People like Hypatia, Pythagoras, Thales, Eratosthenes, Hippocrates, Pergamom, Aristarchus, Copernicus, Theodoras, Epicurus, Zeno, Anaximander, Anaxagoras, Empedocies, Democritus, Archimedes, Ictinus, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Quintillan, Galileo.... to name just a few. Each of them was branded as a heretic, and some of them were even murdered."

~Murdered?~ Dhani raised an eyebrow. Again though, she smiled, she had studied several religions in her time, being raised by Vulcans, Trill's, Klingons and having immersed herself in Terran cultures when she was at the Academy she understood the history of many faiths. All of them had that same trait. It wasn't new, it never would be. Religious persecution was rife throughout the history of so many worlds she wondered why it insulted Kimberly so now. These were the faults of her forefathers, her ancestors, they were not relevant in this age, except to learn from she supposed. It was defiantly wise to keep in mind the horrors of the past to make sure that they never happened again. Though she had to be honest, she was slightly lost as to why Kim was dredging up these crimes of the past.

Oblivious to the look on Dhani's face Kimberly continued, letting all her pent up frustration flow out. "But these are the founders of such things as mathematics, geometry, philosophy, and medicine on Earth… Yet these people were seen as heretics?" She asked with no small amount of confusion and frustration in her voice.

Dhani nodded along as Kim talked, still slightly confused to the nature of the conversation. Was there something she was supposed to say at this juncture? She shrugged for a moment compiling some sort of reply. "Kim," she said gently taking her hand, "I understand, in part. Yet you have to remember that these things are in the past. The persecution that your people suffered was centuries ago. In the 24th century people don't think like that anymore. Terrans have come a long way from those routs of barbarianism; open-mindedness is part of the core ethics of the Federation."

"These things you describe," Dhani continued softly, "they happened so long ago, and you have to remember that Terran opinions at that time were vastly different. Ignorant to a point, there was a time when the greatest minds of your world thought that your planet was flat, that it was the centre of the Sol System!" she paused to let that ridiculous fact sink in.

"I studied Earth's history when I was at the Academy; I was enthralled with its diversity and the many religions that sprung out from one race. Every continent had its own way, each denomination separate from the next. Earth was a savage place. They had no concept of the universe that surrounded them, they can not be faulted for that, they didn't know what they know now. There was a time, if I recall that the human body was sacred; a temple, a work of 'god', to cut it open to see how it worked was an abomination. There are still cultures through out the galaxy that still believe this. The things that were unexplainable were work of the devil for they had no comprehension of it and that scared them. Rulers of such disjointed lands have to find some way to bring the people together, to unite them as one, to that end some became sadistic dictators, others used religion to repress the population, to keep them from revolting, Kimberly," Dhani paused for a beat, looking into Kim's eyes, squeezing her hand to attract her full attention, "these are all in the past, you know as well as I do that no one within the Federation still thinks like that."

Dhani reached up and tucked a lose strand of Kim's hair back into place, "And especially members of Starfleet. For crying out loud diversity is like integral to Starfleet! Unbiased tolerance is well, it's part of the Academy Code of Conduct for crying out loud. 'Cadets respect the culture of all beings. They are not prejudiced.'" she quoted from memory, "How many mornings did we recite that in front of the UFP flag. Eh?" she asked with a smirk combined with a gentle nudge.

Looking about as angry as Dhani had ever seen her, Kimberly sat there on the grass and angrily started tearing up the grass and tossing it into the breeze, "But that's just it, it was some 'fahrbot' on 'this' ship who called 'me' a heretic, and accused 'me' of practising black magic, and actually having the affront and the frelling 'gall' to say that 'I' will go to 'hell'!" she snapped hotly as she started digging up the roots of the holographic grass, seemingly intent on destroying the hapless simulation out of sheer frustration.

Dhani's eyebrows raised and her lips formed a perfect little 'o' as she stared at the grass that flittered to Kimberly's feet in a stunned silence. "Huh!" was all she could reply with as her frown deepened.

"business affairs" part 1
by captain Trulan aka Turan Trelar
Ortuk aka sgt Thral

npc Julian, servant and guide grand marshal Agatha

with an unauthorized appearance of Sanguinus Ephral Templar aka Lt. JG DarkSky
and Utopia Lain aka Lt. Savant

The two traders, their bodyguard, and of course their private servant followed the guide through several hallways, obviously designed to fulfill one purpose - to intimidate. Those hallways were indeed impressing pieces of interior architecture. At least two times the height of Trulan - the tallest of the three visitors, the walls covered with ornaments, borders and frames made of a transparent yellow-orange stuff did its best to make those halls a really impressive experience.

The guide stopped in front of a door and knocked.

"Come in!" a female voice ordered.

The guide opened the door and entered. Compared to the halls the visitors walked seconds before the large office room was rather barely equipped. The room was empty besides a group of chairs, a room-high shelf and a giant desk in the rear edge. A uniformed woman sat behind the giant desk doing some paperwork.

The guide cleared his throat. To make the woman look up from her work.

"What's the matter, Julian?" she asked the guide.

"Visitors, Ma'am Grand Marshal" declared the guide "Captain Trulan of the Novela brotherhood and his partner ..." Julian stopped in mid-sentence. How was his name? Nervously the guide turned around to glance at the three visitors.

"Templar" whispered Trulan.

"... and his partner Mr Templar" Julian continued the introduction of the three visitors. "they requested to meet you in business affairs they didn't further explain."

The Grand Marshal closed her pen and laid it into a rectangular coffer on the right side of her desk.

"Send them in!" she ordered Julian.

Without waiting for the guide, Trulan stepped in.

The Grand Marshal gracefully waved her hand to point at the group of chairs. "Take a seat" she offered.

Thral grunted and took up a position behind the desk all the time looking for hidden security measures, extra guards, and that sort of thing. He had a feeling this Agatha was the type to take such precautions and he was dead on. It didn't take him long to find the sniper in the building across the street. Clever, but not clever enough.

Movement in the shadows to Thral's left caught his attention next. In the corner, half hidden behind one of the room's billowy curtains, a man reclined against the wall, arms crossed nonchalantly. Most of his body was hidden by the draped fabric, but one could easily tell he was tall, muscular, and carried himself with quite a bit of self confidence. The ridges on his nose and the silvery glint from his right ear clearly marked him as Bajoran.

Seeing that he had been noticed, the Bajoran turned towards Thral and grinned, then abruptly disappeared behind the curtain. The fabric rustled and a second later a soft click could be heard, the sound of a hidden door being closed.

Trulan sat down on the center chair and pointed at his feet to make Lain kneel. The movement behind the curtain hadn't been unnoticed by Quentite captain. Glancing at Thral he found a pair of eyes pointing at something outside the office window. Trulan decide to try a shoot in the dark.

"As I realize you have taken measures to avoid being the fooled one in the end. I must admit I prefer business partners who handle things with a certain degree of precaution. I myself use to take out an insurance, too, before I meet a new customer or supplier for the first time." he declared.

The grand marshal laughed. "I excuse for the incompetence of my staff. They were ordered to be vigilant not to behave like a targ in a pottery manufacture. As they say: 'don't distrust you neighbor but lock your door." she replied, crossed her legs and continued "So you are here to found a business relationship with Ivor? What kind of business?"

"My partner Mr Templar and I run a recreational facility on Pendara II. Our Customers come from virtually all edges of the known universe. The project is steadily growing so I was forced to acquire new suppliers for our business' most needed good. We are searching for manware - I don't like the word slave - to meet my customer's extraordinary needs and wishes." explained the Quentite giant. "I was told you sometimes sell surplus manware."

Agatha stood up from her chair to walk over to the office's window. For an instant she seemed to search for something or someone outside then turned around to ask: "May I ask who told you I could provide you with the ware you search for?"

"Sorry, but you may understand It's essential for my business to protect my informants" Trulan excused. He tried to look cool and superior. It was essential not to leave the narrow path through the swamp of unknown answers. Sometimes it was much easier not to answer than to cause further questions by giving answers not satisfying the interviewer.

Agatha sat back down. Obviously she wasn't able to read Trulan's facial expression. Even if she was - the Quentite trained hard to provide the expression needed.

"Assumed I would possess the ware you search for. What kind of manware are you searching for? Which race? Which gender? Any special requirements?" asked Agatha.

"It's not a question of race or heritage. There is a market for almost every race you may think of. Our Bajoran guest for example enjoy to be served by Cardassian servants. Some females like to be treated rudely by Klingon males. Terran males love to be massaged by Betazoids. I ... we are searching for individual with a certain degree of intelligence and eloquence. There is no special need for them to be of special physical strength." Trulan answered.

Agatha thought for a moment, took the padd from her desk and scrolled over the display. "Probably I can offer you some interesting recently arrived life stock. I have to make a few calls so I can present you the best choices tomorrow." she offered.

"Maybe we can cut long things short, Grand Marshal" offered Trulan "give us a list of the manware you can spare and we well choose the candidates who meet our needs."

"As you wish" answered Agatha, again manipulated the padd then handed it over to Trulan who immediately passed it to Templar. "I prefer to relay on your experience and instinct to choose the best ones"

Templar scrolled through the catalog of profiles and occasionally marked entries. He nodded - satisfied with the choices he made - and of course the fact all the 'life stock' they were here for were on the list.

"So what do you think about this offer?" asked Trulan, took the padd back, wrote digits put it back on the desk and pushed it back towards the grand marshal.

Agatha thought for a moment, then nodded. "Most of the slaves of your choice are somewhere nearby. There are three of them employed on a far edge of then planet. It will take some time to get them here. To short your waiting time I would like to invite you for dinner."

"Healing Hands"

First Lieutenant Steven Jonas
Marine

Lt.Cmdr Vladimir Malgin
Chief Surgeon

**** Sickbay ****

Steven cautiously entered sickbay. He was tingling all over and his heart was racing a hell of a lot faster than normal. And it wasn't because of a loss of blood, but rather his fear of Sickbay's. Of course, had he not been so stupid as to do what he did after leaving Faylin's quarters, he wouldn't have needed to be there in the first place.

Clutching one hand in the other, he was trying not to let the blood drip to the floor. Spotting an empty biobed, he walked over and climbed onto it awaiting someone to come and repair the damage he did to his hand.

He should have been alarmed, by the silence amongst the personnel, scattered in sickbay, in which he could easily hear his own breath. But feelings didn't serve the marine well. If they did, he'd keep off the sickbay in this shift's time even with his spine torn off or head disembodied. One of nurses, have shot a quick glance on the newcomer. And when Steven intercepted that glance, he could swear, there was a pity in it. Pity for him.

"Oh, very fine!" came a strong voice from the back, "Should have guessed, that shift won't pass smoothly. Marine!"

"Steven Jonas, sir" he said identifying himself.

"I am really very happy to get to know your name," Doc replied quite mockingly, "Now, if your would please, state the problem, which brought you here..."

Steven held out his hand in response. Bloodied and swollen, his hand looked more like ground beef than anything else. "I kind of slammed it into a wall." he said in way of explanation.

Chief Surgeon took a few examining glances at hand. "Perhaps, you'd inform me WHY have you been slamming your hand into a wall? Wall is made of tough material and is not recommended for boxing sessions. Thought marines know it..."

Despite the same mocking tone, Vladimir made few barely identifiable gestures to nurses, which nodded and walked away.

"Um... It's kinda personal. Someone made me mad, and I lashed out at the wall." He tried to smile weakly, but the pain was too intense. "I think the wall came off second best."

"Next time, when you are too angry at something, better go to holodeck or via airlocks to the open space. Saves engineering from repairing walls and medical from repairing people's appendages." Russian accent sounded quite definitely here. Both in tone and the style. Nevertheless, actions, which Doc applied, were swift and professional. As if hands belonged to other person, than voice. Few quick passes with tricorder, strangely careful palpation...

Steven nodded. "I'll try and remember that next time." He doubted that there would be a next time seeing as he wasn't likely to ever see her again. Though, to Steven, never was too soon a time for him.

"It is gonna hurt a little bit," announced Vladimir in a little more kind voice (apparently because marine didn't argue), then made a quick move on the hand with some little machine.

It hurt like hell already, so Steven doubted that he could inflict any more pain. He was wrong. The intense pain shot up his arm sharply. He drew in a sharp breath but forced himself to hold in the growl of anger that threatened to escape.

"Just sit back and relax! Breathe deeply!" sadistic doctor commented, his hands doing all the magic, "Just few more times, and the painful part is done with! Well, almost..." Few more of those actions (hell, Doc seemed to get pleasure!) and squeech of the machine ended. Moment later a hypospray injection let hand celebrate the end of the torture. Pain receded. "Well, just few more non-painful actions, and you are done with. Say, didn't you enjoy this session, marine?"

"Not particularly, but then, I hate sickbays... Just an old phobia." He lay back, waiting for the repair to be done.

"Marine afraid of pain and patching up wounds? Nonsense....... Well, try to use this hand of your as little as possible in nearest few days. And even if you use it, try to direct actions not on a wall, but on something softer."

Steven smiled. "I'll try and remember that. And no, I'm not afraid of pain. I just hate needles and being poked and prodded un-necessarily."

"Unnecessarily? We never do anything unnecessarily. If you didn't want yourself to be treated, you just might have not came here!"

"Eh... In this case I needed help. But I guess I'm just nervous seeing needles and the like enter my body."

"Let's just agree, that you won't let bullets, knives or energy-based weapons into your body in future, and count, that you've payed the bill." Vladimir patted marine on the shoulder and added with almost the same tone as in the beginning. "Now get moving!"

Steven nodded as he looked down at his repaired hand. "Thanks. I'll try and not get wounded in the future." He turned and walked out, thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't wanted to know more about why he had smashed his hand against the wall.

"Tradition" Part Three

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton CMO
Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck 5***

Dhani's eyebrows raised and her lips formed a perfect little 'o' as she stared at the grass that flittered to Kimberly's feet in a stunned silence. "Huh!" was all she could reply with as her frown deepened.

"I should'a let her have it there and then, but managed to stay professional," Kimberly muttered with regret, now digging a small hole in the dirt, picking out stones and throwing them into the nearby brook. Looking up at Dhani she continued, not even noticing, or caring right now if she had been about to say anything, "Let me tell you something, First, there is 'No Such Thing as Black Magic!'." she snapped, "It's a myth on Earth, a fairy tale created by the uninformed who didn't know what they were talking about."

Dhani nodded in reply, there was no point informing her that she already knew that. What Kim didn't realise was that Dhani knew a great deal about the faiths of the quadrant. In fact she had done several papers about the differences and similarities to many cultures and religious beliefs spreading through out the galaxy, in fact one paper she wrote on the similarities between the Vulcans and Klingons was submitted along with her application to Starfleet!

There was a lot that Kim didn't know about Dhani, and for the first time she realised that there was a hell of a lot she didn't know about the CMO. She had spent so long trying to keep her distance from her, so long fighting with her on certain topics that she had yet to realise or come to appreciate the depths of the woman that was sat before her. Mentally Dhani chided her own narrow mindedness and her selfishness to not only deny herself from becoming close to another but for denying Kimberly that as well. For some reason Kimberly had formed a fondness towards Dhani, though she really couldn't fathom why given her reactions towards everything and her still ever changing temperament, yet that bond was there and she would be a fool to walk away from it.

"Next, I have no intention of going to hell, as there is no such place. The concept of a hell where the damned souls go to was another creation of christianity, a means of trying to keep their followers in line by saying 'Be good or you will spend eternity dammed in the pits of hell being tortured for all eternity! Pathetic Tzao gao!" she spat, "as is the fact that this mythical 'hell' is supposedly ruled over by the 'devil'. Another fictional creation!" She snapped with a note of tense disbelief in her voice. "The devil that is portrayed in the christian faith is actually taken from a picture of the Pagan God: Pan. And why! Because the early christians wanted to convert the Pagans to their faith, and so to help do that they made out that Paganism was evil, they took the image of Pan and perverted it into their devil. They set about persecuting and murdering those that continued to worship Pan, and the other Deities, as 'heretics'."

Dhani took Kimberly's hand again, now that she had stopped gesturing widely with it, covering it with her own she clasped it and offered up a smile of understanding.

Taking her hand gratefully she held onto it with both of hers for a moment. "And it wasn't my Faith that turned the word inquisition from its original meaning into something people feared to hear! The word inquisition is from the Latin word inquisitio, it means basically to enquire. But because of 'them', it's now remembered and used mainly in association with the religious zealots who judged heresy against christianity."

Looking around the glade Kimberly waved her arm around to indicate the setting, "Look around." she asked Dhani. "This is a simple ritual I hold each lunar month. I relax, I pray to my Goddess and spend some time meditating and praying. To the strict and blinkered idiots that were around then said it was blasphemous, because I chose to believe differently. Do you know the sort of things they used to do to people? To test if they were a Witch?" She asked, and then continued, again without waiting for a response, "A common test was to tie the hands and feet of their suspect, and sometimes they'd even stick them in a bag, then they'd throw her into deep water. The idea? The idea was that if the person managed to float, then they had the Devil's help. That person was then guilty of witchcraft. If the person couldn't float then she was innocent, the problem there was your innocence was proven by your death by drowning! And if you were guilty! Hanging or burning at the stake. Kind of a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation really." she muttered with disdain.

"Also," Dhani interjected solemnly, "the human body has a tendency to float."

"Exactly, that is the idiocy that my ancestors had to deal with, and it's an attitude that should have disappeared centuries ago. I am a Witch, a Pagan and a Heathen, my Faith is centred around the seasons and the cycle of Mother Earth. I believe in a Goddess, a God and the Elements. The basic rede of my Faith says 'An it harm none, do what ye will', and yet we have to put up with gos-se like her xenophobic, moronic stupidity! Xenophobia is not a trait you should see in a Starfleet officer, we've all been to the Academy, ignorant, backwards, bigoted views like that should be a thing of the past."

"Agreed." Dhani replied turning to envelop Kimberly in a reassuring hug. "No one should ever suffer religious persecution or be tried under the confines of another persons doctrines." she stroked Kimberly's hair gently in an attempt to sooth her. She had to completely agree on every account, and was totally shocked that a Starfleet officer would act in such a way.

Taking a deep breath Kimberly let herself be held in the warm embrace for a moment, trying to stop the shaking she was feeling in the pit of her stomach from spreading, and let her eyes rise to look at Dhani, ~ Dreadlocks??? ~ she realised now she was closer, ~ Girl, what 'have' you been up to? ~ she thought curiously. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't rant at you. It's not your fault, and you're probably not that interested in ancient Earth religious beliefs are you." she asked, a little late. "It just upsets me that someone in this day and age would still have such an outmoded attitude to something that has been generally accepted for centuries. Perhaps I should take some of my own advice and be a little more tolerant of her beliefs, but it just angers me that someone who grew up on Earth, a planet that has pulled itself out of three world wars and is now the seat of the Federation government itself, can still dredge up such an antiquated 'Ai ya' attitude."

Dhani nodded blowing excess air out through pursed lips. She had never seen Kimberly this agitated, this upset, this hurt… "Kim," Dhani called softly, keeping her eyes staring out across the moon lit glade, lest she saw the expression in her face and realised the pain she felt that her closest friend had been insulted in such a manor and there for what she was contemplating doing in retaliation, "who said that to you?" she enquired innocently, keeping her body language submissive and slightly disinterested in an attempt to hide the nature of the question, so that Kimberly would answer without hesitation, before her brain completely processed the question and the possible consequences of answering it.

Shaking her head gently Kimberly found herself wishing for a moment she could let it all out, but there was a part of her, the professional within that reminded her about client-counsellor confidentiality. "I'm sorry, I can't say," she apologised. "Though believe me when I say I truly wish I could!"

"Kimberly!" Dhanishta said in a low tone, her dark eyes turning towards her, indicating that she wasn't going to take that as her final answer.

"Dhanishta, I really wish I could." Kimberly replied with a sigh. "But there are some lines I cannot cross. No matter how much I wish I could. This crewmember and I will have to work this out between us. I can't. I'm sorry. It hasn't really been a problem since we spoke anyway, I've managed to avoid her since."

Dhanishta shot Kim a look of disapproval, "You have avoided her since, and that's your solution to the problem?" she rolled her eyes, how many times had she done that and been told that was not the way to handle things? She shook her head, "It doesn't matter." she said with a wave of her hand indicating that question was void. "When did this happen anyway?" she asked instead.

"Uh, a little before the mission to Barzan. Almost a month ago now." She admitted absently. Her mind still on the conversation she'd had all those weeks ago.

"So you have been keeping this bottled up since then?" she questioned standing up frowning, "Not to mention avoiding a fellow officer… for a month!? Kimberly…" she emphasised, "now even I know that's not the way to handle that!"

"Well it's not been difficult. There's been a lot going on, I've had work, she's had her work." Kimberly explained simply, looking up at Dhanishta she shrugged. "It was either avoid her or have an argument about this. I haven't had the chance to relax, calm down and think it through. Gos-se, I'm still pissed at her." she admitted, "So I'm just not ready to sort this with her just yet."

"Yeah, instead you let it drive you nuts!" Dhani chided, then she kicked herself. Okay how come she could dish out the advice, yet couldn't take it herself?

"Thank you for that astute diagnosis," Kimberly said wryly as she stood as well and returned to the altar. Slowly extinguishing the candles she started packing her belongings away she looked over her shoulder at Dhani. "I'll deal with her. Sooner or later," she said flatly. "But only after I've calmed down a bit more, it still irks me, her attitude that is. I'd rather talk to her with a clear head than be totally pissed at her."

Dhani followed Kim with her eyes as she collected her things, ignoring the irony of the role reversal and the somewhat biting comment about the 'diagnosis'! "Ya know what Kim? Maybe you should be pissed at her. And perhaps you should shout at her, let her know how her words made you feel." Stepping forward she grabbed Kimberly's, arm forcing her to stop packing up for a moment, "Kimberly this woman insulted you." she said staring into Kim's eyes, "This woman is a Starfleet officer that should know better. Four years Kimberly, in fact for me it was six, but anyway; four years we spent at the Academy, we all took the oath of a Starfleet Officer and we all made a promise to adhere to it at all times whether on duty or not. I can still recite the dammed thing from memory, cant you?"

"Of course I can," Kimberly replied, looking Dhanishta in the eye. "I memorised it like we all had to, and I understand it. And yes, I know that it's one of the first things we're taught, and supposed to respect. I'll deal with this when I'm ready to, when I can talk to her without wanting to just swear at her. It's been bugging me, yes." she admitted honestly, "But there've been a few more important things to deal with."

"She has violated that…. Report her!" Dhani finished exasperated flapping her arms against her side. For a second she wondered why she felt so strongly about this, why she was getting so wrapped up in a problem that wasn't hers, one that had nothing to do with her. And she was also curious as to why she had the urge to fight this battle for Kimberly. She stepped back from her, blinking slightly, confused over that fact that she was acting incredibly illogically. Then she wondered when the last time it was that she actually followed logic. She sighed, it was an easier time in those days… she longed to be the person she was, missed the simplicity, the certainty and the clarity of her decision making abilities.

"Report her…" Pausing Kimberly let that thought flow through her for a moment, then shrugged. "Possibly, but right now, it'd be far more satisfying to tear her down a notch or two personally and be able to sit there, focus my anger and let her have directly from myself." she admitted with an almost evil grin, "Far more satisfying. And besides, she pissed 'me' off. I haven't had the luxury of dealing with this yet, and when I do I want to be able to say what I feel without her having anything to complain about after."

"Simulacrum"

Ensign Keldan, Operations Officer, USS Galaxy
Ensign Tara Freeman, former Medical Officer, USS Concorde

Location: USS Galaxy, Crew Quarters, Deck 14

"Hello Kel."

Keldan stopped a moment as he entered his quarters. He still wasn't used to having to share his space with anyone, and truth be told he kind of resented it.

Tara lay prostrate on the couch, flipping through Kel's sketch book, the exact same pose that she always greeted him with when he finished a duty shift. She had never made the slightest mention of the numerous sketches that he'd done of her, but then, he supposed she didn't have to. She probably wouldn't be here now if she didn't have some idea of how he felt for her.

"You know, if you are going to insist on hanging around," he said, "the least you could do is tidy up the place while I'm gone." He walked toward the bedroom while pulling his uniform jacket off and casually tossing it toward the bed. Pulling his shirt over his head, he turned around to find Tara waiting at his bedroom door, staring at him as he donned a shirt with a little less starch in the collar. "Where I come from it's a woman's place to make a man feel relaxed and respected when he enters his domain."

"Then I guess I should consider myself fortunate that I was born on Earth, where men pick up their own socks…at least, most of the time." She smiled widely, trying to lighten his serious tone. "But you know what would be really interesting? If you could take Highlord Bolvar of Talaria III, and Mistress Biata of Angel I, and force them to share living quarters for a day. I bet sales from the holorecording would amass a small fortune."

"Unless they killed each other."

"Especially if they killed each other." Her mirth faded. "What, don't I even get a smile today? What's the matter? Rough shift in Operations?"

He wasn't in the mood. "What do you want from me, Tara?" The words had come out a bit angrier than he had intended, but he was tired of her playing games with him. "You've been playing these games with me for months and I tire of it. It has to stop."

She smirked at him. "It will stop. When the time is right." She moved over and sat on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed. "So, tell me. What happened today?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened today that didn't happen yesterday or the day before."

"Lieutenant Jamson giving you a hard time?"

"No, quite the opposite. Taking assignment of all the logistical duties onboard has been thoroughly engaging and challenging. I look forward to my work. You may have noticed I've logged my share of double duty shifts the past few weeks."

"In other words," she replied, "it doesn't leave you a lot of time to think about other things." When he didn't respond, she continued. "The mission is almost over though, is that what is worrying you? Kel, please, talk to me."

"What is there to say? The mission IS over. We'll be returning to Deep Space 5 soon, and I'll be facing a formal inquiry. Several, actually. One by Temporal Affairs to find out exactly what happened when Michael and I took our little trip to the future. And Starfleet Intelligence still has a lot of unanswered questions about how it was exactly that we wound up below the Romulan capital possessing intelligence regarding a threat to blow up Ambassador Spock and the entire Romulan Senate. You will forgive me if I am tired of answering people's questions about my involvement. I didn't ask to be involved in any of those things. I was 'taken for a ride' and didn't have any choices in the matter."

"And what about us? Have you told anybody onboard Galaxy what happened to you on ch'Rihan after you left the T'Kengra and attacked the Hammer of Absolution?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Geez, Kel, you are such a liar."

Keldan smirked. "Well, let's see. Why don't I walk down to Commander Elessidil's office right now? 'Oh, hell-O Brian. I just wanted to come down and let you know that several months ago while I was on ch'Rihan, I suffered a psychotic episode. It was SUCH an exhilarating experience. But not only that, I am happy to report that it has turned into the gift that keeps on giving! Since then I have been regularly seeing the image of a dead medical officer from the USS Concorde. But it's okay, you see, because she only shows up to offer me moral support and encouragement when I'm feeling really depressed. So, you see, I haven't really needed the services of the Counseling Department.' Yeah. I'm sure that'd really fly with them."

"They would be able to help, Kel."

"No, Tara. They would for all intents and purposes be able to end my career with Starfleet, and that's all. Nobody suspects anything yet. Jamson seems pleased with my work performance, and that is all that is important to me. Nobody knows what happened on ch'Rihan after we left the T'Kengra and I was separated except for me, because everyone who was involved is DEAD. I could tell Starfleet whatever I want and they wouldn't know any different."

"But I know you're not that kind of a man. What happened on ch'Rihan wasn't your fault, Kel."

Kel pointed a finger at her, anger starting to boil over. "Yes, it was, and nothing you say or ever will say will convince me otherwise." He wrung his hands and forced himself to be calm. "You know, I still haven't figure out exactly if you are supposed to be some disembodied spirit, a psychotic manifestation, or some hollow reflection of my own psyche. For all I know, you could be some alien life form that has the ability to only make your presence known to me, for whatever reason."

"Does it really matter?"

Kel walked over to her, talking hold of her hands with his and lifting her off the bed. The move had been almost instinctive, and it did not occur to him until later that her hands were solid to the touch. He hadn't actually felt her body against his since the last night they had spent together on Romulus.

"No. No, it doesn't." He let out a long sigh. "Nothing is going to matter once Starfleet starts digging into what happened on ch'Rihan, so I might as well accept it." He looked straight into her dark eyes. "It's also quite probable that I'm going stark raving mad, which means we will probably be together for quite some time. I might as well accept that as well." Continuing to look at her, he added, "And I must admit that the thought is not entirely unpleasant. I'm going for a walk in the arboretum. Care to join me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Killer Heels"

Starring: Crewman Allison , Armory Specialist

USS GALAXY (Arrival back at DS5 after recent misison)

The primary shuttledeck of the USS Galaxy was awash with the flotsam and jetsam of Barzan society. Scattered spacegoing driftwood that was all that remained of a once proud starfaring race.

Peoples that once explored the cosmos, once touched the stars, and once held warp drive in their grip.....now struggled to clutch at thin threadbare blankets and suppress involuntary sobs of grief.

This was the legacuy of the Borg.

The shuttledeckdeck, easily the largest enclosed space aboard GALAXY had been transformed from its usual acres of pristeen steel-grey decking into an undulating sea of multi colored refugees, their coughing and weeping softly mingling into a cacophany of heartfelt misery.

They were the "last out" before the coming of the Borg. In future generations they would be known as the "Lucky Ones", the Last defenders of Barzan, or as the Founders of the New Society in exile. Presently however they were anything but heroic, and none particularly felt like a trailblazer.

They were the wasted wreckage of a society that had washed up on Galaxy's shores as she warped out of system just ahead of the Borg Vanguard into the Alpha Quadrant.

Tired poor huddled masses of forlorn humanity shivered miserably on their makeshift cots, clutching desparaetly at their bawling children, visions of unbeleivable horror dangling before unblinking eyes.

Uniformed GALAXY crewman threaded their way through the sea of cots rendering aid where possible. Binding wounds.....taking names of survivors....lending a shoulder to cry on.

In truth there was little to be done. These precious few.......these hundreds left out of a race of millions........this handful wisked away by emergency transporters suffered from injurys hidden and deep within thier collective psyche as a race. How does one put a bandaid on genocide? Does the bleeding from the death of a race ever stop.

=/\= ATTENTION PLEASE. =/\= The booming announcemnt echoed across the sea of refugees. =/\=NOW COMPLETING FINAL DOCING MANUVERS DEEP SPACE 5. MEDICAL PERSONNEL STANDBY TO EVACUATE BARZAN REFUGEES FROM STAGING POINTS IN MAIN SHUTTLEBAY. TRAFFIC CONTROL, BE AWARE OF INBOUND EVACUATION SHUTTLES ON VECTOR 3-DELTA=/\=

As if on cue, the soft blue glow of the shuttle bays internal forcefields snapped into life, and a klaxon heralded the opening of the outer doors. The inky blackness of space spilled into the open bay, the fragile bubble of air kept in place by the aforementioned invisible shield.

Like a glowing angel awash in the light of the docking spotlights, a large cargo-capacity shuttle drifted into view, plotting an approach between the massive glowing engine nacelles outside.

=/\= SHUTTLE OMICRON ON FINAL APPROACH. WILL DISEMBARK REPLACEMENT PERSONNEL BEFORE TAKING ON EVACUEES =/\=

=/\= AFFIRMATIVE OMICRON, CLEAR TO LAND, CAUTION LARGE CROWDS IN THE ASSEMBLY AREA.=/\=

Galaxy crewman weilding small handheld lights guided the oversized shuttle onto the appropriate landing pad, ever mindful of the large crowds around them. It would not do to have a Barzan citizen escape the wrath of the Borg, only to squashed by suttlecraft at the end of the line.

With a gentle 'thump' Omicron eased itself down. inside the crews were eyeing the massive crowds with somber expressions. This was going to be the first of several evacuation runs this afternoon.

"Right then, we're landed," the pilot announced, "Clear the outer airlock and let our passengers off before we start getting these civilians loaded." Nodding, the Loadmaster cycled the locks and lowered the huge cargo ramp with a hiss of hydraulics. Omicron was one of the larger shuttles stationed at DS5 and had been the first drafted into this operation.

The loadmaster nodded to offloading passengers.....Galaxy crewmen returning from leave who had missed the most recent adventure, and were now returning to the fold. Outside the Last Sons of Barzan shuffled forward watching the offloading crewmen, waiting to take thier places on the shuttle.

The returning crew threaded their way quickly and quietly through the massive crowds, avoiding eye contact with the Barzans as much as possible, each feeling a little ashamed they had missed the last mission.

~~Maybe if I had been there I could have helped....~~~ one wondered.

~~I was off laying on the beach while these people were losing their homeworld....~~ another thought miserably.

~~Gawd these heels are killing my ankles...but they do make my legs look zarky!~~

That last thought came from the adled brain of blond haired Allison who struggled to lift her large Gucci shopping bags off the Shuttle and back onto the Galaxy decking. "Home again home again...jiggity jig." she hummed merrily to herself as she wobbled on her new pink-sequined high-heels.

They were in fact, a killer pair of heels. Limited edition models straight from the hottest Ferengi designers, and purchased at one of the swankiest botiques on Risa. Alli's whole ensemble in fact was one of the lateset designs by L'Damon. Ferengi's most avant garde designers in the last 20 years.

~~Who'da thunk a society that bans women's clothes could come up with such cute little skirt and top combinations....~~she mused happily.

Hefting her shopping bags Alli noted the huge crowds for the first time and wondered what they were all staring at her for.

"Hey yall." she gave the refugees a dainty little wave. "Zarky shoes right?" she turned and pointed her toes to pose. "Totally go with my nails too." She waggled her long shiny pink-glitter sparkled fingernails.

The Last sons of Barzan stared blankly at the sparkly little girl with her stuffed shopping bags. Their shell-shocked minds unable to make the leap from 'end of civilization' to a 'new pair of heels.'

Noticing the lack of reaction, Allison merely huffed and readjusted her oversized 'Visit Risa' Sunglasses. Some people in the Federation just did not appreciate the time and effort it took to put together a good ensemble. Glancing down her nose at the raggedy appearance of those around her she frowned. ~~tsk tsk....some people just dont take pride in their appearance.~~ SNIFF SNIFF ~~Ew...or in taking a bath either.~~~ she wrinkled her cute little nose.

Heels clicking happily on the duranium floor, Alli threaded her way across the shuttlebay to the Officer of the Deck who stood watch over his charges, a clipboard close at hand.

"Hey there!" Alli chirped merrily, "Whats with the big crowd of scruffy people hanging around....somebody die or something?

The furrowed brows and disaproving stare of the OOD was her only reply. "Right...well Crewman Allison, Armory Specialist,reporting back from leave and all that jazz...." she announced snapping of a cute little salute, "Nothing to declare....just some snazzy little outfits, my sunglasses and a whole bunch of tourist trinkets...see like this one."

She pulled out a tiny little hulu-girl from on eof her bags and pressed a button. 'WELCOME TO RISA' the little plastic doll squeaked and shook her grass skirt. "Dunno what I bought it for." Alli shrugged, "Seemed cute at the time......." The OOD ignored her rambling as he flipped though his clipboard "Armory specialist? Crewman Jimsdottir?"

Heaving a sigh Alli bobbed her head. "Yah whatever."

She didnt feel like explaining for the umpteenth time that according to Icelandic naming traditions there were no such thing as surnames. Allison was her name. Jimsdottir was her title. Literally: Allison, Daughter of Jim.

"So whats with all the grumble-puss's today?" she waved a hand nonchalantly at the Barzan refugees. "Somebody's dog die?"

The stern looking Officer considered her somberly. "No Crewman, Their homeworld was recently assimilated by the Borg thus enslaving their entire civilization and ending life as they knew it for all time, and stranding them as the last survivors of their race."

Alli thought that one over a bit.

"Borg who?" she asked.

Episode 23: The Road Not Taken Preface

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

The Longest Journey: A History of the Romulan Exodus Preface

by Jonathan Butler Stephenson, Luna Independent News Originally published in the Luna Independent, February 18, 2382 Reprinted with permission

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

That the peoples of modern day Vulcan and Romulus have a common ancestor is no longer a widely disputed fact. Genetic studies undertaken by a variety of scientific organizations have shown that, with rare exceptions, the members of these two societies are 99.99% genetically compatible. Furthermore, by studying the mitochondrial DNA of study volunteers, scientists have been able to construct matrilineal ancestry charts, even going so far as to conclude that certain Romulan clans are likely relatives of clans that still exist on Vulcan today. Scientists have all but proven as fact the so-called "Common Ancestor Theory".

In addition, a significant number of written and oral records still exist from the era in which Surak lived, known to the Vulcans as the Time of Awakening. Historians have chronicled nearly every detail surrounding this period of Vulcan history. We know that at some point over two thousand standard ago, a great philosophical divide split Vulcan society in two, and this split eventually led to what is now referred to as the Romulan Exodus.

We know that the first settlers of Romulus were originally from Vulcan. We know that irreconcilable differences with the Followers of Surak eventually forced them to seek a new home. However, very little is known about their journey, a journey which would take them over a century to complete, and which would claim over two thirds of their number by the time they reached their new home. The tale of this journey is a story which every Romulan learns as a child, and later passes on to their own children. Until now, it has been a closely guarded secret.

"The Longest Journey: A History of the Romulan Exodus" puts down in writing what has been passed from generation to generation ever since the Romulans left their ancestral home. Specifically, it chronicles their journey through the stars, told from the perspective of the clan Gilgamma, one of the six clans to survive the trip.

The author, T'Lin Odirne t'Illialhae, herself a descendant of the ancient Gilgamma, has chosen a daunting subject for her first book. Nonetheless, t'Illialhae manages to reconcile biased and sometimes conflicting tales of the Exodus and with them forms a reasonably clear, straightforward timeline. Detail is sometimes lacking, as is often the case when working from purely oral records. Regardless, this book should be considered an excellent primer for those wishing to learn more about this period of Romulan and Vulcan history.

Excerpted from "The Longest Journey: A History of the Romulan Exodus"
by T'Lar Odirne t'Illialhae, University of Hawaii, Earth

"Omen"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Flight Officer John Davidson
Fighter Pilot

**** Ten Forward ****

"Her AGAIN? I thought Starfleet only accepted sane people!" Saul Bental protested.

Miramon smiled kindly, the way he always did when his younger friend was making an act. "Even sane people need guidance once in a while, Saul. I'll ask her to move our appointments to another hour, though, not right after lunch."

"Splendid. Take care."

The Bajoran counselor left, and Saul remained alone on the table. He pushed the semi-eaten chocolate cake to the side, and took out a miniPADD from his pocket. The information within was classified as 'Commonwealth', so it wasn't harmful to read it out here in ten forward. He blocked the noises of clinging utensils and chatter around him, and tried to focus on the latest batch on the Borg.

He had only five minutes of grace before a very unexpected interruption occurred.

John stepped into the room. He had needed some directions from the computer, but at last he was here. Given enough time, he knew he'd get to know the layout of the ship well. It was just going to take time.

Sliding up to the bar, he got the bartender's attention. "Give me something strong."

Sitting on the bar stool, he swiveled it around, wanting to see what sort of patronage the lounge held. He saw several couples sitting and talking, a few people reading PADDs and even a couple of drunken Marines. But what caught his eye, was a young man in a black uniform sitting in a corner alone, reading a PADD. He wasn't into guys. Not at all. What drew his attention was that the guy looked familiar. JD just couldn't place where he had seen the man before.

Deciding to let his curiosity get the better of him, he picked up the drink and walked over. "Hi, do I know you from somewhere?"

The voice was unfamiliar, but as soon as Saul's eyes lifted from his PADD he recognize the face. He only saw it several times, but it was imprinted. Nothing like hurt pride to sharpen a memory.

Then, he noticed the pilot's insignia. Revenge was indeed a dish best served cold.

"Perhaps." He motioned to the pilot to sit down and join him, recruiting the kindest smile he could muster. "I am the Galaxy's CHIEF of intelligence, Saul Bental."

"Nice to meet you. I'm John Davidson. I'm one of the fighter pilots. Just transferred here a couple of days ago." JD mulled over the name in his head trying to determine if he knew the guy from somewhere. Finding nothing, he laughed. "Sorry, I seem to think I know lots of people from somewhere."

"Probably the academy." Saul said, a hint of bitterness intentionally creeping into his voice. Either JD was acting stupid, or he really didn't recall. Saul definitely wasn't going to be the first to admit that he did, in fact, recall JD.

"Probably, though I met so many people then that it's hard to remember all of..." His voice trailed off as the memory came back to him. He did know Bental and he was actually quite shocked that he had forgotten him. Their meeting had been such a momentous occasion. It had been the first time in Starfleet Academy's history that such an outcome had occurred and he had forgotten. "My god. I can't believe I forgot you. That was one hell of a contest we had."

"Yes. I remember now too." Saul pretended to recall. His lips angled upwards slightly, in a dangerous sort of way. "One hell of a contest." He repeated.

"We never did get that rematch." JD said before talking a sip of his drink. "Though being Chief of Intelligence, I doubt you get much time in the cockpit. A pity. Would have been good to see just how much I have improved against you."

"Yes, it would, wouldn't it." Saul said in an almost mocking tone. "I bed the instructors who pitted you against us also had the same intention. 'Let's see how much our sophomores improved. I know - let's unleash them against some seniors from intel and tactical during shuttle practice, and not tell the seniors. That would be a good laugh.'."

"I was a young cadet. Flying fighters is what I've wanted to do since I first laid eyes on one. So when I got told to go head to head with someone, I did it. Plain and simple. I'm not going to apologize for that, sir. Besides I didn't win, remember?"

"Sure I remember. I didn't win either."

Actually, after both of them exited their cockpits back at the hangar, one couldn't tell that it was a tie between Saul and JD. Saul barely dragged himself out of the shuttle, his heart still pounding at dangerous pace, just to see the arrogant sophomore surrounded by his admiring squadron mates. They cheered, commended him tapped on his shoulder. Lucky the fans didn't throw flowers and bras at JD for merely staying intact.

And above all of it, that attitude. JD treated it like a sports event, as if the two of them just had a bloody tennis match. It seemed that the attitude did not change in the last five years.

"True. Anyway, Chief of Intelligence... You're doing well for yourself." He said, having sensed the underlying emotional current and deciding to change the topic.

"Yes. It's a good post. Very interesting. Very demanding. I'm doing my best so that your people will know who they're up against." Because WE didn't, he added mentally. "The Galaxy has a fine fighter group, too. You actually joined in a rather unique time - the 'eternal' CAG just shifted to Tactical, so right now a 'friend' of mine is in charge of things, until the new CAG arrives."

It was the first time Saul referred to Ember Lansky as a 'friend'. She'd probably kick him in the groin if she heard, that vixen.

John nodded. "I tried to contact the CAG and found that out. I spoke to one of the senior pilots briefly. I have a training run tomorrow morning. Just the standard stuff. Seeing how the new guy is going to fare in the squadron and all that." He grinned knowing that he was probably better than every one of them. And if he wasn't, well, he'd work his way to the top quickly. It was how it always happened for the young Terran.

Saul didn't miss JD's grin. Confident as always. Perhaps the instructor's should've attempted to reduce the sophomore pilots' false confidence rather than the seniors'.

"Good luck. Just don't get blown out of the sky by some other rookie."

John's face paled at the comment. "Like that's ever gonna happen." Waiting a moment he spoke again. 'It's been nice to see you again sir. Perhaps we could catch up again sometime. I'm interested to see what sort of ship this is and as Chief of Intel, you're probably the man in the know."

"Definitely. And I might take you on that rematch offer." Saul found himself saying. JD's 'Sportsmanship' was probably getting to him, and one of Saul's well-known advantages was being competitive.

John nodded. "Sorry but I do have to go. I need to extricate my Guitar from the clumsy hands of the cargo handlers before they damage it. I'll see you round Saul."

"Watch your six pilot." Saul gave a mock salute, then returned to his intel report without honoring JD with a further glance.

"Poets and Promises"

Jarajen "Quatro" Quaaliu, CAG USS Galaxy

Saturn Station, Sector 001
===================

"There are moments in one's life when one is truly alive, not merely experiencing the effects of the living. When one's nerves sing despite what the eyes see and what the mind knows… and one's heart races despite the nearby caress of death."

The words echoed hauntingly in Saturn Station's main fighter bay which normally rang with the sound of power tools, fuel pumps and the bustle of over a hundred maintenance personnel. The teacher had the place reserved exclusively for his students who were now able to focus on his words in the correct environment, not the sterile setting of a lecture hall.

"Your final tests begin tomorrow, and should fortune smile upon you, the Starfighter corps will assign you a post your merits and skills have earned you. When the time for battle comes, and you are in the cockpit of your fighter - you must remember what I have tried to hammer into you this past year."

"Secure the advantage of space before attacking - know your field of engagement."

"Once you have attacked, finish it! Fight the instinct to veer off once the enemy returns fire."

"Watch your opponent closely! Observe his errors and know his successes!"

"Never forget your own line of retreat. Think in terms of war, not merely of battle."

"Most importantly, never never NEVER - abandon your wingman! This person is the hand to your arm! The best ace in any wing is at a severe disadvantage against even two mediocre pilots who know teamwork."

The teacher's dark eyes scanned at the thirty faces that looked up to him. Some were reverent, others haughty and dismissive. Most were a balance in between. The next day would show which grew and developed, and which remained the same. Excellent fliers all - they had to be just to be there - but being a pilot and being a starfighter were two very different degrees expectations, and each one of them knew it.

At a nod from the teacher, the students formed pairs that had been forged over twelve months of hard work and went to suit up for their final exercise - the last flight before their final exam.

"They're a good class, Quattro. You should be proud."

Jarajen "Quatro" Quaaliu glanced back at the speaker, and his dark eyes widened when recognition came. "General Dex! I am honored". The statement was accompanied by a deep bow with two set of hands facing up.

The Commander in Chief of the Starfighter Corps nodded at the Nassari's formal greeting, knowing that years of living in Starfleet hadn't changed the pilot's habits. "At ease, Lieutenant. You've done a fine job with these cadets - even better than the last group. Your changes to the curriculum have made some pretty significant improvements to performance. I'm curious why you'd want to give that up. Don't the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?"

Coming from the head of Starfleet's Aerospace group some may have interpreted Volon Dex's words as a veiled threat, but the Nassari met the Trill's eyes with equal determination. "The General offers a Vulcan line of reasoning. Amusing. It would hold more weight, sir, if the Vulcans were good pilots. I have one better - 'the falcon's young starve when the hunter soars too near the nest'."

Dex's brow furrowed as he tried to remember the quote. "Well said. Kahless?"

Mock indignation crossed the Nassari's golden features. "Kahless? The General jests, surely. The Klingon soul couldn't understand such concept or write such words. Further, they are generally unimaginative pilots of little skill. The verse is translated Nassari and the words… are my own."

"You do more here Lieutenant Quaaliu." Dex was keeping a close eye on the golden skinned pilot's expression, trying to see in hesitation in the younger man's argument. "You're a damn good instructor, and each class that meets your standards goes out to influence what's already out there. The Corps is rebuilding after Romulus, but it'll take time. I need you here."

Quaaliu had sent requests for transfer to a combat post religiously every month since he arrived at the school, despite serving diligently and without reservation. He made so secret that his proper role was under fire in battle, not behind a lectern or in a training fighter. "The General *is* the Commander", the Nassari observed "but if it weren't a matter of some debate, the General would not be here."

Dex reached into his pocket and pulled a small golden rank cluster, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before holding it forward. "Perhaps this'll give the Lieutenant some cause to reconsider."

A slight grin crossed the Nassari's face as he looked at the small stud in the General's hand, then looked the Tril' in the eye. "The Lieutenant *is* honored, sir - but must, in all honesty, refuse. It would be a lie to each of us to accept it, and I would wish no distrust to develop between us. I will continue to serve… and continue to request reassignment, at my current capacity."

From what he'd learned from Quaaliu's service record, Dex was prepared for the refusal and pocketed the command pip with a sigh. "Then the Lieutenant will get his reassignment. What do you know of Corran Rex?"

"Corran-ji? I have known him for many years, sir - an "Old Rogue" from the Lieutenant's days on the Miranda." It was time for the Nassari's own brow to furrow. "Is he unwell?"

"That depends on your point of view", the General offered, starting to walk to the control deck and motioning for Quaaliu to follow. "He's taken a bridge position on the Galaxy. Tactical Chief." A curious glance back was accompanied by a slight grin. "He's recommended you as his replacement."

The expression of disbelief on Quaaliu's face was quite obvious. "Perhaps if the Major took some leave to reassess? The Galaxy has the reputation of being a considerable test of one's… mental fortitude."

"You'll be able to assess that one for yourself", the Trill observed as he settled into one of the command deck's chairs. "You ship out after finals tomorrow."

Dex expected some form of emotional outburst from the Nassari, but Quaaliu calmly sat down at the monitoring controls and put his four hands to work to observe his students progress. "The General has the Lieutenant's gratitude", he said at last.

A smirk fell on the Trill General's features as the images of the station's attack squadron crossed the monitor before him. "The Lieutenant should save his thanks until he sees his command first", he mused.

"This is the Galaxy after all."

"Tradition" Part Four

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton CMO

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe COE

***USS Galaxy: Holodeck 5***

"Report her…" Pausing Kimberly let that thought flow through her for a moment, then shrugged. "Possibly, but right now, it'd be far more satisfying to tear her down a notch or two personally and be able to sit there, focus my anger and let her have directly from myself." she admitted with an almost evil grin, "Far more satisfying. And besides, she pissed 'me' off. I haven't had the luxury of dealing with this yet, and when I do I want to be able to say what I feel without her having anything to complain about after."

Dhani stood for a moment bemused. Okay so she wanted to keep this professional, that was fine. Yet she also wanted to take it out personally on the other officer, that again was fine, yet how she was gonna manage the two? Dhani shrugged, this wasn't her fight she should just drop it. "Fine." she replied at last letting the topic slide. "Deal with it however you want." she added, wondering if anyone would let her deal with her own problems like that too. Stepping up to the rock come alter she scanned the remaining items. "You want a hand in packing up?" she asked as she casually picked up a bowl and began to inspect it.

"I can manage thanks," Kimberly replied, filing away the fact that Dhani had been using 'Kim' repeatedly. Shuddering at that she got back to packing.

"Ya know what Kim?" she said distantly as she turned the bowl over in her hands feeling its texture against her skin.

"What?" she asked realising after that that had sounded quite curt.

"This," she said holding up the bowl in a questioning manor, "is something we are going to talk about later." She promptly handed the bowl over to Kim with a slight knowing smile.

Accepting the bowl she packed it and simply shrugged, "Sure, fine." she agreed simply. Raising her voice she snapped irritably again to the thin air. "Computer, exit." she instructed the uncaring computer.

"Uh… Kimberly." Dhani said as her friend finished clearing her altar and made to leave. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well… What!" Kimberly snapped back. Her posture and tone of voice indicating she was obviously still agitated and irritable. Checking all her tools and implements were collected she put her bag over her shoulder and