Dr. Simon Phillips glanced at the chronometer as he put the last touches on a patient’s report in the glassed-in office that belonged to him for the day. As one of several attending physicians, he’d taken shifts in all six of the station’s main infirmaries, but the one near to the promenade was his favorite. Partially because that’s where station visitors generally went, but mainly because it seemed to have the highest chance of something interesting happening. Today though, it was just physicals.

His actual appointments would be done in another twenty minutes, but he’d be on call for all twelve hours of the station’s “daytime.” While other divisions worked in four six-hour shifts, the medical staff had twelve-hour shifts for continuity of patient care, six hours actually on duty, and the rest on call to return at a moment’s notice. He’d have preferred to keep going with physicals, though, rather than face his performance review with the Chief Medical Officer after lunch. Before he could contemplate that thought any further, there was a knock on the open doorframe.

“Doctor, Ensign Bowens is ready for you in Exam 2,” a nurse reported.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Lieutenant,” Phillips replied, typing in the very last sentence of his report before adding it to his previous patient’s file.

After grabbing his favorite medical tricorder, Phillips left the office and made the short journey down the corridor to the exam room. Compared to a starship sickbay, even one of the satellite infirmaries like that one was huge, with a ward for a dozen patients, two exam rooms, a surgical suite, and three medical labs. The last thing Phillips expected was to find his last patient of the morning in a state of undress; he thought the young man was naked, but he was at least wearing his Starfleet issue drunks as he sat there on the biobed with his legs dangling.

Phillips cleared his throat. “Uh, did someone ask you to take your clothes off, Ensign?”

Ensign Bowens’s smile upon Phillips’s entry turned into a look of blank horror, reaching over to grab his red uniform jacket to hold over his chest. His cheeks quickly matched the scarlet of his division color. The doctor stifled a chuckle to spare him further embarrassment.

“I just assumed, since it was a physical, sir…,” Bowens offered. “You know, the whole turn and cough deal?”

“If you have a specific… issue that you’d like me to address, or a skin complaint, sure, otherwise we can get everything we need through your uniform, Mr. Bowens,” Phillips said, trying to sound neutral still. “Things must be different than I remember at the Academy,” he quipped.

“I guess I just thought that’s what the private room was for,” the young man replied, still blushing. “Should I get dressed?”

“Tell you what: I’ll just get my scans done, and we’ll have you clothed and out of here in five minutes,” Phillips offered. “It’s nothing I’ve never seen before.”

Bowens nodded emphatically. “Sounds good, Doc. Er. Sir.”

“Relax, Ensign,” Phillips said, opening his tricorder. “I think we skipped formal introductions, though. I’m Dr. Phillips. You are Ensign Scott Bowens, born on Stardate 54868.4, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” the ensign confirmed. “Just got here today.”

“Well, welcome aboard,” the doctor said as he began to take baseline readings. “How are you finding our corner of the galaxy so far?”

“Oh, the station’s great. I did run into the admiral earlier. That wasn’t so great. I really hope I’m not on his radar now,” Bowens replied.

“Really? I never even met the previous one,” Phillips marveled. He noticed the young man’s brown eyes following the handheld scanner with intense attention, not exactly with an aura of fear, but definitely seeming to distrust the device a little. “I assure you, it’s not going to hurt.”

“Nah, it’s not that. It just usually says that I’m too skinny or I’m too stressed or something like that,” Bowens replied, still eyeing the device.

Phillips chuckled. “Well, your weight is a little on the light side, and your stress hormones are higher than I’d like to see for someone of your age and in your physical shape,” he noted. “Nothing to be too concerned about, though. You’ll need to lie down for the next set of scans.”

Bowens nodded and then awkwardly repositioned himself swinging his legs over and just generally looking ungainly. Once he was situated, Phillips deployed the clamshell housing, which extended over his torso and chest and locked with a click. The ensign’s eyes got wide again when he heard the device lock around him.

“This’ll just take a few moments,” Phillips reassured him before starting the more intensive scans that only a biobed could provide.

While he wouldn’t say it to his face, Phillips noted that Ensign Bowens was exceptionally average. Average height, average build, and average health–for a member of Starfleet, anyway. For a member of the general public, he’d probably be considered above average at the least across the board. Once he was satisfied with the scans, Phillips released the scanner shell, and Bowens immediately sat back up.

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“No… I just don’t really like being trapped.”

Phillips chuckled. “That’s indicative of claustrophobia, Ensign,” he said gently.

“Tomato, tomato.”

“Apart from not liking being trapped, do you have anything else you’d like to talk about?” Phillips asked.

“I don’t think so. No aches or pains, or complaints. I’m really just happy to be on active duty,” Bowens replied.

“Enjoy that while it lasts,” Phillips said, looking at the young man one more time before clearing him for duty through his tricorder. “That’ll be all, then.”

“Thanks, Doc!” Bowens replied, hopping up and grabbing his clothes.

“I’ll let you change back into your clothes in here… Unless you’d really like to walk out the door in your skivvies, Mr. Bowens,” Phillips said, which earned a headshake from the ensign.

Once Phillips had left Bowens alone in the exam room to regain his dignity and the doors had closed safely behind him, Phillips couldn’t hold his laughter in any longer, earning some curious glances from a pair of passing nurses as he returned to the office. He typed up a quick report, minus that one detail, and logged it in the system. For once in his life, he was five minutes ahead of his schedule.

“I have a lunch date and then an appointment at Central, but I’m on call,” he noted to the receptionist before leaving the infirmary.

The promenade infirmary was actually between the two promenade rings. Phillips boarded one of the dedicated turbolifts, which brought him to the upper promenade in just a few seconds. He passed through the small aid station there and strode with purpose towards Vandorin’s Bistro. While early, he was still hoping to beat his husband to their table.

That was a pipe dream, however, as he found Armstrong already waiting for him in the expansive main dining room, looking very comfortable with half of a fire-red cocktail left in his glass. It had likely been chosen to go with his uniform more than anything else.

“Is it your mission in life to make me feel late to every date we have, Lex?” Phillips asked, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek before sitting down at the only other seat on the same corner as Armstrong’s.

Armstrong smirked. “I wouldn’t say it was my mission, no, but I do seem to be succeeding either way,” he replied, taking a sip from his drink and crossing his legs. “You’re earlier than I thought, though. I was hoping to finish this before you could lecture me.”

“It is a little early in the day,” Phillips replied. “But we only come here once a month, so why not?” he admitted, which earned an even wider grin from his husband.

“That’s refreshingly laissez-faire of you, Simon. You’re not a changeling, are you?”

“If I were, would I tell you?”

“Fair point,” Armstrong replied, laughing as he rearranged his medium-length blond hair.

Lex Armstrong changed his appearance about as frequently as he blinked, so it wasn’t unusual for Phillips to encounter something new without explanation, but he was having trouble placing it this time. Armstrong had done something different, but it was eluding Phillips. It wasn’t the barely-regulation eye shadow. Or his latest shade of vibrant blond hair, but Phillips knew he’d be in a little bit of trouble if he didn’t pick up on it. It came to him when Armstrong touched his hair again.

“There’s no way those nails are regulation, Lex,” Phillips noted, nodding to the ruby red nail polish Armstrong was sporting. “You weren’t wearing that this morning, were you?”

“Accessories or makeup must not interfere with one’s ability to perform one’s duties and should either be natural or color coordinated with one’s uniform,” Armstrong replied, looking very pleased with himself as he examined his new nails. “They match my uniform exactly, and they don’t interfere with my duties. I did it while reading a brief this morning.”

“I like them,” Phillips offered. “Silly of me to accuse a lawyer of breaking the uniform code, though, I suppose.”

Armstrong smirked again. “A little,” he agreed.

Moments later, Esterra Vandorin herself approached the table with two glasses of wine, placing one in front of each of them. Phillips knew better than to decline on account of being on-call; the proprietress of the station’s nicest restaurant was not used to taking ‘no’ for an answer. Besides, it would be easier to just inject himself with a neutralizer if he did end up getting summoned back to the infirmary if one glass of wine did manage to have an effect on him.

“Thank you,” Phillips said, smiling at her.

“My pleasure. I always enjoy seeing my most fashionable Starfleet visitor here. And his husband,” Vandorin replied, patting Phillips on the shoulder. “We have a three-course lunch experience today that I know you’ll both enjoy,” she added, smiling at them both again before walking off.

“It always takes me a moment that she has no intention of actually taking our orders,” Phillips noted before taking his first sip of the red wine, which was absolutely magnificent.

“If you want to get exactly what you order, go to a replicator,” Armstrong replied, clearly pleased that he’d been complimented by one of the other most fashionable people on the station. “So, how was your shift?”

“Back-to-back physicals all morning. I didn’t see a single one of my regular patients,” Phillips said. “Better than back-to-back births, though. How about you?”

“A half-dozen consultations. Nothing criminal, thank goodness, but we’re just as busy with all of these personnel exchanges,” Armstrong replied. “We’re quite the couple, not to really be able to talk about our work ever.”

“All the more impressive, we have so much to talk about then, without work,” Phillips said as their first course arrived.

Luckily, the first course also came with a card explaining that it was a collection of ethically sourced (i.e., lab-grown) tuna tartare with sea urchin toast, as Phillips was otherwise unable to identify it on sight. It was, however, delicious, as was everything he’d ever had at Vandorin’s Bistro. The second course was an artichoke panache (whatever that was) with vegetable risotto and black truffle emulsion, all apparently imported from Earth itself, and they ended with pan-roasted duck. It was truly decadent, and it was easy for Phillips to forget all about the rest of the universe for the thirty minutes they were there.

“An amazing meal, and I have the hottest date in the dining room,” Armstrong said, winking at him. “I’ve got to get back to the office in a little bit, though, for a deposition. Hopefully, you get some time off?”

Philips chuckled darkly. “No, I have to see Her Majesty in an hour. Annual performance evaluation.”

“What a perfect way to ruin an afternoon. At least you’re not up for promotion, so there’s not much to be nervous about.”

“If she senses you’re not nervous, she’ll find a way of making you nervous,” the doctor replied.

“Well, at least you had a good last meal, should the worst come to pass,” Armstrong teased.

Medical Command, a.k.a “Central,” was located on the top deck of Hospital A, with commanding views out over the middle levels of the starbase. From there, the Chief Medical Officer and a few other select senior medical officers, along with a cadre of yeomen and other staff, were able to coordinate the delicate dance that came with staffing six separate infirmaries, a hundred minor aid stations, and two full hospital modules. Phillips avoided it as much as possible, as he was pretty content to remain a senior but not crucial component of the station’s medical apparatus.

Being an attending physician meant that he didn’t get the worst shifts, reserved for staff physicians and residents, but he didn’t generally have to sit through many staff meetings. He had no genuine desire to advance (at least not yet), and he was in no danger of demotion, either. Still, Captain Delacour was well-deserved of her reputation as a petty tyrant.

“Dr. Delacour will see you now,” the yeoman said before leading Phillips into her office.

“Dr. Phillips,” Delacour said, gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of her impressive desk.

The Chief Medical Officer was petting a white cat, which matched the rest of the room’s stark decor. She reminded Phillips vaguely of any number of holo-novel villains, and he was thankful that she wasn’t a telepath.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Phillips said as he sat down. “Electra?” he asked, looking at the cat.

“Alecto, the goddess associated with ‘endless rage.’ Electra was the daughter and murderess of Agamemnon,” Delacour replied, already sounding bored with the conversation. “So, I suppose that’s no marks on the felid name recognition portion of the exam. How would you describe your progress this year, Doctor?”

Phillips blushed. “I think I’m very good at my job. My efficiency ratings are high, as are my technical aptitude scores. I don’t know what I’d say about my ‘progress,’ though, as I’m quite happy where I am,” he offered.

Delacour frowned. “You’ve been in your current role for nearly three years, have you not?”

“Yes, first on the old station and now–,” Phillips started, but Delacour held up her hand.

“The next time I see you, in a year, you will have passed the bridge officer’s examination and be a commander,” Delacour said.

“Was that a prediction or an order?”

Delacour pursed her lips. “Both. Dismissed,” she replied before turning to face the stars.

The Mellstoxx III campus of Starfleet Academy was well-situated enough that the sun shone bright on the Ellipse as Captain Reyes crossed the lawn. He had to squint as he looked up at the administration building, the stark white walls reflecting the blinding sunshine, but he’d been here before, and there was no mistaking his destination.

Most of the cadets were fresh-faced enough to still look startled at an unexpected officer in captain’s pips walking the green. Responses ranged from the complete obliviousness of those who had not yet trained themselves to notice and read pips instinctively, to a few confused and overly-formal salutes, or simply collapsing into a pile out of the way. For his part, Reyes just gave them all a cheerful smile and a bright, ‘Good morning, Cadet!’

They had enough ahead of them without him being a stick-in-the-mud.

Commodore Bale’s office overlooked the Ellipse itself, giving the commandant a glorious view of sprawling green space and the scurrying young minds it was his responsibility to mold and shape. The older Betazoid man rose with a jubilant air as Reyes came in, circling his wide desk to give an ebullient handshake.

‘Javi! Glad you could make it down to the surface.’ At once, Bale looked around his comfortable office with rank disinterest, and wrinkled his nose. ‘It’s a great day out there. Let’s not be cooped up, you get enough of that in orbit. There’s a coffee stand just by the parade ground.’

‘I do miss the sun,’ agreed Reyes, who had spent most of his adult life in space.

Thus did they cause more palpitations among the young cadets, a captain and the commandant helping themselves to lattes on the lawn. Bale was even more of a nuisance back out on the Ellipse, calling out to various trainees by name, stopping them to ask about their day, their classes, and remembering something personal and pertinent about each and every one of them.

‘You ever get anything done when you go for walks?’ Reyes said cheerfully.

‘I get to know my students. Far more interesting than corralling faculty heads.’ Bale smiled and sipped his coffee. ‘I assume you coming down here means construction’s finally finished?’

‘Stormbreaker was a setback. A lot of resources we wanted to dedicate to the new wing had to go to refugees and rescue mission…’

Bale lifted a hand. ‘You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Javi. We had to help those people. My cadets could wait a little longer among the joys of Mellstoxx.’

‘It is a pretty planet,’ agreed Reyes, looking to the distant trees at the far end of the parade ground, a cultivated little woodland which wouldn’t promise much by way of secrets, but perhaps shade. For a moment he wondered if his family would be happier on the planet, with him hopping down from Bravo on as many evenings as he could manage. But no. Eva would never want to leave the station, the hub of activity for the whole region.

‘How’s everything since the storm?’ Bale pressed on.

‘We still have some refugees, mostly from Coronal. Recovery on that world is going to take a while, and it’s not like we can give them new settlements like that.’ Reyes snapped his fingers with a sigh. ‘But most of the relief efforts and evacuations have moved on. We can get back to business as usual.’

‘And new business.’ Bale’s dark eyes brightened. ‘You already have a few cadets on the station, of course.’

‘Fourth years getting some hands-on experience. We’re in the position now to do more.’ Reyes began counting by tapping his fingers gripping the coffee cup. ‘Bigger dorm facilities for third- and fourth-years. More opportunities for hands-on departmental experience. The Exeter’s fit to fly, our auxiliary craft are fit to fly, Stinsfor is ready for more cadets, you’ve got those new base camps on the IVa and IVd moons for more biome survival training.’

‘You better not be exciting my cadets so much with field training and experience that they forget to transport back down for classes. And, the last thing. I’m going to be asked. I’m going to have that bright young cadet-captain coming right at me, so you better make sure I have an answer.’

Reyes couldn’t help but return the grin, Bale’s energy infectious. ‘You got it. Full training facilities and amenities for Cadet Squadron Bravo. We’ll give them the complete experience, Ison, I promise you. And put them through their paces.’

‘Oh, I’m not worried about them,’ Commodore Ison Bale chuckled, gleaming with pride as he looked back across the lawn at the slew of cadets of his campus going about their business. ‘A huge new intake of my kids getting their hands dirty up in orbit? Just wait and see, Javi. They might teach you a thing or two.’

Starbase Bravo In-Play for Q2 2400 

• The Stormbreaker Campaign has ended, and Starbase Bravo has stood down from its emergency condition to help in the Paulson Nebula. There is still a small collection of refugees from Coronal aboard and the occasional mission to the nebula investigating the after-effects, but life on the station is generally returning to normal.
• Most of the new officers have had a chance to settle aboard Bravo these past months, and might be looking for new opportunities. This is a good time to arrange to move up a Tier if you’re eligible, either adapting your current character’s position or creating new ones! It’s okay to slowly expand the roster and write characters in new departments.
• Most importantly, SB Bravo is now home to a greater community of third and fourth-year cadets getting hands-on experience working on the starbase, and further training. Most notable of these are Cadet Squadron Bravo, the elite training unit whose opportunities are greatly expanded by this change. Cadets can work and train on Bravo, but return to the Mellstoxx campus for classes, or take them remotely.

Her scaly pink head on a pivot, Cadet Lyrakkiton Parze took in all the sights and aromas as she crossed the grassy greenspace towards the administrative building.  Having grown up aboard a starbase, the novelty of planet-living hadn’t grown routine for Parze just yet.  Letting her gaze wander, her obsidian Saurian eyes locked onto a familiar face and a thought occurred to her.  Parze checked the chronometer on her holoPADD and supposed she still had time to spare.

Parze folded her hands behind her back as she approached a young cadet seated at a picnic table.  “Excuse me,” Parze said, “You’re Cadet Mianaai, aren’t you?  We met at the Cadet Squadron Bravo orientation?”

Katlyn’s focus took a while to shift from the holographic chessboard, projected by a small device on the table, to Parze. The board looked like utter chaos, with both sides massacred and what remained down to a manoeuvre warfare situation. “Parze yes?“ she finally responded, then indicated the other side of the table and the seat there, saving the chess game with a single command and turning off the device. “What’s up?”

Offering her appreciation with a deep nod, Parze slinked onto the bench that was offered to her.  She met Katlyn’s eyes and then she looked away evasively.  After she started to speak, Parze looked back again.  ”I thought I overheard you speaking about piloting with great joy and reverence the other day,“ Parze said in a probing tone.  ”Was my eavesdropping accurate?“

”I…” Katlyn paused for a moment, looking skyward for a second. “I was talking about piloting the other day, but I’m not sure about joy, or reverence.“ Her tone was neutral like one would adopt if speaking to someone you were unfamiliar with, which nominally she was. “I am also technically the bottom-ranked pilot of Bravo, as fair warning.”

In her native Saurian, Parze made a dismissive clicking sound that had no direct translation for the universal translator to catch.  Refusing to accept self-depreciating talk when she had a mission, Parze said, “Rankings are subjective,” with a tight shake of her head.  Her timbre took on a bit more desperation when Parze affirmed, “I’m training to be a teal shirt, not any kind of pilot.  I expected to be… gracefully excused from the flight training on Stinsfor, but nobody is excused from Cadet Bravo Squadron.  I can’t be bottom ranked.  I need help, Katlyn.  Will you help me?”

Katlyn’s response wasn’t immediate, but she did seem to stare off into the middle distance for a moment before she responded. “I can assist yes, but my warning still stands.” A moment after she spoke, full attention returned to Parze, an eyebrow-raising gently. “Small craft or starship qualifications?” she asked.

Parze flexed her neck back, her chin disappearing in an expression of trepidation.  Her already bulbous eyes bulged even further.  “That is a good question,” Parze replied insecurely.  “I should have thought about that before I came over.  See?  I knew you were the right cadet to ask.  Strategic thinker all over.”

”Stick with small craft if unsure. You’re more likely to need to pilot a shuttle than a starship.” Katlyn’s eyes narrowed for a moment before relaxing. “What’s your field of expertise? I’m just wondering about a quid pro quo, not that I mind helping with your flight qualifications.”

Nodding rapidly, Parze replied, “Sitting in the cockpit is the last place you’d expect to find a psychology major.  That’s why I’m dreading Stinsfor so much.”  Parze shrugged briefly and her gaze drifted off somewhere in the middle distance over Katlyn’s shoulder.  “I don’t expect to fly many small craft as a counselor.  …Or a sociology researcher.  …Or a protocol officer?”

“That’s a very imprecise resume,” Katlyn stated. “But you never know when you’ll be asked to fly a shuttle. Basic qualifications are standard after all. It shouldn’t be too difficult to help you pass the test. If you have time this evening we could even make a start with simulation flying and see about checking a shuttle for a flight this weekend.” As she spoke an upward lilt could be heard in her voice, a difference from the neutral tone she’d been maintaining.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Parze said excitedly.  “Yes, I’m at your mercy; whatever you think will help.”  Mission accomplished, she shifted her weight on the bench and she pulled back on the hypersonic energy.  In a timbre of understated curiosity, Parze asked, “Is becoming a pilot what you want to do?  …Clearly, I haven’t decided yet for myself.”

“I…” Katlyn stopped, thought about her answer, and then continued. “Yes.” Short, simple, to the point. “I’m transferring up to the station in the next couple of days, but as long as our schedules line up, I can beam back and forth without any issues.” She was back to matter-of-fact. “In fact taking an Academy shuttle from the station out for a flight would be an easier flight if we can arrange it. I’ll check the booking schedule after lunch.”

“You’re the best,” Parze said, in gratitude for Katlyn’s generosity. She clasped her clawed hands together. Parze ramped up to a hint of classic over-achiever mania, when she said, “Forget about beaming.  Maybe you’ll even trust me to be your chauffeur… in a month.  What’re you most excited for when you move to the station?”

“Greater access to small craft for flight hours, possibility of a berth on an Exeter cruise.” Katlyn shook her head side to side in thought. “Working with actual officers on real projects and work too. I’d like to get my hands on the telescope array for a bit, even if just a small piece of it. What about yourself?”

“Talking to counseling patients.  Not holograms or cadet role play; real sentient patients,” Parze said.  This answer came to her easily.  Even if she didn’t know that she wanted to be a counselor, she knew she couldn’t know until she tried.  Sounding surprised that she was even saying it, Parze added, “And being stranded on Mellstoxx II for survival training?  It sounds romantic to me.  A real larger than life Starfleet experience, y’know?”

”Camping with extra steps,” Katlyn mused aloud. ”But yes, something to look forward to.” She then collected up the holoemitter for the chess game and her study PADD. “I need to get something to eat for lunch before next class and get our name on the list if we want a shuttle. Care to join me?”

Watching Katlyn’s movements sparked Parze to pat the cargo pocket on her uniform trousers, making certain she still had her own holographic PADD emitter.  Rising to join Katlyn, Parze nodded and she said, “It would bring me joy.”

Aiden Connolly knew today was going to be a bad day the moment he woke up. Sleeping through his alarm, he woke up with only ten minutes to get ready and report for duty. Despite missing breakfast and skipping a shower, he was late. As a result, he was given the task of inventorying the stations torpedoes. He thought, hoped, that with his duty shift over, his day would get better. It did not. While enjoying a coffee with a friend on the Promenade, he managed to knock his drink over his lap. Surely that was the low point of his day, he believed. It couldn’t get any worse. But it did. As he made his way across the Promenade, he bumped into a civilian. He apologised and moved on but within seconds he felt a firm hand on his shoulder and the man he’d bumped into accusing him of picking his pocket.

That’s how he found himself sitting on a bench with two men standing over him, ‘detaining’ him while they waited for security to arrive. “I’m telling you I didn’t steal anything.” Aiden insisted for the third time in as many minutes.

“That’s for security to decide when they arrive.” The man Aiden bumped into snarled.

Sonja had been doing reports, which were the bane of her existence. She loved Security, but she could do without the piles of paperwork that came along with it. She had been filling out reports ever since she got on duty. The responsibilities of her new position as well as rank were a small adjustment, but she was getting there. She had just signed off on the last report she had to send to her supervisor, when the call came through needing Security on the Promenade. 

She got up and stretched her legs before pointing to the two nearest officers by her indicating for them to follow her. After a small walk through the corridors of the station they opened up into the Promenade, just as busy as it always was. She walked toward the area that the report came from seeing two men standing over a man in a Starfleet uniform. She stopped in front of them “I am Lt. Thompson, Starfleet Security, what seems to be the problem?”

“Yes, there is.” The larger of the two men pointed at Aiden. “This thief stole my watch.”

With a heavy sigh Aiden jumped up from the bench. “I’m not a thief.” The heat in his voice quickly cooled and  in a gentler tone he added, “And I didn’t steal anything.” 

Sonja eyed the two men looking disapprovingly at the Ensign and could hear the anger, but as a Security Officer she didn’t jump to conclusions. She put up a hand “Slow down and tell me the full story. You first Ensign.”

“Ensign?” Connolly’s accuser asked confused.

Aiden nodded. “Yeah, I’m a Starfleet Officer.” He turned his focus to Lieutenant Thompson. “I was on my way back to my quarters after spilling coffee on myself,” the large coffee coloured stain on his white t-shirt and jeans was testament to that, “when I bumped into this man. A minute or two later he’s chasing me down shouting that I’m a thief and that I stole his watch, which I did not.”

She listened closely to the story and realized that something didn’t add up. A Starfleet officer in most cases would not steal anything. She looked over at the two men “What’s your story?” She said as she waited to hear the explanation the two men had.

“My brother and I were on our way to meet a few friends for lunch when this thief,” he shot a pointed look at Aiden, “bumped into me. When I realised that my watch was missing I tracked him down and detained him while I waited for you to arrive.”

Sonja listened closely, but the inflection of the accuser seemed to be in a nervous tone. She looked back at the Ensign “Alright Ensign, it seems like you don’t have many places to hide anything. So please empty your pockets and let me see what you have?” She turned and looked at the accuser “Starfleet uniforms give no ability to hide anything even for the most clever person we’re still able to see anything hidden. If this search doesn’t show your watch I would like to see where the Ensign bumped into you.”

“I’m not emptying my pockets,” Connolly told her firmly. “if you want to search me you’ll have to get some sort of warrant or something.” Aiden wasn’t perfect, no-one was, but he was no thief and being accused of such a thing was deeply insulting.

Sonja looked at the Ensign and motioned for him to follow her away from the other two “I trust you Ensign. I have no doubt that you didn’t steal it, but sometimes to help in catching someone who is guilty it is good to show yourself as the better person. I believe the accuser still has the watch, but this is part of finding that out. If you don’t want to do so that’s fine as well I can’t force you.” She finished trying to explain why she had asked, as she could tell the Ensign was deeply offended. “Also I meant no insult or offense when I asked you if it seemed that way my apologies.”

“Conspiring to cover the crime of your fellow officer?” Adien’s accuser called after them, drawing glances from people nearby. It seemed that more attention was beginning to be focused on them. “Typical of Starfleet. Close ranks when one of your own is accused of a crime so you can help him escape justice.”

Sonja looked back at the accuser “Let me ask you this you say he stole your watch, but there is no indication that he stole it. You have to have some pretty smooth movements to take a watch from a quick bump. If you have nothing to hide than you won’t have a problem emptying your pockets will you?”

The accuser stared incredulously at the security officer for a few silent seconds. It was obvious that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You can’t be serious.” He said, shocked at what he was hearing. “I’m the victim of a crime, I’ve had a treasured possession of mine stolen and you’re trying to turn this on me?”

Sonja shook her head “Well if you don’t want to cooperate with Security proceedings and help than your obstructing justice.” She held up a hand “I can’t do my job if you don’t cooperate, plus you say we protect ourselves. Look around you do you see these officers watching over me? No they are here to protect you, but we can’t do out job if you don’t want to cooperate with the rules and regulations of the Starbase.” She took a step back and looked at the crowd as it grew.

This was going way too far and the accuser wasn’t going to back down it seemed. Sonja by law would have to detain him for not cooperating and the Ensign until the truth was found, but with this crowd amassing she wasn’t sure what was going to happen.

“Unlike your Ensign, I have nothing to hide.” He angrily reached into his pockets and empty the contents onto the bench where Aiden had been sitting. When he was done, his pockets were out turned and a few strips of latinum and a small PADD were on the bench. “Are you satisfied now?” He rolled up his sleeves and held his arms up. “No watch anywhere to be seen. Because he,” the accuser pointed at Aiden, “stole it.”

Sonja looked at the content’s and back at the Ensign from the way things were looking she would have to detain the Ensign even if he was innocent. She was just about to speak when she heard a voice behind her.

“Excuse me officer, but I couldn’t find anyone else to give this to.” They handed her an ordinary wristwatch with a metal link bracelet, which seemed to have a link missing that broke the watches bracelet. Sonja took the watch and smiled at the stranger “Thank you for bringing this to me. We will make sure it gets where it needs to be.” She smiled and looked back at the accuser “Is this yours?”

Aiden’s accuser studied it closely for a moment before taking the watch from the security officer with a nod.

Sonja looked at the Ensign and back at the accuser “Well, it seems like you were wrong the Ensign did not touch your watch, but instead the bracelet broke and the watch fell off without you noticing. I think we can conclude this without further incident. It seems as though no one stole your watch and I am willing to forget this ever happened and give you the watch if you apologize to the Ensign here and we go on with our day.” She said making sure to be firm, but not overstep in her words.

He mumbled a half hearted apology before brushing forcefully past Aiden.

The young tactical officer let out an annoyed sigh but he didn’t react any further. He was just grateful this had been sorted out without him having to see the inside of a brig cell. “Talk about good timing. A few minutes more and you would’ve had to lock me up.”

Sonja nodded “I was getting ready to head that way, but I am glad I didn’t need too. Is there anything I can help you with Ensign?

“Not unless you can help me get coffee out of this t-shirt.” He mumbled, the statement a rhetorical one. “I appreciate your help in clearing that matter up. I’d better go get change into some clean clothes.”

Sonja chuckled “Unfortunately I don’t have those magic powers. on the other hand I am glad I could help and I hope to see you in the future Ensign.” She said with a smile as she walked away heading back towards her office. 

Sonja had been very busy with the many responsibilities that had been given to her. The past month and a half had been crazy with refugees coming into the station and the many events that had happened regarding it. She had been working closely with the newer arrivals trying to give them a helping hand so to speak. The station was big and even for her she hadn’t seen it all, in fact she would be surprised if she ever did, especially the command sections. She pushed the thought out of her head and was explaining some of the ins and outs of the Security department to the newbies, when she heard a chirp on her commbadge.

“Vaughn to Thompson. Report to my office. Now,” came the gruff voice of the Director of Promenade Security, as per usual lacking any of his regard for niceties, or giving any indication if he was angry or if this was perfectly routine.

Sonja’s heart dropped slightly it wasn’t everyday she was called into the Director of Promenade Securities office. She took a deep breath and made the short walk to his office. She activated the chime and the doors slid open she quickly entered and stood straight “Ensign Thompson, reporting as ordered, Sir.” She said trying to remain calm yet every fiber of her being didn’t know what to expect. The Director wasn’t known for his nice streak and  she always smiled when seeing him, which followed by a grunt or huff, but right now as she was asked to report she figured she shouldn’t be smiling.

Vaughn didn’t look up as she came in, shifting PADDs about on his desk. “Sit,” he grunted, not even gesturing as he sorted through paperwork with an impatient air. Even when she sat down, he did not immediately speak, pausing to take a gulp of tepid tea from the mug on his desk, before at last he said, still not looking at her: “Are you sick of your job as a patrol officer or something, Thompson?”

Sonja took the seat and waited as the pause of the Director sipping tea made things even more tense. When he asked the question she titled her head slightly as she didn’t understand the question. “No, Sir I have been doing my absolute best in the job and plan to do it until something else happens.” She said still confused as to what the Director was getting at. 

“Something else,” Vaughn repeated with a level, expressionless look. Another slow sip of tea. “Like what? And don’t try to give me a gormless or innocent reaction, Thompson, like ‘whatever else crosses my path.’ Unless you want me to think you’re either dim-witted or completely bereft of ambition. What would be the ‘something else’ you’d want to see happen?”

Sonja still could not try to gauge the Director and the emotionless comments didn’t help things. She thought for a minute on what she should say, but she figured the best thing to do was not dwell on the question and just to answer it. “Like eventually moving up in rank, changing into a more responsible position. I am wanting to progress my career in Security. I try to go above and beyond so that it shows I like what I do.” She concluded trying to keep eye contact with the Director.

“Why?” Vaughn asked bluntly. “Why do you like what you do? Why Security? And don’t give me some textbook, cookie-cutter, soulless generic answer, Thompson, I swear.”

Sonja shifted “I like what I do because when I was a child I lived somewhere that crimes still occurred even with the implementation of Security. I took it upon myself to help others even if they were someone I didn’t know. The fact of being able to make others safe is why I do what I do. Security is the best way for me to do that and what better place than in Starfleet to fulfill that goal.” She said still not sure why she was in the Directors office.

Vaughn watched her for a few more moments, mouth a thin, grumpy line. Then he grunted. “Seems like you’ve been doing that. ‘cos you’ve definitely impressed someone. Not me yet, because I’ve not seen you in action, but your shift leader speaks highly of you. Says you’ve pulled long hours. Got yourself stuck in wherever you can. Says you’re an asset to Promenade Security – and now, I’ll be the judge of that, but if people who’ve earned my trust say I should give you a chance, then maybe I give you a chance.” He leaned forward, and possibly, very possibly, there was a softening at his lips. Not a smile, by any stretch. “So what do you say, Thompson. You’ve tried taking everything the department throws at you. Do you want more? Or are you going to burn out ‘cos you don’t know how to handle yourself and your life and your work?”

Sonja had no idea she had been the talk of the superiors “I want to do the most I can. I don’t have plans for any other profession. I am good at balancing between work and life, though I may stay after I still do all the things I need to that are important for a healthy life.” She said still trying to figure out what exactly was about to happen.

“Hm. It’ll be on someone’s head and not yours if it turns out you’ve been pushed to do too much, too soon. Remember that: you’re not letting people down if you set limits. You’re letting people down if you ignore limits and push yourself to collapse.” Vaughn shrugged, then picked up a PADD and said, in a matter-of-fact way: “I need another Patrol Shift Leader. This is fast, but if you think you’re up to it, based on the reports I’ve had from your current shift supervisor, the position’s yours.”

Sonja took a mental not of the Director’s words. It was wise advice and she wanted to make sure she never forgot it. She would set limits if needed and that was a fact she would now live by. “I would be honored, Sir.” It was all she could say due to the shock.

Another grunt. “Depends who you think’s doing you the honour,” he murmured, before patting down a few piles of paperwork, and eventually opening a drawer on his desk. “Oh, yeah. Comes with a little jewellery.” He tossed her a small box. Nestled inside it was the small, round pip for a lieutenant junior grade. Vaughn scratched his chin. “Congratulations, and all that. It gets harder from here.”

Sonja nodded “I will do my best to make sure that I uphold what you want of your Security officers. When does the position officially go into effect?”

“Induction and training’s tomorrow. Then you’re in at the deep end.” Vaughn raised an eyebrow very slightly. “That all?”

Sonja nodded “That is all unless there is anything else you need?”

Sitting on the large curved sofa in the lounge area, sipping on a mug of raktajino, Captain Jaxxon Horin was reading the latest updates that had come in from Starfleet Intelligence overnight. Though he didn’t start his duty shift for another hour or so, he had got into a routine that meant he always caught up with this type of thing before he went into his office. 

Stifling a yawn as she plodded down the carpeted staircase from the upper level of their quarters, Anizza (his wife) smiled at him as she finally reached the final step. “Anything exciting from the spooks?” She asked. 

Shaking his head, Jaxxon closed the holographic display down with a swipe of his hand as he turned to his wife. As always she looked gorgeous in her gold uniform. “I’m afraid not Commander Horin.”

“Very well Captain Horin, be that way!” She pouted as she went to the replicator and ordered herself a hot chocolate and a pain au chocolat.

Getting up from his seat, Jaxxon started to protest at what his wife was doing. “Hey, I thought we were heading to the Brew this morning?”

Sighing, the construction engineer realised she had forgotten to update him with her plans this morning. “Oh, I’m sorry Jaxx, I completely forgot to say I was going to start early today as we are installing the new computer core on that ship we’re building.”

Rolling his eyes backwards, he shook his head at the disbelief he was hearing and now sensing from his wife. “Imzadi, all you do is think about that damn ship.” He complained in a jokingly way. “Perhaps you should name it Imazadi!”

“Hey, it’s exciting!” She defended herself. “Anyway, don’t forget that Tate’s transport gets in at twelve hundred-hours today.”

Before he could tell her that he hadn’t forgotten and that one of his aides had put time aside for him, the door chime went off. “Hold that thought.” He said to her as he walked over and pressed the button to see who their visitor was. “Talk of the devil!” He said, sounding surprised to see their son standing there with a huge smile on his face. “Tate! What are you doing here so soon!”

Stepping forward with a huge grin on his face, Tate Horin pulled his father in for a hug and kissed him on the cheek. His father returned the gesture at the lovely surprise. “It’s good to see you too, dad!” He replied. 

Anizza had already screamed her son’s name out and had run across their quarters to embrace him from the other side. “My little prince!” 

“Hey mom!” Tate replied, still grinning from ear to ear.

As soon as they let go of their son, Anizza and Horin smirked so hard at him. “So really, how come you are here so early?”

“I got an earlier transport with some of my classmates.” Tate answered as he was ushered inside to allow the doors to close.

“Ah, man if we had known we would have taken the morning off.” Jaxxon complained as he gestured for his son to sit on one of the sofas in their living space.

“I’m sorry, it was a last minute decision and I wanted to surprise you both.” Tate replied. 

“Well it’s a great surprise,” Anizza said, smiling at seeing her son home, “but honey, I have to go as I’ve got an early start. Please say we can get lunch together like we planned?”

“Ah actually, I’ve got a meeting around that time, can we have dinner?” Tate asked. 

“You bet and in fact your Aunt Lou was joining us tonight for dinner with the new man in her life, so she’ll be extra excited to see you too!” Anizza said as she got up and gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Sounds great,” Tate said as he hugged her back again. “And do we like this new guy for Aunt Lou?”

“Oh we do, dear.” Anizza said as she kissed her husband goodbye before picking up a stack of PADDS on the nearby dining room table and headed for the door.

Watching her leave, Jaxxon carried on smiling, he was truly happy. “Seriously Tate, I am so happy you are here mate. The fact you can do your final year here on the station is just amazing!” 

Tate copied his dad’s smile. “I’m pretty excited about it too.”

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Jaxxon asked.

Shaking his head, Tate replied with a simple no and a brief explanation that the food on the transport didn’t look appealing. 

“Then I’m going to take you to this swanky coffee shop on the promenade for a quick breakfast, but before we go I’ve got something to show you.” Jaxxon said as he got off the sofa and hurried Tate to follow him up the stairs. 

Beaming still with joy at seeing his son, Jaxxon took him up on the landing of the first floor. To the left was the large master room that he shared with his wife with its own en-suite and opposite to it was another similar sized room. Walking in the lights came on and straight away Tate was amazed by what he was presented with. Jaxxon turned around and kept his smile. “What do you think?”

“It’s a bedroom?” Tate asked in a confused tone.

“It’s your bedroom!” Jaxxon corrected him.

Wincing at hearing that, Jaxxon tilted his head from one side to the next. “Sorry dad, but I was going to stay with the other cadets.”

“In those shared dorm facilities?” Jaxxon asked. “Instead you can have your own place here with us? Plus look, it has its own door so you can have people over without having to by-pass me or your mom if you want to keep it real?”

“Keep it real?” Tate repeated with an almost horrified look at his father trying to relate to him and use young slang. “Please dad, don’t ever do that again.”

“Sorry.” Jaxxon said. 

Tate looked around the room. “Dad this is really cool and I do appreciate it, but like you said to me when you went off to start your career that you hated it that later on you found out how much influence grandma and grandad had over your positions and assignments. I don’t want people to think I’ve done the same as I’m a member of Betazed’s famous Fourth House! You know how hard I’ve had to work to get where I am and you know I appreciate how much time you put into helping me, but I need to stand on my own two feet now. Plus my squad mates would make my life hell if they knew I had all of this!” He gestured to the whole room. It had a huge king size bed in the middle, a long desk under the sloped window with a perfect view of Mellstoxx below and from the looks of it he had a walk-in wardrobe besides his own en-suite. “Plus the room is bigger than any room I’ve ever had!”

Nodding to show he understood and appreciated what his son was saying, Jaxxon sighed. “Fine, but if you ever change your mind then the room is here. I promise.”

“Thanks dad, I appreciate it.” Tate replied and hugged his dad again

After they embraced, Jaxxon kept his arm around his son. “Would it be cool if your old man takes you to breakfast still? I mean I don’t want to cramp your style but I could order you Cadet Horin. 

Chuckling at his dad stupid sense of humour, Tate nodded. “That would be an honour, Captain Horin! As long as you tell me more about Auntie Lou’s new guy and whether or not grandma knows about him!”

“It’s a deal and no she does not…yet” Jaxxon said as he led his son out of his room and towards the promenade.

The hour was late per standard time, but having just come up to the station a day ago Katlyn’s internal clock was still running on the Academy’s own daylight driven time. That meant the two locales had a slight sync issue at the moment and as far as she was concerned the day still had plenty of viable hours left. She’d had enough of study and project work and opted to let her brain relax, to let her body work for a while.

She’d heard rumours of the archery range at the gym, only a handful of lanes, but still better than a holodeck in her limited opinion. And so it was that she was entering the gym with a bright pink compound bow in one hand and the other holding a plain black belt and quiver. Only a handful of others were present, she sighed in relief, then started to walk across the gym for the range door, nodding in greeting to those that acknowledged her, politely ignoring any others who didn’t.

The sparring rooms were next to the range, so it was from the adjacent door that Nia emerged, worn and with a towel slung over her shoulder. She was buzzed enough from a workout and expected the gym to be quieter at this time of night, so she came out at her usual striding speed, only to nearly walk flat into the cadet heading for the barely-used archery range.

“Woah.” Nia pivoted, just avoiding a collision, and raised her hands in balance and apology. Then she spotted the gear of the cadet she’d almost hit, and she gave a cheeky grin. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you don’t have to escalate that bad that quick.”

“I…” It was an abortive start to a sentence with no real thought behind it as Katlyn had danced around the collision herself with while perhaps not grace, surefootedness at least. She blinked a few times trying to process the statement, then looked down to the bow and her brow furrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t?” she finally got out before her brain finally caught up and she rolled her eyes, not at Nia, but her own slow processing. “Least it’s just my bow and not something…” she trailed off.

“What,” Nia drawled with increasing amusement, “on another day it would have been a bat’leth? A daisho set? I’ve just had my ass kicked by three hologram programmes, it’s not fair to sucker punch me at the end of all that.” Seeing the slightly bewildered reaction to her jest, she gave Katlyn a light, friendly, reassuring tap on the arm with a fist. ”Don’t worry about it. I didn’t think anyone would be down this end of the gym this time of night.”

“Messer and dagger,” Katlyn supplied, correcting the list of weapons. Then winced as she had offered something not needed, shaking her head slightly. “Neither did I, though it’s still later afternoon for me.” She shuffled the quiver to loop a part of the belt over a finger on her bow hand, then extended the now free left hand, an awkward offering for a handshake, but an introduction instilled in her after years of semi-rural living and her grandfather’s open and honest upbringing. “Katlyn.” No last name, at first at least. “Mianaai,” she amended.

“Nia. Nia Hargreaves.” Nia gave a cheerful handshake, still grinning. It was a welcoming smile, intended to set someone uncomfortable at-ease, but she had perhaps not mastered the art of modulating her enthusiasm to not bull-rush other people. “Archery and proper sword-fighting, huh? That’s cool, I mostly just stick with hand-to-hand; hitting things myself helps me blow off steam late at night. Your duty shifts up here have you on the graveyard hours, then? I’m stuck down in Stellar Sciences myself, and there is no need to watch that data come in at 0300.” She rolled her eyes with frustration.

“More I’m still trying to adjust to station time. The difference is just enough to throw me out at the moment.” Katlyn shrugged her shoulders, and then shuffled the quiver back to her left hand. “0300 would be great hours in Stellar Sciences. Fewer people around, more likely to be able to get some telescope time for yourself. And with all the activity in the Paulson Nebula…” she blinked, stopping herself. “Sorry, it’s a hobby turning secondary, or tertiary calling.” She’d started to sound enthusiastic herself, then stopped short. “Care to join me?” she indicated the range door. “I don’t have a spare mind you, having brought this from home.”

“Yeah, the numbers in the Paulson Nebula sure have gone up a lot.” Nia said, not without a great deal of enthusiasm; at the moment, scans were raw data with little interesting analysis, at least as far as she was concerned. She looked towards the range, and gave a sincerely apologetic frown. “Oh, I wouldn’t know what to do with a bow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cool, but I’m a thoroughly twenty-fifth century kind of gal. Without a phaser or a cockpit I’m only going to upset a target at a distance with cutting words.” Now she grinned. “Is this it, then? The primary calling? Getting ready for that away mission trapped in an energy field where none of our technology is working, or something?” She spoke with a teasing, but thoroughly good-natured tone.

“No, it’s more meditation. Grandpa is a forestry ranger and a marshal in the local SCA, much to Grandma’s displeasure.” Katlyn chuckled to herself at the disagreements she’d seen, him in full garb, smiling like an idiot the whole time, her exasperated tone. “I’m passable with a normal bow, maybe competitive with this, but never tried for the archery team. Some big egos there. As for my calling, I want to fly. Big, little, doesn’t matter. My life, my hands.” And there was firey determination in that statement, something raw tempered by age.

Nia brightened even more. “Damn right. Why go to the stars if you’re not going to go out there yourself? I can’t believe the instructors have me pulling shifts down in the lab when we’ve got all the flight facilities on Bravo. If I don’t get on the next training session out at Stinsfor, I’m going to-” She stopped herself, realising this agitation was perhaps a bit much for a first meeting late at night. “Well, you get it, I’m sure. Sorry, I’m keeping you from meditatively shooting things.”

”I managed to secure a shuttle for three hours on Saturday for helping train Cadet Parze, if getting off the station would help?” Katlyn offered with a shrug. “She needs to pass her qualification flight and I’m of the mind real practise is better than a holodeck.”

“Oh, Parze.” Nia gave a knowing chuckle. “I think she’ll need a lot of supervision. Absolutely not a one-woman job, that. It’d be frankly irresponsible for you not bring a spare along to help.” There was apparently no such thing to Nia as ‘over-egging the pudding.’

“Saturday, 1300, shuttlebay 12,” Katlyn supplied. “We have to do all the pre-flight checks as well, and post-flight.” She waited a moment, that awkward little pause of someone unsure of what to say before she opted for a pathway to close a conversation. “I should,” she started and faltered, indicating the range door with her bow. “I’m keeping you from a shower aren’t I?”

“You can keep me away from a shower any time if there’s a flight on offer, so, I’ll be there,” Nia said with a casual, cheerful shrug. “You should go shoot some things. Make ready for that mission to a pre-warp civilisation following Hodgkin’s Law of Parallel Planetary Development, Robin Hood.”

“Just remember how to rebuild a tech base up to hot showers,” Katlyn quipped back as she gave a wave and departed for the archery range.

Parze blinked once and she blinked twice.  First with her horizontal eyelids and then with her horizontal eyelids.  Each successive blink got successively heavier and slower.  Sat on a work stool, Cadet Lyrakkiton Parze was hunched over an LCARS control panel, idly watching the computer compare current sensor readings from the Eldflaugar star against sensor readings taken prior to the Century Storm.  With her scaly pink chin resting in her clawed hand, it would have been so easy for the Saurian cadet to drift into a gentle doze.  Truly, the only thing that snapped her awake was the LCARS beeping at her about a discontinuity at the seventh decimal point that required her intervention.

Ignoring the menu options that popped up, Parze sat upright and swayed in the direction of the cadet sitting at the LCARS console to her right.  “Why do we devote countless hours looking at the stars?” Parze asked in a hazy undertone.  “What do they get out of it?”

Until the numbers became analysis became the endless possibility of the stars, Hargreaves was not entirely content to be dragged through this part of stellar sciences. She had been fighting a doze herself, letting the raw data wash over her with the ambitious expectation that if something important came up, it would stand out and she would miraculously flag it for analysis. In truth, the odds were not in her favour.

So the questions jerked her from her own reverie. Like a startled cat, Hargreaves snapped upright and kept moving to lean on the console like motion had been her intention all along, hand coming up to her chin thoughtfully. Only then did she realise that this was not a question to which she had given any past thought. “I don’t think the interests of stars are in the Starfleet mission statement,” she drawled after a heartbeat. “It’s an entirely selfish undertaking on our part. We’re just in it for what they’ve seen over the eons and never do we ask, ‘what can we do for you?’ to a white dwarf. Totally rude of us.”

An LCARS pop up continued to softly chime at Cadet Parze.  The computer had found an inconsistency in the sensor readings.  It was minuscule, hardly worth noticing, but the algorithms required sentient input to accept the inconsistency or to investigate deeper.  Parze ignored it.  “That’s assuming we can control ourselves at all.  Maybe our urge to stargaze is subliminal programming,” Parze suggested.  Clearly, this unhinged line of thinking excited her far more than her assigned duties.  In that regard, toilet scrubbing might have been more exciting the duties the cadets had been assigned.  She went on, “If the stars desire our worship, what do they want it for?”

With a beady look in her eye, Hargreaves leaned over. “Hey, nobody told me that a shift in Stellar Sciences was going to be more like being back in Idolatry and Tradition lectures. You sound like you’ve been cooped up in here way too long.” She grinned. “I’m Nia Hargreaves, by the way. Not seen you in any of my classes before?” Odds were good that Hargreaves wasn’t particularly talented at noticing people who didn’t make themselves noticed in class.

“I’m in senior year,” Parze said, not to put a wedge between them.  Rather, she stated it as neutral information to explain why they had shared few, if any, classes together.  Parze said, “I’m Lyra Parze.  I think I saw you at the orientation for Cadet Squadron Bravo.  They turned me down in junior year.  You must be a star yourself.”

“I mean, I’m trying,” said Hargreaves with a grin that did absolutely nothing to support an attempt at a self-effacing manner. “Isn’t getting into the squadron an achievement whenever it happens? I feel a bit better about that, though, if you’re in the squadron and you’re shackled to a console down here in Stellar Sciences, too. Aren’t we supposed to get some hot training they couldn’t possibly do for us on the surface?” There seemed no real consideration that processing fresh data from the aftermath of the storm was, however occasionally mind-numbing, not the sort of hands-on opportunity a cadet would get on the Mellstoxx campus.

Her mind blown, Parze swayed back on her stool, while remaining perfectly balanced on her perch.  “You’re right,” Parze said.  Her bulbous eyes widened even more, as if her whole live had been lived on a holodeck and Hargreaves had just shouted: end program.  Lowering her voice conspiratorially, Parze leaned towards Hargreaves and she posited, “Maybe this is all a test.  Like the academy entrance exam mind-games.  But…” –she mimed weighing out each option in her hands– “Are they testing for our obedience, or are they testing for our independence in the face of a bad order?”

There was a pause as Hargreaves processed this. It seemed her current lab partner was not necessarily just tired or bored. Then something but gentle bewilderment sparked in her, and she leaned in with a fresh conspiratorial air and a gleam of mischief. “We are just processing data that nobody’s in any hurry to look at and isn’t really going to give anything more. Maybe this is like those psychology experiments where the point is seeing how long we do it before realising it’s needless and find something more exciting to do.” It was unclear what was a more exciting option that didn’t consist of simply abandoning their posts. But consequences were not particularly high on Hargreaves’ list of considerations.

Taking that in, Parze rubbed the pads of her fingertips over her lips.  She nodded gently, as Hargreaves not only acknowledged the theory but appeared to agree with it, theoretically.  “But then that would mean our instructors want us to… steal a runabout with metaphasic shields and examine one of these stars up close?  We could discover if any of them have been changed by the Century Storm!” Parze proposed excitedly.  The words had hardly come out of her mouth when she exploded with a peal of laughter.  Shaking her head, Parze said, “No… no… that’s too paranoid.  That can’t be real.”

Hargreaves tapped her fingers on the edge of the console, listening with an expression that blended curiosity with amusement and, perhaps, concern. “You’re right. That’s a bit too far. I think we’ve just been cooped up in this lab for too long.” When she leaned forward, it was with a more determined grin. “You’ve definitely been cooped up way too long, Parze. You look like you need a better way of blowing off steam; I’ve not seen you down at Skyglow or any of the clubs. Some of the squad like hitting them; you should come with next time.”

Parze let out a lilting, light-hearted laugh at that.  The timing of her laugh left it vague if she was in agreement that she had been cooped up too long, or if she was laughing at the thought of herself going clubbing.  “I’ve never been to Skyglow,” Parze said.  As much as her words were chosen to be as non-committal as possible, she also sounded surprised at herself.  “What’s it like?”

“Oh, it’s great. Great atmosphere, best drinks on the station.” Hargreaves spoke with a worldly air and twist of the hand, as if she were this hardened veteran of great party places and bars, despite arriving on Bravo approximately five seconds ago. “The cocktails are a real ride; hard to tell what you’re getting when you order it, you just have to go with whatever name gives you, you know… vibes. It’s great, you should come down.”

Nodding with rapt attention, Parze ate up every word of Hargreaves’ worldly air.  She hadn’t been known to prioritise clubbing when essays were due or she had to study for tests.  Upon joining Cadet Squadron Bravo, Parze had promised herself this year would be different.  She smiled a toothy smile.  “Let me know when you’re going, and I’ll be there,” Parze said.  “That’s a selfish undertaking I can endorse.”

Hargreaves smiled impishly, and picked up her PADD stylus to tap it lightly against Parze’s, as if the commitment were a toast. “To selfish undertakings.” Then she sighed and looked at the numbers scrolling across the console before her. “So long as the stars don’t demand our obedience before then…”

Starbase Bravo – Sector Kilo-Indigo – Quarters of Lt(Jr) Evelyn Sommers – Stardate 75086.37

Standing over her bed, suitcase open, Evelyn placed each neatly folded piece into the open drawer behind her. The uniforms would go in the closet so not to wrinkle. Ev held one of the teal collared garments at arms length. 

I need to iron this.

Socks went in the bottom drawer, three pairs packed to make a pyramid with four packs stacked on top of one another. With the unpacking complete, Sommers noticed she had one blue sock left over. 

How did — Mom must have tossed this in.

Evelyn stood by the bed, the blue sock in her hand, the bottom drawer still open. She stared at the perfect row of black socks. 

No. One was lopsided. She quickly straightened it. 

Ev sighed in relief, but she still had the one blue sock in her hand. Quickly and without thought, she tossed it into her suitcase, closed it and set it on the floor in the closet. She shut the closet door and smiled in victory. The problem was solved. 

No. It wasn’t. 

After a couple of deep breaths, Lt. Sommers went into the small lavatory to brush her teeth. It was the fifth time today she had brushed her teeth. She reached for the toothbrush. It was brand new. 

Such a shame to defile all those neat, tiny bristles.

Just like the suitcase. Clean. Neat. Pure in its emptiness, but tarnished by that damnable sock. 

No. Stop it. 

The toothpaste tube was rolled up to ⅓  of the way. She would have to get a new tub soon. Ev gently squeezed out ¼ inch onto the brush and began to scrub and scrub. Halfway finished, she smiled at the mirror. Bits of blood seeped from her gums. She spit into the sink and watched a pink swirl go down the drain. 

Why am I like this? 

Ev knew why. It was the reason she was sent to Station Bravo instead of another ship, why she saw a counselor every Tuesday. She cleaned the bristols of her toothbrush until it was almost like new. Almost. 

“Tea.” she said and stared at the replicator from the bathroom. 

“Specify type and temperature,” replied the computer. 

“Um … something herbal … chamomile — no — yes … chamomile with mint. 100° Celsius.”

At the LT’s command, subatomic particles stored within the replicator were immediately transformed into a swirl of energy which consummated into a hot cup of chamomile and mint tea. Sommers brought the cup to her lips. She took a seat to relax and allow the tea to further calm her mind. Next to the window in her quarters, Ev gazed out at a sliver of the void. All but the brightest stars were blocked by the station’s light. Unfortunately, most of her view was obstructed by a large deuterium fuel tank. Ships moved to and fro to refuel. She counted 12 in the span of five minutes. 

One ship that came into view was potted with minor hull ruptures. Sommers only saw it for a second, but she noted how each breech was closed by a force field. None were, to her estimate, more than ten foot wide. She couldn’t help but compare that to the rupture on the Valk, which took up two decks. 

Her mind wandered back to that day. 

*** 

USS Valkyrie – Deck 9 – Escape Pod Access – Beta Quadrant – Stardate 73935.04

“Wait!” shouted Sommers. 

The ensign, a small laceration on her forehead, hobbled toward the escape pod. Beside her, his arm over her shoulder, was a young Klingon with burns on one side of his face and upper cranium. He growled under his breath as the two made it to the final pod. 

“Help!” she cried. “He needs help!” 

“I’m fine!” yelled the Klingon. 

“Get in here!” 

The order emerged from escape pod 42 as both the ensign and the Klingon were quickly pulled inside. A tall human, his brown hair grayed at the temples, aided the Klingon into a seat. 

“Lt. Commander Stoddard. What’s your name, Lieutenant?”

“Lt. Krun’ak, sir.” The Klingon growled again as Stoddard strapped him into the chair. The Vulcan applied a hypo to the burned scar tissue on this face. She looked the wound over, then glanced toward Stoddard, but made no comment. 

“Commander Derek. Oh, shit! I need to get Commander Derek.” Sommers made way for the pod exit when the  Vulcan pushed her into the seat and strapped her in tightly. 

“Derek is dead, Ensign,” said Krun’ak. He looked to Stoddard as the LC strapped himself in. “There was a hull breach on decks eleven and twelve.” He grimaced, but refused to give in to the pain. “I started to go back when the ship again took damage. An explosion in the corridor. I blacked out momentarily and then –” The Klingon pointed to the fresh burn on his face and scalp. “Sommers helped me out of the debris, though she had sustained an injury of her own.”

“Dead …” Sommers said blankly. “Oh …” She grimaced for a moment and touched the wound on her head.

“I am Lt. Saytra,” said the Vulcan as she applied a hypo to Sommers’ wound.  

At first nothing registered for the young LT. Commander Derek was a friend, one of the few true friends she’d made on the Valk. Then, as the ship rocked again, it came back to her. 

“Commander Saytra … The Winter party.” Both surprise and embarrassment splashed across her face. “Ohhhh …shit.  I am so sorry about the coffee …” She patted her own chest. “Are you okay? Not burned?”

“That incident was six months ago. It has long since been forgotten.” 

“Oh …” replied Ev.  

“Is everyone strapped in?” asked Stoddard.

Ev tested the safety-strap around her chest and abdomen. She found the strap across her chest was not perfectly aligned. “I need to straighten this … if you just give me a moment …” 

Saytra tested the security of Ev’s strap. “It’s fine.”

Ev was about to protest, but finally nodded firmly as did the Vulcan. The Klingon grunted once, then gave a nod. 

Stoddard closed the hatch. “Hang on!” 

The computer took over and initiated the launch sequence. 

“Ready in three, two, one!” yelled Stoddard. 

IDF emitters kicked as the pod launched from the ship. Within seconds the pod was over 200 kilometers from the ship. Stoddard took control of the RCS thrusters. 

Ev looked out the window. She could see the USS Valkyrie in flames and the hull breach Krun’ak mentioned. It was near engineering, Derek’s department. She felt ill. 

“Attempting gaggle mode. Recombination procedure in two minutes,” said Stoddard as he continued to man the thrusters. 

Several hundred kilometers from the ship, the pods began to maneuver toward one another. If they could connect, survival rates would rise. 

“Distress signal sent,” said Saytra. The Vulcan next opened the storage lockers. Food, water, a set of four light envirosuits and supplies, in case of a planetside landing, were enclosed. Also one medikit and two phasers were available. She removed the medkit. 

“Shit! Hang on tight!” yelled Stoddard. Ev looked out of her window. She only saw a glimpse of the LC’s concern. The Valk’s starboard nacelle, engulfed by bluish flames, careened into the attached pods. Debris formed in every direction. Stoddard applied reverse thrust to their pod, but it was too late. A smaller piece of the nacelle, yet larger than the escape pod as a whole, nicked the aft thruster. The pod went spinning. Stoddard tried to regain control.

“We’re going down …” said the LC. Get ready for atmo entry.  

*** 

Balor Hahn II – Beta Quadrant – Stardate 73940.07

The first thing Evelyn felt was the grass beneath her. It was cool to the touch. A warm wind blew across her face. She opened her eyes to see color everywhere. “Where are we?” 

“Balor Hahn 2. It’s an L class planet,” said Saytra. The Vulcan handed Sommers a rations pack. “You should eat. You’ve been out for over 24 hours.”

The Junior LT looked at Saytra in astonishment. “What? How? Why? What –”

“You had a mild concussion. When the escape pod was struck by debris, you blacked out.” Lt. Saytra stood and brushed off the grass from her trousers. “You should rest here until help arrives.” 

Sommers nodded and started on her ration. It was chicken. At least it was labeled as such. As she glanced around, Ev noted Stoddardnear the escape pod. The flora around her was vibrant and varied. Plants she had never seen before vines around each other. It was a beautiful world. 

Finished with her “chicken” Sommers folded the foil wrapper into a small, neat square and set it to the side. Slowly she stood to her feet. As she did her head throbbed and stumbled from her footing. 

“Where’s Krun’ak?” she asked no one specific. Stoddard turned to answer, but Saytra was nearby. 

“He is dead. His body is in the pod.”

Sommers wobbled in shock. “What? But –”

“The burns on his cranium hid a more serious concussion than yours,” responded Saytra. “There was nothing anyone could do.” 

“You have all the tact of a torg, you know that?” said the LC. “Nevertheless, she’s right. There was nothing anyone could do.” 

“But I saved him …” replied Sommers. “I … saved him.”

“You did, Sommers. You did. Now, lie down and get some rest. That’s an order,” replied the LC. Stoddard jogged back to the pod. 

“Isn’t there some kind of ritual we’re supposed to do?” asked Ev. 

Saytra shook her head. “Sometimes called Heghtay, the Klingons do have a ritual for their dead, a warning that a Klingon warrior is about to enter Sto’Vo’Kor. However, we are not Klingon.”

“But …”

“No. That is an order, Lieutenant.” Her face was stone. “Get some rest.” The Vulcan gave a nod and marched toward a group of trees, her tricorder open. 

Defeated, Ev sat down in the grass to rest. It was proper, she thought, that Krun’ak be granted his rites. 

What would it hurt if they weren’t Klingon? 

The ration wrapper beside her unraveled. Sommers picked it up and folded it back into a square again. She placed it on the grass. It unraveled a second time, quicker than the first. Ev folded the foil into a square and held it together. She glanced toward the pod where Krun’ak’s body lay. She stood on her feet, the ration foil, still in her hand. Determined, Sommers marched toward the pod. Suddenly, the Vulcan was headed back to Ev’s position. 

Ev looked up to see Starfleet shuttles inbound. 

“It’s time to go,” said Saytra as she approached. Ev nodded and walked to the rescue point.   

*** 

Starbase Bravo – Sector Kilo-Indigo – Quarters of Lt(Jr) Evelyn Sommers – Stardate 75086.37

Her tea had gone cold as Evelyn sat in the dark near the window. Dozens of ships had gone by since her thoughts wandered. No one ever told her if Krun’ak received his ritual. She tried for a moment to stop the feeling of regret. After all, she didn’t know the Klingon very well. It didn’t work. 

Sommers placed the tea and cup back in the replicator to be recycled. For a moment, her bed called, tired as she was, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t sleep. Evelyn couldn’t give Krun’ak what he needed, but there was one thing she could do for herself. 

The suitcase opened, Ev snatched the one blue sock and folded it neatly in with the others in the bottom drawer. She got ready for bed and drew the covers. Sleep would not come easy, but it would come. 

Even thought Cadet Parze’s body was located in one of the academy campus cafes, her mind was on something other than food.  This was observable firstly through her body language.  Although the Saurian clutched a fork in her pink scaly hand, she was poking at her plate of steak in the idlest of manners.  She poked it once, and twice, and seven times, but her obsidian eyes were scanning the room.  The second observation that she had forgotten about her lunch was all the more blatant.  Once her eyes found her target, Parze stood from her table and walked away without hesitation.  Parze straightened the tunic of her grey and red uniform and she folded her hands behind her back as she approached a cadet at another table.

“Pardon my intrusion, Cadet.  I’m Cadet Parze.  You are Cadet Iso, are you not?” Parze asked.

“Huh?” The pale cadet startles from their thoughts.

“Oh! Hi, yeah I’m Iso. Nice to meet you.” They straighten their posture as they greet Cadet Parze. They set their deep brown eyes slightly to the left of her face, creating the illusion of eye contact.

“What brings you to my table?” Iso asks, curious as to what Parze wanted.

In a nervous gesture, Parze breathed in through her snout and breathed out a small huff.  “I’m not going to lie.  I might be asking a stranger for a favour, Iso,” Parze said, her gaze direct and clear.  She affected a smile when she asked, “Aren’t you in my motivational theories class?  On Tuesdays?”

Iso fidgets with the hem of their shirt, the same spot that was already quite threadbare. They take a second to recognize the Saurian.

“Um, you sit… Four or five seats down from me, right?” A pause,

“This is about that test that’s worth a good chunk of our grade this semester, isn’t it. You need a study buddy?” They ask inquisitively, their face a careful neutral.

Parze nodded euphorically, because Iso said those words out loud. That meant Parze wouldn’t have to ask for quite so much help.  “Yes, exactly,” Parze replied. The theories in our last reading are all mushing together in my head, and then I missed the last lecture. I was late for the shuttle back from Starbase Bravo.”  Suddenly hearing the slovenly way she was making herself sound, Parze straightened her posture as if an electric shock ran through her. She added, “But I’m caught up on my readings otherwise.”

Iso nods knowingly, they themselves had missed a class or two due to a medical inconvenience.

“Yeah, I can help with studying up. I’m free for the next week or so; you got any idea when you’ll be open?” They gesture for Parze to sit next to them.

Flopping herself down in the chair beside Iso, Parze huffed out an overwhelmed breath at that question.  Digging into the cargo pocket on her trousers, Parze withdrew a holo-rod that she placed on the table.  She clicked it to activate a holographic PADD interface and began swiping through to her calendar.  “My schedule has become a disaster area,” Parze said hyperbolically, but she grinned at Iso when she said it.  She loved the chaos.  “I still haven’t decided on my exact specialty, so I’m covering a couple of bases with my classes.  And I just joined Cadet Squadron Bravo, so I’ll be spending more time on the starbase than the campus this year.”

They let out a puff of air, that was a lot of classes to take. 

“Wow, I’m impressed you even have time for lunch. I myself am aiming to be in engineering, maybe working in the Jeffries tubes.” Iso hums to themself.

“Would you happen to be free this next Saturday? I’m pretty sure there’s a free spot not reserved in the library at 0230.”

Parze nodded enthusiastically at Iso’s suggestion.  Without even looking at her calendar, Parze said, “Yes, I’ll make it work.”  She tapped the new appointment on her holographic interface.  As she did so, Parze remarked, “I can’t say I’m taking too many engineering courses, but I’ll find a way to pay you back.  I really appreciate the help!”

“No problem! See you Saturday,” Iso said as they collected their things and food tray. They give a quick nod and walk briskly to the replicator to dispose of their food waste. A crowded café was not the most stress relieving place, after all.

“See you then,” Parze replied as Iso walked away.  Either it was an attempt at humour, or another desperate attempt to prove she wouldn’t be a dud of a study buddy, but Parze added, “Looking forward to climbing Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs with you.”

She tossed the phaser between her scaly hands and back again, testing the grip.  Clad in a science-teal training uniform, Cadet Lyrakkiton Parze slowly paced around the perimeter of the holodeck, while keeping her eyes on her prey.  “I have to admit,” Parze said, “when I challenged you to a velocity game, I didn’t realise you were literally a member of the academy’s velocity team.  I thought you were more of an… enthusiastic hobbyist.”

Chuckling to himself, Horin lifted his phaser up and shook it before grinning. “Sorry Parze, this is one hobbit I enjoy a lot!” Wearing a pair of grey jogging shorts and a black skin-tight sports vest, the Betazoid could sense what he assumed was a bit of apprehension on his opponent’s behalf. “I promise to go easy on you. Are you ready?” He asked, eagerly.

Shaking her head in resignation, Parze said, “It’s not like I can squeeze in six more months of velocity training before we begin…”  Parze shrugged and she secured her grip on the holographic phaser.  She softened her posture, slightly, readying herself to strike in any direction that required it.  “Let’s go!” she said.

”Computer begin game at level three.” Horin commanded. The computer beeped three times before the velocity disk appeared out of thin air. 

”Begin!” The computer announced.

Straight away Horin fired first at the disk and scored a hit before it flew off to one side.

At first, Parze swung her phaser to the right, following the movement of the disc.  Then she took a couple of steps back and aimed her phaser at where she anticipated the disc to be next.  She shot a phaser burst overhead, but just missed the disc by a couple of millimeters.  While she kept her gaze on the disc’s voyage across the holodeck, Parze asked, “How long have you been playing velocity?”

The disc made its return back towards Horin, almost on a collusion course so quickly he rolled on the floor and within a second of regaining his composure on his knees he aimed his phaser and fired it, scoring another direct hit. “Ever since I joined the academy.” He finally answered before scoring another two more hits as the disc bounced off the holodeck wall and towards Parze. “And don’t tell me you’ve never had the time for some hand-held weapons training?” He joked back to Parze. “What have you been doing to keep yourself sane from all of the readings and work we’ve had to do these past four years?”

Parze didn’t duck or dodge from the disc as it bore down on her.  If it hit her, it hit her, and she would lose a point.  She aimed her phaser again and she shot the disc on its underside, spending the disc spinning in the opposite direction.  “Science officers always die first in the horror holos,” Parze remarked as she jogged in a new direction.  “Oh, I’ve made time for weapons training, I promise you that.  Phaser ranges, painting, designing replicator patterns…  But I can’t decide what I want to do after graduation.  I spent my summer keeping up with readings in both counseling and psychological research.”  She didn’t have to say aloud that they were mostly solitary pursuits.  Tracking the disc with her phaser, she fired at it again, and missed.

Chuckling at hearing how much studying Parze had done, he swung his phaser up high and fire two shots. He missed one attempt but got the second one. Cursing himself inwardly, he had shook it off as he moved himself from one side of the holodeck to the other. “We should explore more of this starbase. I hear they have some of the best bars in the Mellstoxx system!”

“Have you heard of one called Skygl–” Parze started to ask, but the disc had ricocheted off the overhead and had spun towards her twice as fast as before.  It struck Parze in the shoulder before she could say the name.  With the safety protocols engaged, Parze didn’t feel the blow.  However, when the computer beeped that Horin had won his first point, Parze groaned in annoyance.

“Nicely done!” Horin sarcastically said pointing at Parze. “What was you about to say?”

The very idea of losing had put a toothy sneer on Parze’s face.  It was a bit of a chilling look from the Saurian, but it didn’t last long.  Even her mountainous perfectionism was defenseless against Horin’s good humour and that easy smile of his.  Parze laughed, even, at the small joke at her expense.  “Skyglow,” Parze replied, “in the india-navy sector.  Have you heard of it?  I’m told the cocktails transport you to another dimension, and half of that is just from trying to pronounce their names.”

Nodding to the sound of it, “We should go.” Horin suggested. “Get a group of the squadron together.”

In agreement, Parze offered Horin a nod in return.  “Cadet Hargreaves suggested it,” Parze said.  “She said she’ll invite me next time.  I’ll make sure you’re there too.”

“Ready for round two? Best of three?” Horin offered. 

“If you’re sure you can handle it?” Parze tauntingly replied.  She raised her phaser, keeping the emitter pointed at the ceiling.  Locking eyes with Horin, she swore, “I get better the more I lose.  You’ll see.”

“Bring it, Parze!” Horin tempted him as he ordered the computer to begin the next round. 

Heriah Khatain sat in the waiting room for what seemed to be hours. Others were already present when she arrived and others entered infrequently after her. All seemed to be waiting on the same thing. Parents comforted their offspring and friends sat and offered words of confidence and praise for just being in the room. It was clear who was there for medical reasons and who was there for support.

Heriah had no one. She could only look around just as nervously as the others.

It did not help that employees and some officials stepped this way and that. They did not engage in any conversation with those waiting, but only amongst themselves. Words were spoken softly and reports were passed back and forth. There was some laughter and some general conversation.

Heriah felt it was all a test; to keep the waiters waiting and sweating. Scans would certainly show levels of perspiration, breathing patterns, heart rates even. If there was someone monitoring the room, they would certainly see the level of nervous tension in the air. If there was someone making a final decision on who would become joined, they were certainly taking note of who appeared more nervous, who was more on edge, who would become joined and who would go home, empty.

Looking to the nurse behind the receptionist’s desk, Heriah caught that set of eyes looking at her more often than any of the others. Of course, the nurse looked away and feigned other business each and every time Heriah connected eyes with her. Even when forcing herself to look away, at the ceiling, at anything, Heriah could feel the nurse’s attention turning her way again.

This did nothing to aid her calm.

There was a door behind the receptionist’s desk. It seldom opened. Each time it did, it caught the attention of everyone waiting to be seen. Each and every time, however, a datapad was given, given back, given a thumb-print signature. Words were sometimes shared, but they were only whispers.

The facility served as a point for recruiting, interviewing and sometimes performing the process of joining a Trill with a symbiont. Seeing as how Heriah had already gone through the application process and had returned on two occasions for interviews, she could only guess at why her presence was requested this time.

That thought alone made her right leg jump and jitter nervously. Or was it excitement? What would whoever was monitoring think? She forced herself to be still.

Even Heriah knew her marks were nothing to be overly proud of. She was not at the top of her class, not even in the upper percentage. Seeing her wish to become joined fading away, Heriah entered Starfleet Academy and studied sciences. If joining with a symbiont was not in her future, then a future far from Trill surveying stars and planets was her desire.

Another year and she would have the credits to be certified fully in the field of science. So far, it was only a minor study. Now, with her summons back to Trill, it appeared her original wish may have been coming true. But why? It was very rare for students staying within the ranks of middle-class to become joined. There was one instance. An Ezri Dax was joined but that was due to an emergency situation. Was this going to be similar?

“Heriah Khatain,” called a nurse. Not a recruiter and not an interviewer, but a nurse. Were things looking up, or looking bad?

Heriah’s heart leapt into her throat and it was all she could do just to stand and raise a hand in response.

“Come this way Miss Khatain. The doctor will see you now.”

‘Doctor!?!’ But she could only nod and place one foot ahead of the other. The others in the waiting room started crying, sighing in disbelief, some gratified even.

Heriah was lead to a room where the doctor was not the person of priority. He simply stood to the side. Heriah saw the only vacant seat which was across the table from a man whose dress was unfamiliar. It was not medical, nor did he wear the uniform of Trill recruiters. It appeared almost military, but not at the same time.

“All medical personnel give us the room please. Only the doctor and official personnel are allowed to remain,” he said.

Heriah was neither medical or official and, through her anxiety, sought to turn and leave as well. She would be called back of course. Though she felt a slight shake of fright in her left leg, she placed her weight on it and remained in the room.

“Miss Khatain,” said the man, “I am Latsian Bul, Trill,” he paused, “Military Sciences. Please sit.”

Heriah did, hesitantly, but doing all she could to not show hesitance. “Military Sciences?” she asked.

“I know it must be unnerving for you to be here. I of course know of you student status. It is my business to know in these matters. Not terrific marks and nothing seemingly special in making you a prime candidate for joining.”

‘Seemingly special?’ she thought but found that she actually spoke those words.

Latsian nodded. “Yes. There is one trait about you that does however make you a prime candidate in these matters.”

“In these matters?” and she made no effort to keep those words to herself.

Latsian sat back in his chair, tapped his finger on the table, and looked about the room at the other officials. Only two and similarly dressed. Their apparent insignias had less material making him their ranking superior.

“I can see there is no beating around the bush with you. Time is growing short and we have to act soon. You of course saw the others in the waiting room. It is going to be up to you if they come in here one at a time or go home far sooner than expected.”

Heriah turned to the other officials. They made no move. Turning back to Latsian, “Please divulge ‘these matters’.”

“You will of course agree that anything else you hear in this room stays in this room and between us only. No one else is to hear these words.”

Heriah nodded. So far, she was only committed to silence.

“Very good. We have in our possession, right now, a Trill that is dying, and the symbiont needs to be joined with a new host. We are of course required to divulge the symbiont’s history to you, so you can make better and more educated decision. Its name is Rex and its history does not matter much before 10 years ago.”

“I take it this Trill did something terrible? A crime perhaps?”

“Not this Trill, no. Two Trills before him. And not a crime. It suffered though.”

“And only 10 years ago?”

Latsian nodded. “Refkin Rex was part of a Trill Special Forces mission to board and disable a Borg Sphere. He was captured and assimilated.”

“Trill symbionts are too few and too precious to send into combat like that.”

“Yes, well I was not in charge at the time and Refkin showed great promise. He was however rescued only 36 hours later so full assimilation did not take hold it seemed. We lost several in recovering Refkin, the Sphere was destroyed and he was returned to us.”

“Did Refkin Rex die?”

“He did. A week later. We removed as many Borg implants as we could but both Refkin and Rex suffered greatly. There were signs that the Borg attempted assimilation of the Rex symbiont but they stopped. Apparently they saw full assimilation was going to kill the symbiont. Seeing as how the Trill and symbiont cannot survive separate once joined, they did assimilate Refkin and Refkin alone.”

“What happened to the symbiont?”

“Rex, showed signs of great mental suffering as well as some physical damage from the attempted assimilation. Rex does retain some scarring and an implant that cannot be removed without causing Rex permanent damage. Once de-assimilated, Refkin lost his mind and his health quickly deteriorated. He died about a week later. Thus Davmorda Rex. Davmorda was training for joining, she enjoyed combat and hand-to-hand sparring. Davmorda Rex, once joined, proved very violent. She excelled in the military but eventually her health started to decline, mentally first, then physically. She died a little over 5 years ago. Thus Luftine Rex.”

Latsian tapped on the console of the table-top. The view screen behind him turned on and showed a vacant room.

“This footage was recorded only three hours ago.”

In the footage, there was the sound of a door sliding open. Then there came grunt, threats and swearing. Three medical orderlies appeared restraining a muscular Trill.

“That is Luftine,” said Latsian.

Luftine was trying to jerk his limbs free, attempted to bite at the orderlies. He fought as hard as he could to break free. Heriah could only describe his technique as uncivilised. A hypospray later, he calmed but still was fighting. The orderlies hit him with the hypospray again and his anger, restraint, and swearing all mitigated down to a snoring beast of a man on the gurney. The orderlies lifted him onto the operating table and started putting restraints on his limbs, over his head and torso. Once and if Luftine awoke, they did not want him to move an inch.

“Pause,” Latsian called out. “This man was already in the Special Forces when he applied for joining. He was already in top physical shape. After joining though, he only got more violent, lost his mind. He married and we figured that would help but he started beating his wife, killed their pet. He recently killed a man and we have deemed Luftine too dangerous. He appears to have already lost his mind and he shows the first signs of physical decay, thus dying. We could imprison him, but he will not last a year our experts say. And we do not want to put Rex through any more carnage than it has already seen.”

“And you want me to join with Rex?” Heriah asked with every bit of unbelief she could muster.

“Davmorda and Luftine both, unjoined, illustrated strength of character and both possessed a trait of dominance. Yes, Rex and what it suffered is most likely the cause of their state. We felt a dominate personality trait would dominate Rex into succumbing to the host, but in both of these cases, only the opposite has occurred. Matters have been made worse.”

“And how do you think I can help?”

“We have kept a close eye on you as well as all the others out in that waiting room, but you have the most desireable trait that we seek. During background checks, we found that your parents, your other relatives, friends, students both here and at Starfleet Academy, peers, instructors, all have declared with utmost conviction that you possess the trait that we may need to bring Rex back from his apparent madness. As you pointed out, the symbionts are too few and too precious. We need to save him.”

“And what trait is it that I have?”

“Care.” He paused. “Sympathy.” Again a pause, letting that sink in. “Some even went on to say that you have the heart of an angel. ‘Would not hurt a fly’ they said. Seeing you are studying science and spatial anomalies, makes you an even better candidate. That job is very relaxing, slower paced. Furthermore, you will not see combat, violence, that which both Davmorda and Luftine lived in.”

“A gentle heart to calm a violent one. So, that’s it.”

“Yes,” he said. “In all honesty, yes.”

“In a sense, I am rehabilitating Rex. I will be his prison.”

Latsian showed his hand to stop her. “Do not think that please. We do think however that you are best suited to bring Rex back. We need someone who is not dominating, physically. Our interviews go on to show that you are strong willed. Your personality will remain and you can overpower any and all malicious desires of Rex. Think of this as you caring for someone who is hundreds of years old, giving someone new life, a full life. Your kind-heartedness and strength of will can be our greatest weapon against this adversity.”

Heriah thought on that a moment. “Will this work?”

Latsian only looked to the other officials then back at Heriah.

“You do not even know if this will work?” her voice cracked with concern.

“It is our best guess. Our experts will keep you under surveillance for a bit to make sure the joining takes and you will need to give regular reports. Whatever doctor on whatever starship you serve on will need to see you monthly for checkups.”

Latsian did say this was all up to her. “I don’t know.”

“By grade standards, you should not even be here,” he continued. “No one with your grades has ever been called for a joining. You are making history just by being here. Do you really want to walk out of here unjoined?”

“Will I live longer than 5 years?”

“Allow me to say that we are treading unfamiliar territory. We have to try. Otherwise we risk joining Rex with someone not as caring as people say you are. We risk more violence and death. We may even lose Rex. Only a very small percentage of Trills are able to join with a symbiont. Losing Rex only makes the odds even greater. The Starfleet doctor aboard your ship will receive full instructions on what to look for, what to report, what to treat. You will be in good hands.”

“My medical records will show all this. My career may be in jeopardy.”

“Joining with a symbiont is the greatest honor for any Trill. Besides, your medical records will only show the attempted assimilation and the two hosts afterward. We will leave out certain…details…that Starfleet does not need to know about. Learn your medical records and divulge only that to whomever comes asking.”

Heriah looked around nervously accepting what she was hearing.

“That…or never be joined. Continue on knowing that you may have been able to help a symbiont but declined. That you could have made history by…”

“I get it. I get it,” Heriah said. “I…uh…”

“We do not have much time. Rex needs a host very soon. We down to counting hours.”

Heriah smiled at the thought, “I will be Heriah Rex.”

“Heriah Khatain Rex, yes. Your identity comes first, remember that always. And stay in Starfleet. We are greatly overjoyed at your potential of being a science officer, exploring and studying. Rex has not done that in a long time.”

Ever since she can remember, Heriah wanted to be joined, wanted to know what it was like, wanted to get her name written in the records of joined Trills. She saw how they were treated and portrayed. Famous thinkers being reborn in new hosts. The pride those hosts showed when they were chosen. Such a rare occasion. More rare in her situation.

“I will do it,” Heriah said. She let out a quick singular laugh unbelieving what she was saying. Not yet believing she was going to be joined after all this time and hard work, after giving up on her most desired dream ever coming true.

Latsian smiled. “Very good. We are grateful to hear it.” He then spoke to the others in the room. “Prepare her.”

A sudden fear shot through her. She expected two sets of hands to grab her and drag her away, knocked unconscious, a gag, full body restraints.  She realized she watched too many movies as the two officials appeared beside her and gently asked her to follow them. Heriah got up and started out of the room between the two. She glanced back at Latsian. He was tapping away at the computer console.

After hyperventilating the nurses put a mask on her. Cool, relaxing air flowed into her lungs with each breath. She was laid up on a table, nude under an operation sheet.

“Just stay calm. You are doing very well.”

Heriah nodded and briefly lifted a hand, balled into a fist with her thumb extended.

The surgeon used a laser cutter to open her up. Heriah felt the incision and felt her skin separate but there was no pain. These doctors were good. Heriah witnessed another doctor bringing in the symbiont.

“I present to you the symbiont Rex.”

Rex squirmed with resistance. It seemed discolored in patches, showed obvious scarring, and even a Borg implant the doctors were apparently unable to remove. The handling doctor petted Rex and shushed it hoping that would calm it down.

“Are we ready?” the nurse asked Heriah.

Whether ‘we’ was meant as a joke or serious, Heriah could not tell the difference. She eyed the discolored and scarred symbiont, reassuring herself that a joining was what she wanted, that this was the chance that she had at joining as well as the best chance Rex had at survival. Heriah nodded and again lifted a thumb.

“We are ready,” the nurse said to the others. “Let’s proceed.”

Heriah closed her eyes. She felt the slimy slug touch her belly. It was cold making her want to recoil. But it slid nicely and warmed slowly. The nurses held her incision open as Rex wormed its way toward the opening. Heriah felt the head slide its way into her belly and her nerves all popped with excitement and nervousness, both at once.

Half-way in, the nurses let go of her incision and the skin fell to wrap itself around the symbiont.

The tail was all that was left and was finally inside. Rex had pulled itself fully inside Heriah and the nurses started closing her incision.

Suddenly there came a realization to Heriah that she was incomplete.

“Rex should be looking for the nerve cluster now,” said someone. “You are about to have a really weird sensation.”

It did not matter who said it. Heriah held her eyes shut and felt that same emptiness. It grew, then lessened. Grew. Lessened.

“Does it normally take this long with the symbiont to find the cluster?”

“Sometimes. It’s like a pet sniffing out a piece of meat in the dark.”

After another seemingly eternal stretch of emptiness, something bit down within Heriah’s consciousness. A pain shot through her and made her limbs jerk hard and all at once. There came a whirring as though a drill, cold piercing metal, a strange liquid. “We are the Borg. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.” There came a strong desire to end it all, to pull away.

The incision opened as she squirmed. Orderlies rushed to her, grabbing at her limbs, restraining her. Her eyes were wide but not focused on anything. Someone covered her mouth silencing her screams of immense pain.

“Readying a hypospray.”

“No, this has to be natural. They have to accept each other while both are conscious.”

The host was lost to the Borg. Rex screamed for freedom. The host did not obey. A flood of nanoprobes circulated and prevented Rex from offering input. The lost host was now a prison. It was saved but died. Another host. So much anger and violence. Dead. Another host. “Shut up woman!” There came a slap then deathly howl of a battered pet.

Heriah shot her head to the side as though slapped herself. One of the orderlies lost his grip. She nearly slid off the table. Within his grip again, Heriah was stabilized more but still attempted to flail about.

“I can’t close the incision with her squirming. Keep her still.”

“She is going to bleed out if that incision tears.”

“I’m losing my grip.”

“Alright. Hypospray. Minimal dosage.”

Though with wide eyes, Heriah saw nothing but torment, fear, hate, violence, like a burning red and burnt blanket that she could wrap herself up in. All her senses started quieting. All the thoughts lessened and visions darkened. The noises she thought she heard mitigated back to the original whirring of a drill. Then all went black.

The trip had been uneventful. Fly to Phobos, change flights, board a shuttle for Jupiter Station, check in to the ship leaving for Starbase Bravo, settle into her temporary quarters, meet her temporary roommate and enjoy/endure the trip.

Once in range of the starbase, and being the only cadet being dropped off at this particular time, the shuttle ride was a bit lonely; just Heriah and the pilot. She sat in the back with her luggage and studied a PADD.

“You do not appear to be one for counseling,” said the pilot. His voice was the first thing to break the monotony of the hum of the shuttlecraft and the minute beeps from the console.

“Excuse me,” Heriah looked up from her PADD. Displayed was a crew manifest and everything she would need to know about the crew. The starbase had a massive complement; too much to take in all at once. Heriah had the past few weeks to retain what she could. Still, there was nothing like being on board and meeting the crew face to face. “What was that?”

“You don’t seem to be the type to be a counselor.” The shuttle was on autopilot for the starbase, leaving the pilot to whatever duties that needed tending to. Apparently not a thing at all. “Perhaps tactical. Or maybe even security. From what I see, that would be the profession I would see you going into. Everyone could use a fit and athletic woman looking after them.”

As he carried on with his compliments and his shy way of hitting on her, Heriah realized this was going to be just like all the other occasions where she found herself alone with a lone someone for any length of time. Situations like this would always happen from time to time. She just needed to get used to it or deal with. She could listen, flirt back a little, completely ignore him, act like his words mean nothing, wrap her hands around his throat and choke the living…

‘Stop it Rex!’

“That is all I am really saying. You know, someone with your…” he broke off.

“My looks,” she smiled at him somewhat seductively, choosing the flirtatious approach. She could see him redden and tense up. He had to turn back to his console. “Believe me, I would have stayed my original course if it were not for the symbiont.”

“So you are joined?”

“I am. Became a new person at that moment and turned to security briefly. Something,” Rex, “inside me just wanted to hit the gym and then enforce the law. Believe me, it took a bit for me to settle on a focus. I studied Tactical, Security, Intelligence, won in the bantam-weight combatives competition, but felt more at home in counseling.” That last bit was, only a little bit, a lie.

“A regular polymath I see.”

“Well, being joined grants all the memories and interests and knowledge of the hosts before.” There came a sudden rush of a feeling to break something, a neck perhaps. Or change the subject. “How much time to do spend on this thing? Flying back and forth?” she asked.

He tapped a few buttons without even looking. He knew this shuttle well. “I have spent three years now performing the same routine, shuttling people about. All because I crashed a simulator. A simulator!”

“And you have not gone back and tried talking to anyone, redeeming yourself?”

“Oh I would not dare. Captain Dungheap said he never wanted to see me again. I am happy to oblige.” But those words did not seem very happy.

“Sounds to me like he may have forgotten the whole thing. Forgotten about you even. Out here flying this shuttle.”

“Now there is a dreadful thought.”

“When you get back you should bring up your service record, apply for another assignment.”

“I think I will do that. There she is; Starbase Bravo.”

Heriah got up and went to the front, sat beside the pilot. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah. Nothing the likes I have not seen a bajillion times.”

Heriah turned to him and smiled. “At least I am having a good time. And you’re the pilot. In a sense, you’re showing me a good time.”

“Tell me,” he cleared his throat after a nervous choke-up, “When do you plan to be back this way?”

“Oh I don’t know. But when I am back though…”

“Wait. If I were to ask for a new assignment then…”

“Trust me. You will have an easier time finding me out there than waiting here.”

He smiled then went back to piloting though the shuttle was still on autopilot.

“Stand up.” Heriah was standing, motioning him to do the same. “Stand up. Come here.”

He finally did and Heriah was quick to embrace him in a hug. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her after a moment’s quest for answers.

“It is my experience that everyone needs a hug now and then.”

“Perhaps you will make a great counselor.”

The console started beeping. He retook his seat. “Proximity alert. Time to start our arrival. Please return to your seat. I will have you on Starbase Bravo in a few minutes.”

“I thank you. I am sure you will make a great starship pilot.”

“With all this experience, who would not?”

The shuttle arrived and docked. Heriah and her pilot exchanged their goodbyes. With a packed-to-capacity Starfleet issued duffle in each hand, she made her exit. The duffle bags seemed no trouble at all for her.

The station had a lot to take in; tourist stops/traps, widespread commerce, civilians and personnel from various disciplines. There was no reason for her to stop and take in the sites at the moment. Heriah just wanted to get her quarter assignment and drop her luggage.

Heriah made her way through the corridors of the starbase, greeted some of the Starfleet personnel she crossed paths with, nodded and regarded many civilians, and even decided to make a purchase at a local shop. She had to submit to a thumbprint identification, retina scan identification, voice print identification for final admittance aboard the starbase and for quarter assignment.

A turbolift ride and slide of a door later and Heriah was on the residential decks for Starfleet personnel. A corridor console on the wall was already displaying the path she needed to follow to get to her quarters.

After dropping her duffle bags onto her bed, Heriah was quick to tear into them, unpack and start setting things up.

Her uniforms and clothing was easy. Everything was already ranger-rolled and tightly folded so as to hang and put away without the worry over wrinkles and the like. Socks, bras, undgarments, and undershirts had their respective homes in the drawers by the bed. In the closet hung her uniforms.

It was the décor where Heriah took her time and patience. Removing a twin vase, formed from a singular base, indicating the bond between host and symbiont, she made sure it was free of dust and blemish. Placing it on her nightstand, Heriah replicated some Trill lilacs (one red and one black) to insert into the vase.

The colors of the lilacs generally represented something to the owner. Pink normally represented newness of life, white was purity, blue would have meant freshness, and green for the fullness of life. Various color meant various things to the joined owner and they always picked two colors which would speak volumes about the Joined Trill. Trills rarely picked red and black for their colors yet Heriah found herself more at peace with that arrangement.

After arranging the flowers, she set up a stand to display her bat’leth several feet from the door. A glowing and slowly animated picture of Trillius Prime hung on the fall wall with a pair of sharpened ushaan-tors opposite of that. She set up her incense diffuser which wafted the perfume of the wild Trill sabrebeast into the air. Though many found the smell and the sensation soothing and calming, something Heriah was going to need as she performed her duties as counselor, the scent was generally emanated by the sabrebeast to ward off other animals downwind as it was about to tear into the prey it has been stalking.

Essentially, it meant ‘I am about to kill something. Stay away lest you may join the dead.’

Sensations versus true meanings. Heriah smiled gleefully at the irony and hopped on her heels as she stepped back toward the door to look at her living quarters and workspace. She hummed out a pleasing sound and enjoyed the result of her arrangement.

After a long and rather boring trip Cynndle Oin’sun stood looking out the window as the transport approached Starbase Four. He couldn’t help but admire and watch in awe as the massive station, his new home where he would finish his final year at the academy, grew larger by the second. His attention shifted to the traffic around the station as he began to focus on each of the ships, both federation and civilian, that he could see. His eyes darted from one to another taking them in as he thought back to his training and tried to identify each by Class and Name paying special attention to the Borg and Dominion era vessels as they have always had an elegance to them, he felt was rarely matched.

His attention snapped back as an announcement came over the speakers; “Docking at Starbase Four in 20 minutes. All crew and passengers prepare for docking and disembarking. Safe journeys.”

Never one for patience he returned to his bunk, slung his already packed duffle onto his back and headed to the airlock and waited as the transport came in and docked. he wanted to be the first off the ship and onto Starbase Bravo, the home of the might Fourth Fleet. 

After a couple of minutes of impatiently waiting, he felt the ever so slight bump as the airlocks locked in place and the door in front of him slide open. Without hesitation he stepped through and onto the station and was greeted by a pair of ensigns who were assigned to look after the transport and the offloading of passengers; without hesitation, he went straight up to them and stood at attention.

“Cadet Oin’sun reporting for duty at Bravo Fleet Academy”

The operations ensign smirked; “At ease cadet, you are a couple of days early, the new semester doesn’t start for a few days.” Pausing, looking down they taped on their PADD and without looking up “You are to be based here for your final year it seems, lucky you. Report to the academy officer once you have settled into your bunk.”

“Thank you, sir. I will do that now.” 

After a short ride in the turbo lift, he found himself at the academy facilities on the starbase. Looking around he was impressed with them though realized they were but a small offshoot of the main facilities on Mellstoxx II itself. Without delay, he went to the main office and reported in with the Lieutenant on duty and was assigned a room.

“Welcome to Starbase Four, or Starbase Bravo as we like to call it cadet Oin’sun. As a fourth-year student, you will not spend much time on Mellstoxx II, you will be assigned duties following the start of the term but I would expect you will be assigned to one of the ships or the base here itself to get more hands-on operational experiences.”

“Thank you, sir, I look forward to the challenges ahead of me and being here on Starbase Four, sorry Starbase Bravo.” 

The Lieutenant smiled and nodded, as Cynndle turned to go the Lieutenant spoke again, “Take the most of these quiet days cadet, there is a lot to see on the station and once the semester starts your time will be limited.”

Cynndle paused; “I will do that sir…Thanks.”

Without challenge, he found his room and confirmed his identity on the door panel before being admitted.  Looking around he smiled; finally, after 3 years he had his own room and was living on a Starbase – though I don’t know how much time I will actually get here. He quickly unpacked and stored his clothes and the few personal items he brought with him before leaving the room to explore the station.

This is the second story which flushed out Cynndle’s backstory up to his current posting on Starbase Bravo as an Operations Officer.

Engaging the Unknown (Late 2399)

As the USS Dawnbringer, a sabre class escort, coasted through the emptiness of interstellar space Ensign Cynndle Oin’sun leaned back on the chair in his room drinking a cup of tea watching the starscape side by outside his window lost in thought.

After almost two years on the USS Dawnbringer, he had to admit he was pretty happy and hoped that with the new century on the horizon he could bring it in as a Lieutenant. After multiple successful away missions, combat and research and rescue operations he was pretty sure it had it in the bag – at least that is what she had hinted at when he approached Captain Nimitz about his career aspirations. ‘Two years isn’t that long to be fair; I have gotten great experience here, better than most officers get’ he thought to himself…

His train of thought was interrupted when his alarm chirped reminding him that he had only 10 minutes until the start of his shift. He took one final sip of the tea and stood up placing it back in the replicator before rolling his shoulders and stretching. Walking to his closet he opened it and quickly dressed into his uniform. With a quick glance in the mirror, he ran a hand through his hair and walked into the corridor towards the lift.

“Aren’t you cutting it a bit close today Ensign?” a voice said from behind Cynndle causing him to roll his eyes before he turned around and shrugged. “Well LT, close but on time is still on time last time I checked.” Lieutenant Rebecca Thompson, the ship’s main pilot, stared up at him from her height of 154cm; well below his towering 201cm. “Such energy you bring to the roll Cyn,” she said before laughing “Though I guess you could have said the exact same thing to me.”

“Bridge,” said Cynndle as the turbo lift doors closed. Looking over at Rebecca “You hear anything from the night shift to add some spice to today or is it another day another patrol eh?” 

“You know you love this old bird Cyn. I have seen the way you smile whenever you she her in spacedock – pretty sure you would love whatever assignment you had if you were on her; she has a history to her.” Without pause, Cynndle smiled “You got me there LT; she is a great ship.” 

The lift came to a stop and opened onto the bridge and they both entered. Captain Nimitz and Commander Flagstaff, the XO, turned to look at them.

“Right on time as usual I see” Nimits commented. 

“Ma’am, here when I am needed,” Cynndle comments as he took the sensors station at the side of the bridge. The next few hours passed without notice as the Dawnbringer jumped to warp heading towards its next patrol point within the Triangle. Cynndle got up and went to the replication and grabbed a coffee before turning to his station and taking a sip while recalibrating the long-range sensors adjusting for the higher levels of radiation within the system. As he was doing that Crewman Trioni spoke up.

“Ma’am, we have an incoming message – appears to be a distress call from the SS Silverdart, out of Archanis. They are under attack by an unknown vessel and requesting immediate assistance. They are reporting engine failure and something about their shields but that last bit is garbled. I will try to get it back.”

The captain looked at her and nodded, turning to Cynndle she ask “Do you have them on sensors Ensign Oin’sun?”

“Yes Ma’am, they are 10 minutes 23 seconds out at maximum warp”

“Get us there Lieutenant Thompson on the double. Red Alert”

As the klaxons started the USS Dawnbringer jumped to warp to face the unknown.

—-

The USS Dawnbringer dropped out of warp with a flash 40Km from the SS Silverdart. The long cylindrical vessel was adrift with clear carbon scoring and breaches along its hull.

“What is their status Ensign?” the Captain asked. Cynndle had the answer already on hand. “They have multiple breaches but do not appear to be leaking O2, their engines are down. I don’t have the other…no wait…coming out of the asteroid field is the unknown vessel, bearing 329-mark-10 distance 30Km to the Silverdart and closing.”

The dark silver vessel was shaped like two delta wings stacked on top of each other

Get us between us and the Silverdart Lieutenant the captain ordered and the Dawnbringer jumped forward at full impulse.

“Open hailing frequencies crewman Trioni – get me that Ship. This is Captain Nimits of the Federation starship USS Dawnbringer. Cease your attacks on the SS Silverdart and withdraw, or you will be fired one”

“No Response Ca..” Crewman Trioni called. Her voice trails off as the vessel opened fire on the Silverdart – a purple bean lancing forth from the tip of the delta wing piercing the shields of the freighter and cutting through one of its large storage containers.

“Send a warning shot across their bow Commander” the Captain ordered as 2 quantum torpedoes streaked forward passing within meters of the attacking craft causing it to veer off and rapidly disappear into the asteroid field.

“Captain, we have lost contact with the attacking vessel. They may be hiding just inside the asteroid belt” Cynndle remarked. “The Silverdart though is in rough shape. That last hit didn’t seem to hit anything critical but they are now leaking the atmosphere.”

Nodding Captain Nimitz looked to comms and Ensign Trioni. “Any word from them Ensign?” “Yes, Ma’am, they have just sent a hailed us asking for support and repair teams”.

Over the next two hours, the USS Dawnbringer coasted alongside the SS Silverdart as the Chief Engineer and his team worked to repair their engines and seal the ship.

“Chief, how much longer do you need?” Nimitz asked over the comms. “At least another hour or two; whatever hit these engines really messed them up Ma’am.”

As the Captain paced the bridge Cynndle stayed glued to the sensors trying to pierce through the radiation within the field which was limiting their effectiveness. “Ma’am, I think I may have something – there seems to be an energy ready just inside the field at bea..”

Before Cynndle could finish the sentence the vessel emerged from behind a large asteroid flying towards the Dawnbringer.

“RED ALERT, SHEILDS UP!” Nimitz shouted as the vessel fired the odd purple beam hitting the shields causing them to flare before it cut through them impacting just starboard of the bridge causing the ship to shudder and power conduits to blow throughout the ship. Before anyone could react, consoles shorted out across the bridge for a few sounds and the tactical console exploded sending Commander Flagstaff flying backwards into the bulkhead.

“Rerouting Tactical to my console” Cynndle called out as crewman Hall ran to the XO with a medkit. “Shall we return fire Captain?” Nimitz looked around as she regained her feet. “What the hell was that? Yes, Fire at will Ensign.” Turning to Crewman Hall “How is he?”. Crewman Hall looked up and shook his head, “Dead Ma’am, the blast…” he trailed off.

“Damn. Clear my sky, Ensign. Take the ship OUT!” Nimitz shouted. Before Cynndle could respond the vessel vanished back into the field.

“We make the mistake of waiting for it last time. Let’s go get them, Lieutenant Thompson, take us in after them” Nimitz ordered.

The Dawnbringer gained speed and entered the asteroid field seconds after the vessel. Over the next hour, the two vessels dodged asteroids trying to get the upper hand over the other. 

“Ma’am, we are getting sensor echoes from their asteroids. I cannot confirm the exact location for a targeting lock. Thankfully they seem to have the same issue; hopefully, the demodulated shields will be more effective after that first hit.” Cynndle reported as the vessel fired at them missing wildly before dodging behind another rock.

“A hail from the Silverdart Ma’am, their engines are repaired and ready to should be ready to jump to warp in a couple of minutes” Trioni reported. Almost on queue the unknown vessel flipped direction and shot towards the edge of the field and the Silverdart.

“Don’t let them get away, put us between us and the Freighter Thompson!” Nimitz ordered.

The Dawnbringer closed on the unknown vessel as they emerged from the asteroid field and cut it off from the freighter. Doing so the Dawnbringer was racked by fire causing the ship to shake and screech as the energy weapons hit it. 

Cynndle manning the new tactical station returned fire, phasers and torpedoes shot fourth smashing into the vessel causing its shields to flare with the hits opening a gap as the torpedo passed through detonating against the hull causing it to spin erratically for a moment as their shields flickered.

“The remodulations to the shield have helped; their weapons are not passing through to the same degree” Hall reported manning damage control. “Incoming fire, swarm torpedoes on an intercept course, they are getting through. BRACE!” Cynndle yelled just as they were hit again with fire from the vessel making the Dawnbrigner screech and shake as power dimmed, support beams and conduits to explodes and Cynndle’s world went dark.

Cynndle regained consciousness seconds later as smoke filled the bridge, he looked around seeing Hall on one knee calling out damage reports.  “Hull breaches on decks 3, 5 and 6. Casualty reports coming in Ma’am. The shield are down to 20%, they are helping but not much – we can’t take another hit like that!” Hall yelled.

Thompson had the foresight and had strapped in and shook her head to refocus. Nimitz though was pinned under a fallen support beam trapping her legs as she blinked slowly clearly in a daze.

Cynndle pulled himself back to his console after being thrown sever meters away. “We have to close with them, there is an erratic power build-up. Get us behind them Thompson and I think I can finish this.” 

Thompson nodded and the Dawnbringer gained speed dodging enemy fire and rolled up and over the enemy vessel. “Closer….Closer….NOW!” Cynndle muttered before hitting the trigger and the dual dorsal phaser arrays fired in unison hitting just between the two delta wingers just beside their engines causing them to flash before cutting out sending the vessel into a rapid flat spin.

“That’s them dead in the water” Cynndle sighed as he looked at the view screen seeing the ship spin slowly under them. “Wait…SHIT. Thompson get us out of here, their CORE IS GOING CRITICAL!” No sooner had Cynndle said this than the Dawnbringer began to accelerate away… too late.

The vessel detonated 20km off their port side the explosion hit the ship and sent the Dawnbringer spinning wildly as it lost power. Its port nacelle was sheared off by the force as alarms blared and the warp core shut down to prevent a breach.

The Silverdart and the Chief Engineer having watched the final engagement were able to move into position and stabilize the Dawnbringer bringing her to a stop. With their assistance, emergency treatment and repairs were provided. By the end of it a total of 8 crew were lost during the battle and a further 20 were injured but recovering.

A not so short 12 hours following the battle a repair tug from Starbase Bravo arrived to render aid as the Dawnbringer was no longer able to achieve warp and was in need of a tow.

On route, Cynndle was called by Captain Nimitz to her ready room. She sat in her chair with a bandage around her head. “Well, Ensign. Thank you for coming.” She said while gesturing to a seat. “You did well, you really stepped up when needed. The loss of the XO and others is a blow to everyone as you no doubt feel yourself. But your quick thinking saved the ship. Even if it did catch us in a core breach.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. May I ask what it is you wanted to speak about?”

“To the point, ok. The Dawnbringer will be in drydock for a while following this. As such I think it is time for you to receive these” she said and pushed a small box across the table.

Cynndle took it and opened it revealing a single black pip.

“Congratulations Lieutenant, you earned this.”

Heriah Rex Personnel Log – Letter to Rikata Mol

Rikata Mol, you have been both my doctor and my counselor during this last year on Earth. Together we have overcome many milestones during my development as a Joined Trill. You were there for all the good times as well as the bad. I keep your teachings close to heart, everything you said, all the meditation techniques as well as your kind words.

Sorry again about the arm.

We are both undertaking new voyages now. As I am done at the academy so are you done looking after me. I am certain you will also miss your study of humans and all that study will come in handy when you continue your role acclimating people to Trill as they tour and want to know more. Sadly, many sometimes still find themselves uncomfortable in the presence of a Joined Trill, with a symbiont living inside. Anyone who has seen that classic movie will immediately think ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers.’

Together we showed the many peoples of Earth that the Trill are not very dissimilar. This past year has been great and you have been more than my doctor and counselor. You have been my friend.

I write to you now en route to Starbase Bravo where I shall take up my first assignment as station counselor. I will send this as soon as I am on board. I am certain you will still be on the way back to our homeworld. Say ‘Hello’ to her for me.

I must admit though, that as soon as we were apart, it finally hit me that we are going separate ways. I am still a bit anxious about all this but times must change and we must all go on these adventures. How else do we evolve as people? Those were your words to me only last week and I shall keep them close to my heart.

Simply knowing how far away you will be has me, a little, unnerved. Some of those violent thoughts crept back in during my trip. You know what I mean. I could feel my heart begin to race. I was afraid you became something of an anchor for me, and that being apart from you would make me lose my way, but your words echoing in my mind and the meditative techniques and the quick litanies helped a great deal.

I am uncertain how I will get along with this new crew. My direct line supervisor is a Trill. What are the odds of that? I am certain he will understand me better than most. The Chief Medical Officer is Marie Delacour. I have not reviewed her profile yet but I am certain I will be in good hand.

New journeys all around I suppose. I keep finding myself anxious about this new crew and assignment, but we will all be in the same boat, literally. Everyone must also be anxious, as much as I, I suppose.

Do enjoy your time back on Trill. Say ‘Hello’ to Latsian should you see him as well as all those that helped get me where I am today. I thank you most of all.

XOXOXO As the humans go, Your friend,

Heriah Rex

Transporter Room – 1400

“Welcome aboard Starbase Bravo, Lieutenant.”  The transporter officer accepted the man’s proffered PADD and signed off on his arrival.  “Your quarters are marked here, and your belongings have been transported already.”  Henry Longfellow gave the man an indifferent nod and left through the doors without speaking.  The journey from Montana to here had been bittersweet.  His wife was finding her way to a medical frigate somewhere, and their last day together had been spent wondering if they’d made the right decision.  Longfellow grumbled as he walked the corridors.  Space was a fascinating place and it held far more adventure than working on Earth.  That had been the impetus behind their path change.  His wife had seized on it as a way to get a piece of The Undiscovered Country before they were too old to enjoy it.  Henry had agreed, but as he turned corridor to corridor until he stood before the door to his quarters. – he was starting to wonder.

Longfellow’s Quarters – 1430

“What were you thinking, Henry?” He asked himself out loud.  Some might have called the situation a mid-life crisis or something but it less of that and more of the need to do something different.  He had spent his life working on hospitals in Montana and hadn’t ventured much outside of the state.  Suddenly the two of them were discovering how isolated they had become.  Space offered a bigger sky than Big Sky Country and stars beyond measure.  In theory, it was the answer.  In the practice of the moment, it was the question.  He sighed and tapped the keycode into the door and it swooshed open, revealing the spartan features he had expected.  A living room, a bathroom, and a sleeping room.  It was the simple life in Starfleet, he had learned.  Two years in the academy had prepared him for this moment…and yet he resisted stepping into the room.  It felt as if it was the point of no return to cross the threshold.  There would be no turning back.

Come on, Longfellow, he shouted at himself in his head.  He forced his feet to cross the doorway.  He let out a deep breath as the door closed behind him.  He’d put in his application for physician and it had been approved speedily.  He was convinced it was something to do with the recent events and less with his application and resume.  He wasn’t a sterling surgeon from the high-rise hospitals out East or West.  He was a small-town doctor who found a special joy in riding horses in backcountry Montana.  Stepping aboard a massive starbase with plenty of glittering lights and windows felt awkward.  He’d have to make do.

It took him a few hours to hang his photos and mementos, and adjust the lighting and furniture to his liking.  The music of Duke Ellington echoed in the background as he moved and shifted.  There was something about the early Earth years of Jazz.  Power, emotion, and theme ran deep in the music and lyrics. He wondered if those that had been listening to the men and women of that time realized the greatness their ears were beholding.  He sat down and felt a sense of accomplishment in his efforts.  He glanced at his chrono.  Dinner would be soon enough and tomorrow’s duty would be coming with a new day.  For now, he clicked over to Billie Holiday and allowed the music to bring him some peace in the chaos ahead.

FROM: Rikata Mol – Doctor / Counselor – Trill Military, Sciences Division

TO: Medical Resident, Starbase Bravo ENS Hannah Murphy

CC: Staff Psychiatrist, Starbase Bravo LT JG Elegy Weld

SUBJECT: Heriah Khatain Rex

Greetings from Trill. I am Doctor Rikata Mol, Joined Trill and both Doctor and Counselor for the Sciences Division of the Trill Military. I was recently assigned to Earth to study and become more familiar with humans and Earth. Quite a remarkable planet. My primary purpose for being on Earth was to look after our interests in Heriah Khatain Rex. I understand she was recently assigned to your starbase as counselor. LT JG Weld, I am sure you two will work closely together and work well together.

I have the honor of being both her doctor and counselor during her time on Earth studying at Starfleet Academy. I feel I know her quite well and wish for you to know her just as well, perhaps better, and to help guide her on her path.

A little about her though.

Heriah has been joined for only 14 months which include 2 months of observation on Trill and her final year on Earth. Her symbiont is named Rex and has undergone a traumatic history. It was Refkin Rex (male) who was an officer in our Special Forces who was captured and assimilated by the Borg. They attempted to assimilate Rex as well as the host but aborted when they saw they were going to kill the symbiont. Some scarring and implants still remain on Rex. We could not undo all the damage.

Refkin was rescued however only after 36 hours of Borg assimilation so full assimilation did not take place. The host took ill and died only a week later as his isoboramine levels plummeted fast. In those last days, he proved violent and nearly impossible to control. The next two hosts Davmorda (female) and Luftine (male) had similar tales along with similar results. Both were oriented in careers that some would consider violent. Both survived only 5 years before taking ill and eventually dying while also losing their minds to the apparent wrath of emotions stemming from the Rex symbiont.

It was I who stepped forward with a plan to find a kind and caring heart to be Rex’s next host, thus Heriah Khatain was called in. She was already on Earth and at the Academy. She agreed to the joining though hesitantly after seeing how Rex’ previous hosts lived their joined lives and eventually died. In her own words, Heriah may feel as a ‘rehabiliatory host for Rex.’

Symbionts are highly honored on our planet and losing one is a blow to the populace. And we certainly do not want to lose a symbiont because the previous hosts proved too violent. Which is why we chose a kind and loving heart. So, yes, Heriah is something of a rehabiliatory host. Her joining is something of an experiment to see if someone like Heriah can calm the pain and anger within the symbiont.

It was my assignment on Earth to see Heriah every two weeks for checkups and counseling sessions. Her joining with Rex seems to have gone well. The joining operation went as planned with few abnormalities stemming from the damage done to the symbiont. The 14 months I spent with her afterward was very pleasant. She did of course suddenly decide to focus on security as opposed to what she was already studying. That was something I did manage to talk her out of. It came as a surprise but Trill generally do take different paths once joined. She eventually took a page out of my book and turned to counseling. Though she did spend a great deal of time in the gym and fought in the Starfleet Academy bantam-weight combatives division.

At first, in our sessions, Heriah seemed to have battles with her emotions. She showed the occasional violent swing, sometimes seem to talk to herself, kept to herself, had nightmares, etc. almost anything you would expect from someone dealing with paranoia or multiple personalities. This can occur among newly joined Trills and effects 1 in 50 maybe. This all went away during our sessions as she became accustomed to being joined. Her path was harder and longer than most given the difficult history of the symbiont’s past.

You may have a little difficulty in dealing with Heriah as she can be stubborn. Believe me this stubbornness stems from Rex. Heriah may have a hard time with new people though she does try to make friends quickly. She can become anxious quite easily. See if her pupils dilate, if she sweats, or if her spots take on a red tint. Those are sure signs. She can generally calm herself. I have given her plenty of wisdom, words, phrases, meditation techniques, things to tame the beast you might say.

Her isoboramine levels remained high throughout this past year. Rex’s previous two hosts did start to lose isoboramine within a year of being joined. Though neither of them lived more than five years after accepting the Rex symbiont, Heriah shows no signs of having to suffer a similar fate.

My professional opinion is that all is well and she will prove herself more than adequate aboard your starbase. Please create a schedule to see her though. I would suggest she meet with the two of you on a monthly basis. Both of you at once if you prefer or stagger her visits. Doctor first then Counselor two weeks later then back to Doctor or the other way around. You decide.

If either of you should need me, you now have my contact information. Please do not hesitate to contact me should the need arise. Also, do not mention to her much of our messages back and forth. Heriah is a sweet woman but can take issue with others talking behind her back. She is aware however that I am sending you material.

Please find attached to this message a data stream containing session recordings, dialogues, my personal notes, and much more that I have developed over the past year in my dealings with Heriah Rex. These should prove useful in helping her better herself and prepare you for any unforeseen mishaps.

Please do import the replicator matrix for Benzocyatizine into your computer if you do not have it already and just in case you do not have a supply on board. It is the medication used to treat low serum isoboramine levels in Trill patients.  Heriah Rex is not on this medication nor have I ever had to administer any dosages. Just keep some handy in case the unforeseen happens to emerge.

All this and more is in my data stream. That and the Starfleet medical manual on Trill physiology should prove adequate I do hope you will find that it answers all of your questions.

Keep in mind though, should a Trill’s isoboramine levels drop below and remain lower than 40%, for any reason, emergency stasis treatment is mandatory in hopes to keep the symbiont alive for transfer to a new host. This is a remote scenario however as I, in my professional opinion, foresee nothing of the sort. You have a completely healthy Trill on your hands. We just need to keep her in top health.

May your path be smooth and clear of obstacles,

Rikata Mol

Attachment

Longfellow Quarters – 0530

The morning had come as most mornings came – moving through each step as practiced and instinctual as they had become over the years.  He was an early riser, and took his coffee with bacon, eggs, and sourdough toast every day.  It was a rite each morning to rise, break his fast, and spend some time in the sonic shower setting his mind to the tasks ahead.  He had been assigned to Infirmary 4 for the day with duties to be detailed.  His morning began in silence, a stark comparison of when he’d lived and worked with his wife – they had talked through the morning wake up, food, and getting ready.  Rarely had there been silence between them in their years of marriage.  He felt it now and reached out for his PADD.  He wrote a quick message to Thea asking her how her assignment was and that he missed her.  He reminded her they would talk via video soon enough and that helped heal the bruise that had formed on his heart in the last 24 hours.  A fresh uniform and a carrier for his coffee, and he was on his way.

Infirmary 4 – 0600

“Dr. Longfellow…ah, yes.  You’re set for a 0600-1500 shift today.”  He accepted the PADD from the officer at the front desk.  “You’re assigned office 102 for today.  It has been keyed to your biosignature.  We’ll be seeing patients in the next thirty minutes.  Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.”  He gave her a half-hearted nod and headed to the office.  The door whisked open, revealing a medium-sized office with a chair, an LCARS-infused desk, and a few lamps around the room.  He dropped his bag in the chair opposite the desk and took a deep pull from his coffee thermos, the heating unit ensuring it was the temperature he preferred.  He stepped around to his side of the desk and tapped into the system, logging in and verifying his settings.  Sitting down, he felt the pangs of missing his old office at Bozeman Deaconess.  He had spent eight years in the emergency department managing, running, working, and building it into an incredibly responsive and highly rated site.  He’d made good friends in those years, and the shock at his announcement to leave for Starfleet still flashed through his mind.  He long settled into the idea that he’d retire from that position.  Now he was a simple physician on a bustling starbase.  He’d read up and studied his fellow staff a little.  The Chief Medical Officer was legendary, even to him.  He had to believe the stories that had drifted his way were nothing short of hyperbole.  Someone had whispered in passing that she was like an old school movie villain with her cat and others were sure she’d made a doctor or two disappear who had ended up on her wrong side.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her or the stories.  He still wasn’t sure if he’d end up staying at this posting.  There was so much and so many – was he truly suited to work in a place like this?  He stood, snagged a medical tricorder to his belt, and slipped a PADD into his hands.  He had patients to see and people to meet if he was going to see if this path was going to work out for him.

Infirmary 4 – Exam 3 – 0645

“I don’t know doc, it just started hurting like hell.”  The cadet has a look of panic on his face.  He was sitting on the exam table while Henry passed the medical tricorder over his body.  The kid had come in with complaints that his leg was hurting and that he was having a hard time walking.  “It happened right after we finished our warm-up run.”

Longfellow frowned, “Let’s lay down, Cadet Loren.”  The young man complied, a look of confusion passing across his face as he did so.  Henry tried to comfort him, “I just need to take a deeper look.  Ever had this before?”  He swept the smaller scanning attachment over the pained leg as the tricorder beeped and whirred through the results.

“No, doc.  I mean, I had my share of injuries as a kid but nothing serious.”  Loren grimaced, “Damn that is starting to hurt.”

Longfellow quickly activated the bridge over the bed and it locked in place.  He tapped the console as the cadet cried out in pain, “You’ve got a couple of blood clots in that leg…we’re going to have to break them up and get to the source of it, Cadet.  Hold still.”  He motioned for a nurse, “We’re going to need clot busters.”  He did a quick calculation and handed her a PADD, “With that amount and intensity.”  She gave a nod and dashed to the cabinets.

“Aggggg, what do you mean a clot?  I’ve got our competition later this afternoon, man.”  He groaned, “You gotta fix me up, doc.”

Longfellow stabbed a few commands on the console and the cadet slowly relaxed. The readings on the bridge unit were still concerning.  The nurse returned with the requested injections.  Longfellow accepted each and clicked the bridge open.  As he did he picked up and pushed the hypospray against the cadet’s stomach and then leg.  He tossed the empty hyposprays to the startled nurse and reengaged the bridge over the cadet.  The readings slowly stabilized and soon read nearly all green.  The nurse looked at him and then to the cadet, “How…clots in a kid that young?”

Henry pursed his lips, “It is unusual.  We’re going to have to hold him overnight or transfer him to a hospital unit for further observation and testing.”

She gave him a look, “How did you know?”  The doctor’s actions were practiced and held a certain rhythm.

Longfellow shrugged as he started typing in the orders for the cadet, “Working in Montana we dealt with retirees who hadn’t managed their health very well.  Things like stroke or heart attacks weren’t unusual.  You’d think in 2400 we’d have that kinda thing handled all over.  People still gotta people, I guess.”  He finished typing out the orders and transfer authorization.  He handed it over to her, “I get this right?”

The nurse gave a cursory look and pointed out some items to him, “This…needs to be this…and that…change it to this.”  She scrolled down, “That’s good…and that’s ok…click that…yep…and there you go.  All clear.”

Longfellow gave her a thankful look, “First patient done.  Thank you for the help.”

“Here to help Doctor. They’ll be by to pick him up in a few.  I’ll monitor him.  You have another patient in exam 2.  Somebody smuggled in some actual alcohol last night and overdid himself.  He needs some help getting on the right side of life.”

Henry mused, “As much as things change, they still stay the same.”  He headed to exam 2 feeling something approaching purpose.

Roger sat on a sand stone rock that seemed much smaller than it was when he was growing up. He was in the woods behind the group home for orphaned children of Starfleet officers where he lived from the time he was age four, remembering the many days and hours he spent there thinking, dreaming, wondering, and crying.

Roger’s Rock, as he called his special refuge, was at the edge of a stream gently flowing down a small hill. He could hear the occasional ribid of a frog, with birds chirping in the branches above.

There was nowhere else in the universe like it, which was why he was going to miss it.

Roger was twenty-two now and a graduate of Starfleet Academy, commissioned as an ensign in the field of security and tactical. He would be leaving Earth later that day for his first duty assignment, so he wanted to spend time on his rock before going. It would be a very long time before he would be on Earth again, possibly never again and he couldn’t head out without saying good-bye.

“Do you remember the first time I was here?” It was as though Roger were speaking to an old friend. In some ways, he was. “One of the other kids got adopted and it made me feel terrible. I was jealous because I wanted someone to want me. So no one would see me screaming and crying, I snuck out, ran into the woods, and found you. I was just six.”

Roger sighed and tossed a stone into the stream. It kerplunked, the circles of ripples expanding outward until they disappeared back into the water. He wondered if that was symbolic of what his life had become: a simple beginning, expanding in every direction, with so many possibilities.

Whether it was or not, he chose it to be.

A few minutes passed and Roger got up, brushing off his clothes. Staring at his rock, a lump in his throat, he set his hand on it.

“Good-bye, old friend. Stand strong until we see each other again.” Wiping a tear from his eye, Roger started walking away.

Stifling a yawn slightly, Tate was finding his first few days on Starbase Bravo to be quite full on. The one thing he was struggling with was finding himself around the huge station. Not wanting to look absolutely stupid in front of his colleagues or his superiors, he had found keeping a PADD with a map of the station on him was the best way of getting used to his surroundings. Working his way through deck three-hundred and two in sector golf-one-cyan, he was on his way to find his father. He had been asked by one of his superiors to hand deliver a report before he came off his shift. The computer had told him that his father was in this area and Horin had wondered if he was there undertaking an inspection on one of the many tactical systems the station had. 

Approaching a large doorway that was signposted with the words: TORPEDO ARMOURY NINE, the cadet tapped the button and requested clearance to enter the room. Someone, who he assumed was monitoring the door, called him to determine what his intentions were. Once he flashed them the PADD he carried and explained he was there to see his father, they allowed him to enter.

Stepping through over the threshold, once the doors had parted away from each other, Horin found himself in a tall and extremely wide room that looked more like a warehouse than any armoury he had seen. The room was darkened somewhat, so he couldn’t see past a few metres ahead of him. Not wanting to seem like a child who had lost their parents, he decided to begin walking down the long aisles of ordnance. He could hear mumbling or what sounded like low humming coming from behind a stack of photon torpedoes, he couldn’t sense if it was his father, so instead he walked around and was surprised not to find his father but a younger officer.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir for interrupting you.”  

Connolly studied the younger man for a moment. “Who are you?” He asked, quickly adding another. “And what are you doing in here?”

Standing straight to attention, Horin didn’t blink as he answered. “Cadet Tate Horin, sir.” He replied in a formal and firm tone. “I’m here to deliver a message to Captain Horin.”

“I assume the fact that you share the same surname is no coincidence?” Connolly asked.

“Yes sir, the captain is my father.” Horin said, still standing firmly to attention. 

The tactical officer frowned at the sight of the cadet’s posture. “At ease, for god’s sake.” He glanced back down at his PADD and stabbed at a few controls with his index finger. “You’ll pull a muscle or something if you keep standing like that.”  

“Thank you, sir.” Horin relaxed a bit and wasn’t sure if he should ask the ensign if he had seen his father.

“If you’re,” Connolly stopped and seemed to reconsider his words, “the captain is in here, I haven’t seen him.”

“Oh okay,” Horin said, sounding a bit deflated at not being successful so far in finding his father. “Were you going to ask me a question then, sir?”

Connolly shook his head. But seconds later did have a question for the young cadet. “What’s it like serving on a starbase where your dad’s one of the senior officers? I would imagine you have to keep your nose extra clean.”

Holding a sigh back, Horin scratched the back of his head before answering. “It’s not been easy, I’ve found myself trying to prove I didn’t get placed on the starbase because of him.” He looked at the ensign. “How long have you been here, sir?”

“Three years.” Connolly replied. “When I arrived, this station was still under construction so I served aboard the old Spacedock-class station initially before transferring over here prior to her commissioning.”

“If you don’t mind me making a comment sir, I still get lost around this station.” Horin replied. “How have you survived being here this long?”

Connolly snorted. “You get used to it. When I first came aboard I made sure to plan all my journeys before I set off. I carried a PADD with me at all times with the journeys mapped out so I could consult it as needed. The longer I was onboard, the less I found myself consulting the PADD until I didn’t need it anymore.” With a shrug he added, “I like to be organised.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Horin remarked with a smile. He could sense that this was becoming a bit awkward. “I suppose I best go find my dad.” He took a couple of steps away before he turned back to Connolly. “Sir, I know this may be a bit impromptu of me, but as part of one of my assignments I need to shadow an officer for a week. I have to pick someone or my instructors will find me someone, so what I’m trying to say is, would you mind?”

Connolly’s features darkened and returned to the PADD in his hand. “I doubt Captain Horin would want his son shadowing someone with my,” he paused for a moment, “chequered past.” The bitterness in his voice as he said those last two words was palpable. “I’m sure your instructors will be able to find you a more appropriate officer to shadow.” 

Not knowing the ensign’s history, Horin was intrigued. “I don’t mean to pry sir, but my father isn’t that type of man. He’s always been someone who believes in giving people another chance.” Horin inhaled before speak further. “And I believe that too, so now you’ve said that, well I’d appreciate you seriously changing your mind?” The cadet took a step closer. “I may become a bit annoying with my request, sir.” 

“I doubt your instructors will want you shadowing me either.” Connolly told him. “But you can tell them that I’ve agreed to it, if you want. Whether they allow you to, well that’s for them to decide.”

“Well then, I get to tell them I’m learning from someone who has learnt from their mistakes.” Horin cheerfully replied before he showed his appreciation for the young officer. “Thank you though, Ensign?” He soon realised he had never asked him his name.

“Aiden Connolly.” The junior tactical officer replied.

Extending his hand out, Horin continued to remain positive. “Ensign Connelly, I am grateful. I suppose I best go find my father but perhaps maybe we could meet up tomorrow night for dinner or drinks to discuss my assignment?”

Connolly accepted the cadet’s hand and gave it a brief but firm shake. “Make it coffee. Brew, on the Promenade is usually pretty good.”

“I look forward to it.” Horin replied, before departing to go and find his father in between the various cases of photon and quantum torpedoes stored in this armoury.

Infirmary 4  – 1100

“…patient will need to be seen for a return visit in one week to ensure treatment plan is proceeding as planned.” Longfellow tapped the PADD for the next file and started up once more, “Patient will need to come in for twice-monthly labs and blood pressure checks.  File nutritional plan with replicator operations to ensure patient sees options when ordering.”  He tapped the PADD once more and let out a sigh of relief.  It had been the last patient from the morning.  He checked his schedule – an hour lunch had been scheduled for him starting now.  He headed out to find a place to eat.

Cozmo Coffee – 1115

Finding his way around the station was challenging and a bit overwhelming.  Thankfully he’d snagged his PADD on the way out and loaded a live map to find his way.  A turbolift ride and corridor stroll later he’d arrived at Cozmo Coffee.  He stared at the menu, blinking.  He needed simple.  He stepped up and ordered a black coffee and a roast beef sandwich.  A moment later he went looking for a seat.  The lunch crowd had filled in and there wasn’t a spare seat.  Henry sighed quietly and looked for anyone with a blue uniform.  He found one sitting, reading a PADD.  “Pardon me, ensign…can I sit across from you?”

Diverting her attention from the PADD in her hand to the man standing before her, she finished her sip of espresso and returned the cup to it’s saucer on the table. She wasn’t expecting anyone to join her on her lunch break, but was not opposed to having company, and gestured to the seat opposite to her, “Be my guest.” she replied.

Henry thanked her and sat down across from her.  He took a long drink from his coffee and thanked the gods that someone on this station made real coffee.  He’d setup his own system in his quarters after giving the replicator’s brew a try.  He’d nearly thrown it across the room.  Anybody could do good coffee.  He wanted great coffee.  He gave the ensign a nod, “Doctor Henry Longfellow…or Lieutenant Henry Longfellow, MD.” He gave a shrug, “I’m not really sure what my label is yet.”  He gestured to her, “May I ask your name?”

“Doctor Murphy.” She said in reply, “But Hannah if you’d prefer. What brings you to the station, work or just passing through?” she replied.

Fully invested in the conversation with her new companion, she set her PADD down on the table in order to give him her undivided attention. She needed the break from her studies anyway.

Longfellow took a bite of his sandwich and was pleasantly surprised.  There was some good old-fashioned flavor in the meat and bread.  He took a pull from his coffee, “Work, apparently.”  She gave him a curious look and he chuckled, “I was a doctor in Montana for most of my career.  Wife got the idea we needed to get into space and expand our world beyond just one little state.”  He shrugged, “We didn’t get placed together, so we’re navigating that challenge.”  He thought how to say the next part and settled on, “It’s my second day on this base and I’m just trying to stay ahead of whatever curves there are on the road ahead.  It may sound odd, but I’m more of a country doctor or small town doctor than anything.”  He gestured to the promenade outside, “I think this station’s probably bigger than any town or city I’ve ever lived in.”  He snacked on his chips and sighed, “But I’m here to do the thing we agreed to do.  So here I am.”  He looked back to her, “What brings you here, Doct…Hannah?  Why not the far away ships and stars in the depths of the galaxy?”

That was a question for the ages, she thought to herself briefly. She could have chosen any of the available postings offered to her at the academy to complete her residency when she graduated. Instead of galivanting across the galaxy, she chose Starbase Bravo. “I wish I knew.” she said, reaching for her half empty coffee cup. “I guess this seemed as logical a place as any to complete my residency. There certainly isn’t a shortage of work here. As a matter of fact, my first day here I ended up having to treat a Betazoid male that suffered severe plasma burns across his face and upper body that he sustained saving a young woman. By all accounts, that man is a hero.”

She paused to take another sip of her coffee. It was rapidly cooling; a sensation she disliked greatly as was visible by the disgusted look she gave as she returned it to the table and cast it aside. “But coming back to your original question, I suppose in addition to being logical, a station of this size would afford me the chance to follow in my father’s footsteps and serve the community at large. My father was in medicine also, and we travelled a great deal so he could help those in need.”

Longfellow nodded quietly, “I often wonder how my life would have been different if I had taken to Starfleet right out of medical school.”  He allowed a smile to cross his lips, “Out here there’s always someone that needs a doctor. You always have a next patient.”  He drained his coffee cup, “Given what I’ve learned about you over lunch, I think you’re in the right place.”  He gathered his things and gathered the trash from her side, “I for one am glad to have you around, Hannah.  We need the ones following in fathers’ and mothers’ and families’ footsteps.  They’re the ones that are gonna save the galaxy and lead us into the next great thing – whatever it is.”  He stood, “I’ve got duty that calls.  You ever need a hand or someone to share lunch with – give me a holler.”

“Absolutely. It was a pleasure to meet you Henry.” she replied, then flagged down one of the café’s servers as Henry walked off so she could order another espresso.

Henry headed out of the café, dropping the trash in a receptacle and pulled out his PADD.  He was going to be using the maps feature for a few days.

Under the bright lights of the promenade, Cadet Lyrakkiton Parze stood a little taller in her grey and red uniform.  Down on the Mellstoxx III campus, the cadet uniform blended her in with all her peers.  Among the varied beings passing her on the widely spaced walkway, the uniform singled her out as a student among the fleet.  Even though Cadet Parze was a senior in her academy progression, she was terribly junior in the work experience she’d been assigned on this day.

“What’s the game of patrol, lieutenant?” Cadet Parze asked the patrol shift leader she’d been assigned to for the day.  “What do you look out for?”

Sonja had been assigned a Cadet from the campus for a workday tag along. She wasn’t quite sure how this was going to pan out. The Cadet was in science and from the indications of her classes she had no idea of what Security even was for Starfleet, but she wanted to learn so it seemed as though that was the goal. The Cadet was standing beside Sonja as they walked the Promenade.

“I don’t know that I would call patrol a game, Cadet. It is a delicate job to watch and make sure that in the observation you do not cause problems. When patrolling we watch for anything suspicious and answer any calls that might come in that we need to respond to. As you can see the Promenade is a big place so it takes many officers on different shifts to do this job. As a Shift Patrol Leader, I do a lot more of the coordinating of the patrol for the shift I am on. Though I am out and about especially on occasions that something happens where I am needed.” She explained as the Saurian just looked at her.

“Ahhhhh, yes, I see,” Parze said, nodding fiercely.  Gesturing with her hands while she spoke, Parze thought aloud, “In a way, a security patrol is like observational science.  An experiment.  You want to observe the actions and the reactions, but you yourself don’t want to be observed.  You don’t want to influence your experiment by your presence.”  Perking up, even more, Parze asked, “Do you ever get to wear a personal cloaking device, like on a duck blind mission, Lieutenant?” 

Sonja laughed for a second “No Cadet, we’re not Intelligence or someone who hides in the shadows. There may be cases of such a thing being used, but here on the Promenade we do not do that. A good question though.” She stopped in the Promenade center “So what’s something you may find suspicious right here?”

Squaring her shoulders, Cadet Parze stood stock still, absorbing the activity of the promenade with her eyes, ears, and snout.  She didn’t say anything for about a minute, and then she started to spin around on the spot, taking in her observations on a 360-degree radius.  After another couple of minutes of observations, Parze scratched her scaly chin, in thought.  As subtly as she could, she pointed a clawed finger at each of her suspect targets.  “That human couple is sitting close and touching, in a way that suggests a romantic entanglement, but neither of them is looking the other in the eye,” Parze said.  “And that Boslic restaurateur has charged three customers different prices for what appear to be the same meals.  My mother would never allow that.”

Sonja was impressed with the amount of observation the Cadet had it was somewhat surprising as most people could care less about being observant, but Parze was different and Sonja had to make sure and record that. “Very good observation, though the relationship is not something I can tangle with I can watch to make sure the Boslic has a trend and send someone in to gather evidence covertly sometimes Security is also about staying in the shadows till the right moment to strike.”

“That sounds wise, lieutenant,” Parze said.  She nodded slowly, considering the implications of what Sonja said.  All the while, she still kept one eye on that Boslic restaurant.  Parze supposed aloud, “Civilians can be uncomfortable around security officers.  I don’t know if it’s more common for them to be afraid of being wrongfully accused or caught for their real secrets.  Have you noticed that at all?”

Sonja nodded “It is true that people can be uncomfortable when they see us, but that’s usually when someone is hiding something. In most cases people are happy to know someone is there to protect them, but people like to paint us as the bad guys. It is something we have to deal with quite often.”

Nodding once, Parze’s obsidian eyes widened at what Sonja shared with her.  “Does it bother you at all, lieutenant,” Parze asked, “if complete strangers look at you funny, or turn around to walk in a different direction because they see your uniform?”  The hubris of youth gave Parze the courage to ask such a personal question.  It wasn’t every day Parze had time to speak with a real, live Starfleet officer, doing what they do, out in the galaxy at large.  This was an opportunity she refused to waste.

Sonja thought for a moment. It was interesting to get such questions from a Cadet, but that made for a more interesting session. She had not really though about it, but it was a good question. “Truthfully I do not when is training for Security they help to teach you how to react and overcome that helps. I never really worried about it thought. I heard a saying once and its stuck with me. What other people think of you is none of your business. If you start to make it your business, you will be offended for the rest of your life. ” She smiled for a moment “That is why I am the way I am.”  

“I appreciate that philosophy.  It resonates.  My mother always says something similar about potential customers,” Parze said, a little bit wistfully.  Turning her head again, Parze scanned the promenade again for suspicious behaviour.  In particular, she stared at the Boslic restaurant one more time.  To Sonja, Parze asked, “What else might you look for on patrol?”

Sonja looked at Parze “Easiest way to explain this is that if it seems like it could be dangerous to the people you protect it more than likely falls into the Security purview.” She said trying to show the Cadet the best and easiest way to describe security.

Nodding heavily, Parze said, “Secure-ity.  It’s even in the name.  Your calling is to secure our people from danger.  There’s no more admirable a calling than that.”

Sonja smiled it was often a cadet thought highly of a position they did not want to occupy, but Parze was different “Indeed so, it’s about time to eat if you would like to join me for my lunch?”

“Yes, of course, lieutenant,” Parze replied brightly.  Her posture perked up and she immediately began her visual search for the vast array of food options on the promenade.  Upon a second thought, Parze looked to Sonja and she wryly said, “As long as we eat anywhere but the Boslic restaurant.”

Sonja chuckled and led Parze towards her favorite restaurant it was going to be an interesting second half of the shift, but Parze was a good person to have along. Sonja knew the Cadet would go far in her career.

Infirmary 4  – 1600

Longfellow finished his reports and sipped on the black tea he’d steeped.  The day had gone well enough.  A few paperwork mistakes had to be tracked down and corrected but he’d quickly figured out where he had gone wrong.  Most of the patients had been responsive.  Some had given him a challenge or two while one had outright needed to go cool off with security.  He sat at the desk, wondering what the next day would bring.  He tapped at the inlaid LCARS and opened a channel to his wife, Thea.  They’d figured out this was the best time for them to talk.  The channel beeped and the face of his beloved filled the screen.  He smiled wide, “Hey lovely.”

Thea gave him an impish grin, “Hey grumpy.  How’d your first day go?”  Behind her, the spartan quarters echoed his own. 

He shrugged, “It’s a big station.  Bigger than anywhere I’ve worked before.”  He leaned forward, “I’m just a physician here.  It’s an odd feeling being in charge of so little…but it’s a relief, to be honest.  Just gotta worry about little old me.  You?”

His wife sighed, “Well, I’m assistant chief over here.  It’s a small medical ship supporting a larger medical fleet.  We’ve got a lot of places to go and little time to get it done in.  Feels like a true trauma floor – we don’t stop moving the entire shift.  I’m going to get my cardio in, that’s for sure.”

They talked about their fellow crew. Thea had met more of hers being a smaller ship.  She was proud of him for making friends with a resident and wondered if he might try and spend time with her again.  “I dunno, lovely.  Being in such a big place…I might just fade into the background and get my work done.”

She frowned at that, “You regret doing this?”  She leaned in.

Henry shook his head, “Regret isn’t the feeling…we gave up a pretty great life to fling ourselves out here, Thea.  It’s more of questioning if we did the right thing.  You’d love it here.”

Thea laughed, “I think you’d probably be happier here, too Henry.  A smaller ship, smaller crew, and not much room to roam or get lost in.  I guess we both got placed in places that are going to force us to grow a little.”  Her smile faded as she finished speaking.

He grumbled, “We’ve still got each other, lovely.  We agreed to give this thing six months.  I’m not counting down…but it’d be nice to have you here, instead.”

Thea paused and pursed her lips.  She missed him too and wished the assignments could have been closer.  “Six months was the agreement.  I looked at pictures of Bravo.  She’s a beautiful station.”  A shrug, “Let’s see what this feels like a month in.  Who knows…you might want to come this way.”

Henry sighed, “I’d be happy to just be where you are, lovely.  I miss you.”

She grew quiet and whispered, “I miss you too.”  Silence ruled the open communication channel until she smiled thinly, “I’ve got reports to do…we’ll talk tomorrow?”  He gave a nod and she kissed her palm and blew him a kiss.  He did the same and they stared at each other longingly until she closed the channel.  Longfellow sat in the office for ten minutes more thinking on his future before checking out for the day and returning to his quarters.

Infirmary 4  – 0900

“Dr. Longfellow.”  The tone of the nurse’s voice caught him first as he glanced up.  Her eyes told a story.  “Patient is on the way from a transport ship.  They’ve sent the file over.”  She stepped forward and gingerly placed the PADD on the desk.  Henry stared at her and then tapped the inlaid LCARS to access the PADD data.

As he skimmed the file, he read aloud, “Patient is a Vulcan Scientist, age…200?”  The nurse gave a quiet nod, and he read on, “She’s suffering from a rare blood disease and is requesting…good god, hospice care.”  He leaned back in his chair, “I’m sorry you had to take that call.”  The young nurse gave another nod, wiping her eyes.  This was her first assignment.

“We were warned and trained at the academy about these kinds of cases.  It’s a little different when it’s real.”  She sighed and did her best to clear her emotions, “She’ll be arriving in ten minutes.”

Longfellow felt a frown, “Wait…why isn’t she being put into a hospital unit?”

The nurse gave him another curious look, “You were specifically requested, Doctor.  You don’t know her?”

A wistful feeling passed over his face, “I don’t.  I’m sure she has her reasons.  Maybe she thinks a country doctor has better bedside manner than others.”  He shrugged, “Let’s finish the prep for her room.”

Infirmary 4  – Hospital Beds – 0915

The transport technicians carefully shifted the aging Vulcan onto the bed as they attached the life-preserving equipment to the power couplings.  They did a final vitals check before handing over a PADD which Longfellow signed. They gave a nod and were gone.  Henry looked at the nurse and waved her off.  The patient was stable.  He snagged a rolling stool and slid up next to the woman, her eyes half-open.  “I’m Doctor…”

“Henry Longfellow, lieutenant in Starfleet.”  Her eyes opened fully as she rotated her head to match his gaze.  “I know who you are, sir.  My name is T’shalaith.”  She let the words hang before she smiled thinly, “You have questions.”

He felt his eyes go a little wide.  Vulcans traditionally didn’t smile, he knew that much.  He sat back and pulled up her file on his PADD, “You’re 200 years old, Ms. T’shalaith.  You’ve lived most of your life on civilian various transport ships.  Says here you made it to Captain of one hundred years back and eventually Commodore.  Five years ago…”

“It came for me.”  She let out a quiet cough, “I ignored it at first.  The ship doctor was smarter.  He figured it out.  Got me care.  Lived four years longer than they expected.”  She shifted her eyes to stare at the ceiling, “I know there’s no way out this time around.  I made it this far.  I can take solace in that.”  She returned her eyes to him, “You going to ask me about why I requested you, Doctor Longfellow?”

He shifted on his stool and leaned forward, “I’ve never been outside Montana. This is my first time in space.  I was going to guess you just took a stab at the list of doctors on board and picked me blind.”

T’shalaith allowed a thin smile once more and she noticed him frown, “It unnerves you to see emotion in a Vulcan, Doctor.”  She thought for a moment longer, “Emotions are a power.  So is logic.  When I was given my expected time, I decided to explore the emotions within.”  She chuckled and then coughed, grimacing.  “I learned much about myself and our people in those four years.”  She squinted at him, “But that’s not what you’re wanting to hear.”

The doctor gave a shrug, “You’ve become the single most fascinating patient in my career, Ms. T’shalaith.”  He leaned back, “But it would help for me to understand why you chose me.”

The Vulcan nodded from her bed, “200 years is a lot of time to live, Doctor Longfellow.  Long enough to travel the galaxy a few times over.  My daughter, Palisa Jacobson.  She was half Vulcan…”

Longfellow finished, “Half human.  She was a resident in Bozeman in my emergency department.  She never mentioned you.”  He frowned, “I’m sorry…I…”

She waved him off, “Palisa and I have had our struggles.  We reconciled two years ago.  I spent last weekend with her and her family.  I sought her wisdom on where and with who to spend my final days.  Yours was the only name she suggested.  I don’t think she knew you’d moved into  Starfleet.  I suspect she wanted me to live out my last days in Montana.”  She looked around the hospital bed area, “I do not mind this place.  It is a rather nice place to fade away in.”

Henry shook his head, “We could move you…I can pull what little favor I have…”

Another wave off, “No.  My daughter said you were the one I should spend my last days in the care of – and she is rarely wrong.”

Longfellow leaned in, “Palisa is one of the best.  I’ll do my best to make this right for you.”

T’shalaith smiled once more, “You are a good human, Doctor Longfellow.  I expect to learn much from your care.  May I rest?”  He gave her a nod and turned the lights above her down and rechecked her vitals.  He left the hospital room and began tapping his notes on the PADD.  The arrival of T’shalaith and the memories of her daughter were interesting developments.  He wondered what he would learn from her. 

Checking off more of her in-processing stops for Starbase Bravo, Heriah made her way toward the security office of Commander Geraint Vaughn for her security clearance. Being a fellow Starfleet personnel as well as a counselor, Heriah needed the clearance for access to areas of the starbase disallowed to civilians, medical files among other information a counselor would need to better perform her duties, not to mention the necessary access to the base’s computer.

She looked at Vaughn’s profile as she continued on her way and regarded the man as something of a hardass based on his looks alone. Being in Security helped add to the ‘hardass’ modifier she had already applied.

‘Feel free to drop the doctor-feel-good attitude with this one.’

“Rex!” she said. Heriah disregarded the people she passed and whether or not they could hear her, seemingly talking to herself. She did make eye contact with some though and offered friendly smiles. “I need to maintain a level…”

‘…of embarrassment and depression and that is all you will have if you…’

“Ah. Here we are.” Heriah put her PADD to standby and pressed it to her chest as she crossed her arms over it. She had followed the directions to this point and needed it no longer.

She entered and quickly took stock of the area, gingerly humming as she did. Heriah looked about as though taking in strategic points to take up if and when violence ensued. She took mental note of the way to the brig and passed by a few desks occupied by standard security personnel happily greeting them as she passed.

She stopped and looked into an open office. “Excuse me,” she said. Heriah noticed the girl behind the desk was not busy at the moment. “I am looking for Commander Vaughn. I’m…new aboard and need my security clearance approved. Is that something you can help me with?”

Sonja had just finished some disciplinary writeups that had to go to Vaughn, when an unfamiliar face popped into her office . It only took Sonja a minute to realize the person was new to the station. She listened to the newcomer and nodded. She had just been given the task of clearances.

“I can help you with that!” She chuckled as she pulled her tablet out to begin the process. She input the beginning information including her authorization code. “Why don’t you tell me the basics so I can get that information added. I can see some of it, but in this line of work it is never bad to verify the information thoroughly.”

Giddy that she did not have to meet with the chief of security just yet, Heriah stepped in and claimed a seat. “Well,” she began, “I am Ensign Heriah Khatain Rex, Trill, Joined, just arrived on Starbase Bravo for my first assignment post Academy graduation. I am not the psychiatrist, so I will not need access to medical records but I will require access to much of the starbase in the event of a mental breakdown in a maintenance tube deep in Engineering. You know what I mean. I also need access to personnel profile records as well as the crew manifest, shift schedules, and, of course, what is generally granted to the other counselors.”

Heriah looked as the other officer was tapping away. “Apologies. I did not mean to ramble on.”

Sonja shook her head “No worries, one of the skills is making sure to pay attention to more than one thing at a time.”

Which is a skill Heriah was well practiced in, for counseling purposes. This one, however, had the same skill but for security purposes.

‘They are always looking for a reason to suspect…’

“I’m sorry,” Heriah said, more like breaking in on Rex’s line of thought. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Sonja looked up “I hadn’t given it yet my apologies. I am Lieutenant JG Sonja Thompson, Patrol Shift Leader for Promenade Security, as well as other task such as this.” She looked back down to the tablet and continued inputting information, while looking at the Ensigns record. She noticed that the Ensign had a rather clean record so it made this that much easier.

Sonja looked up seeing her eyes which were not like anything she had ever encountered before, but that didn’t stop her from staying on task. She looked back down “It seems as though you are cleared, Ensign, but it will take few minutes for the clearance to go through the system.”

‘So, they did not find Refkin’s insanity, Davmorda’s weapons trafficking, Luftine’s domestic abuse. Looks like we have a clean slate.’

“That is what I like to hear,” Heriah said. “As long as the clearance is up to date by tomorrow, all is well. If I may though, what interested you in Security? I am not trying to shrink you or anything,” she felt she needed to detail, “I studied Security myself for a bit whilst at the Academy.”

Sonja frowned “It’s not a story I like to talk about fully, but suffice it to say life occurred and I had to adapt.”

“Oh, I’ll drink that,” Heriah broke in. “Or, would drink to that if we were off duty…and out of uniform. I understand that more than you may realize,” she finished.

She stopped seeing information that had just popped through from The Trill Symbiosis Commission regarding Heriah. Sonja looked up “I have to ask you haven’t had any psychopathic tendencies have you? I am seeing the information regarding your symbiont and have to say that is worrisome. I was just about to finish the clearance when it popped through. Do you mind explaining?”

Heriah, likewise, frowned. “It’s not,” she borrowed Sonja recently used words, “a story I like to talk about.” But Heriah did understand the needs and precautions of Security personnel. “My symbiont’s hosts, before me of course, did not make good decisions.”

‘Come on, put some flair on it.’

“They proved inadequate when it came to the discipline of joining with a symbiont.”

‘There you go. That’s it.’

“And weak willed in good decision making.”

‘Ooh, burn.’

“And I have no intention on reliving the mistakes of past hosts, nor will I allow results of their mistakes flow forth in my life as a Trill, joined or no.”

Heriah realized her words were starting to become a little heated, that her temper was about to show. Something deep within was about to breath into life. It had been some months but, there came a slightly cold but almost burning sensation from her spots. This was, however, the first time in a long time that anyone had posed that question to her.

‘Of course the last time someone asked us that question…’

She immediately called to mind one of Rikata’s litanies and was able to quench the rising fire.

“My doctor, and counselor, from the Academy, from my Joining even, has provided information to my boss, Lieutenant Elegy Weld as well as the medical department here. For security purposes, I am sure you will be given access to peruse that information and see that I have no…” she could not bring herself to say the word, “…tendencies of the sort.”

“I am here to do a job,” Heriah forced a smile and continued, “and that job is to see to the mental well-being of my crewmates.”

Sonja noticed she had hit a nerve, though that had not been her intention it was good to see how the newcomer did under pressure. Working on a starbase was a challenge and she knew just some of what Heriah may face.

“I meant no offense in my question. I am only doing my job and making the decision that has been entrusted to me.” She said as she looked back down at the tablet adding some information to her file regarding the information provided. She added the evaluation notes to her record and looked back up. “Well your clearance has been cleared, but it will take a few hours. You should be notified when your clearance is ready for use.”

“Thank you,” Heriah said. She started to get up from her seat but stopped herself. “And, I know you are only doing your job. You…ask the right questions. The security of this place is entrusted to you, so I understand. Again, I studied security myself so, no offense taken.” She stood. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks again. Oh,” there was one more thing, “seeing that you are in security, am I right in assuming you enjoy your time in the gym? I ask because, I would love a workout partner. Someone to help keep accountability. You know…”

Heriah realized she nearly started rambling. And it felt a little concerning, ranging from nearly losing her temper to nearly rambling nervously inside a span of but a few moments.

‘Just hope this one does not see your wild swings.’

“But only if you are interested…that is,” she finished.

Sonja slid the tablet back into it’s case and locked it back in her desk as she listened to Heriah reassure her she was doing her job correctly. She smiled warmly “I think I could use a gym partner. I do like the gym it’s what keeps me fit and looking this way.” She smirked trying to add some humor after the serious conversation they had just had.

“Great, let me work into a schedule and we can get together on a time.”

Sonja nodded “I work Alpha shift so I am usually available later in the evenings.” Sonja smiled as Heriah exited her office. It was always interesting to see who would arrive on the station. She looked back down at her chronometer and saw it was time for her daily patrol check. After making sure her desk was tidy she headed out.

Infirmary 4  – 0700

“Doctor, here’s the overnight report on T’shalaith.”  The overnight nurse yawned a little.

Longfellow skimmed the report, “Vitals stable, infection rate has…slowed?”  He looked up at the nurse, confusion on his face.

She shrugged, “It’s not unusual for a patient to rollercoaster a little when they move to a new place or find a comfortable space for hospice.  We can keep an eye on it.”  He nodded and dismissed her while reading over the reports.  She was still dying.  Nothing could stop that now.  He saved and submitted the shift report and walked until he sat beside her as the day began.

“Good morning, T’shalaith.”

She flitted her eyes open and turned softly, “Good morning, Doctor Longfellow.  Your night staff was very kind in helping me sleep and rest.  You have my thanks.” She let out a sigh, “I must warn you, you will probably have visitors today.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Visitors?”  

She smiled thinly, “There is an effort underway by a select group of members of Vulcan Command and the science community to ensure my Katra is…placed in an ark.  I have avoided them thus far in my travels by being in constant movement.  However, now that I have come to a stop, they will find me.  And you.”

“I’d heard there was a mechanism for Katra storage.  They want your…”

“They want my mind, Doctor Longfellow.  I was a scientist first, always.  The transport work was in some ways a clever cover to keep me moving around the galaxy to study what needed study and to gather results, information, and whatever else was needed to complete the work I was tasked with at the time.”  She sighed, “There is a strongly held belief that there is honor in this procedure.”  A shake of her head showed her feelings, “I am old.  I am tired.  I wish to go to what is next in this journey.  I do not wish to be around to be needled, asked, poked, or even prodded.”  Her blood pressure vitals were rising and she closed her eyes, realizing she had become worked up.

Longfellow adjusted the settings on her console as she worked on her breathing.  Between the two of them, the blood pressure readings returned to normal.  “I am not familiar with the law and the policies governing…Katras.”  He gestured to her, “Clearly you believe you have the choice of where your mind should go when you pass.”

A sly smile from T’shalaith, “Law and policies governing Katras is very…grey.  Not very logical, I admit.  As you humans are known to say, ‘possession is 9/10ths of the law’, so I surmise I possess my mind therefore I control its future.”

Longfellow felt a smile on his face despite the circumstances, “Well, medically there’s plenty of bureaucracy and policy we can do on our patient’s behalf.  I’m not sure how well I’ll do in a debate with a Vulcan…”

T’shalaith rolled her eyes, “Your chances of success Doctor would be slim.  Stick to the hard and fast details – the provable and the verifiable.  I can work on some details if you’d like.”

He thought about her request for a moment, “You’ve got 160 years of learning on me.  I’ll take whatever you think is best.”

Another quiet smile as she accepted a PADD from him, “Together we’ll find a way to keep me out of a box, Doctor Longfellow.”  They spoke for a few more minutes as he updated her medication input and took another vitals reading.  He returned to his office.  Some Vulcans were coming to put another Vulcan in a box.

That was a new one.

Lihran shoulders his bag nervously waiting for the ship to dock. He finally felt bold enough to apply for an assignment, and much to his surprise, got accepted. The fellow engineer he struck up conservations with stood beside him. He was a Vulcan named Sol, whose parents were fascinated by Earth linguistics. 

Sol glances at Lihran, “Your bag does not require such a tight grip. You will injure your hand.”

Lihran looks at his hand. He lets go of his bag momentarily to give his hand a shake before holding it much more gently.

Sol nods once, “You seem nervous.”

Lihran replied dryly,  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Sol retorts, “I am only an Ensign.”

Lihran lifts his eyes to the ceiling briefly, “I am not a violent Romulan, but the urge to smack you sometimes…”

Sol interjects, “I would not advise it.”

Lihran grumbles incoherently under his breath.

The ship docks and the new arrivals shuffle out. Lihran and Sol both check in with another Starfleet officer, given their placements and quarters after they sign in. They started walking towards their quarters.

Sol asks, “Why are you so nervous?” Lihran frowns as if it was blatantly obvious, “Because I am a Romulan. On a Federation starbase. My kind does not have the best reputation, nor do I have the best past.”

Sol thinks in silence as they walk, “Did you disclose your past when you joined? If so, they likely know already. Your insider knowledge may be an asset.”

Lihran frowns, “Yes. I had no choice but to disclose it. Ah, I love being an asset, an object. Exactly how my ex saw me.” He drawls sarcastically. Sol perks a brow, “I was not aware you were wed. And I did say your knowledge was, not that you were.”

Lihran’s face hardens, carefully debating his next words as they walk in silence.

Lihran quietly spoke, “I did not specify I was wed, but yes I was. Covel was his name. He was loving and passionate at first, but it was a fake mask for filth and corruption.” He sighs, “Romulans love deeply and grieve even deeper at their loss.”

Sol awkwardly nods, not sure what to say for the moment. He finally says, “I am sorry you had to endure that.” Lihran stops outside his door, “It happens. Good thing about Romulans is that we love even deeper the next time. If there is. I’m getting old.”

Sol furrows a brow, unsure how to comfort. He nods awkwardly, “I am sure there is.” Sol turns and walks to his room. Lihran watched his form vanish.

Lihran stood outside, sighing and muttering to himself, “Why did I tell all that to a near stranger.” He froze up, as if scared of entering his quarters, as if worried it would seal some sort of blood pact. He pushed inside finally, dropping his bag on the desk chair.

The room felt sterile, clean and unwelcoming. He strode over to the computer and right away pulled up his favourite Earth musicians. His time at the academy had introduced him to a lot of Earth culture and history. He sings quietly to himself, “I want it all. I want it all. I want it all, and I want it now!” He bopped his head as the music kicked in. He smiles a little, visibly relaxing now that he is by himself. He let Freddie Mercury’s voice soothe his worries. He moved around his quarters, unpacking his few belongings and moving things where he liked it. He shamelessly danced and sang his heart out as he settled in.

He realizes someone was at the door, slamming himself down into the chair and nearly tips it over, abruptly ending his little dance party, letting the person in. He made no move to turn his music down, a slight flush on his cheeks. Sol steps in, lifting a brow, “Making yourself at home, I see.”

Lihran nods, “I am not turning it off or down, that is an affront to Queen.” 

Sol shrugged indifferently, “Seeing you are settled, did you wish to come explore the station with me?”

Lihran briefly toyed with the idea of asking Sol out, though quickly rejected it with disgust for many reasons; he is a Vulcan and an absolute stranger being the main two points. Lihran nods, “Sure, just wait till this song is over.”

Lihran leaned over a console, a pale green light illuminated his face. He emits a small sigh and looks back down at the data and numbers scrolling past his eyes. He drags a tired hand over his face, head tilting ever so slightly as he hears footsteps behind him. He straightens up and turns just in time to come face to face with his husband. Lihran folds his arms over his chest, his voice low, “I do not like the data, Covel. We must leave the system. Get farther than the system.” Covel reaches a hand up to momentarily touch Lihran’s cheek, a brief moment of tenderness before turning and starting to walk away, “We will discuss that with the other officers on the bridge. Come.”

Lihran cast a hesitant look at the singularity core and console he was working over before hurrying after Covel. His tone urgent, “I know I am just an engineer, but even I can see that this is not in our favour. Other Romulans are vacating. Now. We need-”

“Lihran, enough already. All conspiracy theories,” Covel gave a sharp glare over his shoulder at Lihran, adding, “Mind your station.”

Lihran clamped his jaw shut tight, clenching his fists at his side, “My apologies… sir.” He nearly spat the last word. Lihran inhaled deeply, calming himself for the moment, thinking to himself, ‘Why have I not left him already? This is maddening.’

Covel leads them onto the bridge, taking his seat, folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned back, “Now, Engineer Lihran has some… concerns. Albeit they are a bit silly.”

Lihran murmurs, “You will be the death of us all, Covvy…” He gave an amused smirk at seeing Covel’s displeasure at the nickname shared between the husbands. Lihran stepped up to the console and pulls up a model, the equations and data on a screen. He straightens and walks briskly over to the screen, pointing to the image of their Sun, “Now, as a star burns, its heat puts outwards pressure and the gravity of the core pulls inwards at the same time, stabilising each other. Now, as the star burns through its fuel and cools, the outward forces drop.” He pauses, to stare around at the blank and unimpressed faces staring at him, drawling, “This is children’s knowledge. You should all know this. The extrapolations show we are just on the cusp of pushing over the threshold to supernova. I am a lowly engineer, and I know this! This is ridiculous!” He slammed his fist on the console in a fit of temper.

—–

Lihran shifted his position, the PADD falling out of his lap and clattering to the floor. He was passed out cold in a chair in the Engineering department of Starbase Bravo. He had gone several days without sleep by this point, far more than even he could handle. He had barely left his station, determined to intimately learn the base’s systems. When other engineers pushed him to take time off to rest, he brushed them aside, far too adamant to avoid sleep.

A Vulcan startled at the falling PADD, not expecting it. He sets his down and tentatively approaches the sleeping Romulan to see if he is still alive.

—–

The lines of data start to turn red and a warning flashes on the screen. Covel leaps up to his feet as Lihran whirls around, panic on his face. Lihran shouts, “We need to leave, NOW!” Only just now believing his husband a bit too late, Covel starts barking out orders. Romulans frantically run around as alarms go off, the ship jolting and rolling to get going. 

Lihran was unable to do anything but watch.

 This time, they were too close. This time they stayed too long. This time they were unable to make their timely escape and watch from a distance.

—–

Lihran jolted awake with a scream, leaping up to his feet and falling backwards over the chair, clutching his chest, his heart racing. The Vulcan that was checking on him startled and leapt back, putting a hand on his chest. It took Lihran a solid minute to get his bearings and remember where he was. He clears his throat and stands up, bracing himself on the console, mumbling some sort of apology. He closed his eyes and runs his hands over his face, trying to calm his rapid pulse.

The Vulcan offered, “May I suggest you speak to either a doctor or a counsellor, Ensign? Perhaps both.” 

Lihran snapped weakly, “I’m fine, thank you very much.” He mumbled, as if trying to convince himself more than the other, “I’m fine, really.”

Infirmary 4  – 1200

“And you’ll need to come back tomorrow to check the skin regeneration progress.  Just stay away from the squared circle for a little while, ensign?”  The young woman nodded quietly and thanked him before departing the exam room.  Longfellow sighed and cleaned up his equipment.  He was walking back to his office when his day nurse approached him, eyes wide.  “Uh, Doctor…the…uh…the Vulcan Delegation is waiting in your office….sir.”

Henry grumbled, “She wasn’t kidding, was she.  How many?”  

“Three.  I asked the rest of their group to wait outside the infirmary unit.”

“Well, thank you for that.”  He accepted her PADD with the details of the delegation and felt a frown on his face, “These are not diplomats.”  She shook her head.  Henry dug in deeper, “This is going to be interesting.  Will you quietly work on getting just one security officer to hang out with our patient?  Make sure you round on her often.”  The nurse nodded and quickly moved off, leaving Longfellow to find a way to prepare to meet with a bunch of Vulcans.

Infirmary 4 – Physician’s Office  – 1215

“You understand this is an official position of the Vulcan government.”

Longfellow gave a slight nod, “You’ve made that very clear in your detailed and exhaustive presentation, Major Tulak.  I am also aware of T’shalaith’s decision in all of this, which you no doubt are also aware.”

“Her time to appeal the process has come to an, as you would say, exhaustive end.  Her knowledge of science, the galaxy, and our culture cannot be ignored, Lieutenant Longfellow.  It is a rare honor to be considered for such a prominent position.  You are aware of the saying, ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one’.  200 years is a long time to live.  It is illogical to ignore the benefit to our people.”

Henry leaned forward on his desk, “Are you familiar with The Hippocratic Oath, Major?”  The Vulcan operative raised his eyebrows and shook his head.  “Well, it is an old oath.  Pieces of it survived from 275, and it was knit together to a complete format in 1595, and then translated.”  He pulled a PADD from his desk, clicked a few buttons and handed to to the Major, “It’s a quick read.  I’ll read it out loud.”  Longellow snagged another padd and pulled up the document, “I swear by Apollo Healer, by Asclepius, by Hygieia, by Panacea, and by all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out, according to my ability and judgment, this oath and this indenture.”  He turned to the Major, “Pretty much like swearing an oath that would kill you should you break it.  They didn’t play around in those days.”  He continued reading, 

“To hold my teacher in this art equal to my own parents; to make him partner in my livelihood; when he is in need of money to share mine with him; to consider his family as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if they want to learn it, without fee or indenture; to impart precept, oral instruction, and all other instruction to my own sons, the sons of my teacher, and to indentured pupils who have taken the Healer’s oath, but to nobody else.”  Henry explained, “To never stop learning and to teach and support those that have taken the oath.  Quite a high standard.”  The Major moved to speak but Longfellow put his hand up, “Let me finish, please.”  The Vulcan nodded and Longfellow read again.

“I will use those dietary regimens which will benefit my patients according to my greatest ability and judgment, and I will do no harm or injustice to them. Neither will I administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I suggest such a course. Similarly, I will not give to a woman a pessary to cause abortion. But I will keep pure and holy both my life and my art. I will not use the knife, not even, verily, on sufferers from stone, but I will give place to such as are craftsmen therein.”

Longfellow smiled quietly, “There’s more, but the key line is ‘I will do no harm or injustice to them. Neither will I administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I suggest such a course.’  To do harm to your scientist would be to go against her wishes.”  He nodded to the PADD, “But this is the best bit.”  He read on, “Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman, bond or free. And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, as well as outside my profession in my course with men, if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets. Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all men for my life and for my art; but if I break it and forswear myself, may the opposite befall me.”

Longfellow gestured to the Major, “I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman, bond or free.”  You seem to think you have bond power over T’shalaith in life and death.”

Tulak frowned, “It is an interpretation of our law that allows us to seek out the great minds and add them to our collective.  The value of such knowledge…”

Henry waved him off, “Yea, I know.  Can’t be ignored.”  He shifted back in his chair, “You understand my Oath and why I cannot allow you to do such a thing?”

The Major stared at him, “It is an illogical oath.  An oath with no relevance today.  It is over…800 years old.  It has no standing in a Vulcan life, Lieutenant.”

Longfellow leaned forward, “True, Major.  But T’shalaith married a human man and had four half-human half Vulcan children.”  Henry raised an eyebrow, “I suspect that may complicate the conversation.”

Major Tulak shared a look with his two escorts, “This was…not known.”  Another pause.  “We will need to discuss this as a delegation and return to you for further discussion.”  With that, they stalked out of the office and were gone.  His day nurse came in, confused.

“Did we…win?”

Longfellow chuckled, “No, we did not.  But our patient apparently has kept her best people in the dark about her human husband and children which is some kind of miracle.”

“She did what…how?”

Henry shrugged, “I suspect there is a lot more to T’shalaith than first appears.  I think I need to have another bedside chat.”  The nurse’s eyes widened and she left the office speechless.  Longfellow grumbled to himself, “What or who is in that hospital bed…”

The alarm started beeping at 7:00 causing Cynndle to groan as he rolled over and turn it off before laying in bed and staring at the ceiling of his room. After a few moments, he mutters to himself, “Right, time to get up”. Getting up he quickly showers, dresses and has the replicator make him a small breakfast before heading out. It was his first day off in over a week – Operations was keeping him very busy running all over keeping things on track. He had mixed feelings about today, it was a day off and he was on his way to the pool which would help clear his head but he also had to see the new Counselor who has arrived on Starbase Bravo. He knew it was standard policy especially after the incident on the USS Dawnbringer a couple of months back and appreciated that. Nevertheless, he was still a bit apprehensive as he had yet to meet Ensign Rex; opening up about his feelings was always a trick especially when he doesn’t know the person.

Looking up he realized he was already at the pool shrugged, he didn’t realize that he had even gotten into the lift… After an hour he left and double-checked the location of her quarters and set out.

Heriah was in her quarters straightening, restraightening, positioning, repositioning, organizing, reorganizing, standing back and looking upon her work. Spread about the living space were several seats and a sofa, some small tables and displays. Her twin vase with the red and black lilacs stood in the middle of the room atop a table surrounded by chairs. Her bat’leth was displayed over by the door, the slow but ever-rotating image of Trillius-Prime hung on the far wall, her pair of sharp Andorian ushaan-tors hung near each other across the way. She also added her personal piece of art “My Inner Struggle” hanging on the wall nearest the replicator. The place appeared both jovial and threatening, inviting and foreboding at the same time.

The faint scent of the Trill sabrebeast perfume hanging in the air was present. During her counseling exercises back at the Academy, her student patients always enjoyed the scent saying it made them more comfortable. Heriah smiled at the thought knowing the irony of what the perfume of the Trill sabrebeast was really meant for.

She was out of uniform at the moment as she was not on duty. Her attire simply comprise a red, loose fitting shirt, and a black flowing dress ending half way down her calves providing evidence that, yes, Trill spots did in fact venture all the way down to the feet. Her choice in clothes matched the color scheme of her lilacs, red and black. The color pairing resonated with Heriah.

She smiled at the harmony of her living space. Though both peaceful and combative, it was harmonious all the same.

There came a chime at the door.

Looking toward it, “Now who could that be? My first patient?”

‘Or your first victim.’

‘Rex, stop it.’

She ventured to the door and it opened as she came in close proximity. “Yes,” she said gingerly to the man standing before her.

Standing at the door Cynndle was in a loss fitting burgundy t-shirt, dark grey pants and carrying a duffle over his one shoulder casually.  “Ensign Rex? Or do you prefer Heriah?” Cynndle says a bit briskly, making passing eye contact and smiling faintly before looking up and down the hall.

‘Rex will do.’

“If you are not here on official Starfleet business,” she responded, “Heriah is fine.”

‘You suck.’

She did notice his lack of maintaining eye contact. Though the thought of him being yet another awkward and uncomfortable little boy forced itself to the forefront on her mind, she repressed the thought back to where it came from; Rex. This could have been someone with a legitimate issue that needed a professional touch.

‘I bet you want to touch…’

“Can I be of assistance?” she asked.

“Hope I am not too late? I lost track of time in the pool this morning.”  His hair was still damp and small droplets of water could be seen running down his neck and others had recently fallen onto his t-shirt.

Heriah took a quick inventory of her appointments. To her knowledge, she was still at zero. At least she did not make any appointments herself. This one must have been autoassigned in some fashion. Shrugging it off, she stepped to the side. “Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

Cynndle walks into the quarters and looks around. He nods towards the bat’leth and ushann-tors, “More than just decoration?” Without pause, he turns and slowly takes in the rest of the room noticeably stopping to look at the twin vases and then the painting for a couple of seconds before inhaling sharply and cocking his head as if trying to figure something out.

“I have used them in combat…well sparring matches and training exercises,” she said. “Not actual combat.”

‘Combat sounds better. Impress the little boy.’

Heriah brushed a lock of hair over her shoulder but was more motioning for Rex to be quiet.

Turning back towards Heriah Cynndle appeared relaxed but his eyes suggested that his outward demeanour was not necessarily the truth.  “You have done a lovely job decorating your quarters. I like how the room is centred by the flowers; it’s a nice touch. Mine are still barren even after the last few weeks”. After a noticeable pause “What is the scent, it is intriguing, but I cannot place it…sorry I am rambling. How shall we proceed?”

“Yes, but first,” she took a step forward toward Cynndle. She could see in his eyes there was a bit of inner turmoil that he was otherwise not showing. Proximity sometimes helped a great deal. She did not get too close to him but also did not want to appear as though keeping a degree of distance. “…ramble all you want. You are here for you. I am here for you. We are all here for you.”

‘I am most certainly not. Tell him he’s a loser and…’

“Trill sabrebeast,” she broke in on Rex’s thoughts. “That is what you smell. At least, the musk of one made into a perfume.” She did not go into any more detail than that. “Chair or sofa?” She held out a hand directed at either, offering him to make the choice.

Cynndle nods as you tell him about the sabrebeast and then looks to the sofa and chair. “Ah yes. I’ll take the chair thanks.” He walks over and sits down and fidgets for a second before noticeably realizing what he is doing and stops.

Heriah sat in the chair across from him. The table with the twin vase atop stood between them. Each of the two Trill lilacs stood erect and leaned this way and that, giving the two clear view of each other between the red and black buds. She noticed his fidgeting; common with someone fighting a nervous disorder or someone facing troubling and menacing thoughts.

“Computer,” she said, “lower illumination by 25%.” And, as the lights began to lower, “It occurs to me that we have not exchange introductions. I am Heriah,Khatain Rex, Ensign and Counselor for Starbase Bravo. You may call me,” she smiled at him, “whatever name you like.”

A thought surfaced that if he chose anything other than ‘Rex’ that she should strangle him. Ignoring the thought, Heriah maintained her smile.

Internally chastising himself ‘Such a idiot, how could I not introduce myself’, for his lack of manners when he first arrived at Heriah’s quarters.

“Oh, right. Please forgive my rudeness Counselor.” He says as he sits up straight. “My name is Lieutenant Cynndle Oin’sun, operations officer on SBB. I should have explained at the door. I have been instructed to speak to a counselor regarding my last posting.”

‘Instructed to speak to a counselor,’ came the thought from deep inside. But, Heriah suddenly realized that she had actually spoken those words. Sometimes, it appeared Rex’s thoughts were too powerful for her not to vocalize. But, she said it. Now she needed to follow up.

“It is my experience that when people are ‘instructed’ to speak with a counselor, they do not always speak all that is on their mind, all that is troubling them; that such a meeting is simply a means to check a box and say ‘Yes, I did that. Now I can move on.’”

She noticed his hand fidgeting again. It stopped. Heriah made sure she was sitting up straight, that she was smiling but only a degree, and that she maintained eye contact with him even when he looked away.

“I ask that you want to be here; that you want to speak to me and to tell me what it is you want to say. I will be honest with you, I will not judge, and I certainly cannot tell anyone what you tell me. Unless, of course, if I have your permission or I deem you a safety risk to yourself or to Starfleet or the Federation in any way.”

Looking back towards the painting he sighs and looks back towards Heriah who never took her eyes off him, “I have put it off since my last posting, for various reasons” he says with a bit of a dismissive gesture of his hands as he if was trying to push the thought away. “I got a notification last night after my shift that I had been scheduled in but I gather you weren’t notified?”

Heriah gave a nasal laugh. “Yeah, well I am new here myself. I have not even finished in-processing and do not yet have access to the counseling schedule. They must already be giving me appointments regardless. I suppose I need to get that in-processing complete. By the by, you have the honor of being my first appointment.

Cynndle, snorts quietly and shakes his head and places two fingers (pointer and middle) of his left hand to his temple stroking it counter clockwise as he sighs and closes his eyes. “You would think by the 25th century that the left hand would know what the right is doing…”

‘Or the host would know what the symbiont is doing.’

‘I know what you are doing Rex; being a nuisance.’

“Time counts,” she continued, “and technology evolves, rather quickly I might add. But we, as a people, we cannot speed up time and we certainly cannot evolve faster than we are. The left hand; the right hand,” she brought her own hands up and displayed them, “they do not know what they themselves are doing, much less what the other is doing. They can only act based on the desires of a central thought center,” she brought her hands together, “and hope that the other acts accordingly.”

Thinking back to the Dawnbringer and his last couple of months he shrugs absently, ‘Maybe I do need to talk this through…what’s the worst that could happen’ he thinks.

Sitting back in the chair with a warm but slightly pained smile he visibly tries to relax. “So, Counselor, how shall we go about this?”

“First,” she also relaxed herself a bit, after he did of course. The counselor is to never fully relax before the patient. “First you can not call me ‘counselor.’ That keeps you in a doctor/patient mindset where you are the patient. I do not want that and I think you do not either. Pick a name for me and think of me as a friend.”

That makes Cynndle smile the first genuine smile you have seen. “Just any name, that could be fun” a hint of mischievousness flashes across his face before he drops back into the slightly more rigid manner again. “Heriah works for me, if you call me Cynndle, or Cyn that is. I like the idea of talking to a friend. All my old ones here have now moved on…”

“And people generally open up more to a friend than they would a doctor or a counselor. And yes, people do move on; friends do come and go with only but a few remaining for the long haul. And it is always advisable to make new friends. Second,” she continued, “tell me a story. Something regarding loss; the loss of something that cannot be returned to you. The loss of something that you think would still be with you if you had but acted more quickly, thought more quickly, or if your life experiences at the time had better prepared you for that incident and said loss. Not something recent mind you. Not something from you last posting. No,” Heriah thought a quick second, “something from your childhood or teen years, a favorite toy, a best friend, a blooming romance, loved one, anything. Could even be something you have not thought on in a long while.”

At that Cynndle cocked his head to the side and and his eyes looked towards the ceiling lost in thought. “A story of loss, hmm, let me think.”

And she could tell he really was thinking about it. Considering the incident that landed him on Starbase Bravo; that landed him to be ‘instructed’ to see a counselor, she felt there would be some kind of connection between the two.

You could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he began sifting through memories. Cynndle looks at you and gestures to your replicator. “Do you mind if I get a drink? Would you like anything?”

Heriah smiled and went from shaking her head to nodding between his two questions.

Cynndle gets up and talks to the replicator, “Tarkalean tea and a…”

“Alle’Ke’Zonda’er, green,” she spoke up so the replicator would hear.

He grabs the drinks and returns, sliding the nearly unpronounceable concoction to Heriah before sitting down in the chair and takes a sip.

“I find a nice drink can help one relax” he takes a sip and leans back into the chair, crossing his legs; placing his right cafe on his left knee.

“As for a story. Well one jumps to mind and I really haven’t thought of this for years. I grew up in the rookie mountains in what was British Columbia, formerly part of Canada, in a small town called Fernie. It is a bit of an eco/skiing tourist town so the locals are a pretty tight knit group.” Cynndle shifts and looks down into his tea as he continues. “There was a friend of mine, her name was Katy; we had been friends since we were born basically. Parents being friends and all. Did everything together but grew apart a bit as we got older as you do. When I was 16 I realized I had feelings that were more than just friendship and wanted to ask her to the school dance. Well I fretted about it for ages wondering if I should tell her and worried it would ruin our friendship. Even though it wasn’t what it used to be we were still pretty close. In the end I waited and she went with someone else. I remember walking towards her in the hall intending to ask and seeing James ask her, I knew he was and I was so angry at myself. It was a major disappointment and I only had myself to blame. I ended up going without a date just couldn’t bring myself to ask another. I had fun with my friends who were there and even had a dance with Katy but it wasn’t the same. Never did tell her in the end either…I guess I wonder what if I had not waited, what if I had told her after James asked or even after the dance how I felt. Who knows if it would have made a difference to where I am in life….” With a shrug Cynndle looks up from the tea and smiles. “I don’t think it would have changed anything in the end. I was already on track for the academy and that was my goal.” He looks back at his tea and takes a sip, “But I guess you never know …”

He laughs “A bit cliche isn’t it. Missed opportunity with high school crush.”

“A bit cliché? Yes. But that does not mean it is a bad thing.” Heriah laughed a bit as she said, “It does, however, mean when our parents say”, she lowered her voice in a mimic, “‘Well, when I was your age,’ that perhaps you should listen. Sometimes words of wisdom are to be had.”

Heriah thought a moment; having a thought about her own parents. Almost too long of a moment. She took a sip of her green tea. “Cliché also has a way of being insightful and relevant, even in the wake of recent events. Cliché can bring back long ago feelings and guilt. It will even attempt to convince us that, after all these years, we really have not changed or grown or bettered ourselves.” She leaned forward toward him only but a few inches but enough to drive home the point that, “only the opposite is true. Whatever the incident that landed you here on Starbase Bravo, whatever it was that made you be ‘instructed’ to see a counselor, is it really the event you are struggling with? Or is it that you lost someone, did not act fast enough, had the opportunity and hesitated even if it was a fraction of a second, always told yourself you would get to it tomorrow, only to find tomorrow a day too late? Are you struggling with the thought that what could have been is now and forever going to be an unknown; another What If?”

Heriah let him stew on her words a bit but not long enough for him to vocalize any thoughts before she continued. “Now take the rebirthed feelings from that event those years ago back in high school and apply them to recent events. And tell me, what is it that brings you to me today?”

Listening to her words Cynndle cannot help but feel that she is right, “I need to get this off my chest, it’s her job but I think she gets it, could be a friend”. Glancing at the weapons on display he thinks “Similar interests and all…”

With that, he let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair cupping his tea in both hands. “Honestly, all of that, none of that, I am not sure really. Do you know about the Dawnbringer and what happened to her a couple of months back?”

“I did review the incident in brief detail. I am certain you understand, there are lots of similar incidents happening regularly. I will review it though, paying closer attention. Please, proceed.”

Taking another sip of the tea he sets it down and leans forward resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his intertwined fingers. “It’s all in my service record if you want to check but I was an ensign on the Dawn assigned to bridge duties; had been there for two years right out of the academy. She was a great ship, good crew, not at full complement either; 35 of us, including officers. When we were attacked I reacted quickly and did what I needed to do. Hell was even given a citation for my work….” He trails off for a few seconds and leans back clearly uncomfortable talking about this. “But what if I had cleared up the sensors quicker, noticed the ship on approach, would Flagstaff have survived, been able to disable or destroy the ship faster…saving those lives? We lost 8 of us that day. People I lived with, worked with. Friends; close friends.”

Pausing for a moment clearly upset at this though he continues “Don’t get wrong I know this is part of the job but…it is hard, they were the first people close to me I lost in the fleet. I know they won’t be the last either.”

As he spoke his eyes wandered the room, passing over Heriah but the longer he spoke he settle on her face and maintained eye contact. “It just drove it home for me that it is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That doesn’t make me weak or that I failed. But it is hard to push through.”

“You are absolutely right,” she said. “That does not make you weak or mean you have failed. You need to repeat that to yourself, at least once a day.”

Reaching for his cup and taking a sip he straightens in the chair, “I guess I am worried about those connections; a real connection and making them again.”

“What was,” Heriah started as she sat back in her seat, “what could have been, what isn’t, and what will never be. To me, that is the root of your struggles. Then there is the concern over having to endure this type of loss all over again if you but allow a similar connection in the future.”

Cynndle looks at Heriah as she speaks and tilts his head to the side slightly contemplating what he has said. “What she says makes sense. I know I cannot change the past but isn’t it normal to second guess past actions….”

“Loss is pain,” Heriah pressed on. “And pain only means you are alive. I have seen many and,” she looked down at her abdomen, “Rex, well he has seen many, many more with nothing to lose, no pain, no connections, no friends, and, though physically alive, they were already dead inside. Your loss,” she pointed at Cyn, “your pain means that you Cynndle…Oin’sun,” she spoke his surname in a questioningly manner hoping she pronounced it right, “you are alive. You fear future connections because you fear similar loss. Avoiding connections is not advisable. You should not seek to avoid the pain and the loss because you would be avoiding fear. And fear…fear can be a useful and educational tool. Fear helps you better understand what is important, how to act, and what is more important to hold on to.”

Again, she let him stew on those words.

“Answer me this,” Heriah continued, “would you rather bury a crewmate you had a strong connection with, or would you rather bury another personnel aboard the same ship as you but you feel okay about it because you did not know that person? Would you rather fear a loss and fight that much harder to hold onto what you fear to lose, regardless if you lose it or not, or would you rather have nothing and fear nothing, so that, when you step away from the bodies and the flames, you feel okay about it all?”

Heriah was not smiling, she was not sitting back and relaxed, she was not sipping her tea. Heriah was leaning forward resting her elbows upon her knees, giving Cyn her complete attention, her peridot eyes staring him in the eye and awaiting his answer.

“I know, intellectually that you are right, I have known since the incident. I don’t want to bury a friend or a crewmate but I know it happens and would prefer the memory of them to live on. But knowing this and accepting that is the trick.” He says as he brings his right hand to his head and massages his temple. “I guess a large part of it is that I miss them. I tried to mourn them after, still do, and even took time off back to Earth that I had saved up to clear my head. It helped but coming back here reminded me of them.”

Seeming to get frustrated Cynndle leans back in the chair, his hand now rubbing his forehead. “Tell me Heriah, how does one get past something they know is not helping them on every level? Get past that block? I know I haven’t been here long since my reassignment and can be slow to make friends but I see people on the promenade chatting and remember having coffee with friends when I was here as a cadet, remember relaxing with friends on the Dawn be that sparing, or whatever. I miss that, you know. Part of me wonders if I have just focused too much on the job since I got here so I don’t then have time to think about this….”

“That is a possibility,” she said. “Focusing too much on work to fill your time so that you will not have the time to think about this, to get back to making friends, to get some real R&R. As I see it, your previous commander had you transferred here from the Dawnbringer, after the incident of course. Seems your previous commander was pretty smart. You seem to be dealing with a bout of PTSD. Or perhaps PCOS, similar to PTSD but…temporary. As for how temporary, well…that remains to be seen. I am not a psychiatrist like my boss, LT Weld, so I do not have the authority to actually make that diagnosis. This is simply based on my observations. And your previous commanding officer was perhaps already seeing this, hence your reassignment here.”

Leaning back, Heriah pondered his first question, “’How…does one…get past something…they know is not…helping on every level?’ Well, first of all if you happen to find something that does help on every level then you have found the mother lode of gold-pressed latinum. In other words, there is no one thing that is going to help on every level. What we do have, unfortunately, is trial and error; see what does help and what does not. And it is apparent that a lighter work load aboard a starbase, in a relaxed environment is not the answer. Then again, neither is an assignment aboard a starship. Similarly, burying yourself in work has provided zero resolution.”

“Here is what I can prescribe,” Heriah said. Her smile returned. “And even your direct supervisor cannot countermand this. If he should try, he can speak with me and/or LT Weld. I am prescribing your work load and your duty shift to be reduced by, at least, one-third. One-half if your supervisor will allow. The remaining time of your duty shift is to be spent cross-training. You know what that means right? I want you to provide an additional hand in Engineering helping to work on ships and shuttles. I want you to put in some time as a nurse’s assistant in Sick Bay, assist in flight control. This starbase needs to maintain orbit and we have plenty of ships out there who need to be told where to dock, how long to wait, etc. I want you spend some time in hydroponics, astrometrics, security. Pretty much,” she leaned forward toward him again, “I want you to pick something you are unfamiliar with and go help out for a time each day. Surely every department has work that does not need to be completed by specialists who were at the top of their class. We are still burying you in work, but this is other work, in other departments, to get your mind off of your work and to think a little bit differently. You will also be working with other personnel, possibly wearing a different color shirt from time to time. Do not concern yourself with making connections with others, but also do not actively attempt to avoid connections.”

Heriah could see his mind working that through. “How does that sound to you?”

Listening intently Cynndle nods. “Well, I cannot fault that idea in any way. You had me a bit concerned about the reduced work but if that is then picked up in other departments to broader my scope I would be happy with that. I think it will be beneficial not just in the personal sense but I think it would be good to have that additional experience within my career.” Pausing for a moment and running his hand along his short beard strumming his fingers on his cheek, “How long do you anticipate this would last for?”

“As long as it takes,” she said with a smile.

“It might be just what I need at this moment actually, get out, meet new people and broaden my horizons. Get me out of this funk so I can look after myself a bit. I will have a chat with my CO about this and get started on it right away.”

Looking around the room again Cynndle relaxes back into the chair and smiles. “This has helped. I do feel better already Heriah. Thank you.”

“Keep in mind,” she spoke up on the coattails of his praise, “this may not help on every level as you say. Again, we are in the trial and error phase. Healing takes time. So do not walk out of here believing all is well and good. This is just the beginning of your path. You will still struggle, but it seems we both are in agreement that this is the first step forward in reducing your struggles. Should an issue arise aboard the base or out there,” she waved a hand toward the vastness of space, “you could be recalled to your post without warning.”

Heriah stood as he did. “I want you to make an appointment for…two weeks from now, sooner or later if you want, so we can discuss your progress and experience.”

Cynndle nods, “Two weeks? I will get that put onto the system today. As you said this is a start but I feel it is a good start; even just talking about it has helped I feel” He snorts a laugh “Longest non-work conversation I have had since stationed here.” He holds out his hand to Heriah, “Thank you Heriah.”

She took his hand. “You are very welcome. And hopefully you will have many more non-work conversations. If you ever need me,” she said, “remember I am always only a tap of the commbadge away.”

Cynndle turns to leave her quarters before pausing and gestures bat’leth and Andorian ushaan-tors hung on the wall and smiles faintly. “If you ever need a sparring partner let me know. They are not my personal choice but always good to spar against another who has a different weapon preference.”

‘Oh our weapon preferences are quite vast. Blunt…blade…projectile. Pick the instrument of your demise.’

Heriah smiled, both at the thought and at Cynndle. “Let me work into a daily routine and I will get back to you. I am always up for a sparring partner.”

He smiles at that, “To echo your own words Heriah, I am only a tap of the commbadge away. Thanks again.”

With that, he turns and leaves the quarters with a quick glance back and a slight wave. Once in the hallway he stops and thinks for a moment.

‘That was more helpful than I thought, maybe I should have just gotten it out of the way right after the Dawnbringer….though I guess then it wouldn’t have been with her.’

With a smile, he heads down the hall towards the turbolift.

‘I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.’

Infirmary 4  – 1300

“You have move questions, I presume?” T’shalaith was sitting up in the bed, her face gaunter than it had been this morning. Her vitals were showing the same picture.

“You hid your family from them.  Given what little I know about the reach of Vulcan operatives and their service, it is an impressive feat.”

T’shalaith smiled a quiet smile, “I would have risked the pain to be in the room with you when they found that out.”  She leaned back, wincing in pain before continuing, “The inner workings of the operative side of Vulcan isn’t well known or discussed openly.”  She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply before she spoke again, “I had considerable power at my disposal during my time of service.  It came to aid me when I found love in a human.”

Longfellow pushed his stool closer to the Vulcan, “How can that happen?”  He had heard of Vulcan and Human relations in the past.  The study of Spock’s father, Sarek, was required reading in his earlier courses.  His marriage to Amanda Grayson was cited as having an incredible impact on Human and Vulcan relations for generations.  Their son Spock was just one element in the tapestry that had been woven over time.

“Vulcans do not cut out our emotions, Doctor.  We come to terms with them. We exert control over them.  We master them.”  She spat out the last sentence fitfully and coughed until she accepted water from Longfellow.  “Meeting Harry…stirred something in me.”  She wistfully stared into the past, “He was an intellectual and had such…fascinating ideas about the scientific study when it came to emotions and feeling.”  Her eyes focused back on the doctor, “He joined the transport fleet I was commanding and brought his research with him.  To satisfy my handlers, I sent them bits and pieces that were largely inconsequential to the greater study.”  She glanced at Longfellow, “A month into his time with us I asked him how he felt about me.  He said…I was ‘fascinating’.  We had a date a week later.”  She waved her hands in the air, “The rest is history.  Four children.  2 boys, and 2 girls.  A worthy legacy.”

Henry gave her a look, “The delegation has a different view of that phrase.”  He took out a PADD, “I’ve done some research on Kartraic Arks.  I wonder if there is a…compromise to be had.”  T’shalaith frowned and he explained, “You talk about your legacy when it comes to your family.  What if we could find a way to form an agreement with the delegation that your Katra is transferred to an Ark, but that it is monitored and maintained within your family.  They control the access.  If someone from Vulcan wishes to access your Katra, they must have a family member meld with yours to seek the answers.”  He handed the PADD over, “I suspect you want very much to get to know the rest of your family yet to come.”

The Vulcan scientist’s frown slid into a wry smile, which still unnerved Longfellow, “You are a shrewd negotiator, Doctor.”

Henry shrugged, “I don’t think the delegation is leaving Bravo without your Katra inside an Ark.  I’m a doctor, not a diplomat.  I suspect whoever sent the delegation isn’t going to give up and I don’t think my chain of command would enjoy trying to untangle a mess I create.  They might not give much thought or care to you against a favor for the Vulcans.”

T’shalaith nodded gravely, “Your logic is mostly sound.  I’m inclined not to argue.”

Longfellow accepted the PADD back from her, “I’ll let the delegation know of the proposal.” He paused, “You weren’t just some high-level scientist, were you.”  It wasn’t a question.

She cocked her head to the side, “You have an alarming acumen for my kind of work, lieutenant.”

“And that work would be?”  Her eyes were alive with mirth, but also menace.  He frowned.

“The work of the shadows, Doctor Longfellow.  Please, may I rest?” She leaned back and closed her eyes.  Henry’s frown remained as he stood and walked slowly back to the hospital unit door.  He hadn’t pressed her for an answer…and he wasn’t sure he ever would.  He headed for the office to begin working out the proposal to the Vulcan delegation.

Heriah gently stepped about in pursuit of a lone voice about the corridors which were vacant and silent and otherwise void of life save for the lone voice sounding again which clued her in on a better approximate age of its owner ranging from the ages of eight and ten which was a mighty young age for one to be about and venturing the corridors alone at the time of night that Heriah really could not tell and it never did occur to her to ask the computer which could have also detected the presence of another life form that was calling out again, but this time it sounded much, much closer with still no comprehension to the spoken words save for the fact that it wanted to be found or that it wanted to find something or somebody, which proved true as Heriah rounded another corner and found herself face to face with a little boy whose features seemed very familiar to her but foreign just as his voice was foreign but somehow brought on a level of familiarity as though she knew exactly who this was and where he came from yet the name and location, every tiny little detail that could identify the little boy eluded and evaded her knowledge leaving her with little other choice other than to stoop down to him for a closer look and stare blankly at him hoping the knowledge would come to her or that he would make some form of indication informing her of his identity that, if she only but knew, would hit her like a slap in the face which he did physically land upon her cheek causing her to withdraw from him in a start only to see him running away and calling out, yet again, those incomprehensible words that thundered throughout her conscience as her eyes flew open and she sat up in bed realizing it had all been a dream without realizing if it was her dream, a dream of the Rex symbiont residing in her abdomen or a dream derived from them both.

Infirmary 4  – 1500

“This is not an ideal compromise.”  The Major stood in the office, flanked by his two fellow Vulcan operatives.  Longfellow sat in his chair, wondering when this headache of a case would leave him alone.

“I am well aware of what you want, Major Tulak.  You’ve made that clear in your repeated requests through Bravo’s diplomatic offices and your missives to Starfleet Command as well.”  He tossed a PADD on the desk in frustration, “And each time the case comes back to me and you.  I wouldn’t dare to presume to tell a Vulcan about logic, but you’re starting to wear at my patience.”  He had heard it from damn near everyone in the last few hours that Tulak had attempted to use and each time it remained on his metaphorical plate.

A member of the delegation cleared his throat and stepped forward to speak in hushed tones with Tulak and then stepped back into the background. The leader straightened his back, “There are…additional reasons for our actions, Lieutenant Longfellow.”  The shift in tone, even in a Vulcan, was noticeable.

“You would need to explain them in detail, Major.”  He leaned forward, expectantly.

Tulak replied crisply, “It is a matter of security and as such is classified.”

Longfellow groaned, “Oh you have got to be kidding…I’m not some twenty-one-year-old resident who’s shocked and awed at your show of credentials and hovering group of operatives.”  He leaned back, “I’m old enough to know when I’m getting the truth and when I’m being pushed around.”  He stood from his chair, “Unless you disclose those reasons with details I will refuse your request explaining the why including what you’ve said today.”

Tulak frowned as his two escorts moved to leave.  He held up a hand and they returned to their places.  “You would need to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

The doctor chuckled, “I’ve done enough of those between Starfleet and civilian life to understand.  I’ll sign it.”  One of the escorts pulled a PADD from beneath its robes and handed it to Longfellow. A moment of reading and he signed it and returned the PADD.  “So, let’s have it then.”

“T’shalaith is a wanted for several actions against the Vulcan government.  She is a traitor and we carry a warrant for her arrest.  If she dies before we can place her under arrest, her Katra will be used as evidence to implicate others she may have been involved with.”

Longfellow slowly sat down in his chair.  It was his turn to frown, “You…cannot be serious.”

The Major nodded, “We are quite serious, Doctor.”  The other escort handed over a PADD and Longfellow scrolled.  His eyes grew wide as he read further and further.  He finished and handed it back.

“Those charges do not appear to rise to the level of treason, Major.  While troubling and requiring explanation they don’t strike me as malicious,  At best they bend the laws and policies mentioned…not break them.”  He leaned back, “What is your goal here, Major?  I don’t think you’re the one leading this charge otherwise you’d have outflanked me on every side with as many favors as you could call in.”  Longfellow shook his head, “No, you’re a messenger for someone else.  Someone else who doesn’t want to get their hands dirty.”

“I am a part of the Vulcan…”

Longfellow waved him off, “Yes, you say this and your credentials confirm it.  I just…this isn’t settling well with me, Major.  The human expression is ‘we can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way’.  Your choices in this matter will define the path we take and the turbulence we experience.”

Major Tulak regarded the physician for a moment.  Silence held between them for the first time in a long time.  He turned to his escorts and nodded for them to leave.  They frowned but he motioned them to leave.  Soon it was just the Major and the Lieutenant.  “You are not incorrect in your reading of the situation, Doctor.”

Henry chuckled, “I’m a doctor.  Diagnosing things is my business.”

“I am tasked in favor and in service to a greater force within the Vulcan community.”  He paused, “I was not aware of T’shalaith until one month ago when her position and intentions became known.  Those who I serve have been looking for her longer.”  Another pause, “I am under constant observation by my delegation.  They will no doubt ask me for a complete report once I leave your office.”

Longfellow shook his head, “Sounds like hell.”  He thought for a moment, “Tell them you told me nothing.  Tell them I yelled at you and cursed you out.  Tell them I refused your offer and demanded to know who had sent you.  You didn’t tell me.  You refused.  But…you’re nervous that I’m going to figure it out somehow.”

An eyebrow raise was his reward as Tulak spoke, “A lie?”

Henry shrugged, “A choice.”

The Vulcan thought for a moment, “I agree.  I should warn you – playing in the shadows can be a dangerous game, Doctor.” He gave a bow and headed out the door.

As it closed behind Tulak, Longfellow grumbled, “Here’s hoping I find a way to win this game.”

Signing off on the latest treatments for Lieutenant Anix, Hannah closed the terminal in her makeshift office. Reflecting back on the moment she and Neri were preparing him for the burn chamber, she remembered the girl the lieutenant was supposed to have saved. Wondering if Neri had made any progress in her search, she thought she’d seek her out and ask.

The tone of the emergency department was much calmer than it had been only an hour previous as the remaining patients were being attended to. She couldn’t see Neri anywhere nearby. Perhaps she’s tracking down information, she thought to herself as she approached the nurses station located in the centre of the ward.

“Excuse me,” she began, attempting to get the attention of one of the two nurses occupying the station.

The female Benzite to Hannah’s left looked up from what she was doing in acknowledgement, “Doctor Murphy, what can I do for you?”

“I treated a patient earlier that was believed to have been with a little girl when he arrived. The patient’s name is Lieutenant Anix.

“Lieutenant Anix, hmm…Oh yes! He was the Betazed plasma burn victim. I remember him, but he was not with a little girl. A young woman, roughly in her thirties. She was treated for mild plasma burns and smoke inhalation. She’s in recovery room two. I can give you her chart in just a moment.” replied the nurse, as she downloaded the woman’s chart into a black PADD and handed it to Hannah. 

“Thank you.” said Hannah, taking the PADD, making sure to make a mental note of the patient’s name; Nidah.

Hannah was still getting acquainted with the hospital layout, but she remembered that the recovery ward was down the hall to the right of the nursing station. Proceeding down the hallway, there were a total of eight rooms in the small corridor. The rooms were numbered in ascending order on her left and descending order on her right. She approached the second door on the left and pressed the chime on the wall mounted panel to signal her presence before entering.

“Hello. I am Doctor Hannah Murphy. You must be Nidah.” She said introducing herself. The woman nodded and Hannah continued, “I understand you were treated for some smoke inhalation, and the dermal regeneration for the burns seems to have done its job. Would you mind telling me what happened?”

Nidah was hesitant to speak up at first, still traumatised by the whole ordeal. “It’s okay. I just want to help.” Hannah said, in hopes of easing the woman’s tensions.

“We were being evacuated to get away from the storms. Father’s illness managed to get him off the planet before I could. I grabbed the next available transport I could book. I was heading to the ship’s mess hall for a light snack when the storm caught up with us. It shook the ship violently and a wall panel exploded and burst into flames. If it hadn’t been for that heroic officer that saved me, I might not be here to tell you about it.”

Nidah wiped some tears from her eyes. It had been a very traumatic experience; one that she hoped she would never have to experience again. After regaining some composure she continued, “That man. Did he make it?”

“He’s being treated now, but he should make a full recovery.” Hannah replied.

Nidah’s eyes lit up. In as brave a voice as she could muster without bursting into additional tears of joy, she politely interrupted Hannah, shifting her concern from her saviour to that of her father, “Please, I hope you don’t think me rude for changing the subject, but do you know where my father could be? We were all told we were being evacuated to nearby stations, only we weren’t told which ones. I need to find him. He suffers from advanced stages of Zanthi Fever, and I want to make sure he’s getting the help he needs.”

Hannah didn’t recall seeing any other Betazoid males in the lists of patients being immediately treated, let alone any suffering from Zanthi Fever as Nidah had described. It may have been entirely possible that her father had not made it to Starbase Bravo and was instead at another station. That didn’t stop Hannah however from making one final attempt to be certain. If anyone on the station would be made aware of the comings and goings of people on the station, it would be security.

Wheeling out a stool from the small desk in the far corner of the room, Hannah sat herself in front of the Betazoid woman and took the woman’s hand in hers, “I have a friend in Security. If anyone would know his whereabouts, they would.”

She tapped the combadge affixed to her lab coat and called out in a very formal tone “Doctor Murphy to Security. Ensign Thompson, please respond.”

Sonja had just returned from a short patrol making sure and observing to make sure no issues were currently occurring. Once she was satisfied she was heading back to the Security offices to do some reports she needed to finish, when she heard a familiar voice on her commbadge. 

“Go ahead, Doctor Murphy.”

“Could you please come to the Emergency Ward, Sector Hotel-Turquoise? I have a missing persons case that I could use your assistance with.”

“I am on my way.” She said as she immediately turned and headed for the medical ward. After a small walk and a few delays from people stopping her asking questions. She walked into the Sector that Hannah had requested her to come too. 

Upon arrival, Sonja was greeted by the nurse at reception and immediately directed to the recovery rooms. Hannah could hear her friend down the hall and excused herself from her Betazoid patient to greet her, waving as she approached, “Thanks for coming Sonja. I figured you, out of everyone I know, could help me with this case. I’ve got a female patient here, Betazoid, in her thirties, who became separated from her father. Her father is not well, suffering from advanced stages of Zanthi fever. Hence the reason for getting separated. He was sent ahead on a transport to be treated, but his daughter was not told which starbase he’d be taken to. She ended up here on Bravo, and had it not been for her minor injuries, she’d probably still be looking for him. I was hoping you could talk to her, get whatever information you needed and maybe you’d be able to use what resources you have available to locate him.”

Sonja’s eyes grew wide as she recalled the encounter with a man that fit the exact description her friend had presented to her “I think…I met him just a few days ago, which was an interesting experience. He was begging we find his daughter whom he had been separated from. He was under the supervision of our Staff Psychiatrist Elegy Ward. I think this could be the daughter he is looking for. I can go talk to her and make sure this is the case of course. I just figured you should be in the loop.” She said with a smile to her old friend.

“Absolutely. She’s just inside here.” Hanna replied, motioning for Sonja to follow.

As the two walked inside, Hannah introduced her friend to her patient, “Nidah, this is Sonja Thompson. She works in security and is a good friend of mine. She’s going to ask you a few questions about your father. She believes she may have seen him a couple of days ago and wants to be sure it’s the same man. Is that okay?”

Nidah’s eyes gleamed as a feeling of closure seemed closer than ever to her ordeal. “Of course. If it is my father, I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.”

Sonja smiled warmly “When was the last time you saw your father?”

Rubbing the back of her neck, Nidah said, “I said goodbye to him at the transporter arch, before they beamed him up to the rescue ship.  He was evacuated from the colony early, because he needed treatment.”

She nodded listening carefully to the girls answer “Has your father ever showed any tendencies of bad anger?”

“No,” Nidah snapped back, mildly offended.  “Never! He’s an artist and a poet.  He communicates through his thoughts and his composition.”  The way she said it, Nidah was practically pleading with Sonja.

She looked back at Hannah and nodded slightly before turning back to Nidah “I think we do know where your father is. He made it safely to the station though he is currently being monitored due to a situation that occurred, but I can assure you he is ok.” She said with a smile and calm voice of reassurance.

“That’s great news! We should probably take Nidah to go and see the Doctor right away.” Hannah replied excitedly.

“A situation?” Nidah asked, latching onto that word before all others.  Concern etched across her forehead as she looked to both women.  “What does that mean?”

Sonja saw the immediate concern on the girls face “Nothing to worry about it was a small outbreak that hit some of the base members. It wasn’t in their control and it was quickly resolved. The last I saw your father he was resting, but I was assured he was ok. If you want we can go to see him?”

“That,” Nidah said, “is the only situation I want.”

*    *    *

“Thank you for waiting for the test results.  I appreciate you coming back in after the… situation,” said Counselor Elegy Weld.  The recovery ward wasn’t as crowded as it had been a few days back, and Elegy didn’t have to raise his voice as he had done.  His patient, Ludrul, had planted his burly form on a biobed and he kept craning his neck back, eying the sensor results on the holographic biofunction monitor.  Elegy said, “All scans suggest the treatment was effective.  Your Zanthi fever has pass–“

Elegy was shoved to the side by Nidah, as she sprinted to the biobed and tackled her father in a hug.  “Uh… yes,” Elegy said vaguely, as he regained his bearings.  “Yes, that’s very good news.”  He looked back the way Nidah had come from and he spotted Hannah and Sonja following in Nidah’s wake.  “I suppose Ludrul has you both to thank for this reunion?”

Sonja nodded “It was a joint effort between us both, but I am glad to see the closure that Nidah found her dad.” She stepped closet to the counselor “Thank you for you help in this matter Counselor. This could have been a bigger issue, but thank goodness everything worked out correctly.”

“I guess it was lucky that Nidah was in the wrong place at the right time. If she had not been saved by Lieutenant Anix, who knows where she might have ended up.” Hannah replied as she gazed upon the joyous reunion of father and daughter and wiped the tears from her eyes that began to form.

‘I do not want to do this.’

“I agree with you Rex, but this has to be done.”

Heriah took a deep breath and entered Sick Bay. She had been poked and prodded enough, she felt, by Rikata whilst still at the Academy that there should be nothing else anyone needed to know. Further scans, checkups, procedures, and the like was the last thing Heriah wanted to subject herself to again.

But visiting medical and going through the initial scan was a requirement for her in-processing for Starbase Bravo. No matter the location or the position, this was going to happen.

She had already looked through some of the medical personnel she would possibly deal with and recognized the face of one, Hannah Murphy, present as she entered. Knowing the face and the name attributed to that face did not ease Heriah’s hesitance in making her way further into Sick Bay.

Still, she did. Half of her wanted to turn and leave. Correction, three-quarters of her. As Rex was already half of her now and half of Heriah herself wanted to turn and leave, that left only one-quarter of her will and discipline which proved the victor.

She stepped slowly toward the position of Hannah the medical practitioner and stopped at a distance awaiting recognition.

“Administer twenty milligrams of hydrocortilene and I’ll be back to check on the patient shortly”, Hannah instructed of the nurse that had been assisting her, before recording the prescribed medication into the patient’s record and handing it to her.

She then was about to return to the nurse’s station when she noticed a young ensign eyeing her, seemingly distressed. She calmly approached her and introduced herself, “Hello. I’m Doctor Murphy. May I be of assistance?”

“Hello,” said Heriah behind a smile, though she glanced around with just her eyes about the place. Again, none of Rex wanted to be here and only half of her wanted to be here. So, it took just about the limits of her will and discipline to continue. “I am Ensign Heriah Rex, Counselor, Starbase Bravo. I am newly arrived and need to get my initial scan out of the way. And,” she turned her PADD around, showing it to the doctor, “to get this in-processing signed saying that I did my medical check-in.”

“Ah yes. Doctor Mol informed me that I should be expecting you. If you’ll follow me, we can get this over and done with in no time.” Hannah replied.

‘Doctor Mol. More like a mole for your Trill military masters.’

‘Not now Rex,’ and Heriah followed the nurse.

She led Heriah to the nearest vacant examination bay and asked her to take a seat on the bio bed. Once she had complied, Hannah pulled out her tricorder from her labcoat pocket and began her examination. “The medical file Doctor Mol sent over listed a brief summary of your past host and traumas they experienced. Are you currently experiencing any lingering symptoms since your joining that I should be aware of, or any other non related symptoms?”

Hannah passed the handheld scanner over the Trill, giving her a moment to respond to Hannah’s question.

‘Fits of rage, talking to yourself, always imagining gutting someone or taking out their throat…’

“No,” said Heriah. “Nothing to report that is not already in Mol’s materials.”

‘Hey look, a laser scalpel.’

Heriah closed her eyes to let the nurse continue her scans.

“Isoboramine levels are slightly below normal but very much within acceptable limits. Nothing to worry about. BP is normal, respiration and heart rate are slightly elevated, but judging from your posture when you arrived, I can assume this checkup is the reason why. I’m guessing you don’t like doctors much, do you?” Hannah asked, trying to be as friendly as possible while still remaining professional.

“I…uh…”

‘…were joined with me the last time you saw a doctor. Such a pretty princess, now filled with thoughts of blood and of…’

“…I just get uneasy. You know, always afraid you would find something I didn’t know about. I feel fine, come in for a routine scan, and ‘hey, there is a parasite or an incurable disease leaving me with days to live,” Heriah said with a small bit of laughter in an awkward attempt to liven the mood.

‘A parasite. So, that is what you think of me.’

Heriah just laid there letting the nurse perform her scans, get an entire workup of Heriah inner workings, a view of Rex, the scarred and discolored symbiont with still a Borg implant.

“Is this going to take much longer,” she asked, feeling each second as though they stretched on for minutes.

Doctor Henry Longfellow leaned against the counter, his PADD filled with the latest review cases.  He’d recently been assigned the job of checking up on medical files worked on by residents.  It was partly at his request – he wanted to keep sharpening his talents.  The other part is that someone up the line thought he could be doing more.  He’d been half-listening to the conversation between Murphy and her patient.  He keyed in to her unease pretty quickly and shifted his attention towards the pair as he continued to read the reports he’d been assigned.  He’d caught her name so he quickly did a surface search for Ensign Heriah Rex.  The file had several points of interest.  He bookmarked it and returned to half-listening to the ongoing work with Doctor Murphy.

“Just finishing the final scan now.” Hannah replied. She had completed every basic non-invasive scan required by Personnel to clear an officer for duty. Unless there had been something Heriah was not forthcoming about to her, she was the picture of perfect health as far as Hannah knew about Trill physiology. She returned the handheld scanner back to it’s cradle in the tricorder, and stuffed it back into her pocket, “There we go. Now I’ll just sign off on these records and you’ll be good to go.”

Heriah was quick to sit up as Hannah finished her scans. From deep within came something of a realization that, if this had gone on much longer, that her heart rate would have shown a visible increase, blood pressure increase would have registered in the scan, and perhaps a few other signs that perhaps this Trill was perhaps not the picture of perfect health.

Sitting up on the biobed, Heriah flexed her fingers after realizing she had balled them into tight fists.

“Thank you,” said Heriah. “Another step closer to finishing this in-processing so I can get to work.”

Hannah picked up the PADD handed to her earlier by Heriah and scribbled her signature to the report, validating that the check-in had been completed as required and handed it back to her, “Is there anything else I can do for you while you’re here?” she asked.

“I have nothing else,” Heriah was quick to say.

“Very well. You are free to go. Please make sure to schedule your next visit with reception, per Doctor Mol’s orders. Have a wonderful day.”

“Thank you, I will be sure to…” ‘…not schedule a next visit.’ Heriah smiled at Hannah. At least this was something she and Rex were in full agreement on.

Hopping down from the biobed, Heriah retrieved her PADD from Hannah, looked about the place one more time, this time noticing a man in his office, perhaps paying a small bit of attention to what is going on in the Sick Bay. Her desire to be away from the place outweighed any and all other desires so Heriah stepped away as though hesitating to show that she could not be out of there fast enough.

Longfellow watched as Rex skittered her way out of sickbay and frowned.  Something was…up.  He pushed off from the counter and made his way to the wall of the examination bay.  He glanced at Ensign Murphy, “How is your day going?”

“It has its ups and downs, but that’s what we signed up for, right?” 

The physician gave a quiet shrug, “It’s another day keeping people healthy and able.”  He paused and motioned to the now-departed Rex, “Something felt…off with your last patient.”  He clarified, “I don’t have any latent abilities…just watching her body language and reading between the lines…what did you think?”

“I agree. As you clearly noted, she seemed nervous. Given the extensive report from Doctor Mol, that would be expected. However, it’s what’s not in the report that could be cause for concern. I got the impression that Mol only stated what was required by Starfleet to pass her medical clearances. Physically she’s fine, so either she was just nervous to be around doctors as she stated, having been poked and prodded for so long, or there’s an aspect Ms. Rex that has been deliberately withheld. Perhaps after her consultation with the counseling staff, we may have a better idea.”

Longfellow pulled out his PADD to read the file again.  He wasn’t one to dismiss his gut.  It had served him well.  “Her symbiote has been through hell.” A longer pause, “There was a small Trill community in Great Falls.  Good people.  Did some home visits a few times on request.”  Henry nodded at the PADD, “Trills and their symbionts are notoriously willing to obscure certain facts, figures, or even events from records. Getting them to trust and be truly open with a doctor, that’s a trick and a half.  Generally the obscuring, it’s not malicious or even intentional.  The host may not even be aware of what the mind inside is doing.”  He returned the PADD to his belt, “I’m a diagnostician by trade and training.  Something is off with Ensign Rex.”  He put his hands up, “I won’t interfere with your patient, Doctor…but I wanted to register my concerns with you at a minimum.”

“Thank you. Your input is most valuable and I will be sure to keep that in mind with future appointments with Ms. Rex. I will also be sure to inform Doctor Weld to be mindful of our observations today.”

Henry gave her a nod, “Thank you, Doctor Murphy.”  He headed out the door but stopped, “You ever need a lunch partner again, let me know.  This station can be a lonely place.  It’d be nice to make some friends.”  With that, he was gone.

Infirmary 4  – 1900

“I admit to the acts, freely.”  T’shalaith was laying down, her color fading further than it was before.  She coughed for a moment and then refocused her attention to Longfellow, “No one died, and the injuries were minor.”

Henry sat next to her, a PADD on his lap.  He’d spent the time since Major Tulak’s conversation working out some kind of a solution to the problem at hand.  What had begun as a simple hospice case had now evolved into something approaching a galactic diplomatic incident with him in the captain’s chair.  “I read the charges.  They’re heavily bending the definition of ‘treason’ and ‘traitor’.  Given the logic of Vulcans, this entire case defies the word itself.”

T’shalaith nodded, gravely, “You are dealing with someone who is not adhering to the tenants.  We generally find ways to identify those who betray it to this point.  I am unsure how this individual amassed the power they have without the oversight.”  She coughed for a moment before continuing, “I wish to die, Doctor.  I wish to leave this mess behind and move beyond whatever pettiness seeks to trap and torture my mind.”

Longfellow felt his heart rise to his throat, “You know I can’t speed up this process.  Not just legally but…morally.  I cannot cross that line.”

She regarded him, “I would never ask you.  I know your heart from the stories of my daughter.  She spoke of you highly.”  A coughing fit slowed her for a moment, “I simply tire of this…the human word is ‘drama’.  It is played out and exhausting.  I’ve been running from these fools for so long and the only reason they’ve caught up with me…is that I no longer have the ability to keep moving.”  A pause, “When I die, I must be cremated.  Immediately.”

Henry frowned but then realized why she was asking this of him, “You don’t want them to have access to your mind.”  He considered for a moment, “You would need to fill out a…”

She slipped a PADD from underneath the covers and handed it over, “Filed, signed, and confirmed an hour ago.  It is an official document from your Starfleet and Federation offices.”  She turned her head to him, “I must warn you.  Tulak was right to warn you about operating in the shadows.  When I die…and when I am gone…they will not be done with you.”  She coughed for a moment, “Vulcans have long memories, Doctor.  You will be wise to avoid crossing with them again.”

Longfellow gave a slow nod, “I still haven’t quite figured out a way to keep them from transferring your Katra while you’re alive.  I’m a doctor, not a lawyer.”

“There is a way.  You will not like it.”  She gave him a sly smile and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“You’re not serious.”

“You would carry me long enough for them to leave.  My daughter is in transit with a Katraic Ark.  She would mind the transfer and return me home with her.”

“It drove Dr. McCoy mad.”

She smiled, “Mad enough to save the galaxy if I recall.”  She let the smile fade, “You would need to consent, Doctor Longfellow.”

He sighed, “You wouldn’t live long after the transfer.  Your age and your condition…”

The sly smile returned, “It would be nearly immediate.”  She coughed and regained control, “It is a solution to our shared problem.  It will also give Major Tulak relief at having to carry my dust back as evidence.  The failure will not be his.  I will have outmaneuvered him.  He will live to see another day.”

“You think of nearly everything.”  He leaned back, resigned to her plot.

“I am a Vulcan, after all.  We shall do this at midnight tonight, Doctor.  You will need to have transport available for my body to be cremated.  Then it will be done.”

“For you.  For me…”

“I will be within you for a short time.  I promise you no harm will come to you.  I may be old, but my power over mind and matter is great.  You will be protected.”

Henry stood, “I’ll leave you to prepare.  I’ll get my end ready.”  She gave a quiet nod and closed her eyes.  Longfellow left the hospital wing and headed for his office.  Life on Bravo was certainly interesting.

Infirmary 4  – 2345

Henry Longfellow drained the coffee cup and went to the replicator for a refill.  The hours since T’shalaith had dropped the bombshell of her desire to load her Katra into him and then have her daughter transfer the Katra into a Katraic Ark had passed fitfully for the physician.  Major Tulak had not returned to discuss further objections or requests.  Longfellow had done his own passive research into whoever or whatever was seeking T’shalaith but had come up with only a few half-baked clues that would need time to cook further.  Her daughter, Palisa Jacobson, was scheduled to arrive first thing in the morning with a group dedicated to the task of transferring her mother’s Katra to an Ark for safekeeping.  He took his refilled coffee and returned to his stool beside the bed of his patient.  He pulled out a PADD and rechecked the process.

She glanced at him weakly, “You have my utmost respect for this decision, Doctor.”  Her condition had worsened in the hours since they had last talked.  They’d done what they could with pain relief but she had instructed them to stop the dosing two hours ago.  She needed a clear head and body to do what she was about to do.

Longfellow bit his bottom lip, “I’m as nervous and scared as can be if I’m honest.  This isn’t something there’s a lot of study on.”  He leaned forward, “You’ve been very clear with your promise.  I just need you to know where I’m at in this moment.”

She gave him a slight nod, “It is not an easy task, Doctor.”  Her coughing interrupted the conversation for a few minutes.  She sighed as it came to an end, “Pain is a necessity…but after so many years of it…I wish to be free of it.”  She looked him the eyes this time, “Thank you, Doctor Longfellow.  I am grateful for your kind heart.”

Henry shrugged, “Your daughter sent you to me for a reason.  I think she knew I’d do anything to save you…including this.”  He gestured to the nurse who stepped next to him, “She’s going to observe me and you.  The officers in charge of cremation are just outside.  She’ll escort them the short distance to make sure nothing untoward happens.”  The nurse gave a solemn nod.  “I’m ready.”  The nurse adjusted T’shalaith’s bed so she was sitting up.  The Vulcan squirmed in pain but shook her head at the nurse’s reaction.  Soon she was upright.  Longfellow shifted his stool close enough to her so she could reach him.  She extended her arms and with the nurse’s help, placed her fingers in position on the face of Doctor Longfellow.

T’shalaith’s breathing became heavy and labored as she closed her eyes, her mouth moving without speaking.  The air became closer as she muttered, her fingers pressing into the face of the physician.  Longfellow felt a trace of pain shudder through his body as his head began to ache, his mind filling with scattered thoughts that were not his own.  The sound within his brain began as a whisper and then quickly became the roar of a warp core rumbling inside him.  He winced and fought to stay still as the process continued.  T’shalaith felt her spirit lighten, and her body growing cold.  A moment longer as her hands began to ache, her fingers burning.  She pressed harder, feeling the last pieces of her mind falling away.  Her last words whispered from her lips, “Remember….” and she roughly fell back into the bed, the alarms alerting to her declining heartbeat.  The nurse watched and waited as each life sign faded to a slow, and then a stop.  She placed her hand on the pulse of T’shalaith and found none.  She ran one last check with the computer and it was confirmed.  She tapped the console, “Record time of death of T’shalaith at 2403 on 3.20.2400.”  She turned to Longfellow and guided his stunned state to the next bed and ensured his vitals were acceptable.  She motioned to the crew and they loaded the empty shell of T’shalaith onto a transport bed with a cover to ensure privacy.  They left the infirmary.

Longfellow felt himself being gently moved into a bed and then the world faded to black.  He stood in the darkness, listening for a sound.  It was quiet.

“You completed your part, Doctor.”  He spun to face the shimmering visage of T’shalaith, standing and looking healthier than she had when she’d arrived in his infirmary.  “The transfer was complete.  You and I are one…for the moment.”

Henry scratched his head, “Hurt like hell.  Still does.”  He looked at her as he realized something, “You gave me a sense of purpose when I needed it the most, T’shalaith.”

She gave a quiet bow, “Doctor, you always had a purpose.  You coming here may have felt hopeless or pointless….but you had to see that you could still do good and great things in service to medicine and to the galaxy.”

Longfellow felt a small smile, “You’re one very wise Vulcan.”  He let out a sigh, “So now what?”

She shrugged, a very odd thing to see a Vulcan do.  Even a Katra shrugging was odd to Longfellow.  “My daughter arrives tomorrow.  You will go through a transference rite and I will be free from the threat of interrogation.”

He had a terrible thought, “And if they find a way to capture me and get in my head before then?”

T’shalaith’s grin went from sly to menacing, “There are very few Vulcans capable of meeting me in battle within the plane of the mind.  They would regret stepping into that field with me.”  She nodded to him, “My promise to protect you was not without merit or means, Doctor.”

Henry felt a sadness within, “It’s weird saying this…but I will miss you.”

She stepped closer to him and ran her fingers over his face, “I will miss you, Doctor.  There are few humans that I’ve encountered that would do as you have done.”  She looked around the blackness, “I will find a place to hold my peace in your mind.  You may hear my echoes or my words if I find the need…but I will endeavor to remain hidden from you and others.”  A sly smile, “I will stick to the shadows.”  She gave him a Live Long and Prosper gesture with her hands and faded away.

Henry snapped awake, a nurse observing him.  “You okay, sir?”  He gave a nod, his head aching terribly.

“The cremation?”

She nodded and handed him a container, “Completed ten minutes ago.  I’ve notified Major Tulak to meet with you first thing this morning.”  Longfellow sighed and moved to get out of the bed.  His body and mind protested.  He would need to prepare for the major and for T’shalaith’s daughter.  It would be a busy day ahead.  But first, he needed some rest and doubted he’d made the distance to his quarters safely.  He glanced at the nurse, “I’m going to stay in this bed until the morning.”  He grunted, “Make sure someone monitors my vitals.”  The nurse nodded and moved off to make the assignments.  Longfellow lay back and was soon asleep.

Infirmary 4  – 0700

Longfellow sat at his desk, his second cup of coffee half empty.  His head hurt, still.  The visage of Major Tulak was before him, hand behind his back.

“Doctor Longfellow, this is greatly concerning.”  The urn that held T’shalaith’s remains was in his hands, and his face showed what would qualify for a Vulcan as annoyance.  “You did not consult with us regarding her dying and you did not consult with us prior to…this.”  He picked up the urn from the ground with a further look of Vulcan frustration.  “T’shalaith is useless to us now.”

I take a great amount of pleasure in this, the voice is Longfellow’s passenger muttered in his mind.  He had become aware of her presence upon waking and she had been off and on talking to him as the morning had wore on.  It had been jarring at first, but he was getting used to it as best as he could.   Henry cleared his throat, “The documents detailing her wishes to be cremated immediately upon death are on file with both Starfleet Medical and Federation Diplomatic Services.  I was not aware of her actions until she presented them to me last night.  Things moved pretty quickly from there.”

The major frowned, “She did not transfer her Katra to an Ark?”

Not yet, spoke the voice in his head.  He responded, “It appears she desired her Katra to leave with her.  I suspect it may have had something to do with what purposes you had for it.”  He leaned forward, “I am sorry that you are unable to return to your superior with your mission complete.”

Tulak didn’t accept the dismissal outright.  The two operatives on each side of him had not moved.  There were ways and means to ensure this physician was telling the truth.  He wasn’t sure if he could employ them or risk exposure by using them.  He had no doubt that the two that flanked would have no qualms or resistance.  He was still the leader of the delegation.  “We could request a lie detector test via mind-meld.”

Longfellow sat back, playing at shock but knowing there was a chance they’d try to get him on his heels.  “I am aware of such techniques, Major.  There is the trouble of consent, the force of law, and a layer of policy and procedures at play within such a request.  I’m a doctor, not a lawyer, but I feel you’d get tied up in Starfleet and Federation courts for a few weeks at best.”  He shrugged, “You don’t strike me as someone who had that much time at his disposal.”

The major raised his eyebrows.  This human was unusually good at playing at the edges of the shadows.  “I will…speak with my superiors to determine a further cause of action.  You will have my response this afternoon.” He looked the doctor in the eye, “You have made an enemy of someone powerful today, Lieutenant Longfellow.  This is your only warning.”  Tulak turned on his heels and was out the door and down the hallway before Longfellow could respond.

I feel for him, T’shalaith muttered in his mind, he must be under impossible pressure.  

Longfellow chuckled, “He’s under impossible pressure?”  A feeling of mirth washed through his brain and he enjoyed the warmth of T’shalaith’s laughter.

You must prepare for my daughter, Doctor.  She is already onboard and awaits you in the holodeck.  Henry nodded but didn’t speak.  Communicating with the Katra of T’shalaith was tricky – she could speak to him in his mind, but he hadn’t quite figure out how to do it back to her without speaking out loud.  The chances of someone wondering if he was losing his mind were very real and he was trying to build a worthwhile reputation aboard.   He took a deep breath and pushed himself out of the chair.  The holodeck awaited.

Holodeck 3 – 0900

It has been a year since I saw my daughter, the voice of T’shalaith rumbled in Henry’s head as he walked the path to holodeck 3.  When we reunited it was like we had simply been paused.  Her love for me flooded my senses, she thought in his head, and I was never the same after we came back together.  Maybe that’s what changed in me.  My heart grew just from spending time with her.  Longfellow could feel her memories wash over him and the flashes of Palisa in various stages of her life.  She is the best of me, doctor.  The other three are miracles in their own…but Palisa is the heart of my legacy.

He turned a corner and continued to walk.  He muttered to himself, “She was one helluva resident and doctor.  Knowing what I know now…she is very much your daughter.”  He felt her expressing her thanks as he entered a turbolift.  The ride was quiet and as he found his way to the holodeck door, he felt her nervous energy slowly fill him.  Longfellow took a breath and stepped through the door.  Palisa Jacobson stood in the middle of the holodeck, a Katraic Ark sitting on a table.  Three others turned as they entered, their ears signifying their race.

“Doctor Longfellow.”  Palisa ran forward and embraced him tightly,  “It is so good to see you again, sir.”  She pulled back, her eyes bright and alive with feeling.  “It’s logical, I mean.”  Her terse smile formed into a focused look as he acknowledged her.

“Dr. Palisa.  You’ve come a long way from your residency.  Chief of Trauma Services at Denver Central Health?  You’ve come a long way.”

She blushed and stared at her feet, “I’m honored by your words, sir.”  

Henry rolled his eyes and rested his hand on her shoulder, “The honor is mine.”  He turned to the group, “These are?”

Jacobson nodded to each of them, “High Priest Parlak, Secondary Priests Yaras and Basal.  They are here to provide the transference services.”  She looked back at Longfellow, “She’s in there with you, isn’t she?”

His headache had continued and grew worse as they had spoken.  He winced, “She sends her greetings, but encourages us to get started quickly.  My head isn’t able to keep up with her very well.  Your mother is a very powerful force to try and hold onto.”  

Palisa gave a long nod.  “Then let us begin. ” 

Parlak spoke, his booming voice carrying in the holodeck, “You must know, Doctor Longfellow…this is not a ceremony that is done much at all.  I am trained in the art, practice, and process…but I have not done such a thing in my time.  There is a risk to this, you must know.”

Longfellow gave a brief nod in his pain, “I did my research, High Priest.  I am aware.  Risk is my business…and it’s part of my job.  Do what you must.”

Palisa spoke quietly, “Computer, lock doors, code Sarek20112.  Activate program PalisaCero1.”  The beep sounded as the door lock clicked into place and the room faded into a scene straight from the Vulcan homeworld.  The Arc now sat on a stone slab next to another slab.  The three men stood garbed in Vulcan priest outfits and Palisa wore a traditional dress as she stood to the side.  The air felt closer here and Longfellow realized it was set to imitate the Vulcan world down to the environment.  She gestured to the empty slab, “Your place is here, Doctor Longfellow.”

I am close to leaving you, Doctor, T’shalaith spoke to him as he walked up and laid himself down.  I can say I will miss your conversations. 

Longfellow smiled quietly, “Me too.  Me too.”

Parlak stepped forth, “We will now perform the fal-tor-pan.  Take your places, please.”  Yaras and Basal shifted into position as the High Priest rested one hand on Longfellow and the other on the Katraic Ark.  Longfellow felt an intense heat growing in his head and he grimaced as it spiked, sending pains through his head and into the rest of his body.  He locked his jaw and grunted as the process began.  Parlak began to speak the words.  

I promised I would protect you, Doctor, she spoke soothingly to him, I will aid High Priest Parlak in this ceremony.  It is ancient knowledge, but not forgotten.”  He didn’t respond because he couldn’t.  The heat and pain in his head were searing.  The sound that assaulted his ears was as if thousands of shuttles were traveling through every nerve of every piece of his body.  He felt his body convulse but be held down by the two secondary priests.  He couldn’t even hear Parlak as he spoke, invoking the words of an ancient rite and an ancient language.  The world around him grew brighter and brighter until he could only see white.  The sound suddenly cut out and he looked around, seeing nothing.

This is my farewell, Doctor Longfellow, she said as she stood before him, fading slowly.  I leave you now and wish you the bests of lives to be lived.  From here to wherever the stars take you…may you live long and prosper.  She stepped closer and kissed his cheek, You are what I needed in my hours of need, Doctor.  Remember your oath.  Remember my promise.  Remember me.  A final grin and she was gone.  The world went black, and his own breathing returned, followed by his heartbeat.  A moment later his eyes opened and the world of Vulcan returned to his vision.

Palisa stood next to him, a relieved look on her face.  “You survived.  We thought we had lost you for a moment.”  She glanced at the Katraic Ark and the Vulcan Priests that were examining it carefully, “I could feel her…if only for a moment.  She was here, with me…I felt her joy…her relief…her power.”  She swallowed her emotions and put her hand on his chest as he lay there, “You’ve given me the chance to know my mother much longer than I ever thought possible.  My family…they are in your debt, Doctor Longfellow.”

Henry slowly sat up, his mind clear for the first time in hours…and the pain was ebbing away.  He let out a long breath and slid down, finding his feet supporting him.  He turned to Palisa, “You should transport out of here to your ship.  The Major and his delegation cannot find you.”  Palisa nodded, “We are way ahead of you.  Our ship is cleared for departure once we transport.”  She paused and looked to the ark, “My mother sent me one last request.  She wanted you to have this,” she handed him an isolinear chip.  “It is a holographic program of her…Katra.  As near as they could make as they transferred her.  She wanted to be able to talk to you from time to time.”

Longfellow swallowed his emotions for a moment as he took the chip, “That’s very…kind of you…Palisa.”  She allowed a quiet smile.  “You’d better get going. Save travels.”  She stepped away to the group and the ark.  Giving him one last long look she opened a communicator and called for transport.  The glow of the transporter took them, leaving Henry alone.  Glancing around the program deactivated and the door unlocked.  The silence felt overwhelming.  He’d spent so much of the past few days with T’shalaith in conversation and then with her in his head…it was the sudden loss of that companionship that jarred him.  He stepped through the door and made his way back down the corridors.

At a corner, a figure clocked watched as Longfellow departed.  He slipped into the holodeck, searching.  Finding nothing, he turned back around and caught Longfellow turning a corner.  The figure set off after him, carefully.

Heriah was alone in her quarters, thinking the thoughts a Joined Trill with a host having Rex’s traumatic history would think; battle, blood, screams, tearing flesh, the sounds of…

“Music,” she broke in on the thoughts. “I was not playing ambient music when I met with Cynndle.” It was time to change that.

Heriah rather enjoyed music, especially the classical or olden kind and listening to her favorites generally helped her get into the mindset to think more clearly. “Computer, play something.”

=^=”Please specify audio selection.”=^=

“I don’t know. Something I like.”

=^=”There are no preferences stored for Ensign Heriah Khatain Rex.”=^=

That’s right. She had not synched that information just yet. But, new assignment, new view, new personnel, it was time to come up with a new playlist.

“Looks like I have to program you all over again.”

=^=”Affirmative.”=^=

“Quiet you.” At least Heriah kept copies of her holodeck programs.

“Play some Trill rock music. No! Let’s stick with Earth classical. How about the Devil’s Trill Sonata.” She smiled admiring an Earth song title carrying her race’s name, but as soon as it started playing, “No. Stop. That’s not it.”

‘What was that song Rikata liked, introduced me to,’ she mouthed as she thought. Rikata spent much time on Earth and grew accustomed to some of the traditions of the populace. He greatly enjoyed the music.

A spark of memory came to her.

‘♫Come along if you care♫,’ she bobbed her head to a silent beat begin to grow in volume in her mind. ‘♫Come along if you dare.♫’ She almost had the rhythm. “♫Take a ride to the…♫That’s it! Computer, play ‘Journey to the Center of the Mind’.”

=^=”Two hundred seventeen musicians have covered the specified song.”=^=

“The original version you dumb computer. Ted Nugent and the Amboy Dukes.” The artist name came to her finally.

The music started playing. Heriah stood in place and swayed a bit getting into the mood, in tune with the beat.

♫”Leave your cares behind. Come with us and find, the pleasures of a journey to the center of the mind”♫

Rikata liked it because it help him center himself and ‘sync’ himself with the Mol symbiont. He suggested it to her many times until she finally gave it a go. Ultimately, Heriah felt it did the same between her and Rex.

She grabbed an ushaan-tor hanging on the wall to use as a pretend microphone.

♫”Come along if you care, Come along if you dare, Take a ride to the land inside of your mind”♫

Setting the ushaan-tor down, she snatched up her gym bag and pulled it open. Her PT uniforms had yet to be unpacked. Similarly, she had yet visited the gym. Heriah pulled a complete Starfleet issued Pt uniform and set it aside on her bed.

♫”Beyond the seas of thought. Beyond the realm of what♫

♫Across the streams of hopes and dreams where things are really not♫

♫Come along if you care, Come along if you dare♫

♫Take a ride to the land inside of your mind”♫

Heriah spun with her arms out, still bobbing to the music, loosing whatever garments she was holding. Singing along and spinning once more, she stopped in the lavatory looking at a reflection of herself in the mirror. For a quick second, Heriah did not recognize who was looking back at her.

♫”But please realize. You’ll probably be surprised♫

♫For it’s the land unknown to man where fantasy is fact♫

♫So if you can, please understand you might not come back”♫

“Pull yourself together girl,” she said aloud to her reflection.

Looking behind her reflection, Heriah saw the mess she made. Several sets of PTs and other luggage were thrown about the room in a chaotic display. It appeared like a pair of Klingon targs were given a small animal to do with as they pleased, only without all the blood.

♫”Come along if you care, Come along if you dare♫

♫Take a ride to the land inside and you’ll see…”♫

“Computer, stop the music.” Her room quieted back down to silence. “It isn’t helping.” She bent down to pick up a sports bra. “Just play some Devil’s Trill Sonata.”

The tune would suffice as she started cleaning up.

As the lights came up in engineering, the design aesthetic from the constitution-class refit era was immediately recognizable. Every surface in the compartment gleamed in brushed chrome or glass, from the multi-level warp core to the dilithium reactor room. Only the modern LCARS interface screens offered pops of colours around the bulkheads of the massive chamber.

“Welcome back to USS Exeter, cadets,” said the disembodied voice of Lieutenant Commander Tallur over the communication nodes.  “While the rest of Cadet Squadron Bravo has been assigned to other areas of the ship, you will be responsible for completing safety drills in main engineering.  While the Exeter remains docked with Starbase Bravo, your consoles will simulate the starship at flight, in battle, and experiencing engine malfunctions.  You will be responsible for maintaining the safety of yourselves, your crew, and ultimately the Exeter.  What questions do you have about your mission?”

Horin looked at his fellow cadets, though he had done a few training sessions on the Exeter, he had yet to try anything in engineering. Surpressing his thoughts and feelings around this scenario, he hoped this wasn’t as challenging as the piloting exercise he had completed a month before or the month long survival course on one of the moons in the Mellstoxx system.  “Sir,” He spoke up, “will you be assigning a chain of command in this scenario or are we to work as a team to complete our objectives?”

Over the comms, Tallur replied, “Presume the chief engineer is preoccupied on the bridge.  You will complete the safety drills as a team.  The requirement for a chain of command on that team is entirely up to you, cadet.”

Turning to his fellow cadets, Horin looked at them. “If we want to do well here, then we need someone to coordinate our efforts. What do you all think?” He asked.

Katlyn looked around the room, then down at her own feet for a brief moment before rolling back her shoulders, straightening her back, and looking up at the others. This was not the Katlyn so many were used to. “No argument here. Tate, status on life support and sensors. Nia, warp, impulse and internal power systems and Parze, shields and weapons power.” It was a quick series of commands, said with atypical confidence. “Sooner we know what’s typical, the better we’ll be when surprises start rolling in.”

Lyrakkiton Parze cocked her head to the left in an expression of thoughtful acknowledgement.  “Aye, cadet.  Good thing for all that velocity practice,” she said, as she searched the archaic engineering compartment for the right console.  Once Parze found the tactical systems with her eyes, she stalked over to it.  Earnestly, she surmised, “I’m going to have to be fast.  Shields are always the first to go.”

Hargreaves had clicked her tongue with bright amusement as Katlyn took charge, and after a moment’s investigation she headed for power and flight systems control. “Shields might be first to go, but being dead in the water’s a great way to get properly dead. So, no pressure on either of us?”

Ominously, Tallur announced, “Your safety drills begin… now,” and the communication channel chirped closed.  In an instant, the engine room was transformed: the red alert klaxon cried out, the warp core thrummed and flashed as if the Exeter was trying to fly its way out of a gravity well, and warning lights began to flicker on half of the LCARS panels.  Without a full complement of holographic projectors throughout the ship, the deck remained steady and there were no sparks or smoke, but the computer indicators told them a different story. 

“Ugh, that’s no fair,” Parze groaned, mostly to herself.  Menu options had popped up over half of the tactical systems, suggesting possible solutions for the dysfunction that had already seeped into the Exeter‘s bones.  She swiped at the interface, spinning a cutaway diagram of the ship to identify the decks that would soon be in the greatest danger.  Much louder, she reported, “Shields are already down to fifty percent!”

“We’re losing main power,” Hargreaves reported with some indignation, obviously displeased at everything going quite so wrong so quickly. “Whatever’s going wrong has busted a conduit on deck 4, so I’m… figuring out a way to bypass that section, I guess. We might have to dance a bit in prioritising key systems until I can get that done.” Her hands jabbed at the controls, at once trying to resolve the issue and coming up against her own incomplete knowledge of the Exeter’s EPS conduit system. “Try to not turn on everything at once for a minute?”

“Life support on deck six is failing, I’m initiating evacuation orders and re-routing power to deck seven.” Horin announced as he whizzed his hands over the console. “Sensors seem to be blinded but some sort of high ionisation interference from whatever has caught us. I’m increasing the resolution to get us a better picture.” 

Swiping her hands across her interface, Parze reported, “That interference is draining our shields fast!  They’re down to twenty percent.”  She had barely said it when another alarm popped onto her display.  “Ugh,” Parze groaned, “that overloaded power coupling on deck four is leaking radiation on decks three, four, five and six.”  As the local teal-shirt, Parze stepped away from her console to find an emergency medikit; they might need a balm if the situation continued to deteriorate like this.

Katlyn stood there for a moment, staring at the warp core in thought before she turned around to face her fellow cadets. “Gravity means orbits, means whatever is hitting us is coming from one side of the ship more than the other. Work out which side is draining faster and divert power there to buy us time.” She took a few steps over to Nia’s console. “Bring the warp core onto the main power circuits and don’t be afraid to run her up. We need juice and it’s the single best source of power we’ve got.” She blinked, once, twice, then turned to Horin. “Forget life support. We’ll be good for a few hours with a total failure anyway. Divert power to sensors.”

Horin undertook what Katyln said and transferred power as she said, he wasn’t too keen on cutting life support but between their imminent demise and not knowing what was going on, he slightly got her thinking. “Done, sensor resolution is at two-hundred percent.” 

That done she finally did what a good engineer should do in a situation like this after triage – find out what the heck is going on. She leaned over the front edge of Nia’s panel to hit the comms button. “Engineering to Bridge, we’re trying to stabilise the ship, but some idea of what’s going on would be helpful. What’s going on out there?” Yes it was a drill, but Engineering didn’t have the same eyes and ears as the Bridge would and taking control of those functions in a disaster would only make things worse, yes?

“Exeter is immobilized,” Commander Tallur replied over the comms.  Even through the slight distortion of the communication channel, Tallur sounded perfectly placid.  “Our primary hull has been caught in the gravimetric flux of a type-three quantum singularity.”

Hearing that, Horin tried to remember what he had read in his astrophysics class about a quantum singularity. “If we’ve entered a quantum singularity then that must mean we’ve created a hole on entry. The gravitational stress on the ship will only get worse if we remain where we are. We need to find a way out and if I remember rightly, a dekyon beam could help with that.” Horin suggested. 

“We need to lighten the load on the impulse engines,” Katlyn muttered to herself. “Lighten the load, lighten the load…static warp bubble?” she asked, looking up from where she was at Nia. “Going to warp would just rip us apart, but you think you can get us a static warp bubble going? Just enough to reduce the ship’s apparent mass and make the engines more effective?”

“A static warp bubble?” Horin questioned after looking up from his controls. “We’ve barely got enough power as it is. The ship won’t last long if we don’t do anything soon though!” 

“Okay!” Hargreaves’ hands came up with a hint of an impatient eyebrow. “Less nay-saying, more blowing us up. I think you’re both right, which means we need to reroute any power that’s not going to impulse to the deflector array – and use that to lighten our inertial mass and charge our deflectors with dekyons. So… I just need to give Parze literally every tiny possible bit of power we maybe even have to do five things at once with our crapping out systems?” She was already acting as she spoke, working with utter ruthlessness to reroute power – instead of trying to poorly-maintain several systems at once, giving almost everything they had to one already strained system.

“Come on, come on,” Katlyn said to herself more than to anyone on in particular. “What’s the emergency rating on that thing?” she did ask, louder than before as a hand pointed directly at the warp core. “No, I’ll get it,” she immediately answered as she went for a nearby free console. The ship needed more power, more power meant pushing the ship to the limit, which meant really pushing it to the limit. Hands flew over controls, pulling up information, then control menus and making last-minute adjustments, opening injectors to their design limits to increase matter and antimatter flows, all in the name of harnessing the annihilation reaction at the heart of the ship for every erg of power it could produce.

The thrumming of the warp core provided by the sound effects increased in tempo, as did the lighting. “That’s all she’s got people,” Katlyn finally announced.

“Subspace field-distortion amplifiers are at reading at full power.  Forward deflectors are charged with dekyons,” Parze reported, as she manipulated the tactical systems console.  She reported, “The additional deflector generators are catching up.  Shield bubble is at 65% dekyon char– Ah!  We’ve lost the coolant loop on one of the nacelle’s deflector generators.  I’m extending deflector fields from the saucer section.  Deflectors are… fully charged with dekyons!”

Kaitlyn looked hopeful for just a moment before a deep, groaning noise started to fill Engineering. That reverberating groan of stretching and contorting structural members moving in ways they were never intended to move. Alarms started to sound, piling on top of each other before a final shrill alarm pierced over the top of all others, though it had to contend with the structural ills of the simulated Exeter.

“Warp core containment failure in progress!” the voice said loudly, with a unique klaxon on either end to grab what little attention wasn’t already on it. “Warp core containment…” Then it stopped, all the sounds cleared, the lights returned to normal with a horn announcing the end of the simulation.

“Oh come on!” Kaitlyn was the first to exclaim. “Those…” she instantly deflated from her exclamation, “those injectors could take the load.”

Hargreaves smacked her controls with frustration. “We totally had that,” she agreed indignantly. “What, did we get too inventive or something? We were definitely trying things within protocols!” This last was stated with a conviction that was likely not deserved.

Horin just sighed heavily as he closed his eyes to block out the feelings he was sensing from everyone. He was hearing a lot of the frustration that he shared with them all. Rubbing his forehead, he looked around at everyone else. “Maybe we were trying too hard.” He suggested. Leaning against his console he crossed his arms and was now becoming annoyed with himself for them not passing the simulation. “Or did we miss something?” He wondered aloud. 

The communication system chirped, and Commander Tallur announced, “It is unfortunate, cadets, the warp core has breached and the Exeter has been destroyed.  …Try harder next time.  A full spectrum of sensor composites have been submitted to your servers.  For homework, you will analyse the data and determine how the Exeter could have been saved.  You are dismissed for the day.  Tallur out.”

Her scaly face stretching into a sneer, Parze groaned, “Ugh, we didn’t even make it to the escape pods.  That’s grim.  I don’t want to be vaporised, you know?”

“New goal,” Hargreaves sighed with growing acceptance. “Next time we die, we leave remains big enough to fill a thimble. Deal?”

Breathing heavily, Aiden lurched to the right, stretching himself as far as he could. With as much force as he could muster, he swung his right arm. His padded glove connected firmly with the ball, sending it hurtling back towards the wall. He watched as it bounced off the second, dark grey oval, and flew back in the direction of his springball opponent.

Callahan had been light on his feet, quick and fit and moving into each swing of the glove. But his last swing had been a belter he’d not expected Aiden to get, and his own lurch to return it was too slow, the ball flying past him. With a huff he slowed, bending to catch his breath back. “Good one,” he allowed, chest heaving. Then, almost without missing a beat, he straightened and resumed the complaining that had peppered most of the match so far. “…so these damn cadets. They think they know everything just from a classroom. And I’ve got to babysit them?” A charitable mind might think this single-minded annoyance was throwing Callahan off his game. “We’ve got to babysit them?”

“Baby sitting random cadets is bad enough.” Connolly agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “But baby sitting a cadet who also happens to be your bosses son is a whole new level of bad.” He picked the ball off the ground where it had come to rest and bounced it a few times. “I’m still hoping they’ll disqualify me because of my academy record, but I’ve kept my nose clean ever since so who knows.”

“God, he’s not one of those real Starfleet brats, is he?” Callahan pushed his hair, normally so perfectly coiffured but long enough to misbehave, out of his face. “He’s not going to go crying to Daddy if you actually hold him to a standard? I’ve just got this sea of faceless Security cadets who think they’re all about to become Philip Marlowe, or something.”

Connolly nodded, tossing the ball at the wall and catching it when it returned. “Oh yeah. He’s the quintessential Starfleet brat.” Connolly threw the ball again. “Followed his dad into Starfleet,” he caught it again. “And somehow managed to end up on the very starbase where daddy’s serving in a high ranking position.” Aiden sighed. “No doubt he’s looking for me to give him an easy time and, once he graduates, he’ll he’ll end up in a plum assignment just because he’s the son of Captain Horin.”

“Betazoids, man,” Callahan sighed. “Get one of the Great Houses and they take nepotism to a whole other level. All about advancing the family. Must be nice.” He shifted on his feet, adjusting his weight, getting ready to spring back into action. “Think you can screw up just enough to get the kid taken off you, but not so badly it messes anything else up?” He gave a wide, crooked grin.

Connolly’s head snapped round and he started at the security officer with his incredulity written across his features. “Lieutenant Callahan, I am shocked.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Who knew you were so devious.” He rolled the idea around for a moment. “The trick will be screwing up just enough while at the same time not so badly that I spend yet another year as an Ensign. That’s gonna be a tight rope to walk.”

Callahan’s grin broadened. “Or,” he allowed, “you make sure that damn kid has only glowing things to say about you to papa and you cruise your way to that next pip.” He waved a quick hand. “C’mon, your serve.”

“That might be the more career friendly option.” Connolly mused as he bounced the ball several times on the ground. He threw it into the air and swung his arm hard, connecting with the ball and setting their next round in motion.

Heriah had already checked out only two of the gyms, albeit only briefly. Her PADD displayed many locations of gymnasiums all over the starbase, though most were reserved only for those working in the areas within the proximity. In a starbase the size of SB Bravo, Guardian Class, you needed many gyms to accommodate the population. And Heriah could not wait to peruse the workout schedules, group exercises, the various fighting disciplines, sparring matches, and the like and to fit herself into some of those schedules. It had only been a few days since she last lifted weights and it already felt too long.

The holodecks, she would visit later. She still needed to sync her programs with the base’s computer so she could get back to her programs and holonovels.

At this moment though, Heriah was wanting to jump on her in-processing, get the meet-and-greets out of the way, meet the crew she would be working with, and get the signatures, the clearances, and the scans all done.

She made Engineering her first stop. She needed to check in, declare that she had no ship or shuttle to claim, and acquire clearance and access codes to many places regarded primarily for the engineers because…you never know when someone is going to break down and lock themselves inside a maintenance tube and only a counselor would be able to talk them out.

‘Just open the nearest airlock and space them.’

“Quiet Rex.” There was no one else in the corridor for the moment so Heriah did not feel awkward speaking to Rex aloud. “The mental health of the crew is my responsibility. That makes it your responsibility as well. Ours.”

Looking at her PADD a quick second, Heriah saw that she needed to meet with either Captain Richard Sterling or LCDR Livingston Dutton. She hadn’t the clearance yet to see who was where about the base or even if they were aboard the base at all for that matter. Until such time, she could only hope they were in the office or nearby. Otherwise, she would simply return to Engineering later.

The border of her PADD glowed green with ‘Sector Echo-One-Green’ displayed indicating her arrival in Engineering Support as she exited the turbolift. Many of the offices were located there and she would find either of the two men or someone who would know. With 20 decks to get familiar with, it was more likely that Heriah would find someone who would know rather than either the captain or the lieutenant commander.

Entering one of the workshop areas, Heriah could see multitudinous small craft ranging from standard shuttles, runabouts, and personnel carriers of various makes and models as well as a wide range of fighter craft. She approached one, a Peregrine Class fighter with a pair of feet sticking out from beneath.

Crossing her arms over her PADD pressed against her chest, Heriah put on a smile. “Excuse me,” she said cheerfully. “I hope I am not interrupting anything too important.”

Nilah was working underneath one of the fighters replacing some wiring that had gone bad when she was startled, she wasn’t expecting anyone in here for another few hours. She crawled from underneath the fighter and sat up for a moment rubbing her head as she bumped it when she got startled, standing up she looked at the women standing next to the shuttle. “Nothing too crazy, just replacing some wiring” she replied looking at the Trill women in teal. “How can I help you?” She asked as she knew it wasn’t time for her physical, at least she thought she got that out of the way already.

“Oh…uh…,” Heriah maintained her smile. “I see that…that you…,” but she could feel the cheerfulness wane away inside her.

‘You see it don’t you? Those spots?’

‘Stop it, Rex.’

‘A different luster about them.’

‘No. Stop it.’

‘Unjoined lowlife.’

“…that you are busy,” she finished. Heriah did a good job of keeping a cheerful tone in her voice though. “I was hoping you could help me find,” she held her PADD away from her a little and looked upon it, “Captain Dutton…I mean Captain Sterling or Lieutenant Commander Dutton.” She spun the PADD around and showed it to Nilah. “I have to do my in-processing meet and greet.” She hopped on her heels slightly. “No secret, I’m the newbie here.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I see” she replied as she wasn’t sure where they were currently. “I am sorry I am not of help as I have no clue where they are, I work in the shipyards and not on the actual station engineering like they are.” She replied as she had been busy non-stop since she got on duty a few hours ago, “I am Ensign Nilah Virahl.” She replied extending her hand towards the woman.

Immediately proving victorious against Rex’s hesitation, Heriah took Nilah’s hand and shook it. She then knelt so they could continue speaking at the same eye level.

“Ensign Heriah Khatain…uh…”

‘Go ahead. Do it. Let her know you are joined. Watch her jealousy consume her.’

“…Rex,” Heriah finished as she ignored the thoughts Rex forced forth. “I’m the new counselor. Pleased to meet you.”

She smiled taking the woman’s hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet a fellow Trill.” She smiled as she looked at her, “I need a break anyways I can show you around if you like while ya wait for either the Chief or the Shift Leader to become available.” She replied with a smile as she did need a break as she’s been working the majority of the day and this particular fighter was giving her trouble.

“We all need a break now and then,” Heriah said as she helped Nilah up. “And that would be great, you showing me around.” She held up her PADD with a layout of the deck displayed. “One can only learn but so much from these things.” Something perked her interest and an uncontrollable urge short forth from within her. Suddenly the knowledge spewed forth like water from the spigot. “This is a Federation Peregrine Class Attack fighter, right? Phaser cannon equipped. Dual micro torpedo and dual torpedo launchers. With the ability to be modified to launch up to four of each. Highly adaptable. Used by the Maquis during their struggle with the Cardassians. Retired by the Federation but still used because of their adaptability and reliability.”

Heriah looked upon the vessel like a child in a candy store, eying it but also appreciating it greatly.

“Indeed,” she replied looking at her as they began to walk out of the workshop heading down the corridor she began to show her around while they continued to chat. “So what brought you here to Starbase Bravo?” Nilah asked while walking.

Heriah followed Nilah and did not even check the map on her PADD. “I heard they needed a counselor here. Back at Starfleet, at the Academy, they…”

‘The ever ominous THEY. Well, they did not want you aboard a starship. They feared you would snap like a twig.’

“…they felt I was better suited for a Starbase or a planet-side posting somewhere. You know, before I move up to a ship and explore space.” Heriah saw a viewport and looked out at the stars and the varied ships circling about the starbase. “And you,” Heriah turned her attention to Nilah, “What brought you here? What made you decide to be such a fine engineer?”

“I have always had a knack for fixing things, or just taking things apart to put back together to learn how things work.” She replied as they continued walking, “I decided to join Starfleet to pursue that passion and after the Academy, they felt my talents were needed here on Starbase Bravo and in the shipyard construction area.” She replied with a smile.

‘Someone else likes to take things apart and put them back together…the Borg.’

That thought exploded into Heriah’s mind and she quickly threw it away. “Well, I am sure you will flourish here, make a name for yourself and prove to be indispensable. I admit trying my hand at Engineering. I managed one class but found it was not for me. I dabbled in Intelligence and Operations, found something of a stride in Security but eventually was convinced to give Counseling a try. That is where I felt I belong; helping people. Though,” and Heriah smiled, nearly laughing at the thought, “I was the only Counseling cadet to enter into and take part in the Starfleet Academy bantamweight combative competition. Some felt it was working against me, as a counselor, to take up fighting. I felt that I should at least be able to relate to my counselees, even the big ones. You know? The muscular ones who think showing emotion and talking about feelings is a sign of weakness?”

She nodded, “I am sure you will do great here as I am sure someone will need your services.” She replied as the first place they arrived at was the promenade, “here is the promenade where you can find many shops and restaurants here, I have heard there are some really good ones though I have yet to try many of them yet.” She admitted with a smile, as they began to walk around she was heading towards where the shift leader would be located to see if he was there but figured give her a tour while on their way.

Heriah gasped in awe. “Shops!” She nearly hopped on her heels. “I am going to need a new dress. I am going to need swimwear. Ooh,” she noticed a store down the way advertising blunted and bladed weapons. “I wonder if they have a pair of Krabi Krabongs.” Heriah looked around; was almost spinning. “I think I may need a chaperone when coming here.” She continued following Nilah as she was stepping away. “What restaurant have you not tried yet? I’ll give it a go tonight and let you know what my thoughts are.”

“The fancier ones really,” Nilah replied looking at her as she couldn’t help but chuckle at her shier excitement over shops but they were pretty neat.

“I am not really a fan of fancy,” Heriah returned.

‘Except for fancy weapons.’

Heriah shrugged at the thought. “I prefer something more real, you know? Something,” she looked about and spotted a restaurant advertised as ‘Klingon Cuisine.’ Inside, she could see the Klingon cook shouting and throwing food about angrily. “Something with true atmosphere. Ooh!” Heriah walked speedily toward another shop and waited for Nilah to arrive at her side before noticing the name of it.

“The Joined Trill,” she read aloud and started reading the stand beside the entrance, “An honest illustration of the duality of…”

‘…duality of Joined Trills which your company is certainly not.’

“…of a little too much like home for me,” Heriah finished and she stepped away. Her joy at the shops waned. It was really nothing but a past novelty greatly enjoyed by one Heriah Khatain and less enjoyed by Heriah Rex, save for the weapons shop, of course. She stepped less gingerly, her mood sans the joy, her direction without destination.

After they finished touring the promenade they continued on with the tour which seemed to have taken an hour, though they didn’t really see all of the Starbase as that would take a long time. They finally made it where the shift leader was now at, “hope you enjoyed the tour as it seems we have reached the person you are wanting to speak with.” Nilah replied with a smile as she looked at the time, “I really have to get back to work I have a deadline to make with that craft.” Nilah replied looking at Heriah.

“Yeah,” said Heriah. The past hour almost appeared to have stretched for an eternity. “Thanks for showing me around.” The joy she displayed earlier had yet to return in any degree. Nilah did not seem to comment or care about that in the least.

‘She is unjoined. She does not feel the way we do. You would be better off…’

“I have kept you too long from your work. I will not keep you any longer.”

Heriah watched as Nilah stepped away. She looked at her PADD again, and at the unfinished in-processing checklist, wondering if it was really checked and looked after by anyone. Or was it simple a means to get personnel acquainted with the station and crew?

Removing her attention from the PADD, Heriah turned in a random direction and started walking.

Corridor – 1015

Longfellow walked, his mind processing what had happened.  He felt that he might need to walk for quite some time to process all that had happened.  He turned a corner and continued, thinking of the Vulcan woman’s impact on him.  She’d left him with a desire for friendship, and for hope.  Was this how he would figure out how to reconcile with his future here on Starbase Bravo?

He continued down the corridors until he looked up and realized he’d wandered off the beaten path into a quieter hallway.  He frowned to himself.  He would often take to walking when he worked in his various postings in Montana – but those hospitals were not the size of Bravo.  He’d need to be more careful in his wanderings.

“You should have listened, Doctor Longfellow.”  Henry spun and faced the imposing figure of one of Major Tulak’s escorts.  The Vulcan advanced on him, “You’ll tell us what you did with her, Doctor.  One way or the other.”  The man moved quicker than Henry expected and found himself pushed up against the wall, one hand over his mouth and the other hovering in mind-meld fashion over his face. “You will tell me.  And it will hurt.”  He slammed his fingers into position on the human’s face.

Henry felt the red hot sensation spread across his skin as the man invaded his mind, no longer protected by T’shalaith.  The pain seared through his skull and into the rest of his body as the assault began.  Longfellow felt as if his body would light on fire, and consume him into death at that very moment.

“Let him go now or I will fire on you.”

Security officer, Ensign Roger Allen, was new on Starbase Bravo. He hadn’t been given a specific duty spot yet, so being low man, he was sent each day where needed most. Someone reported off sick, so Roger was covering the holodeck section of the massive installation.

Things had been quiet, though he got to talk with several groups using the facilities. Roger wasn’t normally the chatty type, but serving where he was, he would need to learn to be more open. Perhaps that was why he was assigned there. He wanted to be on a starship one day, so he would make the most of it now.

Moving into a more quiet section, Roger heard some sort of commotion just ahead. Stepping around the corner, he stopped.

About ten feet ahead, a Vulcan man had a Human man pinned against the wall, one hand over the Human’s mouth, the other in the mind meld position. The Human appeared to be in pain.

“My weapon is set to heavy stun. You have three seconds.” Roger had no idea what was happening or why, but there was no doubt he would shoot, even if both men were hit.

The Vulcan attacker snapped his head to face Allen, his eyes alive with a raging fire.

Roger couldn’t believe what was happening. Vulcans had emotions that they suppressed, so seeing a look so intense, both startled and chilled him.

“You won’t have the chance, human fool.” With little effort, he picked up Longfellow, and heavily threw him at Allen, taking off down the corridor with a flash.  Longfellow felt the pain recede but then shouted in pain as he flew into the body of the security ensign and they smashed into the ground with a hard crash, Henry’s eyes briefly filled with stars.

There was another surprise as the Vulcan threw the Human man at Roger. It was all he could do to half-catch him, prevent himself from being injured, and hold and not fire his phaser. They both ended up on the floor, but Roger jumped up quickly and moved down the corridor a few meters to make sure they were safe. Turning back, Roger moved his hand towards his comm badge.

Longfellow shook his head as he moved into the sitting position against the wall, his body and mind aching with sharp pains, “He’ll be long gone by the time you report it, ensign.” He gave a wave. “Lieutenant Henry Longfellow, physician.  Who do I have to thank for rescuing me?”

“Ensign Roger Allen. I still need to report this, sir, and you need medical attention.”

The physician chuckled as he slipped out a medical tricorder from his belt, “Here,” he handed the device to Allen, “Use that key, that scan, and that button.  Should tell you how roughed or ready I am.”  He felt a mild pain in his head growing and his stomach turned more and more as he sat.  Whatever the operative was attempting had left its mark, and hard.

Roger paused a few seconds, looked back over his shoulder to again ensure they weren’t in danger, and accepted the medical tricorder. Doing as instructed, he showed the results to Longfellow.

“Did you pass, sir?”

Longfellow read the results, squinting through the pain.  While it wasn’t near death, it wasn’t great.  There were two red status areas and an array of orange and yellow.  Henry grumbled, “No, I did not pass.”  He tapped his communication badge, “Lieutenant Longfellow to Infirmary four, two to transport to triage.”  He accepted the tricorder back, “You’re coming with me, just in case.  You can start your report from my bedside. Right now the safest place for us is where we’re going.” 

Roger agreed. “Yes, sir.”

Infirmary 4 – 1040

The transporter beam dropped them in the middle of the triage area and two nurses quickly got Longfellow to a biobed and began the process of identifying his critical injuries.  He watched as the bridge slid over and one began to tap away at the console, “Doctor Longfellow, do you know where you are?”

Henry grimaced as the pain continued to ebb and flow.  “Infirmary four.  You’re going to need a cortical repair unit.  Don’t argue.”  She gave him a momentary look and snagged one from the equipment and slipped it on, powering it quickly as she scanned for the repairs needed.

Roger looked at the nurse. “We did a medical scan before transporting here.”

The physician cringed at the pain but it was lessening, “You better get to reporting what happened, ensign.  They’ve probably already departed…or vanished.”

Roger moved to a more private part of the infirmary. Tapping his comm badge, he reported the incident to his supervisor. It was acknowledged and he was ordered to stay with Doctor Longfellow. However this moved forward, Roger hoped he’d be allowed to participate in the investigation.

The nurse checked the repair unit and scanned with her tricorder, “You’ve had a helluva thing happen to you, Doctor Longfellow.  These readings…are off the charts.”  She glanced at the security officer, “What did this to him?

Roger considered for a moment not saying so he wouldn’t put the nurse in danger, but in reality, that was unlikely. To properly treat Longfellow, the medical staff needed all the information.

“A Vulcan was mind melding with him, but it clearly was by force,” said Roger.

Longfellow sighed from his bed, “The effect of the injuries should fade within a day or two.  I’m lucky Mr. Allen was walking by.”  He turned his head and winced at the sharp pain, “What’s the word on the daughter?”  

The nurse gave him a look, “She departed right on schedule.  Far as we know, she wasn’t followed.  I suspect she can handle herself.  You, on the other hand,”  She checked his scans once more, “You will need to stay overnight.  Officer Allen, you can interview the old fool from bedside for whatever you need.”  She tapped a few commands on the console as the bridge unit went to work and the doctor’s pain slowly faded away.  He knew it was temporary but it helped him focus on the security officer.

Borrowing a PADD from the medical supplies, Roger sat next to Longfellow. “Doctor, please tell me why you were being attacked. Don’t leave out anything.”

The discussion continued as the nurse continued to monitor.  Longfellow wondered how far the conspiracy would go as he continued to answer the questions.  Whatever came next would decide just that.

After she visited with the new counselor she decided that she needed a break and something to eat, she headed out of the shuttle maintenance area walking down the corridor towards the turbolift. Once she arrived just a few minutes later she entered she told it where to go as the doors shut behind her and began to move towards its destination. After a while the lift came to a stop with the doors opening up, Nilah exited and headed for the Gate Inn as she had yet to try that place and felt it was a good time as any.

Walking into the Gate Inn Cynndle after another long night shift in Operations he felt a bit out of his depths on the station. It felt odd to him that, he had lived here for a year when he was in the academy and loved it but even after 3 months of being back something was missing. He didn’t usually come to the Gate Inn due to the gimmicky nature but at times it reminded him of the small pubs back home and the owner Terry is always friendly. He looked at the menu trying to figure out what he wanted and decided that it was a bit early for a beer and couldn’t decide on food; maybe a cup of tea would do the trick – he had heard there was a type from Trill that was meant to be good. 

Walking over to the counter he smiled at Terry. “How are you doing Terry? Could I have that tea, I cannot recall the name, it’s from Trill” Cynndle said as he looked around. The bar had more people in than he first realized leaving him very few options on where to sit. He turns back to Terry and nodded as the man handed him a large cup of tea before seeing an empty table. He quickly walked towards it trying not to spill anything. Just as he got there and began to grab a car he looked up and saw a young ensign in an operations uniform grabbing the chair beside him. “Oh, um.., my apologies Ensign” he stammered a bit taken back having not realized someone else was going for the table and breaking his train of thought about the station. He looked at her and smiled, “Please the table is all yours” as he gestured towards it.

She didn’t realize another person was going for the same table, she let out a chuckle and smiled. “Guess we had the same table in mind, you can join me if you like? I don’t mind,” she replied with a soft smile looking at him. “My name is Nilah Virahl I am an Engineering Officer working in shipyard construction currently,” she extended her hand towards him.

Seeing this Cynndle smiles and nods, “Thank you Nilah, that would be nice.” He reaches over and pulls out a chair for her and gestures, “After you.” 

Smiling she took a seat, “thank you.” She replied thinking he was being such a gentleman.

He pauses for a moment and lets Nilah sit before sitting across from her. “I’m Cynndle Oin’sun, I am an operations officer here. I have only just been reassigned here.” He pauses and looks at the menu and then at you. “Is there anything I can get for you? Terry has a great selection.”

She looked at the menu thinking for a moment, “I’ll have the Shirley temple.” She replied as it sounded good, though she wasn’t a big drinker only on occasions.

“I think I can get you one of those” He stands up, heading to the bar before quickly returning with the drink. Taking a seat he slides the Shirley temple in front of you.

Taking a sip of his tea, pausing for a second as if considering the flavor before nodding and setting it down. “Do you work in the shipyards? I must say I do enjoy seeing the ships as they come together. What is it like taking part in that? I sit up in Ops and it feels like I am just chasing reports and people endless in a circle at times.”

“It’s been a wonderful experience so far, have learned a lot being down there. Though I don’t always get to work on bigger ships, mostly been smaller ships and shuttlecrafts, though I am working my way up there.” She replied as she took a drink, “what is it like in Ops?” She asked as she hadn’t been to that part of the station yet.

“Well Ops, is different. Keeps me on my toes helping to oversee the management of the station so it changes every day.” Letting out a little laugh, “Well, sometimes I get to do that, most of the time it is overseeing coms and senors but with a station, this big and the traffic outside it can get pretty busy. The operations deck is pretty impressive, I am pretty sure I could take you up there for a quick peek if you like?” Looking down at his cup he smiles and takes another sip. “I spend about half my time in Ops and am moving between other departments for the other half at the moment at the recommendation of the counselor – gets me out to meet more people after my last posting.” 

“That would be cool, as long as you don’t get into trouble though I doubt it as I am in engineering and surely can go up to ops.” She said with a shrug and a chuckle. “I can agree this is a huge station, but I do love a good challenge why I asked for shipyards right out of the gate, though I didn’t think they would give it to me, the shift leader signed off on it. Though he bet that I would be back to him in a couple of weeks it’s been a couple of months and I haven’t.” She said with a chuckle as she took another drink.

“My only understanding is only the best end up working the shipyards, I have no doubt you have earned it.”  Taking another drink of his tea Cynndle leans back and casually looks around the bar before looking back at Nilah. “How is the drink? You enjoying it?”

“It is good, well needed been crazier than normal today,” Nilah replied with a smile.

“Oh, how come? Interesting crazy or ‘OH I WISH THAT NEVER HAPPENED’ crazy?” Cynndle says with a questioning look on his face. Wondering in part as he is meant to do a few shifts in the yard coming up.

She chuckled a bit, “oh just a craft giving me trouble though I am sure I will figure out what is wrong with it sooner or later.” She responded looking at him.

“I am on duty in ops tomorrow, unless something comes up I usually grab lunch at 13:30. Pretty sure if you come up then I can show you around.”

“That would be great,” she replied with a smile as she enjoyed making new friends.

Smiling, he nods and takes another sip of his drink. ‘Glad I decided to get out and talk to people. I guess Heriah was right after all.’ he thinks to himself. 

“That has made my day actually, usually I just grab a sandwich from the replicator and return to my station but if you will come up might take the item to get away from it for a proper lunch break.”

“Sounds great,” Nilah replied with a genuine smile as she enjoyed meeting new people and making new friends. Looking at the time, “oh it’s getting late and I need to get back to work for a few more hours.” Nilah replied as she stood up.

“Hope the rest of your shift goes well Nilah. Send me a message if you ever want any company.” He says as she stands and he gives her a slight wave bye.

“Thanks,” she replied as she headed out of the bar and headed back towards the construction yard. She was thinking as she walked trying to think of what was going on with that craft that she just wasn’t seeing. Then something came to her she picked up the pace as she headed for her destination.

After waking the next morning with a slight hangover, nothing that bad that a sonic shower wouldn’t take care of. After she was all ready for the day she headed down to the Shipyards to begin her shift. Grabbing a mug of coffee on the way out she headed down the corridor towards the turbolift that would bring her to the correct level. After arriving she looked around to see the craft that she was working on yesterday, she got a report from the night shift who hadn’t had much luck either getting it figured out.

“Great, another long day hopefully something comes to me today,” Nilah said to herself as she took a drink of her coffee setting it down she got back under the craft and began to work again all while thinking of what might be the problem and how to solve it.

A rather disgruntled and worn-looking Romulan entered the shipyard. At first, he seemed to act like he knew what he was doing and that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He milled around for some bit, aimlessly. He looked around, admiring the ships and the equipment. He sighed audibly and walked towards the nearest person to him. He looked like he quite literally had not slept in days, holding a mug of coffee that was long cold by now. Dark circle resided under his eyes despite his neat and well-kept appearance.

Lihran cleared his throat before speaking, defeat in his voice, “I appear to be lost. I don’t suppose you can be of any help to me? I did not want to ask earlier and bruise my ego.”

She was again immersed in her work when she was startled again for the second time in two days, with a sigh she got out from underneath the craft and stood up, looking at the Romulan man in a yellow uniform. “Sure,” she said with a warm smile “how can I be of assistance?” She asked looking at him for a moment.

Lihran took a secondary glance around as if trying to find anyone within hearing distance who may hear and judge him, “I am not supposed to be here. These are the shipyards I take it. Evidently. I am supposed to be where reactors and engines are. I am brand new.” He gave a resigned sigh and sipped his cold coffee, grimacing afterward.

Smiling still, “yes it is and I know how intimidating this base can be as well as how easy it is to get turned around.” Nilah replied as she stood there in front of him, “I can take you to where you need to be,” she added. “I am Ensign Nilah Virahl, the shipyard engineer.” She introduced herself while extending her hand toward him with her always a warm smile and bubbly personality.

Lihran hesitated at the handshake. He reminded himself it was a polite gesture. He spent quite a few years on Earth and should be used to it. He swapped his coffee to his other hand and shook her hand firmly, “Ensign Lihran. I would appreciate the help, thank you.”

“Just arrived onboard?” She asked as they began to walk out of the shipyards towards where the shift leader was located. “I have been here for a couple of months myself so still fairly new.” She added as they walked down the corridor. 

Lihran nods, walking along with her, “About a week or so. I have been keeping to myself and burying my head in manuals and diagrams. I have been wishing to familiarize myself with the base and its systems before I start serious work.”

“I get that, this base is huge.” She replied as they walked, “I still find myself getting lost sometimes though that is getting better by the day.” She said with a chuckle. “So what made you decide to join Starfleet?” Nilah asked as she was just generally curious, not that it was unusual that he was a Romulan.

Lihran nods slowly, “It is indeed yes.” He hesitates, dwelling in silence for a few steps as he carefully chooses his words, “That is a loaded question. Maybe I can share over drinks sometime, but the basic answer is partially spite, and partially just wanting a fresh start. Maybe a bit seeking sanctuary. A peculiar mix of the three. Yourself?” As they walked, he looked around, memorizing where they were going and the features of the place.

“I enjoy fixing things, and wanted to shoot for the stars.” Nilah replied as they walked, “plus I enjoy meeting people no matter their background.” She said with a smile. “I think you will like it here, it’s never a dull moment that’s for sure.” She commented while walking down the corridor.

Lihran nods slowly as he listens, “That sounds… Quite pleasant actually. A good reason if any.” He gives a faint smile, then nods before he replies to the latter half of her statement, “I quite like it here already- despite my tendencies to get quite lost. I need to walk with a map on a PADD glued to my nose, I swear. I know where the medical facilities are well enough. Already found my way there a few times by now.”

“I am sure you will learn where things are in time, took me a while too,” She admitted.

Lihran nods once more, “I will in time. I can hear the reactors from here. I appreciate you taking the time from your day to help me get unlost and find where I am supposed to be. I imagine I will be seeing you around more often.” He shoots her a rather bright smile, almost unnerving coming from a Romulan.

She returned the smile, “my pleasure.” She replied back as she stood there for a moment, “if you like to have drinks sometime hit me up.” She replied looking at him.

Lihran pauses and nods, “I would like that, actually– should probably take some time off of work. I will get in touch with you. And… Thank you.” It was a double edged thank you; partially for showing him the way back and partially for being a friendly face to him after being met with some hostilities from others. He gave a faint smile before turning to head off into the reactor room.

‘And I really do not want to be here.’

“I know that Rex.”

‘You know Rikata messaged this guy.’

“Yes, I know.”

‘You know Rik probably told him every…’

“Rex! I know that!” Heriah nearly shouted to the side as though Rex was standing right beside her. To her embarrassment, there was the random crewman beside her taken aback at her outburst.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him. “I was just…”

‘Talking to yourself again.’

The crewman nodded his understanding and stepped away toward wherever it was he was going.

It had been some days now and Heriah’s desk was inside this office area and she had not even visited yet. Not to meet her boss, not to meet the other personnel, not to introduce herself. But seeing as how she would be working here, not to mention this was a stop on her in-processing checklist, going through these doors was going to happen. She did not want to meet the resident psychiatrist, but Elegy Weld was her boss. Heriah felt she had had her fill of shrinks but somehow wound up being a quasi-shrink herself.

She thought that perhaps this would simply be a meet and greet with Elegy and that he would not try to ask any psychological questions. But, if Rikata had sent all the information Heriah was afraid he had sent, then perhaps that thought was all in vain.

‘We could always kill him.’

Heriah threw that forced thought away and stepped within proximity of the doors. They slid open invitingly and Heriah finally entered into the office of her workspace. She already knew where the office of Elegy Weld was and went straight there. It was time to get this started and over with.

Arriving at his office door, she pressed the chime alerting him that someone had come calling.

“Come,” Doctor Weld called out, and the computer understood to release the privacy locks on the doors.

When the doors parted, they revealed Lieutenant JG Elegy Weld was halfway to his feet, rising from one of the arm chairs.  A holographic PADD winked out and Elegy put on a smile for Heriah.  “Good morning and welcome,” Elegy said.  He smoothed out the medical smock he wore over his uniform.  Elegy assumed he would tire of it eventually, but it still meant a lot to him, given his official graduation from the medical academy.  Sweeping a hand out to indicate the other furniture in the room, Elegy said, “Please some in and make yourself comfortable.  Can I get you a refreshment?”

Heriah, smiling, stepped in. “Morning…sir. And thank you. Alle’Ke’Zonda’er red, if you please. It’s a tea,” she explained. “I already programmed it into the replicator matrix.” She stopped halfway into his office before realizing she needed to finish off with, “sir,” as he was her superior officer as well as her boss.

Looking about the room as Elegy made his way to the replicator, Heriah took in the sights. It felt truly like a counselor’s office. In this case, a psychiatrist’s. She felt a revulsion in her gut and pushed the feeling aside.

She took another step, remembering that he instructed her to make herself comfortable and started toward a chair. “I have been spending the past few days getting familiar with Bravo and,” she looked at her PADD, “completing my in-processing. I am not done yet, sir, but should be soon.”

While he was fussing with the replicator, Elegy cast a glance back over his shoulder.  “While you’re behind those doors,” he said, nodding to the way Heriah had just come, “You can call me Elegy or El.  Everyone does, I assure you.”  Following the satisfying hum of the replicator, he carried the requested mug of tea to Heriah, and he sat himself in another arm chair with a glass of iced coffee between his hands.  Elegy offered, “It wasn’t so long ago I completed my own onboarding.  What can I do to make your in-processing easier?”

‘Put your signature on this thing so we can get out of here.’

“I cannot think of anything at…”

‘And while you’re at it, forge the rest of these…’

“Well there really is nothing you can do to make it easier…sir. I mean Elegy,” she quickly added. She smiled at him awkwardly. “I suppose you may call me just Heriah…minus the ‘just’ of course. Or Khatain. Some like to call me Khat. You know, like the animal?” She made a scratching motion in the air with her hand and gave a “meow. Alternatively, some call me Rex.”

‘As it should be.’

“But you may call me whatever you…um…deem necessary, sir…Elegy. You’re the boss here.”

Between sips of his drink, Elegy nodded what Heriah told him and he chuckled briefly when she mimed a cat-like pawing movement.  At being called the boss, Elegy stiffed in his seat.  “Even so, I’d still rather call you whatever you like to be called most,” Elegy said earnestly.  He took another sip and he set his glass down on an end table.  “Please tell me if I’m jumping ahead too quickly,” Elegy said; “Have you put any thought into your personal goals now you’ve been assigned to Starbase Bravo?  What would success look like to you in your first six months here?”

“Well…, sir Elegy…not ‘Sir Elegy’ making you a ‘sir’ and all,” despite that he was her superior officer, “in the sense that…” Heriah shook her head embarrassingly, throwing away her attempt at correction. She simply pressed on. “Success, to me,” she said as she connected eye to him, “means…to be…an integral part…of this crew. After my first six months here, I aim to be considered indispensable, to be recommended as an automatic response when a counselor is needed and to be sought out by those who requires my services.” Heriah even surprised herself that she went from a nearly nervous wreck attempting to form a coherent thought before her boss to speaking succinctly and speedily. “In six months time, when someone says the word ‘counselor’, I want my name to surface in people’s minds.” And her little speech was all due to help from, “Rex. Er…Heriah…um…Rex.”

‘That’s much better though the prior is preferred.’

“And that is what you may call be…or…that is what I prefer.” Realizing she had not spoken on the name she would prefer to be referred to by, “Heriah, that is. Heriah is fine.”

Nodding deeply, Elegy said, “Heriah it is then,” with a flash of a smile.  “I would say becoming well-regarded and oft-requested as a counselor is entirely achievable for you.  We’ve had a challenging start to the year with the Century Storm.  Civilian traffic through Bravo was far greater than would be typical, many of them passing through these offices too.  More than ever, the crew appreciates the value we bring to our patients.  I would be happy to explore any resources or strategies you need to achieve your goals.”  –Elegy shifted in his seat and he bit his lower lip briefly– “Is there anything you think could get in your way of achieving that goal?”

‘You. Getting in my way.’

Heriah looked down briefly and crossed her arms across her belly as though that would really silence Rex.

“I cannot think of any hindrance save for not doing the job.”

‘So have him sign his name and we can be out of here.’

“The sooner I can get my office assigned and set up, the sooner I can hop on the job.”

‘I bet you want to hop on something.’

“Though I would enjoy working from my quarters when allowed.”

‘You can hop on things there too.’

Heriah sighed, though made it appeared gleefully. “I just…cannot wait to get to work.” She looked at the PADD upon the table with her in-processing checklist displayed, awaiting Elegy’s affirmation that she checked in with him.

“To be honest,” Elegy said, following his curiosity wherever it led him, “I noticed a shift in your energy there.”  –He squinted at Heriah briefly and then assumed his neutral expression from before– “Can you tell me more about the enjoyment you get from meeting with patients in your quarters instead of an office?” he asked.

Heriah had started to feel a nervous tingly feeling as he annunciated his noticing of her shift in energy. It did not help that a burst of nervousness came from Rex as well. She felt nearly on the edge of becoming unglued but Elegy did press on with his inquiry.

“My enjoyment,” she said and then paused, thinking on what it truly was that she enjoyed the most about meeting patients in her quarters. She rested her hand in her lap, left on top of the right. “My enjoyment is seeing their enjoyment. Yes, we have a waiting room, sometimes a line of those waiting to be seen but it all boils down to someone having to come to the Counseling Office, having to walk through that door out there, having to know and be reminded that they are a patient, here to see someone and tell them things they would rather not tell anyone else.”

She let that sink in a second.

“Now think of a patient that has an invitation to meet for a session in a counselor’s quarters. They do not have to come into this office area, they do not have to see other counselor’s or see, or be seen by, other patients, all or some possibly wondering what is wrong with this one. Having a session in the counselor’s quarters will remove much of the restraint and nervousness and will add a degree of relief as they know they have been invited into the quarters, the personal space of the person from whom they seek help. It is my experience that patients will open up more easily in that situation than an office area such as this.”

“This does not mean.’ Heriah continued, “that I do not want to work out of the office at all. I understand there will be times of many patients seeking assistance, when we will have a full waiting room. You can bet I will be in the office then. If the schedule allows, however, I would like to meet patients in my quarters. I will gladly do it after normal duty hours even.”

She took a breath and realized she was done with her little speech. Smiling, she sat there looking back at Elegy. Her hands were still resting in her lap; left still on top of right, concealing it. Her right hand balled into a fist; tight enough for her nails to begin digging into her palm. There was a little pain, but…

‘Pain feels good.’

…and it helped her smile appear more genuine.

While she spoke, Elegy nodded at each of the points Heriah had made.  Even afterwards, he appeared to continue considering her words, as he looked up at the overhead and rubbed the back of his neck for a few seconds.  Turning his gaze on Heriah again, Elegy said, “I’m sure arrangements can be made to see patients in your quarters.  My only caution would be about setting sufficient boundaries to maintain your own refuge from duty in your own personal space.  That’ll be important for your own wellbeing.  On a starbase of Bravo’s size, the public waiting room isn’t our only option.  I often sneak my patients in through side entrances or have them beam in direction from transporter arches…”

“Those are good points,” she said. “I admit to having not thought of all that.”

After taking a sip of his coffee, Elegy took a deep breath, and he pivoted the conversation.  Approaching a formal timbre, Elegy said, “In the interest of transparency, I should let you know that Doctor Mol from the Trill military has written to me about your progress with your joining.  Now, I’ve been assigned to provide your clinical supervision, I know some counselors prefer to receive counseling from their supervisors, and some counselors prefer a separation there.  Do you have a preference?  I suppose I’m asking: what questions do you have for me before we embark on our new relationship?”

‘Can you just sign this thing so we can be done with this?’

Heriah sat there a few shorts seconds in thought. Two knuckles in her right hand popped under a tightening fist. Her left hand still comfortably resting atop the right. The news of Rikata messaging Elegy came as no surprise.

‘No. Don’t you say it.’

“I would actually prefer,” and this was Heriah speaking. She was beginning to flex the fingers of her right hand in an attempt to relax more. “…prefer to receive counseling from my supervisor. You, of course, need to know the well-being of those under your command.”

She relaxed more and reached for her tea. Taking another sip of it, “I do understand your concerns regarding seeing patients within private quarters. Rest assured that, if allowed to do that, I will come forward with any issues that arise. I am aware of the risks and, I may not look it but, I can take care of myself. It actually gladdens me to know that Rikata Mol…”

‘…the mole…’

“…contacted you regarding me.” She smiled at him. “It only shows that he cares. He was both my doctor and counselor while I attended the Academy. He showed me great care and much attention and is only finding it hard to let go. That, and he wants you to know what he knows, to ensure that I remain healthy. I assure you,” she finally relaxed her right hand and patted her tummy with it, “my joining with Rex has gone smoothly and we continue to thrive.”

“As for questions for you,” she continued, “I really cannot think of any. Only that I ask you to work with me as both a counselor, in your case, a psychiatrist, and as a supervisor as I open up to you and my co-workers and that you nursemaid me as I learn what it means to serve Starfleet outside and away from the Academy. If you have questions for me…I am an open book.”

‘…with many redactions that is.’

Nodding slowly, Elegy replied, “Thank you, Heriah.  It’s been a pleasure to meet with you.  I’ll arrange our meeting cadence in the next couple of days.  If there’s nothing else, I can let you be on your way.”

“Thank you, sir. I mean Elegy,” she corrected as she stood. Retrieving her PADD, “Oh can you sign this, please?” She held it out to him. Displayed was her in-processing checklist. There were many signatures on it already, but more still were needed before completion. Among the incompletes was her check-in with Counseling and Psychiatry. “Just to let the command staff know that I checked in here.”

Turning his gaze on the PADD, Elegy clasped it between both of his hands.  “My enjoyment will be seeing your enjoyment,” Elegy remarked, a play on Heriah’s words that had stuck in his head.  He signed his acknowledgement and handed the PADD back to her.  As Heriah headed out of the office, Elegy said, “Go forth and make yourself indispensable, Heriah.”

Stepping off the turbolift in Sector Kilo-Indigo after the end of his shift Cynndle looked a bit disheveled with his hair a mess and uniform unkempt and smudged after spending his day crawling around the jefferies tubes with a maintenance crew trying to find why there were power surges going to the sensors. Thinking on his day he wanders down the corridor and half-heartedly tries to smooth his hair knowing it won’t help.

‘What a day, it always amazes me how many KILOMETERS of tubes there are in these stations…all to find a single shorted out power junction that was sending error signals to other junctions all over the station….was nice to work with the maintenance team though haven’t done that for a while…maybe Heriah was right, get out, rotate through to other jobs and departments; it is nice to get to know people on the wider station.’

Pausing at an intersection in the corridor he looked both ways, ‘Quarters or a wander?’ he thought to himself before shrugging and turning away from his quarters and towards the larger recreational areas nearby he begins humming.

‘Been a few days since went to the holodeck…I wonder if any are free; usually is one at least…but what to run…SO MANY OPTIONS!’

Walking past the holodecks he glanced at the panels to see if any were open; ‘Should have thought ahead and booked one…but no way to know how long it would have taken to get that repaired’ shaking his head as he thought to himself after seeing the same sort of messages again and again on the panels.

Reserved – Locked

Closed for Maintenance – Locked

Programme Running – Kirin Tarken – Locked

Programme Running – Private – Locked

So on and so further all seemed to be in use.  Passing the second from last on the floor he glanced at the panel seeing it was in operation and kept walking before turning his head sharply back and pausing.

Programme Running – Heriah Rex

Oh, Heriah has a programme running…. I wonder what she is doing? She likes sparing, maybe a training programme…’ He turns to leave but stops after a few steps…‘She didn’t lock it…maybe she wouldn’t mind some company, we did talk about meeting up and sparing at some point…though I would hate to force her hand, she could need some downtime after a long day…but she is new here as well, maybe company is what she is after’ He stood there for a minute debating with himself, ‘She is technically my counsellor and I don’t want to be one of those patients that is always there…that isn’t me…this isn’t that she is one of the few people I know…ah, hell, better to ask forgiveness than permission I guess, eh’

On that thought he stepped forward and pressed the door display, prompting the computer to notify Heriah that someone was outside… ‘I hope it isn’t Vulcan Love Slave and she forgot to lock it…’  he thinks with a chuckle.

Heriah slid the serrated edge of her ushaan-tor across the belly of the attacking Klingon. “Computer, arch,” she called out. As she blocked and dodged a few swings of her attacker’s bat’leth, the arch faded in and the doors opened, allowing outsiders to see in.

Cynndle was greeted with a dusty battle arena surrounded by a coliseum of cheering Klingons. Pillars of stone were spread about and a spray of weaponry scattered about the ground. There were no other bodies just as there were no sprays of the pinkish Klingon blood. Yet there were weapons, clearly seen to have been used.

The Klingon Heriah was battling with was not wearing a battle uniform but just a combat gi. Heriah was also not in uniform, nor did she don her Starfleet issued PT uniform. She was simply in a sports bra and compression leggings. Less to slow her down and less for her enemy to get a hold of. This was hand-to-hand combat at its simplest. No armor, no phasers, no projectiles. Just two people meeting, choosing their desired weapons, and fighting it out to the death.

Seeing an opening, Heriah brought her ushaan-tor up and thrusted the pointed end into the chest of the Klingon, sending the point on into his heart. And, as his arms fell limp and his grip on his bat’leth wanted, eventually letting it fall to the ground, Heriah pushed in more and got in the Klingon’s face. Her eyes nearly on fire with rage as she watched those eyes flitter and start to turn back in their sockets.

She yanked the ushaan-tor from his chest, again without any display of blood, and, as the Klingon stepped back and started falling, he flittered and vanished, fading away back into the holomatrix.

Heriah looked about but saw no other combatants. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail but still appeared disheveled. She was spotted and dirtied with holographic dirt stains. There was a slight cut on her arm and a few bruises about her arms and legs. Still, she smiled happily as she turned toward the arch to see, “Cynndle.” She waved at him still with an ushaan-tor firmly in her grasp.

“Computer, open parameters. Increase difficulty by 1 level. Save parameters and close.”

The computer bleeped as she spoke and then gave a bleep of affirmation as it saved her edits. She stepped toward Cynndle as he continued taking in the scene. The Klingon sun shone bright down upon the coliseum and the surrounding crowd rested in their seats awaiting another battle.

As she approached Cynndle, she moved the ushaan-tor in her right hand to her left and held out her hand to Cynndle. She was sweaty and dirty, but still sought to shake hands.

Cynndle watched Heriah dispatch the combatant with ease, ‘The coliseum on Qo’noS, impressive, I did not expect this’ he thought before laughing to himself, ‘Really though not sure what I was expecting, I don’t really know Heriah know do I.’

Walking into the coliseum Cynndle looked around taking in the details of the programme and Heriah. Reaching out he takes her hand and quickly shakes it in greeting.

“I am sorry if I have interrupted you, I was walking past hoping to find a holodeck open but sadly no such luck until I saw that you had this one and it wasn’t set to private. I thought maybe you might want some company.” He says as he continues to look around and take in the setting. “Though do tell me to get lost if I have overstepped myself, that would be fair.”

Their hands parted. “Oh no, company is fine. That is why,” she motioned toward the archway, “I left privacy settings off. But, uh…I was just,” she looked about and behind her, “finishing up here. Needed to decompress, you know?” She underhandedly tossed her ushaan-tors onto her gym bag residing next to the archway. They clanged together and rested there. A few of the holographic Klingons in the coliseum stands shouted. They wanted more action. “You can have the holodeck now if you like. I do not think there are any other reservations.”

“Oh, well is everything ok?” Cynndle started and look almost a little disappointed at Heriah’s comment though she was nodding to his question with her ponytail bouncing about behind her head. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to leave. I have had a hectic day myself and, if you are up for it, I could use some decompression myself. After all…” he lifted his hands gesturing to the Klingons in the stands, “the crowd seems like they are not done with the show.”

Without waiting for a response, he begins to undo his jacket revealing a grey shirt underneath; “Either that or, guess I could try that Lariento massage programme or that Vulcan temple meditation one I have heard about. May help with this shoulder tension.” He says with a quirky smile as he rolls his shoulders causing them to audible pop.

“Oh I am up for it,” she said as Rex thought it. She too looked about at the holographic audience, knowing they were only calling out because they were programmed to. “And I can stay if you want. Besides,” she turned back to Cynndle, “the holodeck is yours now. And you are the ranking officer here. So, tell me…LT…do I have your permission to stay?”

At that Cynndle turns to look at Heriah and gives her a deadpan stare before a slight smile cracked his lips and he laughed. “God, LT… I really do not think like that. I know I approached the session the other day that way, but that was well work. Yes, Ensign, you have my permission to stay; I would very much appreciate your company.”

“Select the program then,” Heriah said. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Well, that put me on the spot; honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead to be fair.” Looking around again at the coliseum he shrugs, “How about a round or two in here then change it up? You a fan of climbing?”

Heriah nodded. “Climbing,” she repeated and threw away a forced thought of Davmorda’s version of climbing. “Never done it myself. And Rex…well, it has been a long time. I’ll give it an honest go.”

“Computer, increase combatants for two users. Add programme Cyn-Spar_Alpha1”

At that, a foot-long cylindrical object appear to Cynndle’s right and he reach out a hand without looking and took hold of it.

“You ready?”

“Computer, produce a pair of krabi-krabong thai dhas,” and, at her feet, came a pair of single-edged bladed weapons. She picked both up, spun one in her hand and inverted her hold on it, pressing the flat of the blade against her forearm. “What are you going to do with that,” she was talking about the short weapon he preferred, “throw it at them?”

“Well, there is nothing stopping me from doing that I guess.” He says as he brings the rod in front of him and looks at it quizzically. “But I prefer to us it in its proper form.” He cocks he head and examines the krabi-krabong Thai dhas. “I trust you know how to use those…stick’em with the pointy end I am told, eh?”

Heriah remembered who it was the spent a lot of time on Earth learning various fighting techniques. It was Refkin, prior to his incident of course. Among the techniques he learned was krabi-krabong, hence Heriah’s interest. Though her skills in that range were limited, “Be at my side, guide my hands and guide my feet, Refkin,” the memories came flooding forth and Heriah, realizing her stance gave way to vulnerabilities and did not maintain perfect balance, tweaked the placement of her feet and how she held the thai dhas. Perfection.

“Bring ‘em on and watch ‘em fall,” Refkin’s favorite phrase before battle flowed forth from her lips.

“Computer, start programme.”

In front of Heriah and Cynndle two Klingons appear weilding bat’leths. Without pause they both shout ‘Heghlu’meH QaQ jajvam’ and charge forward bat’leths raised to strike.

Heriah feigned a charge to the left, sidestepped and ducked under the swinging metal of a bat’leth, springing up beside Cynndle. She moved behind him, positioning her feet like his in a fortified stance, them standing back to back and giving the Klingons no avenue to attack either from behind.

‘Now give these bits of light emitting photons what for,’ came the thought.

Heriah deflected another swing of the bat’leth then sent forth a flurry of strikes from her dual wield sending her attacking Klingon into defense-mode.

Cynndle deftly ducked beneath the first swing of the bat’leth and smiled. As he ducked he spun the rode in his hand and squeezed it. In an instant it extended to just over two meters in length connecting directly with the attacking Klingons chest sending him staggering. Straightening he enses Heriah behind him and adjusted his stance raising his staff into a low guard eyeing the Klingon as he regianed his balance.

“Surely you can do better than that” Cynndle taunted before stepping forward feigning an overhead strike before adjusting and hooking the staff behind the Klingons knees and sending him sprawling.

Heriah ducked under another swing of her attacker’s bat’leth, complete with a swing of her own slicing into the Klingon’s left armpit. And, though his grip lessened on his bat’leth, it meant a greater level of anger from her attacker and a greater reach now that he was swinging single-handedly.

She inverted the grip of the thai dha in her right hand and pressed the flat of the blade against her forearm again to use for shielding purposes.

“So tell me,” she called out to Cynndle as she continue dogding and blocking attacks, “how is this crosstraining,” she blocked parried and moved to the side, “working out for you,” she returned a strike; blocked, “that I recommended?”

Hearing this Cynndle cannot help but laugh, “GOOD” he shouts as he spins the staff around, so it connects with the side of the Klingons head with a loud crack as he tries to stand. “I think I needed someone to just tell me that. I have been practicing my forms again the last few days. Hell, even had coffee with one of the officers on the engineering team from the yards. That was nice”

“But this, right now, brings me back to myself.” He comments as ducking to the side as a B’Etor flies past him thrown by the Klingon regains his feet and charges again; though slower and less coordinated as before. Parrying attacks from the Bat’leth he alternates strikes to either side of the Klingon causing him to go on the defensive. “You? Is the decompression working?”

There came a few metal-upon-metal strikes then a sets of clangs as a bat’leth hit and clattered about the ground. Heriah faced her unarmed opponent and loosed her thai dhas in either direction. Balling her fists, she taunted her Klingon attacker. He still had the one good arm with the other with only half of it functionality.

“We are about to find out,” she said as she rushed upon her opponent.

Refkin’s master appeared before her, replacing the Klingon. Heriah’s moves were automatic, as though she had no control at all. She saw through the eyes of Refkin. His master sent a volley of jabs and Refkin was quick on his feet, ducking and dodging, waiting for the perfect moment to masterfully pull off a maneuver that cannot be stopped. He saw the opening and snatched his master’s hand, sent a loose fisted punch into the man’s neck just below his ear and behind his jaw. Sweeping the master’s feet, Refkin wound his right arm around his opponent’s right arm, pulling it taut. Refkin’s free hand reach and grabbed the master’s armpit, guiding him as he fell to the ground, Refkin planted his right foot at the base of the back whilst his left knee pressed down on the neck where the previous punch landed. Flexing his muscles, Refkin pulled everything taut.

Heriah, returning to her senses, found herself in the same position, holding her holographic Klingon of an opponent in the unstoppable maneuver Refkin was taught and had mastered.

The Klingon realized he had two free legs and a free arm but was quick to realize that any move would spell his doom. The right arm was straightened to its limit, stretched to its limit and a knee pressed hard down upon the neck. A simple move from Heriah would snap his arm at the elbow, pull his arm out of socket or snap his neck…or all three at once.

And since holographic Klingons were programmed to never give up, he moved.

There came a snap of his arm and Heriah felt a gruesome crunch in her side as she bent the arm in the wrong direction. There was also a sickening pop as the Klingon’s arm came out of its socket. The Klingon howled but was brought to silence as his neck, bent to its limit, gave way and snapped in two locations.

Heriah gritted her teeth and grinned heinously, as though enjoying the display. And, as per her set parameters of the holoprogam, the Klingon faded away back into the holomatrix.

She leaned forward, planting her hands upon the ground and breathed deeply, expelling the fire from her lungs.

Quickly glancing back at Heriah to see that she is ok he nodes as she says ‘We are about to find out’ and moves in to finish his opponent. Easily deflect a couple blows from the bat’leth he strikes high and low with both ends of the staff causing the Klingon to stumble before spinning  the weapon in his hands and swinging it full force connected with the Klingon making a loud crunching sound. Before the Klingon falls to the ground it shimmers and vanishes.

Turning to Heriah he see her pin her oppony and finish him with a ruthless efficiency that gives him a slight pause.

‘That is unexpected, that agression, wonder where that came from…’’ he thinks to himself.

Watching her leans forward onto her hands he step ls towards her and squats down on his heels. “So..um, how are you feeling? You definitely seemed to be working through something there, maybe a lot of something.”

Heriah, still resting on her hands and knees, was mouthing something to herself. Her lips were moving but her words were not audible. They were, “It is accomplished. Go back from whence you came, Refkin,” and all the knowledge, the muscle memory, automatic reflexes, all of it, went back into the back of her mind as mere memories of past hosts.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Heriah leaned back into a kneeling position, and used her momentum to pop up. “Nothing to talk about, really.” She took another breath, sending the remnants of the passing rage away. “Was just winded is all. Another battle so soon after my previous program…” she looked around at the battle arena. “You dispatched your opponent before me?” she asked. “With your little stick? Remind me not to ever get on your bad side,” she laughed. “Whoa,” she leaned forward, still winded and resting her hand upon her knees, took a breath, then stood erect again. “…not so sure I will be up for climbing anything right now except for into my bed.”

Leaning on his staff Cynndle looks at Heriah, a questioning look creeping into his face before shrugs. “Not a problem Heriah. I did rope you into an extra workout after you completed one. Would be a dream on anyone.” Standing up straight he spins his staff and collapsing it back down to its compact form. “Next time we could see if you can beat me.”

Heriah smiled at him, somewhat fiendishly. “Be forewarned, I have over three of your centuries worth of knowledge and experience up in here,” she tapped the side of her head. “I will be sure to go easy on you. However,” she narrowed her eyes at him somewhat, “perhaps you do have a few surprises. Guess I will have to wait and see.”

She stepped back and away from Cynndle. Turning, Heriah retrieved her gymbag and ushaan-tors. After calling for the holodeck arch, she started toward it. But, as the doors were sliding to a close after her exit, she made sure to flash a look over her shoulder back at Cynndle.

Cynndle watched Heriah grab her gear and begin to leave. Watching her walk through the arch he couldn’t help but think the there was something more to her than she was letting on. Something she was struggling with. As she turned looking back as the doors slide shut he couldn’t quite hide the quizzical look on his face as he gave a short wave bye.

“DAMIT” Cynndle said a bit too loud as, yet another faulty signal flashed upon his operations display causing the external sensors to show static for no more than a second at a time.

“Stupid error…where are you….”, he says muttering to himself as he pulls up the diagnostic menu and begins to run another one. While it runs he types out a quick message to his superior with an update.

Chief; Internal sensors are getting feedback again, suspect it is another faulty power junction like last time. Isolating location now, once located I will lead team to fix. Next shift starting in 15 minutes. – Lt. Oin’sun

As he clicked send, he turned and headed to the replicator and grabs a quick coffee, ‘Going to need this I think…’ On returning to his station, it out a low chime and he pulled up a message from the Chief.

Ok, keep me updated. Pull in whoever you need to assist you. I would suggest someone from engineering instead of a maintenance team. Your call.

Nodding to himself he takes a sip of the coffee and pulls up the diagnostics system to see where it has gotten up to. ‘Hmm… no faults found up to de….’ he beings to think before the station beeps and two faults are displayed on the screen:

–Power Junction failure, Sector Echo-Two-Green; Unable to Isolate–

–Environmental systems error, Sector Echo-Two-Green; Decks 269-273; irregular power supply–

“Well, that seems to have narrowed it down at least, better go get started.” Standing he picks up his coffee and downs the remaining bit thankful it was only a small cup and he had not ordered it HOT.

Stepping away from the station Cynndle gestures to one of the engines in the auxiliary station “She’s all yours Ensign. I am heading down to Sector Echo-Two-Green to try and track down this power issue.” 

Heading towards the lift he considers the best place to start. ‘Maybe reactor control will be able to isolate it further…a good place to start.’ Walking onto the turbolift he rolls his shoulders and says “Reactor Control – Sector Foxtrot-One-Emerald”

A rather large Romulan was bent over a console in Reactor Control, a mug of coffee in hand. His brow was furrowed and his mouth pulled into a thin line. He was getting similar errors on his end. He lifts his eyes, staring at the reactor for a long moment before speaking to it as if it was a person, “My urge to throw my mug of coffee at you is rising. A waste of coffee.” 

Discontent, he set his coffee aside after finishing it off. The by now cool liquid made him grimace a little. He straightened up and turned as he heard someone approach him from behind.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Ensign”. Cynndle says as he approaches the engineer. “I’m Lieutenant Cynndle Oin’sun, Operations. I was hoping you could help me.” Holding out his hand in greetings.

“I am been tracking power fluctuations for a couple of hours. I have been having trouble pinpointing the exact location but I know it is in Sector Echo-Two-Green, somewhere between decks 269-273. Any chance we could narrow that down from here and then get it sorted. It is messing with the sensors and that is never a good thing.”

Lihran hesitates at the offered hand, he really needs to get used to the concept of handshakes. He takes a small breath and reaches to shake Cynndle’s hand firmly, “Ensign Lihran. I was noticing that, actually. I was compiling and cross-examining the data of the fluctuations and errors to see if I could pinpoint where exactly it is coming from.”

He steps over to the console he was slouched over moments prior, pulling up a diagram of the base’s power systems on the display, little red blips showed where there were abnormal power fluctuations. He points to where they were the most concentrated, “I noticed them more in this area. Theoretically, it may be coming from here– And yes, it is accessible by a panel.” He looks over at Cynndle.

“Nice to meet you Lihran. I am glad I am not the only one who has been seeing this issue; I swear I just sorted another of these out the other day. A station this large always has equipment on the fritz.”

Cynndle steps over and looks at the display and nods in appreciation. “Can we narrow it down any further, even a couple of decks on this place are substantial? Though it was just three decks where I was getting an environmental system error – the fault might not be there.”

Turning to face Lihran, “Any chance you can help me sort this out and get it fixed? Much easier with two people I find?”

Lihran nods, glancing down as he hits a few more keys. A few of the blips start vanishing, leaving a small cluster across one small section of two decks, “These are the more clustered and frequent locations of the errors. Our best bet.” He straightens up and nods, glancing at Cynndle, “Of course, I will help you. Sort of my job after all.” A faint smile tugs at his lips.

Lihran taps the screen with two fingers, “Funnily enough there are control panels right where these clusters are located. I want to bet something is malfunctioning with or around it.”

Looking over the screens, Cynndle nods, “My question is why we are seeing so many, but why are they affecting the internal sensors? Best to get to it and sort it then, eh?”

Lihran nods, snatching up a PADD and tricorder just in case, “That is a question I wish I knew. If I fancied a guess from here, I’d say something is making the wiring go a little odd.” He starts walking towards the lift, glancing over his shoulder, “Coming?”

Cynnlde smirks at that, ‘Interesting fellow this guy.’ as he follows Lihran to the turbolift. On entering the lift he instructs he says, “Deck 260, sector D-20” before turning to Lihran.

“Thanks for this, lets’s hope for a quick job. Was hoping to get to the pool today.”

It took Lihran a moment to register what was said to him, lifting a brow, “There’s a pool here? I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t found that yet.”

The lift doors open onto an empty hallway. Stepping out Cynndle shivers slightly, “The Environmental systems are definitely on the fritz here. Must be only 10°C here.” Pulling out his PADD he looks right then left; “Correct me if I am wrong but it should be this way right?” he says as he gestures to the right.

Romulans aren’t ideally suited for colder environments, as evidenced by Lihran’s incessant shivering when they step off the lift, “It’s freezing!” He nods at Cynndle and starts off towards the right. He lifts a hand and seems to be counting support beams to himself. He taps a wall, “Error was located here And the control for this area is over… here.” He takes a few more steps to a control panel. A frown etches on his face as the display itself flickers.

Looking over at Lihran’s face and then the panel Cynndle asks, “What’s that look for? I take it isn’t a normal malfunction?” 

Lihran shook his head, dropping down to his knees and starting to pull the panel under the console off. “First guess is a loose wire. Why is there a loose wire.” He asks rhetorically. When he gets the panel off he pulls out a light, and looks around. He pauses to start fiddling with some wires, “Let me know if the display stabilizes.”

“See anything that might be the culprit?” Cynndle says as he pulls out his tricorder and scans the surrounding bulkheads to confirm the readings from the display. 

A series of expletives come from Lihran. He leans out of the opened panel and looks up at Cynndle, “This isn’t just a loose wire, pumpkin–” He coughs, “Sorry, a bad habit I picked up from another human, Lieutenant.”

“I have always been more partial to annas but…whatever. No change in the screen here Lihran. Though I am pretty sure the temperature just dropped another degree or two..”

Lihran shivers, “I noticed. I hate the cold. Anyways, no, these wires were purposefully cut. I’ll need to run back to engineering and grab some wire and tools and replace all the cut ones. I’ll go back to all the places we had errors pop up and see if they’ve been cut as well. I’ll write up a detailed report on it and have it sent to you within the next couple of hours.” 

He stands up and he holds out a clearly cut wire towards Cynndle to back up his words, “Someone is cutting wires on purpose. The wires were left there, so it’s not theft I don’t think.”

Looking at the wires Cynndle frowns “Well that is concerning, and rather sloppy. I wonder if this happened with the last power failures we had.” Looking down at his PADD he quickly types a few commands and pulls up the report from the examination of the power junction he replaced a few days before. “No, the examination of that power junction just showed it failed due to an overload. I need to notify the chief about this, and I will see what he says. Likely just some kids trying to screw with the environmental systems. Thanks for the assistance on this.” 

Turning to go Cynndle pauses and turns back, “It was good to meet you Lihran. Let me know if you come across reads like this in the future will you?”

Lihran nods, “I hope that’s what it is and nothing more serious.” He offers a rather genuine smile, “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll keep you updated.”

Infirmary 4 – 0800

“You’re very…particular, Nurse.”  The patient was lying on a bed in the hospital section of the infirmary as Asato Hiro went about the process of ensuring the crewman’s injuries were stable.  He’d been working on a junction box and made the mistake of overcharging the power conduit connection.

She gave a quiet smile, “I come from a very particular family, crewman.  Your injury requires care and proper healing.  Healing is also not just a physical act, but a mental one as well.”  She scanned the burns on his arm.  The dermal regenerator had worked to slow the decay of the skin.  She picked it up again, “You enjoy your engineering rotation?”  She listened as she activated the unit.

“It’s…ok.  I didn’t think it’d be this crazy.”  He sighed, “I think I shoulda’ paid more attention in class when it came to power regulation during and after repair work.”

A nod from Hiro, “It is good practice to know the practical and the procedure.  Being a nurse is similar, but we work on living things versus computers.”  She continued to run the regenerator over the skin, seeing the healing working well.  “Your mistake may give you a scar.  My mistake”, she gave him a look, “can do serious harm.”  She finished running the unit over his arms and returned with a medical tricorder.

He was quiet as she scanned his formerly burned arms.  He looked up at her, “You’re warning me about making sure I know what I’m doing, right?  That if I don’t take care to know my job better…I could hurt more than just myself?”

She read the readings and smiled, “You’ve learned something today, crewman.  This station is a big place with lots of people and moving parts.  If some parts aren’t working well or fall apart – things tend to get messy quickly.  We all need to be looking out for each other.”  She handed him a PADD to sign, “You’re clear to return to duty.”  For the first time, he smiled.  Signing the PADD, he thanked her and left the infirmary.  She watched him leave, hoping he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Infirmary 4 -1000

Hiro sipped at her traditional tea as she completed her morning reports.  She’d arrived at Bravo in January and the adventure hadn’t really stopped since – not that she was complaining.  Her need to learn, to work, and to move kept her in motion from start to finish.  The tea was one of the few home comforts she enjoyed at work.  She preferred to keep her mind on the patients and the doctors and the station while she was on duty.  Her quarters were her oasis on the sprawling station.  It had taken a few months but she’d facilitated plants from home and even paintings from local artists arrayed the walls.  Home was still where her heart was and would always be – but space was the next adventure on her life’s journey.  It had started abruptly with a recommendation in nursing school – her skills and talent would find a good home in Starfleet.  Her family was confused, and so was she.  She’d never thought of joining, but it seemed a good idea at the time.  Three years later and she was quietly satisfied with her station.  Her parents had asked her if she’d ever consider moving into being a doctor or something else but she wasn’t sure.

“Nurse, you have a returning patient.”

Hiro frowned and set her tea aside as she walked to the check-in area to find the crewman standing there, looking pensive.  “Can…I talk to you, Nurse Hiro?”  She glanced at the check-in and nodded, leading the young man to an exam room, and closing the door behind them.

“What can I do for you, crewman?”

He sat down roughly on the exam table, “I don’t think I’m meant to be an engineer.”  He started sniffling and wiping tears from his eyes.  “This is my first assignment…and I kept telling myself I could do this and I could learn that…but…I don’t think this is what I should be doing.”

Asato pulled out a medical tricorder and began her vital reading process, “You know I’m not a counselor, crewman.”  He rolled his eyes as she checked his blood pressure, pulse, and assorted readings.

“Yes, ma’am.  I know.  But…it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?”  He looked at the tricorder she was working on, “I’m healthy, at least?”

Hiro gave a slight nod, “Your heart rate is elevated and the blood pressure is pushing a little more than we’d like to see, but given that you’ve got some…conflicting feelings about your assignment it’s understandable.” She put her equipment away and turned to him, “So, not an engineer?”

He sighed, “My parents pushed me because I liked to work on old earth engines as a kid.  I sorta liked it at the start but then…it just didn’t make sense all the time.  I barely passed the academy.  I think they tossed me up here to see if I’d survive.”  Another heavy sigh, “I just don’t know what to do.  My parents will kill me if I go wash out.”

Asato considered the young man for a moment.  He was barely 20 years old, and younger than he looked.  “Ok, I’ll make a compromise with you.  I’ll write an order for a three-day rest from your duty shift.  Part of that order is to see a staff therapist, but also to explore other options and paths onboard Bravo.  A transfer is not the end of the world, crewman.”  She made a note on her PADD and signed it, “You’ll report back to me in three days with a progress report.  We’ll take it from there.”

The crewman looked relieved as he stepped off the biobed, “Thank you, Nurse Hiro.”  She gave him a nod as he left.  She returned to her reports, making a note to follow up with the crewman in three days.

Infirmary 4 – 1500

“Doctor Longfellow.”

He looked up from his desk and felt a smile return to his face, “Asato Hiro, I saw your name on the lists when I came on board.”  She gave a slight bow, which he returned, gesturing her into the office and to the seat, which she took graciously.

“It’s been a few years, Doctor.”  

She was a little older but still a vision of beauty and brains. He smiled quietly, “You’ve faired well, Shin’yū.”  

Asata blushed and sat back in her chair. “It has been an experience worthy of Kishikaisei (revival of the dead).  After I left you, I spent two years wandering Texas and Starfleet Headquarters.”  She fiddled with her hands as she spoke, “Coming here was like escaping the tiger’s cave with its cub in my hands.”

Henry nodded, leaning forward, “I know how that can feel, Asata.  How has it been since?”

She looked up and caught his gaze, “I…it has been good Sensei.”  He blanched at her use of his title but smiled quietly.  She continued, “It is a unique gathering place of species, peoples, and societies here on Bravo – it is as much like Tokyo or any large city – but so much more.”  A look at him, “How has your short introduction to this place been?  I hear bumpy.”

Longfellow chuckled, “That’s the understatement of the year, my hiro student.”  She smiled at his use of her nickname.  “I am thankful you’re here.  Finding friends in a place like this can be a challenge.”

Asata sat forward, “I hope it is not too presumptive, but I asked for my assignment to be moved here, to infirmary 4.”

Henry chuckled, “If you hadn’t made the request, I would have asked myself, Hiro-san.  Your family is well?”  

A quiet nod, “My father is getting up in years, but he continues to practice Rajio Taiso every morning, afternoon, and night.”  She felt the warmth of memory flood her heart, “He is still assisting the local government with historical work.  Mother’s painting continues in the gardens.  She sends me one every month with boxes of goods from home.”  She felt her eyes grow misty, “It is what helps me being this far away, Sensai Longfellow.”

The doctor stood from his desk and came around to her and offered his arms open, “Come here, old friend.”  She stood quickly and embraced her teacher tightly, the tears spilling now as she felt his strong embrace strengthen her heart and soul. She released and stepped a few inches back.

“Thank you, Sensai Longfellow.”

“You wish to return to our old names, Hiro-san?”  He cocked his head to the side.

Her smile went wide, “You understand – it is an element of home and my past – it brings light into my heart, Sensai.”

Henry understood.  “Well, I am glad to have you at my side, Hiro-san.  And we’re equally ranked – lieutenant junior grade and all.”

To that Asata laughed, “There is a joke somewhere about the young and the old, but I would not dare make it with you.”

Longfellow chuckled and playfully punched her in the arm, “You are correct.  Shall we make rounds and see what is needed?”

She gave a nod as they walked back out to Infirmary 4.

Of course there was no need to physically take the reports to the Chief of Ops. A simple few taps on the computer console and the reports would have been sent. In the spirit of getting to know her colleagues more, however, Heriah decided to take the reports LT Weld assigned to her and physically walk them all the way to Ops.

Delivery was quite simple. Who required more time off, a reduced workload, more time seeing a counselor/psychiatrist, more time cross-training, a clean bill of mental health, etc. and it all came down to only six names thus concluding Heriah’s report only two minutes and fifteen seconds after commencing her report. Again, she walked all that way for that. Of course, Heriah was giddy and was glad to have taken the time to deliver the report in person. The opportunity got her more facetime with other colleagues, people she passed in the corridors, and she got to say “hello” to all the people of Ops. Though Cynndle was not present when she arrived as he must have been off putting out a fire, so to speak, or cross-training himself. Of course, Cynndle was one of the names in her report and the one she advised continued time cross-training about the station as he dealt with personal issues stemming from a case of PCOS.

The chief of Ops did not need to know more.

Stepping off the turbolift into Ops Cynndle stifled a yawn. He was enjoying the cross-training as it gave it a much better understanding of the station but had to admit it was exhausting. He just finished a short shift in the shipyards to get the lay of the land there before taking on more responsibilities. Walking over to his console he dismissed the ensign who had been manning it, “Anything I should be aware of?”

The ensign shook her head, “No Lieutenant” as she stood and walked to the auxiliary station.

Smiling Cynndle nodded in appreciation before taking a seat and pulling up the log of activities for the last view hours giving it a quick scan.

Concluding her report, Heriah made her exit and returned to the main area within Ops, littered with desks, personnel, PADDs, spare parts, and work to do. Not to mention one other bit of Ops that was not present when she arrived originally.

“Cyn…I mean LT Oin’sun,” she gave a quick wave.

Scrolling through list of items confirmed that noting of note had taken place giving him a sense of relief. Hearing his name he looked up and saw Heriah outside the chiefs office. ‘Wonder what she is doing up here’, he quickly thought to himself as he waves back and smiles.

“Ensign Rex, how are you? What brings you up to my neck of the woods?”

“Oh,” she wanted to be called just ‘Heriah’ but they were all in uniform and all on duty.

‘Heh, cannot escape that here.’

She had to just accept Ensign Rex in this case.

“…just delivering some reports to your chief. I thought to deliver them in person. It gives a more personal feel about it than sending everything through the computer.” She displayed her PADD as she finished. “Technology is great and all but it has a way of keeping people apart and from interacting with each other. Never going to meet anyone if you stare at a console all day right?”

Heriah looked around and saw a few that appeared the type to be most comfortable staring at consoles all day and night.

Laughing at that Cynndle nods in agreement. “Sadly we have to spend alot of time staring at consoles but there are some perks of the jobs, exploring strange new worlds, meeting new civilizations, blah, blah blah.” He says with a smile.

Without pause he continued “So just got back from doing my introduction to the shipyards and am do a break. You have 15 minutes for a coffee? I could actually use advice as well. The viewing gallery up here is pretty impressive.”

“Was planning on a break after delivering these reports anyway. Do lead the way.” Heriah looked about the office area once more while Cynndle wrapped up his work.

Cynndle stands, nodding to the ensign auxiliary station, “Will be back shortly, can you keep an eye on things?”

Turning towards the turbolift he leads the way and pauses just before stepping one, gesturing for Heriah to step on before him.

A few minutes later they find themselves in one of the large viewing galleries that SB Bravo has, its large window letting people watch the starships, both federation and civilian alike, not to mention the stunning view of Mellstoxx III itself. Walking over to the little cafe Cynndle grabs himself a Tarkalean tea before turning to Heriah, “What would you like?”

“Alle’Ke’Zonda’er white. The replicator knows what it is,” she said as she slowly stepped toward the viewport to gaze out upon Mellstoxx III. She gazed upon its beauty. There was an electrical storm hanging in the atmosphere and streaking strikes of lightning stretched about the sky.

But the thought came to her that those white bolts were actually green. Greenish electrical discharges stretching this way and that across the outer hull of a Borg Sphere. There came a voice, no…voices…all speaking, all at once and those voices soon morphed into a horrific and encroaching whir or spinning metal.

Stepping up beside Heriah, Cynndle glanced over at her as she stared down at the planet. Pausing for a moment and admiring it himself he cannot help but feel that views like this help to put things in perspective. “Mellstoxx III really is a beautiful planet when you see it from up here. Puts things in perspective for me at times and reminds me how vast space really is…” Cynndle’s says and trails off as his eyes drift back to Heriah.

Heriah snapped out of the thought as Cynndle appeared by her side, Starbase Bravo returning all around her. And, as a slight tingly but fiery sensation mitigated from beneath her spots she reached for the white tea Cynndle held out to her.

Handing the Alle’Ke’Zonda’er white to Heriah Cynndle cannot help but notice her spots, ‘Are her spots a bit reddish…likely just my imagination…but maybe…DAMNIT DON’T STARE!’. Turning back to the view he takes a sip of his tea.

“So things going well? Feeling a bit better after the other day? The fight took a lot out of you?” Pausing as she nodded while attempting to sip at her tea, he then spoke again quickly, “You will be happy to know I have started the cross-training and had orientation in the shipyards, I will be working with Ensign Nilah Virahl I think.”

“That is great news,” Heriah said as she turned her attention to Cynndle. “To be honest, your name was in my report to your LT. Only to continue things as they are. I did not give him any details of course. As for Nilah, I’ve actually met the…”

‘Unjoined lowlife.’

“…engign…ensigneer…Engineer Ensign. Wow.” She looked at her tea as though attempting to deduce if something else was in it. Really, she was fighting against Rex’s intruding thoughts. “I am sure she will prove an adequate engineering tutor.” She looked back out upon the planet, slowly spinning before them. “Back in the office, you mentioned needing some advice?”

Watching Heriah get properly tongue tied Cynndle couldn’t help but laugh. “I like ensgineer myself.”

Looking back out the window he took a sip of his tea, it was just the right temperature to drink while still being on the hotter side.

“Yeah, I don’t recall if I mentioned it the other day but there has been an increased amount of power failures on the station. Nothing major” he says as he gestures with his right hand “but power junctions shorting out before they should which messes with the internal sensors and at times the environmental systems.”

“I have been trying to figure out why and a few days ago it changed. It wasn’t failures anymore but actual malicious damage to the power junctions. An ensign from reactor control, Lihran, Romulan, nice guy though, and I, tracked it down.”

“We aren’t sure why it is happening. Not sure if whoever is doing this is intentionally trying to disrupt the internal sensors, we have had no reports of criminal activity during the sensor disruptions. It is just odd…Not sure if I need advice or another perspective on why, so I can figure out who…” he says with a little frustration in his voice. “And before you ask, the chief knows about this and security, but it is a big station with A LOT of power junction and relay stations…”

Heriah held a swig of her tea as she listened and pondered what Cynndle was telling her.

“Hmm,” swallowed, allowing the warm tea to aid her thoughts to flow more smoothly. “A small-time criminal perhaps; someone possibly auditioning before a larger crime syndicate by seeing how much damage, how long they can disrupt and how far they can or are willing to go. And what bigger target than the Federation and a starbase out here on the frontier?” Heriah shrugged. “Just a guess really. This could even be a rebellious teenager trying to impress a girl or get in cahoots with any of the local gangs among the civilian population. By my count, there are three gangs. They have not proven themselves violent or disruptive, at least, not yet. And with civilians and refugees coming and going, I would definitely recommend getting a security cadet or ensign, or perhaps someone enlisted with a background in law enforcement to keep an eye and ear out.” Heriah finished her theory and turned her attention back to Cynndle.

“As you say, they have kept the disruptiveness on the downlow and have kept higher command from having to get involved. Your perpetrator is either very smart and well equipped or just trying to cause trouble and is very lucky at not getting caught yet.”

She tilted her head to one side, “small-time criminal auditioning for a contract,” then the other, “rebellious teenager trying to impress. Based on my experience…”

‘MY experience.’

“…I believe you may be looking for either of those.”

Finishing his cup Cynndle turned back to the view and watched the electrical storm. “It is almost like you read my mind. Though I was unaware of three possible gangs. My concern is that it could be a small-time criminal as you said but I hadn’t considered the auditioning part, if it is a rebellious teenager I am a little less worried.”

“Well, one rebellious teenager can turn into many rebellious teenagers,” she said. “And teenagers, especially the refugees, will always form cliques and those cliques will always turn into gangs. Thusfar, I have identified those calling themselves the Bravo Boys, the Space Girls, and the Friends of Ferenginar and you do not even need to be Ferengi to join, just vow to exploit whomever whenever and wherever you can.”

“Not the most inventive gang names…but they work…” he starts before pausing and turning back to Heriah refocusing on the actual issue. “As I mentioned security is aware of the issue and on the lookout but I will have a chat with the chief and security about these gangs; maybe look into it a bit myself. It will also be useful to see if we can approach the academy coordinator and see if we can get some of the security cadets to assist. That is a good idea, thanks.”

Both Heriah and Cynndle went back to looking out at Mellstoxx III and at the storm slowly venturing forth about the sky.

“Starfleet,” she said with something of a sigh, “we trek out here to explore but our work is never done.”

“There is always something it seems,” Cynndle spoke, “let’s just hope that it doesn’t escalate any further.”

Lihran stood motionless outside an office door, glaring at it, as if staring at the door will miraculously solve all his problems. He was being pushed by multiple people to come see a counsellor to try and sort out his head about his sleep avoidence issues, as it was starting to impact his work. He lifts and lowers his hand multiple times, reluctant to push the chime. He lets out an aggitated huff and rather aggresively pushes it, nearly punching it, just to get it over and done with.

From the receptionist desk, Jamie took her attention off of her computer terminal and focused on the door as a chime rang and the doors slid open.

Lihran winced. There was no going back now. He stepped through the door. He clammed up, struggling over his words, “I uh… help…” He visibly winced, ‘Did I really just say that?! Such an idiot. Great first impression.’

“Hello sir, I am Crewman Jamie Chadwick, receptionist for the Counseling office.” She stood from her desk. “I am afraid our counselors and LT Weld himself are all out of the office at the moment. I can take your name and create an appointment for you or,” Jamie looked at her computer terminal, “…sorry sir, we do have one available counselor.” Jamie reclaimed her seat at the desk. “Ensign Heriah Rex has no appointments right now and likes to receive her appointments in her quarters.” Jamie returned her attention to Lihran. “I can direct you there if you like.”

Lihran sighs. That means he’d have to muster up the nerves to approach another door all over again, “I… yeah, I will go there. Thank you.” He glances at his PADD, furrowing his brow. He mumbles a half-hearted ‘Thank you’ and headed off towards her quarters.

Jamie tapped away at her computer terminal and directions for getting to Heriah’s quarters were sent to Lihran’s PADD.

Lihran mutters to himself, “Time to do this all over again, dammit.” He stops outside Heriah’s door, closing his eyes for a moment. This time it was a lot less fighting with himself. He aggressively slams his fist into the chime once more, tucking the PADD under his arm and folding his arms over his chest.

‘Just get this over and done with. It gets Sol to stop nagging you.’

Heriah had just finished aligning a new display on a bare spot of the wall. She had hung a Vulcan lirpa and a Romulan dirhja together and angled toward each other, but not touching or appearing to strike each other. Neither was on top of the other.

She was standing back and admiring her work when the chime came. Of course, the chime came in the immediate wake of what sounded like someone punching the wall outside.

‘Another hapless sort without direction? And a violent one at that.’

“He just needs to learn how to channel that anger Rex.”

‘Channeling is for losers.’

“Which is what you would have been if I have not come along.”

Heriah entered within proximity of the door. From the pounding from a second ago, she half expected the door to hesitate and grind a bit before opening. It did neither and opened invitingly.

Being on duty, Heriah was in uniform and reached overhead to touch her hair to ensure it too was within regulation.

“Yes,” she said to her…’Romulan’…caller. “May I be of assistance?”

Lihran gripped his PADD tightly with one hand, his knuckles turning white, “Chadwick redirected me here. Said you like to receive appointments and all that here.” He tries to offer a smile, but it likely looked more like a grimace. He adds as an afterthought, “Ensign Lihran…”

“…of Romulus.” Heriah understood his smile-like grimace.

‘Oh, does poor rommie no longer have a home?’

Heriah brushed a few strands of hair over her left ear, but was really throwing away the thought Rex pushed forth.

“Starfleet Engineering,” she finished. “Do come in,” and she stepped to the side, motioning for him to enter. “Yes, I do enjoy receiving my appointments here when I can.” If she was going to hear a lot of personal baggage of her patients, then she might as well invite them into her personal living space.

Lihran stepped into her quarters, “Yes, thank you. A particular matter of comfort I am to assume?” He was momentarily distracted by the dirhja, studying it for a long moment, “I take it you know how to use it?” He turns to face Heriah, brow raised.

“Admittedly, I do not, but do have an interest in learning.” She also had, more precisely one of Rex’s previous hosts had, the ability to look at a melee weapon and deduce how to use it fairly adequate based on sight alone. True skill though would take time. “Do make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink,” she asked, “anything from the replicator?”

He considers this for a moment, “Please. Coffee, black. Thank you.” He was surprisingly less anxious than he thought he would be in her quarters as opposed to her office. He scanned the surroundings thoroughly with his eyes, and only then does the tension ease in his shoulders slightly and he relaxes his grip on his PADD.

“Please sit wherever you like,” she said as she approached the replicator, “or stand if you prefer.” She spoke her order and the replicator produced.

“I am here for you,” Heriah spoke as she returned with two mugs, what Lihran desired and her cup of Alle’Ke’Zonda’er black tea, “you are here for you,” she handed him his mug, “we are both here for you,” she finished her little introductory catchphrase. Then, “oh where are my manners? I am Ensign Heriah Rex, Counselor for Starbase Bravo.” She knew he already knew that but wanted to get that out regardless. “Are you skilled with the dirhja?”

Lihran looks around before slowly taking a seat. He takes the cup of coffee with a gracious nod, then nods once more, “Yes. I was required to pass an exam on its use to get promoted from Gekha to Lieutenant. I am no master, but I can offer to teach you.” He sips his coffee slowly, keenly watching her expression for a reaction when he mentioned Tal Shiar ranks

“Ooh, Tal Shiar and Starfleet,” she said with a bit of bewilderment. “Quite the merging of disciplines. As for the…”

Lihran lets out a soft sigh, “I, regretablly, did not come here to discuss the dirhja and hand to hand combat. I am…” He pauses, like any proud Romulan, he struggles to admit he needs help, “I am having issues.”

No small talk. This one seemed to want to get straight to the business at hand; a very Romulan trait. Heriah grabbed her PADD and prepared it for taking notes. This one also did not seem the type to want to be on a first-name basis with her. He seemed very military-oriented; another Romulan trait.

“Very well, Ensign. Before we start, know that I am not authorized to repeat anything you tell me regarding your issues to anyone. The only instance where I do have the authority to tell someone else is if I have your express permission or I deem you a threat to yourself, to Starfleet or the Federation. I will not judge, I will be honest and I will do my best to help you in any way I can.”

With that little speech out of the way, “Now tell me, what brings you here today?” Heriah thought to say add a ‘please’ to that question but decided to remain straightforward with Lihran. No ‘please.’ No begging.

Lihran closes his eyes, formulating his thoughts. “I am having severe nightmares; about the Tal Shiar, about the supernova, about my ex spouse. It is to the point where I am avoiding sleep for days on end, taking stimulants and submerging myself into work till I collapse from exhaustion. Several have encouraged me to come seek… help… It is starting to impact my work, this avoidance of sleep.” He said ‘help’ as if it was distasteful, and he meant ‘fear’ in place of ‘avoidance’.

This man was a Romulan, of Romulus, and by every definition of the term, he…was…Romulan. Still, the very essence of Romulan discipline, especially as it was formulated by the Tal Shiar, did not have to define Ihran to the dot. Still, Heriah felt that asking him to view her as a friend in the stead of a counselor was a tall order. So, she decided on another measure.

“Let us begin with you not looking upon me as a counselor, but as a tool. In short, I am no different than a tricorder that you can pick up, perform a scan and put down. As a tricorder has functions that you yourself cannot perform, I have functions and skills that may be foreign to you. Look upon me as a tool and use my skills and functions to your benefit. You utilize stimulants to avoid sleep. So then, utilize me to avoid further struggles.”

Lihran stared at her for a solid moment, “Isn’t ‘tool’ a human insult? At least I have heard it used as such at the Academy.” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. He appeared to have a sense of humour at least. He bit his lip to refrain from commenting further, listening.

“Referring to someone as a ‘tool’ can be an insult, yes, but only if it is meant that way. I do not see that as being the case here.”

Heriah sat back and thought a brief second before deciding to tackle the elephant first. “Hobus,” she began. “It exploded and took Romulus, Remus and the entire system with it. Many Romulans still feel betrayed as Ambassador…Spock(?), if I am not mistaken, had actually sworn to save the system. In the end,” she trailed off as everyone knew how it ended, “Ambassador Spock and his ship were missing and the supernova was mitigated. I do not know how you feel about support groups ensign,”

‘Probably cold toward them.’

“…but there is a support group here on Bravo for those who have lost their homeworlds. I happen to know that there are some Romulans in this group, El-Aurians who lost their home to the Borg, humans who identify as Martian as their planet is still on fire, Vulcans even who claim to be from another reality where an Imperial Federation destroyed their planet. This group is widely varied, they do not ask for proof, they meet weekly, and I highly recommend you at least consider taking part at least to sit and observe.”

Lihran frowns at the mention of a support group, “I will… consider it. I am not exactly a socialable one. Nor do I like to take time away from work, Heriah.” He used a first name! “But I will consider it.”

Heriah rather enjoyed his use of her first name. Already some progress was being made, albeit just a little. “After your duty shift then. You do not want to take time away from work, so see about it after. You say you bury yourself in your work. I take it that means you may continue to work once your duty shift ends. Yet you are here. So, something about that is not working for you.”

“As for these nightmares…”

‘Oh you know all about nightmares.’

‘Quite Rex.’

“…I…cannot say I know what you are going through but I think it is safe to say that I may have a better understanding than most. Nightmares are simply dreams and dreams are usually nothing more than wild imaginings of the subconscious mind. Hence why most dreams spin out of control. And that is where nightmares generally come, out of a lack of control. That, and the mind creating a near visual reality of things you would rather not think on.”

“Tell me, ensign,” she continued, “have you ever attempted lucid dreaming? It is no secret that Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry. Since Vulcans practice a high degree of mental discipline to include mind melding, I do not see it as impossible that Romulans could also attempt and even achieve an increased level of mental discipline. This could include lucid dreaming and lucid dreaming is simply you remaining conscious while you sleep and are dreaming. You can call forth a dream, a nightmare even, and maintain control through to conclusion. Another method of th…” and she avoided using the word ‘therapy’ with him, “…this…could be you taking every detail you can remember and programming it all into a holoprogram to be relived on the Holodeck. You can then incorporate other personnel. I know you have met others during your time aboard Bravo that you might already be considering asking to take part, even if their role is only to observe. What I am getting at is this. The Tal Shiar, Hobus exploding, your ex-spouse, they all have a common denominator that we need to locate, identify and explore. This common denominator can be the loss of something or the desire of something you have never had and/or may now be impossible to ever have.”

Lihran couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of Vulcans. Some habits are hard to shake. “I have not attempted, no. Romulans aren’t as mentally disciplined on the same level as Vulcans are. I have never heard of this lucid dreaming before.” He pauses, sipping his coffee again, “I’ve never considered a holoprogram though. A loss of a home, a love that never existed, the Tal Shiar…” he sighs and leans back slightly.

Heriah saw that he was returning back to square one. “Do not worry about those things right now. Right now is the time to worry about finding that common denominator. I strongly advise an attempt at a lucid dream. I can even off assistance if you desire. It is, however, one of the counseling techniques taught at the Academy and I have been wanting to put it into practice.

‘But not try it yourself. Coward.’

“And,” Heriah spoke up, attempting to drown out Rex’s thought, “I may have information on another home you may not know about. And, no,” she continued immediately, “I am not going to mention Vulcan. It is some place else and a place you might not…dream…possible.”

Lihran heaves a sigh, “I would need assitence, yes. I do not even know how to do this lucid dreaming.” He lifts a brow as she continues, “Now you have my curiousity. Where are you speaking of? The entire purpose of me joining Starfleet is to try and find a home, so to speak.”

Heriah smiled at him, and at both his admittance to needing assistance and his desire to find a home. She decided to touch on the latter first.

“Earth,” she said and then spent a short moment letting that sink in and his curiosity deepen. “There is a city called Rome. It resides in France, no Ital…Italy. That’s it. Legend has it that this city was founded by a pair of twin boys named Romulus and Remus. Sound familiar? Upon founding their great city, in an attempt to name it, the twins fought over who would be the founding father of the city and the prevailing empire. Romulus is said to have killed Remus and named the city, Rome. The Roman Empire followed thereafter and it proved the largest Earthly empire the humans of the time had ever seen. It is said to have encompassed almost half the known planet.”

“Could there be a connection there,” she added, “or is this a case of wild coincidence?”

Before Ihran could speak, Heriah continued. “Vulcans are often tight-lipped about their own history regarding the struggle for pure logic. It is true that a band of Vulcans were exiled because of their resistance to embrace pure logic. Vulcan legend says the leaders of this band were best friends named Romulus and Remus. There is a theory on Earth, you see, that Romulus and Remus went to Earth first, after their exile from Vulcan. The Vulcans eventually realized there was a population on Earth and went there to remove Romulus, Remus, and their followers, but apparently the influence of Romulus had already taken hold. Still, they were driven away eventually finding their own planets, Romulus and Remus. In the centuries that followed, the Vulcans kept an eye on Earth. Up until First Contact, they did not really have an interest in Earth save to ensure the humans did not become like Romulus. In theory, this is why the Vulcans were so prideful and arrogant toward the humans during the early years of exploration, before the Federation. Even now, the city of Rome is still there, there is a whole category of languages regarded as Romance languages. The root word being ‘Roman’, stemming from Romulus. Again, this is all conjecture and theory but could remain a wild coincidence defeating impossible odds if it is not true. If historians have anything to say about it, however, you may have an ancestral home on Earth.”

Heriah could see his raised eyebrow. His interest in her words were almost tangible and, for this short time, it seemed as though all his worries and struggles and concerns had vanished.

“As you may have deduced,” Heriah said with a smile, “I like to learn the ancient histories of places I visit.”

Lihran nodded slowly, “I’ve never heard of it. Then again, my time on Earth was spent trying to adapt to a new culture and technology. The parallels and similarities are quite interesting. I may have to look into this ‘Rome’.” He hesitated and seemed to struggle with his words for a moment, “Thank you, Heriah.” He was also unused to thanking people it seemed.

Heriah felt there was something of a breakthrough, perhaps not enough to rid Lihran of his struggles but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

“You are very welcome, Lihran,” she decided to also use his name. Now was time for her to touch on the prior; his admittance to needed assistance. “And for this attempt at lucid dreaming, I will avail myself and provide assistance. Do set up a time, here soon, in your quarters, preferably alone, and I shall help you get started. I cannot guarantee this first attempt will provide results. All we can do is trial and error; see what works and progress from there.”

Lihran nods, “Sooner the better I would think. I will set something up shortly. And unless a stuffed bear toy from earth counts, alone will not be a problem.” He said this far too seriously, then his expression cracked into an amused grin.

Heriah was unaccustomed to seeing Romulans smile. It appeared almost painful for Lihran to do so. Still, another breakthrough. “Allow me to look over my notes and make other preparations,” she said. “It will not take long. Let me know when and where and I will be there.”

Lihran nodded in response, “I’ll let you know when… And uh… Thank you once again, Heriah.” A small flush crossed his cheeks, signalling the sincerity of his words. He pushed himself up slowly to his feet.

Heriah stood in kind. “We will tackle this thing together. And we will prevail. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

When the door chimed, Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Elegy Weld pounced to his feet a little too quickly.  He felt that familiar biting pain in his right knee.  Elegy put a hand on the back of the armchair to steady himself.  Truly, it was a miracle he was able to walk and jog as normal after the injury he’d sustained in the Century Storm.  But even greater than the twang of pain itself was the gnawing in his stomach that he still wasn’t totally totally healed after many weeks of treatment.

After pausing a little too long, Elegy said, “Come in.”  The privacy locks on the door released, allowing entrance to the counseling office.  Nothing about the compartment was designed to look much like a work area; rather, it was furnished to appear more like a lounge.

Evelyn stepped into the office and quickly examined the surroundings, as a cat would before it crossed the street. More nervous than usual as Ev had not seen a therapist in over fifteen years. It was not an experience she wished to repeat. Unfortunately, if the LTJR wanted a ship assignment, she had no choice in the matter. At least the office had a pleasant atmosphere.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m your eleven o’clock, I think.” Her tone was meek and uncertain. “Lt. Sommers … Junior Grade. You are Dr. Weld?” Her hand outstretched for a welcome greeting, it suddenly occurred to her the man’s name was on the wall outside the door and on his diploma and desk. “I’m sorry, of course you’re Weld, unless you just like pretending to be other people …” She flashed a painfully grimaced smile. “… and that sounds really stupid and can I just start over and say, hi?”

Responding brightly, Elegy said, “Yes, hello, I’m Doctor Weld!”  As he shook her hand, he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.  Feel free to make yourself comfortable anywhere.”  Elegy padded over to one of the arm chairs and he settled himself into it.  “For what it’s worth, pretending to be other people can be a lot of fun in other situations.”

The sofa looked comfortable, so Evelyn took her seat, crossed her legs and placed both hands on the top knee. The Doctor seemed kind and courteous and she waited until he also took his own seat. 

Beside her was a box of tissues and a few magazines neatly stacked on top of one another. In fact the room looked immaculate, with the exception of one book in the bookcase that was slightly askew. She glared at the book for a moment before Weld spoke. 

“Pretend to be other people?” She studied the man curiously at his comment. “Roleplay? I haven’t done that since I was a kid. I always played the paladin. I tried being a dwarf once, but I don’t like beer all that much.” 

Evelyn’s recollection of childhood clearly evoked memories at the surface of Elegy’s own thoughts.  He stared off into the middle distance, and he sounded like he was drifting, when he remarked, “I always ended up as the damsel in distress.”  As soon as he said that, Elegy blinked hard and he rolled his shoulders back.  “As a psychiatrist with a new check-up, my approach is conversational,” Elegy said, resuming his focus on Evelyn.  “I may intersperse standardized questions, but my primary goal is to identify if I can offer any resources towards you achieving everything you want from your Starfleet career.”

Evelyn bit her fingernail as Dr. Weld sat in silence. Was her joke that bad? She glanced around the office again. The skewed book seemed to tempt her, mock her. Weld broke the ice with his own jest, which made Ev feel more at ease. She chuckled briefly and listened to what the psychiatrist had in mind. She identified ad studied celestial anomalies, so in a way, she knew where he was coming from. How roleplay would aid Ev in her, but Weld was the shrink. 

“I just want to get back on a ship.” She shrugged and made a deep sigh. “Maybe it’s corny, but I like finding new things. I like cataloging new celestial properties.” She eyed the skewed book again and chewed on her thumbnail. 

Elegy smiled at that desire; it was plainly a wistful expression.  The entirety of his life before Starfleet had been spent aboard starships, and he could understand the attraction.  “The vagaries of Starfleet’s personnel assignments remain a mystery to me,” Elegy replied, a little bit perturbed by that fact.  “Why do you supposed you’ve been assigned to Starbase Bravo?”

“I guess, because I’m crazy,” Ev cracked a laugh as her face lightly reddened. She had been told to ease up on many occasions. A joke seemed like a good ice breaker. Her gaze fell on the one crooked book in the case once again. “Well, I’ve always been a little OCD. I like things to be very neat and orderly. Typically, that helps me in Starfleet, but my compulsiveness has increased over the last few months.” She smiled thoughtfully for a moment and continued.

“Our ship, the Valkyrie, went down. We were caught in a sun flare and the ship’s shields went down, there were major hull breaches. It was traumatic, but …” 

… that wasn’t the problem. The LT went on to tell Dr. Weld about a Klingon she helped to the escape pod. Debris had fallen on top of the LT and …

“… I helped him up. That’s what you do, right?”

Everyone made it out safely, but Ev blacked out. When she woke up planetside, the Klingon …

“… his name was Krun’ak. His concussion was worse than anyone thought. He died and no one could do anything.” Ev’s fingers twisted around one another. She looked away to avoid eye contact. Her voice cracked. “W-well, there’s this ritual that the Klingons have …” 

… sometimes called Heghtay, the Klingons cried out to the heavens, a warning that a Klingon warrior is about to enter Sto’Vo’Kor.

“But we weren’t Klingon. That’s what Lt. Saytra said, and why we couldn’t perform the ritual. Ever since then, my OCD has gone into warp speed.” A smile cracked her face for a moment. “But Krun’ak wasn’t complete. You know. He wasn’t in his little nook. He wasn’t perfect.” 

Lt. Sommers looked down as her fingers twisted around one another once again. “So, yes. I know why I’m here. I’m crazy and they don’t trust me on a ship.” 

Elegy leaned forward in his chair, bracing his palms against his knees.  He looked at Evelyn unblinkingly, as he let what she said hang in the air between them. Eventually, Elegy asked, “Do you believe that in your heart of hearts, or is that a bit of levity?”  He spoke slowly, because the words came out with weight to them.  He added, “We don’t use the word crazy too lightly in these hallways of the ‘base.”

“A bit of both, I suppose,” Evelyn said in answer to his question. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them and finally crossed them again. “I know I’m not mentally incompetent, but I also know that I’m not right either.” The LT picked at her fingernails as she once again glared at the crooked book on the shelf. No one frets over one sock or worries about disturbing the perfection of a freshly new toothbrush. “I didn’t tell you about the toothbrush, did I?” She laughed nervously and went back to picking her fingernails. 

“No, you haven’t told me about the toothbrush,” Elegy replied.  He shook his head, trying to hold back a bemused expression, and entirely failing at that.  “Why don’t you tell me about the toothbrush,” Elegy said, and he mimed as if he were holding the sides of a small box, when went on, “and explain it to me within the framework of what you think is not right about you?”

“The toothbrush was new; I bought it at the store on the station. That evening, when I was freaking out about the sock, I went to brush my teeth.” Evelyn mimicked brushing her teeth. “I looked at the brush and noticed how perfect it was. It was brand new; the bristles were white and straight.”

She paused for a moment to reach for a memory. “I paint watercolors, in my spare time. There are days I just stare at the perfection of that blank canvas. It’s done. It’s perfect, complete. Who am I to screw it up?”

Without a word, Evelyn rose to the floor, marched to the bookcase and straightened the crooked book. She sat back down and sighed. 

“Now, it’s perfect.”

Elegy craned his neck from left to right to follow Evelyn with his gaze.  He was silent, at first, as he absorbed what she showed him, what she had said to him. He looked down at the carpet, for a moment, and scratched an itch on the side of his knee.  Finally, Elegy asked, “Have you talked about this in counseling before? Have you developed strategies for feeling more right about yourself?”

“No. I haven’t,” Evelyn replied. “Like I said before my OCD helps in my work. It’s not been a problem per se until the Valk.” She fidgeted with with her fingers again, both eyes affixed to the digits instead of the therapist. “I haven’t been to therapy since –” She looked up, as if searching for the answer in the clouds. “I went for a few weeks after my Dad died.” Evelyn chewed on her lip and turned away. “Strategies, yes,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “I do the best that I can. 110%. That’s how I make myself right and I enjoy it.” 

Nodding slowly, Elegy said, “I’ve found the things that make us successful in our careers don’t always suit us for the rest of our lives.  That competitive advantage can just as easily hinder you, overnight.  For me, it really came out of nowhere.  It worked right up until the moment it didn’t.”  Elegy dropped his gaze and he brushed a stray crumb off his thigh.  He didn’t leave Evelyn in silence for too long, when he looked up again.  Elegy asked, “Would finding some healthy strategies be something you’d be interested in exploring with me?  Perhaps we can land on a strategy that doesn’t require one-hundred-and-ten percent of you to feel successful?”

“Maybe?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t have that much of a life outside work,” Evelyn said, a sad chuckle in her voice. “I don’t have any friends. Not that the people here aren’t friendly. They are … or seem to be.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and behind her hair, then looked down at her fingers again. The nails were jagged from the places she picked. The sofa creaked as she sat back and turned away. “I want to go back out. That’s where I was happiest.” Ev rubbed her eyes and picked at her cuticles. “Sorry,” she said. Her head hung low for a moment until she met Elegy eye to eye. “Yes. Let’s find some healthy strategies.” 

Reaching for a PADD, Elegy typed a quick note to himself.  In transparency, he said, “I’ll schedule a follow-up appointment for us,” with a quick nod.  “If you like, we can also strategize how to build you a new reputation – to make you irresistible to a starship crew.  We can get you back out there.  I’m sure of it!”

“Alright. That sounds like a plan to me, Dr. Weld.” A broad smile blossomed on Evelyn’s face. For the first time in a long while her outlook for the future looked hopeful. As she rose from the couch, the LT spotted a stray hair on Elegy’s arm sleeve and started to reach out to pick it. “Oops, sorry. Personal space. You just have a tiny hair on your sleeve, and — you know what? It’s nothing.” She frowned for a moment, but remained positive. The door swished open, but Ev stood in the doorway for a moment, picking at her fingers by her side. She turned back to Elegy. “A new reputation?  I hope you’re a miracle worker, Doc.” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Ensign Elegy Weld asked his walking companion, as they navigated Starbase Bravo’s promenade.  There was a manic glee behind Elegy’s green eyes at the mention of a secret, even though the question was patently comical.  Almost every event in the lives of Elegy Weld and Neri Givola were, essentially, secrets to one another.  They hadn’t spent more than ten minutes together, combining each time they’d crossed paths.  With all of the Century Storm refugees still passing through the starbase, Elegy had been spending more time in the hospital than in the counseling offices.  After sharing a couple of humorous remarks from their recent experiences with medical training, Elegy had suggested a night out on the promenade to test the waters of friendship on a new assignment for both of them.  And yet, he had a juicy secret he absolutely needed to share with someone.

“Sure! What kinda secret?” Neri asked with a smile, looking up at her much-taller companion. The rookie medic was very flattered to be invited to hang out with the psychiatrist, particularly given that he was an commissioned officer. Before coming to Starbase Bravo, the normally-timid Neri would have been exceptionally nervous to interact with someone like Ensign Weld; now, however, she was simply too overworked to care. The refugee crisis had made her days jam-packed with activity and substantially longer than normal. Not that she wasn’t enjoying herself, of course. She couldn’t have asked for a better trial-by-fire to integrate herself into life at SBB, and she knew this work would make ‘normal’ starbase life feel luxurious once things returned to that state.

Still, a good night out was very much what Neri needed at the moment.

“No one knows yet, but I’m going to be promoted to lieutenant junior grade,” Elegy said.  His inflection was a mess of contradictions.  He started out speaking a diffidently, but he puffed his chest out, but then his face turned to a shy cringe.  Blowing past that part of it, Elegy explained, “I’ve finished all of my classes for medial school and now I’ve taken all my exams.  It took some time for the final grades to be registered, and now tonight at 1900 hours, I can officially call myself a medical school graduate.”

“Congratulations!” Neri said with a wide smile. “Or should I say, congratulations, Doctor!” She took note of Weld’s obvious hints of awkwardness, hoping that they weren’t due to anything she was doing wrong. In any case, she hoped she’d be able to put him at ease. “Well, no wonder you’re eager to celebrate! Any place in particular you’d like to head to? Since this is your celebration and all.”

“Thank you, Neri,” Elegy replied to the congratulations.  Even though he had been the one to bring it up, he still waved off the recognition in a play of false modesty.  At her question, Elegy pointed in a different direction than the one they’d been walking.  He suggested, “How about the Gate Inn?  Much better lighting than most other spots on the promenade.  Have you ever drank at an earther pub before?”

“Gale Inn sounds good! And, well, I actually grew up in Germany,” Neri said with a sly smile. She was now quite eager to show off her experience with human beverages. “So… you could say I know my way around a beer hall. What’s your drink of choice?”

Cranking his thumb in the direction of the Gate Inn, Elegy diverted their meandering stroll towards their new destination.  “If you’re a beer hall expert,” Elegy said dryly, “will I sound terribly pretentious if I say I most enjoy to drink a paper plane?  I grew up on starships.  We have to create our own seasons, and it makes me feel like summer.”

“Oh no, you’re a gin man!” Neri said with a playful laugh. “I’ll never understand how anyone likes that stuff, it always tasted like someone added ground up conifer to rubbing alcohol to me. But to each their own, of course.” Neri felt obligated to add that last bit; she’d hate for anyone to misinterpret a playful tease as actual derision. “That’s very interesting about starship seasons, though. I’ve lived on Earth my whole life, so there’s a lot I still haven’t wrapped my head around in terms of spacer life.”

Neri’s joke had landed with Elegy well.  He laughed at her teasing and quickened his pace to lead them to the Gate Inn.  At Neri’s admission, Elegy said, “It can be a huge adjustment to leave the confines of a planetary body for long periods of time.”  He swept a palm out, gesturing to the wood paneling on every surface, hiding the bulkheads of the starbase superstructure.  “Maybe these four walls, and enough beer, will be enough to make you forget you’re in space!” 

Infirmary 4 – 1200

Longfellow sat roughly down in his chair, a brown cane in his right hand.  He was recovering as well as expected but had been put on light duty for the day.  Roughly translated it meant desk work.  He wasn’t opposed to it this time around.  Henry had nearly been murdered by a Vulcan mind-meld.  It had been enough for him to accept his desk-bound fate for a few days.

Roger entered the infirmary, seeing Longfellow sitting in a chair. “Hey, Doc.”

The physician looked up and allowed a small smile, “Mr. Allen.  I had a feeling I was going to see you again.”

“A good one, I hope,” said Roger. “After discussing my report with my section leader, I was reassigned. Until this situation is resolved, I’m your official body guard.” He chuckled. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Henry raised his eyebrows, “I wondered how security was going to respond to it.”  He took a drink from his steaming cup of coffee, “I’m still unclear as to what hornet nest I poked with my actions, but I’ve been able to understand a little more about it.”  He gestured to the chair in front to of his desk and handed over a PADD.

Longfellow leaned forward, “The Vulcan command, operative, and expeditionary forces are all separate but also connected.  It’s a massive pile of spaghetti that won’t get sorted out any sooner or later.”  He pointed to the PADD, “The only real lead is Major Tulak and he is a real Major in the Vulcan government.”

Roger shared Longfellow’s concerns. It seemed things could be more serious than a green ensign should handle. On the other hand, Roger was confident he could get the job done. “Wherever this goes, Doc, I’ve got you covered.”

Operations – 1210

Cynndle sat at his station reviewing the sensor and coms data as it came in. Nothing so far for the day seemed out of the ordinary so he leaned back and grab his Raktajino from the desk. Taking a sip he thought about how this operations posting seemed a bit more chilled out than his previous bridge officer posting aboard a starship.

His console chimed and a message from the chief popped up, copying in station security as well; ‘That is odd…’

Cynndle, I need you to run a full review on the internal sensors around Holodeck 4 from 9:30-10:30 today. One of our officers was assulted and we need to see what inforamtion we can pull from records. Once complete work with security and speak to Lieutenant Longfellow to see if you can help any further.

“Well, today just got a bit more interesting.” He says to himself as he starts pulling up the sensor records. ‘I guess with a station this big, you are bound to have assaults happen, wonder what it was about…’

The records come up within moments of the request but the files themselves are patchy, almost as if the sensors were cutting in and out. Having seen these sorts of issues before Cynndle taps his combadge.

“Ensign Lihran, this is Lieutenant Oin’sun in Ops.”

Lihran was passed out at his desk, PADD dangling precariously from his fingers. He was going through another stint of avoiding sleep in favour of work, and was burning out. Hearing Cynddle’s voice jerked him awake with a most undignified snort. He dragged a hand over his face, coming to his senses, before he taps his combadge.

“Ensign Lihran here. What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”

He sets his PADD down and pushes himself up to get a cup of coffee from the replicator.

“Great, hope I am not distrubing you?”

Lihran shook his head, despite knowing Cynndle can’t see it, “No, not disturbing at all.” He lifts the mug of coffee to his lips and takes a sip, letting out a small sigh.

“I know you work with the reactors and engines but I am having issues accessing some sensor records from earlier today. The issues are similar to the what we encountered last time with the power fluctuations. Are you aware of any such issues today around 9:30 to 10:30? Around holodeck 4? It is about an assault. Maybe we could meet to discuss? Perhaps the auxiliary operations station on deck 105?”

Lihran furrows a brow, “An assault? That is incredibly serious. I’ll compile the errors and scurry around and see if they’ve been cut again. I’ll meet you there, then?”

“Great, thanks Lihran.” Cynndle paused briefly with a thought, “Actually instead of auxiliary operations call when you are done and I will meet you and we can go straight to Infirmary 4 to see Lieutenant Longfellow.”

Lihran pauses mid sip of coffee, lowering his mug, “Infirmirary 4? Alright sounds good to me.” He set his mug down, half finished. He grabs his PADD and a toolkit and starts off to check the sensors and wires.

Infirmary 4 – 1400

Cynndle exited the turbolift near Infirmary 4. ‘I really do need to get that medical check-in sorted…’ As he approaches the entrance he sees Lihran turn the corner and walks toward him down the corridor. Giving Lihran a quick wave he stops at the entrance and waits.

“Find anything useful?” He says before they enter to speak to Longfellow.

Lihran sighed sharply, “Unfortunately. Part of me wishes I did not find anything. More cut wires. like the last time.” He pulled out his PADD and forwarded his report on it to Cynndle, “There are the specifics: what was cut, where and how much. I replaced them all.” he jerks his head towards the door of the infirmary, “Shall we?”

“Yeah, lets.” Cynndle turns and walks into Infirmary 4, Lihran on his heels.

Two people in uniform entered the infirmary and moved towards Longfellow. Roger stepped in front of them and spoke in a firm voice. “Who are you and why are you here?” He considered that he might be going too far, but it was better to be safe.

Lihran nods, “Ensign Lihran, Engineering. Was brought by Lieutenant Oin’sun about some investigations on an assault. I’ve got a report on cut wires and tampered sensors. Not sure if it is related, but it is something.”

Cynndle steps forward and holds his hand out. “The Chief of Operations asked me to look into any possible recordings from the internal sensors but they were corrupted around holodeck 4 at the time of the assault. Was asked to pass on anything I, we found” gesturing to Lihran, “to security and to see if Longfellow had any other information if he had seen the attacker before sort of thing.”

Roger entered their information into a PADD, confirming their IDs. “Okay, you’re good to go.” He looked at Longfellow. “Doc?”

Longfellow looked up from his desk and the open door. “Why don’t you all step into my office?”  He took a sip from his coffee, enjoying the homemade brew.  “That way we can all find out what we’re doing here.”  He gestured to the chairs around the room, “Should be enough chairs for everyone.”

Roger let the others sit while he remained standing by the door.

Lihran strode into the office, side eyeing Roger warily before he moved to take a seat.

Following quickly behind Lihran Cynndle gives Roger a quick nod and takes a seat. “Longfellow I presume? I am glad to see you are ok.”

As soon as they all were seated Henry leaned forward, “So, a gathering of security, operations, engineering, and medical.  Sounds like the start of an old Earth joke.”  He smiled quietly, “So, let’s begin.  What do you need to know?”

Lihran snorted, “I wish it was a joke, honestly. If it is, it is a rather morbid one.” His expression turned serious once more, “An officer getting assaulted on the base is a serious thing. Do you know who did it and why?”

Longfellow sighed, “It is a long story.  The short version is that in the process of saving a 200-year-old Vulcan operative in hospice from having her brain taken captive by a fellow operative for varying trumped-up reasons and charges…I took her Katra in, she died, and we transferred her Katra to a Katraic Ark and gifted it to her half Vulcan half-human daughter who fled it with it.”  He glanced from officer to officer, “The delegation seeking her mind had been in my office several times over the days this occurred.  When I took part in the transfer process in the holodeck, they tracked me down.  Thankfully the daughter escaped and is home by now.  However…”, he took a sip of his apple cider, “one of the operatives tried to mind-meld to get answers about who and what and whatever else.” He gestured to Allen, “Thankfully a security officer was on patrol in the area and was able to prevent my impending death.”  Another sip, “Major Tulak and  his delegation have left the station, but I do not expect whoever he is serving is finished with me or any of this yet.”

“I am sorry to hear that you had to endure that. A forced mind meld is meant to be very unpleasant I have been told. Though it is good to have a bit more context to the events.” Cynndle responds. “All I was told when the Chief messages me was that there had been an assault and the powers that be wanted to know if the internal sensors. Sadly the files were patchy, to say the least and we couldn’t pull anything. I asked Lihran to look into this as it isn’t the first time we have had this issue and turns out it was deliberate again.” Shaking his head he continues, “I have a couple ideas I want to follow-up but no leads yet on who has been doing it.” 

After a long pause, Cynndle adds as an afterthought. “Do you know the time the Vulcan delegation left? We should contact the ship and have it returned.”

Henry chuckled, “They’ll refuse you on diplomatic grounds and galactic security grounds.  Chances of getting them back here or even their ship are small.”

Lihran visibly grimaced, grumbling under his breath about Vulcans always being trouble. He spoke out loud, “That behavior sounds almost Romulan in nature. I’d question if you were dealing with Romulans, but mind-melding is something we typically don’t do. A forceful mind meld is a very serious offense, I will say that. Especially on a Starfleet doctor on a Starbase.”

Longfellow raised his eyebrows, “Ensign Lihran…you make an excellent point.”  He activated his desk LCARS and quickly brought up the screen in the office, “T’shalaith wasn’t sure who in Vulcan High Command or The Vulcan Expeditionary Force we were dealing with…what if your suspicion is right, Ensign…what if it’s a Romulan operative working within.”  He tapped his console further and a facsimile of a Vulcan and a Romulan appeared on the display, “It wouldn’t be too hard to cover up the Romulan traits and substitute the Vulcan.”  He leaned back in his chair, “Ensign Allen…we may have a bigger problem if this is true.”

Lihran nods, “Some Romulans or half Romulans, you can’t tell them apart from Vulcans at a glance without a medical tricorder. Not all of us have forehead ridges. And as far as I know, medical examinations of non-Starfleet personnel aren’t mandatory so… It would be easy for a Romulan to claim to be Vulcan. It would take a lot of discipline and work for a Romulan to mind-meld. But it is not impossible. Some of us are telepathic to a degree.”

Henry shook his head, “I think we operate this on a need to know.  Vulcan politics is complex enough…Romulan society is rife with political intrigue that’d make a Vulcan operative blush.”  He gave a nod to the Romulan in the room, “No offense Ensign Lihran.”

Lihran snorts, shaking his head, “None taken. I’ve spent over a century deep in the Romulan political schemes, had my thumbs in a few pies, so to speak. I know too well how they operate. I’d be happy to offer my knowledge or ability to acquire intel on this situation. If it is wandering down that path like we think.”

Roger listened without commenting. The more he heard, the more he realized this matter was something above the pay grade of junior officers. It was big, better than keeping order on the promenade, so he was all in until someone with more pips said he wasn’t.

Longfellow leaned forward, “I’m going to say Cynndle and Allen – you two work on investigating the who and the what.  Lihran, you can assist with your knowledge of Romulans and engineering.  I suspect our friends left things behind to monitor whatever happened next.  I know my office is clean – wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t.”  Henry sighed, “In the meantime, I’m going to try and see if I can work my contacts in Vulcan medical sciences carefully.”  He looked at each of them, “Anything further?”

Lihran nods at that, “Would be absolutely delighted to help you. I’ll do a sweep of vital areas and debug them, so to speak. Ask me anything you wish about Romulans. My mind is at your disposal. That goes for all of you.” He nods at each of the other men.

Cynndle looks around at everyone and nods in agreement. “We need to find out who sabatoged the sensors and see if we can get that ship tracked atleast given what you have said Longfellow. I can have a chat with the chief of operations about that.

Longfellow gave a nod, “I think that’s a solid plan.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish up my physician shift.  Good luck, all of us.”  He stood and the rest of them headed out of the office and into the station.  The plan was set.  Now the real work began.

The PADD remained blank as Rey struggled with the written exam in Advanced Navigation. She knew that answer to the first question and yet, in written form, the cadet blanked.

What is displacement?

Rey’s knuckles went white and she chewed on her hair. A few students behind her whispered and giggled.  Many talked about the girl who ate her hair.

“Time’s up,” the Andorian instructor said. “Log in your answers and tomorrow we’ll go back to the simulations.”

Rey logged in her exam, which consisted of only of her name. The ordeal over, she gathered her PADD and made a beeline for the door.

“Ford,” bellowed the instructor. “What is displacement?”

Rey froze at the exit. She knew the answer and yet it eluded her. “I … I don’t know, sir,” she stammered.

“You knew in the simulation. Why not now?” The Andorian tapped her on the shoulder. Rey’s fists tightened; her flight or fight response kicked in. She hated to be put on the spot in a social environment.

“I don’t know. Look, I’m late for a meeting,” Rey huffed.

“Displacement is the change in position of an object. It is a vector —”

“… quantity and has a direction and magnitude. Yeah, that’s it. I gotta go.”

Rey ran to the turbolift as hard as she could, bound for the transporter room and off the Mellstoxx III campus. Once on SBB, she practically ran Sector Kilo-Indigo and the quarters of Dr. Heriah Rex. Rounding the corner, Ford thought to bail, but sucked in her gut.

“Shut up,” she told herself. Too many people had gone out on a limb for her to even be in Starfleet, her fiancée included. Ford rapped her knuckles on Heriah’s door and began to chew on her hair.

Heriah was in the middle of pulling off her uniform top when the wrap on the door came. She had also untucked her undershirt. Not wanting to be late for going off duty, she was getting ahead of the game. But duty hours were duty hours and she still had one quarter of that left before being able to actually call it a day.

“Knocking? That’s new.” Of course she knew some people would prefer not to hear the recognizable chime or maybe they simply could not hear it. Knocking was a sure way to alert any occupants that someone had come calling. “What’s one more customer?” she asked herself.

‘Another hour or more listening to more tales of woe.’

Heriah started for the door. “Oh quiet Rex. You know you like to hear these things.”

‘To see just how petty people can be…OK, yeah I do. Would be better if you would vocalize some of my thoughts.’

“Have something worth repeating and I will.”

Heriah arrived at the door and, upon entering proximity, it slid open. She looked upon the brunette just outside her door apparently…chewing on her hair.

“Yes,” Heriah said. With her uniform top open, exposing her untucked undershirt, not to mention her hair already undone and sprayed chaotically about her shoulders and back, she was lucky this was not her boss or some other higher ranking officer. Then again, they would have chimed if not contacted her via commbadge. “May I help you,” she finished with a smile.

Rey said nothing, but handed her PADD to the Councilor as she tried to avert her eyes from the woman’s open shirt. It was reminiscent of the times her fiancée would relax in their cabin. Planned or not, the Counselor’s casual attire put Ford at ease. A smile peaked on her lips, but went away just as quickly.  The girl continued to chew on her hair as Heriah Rex went over the cadet’s information.

“Um … I –” Rey fidgeted for a moment before she straightened up. “Cadet Ford. I’m your 2:00 appointment … unless someone really fucked up.”

“No. I…uh,” Heriah started.

‘Forgot to check your appointments again.’

“…I was just…” and she let her words trail off as she perused the information on the PADD.

The PADD listed an agreement that Ford receive regular counseling due to her criminal past. The crimes were not listed, but a note was attached with information on how to retrieve the information. Ford was also listed with Level 1 ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder).

‘Symbiont to host, this one is chewing on her hair again.’

Heriah looked up at the newcomer and also spotted a random crewman in the corridor. “Oh, my manners. Please, do come in,” and she stepped to the side allowing entry.

Once she was in the Counselor’s quarters, Rey’s first inclination was to scout out the place. She noticed a couch, likely to be her space for the duration of the visit. Ford then noted the distance between the couch and exit and nodded to herself. It would take only a few seconds to reach the exit from the couch.

With the exception of adornments, the quarters for lower officers were the same all over the station. Rey learned to focus on the sentimental knick-knacks or trophies people had in their corners and walls. Once inside the cabin, Ford eyed the collection of swords and other weapons on display.

“I prefer a blunt weapon myself,” Rey said as she moved her eyes over one of the clubs. “If you’re going to kill someone, it should be personal.”

“Agreed,” Heriah spoke up as Rex thought it. “No point in taking a life from a distance if you can help it. And no point in making it easy either. Anything worth doing, it’s worth working hard for.” Heriah suddenly could not believe she had actually said all that. But she was distracted by the information displayed on the PADD she was handed, attempting to read Ford’s body language and resisting/giving in to Rex’s thoughts.

Heriah handed the PADD back out toward Ford as she finished perusing.

As she retrieved her PADD, Rey gave the woman a polite nod, manners taught to her by her fiancée. “Starfleet has me pegged as a crook and a retard, but you should know I’m not here by choice. No offense.” Ford instantly cringed at her faux pas. “Sorry. Charlotte told me not to use that word. You know, retard.”

Heriah decided to be a little unorthodox with Ford. In the stead of opening up with introductions, any disclaimers, or general politeness, Heriah went straight for the obvious.

“And for good reason,” Heriah said. “Tell me. Do you know what displacement is?” And without giving her the chance to answer. “There are so many definitions for ‘displacement’ and all based on the field of practice. In my field…counseling, displacement is the multi-facetted act, whether conscious or otherwise, of attempting to dis-place negative feelings brought on by an action, word or phrase by continuing its use for the end result of replacing said negative feelings with…well…something else. Displacement is something most fail at and end up only accomplishing a sense of numbness.”

“In your case,” Heriah continued before Ford could interject, “your use of the word…”

‘You can do it. Reeeeeeee…’

“…the R-word…”

‘oh come on.’

“…can be but one facet of displacement where continued use of…that word…might only make you numb to its effects. This goes directly into another facet of displacement; apology. You apologized for saying it only to repeat it as though I needed reminding. The ‘apology’ facet of displacement is where you apologize in the hope that you may hear the apology in the voice of the person who originally used that word toward you, or all those who have used it. In short, you are displacing your voice with theirs but using your words.”

‘An apology from all those who have used it? By my guess, it would sound like the Borg Collective attempting to apologize.’

Heriah brushed a hand by her right ear, moving her hair off her shoulder but was really attempting to shoo away Rex’s thought.

“And,” Heriah continued, “what was that name…Charlotte…is wise to tell you not to use that word. And for more reasons than displacement.”

Rey nodded politely as she was taught, but zoned in and out on the Counselor’s speech after ‘In my field…’ She got the gist of it, though. “Yeah, kids used to call me that at the orphanage ‘cause I was a little slow, so I started using the word. At first they laughed, but then they got mad and finally they just stopped giving me shit about it.”

She put the PADD back on her hip belt and sat on the couch. “I had to weaponize it, y’know and it just became a habit. Is this where I sit?”

“You can sit wherever you like,” Heriah said. “Or stand if you prefer.” She took the seat off to the side yet facing the couch still. “Another reason, not displacement, this Charlotte probably told you to stop saying that is because a person’s vocabulary can tend to define who that person is, even if it is not the dictionary definition of said vocabulary.”

Rey started to chew on her hair again, but felt Heriah’s on her and immediately tied it into a bun. “Another bad habit,” she said as her face blushed a twinge. “I don’t like Doctors either,” she blurted as Ford concentrated on the blank floor. “They’re always poking my body or my brain. I don’t like either. So, some dumb file has me listed as a re — sorry, as special, (she used air quotes for emphasis) but I know who I am. I’m fucked up. That’s who I am … er, what I am.”

“Well that is now two things you and I have in common,” Heriah spoke up. “Neither of us like doctors and we both have criminal acts in our past. Well,” she looked down at her belly, intrinsically at Rex, “my criminal history is a bit more complicated.”

Ford quirked an eyebrow at the woman’s comment about a criminal past. A brief smirk touched her lips, but was gone a second later. Finally, she looked up at the Counselor and realized the woman had not introduced herself. Earlier she had noted Heriah was a Trill, but had said nothing of it upon arrival. “I knew a Trill back at the Bajoran orphanage … can’t recall his name, but he was fun. When the other kids picked on me, he and I would talk about how we would off them.” The girl looked away and laughed as if she could see the memory.

“This one girl was really mean to me, so I was going to beat her up, but he — I wish I could remember his name — he gave me this dead rodent to put in her locker. It was hilarious when she found it.”

‘Sounds like something I would have done.’

Rey glanced back at the swords again. Without taking her eyes off the display, said, “So, what’s your name? I guess we better get that preliminary shit over with, right.”

“First, to alleviate any uncomfortableness you might have, I am not a doctor. So, I will not be poking at your body or your brain. I am a counselor. That means I might have to poke at your memories and feelings time and again, but not at your brain. I am Ensign Heriah Rex, counselor for Starbase Bravo and, as you might have guessed, a Joined Trill, hence the ‘Rex’ part of my name.”

“Rex …”

Rey tapped her bottom lip. “Rex … that sounds like the Trill at the orphanage.” The young woman looked away for a moment. She studied patterns in the curtains in the cabin as her mind tried to recollect the remainder of the name. It didn’t come. One of the patterns looked like a body splattered on a pavement. She shrugged and moved on.

“Counselor, Doctor, shrink, whatever. They all want to dig.” She reached for a lock of hair that wasn’t there and felt foolish. “I know it’s your job and all. It’s not personal on your part, I know. We both have orders, right? That’s what Starfleet is about. Orders, orders, orders. I know how to scrub an engine. I know how much matter and antimatter to mix into the warp drive. I know I have to keep my eye on the plasma coolant system or everything will go tits up. Why do I have to know it on paper? It’s –”

Rey paused and reached for another absent strand of hair. This time, she caught herself midway and stopped. She was still reeling from the test this morning. “Sorry for the rant.” That’s when it dawned on her. Ford felt comfortable. It was an odd feeling, and she didn’t know what to do with it. She looked at the curtains again. This time she saw a dead rabbit.

“Quite alright,” Heriah said. “As a disclaimer, I should say that we can talk about anything you want. During our sessions, you can say anything and I cannot tell anyone without your express permission. The only loophole here is if I see a clear and present danger to yourself, Starfleet or the Federation and, right now…I do not see any danger.”

Heriah thought a moment about what Ford said a moment ago, about the Bajoran orphanage. That brought up a memory…maybe. There was a memory of children, but a very foggy memory. Location and number of children was unknown. Then again, there was a growing list of particular memories of Rex’s that were cloudy and felt more like a passing dream than a real memory.

Heriah brought herself back to reality. “And, I ask that you do not see this,” she motioned with her hand back and forth between them two, “as work, or a job, or something I am ordered to do. I ask you do not see this as something you are ordered to do. Yes, Starfleet has you ‘pegged,’ as you say, a certain way and there is a condition that you are to undergo counseling. Let’s forget all that. Are you ‘special?’ Yes, but just like everyone else in the galaxy.”

Sitting forward, resting her elbows upon her knees, Heriah looked at Ford in all seriousness. “Let’s forget orders and agreements. Forget these labels. ‘Special,’ as Starfleet put it can be so insulting. Forget that you are Starfleet for the moment and…hell…I’ll do the same,” and Heriah finally pulled her uniform top off and threw it behind her aimlessly. Aside from the trousers, all she had on was a wrinkled and untucked undershirt. Her rank pips and Starfleet insignia resided on the floor with her uniform top. “Let’s just be two girls, sitting and talking, both hating doctors and both with troubled and criminal backgrounds. And…I don’t even know what to call you, except for Cadet Ford. Do you have another preference?”

“Rey.” The girl shrugged and turned away. “I mean, that’s the name they gave me on Bajor. I’m supposed to have another name that my parents gave me, but the assholes on Volan III wouldn’t tell me. My crew used to call me Crow – my salvage crew, prior to Starfleet. Char calls me other things.” Ford flashed a brief smile at the mention of her fiancée. “I don’t share those names with anyone.”

Heriah nodded her understanding. “Rey,” Heriah repeated. “That is a pretty name.”

‘Only one letter away from Rex.’

“But, back to what you said.” Heriah’s approach wasn’t new. Other counselors had tried to be friends with Rey in the past. It never worked, but then they didn’t fling off their uniform top and toss it on the floor. The girl eyed the blue and black top and thought to do the same, but only had a bra underneath. She untucked the burgundy cadet top nevertheless. “I don’t really do girl talk, y’know, shoes, makeup and shite.” Rey suddenly puled out her PADD and began to type. “There’s this one leather jacket that I like. It’s black, sort of weathered.” She handed the PADD to Heriah. “I want to get it and put Crow on the back.”

Heriah took the PADD and eyed the displayed image. “Same with me regarding that girl talk. I used to be all about shoes and makeup and fashion and the like.” She turned her attention back to Rey. “But, now that I…”

‘…am joined with me…’

“…am a bit wiser…my girl talk encompasses weapons, fighting techniques, how fashion today is highly restrictive in battle.” Heriah pointed her attention back to the PADD. “I like that, but would prefer a more brownish tone to leather. Perhaps with a pair of Thai Dha’s crossing each other on the back.” She handed the PADD back to Rey.

Rey took the PADD back and stuck it on her hip belt, then looked at the curtains again. She saw a dinosaur eating a ship and smiled. “I don’t do small talk either. What’s the point, right? If the weather sucks, it sucks. We both know it. Why bother wasting air on it?”

Heriah sat back in her chair and called forth a saying that has stuck with her and defined her since the day she heard it. “There is a saying. I do not know who said it or when, but it sounds pretty universal. ‘Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people and things.’ To me that is what sets you apart from most. That is why you do not engage in ‘girl talk’. That is why people like to use insulting labels on you. It is because you have a great mind…and they all have small minds. But you have been surrounded so long by the small-minded with their ideas that having a great mind is somehow a bad thing and therefore subject to ridicule that your great mind has not been able to flourish and garner the respect it deserves. Surrounded so long by the small-minded that you automatically expect everyone to have a small mind and therefore isolate yourself and actively attempt to avoid conversation. Because the small-minded want to talk about people and things; that one person who cannot relate to anyone else and is somehow ‘special’, the makeup on sale in the shops, things like that. When you might want to talk about a breakthrough in anti-matter containment technology, warp theory…”Rey shrugged at the complement and fidgeted on the couch. She grabbed at a strand of hair that wasn’t there. “I don’t know about smart, but I can take apart an engine. It just always came naturally.” She turned toward the curtains again and realized she had run out of patterns then bit at her lower lip. “It’s like … when someone asks about my day, I’m supposed to say, ‘fine’ whether or not I am fine, though most of the time I’m not. I mean, why bother, y’know? There’s all these little social rules we’re supposed to follow, but it’s all bullshit and we all know it’s bullshit. That makes no damn sense. Say what you’re going to say — I mean, this whole two girls talking, it’s nice and all, but you still have a job, right? You still need to get in my head.”

For a moment, as she looked up, Ford made eye contact with Heriah, though not for any specific reason. It simply happened. She hated that ‘sensory overload’ feeling.

Rey stood from the sofa and walked around the room. She didn’t know what to talk about, but something did pull at her curiosity.

“So, what’s with the swords?”

Heriah was wondering exactly which of the bladed weapons Rey was referring to but turned in her seat and regarded the pair of swords hanging above her bed, crossing each other. Standing and slowly stepping about the place along with Rey, “those are a pair of Thai Dha’s. You recall me mentioning them a moment ago. They are an oftentimes prefer weapon of choice for  practitioners. Krabi Krabong is a dual wield weaponized form of Earth martial arts. The style became one of much interest to the Trill, especially the Joined Trill as we see it symbolizing the dual nature of Joined Trill. The joining with a symbiont forms a cohesive and unified being. Two swords, so to speak, used in unison for a single purpose.”

“One of Rex’s previous hosts was a blade enthusiast,” Heriah decided to explain. She put a hand on her chin, rubbing it as she thought. “I surmise your weapon of choice might be the katana. Ready at a second’s notice, especially lethal in close quarters, easily recognizable from far away and able to ward off would-be predators and, if wielded with precision, you’ve no need of a shield or armor.”

Rey shook her head. “I’m too clumsy for a katana. I used to have a shock baton. It drops people, but keeps them alive in case you need them later and because why kill if you don’t have to.” She liked the idea of the Thai Dha and the dual symbolism. “And that suits you, because you have somebody in your stomach, fucking with your mind, but you keep them alive and all that history. I used to not think much on that shit, until Charlotte. She told me why we should remember history and culture and shit. I get that and you’re cool for doing what you do, but me …”

She trailed off for a moment. “I’m nothing.” Rey was quiet. She could feel Heriah behind her. “You know what?” Rey spun around. “You really want to know me? Then let’s ditch this place and go get fucked up. I know where we can get some tequila shots and not that sinthehol crap. What do you say?”

There was a few things Heriah wanted to correct Rey on and she had a few questions to ask, some ground to cover but decided this new turn of events might actually prove beneficial and even enlightening. “Let me get into something else other than what remains of this uniform,” she said, “and I say let’s do it.”

 Rey fixated on the weapons while Heriah went to change. She imagined herself with a katana and it gave her a laugh, but such a weapon was too elegant for her. 

“Ready,” Rey said as Heriah finished changing. “I know a dive that’s a bit off the beaten path. I mean, it’s a dive for this station, which means it’s still pretty nice. Not like the shitholes I’m used to.”

It scared the cadet a little to go off her routine, as Spontaneity was rare in her life. It  surprised her that Heriah went along with the idea. That made Rey like the Counselor even more and trust her even less.

Infirmary 4 – 0745

“You see the report I flagged for you, Sensai?” Asata Hiro sat across the desk from Dr. Longfellow with a PADD in her hands.  They had taken to meeting first thing in the morning to go over the previous day and look to the day ahead.

Henry tapped at the PADD, “You’re talking about Ensign Rex’s readings, Hiro-san?”  He centered the text that referenced a metallic implant on the patient as well as ongoing concerns about isoboramine levels.  “The levels appear to have been an ongoing issue…but the metallic implant?”  He remembered the concerns he had about the ensign when she had been in to see Dr. Murphy.  Asata was a good nurse who didn’t miss much when it came to patient care.  “What do you think?” He glanced at her.

Hiro shifted in the chair, “There are many reasons that it’s not mentioned in her primary file.  As you know, Trills are notoriously shy with medical personnel in any fleet but especially Starfleet.”  She leaned forward, “Your gut instincts were famous among the staff back in the day.”

The physician smiled quietly, “It was helpful.  I’m just concerned about the Ensign and her continued willingness to cooperate with us.”  He leaned forward on his desk, “Notify her of a follow-up standard evaluation and conversation with me.  Reference a need to check her isoboramine levels…but leave the metal implant out for the moment.”  Asata stood and gave a slight bow before leaving.

Rex’s Quarters – 0830

Heriah had just returned to her quarters from the gym and was still in her Starfleet issued PT uniform. This particular day was one for kickboxing and she spent the session kicking and punching at the padded torso and head of her male counterpart. She did not catch his name, though he did give it, many times. It was one of Davmorda’s traits; to be a man-eater. To lead them on and then leave them dry. It was definitely not Heriah’s intent to channel the intents and traits of a previous host. Something had been eating at her all day to the point that she took the rest of the day off. She had completed her appointments and her duties anyway so Dr. Weld did not mind at all.

Upon returning to her quarters, Heriah found out what it was that was eating at her. It started with a soft and continuous chime from the computer. Upon inquiring, the computer alerted her to an appointment with Dr. Longfellow.

“So it has been that long.”

“Mol told them to make regular visits.”

“And they certainly don’t forget.

“It’s probably just a few short questions. Answer them and get out.”

Heriah practically tore off her PT uniform and changed into her casual wear. Taking a sonic shower was an option but she decided not to. Perhaps they would tell her to go away and return later, hopefully without being specific as to how much later.

Pocketing her commbadge, Heriah made her exit and ventured forth toward the Sick Bay.

Infirmary 4 – 0845

It did not take long before she found herself inside and at the desk of Nurse Hiro. Looking at the pips, Heriah saw that Hiro was one grade above her in rank.

‘When you get the pips, you get to make the orders.’

“Hello nurse,” Heriah said, “I have an appointment with Dr. Longfellow…apparently. Is he in?”

‘Say he isn’t.’

Asato glanced up and gave Heriah a warm smile, “Good morning, Ensign Rex!  A pleasure to meet you. Nurse Asato Hiro”, she gave a slight bow from her chair before she stood and snagged a PADD, “Follow me and we’ll go ahead and get the vital readings out of the way.”  She led the ensign to one of the exam rooms.

‘At least this one got the name right.’

Heriah watched, with just her eyes as the nurse stepped away. With a sigh, she followed after.

Hiro gestured to the bio bed as she pulled out the standard medical tricorder, “How are you feeling this morning, ensign?”

‘Again with the reminder that she outranks you. If only there was a bonesaw. With that we could…’

“I am feeling well…lieutenant,” Heriah said as she hesitated but did hop up onto the biobed. “Just got finished at the gym a little bit ago. Today was kickboxing.”

‘Go ahead and tell her what you had to eat last night while you are at it.’

“So, if you read an increased body temperature or unspent adrenaline…” she said in a slightly raised voice as she was really attempting to put down Rex’ irritation. “That is why.” She laid back to let the nurse do her thing. “Will this take long?”

Asata gave her an approving look as she continued to read the Trill woman’s vitals, “I could never manage kickboxing.  Legs aren’t my strength.  Straight boxing is my particular joy.”  She did a blood pressure check, “Father wanted a boy, so I got to try all the rough stuff.”  She put the equipment back, “Found something in the violence and release of it all – made father pleased so it worked out in the end.”  She motioned for the ensign to sit up and she showed her the PADD with the readings she had taken, “You were right on the effects of the workout.  Body temperature is within normal and your adrenaline levels were elevated but as you lay there they slowly dropped and absorbed.”

Heriah sat up and looked back and forth between the nurse and the PADD. She never did answer Heriah’s last question but proved all the same that it did not take long.

The door to the exam room opened and Dr. Longfellow stepped in with a nod to Asata, “Hiro-san, good morning.”  He turned to the patient, “Good morning Heriah Rex.  Good to meet you.”  He accepted the PADD from Hiro and she departed, leaving the doctor and the counselor alone.

‘Ah. Good doctor bad doctor routine. Good doctor gets you in here, leaves, bad doctor comes enters. Now comes the real questions.’

“It is good to see you too, doc.” Heriah saw the he did not refer to her by rank, so she followed that up likewise. She could not help but to feel Rex’s concern that this was all a ploy to make the environment a bit more comfortable. She, however, resigned herself to whatever he needed…to get this over with.

Henry pulled up a rolling stool, “Dr. Henry Longfellow.”  He tapped at his PADD, “Just a standard follow-up.  Vitals look good.  You’re keeping an active work out regiment.  That’s something I’ve never been good at.”  The doctor smiled as he put the PADD on the counter and offered up a hypospray, “With your permission, I’d like to pull a sample for an isoboramine level check.”

“As long as I get that isoboramine back,” she said as something of a joke. Heriah tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck, whilst also extending her arm, giving him the option of which to pull from. “So, how long have you been a doc…doc?”

Henry chuckled at her humor and returned her joke, “We try and return all parts and pieces to our patients.”  He gently placed the hypospray on her arm and activated the device.  A few moments later the tube was full and he slid over to the analysis unit in the room.  “Eighteen years.  Sixteen of those years were spent in Montana at various major hospitals.  Then me and the wife decided to give Starfleet Medical a try.”  He tapped at the console on the equipment as the readings displayed on the screen.  “Assigned here after two years of the Academy.”  He gestured to the room, “…and here I am.”

“Montana,” repeated Heriah with a hint of a question in her voice. “I do not know that planet. And your wife…?” she asked as she inclined her head toward the door, therefore the nurse who recently exited.

The physician chuckled quietly, “Montana is a place on Earth – they call it Big Sky Country because the sky isn’t blocked by man-made stuff…you can see the stars at night and for miles.  You should take a visit using the holodeck one day.”  He paused, “I’d be happy to show you around one of these days.  As for my wife, she’s assigned to ship side medical out there. We talk once a day to stay connected.  It’s been an interesting journey so far,” he shrugged as he pulled the data and entered it into the PADD with Heriah’s file.  He turned the PADD to face her, “You can see here the graph of your levels.  Pretty good, although that drop there,” he pointed to the data point,”…with this level today is something to keep an eye on.  It’s always a delicate balance with Trill biology – keeping a regular schedule of checks makes sure nothing unpleasant can occur.”  He turned the PADD back, “How do you feel about that?”

Looking at the graph and the information displayed, Heriah recognized that as being a little of what had been eating at her all day and why Rex had been especially irritating. Lowered isoboramine means more separation of the minds. Isoboramine drops too low and the joining between symbiont and host fails; one rejects the other.

‘I think the rejection would come from me.’

“I feel OK about that,” she replied, looking away from the PADD and to the doctor. “I have a stash of Benzocyatizine in my quarters should I ever need it. If you need the replication matrix for it, I can…”

Longfellow pulled the PADD back to himself and nodded, “That would be helpful.  I’ll add a note to your file regarding access to it across the station in case of emergency.”  He tapped away at the PADD for a moment and returned his attention to the ensign, “One last thing, Heriah.”  He accessed the files on the PADD as he spoke, “While I worked in Bozeman, we had a community of Trills who had made the city home early on when species were migrating from homeworlds to Earth and beyond.  I got to know plenty of them and care for them in their times of need.”  He leaned back on the stool against the cupboards, “Something I had to learn about Trills is they’re understandably resistant to sharing everything with Starfleet or even Federation medical.”  He nodded to her, “It usually isn’t anything critical or life-threatening that is held back, but it’s still a thing we have to work on as medical professionals.”  He turned the PADD around to show her the scan detailing the metallic implant on her symbiont.  “I wanted to ask you about this.”  He let her look at it for a moment before he continued, “I’ve been a doctor for long enough to know that humans and aliens don’t hide stuff maliciously.  It often is out of fear, worry, lack of trust, or even suspicion.”  He gave her a nod, “I’m asking just to ask, Heriah.  My first duty is to your health and your symbiont.  That’s how long I’ve been a doc.”

Heriah closed her eyes and took a breath. There came a flinch deep inside her abdomen and she forced herself to relax. Of course, this would come up sooner or later. Of course, there would be questions.  “It is a Borg implant,” she said immediately and without further hesitation. It also took an entire breath and her entire will to get that out. She opened her eyes and looked at the doctor. That hurdle had been jumped. Now for the rest, at least some of them.

Longfellow leaned in, thankful that she had trusted him enough to strat the process.”

“A previous host,” there came a twitch of Rex’s tail, “Refkin was his name,” and another. Heriah crossed her arms over her belly. It was her way of hugging Rex. It generally calmed him down. It still worked…a little. “Refkin was leading a Trill Spec Ops mission into a Sphere. The mission went sideways and he was captured…assimilated. Another operation was immediately run to rescue Refkin. It worked so he was not fully assimilated. Trill doctors were able to undo what the Borg had done but they found that the Borg attempted to assimilate Rex as well.” Rex flinched within and it made Heriah visibly move. She tightened her arms around herself. “They stopped, the Borg that is, when they saw that they were going to kill Rex, but the implant was already in place. As long as Refkin was assimilated,” she said with a whimper, “Rex would certainly fall in line right?” Her eyes began to water. “They…still the Borg…did not remove the implant.” She wiped a forming tear away. “They…Trill doctors now…saw that they too could not remove the implant. There is a tendril from the implant going into Rex’s brain,” she said as she traced through the air with her finger.

Heriah sniffled, composed herself and looked at Dr. Longfellow. “Removing it will kill Rex…kill me.” She let a short pause stretch between them. “To become joined is the highest honor in Trill society. And I…” she looked down at herself, “I got a damaged symbiont.”

‘Damaged!?!’

It felt as though Rex had flung himself against her insides. She flinched again at his movement. “Traumatized I mean. Permanently scarred and traumatized.” Heriah finished and looked back at Dr. Longfellow.

Longfellow scooted his stool closer to her carefully.  He looked into her eyes and extended his hands to hers that were tightly wound around her stomach.  He knew it was probably instinct driving her actions.  The weight of the history of her symbiont together with her own had left a still fresh scar on her physically and emotionally.  “You haven’t told many people this, have you?”

‘So who counsels the counselor, eh?’

Heriah only gave a nasal laugh and shook her head. It was the ironic situation she was shaking her head at but used that also to answer the doctor’s question. She disconnected from his eyes. “No one. Only a select few in the Joining Commission, some military personnel and a few doctors know of this.” She shrugged. “I am free to tell who I want so this is not classified.”

Henry nodded, his hands still extended.  “The things you’ve seen, that your symbiont has seen…and those that hosted him…what they’ve felt, experienced.”  He held his words for a beat, “It’s not something you get over or through quickly.  Someone once gave me the advice that ‘grief is a monster that you can’t ever fully kill’, and I’ve come to understand the truth of it.  Advanced as we may be…we still have emotions – Human to Vulcan to Trill to Betazoid….and on and on.”  He looked her in the eye, “Does that make sense Heriah…”, and he tilted his head a little, “…and Rex?”

“I am a counselor,” she replied immediately. “I know all that. And what is this,” her voice grew agitated, “some kind of pity party?” Her eyes reconnected with his, her arms tightened around her torso, her brow began to furrow and all the pain visible in her eyes started to turn into anger. “And let me guess,” she twitched again. Her voice gave the slightest crack and almost sounded as though another was trying to juxtapose itself on top of hers. “…you are going to fix me.”

Longfellow didn’t flinch.  If he’d been twenty years younger, he’d have fully stood up and nearly tripped over himself feeling the room.  But that was what eighteen years of medicine did to you.  It prepared you for moments when a patient snarled, cried, or threatened to throw you out a window or two.  His hands remained extended, “No, I’m not going to fix you, Heriah…or Rex for that matter.”  He shrugged, “Medicine of the heart and of the mind is a lifelong journey.  You don’t defeat that grief monster… trauma monster… loneliness monster…or whatever monster you’re doing battle with on the inside.  You wake up every day and arm yourself with your coping strategies, your treatment plan, your support team…and you go out there…and you fight it every inch of every part of your day.”

‘Fight? Now that is more like it. Let’s get out of…’

“Quiet,” Heriah nearly growled.

Longfellow didn’t speak or interrupt.  He just listened.

Her breathing was deep and controlled. Air bending heat seemed to nearly emanate from her nostrils. Her right eye twitched.

Heriah closed those eyes and took a deep breath.

“I will not fear,” she began. Her words were barely audible but she mouthed them all the same.

‘Oh not this crap.’

“Fear is the mind-killer and the little adversary that brings about destruction and death.”

‘I am not the adversary.’

“I know that, Rex!” she exclaimed aloud then when back to her litany. “I will face my fear, let it pass through me.”

‘And when your fear has consumed you…’

“When…my…fear,” she spoke up, then lowered her voice again, “is gone. There will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

Her breathing became more shallow, less focused and intentional and more instinctual; comfortable. Heriah opened her eyes and felt more in control of herself.

Longfellow felt a smile cross his lips, “That was incredible, Heriah.  I’m a doctor…and sometimes a counselor when the moments fit.  Do this long enough, you get good at figuring out how to talk to people and most importantly, listen.”  He gestured his extended hands to her once more, “You’re not alone in this thing, Heriah.  You’ve got Rex, you’ve got yourself…and you’ve got me.”

‘Not even Rikata, the mole, said that. He always referred to me as something to be controlled.’

“You are correct,” she said and her answer was to both Rex and the doctor. “You do realize,” and Heriah gently unwrapped her arms from about her torso and lent them to the doctor’s hands, “that if you tell anyone about this,” she looked down at her belly then back up at Longfellow, this time with an honest grin, “I might have to cut your heart out.”

‘And tell him that is not a joke. Go on, tell him.’

Henry felt his smile grow as he lightly gripped her hands, “In my professional opinion, I think that’s an acceptable proposal, Heriah…”, and he looked at her stomach with a seriousness, “Rex – you have my confidence in this.”  He returned his gaze to hers, “You are more complete than you know, Heriah.  Come see me every so often to check in – I won’t mandate an appointment slot or anything.”  He squeezed her hands lightly and released her.  Henry stood and tapped his PADD, “You’re free and clear.”

Heriah hopped down from the biobed. “Thank you doctor. Just…bear with me a bit. I’ve…never liked doctors. Well, not since…” and she had a hand on her belly. “Just keep that in mind please.” She stepped away a bit uncomfortably as it was a new experience to walk away from a doctor or an examination or the Sick Bay itself and she not feel like tearing the place down. She was at least happy that he did not inquire about any details of the botched mission where Refkin was capture.

‘I refuse to talk about that anyway.’

‘I know.’

She approached the door separating the examination room from the rest of Sick Bay. It opened and she was through. As few steps later and she was away.

He watched her leave and felt some sense of hope for the ensign.  She was a work in progress, but she wanted to stay on the path to recovery.  He finished up his notes and returned to the nurse’s station in the infirmary.  Asato glanced up from her ongoing notes and scheduling, “There’s a group of daycare kids waiting for you.  Stomach illness spread pretty quickly and they need stabilizing.”

“You’re not getting out of this one, Hiro-san. Get the kits and follow me.”  She squinted her eyes at him in mock anger while she grabbed what she needed from the cupboards and they headed off.

Standard safety protocol would say that Lihran should at least attach himself to the ladder of the jefferies tube when working with both hands. Especially when it is a vertical tube. He had his arm wrapped around the vertical support of the ladder, leaning to one side with a panel he was working on open, sonic driver in hand. His train of thought was that he was broad and large enough that if he fell, he wouldn’t fall far without getting caught unless he purposefully slid along the sides of the tube. 

A peculiar noise heard in the horizontal tube about ten metres up made him pause his work and look up with a furrowed brow, straining to hear that noise again. He heard a male grunt and the strange noise happened again. He realised he heard another engineer above him pass gas, thinking he was alone.

Lihran burst into loud, unrestrained laughter. Some things are funny, regardless of your species and what century it is. From up above he heard an, “Oh, shit!” The other engineer could be heard scrambling around before a rather embarrassed looking human popped their head out of the junction, looking down at Lihran, “You heard that, didn’t you?!”

Lihran rests his feet on a rung of the ladder and leans his back against the wall of the tube, looking up, “Loud and clear. It echoed even.” The human cringed and groaned, “Least you are spared the smell down there.”

This made Lihran laugh even harder, “My thanks!” Lihran fiddled with his driver, the device slipped from his hand and fell down the tube. Lihran tried to grab it but was too slow. He yelled, “Heads up!” 

No sooner had the words left his mouth than it was heard impacting something with a loud bang and a storm of swearing from another engineer.

The engineer out of sight from below yelled, “Watch it! Why are there three of us here?!”

The gassy human called, “I’m on the horizontal junction, I’m good.” Lihran snorted, “I was here first! I’ll come down to get my driver.”

Incoherent muttering could be heard from the engineer below. Lihran’s foot slipped off the rung when he was trying to straighten up, causing the Romulan to hurtle downwards down the tube. Instinctively, Lihran reached out to grab the ladder as he fell, managing to catch it with one arm. His body was still falling and jerked downwards. There was an uncomfortable snapping noise and Lihran cried out in pain. He grabbed the ladder with his other hand and his feet found the rungs, his hurt arm dangling at his side.

He clutched to the ladder, pressing his forehead to the cold metal, hoping it would at least ground him as the adrenaline coursed through his body, his vision swimming. It all happened so fast that the human who was watching didn’t have time to cry out a warning.

A tentative voice above asked, “Ensign? Are you alright?” Lihran shook his head, speaking through gritted teeth. “No, I’m not. Transporting myself out of here… I can’t move my arm.” The engineer from below climbed up  the ladder a bit to see what was going on with a worried look on his face. Lihran hooked his arm around the ladder to be able to use his combadge, barely able to get the words out coherently to get transported.

Sweat glistened on Lihran’s skin, his brows furrowed into a face of concentration. He was in the fitness facility of the base, working on his regular regime. He had listening devices in his ears, tuning out everyone else in the facility. He was on his back, doing bench press reps. He had to use special equipment made for Vulcans and Romulans due to their higher strength, even then, he was pushing the limits. 

INCOMING TRANSMISSION! INCOMING TRANSMISSION!

The sharp tone and voice blasted through his ears painfully. His arms wavered and buckled. A Vulcan noticed and leapt forward to try and help Lihran lift the weight back into place, but it was a bit too heavy for him as well.  He averted the crisis and helped guide the weights off to the side. 550 lbs crashed onto the floor instead of on Lihran’s chest. The bench suddenly toppled over at the same moment with the abrupt displacement of weight. Lihran deftly tucked and rolled off to the side out of the way.

He swore and yanked the devices out of his ears, “Last time I have the damn things in without a privacy setting!” He mumbled his thanks to the Vulcan, hurrying over to grab his PADD. He put the listening devices back in his ears, answering the call with a scowl.

A Romulan official came up on the screen, lifting his brows, “Bad time, Lieutenant Lihran?”

Lihran shook his head, glancing around before stepping out of the gym, “I haven’t worn that rank in fifteen years. How serious is the matter for an official to call me?”

The official replied, “Quite serious. You may wish to sit down and have a drink after.” Lihran furrows a brow, “Alright, sir. Call me back in…. Half an hour and I will be decent.”

The oficial inclined his head in acknowledgement and closed the connection.

Lihran looked quite worried, an urgency in his steps. He showered and got back into his uniform. He found his way walking the promenade, debating on a place to drink. He decided Downtime was the best place for a drink.

Lihran lowered himself onto a metal barstool, thankful it was rather quiet here today. Skal approached as Lihran turned on the devices in his ears again. Lihran bluntly stated, “Romulan ale.” The screen of his PADD flashed with the incoming transmission again. He gave Skal a stern, dark glare that even made the Tellarite clamp his jaw shut and not say a word to Lihran.

He sighs and answers the call, pulling the glass of blue liquid towards him, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. He glances at the official, “Lay it on me, sir.”The official nods, “Very well, Lihran. Your parents are dead. You are still their heir by Romulan law.” Lihran’s eyes widen and he slowly lowers the glass to the bar, “Dead?! How? How are they both dead?”

He had only spoken to them a handful of times since he left the Tal Shiar, nor was he particularly close to him, but they were the only family he has ever had and will have. He was their only child as far as he knew, though a disappointment of one.

The official replies, “Murder. I will send you details of their deaths and an account of their assets which fall to you, being their heir.” Lihran swallows and nods, taking another gulp of the ale, finding his throat suddenly dry, “Yes please, thank you sir. Am I required to go there in person to settle the estate?” The official slowly shook his head, sighing, “It is not safe for you to do so. Nor can I guarantee the safety of your assets at this point in time.”

Lihran looks troubled, “Not safe? What is going on?” The official looked around on his side, “I am not authorised to tell you that. You may be able to discern enough from the report. That is all I wished to tell you. Good bye.” The connection suddenly dropped.

Lihran stared blankly at the screen, the documents flashing up. A confusing swirl of emotions welled up inside him. His first instinct was to laugh, though it wasn’t a humorous laugh. It was a laugh of disbelief, a nervous response, “Dead? Murdered?”

He dropped his elbows heavily on the bar, covering the lower half of his face with both hands. He closed his eyes lightly. Lihran was never really a spiritual or religious Romulan, but he found his lips moving as he whispered prayers to the Elements into his hands. He wasn’t particularly close to his parents, but he had a slight bond to his mother. It wasn’t that strong, but it existed.

Tears started welling up in his eyes. He closed his hands and raised them up over his eyes. His entire body trembled, holding back screams and sobs that he wanted to let out. He slammed a fist on the bar, making Skal jump. He grabbed his ale and quickly downed the entire glass. Lihran croaked and gestured, “I need another…” Skal quickly got him another without a comment. A crying Romulan was a rather terrifying sight.

Lihran drank in silence for a while, letting the hot tears run down his face. He was snapped out of his brooding by a hand on his shoulder. Lihran jerked his head back to look at the offender, “I… Thevius?! What are you doing here?”

Thevius sits down beside Lihran, nodding at Skal, “Saurian brandy, if you please.” He looks over at Lihran, “If I was to guess, it’d be the same thing that’s gotten you in this state.”

Lihran sighs, “Coup, parents. Dead. Dead, they are dead.”Thevius nods, emitting a soft sigh, “My mother was there as well. I haven’t told my father yet. He is married to someone else, I doubt he would.. Care.”Lihran snorts, “Vulcans? Care?” That earned him a glare from the half Vulcan. Thevius replies tersely, “Some of us do. We are not robots, Lihran.” Lihran shook his head, “If you were, at least you’d make sense to me. Did you come here just to do a check up on your old friend?”

Thevius shook his head, sipping his brandy, “I am here to resupply and check in before I continue on towards my assignment. I was wondering if you would like to come along?”Lihran shook his head firmly, “No, Thevius. I am stationed here. You would have to go through my command.” Thevius sighed at that, “I thought so. Was worth a shot.” The process of transferring someone was long and they did not have time. He would have to come up with a different solution The two Romulans drank in silence till they parted ways, taking solace in old friendship.

Immediately Following: Dream of the Trill & Sensory Implosion

______________________________

Heriah did not bother changing out of her sleep attire, simply a long pajama and a shirt. She left everything else behind to include her commbadge. Fixing her hair was of no import either. She simply stepped out into the corridor upon waking from her dream. Or could it have been a nightmare.

Having had nightmares before, she knew the signs and sensations upon waking from one.

Cold but somehow fiery spots: Nope

Increased heart rate: Nope

Sweats or chills: Nope

Increased desire to find the nearest sentient being and rip its head off:…

A random person passed her in the hall.

…Nope

It had all been just a dream. And the sleep cycle of a Trill can sometimes prove confusing as the host may wake up and the symbiont still be asleep. As is the case this time around.

“You stay asleep little one,” she said to her abdomen and then stepped away.

Heriah also knew that on some rare occasions the symbiont could wake up with the host remaining asleep. That would lead to some interesting conversations the next day, but only if there were others about who could witness and document. When Heriah had a roommate at the Academy, that happened at least once. Now though, she had a room to herself and it mattered not.

Heriah ventured to the promenade and set foot in front of the other until she stepped into a random bar.

“Risian Vodka,” she said to the bartender as she arrived, “and…” before he had the chance to step away, “the good stuff. By that I mean the real stuff. No synthahol.”

As the bartender ventured away to acquire her request, Heriah looked around. Yeah, there was no record of time keeping in space and Bravo had its primary chronometer synched with Earth standard time. Still, the starbase lived and breathed during all hours and at this particular time, generally regarded as the graveyard shift, there were still people about, just not as many. Heriah regarded this time of ‘night’ as an introvert’s dream come true.

However, as Heriah noticed a Serilian stalking about, she also knew that this time was also a creep’s dream come true which could invariably lead to an introvert’s nightmare.

The bartender returned with a glass half filled with her order of Risian vodka.

“Careful now,” he started, “that stuff is…”

“Yes, I am aware,” and she stepped away. Heriah discreetly followed the Serilian until she saw him slowly move toward a table with a lone occupant, the target of his nightly affections. This lone occupant had but only a drink before her and nothing else for company or entertainment. No company, save for the drink. It was obvious the Serilian was going to intrude upon the girl’s solitude and attempt to force his company whether she wanted or not.

Heriah was quick in her footwork to arrive at the table at the same time as he. She even ‘bumped’ into him with her elbow nearly making him spill some of whatever drink he was holding. “Oh, I am so sorry sir,” she said.

“No harm done young miss, I managed to not…”

Heriah butted in with, “No, I mean I am so sorry sir, but,” she got in his face, “this seat is taken.”

The Serilian narrowed his eyes slightly and engaged her into a few seconds-long staring contest before he blinked, awkwardly laughed and stepped back. “Many apologies for the intrusion. I shall make my leave.”

‘Yes, you do that,’ Heriah thought.

Wanting to maintain the façade that the table’s lone occupant was there with someone, Heriah sat and watched as the Serilian stalked a little bit more and then left.

“A lone girl in a bar,” Heriah spoke to the lone occupant but kept her eyes out for any more unwanted and intrusive guests, “is a man magnet. They cannot seem to contain themselves at the sight. At this time of night however,” she turned her attention to the girl across the table from her, “a long girl at a bar is a creep magnet.” Heriah took a sip of her vodka. “Word of advice when dealing with Serilians. Always travel in packs of no less than two and, when encountering a male Serilian whilst alone, be sure to insult his manliness in a round about way. Do not outright antagonize him. They will generally go away.”

Neva’s eyes were wide as she shook her head vehemently as she did her best to deny the Serilian’s advances. She never spoke, even as her hands slid off her glass to put a death grip on the bottom of her chair.

When the slightly disheveled woman stepped in to make the intruder go away, Neva’s arms shook as the woman sat down before her. Neva swallowed & nodded stiffly at the advice. “Th…th…thank y…you,” Neva stuttered out.

“Welcome,” said Heriah. She eyed her glass of Risian vodka, not really wanting it any longer. She took a sip anyway.

Something about this person told Neva she could relax.

Neva uncurled in stages, eyes locked on the other person. She took hold of her glass again & took a drink, draining it.

“Why are you helping me?” Neva asked quickly, then looked down at the table. “But I appreciate the advice.” She looked up again, scrutinizing her table mate. “Who are you?”

“Ensign Heriah Rex.” She answered the last question first. “And you will find that I do not charge for advice. I’m the station counselor. And no, I am not here to counsel you.” She was finally getting to Neva’s original question. “I’ve had my share of stalkers and oglers.” Heriah watched the Serilian stalk about the corridor before being out of sight. “Figured the least I could do is drive him off. Perhaps have a conversation. But, I can leave you be if you prefer. Though it seems I am not the only one with a sleepless night. And you?”

Neva nodded. “Yeah, company would be nice this time.” She gave a half smile. “Usually, those that intrude on me go away with an ‘F-You’ in as close to their language as I can manage. That one, was…too cl-” Neva looked away, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Taking deep breaths, her shoulders slowly dropped. She turned back to Heriah, calmer than before.

Heriah smiled and provided a singular nasal laugh, understanding Neva’s remark of her usual response.

‘Certainly something Rex would want to say.’

“What brought YOU here, Heriah? Lack of sleep is a cruel mistress.” Neva signaled for another drink & put her forearms & elbows on the table. She felt a bit sleepy again, but shook her head instead. “ESPECIALLY at this time of night.”

Heriah thought about the Rex symbiont, still apparently asleep in her torso, thankful that he was still slumbering. Strange thoughts wafted about in her mind. He was still dreaming and she felt a slight squirm of his tail inside her abdominal muscle. It was strange the first time she felt it. Now it was commonplace.

Heriah took another sip of her vodka. “Bad dream. Sometimes it feels a bit too real. You know? Usually, a nightly stroll will calm the seas so to speak. This time…” she held up her glass.

Neva cocked her head, considering the proposal. “Never thought of that, really. I admit, this time of night’s perfect for that.” She stood up, empty glass in hand. “I’m game if you are.” Without waiting for an answer, Neva got up & put her glass on the bar. She looked over her shoulder & gave a “let’s go” tilt, smiling. “Hurry up, m’dear! We’ve got ‘mares to chase!”

Heriah tiled her glass and sucked a big gulp of her vodka. She was a bit confused at what her company was getting at, but decided, and the sudden rush of alcohol fumes in her sinuses aided with this decision, to follow. She sat another couple of seconds, letting the beverage settle before finishing it.

Neva walked a few jaunty steps, figuring her companion was behind her.…then turned around. Brows furrowed, she looked at her companion. She hadn’t moved. Neva returned to the table, signaling for another drink to be brought over. She sat down again, her jovial mood gone. Cocking her head, Neva regarded Heriah in silence until her drink was delivered.

“What gives? Thought the walk thing was a lock. You change your mind?” Neva took a long sip of her drink. “Hello?”

“Just…been a while since I’ve had this stuff,” she displayed her glass. Only one final mouthful was left. Heriah kicked that back, held it in her mouth a comforting second then swallowed. She slapped the glass down onto the table. “There.”

She looked at her company and saw something familiar in both the girl’s mannerisms and in those eyes. There was a sense of restlessness on top of a tendency to switch moods rather quickly. Heriah was like that in her younger years and once again after becoming Heriah Rex. Though, instead of going between being shy and reserved to being outgoing, she had gone to moving between being kind hearted and gentle to harboring violence and a desire for action.

“All done,” Heriah said. “Now, about these ‘mares to chase…”

Neva nodded, the smile returned. She looked down at her drink, which was half full. She shrugged & got up, leaving the glass there on the table.

“I’ve been wanting to see more of this station OUTSIDE of the Jefferies Tubes,” she chuckled. This time, she looked at Heriah to start the walk. “Do you have a favorite place to go?” Neva’s smile faltered a little. “All I ask is, let’s not go anywhere dark. I get enough of that at work.”

Heriah stood and a slight rush of inebriation caused her to ensure she could stand upright.

‘No problem.’

In her memory, she recalled the gym and running battle sims on the holodeck as being her favorite places to go but, seeing that Rex was still asleep, those places did not seem all that interesting at the moment.

Being new to the starbase herself, “I really do not have a favorite place to go, yet.” Heriah thought a quick second as she followed behind out of the bar. She thought back to her time at the Academy before her joining with Rex; places she enjoyed to visit and slowly stroll through. “The gardens?” she said, more like, half-asked as though wondering if the locale was acceptable. “I have not been to the gardens yet.”

Neva smiled brightly as they took the route Heriah had shyly asked for. “My mother likes the gardens here too…and in general. On Beta-” Neva stopped herself, suddenly realizing she’d almost outed herself. “Well, back home, my mother loved gardening.” Neva’s smile turned fond. “I got so many sunburns when she nagged me into helping her pull weeds & such.”

She looked at her newfound friend. “Does Trill Prime have nice gardens? Do the symbionts like that kind of stuff?” Neva’s eyes widened & slapped her fingers over her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t ask such personal questions!” She jerked to a stop & her face reddened. ‘Oh God’s! I just CAN’T stop my babbling mouth!’

Heriah smiled and nearly laughed at the sheer giddiness of her company. She did begin to raise a hand in hopes of getting in a few words but saw a break in the conversation. Her chance to interject.

“Trillius Prime…is the name of my planet. And yes, speaking of symbionts can be a private matter but that varies from person to person. I,” she placed her hand over her belly where Rex slumbered within, “do not mind such questions as long as,” and Heriah looked around at the empty corridors, “it is not too public. Symbionts, well…” and Heriah looked down where her hand lay on her belly, “…they only get to experience what a host experiences. Otherwise they stay in naturally heated, murky pools of…well, they love the water. Rex though, he has seen a lot. And yes, I do enjoy the gardens. Trillius Prime does have multitudinous gardens of the Alle’Ke’Zonda’er flower, commonly known as the Trill Lilac. It is a form of lilac and comes in many different colors, so gardeners like to mix and match and create gardens that are also works of art.

Neva’s blush slowly disappeared. “WOW! I think we’ve got some of those to the gardens.”

‘Gardens!’

The doors to the atrium opened and Heriah found herself unable to take a single step inside. A massive wormy twitch flung itself against her entrails and she wrapped her arms across her torso.

“Whoa, wait, oh…” and she nearly doubled over as she let out a painful exhale.

Heriah could sense Neva stop and turn, but, though her eyes were wide, Heriah could not see a thing. “No. Rex. Hold…” and an explosion of terror flooded her mind.

There came some mental flashes of a long lost memory, flashes of people winking in and out of a garden-like area, like something out of a dream, but it was a dream. Or, at least it felt that way. The dream garden itself flickered.

There came a hand upon the shoulder and the only thing that came next was a sense of escape. Rex again twitched and it felt almost like he slammed himself against Heriah’s spine.

‘Do not go into the gardens!’

Heriah swatted away the hand that touched her shoulder and stepped back. With tear-welled eyes, a whimper in her voice and a terrible multi-voiced howl of pain in her mind, Heriah twitched and shook her head, taking another step back and away. “We…we cannot go in there.”

She unwrapped one arm from around her torso and pressed a palm against her temple as though massaging away a headache, realizing the reality of it all; Rex had exploded awake and wanted nothing to do with the gardens.

Neva was chattering about plants & such to her comrade, when she suddenly saw Heriah go down. Neva set a hand on Heriah’s shoulder to help. Even as it was pushed away, Neva stumbled back & fell awkwardly to the floor. Palms trying to crush her head inward, Neva felt terror become her own.

She was *THERE.* The metallic scent of the blood on her lip where he’d slapped her…the ~FURY~…the sound of tearing cloth…

~~NOOOOOOOO~~ screamed from somewhere within her…

Neva’s body thrashed inward, then hands clamped around her tucked up knees, pulling her head down. A brown, black, & yellow oversized armadillo-like creature lay on the threshold of the atrium. An almost inaudible keening flared out of it, unlike the banshee wail heard within.

~~NOOOOOOO~~

As she recovered, Rex calming within, Heriah stood and saw how the scenario had inverted itself. A moment ago, Heriah was almost on the floor and now…

“Rex, I think it is safe to say…”

‘…we have never seen this response before.’

“Hey,” Heriah crept forward and crouched down. She had the sudden realization that she had no idea of this girl’s name. “Hey,” she repeated in a calm and as soothing of a voice as she could manage. Reaching out with her hand, Heriah touched the girl twitching about on the floor and whimpering something inaudible. The only thing Heriah could make out was, ‘No.’

“Ensign Rex to Sick Bay,” after she slapped her commbadge. Then Heriah remembered she was not wearing her commbadge. She then thought to call up the computer but something inside told her this was nothing she could not handle.

“Hey,” she said again. “There is no one else here. Nothing to harm you. Open your eyes and see.” The girl twitched again and Heriah withdrew slightly, wondering if she should call this a medical emergency. Luckily there was no one else about the corridors, lest they might call for Security. Heriah did see this as an emergency however, a mental and emotional emergency. Nothing anyone from Sick Bay could do save for sedation. No, this needed a counselor’s touch. “Whatever is happening,” Heriah said, “I am there with you, suffering with you, helping you.”

Neva swam in the dark morass of pain & anger, the force of it becoming gentle waves that carried her toward the voice…voice?…“I am there…suffering …helping….” Neva slugged through the last bit of cold & blackness towards the light & the voice.

Like the ancient tales of Earth cinema, her eyes fluttered stop motion images of dots…colors angular then curvy…a blurry pale roundness filling the space…”I am there with…suffering with you, helping you.”

Neva sighed, a hiss becoming a loud sucking in of air. Her eyes burst fully open, mouth opening & closing like a fish for a few beats, returning to slow & even.

Her neck ached, her palms slick, she couldn’t push herself up. She fixed her gaze at the…woman? Eyebrows pushed down in confusion. “Where..am i?”

Heriah fell back to sitting on the floor. She wanted to help the girl up but knew, from her teaching, that sometimes any amount of touching could prove a hindrance to recovery. The girl needed to reacquire her bearings first, lest she might have regressed into her previous terrible state.

“You are aboard Starbase Bravo. Whoever it was you saw, they are not here. Whatever it was that happened, it is well over now. Wherever you were, you are here now.” And now was as good a time as any to learn her name. “Do you know your name? Rank? Occupation?”

Without thinking, Neva sat up straight & barked out “Name! Nevanthi Alice Cordon! Rank! Junior Grade Lieutenant! Occupation! Engineering!” Once more, her eyes were wide open & not seeing what was before her. After a minute, she relaxed & looked around. “Oh…the ‘Base! Damn, what time is it?”

“It’s…”

“I need to get to work soon!” She looked up & repeated her question with “Computer!” The disembodied voice replied with the time-½ an hour before her shift. She then looked around her, seeing her drinking companion beside her. “Hiiiii….sorry about that…I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

“Well you didn’t…”

Neva chuckled depreciatedly…”I’ve gotta get to my station. I hope we can talk again…under better circumstances.”

“Me too,” Heriah finally got in a complete, albeit brief, thought.

Neva got up & brushed herself off. Neva nodded to the woman & walked away, acting like the incident never happened.

Heriah knew the situation all too well; someone made an embarrassing display and wanted to move on as though it never happened. And, as far as the rest of the universe was concerned, the event never did happen. Heriah was certainly not going to tell anyone, at least not yet. She was still trying to understand what triggered Nevanthi’s episode. Seeing that it happened in the immediate wake of Rex waking up…Heriah shook her head not understanding it one bit.

Weariness was returning to her and trying to understand was not really a priority at the moment. She had a name now and would be able to find Nevanthi quite easily. Perhaps she could arrange another chance encounter and find out more.

An iced cinnamon bun and a latte are placed before Lihran at the Brew. The Romulan looked a little perplexed on how to attack the sticky dessert and maintain a dignified composure. He took a look around for Cynndle before attacking the bun with a fork and knife. He agreed to meet the Lieutenant for coffee and a chat after their little meeting with Dr. Longfellow and Roger Allen in the infirmary. Not wanting to lug around his tool belt, he agreed to meet Cynndle at a determined location after running back to his quarters to drop off his tools.

Cynndle walked up to Brew and quickly spotted Lihran digging into a cinnamon bun, not that he could blame him for that, they were delicious. Not wanting to interrupt he went up and ordered the same, he figured why miss the opportunity. With a cinnamon bun and coffee in hand, he walked over to the empty seat at the table. “Hi there Ensign. Looks like you are enjoying that.”

Lihran looked up and gave a faint smile and a nod as he saw him approach, “Hello there Lieutenant. I already grabbed my refreshments.” He gave a small gesture with his fork that had a bit of cinnamon bun on it, “I have never had one of these before. It is rather… interesting. From Earth, I think.”

“Yeah, I believe they originated in Northern Europe way back when. Honestly, they are one of my favourites,” he says taking a seat and a bit. “So, that was a lot to take in back there. Do you think that there could be a Romulan connection?”

Lihran took a sip of his coffee and sighs, “If not directly, in a more secretive, underhanded way that is signature to Romulans. Despite each sides claim of denial, Vulcans and Romulans are far more connected and similar than we both like. You look like you have some questions stored up, Lieutenant.” He paused, “Do you prefer being addressed by rank or name? I’m still never sure what to address someone as.”

Leaning back casually in the chair Cynndle takes another bite before answering. “I have always felt that if not on duty, but even then, a given name works best but I know others prefer to stick to rank. So just call me Cynndle, or Cyn, whatever works really. And yourself?”

Lihran nods, repeating as if committing it to memory, “Cyn.” He took a sip of coffee before replying, “I really need to work on getting out of the military mindset that’s been ingrained after 80 years. Lihran suits me just fine.”

“As for questions, yes, and no really. This who things seems to be a bit strange. I had really hoped it was just some kids messing around. First off why do the Romulans care about an old Vulcan scientist, if it was them at all? Secondly, we have been having these issues with the internal sensors for a while now in fact long before the Vulcans came aboard. Definitely makes me think it is one of the local gangs…but why use them? And also, it is possible for a Romulan to do a mind-meld but still just seems odd. There are too many unknowns. I guess in general. What’s your take?”

Lihran nods, “Being rather new, I can’t comment too much on power issues, but I’ve noticed some faulty wiring in some spots. The station is huge, I can’t rewire the whole thing as quickly as I like.”

Cynndle looks up over his drink and grunts in understanding before putting it down. “That’s true. The station itself is pretty new itself. Teething issues…”

Lihran furrowed a brow, “Scientists know stuff. Whether its new technology or government secrets. My opinion, from someone who has been heavily involved in all the Romulan… crap… for many years is this: A scientist can be used as a tool or a weapon. Especially her mind without a body vessel being attached. After the loss of our world, The Empire has been focused on expanding and trying to maintain its glory and conquests. Which is proving difficult with such a huge population loss and loss of our home. Sneaky, underhanded things like that are so embedded in Romulan nature, that’s why it came to mind first. Even me, my mind went to sabotage first.”

“That is good to know. Useful insight. Part of me wishes we could ask that Vulcan why they high command and or the Romulans were after here.” Pausing for a moment while he takes a sip Cynndle frowns…”I think the pressing issue is preventing more of these issues with the power and figuring out who has caused it; maybe Allen could help…also maybe rope in some cadets…”

Lihran nodded at that, “Something tells me we wouldn’t get a proper or straightforward answer even if we could ask. I’ve noticed some wiring issues other than the obvious cut wires. I’ve had to rewire a few areas already. Our core and power generators are stable, the issues are coming from the wiring itself.” he pauses, nodding in agreement with Cynndle, “We really do not need another assault on an officer. I am worried they aren’t done with Doctor Longfellow yet.”

“I couldn’t agree more with that Lihran. I am glad that Allen is watching his back…just frustrating that we don’t know the ‘why’.” Cynndle responds. 

“Next steps are the next question. As Longfellow said. Let us see what we can find on the wiring and the cuts. Track the ship if possible and try to find the Vulcan who assaulted him if he is still here.”

Lihran nods, finishing off his coffee and cinnamon bun, leaning back a bit, “I’ll keep forward my reports on such to you, see if we can piece together any clues.”

“That would be great Lihran; anything you can find may be critical.”

Lihran smiled, “I appreciated this little meeting, thank you. I really hope we can get to the end of this and figure it out.”

Cynndle nods in agreement “It was nice to met and discuss this. We will get to the bottom of it without a doubt.” Finishing his drink Cynndle gets up and turns to leave. “Have a good one Lihran, speak soon.”

Lihran lifts his hand and waves as he stands up hinself, “A pleasure. Will speak to you soon.”

Cynndle stepped off the turbolift into Deck 150 in Sector Delta-Yellow. Looking around he pulled out his PADD and double-checked where he needed to go. After a short 3-hour induction he was starting his first complete shift in the dockyards, part of his cross-training as ‘recommended’ by Ensign Heriah Rex. ‘Cross-training to address my, what did she call it…short term PTSD, was it PCOS.’ he thinks with a shrug

The truth was he was looking forward to his. He would still be spending about half his time on his regular work rotation in operations, but he got to branch out and work with the other departments for the rest of his time. From the way he saw it this would look good on his record when it came time for a promotion; assuming he did royally mess up that is.

Walking towards the dockyard operations he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He had only been her briefly and was amazed to see a Nebula class inside the station, with room left over to spare. It was awe-inspiring to see such a massive vessel docked inside the station.

‘I wonder what I will be assigned to at first, likely just low-level maintenance though maybe it would be on one of those new starfighters Starfleet is rolling out he heard about, what are they called again….’ He wonders as he approaches his destination.

Nilah had finally finished that craft after giving her a headache until she finally figured it out, though it was something simple that was just so hard to find. She was now being sent to work on the Nebula-class that was inside the shipyards. She would be assigned to the main engineering to help upgrade her systems, she was about to enter when she saw Cynndle again. “Fancy meeting you here,” Nilah replied with a smile.

Lost in thought as he walks looking at his PADD he almost missed what Nilah had said to him and stopped just short of walking into her. Looking up quickly he smiles and looks around, “Oh, Hey Nilah. Yeah, well I have been assigned to the dockyards today to get my counselor recommended cross-training in. Though I will admit, I am not even sure where to report.”

“Think you could help?” Pausing briefly he asked, “How are you by the way?”

She looked down at her padd for a moment after reading that someone was going to be working with her today, though she didn’t pay much attention to who it was until now. “Ah looks like you will be working with me here on this Nebula-class ship today,” she responded with a smile after looking back up from her padd.

“Uh, well that ties things up nicely” he laughs. “Though are you sure you want me mucking about inside the workings of a Nebula?” 

“My orders were to just report her for the shift so I will follow your lead. What is needing to be done on her by the way?” gesturing towards the Nebula in drydock. 

“System upgrades and routine maintenance, nothing too drastic” Nilah replied as they made their way into the ship and down towards engineering.

“Sounds straightforward enough. Helped out with similar work back on the Dawnbring before I was assigned here.” Cynndle remarked as he looked around at the corridors of the ship.

“Indeed, good thing she wasn’t in for her refit now that would be more involved.” She said with a chuckle as they arrived at the main engineering and began to work on the system upgrades. 

Rey stepped off the turbolift with Heriah. Her body tightened. Ford hated the endless swarm of people moving through the corridors. They made her feel claustrophobic and the close proximity meant anyone could attack at any time.

Thankfully, the bar was just off a far less busy section, nestled between a dry cleaners and a public toilet. As they approached, Rey’s face lit up at the neon sign. “Cripples’ Den,” Ford said aloud. “They don’t allow fighting, just so you know,” said the girl with a bit of disappointment in her voice and went in the front door.

Heriah followed Rey into the establishment. It was not too busy and the patronage was actually spread out. She watched as Rey waved down a tender, stuck up a few fingers and then motioned for Heriah to follow. She did and followed Rey to a far table away from the majority of the patronage, where they could talk about whatever and few would be able to overhear if even they tried.

‘Of all your patients so far, and of all your sessions, this one gets my vote.’

“So you come here often,” Heriah asked as she sat down beside Rey.

“I just found it a couple of weeks ago. I was tired of the fake stuff they serve everywhere else and went looking for the real deal.” Rey tapped on the table with her fingers. She was still tense from the crowd. The table suited her nicely, though. Dark, hidden and safe. Just the way she liked it. The bar itself had seen better days. The cushion on the booth and stools were ripped. A neon sign for beer read only, ‘B**R’, though one of the ‘E’s flickered on and off about every minute. The patronage were mostly station personnel, the dock workers, a few engineers and only a couple of cadets.“What will it be, ladies?” asked the tender. “Tequila shots. Line them up. Real ones, not the fake shit.” The aenar tender gave her a quick nod and shifted to Heriah Rex. “And for you, ma’am”?”

“You know what,” Heriah looked at the Aenar, “the same. I’ve never tried it, so why not?”

The tender trotted off to see to the order. Heriah looked about the place and took in the environment. Starfleet technology and maintenance was too advanced for a place like this to have it flickering lights and ripped and torn seat cushions. She considered it means to look like an olden bar with many years of service. She turned to Rey. Technically, this was no longer a counseling session, but it was still hot on Heriah’s mind. Besides, she did have a legitimate question to ask; on that would have been nagging at her regardless. “You mentioned Charlotte a few times. If I may, who is this Charlotte person to you?”

“She’s my fiancée.”

Rey’s lips curled into a smile at the very mention of the name, Charlotte. Though separated by light years of space, she was the one true constant in the cadet’s life.

“We haven’t set a date or anything.” Rey glanced over her shoulder as if to hurry the waiter. He was taking far too long for her tastes. “Technically, it’s Captain Charlotte Irene Rose Fawkes.” Ford giggled at the length of the name. “She’s from one of those hoi-polloi families in England that had money when everyone on earth had money.” The girl dug into the neck of her uniform and pulled out a ring on the end of a stainless steel chain. She pulled it off to let Heriah examine it. The ring was an oval four-carat diamond, adorned by three triangular sapphires on either side on white gold.

“Like I told you before, the Federation has me tagged with a criminal past and for good reason.” The tender arrived just as Rey began her story with three tequila shots each. “Leave the bottle,” Rey said and downed the first shot. “Long story short, I got in a spot where I owed a bunch of ex-Maquis a favor and had to deliver a cargo of nerve gas to a Cardassian colony. I’ve no love for Cardassians, but I’m not a murderer either, so I just dumped the gas into space.” Rey put her hands up in defense. “I know, dumb move, especially since a Federation ship found it and tracked me down. The Captain of the ship was Charlotte.”

Rey downed another shot. “I was arrested, blah, blah, blah, but instead of handing me over to the Federation, she put me to work on her ship.” The third shot went down with as much ease as the rest. “Anyway, she kind of made me her pet project, which I resented at first, but as time went on we became friends and she was really hot and … I’m sure this is all quite boring to you, right?”

Ford poured three more tequila shots for herself. “Want some more?” she asked Heriah.

Heriah nodded. As she had been kicking back shots as Rey had, her shot glasses were now empty. This tequila was a bit more potent than the Risian Vodka she enjoyed. Heriah was not yet sure of what to make of this tequila, but the rush hitting her in the gut and in the sinuses was a bit unexpected.

“No, not at all boring. In fact, I think it is a beautiful thing; what you two have. Because,” she turned her head away from the now full shot glasses toward Rey and the sudden movement sent the world into a minor shake. “…because that PADD you showed me earlier said something about you having turst issues. Listen to me…turst. It said you have tur…issues believing people.” She kicked a shot back. “And you can tell anyone who says that to blow it out their ear because you are engaged to someone light years away, captaining a ship and you thrust them…Thrust? You thrust them…you know what I mean, you…believe them not to run around behind your back.”

Rey had to giggle at Heriah’s garbled speech as the tequila was apparently doing its job. “I thrust her, alright,” the girl joked as a tinge of red spread across her face. “She might be the Captain on the bridge, but –” Rey stopped before she could divulge too much information. “Uh, sorry,” she said and hand another shot.

Heriah took another shot. This one was not so bad. In fact, everything felt a bit numb about it. “I mean, what evidence do you have that Charlotte is not honoring her promise to marry you? That is what engagement is right; a promise to marry? And here you are fully trusting her…there it is…trust…fully trusting her to keep that promise. That,” and Heriah meant to poke Rey in the shoulder but found only air, “is what is so beautiful about this. And why that note about thrust should be deleted.”

“You’re not wrong and we did talk about it, y’know, being separated from each other for so long and so far away.” Ford cast her eyes downward as the memory of their last night together filled her mind. A sad smile blossomed on he face for a moment, then it was gone, like all the others. “But — well, for one, half her crew are guys and they wouldn’t interest her anyway. And two, she promised, and I told her we’d be done for if she broke that promise.”  Rey knocked back a sixth shot and stared at the bottle. She could go another three, but would be in danger of garbling her own words. She took one more and pushed the bottle in the Counselor’s direction. “How do you like it … the tequila?”

Heriah hovered the third shot glass a bit and then kicked it back as well. Nodding, “This is some good stuff.”

“So, we’ve been talking about me all afternoon. What about you? What made you want to deal with other’s people’s shit? And didn’t you say you were going to tell me off or something?” Rey was starting to feel the buzz and thought she may have gone one too far. “Something about the guy in your stomach.”

Heriah paused and held a mouthful of the tequila as her eyes went wide and she had a sudden regret; a regret of drinking this much.

‘Have I been speaking Rex’ thoughts without knowing?’

‘Heh…heh…heh.’

Heriah swallowed. “I…uh…became a counselor because…”

‘Go ahead. Rikata, the mole, convinced you to…’

“…though I studied weapons, tactical and security after my…joining…I found those professions too stressful or violent considering the situation,” and Heriah decided not to detail ‘the situation’ with the hope that Rey would not inquire further. “So I chose counseling. I do have a collection of weapons though. You know that, you’ve seen my quarters. I also like to hit the gym and work out. Did I mention I won the bantam-weight combatives competition at the Academy? I still know how to fight,” she said before Rey could answer. “All this because of…” and she patted her belly. “Rex has had a stressful run in life…”

‘That is one way of putting it. Another way is saying that it was a total frelling crap call.’

“…and my counselor, at the Academy, showed me the joys of helping others. Rikata…that’s his name…Rikata Mol, paid me special attention and took great care of me after my joining.” Heriah broke a smile. “I don’t think he wanted to stop being my doctor…counselor.” That smile faded and she turned to only sipping at the next shot of tequila.

“That sounds like Char with all the fitness rubbish, but she was a dancer prior to service.” The girl giggled for a moment as the word dancer came with a host of connotations. “I mean, like ballet, not in a bar.”

Rey’s fingers tapped on the table. Another shot sounded good, but she felt flushed and didn’t want her tongue to loosen up than it already had. It was surprising how easily Heriah engaged in conversation. Earlier in the Counselor’s quarters, was the most relaxed session Ford ever had, but deep in her mind, Rey still suspected something was up. The girl was a fighter and then a Counselor. Something didn’t fit, but the woman’s personal bullshit was none of Rey business and frankly, she didn’t care. Even so, she’d keep on her toes with this one.

“Fighting is more my speed, though I’m more of a scrapper than a proper boxer or whatever.”

Temptation finally won and Rey poured and downed a seventh shot. “And helping people, I get it and I wish I had that bug, but every time I ever reached out, I got bit. Everyone wants something, y’know. It’s just human nature.” She downed another shot and looked in Heriah’s direction. “I’m hungry? Are you hungry?” Without waiting for an answer, Rey flagged down the tender. “What have you got in this place to eat?”

The tender shrugged. “Whatever the replicator will dish out, which is pretty much anything.” He gestured to the device in the corner. “Knock yourself out.”

Rey stood up. “What do you want? I want onion rings and dip. What do you want?”

Heriah was deep in thought for the moment. Rey’s words registered and Heriah understood but a strong set of memories was playing in her mind. It was Rey’s question that snapped her out of it.

“What? Oh…um…tenderloin of the wild Trill Sabrebeast. Bow hunted. Not phasered. Trust me, the computer has them both programmed.”

Rey shrugged at the order. She had never heard of such a thing, but trusted Heriah that the replicator was programmed for it. “I’ll be back and I’ll bring back a couple of beers too.”

And Heriah went back to her thoughts as Rey stepped away for the moment. It was the bit about Rey getting bit every time she reached out that was eating at Heriah.

‘Yeah you know all about that.’

‘Not my memories Rex.’

‘But you still know.’

It was Davmorda Rex whose memories were surfacing. She became the host after Refkin and was especially domineering toward men and women alike. Davmorda would lead them on, only to kick them to the curb without a second thought. It was a strong female the Trill military wanted to help calm Rex but they had the wrong female that time around. Davmorda’s domineering tendencies only increased once she was joined which, in turn, exacerbated Rex’s emotions ultimately leading to a mania and, eventually, a failed joining.

The memories of Davmorda’s many emotional and relational exploits surfaced each time Heriah started opening up to someone, grew close to someone or felt someone could be a friend…or more. Each time Heriah felt she had found a friend, there was the memory of Davmorda evilly grinning down upon a sobbing partner, giving out an inaccurate hailing frequency, stepping away from a recent dump without looking back, getting what she wanted and then leaving.

‘That is not me Rex.’

At least Heriah did not have anyone close who knew or loved her. At least the High Priest’s prophecy was still true; she was completely safe.

“Onion rings with ranch dip,” Rey spoke to the replicator and plate full of thick battered rings emerged in a swirl of energy. “No. I want the light bat — never mind. Give me a tenderloin of the wild Trill Sabrebeast.”

“Please specify bow hunted or phasred.”

“Oh, right. Bow and two beers. The real thing too.”

“Unable to comply. Only synthohol may be replicat –”

“Forget it. I’ll get it at the bar.”

Once she got the beers, a Klingon brand, Rey balanced it all on a tray and made her way to the back table. “One tenderloin of the wild Trill Sabrebeast, bow hunted.” Rey placed the plate and a beer in front of the Counselor with ease. Ford noticed Heriah was still off in her own mind as she took her own seat. “I used to be a waitress outside Federation space. They use money there and I still can’t get used to everything being free here. I mean, there’s got to be a catch, right? There always is.” Ford picked off the majority of the batter from her onion ring, then popped the top off her beer and took a swing.

“So what’s eating you?” That snapped her company out of her trance. “Talking’s supposed to help, according to your profession. So, talk.” Ford took another deep swing from the bottle. She still didn’t exactly care about the Trill’s problems, but she did feel a little more at ease around her. Also, if Rey could help, (though doubtful) she owed that to the universe.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Heriah sidestepped the issue. “Just some long thoughts. I admire you, you know; what you and Charlotte have. I…have not been so lucky. And that is through a lack of trying,” Heriah said as she cut into her tenderloin. “I just have not found myself in a place long enough, around people long enough, nor the right person really.” She mouthed that cut of tenderloin, rolled it around and chewed a few times. “I am not saying men have not tried…women too…just…” And the memories of Davmorda’s domineering qualities as well as Luftine’s abusiveness flashed in her mind. “…I just haven’t found…”

‘Someone who can take a punch.’

“…the right person yet I suppose.”

Rey dunked the onion ring into the ranch dip three times until it was fully coated. She raised her head, then lowered the greasy, gooey treat into her mouth and crunched. “Charlotte hates it when I do that,” Ford giggled. “She’s kind of a neat freak.”

The girl slid another ring down her throat as she listened to Heriah talk about love or lack thereof. “I wasn’t even looking for love when it hit me. I didn’t want it and fought against it. I mean, Char was nice and all, but my track record wasn’t great and I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt me again.” The girl dipped another onion ring into the ranch, but held it there; a smile bloomed on her face. “I fought against it with all my being, but that girl is stubborn.”

For a moment, Rey looked off to the side. “Fawkes was the same way, and I guess this sounds terrible, with what you just said about your troubles. Life’s not fair, I know more than most. Still …” Ford gave Heriah a rare look in the eye. “Sorry. I hope it works out for you.”

“I am certain it will one day,” Heriah said as she, quite violently, cut away at another bit of her tenderloin. “I like to tell people not to rush things. Things will happen in their own time. I just need to keep taking my own advice I suppose.” She forked that bit into her mouth and gnawed at it. “For what it is worth,” swallowed, “I am going to put into your record,” she took a swig of her beverage, held it briefly and swallowed, “that I see your need for counseling approaching its end.” She started cutting again, “A few more sessions and some discussion about…whatever it is you want…and we can see about getting your Starfleet Service Agreement be reviewed for a possible redaction of this addendum. Of course,” She bit down on another cut of tenderloin, “my boss, LT Weld, will have to make a final determination,” and her words came across as though she did not like the sound of that at all. But, she shrugged. Rules were rules.

“What? You want to — what?” Rey held a ranch covered onion ring in her hand as the dip dripped on the table. She found it hard to believe that after one meeting, the end of her therapy might be in sight. She smiled and touched her combadge for a moment. “That would be nice, though to be honest, I always thought Starfleet made me go as a punishment.” The girl wiped the dip off the table with her shirtsleeve. “Shit … Not supposed to do that. Bad habit from running with smugglers.”

Heriah understood all too well the struggles with bad habits. “I do not think Starfleet, itself, made you agree to counseling as punishment. I think people within Starfleet came up with this. And with the amount of personnel Starfleet has, it might even be possible that those who did enact this agreement might have entirely forgotten the whole thing. Which I why I believe it may be time for a review. I do not know how long you have been seeing counselors and, quite frankly, I do not want to know.” Still, Heriah needed a few more sessions with Rey in order to come to a clearer conclusion.

Ford shifted her eyes to the bottles above the bar. The light and reflections made an array of patterns and colors. Soon, she was lost in a memory. “Charlotte wants to get married in Venice. We went there for dinner once. I’d never seen so much color in my life … the reflections on the water, the flowers … I need to tell her about the sessions.” Rey turned back around and went back to the onion rings.

Heriah felt Rey’s words just as she had heard them. They flowed like water and Heriah could feel the sense of genuine honesty. Her training told her this was not another patient attempting to act the part in order to get out of counseling.

“As you should,” Heriah replied. “Going back to what you said about this being a possible punishment…perpetual punishment seldom returns good results. It only keeps the past alive for a possible return. Punishments, even the perceived ones, need to end eventually.”

Heriah did not want to speak on the suggestion that counseling patients should perhaps avoid relationships during the span of counseling sessions. Nothing would break apart everything they had worked toward faster than a broken heart. But Rey came to Bravo already in a relationship. There was no other course but to encourage and support.

“And, again, you have a beautiful thing with Charlotte. Tell her of our sessions and please let me know her response. Now,” Heriah washed down another chunk of tenderloin with a swig of beverage, “I am tired of being a counselor for today. Time to be plain ol’ Heriah.”

‘Rex.’

Shuttlecraft – 1000

Reade sat next to the pilot and admired the complexity of actually flying one of these things, if it wasn’t compensating for interference it was also keeping an eye out not to slam into anything from any one direction.

The pilot contacted the Starbase for clearance to dock. “Yorkshun to Starbase, requesting permission to enter the shuttle bay, 2 on-board” he said with haste.

The request lit up on the display in front of him and it seemed the shuttle was granted access to the dock, Reade turned to the pilot and probed him a bit for information on the Starbase itself. “So…” he said trying to break the ice, “I hear this place is buzzing with activity?”.

The pilot smiled with a confusing look on his face which took Reade aback, “That look doesn’t seem too reassuring” Reade said, with a nervous laugh leaving his voice.

The shuttlecraft swung around into a reverse maneuver which he had not seen before, again, the skill being the ever-popular demand to be behind this thing.

Shuttlebay – 1040

Reade stepped out from the craft, feet finally touching his new posing. The bay was bustling with life around him, all kinds of species, equipment, talking, and yelling around his head. 

Without warning, he was flung a PADD into his chest by another crew member and suddenly an Ensign was standing in front of him.

“Reade I presume?” the Ensign said without looking up from his own PADD. “Yes sir” Reade replied, trying to keep his calm in the mess going on around him. “Sorry for all the bustle” the Ensign slapped his way “We are trying to get this place empty for the turnaround, and new teams coming aboard need to be hurried along, don’t take it personally, here are your assignment details, you will find a route to your Quarters on the PADD itself, get settled in and report to the CSO this afternoon to check in fully”

Reade took the PADD which was already lodged into his hand “How did he do that…?” and the Ensign was already moving onto the next craft entering the bay.

Reade took a wide look around him and thought it best to get out of the way, he picked up his bag which fell to the ground during the encounter and proceeded to walk towards the exit. 

Reade’s Quarters (Desk 452) – 1055

Reade finally found his place of residence for a good while to come, pressed the entry button and the door slid open. 

The interior was unlike no other Starbase resting, plain, simple, and very Starfleet. He had noticed 2 single beds on each side of the room, he was normally used to sharing a room with someone else “Good for the company” he thought to himself. 

Having served on the USS Gantry prior to this, it would take some adjustment to the way of working.

Placing his bag on the bed he sat alongside it and took a moment to himself, his memory of his father suddenly flew back into his head, and his strange disappearance, something Reade had pushed out of his head since his reassignment to Bravo.

After what seemed like the longest shift of his life, Luke had done what he could to get through some of the backlog. Not as much as he would’ve liked, but there was always tomorrow. Stopping off at his quarters to freshen up a bit, he shrugged out of his duty uniform and swapped into some more comfortable civilian wear.

Feeling slightly more human again, he reviewed his duty assignment for the next day and set an alarm. Now he was off duty, he had every intention to check out some of the bars.

Downtime had caught his eye the day prior when he partook in a small tour of the promenade areas. Quickly checking he was still relatively presentable, Luke left his quarters and made for the promenade.

Quickly spotting his destination, Luke took a seat at the bar and had a quick look around his surroundings. Minimal, all metal. Definitely function over form. This was a vibe he could enjoy.

“Whaddya want?” Luke was startled out of his musings by the bartender’s sudden appearance. 

“Scotch, two fingers on the rocks.” Luke gave his request and waited as the drink was prepared.

“Rough day?” Joshua looked at the man who sat down. He decided that Downtime was a decent enough place; somewhere you’d go to get a drink and not be bothered. Joshua internally mused, which is exactly what he was doing to this man. At least the stools were sturdy. And, as he tested it with a slight wiggle, it seemed to be bolted to the floor. He took a sip of his drink, “Joshua Bryant, Science Division.”

“You could say the first duty shift is always a bit rough. Hope I’m not being too obvious?” Luke smiled in return, taking a sip of his now-prepared drink. Grimacing slightly at the first sip burn he offered his hand to shake. “Lukas Daniels, Operations Division, but my friends call me Luke.”

Joshua took the proffered hand and shook it. “I’m just getting started here myself. I haven’t had any real assignments, so I’ve been tinkering with a few projects. Some out of necessity, some out of curiosity.” He chuckled at Luke’s grimace, “They make ‘em strong here.” He eyed his Old Fashioned, “I’m not even sure this is an orange peel. It’s orange though.” His statement caught the glare of the bartender. Joshua put up his hands in defense, “I’m not doubting, it just doesn’t-” His words were cut off by some noise in the corner.

Some patrons looked at a group of cadets becoming rowdy the more they drank. “Uh-oh, I heard that’s a surefire way to get kicked out of here.” Almost on cue, the bartender slapped his towel on the counter and made his way from behind the bar. “This should be fun…”

“And what projects have piqued your curiosity since….” Luke turned in the direction of the outpouring of noise, slightly miffed that the cadets were unable to read the room “Newbies.” he snorted. It was common knowledge the easiest way to get on the bartender’s bad side was to disturb the peace. Skal was not going to be pleased with the disruption to the atmosphere he had carefully cultivated… It was a common belief that to get the best of the Starbase Bravo experience, Downtime was the place to get it. But belief and fact were polar opposites. A lesson soon to be dealt out.

Joshua grinned in delight, “I wasn’t expecting a drink and a show, but I’m not going to turn it down.” His eyes followed Skal as he moved out from behind the bar. 

“How long do you give before we get a chance to see Skal’s ‘behavior correction’ for ourselves?” Luke grinned slyly, taking another sip before settling in to witness the consequences firsthand.

Joshua turned on his stool to watch the upcoming encounter, “I would wager in three… two…,” he didn’t get the last number out before Skal reached the table. With practiced expertise, he dressed the three cadets down with fury. The patrons who hadn’t yet seen the pending interaction were now staring.

“Well that’s a new way to insult someone’s mother,” Joshua mused amidst the tirade.

Skal picked one of the cadets by the scruff of their collar, sending the other two scattering for the exit. He launched the cadet out into the main promenade. The bar exploded into a collective cheer. Skal nodded in satisfaction and resumed standing behind the bar.

“Great first impression to make on a long tour of duty.” Luke shook his head. “Especially here of all places, someone really should have done a bit of research but I’m sure Security will be along shortly to move them on with a stern talking to.” Luke laughed before tipping his glass in salute to the bartender. Knocking back the last sip Luke set the glass on the bar before signaling for another. 

“Care for a refill? My treat for the company and show.” Luke asked Joshua. Three days on board and he was feeling like an unconscious list of experiences was in the process of being checked off.

“I’m not one to turn down a free drink.” Joshua chuckled, draining his glass and setting it on the bar. “Some people just can’t help checking off experiences. I’ve done some crazy things as a cadet, but I’ve never been thrown out of a bar. I do have a funny story about an impulse manifold.”

Luke signaled to Skal for a refill on Joshua’s drink. “A cadet and an impulse manifold enter a bar huh?”

Joshua laughed, “Yeah, something like that.”

“So what projects have attracted your curiosity? On a base this size, I’m sure there will be plenty of curiosities to explore.” Luke inquired. He of course had his ideas to streamline some of his processes. “Not that I’m asking to see your papers or anything.” Luke finished with a slight laugh.

“Right now I’m working on an experimental protein mixture. I’m working to adapt the mixture to work with flora. It’s shown some promise in human applications so far. But there’s an issue with converting the genomes to penetrate the plant’s-” Joshua’s commbadge chimed in his pocket, cutting him off. He fished it out of his pocket, “V’Lavith to Bryant.”

He cleared his throat and tapped the badge, “Bryant here, go ahead.”

“Doctor, I’ve been having trouble with the X-2544b mixture. The cell wall penetration issue, as described in your notes, is causing a precipitate to form. I believe the elements’ lack of movement is rendering themselves inert.”

Joshua frowned, “Maybe we need to apply a catalyst. But that might create too much heat and destroy the cell-” He looked over at Luke, “I’ll run some tests to synthesize some base catalysts and get back to you.” He put the badge back in his pocket.

“Apparently it’s still a problem…” Joshua ran a hand down his face and rubbed his eyes, “So it’s going to be a long night of simulation running.” He drained his drink, “Sorry to dash out, but science waits for no man. This was fun; it’s not every day you get to watch someone get thrown out of a bar.”

“Say no more. It was good to meet you nonetheless” Luke waved the apology away. “Probably about time for me to head out either way. “Luke finished the last of his drink, setting it back down on the bar, and began to settle up with Skal.

It had been a long and eventful journey for Lieutenant Commander tr’Khellian, the proud captain of the old Federation starship, USS Victoria. As he guided his ship through the endless expanse of space, he couldn’t help but reflect on all the incredible adventures and challenges he had faced during his time in Starfleet.

And yet, despite all of this, nothing could have prepared him for the strange and mysterious planet of Videllia and its enigmatic inhabitants.

As he approached the planet’s orbit, tr’Khellian gazed out at the lush green landscape below. Despite its seemingly idyllic appearance, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had been gnawing at him since his ship had entered the planet’s system.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the USS Victoria entered the planet’s atmosphere and landed on the surface. As he stepped out of his ship, tr’Khellian was greeted by a group of humans, who identified themselves as the inhabitants of the colony on Videllia.

Despite their welcoming demeanor, tr’Khellian couldn’t help but feel wary of these strange, unfamiliar people. As he conversed with them, he began to realize that their colony was in the midst of a crisis. The planet’s inhabitants were being plagued by a strange illness that was causing widespread suffering and death, and no one knew how to stop it.

Determined to help, tr’Khellian and his crew sprang into action, working tirelessly to find a cure for the mysterious illness. Over the course of several days, they pored over countless medical logs, conducted numerous experiments, and gathered vital data to help them find a solution.

And finally, after much hard work, they discovered the source of the illness: a toxic substance in the planet’s water supply. With the problem identified, they worked quickly to purify the water and eliminate the source of the contamination.

As the colony’s inhabitants slowly began to recover, tr’Khellian couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in what he and his crew had accomplished. They had saved countless lives and helped bring stability to a struggling colony, and he felt a renewed sense of purpose in his role as a Starfleet officer.

As the USS Victoria prepared to depart from Videllia, tr’Khellian took one last look at the planet and its inhabitants, grateful for the experience and for the opportunity to make a positive difference in their lives. And he knew, as he gazed out at the stars, that there would be many more exciting adventures and challenges waiting for him out there in the vast unknown.

Starbase Bravo was buzzing with activity as the USS Victoria approached. The old starship, also known as Ol’ Vic, had been given a secret intelligence mission to the Klingon homeworld, and the crew was eager to get underway. Lt Commander tr’Khellian, the captain of the Victoria, was standing on the bridge, looking out at the starbase as his ship docked.

“Captain, we have received our mission briefing,” said Lieutenant Commander Johnstone, the ship’s first officer.

“Good,” said tr’Khellian. “Let’s go over it together. We need to make sure that we understand our objectives and the risks involved.”

The two officers gathered in the briefing room, where the mission details were displayed on a large screen. The Klingons had been increasingly aggressive lately, and the Federation was concerned about their motives. The Victoria’s mission was to gather intelligence about their military capabilities and any signs of their intentions towards the Federation.

“This won’t be easy,” said tr’Khellian. “We’ll need to be careful and stay under the radar.”

“Agreed,” said Johnstone. “We’ll need to make sure that our cover is convincing. I’ve already spoken to the operations team about making modifications to the ship to make it look like a Klingon freighter.”

The next few days were spent preparing the Victoria for the mission. The crew worked tirelessly, making the necessary modifications to the ship and rehearsing their cover stories. Finally, they set off for the Klingon homeworld.

As they approached, tr’Khellian’s nerves began to get the best of him. This was a dangerous mission, and there was a real risk of discovery. But he knew that his crew was up to the task. They had been in tough situations before, and they had always come out on top.

The Victoria successfully made it to the Klingon homeworld, and the crew went about their mission, gathering intelligence and observing the Klingons’ activities. The Klingons were suspicious of the new ship in their territory, but the Victoria’s crew managed to keep their cover.

One day, while on a recon mission, tr’Khellian and Johnstone stumbled upon a Klingon weapons facility. They quickly gathered as much information as they could before they were detected. They made a hasty retreat back to the Victoria, knowing that they had just uncovered a major threat to the Federation.

The mission was a success, but tr’Khellian and his crew were not out of danger yet. They still had to make it back to the Federation safely. The Klingons were hot on their tail, and they had to use all of their skills to evade them. But finally, they made it back to Starbase Bravo, where they reported their findings to the Federation.

“We couldn’t have done this without the bravery of the crew of the USS Victoria,” said the admiral in charge of the mission. “Thanks to their efforts, we now have the information we need to prepare for any future threat from the Klingons.”

And so, the crew of the USS Victoria received a hero’s welcome. They had accomplished their mission, and the Federation was better for it. But tr’Khellian and his crew knew that there would always be more dangers to face and more missions to undertake. They were ready for whatever lay ahead, ready to serve the Federation and protect its people.

FAILURE!

The words flashed on the screen with a buzz. Joshua slammed his fists on the desk, earning the attention of some of the scientists. Joshua waved off their concerns and they returned to their work.

“Personal log of Dr. Joshua Bryant,” he rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “The attempts to adapt the protein formula to botanical life have failed. As Dr. V’Lavith has indicated, the mixture begins to precipitate before penetration of the cell wall. All created catalysts, as I previously presumed, cause the mixture to burn through the cell wall. This sets off a cascade reaction, breaking down the cells themselves. A less thermogenic catalyst needs to be created.” He hit the button to close the log. “And I need coffee. Computer, what’s the time?”

“Station time is 0726.”

Had he worked on this project all night? He needed to stop doing that. And stop talking to himself. “Yes, coffee.” He stood up, “Computer, compile a list of non-thermogenic catalysts to use as base compatible with both the X-2544b protein mixture and botanical life.” While the computer made the list, he would get coffee.

Joshua made his way down the promenade, getting looks from people he passed. He caught his reflection in a storefront. “Part walk of shame, part mad scientist. Huh…” He smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and smiled at his reflection.

He made his way to Brew and sat down at a table. Joshua squinted his eyes against the brightness. 

“May I take your order, sir?” A holographic woman appeared next to him.

“Yes. Something hot, caffeinated, and will get rid of my headache.”

“Might I suggest-”

“That’ll be fine,” Joshua interrupted the voice.

“Right away sir,” the woman vanished.

“That gets me every time,” Ryke chuckled, looking at the space where the hologram had been a moment before. 

“Long shift?” he asked, noticing the squint. He cradled his mug of coffee in his hands. “I’m just getting the energy up for mine,” he added by way of making conversation.

Joshua blinked a couple of times, sniffed, and looked at the voice’s source, “No, well… I guess sort of? I accidentally pulled an all-nighter working on a project.” He managed the best smile his tired state allowed, which wasn’t much. “I guess it happens to the best of us. Luckily, I’m not on until tomorrow. This is to make me more coherent.” He paused, “Where are my manners? Joshua Bryant.” He looked at the man’s uniform, “A fellow scientist I see.”

“Ryke Ashfield, it’s a pleasure to meet you.,” Ryke answered with a smile. “More a scientist of the mind and emotions to be honest. I’m one of the counselor’s aboard. I’m a new transplant though, so I’m just figuring out the best places for the essentials… like coffee.” He lifted his mug. 

“I can’t speak for the coffee, this is my first time here too.” Joshua looked around, “It looks like they’ve nailed the ambiance though.”

“I’m assuming the project is going well? At least, you seem fairly calm despite the all-nighter,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee. It was still too hot to drink comfortably. He didn’t know why he didn’t just get it at drinking temperature. But, sitting and breathing in the steam was part of the ritual. “Most people with a project going off the rails are a little antsier.”

Joshua rubbed his temples, “It’s not going well, I think I’m too tired to care right now. My emotions haven’t caught up with my frustrations yet.” He gave a weak smile and looked down at the cup sitting at the table. When did this show up? Joshua took a drink and winced at the taste. Was that mango or pineapple? A tropical fruit of some kind.

“I’m still exploring the station myself,” Joshua said, setting the mug down. “I had the pleasure of experiencing the Downtime bar last night. Which, if truth be told, is partly to blame for the ensemble you see here.” He motioned to his clothes.

“Ahh, that makes sense.” Ryke smiled, taking another sip of his coffee. It was only just scalding his tongue now. Another couple of minutes and it would be too cold for him to drink. He was picky about coffee. Always had been. “Might check it out sometime, if it’s worth it?”

Joshua chuckled, “It’s… an experience, for sure. The place is a little rough around the edges but decent. I got to watch a group of cadets get thrown out of there, so there’s that.” He took a sip out of his cup, “Gaah, this is terrible. I didn’t set the bar that high though.” He cleared his throat, “How are you enjoying your time on the base? It’s certainly large enough to get lost in.”

“Cadets,” Ryke chuckled. “The same no matter where they’re stationed. I’ll admit though, I was about twenty years too old for such escapades when I went through the academy. The rest of your class calling you ‘grandad’ and asking if you need a nap all the time tends to put you in your place.”

“Ooh, that does sound rough. I never had that experience; I went through an ETC. I wanted to explore the stars as quickly as I could. I figure I already spent enough time getting my Ph.D.”

Ryke leaned back in his chair, an expression of sympathy crossing his features over the coffee. He’d have to make sure not to order that particular drink in the future. “So far, so good,” he said in reply to the question. “I have gotten lost a few times, and I’m sure I will many times before I get the layout set in my head. You said you were still exploring yourself, have you been here long?”

Joshua took another sip of his coffee, “Only a few days.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It seems like it’s been longer though. Time seems to pass differently when you don’t have a sun or moon for reference.”

Ryke inclined his head. “Very true, perhaps a reflection of our origins as planetary-born species. I must admit though, I do like the temperature-controlled environments provided ship or base-side. I do not like the cold,” he admitted. 

“You might be onto something with that,” Joshua contemplated. “There’s something to be said about things being the right temperature. After all, Goldilocks only ate from the bowl that was ‘just right’. I grew up on Cygnia Minor, so I’m not fond of the cold either.”

“She did indeed.” Ryke smiled, distracted for a moment by a soft chirp from his padd. “Well, I’m afraid that’s me,” he said, standing and tucking the padd under his arm as he grabbed his coffee. “It was nice talking with you, Joshua. Catch you again soon.”

The wind slipped between the branches of the trees and scratched the ground with stray leaves, giving a voice to the most complex lifeforms remaining in the sphere, but it told her nothing. It didn’t matter to the creeping vines who had built the walls and buildings they now claimed as their own.

Far below her feet were profound vibrations, undulating into infinity like a leviathan’s breath. They rushed toward the mist on the horizon and then started again. Or circled back around?

The sky was painful to look at, but it moved? It rippled? How long had she been staring at it, trying to decide if what she’d seen were real?

Dawa clutched her head and crouched low as her vision spun, and she willed slow, deep breaths into her lungs, and back out. In, and out.

Where did you go? The words were tight in her throat but she couldn’t push them any further, afraid that the intrusion of her voice would pierce the light-minutes distant sky and collapse the impossible structure like dominoes. A snort of air did escape as the absurdity of the idea settled in.

She rocked back and sat down, closed her eyes, and listened to the wind and the hum. Alone. Her classmates were gone, had already explored the buildings. Empty buildings. No trace of the architects save for the doorways. Human-sized doorways. Too-small doorways.

How could the ones who had built this impossible structure fit through such a door? How could they leave without painting the sky in ions and stardust with every footstep? How could they disappear without a trace?

Are they still out there?

The door to the holodeck opened, and Cadet Wong popped her head inside. “Dawa! The exhibit hall is closing in 15 minutes. We’re going to dinner at Sisko’s next if you wanna join us.”

As reality filtered back in, Dawa steadied her breath and found her voice. “Sounds great! I’ll be right out.”

Her legs trembled but held as she stood up, and when she stepped out of the exhibit hall into the cool night air she glanced at the placid stars above San Francisco, apparently unchanged from the night before, and the night before that. Not one had been plucked from the sky.

“Shutdown sequence complete. All systems are secure. You’re free to disembark.”

The pilot’s announcement concluded with the accompanying hiss of depressurization and the gentle hum of the aft hatch as it lowered to the deck below. The lively conversation continued between Bravo’s newest contingent of Academy graduates as they took their first step into their new posting.

Despite life support systems within every Starfleet vessel, starbase and facility maintaining a specific standard of environmental conditions, Byron Ward’s colourful imagination had already convinced his senses that the air onboard the Guardian-class Stardock was somehow cleaner, that he could taste the metallic zing from the lungful of air inhaled as the group stood on the shuttle bay deck.

Logically, he knew that his human physiology was nowhere near sensitive enough to detect differences in the air he was breathing at the molecular level; but having spent the majority of his life within the confines of Starfleet-engineered artificial environments, the modernity of Starbase Bravo sold the illusion.

PADD in one hand and case of essential belongings in the other, Byron offered the group a jovial goodbye and set off in the indicated direction. The whirr of heavy bulkhead doors announced his arrival at the station proper, and even a self-proclaimed Lunar schooner Starfleet brat couldn’t hold back his amazement.

Stepping into the cavernous hub of the station felt like stepping into the twenty-fifth century for the first time.

The twin promenades bustled with a diverse crowd of races; Starfleet officers, merchants, traders, civilians, if it wasn’t for the vista of docked ships framed by massive promenade windows, Byron could have sworn he was planet-side. Like a kid on his first vacation, the newly minted ensign allowed his curiosity to roam free as he continued on his path towards the designated crew living quarters where, surprisingly, a room of his own awaited. Four years of living life as a cadet accustomed you to certain realities; that shared accommodation would remain a continuing requirement until you reached the higher ranks.

With no real schedule to adhere to and a real need to explore, Ensign Ward lost himself to the grandeur of Starbase Bravo.

The USS Evenus, a Raven Class Frigate under the command of Midshipman Rachelle Vincent was flying around on some random undisclosed mission when suddenly, a Borg cube appears on a direct course for earth.

Clearly they hadn’t learned their lesson the first dozen or so times they tried this stunt, so Rachelle puts on her mirrored shades, lights a cigar and orders a intercept course.

“Computer, access the Musical Database and play AC/DC- “Thunderstruck”. Broadcast shipwide.”

Upon coming into visual range with the Cube, Captain Vincent orders hailing frequencies open.

“This is Captain Rachelle Vincent of the Federation Starship Evenus.”“You have crossed into Federation territory.”

“If you mechanical bastards value your lives, you will turn around or face the consequences”

“WE ARE THE BORG. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILAT-”

“Yeah, yeah, resistance is futile, we’ve heard the speech before.”

“So, are we going to do this the easy way or are we going to do this the hard way?”

A Tractor beam impacts the shields of The Evenus, Jarring the ship before the inertial dampers compensate.

“Hard way it is.” “Tactical. Lock phasers and photon torpedoes to take down that Tractor Beam.”

“Aye Captain”, the Tactical Officer replies.

2 photon torpedoes rocket towards their target, hitting their mark and the tractor beam drops.

“Helm, attack pattern Sisko 2!” “Tactical, fire at will. Keep the frequencies rotating, don’t let them adapt.”

The Evenus rockets to extremely close range with the Borg Cube, phasers and torpedoes blasting all the way.

One space battle later, the Borg Cube is a burning, disabled wreck.

“Scan the Cube. This is the perfect opportunity to gain intelligence about the Borg and their technology.”

“Captain, according to our readings, the Transwarp coil is still intact”, the science officer reported.

“Excellent. Prepare a boarding party, I will extract the coil personally and present it to the Bravo Fleet CO in time for tea and medals.”

One boarding action later-

The Borg cube explodes in a firey inferno as the Evenus dramatically flies away.

“Helmsman, set a course for Starbase Bravo.” “Maximum warp, Engage!”

“Aye, Captain!”

Upon arriving at Starbase Bravo with the Transwarp coil in hand, Bravo fleet CO immediately offers Midshipman Vincent a promotion directly to Fleet Admiral and his job as Bravo Fleet CO, his office, his home and his wife. And the Commander of Task Force 47 Has not stopped kowtowing to her since she arrived.

Vincent respectfully turns down the promotion to Fleet Admiral along with the CO’s other offers but accepts a promotion to Captain.

It’s at this point where Rachelle finally wakes up from her fever dream, having been sick with the Tarkalian Flu and sleeping for 16 hours straight.

LT Commander S’Lone tr’Khellian, the commanding officer of the USS Ole’ Vic, was staring at the warp core diagnostic readings for the fifth time in an hour. The ship had been docked at Starbase Bravo for the past two days, and they had already encountered four overheating incidents. He couldn’t figure out what was causing the problem. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. “Computer, display the warp core temperature readings for the past 24 hours.”

The computer beeped, and the readings appeared on the screen. S’Lone studied them closely, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Suddenly, the door to his office swished open, and in walked his first officer, Commander J’rak.

“Commander, what brings you here?” S’Lone asked, not looking away from the screen.

J’rak walked over to S’Lone’s desk and leaned against it. “I was just wondering if you had made any progress with the warp core overheating issue.”

S’Lone shook his head, frustration etched on his face. “No, nothing yet. I’ve gone through every diagnostic imaginable, but I can’t seem to pinpoint the problem.”

J’rak frowned. “Have you considered that it might be a problem with the power grid?”

S’Lone’s eyes lit up. “No, I haven’t. That’s a good suggestion. I’ll have engineering look into it right away. Thank you, Commander.”

J’rak nodded. “Anytime, sir.”

S’Lone watched as J’rak exited the room, feeling a small sense of relief. Maybe they were getting somewhere now. He picked up his communicator. “Engineering, this is Commander S’Lone. I need you to run a diagnostic on the power grid. Check for any anomalies that might be causing the warp core to overheat.”

“Acknowledged, Commander,” came the reply.

As S’Lone waited for the results, he couldn’t help but wonder what was causing the problem. It wasn’t like they were using the warp drive at the moment, so there shouldn’t be any reason for it to be overheating. A few minutes later, his communicator beeped, and he answered it.

“Commander, we’ve found something,” the chief engineer said. “There’s a power surge happening in the power grid that’s causing a feedback loop to the warp core.”

S’Lone breathed a sigh of relief. “Can you fix it?”

“Yes, sir. It’s going to take a bit of time, but we’ll get it done.”

“Good work, Chief. Keep me updated.”

S’Lone sat back in his chair, feeling a sense of satisfaction. They had finally figured out what was causing the problem.