"Corran & Victor Go To Mosanalea " - Conclusion

Corran Rex
Victor Kreighoff

--------------
NOW
USS Galaxy
Long-term vehicular storage bay,
Deck 12.
--------------

"There we go." Corran Rex said with a grunt, as the small device came out in his hand. Under his feet, the feel of the Marianne shifted as she switched wholly to backups. Not that she'd need a great deal of power, here in Galaxy's long-term vehicular storage bay.

Still, it was a device that could change everything. People would - had - killed for it.

Zero-point energy. Clean, effectively limitless power... and it all fit in the palm of his hand.

The only question now was what to do with it.

------------
Mosanalea
Last Year
------------

Corran Rex dodged back quickly as a disruptor bolt sliced through the air past his head. To be fair, his dodging was amply helped by the fact that Victor Kreighoff had effectively tackled him out of the way.

"Thanks." the Trill immediately replied, and pointed the type I palm phaser in his hand. It was of his considered opinion that the Type I didn't get near enough respect. Let the Security types heft around their bulky phaser rifles. If he needed more shots than the e-cell for this phaser carried, then things were already so far out of hand that they were screwed.

Of course, he mused as he returned fire, tagging the first of an extraordinarily large number of attackers, it seemed that was the case anyway.

"I don't recall this being in the plan." Victor mused aloud as he began taking down Syndicate thugs as well. One, two, three. "As I recall, we were supposed to get to Ganz peacefully."

"Yeah, that was the plan, all right." One, two. And only a few dozen more where they came from.

"This is not peacefully."

"You complaining?" Rex asked, unable to hold back the smirk. "Have to admit, this is a whole lot more satisfying."

Victor's return smile was a bit unsettling as he cut down a pair of men trying to flank them. "No, I can't complain - especially since this is my fault. Do you suppose that I shouldn't have shoved the doorman's face through the door when he wouldn't let us in? Or was it the 'Knock, knock' I announced us with after that? I understand that my sense of humor is a bit... confrontational... but even so, this is a bit much, don't you think? Down!" Victor shoved Rex down with his free hand and sent a bolt fro his compressed tetryon beam pistol back over him to stop a man low-crawling around some statuary before he could fire. "

Rex shook his head in order to clear it - the speed with which Krieghoff had pushed him had knocked his head onto the wall, dizzying him for a moment. "They really just have no sense of humor." He observed as he unlatched a photon grenade from the belt that he'd taken from the "doorman". With a grin, he lobbed it over the wall towards the crowd of oncoming thugs, and laughed. "Because this? See, now *this* is fun!"

"We really should try and get into the house and introduce ourselves properly," Victor suggested. "Any ideas there, or should we go with one of mine and see how that works?"

"Yours?"

"Either surrender and let them take us to Ganz - who sounds like the type that has to gloat in person - or kill everyone here and then walk inside to introduce ourselves." Victor fired again and then again, knocking two more men down. "You know him better than me. Number One or Number Two?"

"Number one would probably be faster," Corran granted. "But you know, Vic, these guys are the scum of the universe. They're murderers, rapists, thieves, drug-peddlers, slavers, politicians..."

"Oh, now that's bad," Victor returned. "You'd think that murderers, thieves, drug-dealers, slavers, and rapists would keep a better class of company." He shook his head, ducked to avoid a beam that sizzled overhead and popped back up to shoot the Nausicaan that had fired it.

"Number two. Let's kill as many of them as we possibly can. They've irritated the hell out of me ever since we landed on this damn planet. I say they've got it coming."

"Kill everyone?" Something moved in Victor's eyes at the words, something dark and terrifying. "Well then," he said, his voice a mere whisper, but still audible over the din of the firefight, each word as cold as the ice that lined the path to the frozen gates of Hell. "Since you asked so nicely...."

The expanded sense of his presence that Corran had grown used to since arriving at Mosanalea, shifted, becoming something like a true physical pressure pushing at the Trill, and Victor stood up, an old-style Type 1 Phaser of his own slipping out of his sleeve as he rose. The sharp, crisp bolts from his compressed tetryon beamer spat green fire as the phaser came online with an insectile whine, the beam almost seeming to already be reaching out in a continuous stream before the weapon was settled in his hand.

There was a pause in the firing, as if the men attacking them weren't certain if he was surrendering to them or not, despite the weapons in his hand - or perhaps as if they simply didn't believe that he was exposing himself like that. Whatever the reason, the pause lasted long enough for Victor to shoot another man with the beamer in his left hand and slice three more - plus the groundcar they were seeking cover behind - in half with the phaser in his right as he dragged it across the lawn, firing constantly, and slashed it across them like a six meter long sword.

The explosion of the groundcar when the beam reached the power cells in the front rocked the front of the mansion, and sent the rest of Ganz's troops rushing for cover. Victor laughed once, terrifyingly, and was up and over the low wall he and Corran had sought cover behind, pursuing the fleeing men.

Corran echoed the laugh as he followed closely - and was more glad than ever that Victor was on *his* side. It took a lot to impress a several-thousand year old joined Trill... but Victor was definitely impressive, to say nothing else.

Both men poured the fire into the fleeing mobsters, mounting what amounted to a two-man frontal assault on a fortified compound full of very nasty people.

Even more astonishing was the fact that they were pulling it off.

"Victor." Corran called, as he neatly put a phaser beam right through one of their opponent's eyes. (And head.)

"Yes?" came the answer in that same whispered voice, the words just as cold and inhuman, as Victor reached through a window and dragged an escaping Lurian back through, the thug's grayish ridged skin almost white with fear. "Are you injured?" The Lurian let out a penetrating cry and went still as something inside it broke under Victor's hands.

"You know this is crazy, right? No way we should be getting away with this."

"True, the odds were against us. But they weren't expecting this and hadn't prepared for it. If they had, things would be different."

"Okay, just so you know."

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

Things didn't take much longer than that - particularly once they'd liberated some rather nice heavy weaponry from some of the thugs they'd taken down. Ganz, predictably, was holed up in his office. The dark-skinned Orion had a look of naked shock on his face as Corran and Victor barged into his private Sanctum. "Ganz," Corran said darkly, pointing his brand-new shiny isomagnetic shoulder-mounted cannon at the man. "I want my ship."

To his credit, the crimelord regained his composure (at least outwardly.) "And If I refuse?"

"Ah." The smile on Victor's face was wide - and not truly human. "Why then, I get to ask you. I'm very much afraid that you wouldn't like that, Mr. Ganz." He tilted his head to one side and studied the Orion. "Most people don't."

"Exactly," Corran smiled. "You don't give us everything we want, and then I turn my friend here loose."

"To do what? Kill me?" Ganz laughed. "That won't get you what you want."

"Oh no, Mr. Ganz. My friend here has been remarkably reserved. You should see him when he's angry." Corran added, as a frighteningly-casual aside. "You wouldn't like him when he's angry."

"I would listen to them if I were you," a clipped female voice, the tones unmistakable Vulcan, spoke up from a side door. "The Captain is very... thorough." The woman stepped into the light, revealing herself to be, as her voice had indicated, a Vulcan. She raised her hands palms towards the three to show that they were empty. ""We've done business before, haven't we, Captain Todeshändler?"

Victor blinked, frowned, and then nodded slowly, his voice more like the one that Corran had grown used to than the whispered voice of the monster that lived inside him. "We have." He nodded towards Ganz. "What name does he know you by?" He'd never considered that someone he'd met while on the undercover operation with K'vala would be here.

The Vulcan nodded in appreciation at the courtesy. "The same name you used at our last meeting will suffice, Captain."

"As you wish, T'sel," Victor acknowledged. "I take it you have business with Mr. Ganz as well?" What the VIM terrorist was doing here was obvious, but it cost nothing to be polite.

She nodded. "Not, perhaps, as... urgent as yours, though." T'sel looked around curiously. "Is your wife here as well? I trust you were able to resolve the situation with her sister so that you were left with just the one you wanted?"

"Two wives are too many," he agreed. Especially given that one of the sisters was a home-wrecking insane arms dealer who thought he was married to her sane sister, while the sane one was a militant intelligence operative who wanted to kill him when he was no longer useful. "I didn't need her help for this errand." Victor nodded towards Corran. "I owed him a favor, and he needed something from Ganz as well, so..."

"And your errand is?" she asked evenly. "We already know what your companion wants."

"A certain list that Mr. Ganz came into possession of," Victor explained. "One containing the location of certain properties in Cardassian space that he isn't the original owner of."

"Ah." T'sel considered that for a moment. "He neglected to mention that he was selling me weapons he'd stolen from you."

"I imagine that he didn't," Victor nodded. Especially since the weapons hadn't been stolen from anyone Victor had ever heard of, much less from him. If T'sel chose to believe otherwise, though, he felt no need to enlighten her. As Ganz started to speak, Victor raised his hand and pointed the Cardassian rifle in it at the Orion. "You really don't want to interrupt the lady, Mr. Ganz; bad for your health and all that." Turning back to the Vulcan, he asked, "So, where do your interests lie? I have no desire to cost myself and my wife a good customer. It's not sound business."

Corran looked sharply at Victor. "Wife?" he mouthed. Krieghoff didn't reply, however.

"How good a customer?" she asked, coming straight to the point.

You could always count on Vulcan logic. "Twenty percent off market value for you next order."

"Thirty."

"Twenty-five percent if you pay in latinum. We absorb the conversion losses and shipping costs." Victor considered her for a few seconds, and then sweetened the offer, "That deal is good for your next three purchases." Considering that V'kala was dead, he had no weapons to sell, and K'vala would kill the woman if she ever saw her again to protect her House, there was no chance this was a bad deal for him.

T'sel thought for exactly three seconds and then nodded once. "Agreed."

"What?" Ganz exploded. "You're going to just..."

"His is the superior offer," the Vulcan interrupted. "And I trust *his* word."

"His is the...? I've never heard of this fool and you're going to..." Ganz retorted, oblivious to the emphasis the Vulcan had used.

"He and V'kala, have never altered the terms of a deal, as you were in the process of doing when they interrupted us," she continued, drowning the Orion out. "And, when our last deal was interrupted by agents of the Klingon Intelligence service, he resolved the situation in a manner that protected his clients completely while incurring considerable losses to his family's business. That demonstrates that he can be trusted where you cannot."

"V'kala? His wife is V'kala?" Ganz sputtered. "But she's married to that hulking idiot, Hraask. What are you talking about?"

"No," she corrected. "She is not. I personally saw the Captain explain the terms of the divorce to Hraask, and heard V'kala voice her intent to have children with the Captain just before he demonstrated his trustworthiness."

"How, by offering to father children on you, too?" Ganz snapped acidly.

T'sel's expression, already as still as any Vulcan's, grew even colder. "No, by destroying all evidence of his operations - and my presence - in a manner that guaranteed total security from investigation."

Ganz sneered. "There is no such thing."

"Incorrect. There is," T'sel corrected, "if there is no planet upon which to conduct the investigation."

"No planet...." Ganz's eyes cut to Victor. "Jhorjah? That was you?"

There was a moment of silence and the air in the room seemed to compress, to become heavier, as though something immensely large was forcing its way into the room from Outside and into Victor, wearing him like a mask as it looked out through his eyes and then leaned forward to meet Ganz's. It held him there by the power of its gaze for a moment, just long enough for the Orion to go pale, and then whispered in a voice that Corran had never heard before, or desired to hear again, "I am created Shiva, the Destroyer; Death, the shatterer of worlds."

"I'll be damned..." Corran whispered, unable to contain his entire astonishment.

Ganz stared, panicked eyes wide, unable to look away from whatever it was he saw looking back at him through Victor's eyes. "I....."

"I will be in touch, Captain," T'sel said evenly, turning and leaving the way she'd entered as if completely unaware that something other than the obvious was going on in the room. "I doubt we will meet again, Mr. Ganz. Farewell."

The Orion simply hung there with his jaw open as the Vulcan woman left. Corran had regained enough of his own equilibrium to stare the man down. "Told you wouldn't like him when he's angry."

Victor merely smiled. "I should point out," he whispered in a voice that was once again merely Death's, "that I'm not angry... yet."

"I want my ship." Rex said flatly. "I want justice for my friend, a couple of things for Starfleet Intelligence."

"And when you get them?"

"We'll see."

"I don't negotiate under threats." Ganz replied immediately. He even seemed to believe it.

Corran's voice was as dark as Victor's own, then. "This isn't a negotiation, Ganz. And you're not laboring under threats. You're laboring under a death sentence."

The Orion started to speak but was cut off by a soft chuckle from Death that carried in it an undertone composed of the cries of damned souls. "Please do say something clever, Mr. Ganz - the clever ones always last longer before they just start screaming and can't stop."

"Do what you've been told, Ganz. Now." The Trill said, rather pointedly aiming the phaser at the Orion crimelord's head.

Ganz looked from Victor to Corran and back again and slowly nodded once. "I... I'll need to issue an order over the intercom," he said shakily.

"Ah, a pity," Death sighed with Victor's lips. "You were smart after all."

----------

Corran accepted the Marianne's keycard from the female assistant, even as another assistant, an identical twin to the first woman, handed Victor a duffel bag loaded down with PADDs and data chips. Corran kept his aim on Ganz as Victor verified the encryption had been disabled on each device, and then he gave a small nod to Rex.

"That just brings us to the last thing." Rex said, and closed the gap to less than three feet of distance between himself and Ganz. "Ganz, this is for Bakett. The rest of your people will know not to cross me now."

"What're you -"

Ganz never finished his statement, because Corran coldly raised the phaser and put a beam right through his eye socket. The energy beam passed all the way through tissue, bone, and brain before splashing uselessly against the reinforced transparisteel window in what had been Ganz's office.

The body fell with a sickening thud, and Corran turned to Krieghoff and held up the Marianne's keycard. "Ready to get off this dirtball planet?"

Victor frowned at him. "I don't get to kill them all?" he asked in Death's whisper. "We leave some alive?"

The Trill nodded. "As long as they behave."

Ganz's assistants paled - a considerable feat considering the bone-white complexion the slender aliens had to start with - and started to edge towards the door.

Once again there was the sense that Victor was struggling, trying to rein some part of himself in, and after a moment, he answered in Victor's voice, not the penetrating, icy whisper he'd used a moment before. "All right," he agreed. "But, if someone attacks us..." he met the assistant's eyes, "I'm likely to ... stop listening to you."

"I can deal with that."

The two men made it to the Marianne, off Mosanalea, and back to the Starship Galaxy without further incident.

"A day in the Life............"

Starring Alli

With Completely unauthorized use of just about everybody

"Computer disengage security locks....authorization Allison Delta Delta Delta Wiki Wiki Woo."

CODE ACCEPTED.....WELCOME TO STARFLEET INTELIGENCE CREWMAN JIMSDOTTIR....

"Yeah Yeah....Im all Yippee-Skippy to be here too."

Idly popping her bubblegum, Allison strolled through the sacred halls of Saul Bental's realm wondering what kind of trouble she could get into.

~~They sure have made it easier to get around now that they fired that witch of a receptioninst out front.~~ she mused to herself.

Finding the appropriate Top Secret file room, the young blond entered and plopped herself in front of a computer terminal.

WARNING>>>UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY PROHIBBITED the screen advised her.

No matter.... "Computer Override encryption......authorization Allison Bubblegum Bubblegum Zip Pop Go."

AUTHORIZATION GRANTED......KENNEDY WAS KILLED BY THE MAFIA....WOULD YOU LIKE JIMMY HOFFA'S GPS COORDINATES?

~~Ah....just as I suspected.~~~ Alli bobbed her head. ~~~Wonder what else there is to do on this ship?~~~

== ==

Thirty minutes of aimless wondering around the massive deck 10 corridors landed Allison in front of Holodeck 2.

Punching up a quick program, she entered the deck to find a simple table with a pair of scissors laying on top of them.

She addressed the computer. "Disengage Safety protocols.....authorization Allison I'm a Pepper, You're a Pepper, Wouldnt you like to be a

Pepper too."

SAFETY PROTOCOLS DISENGAGED

Grabbing the scissors firmly in her hand, Alli began running in small circles around the bare holodeck, thrilling at the sheer danger of it all.

"Woo-Hoo.....Woo-Hoo."

== ==

Later......quite bored at the thrill of running with scissors, Alli found herself breaking into James Corgan's office, picking teh lock with a bobby-pin.

Steve Bobkins the office intern hung over her shoulder sipping coffee and making smalltalk.

"So....uh.....breakinginto the boss's office?"

"Yup."

"Ah....So....looking for anything in particular?"

"Nope."

"Ah.....thought about the security alarms he has on the office?"

"Yup."

"And?"

"Easy," Allison shrugged as the lock finally clicked. Replacing the bobby pin in her hair, she addressed the computer "Override personnal security codes......authorization Corgan Gamma Epsilon Black."

OVERRIDEN....WELCOME BACK COMMANDER CORGAN.

Steve the intern was impressed. "SO you just used his own codes?"

"Yup."

"Hows that even possible?"

Allison shrugged, "Dunno....I overheard him use it one time.....thats the problem with codes you have to announce in front of everybody in the room."

"No....I mean how is it possible that his code works for you.....what about voice recognition?"

"Who ever said these things worked off of voice recognition?" Alli retorted as she ruffled through Corgan's private files. "If it was a simple matter of vocal patterns then whats up with all the Greek Letter codes? Alpha Lambda Omega, and all that jazz? Why couldnt you just say 'Hi computer....let me in please' and have it recognize your voice?"

Steve had to admit he had no answer for that.

== ==

"So she's in the witness protection program?"

"Yup." Allison stirred her drink lazily. "kinda pointless right?"

"I'll say, " Crewman jones aknowledged, knocking back his own Diet Coke.

"Apparently the Program people are scraping the bottom of the barrel," Alli shrugged......"I mean...she's living on the same ship......doing the exact same JAG job......married to same Marine. Kinda makes it easy for people to track her huh?"

"I guess.....I always thought she was a bit odd. Buddy of mine saw her in here the other day talking to invisible snakes and birds."

"Birds?"

"Eagles....doves....something like that...maybe it was an eagle that morphed into a dove...or the other way around."

"Well what do you expect from Top Secret Changeling Assassins."

"She's an assassin?"

"yeah....apparently thats common knowledge too, can I have another fruit punch here?" Alli flagged down the waiter.

=== ===

"So this is Victor Krieghoffs's room?"

"Yup." Allison was picking throught the spiderweb filled chambers looking for anything interesting.

"So whats up with all the plastic skulls and rubber bats hanging from the ceiling?"

"Supposed to be scary or something." she supposed, "Vics got this whole 'spooky' mantra thing going for him, so I think the decor is just to reinforce the idea."

Crewman Generic raised an eyebrow and examined a little toy ghost with the words 'Boo!' printed on its sheet. "Ah...a little Halloween-ish don't you think?"

"Gosh no." Alli shook her head. "He's genuinely scary. I think its all the little upside down crucifix magnets he's got on the refrigerator.......brrrrrr."

=== ===

"Computer overide Locks.....Allison Eenie meeny miney Moe."

OVERRIDE APPROVED

"Thanks coputer....." Allison stuck her head in the darkened room of Steve Jonas to verify he wasnt in. Probably out banging the Teenage Mutant Ninja-Mcallister somewhere....

Finding the stray Sniper rifle sitting in a little bedside shrine, the blond scooped it off and made for the door.

"Bout time I tracked this sucker down......Its been throwing off the Armory inventory for weeks....when will people learn to remember to return these things......"

==== ====

"Lieutenant 8-Ball I got those samples you were looking for....." Allison began as she walked into the science labs.

"Hey there....want to have sex?" The Vulcan Chief repleid as way of greeting.

Uh....excuse me?"

The scientist shrugged "Never met you before....want to have sex?"

"Uh...no thanks...duty calls and all that, I have an appointment with the doctor."

"Oh thats okay.....do you think she wants to have sex?"

"what?"

"Or maybe we both can go have sex with her......"

"Ok great....." Alli backed towards the door nervously, "See you later then lieutenant...."

"Great come again.......oh hello little puppy dog....you want to have sex?"

Allison beat a hasty retreat as a confused little "arf" came from the labs.

=== ===

"So Doc, I got this hangnail and all......"

"BY THE POWER OF THE IMMORTAL GODDESS I CURSE THEE FOUL HANGNAIL!!!!!" Kimberly Burton stood before the exam table stark naked and covered in arcane tattoos, shaking a little bone rattle at Allison.

"Uh...Hel-lo doc....how about a little antiseptic or a...."

BLASPHEMER!!!!!! HOW DARE YOU JUDGE MY RELIGION!!!!!! ITS PEOLE LIKE YOU WHO HAVE BURNED WITCHES AT THE STAKE!!!!!!!" The Doctor shrieked and drew a little pentagram on the floor.

"Burned at the ......No Doc....Its just the finger is kinda sore and maybe a pair of clippers would work....."

"CLIPPERS!!!!" Kimberly wailed......"CLIPPERS ARE THE CREATION OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH!!!!! CLIPPERS WERE USED TO PERSECUTE WITCHES DURING THE INQUISITION!!!!! CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW FINGERNAIL CLIPPERS WERE USED TO CONDEMN MY KIND!!!!!!"

Alli frowned, "Well maybe if the witches held real still the inquisitors could have given them a nasty little cut.....nothing a little antiseptic couldnt....."

WOE UNTO YOU AND YOUR CHRISTIAN ANTISEPTIC!!!! Again with the bone rattle.

=== ===

Allison stopped outside the quarters of Leo Streely.

Thinking for a minute, she gave up and went on her way....... "Nope....no way to parody him any worse than he is."

=== ===

"So you got wings huh? Hows that working out for you?"

=== ===

"Stop waving your fingers at me and just tell we where I can find Ella Grey.....im not interested in your gang signs, and no....Im not going to give you an autograph so stop handing me that stupid PADD."

=== ===

"So Mr. Turan.....ever consider having that thing on your head looked at......oh...it is? Oh my mistake."

=== ===

"The Romulan Ambassador huh?.....well....your still gonna have to spell that out for me....."

=== ===

"Aftermath" Part Two

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe - Chief of Engineering
Mr. Michael McDowell - Civilian Engineering Specialist
Lieutenant Kimberly Burton - Chief Medical Officer

***Location: USS Galaxy; Deck 8, Crew quarters***

["Doctor, I can really use you help right now. It's Dhani. She's...] Michael stopped mid-sentence. He wondered how to describe her. ["She's not doing well at all. I hardly recognize her anymore. She's... not Dhani."]

"I'm on my way." she announced, in a louder and clearer voice than before, now completely awake. Looking around she rooted through the clothes on the floor for anything that she could wear. Picking up a skirt and a one of the loud Hawaiian shirts her nephew had sent her she dressed quickly and made for the door, picking up her medkit from its hanger on the wall as she passed it. Dhani's quarters were only a short walk and a quick turbolift ride away and so she hurried through the ships corridors, her bare feet slapping on the deck plates as she ran, only bouncing off one poor crewmember who failed to notice the CMO.

Throwing an apology over her shoulder as the crewman failed to maintain his balance and fell, Kimberly arrived at Dhani's quarters only a few moments after Michaels call. Hoping the door wasn't locked; she slowed her pace but didn't stop as she approached the door. Breathing a sigh of relief as the doors opened (the mental image of her bouncing off the door and onto the floor instead: not on her list of things to do today) she came to a stop inside and looked around.

~ Ouch! ~ was her first thought on seeing the mess that was Dhanishtas nose, then ~ What in the name of the Elements happened here! ~ when she saw the mess that was her quarters. Not really one to speak on tidiness considering the time Sara-Jayne spent clearing up after her, she moved to Dhani's side. Not asking the obvious question that hung on her lips she noticed the osteogenic stimulator in Michaels hand as she stopped beside him.

"Hi." she said simply, with a raised eyebrow. Looking at Michael she slipped the device from his fingers. "I think we'll need a bowl of warm water and a sponge please." she asked as she knelt beside her friend.

Michael acknowledged Kimberly's request with a simple nod. "Of course. I'll get it. And... thanks for the help." He knew the last words would be understood by her.

Simply nodding, not wanting to say too much right now, Kimberly put her medical kit down, out of sight for now and looked at Dhanishta. "Hey." she said in a softer tone to Dhani.

Dhanishtas expression was stern, cold, anger bubbled behind her eyes. She looked at Kimberly with what verged on hatred. "Tricorder." she stated simply.

Frowning slightly Kimberly wasn't sure exactly what Dhani was getting at. "Tricorder?" she asked. Unclipping the device from her medical kit she held it almost protectively. She'd only had the device returned by Ops a while back after its *last* encounter with Dhani, and she had no desire to see it go pop and die before her eyes yet again.

"Give_me_your_tricorder." Dhanishta growled with a demanding tone.

Wishing she had some of the PSI suppressant that had worked on Dhanishta successfully a couple of times she held up her tricorder. "Uh, why?" she asked softly. "I'll need to use this, just to check your nose." she warned Dhani. "But *just* your nose. Is that okay?"

Dhanishtas eyes that had been leveled on the wall opposite her snapped upon Kimberly in a heartbeat. She shook visibly; her outstretched palm wavered in the air as she said once more with unabated aggression, "GIVE ME YOUR TRICORDER NOW!"

Sighing she placed the device in Dhani's hand. She had an idea what was coming, but still, it irked her that Dhani didn't trust her enough to let her do her job.

Taking the device Dhani quickly removed the power-cell at a pace she was surprised at herself, given her trembling. Leaning forward from where she had come to rest on the floor under the window, she launched the power-cell towards one corner of her quarters, missing Michael by an inch or so. And then proceeded to throw the now duff tricorder to the other corner.

Michael felt the power-cell brush against his leg as it flew passed him and slammed into the wall. He looked back at Dhani and then to Kimberly with an expression that said 'What the hell is going on?'

Simply raising an eyebrow Kimberly shrugged. That hadn't been entirely unexpected. ~ Guess we do this the old fashioned way! ~ she decided as she watched the tricorder fly one way, and the power cell vanish into a different dark corner. Letting out a resigned sighed. ~ Ah well, at least it's still in one piece. ~

Turning back to Kimberly with raised eyebrows, punctuating her point in effect Dhani said, "Fix the nose and get out!" her tone was no less aggressive than it had been. Her eyes burned holes into the woman that sat before her, even though it was without just cause. Dhanishta just didn't know what to do with herself. She shook with the anger, her eyes welled as she stared out across the floor seeing their faces; Larimars, Shattuckites… Seraphinites dead body… feeling all their pain and terror.

Baile knew what would happen if he came, in fact, he wanted it to happen. He knew she would come out, he just knew. And what's more he almost seemed pleased about it. Dhani began to rock steadily back and forth on the floor. She wanted to hurt something. It was like a mental defense from the pain and anguish. Or was that 'her'? Was that thing, that Dithparu, trying to get out? Was this lust for blood hers or its?

Meeting Dhani's stare Kimberly felt herself tremble a little at the dark look directed at her. Feeling a sadness rise within her at the look she turned away, unable to meet that gaze for long. Realizing that small talk was not really going to help here she switched to getting down to business. "This is going to hurt a little." Kimberly warned Dhani. The attempt to set her broken nose herself had, it appeared to Kim's visual inspection, been only partly successful and had resulted in an incorrect set of the bone. Unless Dhani wanted to snore for the rest of her life with a crooked nose, Kimberly would have to break the partially set bone and then begin again.

"I can give you something for the pain, it'll numb your face for a bit." she warned. "Then I'm going to have to reset the bone… Next time though, call me *before* you try to fix things yourself!" holding up the osteogenic stimulator she raised an eyebrow. "This isn't a dermal regenerator ya'know, it's not something you can use yourself. There's a reason first aid kits don't have them, broken bones need to be aligned properly *before* you set them. Okay!"

Dhanishtas gaze flittered over Kimberly for a moment and then to the device in her hand. With every exhale she could see her hair twitching from the corner of her eye, feel it move, tickling her face as it did. "No pain killers." she stated plainly as once more her vision returned to the wall ahead of her.

"Dhanishta." Kimberly said in a serious tone. "This will *hurt*, trust me." She said bluntly. "Let me at least give you a local pain killer, to take the edge off it. I'm going to have to break the bone again by the looks of it, and that's not going to be very pleasant."

"If I have to tell you everything twice, this is going to be a very long night. And quite frankly 'Doctor' this is a night I would rather forget. Now for the love of all that you hold dear, break the nose reset it and get the hell out of my quarters before I say something that we will all regret." her eyes flittered to Michael for an instant before she turned to face Kim fully, "Do I make myself clear or is your translator malfunctioning? Would you prefer me to talk in Mandarin like you do? You will be surprised at how fluent I am in that dialect!" her eyes flamed her hands turned white as her fists clenched.

Shrugging, Kimberly checked the damaged nose. Trying not to let her feelings show on her face as she worked, for the love of the Goddess, she was only trying to help! With as much care as possible she gently probed the area with her fingers for a moment. Sighing as she realized the damage she looked at her friends face and decided to get this over with quickly. "This will hurt." she warned Dhani again. Reaching up, she took hold of Dhani's nose and gently twisted, feeling the partly healed bone pop under her thumb and forefinger…

(OOC: Hey All - I am now writing the conclusion to a subplot that began with this post about a year ago and has been delayed, variously, by wars, assassinations, flashbacks and engagements. I was trying to summarize this to remind everyone of the subplot but it was losing its effect - so I'm just going to resend it, especially since we have people who never had a chance to read it. I hope you guys enjoy the conclusion when it comes out. Thanks - Syed)

"na Draes" (The Man)

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador

= Before the Battle of Romulus =
= USS Galaxy =

Lhohnu t'Noramei could not find any words to describe the strange mixed emotions coursing through her slender form. She was nervous, frightened, anxious, happy, giddy, excited and worried all at the same time. Never before had the young woman been so keen to succeed or so afraid of failure. Never before had so many people smiled at her or treated her kindly all at once. Never before had she been among aliens, even though she had always been something of an alien on her own world. She was accepted, yet separate; so close to home and yet so far away from it.

So when the human officer who had been assigned to work with her had asked the her how she was feeling, it was all Lhohnu could do to simply force a quick smile and mumble a quick 'Jolan Tru'. Anything more, the exceptionally young aide to Ambassador tr'Ahalaen feared, would cause her voice to shatter into a million little pieces.

If the human officer took offense, he did not show it. Instead, he simply nodded - perhaps he had never really wanted to know the answer to the question - and went about directing the arrangement of the VIP quarters assigned to Aerv tr'Ahalaen in a remarkably efficient manner. The humans had granted the Ambassador's request that his aide be allowed onboard before him in order to help arrange his living space and properly place his belongings. Though t'Noramei had was nervous about being alone among humans, Aerv had insisted that she complete this task.

Lhohnu looked around at the work area with some dismay. It looked like it would never be ready...even if it were, she was certain it would never match the majesty of dohhae Ahalaen. She had not been to that house since she was a child, so everything about it - about *him* - was still larger than life for her, embedded forever in her memory as one of the happier places of her miserable childhood. Nothing could compare to the pictures in her mind...not even, t'Noramei suspected, the actual place itself.

At first, she had been relieved at the detailed instructions Aerv had given her about how to arrange his quarters. However, now she was beginning to realize that there were a great number of details, all very important to the tr'Ahalaen, and Lhohnu was sure she would forget something and disappoint him.

Worse...t'Noramei was terrified that Aerv tr'Ahalaen would disappoint her. And that was something Lhohnu was not certain she could bear....

= Twelve Years Ago =
= dohhae Ahalaen =

Her father's name had been Egaesih tr'Noramei. Even as a child, Lhohnu had realized that he was not a good man. She had not cried when he had been executed for being a traitor to the Empire - for traitor or not, the man was the worst kind of vermin: a killer, a thief, a keeper of slaves. Egaesih tr'Noramei, as far as his only daughter was concerned, deserved to die a hundred deaths. He had never been of any use to anyone...except one young nobleman: Aerv tr'Ahalaen.

Egaesih had a knack for acquiring rare and illicit substances, difficult for anyone else in the Empire to obtain. In other words, he was a smuggler...and a rather successful one at that. For years, most of Egaesih's income had come from transporting narcotics and other such substances across government borders. Aerv tr'Ahalaen changed that. tr'Ahalaen was interested in books, scents, art, sculptures - he was interested in things from the 'clean' world that had slipped between cracks and disappeared into the cesspool where vermin like Egaesih dwelled. So the two had formed a kind of discreet alliance - in fact, in many ways, Egaesih had been a kind of teacher, patiently answering all kinds of questions about his life on the 'fringe' of society that tr'Ahalaen asked...of course, Egaesih demanded payment. Money, however, had never been an object of concern for Aerv. It was a good symbiotic relationship.

It had been a beautiful day on ch'Rihan - the sun, the wind, the weather were all fair - when it happened. It was a lazy spring day and her father sitting on the ground, regaling Aerv with improbable tales of his adventures and impossible plans. Egaesih could conquer the Federation in a day in his plans. It was only when it came to putting food on his family's table that these plans never seemed to pan out.

Family. How jealous Lhohnu was of families. How she hated Aerv tr'Ahalaen's young sisters - one around her own age - who laughed, played and joked with their brother. How different their lives were than her own.... Her mother hated her, this Lhohnu knew...she had always known this, even when she was a mere babe at her mother's breast. Lhohnu did not even remember the Deltan woman's name. Whoever she was, she had once been beautiful...before the Orions, before being purchased by Egaesih tr'Noramei and being kept locked away in his home...before she had killed herself.

Lhohnu's Deltan and Romulan halves had combined to produce a rather potent touch telepath. That is how the young girl had come to realize so early that her mother hated her. That is why no one ever held her or played with her...that is why she was always so alone. How she hated the part of her that was Deltan, that part of her that gave her her startling blue eyes and beauty, the part of her that had given her such a heavy curse....

That day on ch'Rihan - in the pretty gardens of dohhae Ahalaen - Lhohnu sat in a corner, as usual, watching the other children play. Idly, she picked at the dirty, torn rags that passed for her dress, trying not to listen to her father's slimy voice as he droned on, trying not to listen to the laughter around her, when one of Aerv's sister had screamed out in delight, rushing to show Aerv something that she held in her hand.

"All done, Dianvm! Isn't it pretty? I made it myself. Come on, Dianvm - raksha-bundhan!"

Raksha-Bundhan? That was not a Rihannsu word. Lhohnu listened. Aerv was explaining it to her father.

"...an old Earth custom...I read about it in a book you found. In parts of what is India - there was a special day, where young girls would tie a thread around the wrist of any of their brothers - or friends they considered to be brothers. It really was like a blood relationship of choice - this thread, if accepted, signified a promise to the young woman that the man was bound to protect her as if she were his own sister - and in return for this gift of her trust, he usually gave her some kind of token gift. Quite fascinating, really...these people really took this quite seriously. Marriages between girls and men bound by this thread were as taboo as those of actual brothers and si...."

tr'Ahalaen's sisters were losing their patience and urged him to hurry up.

"Of course," Aerv said dryly, "I don't think the tradition will catch on here on Romulus. Romulan girls are more interested in the human chocolate that is their token gift, than the gravity of the promise they extract from me. Isn't that right, S'harien?"

"Dianvm pleeease!"

tr'Ahalaen laughed and extended his arm. His sister eagerly began to tie the small, knit wool bracelet she had made around his wrist. It really was a pretty thing, Lhohnu had to admit - Aerv had made his sisters earn their prize. A good way, perhaps, to encourage them to work on their crafting skills.... As the other children bounded off, tr'Ahalaen turned his deep black eyes upon Lhohnu. She looked away quickly, shrinking within herself to take up as little room in the universe as possible.

"What about you, t'Noramei? Will you not have me as a brother then?"

"Lhhai," Egaesih protested, his slimy voice shrill and on the verge on panic, "My mongrel daughter is not worthy. She is...you cannot let her touch you."

Lhohnu looked up at tr'Ahalaen. She saw none of the fear that was so evident in the eyes of other Romulans when she was round them. The Rihannsu, who had a few of the mental powers of their Vulcan cousins and fewer of their disciplines, did not trust telepaths. In a society based on secrets and intrigue, such individuals were lethal to the social order. Everyone had something to hide. Everyone avoided her like she had some kind of strange plague....

Except for tr'Ahalaen? It did not seem possible. Then why was he inviting her to touch him? Lhohnu rose to her feet. She hesitated. She was certain that this was some cruel joke. The moment she was within reach, he would pull away and laugh at her foolishness and audacity. Still...how long had it been since someone had touched her? When she stumbled in a crowd, did anyone help her up? When she was frightened, did anyone dare to hold her? She could not resist. Slowly, she walked towards tr'Ahalaen and his outstretched hand.

Then she stopped and whispered shyly, "I do not have a pretty bracelet for you, Lhhai."

tr'Ahalaen smiled and said - perhaps for the first and last time in his shallow life, "Any rag will do."

A piece of cloth from the dirty hem of her long frock was coming apart anyway, so Lhohnu knelt down and tore it off. Her father protested weakly, but then fell silent. Solemnly, Lhohnu looked up at Aerv. "I will be careful not to touch you."

He smiled.

More carefully than she had ever done anything before, Lhohnu tied the worn piece of cloth to a lord's wrist. There was a long silence.

"My blood is more beautiful now, a'rhea. For this gift, I pledge to always be like a brother to you; I am your shield and your sword."

Lhohnu had little memory of what happened next. He kissed her gently on the forehead and she was overwhelmed. She could see inside him - the brewing darkness, the gentle light; the fury, the passion, the control, the beauty - what a strange creature, full of pools both deep and shallow - a demon, an angel and everything in between.... The intensity of his heart, the mnhei'sahe, courage and kindness of his simple gesture, left her shaken. She sank to her knees and struggled not to weep.

"You have been blessed with a beautiful daughter, Egaesih."

Her father laughed. "How much will you pay for her, Lhhai?"

The rage that Lhohnu had seen deep within Aerv came to the surface. He was little more than a boy then, but he struck Egaesih with such force that he drew blood. Then he spit on the man, turned and walked away.

Egaesih grabbed her hair and dragged Lhohnu away.

That was the last time the beautiful mongrel ever saw dohhae Ahalaen.

= Present Day = = USS Galaxy =

"Miss? Miss...where do we put these books?"

t'Noramei realized that the human officer was addressing her. Quietly she pointed in the proper direction. The work went on around her. Lhohnu chewed her bottom lip miserably, paying little attention to the task she was so anxious to do well.

What was she doing here?

She...the daughter of a traitor, a twenty year old girl - a child by the standards of her people - with little education and no social status, no real training in diplomacy or...anything else but being a kitchen scullion.... How had she become the aide to an Ambassador? Why had she been taken from her grim world and placed within the stars?

Other servants in t'Khnialmnae's house had mocked her when the news of her selection had come. They had said she had no qualifications - which was true - that she would make a fool of herself. Ahalaen's whore, they called her - little more than a pretty concubine he would bed at night, whenever he wished, and ignore when he had no use for her. It matched his reputation - it was said he had a great weakness for beautiful women - and no one had ever denied that t'Noramei was exquisitely beautiful. Of course, no real Romulan would touch her...but they said that tr'Ahalaen was an odd one - who knew what went on in that strange mind of his?

Lhohnu tried to hold on to hope. Had she not seen the good in him, all those years ago? It was possible that he remembered. Yet...he had never spoken of it. In fact, he had seen her working for t'Khnialmnae and ever once acknowledged her. Over all those years when she had struggled to fend for herself, alone and frightened, he had not come to her aid. He had never been there she had needed a shield. So why now? No...he did not remember. She knew that time changed a man...and she had also seen the darkness of his complicated, conflicted soul. She had learned that the universe seldom rewarded hope. Maybe all she was to him truly was a beautiful object to be used. She shuddered at the thought, images of her bruised and weeping mother springing to her mind.

And yet, a timid part of her clueless heart still dreamt that anything was possible...that a single rag given as a gift could change one's fate for forever and always; that an ancient, alien ritual could give an orphan a family....

"Look at all these clothes and...all these minute details...." the human officer cried out, throwing his arms up in the air, quite aggravated, "What kind of man is this Aerv tr'Ahalaen of yours?"

t'Noramei looked at the human, her weltering blue gaze dim with unshed tears. She managed a small smile and whispered her heart's one truth: "I wish I knew."

= End Log =

"na Temculhas" (The Promise)

Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen
Romulan Ambassador

= Present Day =
= USS Galaxy =

Aerv tr'Ahalaen stood, silent and stoic, before a window in his quarters and looked out upon the sparkling suns of a thousand worlds. The stars seemed dim tonight...as if the universe itself was subdued. Or perhaps it was him...perhaps he was not looking at them, but past them, despite their mundane, breathtaking beauty and his constant obsession with aesthetics. For surely it was more likely that he and not the galaxy itself - despite the dark and demanding discipline of Romulus gripping his passionate heart - was effected by the sight of tears in the a woman's eyes.

The excessively cultivated young man allowed himself a small smile. What power, he thought, had the eyes of women that they could make even the works of the Elements pale and fade in the minds of men. He had heard that on Earth, long ago, people had believed that in the stars was writ the destiny of man...that they were responsible for what people became and the legacies they left. As was often the case in matters of any importance...the humans had been wrong.... For never before had Aerv Laehval tr'Ahalaen, Rihannsu Ambassador to the Federation and a Blade of the Declared, felt so acutely that the man he had become was not because of the dim and distant stars scattered across the across the dark veil of the gods. His soul was, instead, crafted by the eyes of women.

So beautiful and so terrible, such eyes had never spared him. He was loyal now for he remembered the betrayal in the wide, hurt eyes of the first girl he had ever kissed...the first heart he had ever broken. He was forced to be strong now for he had seen the vacant, dark and broken look in his mother's eyes when his brothers had fallen. He was kind now for he had seen the happiness in his sisters' eyes fade at a harsh word from him. It was the eyes of women that had made him ruthless, the eyes of women that had spoken to him first about beauty, the eyes of women that had been the first things to touch his soul. He adored them and yet, since so often he was weak and malleable before them, he hated them.

It was the eyes of women that crafted men. It was the eyes of women that broke them. It was eyes of women that would judge them...for how else does one know a man was good but to see a good woman cry when he is no more? And right now it was gorgeous sapphire eyes of Lhohnu t'Noramei that occupied the thoughts of Aerv and made the universe itself unremarkable.

More than a decade ago, he had seen this pretty little girl, so alone, always so out of place in a society where he fit in so easily, and he had felt...responsible. So he had been kind to her by asking her to participate in a small, ancient and largely meaningless ritual. It had been a game to him, nothing more. He himself was a little more than a child then....

If only he had not looked at Lhohnu's eyes then.... He had never seen anyone fall so quickly, so desperately in love.... He had never seen anyone so afraid to hope. He had never seen adoration so complete.... It had frightened him and so he had touched her. He had hoped that through her telepathic abilities she would see the darkness in his soul and know that it was unreasonable to have expectations of him - a man not as noble or remarkable as people thought, and of whom they still had so many expectations....

Yet there had been no mercy in the hearts of the Elements that day...Lhohnu's eyes had never wavered in their sudden and complete devotion. It was a look that Aerv had never forgotten...and one he hated with the depths of his soul. It was a single glance...but it made him an object of hope for a young girl and made a casual playful ritual a promise and a bond....

Now, all these years later, those same eyes stood behind him...weeping - and Aerv could not bear to look at them. He waited for her sobbing to subside.

They had been through all the arguments by now. She wanted to stay with him aboard the Galaxy. He wanted her to defect to the Federation, to go 'home' to Delta, perhaps to go to Vulcan and learn to master her touch telepathy, to build a real future.... She pleaded that she was Rihannsu. He told her she was not, that she would never be....

The arguments had gone on for some time and had required him to be unkind, brutal and uncompromising. Aerv had always found that difficult...but it was something the Rihannsu were bred to....

In the end, as Aerv knew he would, he had won. She would do as he said...of that there had not been any doubt...not since that one day twelve years ago.... That was why he had brought her aboard the ship. He had told those who had protested that he was using her because a touch telepath, especially an attractive one, could be a powerful weapon for any diplomat. And everyone had believed him. Elements, he thought, what a blessing it was to have the world think you were capable of such terrible things....

Finally, the fragile young woman recovered enough to speak again. She whispered in her own unique, quiet manner, "Do not send me away from yourself, Aerv." It was the first time she had used his name. Then she said those terrible words the truth of which he had always known and of which he had never been worthy. "I love you."

tr'Ahalaen turned then to look into her stunning blue eyes that had wrought this moment and had forced upon him this little treason against the Rihannsu. For some time, he said nothing at all. Then, staring down at his feet, he replied. "I have a shuttle that is waiting for you. Go when you are ready."

"Yes," she replied, her voice quite broken, "Jolan Tru."

"Jolan Tru."

Then she was gone.

Aerv tr'Ahalaen, the burden of a fulfilled promise upon his shoulders, walked over to his desk. Trying to forget this moment...his first betrayal of the Empire, and forcing from his mind the damage to his position on Romulus the defection of one of his aides would do, he returned to the poem he had been reading. Gently he read out loud the haunting words of a haunted mind....

"Eyes I dare not meet in dreams, in death's dream kingdom these do not appear. There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column. There, is a tree swinging and voices are, in the wind's singing, more distant and more solemn than a fading star...."

= End Log =

"Deliver Me"

Lt. JG Faylin McAlister/Siena

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

With Steven busy at some Marine 'thing', Faylin had a moment to relax. Although, she missed him incredibly. Lately, she hated being alone. Her soul had felt calm the previous few days, something that was very odd and disconcerting to her wild side. Grabbing her favorite ancient book from her book shelf, she settled into her favorite worn out reclining chair with a cup of tea by her side, comforter over her lap, and she began to read.

Chapter 2

Dimness. The essence of it's magic was that it held just enough light for the being to see, yet shrouded the figure just enough to prevent the mystery of the person's actions to unfold. The dark eyes flitted back and forth in the corner, from the reading material, to her husband, back to the reading material once more. The time was fast approaching, yet, she had to make sure that it was the "correct" time to execute her plan of evacuation.

She watched his chest rise and fall effortlessly as she continued to sit in the hard chair. The silence that was around them was only interrupted by her rustling her robes as she shifted in her seat. Nothing, he failed to move. With a grace like manner, the woman rested her book on the small table next to the chair. Keeping her head straight ahead and her eyes focused on the male in the bed, she gingerly stood. Each movement was an exaggeration of life itself. She held the balance of her destiny in her hands, as with the destiny of her husband and one other.

Reaching upwards, she pulled the hood above her head, concealing her identity to be able to mingle in with the commoners. For, she was not common, she was royalty. Her little costume she adorned herself with was plain, with no bobbles to set her apart from the rest of the society as a whole. It was meant to be that way, the way it was to be. She thought as she tilted her head and studied him logically for one last time. Staying silent for the sake of escape, she turned and left him unaware of what his 'loyal' and highly logical wife was attempting to do.

Down the corridor, her sandaled feet padded with a small noise to the room that housed her infant son. Lifting him gently from the crib, she took a moment to memorize his features. He would grow strong, independent, and have the ability to express himself emotionally if he wished to do so. Just as she would soon. Swallowing the nervousness she felt, she cradled him and hushed his stirring. "Hush now...." She whispered as he stirred again.

Placing him in the wicker basket, she closed the lid with a soft bending of reeds. It was meant to disguise what it contained inside. It's appearance at first glance resembled a basket that was used to transport food within the village. Satisfied that he was content for the moment, she kissed her fingers and placed them on his cheek. Leaning over, she grabbed his small amount of possessions that assured his life continue that were housed in a small black bag and slung it over her shoulder. She at last lifted the basket, carrying it with an accuracy and care that would confuse others if they thought that vegetables and fruit were housed inside it's walls of wicker.

Peering out from his bedroom, she glanced at first left, then right, making positive the way was clear. As her foot stepped foreword, the moonlight glistened off of it and the marble flooring that supported her flight. It naturally lit her path to freedom, and for that, the woman was great full. Just a few more steps until she could release the tension she felt ebb throughout her whole body. Just a few more, and she was free.....her personal Exodus was about to occur.

Siena sighed as she held in her hand the 'book' she found herself reading a moment ago. The story was very dull and did not hold her interest as she wished. Leaning her head back slightly in her worn chair, the room around her appeared to caress her with it's small space. Content to be alone and appreciating the silence around her, she closed her eyes as her mind wondered.

"Shift"

appearances by
Daren M'Kantu
Tarin Iniara
Aristi Ferguson
Vincent Williams
V'Lot

and random others

------------------
Transporter Room 3
------------------

The comforting blue tingle did little to alter her state of mind.

Finding her feet once more touching the ground, the XO quickly detached herself from Lieutenant Kara'nin's unexpectedly strong grasp. She did her best to compose herself, murmured a quick "Thank you, Lieutenant," to the avian, and then practically leapt off the transporter pad.

"Status of the away team!" she called out to the transporter chief.

For his part, the chief was doing a very good job of looking busy. Fumbling at the controls for several seconds, he finally gave up. "I...I don't know, sir," he replied sheepishly, eventually finding the courage to meet the angry woman's eyes.

"Damnit! Why not?" she hissed, as if grilling the poor young crewman at the console would keep her mind off the rising panic threatening to overtake her. As it was, her heart was racing, her adrenaline surging as she fought to keep her mental shields intact and reinforced.

Perhaps, she thought suddenly, becoming overly reliant on psi suppressors had been a bad idea. But then her need for control took over. Sliding around the edge of the console she began to stab at it, fingers flying automatically across the console as she accessed the information she needed. "They're in Transporter Room One. Good."

"Lieutenant Commander Tarin, please report to the bridge." Iniara's ears perked up. Was that Michael? He shouldn't have been on duty at this time of day. But what did it matter? And why was she so fixated on that?

Growling in spite of herself, she jabbed her commbadge angrily. "On my way."

-----------
Main Bridge
-----------

"All members of the Away Team are on board, Captain," Jamson dutifully reported. "Lieutenant Commander Tarin is en route to the bridge."

"Thank you, Mr. Jamson," M'Kantu replied, turning his focus once more to the main viewer. The storm was continuing to grow, the once distinct bands of color now twisting and blurring as turbulence in the system increased exponentially. Sensors were even saying the atmosphere was beginning to destabilize and bleed off, if such a thing were possible at this rate of speed.

"Find out what caused the storm," he continued. "Quickly."

------------------
Counseling Offices
------------------

Counselor V'Lot sighed contentedly, relaxing into the comforting embrace of an overstuffed chair. Her last patient of the day had just left, and now the rest of the day was hers to do with as she pleased.

Shifting to the side she reached for the small hardcover book sitting on the edge of her desk. Its synthetic leather-bound cover made a quiet creaking noise as she opened the book, and she quickly found the place where she had last stopped reading; nearly halfway through its approximately four hundred pages. At this rate she would be done by bedtime.

V'Lot couldn't help but find it a bit curious that she, a Vulcan, would be reading a book detailing the so-called Romulan Exodus. But the book had been a gift from a friend, one who claimed to know the book's author in some form or fashion. V'Lot found that to be an illogical reason for someone to send her such a gift, especially when the gift was as impractical as an actual paper book. But then again, she reminded herself, humans were not normally known for their logic.

The quiet swishing of a door interrupted her thoughts and she looked up, searching for its source. It certainly hadn't been her office door. But it sounded like it had come from behind...

"V'Lot."

She turned, looking over her shoulder. Behind her stood a man, his form backlit by the light pouring in from the open door. "V'Lot, where is my daughter?"

V'Lot frowned, looking up at the man. He was tall, well-built, the angular cuts of his uniform emphasizing his broad shoulders. His arms were folded across his chest, and even though she couldn't see his face she knew the man was scowling. But where had he come from? And why was there a door there?

"Pardon?" she replied politely.

In a single motion he lunged forward, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hauling her to her feet. "Woman! I will no longer tolerate your insolence!" He released her just as quickly, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. "Must I constantly remind you that your sole purpose on this vessel is to see to my daughter's needs, and not to abandon her in favor of mending socks?"

When V'Lot shook her head dumbly he continued. "Good. Now, go and fetch Sakonna. I wish to speak to her."

"Yes, my lord. I will at once." Her gaze now cast respectfully downward, V'Lot carefully sidestepped the Captain, dashing out into the hallway in search of her young charge. The Captain watched her with mild interest as she nearly knocked over a young Sub-Lieutenant, then closed the cabin door and took a seat.

---------------
Main Hangar Bay
---------------

"Try it now."

"Engine power has been boosted by two point three percent. Good work," Aristi heard the rough voice of her fighter's crew chief respond. "Would you prefer that I make the final adjustments, sir?"

"No, I need to learn this," she replied. "It'll teach me to respect my bird; you know that."

"Aye."

Sliding out from under her fighter the Cardassian pilot stood, only to be unexpectedly knocked right back onto her back, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. "The hell?"

"Surprise," a low voice answered, the almost-whisper accompanied by a set of hands that grabbed her shoulders from behind, forcing her back to the ground as she tried to sit up.

"Who are you?" she hissed, her body tensing as adrenaline began to surge through her veins. In response to her question a face floated towards her out of the darkness. Then another, and then another. The one in the middle was smiling, thin lips twisted into a sadistic grin.

"You don't remember us, T'Ris?" the face asked. She was vaguely aware that his was the same voice she had heard earlier. Or was it? Her head was suddenly throbbing with pain; it was becoming difficult to focus. Who were these people? Who was T'Ris? Was that her?

Her speech was becoming slurred, her vision blurring. "Did you...drug...mhhh..." she tried to say. Another of the faces laughed and moved closer, the cheeks flushed a bright green from exertion. She could smell the stench on his breath and clothing: the stale, unwashed smell of the lower classes.

"To ensure your compliance, my beautiful doll," the face said, moving off again. T'Ris thought there were more hands now: hands pinning her shoulders, hands holding her wrists and ankles, hands tugging at her garments.

She struggled against her captors, jerking to the side as she became suddenly aware of what was happening. "Why?" she squeaked feebly, now acutely aware of the weight of another body pressing down on her. The laughter increased as the face swam towards her again.

"Why not?"

---------------
Main Bridge (?)
---------------

"Storm, sir? What storm?"

Valen turned to regard the man, bony fingers tightening around the rounded tip of his cane. He fixed a harsh gaze upon the young Lieutenant. "Do you fail to understand my words, Lieutenant Syvar?"

"No, sir. I am now scanning for the storm."

"Good." Valen turned back to the large viewscreen which dominated one wall of this observation lounge. At the moment, all it displayed was the blackness of space. But there had been a storm there. At least, he thought there had been. Hadn't there?

Or had he imagined it? If so, it was nothing the older man would ever admit to. As leader of the clan Talvalen, Valen was untouchable as well as infallible. No one dared to question what he may or may not have seen out there. Young Lieutenants wishing to climb to a higher social standing would no doubt fabricate evidence to cover up the apparent mistakes of their leader. It was simply their way.

"My apologies, Lord Valen," the Lieutenant continued after several seconds had passed. "The storm has dissipated."

Perfectly timed, he thought to himself, turning away from the viewscreen once more. Perfectly timed.

-----------
XO's Office
-----------

In a display highly uncharacteristic of his normally composed demeanor, Yeoman Vincent Williams danced his way through the XO's office.

"Petty Officer...Second Class...Kayla Kensington..." he sang along to an imaginary and mostly inconsistent beat in his head. " Hottest chick...in Engineering. Whoo!"

"Delvok?"

Vince spun around quickly, sending his neatly stacked padds flying as he nearly fell into 'Commander Tarin's desk. "What? Who?"

"Calm yourself, Delvok." The owner of the voice appeared from a nearby access hatch. "Sub-Commander Asil has ordered us to complete repairs within the hour. We must hurry."

"My apologies, Sepek. I am...excited."

Sepek raised an eyebrow, regarding his friend for a long moment. "Ah, yes; tomorrow you will be bonded. The excitement of this assignment has altered me; I had nearly forgotten."

"It is of no consequence," Delvok replied, passing another set of tools down the hatch. "Marriages take place every day on this vessel."

Sensing his friend's momentary disappointment Sepek paused in his work. "My mind absorbs nothing, friend. Tell me again, what is the name of your betrothed?"

Delvok froze, a look of concern crossing his face. He could give nothing more than a fearful look as his answer.

Had he forgotten his mate's name?

---------------
Main Bridge (?)
---------------

The doors swished open to reveal the Main Bridge, bathed in bright soothing light.

Or at least, that's what she had expected.

Instead, Iniara found herself striding angrily into a small, darkened room that was most definitely not the bridge. She stepped forward, eyes naturally drawn to the shadowed figure reclining in an overstuffed chair positioned against one wall.

"Hello?"

The figure stirred and turned toward her. "Ah, Sakonna. I see V'Lot was able to locate you."

"V'Lot?" Iniara asked the figure. He seemed familiar somehow. She tentatively closed the distance between them, the memories suddenly clicking in her mind. "Father?"

The Captain looked up, smiling at his young daughter. "Yes, it is me. Sit down, child; I must speak with you."

And as she arranged her robes neatly on the floor, Sakonna couldn't help but wonder one thing. What in the name of the Prophets was going on here?

And just who were the Prophets?

"Shroud of Doubt"

Commander Brian Elessidil
Chief Counsellor

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief of Intelligence

Saul waited next to the main turbolift, occasionally glancing at his chronometer. It was 15:28 hours, and Alpha shift was due to end and time now. As soon as the bridge crew rotation is done, the alpha shift crew will take the turbolift - this specific lift - and continue on their daily routine.

And that's when Saul intended to intercept Brian.

Alpha shift's executive officer was Saul's counsellor for a while now, and also one of Saul's friends. The bond of friendship formed when the two shared a bunk room on the Backbroken's Reward, and tightened when Saul supported Brian during his brief captaincy on the Exter.

It was a bond that Saul was about to test.

Saul kept a close eye on one J. Andrus Suder, officially the ship's librarian. He used many measured to keep track of the con man's activities, while hiding the fact that he was stalking him from both Suder itself and any unsuspecting observer. He did not want to leave any evidence that he was interested in Andrus. It was quite important, as Saul assumed that eventually he'll have to either kill Andrus, extort him or somehow wipe his memory.

None of the alternatives were especially legal, and all of them will probably lead to an investigation. He intended to come out of such an investigation clean as Deltan Teflon glass.

Also, he was concerned about Brian himself. Saul was well aware of the sexual tendencies of 'Counsellor Brian'. Where Saul came from, gay people were treated the same way they were treated by many people on earth five centuries ago - often scorned, insulted and pursued merely for their tendencies. On Utrecht III, 'gay' and 'homo' were still considered curses.

Saul, who considered himself an old-fashioned person, regarded sexual intercourse or even attraction between two males as something unnatural. Even disgusting. But, he thought of Brian - and any other homosexual person he was familiar with - as the person he was first. And this person, Brian Elessidil, was a friend and a colleague Saul held in high regards. What he chooses to do in his own private love life is his own business, and none of Saul's. That made perfect sense to the Galaxy's chief of intelligence.

At least, up until now.

The turbolift stopped on his floor, and the doors opened. A group of officers stood within, including Counsellor Brian.

Saul stepped forward, suppressing the desire to just let things go. He had to talk with Brian about Andrus, and the sooner the better.

"Shalom, Counsellor Brian!" He put on a smile. "I'm so glad I ran into you. Got time to talk?"

"Uh, sure, Saul," the counselor replied, a little surprised by his sudden and rather bluntly straightforward appearance. "Ensign, consolidate your team's reports and we'll go over them tomorrow, okay?" he said to the young woman in the gold uniform standing behind him. She acknowledged with a brief nod and the customary "yes, Sir," which Brian answered only with a smile. People had been calling him that a lot more since his promotion. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

"If it were anyone else who suddenly appeared in front of my turbolift," he said to Saul as he stepped off the lift, "I'd consider it nothing more than coincidence." He chuckled. "I know better with you. So what made you so eager to 'run into' me? I don't think we have a session scheduled, and I doubt you have intelligence you wish to share, especially now that I'm off duty." He paused for a moment, suddenly aware there was something odd about his friend...or perhaps "around" him.

Saul instinctively threw a glance behind them. The corridor was empty. Good.

"What's wrong?"

"No...no, uh, nothing," Brian answered distractedly, though in truth somewhat concerned. Since shortly after the Galaxy's departure from Deep Space 5 before arriving at Barzan, he'd noticed he'd been having seemingly random headaches and brief dizzy spells, both of which he attributed to the stress of the away mission and the subsequent move to Chief Counselor. But now, telepathically, it felt like someone had put dark, very dirty sunglasses on him. Unsure if there was some connection, he made a mental note to schedule a medical exam as soon as possible. He smiled again, deciding to try to ignore it for now. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"Oy, counsellor Brian, you're not one of the people I come to only when I need something." There were enough of those, Saul thought, but most of them did not realize I was only using them. "The ship's small when it comes to gossip, and I heard you hanged around this civilian from sciences. I was curious."

At first Brian wasn't sure what Saul was talking about. The only "hanging around" with someone from sciences he'd done within at least the past month was Artim's last session, but he wasn't a civilian.... "Do you mean Andy?" he asked when it finally occurred to him, wondering why Saul knew, or more curiously, cared one way or the other.

'Andy??' Saul was glad Thing was in his pocket, because the thought echoed so strong Brian was bound to hear it. "I think his name is Andrus, no?"

"Yeeaahhh, his name's Andrus, but he goes by Andy... Saul, why the sudden interest in the people I date? Are you starting some kind of background investigation on me that I'm not aware of?"

"Of course. Standard procedure for newly minted commanders." Saul smirked. "So you date him, you say? What kind of impression did he leave on you?"

"Before or after I kissed him?" Brian asked, a hint of tartness to his tone. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more right now, the inquisition or the unpleasantly strange unreadable feeling he was experiencing. In any case, it was apparent that this wasn't a simple "hey, how was your date, he seems like a nice guy" conversation. Saul had an agenda.

"Would you care to clue me in as to why this is of such interest to you?"

Saul knew the question would come, and the answer was prepared well in advance. He attempted to look quite discomforted. "Do you really want me to answer that? Is it so unbelievable that I'm curious about a friend's love life?"

"Yes," the counselor replied without missing a beat. He may not have been able to read Saul at that moment, but he wasn't stupid. "First, your tone doesn't suggest idle chit-chat; second, you obviously made it a high priority to find me to talk about this; and third, you've never really cared before."

Tone. It was harder to mask body language and tone when facing an expert counsellor. And he never did pry on Brian's personal affairs before, mostly because they never involved Saul himself.

"But I care now, Brian, because of the other person involved. By now you must've realized that there's more to 'Andy' than meets the eye. I don't want to spoil it for you, especially because I have nothing concrete," Yea, right, "but I'm asking you to tell me if you notice anything out of the ordinary with Suder. Anything. I know it's difficult to do with someone you... like... but please keep your eyes open."

"Open for...anything in particular?" Oddly, it didn't strike Brian as strange that someone like Saul could be interested in someone like Andy. Even Brian considered him something of a mystery; now he just wasn't sure how *much* of a mystery. "Is there something I should know about him?" he asked, measuring each word as if the whole concept were a road he preferred not to go down. Maybe he didn't.

"If I could answer that, things would be easier."

The seed of doubt was planted. Before approaching Brian, Saul considered whether he wished Brian to stop seeing Andrus, but decided

that the two of them dating had its merits. So, by no means did he intend to come between them. He just wanted to ensure that, when the time came, Brian would be on the Galaxy's side instead of Andrus'.

And the Galaxy's side was coincidentally Saul's side.

"Please don't be angry at me for asking this of you." Saul said. "I know I'm putting you on an uncomfortable situation, and that the last thing you want to do with someone you're developing emotions for is rat on him to the local Intelligence chief. But you've been carrying that badge much longer than I have and you know it represents both responsibility and personal cost."

The counselor just blinked a couple times. The whole conversation had taken an unexpected detour into the almost surreal.

"I'm not angry, Saul. More like dumbfounded. The Galaxy's Intel Chief just runs up to me outside a turbolift and then proceeds to warn me that there's some classified 'situation' concerning a guy I've recently started dating, and I'm just supposed to say 'okay, thanks'? Wouldn't it have been better to simply leave me in the dark about the whole thing if you can't tell me anything more about it in the first place? I mean, what am I supposed to be looking for? Is anyone in any danger over this? Am *I* in some kind of danger? Does the captain know he has a civilian on board with some kind of background that's got Intel all worked up? I'm sorry, but none of this makes a whole lot of sense from my perspective. And dammit, what *is* that?" he finally asked out loud, not necessarily to Saul, but not necessarily *not* to Saul either. A strange telepathic "buzzing" seemed to be increasing in his head -- along with his frustration -- since they'd started talking.

"What is-- oh, OH."

Saul opened his jacket's pocket, and out bobbed a gray furry head, not unlike a miniature dog's.

"Mii!" cheered Thing.

"That's my new pet. A Barzan refugee. It somehow produces telepathic white noise... not due to too active brain, let me tell you!" Saul chuckled. "Kept it in my pocket to make sure our conversation remains private; Didn't realize it could trouble you too. I'm sorry."

At least now Brian knew he wasn't having some kind of attack. "I've never heard of anything like it," he commented, instinctively eying the creature somewhat warily; Betazoids tended to be rather on guard around things that messed with their telepathy. Sure, it was kinda cute, but cute didn't always equate to good -- a rule that could possibly be equally applied to Andy given Saul's concerns, whatever they were.

"One of a kind, ain't it? To answer your questions: No, I don't think that leaving you in the dark would be best, even if my request is based mostly on suspicion. I think it's important that you stay alert and be aware that there is a possibility - just a possibility - that your relationship with Andrus may take a wrong turn. No, I don't think you're in any danger. Yes, the Captain is quite aware that Andrus is aboard. What you should look for? Anything suspicious. For example, if he asks you to do anything related to ship OPS that a Commander can do and a mere 'librarian' couldn't."

"Mii." Thing supplemented.

Brian gave his friend a "you've got to be kidding" kind of look. "Try to give me *some* credit, okay? I don't think they would have passed my command exams if I were that loose of a cannon. Besides, I'm not *that* starstruck over him." There was one thing though he had to give Saul's suspicions credit for: they hinted at possibilities that could unshroud some of the mystery of Andy's peculiar history. But if Saul was right, it wouldn't be in a good way.

"You, more than me, know the effect of emotions. Suppose Nara would come to me asking for some classified information related to Sakaria as a personal favor; Do you think it would be easy for me to turn her away?"

"I'd expect you'd do your job -- no one said anything about 'easy'."Brian sighed. "Look, if it'll make you feel better, I promise not to let my personal feelings cloud my professional judgment. If there's any reason I think you need to know something, I'll come to you with it immediately."

"That's all I'm asking." Saul smiled cordially. "Thanks for understanding. Of course, Andrus doesn't need to kn--"

Saul never managed to mouth the 'o'. His and Brian's badged chirped in unison, and then Michael Jamson's voice came through and urged them to get back to the bridge.

"We'll finish this later." Saul told his friend, unaware that 'later' meant a whole life time later.

off: Here goes! Fyi, her name is pronounced e-la, with a long e ~Mek

****

Ella Grey shook her head and stared at the chair across from her.

For a moment she had sworn that there had been someone else sitting there but the seat was just as empty now as it had been five minutes ago.

Ella frowned, deciding that she must have been more tired then she thought.

****

"Same Old Argument"

Eela of Vulcan, age 20 (Ella Grey)

****

Talvalen Eela and Mardek's quarters
5 years after launch

Eela wasn't speaking to her father. Or anyone else for that matter.

On the whole Mardek didn't seem to mind, except for at meal times.

She gestured for the dish again and he threw down his fork in exasperation. "You are being childish, Eela."

The girl lifted her eyebrow in a manner that she knew infuriated her father. It was a gesture of the new way, the passive way, and, to his mind, a symbol of everything that they had left behind on Vulcan. Her father's eyes narrowed and for once Eela did not feel guilty for the pleasure taken from such a small victory.

After all, hadn't she proven that she was not a true follower of Surak?

As if he'd read her mind, Mardek suddenly sighed. "I will never approve of their way but I do not like to cause you pain, daughter. I am ... sorry for provoking you the other night."

It had been the same old argument - heated on his side, dispassionate on hers - nothing out of the ordinary but for whatever reason Eela had cracked. Maybe it had been one argument too many. Maybe her logic and reason faltered as they moved further away from Vulcan.

Maybe she was just her father's daughter and had the temper to prove it. She had spent near an hour screaming obscenities while he had only grinned with triumph, her years of meditation and resolve flushed down the metaphorical toilet.

That had been three days ago and since then Eela had refused to speak. Mardek had been smug then but he looked tired now.

Eela sniffed and pointed again. She was being childish but hadn't he repeatedly told her that she was a child?

Mardek frowned but passed her the bowl. Eela carefully scooped some of the dish onto her plate but found she wasn't really hungry. She forced herself to eat anyway.

"I did what I thought was best," Her father said.

Eela looked down at her fork. It was the same old argument and she was tired of it.

"Surak's people may bring peace but at what price?" Mardek continued. "To walk around as if automated, like a machine? No, it was too steep a price for us pay."

Sighing, she pushed away the bowl.

"I was doing better," Eela said finally. "I was doing better and you took me away."

Mardek's frowned deepened. "You were. But it was a false health, Eela. A lie. To purge one's emotions, to not feel ..."

"I don't want to feel!" Eela snapped. She jumped up from her chair and threw down her fork. "I don't want to feel anything!"

"Eela," Her father began.

"I hate you!" The girl cried, running from the room. She wanted to go somewhere that would bring her peace but she knew of no such place on the ship.

So instead she locked herself in her quarters and was relieved when Mardek made no attempt to follow.

"My Love, My Ally, My Rival, My Hero"

Sotha, Orphan (Lieutenant Saul Bental)

Saul watched as the emergency developed from the intelligence post on the bridge. He made rush queries for potentially helpful data in intelligence's databases, while nervously touching his jacket's front pocket now and then. As if it wasn't bad enough that he scrambled to the bridge without his duty attire, the last thing he needed was for Thing to present itself in the middle of the crisis.

His lack of success was anticipated. He had some of his analysts comb through the intelligence on the planet as soon as they reached it and discovered the anomaly. There were no telltale signs for what the planet had in store. He was just about to send a two-sentence report to the nearest SFI outpost when he heard Lieutenant Jamson.

"All members of the Away Team are on board, Captain"

"At least I won't need a new assistant." He commented quietly. Raynor appeared to possess this annoying ability to survive, much like Saul himself.

"Why, you want to replace me with HER?"

Saul turned his head to face the new, hushed voice. As he did, a sudden headache hit him. The world seemed to darken, the wobble. He heard a faint 'Miii', and all of the sudden it was difficult to even kneel. Someone grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to stay on his knees.

When Saul's eyes focused on the sooth-covered hand, it looked small. But it didn't feel that way.

"What are you doing Sotha? They'll hear us!" Someone whispered.

"What if they do?" Saul inquired, dumbfounded. But it was a stupid question. They'll grab them, shout at them, call them a nuisance, and beat them bloody. If they were lucky, they would be tossed to the kitchens or cleaning duty after a healthy beating. If not... Sotha shivered at the thought, and instinctively reached for his rear.

He knew two boys and a girl which were unlucky enough to get in the way of pervert guards who had this thing for children. It was rare for a ship orphan to feel pity for anyone, but he pitied them. He even split a loaf with the girl once.

He flashed a confident smile at the one who supported him. "I am fine. You can let go now." He whispered.

The small hand cautiously left his shoulder, but the two dark slanted eyes kept watching him with concern.

"We shouldn't even be here." Sotha's best friend said.

"Right. We should be back at Vulcan, you reckon?"

The two of them met in the clan's orphanage, a place set aside for the children of those who died in the fight between the two ideologies that tore Vulcan to shreds.

'Enthrone your pasts: this done, fire and old blood will find you again: better heart's breaking than worlds.', taught S'Task. For the orphans, the only that mattered was shattered beyond repair. When the time came to leave Vulcan, they were brought aboard out of pity; But the compassion was short-lived, and by the time the ship reached its cruising speed the children were treated no better than pests.

"You're only here because you want to watch HER."

Sotha smirked, peeping through the air vent. Below him, in the corridor, stood Lord Valen's daughter. Sakonna. She was speaking with someone out of their sight. Eventually, she was ushered away.

"Stalker." Sotha's friend rolled eyes.

"She is worth stalking. We're learn--"

"We are learning." Sotha's friend repeated the mantra he kept hearing in the last half a decade. "We're studying the way of the nobles so that one day we will walk among them as equals."

"Not equals." Sotha waved a finger. "By the time we reach the new home, my friend, we'll be running this ship. And when that comes Sakonna will become a very important person. She'll either be with us, or against us."

"And how will you achieve that?"

The question was asked many times before, and always answered with a shrug. Sotha kept the complex details of his agenda close to his chest. But, he was one of the most resourceful ship urchins, and so he was worth sticking around with. If any orphan could pull out such an elaborate, delusional plan - it would be Sotha.

"I think you're stalking her just because you think she's hot."

A loud clang was heard as something hit the vent. Sotha recoiled, banging his head onto the tube's low ceiling. A juicy curse left his lips.

"I know you're up there, rodent!"

"Crap. Let's get out of here.", Sotha's friend whispered. Sotha remained motionless, his eyes piercing two equal holes onto the vent's grating. Oh, how he hated that voice. How he could just imagine himself wrap his fingers around that throat, and push... strangle that voice, finish it for good. Oh, how he desired to just jump into the corridor and--

No. Not yet.

Sotha's sleeve was pulled. He turned around, and began to crawl, when his anger finally got the better of him.

"MOTHER FUCKER!"

"MAN!" Sotha's friend gulped as another object hit the air vent. The two of them began to crawl like crazy, fleeing from the crime scene. Eventually, they stopped beneath a narrow shaft leading to pylon two. Sotha rolled on his back, catching his breath after the excruciating crawl. His knees were scraped and one elbow was bleeding.

"Was it worth it?"

Sotha smiled faintly.

"I've had enough for today. Let's go get something to eat." Sotha's friend pouted. 'Getting something to eat' meant either beating other kids and raiding their stores, or sneaking into kitchens and waste recycle centres. Sotha always did the latter, not wanting to 'Make new enemies of people who could potentially help us climb up the ladder'. As if ship orphans could be any good.

"I'll take care of it. Go to the usual place, I'll meet you again in two hours."

Sotha wasn't usually benevolent, and there could be only one explanation to his sudden generosity.

"Off to see your hero, aren't you?"

Sotha grimaced. "I admire no one."

"But I was right."

"One more word from you and I'll be keeping the food to myself."

Sotha's friend had enough adventures for one day, and the prospect of having to work hard now to get food wasn't appealing.

"Fat ass. One hour. See ya at the den."

Sotha clapped his hands, bowed to his friend, and lifted his gaunt body to the shaft. The climb would be long, but at the end of the tunnel there was plenty of food... and the only person in the universe Sotha looked up to.

As he climbed, he suddenly had this odd sensation - as though the handles were made of fur, and something in the distance was yapping.

It sounded a lot like "Miiiiiiiiiiiiiii!".

Ahn'vahr (Aerv tr'Ahalaen)

"The Sheathed Blade"

= Unknown Location =
= Aboard the Talvalen =

With blood upon his blades, he stumbled forward, walking without direction. Disoriented, as if waking from a long and strange dream, he found himself in some part of the ship he could not identify - not that he could identify the ship...or himself. For some reason, that did not alarm the swordsman. The vast darkness in his mind felt familiar. This not knowing, this veil upon his memories...it was all as familiar as the slick, green liquid on his hands and its sickening metallic smell.

In the distance, he heard laughter. The young man shook his head in an attempt to get his bearings. He ran a hand through his long white hair...white hair? But he was young and strong, though he vaguely remembered that his impressive form was marred by many scars and decorated with many mysterious symbols. What had happened then to the color of his hair?

He heard that cruel laughter again, in the distance. He heard a woman protesting, clothes being torn. Sheathing his short, double edged swords at either side of his waist - right next a battered plasma rifle, he ran a bloody hand through his hair. He wondered idly who had woken him up from his dream and had suffered the wrath of his blades. He wondered, though not for long, who he had killed.

He walked towards the wet, rough sounds of furious and brutal sex. A woman lay on the ground, naked, almost unconscious, surrounded by several men. He did not bother to count. He knew, instinctively, that if he wanted he could kill them all. They seemed to know it too for upon seeing him step into the light, they stopped. The fear of death was strong in their eyes. One of the men spoke, his voice a hushed whisper, "Ahn'vahr."

He nodded. That was his name...or, at least, that is what he was now called. Ahn'vahr - a double-edged sword.

"Ahn'vahr," the man who had spoken repeated, with more confidence this time, pointing to the woman on the floor, "Would you like a turn?"

"Do I look," the young man with white hair asked, his voice low and as hateful as a desert storm, "Like I need your leftovers, Viltah?"

"No. No, Ahn'vahr...I just thought...."

The man shifted his eyes to the woman being raped and asked, almost curiously, "What is her name?"

"T'Ris. She...."

Ahn'vahr drew one of his blades.

The men shrank back - quite literally - in fear at the sight of fresh blood.

"You know," he drawled, almost lazily, "I was having this strange dream about a remarkable man. He was some kind of noble, some kind of emissary...snotty little bastard though.... He was surrounded by books and fine wine, women, music and...yet he was not happy. The weight of the universe was upon him. He was torn between different loyalties. He was torn by his own promises, by the dictates of honor. Every desire of his was for his people, every action dictated by duty."

Ahn'vahr pointed his blade at the men, his hand as steady as the Sas-a-shar Mountains. "That man would have killed you where you stand." With a small chuckle, the warrior put his weapon away, "It's lucky for you, Pekh, that I am not that man."

He heard them sigh in relief as he walked away. Soon he had already forgotten about them and he certainly gave no thought to the woman who was their victim. He was still trying to remember why his hair was white...and why he had no true name....

= End Log =

Istaya (Elissa Skylark)

"Sympathy"

=The Deep=
=Talvalen=

She remembered the taste of fear, and locks of golden sunlight on her shoulders. There was a sweet scent in the air that seemed to hover through time and space and all else, the scent of a man whose wiles had driven her to new passions and plateaus. It was, she thought, an older life. Perhaps the echoes of Mount Selaya ten years past, the sound of the gong that shook her small chest and the songs of woe for a war long and bitter.

The war was over, but the blood lust still beat in the hearts of the men and women of the Talvalen. She'd fought for her special place, standing vigilant before the enemies of a great man who would only ever be known as the brother of Valen. A man who deserved more.

And she had come to this place for him.

Walking boldly into the dark bowels of the ship, she came to meet another man. An enemy, yet an ally through need. Around her fluttered the crimson cape, the insignia of the elite guard, the sword arms of those with power and prestige. The hood covered all but her mouth and chin. She was nothing next to the symbol of her station, but did not mind. The light should shine on brighter souls, and one day on her child.

Then she saw him, coiled and head angled oddly.

"Lady Istaya," he breathed from his crouched position, at once seated and ready to strike. A hungry jungle cat lean and deadly on the outside looking in, he coveted the brighter decks of Talvalen, and she did not like to think about her presence here. It was already a victory for him. "Pleased to meet you..." He stood and took a swift step forward. "Hope you guess my name."

"Nemut."

He bowed grandly. "It fits today, good Lady."

Her skin crawled. "Is this hall secure?"

"What do you think?" His every word taunted her.

"Your behavior puzzles me. We both risk a great deal being here."

"Ah," he smiled, and smelled her neck. It took all her training to remain still. "But what's puzzling you... is the nature of my game."

"I did not come here to speak in riddles," she hissed, looking both ways into the darkness. He was insane.

"And I did not come here to speak," he growled, lunging forward and yanking off her hood. "A pity your taking all that time to cover up. It just increases our time here."

"I want assurances. You will help him?"

"Of course, but the cost is steep."

"I'll gladly use my body," she said, and unclasped the leather girdle, revealing more to him.

She felt repulsed as he pulled it down and ran cold bony fingers along her skin, nuzzling her neck and inhaling through his nose. "You smell like svai petals, gracious Lady."

Istaya held her breath. "You smell like something else."

Nemut barked a laugh and shoved her against the bulkhead. "Use all your well-learned politesse," he breathed, "or I'll lay your..."

"Your payment will be swift," she hoped, as he clawed for his belt. She covered herself with her arms, waiting.

"I have need for more. Your child..."

"What about her?" Istaya's voice went icy, but he seemed not to notice.

"She will be of proper age in a year's time." It was customary, and common, that all who were not of the highest caste were forced to put their children into virtual servitude, and not all could be lucky enough to be found cleaning the decks of clan leaders.

"She is not a part of this." It was not the first time an offer had been made.

"Oh, but she is. I know how sweet the girl is. I know much she means to you. You will surrender her to us, or you will see me go to Valen himself and reveal your betrayal. His brother will not live to see the new Vulc...nnghh." Nemut's eyes lit in surprise, he coughed, and blood trickled down his lips. "Fought for ten decades," he said weakly, with a laugh. "And you..."

She pushed the shiv further in, using both of her hands, tall in her wrath. "No one will have my daughter!"

Nemut still managed to smile, as he slumped to his knees. "Foolish Lady Istaya. Now she will be ours, and on our terms. Now you will receive nothing but death."

Istaya twisted the blade into his heart. Nemut slumped to the floor. "Let them come. I will show them as much sympathy as I have given you."

The taste of blood mingled with fear, and she retreated into the dark.

"The Water Priestess' Apprentice"

Lirel, Apprentice
Priestess of the Water Element (CMC Madden Jayce)

Five years after launch... --

As the fog of her dreams lifted, Lirel felt as though she had come from another reality. Her dreams often had that quality, so she thought nothing of it, at least not for too long. She lay there for a moment, concentrating her breath, on the smell of the room around her. Sometimes, if she kept her eyes closed and concentrated on the smell and sounds of the room around her, she felt as though they were still at home, still on the planet.

T'Pan, the High Priestess, said they had to start thinking of the ship as home. This was their life until the universe guided them to where they were meant to be. She said that this was the spiritual journey that would prove their faith. On Vulcan, beliefs in the elements and the ways of the universe were stilted, watered down by societal limitations and the ever encroaching pressures toward Surek's avocation of emotional castration. But as they got further from home, further from the constraints of a society to which they no longer belonged, the elements were better able to guide them. They spoke clearer, louder, they guided, and they got stronger. The beliefs in them, the faith, got more powerful.

To hear T'Pan and the other High Priestesses of the Elements speak of this was almost beautiful. Sometimes, it brought tears to Lirel's eyes, and sometimes she believed herself.

She sat up, bearing through the darkness of the room. The other three apprentices were asleep on their pads, their different colored robes standing out in the grey light. Two in green, another in blue like her own. For each element, there were two apprentices; the earth and the water were feminine, the fire and the hair were masculine. Around the room were the smells of home found in soil and dirt, the running water and the plant life. It was soothing.

Sitting up, Lirel's long black hair fell thickly over her shoulders. A young girl sent for study as a priestess was forbidden to cut her hair until she took her final vows; even then, most chose to keep it unshorn. The boys were different; fire and air apprentices were shaved bald until their vows, and then their hair would be maintained, closely cropped, never out of place.

Like so many other things, the hair had been difficult at first. She was born into a life of privilege, had been a member of the noble caste and consequently had kept her hair in a fashionable bob. But at twelve years old, her mother decided that the Great Power had marked Lirel as intended for this life, this life of servitude and spirituality. At her mother's insistence, her family paid for her apprenticeship, and she was told to never look back. In the acceptance ceremony on her first night, the water washed her clear of her previous existence: the water as element and the water as her tears. The Priestess told her to embrace that sadness, said that her tears would purify her.

Until she entered this service, she had never thought of a spiritual life. The elements were foreign to her, as they were to many Vulcans, even those who were not fascinated by the ideas of a logical existence as her father had been. Until Lirel's destiny came calling, until her mother could no longer keep her silence.

It had been six years now; at eighteen, Lirel was still a young girl in many ways, still beginning to understand her roles, still beginning to understand how she would fill them. She would take final vows in four years, and though the ceremony would include a full and conscious acceptance of her life as a priestess, at this point she had no other options.

And at this point, she was not sure she would want any.

She lifted herself from the pad and pulled on her simple robes before she ran a comb through her hair. It fell thick and straight down her back until a slight curl at the ends, almost to her waist now. She tucked it behind her ears and moved quietly into the small wash chamber. Her reflection caught in the slip of mirror; she was told she was a pretty girl, though now that did not matter so much. Although she would take a mate, that mate would be chosen for her and likely not on the basis of love or appearance. He was sure to be a follower of the Fire Element, or a wealthy man seeking spiritual purity and looking for a virgin bride.

Lirel silently existed, the palms of her hands pressed together and her wrists rested against her abdomen as she walked down the halls; the robes concealed her well, and a Priestess of the Elements moved in such a way as to give the appearance of floating. She was the picture of grace an poise, kindness echoing across her features, peace intended to rest over those who saw her.

They were quartered on a special deck, set aside for those of that caste and the wealthier families. A few paused, watched her as she passed on her way to the small water temple here; a larger one existed with the other on the common deck, but this one, here, was reserved for the most special of occasions. A birth was scheduled for today and Lirel was intended to welcome the child. In these times, she found that was all she lived for: the births and the deaths, the unending moving of life.

"MUSINGS OF A PADD PUSHER"

A Road Less Traveled Post leading to the "Shift" of the big guy!

With Lieutenant Raven Darkstar, High Chief of the Navigation Department

Also appearing: Starfleet Heroism In Tactics Specialist Captain Leo Streely and that handful of NPC perverts who were watching shuttle mechanic Dakota Willis saunter into a shower in "Girl Gone Wild"

Time: Moments before the "The Shift" by Kat
Location: Main Bridge
Suggested Soundtrack: "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Being one of the scant few officers that the iron fisted, universally hated former captain of the USS GALAXY, Fleet Admiral John Q. Bhrode, found to be competent had taken Raven Darkstar farther in the fleet then he had ever envisioned - or truth be told desired - during the nine years he had been soaring through the stars.

When he was reassigned off of the GALAXY to train the Admiral's Security department, the hulking Indian had done so without a word.

He had excelled as a Security officer, despite his dislike of phasers, and firmly believed that passing along his somewhat unconventional methods of combat and training would only help others experience the unique euphoria one feels when breaking bones of those looking to harm others. (OOC FUN FACT: Raven has used a phaser once in all the posts he has been in!)

Returning to the USS GALAXY under the title of Assistant Chief of the Tactical Department had only caused the grumpy Indian minor discomfort since he was still able to save lives and break things, albeit without that personal touch one has as a security Meat Truck on the front lines of battle.

His assignment to the Chief of the Navigation Department however, was as painful as having a hungry Targ gnawing upon his genitals.

Where once his body shook with adrenaline in the face of danger, his only enemies now were boredom, impatience, and the threat of a cramp in his index finger.

The mighty Raven Darkstar, a man who had once faced down cannibals while fire rained down from the sky as an entire planet died, was now....a PADD pusher.

A desk jocky.

That fat guy in Galactic Office Space, looking for his Swing Line Hypo-Stapler.

Arguably more so then in any other department, the Chief of Navigation was primarily an administrative department.

On any given day, countless PADDS filled with duty rosters and position assignments typically took up the left hand side of tomahawk imbedded in the middle of the Indian's desk. Maintenance reports on both the ship and the readiness of the shuttles were typically separated into two piles on the right hand side of the weapon on his desk; one pile that had been received from Engineering, the other waiting to go out to Engineering.

Whenever he vented his frustrations by smashing the tomahawk repeatedly into the desk top, the mountain of PADDS threatened to cascade off his desk, and bury him alive thereby leaving him wondering why with all the technology available, PADDS still apparently had such limited memory and capabilities that department reports could not fit on just one.

For Darkstar, a man equally as comfortable defending himself from hordes of rabid Cardassians as he was meditating quietly in his quarters, this exile from the battlefield was nearly maddening, despite the assurances of Captain M'Kantu to "give it a try" and that learning the "behind the scenes" of command would only make him a more effective warrior in the future.

So he had tried to make the best of the situation.

He had molded the Navigation Department into a streamlined unit who in addition to being able to pilot the ship, were fully trained as if they were members of the Security Department since on any away mission involving shuttles, the pilot would logically be the first target of a hostile.

Thankfully during this process he had lost two weak officers who had transferred off the GALAXY due to suffering what the counseling department called "complete nervous breakdowns."

"Weak links in the Navigation Phalanx," he called them, no doubt inspired by that kick ass movie 300, now playing in theaters near you!

He had successfully lobbied for the construction of the Navigation Dome in Main Navigation, where he could sit in a command chair and coordinate the combat and tactical activities of his entire department while being wrapped in a holographic real time display of space around him.

Most importantly he had less and less free time, time which was usually spent in the company of Leo Streely wether Raven wanted to be around the man or not.

That alone had reduced the Indian's stress level and no doubt added years to his life span.

However if there was one thing he hated above all, it was bridge duty.

Usually he avoided the bridge completely.

With an entire staff of pilots beneath him, each of whom needed to hit the minimum amount of flight time each week to maintain their pilots certification, Raven ironically had little time to spend at the helm himself. Yet with Lieutenant Cora Dobryn still on leave, there was a need for a pilot and the Indian had his own certification to keep up so today he found himself stuck in the Helm Station.

Literally.

Engineers who designed the Helm Station had apparently given little thought to anyone sitting in the chair who was built larger then a teenaged Wesley Crusher. As such, Darkstar found himself uncomfortably wedged into the small space between the chair and the station control board.

He growled, a sound that came out much louder then he intended since his diaphragm was compressed unnaturally.

This drew the attention of some of the Bridge Crew.

He was used to the looks.

Typically the crew held their breath whenever Darkstar was behind the wheel. He had made no secret of the fact that he couldn't tell the difference between an Azimuth and Elevation bearing. His flight patterns were based upon intuition and gut instinct supplemented with quick glances at his gauges and star charts.

While he had amazingly never failed to fly to the exact positions ordered, nor had ever failed the complex task of reconnecting with the saucer section, his eccentric way of guiding over five million metric tons of metal upon which lived over five thousand men, women, children and sundry other organisms terrified the casual observer.

He drew a deep painful breath and let loose one more loud growl.

He turned to face M'Kantu who was trying valiantly to suppress a smile.

"Kroykah loshiraq k'hey" the Captain said clasping his hands before him serenely.

Darkstar stared at the man.

"Sir?"

"I said go ahead and stand, Mr. Darkstar. I know you are more comfortable that way." M'Kantu said.

"Thank you sir," Raven said rising to his feet and assuming full "looming" position.

As he stood gazing toward the view screen at the planet below them, the Navigation Chief felt a slight wave of nausea sweep over him. He reached down and steadied himself on the Navigation control console.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he only had one thought.

::: How did I know the Captain was speaking Vulcan? :::

********** BACK IN THE NAVIGATION DOME **********

"OK KIDS!!! HERE"S WHAT YOU PAID FOR!!!" Leo Streely bellowed like a carnival barker, his voice echoing in the cavernous Navigation Dome upon who's walls there now was projected the larger then life image of Dakota Willis, the Galaxy's sultry shuttle mechanic, loosely drying herself with a bath towel after stepping out of her personal shower.

"Molnat rivuntaq aloot!" Otis Bisbee said his mouth packed to the breaking point with popcorn while next to him Gideon, the ship's Hermat pilot, sat in the folding chair next to him rubbing hir hands together transfixed by the sight of the now fully nude mechanic sprawling on the bed and calling into the bathroom to her yet unseen lover.

Streely suddenly averted his attention to his groin where he began to feel slight sudden sharp cramps.

"That blue faced bimbo better not have given me space herpes!" he thought to himself. (No doubt recalling the Sci Fi movie conspicuously absent on SFX magazine's recent poll: Ice Pirates!!)

"Here he comes....." John Burton called out, rubbing the top of Guff Rahkow's head with his right hand as the door to the bathroom opened. "Two strips says it's Corgan!!!"

"OH MY GOD!!!!" The crowd gasped in stunned disbelief as the steam cleared and they saw Dakota's lover finally revealed.

Leo Streely had not even heard them speaking. He had just run his hand across his chest and was now holding it up to his own face, gazing in udder disbelief at the white liquid on his fingers.

"I'm......I'm.....Lactating...." he said and then abruptly fainted.

"There's No Place Like Home"

Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Chief Counselor

Main Bridge, USS Galaxy

Brian gently massaged his temples for a moment as the activity occurring around him took on a frenzied pace. Or seemed to, anyway. Since arriving on the bridge after his conversation with Saul no more than ten minutes ago, a rapidly increasing sense of urgency, almost chaos, began to overwhelm the counselor's Betazoid senses. To be sure, things had become busier on the bridge, but not much more than they ever were during any other busy time. On a scale of one to ten, activity that was perhaps a seven felt like a twelve.

Several times he found himself holding back from leaping out of his seat and just screaming at everyone to shut up, to end the madness...to just have a return to normal for awhile...

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

V'rix (9 year-old Vulcan boy) (Brian Elessidil)
Family Quarters Talvalen -- five years after launch

In the corner of one of the rooms her family -- most of them, anyway -- had learned to call "home", a tiredness clouded the dark eyes of a younger middle-aged woman. On yet another evening in an off-and-on string of five years of evenings, she found herself crouched in front of her youngest son, trying to coax him into doing something other than just sulk.

"The garden areas have been completed for months, my son. Please, go play in them if you wish."

The boy merely continued to stare...somewhere...giving no other response.

Despite having spent more than half his life on the Talvalen, V'rix still hadn't come to terms with leaving Vulcan. Many of the other children, and even the adults, on board missed home, but they had learned to focus forward, to take solace in the hope and vision of a new home. A real home. Trenek's youngest however, remained focused on the past, on the land he knew during his most crucia