Eight months ago…

The Federation ship was relentless. The Sovereign-class banked hard to the right. As it came to bear on the Keldon-class Korvarek, it unleashed a volley of quantum torpedoes and a barrage of phaser fire.

Gul Gulan Voskar was tossed to the deck as his whole world had chosen to be torn apart. Consoles ruptured, showering the bridge with sparks. The placid male voice of the computer relayed a series of warnings that Voskar didn’t pay any attention to.

Glinn Siana Mirel was picking herself off the deck as Voskar turned to his tactical officer. “Weapons offline, Sir. Shields are down.”

Dukat promised us that this would be a quick war… I can see he has underestimated the Federation. He was always a shortsighted fool, especially at the Military Academy, Voskar thought to himself.

“Gul, life support is failing,” Operations officer Rika Narin announced.

Good ol’ Rika, Voskar thought. As Two Mokar at the Bamarren Institute, he was part of a successful overthrow of the First Level students. Always resourceful he is.

“I still have a response from the engines. There’s an M-class planet not far from here,” the helm officer added to the cacophony of reports.

“Sir? What are your orders?” Mirel asked.

I need to say something, the Gul thought, but for some reason, he could not find the words. He was so tired, and it felt like he had drunk an entire bottle of kanar. His head swam, and his vision closed in around him.

“Sir, what are your orders?” Mirel repeated.

“Sir, are you okay?” Rika asked.

Voskar fell to the deck; his knees no longer able to support his weight. As the Gul lay on the carpeted floor, scattered with the ruined bits and pieces of his ship, his vision shrank to a single point. He stared at a chunk of something black until his vision blurred to black.

I think I’m dying, he thought as the last of his consciousness left his body.

Colonel Grelar Ironfang stared down his long snout at the nearly hairless creature lying on the metal autopsy bed. He, at least Ironfang assumed it was a male, had strange neck ridges from his oddly round ears to the edge of his shoulders. His face was misshapen with bumpy ridges and a spoon-shaped divot in the center of his forehead. The only fur the creature had was a shock of straight black strands on the top of his head.

“Is it real?” the Colonel asked.

“Yes, very much so,” the doctor replied. “Its anatomy is nothing like what we have seen on our planet.”

“So it’s an alien?”

“I am still waiting on the results of the genome test, but yes, I can safely say this being is of extraterrestrial origin.”

Ironfang let out a low growl of annoyance. “This cannot leave this room. Understand me?”

“Of course, Colonel.”

“If this gets out, there could be panic in the streets. The wreckage of their craft is beyond our scientists. I just hope this isn’t a prelude to an invasion.”

The doctor let out a low growl and held his head low in an act of submission. “Medicine is my domain. Strategy is yours.”

“Then you best remember that if you ever want to talk about what you’ve seen today.” With that, the Colonel marched out of the morgue where four soldiers were waiting. Two with flamethrowers entered as Ironfang walked out. The other two flanked their colonel as he marched down the corridor with the fire alarm blaring and smoke billowing out from under the morgue doors.

Ming had returned to the flight bay after some meetings around the ship. He was pleased with the flight’s simulated scores.  They were smoothing out with Abara and improving with a few modified attack plans.  They’d earned the rest of the evening off.  

Speaking of which….He walked over to a knot of the flight crew with a bit of a smile on his face.  He got nods from all involved before everyone but the ordinance chief and his protege melted away.  Marcus quirked an eyebrow and said, Wow.  I’m not used to being such a buzz kill.  But, since that was the effect, to business I suppose.  How is our protege doing Petty Officer Andrews?”

“She’s doin’ just fine L.T.  She’s picked up things faster than most which got a few grudging compliments from Chief Xellath if ya believe it. She’s also seeming to get a bit more familiar with the Fleet way of things,  Maybe not quite as fast as the hands on and technical side of things but even still she’s doin’ a fine job of getting into the swing of things,” Andrews said with a hit of enthusiasm in her voice. 

The Knight’s commander nodded and glanced at Órlaith, “Think that is an accurate assessment Ms. Murphey?”

“I don’t believe I am qualified to answer that sir. It’s hardly an objective and unbiased assessment and certainly useless.”

Ming folded his arms and studied Órlaith Murphy for a moment before saying, “I can certainly appreciate modesty. Something you’ll want to work on is being able to do an objective self-analysis…or at least reasonably objective anyhow.  It’ll be a very useful skill to attain as, be it Starfleet or private firm, many organizations often ask for such a thing during interviews as well as semi annual or annual reviews.  I personally didn’t see much use for them when I was starting out but I’ve gotten an education over the years which proved otherwise.” 

He glanced over at Andrews after he finished speaking.  The Ordinance chief took the que and said, “The L.T. ain’t wrong about that.  It can be a pain in the backside but it is cert’inly a danged useful talent you’ll wanna pick up.” 

“It’s not modesty.  It’s a matter of objectivity.  It’s impossible to impart an honest and truthful assessment of my performance.  Failures are amplified and success is undervalued or overvalued depending on the individual or situation.. or even my mood for that day. Do I feel like I am doing an acceptable job? Sure. I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t feel like I was.”

Ming’s violet eyes focused on his protege as she spoke.  He thought for a moment, reevaluating his approach since the explanation he and Andrews offered wasn’t getting through.  After a moment he said, “Ok…New approach. Another way to put it is to look at your day to day duties.  Pick out two or three things that you feel you’re doing the best at.  Or, if you’d rather, what you’ve had an easy time with….Leaving out the basic stuff in this case. Conversely, think about two or three duties that you have a hard time with.  It’s how the game often works with performance reviews.  It’s how things have largely worked for the past few centuries unfortunately.”   

Órlaith shrugged, “Remember you asked sir. I feel that i am doing everything well. Perhaps social interaction may be my biggest weakness,  but that is not part of my job.”

“In your personal life…That is absolutely up to you.  On the job in the fleet or even in many to most private industries there’s going to be at least some. Most of the time your coworkers and you supervisors aren’t going to be close friends and they won’t try to be.  A certain level of social expectation in most jobs.  It’d be good if you manage to either acclimate to it or else, at the very least, fake it.   I have every reason to believe that it’ll be an asset for you if you do so.”

As he finished speaking Ming’s combadge gave a double chirp.  He exhaled slightly and said, “And that is the five minute warning for my next meeting.  I suspect Petty Officer Andrews can answer any other questions that you have for now.  If not we can talk about it later.  In the meantime as you were.”

Marcus nodded to each of the women with a slight smile before he turned and headed for his office on the far side of the launch bay.   When he got there he sat behind his desk, got logged in and reviewed some of the latest reports and updates while he waited for Sh’iv to arrive.  It was mostly the same ol’ same ol’ although there was one slightly cryptic message from a friend at Starfleet Command.  He was about to read it twice but he downloaded it to the padd for later review.  He didn’t want to be interrupted while he worked on trying to cypher it out. 

Sh”iv stood at the doorway to Ming’s office,  “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I did.  Come on in. Have a seat if you care to.  I wanted to see if you’d been able to review the flight performances of Knights 3 through 5 yet,” Ming said amiably. 

Sh’iv stepped fully into the office and stood in front of the desk with her hands behind her back. “I have.  What three lacks in skill she makes up for in in enthusiasm. She has difficulty anticipating enemy maneuvers and can lose big picture situational awareness. 5 is a truly gifted pilot.  Better than me, and possibly better than you. He has raw talent and natural instincts.  Unfortunately he knows that as well, and he can he a bit arrogant and he does not make for a good wingman.” Between 3 and 5 I would prefer 3 at my side. 5 will get someone killed.”

Ming allowed himself a slight smile which ended up being less slight than intended.  The Knight’s CO said, “Your flight leader was accused of being the same not very long ago.   As a matter of fact that is why Ranger Actual put us together.  Abara came across as arrogant then too.  They mistook my quiet nature for smug…Mostly, anyway.   Admittedly I was a little smugger back then.  They figured the two crazy pilots should fly together.  His senior thesis was on Celtic Lore which, along with his very impressive skin tone, lead to his callsign of the Ebony Druid.  The madman from New Berlin, Luna got sidled with the callsign of The Lunar Lunic or Lunartic for short.” 

Marcus tilted his head, “Guess it’s good that Jenna has your wing while Abeo’s on mine.  I know how to handle him after flying with him as long as I did on our last assignment so no worries from me on the matter.  He talks a big game but there is a method to his madness.  BUT, with that being said, that just leaves Knight 4.  What’re your thoughts on the illustrious Vulcan member of the Knights?”  

“Adequate.” She said simply.  “He is a highly proficient and by the book pilot, but he lacks the ability to understand and anticipate enemy actions, and compleatly predictable.  If it doesn’t fit neatly into a textbook he’s in trouble.”

To be continued…

Ming mulled over his executive officer’s opinion of the Knights one Vulcan officer.  He recounted what he had seen of the Silver Sehlat’s piloting.  

He said, “I’m not sure I would say it’s totally uninspired.  It might be better characterized as being locked into a logic-based extrapolation of existing tactics.  Humans and Andorians use a combination some logic with instincts and degrees of fear, fury and/or passion. It’s zig/zags and corkscrews versus right angles with occasional climbs or dives.  In the four fighter flights I’ve been in as well as the pre-fighter shuttle runs I’ve served with a few Vulcans.  Humans, Andorians, Trill, a handful of Tellarites with other Federation species here and there.  My parents taught me that observation can sometimes be as important and on occasion more important than action. Know your allies well and your enemies better is another one they hammered on.”

He chuckled, “I read Sun Tzu well before the Academy and have heard many paraphrases before that.  I found it very hokey when I was younger but as I got older I’ve found some interesting uses for it.  I digress however.  My point is there are a few paths toward the same end.  I had a few seminar courses my third and fourth year at the academy. I ultimately liked those courses as there were some very interesting counterpoints.  Some arguments made more sense to me than mine.   It was a rarity but it happened.” 

Sh’iv just shrugged. “Perhaps I am allowing my people’s bias against the Pointed… the Vulcans to influence my opinion. I will never admit I am without fault. I have room to improve. I get hyper focused on an enemy and I get tunnel vision.  I am reluctant to admit defeat and pull out of a rapidly worsening situation.  But, when I am able to step back and see the larger picture I will be more conservative. It’s a contradiction I know. One I fight every day to find balance between.” 

“James Tiberius Kirk once said that he didn’t believe in no win scenarios.   Frankly I don’t either.   It’s a matter of seeing or not seeing all the options.  Bias, like many other things, is a mindset.  I was taught it was a lack of objective thinking. It’s an ability that doesn’t rid one of bias.  It allows one to step away from bias long enough to get a clearer view of things.  I thought it was philosophical bullshit when I was younger.  I was surprised as hell when I realized that it was a truth as well as a reality,” Ming said musingly.   

Marcus exhaled and shook his head.  He continued, “Anyway. that is something that we’ll be working out.  Flight debriefing at 1200 hours tomorrow in the pilots briefing room.  Barring a livelier discussion than I expect we’ll put theory into practice in drills. We don’t need to start thinking like each other however we need to become more in sync as a flight.  More anticipatory when it comes to our flight mates.    It may not be easy but it is doable.”

Sh’iv shrugged, “I’ll take your word for it sir.”

Ming had heard similar wording and tone.  It’s translation was in the ballpark of either “The old man is clueless” or “The boss is a complete idiot.”  He wasn’t hurt or offended.  It likely happened as far back in the Roman Empire and before.   

Looking thoughtfully at his XO he said, “Any other ideas on how to smooth things out other than exchanging out pilots?  Honestly there’s not anybody that has done anything near bad enough to warrant relieving them of duty as a Knight.  No negligence, the skill is there, the will is there but the cohesion apparently could use some work.” 

She thought for a long moment and with a slight shrug, “I don’t know sir.” 

Marcus looked at Sh’iv thoughtfully for a brief moment before saying, “We’ll set up some holodeck simulation drills for tomorrow at 0900 hours ship time to get more practice in and get some evaluations in.  If it turns out more work is needed we’ll get on it.  Otherwise some extra drill time to keep everyone on their toes won’t hurt. We’ll assess things as needed tomorrow though.  Any questions or thoughts on the matter before that gets set up XO?”

She tapped her chin, “Just unit cohesion drills.”

“That’ll be a focus if not THE focus.  For starters I plan to have you as element leader with Jenna and T’Kown in tow while I observe.  After the initial assessment I plan to jump in with Abara for flight drills with the whole team.  If things are as you say we can start working on fixing it depending on any patterns we see….or don’t see.”

“That sounds like a fair plan,” the Andorian pilot replied.  “Leadership is probably not my best skill so that will give me a chance to work on that.” 

“As the Terran saying goes, ‘You have to start somewhere.’  I will send out the communication out shortly.  Any other questions or comments on the matter?  If not you’re dismissed and I will see you in the morning,” Ming said amiably with a slight smile.

“No sir.”

“Very well then.  Barring any alerts you are dismissed until tomorrow.  Enjoy the rest of the day, XO,” Marcus said with an amiable but dismissive nod.   

Sh’iv snapped to attention.  “Thank you sir.” With a smart about-face she strode out of the office. 

Duty over for the day, Gus had scheduled a holodeck session. He’d left the door unlocked in case anyone else wanted to use the same range for ranged weapons practice. Since he was the first to arrive, he took the opportunity to make some noise. The all metal semiautomatic 10mm barking in his hands, making the steel plates ring and topple as he moved between the fighting positions. With safety protocols on, ear and eye protection wasn’t really needed but Gus wore them anyway. It was a bad habit to teach yourself was his thought. Since it was the holodeck, Gus asked for a dozen more loaded magazines and prepared to run the course again, though he asked the computer to change the plate postions for the next run, which he ran in quick fashion.  

Collins had heard about the training session, so he headed to the holodeck and entered. His ears rang from the sound of the ammo hitting the metal plates.

Setting Michael enter the range, Gus set the guns on the table, muzzles downrange. When the range went cold, he took out the bright orange hearing plugs. “Lieutenant, are you considering cross training today?” The pair hadn’t really spoken much after the debriefing. 

“Considering what happened last mission, I thought doing some more training is not the worse idea.” replied Collins. He went over to the table and looked at the weapons. “Impressive array of weapons you have here.”Gus tilted his head in a nod as thank you to Michael. 

“I find it somewhat ironic that taming a two-kilo pistol accurately under limited duress relieves stress.” He said, then added, “the mission could have gone far worse. We were lucky, Sir. As a Vulcan, I do not believe in luck of course.” Gus said with a slight tilt of one eyebrow suggesting doubt existed.

Picking up a nearby compound bow, Gus told the computer to change the targets. There were 10 inch steel plates, the inner four inches had an insert, colored red. “Many ways exist to silently kill an enemy at distance. Bows, crossbows, blowdarts, silenced, and airguns The trick is you have to be very accurate. Stringing the first broadhead, it pierced near the center, making no noise. The second Gus deliberately hit the outer circle, the noise was similar to a bell, with the broadhead punching through steel target. “Miss THAT target, the enemy is still alive and capable of raising the alarm.” 

Collins nodded. “I understand that. May I try the bow?”“Of course.” Viat offered. “He had the computer add the forearm protector for Collins. ”This is a normal 70-pound draw weight compound bowd. About the upper limit of might pass for a general issue weight.” 

Collins picked up an arrow, laid it near the bowstring, used two fingers to start pulling the bow back, aimed at a target, took a breath and held it, then he released the arrow and let it fly.The arrow nicked just inside where the red inner target started. It wasn’t loud, but it might have attracted attention in a normal, quiet corridor. “There are patterns for 5 round arrow magazines, though perhaps a crossbow or air rifle might be a better option. Especially since archery isn’t normally practiced” Gus offered. Changing gears, he also added, “Lieutenant, you once asked me why I was different from other Vulcans. Their inability to show and properly communicate feelings and emotions does not make them logical. Emotion is not the opposite of logic. Not all Vulcans choose to stunt emotional literacy. Though it is not something the logical ones amongst my people agree with and sometimes looked upon in a negative connotation. “

“That certainly makes you different, but does it make you better?” Collins put down the bow and picked up a sniper rifle. He held it up, looked at it from different angles, brought it up, and adjusted the scope. “Nice feel.”“Built integral supressor. Runs in compressed air. Fires a 325grain .429 inch pellet at 1050 feet per second. Quite deadly, quite quiet. 5 round rotary magazine.” Gus offered

Collins brought the rifle up, sighted one of the targets, and fired all 5 rounds quickly. The group at 25 meters could nearly be covered with a closed fist. “I think we have a winner, but let’s run it up the chain, and offer to present a demonstration to our Romulan allies.” Viat offered to Collins. 

“Hopefully the powers that be will be impressed by my skills.” Collins put the rifle down.

Ming hadn’t forgotten the adventure on the Xoval and his candid but informative and pleasant conversation with Captain Talon on the matter.  He was genuinely pleased with the success of the mission despite the handful of flaws in the execution.  One of which was the Cardassian he disabled but was unable to capture due to the rush to escape.  

Captain Talon had cited the operational safety of the mission and crew as being the reason it was good there were no prisoners.  He still disagreed with that aspect.  The unconscious Cardassian officer could’ve been fireman carried to the Xoval and kept under with tranquilizers or similar until they got home after which the brig and interrogations would be in order.  He knew that there was no point arguing the matter and he hoped there would be other opportunities. While he was happy being a pilot his theoretical knowledge of the Intelligence world gave him some knowledge of the field.  He also had a few electives in that field while at Starfleet Academy as a tribute to his gramps.

The fact he had no idea how much useful information they captured, if at all, was either in and of itself or in aggregate with other resources, itched incessantly in his mind.  It didn’t hurt to ask in most cases.  He looked out the window of his office at the busy flight bay mulling things over as he did so for about a minute before tapping his combadge and saying, “Lt. Ming to Commander Nalam.  Do you have time to talk shop in say….30 minutes?”

Riandri sat in her office going through the recordings and logs of what had transpired aboard the Denver while he was in the Dominion POW camp. The thought of the changeling moving around the ship, using her things and pretending to be her still sent shivers up her spine and made her feel violated in a way she hadn’t expected. She was out to rewatch the final log from the changeling for the umpteenth time when her combadge chimed and Lt. Ming’s voice came over it, “Lieutenant, I would be happy to. I could use a break from this anyway. Shall I meet you in your office?”

Ming was a bit surprised at her offer but it seemed like she wanted to stretch her legs  He replied, “Sounds good   I’ll see you in a little bit.”

The flight commander of the Knights straightened his desk some and pulled up the notes he had on the Xoval mission.  Nothing classified to his knowledge and he had a heavy encryption on it either which way.   He opted to review the notes and compare them to his memory while he waited.

About thirty minutes later Riandri found herself at the door to Lieutenant Ming’s office. She reached out to press the door and chimed then stopped as the whole situation seemed so odd to her. Only a few days ago it wouldn’t have been her but the changeling standing here while she was being tortured by the Dominion. Shaking the feeling off she pressed the door chime and waited for the response. 

Ming stood up and said, “Enter!”

Riandri let out an involuntary sigh as she quickly adjusted her uniform and ran her hand through her hair trying to smooth it back but realizing at the same time that she had likely messed it up even more before stepping through the door, “Afternoon Lieutenant.” She took a quick glance around the office before turning to look at Ming, “So, how are things?” 

“Could be worse. Still reeling a bit over the losses at Betazed.  Nothing like seeing your last command blow up followed by 3/5th of your former wing.  I lost a lot of close friends that day.  Many folks did sadly.  Luckily the Knights came back.  One of them and one of the surviving Rangers took some rather severe radiation but should recover.  In the meantime my wingman from the Rangers was able to step in as Knight 5 for the moment.  At least we were able to hit back with the Xoval operation,” Ming said in a manor a touch more like reporting in than conversation.

Riandri grimaced slightly at the thought of Betazed, “It was a bad day, no question about it but as you say we hit them where it hurt with the last mission; saved a fair few as well, including my own, and who knows how many would have died when the fleet attacked the shipyard.” She grabbed a seat and relaxed slightly, shifting to get comfortable, “Not to mention what could have happened if the shapeshifter hadn’t been uncovered. That was just pure luck, they must have had a breakdown in communication otherwise I never would have been at that prison.” she paused for a moment, “I have already found a couple of little, let us call them, mistakes in reports that were submitted. Nothing major but if given enough time it could have let  lead to SFI making mistakes that would have been bad for the Federation.”

Marcus had heard of the shape shifter scenario and it just furthered his resolve to do whatever he could to help the Federation / Klingon / Romulan Alliance war effort to thump the Dominion.  He added that to the laundry list of reasons he wanted an overall victory.

“I heard of your not so little adventure. Bastards….Another set of reasons to drive the Dominion back into their corner of the galaxy I’d say,” added the Knight’s CO more conversationally but with a little more heat.  

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Riandri said. “It isn’t a great feeling knowing a changeling was living your life.”

“Not exactly a two day leave on Risa I’d venture to guess.  I’m sorry that we both had to endure what we did.  At the risk of sounding dark and/or pragmatic I’m tempted to say that it’s the theoretical joys of war,” Ming said looking especially bland at that last part in something resembling a deadpan delivery.

He actually did smile a bit as he went on gesturing to the two faux leather chairs on the far side of the desk for him, “Anyway, have a seat if you’d like.  The office might be slightly utilitarian in an austere but I did make sure at least the seats were comfortable.”   

Riandri nodded in acknowledgement and took a seat, “Thanks.” After a moment she continued, “So, what was it you wanted to speak about?”

Marcus sat as well then took a breath before starting, “Well, as I suspect you’ve learned, the Xoval mission got very ‘interesting’ you might say.  We got out of there with some varying levels of luck and skill.  The facility getting destroyed was a blow to the Dominion for sure.   There was a primary data dump and a secondary grab of data rods however.  I happened to grab a vast majority of the data rods myself.  I’d hoped to drag a Glin I knocked out along with us for interrogation down the road but ….  Other operational considerations took priority to my dismay.” 

He paused taking another breath to allow for processing (and perhaps a bit for presentation) more than the necessity before going on, “Realizing I’m likely not privvy to what was captured I suppose I was wanting to ensure that at least some of what we captured information wise was worth it.”

Riandri nodded in understanding, “I have read the report, both the official one and the unedited version. The mission was a clear success but it did go sideways and I think everyone did the best that could have been expected of them.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing, “I am aware of the potential to capture the Cardassian soldier and how his capture would have saved his life. The loss of any life is unfortunate but I do believe the right calls were made. Any delay could have resulted in the station detonating while the team was still on board.” She gave Ming a slight smile suspecting that the words didn’t help to alleviate the feelings he had, feels she could relate to having been in similar situations in the past.

“As for the data, all of it has been passed up the line for in-depth review and analysis. I was able to go through only a small amount before we transferred it but it appeared to be good intel. The top level information, which isn’t classified showed that there were several Galor and Keldon class cruisers docked for repair with several more nearing completion, not to mention a dozen or so Gem’Hadar fighters docked. All of these were destroyed. That alone made it worth the effort.”

Ming chuckled softly and said, “I’ve had a friend named Joel since we were kids.  He often teased me for being an overachiever.  That if I didn’t nail every aspect of a project, mission, or test I wasn’t happy.  Here I’ve been rather hoping for another infiltration mission so I’d have another crack at a live capture for interrogation.  It’s unreasonable I realize.  That doesn’t negate the desire however.”

Riandri smiled softly at that, “I would not expected that from a fighter pilot, if I am honest. I have been on several such raids and it is harder than you might expect to capture a prisoner.” As she did she couldn’t help but think back to her time on the Dawnbringer before she joined the Denver, “The lives of your team always come first.” 

He tilted his head as he added, “I got friendly with a professor of intelligence operations at the Academy.  He ALMOST convinced me to switch from the path I took.  I never entirely got it out of my system I suppose.” 

“Well, next time it is needed, I would be happy to have you sit in and observe if you like. It is never to late to make a career shift,” Riandri said with a smirk.

“Absolutely.  If nothing else, acquiring more skills will make me a bigger asset to the Fleet.  And if I do eventually decide to switch to the fleet’s intelligence services as my primary role it’d not be the first time anyone switched in-between departments. Either which way I look forward to getting some more exposure to if not experience in the field,” Marcus replied with a small smile.  

Riandri smiled, “I will let you know.” She stood up and made for the door then paused and looked back, “Thanks for the chat by the way, it was…” She looked lost for words for a moment, “a nice distraction. I appreciated it.” 

Marcus stood with Riandri and smiled at her words.  He told her with surprising sincerity, “I’m glad.  The feeling is mutual.  Hopefully we can find more to talk about soon.”

“Agreed, see you soon,” with that, Riandri left and made her way back to the office thinking about the never-ending challenges of the war.

Even since the initial flurry and attacks that followed the entry of the Romulans into the war the Dominion had pulled back into Cardassia. Wars tended to do that. Periods of intense hot and cold actions.  

The Denver was assigned a remote sector along the border to patrol. The ship had been in the thick of some of the War’s most devastating actions from Tyra to Betazed. Someone in Command must have decided they needed a break.  While Rebecca was thankful for it there was still the threat of the Dominion looming over them, and she would have preferred to just get it over with. 

A sound of alarms filled the bridge. Rebecca shot out of her seat, “Report.” A cacophony of beeps emanated from ops.  Lieutenant Jowita Przybyszewska turned to face the Captain.

“Long range sensors ‘ave detected something in a nearby system, it looks like a warp explosion,” she explained.

“Captain, records show that is the Luphira System.” Cezear quickly read through the data on his screen. “According to this they were at a pre-warp technology level. “ as he turned back toward the captain. 

Rebecca turned to Cezear, “Pre-warp? Ms. Jones set course for the Luphira system. Mr. Beattie, I want a full report on that system. Ms. Przybyszewska analyze that explosion.”

“Captain, According to the latest data. The Luphirians were still using solid-state propulsion systems and a rudimentary impulse drive technology. “ Cezear added.

“I can confirm this Captain. The latest intelligence from SFI matches this also. If they were close to achieving warp drive, we would have an observation satellite in orbit. Command is keeping an extra close eye on such civilizations,” Riandri said from one of the all-purpose consoles don’t the bridge as she shook her head. “They should not have access to that level of technology.”

Rebecca nodded, “I think this deserves a look. Ms. Jones; time to the Luphira System?”

Calculations already run, Arin offered, “Warp 9? 5 hour, 21 minutes, Captain.” She the algorithm plugged in should the needs arise for change in velocity.

“Cezear,  Jowita,  get us a full report on everything Starfleet knows about these people.”

“Yes, Captain.” Jowita’s console resumed its incessant beeping as she went to work.

“Sending it to your PADD, Captain.” as he typed on his main console. 

“Riandri,  you have the bridge commander.” Rebecca retreated into her ready room leaving the crew to their orders. 

Riandri nooded as stood up and strolled to the Captain’s chair, “The Bridge is mine ma’am. I will update you when we are close to the Luphira System.”

Bridge: 15:00 hours – Luphira System….

The Denver dropped out of warp and headed for the fourth planet in the system.  It was a nondescript ball of blue, no different from countless other Class M planets all over the galaxy. 

“Captain, showing a few hundred million life signs, looks to be Post-industrial technology’” Cezear quickly begins to type and adjust his main console. “Jowita, can you confirm this on your scans? Something is not right.”

The Pole peered quizzically at her screens. “Dere is technology dat should not be dere… materials analysis, power signatures… it’s…” she turned and looked directly at the Captain. “…Cardassian,” she finished with tones of confused wonderment.

“Captain, I can confirm that. What’s more I’m reading signs and of a powered down cardassian warp core coming from a city in their northern hemisphere.”

“So a pre-warp civilization just made the leap into interstellar travel thanks to our Cardassian friends. Suggestions?”  Rebecca crossed her arms and stared at the planet below on the viewscreen.

“Captain, I don’t think its going to be that easy. Scans are showing that the explosion was on the planets surface, not in orbit.” the image on the main view screen switched to a city that is now rubble and ruins. “Looks like the explosion emeinated from this point here. Half that city is just gone.” as he typed on his console and the image zooms in. “They may have been trying to reverse engineer the cardassian warp core.”

“That complicates things doesn’t it?  They are experimenting in a technology they are not ready for, but experimenting nonetheless.  That cat is out of the bag, and we aren’t going to easily shove it back in.” Rebecca observed.  “This is were the Prime Directive is a little less clear.”

“If dis is Cardassian technology den dey are already aware of Alien civilizations in de Galaxy and like you said we cannot stop de technological contamination. But maybe we could render assistance in proper use of de technology to prevent more distasters?” Jowita suggested. “Look at it like a humanitarian mission, perhaps?”

Riandri frowned as she looked over the data coming, “I would have to agree on this. Some of their people, their leaders, scienists and most likely military,  are clearly aware of the Cardassians at least. I would assume a ship went down on the planet so they could have alot of information about the various powers.” She paused and thought back to events over five decades before when she was travelling, she had seen first hand the damage advanced technology could do in the hands of less developed races. “They will have limited experience handling the fall out of such a blast, we should render aid and whatever guidance we can.”

“Can we disguise an away team to assess the situation directly? Or should we just locate their leadership and make ourselves known?  I think we have a moral imperative mitigate the contamination one way or another.”

“For starters, let us assume a few things. They may not be smart, but they are smart enough to build a warp core. That makes this first contact, regardless of where it came from. Also, what are the chances they don’t have Cardassian bodies or even prisoners?  We need more information. Class 5 intelligence probe. Beyond that, this is purely aid. They need help.” Arin offered.

“Launch a probe.” Rebecca ordered.  “We’re operating in the blind here. Any information will be helpful.  Doctor Haigh there are likely mass casualties around the accident site. Prepare your department.”

The unamused drawl of the Doctor came over the bridge speakers. “Acknowledged.”

The probe launched and  started to scan the planet below with its specialized sensors. Data flowed into the operations station.

“It will take a moment to run de comm chatter trough de universal translator…” Jowita kept everyone updated as new information was collected and analysed in basic form. “Dere is considerable trace matter from the explosion in the atmosphere, smoke and dust from destroyed buildings, plus trace amounts of coolant compounds and non-naturally occurring substances, duranium, titanium, scans suggest dey do not commonly use dese materials. De residual warp signature is Cardassian, but dere are some small differences. Materials analysis near ground zero suggests remnants of a Cardassian ship, but de blast has thrown wreckage for miles, we will probably never know what type. Dere is no discernable damage to subspace. Analysis of the blast zone based on population density of de rest of de city and de radius, casualty assessment is running into de tens of thousands. Com chatter…” Jowita waited a moment for the computer to finish, “…suggests de hospitals are overwhelmed, de city has declared a state of emergency. Dere are no satellites in orbit dat would obviously be able to detect us Captain, dey are all pre-warp and mostly for planetary communication.”

Rebecca tapped her chin and then with decision, “Ms. Nalam assemble an away team.  Get with the doctor and organize medical relief. Ms. Przybyszewska, see if you can locate where their leader is. It appears it’s time for first contact. Collins alert the tactical recon team. I want them stuck to the away team like glue. Last thing we need is to lose people in a humanitarian mission.”

“It will take a few moments for de computer to store and parse de comms data,” Jowita said, her attention on her console. “I will let you know when we have a location.”

Rebecca gave the ops officer a curt nod, “Thank you.”

Riandri stood and nodded to the captain, “Right away; Collins and Beattie, you’re with me. I will let the good doctor know what is needed.”

“Aye.” Collins rushed out to grab his gear before they left. Jowita spoke up from her console.”Captain, we have a probable location on de leader, but only within a few miles. It is close to ground zero in what appears to be de Capital, called Delos.

Rebecca nodded, “Very well.  Why don’t you accompany the away team. There’s likely to be a need for someone with a more technical mindset.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Jowita stood quickly and departed the bridge, smiling to Lieutenant T’Leya who took over the station as she left. She hadn’t been anticipating this order, an opportunity for an away-mission was always an exciting diversion from ship operations.

Riandri made her way to the turbo lift and tapped her combadge; “Commander Nalam to Doctor Haigh. We have a medical emergency and need to pull together humanitarian relief can you get your team ready?”

Lavender had been monitoring bridge activity and comms since the explosion was detected from her office in Sickbay. She was expecting such a request and had prepared as much as she could, although the scale of the problem was going to be overwhelming. Sickbay staff buzzed around preparing in the rooms outside.

“It’ll be a drop in the ocean,” she replied to the X.O. “but we’ll do what we can.”

Riandri sighed understanding the truth in that statement before she responded, “Very true, but for those whom it helps will mean the world; or the ocean in a drop if I continue the metaphor. Do what you can Doctor. We will be beaming down from transporter room 1 in 20 minutes.”

In her office Lavender sighed as she stood from her desk.

“See you there, sickbay out.”

Riandri tapped her com badge off just as the lift came to a stop, stepping off she made her way to her office to grab a couple of quick items she thought may be of use before making her way to transporter room 1. She arrived to find herself alone with only a couple of minutes to spare before the scheduled departure time. “Early bird gets the worm I guess,” she muttered to herself as the door opened behind her. Lavender swept into the room, phaser on her belt and a med-pack slung over her shoulder.

“My team is preparing,” she explained, without offering a greeting. “Hopefully we can co-ordinate with whoever’s in charge down there and send them where they can do most good.”

Riandri smiled at that, “Agreed, this will be delicate though as it is also a first contact situation. We know they have had some interactions with the Cardassians but not sure to what extent. Could have been a crashed ship for all we know or a rogue faction. We need to tread carefully.”

“Fortunately your Doctor is known for her tact and diplomacy so you’ll be just fine,” Lavender observed, wryly.

Riandri smirked as she glanced at the doctor, “I am sure it will be.”

Collins arrived in the transporter room, carrying what gear and weapons he thought he would need.

Riandri nodded towards Collins, “Got everything you need? We aren’t going to war but then again who knows what we will find. Is the Tactical Team ready?”

“One should always be prepared when going into a potently hostile situation.” Collins paused. “The Tac Team is ready.”

Lt. Przybyszewska entered the transporter room, a phaser clipped to her uniform.

“Captain asked me to join,” she explained.

“Great, I think that is everyone for now but I expect we will have the rest of the medical team and possibly additional security joining us shortly,” Riandri said as her expression became serious. “We have identified their front-line field hospital and will beam down there, hopefully with the go-ahead from their leadership. I am hopeful that the offer of assistance will not result in a hostile reaction but if it does be ready and we will beam out right away.”

She looked at each of them for a moment, “Any final questions?”

Everyone shook their heads.

A few moments later her combadge chimed and Commander Jeter’s voice came over the com, “Nalam, you have been given permission to land but the information may take time to trickle down so be careful. They are going to be on edge.”

Riandri nodded in silent understanding before responding, “Thanks for the confirmation. We are beaming down now. Nalam out.”

She turned back to the other, “Everyone on the pad, let’s go.”

Varael Stormclaw paced.  It wasn’t a behavior he usually engaged in. His all-black fur now showed speckles of gray, though his gold eyes shone bright and sharp. Walking into the breezeway, he moved to the inside arboretum. Thousands of scents entered his nose. To humans, it would be the equivalent of white noise. Varael’s mind relaxed slightly. 

It reminded him of the old cliche, ‘May you have interesting adventures.’ Several things were converging, and his people needed to be wary. The crashed ship yielded secrets and mysteries his people were still unraveling and likely would be for a decade or more. Not only were the Luphirians not alone, but the aliens that crashed were advanced. The intentions of said aliens were in dispute among most council members. Some believed it was a failed invasion, pointing to the armory and antimatter warheads discovered on board. Others weren’t convinced as the tech was advanced and external damage had been observed. Plus, what could they want from their planet? 

When the next ship showed up, it seemed inevitable. How Luphirians accommodated themselves in these next few years could determine their fate in the now more crowded galaxy. 

Varael ordered the designs. schematics and equipment should be equally shared between tribes. It spurred the rapid development and reverse-engineered indigenous first-generation tricorders, disruptors, and even replication on a massive industrial scale. 

They had gotten into things only partially understood with the incident in the Southern desert. Learning at this level, like the early atomic programs not that many decades ago for the Luphirians, could be fatal on an entirely new level. 

General Swiftclaw and Colonel Ironfang approached the Alpha Sentinel. The general bowed his head in an act of submission. “Pardon me, sir, there has been an incident.” Swiftclaw had soft reddish-brown fur that tipped black at a pair of ears, one of which was missing a large chunk.   Grey fur was coming in on his muzzle.

Pausing for a contemplative second, Varael turned around to face his cabinet. “What is it?” He said, asking them to continue the report. 

The two officers glanced at each other.  “Delos City is gone,” the general announced.

Varael pondered the words. “Gone? What do you mean gone?!” Every word not spoken angered Varael more. Baring his teeth slightly, he said, “Tell me the whole story.” he offered to both of them, then added, “Be very glad I am more civilian these days than your commanding officer. Your reporting skills need practice.”

“We mean exactly that.  The FTL test was unsuccessful, and the warp engine exploded, pulling a large amount of matter into sub-space. At the same time, matter outside the warp bubble was annihilated.” The General didn’t back down from the challenge and exposed the tips of his own canines.

Varael softened somewhat without backing down as he sprung into action. “Your tact needs work.” He said, walking back to his office as the officers followed him. “Scramble all available medical personnel and army for support if you haven’t already. Establish a safety perimeter and whatever the scientists tell you. Add twenty-five percent. We need a buffer.”

“It will be done as you command,” The General said bowing his head a placing his fist over his heart in salute.

Varael returned the salute. Turning around, he walked behind the desk to sit down.

The two military officers turned a marched out of the office with their orders.  They closed the door behind them and then there were orders shouted as they assembled the necessary resources to fulfill the Alpha Prime’s request.

The office fell silent again, and Vareal was alone. A whine broke the silence and the office was bathed in a bright blue light. From that light four strange looking aliens materialized before his very eyes. One of them with an impressive mane,  the color of the red rocks of Thalor, stepped forward with its paws open in a gesture that could be interpreted as a sign of non-threat.

“My name is Captain Rebecca Talon of the United Federation of Planets,” it spoke in a high pitched tone that sounded nothing like a Luphirian, yet Varael could understand every word spoken.  “These are my officers; Lt. Commander Jeter, Counselor Qetax. and Ensign Viat.”

The joined Trill Counselor smiled, “Greetings, I’m Emimi Qetax. It’s an honor to meet you.”

She did not get into how she was both a Trill and a joined one at that. It was likely enough to process having so many varied individuals beam down at one time, and she figured that her spots likely spoke for her uniqueness as much as she could have.

Jeter, tilted his head to the side slightly and smiled without showing any teeth and nodded slightly to Varael, “Sorry for the rather abrupt intrusion, we come in peace.” As he said it he couldn’t help laugh inwardly as he had always wanted to say that line.

Varael’s eyes narrowed as he stood behind the desk. Initially, he considered it an elaborate hoax on his person—one in incredibly bad taste. The room was set up, so the desk was always downwind. It was all smoke and mirrors until he smelled the new, nearly hairless ones. 

They did smell different from the original beings with cranial ridges. Unsure if they could be from other places. but he’d also seen young pups mutilate themselves with tattoos or cropping their ears. The encounter suit Varael wore hid the fact that his whole body was on edge. Hackles raised in response.

After they spoke, he was unsure but knew his people were out of their depth, especially considering the catastrophe. Gathering his thoughts and courage, “I must say your timing is interesting, to say the least. I am Varael Stormclaw. Alpha Sentinel of the Luphirian Tribal Council. I speak for the pack.” 

Emimi Qetax remained still, preferring to let the Commanding Officer take the lead in the immediate negotiations. She had made her presence known, and was willing to offer advice when needed but was not about to throw her weight around or her experience. Most joined trills had learned that not all experience was worth sharing and other species found it annoying when you kept bringing up past lIves in places they were not directly applicable.

“Well, it isn’t a coincident Alpha Sentinel if that is your preferred title. We detected the explosion and were surprised, given your level of development. We understand the damage such a blast could inflict. We came to offer aid and what help we can,” Jeter said as he took in the reactions of the Luphiran.

Not missing the catch in that sentence, Varael bristled a bit, then chuckled. “Our level of development,” he repeated. “Isn’t that a polite way to say, how did you build that?!” He walked around closer to the group, genuinely curious. Scent was such an essential sense for Luphirians. Varael wondered how the newcomers smelled anything with such tiny noses. “Call me Stormclaw. You probably guessed part of the puzzle. We know enough to be dangerous now, which is most likely why you are here.” He paused. “Since you understand our language, I imagine you’ve been listening to our transmissions and know about the ship that crashed last season. It provided as many mysteries as it did answers. Boosting our leap to the stars. A journey to the star is compelling, is it not, Captain? The venture into the unknown.”

“Dangerous…” Rebecca repeated letting it percolate.  “Yes, moving in this direction when you aren’t ready is dangerous, but thay particular bell has been rung and now we are here to mitigate the damage the contamination has created.”

Thinking of the potential for upcoming aid, Varael said, “From the heart of the pack, thank you, Captain. After the first nearly furless ones crashed in their starship, I expected more to arrive.” While the pheromones he detected were unfamiliar, Varael wasn’t sensing anything but normal anxiety, mostly his own. “Our people are smart, Captain. Though the popping in is something I must prepare them for.”

“The others should not have come here, but they do not adhere to our Prime Directive.” Rebecca added.

Genuinely curious, Varael asked the group, “How common are such events? Cities obliterated. A great wound for my planet and my people. ” Though his question was dual purpose. He needed to know how far he could trust this group.

Rebecca looked at the others to confirm her coming statement,  “From an accident like this? I am unaware of it happening in my lifetime. At times of war… unfortunately, it’s far too common.” She felt honesty was the best course here, even if it could cause a level of fear. However, the truth of the matter was: the strategic implications were obvious and skirting it could be seen as deceptive. 

Reading body language was something nearly genetic to a Luphirian. He had seen enough interaction to know that very little was scripted. While the newcomers weren’t his race, Varael had  “Captain and others; while time is of the essence, join me in a small drink to this historic occasion. Walking to an ornate wooden bar, he took down one of several large leather bladders. “This is from a vine we call the hate berry that lives on the edge of the western desert. I think the name lives on because drinking too much will make you hate yourself the following day.” He said with a chuckle. Opening the top of the flexible bladder, Varael deftly aimed at his mouth, taking a long pull of the fermented beverage. He then passed it to the Captain first. “Perhaps there is more we can share than just a drink.”

Rebecca took the bladder, hesitated and squeezed a mouthful.  She wouldn’t normally drink alcohol,  but in a situation such as this discretion was probably the better part of valor. She handed the pouch behind her for one of the others to take a drink. 

Jeter took it and gave it a quick sniff before a smile spread across his face. “Smells nice. I guess a little sip wouldn’t go amiss.” With that he squeezed out a mouthful and swallowed. “Thank you Stormclaw, I wouldn’t mind getting a bottle or two to that myself.”

Following suit Qetax took the bladder and took a swig. She was not a drinker of liquor, human or Trill or otherwise, but she managed to keep a straight face and not show how much she disliked it. She knew the science behind intoxication and that such a small amount would have no effect on her or the symbiotic bonding process, but she hoped there would be no further occasions that she would have to be ‘tough’ or whatever this proved.

”It is a taste I will not soon forget,” she said wanting to balance honesty with being sensitive.

“We have an obligation to help you on a humanitarian basis,  but I hope you do not expect an exchange of technology and any more information than you absolutely need. Rest assured under normal circumstances we wouldn’t be here. It is put people’s highest command not to interfere with the natural development of a civilization.  Unfortunately your civilization has been contaminated, and it is my intention to unring that bell as much as possible.”

“I understand and agree with that nearly unanimously. I wasn’t expecting to do anything but bury the pack more than a few handfuls of minutes ago. My people are already crawling around the moon and nearby planets, so the attraction of an interstellar craft was irresistible. Could you say your people would have let something like that sit if you were swapping places?” Varael asked. 

Jeter nodded at that, understanding exactly where the Luphirians were coming from. “I can honestly say Humans, our race,” he said gesturing at the Captain and Ensign Viat, “would have done the same as you. but that doesn’t change the fact that the arrival, well crash, of the Cardassian ship catapulted you decades or even centuries ahead in the development. As you can now understand that are great risks associated with that. The damage from an antimatter explosion is nothing to make light of.” He passed for a moment before continuing, “You mentioned the nearly furless, were there any survivors? Anything you can tell us about them?” He gave the Captain a glance as thoughts of possibly recovering the ship’s core crossed his mind. 

“We interned them since most were less than cooperative. Maybe not the smartest move, but they are well treated.” Varael said honestly. “They are allowed, under watch, access to any part of our society they want to. So far, not many have left the settlement we set aside for them.” He paused momentarily, “May I say I find them a disharmonious people. Perhaps it is just a clash of personalities. However, I do not sense the same discordance here.  Though you may be more on your best manners.”

Jeter glanced at the Captain for a moment before looking back to Varael, “I am glad to hear they have been treated well. “Would we be able to see them if possible?”

Rebecca who had been silent considering things spoke to Varael’s original question, “To be honest with you, when my people were in your position we were too busy killing each other in a world war. It took first contact with another species,  the Vulcans, for humans to finally put aside our differences. And as Mr.Jeter said, I would like to visit them as well.”

“Then we shall go see the Others.” Back to Jeter’s point, Varael offered, “Not that we haven’t had our wars, Commander Jeter, but the harmony of the pack is more important. This incident appears to be a catalyst for us as well.” Walking to the desk, Varael deftly punched a button. “Elara, have Saariq bring my vehicle out front. We have guests.”

“At once, Varael.” Elara answered through the speaker, wondering when someone had slipped past her. 

Turning to the Captain, Varael offered. “Perhaps they will be happier to see you than they were to see us.”

Jeter’s hid a cringe at that comment, ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that…’ he thought to himself. He took a deep breath as he glanced out the window, “We appreciate that, I also wanted to let you know that a group of our doctors are ready to beam down to what we have identified as the front-line health facility in Delos City with first aid materials to help the injured. I am aware that their arrival may cause a but of a surprised but before they go down I wanted to ask for your permission first. Perhaps if, allowed you could inform the local officials to avoid any misunderstandings?”

Rebecca caught a flash of Jeter’s expression and smirked. She was fairly certain what he was thinking.  It was likely the same as her own. 

Varael saw the glance the officers exchanged. Having been a general officer most of his life as well as a politician, he knew they had information they were not willing to gleefully share. He filed that little tidbit away. It would be a far truer gauge of the newcomer’s worth.  He offered, “Having seen your pop into existence inside a building. There are structures nearby that will serve that purpose. Until my people get more use to that. Perhaps that would be better. Follow me to the conference room. We can open the planetary network from there. 

Rebecca and the rest of the Starfleet delegation followed Varael down the corridor.  She noted the armed security that fell in behind them.  They held a respectful distance, but were well within the ability to to defend their leader if it should come to that. Gus spoke for the first time. “Captain, perhaps a shuttle team would be less intimidating initially. These people do possess sublight spacecraft. 

“I think anytime delays will cost more lives on the ground. If Commander Nalam has her team beam into, out of view, they can start working right away,” Jeter said as they made their way to the ground transport. “That said, Varael I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter.”

Thinking for a moment, Varael said, “Commander. You are quite right,” Varael replied, two stationary guards opening heavy double doors.  He added, “Since you are not our first alien visitor, this will be less of a shock.”Reaching the podium, a crew was already moving around, as were the others. “Tiza, I want a wide shot. These people have come to help—no secrets from the pack.” Tiza nodded, getting ready.

Lights came on, and the room went silent. “Great tribe. There has been a great tragedy in Delos City. While we don’t know the extent of the damage, this is the time to come together as a pack and heal. Also, we have other visitors that have come to help us. ” He said with a flourish of his hand. “Captain, can you say a few words, or any of your officers.”

“I would rather not,” she said under her breath. “Starfleet is going to have kittens over this.”  She gave Jeter an expression of tne condemned heading for the gallows. In front of the mic she took a deep breath, “You may call me Becca. As you can see I am not from this world.  I will not be answering questions,  but I will say I have dispatched medical,  and engineering personnel to help in Delos City. We will provide medical assistance to those in need along with basics such as food, water, and blankets to those in need. That is all.”  She stepped away from the podium in an attempt at  disappearing between her officers and the local security. 

Emimi Qetax stayed in the back and did not say anything. She was not particularly a public speaker, and more over they did not know much about the cultural relevance of therapists and counsellors that would make her feel confident speaking in front of such a large crowd. Many cultures, even ones that had them, found the idea of sharing your fears and other weaknesses to be yet another sign of weakness. Many cultures distrusted counsellors or did not like them. Thus it was better to remain silent, and leave her fellow officers who were better at this to do the speaking.

Once settled into the interior of the ground transport next to Jeter and across from Vareal she glanced at her strategic operations officer and took a deep breath. “Alpha Sentinel,” Rebecca started.  “You should know that we believe your uh… guests are Cardassian.  They are members of a vast Interstellar Empire known as the Dominion. We are currently at war with the Dominion.”

Jeter nodded in agreement, “There is no point hiding the fact as it would be apparent very quickly.” He watched the Luphirian’s face trying to guess what he might be thinking but found it hard to read before continuing, “The Dominion is currently working to subjugate this entire region of space, we, the Federation, went to war to stop that.”

Realization dawned on Varael’s face as he remembered the shared looks among the away team. “Very little escapes a Luphirian reading of body language. Deception is rare among the pack, as falsehoods damage the harmony of relationships. Thank you for finally telling me. It changes nothing from my perspective.”

“I do not want you to think we are a violent people,” Rebecca said with regret in her voice. “What the Cardassians… Uh, aliens will likely try to paint us as the villains.  Most of it will be lies, some the truth. We have made mistakes. Most of us with the best of intentions,  and some not so pure, but I promise I will be honest with you and as open as possible.”

“I can understand that,” Varael said casually. “Do not misread me, Captain. What I meant was nothing changes since either of you could easily overwhelm my people; it is quite apparent.” He paused as much for effect as thought. “My question to you is, why am I better off in your Federation hands than this Dominion?” 

“Hard to say,” she replied. “I guess that depends,  but if it were me I wouldn’t want to be subjects of the Dominion. If you are lucky they just tap your world for resources and bring you into the larger galactic community.  If you are unlucky they may deem you inferior and genetically modify you to make you their slaves.  If you are really unlucky they might wipe all life from this world and strip mine it bare to fuel their empire. The Federation will ignore you until you have attained your own warp drive. In that event, you will be able to choose your own destiny. If choose to join the Federation,  just know, you are not allowed to leave paradise.”

Jeter listened patiently while the Captain spoke to Varael before chiming, “As she said, we will leave you be until you are ready to join and that would be your choice.” He paused and looked out the window for a moment before looking back, “I know it is a lot to take in but we will answer any question you have to the best fo our ability.”

Varael spoke with intent but calmly. “I already felt the disharmony from your ‘Cardassians’. Slavery is an abomination and heresy against the whole of the pack. Time to see if have outgrown our Den. Capatin, our die is now cast. Please help us.” He said, addressing the entire away team.

Following a glance at the Captain, Gus and Emimi, Jeter nodded solemnly, “We will do what we can.”

Things had been busy around the Denver since the Xoval mission. It was a time of war however which made activity a necessity for a ship like the Denver.  The Nebula class had the dubious honor of being one of the most flexible mid range starships since Jonathan Archer was the president of the Federation. That was Ming’s professional opinion of course but he knew he wasn’t alone in this belief.  Others agreed.  Denver was the second Nebula class he served on and the years forged his high opinion of the class. 

He sighed as he made his way through the corridors of the USS Denver. War. William Tecumsa Sherman was right.  He once said, “There is many a boy here to-day who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell.” 

The man knew his stuff Ming thought.  He wrote a major report on General Sherman for one of his classes to earn his minor during his final year at Starfleet Academy so he was well aware. Ming experienced it first hand.   

Ming stopped at the door of the office belonging to LT Emimi Qetax.  Her schedule had been reported by the computer as clear and he hoped it wasn’t wrong.  After taking a deep breath he activated the door chime. 

The Joined Trill was not sure if indigestion was part of the joining process. No, it was not really. Not in her memories of her past joinings, but she had it. Maybe, and more likely it had been lunch. She was dealing with that trying to cure it with tablets as opposed to a trip to sickbay, when her bell rang. Standing from her desk the said, “Open.”

Seeing Lieutenant Marcus Ming she smiled, “Hello, how may I help you?”

Marcus smiled and nodded, “I hope I am not interrupting.  The computer said you had some open time and I had hoped we could talk for a little while.  In an official capacity I mean.” 

The Councselor nodded, “Of course, I did not expect you meant otherwise.”

She set the tablet down on her desk and stood to properly welcome him into the office. The joined trill gestured to both a couch and a chair so that he could get comfortable however he felt most… well comfortable. A couch was often a little too much for patients at first, who associated it with intensive therapy.

”What did you want to talk about today?” Qetax asked.

Ming took a seat on the couch not even giving it a second thought.  He nodded gratefully to the Trill as he settled in with a look of intense thought in and around his eyes especially.  He said. “Well, the war.  Anyone who said it’s been easy is either a member of a warrior culture, a liar or else I’d have serious reservations about them.  I’d thought I had been managing it well.  Maybe I had been.  Until the Battle of Betazed. Since then I’ve been feeling like my emotional stability if not my sanity has been dancing on a razors edge. I’ve had doubts here and there but I’ve had more doubts and way too damned many night horrors since that day.” 

He took a deep breath before adding, “I have a holodeck session planned where I intend to recreate the Fort Tuthill recreational nature preserve outside of Flagstaff Arizona later today.  I had a lot of camping trips there growing up and it’s always been a place of serenity as well as relaxation for me.  I’d never doubted that until recently but I figured it’d be worth a try.” 

Qetax nodded, “I know the Battle of Betazed was hard. The physic discharge of Betazoid dying, that’s hard even for non-empathic species. Having a strong negative reaction to war, or a battle is not a reason to question your sanity though. I would be more concerned if you had no reaction, if you simple went on as if nothing was wrong.”

”I went to the Academy on Earth, but I was never at Arizonia tell me about it, and this Fort Tuthill. Did you grow up in Arizona?” Qetax hoped that her questions would get him thinking deeper about this place that had once been a source of relaxation for him, and maybe could be again. 

“The Knights were out in the middle of the fight.  We saw other Federation starships explode at close range.  Other fighters at various distances.  The last starship I served on destroyed within sensor range and at the edge of line of site.  Three of my former flight killed while I was trying to escort them to safety.  One was a good friend….The other was my former CO and….” Ming trailed off.  

He wondered if he should continue.  The skullduggery was eating at him which answered the question nanoseconds before he found himself continuing, “She was my lover for almost a year.   My wingman from the Knights and another of my former flight got severe radiation poisoning from either a new Dominion tactic or a damned unlucky shot that exploded in close proximity to both fighters.  The only saving graces were that nobody else was hurt, our wounded pilots should make a full…or nearly full…recovery, and the one member of Ranger Flight able to fly was my former wingman.  That was a bit more up close and personal than most other folks had to experience on the Denver.”    

Ming paused for a deep breath with a slow exhale.  He actually smiled a little as he went on, “New Berlin, Luna was my home growing up.  My father taught at National Taiwan University two days per week then at Nothern Arizona University two to three days a week.  The northern third of the state is rather high altitude for the region and mostly evergreens with certain areas having birch and aspen trees.   The southern two thirds are desert and reside a few thousand feet below the northern third.  Saguaros, Barrel Cacti and Prickly Pear cacti.  The fruits from the last has a sweet but tart flavor to it that I grew to love…Once I learned to peel the skin off which had small thorns on giving the cactus it’s name.  The paddles of that one are also edible if you shave off the thorns too.   I often struck out on my own to learn more about the history of the surrounding areas.   History was a love I learned to appreciate thanks to my father.  Some of that included some of the survival techniques of the ancient residents of much of the surrounding areas as well.”

Ming wrapped up the tale, “There was a recreational area not far from Northern Arizona University which started off as a United States Army training and rec area hence the name.  Toward the end of the 20th century / early 21st century it was turned over to the local government to administrate as a park and campground.  By the time I got to the Academy I’d found that I enjoyed camping at that camping area and did so when I could.  I had a lot of fun there and it was also quite relaxing to me.  If I needed to destress and have sort of an emotional reset that as a go to.  Has been ever since.”

The joined trill nodded, “Life can be, and Is, filled with pain. I have memories of enough lifetimes to know that even during a quiet and uncomplicated life there are moments of stress and loss. I have buried husbands and wives, and it never hurts less. To go through as much as you have in a short time, well I would not blame you for curling up and feeling defeated by life.”

”Yet here you are, one of life’s survivors. I can’t promise an end to your pain, but I will listen and try to bear what I can. Do you have memories of your friends or your former CO you wish to share,” Qetax asked.

“Ranger 2 I didn’t really know.  He transferred in when I was being transferred to the Denver to take command of the Knights.  Ranger 3 was also pretty new only having been there a little over two weeks before I left.   Ranger 4 was fun.  She was the first to buy rounds, jump into a fight, and was Ranger 1’s primary wing mate.  Günther, Knight 5, was a fantastic wingman.  Eager to do the right thing and was able to keep up with my erratic flight style,” Marcus started off.    

After a pause he went on, “I’m hoping Ranger 4 and Knight 5 will make full recoveries from the radiation exposure. They were being transferred to Starfleet Medical on Earth for treatment so I am hopeful.  They’re both damned good pilots and even better people.” 

Ming’s face reflected the worry and sadness as he went on.  Grief took over his facial features as he continued still, “The wing leader of the Rangers and I were quite close for a good while.  It’s technically a violation of protocol but we were lovers for a while.  Fighter pilots aren’t known to have the longest lifespans as a general rule so we figured it wouldn’t likely matter either which way.  Our physical and romantic relationship went on hiatus about a month before I transferred to the Denver. Apparently that is when she put me in for a promotion and recommended me for my own command.  She felt that my growth as a Starfleet Officer was paramount and she felt I was ready for the next step. To go through all that only to watch her die less than a year later has been difficult to process.  She was one of my closest friends ever I’ve come to realize.” 

The pilot did manage a small smile as he added, “The only remotely positive part was that Ensign Abara, formerly Ranger 5, is now Knight 5.  He was my wingman in the Rangers and has taken over as my wingman in the Knights.”

The life of a fighter pilot was clearly more dangerous than that of a Counselor. Emimi Qetax felt a twinge of guilt listening to the loss that her patient had experienced when she herself had lived a fairly comfortable and safe existence. Even her past lives, or rather Qetax’s past lives, had been much more sedate and orderly.

”I imagine your wingman is someone you end up quite close to,” Emimi observed, “Someone you trust and value, possibly over most others. I’m glad you feel that you have someone in your corner. It’s important to realize no matter how hard things get, you’ve always got people who value you.”

Marcus nodded agreement.  He recognized much of the wording as psychiatrist / psychologist tools but that’s why he was here.  He realized, at almost the same instant, that he was feeling dangerously close to being burnt out.  That was why he had plans for the holodeck excursion.   

He replied, “Of all things if someone told me when I left the academy that be in a war such as we’re in someday I’d likely call them a liar.  I’d never imagined the possibility of the sheer magnitude of death going on out there.   Just the losses of the Battle of Betazoid is staggering.  Seeing the numbers is horrific enough.  To have seen it was exponentially worse.   Everything leading up to it desensitized me somewhat but it was still astonishing.” 

After a pause, Ming said, “If it wasn’t for those in my flight and ground crew…and the crew of the Denver…I’d be much worse off.  Most of the time I am too busy or too distracted to think of things like that which makes it a bit easier to manage too.  We all have our coping mechanisms I suppose.”

Qetax nodded, “That is almost always universally true. The mind is resilient and finds a way to survive in the short term. Perhaps not all coping mechanisms are healthy in the long term, but hopefully we will all have a chance for healthy self-reflection after the war. I have seen a few wars, and the after math is always a time for healing. Nabin Qetax was a witness to the war with the Romulans long ago, I remember afterwards it was a hard time.”

It was tricky balancing memories of various previous hosts, and taking ownership of them and yet allowing for Emimi herself to have a place. She smiled, hoping that this was a comforting thing to have said.

Marcus nodded and opened his mouth to speak when his combadge did a double chirp.  The pilot sighed and said, “And that’s my reminder that it’s time for my next appointment.  I would like to pick up at a later time however.  Care to send me your schedule openings starting at few days out?

“Of course, and if I’m not with another patient I’m always open to talking,” Qetax picked up a PADD and loaded her schedule, forwarding it to the other officer, “My schedule is also publicly posted along with the other counselors to make things easier.”

She smiled, hopefully she was some help. Marcus fixed Emimi with a fairly high megawatt smile before saying, “Thank you.  I’ll be sure to take advantage of that.  I suspect we’ll be talking again before too long.  Until then I hope you’ve got fair skys and the wind at your back as was often said by pilots of old.” 

He gave the councilor a friendly nod of thanks before heading out of the office.  No rest for the weary. 

Qetax watched him go and then settled in on the couch to do some reading of some journals she was behind on.

The smoke-covered ruins of what once was Delos City burned as secondary fires caused by the antimatter explosions continued to cause chaos throughout the city. At its centre, a large crater stood where the downtown core had been. Rescue efforts by the local Luphirians were hampered as they tried to reach survivors buried in the collapsed buildings as most of the remaining structures were at risk of collapsing further.

Dr Silverpaw moved up to the next bed in her cobbled-together field hospital and let out a low grow as she looked over the next patient, a young unconscious male who was covered in burns. She picked up the small pad of paper that one of the nurses was using to record the patient’s information and sighed inwardly and thought to herself ‘That damn explosion, what caused the blasted burns!’ She started to do her standard checks when she her shouting from across the road and looked up at the partially collapsed remains of the Delos Central Hospital. As she did she could see several figures running out of it with their arms full of medical equipment and bandages before she heard a loud crash and a cloud of dust billowed out from the entranceway and several windows.

“Great, just what we need,” she muttered under her breath. She put down the pad of paper and looked towards one of the few remaining nurses, “Go get whatever supplies they pulled out of there. We mine as well put them to good use.”

Before the nurse could even take a step there was a cry from the other side of the tent as glowing blue lights appeared in thin air and seconds later several creatures stood there with multiple large boxes beside them.

Silverpaw, even in her exhausted state growled and bared her teeth at the unknown intruders but there was not much force behind it. Before she could do anything else a woman, she assumed, with long pale hair stepped forward and held up her empty hands in a gesture she thought was to indicate she wasn’t a threat.

“Hello, I am Lieutenant Commander Riandri Nalam, from the Federation of Plants. I know this will seem very strange and it isn’t how we do things normally but you and your people need help. We are here to provide whatever medical assistance we can.”

Silverpaw looked at this strange creature, Riandri, and could only nod in acknowledgement, unsure if she was accepting help or just nodding for the sake of it.

“Great, our medical team here will help as best they can but while they do is there someone, a local official I can speak to? I don’t want to cause any alarm we have been in contact with your Alpha Prime and he is aware we are here, I expect word will reach you soon but lives are on the line so we didn’t want to wait.”

“I, um, appreciate that. There are a couple of law enforcement officers here helping if that works?” Silverpaw said before looking at the nurse, “Go get them, say nothing!”

Riandri smiled, “Dr Haigh, if you will. There are patients that could use your help. Collins can you keep an eye on things until we are confident our appearance won’t cause too much trouble and then bring down the rest of your team?”

Lavender nodded and produced a medical tricorder from her belt. “If I may,” she said to Silverpaw, although it wasn’t really a question. A quick visual triage suggested the young male the native had been close-to when they beamed in was the worst affected. The tricorder showed a mix of first, second and third degree plasma burns and some native pain relief in the patient’s system. The tricorder returned to its pocket Lavender opened her bag and acquired a debridement tool and a dermal regenerator. She thought against administering any further pain relief until she could analyse the drugs already in their system and went to work cleaning the wounds. 

“Aye.” He nodded, pulled out his tricorder and started scanning. His rifle, lowered, was there if he needed it. His tricorder showed no evidence of hostile forces nearby, but in situations like this, panicked people might resort to violence where unknown people are around. =/\= Collins to Denver. Commence transport. =/\= When the tact team appeared, he had them setup around the perimeter of the makeshift encampment.

Collins returned to Riandi’s location. “The tactical team has been deployed, sir.”

Riandri nodded, “Great, the local officials know we are here to help but it will take time to trickle down to everyone. If there is any trouble we will pull back and beam out rather than engage. We are here to help after all.”

She turned to Lavender and Silverpaw, who was watching in fascination as the doctor worked, but before she could speak a large Luphirian wearing a dirt and dust-stained uniform entered accompanied by the nurse. Shadowpaw turned and quickly moved over to the officer who looked shocked to see the Federation officers.

“Greymane, I wanted to introduce you to our new friends. They are here to help treat the wounded,” Shadowpaw said quickly as she saw that he was viewing them as a treat.

He eyed each of the officers for a second before speaking, “I was just told a moment before your nurse found me that we had some visitors who would be helping and to provide what support I could. I didn’t expect them to be…alien.” 

“I understand your apprehension, I am Commander Nalam of the Federation. Our Captain is speaking with your Alpha Prime and he gave us permission to provide support. I know this is an unusual situation but any support you can provide would be helpful. Our Security Officer, Lieutenant Collins, is tasked with ensuring the safety of our medical team. If you can work with him we can bring them down and start treating you wounded.”

Greyman nodded hesitantly, “Very well. Though I have many questions.” After a moment he looked at Collins, “If you follow me I can show you around the hospital and introduce you to my team.” He glanced at the several armed tactical officers he had noted, “You can bring them if you want but my people here are more interested in finding the wounded and getting them here than fighting.”

Collins looked at Nalam to see if she thought it was a wise suggestion.

Riandri nodded to Callum, “Get a lay of the land Lieutenant, though leave a couple of the tactical team with the doctor. We will start bringing down the medical team shortly and having two extra pairs of hands will help.”

“Aye commander.” Collins pointed to 4 security officers. “You 4 will go with me, while the remainder remain here to protect the hospital. Keep your weapons low, so as to not disturb the population. Understood?” The 4 nodded. Collins looked at Greyman. “Whenever you are ready, sir.”

High above…

Sh’iv stared out her cockpit windscreen.  The devastation radiated outward from a central point.  Where a lab and city must have been was nothing more than a crater and radiation spikes.  “There must be millions dead. Here one minute and gone the next,” she said over the intercom to no one in particular. 

Ming was seeing the same thing his XO was.  He pushed the rising fury off to the back of his mind with practiced ease as he did so.  He said quietly, “Undoubtedly…Such a needless waste of life.  Such is war on the scale this has become though.  Doesn’t make it right nor does it make it easier.  The devastation is stunning in all the worst ways.” 

Knight 5’s basso voice followed Ming’s, “I still canna phantom scenes like this.  It can make the soul sick it can.” 

Marcus made agreeing sounds to his old friends words.  Knight’s 3 and 4 were in high orbit in an observation pattern ready to dive at the first sign of trouble in addition to watching for sneak attacks from on high.  He opted for that since Sh’iv, Ming and Abara had the most complimentary flying styles while 3 and 4 were the better match of skills.  

“You’re right about that old friend.  Luckily the Denver’s got a skilled crew helping out on the ground.  I’ve hopes that they can help the residents of this city start the road to recovery.  Such a path is never easy but…” Ming started before he was interrupted by a beep from one of his sensors.  

Knight actual looked at the readings for a moment before adding, “Knight Actual to Knight 2 and 5 … I’m reading a radiation spike but can’t get clear details on it.  Are you both able to read it any better than I can from my angle?” 

“Too much interference,” Sh’iv replied as she worked her sensors.  Suddenly alarms blared.  “The radiation is masking weapons fire! I’ve been locked on to!” She slammed the throttle open and rolled hard right into a steep dive. A heartbeat later something slammed into her fighter and the console display lit up with damage warnings.

A particle beam burned through the air and slammed into Sh’iv’s fighter shearing a large portion of the port wing clean off causing the ship to begin to spin out of control and it rapidly lost altitude.

Fire alarms filled the cockpit.  The ship shuddered again as the it started to break apart in mid-air. “Mayday, mayday, mayday,” the Andorian shouted into the comms,  but the transmission was never sent, the radio antennas damaged in the attack.

With practiced skill she dumped the last of her power reserves into the RCS packs.  She had to stabilize the ship before ejecting.  Firing the thrusters it snapped out of the spin in a nose down attitude.  A quick check of the indicated air speed and she swore. 800 knots. That was well over the safe ejection speed, but she was out of options. 

“Ming, I hope you have Denver ready to beam me up.” She slammed the visor of her helmet home, and pressed the environmental controls on the sleeve of her flight suit and a second later she was rocketing away from her stricken ship.

Ming swore and radioed, “Denver! Knight two extra vehicular!  Lock on and energize.  Again, lock onto Knight Two and energize!”He then commed, “Knight’s Three and Four, get down here!  Keep alert for masked targeting emissions!  Same goes for us Knight 5!”  

“Too much interference to get a transporter lock Lieutenant,” The transporter operator responded. 

Sh’iv woke up outside the fighter. There was a sense of falling, but it was a controlled fall.  Glancing up she could see the same silvery parachutes used by orbital skydivers. Another particle beam seared across the sky.  It appeared to be from a ground based battery.  That looked like a Cardassian phaser.,” she thought to herself.

Keying the shorter range comm system on her suit she shouted in desperation knowing all too well that the warning would come too late, “Incoming low!”

Ming growled at the response not hearing Sh’iv’s radio call.    He said, “Knights 3 and 4…This is Knight Actual — Drop to 10,000 feet AGL and continue the combat air patrol for us.  Watch out for ground fire.  We have hostles down there.

”Knight 3’s voice came over the radion, “Ya got it boss!  Comin’ down to 10,000 feet AGL pronto.”

Marcus replied, “Knight Actual acknowledges.  Knight 5….Remember the Planetia Roll Drop maneuvers?”

Knight 5’s basso lilt came back, “Ya’ canno’ be serious Knight Actual.”

The Knight CO replied, “Damn right I am.  Kill anything that looks like AAA.  On three…..Mark….Mark……MARK!”

Knight Actual and Knight 5 simultaneously rolled away from each other and dropped below the shroud.  They were maybe 25 yards off the ground when Ming saw a Cardassian ground-to-air weapon.   Abara saw another in his sights.  Within a second of each other, both men radioed, “Rifle!”

Micro torpedoes leaped from each fighter and, within seconds, blew the Cardassian artillery away in a pair of matter/antimatter-generated fireballs.  Without another feasible target, visible in close proximity Ming radioed, “Knight 5….Keep your eyes peeled.  Mark 1 sensors as well as your fighter’s.  I’m going to do a flyover of where Knight 2 aught to be.” 

Sh’iv hit the ground hard, the impact sending pain up her legs and spine.  She rolled to the ground and in a single smooth motion severed the lines to the orbital parachute and pulled off the EV helmet sucking in the fresh air of the planet.  “Well, that just happened.”

She was in the middle of nowhere.  Tall evergreen trees lined the southern facing slope that angled sharply down to mee the opposing ridge that rose up again.  “Couldn’t have crashed next to a transport could you?” 

Sighing she stipped out of her flightsuit and pulled out her survival pack and inspected the contents. Satisfied nothing was damaged she made sure the homing beacon was active and sat down in the rocky soil and began to much on a bar of Starfleet rations to wait for rescue. 

Collins heard the explosions and saw the fighter exploded. He tapped his commbadge. =/\= Collins to Denver. I just saw a fighter destroyed. Any intel on the pilot? =/\=

“We lost the Knight XO. We’re still waiting on a report from Lieutenant Ming,” the replacement operations officer on the Denver responded.

Moments after the first emplacements were destroyed and about the time Collins reached out to Denver, Knights Actual and Five took another in addition to taking out some bogies on the ground with extreme prejudice. Marcus checked his board and confirmed the alert was a friendly beacon.  At which point, “Knight actual to Knight five:  Looks like Knight two fired up her beacon.  New course is 142 degrees relative.  Turn on a count of 4, copy?” 

Abara radioed, “Knight 5 to Actual:  Copy bossman.” 

Knight 1 radioed, “Mark, mark, mark, MARK!”

The two fighters altered course.  Once settled onto course Marcus radioed, “Knight Actual to Knight 5…ETA two minutes and 35 seconds.  Concur?

Abeo came back, “Knight 5 concurs Knight Actual.” 

Ming then did two things.  First, he went to the frequency for the ground forces and said, “This is Knight Actual to friendly ground forces.  Knight two is down. I and Knight five will be over her location.  Expecting easy extraction. If it turns into a furry hairball we might need a hand.  Anyone read?”

‘Confirmed.  Much appreciated and we’ll be in touch either way.  Standby…Knight actual out until we’ve got something to report,” Ming said not hiding a sense of relief. 

From there he shifted to the flight frequency and aimed the signal so that Abeo and Sh’iv should be able to receive, “Knight Actual to Knight Two….do you read?  Knight 5 and I should be there in a bit over 90 seconds.  Please acknowledge.”

“Good to hear your voice sir,” Sh’iv responded. “What’s going on?”

“Knight 5 will be providing cover for us with EXTREME prejudice while I dust down and pick you up assuming you’re done with your R&R, XO.” Ming replied interjecting a humorous / playful tone toward the end. 

“I’m in no rush to get my wings clipped,” ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Sh’iv replied. 

Ming couldn’t surpress the smile at Sh’iv’s response.  He replied, “On site n 45 seconds….Will survey the sitution and dust down.  Standby Knight 2….Knight 5, eyes open.”Kight 5’s basso came back, “Confirmed Knight Actual.  Eyes peeled.”

Marcus landed close as possible next to his grounded XO and opened the hatch just long enough for her to climb up and take the secondary seat in the craft.  He said, “Glad to have you back Sh’iv,” as he closed the hatch and launched back in.

He dialed into squadron and ground force frequancies and advised, “Knight Actual with Knight Two launching. Knights…Let’s finish our work so we can head home.” 

The ground transport bounced along the road. Rebecca had never ridden in a car and there was no sensation quite like it.  Buildings gave way to farms. The flat tilled land had various greenery growing from a soil so dark it was almost black. She was not a farmer, but even she knew this was prime growing land.

Jeter looked out the window lost in the wide open land around them. While he enjoyed the view he had to admit he preferred being back onboard the ship, a spacer through and through. “You have a beautiful world Stormclaw, it looks a lot like our homeworld.”

Qetax nodded, “It is like the Trill colony I was born on, and sort of like our home-world as well.”

It seemed, at least to the counsellor that lush planets were more supportive of life, though there were notable exceptions. The multi-ton vehicle and its escort sped along the farm roads at 100kph, holding its occupants in near luxury. While the vehicle was clearly armored, the interior was dark woods, leathers, and metal. 

Turning towards the young woman, Varael replied, “Thank you, Lieutenant, though I wish you could appreciate the olfactory part more. The black-eyed night melon crop is due soon. Even now during the day, there is the merest hint of sweet orange. In a few days, no doubt it will be quite noticeable. 

The pair of large truck-like vehicles turned a corner, Varael offered, “Only a few kilometres now.” A million questions ran through his mind to ask, and with the welfare of his people at stake, they all seemed inane. Though one came to mind. “Do you people ‘beam’ everywhere? Just popping up at will all the time seems energy expensive.”

Jeter smiled at that, “It is a very useful piece of technology and it does have substantial energy requirements though we have found ways to ensure they are met. We don’t use it for everything though, there are cases where it cannot be used, some planets naturally have hazards that prevent it and some material doesn’t handle it well. In those cases, we use shuttlecraft to transfer material and people. We may use them to bring in some of the relief add so ensuring your air defenses don’t target us will be good.” 

Varael smiled, pointing a finger towards his assistant, on the PADD-like device linked to his office. “Already done.  I have coordinates for the several warehouses near enough to the sites to be good candidates.” Holding out the device, he offered it to Gus. “Strangely silent this one.” Varael indicated. 

Taking his own PADD, he synched the two and relayed the coordinates to the ship. Gus replied in an even calm tone, “No offence was intended.” When Varael dismissed it with a wave of his hand, he told Gus.”I know the gaze of a warrior when I see one. Do not apologize for guarding the pack. Few professions are held in higher regard among my people. The health and harmony of the pack come first.”  Gus tilted and bowed slightly in respect. 

Coming up on a gated community. They slowed long enough for the gate to open. “Mind you, we added this to let the others have privacy. They can come and go as they please, though they need to sign in and out and take a locator device. We suggest they take escorts. Safety first. Especially since the accident.”In a few hundred yards was a building. They pulled and stopped. “Shall we?” Varael asked.

“Yes, of course,” Rebecca replied. “Do you mean the Cardassians are not being treated as prisoners?”

“And what accident? Did they injure some of your people?” Jeter asked, concern evident on his face.

“We did have a few minor incidents. Scuffles mostly. There was an incident with a trio of others, that slew their escorts and took their weapons. They managed to steal a shuttle after killing the ground crew. The shuttle was destroyed after trying to ram the fighter sent to force them back to the planet.” He said in a very straightforward manner. Then added, “I won’t say it is a shining moment of harmony, but I also don’t condone mass murder.”

As they got out of the car Jeter shook his head slowly. “Neither do we. I am sorry for the loss of life, on both sides.” 

The group made their way through a checkpoint drawing a number of very curious and at times almost hostile looks from the guards on duty. “I assume we need to sign in?” Jeter said as he looked at one of the guards and back to Varael.

Varael looked at the base commander, standing directly facing him, and offered. “Their scent is natural. Weapons down, my orders.”  The guards complied, though a few hesitated until the commander corrected him with a glance.“These are different people. They are here to help. Give them every courtesy.”  

The deafening roar of jet engines marked the approach of a pair of fighters. The pilots deftly skimmed the treetops flying below the primitive sensors of the Luphirians. With precision and speed, the aircraft weaved through the dense forest, their metallic forms briefly visible before seamlessly blending into the shadows. 

“Those aren’t ours,” Rebecca said trying to make out the approaching craft.

Jeter looked up as the two fighters approached, “This doesn’t feel right.” He turned to Varael about to speak as he tapped his combagde, “Denver, give me a status….”

Varael’s head whipped around at the now obvious noise. Being so used to hearing fighter jets, it wasn’t a conscious thought for him. Both lips curled in anger and he even emitted a discernable low growl.  The aircraft was so close now that the engines covered most of the sound. Gus looked over in concern as the sound was primal and saw where Varael’s gaze was pointed.

The fighters thundered overhead near the speed of sound,  the wings displaying markings of the Luphirian military.  As they closed in on the base they released their bombs and pulled and shot skyward. The ensuing explosion sent Rebecca flying backwards, her ears ringing. Two buildings were completely obliterated and the surrounding structures erupted in flames.

Gus moved toward Lieutenant Qetax, but only made it partway. Varael got stuck at the moment and yelled, “COVER,” but his timing was off. Since he was only partially in motion, the blast knocked him sideways into the pavement a few meters away. 

Qetax was knocked off her feet as well, but she recovered staying low and scrambling over to Gus. Though not a medical doctor she had to take First Aid courses while at the Academy and while she did not make use of those skills often it was something she had in her tool kit. 

“You okay?” she asked, capable of dealing with superficial and non-serious wounds if it came to that. It had been a long time since anyone had shot at her.

Gus shook his head, his ears ringing loudly, he barely heard the lieutenant’s query. Finally nodding, he slowly stood up. Tapping his comm badge, he called the bridge, starting a quick sitrep. Varael was already up. He was on his handheld communicator, orders going out rapidly. Civilian orders went out as well as military requests through people he could trust. 

Jeter regained his feet quickly and ran over to help the Captain regain her feet, “Are you ok?”

Accepting Jeter’s hand she stood still trying to get her overloaded senses to settle, “I wouldn’t say this is my best day.”

“You could say that again. I suspect we may have landed ourselves in the middle of a coup attempt.” He looked over at Varael and shouted to get his attention, “We need to get to the prisoners! Can one of you men let me through?”

“Open the gates!” Varael ordered. “That’s an order.” Any loyal troops would know the sound of his voice. There was no time to get any heavy weapons. Still, he quickly retrieved one of the newer energy carbines from his vehicle. Looking over at Gus, “I’d get that weapon ready in case though cowards come back.” Varael offered, his voice incredibly low and rough. 

The roar of the engines suddenly grew louder with the jets turning on a wing.  They came in low. This time a bit slower than before. As they closed in their machine guns opened up ripping through the convoy of Varael’s cavalcade of cars. Bullets whipped past as once again Starfleet and Luphirian dignitaries dove for cover leaving fiery wreckage in their wake. 

Vareal stood his ground away from the vehicle. Flipping the selector to burst, he pulled the trigger in a practiced manner, a few sparks hitting one of the crafts but doing little. Then the fighters shot skyward and they were gone leaving behind an eerie silence. 

Jeter looked over at Gus, “Get Denver to track those fighters, if they start to come back I want them brought down.” He began to start moving towards the prisoners building then stopped, “Actually, have Denver track them back to their base, that is if they don’t return to hit us again. Then beam the pilots to the brig. I have some questions for them and I am sure Varael will as well.”

Gus relayed the information to the bridge, quickly suggesting a tractor beam might also be possible.

“Honestly, I was putting their heads on a pike in the middle of the capital as a warning to the next seven generations that disharmony to the pack will not be tolerated,” Varael said.  “Sadly, that won’t happen.” he said then added, “Yes, Commander. I would like that opportunity very much.”

“I understand that desire, betrayal is hard to stomach,” Jeter said before looking to the Captain before returning his attention to Varael. “I suggest we get to the Cardassians, then get you somewhere safe as I expect you need to contact your allies.”

“Sound advice, Mister Jeter. Plans are already in motion.” Varael said. Like himself, his assistant wore a light armor, so that pride was the worst of her injuries. “Load the Others into trucks. Intersperse guards as well. Let the cowards show their true discord of spirit of they return to attack.” 

“Let’s get back to the Denver,” Rebecca ordered. “We can use the transporters to pull any Cardassian life signs back to the ship. And at this point I don’t give a damn about the Prime Directive.”

“That would be a very sound idea Captian. Though we should notify Commander Nalam and let her know what happened, they need to either be retrieved or will need additional security,” Jeter added quickly.

Rebecca nodded and pressed her combadge, “Talon to Commander Nalam.”

Many miles away Riandri tapped her combadge, “Yes, Captain?”

“Heads up, we were attacked by their military.  We don’t know much, yet, but the base the Cardassian survivors were being housed was bombed and they attacked their leader’s cavalcade.  We’re beaming back to the Denver.” Rebecca told her XO and Intel officer.  The implications of a military coup was obvious,  but without evidence that sort of speculation wasn’t something you transmitted on an open com frequency. 

“I understand Captain,” Riandri remarked then paused for a moment before continuing. “One moment….Captain, we have a column of soldiers approaching the hospital. I will be in touch.”

“Understood. Keep me posted.” She closed the com and slammed her combadge again. “Talon to Denver. Beam us up.”

A hush fell upon the aide center as a line of uniformed soldiers marched up the street. There were at least fifty in the orderly formation led but an all-black Lupherian in a grey wool uniform. Their boots made a rhythmic click as they approached. Sunlight gleamed off the barrels of their weapons and their polished black boots. Civilians ducked out of their way.

At the edge of the aide center the leader held up a hand and an officer shouted, “Company, halt!” For a long moment, there was silence, only the moans of the injured made a sound. “Bring the prisoners to the front!” the leader shouted.

Several Lupherians from the back peeled away from the formation dragging Starfleet officers clad in teal uniforms. The medical team that had been dispatched to search for survivors within the ruined city.  Dr. Lorsa looked worse for wear. Her Bajoran nose was canted at an odd angle and dried blood streaked across her face. Her uniform was torn and strands of hair were free of the ponytail. The rest of the medical team looked to be in somewhat better condition but they all showed evidence of rough treatment.

“Who is their commander?” the Lupherian leader demanded.

Riandri looked out of the tent and frowned. “Why is it whenever you try to help people this shit always happens?” she muttered under her breath. The heads-up from the Captain had only given her a few seconds to think about possible scenarios before this group had shown up. She glanced over at Dr Haigh, “I may piss them off.” With that, she tapped her combadge, Denver, emergency beam out for Dr Lorsa and her team. They are surrounded by a pack of Luphirians , don’t leave a single one there.”

“Commander, we are unable to get a lock. The radiation from the blast has started to move in your direction preventing the beam out,” came the voice over the combadge. 

“Damnit,” Riandri cursed. She turned to Dr Haigh, “Can you check the radiation levels, we may need some anti-radiation meds shortly.” Lavender tore her intense frown away from the Lupherians and opened her regular tricorder to scan for radiation.

“We’re alright for now,” she said in a low voice, “but not for very long. Let’s make this fast.”

Riandri sighed, “Collins, we have an issue here with the locals, the Captain has reported an assassination attempt on the Alpha and our team. We have a potentially hostile force at the camp who took Dr Lorsa and her team captive. I want your team to provide cover while I have a chat with them. Give me an assessment of your ability to neutralize them quickly.” She paused for a moment, “Will Greymane assist us?”

Collins looked at Greymane if he would give assistance. “Nothing from Greymane, commander. I will take position around them and make ready to take them out.”

Riandri stepped out from the medical team, flanked by two of the tactical team who had remained with her and the doctor. “I am Commander Nalam of the Federation Starship Denver,” she said, her hand resting on the phaser at her hip as she let her annoyance with the situation flare inside her. Beside her, the two officers from the tactical team moved to gain some cover. She stared at the Lupherian leader, “Can you tell me while you attacked my people? People who were here saving the lives of yours at the request of your leaders? Something I would have expected your soldiers to be doing.”

“General Swiftclaw,” the Luphirian leader replied coldly. “You alien invaders are no longer welcome.   You will be purged from our planet along with anyone that invited you into our packs, or gives you aide and comfort… irrespective of rank or position.”

Riandri tilted her head to the side quizzically as she stood completely relaxed, “Alien invader? Far from it General, we have come with no ill intent and are only here to provide aid to your injured and to provide assistance to avoid a similar disaster.” She gestured towards the still-smoking ruins of the city. As she spoke she tried to push a sense of calm and friendship towards the General and his troops. Though she was not well versed in her species abilities at telepathy she had been slowly acquainting herself with them.  She looked past the riled-up General quickly before locking eyes with General Swiftclaw, “Doctor, I hope you and yours are ok? I would very much like to discuss this with civility and respect.”

The General curled back his lips. “Respect? You invade our lands, and sabotage an engine so it explodes so you can weaken us and invade? There will be no respect given when such insult has been issued.  No, there will be no discussion.  Leave our world. You have one hour,  and to ensure you heed my orders we will keep your people prisoner,  and for every 15 minutes past that hour I execute one prisoner. If by two hours all you primates are not gone I will order and airstrike and kill every living organism within two square getron from here.”

“Oh, I see. So a direct threat then? And what reassurances do I have that you won’t hurt any of my people any further? ” she said as she grew tired of the threats, diplomacy had never been her strong suit. “Why do you feel that we have sabotaged your engine? What would we gain from doing so? And why would we invade your world? Space is vast, there is no need for such actions or such pointless loss of like. Ask yourself that General.”

Collins and his unit had moved into position. There was a clear line of sight of Swiftclaw and his troops. He tapped his combadge. “Collins to Riandi. In position. Give the word and we can neutralize them quickly.”

Riandri heard the report through the comms badge and tapped her fingers on her side a couple of times to indicate to Collins and the team to hold for the time being.

Collins received the message and held up his fist to show the team to hold.

Lavender desperately tried to keep her rising fury under control. Being impertinent was one thing, but roughing up her medical staff was quite another. She was stuck between her oath as her Doctor and her responsibility as a head of department, between her gang upbringing and the duty of a Lieutenant Commander. She wanted to go full gang warfare on the soldiers who were holding her staff, but diplomatically that was suicide for what they were trying to achieve and she had to look at the bigger picture. They would need the Luphirians on the side if they were going to help the population. Her small stature wasn’t particularly imposing but her scowl said plenty. She mouthed “It’ll be okay” to Ephe and gave her a reassuring and determined nod as she did so.

“We will not tolerate an invasion without fighting back.” He turned to one of his lieutenants and a moment later one of the engineers that was accompanying the medical team was pushed forward.  They had been assigned to the med teams to access the integrity of the buildings before they entered to look for survivors. 

Ensign Aoife MacKenzie had her hands bound in front of her.  Her curly red mane flew in all directions, her eyes wide in fear.  The Lieutenant kicked her knees out from under her and she crashed to the concrete.  As Aoife groaned in pain the Luphirian lieutenant drew his side arm and fired one shot into Aoife’s back.  She fell limp, blood pooling around her.

“You now have a guarantee that your people WILL  be hurt,” Swiftclaw growled. “I make no promises that I won’t hurt your people further.  You have one hour and I start executing the others as well.”

Riandri didn’t flinch as the shot was fired but rage boiled in her and she had to focus on not pulling her phaser from its holster, “I will not forget this General.” 

Swiftclaw, his fur bristling with tension, simply turned his back on the scene, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble. With a commanding roar, he barked out a series of orders, his Lupherian soldiers falling into formation with military precision. They herded their prisoners before them, the captured individuals casting fearful glances over their shoulders as they were marched back in the direction they had come, the echoes of their captors’ footsteps reverberating through the skeletal walls of a destroyed city.

Riandri gestured to the security officers to move up as she ran to Aoife and called for Dr Haigh. As she pulled out her tricorder she began to scan the young ensign and let out a sigh of relief as it indicated that she was still alive, the bullet had ruptured a lung and grazed her heart. “Damnit,” she swore out loud. Doctor we need you now.”

“I’m here!” Lavender knelt quickly by Aoife, throwing her med-pack open. She checked for responsiveness but the Engineer was unconscious.

“It’s Doctor Haigh, McKenzie, I’m here, okay? I got you,” she said, her voice and her grip equal in their reassuring firmness. She moved quickly, first taking a quick scan to check exactly what injuries the Ensign had, following up with a Hypospray. She manipulated the controls and shot Aiofe with three separate doses.

Fucking savages using projectile weapons… Lavender nearly spoke the words out loud but kept them to herself as she assessed what to treat first.

Riandri watched the doctor work before turning to look up where she expected Collins’ and his team to be before tapping her combadge, “Collins, get down here. We need to get our people back and need a plan.”

Without waiting for a reply she connected to Denver, “Nalam to Denver, Ensign MacKenzie has wounded. Have you been able to sort out the transporter issue? We could do with a beam out for her or more boots on the ground.”

“Not yet for your location,” Rebecca replied stain in her voice. “The Knights are in your area. I’ll dispatch Ming to your location.”

“I appreciate that. We have encountered a hostile ground force and they have taken Dr. Lorsa’s medical team captive and are threatening to kill them one-by-one if we don’t pull back. I only have a handful of security staff down here and I will not leave them with the Lupherians,” Riandri said as she continued to stare in the direction the crew was taken.

“We’re getting our people out of there. I’ll dispatch shuttles and runabout to pick up our people and any injured Lupherians.  We’re here to help so I don’t want to just abandon those we are actually helping.  As for the prisoners let’s hope evacuation satisfies the rebel contingent. I won’t put more lives at risk nor will I fight a civil war for the Luphirians.”

“Understood Captain. Can you send a couple of sets of pattern enhancers down with the first shuttle? I haven’t checked the numbers yet but with luck, they may be able to cut through the interference so we can get our team out if needed.”

“I’ll send some down with one of the shuttles.”

Collins and his team raced back to Riandri’s position. “I saw him kill her! I had him in my sights and I should have fired and ended his life.” He stood before her. “I swear that he will pay for what he did, commander.”

“She is alive,” Riandri said, “I told you to hold, and you followed the orders. He intended to do this from the get-go but we have to make plans.” She turned and looked in the direction the prisoners had been taken, “We will them back.”

“If I get him in my sights, I will kill him.” Collins posted security around their position in case of another attack.

Riandri put a hand on his shoulder, “Let’s get our people back first and then go from there. The Captain is right, we cannot fight a civil war here.”

Ming was on the holodeck, sitting in a camp chair, doing the age old thing you did in this situation.  He was roasting a marshmallow.  It was cliche but the liked the ritual of the thing and, not that he’d admit it to many, he was a fiend for smores.  As a kid his family had gone to Mount Lemon in Southern Arizona just shy of 300 miles south by southeast of Flagstaff where his dad taught history.  It was a tradition over many years in the summer which he had grown to love. 

He hadn’t been back there since joining the Fleet.  It was even harder between the tension with the Klingons prior to and during this war with the Dominion.  Looking over to his tent he huffed at himself.  It was rather large and very cush.  His parents would have chastised him but with the war on he wasn’t going to rough it on his down time if he had anything to say about it.  Dinner had been some rainbow trout from Rose Cayon Lake that he’d grilled on this same fire.  Amazing what could be done with a fish, utility knife, a stick and some lemon.  The guts had fed some hungry ants some distance away from his camp and the only other thing left was the bones which he had tossed into the fire for incineration.  He was thinking deeply as he enjoyed his first smore.   

The thoughts included the visage of Lieutenant Arin Jones. It wasn’t anything really erotic although he’d be a liar if he said she wasn’t beautiful.  They were friends and he was happy with that arrangement.  None the less there it was.  

He’d just finished the Smore when he heard a song dog let out a rather melodious howl.  Then came another.  Soon a whole pack was calling out as a method of communication to it’s members.   He always thought it sounded rather beautiful.  Always had … especially as he got older and became less fearful of the animals.  He had learned that they did not attack humans without reason….or in an opportunistic move if you let down your guard.   A long-lasting fire often took care of that and he’d become quite good at building those.  

Ming smiled taking in a deep breath.   The smell of the campfire, the scent of the trees, the earthy scent of the soil, and the fresh air was also something that had captivated him early on.  If there was such a thing as a happy place this was it for him.  He was glad he had blocked off a long stretch of open time for this Holodeck as he hadn’t slept in a tent for way too long.  

The doors swished open, letting in the ambient ship light as Arin walked in. The doors closed around here, returning the lighting and mood to the proper setting of the holodeck. Walking over near the fire, she set her small pack down a couple meters from the fire. “Seriously?! Orange rocks, snakes, and dirt? No tropical beaches? Mountain stream? Five star hotel?” Arin commented. Her Irish brogue was always thicker when she was agitated.  Getting into fine form, she added. “Boyo, I think the donkey kicked yer head one too many times..” Looking around, she frowned. “Computer. Add one outdoor rustic wooden oversized pine couch, with outdoor removable cushion.”

As the furniture appeared, Arin pulled her sleeping bag out and lay it out on the surface. Ming grinned at his camping companion.  

He said, “Not much in the way of snakes around here aside from the occasional Diamondback Rattler.  They’re scarce on the ground this time of year.  Too bad as they’re good eats. Fund that out in the real world after it coiled up when I was just walking by.  My spade was faster than it’s strike and the rest is history.  I still have the rattle and the tanned skin back home in New Berlin.  The Fleet tried to convince me to becoming a ground pounder when they found out about my martial arts and survival experience.  I convinced them I was more useful in the cockpit.  It was oddly satisfying when I ended up levelling my combat training instructors at the Academy and taught the Survival course instructor a few things.”

He chuckled and added, “And the red rocks are about 65 to 70 clicks south by southwest.  It’s quite beautiful actually. Sedona was one of my favorite places to visit growing up.   There’s some rather impressive places and sites in the North American Southwest.  Looking forward to going back when this damned war is over and done with.” 

“There are times when you ken be so in tune with the way I think. Then there is now. ” her brogue going strong. When Ming mentioned the war and wanting it to end, she softened. “Let’s at least try to get a few shots of our own in first please.” Opening a thermos, she poured them each a spiked coffee and passed one of the blue and white enameled cups over to Marcus. “Though Lord knows I hope you’re right.”

“I absolutely want to get the chance to give the Dominion at least one more solid kick in their collective arses.   Maybe two.  The gods of old know damned well that I owe them that at least.  After that they can feel free to surrender.  I originally signed up to explore.  I am unafraid of a fight when necessary but I’d like to go back to that sooner versus later,” Ming replied eyes watching the holographic flames dance.

A slight smile graced his lips as he looked up to the half Orion helm officer sitting near him and added with a sparkle entering his eyes toward the last sentence, “And the old adage of, ‘If everyone liked the same thing it’d be a boring galaxy’ has some truth to it.  Something to be said about adventure.”

“Change of subject. Things are morbid enough around here. Do ya just need ta be moody?” Arin asked her friend.

Ming exhaled and smiled apologetically.  He said, “Sorry. I’ve had a few former crewmates tell me I seem more serious.  Must be something about taking a combat command.  The Battle of Betazed didn’t help.  Among the ships lost was the USS Tucson.  Over 400 of her crew killed including the flight leader, flight XO and a pilot.  My last posting, many of my friends and collogues…two members of my last flight….one of which was formerly a romantic interest.  I pretty much had a front row seat to watch them all die.”  Marcus visibly winced.  He drained the cup and shook his head saying, “And I’m sorry again.  I put this holodeck program together to escape the war and the worries of…”  He gestured to where the door was, “….Out there.  It’s picked some odd times to pop back into mind.” 

The Knight’s CO closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose before slowly exhaling.  He quite obviously started to calm as he said, “I managed to get the holodeck to replicate the smell of this area closely if imperfectly.  It’s pretty damned close though.  Fort Tuthill Recreation Area.  It’s been a United States Army rec area and a public park / historical site run jointly between the US Army Reserve and Coconino county right up until the dissolution of the United States Armed Forces in favor of the world government.    The County took over from there with help from Starfleet Command.  Northern Arizona University is a few clicks north of here.  With a parent teaching there part time it became a place to…escape and rebel as a teen.   During my time off at the Academy and leaves prior to the war I’d come back to rest and unwind.  It’s helped more than not.  It always seems to….and now I have the best company I can hope for in one of my favorite places in the universe.  At least a recreation of it.”

With that last sentence he pulled out a mostly full bottle of Tullamore DEW adding with a bit of a grin, “Compliments of County Cork. Invented in County Offaly in your old neck of the woods judging by the accent.” 

“Thanks. You could try the Irish coffee I handed ya.” Arin pointed out. “Sorry for being miffed earlier. One of my new ensigns is being a donkey and performance review are due soon. So there more joy to spread.” The coffee had cooled down long enough that Arin drained the mug. Placing it back in her bag, she had the computer replicate some marble whiskey tumblers. She poured herself a few fingers. “This is a nice place. It just reminds me of one summer I spent in the Ozako desert back home. Average was close to 40 C.” 

Sipping the whiskey, Arin commented. “So what would you be doing if not for Starfleet? Me? I’d be back home working on airfact, so not much would change. However, I do like piloting starships. At least the ones that seem to have charm.” 

“I’ve got a wanderers soul so I have been told.  I visited many places on Earth over the years.  Every continent, scores of cities….At the risk of sounding macabre I found the Catacombs of Europe to be fascinating.  How we face death is as we face life I’ve found.  There were whole necropolises in antiquity.  Then there’s the canals of Venice, the French Quarter of New Orleans, the rolling hills of Ireland, the Scottish marches, the American Pacific Northwest, the Southwest, the Japanese Isles, and so on.  I’m grateful that I joined the fleet.  It’s been one hell of an experience war or no.  If I hadn’t joined Starfleet I’d likely have been a merchant mariner or private merchantman.  Figure I’d be a department head by now if I were on a boomer ship if not second officer,” Ming finished with a sparkle in his eyes.

Arin pulled some bagels and salmon spread out of her bag. “Why didn’t you just ask for a deep-space assignment? It’s not like you haven’t had time to ask.? She asked, curious about his answer, then added. “I would kill for a fresh tomato. Red plastic is closer to what comes out of the food slot.”

“A friend from the Academy turned me on to this delicatessen in New York City…Lower East side more specifically…that makes the most delicious bagels with the whole schmear as they often say.  From scratch no less.  We’ll have to hit there next time we are in Sector 001,” Ming said with one of his boyish grins.

Hearing his answer, Arin commented, “That is very interesting. Doesn’t answer my question, however.” She shot him an unamused look. No roots to hold you down? Is your indigenous name, “Wanders in space?”  Arin added, teasing him a bit.

“That’s not far from what my Navajo friends were calling me.  And regardless of if I’d picked a deep space assignment or the path I did chose I’d still be dancing in this little soiree with the Dominion.  It simple felt like the path I needed to take.  Who knows what’ll be after the war though,” Ming finished with a bit of a wistful tone.   

He paused and said a bit more soberly, “I haven’t thought about any of that for a while.  First time I used this holoprogram in a while as well.  I got a message not long after the retreat from Betazed from my flight leader from the Tucson.    She asked me to live the best life possible.   I’ve started thinking very hard about it especially since I saw her die in that furball.” 

Was there grief in his words he wondered or was it his imagination?  He hoped that his famous …. or infamous …. poker face didn’t fail him.

Knowing when not to break out the toolbox was just as important when it came to emotions. Staying in the moment, she stoked the fire and refilled the glasses.   

Marcus gazed into the fire as it was stoked and as the drinks refilled.  After a moment his gaze shifted to Arin.  He tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled at her as he said, “Life can be funny sometimes.  It’s reaction to a person’s choices and the whims of … fate, luck, a universal butterfly effect .. whatever one prefers to call it.   Past events make us who we are.  We become what we chose to be.   Wherever we go from here I am genuinely glad it’ll be with you, Arin Jones.   True friends can be hard to find.”

“The best way out for all of us together. Letting the Dominion split us into factions was the issue to begin with. Though no one in either quadrant can claim good guy status all the time. And while I know the solution won’t be tomorrow, I’d just like to be part of the bloody conversation to fix it.” Arin said, slightly annoyed at the situation everyone was in. To punctuate the sentence, she threw the last drops of whiskey into the fire, creating a small bloom of fire. “Thanks. If people just stop lying to each other, it can be so much easier to get along.”

Ming nodded and replied, “The Dominion would love to see back biting among the Alliance.  Luckily that is nary an issue aside from the damned shape shifter infiltrators.  I never was big on lies.  Too hard to keep it all straight as the lies get bigger.  Honesty is damned near always easier to keep track of in my experience. Thus I prefer honesty.  Life’s got too many twist and turns without BSing anyone beyond innocent ribbing perhaps.  It’s just too much effort.”  

“War is something this part of space had a problem with centuries before the Dominion showed up.” Arin offered. Plus, we can’t divide the shapeshifters. The Jem’Hadar and Weyoun donkeys are bound genetically to believe the shapeshifters are Gods. So, that leaves the Cardassian angle. Or just build more guns.” Arin paused, then added. Though you’re missing horses, leather saddles, and such.” She mimicked a pistol, each finger and thumb, and made a menacing face at Marcus.  

“Mainly skirmishes for the better part of the past century.  Some were longer and more vicious than others, but nothing close to a real, drawn-out war.  The Earth Romulan War might’ve been close but the Cold War with the Klingons weren’t quite a match for this.  I mean, The Klingons were lukewarm friends at best, and the Romulans were standoffish before the Dominion’s aggression, to put it nicely. Now the Klingons are staunch allies and the Romulans are ALMOST warm and friendly. 

Pardon my language, but that just shows how big of a shitshow this war is.  Betazed wasn’t a battle.  It was a slaughter en-mass with a 2:1 advantage held by the Dominion.  Unfortunately, this is a level of fighting this part of space hasn’t seen in quite a while.  I hope to whatever Gods that are left the like is never seen again.  Unfortunately, the winner, whoever that ends up being, will have to live with an itchy trigger finger to avoid a repeat of this horror show.  If not permanently then for a long while.  Sadly, the history books are rife with stories like that.  I’ve seen in many historical codexes between my history classes at the Academy to not long ago looking for tactical inspiration and, silly me, hope,” Ming said in a generally straightforward tone that was, for the most part, like he was offering a briefing. 

Marcus paused, then let out a slow, long breath, his eyes raising to meet Arin’s as he said, “I hope it’s not as bad as my worst fears.  My hopes for this whole thing are buried in cynicism and tactical mixed with historical comparisons.  I’ve run into too much disappointment, I suppose.   When faced with something this damned big, I’m not sure I can AFFORD to be overly hopeful, ya know?”

“The human race will survive. So will the Alpha Quadrant.” Arin said simply. “I’m not going to worry myself into an ulcer thinking about things I cannot change. What I will do is help you come up with devious things we can do to help change the outcome. Do our part. ” She up-ended her marble glass, refilled it, then tapped the bottle against Marcus.

Ming took the bottle, emptied what little was left in his glass and refilled.  He set the bottle aside and took a sip from the freshened drink.  He said, “Being an unholy terror in the eyes of the Dominion would be fine with me.  The Xoval mission was a good start.   I’m not quite bent on bloody vengeance but a few more solid vicious kicks in the arse would do nicely. I’ll take what I can get at this rate.”

Marcus paused for another sip of his drink and smiled, “Unlike some others out there I at least know when to take a break from all that from time to time.  Seems a bit unhealthy to do otherwise.  That being said maybe we can talk about other things. I did plan on this being more or a social gathering than a work retreat after all.” 

“You talk. I wanna ride.” Arin said. then added, “Computer, Arch. Add two horses, a Morgan, and a Palomino. With saddles. Also, change the time of day to an hour before dawn and add thirty percent cloud cover at high altitude.” Two horses appeared. An auburn-colored Morgan and a spotted fawn-colored Palomino.  The sky to the east became lighter, and streak clouds started to pop a hint of violet.  “Computer add  6 sugar cubes to my pocket.” Reaching in she walked up the reddish mount. “Hey there, lovely.” Holding out her hand flat with two of the cubes. It ate as she rubbed the patted the side of the horse with her hand. Grabbing the saddle-horn, she swung up and over, in one polish move.  “You coming?” 

Marcus smiled, and said, “Computer:  Replace Palamino with Sirocco from program Ming: Moonshadow.  Full tack.  Also add two carrots and two red delicious apples.”

The Palamino horse was replaced by a bay Arabian with a white crescent shaped bit of white on his forehead who stood at roughly 14.5 hands in height.  Ming checked the saddle bag on the horse’s right and smiled seeing the requested produce.  He gently patted the horse’s neck before climbing up into the saddle with practiced ease.  

Grinning at Arin he replied, “Ready whenever you are, Lieutenant.” 

Arin put a hand on the horn, and a foot in the stirrup, then swung deftly onto the saddle in a fluid motion. “Let’s go, donkey. ” She said while looking Marcus, sticking out her tongue and spurring the red morgan into a slow trot.Grinning, Ming leaned over the horn and said, “Not sure where this is going, little brother, but you put on a good showing you get extra molasses in your feed.”

He straightened a little, settling in, and didn’t even signal when his horse got underway and smoothly started catching up to the Denver’s Orion helm officer and her mount.  Ming couldn’t help but smile…The reproduction of his horse was a good facsimile from the start and became more and more like the original every outing.  

She’d spent nights on the prairies before with wind that seemed to cut through to your core. The wind was blowing but it wasn’t cold. With the sun starting to brighten the morning sky, the palette of colors started to mix and morph as the day begun. 

“There’s a trail that is especially beautiful this time of year…Especially this time a day and at sunset. It’s just over there,” Marcus gestured before turning his mount toward that direction.  His mount shifted for a moment. 

Ming chuckled as he patted then caressed his horse’s neck for a moment before saying to Arin, “Even Sirocco is fond of it.  We tend to agree on many things, actually.  I actually called him my big little brother.  He died a few years ago but I recreated him in the holodeck for whenever I missed him.”

Arin chuckled, “Computer, load character Joan of Bark.” An oversized Rhodesian Ridgeback appeared trotting along in sympathy. “Hi, girl. ” Arin offered, scratching her head. “I had her from age eight up to just past Academy start.” 

Marcus chuckled.  He loved dogs and always had.  He looked down from his seat on the Arabian’s back and said happily, “Hey puppy girl….Very nice to meet you.”

The pilot grinned and looked up after getting a few tail wags and a doggie grin.  He looked at Arin, “I think that this should be a fun time all around.  Only one way to find out however…..Shall we?”

The minute Rebecca materialized on the pad of the transporter room she stepped off and rushed to the control console.  Those jets could be back at any moment. Whoever was behind this attack wanted Vareal dead, and the Cardassians dead. 

Her fingers danced over the controls. As she did Jeter moved next to her and she gave him an appreciative nod. “I am reading only three Cardassian life signs.”

“Well, best to get them out of there,” Jeter’s hands deftly moved across the controls as he isolated and locked onto the three signs. “Energizing,” he said but paused for a moment as no one appeared before them, “To the brig that is.”

He tapped his combadge quickly, “Jeter to the bridge. Are you still tracking the fighters that attacked the prison compound? Any further contacts closing in on it?” Without a pause, he glanced at Varael, “Your people are exposed there; I would like to know if there is another potential attack heading their way.”

He sniffed the air tentatively. Sterile. Clearly, this beaming was no magic trick but the real thing. As he regained his senses over the action, Varael responded to Jeter, “I, too, would like to know that, Mister Jeter. If you can show me a map of what just happened, I should be able to help you find them.  Military aircraft like that take a long runway.”

“We’ll escort you to the bridge,” Rebecca said. “Ensign May, have security escort the rest of our guests to quarters.”

“Aye, ma’am.” 

Rebecca led the trio out of the transporter room, down the corridor and to a turbolift.  It was a short ride to the bridge as they stepped out. The image of the planet was being displayed on the viewscreen.

“Ms. Jones bring up a map of the planet,” she ordered. 

“Aye, Captain.” Arin pulled up the data from the ship’s sensors. Overlaying the jet’s flight from first detection to the direction of the egress led the attacking craft not only on the front viewscreen but also to terminals near Varael. Touching the map, Varael indicated any large airports nearby, larger city private runways, and even a few long straight roads that had bunkers in the past. 

The wonders that met his eyes and other senses were nothing short of incredible. Taking it all in, Varael waited for the ship’s crew to follow the Captain’s orders. 

”Do we have the location of those attacking jets?” Rebecca asked.

Jeter stepped over to the operations console and quickly pulled focused in on the jets. “There are 150km from the base currently heading North West. If they continue their current trajectory they will reach this military base,” he said highlighting one of the bases Varael indicated, “in the next 4 minutes.”

“There is no radiation in that region, we will be able to get a transport lock on those pilots if needed,” Jeter said with a smile. “They may be able to tell us who ordered the attack.”

Rebecca sighed and drummed her fingers on the nearby console. “No, let them go. The Prime Directive is still in play.  This is clearly an internal dispute and I can’t justify satisfying our curiosity.  We are already operating in the grey.”

“Captain?” Jeter said with a question left unsaid, though his frustration was clear to see. “What if their aircraft reported technical difficulties and we happened to save their lives?”

Having played arbiter and tribal harmonizer for so long, Varael understood the Captain’s position, though he didn’t like it. “Then can you beam me to the base control tower?” Varael asked. “I’d rather have the beast by the throat than hide while my people and yours suffer.”

Rebecca nodded, “This is an internal Luphirian matter I can’t stop you.  It’s safe to say whoever is connected to those jets also has our people.  Mr. Jeter do you want to be our representative? Being with their leader makes this more of an official diplomatic action rather than kidnapping pilots to question them.”

“I would be happy to Captain,” Jeter said, a face of cool determination settling over his features. “If we do find whoever is responsible for the attack and kidnapping of our people, shall I negotiate aggressively to get them back?”

“Mister Jeter, we have an expression. Don’t be afraid to bare your teeth when you’re right.” Varael said, pausing for effect. He then added, “We will need to be stubborn today. Hopefully with all our furs intact.”

Jeter nodded to Varael, “I appreciate the sentiment.” He turned to the Captain, “With your permission, I think it’s time we introduce ourselves.”By now, the crew should be more familiar with Luphirian’s looks as a wicked smile crossed Varael’s face. It was a mix of tension and anticipation. 

“You are dismissed.  In the meantime counsellor,  I want you to have a chat with our Cardassian friends,” Rebecca ordered.

The joined Trill tugged at her uniform and nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

Being placed in a position to deal with Cardassians was a bit outside of her normal duties as the ship’s counsellor, but she figured that she was adaptable. Cardassian psychology was a bit different than Trill, human, or any other Federation race (as they all were from each other) but the counsellor knew that adapting and being flexible was all part of the remit.

“Does every room in this ship smell so…sterile?” Varael asked Jeter as he followed him out. 

Jeter let out a little laugh at that as the turbo lift door closed, “Not every room but in general most are. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back planet-side in a few minutes and hopefully get hit whole mess shorted out.”

“Denver to Knight actual,” Rebecca’s voice came over the com.

Ming perked up as he heard the voice of his ship’s CO.  He responded, “Knight Actual to Denver…What’s going on?”

“The away team was attacked and Ensign MacKenzie was shot. Theta radiation from the warp explosion is preventing transport. I need you to play ambulance and the Ensign and doctor back to the ship.”

Ming’s face paled followed in seconds by a groan which swiftly turned into a soft but angry growl. Someone was going to pay for injuring his protégé…But right now it was time to care for her and her and her injuries.   

The CO of the Knights signalled back, his voice barely hid his worry and anger, “Understood. How bad Denver?  Can we load her in the second seat of a fighter with the doctor doing the same in a second?  Recognizing we need to hustle her from here back to Denver in nothing flat of course….It’ll be tight with two people in the weapons officer seat. A reminder of the obvious here but Valkyries aren’t as roomy as a Danube, Denver.”

“She’s dying Lieutenant. Once you are out of the radiation zone transporters should work so you don’t have to get back to the ship, just away from the effected area.”

“Understood, Denver.  Knight Actual enroute,” Marcus said seriously before closing the channel and making best speed to the designated LZ.   He didn’t know Aiofe well but he wasn’t going to let her die if there was anything he could do anything about it.  

Lupherian Triage Center…

Aoife lay on her back staring up at a polluted sky. Breathing was hard, she couldn’t feel anything below the waist, and yet she felt no pain. Her mind was fuzzy and she tried to piece what had happened together, but the more she tried the more disjointed the sequence of events became. 

“Wha… wh… what… happened?” She rasped which sent her into fit of coughing that sprayed blood.

Lavender placed her instruments down quickly in the medpack and eased Aiofe back down. 

“Don’t move,” she said firmly. “You were shot with a projectile weapon, Ensign. I’ve given you enough Terokine so you won’t feel the pain but you must, not, move. Do you understand?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Aoife wheezed. She coughed again spraying more blood. “I’m sorry Doc…” Her eyes closed and her breathing stopped.  But something in her refused to die and she took a breath.  Her eyes opened and she continued like she had just been paused “… Sorry Doc. I didn’t keep your people safe.”

With one hand placed gently on Aoife’s clavicle to stop her moving too much Lavender skilfully dematerialised the bullet from where it was lodged on the inside of one of her ribs. That was one problem resolved, but Aiofe had plenty more that needed resolving quickly if she was going to survive.

“Apology accepted, Ensign,” Lavender drawled with a calm confidence that contrasted the rapid movement of her hands as she switched tools. Her medical tricorder sat on the ground next to Aiofe displaying her vitals. Lavender picked up a Cellular regenerator and started to repair the holes in her lung. “Between you and me neither did I. They’re Commander Nalam’s responsibility now. You and I will get back to worrying about them when you’re all fixed up, okay?” In saying this Lavender tried to give Aoife something to concentrate on that wasn’t her injuries. 

The roar of engines echoed through the air as Knight Actual descended for landing, the sound echoing across the square. As the canopy of the ship slid open with a hiss, Sh’iv wasted no time, leaping out of the back seat and onto the solid ground below. The rush of wind tousled her hair as she landed,  boots thumping on the pavement.

Ming stood up in the cockpit after switching it to ready idle with a quick code only he knew for a quick takeoff once he got back into the pilot’s seat and not before.  He looked around and spotted the Denver’s CMO and the young patient under her care he was to transport.  He ran in their direction and stopped short not wanting to interfere though. 

Marcus said looking concerned at the Ensign, “Doctor….Lavender…Captain Talon ordered me to land and pick up you and the patient in my fighter.  It’s far from ideal but it’s the best we can do in short order and we can squeeze you both in the gunner’s seat.  It’ll be close quarters but time’s of the essence as I understand it.  Seems that the reports were right.  Is the patient fit to move?”

“Barely,” Lavender commented, with some inner surprise at the use of her name. Ming had obviously been paying attention, even though the two hadn’t properly met that she recalled. She glanced at her medical tricorder to get a read of Aiofe’s vitals and started to stuff her gear into the medpack box. “Do your best to keep things smooth. What’s the word on a beam-out once we’re clear of the atmosphere?”

“Barring any fire it should be a smooth flight.  If anyone gets cute I’ll keep it as smooth as can be but we’re as sure as can be the immediate area is now devoid of anything that can act as Anti Air Artillery.  If someone gets cute I have Knights 3, 4 and 5 continuing air patrol and they’ll be covering us on the way out. One shot will be all anyone will get in the unlikely event someone does get suicidally brave.” 

He paused then added, “Captain Talon said we should be able to transport shortly after clearing the atmosphere.  If anything changes you’ve got the man who currently holds the lunar run’s record time at the helm.  It’ll be the smoothest hotrod run ever if needed.”

Sh’iv stared up at her commander as Aoife was being helped into the fighter. It was going to be cramped in there with the Doctor too, but Ensign MacKenzie was in bad shape. There just wasn’t the time to waste.

“Whatever that is going on the wing needs to be at full strength.  Put Órlaith in the spare fighter.” Seeing Ming’s expression she smirked,  “Yeah. I know, but she’s been putting five to six hours a night in the simulator. I hate to admit it, but the kid has skill.”

Ming grinned as he grabbed his helmet and said, “Good.  Glad you think so.  Knight 5’s gonna dust down in a minute or two to pick your ass up.  Órlaith’s taking my old Peregrine while you’re taking Abara’s.  Since we’ll be a flight of six she’ll be your wingman Sh’iv.”

Sh’iv frowned, “I won’t go easy on her.”

Ming’s mouth quirked upward on the left side as he said, “You don’t have to be.  Just do it in moderation.  She’s supposed to be learning about the Fleet.  The Captain believes in her and she’s my protégé so she’s my responsibility. Baring that in mind….Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Marcus slipped on his helmet before he broke into a big smile.  He didn’t quite need to guess his XO’s facial expression as he heard her rather sharp and rather disrespectful response.  He disengaged the safety systems and got the other systems back to full.  All told it took less than a minute.  After a quick review of the board he looked back and said loudly, “Ready?!”

Lavender peered out from behind Aiofe who she was trying to support as best she could.

“Let’s go,” Lavender replied firmly. “Aiofe, we’re flying you up to the ship. This is going to be bloody uncomfortable but it won’t last long.” The doctor had that authoritative tone of Medical Professionals speaking to patients who were in distress or semi-conscious.

“Damn right,” Ming muttered.  He then said louder after a few more keystrokes, “Canopy secured.   Taking off….Steady, smooth and as urgent as can be keeping the second point in mind.” 

As his fighter took off he saw Abara’s fighter coming in for a vertical landing right next to where he was launching from.  He keyed into the primary fighter frequency and said, “Knight Actual to Knights 2 and 5.  2…As soon as 5 lands and goes lid up, take a seat in his fighter’s gunnery seat.  5, soon as Knight 2 is onboard, take off and make to the Denver best speed.  We need to get everyone back into play ASAP….Maybe a bit sooner.”

Knight 5’s basso came on the frequency, “Confirmed Knight Actual.  Touching down and popping the canopy.”

Sh’iv jogged across the lot and climbed inside, “Thanks for the ride.”

After his scanners noted Knight 5 taking off with his XO on board he had a thought.  He got back on coms saying, “Knight Actual to Knight’s 3 and 4.  It’s just you two for a brief time.  Me and Knight 5 have been ordered on a critical ferry run as you may’ve heard.   Knight 3 is in command while we are gone.”  

Ming switched to a direct and secure frequency he had set up to Knight 5.  He said, “Mr. Abara….New plan.  Stick with my fighter.  With Ms. Mackenzie in such rough shape I can’t maneuver much.  You and Sh’iv will need to be our cover, Druid.” 

“Of course, Marcus.  We got your back,” Knight 5’s basso voice rumbled over short range subspace. 

Ming switched the coms to active standby so he could hear flight coms, urgent coms between Denver and the ground.  He goosed the engines to coax a bit more speed out of the fighter.  He said, “Hang on back there.   We’ll be back on Denver in roughly two minutes.  I aim to get everyone back from this alive.”

In the other seat, Lavender was hoping beyond hope that the presence of Aiofe was masking Marcus’ view of her face, which was bathed in cold sweat and panic. It hadn’t occurred to the doctor until they had been shut into the fighter that this would be her first time in space in anything other than a large and dependable Nebula-Class since the destruction of the Starship Manitoba, an event forever imprinted in her mind by her being stuck in the remains of sickbay in the pitch black and without gravity as the large chunks of decimated saucer slowly rotated in space. She had spent her time groping in the dark for a light source and considering if she would die of cold or suffocation first. Fortunately that day the Jem’Hadar had wanted prisoners. But, since then Lavender had become somewhat claustrophobic, to put it mildly. She balked at the sight of space so close through the cockpit screens and stared at her medical tricorder, watching Aiofe’s vitals, letting the numbers bring her back to her medical training. She focussed on that, telling herself she wasn’t in a fighter at all and she was safe, over and over. She swallowed.

“Good to know you pilots set such high standards for yourselves…” she returned. Marcus probably didn’t know her well enough but anyone who did know her well, of whom they were precious few now, would have detected from the raised pitch and the slight waver in her voice that Lavender was not doing well.

Time was running out and at last Aoife’s heart gave two weak beats before stopping.   Lavender’s tricorder blared in alarm.

“Aoife? Aoife!” Lavender exclaimed. “Smoothness be damned, Ming get us to the ship now.”

“Knight One, you have cleared the theta radiation,  and we have a transporter lock on the Doctor and Ensign MacKenzie.  Lower your shields,”  The Denver’s com officer transmitted. 

Ming’s heart was racing worse than it often was going into combat especially with the anguished words of the doctor.  He tapped a few buttons with effecent ease before glancing backwards for a moment, checking the situation which looked worse than before.  

Returning his gaze on where he was going Ming tapped another button and said, “Knight Actual to Denver.  Shields down…Energize!”

[[Content warning: panic, reference to domestic abuse]]

Sickbay

Lavender flopped into her office chair wearily. The last half hour had been manic and filled with adrenaline, but Aiofe was safe. Lavender had repaired all of the damage done by the bullet, the projectile was removed, the exit wound closed and the damage to her heart and lung rectified. Now the Ensign was sedated and resting with pleasingly stable vitals. Lavender wanted to keep her under a while just to make sure her heart wasn’t stressed as the repairs bedded in. There was still much to be done, her team were still in Lupherian hands down on the planet, but Lavender just needed a beat to regroup. The doctor rested her head back and closed her eyes with the intention of a few seconds respite. But there was to be none. Images of her ascent from the planet in the fighter greeted her with every shut of her eyes. The normal calming blackness of the inside of her lids was punctuated with stars that moved and swayed with the motion of the fighter that in reality it was now somewhere many miles away.

“Fuck…”

Lavender opened her eyes. The relative comfort and security of the vast Starship Denver was entirely stripped away when in such a small craft. The starship was stable, vast, a huge building or even a small village in space, comfortable, composed and reassuring, with powerful shields and even more powerful phaser banks. The Fighter on the other hand bucked and jerked, the vast, cold hostility of space just inches from where she had sat cradling the ailing Ensign McKenzie. Lavender closed her eyes again. Even when she tried to wipe the dancing stars from her mind’s eye, they were replaced by the blackness of the stricken Starship Manitoba’s sickbay. Lavender’s balance buckled as her mind told her she was weightless again, drifting about with only the light of a PADD to stop from crashing into walls and biobeds. Lavender gripped the arms of her chair. The wondering of how she would eventually die in that situation returned with force. It haunted her nightmares but she rarely felt it during the day. Her eyes popped open again and her vision blurred, the lights of the computer readouts on the opposite wall casting lines of colour across her Vision like a swaying camera.

“Get a fucking grip, Lavender…”

The Doctor started to breathe more intentionally, to setup a calming rhythm. She had learned the 4-7-8 technique years before that did still help to calm her in moments of anxiety. She thought of something cheerful. She thought of Arin and her jokes to try to calm herself.

“Grape juice and torpedo coolant. Grape juice and torpedo coolant.”

Thoughts of Arin inevitably led to thoughts of fighters. It was only then that Lavender’s brain clued her in to the concept that she may need to return to the planet. She may need to return the way she came up, in a fighter.

“No no no no no no no no no…”

Lavender gripped the arms of her chair hard, her nails digging into the cushioned upholstery. Her eyes were wide open, but the comfort of the bright lights of sick bay was null. Sweat started to appear all over, making her shiver in the cold. Lavender didn’t notice it much. She was more concerned with the fact that the colour seemed to have drained entirely from her vision. What had been an orange and blue ACARS panel, blurred by panic but coloured none-the-less was now greyscale. She gasped, her breath shuddering in her chest.

“Lavender, I just wanted to check with you…” it was one of the nurses who approached the office door and took a step inside.

“GET OUT!” Lavender screeched, her voice gutteral and wild and utterly alien to how she usually sounded. It was sadly familiar though, it was the sound her mother had made when her father had been beating her, or was just about to. The nurse turned-tail and departed hastily without a word. You’ll get complaints about me. The words she had spoken to Captain Talon echoed again in her confused mind. She couldn’t even apologise or explain. What would she do, admit to having a complete and fall-apart panic attack in her own office in the middle of the day in the middle of a crisis? Lavender tried to breathe. Her mouth was dry as hard, cracked earth.

The office was a black and white movie still, and this only served to fuel Lavender’s panic even more. She gasped for breath, her heart hammered in her chest. Beads of sweat formed on her face even through her foundation, ruining the smooth, unblemished facade of her mask. Lavender’s vision tunnelled. The edges were a blur, all she could see was the ACARS panel now, but it seemed much further away than the three metres or so it actually was. Lavender’s hand rose from its comforting grip to hover over her com badge in a move that was jarring to what grasp remained to her of reality and yet may become necessary. She may need help. Doctor as she was, Lavender wasn’t entirely sure what was happening to her. Perhaps a sedative would help but there was no chance she could get to a hypospray unaided. She sat a moment, her hand hovering two inches over her badge. Things had stablised. They were still bizarre and petrifying, but they were stable.

Lavender listened to her own breaths a while, she felt the beads of cold sweat on her face, she felt for the first time the wetness of sweat between her back and her uniform. She listened to her own exhales, made artificially loud by forcing the air through her teeth, 4-7-8 style. The hand returned to the arm of her chair, slowly. She felt the band of her sports bra exerting pressure on her rib cage, usually a feeling dialled out by her mind, consigned into irrelevance for her day-to-day work. She felt her toes in her boots, her toes in her socks in her boots, she felt the warm comfort and softness of her socks, somehow saved from the moisture of sweat.

The C.M.O. had no idea how long she sat, taking in every feeling she could feel, using each to solidify her grip on actuality. Her brain reasoned with her that in the moment, she was in no danger.

You’re just sat in your office. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Nothing’s going to hurt you.

In time, her periphery came back into focus.

Good, that’s progress. Keep going. Breathe slow. 

Lavender could now read the text on the ACARS screen opposite. She looked to the computer terminal on her desk which was now also legible. She listened to her breaths, fast, but slowing. The sixteen millimetre Kodachrome film of her office slowly graduated to Technicolor, starting in the middle, until her surroundings looked vaguely normal again. Lavender thanked whatever deities may or may not exist.

She felt sick. Shakily Lavender stood, grasping the edges of her desk and she sidestepped slowly around it like an old movie star backing along an impossibly small ledge part way down a deep ravine. An experimental step, then another, another and another, her hand now released from the stabilising edge of the desk. Pride at being able to operate somewhat normally again. Her arms were out to her sides, regaining basic balance like a toddler learning to walk. Arm outstretched, she felt the surface of the wall opposite. Lavender stood, braced by her arms, facing the empty wall a while longer, making sure her balance had fully returned.

“Computer, water, room temperature.” Lavender snatched at the glass as soon as it materialised, creating waves in the surface that lapped over the edge and on to her shaking hands. She drained it in one, gasping for breath afterward. A bead of water ran down the right side of her chin and she wiped it away, smearing pale foundation on to the cuff of her uniform.

One more deep breath, come on.

Lavender pushed off from the wall. Without a single word to her staff she made for the door and exited sickbay at pace, making for her quarters.

There was still an energy in the air of the cockpit after the Denver’s transporter had beamed the Doctor and Aoife directly to sickbay. The comms unit crackled to life, slicing through the hum of engines with the captain’s voice. “Denver to Knight Actual.” Rebecca’s voice, usually calm and controlled, now carried an unmistakable edge of tension, each word taut with the weight of unspoken urgency.

“Knight actual…Go ahead Denver,” Ming replied as he proceeded en route to the Denver with Knight 5 (Knight 2 riding shotgun as it were).

“With one fighter already shot down I need you to escort the shuttles down to the triage center. This planet is turning into a powder keg and we’re sitting on top of it and I don’t know who has a match,” Rebecca ordered.

Marcus winced.  While the Valkyries were definitely a favorable addition to the Starfleet arsenal this was war.  He’d trade the loss of a fighter for the life of a pilot anytime.  He aimed to keep that the norm if there were to be any losses.   

“Understood, Denver.  Knight 5, who’s flying with Knight 2, is going to be landing in the landing bay momentarily.  We’ll be reactivating my and the former Ranger 5’s old Peregrines to make up for the lost Valkyrie.   The extra air cover should help even the odds at least a little bit out there,” Ming replied.  

“Be safe Knights.  We’ll track incoming hostile, but sensors are limited in the atmosphere due to interference.  We cannot promise adequate warning.” The Denver’s flight coordinator replied.

“Understood Denver.  Thanks for the heads up,” Ming replied before putting the channel on standby.  

The two Valkyries landed in the Denver landing bay.  The canopies for Valkyrie Actual and Five lifted.  Ming was the first one out.  

“Murphy, Andrews, Kincaid, Xellath….Front and center!  XO, Knight 5….With me” Ming barked in true style.  

Órlaith looked up at the calling of her name. Glancing at one of the junior crew chiefs she handed him the spanner she was using and fell in line with the rest of the assembly of the summoned flight crew.

Abara sauntered up joining Knight’s Actual and two.  He was curious as to what his old friend and commander of his wing (for the second time) was up to. The crew chief, ordinance chief, and technician showed up a scant few seconds later with curious looks on their faces as well.

“We need to press the two Peregrines back into service. Mr. Xellath, are they ready to go,” Ming asked.

The Tellarite nodded and said, “Sound in all respects, Mr. Ming.  Perfect working order and ready to go.”

Ming glanced at Mikela and asked, “Chief Andrews…Are both ships armed?”

“Of course L.T.  Standard ordinance and ready to fight and do damage as needed,” Andrews said in her lilt. 

“Very good.  Órlaith…Think you’re ready to take flight,” Ming said as his eyes focused on the blonde lady he’d accepted as his protégé.

With eyes as wide as saucers she started at Ming for a long moment dumbfounded not sure she was hearing correctly. “Sir,” Órlaith asked.

“Cadet,” Sh’iv started, “You joined us to be a pilot didn’t you?”

Órlaith swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded her head with more confidence than she felt. “Yes, ma’am I’m ready.”

Marcus nodded and said, “Very well.  Órlaith…You’ll take my old fighter.  I am assigning Chief Andrews as your gunner.  You’ll have command of the fighter but Mikela will be assisting with fire control as an added edge.”

He paused and looked at Sh’iv, “You’ve got Abara’s old fighter.  I’m having Specialist Kincade join you as well. These two are rated as gunners and highly qualified.  Doesn’t matter how good we all are.  An edge is an edge and we need that.  Unfortunately, these two are the ONLY two qualified gunners on the ship who aren’t already pilots otherwise I’d be assigning others to me and Kincade. The Peregrines are more heavily armed and slower than the Valkyries so that’s where the added gunners are best placed.  The added crew is not a negative statement about either of your flying abilities.  I want to make that abundantly clear.”  

Knight Actual gave a pointed look to each woman in turn indicating a response was expected.  He waited for both to respond.

Both women shrugged at Ming’s explanation, their reactions almost synchronized. Sh’iv, having flown with the flight leader for years, immediately understood the rationale behind his decisions. She knew Knight Actual’s strategic choices were never arbitrary or personal. Experience had taught her that his actions were always calculated to maximize their operational effectiveness and ensure mission success.

As for Órlaith, she was glad of the extra help.  She had logged nearly 500 hours of simulator time, and of course, before joining the Denver she had another thousand hours or so of shuttle experience flying shuttles and other small craft for her psychotic parents. But this was an entirely new experience.  She had never actually flown a fighter, and of course never in combat.  She was glad Andrews was there so all she had to focus on was flying.

Ming SOMEHOW managed not to smile at the look on his protégés face. He’d seen similar looks on many faces before. In all honesty, he wore that look a few times too. He took a small step closer and said, “You’ve many
hours in the training sims in addition to your prior experiences. Use that to your advantage, trust your instincts, and keep on Knight 2’s wing. Makes sense to keep the Peregrine fighters paired up after all.”

The Knight’s CO took a step back and addressed the flight crews as a whole, “Ok, folks…  the atmospheric interference is still a major factor. Going atmospheric and leaving the atmosphere will stay a blind approach it
looks like so keep on as we have been. Knight 6, and Knight 2 will talk you through it the first time. It’s been an education so far, that’s for sure.”

Marcus paused a moment then continued, “The dynamics are going to change a bit with Knight 6 being brought in. Knights 2 and 6 will be flying together. Otherwise, Knights 3 and 4 will be a team with me and Knight
5 adding to the mayhem… Ming tossed a grin at his wingman adding to the impish tone at the end. More seriously he added, “We launch when everyone’s preflight is complete As we have been keeping the communication going. We’ve got three pairs but we’re all one team Knights. Mount up, let’s knock out the checklists and when we launch it’ll be fangs & claws out.”

Knight 2…

Sh’iv broke through the clouds and frowned.  Her fingers danced over the controls while she kept a side eye on the group of shuttles they were escorting.  Her antenna twitched in frustration as her fingers entered commands and the computer returned with an annoying buzz of failure.  “Knight 2 to Knight Actual,  are you having problems with your sensors too?  I can’t get a resolution beyond a few kilometers.”

Knights 1 and 5

Ming checked his sensors and rechecked them after a few deft keystrokes to tune them.  He radioed, “Knight Actual to Knight 2 — Confirmed.  The sensors are being interfered with worse than before.  Keep an eye out and be ready as rouble is likely on the way.  Fangs and claws out Knights.  As usual respond to threats with extreme predjudice.”   

Knight 6…

Órlaith’s alarms blared in the cockpit, and out of instinct, she slammed the throttle open rolling hard to starboard and pulling back on the controls into a split-s causing alarms to protest. As she came out of the maneuver a missile sailed past and exploded in a brilliant antimatter explosion that shook the whole fighter. Órlaith’s heart pounded in her ears and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead as she worked the controls of the fighter.

“Jesus!” Andrews muttered her eyes wide and a death grip on the side of her console.  “Was that?” she asked her voice flat and tense. 

“Yeah,” Órlaith said flatly, “They have antimatter weapons now. Bogies Twelve o’clock low.”

“I see them,” Andrews replied as her fingers danced over the controls. “Sensors are detecting nearly fifty fighters”.

Órlaith glanced outside and the flight XO was in formation next to her. Órlaith pushed the nose of her fighter down. Absently she selected micro torpedoes not knowing if the Lupherians had managed to reverse-engineer the Cardassian shield technology either.  

“Targets locked,” Andrews announced.

“Fire when you have a solution,” Órlaith ordered.

A split second later a full spread of mico-photon torpedoes shot from the fighter. Órlaith closed the throttle and deployed the reverse thrusters to pull out the attack. As she climbed away from the flight of enemy fighters, she stole a glance at the sensor screen. Two icons representing the enemy faded from the screen.

Knight Actual…

Ming and Abara stayed in tight formation.  Things just got more real than he liked.  He and Abara split formation to avoid enemy fire.  Once clear the two regained their formation and opened up on the threats with alacrity.  One of the bogies fired and missed Knight Actual by bare inches.  It was a close enough miss to singe the paint on his port wing.  The interference caused a few more misses than he was comfortable with however the Knights were doing some real damage.  

He got on the squadron circuit and said, “Knight Actual to all Knights:  Knight 3 and 4 — Continue to shephard our sheep.  Knight’s 2 and 6 – Keep workng on keeping the bogies off of our shuttles along with Knight 5 and myself. We should be clear momentarily so hang on for just a bit longer.”

McPhearson’s voice came across the coms, “Knight 3 to Knight Actual.  All shuttles should be clear in 90 seconds….two minutes tops. Keep em off us for just a bit longer.”

Marcus replied, “Knight Actual copies.  Knight Actual to Knight 2:  Confirm reciept of Kngith 3’s report.”

“Understood,” Sh’iv responded.  “There’s fifty of them and two of us.  You want to come down here and help even the odds sir?

“I think that Knight 5 and I can join the dance for a couple minutes.  After that the Knights got other places to be.  ETA less than 10 secs,” Marcus replied.  

Knight actual waggled his wings a couple times to get Knight 5’s attention before doing a peeling dive toward the frey.  Abara was not far behind him and offset to the left wing of the Knight’s commanding fighter.  

The two Valkyries cleared a pair of enemy fighters off the Peregrine’s flown by his XO and protege.  The engagement seemed to go on for much more than two minutes.  There was a near torpedo strike that caused an exposion very near to Ming’s fighter.  There was no damage to the fighter though the Knight’s CO got rattled around worse than normal inside the cockpit.  The fight went on.

Knight 6…

Órlaith watched in awe struggling to keep up with Knight 2. Sh’iv ducked and dived and already taken six of the enemy fighters out of action.  The Knight’s XO was locked on a seventh when a fighter slipped in on their six o’clock position sending warning alarms all through the cockpit as enemy weapons locked on Órlaith’s fighter. 

“Laith…” Andrews announced tension in her voice.

“I know!” Órlaith snapped as she fired the reverse trusters throwing her and Andrews forward with a whine of the inertial dampers and a scream of the hull. One of the Lupherian antimatter missiles flew harmlessly overhead.

The enemy fighter shot past unable to match the manuver.  The pilot was performing a turning escape as Andrews opened up with a blast of phasers shearing off a wing and damaging the engine causing it to stream thick black smoke.  The pilot ejected just before the craft rolled into  death spiral his puffy white parachute catching the wind.

Knight Actual…

Ming remained rattled from the near torpedo hit but he was otherwise unphased and continued to fight.  Ming looked at the countdown timer.  Time was up.  The shuttles along with Knight’s 3 and 4 would be clear by now.  

“Knight Actual to Knight’s 2, 5 and 6 — That’s time!  Let’s bug the hell out and make best speed to Denver!  Break and head for home,” Ming declaired over the Knight’s frequancy.  

“Acknowledged,” Sh’iv replied over the intercom.

‘Knight’s 2 and 6 – Take the lead.  Maximum in-atmospheric for home.  Knight Actual and 5 will be right behind you,” Ming ordered over the radio.

Ming and Abara did a double helix move dropping some countermeasures as they followed the two peregrine’s up to shake some weak attempts at weapons fire.  That was the last of it.  The four remaining Knights went home to the USS Denver.  Ming couldn’t speak for anyone else but a shower, bite to eat and a good sleep sounded amazing once they landed.  

Randall picked up a load of pattern enhancers and was setting them up, in an effort to transport through the radiation shield. He set up the last one, when someone approached.

Riandri stepped up behind Randall, her phaser rifle in hand. “Is this all of them? Let us get this one set up here and see if this does the trick otherwise, we may need more or have to move them closer. I figure we have 45 minutes until they start executing them.”

“Aye, sir.” Randall picked up the last one and with his phaser rifle slung over his shoulder, carried the enhancer to the correct location. “All enhancers position, commander. Standing by.”

“Excellent,” Riandri said as she tapped her combadge. “Denver, can you get a lock on the medical team?” After a moment of silence, her combadge chimed and the transporter chief responded, “Negative Commander, the signal is stronger than before but the radiation is still too high in the area. If you can move them closer we should be able to cut through.” There was a pause for a moment, “We could also look at relaying it through one of the runabouts, this may help.” Riandri exhaled after she ended the transmission and adjusted the phaser as she looked in the direction of the Luphirian camp and muttered, “Closer, to a hostile group of soldiers.”

Turning to Randall, “Let’s get this shifted in closer by another couple hundred meters. Any more and I worry about encountering their patrols.” She tapped her combadge without waiting for a response, “Nalam to Collins, we need to tighten the grid, lets move the enhancers in another 200 meters and try again. Try to avoid any contact with them if possible, I don’t think they will hesitate to shoot another hostage.”

“Aye.” Collins signalled to his detail. They came over, broke down the enhancers, and started moving closer to the target. Collins took point, the others guarding the men with the enhancers. Slowly they moved forward, taking cover if they thought someone was getting too close.

Ahead of them, not far from their targeted zone a patrol of Luphirian soldier slowly made their way around one of the partially collapsed buildings not even attempting to hide their presence. “I hope the offworlders try something. They look weak and cowardly, they should learn to not interfere with our planet,” one of them said aloud to no one in particular.

“Kept your voice down,” another growled. “We know nothing about them or what they can do. They destroyed the research centre and most of this city without us knowing.” The comment elicited a choir of snarls from the other four soldiers around him. “Keep your eyes and ears sharp, one of the nurses said he thought some had headed this way while the others used their ships to leave.”

Collins slowly moved as close as he could to eavesdrop on the soldiers, his rifle ready. He moved back to the others as soon as the two moved away.

Riandri swung the enchanter over her back and started to make her way down the empty street toward the small square she intended to set it up. Moving slowly to mask her approach she crouched behind an abandoned ground vehicle when and waved to Randall to move up. “Looks clear, you see anything?”

Collins moved up and crouched beside her. “Ran into two soldiers, but I didn’t engage. Besides that, this area is secure, commander.” 

“Good,” Riandri commented before starting to make her way forward. After ducking and dodging between the ruined buildings Riandri and Randall made their way to the edge of the square and stopped when they saw the patrol Randall had previously encountered ending from the other side.

“Damnit,” Riandri muttered, “I only see two. What about you?”

“I think they’re using that building as a base of operations, so maybe some of their soldiers are taking the opportunity to get some rest,” Collins whispered. “I could take two men and try to capture as many as we can, or, if you prefer, kill anyone in the building.”

Riandri stared at the square for a moment and then back at Collins, “We need access to that square. If we can get the transporter enchanter in place, we should be able to beam the medical team out.”  She frowned and nodded to Collins, “A tricorder should be able to block any transmissions from their team. I don’t want any of them killed, stun them.”

“Yes commander.” Collins signaled 3 of his unit to follow them. When they got closer to the square, he motioned to switch to stun on their weapons. They approached the building and gained entry. 1 hostile was put down, stunned, immediately. His people cleared the building, all hostiles were down. Collins went outside, made visual with the commander and the rest of his team, that the building and square was secured. 

Riandri nodded to Collins as he confirmed the building was secure. She quickly moved forward to the centre of the square before she placed down the transport enhancer. Within several moments she had it activated.

“Denver, the enchancers are in their new location, can you get a lock on the medical team?” Riandri said after she opened a channel to the ship.

The channel crackled for a moment before a response came through, “We cannot get a solid lock but the last runabout is about to depart the surface, they may be able to relay the signal. One moment.”

Collins had spread his security detail in a parameter to guard the commander. 

Riandri frowned as she looked at the countdown before she muttered under her breath, “Only two minutes until the deadline.”

Tapping her combadge she raised a channel to the Captain, “Captain, this is Nalam. We have a set of pattern enhancers in place and think we can use one of the runabouts to beam our people out. We only have five minutes until the deadline. Should we hold off or pull them out?”

“Do it,” Rebecca ordered. “Shuttles are enroute.  Oh, please inform Mr. Collins to prepare an extraction of the hostages… I hope it doesn’t come to this but reasonable people don’t take hostages and shoot unarmed prisoners.”

“On it,” Raindri said as she closed the channel and flagged over Collins.

“We will attempt a beam-out but I would be shocked if we can get everyone in more than a couple rounds via the runabout,” Riandri said as she unslung her rifle.  “Get your people ready, the countdown runs out in just over four minutes. When it does we need to be in place to make sure the medical team is beamed out and not shot during the process.”

“Aye commander. I’ll set up a perimeter around the medical teams position and as soon as the beam out starts, we’ll be ready to react.” He motioned to his unit and they quickly set up the perimeter. Within moments all of Collins’s unit took cover and readied their rifles.

Riandri moved position next to Collin’s so she could see the camp the soldiers had set up in more detail. After a glance she was surprised at the lack of soldiers present given the number who had previously shown up at the medical facility. 

“I see about twenty guarding the medical team. I assume there are more patrols out but the rest may be watching the evacuation,” she said to Collin’s before looking at her timer. “We have 30 seconds. As soon as the beam out starts, stun any soldiers you can then we move in to secure the rest of the medical team.”

Collins moved to the next security officer on his right, then on his left and filled them in on the plan, and to stand by. The officers then relayed the plan to the next officer next to them. Collins returned to Riandri, “Ready, commander.”

Riandri knelt before raising the rifle and checking the sights before she glanced at the tricorder she had open beside her, double-checking the time before looking back through the sights. As the last few seconds ticked by she quietly counted down, “5…4…3…2…1.” As the last second passed Riandri squeezed the trigger.

Shouts erupted from the camp as approximately a third of the medical team began to dematerialize. The soldiers spun and watched stupified for a moment as their prisoners vanished before them. Before they could react any further phaser fire lanced inwards from the perimeter of the camp striking multiple guards, and dropping them to the ground. 

Collins, along with the rest of his people, opened fire on the camp. He watched as all the guards dropped to the ground. When it looked like they were all disabled, he stood. “Cease fire!” he yelled. He looked at Riandri to see if she wanted him to take a couple of officers to search the buildings.

Riandri looked at the camp before them and then to Collins, “We need to secure the beam out site. We will need another minute or two to get everyone out. I will take half the officers to down there, you secure the surrounding buildings.”

She slipped around the abandoned vehicle she had been using for cover as she waved several other officers forward. Scanning their surrounding they quickly made their way to the prisoners.

Collins had his officers create a human shield around the commander, as he and the commander reached the first building.

Riandri knelt before the open-air cell that the medical team was being kept in. “Everyone ok? We’ll have you out in a few moments. Had some transporter issues.”

There was some mumbling from the medical team, most of whom showed various signs of abuse. One of the ensigns, closest to her, nodded. “We are most ok ma’am. Some of soldier’s took it upon themselves to rough us up for information but their leader stopped them.”

Riandri smiled sadly, “I am sorry to hear that…” She stopped as her combadge chimed, “Denver to Nalam, the first beam out was successful, we are working on the lock for the next group. We need 20 seconds.”

“Twenty seconds until the next beam out, the radiation is giving the transporters a hard time. We’ll have you out soon,” she said as she looked around. As she did a high-pitched whistle shot past her ear and a sharp clang sounded on the metal grate behind her. Quickly ducking down the sounds of phaser fire erupted from around her as two of the officers with her had found their mark.

“Hostile down Commander,” came the voice of one of the officers.

“Fryman, Meadows and Juno, do a sweep and look for any more hostiles. If possible, take a senior officer prisoner.” Collins called out.

Collins watched as the 3 soldiers, Fryman, Meadows and Juno, started their sweep. He decided he would provide backup for them to watch their backs. The first house they entered was empty, except for 3 dead bodies, which appeared to be the local inhabitants. As they left the house, they saw Collins. “I’m here as a backup. Continue with your assignment.” They approached the next, partially destroyed, house the tricorder detected faint life signs inside. Collins went to a window and peeked inside. He saw two bodies but could not find the weak life signs that the tricorder detected. Calling two of his men over they began to shift rubble from the partially collapsed wall, undoubtedly caused by the explosions that leveled much of the city and found a live infant. The team made entrance and searched the building. Collins went over to the infant, used his tricorder on it, which showed that the infant was alive but in need of medical attention from some minor injuries and slightly dehydrated. Collins pulled out a water packet and first moistened the infants’ lips, then he gave the infant small drinks of water. Collins picked up the infant, and the team left the building. There were two more buildings left to search, so Collins left the group to continue their search, while he returned to Riandri with the child.

Riandri watched as the final members of the medical team were beamed out and turned just as Collins approached, “Is that a, a bady?”

Collin nodded, “It needs medical attention, I found it buried under some rubble, its parents were killed in the blast I think. If it weren’t for the tricorder we would have missed it.”

Riandri shook her head in frustration and sadness, “Let’s get the kiddo up to the ship, I am not going to get a baby die.” Tapping her combadge she raised the Denver, “Denver, this is Nalam. The Medical team has been beamed out. Can you lock onto the security team? We also have an infant in need of medical attention.”

“Affirmative Commander, next beam out in 20 seconds. We can get all of you.”

Ming passed through the doors of sickbay.  There was a new CMO in these parts who he’d briefly met and he found her intriguing.  He knew of the Goth culture which was founded somewhere in the mid to late 20th century, as he understood it, and he’d only met a few that could be classified as such.  Well, he was easy going if nothing else….and he did have something of an issue.  
 

He’d had some rough maneuvers with the last mission.  The inertial compensators of his fighter had issues keeping up with a few which had his brain rattling around his skull on a few of them.  He was noticing low level headaches, mild nausea and a mild ringing in both ears.  Tinnitus.   Either way he knew not getting looked at was a bad idea.
 

The Knight’s CO paused and looked around.  There were a couple of occupied beds but most were empty which was a tribute to the medical team with some of the chaos recently passed.  Not seeing the good doctor in the main bay he headed toward the CMO’s office.  Jackpot!

Marcus knocked on the doorframe and leaned his head in and asked, “Hi Dr. Haigh….Have you got a moment?”

The wall of dark hair the Doctor had a habit of hiding behind shifted and Lavender’s large, lashed eyes regarded the Lieutenant at her door for a moment. Truth be told she was more than willing to be interrupted from the long and tedious reports she was composing. Extended stints alone in her office (or anywhere for that matter) were difficult. But her mind changed slightly when she saw who it was who had come knocking. She had nothing against Lieutenant Ming, she barely knew him in fact. But just his face brought new flashbacks to her mind’s eye from the fighter ascent that had given her a harrowing panic attack. Showing only the tiniest flicker on her face of the sudden pain the images in her head were inflicting on her Lavender invited Marcus to take the chair opposite with a wave of a pale hand.

“I do. Sit. Speak.”

Ming paused for a brief moment but did as bade.  He did so a bit more pensively than he might’ve as he noticed the rather subtle change in Lavendar when he had come in.  Was it really not a bad time?  Had he done something wrong toward her that he was unaware of?

He tilted his head slightly and said, “Well, the Knights had a lot of hard action with this last mission.  Me and my wing officer tend to fly with an aggressive flying style.  I guess my inertial dampener was a bit less fine tuned than his as he’s reported no ill effects…Me on the other hand….There were a few manuvers where my head got rattled around a bit harder than usual.  Some of the other cadets used to call it ‘Cranial pinball” back in flight school.  I didn’t experience often but I ran into it enough that I know it goes during and after.  Concussive symptoms of headaches, nausea, dizziness….Ringing in the ears.  My symptoms have been so mild I didn’t recognize it for what it was at first.  Can’t be anything but however.  Soon as I figured out that it was the most likely culprit I presumed it to be the wisest course I come in and get checked out.” Lavender nodded as she listened. She was tempted to comment on how infuriating it was for her when people tried to push on through in these situations and how it just made her job harder but resolved instead of positive reinforcement.

“Definitely wise, especially in your vocation,” she told Marcus, scooping part of the hair wall behind her left ear. “Sounds like you’re an old hand with mTBI. May I run a few scans?

“That’d be fine….And yeah, piloting was a little rough before the war.  Sadly it’s gotten more vicious with the war.  If the Dominion doesn’t kill us in our small fighters trying to survive sometimes does it for them,” Ming said with a tone and smile denoting it as gallows humor.

He started to stand but stopped half way with an obvious wince before slowly sliding back into the seat.  He looked over at her his violet eyes meeting her green/grey as his face got noticeably paler.  He said his voice now carrying clear worry, “That’s new….It’s never been that bad.” Lavender half-rose and held her hand out flat as a signal to keep him in the chair.

“Whoa, okay just stay seated for a while, let it pass and I’ll check you out,” she said firmly but kindly. Rising she acquired a medical Tricorder and a Hypospray from an equipment trolley by the wall. The latter was placed on the desk within easy reach, the former was opened and Lavender started to take some scans.

“I’m reading some neuronal depolarisation and your cranial blood flow isn’t what it should be,” she told him, sitting on the front of her desk near to Marcus and putting the open tricorder down for a moment to prep the Hypospray. “How’s your vision? Any changes?”

Ming lowered his eyes for a moment apparently in thought.  His eyes looked up to meet hers and when their eyes met three things happened at once.  His face went from thoughtful to panicked, he thought that the doctor may’ve been one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and although his lips didn’t move Lavender could hear him say, sounding very alarmed, “Help!.”

Within the span of two heartbeats afterwards, Marcus D. Ming, the commanding officer of the Knights, collapsed into a heap on floor.  Once settled he did not move.

“The fuck…?” Lavender was momentarily confused but the source of the voice became insignificant as Marcus went down.

“Help, here, right now!” Lavender called out of the office door and rescanned Marcus’ cranium as some of her staff rushed over. “Intracranial Hemorrhage,” she informed them. “Get him to a bio-bed.”

As Marcus was carried to the nearest bed, Lavender grabbed a kit trolly, threw a few items on to it and went to work. First priority was the stop the bleed. She placed a neural device on Marcus’ forehead and interfaced with the biobed itself to adjust the configuration. Next she leaned over and admiistered  a couple of shots from a hypospray.

“Don’t worry Lieutenant,” she said to the unconscious pilot, “I got you.”

Lt. Ming sensed more than heard Lavendar’s assurances.  Gratitude was the only sentiment he could feel at the moment and he hoped she could sense that from him as he did his best to project it.  His special gifts were so intermittent there was no way for him to know if it was gotten across or not.  In the meantime he held onto dear life to the best of ability and hoped that whatever was wrong was able to be fixed.

Lavender administered a Hypospray and put Marcus under.

Lavender padded quietly around the biobed, checking Marcus’ scans. The damage had all been repaired and she’d let him rest a while, making sure all of his brain scans were coming back consistently normal. They were, so she pressed the hypospray in her hand to his neck bringing him around gently.

For what seemed like a long few moments Marcus Ming was in a dark, thoughtless void.  He noticed that he was emerging from it now however. His thoughts and wits was the first to start coming back.  He noticed a familiar presence that felt trustworthy nearby.  

A couple of heartbeats later he slowly started to open his eyes.  He hadn’t known how long he was out so it seemed like a wise idea as he might be sensitive to light.  Once they were open enough to see the light levels he was glad he did.  It wasn’t blinding but it was bright enough.  He blinked a few times before he looked carefully around.  
 

Ming’s violet eyes met Dr. Haigh’s grey-green.    He smiled and said (a little weakly), “Well, I’d ask if I were in heaven but if that were the case I’d likely not have a few stiff muscles.  Feeling surprisingly well otherwise.    Can I assume the procedure went as expected?”

“Heaven not required just yet, Lieutenant,” Lavender remarked dryly with a small smile. “The blood vessel has been repaired successfully, you should be fine but I’m going to keep you here a while for observation and a neural exam in a bit. If everything is ok I’ll discharge you but you’ll be taking forty eight hours medical leave. No flying, no training, no Hangar work and no objections. Only exception is if the ship comes under attack. Once you’re back flying the first thing you’ll be doing is dialling in those inertial dampeners. Clear?”
 
Marcus studied the doctor for a long second   He smiled, his eyes meeting hers, as he said, “I’ll agree to stay so long as I get the continued pleasure of your company…the rest…I agree to conditionally.”

Ming smiled lopsidedly and continued, “I’ve learned to rely on my senses pretty heavily in combat operations and flight in general. I’d be willing to manage a balance but it’ll be shy of the normal.  It’ll be quite a bit safer though.  If you’re okay with that I guess that a 48 hour medical leave it is.  My only other request is that you notify Captain Talon of the leave. The fighter group is a minor department but she should know that it’s department head is out of comission for a couple days.” Lavender ran her tongue over her front teeth under her closed lips in a thoughtful manner.

“Of course, standard procedure,” she explained. “Safer is good. It might not be Rock and Roll but I’d bet you’d hate to have to give up flying permanently on medical grounds. Even with twenty fifth century technology there’s only so much mTBI a human can take. Oh and uh…” the doctor smiled slightly in her usual sarcastic manner, “I’m glad you agree to my treatment plan Lieutenant, but it’s an order, not a suggestion.”

Ming smiled and started to say something but stopped, obviously rethinking it.   The smile lessened and he said, “Of course doctor.  I learned in my last assignment that the CMO’s orders might as well rank as high as one of the Gods of old.  It’s better to piss off a wing commander than the ship’s head Medical officer.  That’s for sure.  As ordered Doctor.”

“I’m glad we understand each other, Lieutenant,” Lavender respoded rather haughtily. “Now, unless you have any questions, get some rest, if you need anything call one of the nurses and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Understood, doctor.  That sounds like sound advise.  See you when I see you, Doctor,” Ming said with amiable respect.  

As the doctor walked away Ming sighed and looked around.  Like most medical bays it was pleasent enough.  He preferred to minimize his time in them though.  He’d decided that minimizing his time here was usually a good goal barring a friendly relationship with one of the staff.  Even with that thought in mind he decided not to prolong his stay any longer than intended.  Pilots had reputations.  He wasn’t the avarage pilot though.

USS Castanaga – shuttlecraft cockpit

   It had been two days since Farl had left his home on Earth. He’d only put in for a transfer barely a week ago, yet here he was, on his way. He’d expected much more time to get his affairs in order: a week for personnel to consider his request, another week for the USS Denver’s CO to look at his file, maybe schedule an interview, another month to find a replacement instructor… Guess not.

   Apparently, the Denver had found some sort of warp anomaly on a pre-warp planet? Starfleet had expedited the transfer in order to get Farl’s eyes and expertise out there. At least, that’s what the commander had told him as he’d handed over Farl’s orders. Farl thought it was a little odd – he wasn’t exactly a warp field engineer, in fact, he’d barely scraped by his engineering extension courses – but he was pretty knowledgeable about warp theory itself. Plus, we’re at war – maybe Starfleet was eager to get active starships a full roster. Regardless of the motivation, Farl’s orders were approved, and he was given a type 6 shuttlecraft, and a set of coordinates.

   Farl Ferrus IV didn’t believe in a higher power, but if he had, he might’ve prayed to one that afternoon, on the second day of his journey. A beetle-shaped blip had just appeared on his long-range scanners. His whiskers flattened against his face as a shiver ran down his spine. He hadn’t encountered the Dominion yet… outside of training simulations, that is. He’d been a teacher since the war started. Would this be his first encounter?

   Looked like the answer would be yes. The blip adjusted course and the computer warned Farl he only had 3 minutes to intercept. Pulling up a star chart, Farl identified a nearby solar system with a convenient asteroid belt in far orbit. It was similar to Sol’s Kuiper Belt, but much more dense. With a little luck, maybe Farl could hide his shuttlecraft there. Adjusting course slightly, he dropped out of warp about 30 seconds later.

   Farl’s three minutes were up in the blink of an eye, and the Dominion fighter dropped out of warp on top of him. A blueish haze lit up the interior of the shuttle as polaron beams lanced through the darkness of space. It was a near miss. Farl had retracted the shields slightly – a trick his last CO had taught him – it made shields slightly unstable, but it made his shuttle a slightly smaller target. Unfortunately that was basically the only engineering trick Farl had up his sleeve, but he figured it would get him to the relative safety of the asteroid belt. He was half right.

   Sparks exploded out of the co-pilot’s panel as another polaron beam reached out, angrily cutting through the poor shuttlecraft’s shields and raking across the hull. The beam was interrupted early, however, as a small asteroid sailed between Farl and the Dominion ship. His mind racing, Farl piloted the shuttle behind one asteroid after another. The Dominion ship was following, but couldn’t get a good shot off. How would he get out of this? He needed to get out of this. Besides the obvious side effect of being dead, it would be downright embarrassing to die here, in this shuttle, his only contribution to the war effort being a temporary distraction for a lone Dominion ship. Then inspiration struck. 

   Farl scanned the asteroid field for a suitable target, then dumped all auxiliary power into the deflector dish. Swinging around behind an asteroid the size of his shuttle’s warp nacelle, he overloaded the deflector dish and flung the asteroid at his beetle-shaped opponent. Two things happened simultaneously: the asteroid clipped the Dominion vessel, one good skip across the ventral hull like a flat rock across a pond, and a polaron beam connected with the temporarily stopped shuttlecraft. 

   Farl woke up with a start. Blood matted his facial fur, and had pooled on the control panel. The lights were flickering, and a small fire burned in the wall panel next to him. Head swimming, he slowly tapped on the control panel. Shields gone. The deflector dish is gone. One nacelle was leaking plasma. Life support failing. This was… less than ideal. The only good news was a lack of a Dominion ship on his scanners. Blinking slowly, Farl checked his position. His shuttle had luckily been flung back out of the asteroid field, and he was slowly drifting away from the solar system he’d found. 

   A wave of nausea rolled over Farl, and he barely clung to consciousness. Head wounds bleed a lot, but was that the only problem? After his vision cleared, Farl took a look at his body. Half his uniform had been burned away. So had half his fur, for that matter. Farl Ferrus IV was no doctor, but he knew he needed help. He managed to choke out a request to the computer. “Warp nacelle damaged. Warp speed available for approximately 23 minutes, 15 seconds, before warp plasma leak, renders warp drive unsustainable” the voice informed him. Great.

   Farl struggled to run some calculations in his head. The numbers were slow to come to him. He was fading fast. A decision had to be made. Farl punched a series of commands into the console. Power reallocated as commanded, and the shuttle shakily jumped to warp. Tumbling out of his seat, Farl crawled to a storage locker in the rear of the shuttle. He pulled out an emergency blanket and weakly tugged it over his body. Farl reached for the med kit next, but his vision shrank to a pinprick, and then everything went dark.

USS Denver – Bridge

The bridge was silent. The events on the planet below hung in the air thick and uncomfortable like a fog drifting across a Louisiana swamp. Rebecca sat in the center chair her legs crossed sipping a coffee waiting for word from the multiple – too many teams, that were in the field.

The operations panel buzzed in alarm shattering the silence. Rebecca jumped and nearly dropped her coffee.  Shooting to her feet she didn’t wait for her operation’s officer to announce. “Report.!”

As Lieutenant Przybyszewska was on the planet below her second was at ops.

“Curious…”  Lieutenant T’Leya re-checked her sensor readings.

“There is an object entering the System,” she explained, turning to face the Captain. “Materials analysis suggests it is a Starfleet shuttle, however, there is no power signature and no transponder.”

Rebecca crossed the bridge to look over her shoulder,  “Ms. Jones intercept course, best speed. Lt. T’Lelya inform our away teams we’re breaking orbit.” Pressing her combadge the captain continued to rattle off orders, “Bridge to Sickbay.  We are intercepting a damaged shuttle. Prepare to receive casualties.”

“Acknowledged.” Lavender’s voice played briefly over the bridge speakers. To those who knew her well, she sounded a bit perturbed. T’Leya didn’t and as such she didn’t pick up on it. The Vulcan was more focused on her duties.

“Aye aye,” TLeya nodded to the Captain and speaking in a low voice so as not to disrupt the rest of the bridge opened a channel to the planet.

“Denver to all away teams, we are breaking orbit to render aid to a shuttle within this star system. You will be informed upon our return.”

“Aye, sir. Breaking orbit. Setting interception course. 241, Mark 17 three-quarters impulse. Time to intercept. Three minutes, 12 seconds. Shall we go to Yellow Alert, Captain? We don’t know what damaged the shuttle yet.” 

“Do it, and scan for enemy ships,” Rebecca replied. “Hail the shuttle.”

Shuttle…

   Consciousness slowly returned to Farl. Why? He blinked slowly, clearing the fog from his vision. It was cold. Freezing, in fact. His senses felt pretty dull at the moment, but he was shaking, and also there was a rime of frost along some of the shuttlecraft’s interior surfaces. Not great.

   As he took in his surroundings, he recognized what had awoken him. The shuttlecraft was completely dark, except for a solitary, blinking red light on the control panel. That was a hail. Must be running off its internal, emergency battery, since everything else was dead. Farl clawed his way along the floor to the pilot’s chair, hauled himself into it, and clumsily slapped the comms.

“This is Lieutenant Commander Ferrus, onboard the USS Castanaga. I have no power, not sure how long the communications battery will last. Do you read me? I can see I’ve been hailed, but I don’t know who’s out there and I couldn’t make out your message.”

“This is Captain Talon of the Federation Starship Denver. We’re on our way Commander. ETA is…”

“Transporter range in 14 seconds. Full interception in 36 seconds, Captain.” Jones said with practiced ease.

“We’re almost there. Hang in there and we’ll pull you out,”  Rebecca said.

“Message received, thank you Denver. I’ll be ready. Might need some help getting off the transporter pad though, I’m pretty beat up. Just so you know, I had a run-in with our visiting bullies from the Gamma quadrant in a nearby star system… It was a single Dominion fighter. Unsure if they were destroyed or simply disabled. I’m sorry, I can’t recall the coordinate right now, having trouble concentrating. It was a yellow star, with a dense asteroid field at the edge of the system.” Ferrus made the mistake of shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear the fog. He got stars in his vision for his troubles. “I think the shuttlecraft computer is intact, so if you can restore power to it, you can pull the coordinates and sensor readings.”

Farl thought his vision was going again, as pinpricks of light started to appear around him. Then he realized it was a a transporter confinement beam, and relaxed.

Sickbay…

Doctor Lorsa was standing near a diagnostic table when the transporter beam deposited a Caitian on a nearby bio bed.  “Doctor!” She shouted for Lavender. 

The C.M.O. came flying out of her office at a fast walk, her eyes flicking over the bio-readings as she approached.

“His core temperature is lowered,” she observed, “pulse low but steady. Hypothermia protocol. Get some emergency blankets, I’ll start him on Oxygen.”

Lavender checked her patient’s response as she prepped the mask to slide over the Caitian’s nose and mouth. She could see the sluggishness and confusion in him.

“Commander, you’re aboard the Starship Denver. I’m Doctor Haigh, can you hear me?” Lavender didn’t use the term Doctor in reference to herself too often, but one exception was a situation like this, where a patient was in some distress and hearing they were in the hands of a doctor would give them some comfort.

Lorsa returned with blankets and threw them over the patient  “By the Prophets,” she muttered looking Farl over.

Farl groggily opened his eyes. Was he in a sickbay? It’s hard to make out the details when the walls are swimming. He tried to say “Thank you doctor,” but given the oxygen mask suddenly over his mouth, combined with the hypothermia, he was pretty sure all that came out was “mrrble, unc.” He shivered under the blankets, but he could tell he was already improving. It was warm in here. Farl hadn’t been entirely convinced he’d feel warmth again, until about a minute ago.

“We’ll use a combination of passive, airway and fluid re-warming,” Lavender said mostly to Lorsa as she adjusted some parameters on the bio bed before addressing Farl directly. The air he was breathing was set to be slightly warm to help increase his body temperature.

“We’re going to warm you up slowly Commander, we don’t want to shock your system but you should improve quite quickly now.” Turning to Efe she added “If he was without power I’m willing to bet he wasn’t drinking. Start him on fluids, control the temperature carefully, I don’t want to shock him.”

The Bajoran woman nodded, and rushed to a nearby replicator.  Entering the orders into the keypad a pouch of saline appeared on the pad already warmed per the medical guidelines.   Returning she spread the fur on Farl’s arm and placed a needle-less IV shunt on the spot and hung the bag above the patient. 

Farl nodded his thanks. Shivering under a blanket while caked in blood wasn’t exactly the first impression he’d had in mind when he pictured meeting his new shipmates… But he was alive, thanks to them. That was a good sign, and a much better ending to his journey than he’d expected after first seeing the Dominion ship appear on his sensors. It was gonna be alright.

The control tower was bustling with activity as the two fighter-bombers touched down following their strike on the prison compound and the aliens attempting to break the prisoners out. Though he hated launching an attack on his own people his orders indicated that the Cardassians, as they called themselves, had taken over most of the prison and the new aliens after they had attacked and presumably killed the Alpha where on their way to free them.

Colonel Crocked-Tooth paced back-and-forth as he tried to keep his nerves calm. The preliminary report from the pilots indicated that they had not succeeded in eliminating the alien attacking the prison. The only upside he could see at the moment was from the report General Swiftclaw had sent him indicating that the aliens who had destroyed Delos City were pulling back.

“Any more news from the General or the recovery team heading to the prison?” Crocked-Tooth said as he watched the two aircraft make their way off the runway.

“No, sir. Nothing since the last report. The time limit he gave them ended only a minute ago,” came the reply from the radio operator.

“Keep me updated as soon as you hear anything.” Without pause, he excused himself and returned to his office one floor down. He glanced at the desk where the orders sat from General Swiftclaw; orders that made him question many things. After he sat at his desk he reread the orders for the tenth time, at least, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something, “Why would these new Aliens attack the city or the Alpha?”

The away team beamed in once the Colonel was isolated enough. Varael stepped in from the Colonel’s assistant desk, he said, “You should probably ask me.”  Varael offered, standing calm, but wary. Hearing the question, Varael’s righteous anger shifted from the Colonel but he was still pissed. That would be obvious to anyone who knew him. 

The Colonel jumped to his feet, almost losing his footing when his left got tangled in with the chair. “Alpha!” he stammered while he glanced down at the orders. “How are you still alive? The General told us that the Aliens had killed you…” he stopped as a figure stepped in behind Varael. Crocked-Tooth looked back and forth between the alien figure, who casually leaned on the door, and Varael, “The aliens….the Cardassians, didn’t escape did they?” He felt his anger grow as the pieces began to fall into place. He knew he was long down on the hierarchy in the military so he had been unlikely to question the orders, he had been used, his pilots had been used to attack his own people. 

Jeter stood quietly, though his hand was close to his phaser, as he watched the Colonel quickly put everything together. He could understand the anger both the Luphiraians now displayed and was curious how this would play out. 

Picking up the orders on the desk, Varael read with great interest. While Varael didn’t know the officer extremely well, he knew enough to know that he’d been used as a pawn. Placing a hand on the Colonel’s shoulder, he said. “Give me everything you gotten, and the pack will resolve the issue.” Varael knew exactly what he had to do now. 

Crocked-Tooth bowed his head every so slightly and quickly went to his desk and began to gather all of the documentation he had received from General Swiftclaw. As he did his eyes drifted to the figure quietly waiting in the doorway. As he grabbed his notes and orders he looked up, “I don’t have much Alpha, the General and his supporters have only spoken to me twice. The first was to notify me of the alien attack and your death, ordering me to launch the fighters. He provided all the correct codes…”

Deep in thought, it took Varael a moment to respond. “Swiftclaw. Thank you. The General and the rest of his band of traitors are getting a rude awakening as well. “The difference is, you are awakening from your nightmare. Theirs will just be starting.” Varael’s muzzle animated at the prospect of setting things right. 

Jeter looked between the two and stepped forward, “Are your men loyal Colonel? If the Alpha steps into the command centre here will they join him and remain loyal?”

“You may call us traitors,” Swiftclaw announced stepping into the command center.   He had come here to see if Vareal was dead only to find not only the Alpha, but one of the aliens as well. “It is the Alpha that  is the traitor.  He has betrayed us to aliens.  Sold us put for some weapons and to travel the stars.  Well, we’ve seen where that has gotten us. Our planet is crawling with alien filth and one of our cities obliterated.  I am not the traitor Colonel.  The Alpha is.”

“I don’t need weapons, alien or otherwise, to return your traitorous skin to the ground, Swiftclaw.” Setting his gaze hard, hackles raised. “ Varael wouldn’t be looking away. ”Your failing grasp of obvious facts is only surpassed by ending string of errors in your recent actions. The new smart weapons on your fighters. Hypocrite.”

Getting within inches of Swiftclaw, “This is now far larger than just us you simp. We are about to be involved as less than cannon fodder in the middle of a galatic civil war we didn’t even know existed until today. Adding to that, your ill-timed attack just denied medical and emergency treatment to that same city, which I voted against but was overruled by the tribal vote.” Using a finger and pointing to his temple. “Think you squirrel!”

Swiftclaw growled barring his teeth, the fur on the back of his neck raised.  As he did half a dozen armed troops responded their weapons poised to fire. “Today will be your last Alpha!”

Jeter sighed, “Well this didn’t go as I hoped. But as expected I guess….” He gently squeezed the small emergency transponder he had been holding. As he did the world swirled around Vareal and him as shouts erupted around them. A moment later they found themselves standing back onboard the Denver. 

Jeter didn’t delay as he quickly ran to the transporter console and focused the scanners on the room they had just been. “Got you…” As he did he activated the transporter, targeting all the Luphiraians within the Colonel’s office.

Seeing the human rush off the place they had beamed to, Varael and the others cleared the transporter pads. Turning, he said, “Thank you, Mister Jeter. I thought I was going to have to resort to more aggressive tactics. My gratitude for your impeccable timing. Please tell me with all of your wonderous technology, you also have the traitors?” 

He added, “Even if you don’t, I have the evidence I need thanks to body cameras.” Varael said with a smirk, tapping the camera on his chest plate. 

“Bridge to Jeter ” Rebecca’s voice came over the com. “Report.”

Jeter looked at Varael and grinned, showing his teeth,  “One sec.”

He took a deep breath and activated the coms, “Apologies Captain, I had to act quickly. The General who orchestrated the attack ambushed us in the office of the base commander. I believe he was about to kill us so used an emergency beam out to get the Alpha and myself safely aboard.” He paused for a moment before continuing, aware the next bit crossed a line, “I then used the transporters and activated a group transport on all the remaining occupants of the room. They are currently spread across the various bring cells. I would suggest we have security get there right away.”

“Understood.  Please escort the Alpha to my ready room.”

Ready Room…

Rebecca stepped away from the replicator with a coffee in hand, inhaling the aroma and savoring the moment. She let the warmth seep into her hands and smiled. Even if it was replicated, it was still coffee, and after today, she was going to need all the help she could get. The door chimed, snapping her from her reverie. She hesitated and looked down into the swirling black liquid, steam rising from the surface. “Enter,” she called out with a sigh.

Moving behind the desk, Rebecca took her first sip of coffee, using it as a ward against the recent events and news that might be lurking behind the parting doors. When Jeter and the Alpha entered, she flashed them a polite smile before taking a seat. She wished she had Riandri here; Rebecca had come to rely on the Intelligence officer and acting XO. “Gentlemen,” she greeted, motioning towards the empty seats opposite her.

“Captain,” Jeter said with a quick nod before taking a seat. As he did he pursed his lips and clicked his tongue, a habit he had when he was nervous, “How are our guests?”

“Hopefully not getting too comfortable,” Rebecca replied. She glanced at her coffee, considering a sip, then decided against it. “What you did violated countless regulations, including the Prime Directive.”

Jeter nodded in agreement, “I know. I viewed it as the lesser of two evils given the circumstance. I was hoping that Varael, their duly elected leader may have a place he could hold them for trial.” As said that he glanced over at the Alpha.

Rebecca leaned back in her chair, cradling her coffee. At last, she took her second sip. It really was a good replicator recipe. She had gotten it through a friend of a friend who knew someone. Apparently, it was the same one Captain Janeway used.

Varael commented, “There is a volcano in the Southern hemisphere that you could drop the traitors in, problem solved.” He said morbidly but with a chuckle. “Your timing was impeccable, Mister Jeter, thank you. ”Captain. I do appreciate your position. Allow me to get loyal troops back at the camp and they can be interned where their treachery took place.” he said getting up, giving the Captain a release for her brief look of suprise.

“Also, it’s time for action. You came to help. My people desperately need that assistance. The one way to squash this xenophobic infantile behavior is to get your people amongst mine. I have no doubt that your scent will ring as true with them as it did with me. “

“The coup is your responsibility Alpah. We  can’t and I won’t authorize military intervention.   For one, we are explorers and two that is our general order number one.  Once we have your injured stabilized we can provide shelter,  food , and some medicines… even that is bending the rules, but considering the contamination of your culture is partially our fault I think we have a duty to your people.”

Rebecca entered commands and brought up the sensor logs from eight months prior. Hitting play she turned her computer terminal to face the Alpha to view the battle between a Sovereign-class and a Cardassian ship.

Varael watched the screen with great interest. He didn’t pretend to understand the physics of it all. He completely understood the ramifications, horror, and fascination of the situation. “Captain. You and I are in complete harmony. All I am asking for is help for my people. The question we are all wrestling with is undoing what may not be able to be undone.” Then added, “We are also great believers in harmony and fate. Let us see where the music takes us before we ruin the dance.” He offered. “All I require is a communications terminal. The entire interaction between Swiftclaw and I is on record thanks to the body camera in my armor. The pack will decide the traitor’s fate.”

“Then Captain, I need to be with my people. Not dancing here up in the stars.” Varael said plainly. “This is wonderous, magical even, but the day isn’t getting any younger while there are people to attend to.”

Rebecca nodded.  “Mr Jeter will escort you to the transporter room.  Alpha, I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I will get my people to beam down shelters, and medical supplies.  If you need anything please ask. I will also supply a small subspace communicator.  In the coming months a Starfleet follow-up team will likely arrive.”

“Captain. I too would love to have shown you the many splendors we offer. Business as always can be a struggle to harmonize with more pleasant events.

Rebecca nodded, and picked up a PADD containing the specifications of Cochran’s warp drive on the Phoenix. “If anyone asks, you stole this,” she said giving the Alpha a conspiratorial smirk. “That cat is out of the bag, and I doubt you are going to stop developing your own warp drive.  As such you might as well do it safely so we aren’t having to provide rescue teams again.”

A sly smile crossed the Alpha’s face. “Well, Captain. As the author, Terry Pratchett said, your Lieutenant Viat kindly passed along, ” May you live in interesting times.” He said it was one of three books Gus passed along to gain a deeper understanding of humanity. Captain. regardless of what happens from here on out, your crew are honorary pack members. Welcome at anytime. Just call first.” He quipped.

With that Jeter, gestured towards the door, “It’s been a pleasure Varael.”

Aoife hobbled into engineering, having just escaped the clutches of Doctor Haigh. Her chest hurt like hell and she felt queasy, but with the Denver down a Chief Engineer since Berkeley moved on to greener pastures, there was no luxury for the assistant chief to heal, bullet wound or not.

“Leave it to me to get shot in the 24th century,” she muttered to herself as she paused at the “pool table,” leaning on it to catch her breath, her features bathed in the blue glow of the warp core.

She flagged down a Trill crewmember as she rushed by. “Uh… Chief,” Aoife started, noting the Trill’s rank on her collar. “Report.”

Kitsuragi Sanae liked to think she wasn’t usually a nervous wreck- that she was pretty good at keeping herself collected and level-headed. Granted, she also didn’t tend to make a habit of stowing away on Nebula-class cruisers, either. 

The last week or so (was it a week? She’d post track by now) was one of the most nerve-wracking of her life, which was saying something considering she’s twice been in combat aboard a Miranda-class tin can. Sanae had been running around the ship like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to blend in with the normal engineering crew while trying to decide whether it’d be a better idea to turn herself in or just wait out Denver‘s deployment and scoot back to the shipyard before anyone was the wiser. To say she wasn’t used to the hustle and bustle of a ship this big, this new, a frontline cruiser, was an understatement. Diamantina was never this busy, or chaotic. It felt like a whole different Starfleet.

Getting stopped by someone who she could only assume was a senior engineering officer definitely did not help her nerves. Sanae froze for a second, momentarily paralyzed with indecision, before turning on her heel to face Aoife. Just pretend you belong here, everything will be fine, the little voice inside her head muttered. 

Her mismatched eyes- one paler, out of focus, and a little too dilated to be normal- almost certainly betrayed her nervousness. Sanae was not good at hiding things. “U-uh, it’s, uh… petty officer third class, ma’am,” Sanae stuttered, mentally regretting almost immediately correcting the more senior engineer. “But, u-uhm, well… the plasma leak for the starboard impulse engine’s been fixed up, so i-if we had any, y’know, problems with it, that should be… that should be fixed. And, uh, there’s a power surge on Deck Nine I was going to go check out, not sure what it- what it is yet. That’s all I know, sir.” An uncertain pause. “… ma’am.” Aiofe’s com badge cut in.

“Haigh to McKenzie.” Lavender sounded annoyed.

Aoife frowned and let out a low groan, “Yes Doctor?”

“It is my duty as Chief Medical Officer to advise you that you have left sickbay against my explicit advice. Any resulting complications are therefore entirely on you.”

Lavender closed the com without waiting for further response. Perhaps ‘annoyed’ wasn’t a strong enough word.

“Well that went better than expected,” Aoife observed.  “I half expected her to send security after me to drag me back to sickbay.”  She took a breath and winced in pain. “We really need a Chief Engineer.   Until then it’s on me, and since I recently died you’re going to be my hands and back Crewman.”

… well, the medical officer certainly didn’t sound pleased. At least it didn’t sound like she was coming down here- Sanae didn’t need to have medical throwing a fit about her eye on top of everything else. The way Aoife winced brought the Trill-Human to a cringe, tempted to ask if she was okay- or how she could’ve been “recently dead” and yet still here. The words died on her lips before they could escape, and her mouth shut just as quickly. Stupid question to ask.

“… u-uh, yessir. Ma’am. Uhm. Got it.” Mismatched eyes jumped between Aoife and the floor, awkward, caught off-guard. Sanae didn’t even belong here, for fuck’s sake! What was she getting herself into? Should she say something? Come clean at the worst possible moment, rid herself of this unwilling duty to a ship that wasn’t even hers?

The hesitation lasted just a few moments longer, before she looked back up. The answer was never in doubt. Sanae always had trouble saying no.

“What’s first on the list?”

Aoife shifted and entered commands into the nearby console. “Operations reports our main deflector is out of alignment. Science reports failure of the dorsal sensor array,  and tactical reports a malfunction in the Number Three phaser array. The main impulse engines require standard periodic mantinance.  Dealer’s choice,” Aoife replied with a shrug. 

Options, options, options. Sanae could work with that. The deflector array sounded most pressing- they kinda needed that to navigate with any real accuracy, and she didn’t need to be a helmsman to know that accidentally driving Denver into a rock was a sub-optimal outcome. 

“I’ll take the deflector array first,” she declared, pulling a wrench out of her toolbelt and giving it a flashy, and hopefully reassuring, spin in her hand. “It’ll be back up in a flash, promise.”

Perhaps she’d be a stowaway for just a little longer. Just long enough to help. 

“In a flash?” Aoife blinked and sighed.  Ever since receiving the battlefield commission she had to remind herself that she wasn’t just one of the crew anymore.  As acting chief engineer she had double the responsibilities and doing the hands on work wasn’t her job anymore.  “Very well Petty Officer the job’s all yours.”

Riandri was already in the Observation Lounge when Rebecca stepped in, coffee in one hand and a stack of PADDs in the other. Dropping into her chair she organized her space before leaning back coffee cradled in both hands. She inhaled the fragrant aroma of the beverage smiling in contentment. The soft hum of the life support system and the engines were the only sounds in the room. Rebecca savored to coffee.  She savored the moment of silence

“I read your report. You think that’s why Collins is requesting a transfer?” Rebecca asked speaking at last with a fleeting expression of regret playing on her face. 

Riandri turned from the window and looked back at the Captain, “It’s the best I can figure. I suspect there may be more to it, but he didn’t elaborate after the mission. Going back to Luphirian homeworld with the second contract mission is a good fit I think though. After that mission is over he can always come back to Denver if he wants.” As she spoke she made her way to the seat beside the Captain and sat down.

She absently ran her hand through her hair, giving it a slightly disheveled look, a sign, a mannerism of her’s the Captain knew meant that Riandri had something on her mind. “What will you do about Jeter? He danced across the line with his transporter stunt.” She paused for a moment, “Cannot say I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

“Yeah, me too. I think I’ll leave that out of my official report and leave it as is.  No sense in marring an otherwise stellar career over something we both agree was the right thing to do.”

Riandri smiled at that, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Rebecca slid a small box in Riandri’s direction.   “For you actions on Lupheria I nominated you and Starfleet approved it this morning. I hereby award you the Star Cross.”

Riandri just looked at Rebecca speechless for a moment. “I, I, don’t know what to say except thank you. I don’t know if I deserve it the whole thing went pear-shaped when I was on the ground, we almost lost people.” 

“But you didn’t. You dealt it with a level head. You acted like a leader. I would also like to officially make you my XO, should you accept. No more acting. I have come to rely on you and your counsel as much as I did with Cheon. The crew likes you, they follow your lead, and they are inspired by you—something I could never hope to replicate.”

Riandri smiled and nodded, “Thank you, Captain, it would be my pleasure.”

The door swished open.  Rebecca gave Riandri a curt nod.  They would continue their discussion later. Sitting upright in her seat she stacked her PADDs into a neat pile and waited for everyone to be seated.

Lt. Marcus Ming took a seat midway down the table.  He didn’t presume to sit toward the head as he was a lieutenant who’d be in the presence of full and light commanders.  He felt like the place to be.  He settled in and settled a PADD in front of him to access data if need be.

Farl Ferrus followed a Lieutenant he hadn’t yet met into the Observation Lounge. He looked at the table, and hoping nobody had assigned or preferred seats, settled into a chair. He straightened his shoulders, and looked at Captain Talon. “Uh, it’s a little late, but permission to come aboard, captain? I can’t quite recall if I made out any words when you and your crew rescued me. Thank you for that, and I’ll bring myself up to speed on the mission as quickly as I can.” Noticing they were still waiting on a few other staff members, Farl took the moment to start poring over his PADD.

Rebecca gave Farl a slight smile, “Permission granted, and welcome aboard.”

Since she wasn’t at the helm, there was coffee in here Arin Jones’ hand. Taking an empty seat near the middle, she could pay attention better whilst making sure she could hear everything. 

Lavender followed her into the observation lounge and annexed a chair on the other side of the table closer to the Captain adopting a sitting style of informal but absolute confidence. Her Padd clattered slightly as it was discarded on the table. Lavender looked around the assembled idly but offered no greeting or acknowledgement. Chit-chat and small-talk were her abhorrence.

Rebecca directed her attention to Marcus. “I understand you put Órlaith in the cockpit this mission and she has several confirmed kills?”

“Yes, Captain.  The head of our ordinance team, who is a certified gunner, was assisting however she was in command of the fighter.  Knowing she was a very skilled pilot she exceeded my expectations and deserves marks for being an ace.  As you know I was on leave for 48 hours after the event but my XO was flying with Miss Murphy on her wing and I’ll get the exact numbers after this meeting for you.”

Rebecca nodded.  “I hope you understand, we can’t have civilians operating fighters for obvious reasons.” Rebecca dug through the pile of PADDs before finding the one she was looking for.  Sliding it to Marcus she continued,  “I spoke with Starfleet and they approved a field commission  of acting Ensign for Ms. Murphy. I expect you know what to do about that?”

Marcus stopped the padd and grinned.  He replied, “Shouldn’t be a problem at all Captain.  She’ll be a welcome formal addition to to the Knights.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rebecca nodded. “Doctor, how are things?” The Doctor’s rather lazy sitting position didn’t change upon her being addressed.

“Well, we still have the same number of crew we had when this all started, somehow,” she said, her gaze landing mostly on the Captain, but it shifted to Riandri for a moment and then back again. “The crew members who were held hostage have all been seen and discharged from sickbay and referred to the counselling service for follow-up. McKenzie, Ming and Farrus sustained severe injury but are recovering well and should be on light duty for a few days.” Lavender paused, but her body language said that she hadn’t finished just yet.

“Once I was back up here with McKenzie I think it would have been extra hassle to get me back down again to the surface to look after my people. Plus, once they became hostages it was Command and Security they needed to get them out, not me. That said, I didn’t like leaving them. I’ve checked or will be checking in with all of them individually to catch up on their experiences on Lupheria. So I should thank those here who got them all out and back on board Denver without any major casualties.” The doctor remained ever cool on the outside, but she suspected that those in the room who knew her a bit better might detect how leaving her team behind on the surface while she was safe aboard ship didn’t sit well with her.

Riandri nodded towards the doctor in understanding, “It was a hard choice but without you there Ensign McKenzie would likely not have made it. As for the medical team, I am glad we were able to get to them before anything else happened. Please do let me know how they are each doing after you speak to them.”

Jeter who had been sitting quietly spoke up, “Rest assured Doctor that Varael will hold the general accountable for what he did. If the rest of his people are like him then they will do the right thing.”

Lavender nodded her intention to do so as Riandri had requested but as Robert spoke her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned forward in her seat.

“Accountability means nothing without recourse,” she observed. “You’ll forgive me for not putting any faith in them to do right by our people given everything that happened. As any consequences now lie with the Lupherians who are not part of the Federation perhaps our strategy going forward should be a more thorough assessment of the political situation before we start beaming down medics into a danger zone we can’t beam them out of, especially if the locals aren’t unanimous in their desire for Starfleet assistance… Medics don’t grow on trees.”

Perhaps Lavender’s stance was more confrontational than was prudent, but the C.M.O. had taken it hard when her people were put in danger during her first mission as head of department and that was now coming out. You’ll get complaints about me… the phrase she had offered to the Captain upon taking her position played in her head for the eighth or ninth time since she had said it.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” she added. “I’m simply going to do everything I can as Head of Department to watch out for my teams (Lavender prodded herself in the chest with a finger) seeing as it’s them who got busted up.”

“We are dealing with scared people,” Rebecca observed. “First contact doesn’t always go smoothly.  I threw you and your people into a situation without knowing the full context. This is as much my failure as anything.  Relax doctor you did the best in a terrible situation.”

“The initial contact did go well but the coup seemed to catch a lot of people by surprise, us included,” Riandri said. “Lessons were learned but I wouldn’t have gone in any different. There were a lot of people who needed help and though we were down for as long as we could have been lies were saved and that has to be worth something.” 

Jeter leaned forward and looked between Riandri and Lavender, “You have a very valid point Doctor, political assessments are important as you have said so we have all the information we need. As for doing right by our people, I do not doubt that the actions of the coup members cost the lives of many Lupherians and their leadership wanted to make sure they were held accountable. It is something the second contact team will make sure to follow up on.

Lavender listened to the three responses. The officers’ amiability and admissions seemed to satiate her apparent desire for a barney. Hostile tendencies disarmed, Lavender nodded and only responded with an “Okay, thank you.” Before relinquishing the floor to the rest of the senior staff.

“I will be looking for that second contact report. For all the problems we’ve had I find these people fascinating.” Rebecca added.

Lavender just raised a slightly sarcastic eyebrow to this. Seemingly she didn’t. She might, if they hadn’t got on her bad side almost instantly. Lavender would help anyone, but if they spit in the face of the offer that was their chances spent as far as she was concerned.

“Ms Przybyszweska, we’re still down a chief engineer.  I expect you to help young Ms. McKenzie “

Jowita nodded. “Yes Captain, of course.”

“Glad to hear it.” Rebecca directed her attention to Farl, “How are you settling in?”

Farl took in and held a breath for a moment, considering his answer. “Well captain, to be honest I’m still kind of shocked I’m here. Less than a week ago I was teaching students at the Academy. Of course, I requested the transfer, so the assignment wasn’t a surprise, but the rate of change was… brisk.” Farl let out his breath. “That being said, I am settling in nicely. I’ve been working through meetings with the various members of my department, getting to know them and letting them get to know me. With regards to our mission out here in the black,” Farl gestured to the PADD in his hand, “I have a lot of reports to get through. But I’m a quick study, I’m here to help, and I’m happy to do it.” Farl looked around the table, trying to catch everyone’s eye and give them a quick nod or smile. He had to actively remind himself that the neutral face of a Caitian wasn’t always friendly-looking to other species, and he wanted to get along with his new shipmates.

Rebecca listened to Farl sipping her coffee as he spoke.  Setting the mug down  she leaned forward in her seat directing her full focus on the science chief. “I know you are still getting your feet, but I need a report on your department when you can.  If you need anything let myself or Commander Nalam know immediately. You got tossed in here in the middle of a complete shi… in the middle of a total disaster. It’s a lot to take in.”

Farl subconsciously sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Aye captain, and thank you. I have one more meeting with the junior enlisted in my department in about an hour from now, and I’ll have a full report for you shortly after that.”

“Welcome aboard… even if your arrival was unorthodox,” the captain said with a playful grin. At last Rebecca gave Arin a tired smile, “We have our next orders.  We are being pulled off the front lines.  I trust you can figure out how to get us back to Vulcan?”

“Like it was in my backyard, Captain.” She said, looking at Rebecca. Mentally she already knew the approximate direction but would need the computer for the finer corrections, since she wasn’t at the helm.

Rebecca nodded and started gathering up her PADDs.  “When we get out of here make sure we have set course, warp 6. Does anyone else have anything else to say?”

Arin responded. “Aye Captain. Warp 6.” She started doing the calculations on the PADD so it would be a simple order to the helm.

Both Riandri and Jeter shook their heads at Rebecca’s question. Riandri did make a mental note though to speak to Jeter separately when they had a moment regarding the events on the plant.

Ming stirred but remained silent.  There was something very wrong and he had an idea of with whom but he had no proof.  He was sure of it as feelings he had like this were seldom wrong.  He’d bide his time before speaking on the subject until he found concrete evidence verifying it’s validity or lack thereof. 

“Very good.  When we get to Vulcan I will be approving shore leave.  Those with ties or family on Earth. Andor, or Tellerite can travel home. It’s close enough we can get you back to the ship within a day or two.  Submit your requests through Commander Nalam. You are all dismissed.”
 

It’s often said that Doctors make the worst patients. Lavender Haigh was, fortunately not one of those patients. After taking on the chiefdom of the Denver’s Medical Department Captain Talon had told her to speak to a counselor about her experiences in the Jem’hadar prison and after what happened with Arin, it seemed like a fairly good idea, not even beginning to mention that it was something Lavender was going to do anyway.

“Computer, time?” 

“The time is now thirteen fifty five hours.”

Lavender rose from the chair in the C.M.O.’s office, her office, and made her way out of Sickbay.

“I have a meeting,” she explained to the senior doctor on duty. “Call if there’s an emergency.” 

Lavender couldn’t help wondering about the content of her forthcoming session with the Counsellor as she was wondering the corridors of the Denver. She hoped rather than expected it to be impactful, not because of a lack of efficacy on the part of the Counsellor, more that Lavender felt she was very broken indeed. This would probably take some time but it was a start and it covered her ass should things go to hell. She pressed the door chime immediately upon arriving.

Emimi Qetax rose from behind her desk when the door chime went off. The desk was not as big and impressive as some of hers had been over the years, but then again those were not her desks any longer. They belonged to past hosts, and their memories were entirely irrelevant to the desk at hand where she was setting down a PADD.

”Come please,” she said knowing that based off the timing it was likely the Chief Medical Officer a Doctor Haigh. Qetax’s department was separate but related, and so the two had opportunities to discuss patients and their files, but did not know each other socially.  The doors slid open and Qetax smiled at the Doctor, “Hello, glad you could make it.” 

Lavender moved quickly into the room and waited for the doors to woosh closed before speaking. She even watched them close. She had no particular scruples about being seen entering the Counsellor’s office but she definitely wanted the content to remain private. This was the slightly toned-down work version of Lavender, no lip rings, a more neutral dark shade lipstick and eyes and her hair in a messy bun, up out of the way of proceedings.

“I could use your help,” she said thoughtfully, straight to the point as ever. “Do I sit? Lie down? What do I do here?”

”Whatever makes you most comfortable. I could bring in climbing equipment, I believe you call them ‘jungle gyms’ for some reason,” the Counselor smiled. She sat in a comfortable chair and gestured to the couch, “But sit down Doctor, or lay down if you prefer. You seem less… vibrant than you usually do more stereotypical, or am I just imagining things.” Lavender took a chair and crossed her legs, rotating her flying ankle in a nervous motion.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Lavender smirked. “I tend to tone it down for duty shifts, for the patients, don’t want to scare the little darlings now do we…? The lack of lip rings at work is more for me, nothing grabbable or snaggable.” Lavender made a face, imagining the result.

”Well it’s a good thing you’re not a pediatrician,” the Counselor said and smiled, imagining children being always grabbing whatever shiny thing that was in their line of sight. She studied the Doctor and leaned forward slightly, interested. Doctors, they said, made the worst patients. That was likely true, because while she would never try to mend her own arm, a doctor felt themselves qualified to muck around in the head on occasion.

”Now please Doctor, tell me what brings you in today?” she asked. Lavender read off her symptoms like a checklist on a patient’s medical record.

“Post-traumatic stress from my incarceration by the Jem’hadar. Nightmares every night of being thrown in solitary, daytime flashbacks usually brought on by aural or visual stimuli, general anxiety, increased alcohol consumption, irritability, self-imposed social segregation, the usual.”

The Chief Counselor nodded. She had read of her colleague’s time at the hands of the Jem’hadar, and she hoped that the woman was not looking for an easy fix. There were no quick fixes, not with something as delicate like that.

”I believe in the healing power of talking Doctor,” Qetax explained, “So tell me about, well let’s begin with the visual or aural stimuli. What sort of things, and be as exhaustive as you’d like, bring about flashbacks?”

Lavender nodded and girded her soul for the recount.

“Um…” this was not a word Lavender used often. “Doors closing, metallic noises, sudden noises, if things are too quiet, sudden or unannounced touches, shouting… cleaning my teeth… I think that’s most of it.”

Qetax smiled sympathetically, “I could see how that could be difficult. Particularly on a starship like this. I will ensure I announce any touches I do. Now when are you most at peace, calm?” Lavender thought about this.

“I mean… I’m not? Really…?” She responded. “When other people are around I guess.”

So people were both a major reason she was having, what stuck Qetax as post-traumatic-stress-syndrome and the cure for it. Such contradictions were not unheard of.

”I’d to try a calming exercise, and I promise I won’t touch you. But Doctor, can you close your eyes and take some deep breaths for me, and just relax a bit,” Qetax said. At the very least if she could help the other woman feel comfortable.

“Alright…” Lavender did as she was told. Her long, false eyelashes closed on her pale cheeks and her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. She listened to the hum of the life support system.

The trill had theories on what was the issue with Lavender but she needed to talk to her more. She did not think that the other woman was holding back, just not fully aware of what was going on. “Now when you open your eyes imagine we’re having a chat in the forward lounge. We’re surrounded by people, your friends who make you most comfortable, most relaxed. They can’t hear us, it’s too loud in here, but you can imagine they’re here, okay?”

“Okay.” Lavender didn’t have much in the way of friends these days. Most of them were long gone, in the far reaches of the fleet, or dead. But she imagined Arin on a nearby table entertaining some people with her Irish charm.

”Your friends are a source of comfort to you, so relax and tell me about one or two of them,” the Counselor said, “Just the good things, what makes them so important to you?”

Emimi Qetax was hopeful that if not a cure, a cure was not something she typically aimed for, she could at least help the woman build a scaffolding of support, a way of navigating the world and dealing with the pain and stresses that she felt and continuing on.

“One or two is right…” Lavender said quickly. I’m not exactly popular, I give it to people way too straight for their egos to handle. Of those who didn’t hate me and called me ‘friend’, most of them were on the Manitoba. That… exploded,” Lavender swallowed. Her voice wavered as she said the word. “…and… I have some old acquaintances… this is confidential, right?”

Qetax nodded, “Unless you’re presenting a danger to yourself, this crew, or this ship it’s confidential and I don’t see anything that would lead me to think that any of those situations are in any way a factor here.”

She knew that often people could be more open once they understood both her rules around sharing the information they gave her, and her few obligations. While Lavender did not seem to be a danger in the event that it seemed clear that she was presenting a danger to the ship Qetax could need to tell the Captain. That had never occurred in all her years doing this. Lavender nodded.

“Well if I’m telling you about people who make me comfortable, I’d tell you about Arin Jones. She and I are… something… to one-another. She’s pretty much the only person in the galaxy who’s still alive and more than an acquaintance. And who I actually like of course.” Lavender switched which leg was crossed over the other nervously. Relationships between officers wasn’t against regulations to her recollection but it was a delicate subject and the two of them hadn’t got much past the fact they liked one-another.

”Sometimes it helps having a person who is special to you around,” Qetax said, “As Emimi I’ve never had that, but I’m seen people who learn to draw strength from someone close to them. A different kind of bonding. There is not a right way to get over something like this, so in some ways you must find your own source of strength. I can and will help you but ultimately it is you who must take the first and hardest steps towards healing.”

”This is an imperfect start, but an imperfect start is still a start,” the Trill said.

Lavender nodded and closed her eyes again, imagining the setting Emimi had detailed. The lounge, a comfortable place, Arin nearby being Irish and charming. She took a deep breath.

“Arin… is important to me because she sees me. Really sees me, not just the makeup and the bravado but she sees the reason behind it all and she doesn’t judge it. She knows that it comes from pain, it’s a badge of honour, it’s very personal, she’s been judged her entire career and so have I. She takes the piss out of it, me and everyone and so do I. She’s fun and she’s hot and she’s not got a stick up her ass. Good combo.”

Qetax nodded, not wanting to interrupt. It had been lifetimes since she had a friend like that, but that was not the point, she was not the subject of this meeting. It was good that Lavender had someone like that in her life, but the trouble with a war was no one person could be your source of strength, since it was too easy to lose them. Even during peace time such a proposition would be worrisome, but this was was brutal and the Dominion did not care about civilians or Starfleet, or whatever.

”It sounds like a great combo,” she said agreeing, “how do you feel when you’re around her versus now?” Lavender dook a deep breath.

“When I’m around her I feel confident, supported, a little apprehensive but… more at ease. When I’m not… anxious. I… don’t want to be alone.” This last phrase was stated with some emotion, it was a statement more important than those that had preceded.

”Well you’re not alone,” Qetax said, “And while I can’t promise you that Arin Jones will always be within reach, as long as you’re on the Denver with me I’ll be there. I probably can’t fill her shoes, but I’ll listen and I’ll be there for you.”

”I am sure there are many on the crew who would tell you the same thing,” Qetax said. Lavender exhaled a little too quickly.

“Thanks,” she said. She was sincere, but being there for a colleague was one thing, a friend quite another. Images flashed in her mind, of colleagues past, now gone, of friends now dead, of the wreck of the Manitoba as she had flown away from it, of course she had never even seen the wreck, it was morbid curiosity that had driven her to watch the security footage from the ship that rescued her. Lavender scrunched her eyes for a moment and tried to vanish all thoughts of the ship from her mind.

  “To set expectations this is not something that gets cured in a single session. This may not be something we ever ‘cure’ in the medical sense of the word like a broken arm. But with work we will learn, together, how you best manage it and move forward,” Qetax said, “Do you have any questions or anything else we should address?”

Lavender shook her head.

“No, no, just the crippling scary nightmares and flashbacks,” she said with her usual sarcasm and wry manner.

The Trill nodded and smiled, clocking the sarcasm in the statement, “Well all in due course. Thank you for visiting with me today, I look forward to speaking to you more.”

“Right…” Lavender nodded, frowning. “Yeah me too. Seeya.” She pushed off from the chair and headed out of the door. “Have a good, afternoon, day, whatever,” she offered as she moved out into the light of the corridor and was gone.

Ming woke up and realized he felt something quite familiar which had dogged him much of the day so far.  Boredom.  He was doing his best to keep busy and was mostly successful.  He wasn’t having luck finding productive things to do while on leave.  

He’d dropped a few tips and suggestions after watching a training for the Knights remotely.  That was about it.  Sh’iv was doing a bang up and kick butt leading the Knights.  He almost felt like a third wheel suddenly.  Screw that. Surrender was not an active part of his vocabulary.  
 

Marcus dressed in a black pair of slacks, boots similar to a duty uniform’s, a black silken shirt and his overcoat containing the red stripe of his department around his back, shoulders and chest as well as his wings, com pin and two pips of a full lieutenant.   He was on leave but that didn’t totally restrict light duty…or so he just decided.

He tapped his combadge and said, “Ming to Lt. Shiv and Miss Órlaith Murphy.   Please meet me in meeting room two on the command residential deck.  I’m still on leave but that does not stop the business of the Knights.  Please confirm.”

Lt. Shiv’s voice came through first, crisp and efficient. “On my way.”

A moment later, Órlaith’s tone followed. “Murphy here, Lieutenant. Heading there now!”

“Thank you.  Ming out, ”the Knight’s winged CO said.

Ming smiled slightly at the tones of his subordinates.  It was actually a little entertaining for some odd reason he didn’t quite know.  As it was he fabricated an official Starfleet Combadge linked to Miss Murphy, official wings that of a fighter pilot as well as one other item.   Ming couldn’t suppress a smile.  He really was starting to fucking love this part of the job.  

He slipped the three items into his right pocket and made his way to the meeting room after confirming it’s availability.  It’d have been embarrassing otherwise.  As it was he moved through the level of the command quarters with a bit of a bounce up to and including entering the meeting room and finding a seat at the head of the table facing the door.   He then waited with a grin similar to that of the cat whom ate the canary.  

Sh’iv was the first to enter. She was wearing a black fur lined cloak over a traditional Andorian tunic and a small duffle hanging from her shoulder.  She raised an eyebrow at Ming and her antennae twitched with unspoken question. “Sir.” Crossing the room she sat down at the in her customary seat setting the duffle on the deck beside her.

Ming stifled the grin that wanted to spout on his lips. He said, “Seems the Captain had some insights that I can’t really argue with without feeling like or even seeming a hypocrit.  That’s something I try not to make part of my everyday actions.  It seems that….”

Marcus paused as the doors hissed revealing the civilian in their little world of the Knights.  He gave Sh’iv an appologetic grin as they were inturruped.  

At last Órlaith stepped into the room. She was wearing mechanic’s overalls, a tool kit slung over her shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail showing off icelana mixture of Icelandic and Iberian heritage. She wasn’t wearing makeup and there was a smudge of black carbon running under her right eye and smudged across her cheekbone to her ear. “Sir. Ma’am,” Órlaith greeted and stood at the entrance with her hands clasped behind her back as the twin doors slid shut behind her.

“Greetings Miss Murphy. Thanks for arriving as soon as you could.  Looks like you mayve been elbow deep in some fighter or another,” The Knight’s CO said sincerely.  

“Yes sir. Rebuilding the impulse control valve on Knight 3.”

He stood up, giving Sh’iv a slight gesture as he did so, before coming to Órlaith’s side of the table.  He remained informal in posture though there was an official tone to his voice, “You did well during our recent furball.  You’re an ace actually and it was your first official outing with the Knights.  It’s something Captain Talon even mentioned during our recent senior staff meeting.  She pointed out a slight issue with that however.  Turns out the fleet might have an issue with a civilian doing combat msisions.  I happen to concur.”

Marcus paused to gauge Órlaith’s and Sh’iv’s reactions as they mulled over his words.  The Knight’s CO gave his next words as well as actions some thought as he considered the two women who held some importance in his little kingdom.  

“I don’t believe there’s an official regulation against it,” Sh’iv observed.  “However, I doubt anyone in fleet would have even envisioned that that would occur.”

“I uh… sorry sir. It won’t happen again.” Órlaith’s heart sank.  She was finally finding a place where she belonged. A family that she never had.  Both her parents always thought about themselves.   She and Ian were only conceived to be a part of their legacy… an extention of themselves.  Now both her brother and father were dead.  Starfleet thought her mother was dead too, but Órlaith knew better.  She was out there.

Ming gauged the reactions as they came and for less than 4 seconds after.  He smiled a bit sheepishly as he said, “My appologies.  You’ve done pretty well exemplary so far.  Xellath and Andrews have had nothing but good things to say about you.  Maybe a bit ornery at first but Andrews and Xellath both find that endearing to a point.  You’re flying skills planetside were unquestionable.  Not that I ever doubted your word but nothing beats a trial like fire I suppose.”

With a bit of a smile he continued, “Captain Talon felt that the fleet may frown on a civilian fighter pilot especially in a time of war.  Between your proficiency at flying and mechanics being what they are I have been increasingly convinced we need you as part of the Knights plus….Well, you seem to be getting the swing of things with regards to the fleet procedures.  You may need a bit more polishing but you’ve got it together enough…..”

Ming pulled the contents of his right pocket out of his coat jacket.  He displayed the rank insignia, wings and combadge to his protege (amazingly in order) and said, “It is my pleasure to offer you the provisional rank of Ensign and the role of Knight 6.  That’s for the duration of this emergency or until you get into the Academy so you earn an full commission.  For the moment though you’re one of us.  What say you?”

Órlaith stared down at the offered temporary commission, her hands trembling. She wanted to scream “yes” from the bridge, but a gnawing dread seeped in. Who was she to accept this? Just an orphan… or practically one. Her mother, the alternate reality version of this ship’s captain, always insisted she wasn’t good enough. Her mother’s disapproving gaze and snide remarks. She had NEVER been good enough. Nothing more than a failure. A disappointment.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, choking back the lump in her throat. “I am honored, sir, but I… I have to decline. Going on that mission was a mistake. I got caught up in the moment and forgot my place. It won’t happen again. I… I jeopardized the lives of the Knights. I don’t belong there. I was a fool.” She took a deep breath and snapped to attention. “I’m a nobody, sir. I don’t deserve that honor, and I don’t want special treatment just because my DNA says I’m related to the captain. When I am worthy, I can accept this honor. May I return to work now?”

Ming studied the young lady with equal amounts heartache at the sudden change in demeanour and annoyance. He took a slow, deep breath and then spoke, “Miss Murphy:  First of all Every member of this crew is a somebody. This includes you regardless of what….some people may’ve told you in the past.    Second:  You haven’t been to the Academy yet you few a Starfleet Fighter into combat and came out a combat ace.  Our XO, who’s wing you were on, was pretty much all compliments which she does not do without reason.”

Ming paused for a moment to let that sink in for a second before adding,”   Third:  You’ve gotten increasingly better and better reviews since you started work on the flight line.  Your flying and skills were better than many experienced pilots I’ve flown with.  I’m unsure what you may think but I’ve been thinking of something like this for a few weeks.  You sold me and Captain Talon indepentantly.  I DO NOT offer any merit promotions to anyone I don’t absolutely deserve it.  You have earned it, Órlaith.  You helped save the folks who needed rescue and the other Knights.”

He paused and sighed, “And pretty much this entire unit – Pilots and crew alike – think you’re a worthwhile somebody.  Not because of whom you are related to.  Because of the person we’ve you become since you got here. Your actions, your skills and your determination got you the respect of the Knights and got you these.  I promise you that, Ensign Murphy.  Am I making myself crystal clear?”

Órlaith hesitated. All she could think of was her mother shouting at her, telling her she would never be like Ian, never be worthy of the family. She was an embarrassment no matter how well she did.

“Ensign,” Sh’iv started, her antennae twitching, “you earned this. Take the damn promotion.”

Órlaith swallowed and nodded. Silence stretched between the pilots until at last she spoke. “When I fail you, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, ensign.  Fix what you can, move on.  It’s part of the learning process and is part of being alive.  Try not to worry about that.  You’ve been doing just fine so far regarding all that…At least till now.  Keep doing what you been doing and you’ve built faith in us that you aught to be fine.  Maybe not perfect, which nobody is, but you’ll definitely be just fine” Ming said with a certainty and friendly warmth….and with a touch of a commanding tone.

Tell my mother that, she thought bitterly. “Yes sir.” She finally accepted the items and stared down at them not believing that she was deserving. “Does this mean I have to replicate a uniform now?” She flashed Ming a sly self-deprecating smile.

Ming smiled openly and said, “Afraid so.  You’re relieved of your previous duties, ensign.  Report to the flight bay in 18 hours in the pilot’s arena.  We’ll give you a proper welcome and introduction as Knight 6.  And unless you have other questions you’re dismissed.  Enjoy your time off.  I, and I suspect the entire flight, will be glad to see you there tomorrow.”

“Aye sir,” Órlaith said with a nod.  She headed for the door. As the doors split she paused at the threshold and looked back at Ming and Sh’iv. “I don’t think I deserve this faith you have given me, but I will do my best to keep from disappointing you both, but thank you.” Without waiting for a response from her commanders she stepped into the corridor and disappeared.

Sh’iv smirked and shook her head, “I have a transport to catch. I’ll see you in a week or so sir.”

“Can’t miss that.  Dismissed XO.  Have fun,” Ming said with a slight smile.  

After Sh’iv’s salute and exit Marcus watched her go and stared out into the flight bay.  With a sigh he grabbed a padd off his desk and exited, securing the office door as he did so, before heading back to his quarters.  He mused about life, the galaxy and the outlook for this damnedable war.  Maybe…Just maybe…The Federation – Klingon -Romulan alliance might be able to pull this off.  His hope was tempered by the realism that came with being a soldier but there it was.  

Half of the impulse assembly of the type II shuttle was scattered on a tarp, laid out in a semblance of order.  There were various tools Arin was using off to one side. Arin was in uniform coveralls, needed for the work she was doing. She had unzipped the top and tied off the excess around her waist, leaving her in half coveralls and a t-shirt.  Not that you could see much since she was nearly waist-deep into the back of the spacecraft. “Come on, ya donkey,” Arin swore a bit through clenched teeth as she used all her strength to break the deuterium fuel line nut loose. She could see a pair of boots had stopped, but nothing would ever get done if she paused every time she saw someone. Ignoring the arrival, she moved to one of the return lines, her hands barely fitting in the space. It took a minute, but the assembly came loose, along with a cup of dark sludge. 

“Bollocks!” Arin swore as the puddle formed. Resigned to the extra work, she extracted herself from the craft, moving to put the assembly down. Seeing Lavender, Arin smiled, even through the grease marks and scraped knuckles. “Sorry. It wouldn’t do this if they would pull the assemblies for maintenance as advised.” Arin said, explaining the mess. “Pretty sure you don’t wanna piece of this. Grease and beauty rarely mix well.”

The boots had indeed belonged to the ship’s C.M.O. Lavender made sure to stay clear of the parts and puddles, a grease monkey she was not, as Arin had observed.

“Depends on the person,” Lavender observed with a slight smile. “Suits you well enough, Jones. Is the patient coding or can you talk a minute?” Her lip rings danced with nervous energy.

Tipping the parts so it would drain into a receptacle, Arin slipped a pan under the still dripping line and grabbed a rag. Wiping off the excess, she smiled at the comment. “Flatterer.” She led Lavender to an open door. A small table had been set up with various grab-and-go items since food and drinks near the equipment was never a great idea. 

Arin retrieved her well-worn and dented oversized mug and filled it with coffee, cream, and some sweetener. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your bright, shining face?” She asked Lavender as she took a long pull on mug. Lavender snorted.

“Pale and frowning, more like but I’ll take it,” she replied with a half-smile. “I uhhh… I don’t want to be like too fucking… couply… or something, but I also don’t want be a screw-up.” Lavender coiled a loose strand of purple hair around her finger. “Obviously I went to Qetax after the whole nightmare in your quarters… development… The Captain ordered me to anyway after being in that Jem’Hadar prison. And uh.. well we did some calming exercise thing and she told me to go to my happy place and that was in the bar with you and I kind of ended up telling her about us…” Lavender ran her tongue over her front teeth nervously under closed pouting lips. “So uhhhh that’s a thing…” 

Arin listened intently, and when Lavender finished, she replied, “I simply wanted to help.” It was hard not to focus on the woman’s lips. “You’ll be my happy place if you don’t stop doing that with your lips,” Arin said point-blankly, her face actually flushing. She drained half the coffee mug before continuing, nearly expelling steam in the process. 

“Look, I’m not shocked, and I’m not going anywhere if that is what you are asking,” Arin told Lavender. “So scaring me away isn’t going to work. As a pilot and mechanic, I am used to working with things that can be stubborn.” She said, winking at Lavender as she held up greasy and abraided hands. Lavender’s nostrils flared.

“I not telling you this to shock you or scare you off,” she snapped. “I’m telling you to try to do the right thing. You should know that Qetax knows, I mean…” Lavender took a beat to calm her tone. “It’s only fair I tell you that Qetax knows,” she continued, “even if her oath forbids her from telling anyone. You know what ships can be like, relationships between officers, people with nothing better to do and nothing exciting in their own lives gossiping about others, who’s with who, you know the Goth and the Orion… people will be selling tickets to readings of that story.” Lavender’s face was set hard, but her motivations were good. It was only after she had said all this Lavender realised she had characterised their status as a relationship. Her heart sank a little, dreading what Arin would say to that but her face showed no outward sign of it. 

“Thank you for having my back, for starters.” Arin said, “Being a busty Orion, I am quite used to being looked at as eye candy if I am lucky. The stories are already out there, and even if they weren’t seeing us together in the bar, it is enough for some to wag those tongues.”  Then a wicked smile came over Arin’s face “So, we’re a couple?” 

Lavender exhaled. She didn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath. She couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head at the Orion and raised both her hands as if a weapon were being pointed at her.

“Okay Jones, fine. You got me. Yes, we’re a couple. If that means having your back, I’m always gonna. I know some of the shit you go through. I may be a messed up cookie but I’ll never treat you like eye candy. I promise.”

“Well, don’t say never. I mean, why put on makeup if you don’t want to be seen.” Arin said, pouting as she pushed her shoulders forward, enhancing her t-shirt curves.

Lavender couldn’t help but chuckle. She shook her head again as she rolled her eyes. 

“Alright, alright. You won’t ever let me take myself too seriously, will you Jones.” It was more of a observation than a question.

“Let’s clear a few things up right now.” Arin said, moving closer to Lavender near to breath range, speaking softly but with a passion. “It’s Arin unless I’m on duty, Haigh. Next, life is far too short to sweat the small stuff, and Lavender, it is all small stuff.” Arin paused, “Now for the scary one. I don’t hide my relationships. Can’t hide the curves, so why bother hiding who gets to sample them.  I prefer to make them wish they’d been nicer. Screw what people think.” This time it was Arin who had the nervous squirms and she bit her lower lip in anxiety, watching Lavender intently.

“Well, that told me…” Lavender took a step back and turned to  snacks table. Despite everything she liked calling Arin ‘Jones’, it was a pet name and yet it also kept her at a slight distance and despite their getting closer, Lavender’s walls would take time to be dismantled. She poured some coffee into a hopefully clean mug.

“Guess I better buckle in huh?” She said, pouring some milk into the coffee and she turned back to Arin, warming her hands on the mug.

“You have your flaws, and I have mine.” She told Lavender with a smile and wink. Moving to look at her face, Arin continued. “I know this is a lot. Both ways. The last thing I expected to find was the roller coaster that started that night. I didn’t even know I could love that way, to be honest.” Draining her coffee as she thought about the next words, Arin added, “So, yes, saddle up because I’m also scared. That’s what being there for each other is all about.”

“You didn’t know you could love what way?” Lavender asked calmly, and took a sip of her coffee, her large grey-green eyes peering at Arin over the rim of the mug as she did.“I am unsure if I can explain it effectively, but here goes.” Arin paused, gathering her thoughts. “Love and sex were always synonymous to me. Something clicked when I met you, having both in one cute dysfunctional package. If I cannot have that bond with the other person, the act is fun but meaningless. I’d like for us to mean something.” Lavender nodded slowly and sucked on the inside of her cheeks.

“I’m going to guess this applies to you too because you get me far too well already for it not to, but I don’t let people in easy. Shocker, I know… even at The Academy, me letting people in meant me getting hurt, or used. Parents, Uncle, gangmates…” Lavender’s lip curled as she spoke, her accent becoming rather more district seven, more hispanic and a bit less Starfleet Academy. She stared over the coffee mug cradled to her collarbone at Arin’s Starfleet badge. “I had to be hot shit to get myself promoted away from the hell-hole that was my first ship…” she shook her head, her jaw set hard and fierce, making it more apparent why so many people had been scared of her, despite her size. “The Manitoba was a good place, good crew, no judgement just good work but the Jem’Hadar blew it and them the fuck up.” Her eyes, shielded from Arin’s sight by her false eyelashes flicked upwards into view, looking right into Arin’s own.

“I want this to mean something too. I need it to. Nobody can diffuse my shit like you can Jone…” Lavender sighed and smile a bit.  “Arin. Just… don’t fuck me over, don’t throw me to the Wolves or i’ll write off people forever.”

Arin forced her greasy hands into claws as she said through clenched teeth. “It’s killing me I can’t touch you.” She said, looking right at Lavender. “I plan on lots of things. Taking care of us will always be top o’ the list, Luv.” Her brogue came to the forefront as it did when she became emotional. Her head twisted slightly to one side as she added, “Joan? But I’ll need a concession on something other than Lavender between us. Deal?”

“No,” Lavender started firmly but with a smirk. “…I’ll happily call you Arin if you get used to calling me Lavender. C’m’on, it’s only three syllables and every possible shortening is terrible, believe me I’ve heard them all… and you’re right you can keep your greasy hands off.

Arin leered back, and in mock disgust replied, “Coward. I would wear you like a badge of honor, Lavender.” Ending with a wink. “Now, let me get back to my coding patient before I leave a hickey or bite mark somewhere obvious.” Looking in the nearby mirror, she pointed to an open spot on her left cheek. “Still clean right here.” Moving her face closer to Lavender.

Lavender craned her neck and upper body backward to keep distance from Arin’s approach, a cheeky smile accompanying the eight inches that remained between them.

“What you doin’ there, grubby?” She asked playfully.

“Look, it’s the only clean spot.” She teased back. “Just a quick peck. “Arin said, moving her arms behind her in surrender.

Lavender watched Arin with mischief in her eyes.

“Oh… okay…” she avoided the clean spot, placing a long, slow kiss directly on Arin’s lips.

Lost in the moment, Arin didn’t want to move. The chemical stew bubbling over in her brain made her eyes glaze over as she looked back at Lavender. That she trusted Lavender implicitly went without saying. As the kiss lengthened, Arin bit back playfully. 

There was a sharp intake of breath as she did and Lavender pulled away. She had gotten in the habit of sealing her lipstick with a clear coat so any transference was eliminated.

“Oh, she wants something to nibble,” Lavender observed coolly. “I’ll give you something to nibble at my quarters later…”“You started it. Anything you kissed was fair game. Rules are rules.” Arin shot back with a smirk and her head was still swimming in a fog of love and lust. “Besides, eye candy should be enjoyed properly. I was just sampling what was offered.” She teased then smiled warmly, then sighed. “Now, ” Arin closed the difference carefully. “Please get out of here so I can fecking think.” Then pecked her on the lips. Lavender smirked but with kindness in her eyes.

“Tempting as it is to stay here and torture you…” the sentence began but never really finished as the C.M.O. considered her next move. Since her panic attack she wasn’t much inclined toward spending time alone. Arin was busy, so she’d go to her backup of the lounge and do her usual, hide behind her hair and half read, half pretend-to-read medical journals. Maybe someone who wasn’t scared of her would approach. Lavender secretly hoped they would. “Catch you later then. If the patient needs an oil transfusion… don’t call me, I’m a doctor not a mechanic. And oil is icky,” she finished in a mock cutesy voice.

Arin winked at Lavender, “Hey, I am off duty in a few.” I need a shower. She said, holding up her hands with a wide grin. “Let me scrub up. Besides, I can delegate. This bird needed overhauling anyway. She’s older than I am.”  Grinning, she walked out the door. “Rodriguez, you and Mac pull the entire impulse assembly on the Type II. Grizzly Rose. ” 

Lavender followed behind, not able to think about much other than how grateful she was that Arin’s company would continue.

Scrubbing up in the sonic shower, lathered up with one of her favorite scents on the sponge. The grease of the maintenance bay was gone, and the scent of the aromatherapy natural body scrub melted the brain grease away in parallel to the physical grime. While Arin knew she didn’t have to pitch in, she liked to keep her mechanical skills sharp, and it also reinforced what she always said. “I won’t ask you to do anything I won’t do myself.” 

Rinsing off the sponge, she hung it to dry as she shut off the unit, and shook off her hands before grabbing a towel.  As she was drying her legs, the fingers moved into a position that triggered muscle memory for her. Standing there she used the vanity as an impromptu keyboard, only making the thought dig itself deeper into her brain. 

Quickly toweling off, she put on black cotton panties and, a matching spandex sports bra, then padded out into the main room. Lavender was on the overstuffed denim couch pullout in the main room.  Seemingly lost in her oversized padd, stylus in hand, Arin ignored her and made what appeared to be a beeline for the wooden bar that housed a dozen rare bottles of various things her dad had sent or she had acquired. Pulling out an embedded shelf, Arin turned on the thin keyboard and triggered an upright mini piano hologram to appear around the thin keyboard. “Computer. Sheet music for Al Stewart’s  ‘Year of the Cat’.” 

The first first chords were easy. Arin tripped up a few times before finally getting it right. It felt good to pound the simulated ivory keys. She practiced for a few minutes with the intro before turning to finish getting dressed. Knowing there would be inevitable questions, Arin offered with a louder voice from the closet, “I had to get rid of that earworm. It’s a song I practiced for a long time, a long time ago.”

“Did I know you play Piano?” Lavender asked lazily from her position on the couch, peering around the PADD. The stylus spun between her fingers.

“It isn’t information I part with normally,” Arin said. “Da insisted I play something. Piano got the nod. Too many recitals. Though I find I do enjoy it occasionally when the mood strikes.” Arin said, retrieving long cotton shorts and a short-sleeved sweatshirt.

“Y’know that’s interesting,” Lavender commented chattily, waving her stylus hand freely for emphasis, “ ’cause my Dad insisted I play shut the hell up or I’d get beaten. Or mum would. Happy times…” She gave Arin a sarcastic look and hid behind her überPADD again.

“That is why you won’t hear me sing. Luckily, headphones helped quite a bit during practice. I keep my hand in it enough so skills don’t atrophy.” Arin offered. 

“Computer. Two large coffee mugs empty, a half liter of mixed berry yogurt, and fifty grams of granola.” While the replicator instantly did its job, Arin retrieved a handful of fresh strawberries from one of her plant chambers. Taking care to assemble the tiny trifles, Arin, grabbed two spoons and headed for the couch.

“Oh, is this something else new I haven’t tried?” Lavender asked with interest, her attention once again diverted from her reading.

Arin sighed sarcastically and dramatically, “Unbury your head for a minute. I’d like to see if I can awaken some senses.” She said, taking Lavender’s hand. “Computer, a plate of grape tomatoes, and another of fresh strawberries.” Turning to Lavender she said, “Now. I want you to smell and taste each one. Then follow me in the next room.

Doing so, she took Lavender’s hand. The doors swished open. Five chambers, a one-and-a-half meter high plant with a pentagonal thirty cm base were along the wall. The first four were lit. A few smaller versions sat on a nearby bench growing various herbs. The scents of the growing plants hit Arin’s nose catching, the tomatoes, roses, strawberries, basil, and other plants around the room. She knew it would do the same to Lavender.  “I could plant lavender in one of the remaining chambers.  It would certainly make the front room more pleasant. They are nice to look at when the cycles are on. My father loved Tropicana roses.” She said as she slid one of the panels up. The scent of the roses intensified as the chamber showed over two dozen brilliant orange blooms.

“Now open those two and sample and smell what those should taste like instead of red plastic,” Arin said indicating the two chambers next to them. 

Placing the PADD and stylus on the denim next to her quickly Lavender allowed herself to be peeled from the couch by the arm and with a knowing smirk tried the samples as she was directed.

“You remember what my hobby is, right?” She asked Arin rhetorically as she chewed, following her into the other area with a wistful look back at the Granola. “It’s not like I’ve not tried fresh fruit before. I didn’t know you had all this though…” she commented, observing the array of growing apparatus.

“You’re trying to educate me on what real ingredients taste like. I get it. I don’t get the plastic thing from replicators. What? I don’t!” She exclaimed, seeing the look on Arin’s face. “Replicator patterns are just samey that’s all, you eat the same identical plate time and time again. Real produce adds unpredictability. That’s the advantage for me. I think people saying it’s like plastic is psychosomatic. You think it’s plastic, you taste what you expect.” The doctor folded her arms in an I dare you to challenge me pose.

“Okay. I hear and understand your side of the argument and I agree, conditionally. The slot does a great job on certain things. Green chile cheeseburger? Sure. BLT…the bacon is okay, but that tomato doesn’t take or smell like a tomato. Why would you want to limit the color palette of one of your senses? ” Arin offered. “Walking over to one of the smaller table container, she pulled the panel up, and let the basil perfume the room. Pulling off a couple of leaves, she rubbed them between her fingers, releasing the essential oils as the heat in skin helped it get stronger. She held it up for Lavender to smell.

Getting an idea, she walked to the replicator. “Computer. Make cheese toast out of Italian bread with a mix of mozzarella and parmesan.”  Walking back she sliced and tomatoes, added a few basil leaves and sprinkled salt on top. “Taste that.”

“Hey, I’m not saying I want to limit anything,” Lavender commented as she watched the Orion woman move between the various food sources. “What I’m saying is…” (she took a bite off the offered cheese toast) “…somepimes am nop in ba moob for piffing aboup… oh my gob bat’s amaving…” Lavender rolled her eyes with ecstasy and finished chewing with a few “mmmm”s and swallowed. “This relationship is so making me fat. Sometimes, let’s be honest most of the time, I just can’t be bothered. If I remember to eat it’s in between tasks and I just want nourishment. Y’know being a doctor I’m a bit neurotic when it comes to nutrition. Which reminds me, if you get me addicted to sugar I will kill you.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about gaining any weight,” Arin put a strawberry between her teeth and kissed Lavender as they shared the morsel and each other. After coming up for air, Arin breathlessly added. “So what I am hearing is you want a healthy regiment of activity to counteract any calories.” Lavender snorted.

“Gonna have to be a lot of activity.” 

Lost in the moment, Arin basked in the emotional brain soup, then the furrows wrinkled on her brow. “Waitaminnit. You think I’m fat?” She asked Lavender, pulling back slightly. Lavender gave Arin her most sarcastic look to date.

“Yes. I’d rename you Chungus O’Reilly but apparently you ate the guy who does the legal name changes,” she replied with a withering furrow. “No, of course not,” she continued in more earnest tones, “just that exercise burns a lot less calories than most people think. It’s the whole staying alive part, eating, moving, thinking, breathing that uses most of them. Wow I really have to stop with the boring doctor shit, my edginess factor just dropped a couple of points. Quick, computer, grape juice and Torpedo coolant.”

“The specified beverage is not on file,” the computer responded lamely.

“Shut up.”

Arin chuckled a bit. “Watch and learn grasshopper. Computer. Torpedo juice. Access code. Brave little toaster. “ The replicator took a moment to think and a beverage whirled into existence at the slot. She added, ”I have zero idea why you love to torture yourself, but at least I can help.”  Then she added a smile and said. 

“Or at least point and laugh.” her tone changing she added. “Two of the five parts of this are 180 proof. May God have mercy on your soul.” 

“Well…” Lavender moved to pick up the drink and gave it an experimental sniff, her features the picture of suspicion. “There hasn’t been a food or drink made yet that has beaten me, y’know,” she said arrogantly, looking at Arin over her shoulder. “The question is, given my rank and responsibilities am I stupid enough to drink it?” She sniffed it again. “No, not today at least. If I lose this gig it’ll be because I’m a basket case not because I was dumb enough to be constantly wasted.”

Arin took the beverage and recycled it in the replicator. “Smart and pretty. I picked a good one.” Arin said with a smile. For good measure, she swatted Lavender in the rear playfully walking by. “Computer two mugs hot toddy base. ” Whirling into existence the steaming ceramic mugs were pulled for the slot and Arin retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the counter. Adding a lemon slice to each, the clove and cinnamon mixed in the air with the citrus and hint of alcohol. Arin added an easy shot to each making sure it was properly mixed. She handed one to Lavender.

“Just a wee dram of the devil to set the night right.” Arin said, her brogue thick intentionally. Lavender took the glass and gulping at the hot, sweet, and spicy contents followed in short order. She eyed Arin with playful judgment.

“And after replacing wasted with mild intoxication will you spank me again?” She asked, mischievously.

Arin had also taken several small sips, draining a portion of her own hot beverage. Setting it down, she slowly approached Lavender, accentuating her movements in graceful ease. “Love, it’s not always about you. Though, I think I let out the monster.” She said, now close enough that she indulged in a long sucking nibble on Lavender’s lower lip. Lavender giggled a little but then drew away suddenly, feeling a strong sensation in her stomach.

“Hey, weren’t you making some kind of dessert?” She said. “And what happened to that cheese toast? You’ve opened the floodgates, I’m suddenly realising how hungry I am. And I last ate er… uhhhh… yeah no, no idea. Where’s that fucking cheese toast…?” Lavender pecked Arin on the lips and turned quickly, her eyes scanning the area for the plate. “Aha!” She swiped it up and took a large mouthful, the crisp bread cracking under her molars and filling her ears with a reverberating crunch.

“Yub dubbuo mow I polbu fummib jebub pife. I bubba wum lipa hobe mee bow bepor ba sepf,” she told Arin with quite some self assurance, curling her legs under her on the couch and taking another, smaller bite. “Oh anb replipape me anubber one of deeb pleeve.”

Arin looked over at Lavender in mild annoyance. “If my granny saw you do that, you would have welts on your backside. She didn’t spank, she pinched.” Retrieving a nearby bowl, she grabbed two more slicing tomatoes from the vine and made several crostini on a pizza stone she installed.  Mozza and fresh basil, along with a sprinkle of fresh olive oil. She then waved a plasma torch carefully over the top to caramelize the pieces slightly.  Back for strawberries, she topped some simple angel food cupcakes and added a tiny dusting of sugar for effect.

She pulled up a denim quilt her mother passed on. Soft and well worn, she tossed it to the unused side of the sectional, then moved plates of food to the coffee table. Snapping the release on the table, she pulled the mechanism up and over closer to the couch before settling in next to Lavender.  “Comfy now…or should I tuck you in? Arin said making a face and sticking out her tongue in disdain while smirking.

Lavender had been slightly irked by Arin’s previous comment about singing, feeling she’d rather missed the point, but had let it slide with an internal shrug. The look Arin had given Lavender and the grandma comment though had Lavender irked, and unfortunately ‘tuck you in’ managed to press the big red neurotic button in Lavender’s head. She extricated herself from the couch, shaking her head, taking up a spot on the opposite side of the table and staring at Arin with a mix of incredulity and rage.

“What, you think I’m five, speaking to me like that?” She fired rhetorically, her normally quite appealing features contorted with annoyance. “I don’t give a shit what your grandma would think. At least you had a fucking grandma! Touch my backside I’d punch her in the fucking face and you clearly don’t know me very well or you’d know that,” she spat. This was vintage Lavender. Normally she could hold things together more competently but the P.T.S.D. and the following panic attack had her spooked and very on-edge. All of her pain and torment since her rescue came out and, sadly, was directed at Arin.

“I’m sorry my manners don’t hold up for Miss Pretty-Green-Shamrock of the year twenty three seventy four,” she continued, neither barrel of the gun being spared, “perhaps if my father hadn’t spent so much time being wasted, gambling all our money away on that shithole planet we called home, beating me, beating my mom AND THEN MURDERING HER perhaps he might have been able to teach me how to balance a fucking book on my head and be all presentable and refined so I could tell fun little anecdotes at the Captain’s table over supper and my colleagues in Starfleet wouldn’t look at me like I’m a fucking piece of shit!”

Lavender’s voice descended from almost screaming to a quiet, malicious tone.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you in. I thought you were different but you’re just like the rest of them.”

She scooped up her PADD, walked straight to the door and was gone.

Arin was so shocked at Lavender’s outburst that she was unable to respond when Lavender walked out. She had spent time, cleaning, crying, and finally worked out so hard she pulled a hamstring. 

She showered and then changed into a duty uniform. She was due on the bridge soon anyway. With a little luck, it would be before Lavender’s duty shift. Hobbling into sickbay, the nurse on duty managed to get Arin in and on a bio-bed. 

The nurse was applying the muscle relaxer to her hamstring when Lavender walked. in.  Arin pants leg was rolled up exposing the leg for access. Looking up as the doors swished, Arin’s face fell from happy to unemotional. it was such a change the nurse looked up to see who had walked in. 

Breaking out of the mood, Arin ignored the new arrival and re-engaged the nurse in conversation, her face while not happy was more pleasant.

“Tala.” Lavender interrupted from her position between the door to sickbay and the door to her office and called the nurse over with a click of her fingers and pointing to the ground in front of her.  While this gesture was verging on rude, the C.M.O. wore a face like thunder and the nurse knew better than to disobey or complain at the mode of Lavender’s request and scurried over. The Sick Bay staff had largely adapted to their new C.M.O.. She was rough around the edges, but fair, rewarded good work and would always back her own staff and build them up.

“What’s up with Jones?” Lavender asked in a low voice.

“Pulled hamstring,” Tala responded quickly, on high alert.

“Treatment?”

“Asinolyathin and rest.” Lavender nodded.

“Good work, if you need anything let me know.” Lavender went back to her office to work on some admin and Tala returned to her patient, looking relieved.

When Tala sat back next to Arin, Arin offered, “That looked unpleasant. You okay? Anything I need to worry about?” Arin asked not revealing a thing. 

“Oh, no,” the nurse smiled. “Doctor Haigh runs a tight ship but she’s alright really.” She finished applying the medicine, seemingly unaware there could be anything more to the interaction. If she was aware she wasn’t showing it.

“There, rest it for forty-eight hours. If it’s more persistent come back in and we can relax it up a bit more for you. Just be careful moving now it might be a bit unpredictable.” 

Arin chuckled. “Luckily piloting a starship doesn’t require legwork, but I will rotate a few shifts around and keep it up.” Thanks, Tala.” Arin said genuinely. 

When she got up, she walked gingerly to Lavender’s office. She pressed the button and waited. Once getting a response, she slowly walked in, a bit sheepishly. “Can we talk for a sec? We both have duty and this won’t take a second.” Looking directly at Lavender, Arin said genuinely,  “I am sorry.” She paused for effect. Her Irish brogue was thicker when she spoke again, a sign she was emotional. “I know I can be a donkey, it was the site of you caught me unexpectedly and honestly shouldn’t have. You, Lavender Haigh, are the only woman I have ever loved and if I am going to blow up a relationship, can we make it something more spectacular than fruit and table manners?” She added, not knowing whether to cry or chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.  She did both. This, including everything Arin had just said was entirely unexpected for Lavender, who took a moment to adjust. She looked up from her somewhat imperious C.M.O.’s office chair behind the equally imperious desk. They both dwarfed her slim frame.

“I gotta be honest, I thought when we talked next you were gonna give me both barrels,” she exclaimed, gathering her thoughts. She had considered pointing out that her place of work wasn’t the place for personal conversations. She had considered a lot of things. Lavender had played twenty scenarios of how their next meeting would be in her head, in none of them had Arin apologised. Lavender exhaled loudly.

“Sit down for Pete’s sake, take the weight off that leg.”

Lavender was trying. It was Pete instead of fuck or God. She was trying.

“I uhhh… ok. I’m choosing my words carefully. I’m not used to these kinds of conversations. Which in itself is a whole other conversation. Thank you for apologising… I also want to apologise for overreacting, while what you said did hurt, my… screaming at you… was fuelled more by my general… state of post traumatic stress and lack of sleep. I… really hope that I don’t end up treating you like that again, because I think you’re…” Lavender smiled. “You’re quite something, Arin, genuinely. And something fantastic. But also, I hope you understand when I told you to expect broken that I really, really meant it. So when I say I really hope that I don’t end up treating you like that again I can’t guarantee anything because there’s a lot of neurosis there and it runs deep. I know I have a savage temper and I know I can’t always control it. If you’ll allow me some self-indulgent prattle for just a minute, the part of me that is still eight years old, the part that’s that girl who mostly ceased to be after I saw my asshole abusive father murder my mom, she’s appalled at what I did to you, what I said, but I don’t know how to un-be what I am. But if un-be-ing what I am saves you from some abuse from me…” 

Abuse from me. There it was. For the first time in her life Lavender saw through the eyes of her father. For the first time she in some small way understood his position. It was orders of magnitude different and yet the trauma she had been through had led to her screaming at the person she cared for the most. The doctor could see how one could love someone and also because of trauma or a lack of control treat them badly, that left unresolved and untreated, if fuelled by substance abuse she could one day become the very thing she hated the most, her father. Her face morphed from controlled concern to wide-eyed realisation and then abject horror. It was too much for her to bear. Lavender told the computer to lock the office door and enable the privacy glass in a shaky voice and, burying her head in her hands, started to weep.

“Arin… I’m sorry…!”

Walking over she surrounded Lavender in a hug, kissing the top of her head as she whispered softly in Lavender’s ear. “A shush anois, tá muid go breá, ceol m’anama.”  UTI:Shush now, we’re fine, the music of my soul.  

They rocked in place. “The realization I came to is that I WAS as broken as you and obviously, I still have my moments,” she said wiping away a tear and chuckling. “It isn’t something I want to go into now, but I will tell you that the Orion syndicate executed my mother. While I still have some composure.” She broke the hug long enough to replicate a box of tissues and a few baby wipes.

Dabbing at her eyes Arin continued, “To be honest, I was angry, but it was an outburst and since you don’t know all the history, added to we’re still learning each other’s quirks. Free pass. We’re adults. Usually.” 

 “Just remember it when I do something colossal stupid next time.” Taking the tissue and getting close to Lavender, she gently dabbed her eyes as she said, “Plus twist your thinking a bit. Is stained glass broken? You’re healing. The only thing broken about you is your pie-hole.” Arin offered with a snicker.

“I’ve got a very pretty pie-hole,” Lavender countered with a slight smile as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s what comes out of it…” she added, with an “oh fuck what a mess…” thrown in for good measure, becoming more cognisant of the state she was in and reaching for the tissues to blow her nose.

“Let’s just forget about this huh?” She asked, looking at Arin hopefully, her dark makeup slightly panda’d from crying. “And one day, when there’s no chance of the ship being attacked we can get really really wasted and tell each other about all of the fucked up shit that’s happened to us. And we can drink my moonshine and that fancy Irish Whiskey you like. And I swear I’ll try to watch my manners. Old habits, y’know? I never wanted to change a thing for anyone. Never thought anyone was worth changing for ’til you.” Lavender looked away, afraid of the vulnerability this statement had brought to her.

“Deal.” Arin replied instantly. “And I never gave a feck about yer manners. I also do not want you to change, Lavender Haigh,” she said as Arin turned Lavender’s face directly so Arin could stare into the piercing eyes. Then added, “I want you to take all this pressure and stress, and I, the most unalike person you have ever met, will show you how to turn that all so you can be the diamond you were meant to be. Plus, yes you have a nice and pretty pie-hole. She added with a snicker.

“We should both get cleaned up.” She added moving into light laughter, the weight of recent hours now dropping like an orbital arc into weightlessness. 

“Yup,” Lavender agreed, looking very relieved. “Can you imagine the chat from this? ”Ooh the Orion went in her office and she set the privacy glass…” She pressed the top-right drawer of her desk and it sprang open revealing a raft of makeup supplies and a fold-out backlit mirror. This was opened on Lavender’s desk and she went about sorting the damage to her visage. “Oh and show me whatever coping mechanisms you want as long as they don’t involve small space-craft. Ooer,” she shuddered in her mirror and wiped off some black lines from her cheeks.

Grabbing a few wet wipes from a nearby container, Arin scrubbed vigorously, then used a few Kleenex to dab herself dry. Pulling a small lidded container she kept in a pocket, Arin then tapped a nearby console for mirror mode before touching up her lipstick. “It’ll have to do,” she said to herself, pinching her cheeks to add a splash of color. 

She offered the small tube-like long double-ended brush container to Lavender. On one end was sparking coral and the other was mauve-alous. She used the coral, knowing Lavender would look stunning in the Mauve. “What about land vehicles in a controlled environment?” Arin teased. 

Spotting a dermal regenerator, Arin toyed with it for a few seconds, before putting it down. “There has to be a better way to do makeup without a dedicated replicator-sized desk.” She said aloud, before turning to admire Lavender more. Lavender thanked her for the mauve but declined.

“I’m going to try a patch job,” she explained. ”A full redo would take a while. Getting me into small, powered vehicles will also take a while. And a bottle of Grappa. And an order. From an Admiral. Shit I’d actually rather be thrown in the brig. I’m a doctor, not a stunt driver. But y’know anything else would be fine. Anything at all. As long as it’s not something I don’t want to do. As for makeup i think there are little devices that can kinda beam it all on for you? But that takes out all the artistry. Took me years to perfect these eyes. But hey if I do ever get kicked out of Starfleet for being irrevocably broken in the head at least I have a backup career…” Lavender made a face in the mirror.

“Yeah, Loving me. Your new permanent career. ” Arin shot back immediately. “Plus you can drink all the crappa you want,” Arin said with her tongue sticking out and intentionally mispronouncing the grape skin liquor. Jalapeno margaritas or something. Plus stop saying broken. Let’s try…temporarily dispirited. My job, other than to love the hell out of you, apparently literally, is to re-spirit you. No one else is crushing you on my fecking watch.” She said, laying both arms on Lavender’s shoulders and kissing her lightly on the nose.

 “I have an idea for a nice relaxing event next time we get some holodeck time. Bring a swimsuit.” Hobbling over to Lavender, Arin said, “Love you, bye.” In an overly loud voice, then planted a thick kiss on Lavender’s cheek. “Ooo. I like the coral on you.” She teased. None had transferred to the Doctor’s face, Arin chucking as she watched Lavender look at the mirror in shock before relaxing.

“Troll… keep your voice down!” Lavender commented  testily as Arin headed out. Love. So Arin loved her. That was new. Ambivalence grabbed Lavender as she finished off her touch-ups. She’d never really dealt with people saying that before, at least not people she liked and respected. There had been some infatuation before aimed at her from a few people but this was entirely different. She couldn’t say it back yet and be honest. Hopefully that wouldn’t be a problem…

T’Leya reached over to adjust the task lamp, shining the warm light into her lap and the garment taking shape upon it. Black stitching on black linen was difficult to see in the mood lighting of the little seating area, even with T’Leya’s Vulcan physiology. The head of the lamp moved easily, aided by the lamp being fixed to the ‘table’, a shelf attached to the wall between comfortable chairs that were attached to the floor. The seating area was a small gap between the edge of a corridor and the edge of the saucer, too small to be of much other use but just large enough for two sets of a couch facing two chairs. It was quiet and ignored, for the most part but afforded a nice view of the stars outside. T’Leya looked back from the astra to her work and continued her line of neat hand-stitches.

Walking down the corridor, Gus found the area mentioned by other crew members. He’d heard and dismissed several derogatory comments about people who used the area. “May I join you? Gus offered. He was holding an exquisitely crafted high-carbon steel sword in a simple steel sheath and a small bag. ”Gus Viat, Recon team.

T’Leya paid the sword no mind in the immediate. She raised her hand to him in the Vulcan salute.

“Gus Viat. Your service honors us. I am T’Leya. Please, sit.” She peered at the sword and the work Gus was doing with interest. “It appears this small lounge has become a refuge for artisans,” she observed. 

Offering a slight nod of respect as he returned the salute, Gus replied. “As does yours.” Taking a seat opposite T’Leya, he added,  “I was less than impressed with the replicated patterns so far in the system. So I forged a new blade in the Rihannsu traditional style.” Laying down the scabbard across his lap, Gus took out a finely made cord and started wrapping the sheath from the hilt. 

“Observing her work, Gus suggested, ”Perhaps a simple temporary dye would help differentiate between the thread and cloth.”

“A valid proposal,” T’Leya observed. “I will admit I am not predisposed to high-tech solutions. Where I am from we do not have unlimited access to technology and my default way of thinking is to do without. However I do not believe it is necessary. With the increased light provided by this lamp and Vulcan eyesight being what it is I can now easily differentiate the colour variance between cloth and thread. Furthermore, my goal is to finish the garment in as manual a fashion as possible, otherwise I would use a sewing machine and pre-dyed fabrics and be complete much faster. However speed is not my goal.”

“Our goal in this matter aligns. There is also more than the frugality to consider. Skills that remain unused remain dull.” Gus offered. “Not to mention the self-reliance, and I will admit to a certain artistic appreciation in completing such creations.”

“Exactly,” T’Leya agreed, laying her sewing down on her lap to focus on her new acquaintance. “The recipients of my garments these days are often of species who do not suppress emotions and the personal touch adds value to the gift for them. Being self-reliant is important to me to mitigate fears that I have and allow me to keep my own emotions fully-controlled. This stems from my being brought up on a farming colony away from the core planets of the Federation.” She took a quick sip from a glass of water on the table next to her that was nestled amongst the fabric and threads. “Please forgive my candor,” she continued, “I have surmised that given our similarities of heritage you will understand. On Coltar four we do not conduct ourselves with the privacy of society on Vulcan. We speak plainly and truthfully.”

Gus nodded in appreciation. “An interesting wrinkle in the fabric of society?” He added with a pun. “I grew up near the Forge. Growing up was…frugal. In a way, having less taught me more. What is the human saying, Soft times create soft people?”

“I am not familiar with that idiom, but the logic holds,” T’Leya commented. “I am curious. Is the sword associated with the implied hardness of your childhood?”

Gus actually chuckled. “No.” He said plainly. “The sword is designed for functionality. However, the function can create a pleasing aesthetic. The blade is a historical Rihannsu pattern with a few personal embellishments—simple but effective high carbon steel with a tempered hardened edge. The hilt and handle are made from a diburnium alloy. The handle I wrapped in Hycan cactus needle, filling the needle holes with a black polymer.” “What is the garment you are creating?” Gus asked. 

T’Leya’s assumption from Gus’ hair colour that he was not one hundred percent Vulcan was confirmed by the chuckle. However the mention of Rihannsu had T’Leya even more curious as to his heritage. Still, she continued the flow of the conversation with no outward appearance of surprise.

“It is a blouse. Traditional wear on Coltar four, a practical and light material that covers and protects the skin from ultraviolet with long sleeves and yet is lightweight and breathable enough for the wearer to remain comfortable while working. In style, it might be similar to a shirt of eighteenth-century Earth, or perhaps a traditional German dirndl blouse. Lavender caught sight of one I was finishing and commented on her liking for it. Apparently, it would look, I quote, ‘damn good under a corset,’ and so I obtained her measurements surreptitiously and am constructing her one, adjusted to her personality, of course. Black on black, a lower neckline and fitted around the ribs so as not to cause discomfort under a corset.

“It appears functional along with a pleasing artistic flair,” Gus replied after looking over what he could see from his couch. “I find it interesting to learn the variance your planet adapted to. I…chafed under Vulcan society—an outcast from within. Though I have counseled enough humans, and my wife is Trill, that their assessment is likely correct. Even as a full-blooded Vulcan I would agree the garment is lovely” He added with a hint of a smile and nod.

“I hope Lavender agrees,” T’Leya replied, even more confused now than ever about her conversation partner. “I have found the society on Vulcan itself to be something I am unaccustomed to. Coltar four is more practical. We maintain good relationships with all species and are inclusive and cordial because we rely on one-another. Emotional species can be illogical, but pointing that out to them serves to negate the validity of their outlook and rarely goes down well. As an example, I have always been curious. Acquiring knowledge through questions is only logical and yet it is not always polite. As such it is probably appropriate I acquire your permission to ask about your heritage before proceeding as we have only just become acquainted.”

Gus replied. “T’Leya, I do not mind. Its history and database are searchable. I never understood the level of reluctance to share. On your other point, I’ve found ignoring emotion to be similar to ignoring the wind. I would rather learn to sail through the currents. But in my Kohlinar training, it felt…windless.” Gus noticed her eyes dart very subtly. Most will ask the next obvious question. It’s a genetic disorder, and the cure caused the color variations. Perhaps also a catalyst for my non-conformal behavior. Having acted as a counsellor for many of my fellow combatants only reinforced and honed those skills.”

T’Leya nodded as Gus explained, glad that she had not needed to compose the wording of the question which might have been awkward. 

“Curious. Not something I have come across before, but then the genetic pool on Coltar four is limited so that is not surprising. What planet if any do you call home?”

“The twins, Samuel and Tziara, are on Trill utilizing the dwelling while Cia and I are on active duty. Trill has been the residence, but I am not tied to a location. Someplace warmer than most starships.” Gus replied. T’Leya nodded once again.

“The twins by themselves, so they are grown up?”

“They will turn thirty four this year. Self-reliant long ago. What about yourself?” Gus asked her.

“I do not have any children, nor have I been bonded,” T’Leya explained. “I have not met someone with whom I wish to be bonded. I am free of the societal expectation and manoeuvring of the home world in that regard. I have focussed on my work. It is rewarding, but a lonely existence,” she admitted. “Especially when one moves to a new ship.”

Switching into counselor mode without realizing it, Gus asked, “Lonely or alone? The distinction is key in this instance. ”Consider me extended family. We all need support.” 

“Lonely,” T’Leya replied, her dispassion at odds with the subject matter. “This level of solitude is not my preference. Therefore, your offer is appreciated. How do you find being away from your family?”

“The distance is always there, yet she who is my wife is always with me, as are my children.” Gus offered, pointing to his head. “Therapeutic methods exist in mind melds at what I call near surface. However, requirements exist to safeguard both individuals. ” He left the question open-ended on purpose.

“A therapeutic mind-meld. I am curious is the action of sharing consciousness in itself the treatment for loneliness or is there a particular methodology applied by the mind meld to achieve that result?” T’Leya’s gaze was pinned on Gus in a way that some might find unnerving. She was however simply giving him her full attention. 

“That would depend on the reason for the therapy. Combat-related therapy is at a different level. Loneliness isn’t a deep meld unless there are mitigating factors. It was something my wife Cia and I discovered isn’t always done as a family entity. Exploring the guided sessions led to some internal strife, it made us closer as a unit.” Gus offered.

“I see,” T’Leya said softly. “And what made you choose to create a Rihannsu blade?” The change of conversational direction would leave a cheetah dazed. One eyebrow rose at the topic change, but he continued, “Because the Rihannan never stopped using blades. Earth has a few functional blades. The Japanese katana, English bastard, and Afghan kukri swords are all highly functional in their respective styles. The Rihannsu style is similar to the bastard sword.”  Getting up, Gus wrapped a cloth around the hilt to provide a grip and held the blade out T’Leya to inspect or handle. She did so, carefully. T’Leya didn’t know much about swords, but looked it over anyway. It was expertly crafted, from what she could tell. She passed it back, just as carefully.

“Do you find that there is any use for a blade in modern times of hand Phasers and Disruptors? Or is this purely an aesthetic object?” She asked. Gus thought about the last mission. 

“The Jem’Hadar like close combat.” Pausing for a moment, he thought of Micah and added. “Bad breath range, as an old comrade would say. I would not want to be without one. Energy weapons tend to set off internal sensors. Blades can be convenient in the field or on away missions. I am rarely without one.” T’Leya nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.

“Surprising. I would have thought regulations too rigid to allow such a weapon on missions. Is there or are there certain disciplines you follow that the dictate the mode of wielding it?” Gus moved with the topic flow. “Blade design often dictates form. That will make it apparent whether the blade is sweeping, stabbing, or chopping. Many do two things adequately. None do it all.”

“I see,” T’Leya commented. “I am ignorant of such things. What forms do this blade suit?” 

Gus replied, “The Rihannsu art of Llaekh-ae’rl,” the universal translator caught as laughing murder. Then added, “The analogy would be dancing anger, perhaps. Hand-to-hand combat teaches the transfer of energy; this is similar, but the sword becomes an extension of your arm.” He felt a friendly attraction; there was no doubt. Their upbringings had enough like events to forge the mentality needed to cope in a certain way that gelled. T’Leya blinked impassively, taking in this new information.

“One supposes the weapon itself would need inherent balance to make a suitable extension?” She queried, seeming interested.

Gus held out the sword for her to sample “It’s balanced enough that it wedged itself inside a simulated holodeck EPS conduit a half a meter deep when thrown as a spear. You will find it a bit longer than it should be for you. Balance isn’t an issue.” Not quite as an afterthought, he added, “it would far easier to show you.”

“I am indeed interested, Gus Viat. That would require relocation to a more suitable venue, would it not?” T’Leya asked, surveying the space around them for a moment. Gus nodded and replied, “In that we are in total agreement.” Then added, “shall we reconvene in ten minutes? That will give me time to program a weapon your size and finish the wrap on my own sword.”

Not supposing she would be hands on with a weapon at the inception of this plan T’Lea’s inherent curiosity piqued.

“Very well,” she said, spiking her needle in to a cushion and gathering her sewing project. “Name the location.”

“Deck 15. Training holodeck for Recon and Security teams.” Gus offered.

“I shall see you there.”

Making it to deck 15, the training holodeck was usually open. You could run other programs on it, but recreational programs were frowned upon as it was reserved for the Recon and Security teams’ usage. Pulling up the program he used with his classes, the room changed views. The walls were an off-white brick, punctuated with white ceiling tiles abundantly spilling what looked like natural light. The flooring was highly polished antique heart pine, the darker hue providing needed contrast. On one wall were a variety of blades—everything from daggers, short swords, several polearms, and the odd staff weapon.  

Gus had changed into a charcoal gray cotton karate Gi. It provided freedom of movement and warmth. He sat on a softer cushion near the center of the room, waiting for T’Leya. 

The Vulcan Ops officer entered after a short time, ten minutes almost to the second from when Gus had said it in fact, dressed as ever in her gold Starfleet uniform, the only change being her hair which was now put up, rather than being about her shoulders as it had been minutes before. T’Leya offered no particular greeting, she considered none was required. All that could be said was an observation on the obvious, that she had arrived and was ready for whatever Gus had planned and that she was ignorant of the established form of dress for such an activity. Starfleet Uniforms were supposed to be somewhat Universal. It was hard to go wrong with one, although she did deposit her jacket to the side of the space, her form now a full ops gold from the waist up, the only interjection the pips on her collar. She looked at Gus expectantly. 

He motioned for T’Leya to follow him. “Basic design of the blade can indicate your actions.” For our lesson today, we shall concentrate on one style. “This is a Roman Gladius. This short sword’s lack of range balances nicely against the higher speed.” Next to it was another. “This is the Japanese Katana. Notice the curve of the blade makes it better at slashing than chopping, but it will chop. “Lastly, this is the Ghurka Kukri.” It was similar in size to the previous swords but had a downward curve starting halfway down the blade. Picking it up, he raised it in a slow-motion mock-cleave and a few slow blocks. ”Better at cleaving and chopping.”  

As I mentioned before, this is a very near-surface mind meld. I will be passing only memories of practices and techniques. Combined with the practice now, this will allow you to make highly advanced initial progress. Do you have any questions before we begin?” Gus asked T’Leya. 

“I do not,” she replied. “Please continue.”

A simple thick mat was on the floor. Gus sat down and bade T’Leya to join him. Sitting sideways facing each other, Gus closed his eyes briefly before reaching out to touch the pressure points on the Vulcan woman. “My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.” Images flooded in both directions. His mental shields up, Gus previewed the recent interactions with T’Leya. Thoughts of kinship, camaraderie, and shared common upbringing. He didn’t block his near-instant attraction to her; it would be apparent and pointless to waste the energy doing so.  Moving past that, he shared how he trained his students. Basic moves, common corrections, and simple parries. Reinforcing her technique allows them to share consciousness and train at the speed of thought. Once he knew the information was mutual, he ran her through several practice sessions with the Katana and Rhihannan blades and differences with the downward curve of the kukri sword. Not only moves but capabilities were shown. Blades like this could remove limbs, massive torso strikes, and even decapitation. As a final showing, he gripped the long straight Romulan blade like dart, as threw it a halfway through a simulated target.

A sharp intake of breath denoted T’Leya’s exit from the mind-meld. Her eyes fluttered open, her mind going over the things she had learned, the basic moves with each sword, corrections and parries. The attraction from Gus stayed in her mind a moment, before being filed. T’Leya was not surprised by this. It was something she had been told a good-few times before, she was above average it would seem, when one looked at it purely from a numerical perspective. The camaraderie was more important to her, it was nice to feel a kinsmanship and she had shared this as well with Gus during the meld. She had also shared the commonality of rejection she suffered from more staid Vulcans, usually those from the home-world or of rank who found her curiosity and open-ness distasteful.

“Curious…”

The practice sessions went well. T’Leya could execute the basic moves shown to her in the meld, her body now acquiring the real feeling of the motions.

“I can see why one might choose such a weapon,” she commented as Gus went to retrieve the sword that was thrown, still wobbling slightly in the target. “Especially against an enemy such as the Jem’Hadar.”

“Indeed. Also, the Klingons. The Bat’leth is a weapon of terror, not utility, but I digress. The more you practice in the gym, holodeck, or sparring competitions, the more the neural connections the meld started will strengthen, transferring the information from the brain to muscle memory. I also lead a sword class every Thursday.”

“I could use a new activity,” T’Leya mused, practicing a parry a few times. “I will admit I miss the physicality of farming. I never slept so well as when I was home.”Gus nodded in agreement. “Perhaps join me for something parallel as well. Sword Tai Chi is excellent for stretching and practicing sword moves. 32 exist normally, and we can run a few variations if you are interested.”

“I am,” T’Leya replied with a slight upward inflection in her tone – what could be considered eagerness for a Vulcan. “I hope this will not constitute an over-abundance of new information. 

“There is no reason for concern. The meld will fade over the next day, making the retention more efficient if some practice is done. Once we get through some basic moves, I am confident the information and skills will be acquired permanently.” Gus countered.

“Then should we practice?” T’Leya asked. “Let’s start with some basics, follow me through some Tai Chi forms. The slow muscle movement will reinforce muscle memory.” Gus offered. Putting on some light music, he guided T’Leya through the forms. He could see she was having a bit of trouble with the sword. “The slight shaking will subside over time as the muscles develop in your arms and core. Holding several kilos of steel at arm’s length steadily takes practice to master.”

“Curious,” T’Leya remarked, observing the shake herself. “I would have supposed Vulcan strength would mitigate the effect but it seems not. Perhaps it is just as much about condition as strength.” T’Leya followed the forms through as best she could. The meld had helped her be more advanced than most beginners, but she was still that, a beginner. Still, moving the sword and her body in a particular way did put her in mind of farming back home. She missed the physicality of it. T’Leya resolved to apply herself to learning the sword and mentioned all of this to Gus.”Holding a kilogram or more at arm’s length repetitively over time isn’t normal. The Tai Chi with the sword will help. Since they were very recently linked, Gus could feel her slight wavering. The muscles were there, but the movements were still bonding to them, hence T’Leya’s difficulty. After fifteen minutes, she was steadier but still wavering. The weight would tax nearly any student, Vulcan heritage or not. Taking T’Leya’s sword, he placed it back on the rack and put his own in a temporary slot. Grabbing a pair of Kendo sticks, he tossed one to  T’Leya when he was close enough. “Wrapped bamboo with metal hilt. The weight is similar enough for practice, and the damage is quite minor, and they are excellent for speed work. 

“Now that we have run through the sword Tai Chi. I would like to do the same exercise but at twice the speed. Your form is adequate enough to transition to actual attacks and parries soon.” Gus advised.

 T’Leya nodded and started the routine again, feeling the difference in weight distribution of the new weapon, trying to keep her movements fluid and remember everything. It was a lot of information to process.

Gus felt the weight of her thought through the link and offered a knowing nod and smile. “Maybe we let the connections solidify your body and mind more. Even without the self-defense component, it is excellent cardio.” He sheathed his sword while asking her. “Vulcan youth normally attend rigorous survival training. Sword skills were a normal addition historically. Less of one more recently. Something I believe is a failing and one especially so in close quarters combat. T’Leya wobbled a bit as she tried to complete the movements with fluidity and listen too. 

“I have not yet… made the connections… to do this without significant concentration…” she said. However she was doing extremely well for one with such little experience. “Perhaps… I should teach you baling… and then I would have the upper hand… that is excellent strength training. It’s been a few years but… I am sure I would acquit myself well…”

“I have little doubt, as you well know, about your abilities. The difference is one of polish to make an analogy. Swordsmanship was something of a hobby even as a young teen. With a few training sessions, your skills will solidify rapidly.” Gus paused. There was something about T’Leya. “What are you doing for dinner?” He said bluntly.

T’Leya paused mid-movement in a position that would cause most to lose stamina fast. Fortunately she was extremely fit. She finished the move after a moment and stayed in the resulting pose.

“I have not yet determined that.” She responded and then carried on with the movements.

Gus wasn’t sure if he should take that as surprise or interest on T’Leya’s part. “I find your company agreeable. It is that simple. There are only so many connections to be made on a crew. Finding someone as…unique as myself and yet different in interesting ways was…unexpected.” He said, adding a genuine nod. His companion finished her movements and stood up straight, the sword now by her side.

“I also find your company agreeable, Gus Viat” she replied with equal candor. “I take it your inquiry is a precursor to a suggestion of us having a meal together.”

“The location should be a unilateral decision. Unless you prefer a location of choice or a more public venue.” Gus offered. 

“The choice of location for an event between two parties being unilateral is illogical, unless… the decision-making process is extended over multiple events and handled on a turn-by-turn basis.” T’Leya responded.

“Since we are likely to be crewmates for an extended period of time, I would find this agreement quite acceptable.” Gus countered.

“Then we have an accord,” T’Leya confirmed. “Now convention dictates we require an object of chance or superstitious ritual or game to ascertain who makes the first unilateral decision.”

Normally I would defer the decision as I am indifferent to the location. However. there is a childish game that can easily provide random selection—best two out of three wins. 

The game is called rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock. In rock paper scissors lizard Spock: scissors cut paper, paper covers rock, rock crushes lizard, lizard poisons Spock, Spock smashes scissors, scissors decapitates lizard, lizard eats paper, paper disproves Spock, Spock vaporizes rock, and rock crushes scissors.” Gus showed her the hand gestures needed to participate. 

And battle commenced. In round one T’Leya’s paper beat Gus’ rock. In the second the logic puzzle of trying to anticipate the opponent’s action came to naught, but by sheer luck T’Leya’s scissors cut Gus’ paper. In the final played just for form Gus recouped some ground by predicting T’Leya would choose Spock and thusly her kinsman was poisoned by Gus’ Lizard.

“A tense standoff indeed, T’Leya said flatly with what could possibly have been some sort of Vulcan humour. ”But the decision is mine. We are limited for venues aboard ship but the obvious choice is the lounge. Nineteen hundred ship time?”

“Nineteen hundred hours, agreed.” Gus said nodding, taking his sword and packing up. T’Leya grabbed her jacket and after she had shuffled into it and done it up she thanked Gus for he lesson and departed, debating in her mind what she would have for dinner.

With things winding down and the ship taking its time getting back to Vulcan things were finally starting to get back to normal.  Rebecca stared at the latest personnel report and sighed.  Replacing Collins wasn’t going to be easy.  There was a war going on and the sad fact of the matter was it was easier to replace ships than crew.  Every ship in the fleet was operating short-handed.   The Denver was no exception.  Her XO was doing duel duty heading the intelligence department.  She had an Ensign who had been recently given a battlefield commission and promotion to Assistant Chief as a petty officer.   Young Ensign MacKenzie was a good officer,  but so green she couldn’t with any good conscience give her the Chief position. 

Now they had a hole in Security and Tactical.

Rebecca sighed and let the PADD clatter on the desk and pushed back.  Gus, unlike Aoife, had a ton of prior service. There was just one problem.  He was an Ensign and there were two junior lieutenants already in the department, but their evaluations were anything but stellar.  Lieutenant Gifford had enough service to be a Commander or even a Captain,  but he had fifteen reprimands on his record. 

Lieutenant Folly was a nice woman and even a solid Tactical officer,  but she lacked any sort of leadership skills.  The crew under walked all over her taking advantage of her leadership… or lack thereof.  That left Ensign Viat.  

“Captain Talon to Ensign Viat, please report to my ready room.”

“Viat here, Captain. On my way.” Gus said, tapping his comm badge. “Chief Petersen, take over,” Gus ordered, walking out of the training room and heading to the meeting with the CO. 

A short time later, Gus was outside the ready room door, he pressed the button, awaiting permission to enter.

“Enter,” Rebecca announced 

Gus walked through, standing at ease near the desk.

Rebecca stood and went to the replicator and materialized a fresh pot of coffee.  “You want anything, Ensign?”

“Thank you, Captain. Vulcan spice tea with milk.” He walked over retrieving the mug as he waited for Rebecca to take a seat. 

She replicated the tea and returned to her desk which she slid in Gus’s direction. Rebecca filled her cup from the fresh pot steam rising from the depths of the white ceramic. She dropped into her seat reclining slightly and as she did her gaze drifted to the tiny Christmas tree perched on the edge. It was a relic of a bygone era, a symbol of tradition that few in the Federation still acknowledged. Most had moved on, abandoning the holiday in favor of modern beliefs, but for her, it represented something more profound.

Her family, devout Catholics, still clung to their faith despite the changing times. Rebecca, however, felt a growing distance from those beliefs. She often questioned whether she was more of an atheist or agnostic, finding herself caught between the faith of her parents and her own uncertain convictions. As an only child, and her mother already gone that left her father the sole practitioner of the faith. A faith that would likely die with him since she had no intention of passing the tradition on to her children.

She took a sip of her coffee letting the heat warm her. At last she let out a long sigh. “It’s almost Christmas.  I used to love the holiday. Hell, I still do.” She let out a rueful chortle. “Been one hell of a year. I thought last year was bad with the Klingons and then the Dominion.”

“Survival can be a good reason to celebrate Captain.” Gus offered, finally sitting down. “The crew would benefit from the stress release.” He added.

“I suppose you are right,” she conceded.  She tried to hide the war weariness in her tone, but some of it escaped. “General William T. Sherman is famously quoted as saying ‘War as hell’.  That was positively British in understatement if you ask me.”

“There is also Earth’s American view from Robert E Lee ‘It is well that war is so terrible. Otherwise, we would grow too fond of it.’ ” Gus countered. 

Rebecca slid a small black box in Gus’s direction. “The reason I asked you up here was to give you this. It was one of Collins’ final acts before departing the ship.  He was impressed with you during the Battle of Betezed and you handled yourself with distinction in the Lyphirian homeworld.”

Gus’s head tilted just slightly understanding the promotion he’d just earned. 

“Congratulations Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Gus replied. placing the item aside for the moment. 

“With Collins gone, I’m counting on you to lead the department until we find a replacement. Gifford will likely push your limits, so don’t hesitate to lean on Commanders Nalam or Jeter—they’ve got your back. Keep a close eye on Lieutenant Folly. She’s out of her depth, and managing her will drain more of your time than it should. She’d be a solid fit for security on a smaller vessel, but with nearly 250 officers in the Denver’s security department, she’s in way over her head.”

Gus thought for a second then replied, “Then we give her a smaller job for the time being. She can manage a small team effectively enough on a short leash.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Ensign T’Val will be manning the tactical station on the bridge. The tactical department is her’s, but as the ranking officer you will want to monitor her as well.”

“Understood Captain.” He said. Gus made notes on the PADD he was using. It was more a habit than any need to catalog what he needed to do. He found that some people didn’t think he was paying attention unless writing things down. “I must confess, I don’t know the Ensign other than in passing. Something that will be corrected. Her performance doesn’t raise any red flags. We will ensure it remains so.”

“I am happy to hear that. Do you have anything to add Lieutenant?”

“Nothing comes to mind, Captain.” Gus offered. Then added, “Should you need a sympathetic ear or sounding board, Captain, please let me know. Had it not been for that medal, I would have been the Senior Enlisted. We’d have been spending more time together had that happened.” He mused.

“Very well,  you are dismissed Lieutenant,” Rebecca said with finality that suggested she had other tasks to take care of.

Getting up, he thanked the Captain and left.

At the tactical station, the Assistant Chief Security Officer ran another scan, nothing to note. Vulcan had avoided much of the chaos that the war with the Dominion had brought, though it was only logical to be prepared for any eventuality. T’Val was anxious, though she did not show it. Returning to Vulcan and once more to a family that did not approve of her leaving her educational background behind to join Starfleet. It was another chance for a lecture on parental disappointment. Not that the Vulcan showed the tension, as with most of her kind she buried it deep, and instead exuded a detached indifference to their destination.

Similar in her outward appearance of detached calm was T’Leya at Ops. Having nothing to do in the immediate, her relevant tasks all zipped up and ready, she watched the viewscreen with interest for a view of the planet that should have been some sort of home but was yet so unfamiliar to her.

As the ship dropped out of warp, Farl Ferrus immediately engaged the ship’s suite of active sensors. He knew tactical was looking for ships, but Farl was more interested in checking for scientific anomalies. So far as they knew, the Dominion didn’t possess cloaking technology, nor did they have any kind of super-advanced warp drives, so there was no reason to think they had a trick up their sleeve… but it was good to be sure. Technological innovation can strike at any moment, so there was never any guarantee their enemy wouldn’t immediately exploit a new development. Still, scans showed the Vulcan system to be as normal as it always was, so Farl shrugged and relaxed his shoulders. That done, he looked up at the view screen to take in the sights. He loved seeing different starships, so he took a moment to look around at the system’s occupants.

Being extra cautious, the Denver dropped out of warp just inside the edge of the Vulcan solar system. It would give them the time so that surprise would still be on their side. “Dropping to half-impulse. Time to Vulcan, three hours, twelve minutes.” Arin Jones commented per SOP.

“No sense in delaying shore leave Ms. Jones,” Rebecca announced without looking up from her report. “Maintain full impulse.”

“Full impulse. ”Aye, Captain.” Arin said as her fingers made the adjustment to their speed.

Riandri showed her agreement with a quick nod, “We could also use the break, Mr Jeter, double check the shore leave rota and send all crew. I expect most people will want to stretch their legs pretty quickly.”

“Not a problem commander, I was working on it already. It will be shared shortly,” Jeter responded.

“If it is of assistance I shall volunteer to remain aboard to facilitate a minimum number of necessary hands,” T’Leya offered Jeter.

Jeter looked over to T’Leya, “I appreciate the offer Lieutenant and I will take you up on that; I expect we will have a full engineer team going over the ship anyways but someone needs to watch over them. Everyone will still have time to get their boats on the ground.”

After what seemed like an eternity the orange ball of Ni’var, colloquially called Vulcan started growing large on the viescreen. Ships of every conceivable size, design, and structure from all over the Alpha Quadrant darted about. Starbase 3 was a large station of Vulcan architecture, but still tiny in compassion of the Spacedock class Starbase One that orbited Earth.

“Ms Jones slow to one-quarter impulse. Lt. T’Leya contact orbital control and request approach vectors and docking instruction,” Rebecca announced.

Arin replied, “Slowing to one-quarter impulse, Captain.”

“Yes Captain,* T’Leya replied and once vectors were obtained passed them over to Arin’s console. Arriving at Vulcan was an experience that elicited various mixed emotions which, being Vulcan T’Leya was immediately aware of and she kept them well in check. It was reassuring and easy to be surrounded by many of her own species, and yet Vulcan was not really her home. She fit in, yet she also didn’t. Apprehension was the strongest of the emotions T’Leya kept thoroughly subdued, but with a minute frown of pointed brow she made a note of this experience and continued her work.

Riandri smiled slightly watching the planet steadily grow larger on the screen as she recalled her years spent on Ni’var. With a sideways glance to the Captain that she couldn’t help she said, “Let’s hope for no abductions this time.”

“That was Earth,” Rebecca said with a smirk. “This time it’s Vulcan.”

“Statistically there is no significant amount of abductions on Vulcan,” the Assistant Chief Security Officer said, “Though of course will remain vigiliant.”

Riandri just smiled at that inwardly, “Always a good course of action. It will be good to have the crew able to get some fresh air.”

Emimi Qetax nodded, “Being off a ship can be therapeutic. Though hopefully the rather sedate Vulcans aren’t offended by our crew, we can be rather rambunctious.”

Farl turned his head slightly, to throw his voice towards the others instead of his console. “What kind of trouble can one really get into on Ni’Var? I would assume the general nature of the population would limit opportunities for… high jinks.” Farl stifled a smile as he turned back to his panel, now lost in his imagination of a human crew playing practical jokes on the unsuspecting Vulcan civilians.

“There are a few large sections near Earth embassy, that cater more to alien species. Sadly, you are about a millennium too late for Vulcan fun.” Arin said. “Rumarie was the last Vulcan pagan fest. Think of a very adult beach party and you get the idea.” She made a waah-waah sound as a sad reply. “Though that doesn’t mean we can’t have our own version.” 

“Not sure what you are looking for, Farl. Klingon pub crawls are probably out.” Arin said teasingly. 

“No no, I’ll pass on the bloodwine, thank you. I can’t have the doctor thinking all I’m good for are near-death experiences, strong alcohol, and a mixture of both.” Farl replied with a grin. “Actually, I’m only planning on hitting up the Vulcan Science Academy. I’ve been sending them some of my research for months, which they have ignored. I’m hoping a little visit will elicit a response. I could really use some outside assistance…” Farl trailed off, realizing he was dangerously close to launching into a monologue about some niche stellar phenomena.

Riandri laughed a little at that, “A good call, a Klingon pub crawl is not something I would ever recommend….”

“I expect there’s not a lot of Klingon bars on Vulcan,” Rebecca observed, though she had never spent a lot of time on the planet.

Riandri smirked slightly. “True, there aren’t many, but there is one in ShiKahr, though that was many years ago.”

As she finished speaking she glanced at the display on the arm of her chair. “Their space control system should be reaching out to us any moment Captain.”

As if on queue the comms system chimed,. ‘USS Denver. This is Vulcan Space Control. Please prepare for orbital insertion at the following coordinates

Arin Acknowledged the comm. “Space Control, this is the Denver, coordinates received and inputted.”

‘From all of Vulcan, we bid you welcome.”

Rebecca glanced at Riandri and gave her a slight smile, “Take us in Ms. Jones.  Operations secure all stations and prepare mooring clamps.”

(60 minutes prior to start)

Ming had gotten cleaned up, putting on a clean pair of black slacks, button up tunic of the same color followed by his not quite authorized black longcoat.  It had the usual two pips of his rank of lieutenant, combadge and pilot’s wings. The captain was ok with it for use shipside so he wasn’t afraid to use it.  He was closer to suggesting it for the fighter wing than ever before.  That’d be another time though.  

He realized that he was a bit burnt out earlier.   He’d been in some furry hairballs so far in this war.  That included the failed attempt to rescue Betazed.  He’d watched his old ship, the USS Tucson get destroyed with alarming losses. Around half the crew made it to the escape pods, but ⅓ of them got destroyed by the Dominion.  That included many friends, collegues, respected superiors and 3 members of his old flight….Including his old CO/Lover.  So many others died with them because Starfleet Intel screwed the pooch. There’d been many mishaps and misadventures other times during the war too.  Things were finally hints of things seeming to go the Federation’s way.  War was a fucked up propisition so he tempered any hope toward the point of optimistic neutrality. 

Betazed….A new horrific realization struck him.  Nina was half Betazoid and had family there.  What were the chances she was there, on the ground, versus not?  Could that be the cause of the angst he couldn’t place?  Damn…..But he forced those thoughts to the wayside for now. 

William Tecumseh Sherman had two quotes that seemed to fit his feelings.  At the start it was “War is the remedy our enemies have chosen, and I say let us give them all they want. There is many a boy here to-day who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell.” while later,  “It is now It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.”

That bastard knew what he was talking about for sure.  But that was the past and he’d cried enough tears.  It was time to celebrate.  Celebrate being alive and the lives of the lost if folks insisted.  He said, “Computer…Invite senior staff to the main lounge in 75 minutes. Come as you are, dress uniforms not discouraged but not required.  Drink, eat and schmooze!  We’re headed home….If even for only a little while.  Plus whatevers welcome and your presence is your RSVP. — Computer….Send.”

With that….He left…..

Ready room…

Rebecca looked up from her intelligence report with the stars streaking behind her. She glanced in the direction of the com speaker and smirked and then glanced at Riandri.   She set the PADD down and relaxed into her seat.  “These reports can wait commander. I think the crew needs their XO.”

Riandri smiled at that, “I guess I better go put my happy party face on then.” She stood and started to make her way to the door, “I trust you will be joining, the senior staff will need to see their Captain as well at such an event.”

“I’m not sure that would be appropriate.   The captain needs a certain…”

“Nonsense,” Riandri said with a smile. “The crew and senior staff need to see that you are a person. Going there and enjoying a drink or just chatting for a little bit will do you good.” 

She stared at Riandri for a long moment and then let out a long sigh, “I’ll be there then.”

A grin spread over Riandri’s face, “Perfect, I will see you then Captain.” With that, Riandri turned, left the ready room, and made her way to her quarters.

Sickbay

Lavender looked sideways at the speaker in her office and sighed. She wasn’t much in the mood for a party, but it occurred to her that her time on Denver could go one of two ways. Either she was the usual loner or she could try to make it more like her last ship where she actually got on with people and was part of the community.

“Fine, fine, fine…” she said to the air testily and headed off to her quarters to touch up her makeup and change.
 

[Now, Ship’s Lounge, T-Minus 10 mins]

Ming smiled as the Bartender went to work.  He had most a case of Tullamore Dew left and, except for three he set aside, he made them available to his fellow officers.  Seemed that other real goods were also made available in addition to his donation and the synthahol so he felt like the grounds were set.   He poured himself a Tullamore Dew over ice and took a seat toward the end of the bar and waited.

A minute or so after Ming sat down the doors opened and Jeter walked in. Never one to underdress for an occasion he was wearing his full-dress uniform. He looked around the lounge and spotted Ming sitting at the bar. He made his way over and nodded to the bartender who passed him a glass of Martian Whiskey, “Guess we wait for the others to arrive then eh?”

Marcus chuckled and nodded raising his glass a bit, “Sounds about right.  In the meantime – Slán leat!”

Jeter smiled and raised his glass, “Cheers Ming.”

Aoife was still only the assistant Chief Engineer,  but she was the senior most representative of the engineering department.  She didn’t have the energy to go to a social function, but on the same hand someone should represent engineering. 

Entering the lounge she got a bottle of Scotch and approached Ming and Jeter,  “Well, engineering is here.” She set the bottle and dropped into an empty chair with an exhausted sigh. She filled her glass and raised it, “As my da’ would say, ‘slàinte’.”

Jeter looked over at Aoife, “How are you feeling Ensign? I am glad that you are back on your feet and able to join.”

“Well,” She hesitated and then grinned, “I feel like I got shot through the lungs a few days ago.”

Jeter smirked at that, “Ah, well that only makes sense I would think.” He took a small sip of his whiskey before continuing, “If you need some more time to recover let me know. An injury like that can take time to heal.”

“No sir. I don’t have the luxury of taking time off. Engineering is criminally understaffed.”

Jeter frowned slightly, “I am aware of that unfortunate situation. That said please do not push yourself too much. I would hate to have to explain to the good Doctor and Captain why you are back in medical.” He took a sip of his drink and smiled, “Now all that said, we will be getting replacements soon to help address some of that issue.”

Ming paused waiting for a moment to interject.  When he found one he said, “Glad you seem to have made a full recovery….Near enough anyhow.  You left a bit of blood in my fighter which caused a bit of vexation.  I worried about my wounded passenger.  My crew chief was spouting some vial stuff until I put a kibosh on it.  Very nice to see you up and around.”

She nodded and gave ming a slight smile, “Thank you sir.  Glad you were able to help… well I suppose my parents should be more so. If I died I guess I wouldn’t have cared one way or the other.”

Marcus excused himself indicating he’d return in a moment.  He went to the bar for a moment and returned with a full bottle of Tullamore Dew, a roughly half-full bottle, and an insulated bucket of ice.  He plopped all three items on the table and poured himself a glass with some ice.  He gestured to the items and said, “Help yourselves if you like. My personal stash.  Nothing like Irish Whiskey….This one happens to be my favorite.”

To punctuate his words Ming took a sip and savored the smokey flavor before smoothly swallowing it,  He savored the warm feeling of the alchohol as it made its way to his stomach.  He smiled a bit, “Shore leave…..I almost forgot what R&R is like.

After making her way to her quarters and changing Riandri made her way down to the lounge. ‘This could be good for everyone, a nice break from the challenges of late,’ she thought to herself as she stopped in front of the lounge. As she opened the door she could hear the hum of conversation from within, with a quick tug on her jacket, adjusting it so it sat right she stepped in.

Hot on the heels of the X.O. were the C.M.O. and C.O.O. Both women resplendent in their dress uniforms, T’Leya had taken the time to add some pretty braids to her hair that held it off her face in the manner she had done on Coltar IV. The doctor meanwhile eschewed her usual work up-do and her hair fell around her shoulders, framing the perfectly executed gothic eyes with spiked wing eyeliner and her trademark black lips. Her piercings were all in too. Lavender was nodding along with T’Leya’s explanation of how she had calculated the dress uniform would go down well with the senior staff. Lavender couldn’t quite admit she had made a similar calculation, but she did have the advantage of T’Leya, a bottle of something colourless clasped in her hands. She located Ming quickly and sauntered over.

“Ming,” she said commandingly and passed him the bottle of Grappa. “Not quite M’talan, it’s too refined for that, drink it, clean fighter parts with it, effective either way. How’s the head?

Marcus tilted his head curiously but allowed a small smile touch his lips.  He opened the bottle and poured a hefty dose into his now empty glass.  He eyeballed the liquid after sniffing then hoisting it to roughly eye level for a moment.  He said, “My head is still on my head and the contents were only slightly scrambled.  Seems, thanks to our doctor, I’ll live.  At least IF or maybe until the Jem’hadar succeed in taking me out.  My fighters have had parts singed but they failed so far.  I aim to keep it that way.” 

The Knight’s CO gestured with the liquid filled glass, “It does smell at least a bit better than our solvents.  Well, in the words of our world’s ancient Vikings, ‘skål!”

Ming emptied the glass in two solid gulps and looked thoughtful for a moment.  He said with a smile, his voice only a little gruff, “Nope.  Not quite our usual solvents.  There was an old Terran drink called Everclear.  95% grain alcohol and it tastes like the straight stuff. Compared to that Graal isn’t that bad.” 

Lavender grinned.

“Good man. I better go furnish myself with a glass and catch up, I’m two drinks down already! Excuse me…” 

The doctor slid past Jeter offering him a raised eyebrow of recognition and headed for the bar.

Gus walked in carrying a guitar case. His dress uniform crisp and immaculate. Red hair slicked back so it stayed in place. He nodded to the server. The standing order for a large Mexican hot chocolate was received. Uncasing the guitar, out came a Fender Acoustisonic Jazzmaster. The instrument offered acoustic shape-shifting to electric rhythm tones, all with balanced highs, focused mid-range, and pronounced bass response. Perfect to mimic the ambiance the night would take on its journey.

Taking a seat, he slung the pleather red and black sling around his neck and got comfortable on the stool. The guitar was a red mahogany with black streaks. Accented by a black walnut neck and fretboard. The hardware was gold plated to give the instrument a match to the dress uniform Gus wore. 

Aoife smirked, “I didn’t know we were putting on concerts.  I should have brought my Highland pipes.”

Marcus let something between a grin and a smirk cross his lips and replied, “It was kind of discussed but ultimately not expressly encouraged or discouraged.  I’m a little surprised anyone opted to go for it actually but I’m thinking I won’t be complaining.”

Aoife smirked, “Nobody wants to hear the pipes.”

“Why not? I am always partial to bagpipes myself,” Jeter said with a smile.

“Well, the biggest reason is ”I don’t have them with me, and the next reason is that we already have entertainment. Who am I to steal the Lieutenant’s thunder?” Aoife replied.

Jeter shrugged, “Perhaps another time, we have not had enough of these events since the war started. It is nice to see the crew sharing what they enjoy.”

Ming fixed Aoife a lopsided smile before saying, “No, no….No thunder to steal.  My motivation to throw this little….Soireê was to have fun.  Have a few drinks, schmooze, hobnob, and…for those so inclined….Play a little music should their muse decend.  We made it through another mission.  A tradition we had back on the Tucson was to have a gathering, such as this.  With that ship and two thirds of the crew gone I felt it fell on me to share the tradition and let folks blow of some steam.”

He smiled with a gesture imperfectly encompassing the room, “Thus here we are.  I’m quite glad this party has gotten started.”   

“As am I, this was a good idea,” Jeter remarked as he took another sip from his glass. “I will catch up with you two later, I need to have a work with the XO.” With that, he nodded to them both and made his way over to Riandri.

“Commander,” Aoife said politely. 

Farl looked at the chronometer on his desk. It was time. He gave his report one final cursory review, then saved it. He quickly tidied up his room, changed into some casual attire, and then paused to inspect himself in the mirror. Clean hear, groomed whiskers, looking sheik. With a silent nod to his reflection, Farl strode out of his quarters and headed for the ship’s lounge.

10 minutes later, Farl was heading for the ship’s lounge a second time, only this time in dress uniform. He’d gotten approximately 2 paces in the door, realized his mistake, and smoothly did a 180 back out. Hopefully nobody noticed. This time, however, he entered and stayed in the lounge. Farl stood a moment, basking in the ambience. Looking about for some familiar faces, Farl made his way to the bar, where he spotted a familiar face.

“Excuse me doctor, might I ask what you’re having? I have a feeling I’m not going to find any Caitian drinks onboard, and while I do enjoy a nice gin & tonic, I thought I might try something new.” Farl said, shuffling through the crowd and finding himself next to the doctor. “By the way, I genuinely don’t recall if I said anything coherent when I first showed up in your sickbay, so I’m Farl.” He stuck out his hand.

Lavender shook it more out of form than anything genuine. She was famous for hating pleasantries and small-talk. “You didn’t, but it’s no big. You’d been through it. Call me Lavender.” The last part wasn’t an invitation, not in the tone Lavender used. She swilled the colourless liquid in her glass, the cool temperature of which had left condensation on the sides. “I’m having Grappa. Not the good shit I brought for Ming, this is the standard Starfleet bar garbage.” She turned finally positioning herself facing Farl. “Possibly a bit strong for Caitian physiology,” she offered, quietly.

One of Farl’s left whiskers twitched. Had the temperature dropped? He paused for just a moment, then, after making an internal calculation, made a decision. He straightened his back and turned to face the doctor. “Grappa… Italian, yes? Let’s give it a try.” Farl gestured to the bartender, to the glass in the doctor’s hand, and then to himself. He waited patiently for a glass to appear in front of him. He thanked the bartender, then, facing the doctor, took a single breath, and tossed the Grappa back. Farl had intended to steel himself for the liquor to hit, but it wasn’t enough. He clamped his jaw shut, in an attempt to stifle the cough, and managed to reduce it to a heavy exhale through his nose. His eyes watered. “Well,” he squeaked. “It’s no cat nip.” Farl’s eye twinkled, silently laughing at himself.

“Heh”, Lavender chuckled. She had to admire Farl’s brass. Caitians were known for alcohol intolerance, at least if Ferrus was going to throw caution to the wind there was a doctor nearby.

“Yeah, Italian,” she confirmed rather nonchalantly. It’s closest I can easily find to the garbage we brewed back home. We called it Scratch. Was always different because each batch was fermented from whatever we could uhhhh… source. Yeah let’s say source.” Lavender knocked back her glass as if it were water and indicated to the barman that she’d like a refill.

“Wait so… you’d prefer garbage?” Farl asked, as the room swam just a little. Deciding to wait a bit for his next drink, Farl asked the bartender for some carrot juice. “I’ve read a little about the old days on Earth when people would make moonshine, but my understanding was they took pride in quality. Or, maybe it was just pride in the proof? I don’t know. At any rate, I’d love to try Scratch sometime. Maybe I’ll sip the next one though.”

Lavender wrinkled her nose.

“Not from Earth so I wouldn’t know,” she explained. “Probably rose-tinted glasses anyway, I’d probably hate it these days.

Arin was surprised she had been able to make it. Last-minute departmental issues were always like that. Course correction and thruster maintenance might not be exciting until something goes wrong.  

As she walked through the doors, the red dress uniform was crisp. Gus Viat played some energetic jazz that could still be talked over. Handing the server a bottle of a ten-year-old Whiskey, she asked for a glass, no ice with the remainder of the bottle now available for general consumption as well. Collins glass in hand, she spotted Lavender talking to Commander Ferrus. She walked up from Lavender’s peripheral vision. As she got within earshot, she saw the clear glass in Lavender’s hand. “I bet your doctor doesn’t like you drinking solvents, Commander Haigh,” Arin said, teasing Lavender with a wide smile. Turning to Farl, she added, “Don’t let her near any open flames.”

Hearing the familiar Irish voice Lavender turned to smile at the approaching orion, the kind of smile reserved for a special someone that one is happy to see. With no other open sign of affection Lavender looked at Farl again for his reaction to Arin’s quipping.

“Oh, in that case maybe it’s for the best that I left my torch in my cabin. I’ll keep an eye out.” Farl patted down his pockets, pretending to look for his welder. “What are you having, Ms Jones? The doctor here just introduced me to grappa, and once my vision clears I might try something else.”

“A very drinkable Irish whiskey. A ten-year-old single malt. Something just a bit special for tonight. The rest of the bottle is behind the bar.” Arin offered. “If you like coffee, an Irish coffee with some of that is a very interesting way to blend.” Arin said with a smile, siding up to Lavender close enough to be next to her but without actually reaching out. “Let me know and I can make you one.” Arin said to Farl, then added, “What is your usual choice?”

Farl eyed the amber liquid in Arin’s glass. He found the color very appealing. “Well, I didn’t really drink back home. My family didn’t keep alcohol in the house. But over my time in Starfleet, especially while teaching at the Academy, I have developed a fondness for a gin & tonic. It’s like… drinking a cool pine tree. I understand that is exactly what turns many off of the drink, but I love it.” Farl swirled his carrot juice thoughfully. “I do enjoy a good coffee too. I’ll accept your offer, thank you, in a little bit after I process that degreaser I just swallowed.”

“Brilliant. Let me know, I probably end up making a few by the time the night is over hopefully.”Arin replied to Farl.

Rebecca arrived fashionably late, her posture stiff with the weight of unspoken responsibilities. She had stopped by her quarters to change.  She wasn’t there acting as the captain, but the mantle of command clung to her like a noose. Always present and always reminding her of her duty.  The crew present looked relaxed and happy as the ship slipped along at warp as the warp effect streamed by the expansive windows. A content sigh escaped her lips seeing the smiling faces, overlapping chatter, and occasional laughs.

Gus was on the stage playing a guitar. He had a wonderful singing voice. She was a bit jealous.  She loved music but lacked any ability to play or sing.  She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was tone-deaf, but she might as well be. With the music to her back, she approached the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. When the bartender slid her the glass she cradled it and headed to the back of the lounge to observe the crew from afar… she was their captain, not their friend.

Finding herself not being particularly part of any group or conversation and with her best acquaintance aboard being engaged in singing T’Leya decided to move toward the back of the lounge also as she had spied the Captain heading in that direction.

“Good evening, Captain,” she said as she approached. “Might I join you?”

Rebecca stiffened and nodded to the Vulcan officer, “Of course Lieutenant.”

T’Leya noticed the Captain’s change in demeanor but decided to pay it no heed given her acceptance of company. The Vulcan seemed to look pleased as she nodded (if such a thing were possible for a Vulcan) and took a sip of her drink.

“Do you have any plans for Vulcan, ma’am?” She enquired.

“I don’t unless you count finding replacement crews to fill our ever-shrinking personnel as ‘plans’.  Engineering is still practically operating on a skeleton crew. Security is short people including a Chief.”

T’Leya nodded. “Can the operations department assist in any way, Captain?” She enquired.

Rebecca took a long sip from her drink and nodded to T’Leya. “Consider yourself relived of bridge duties until further notice.  Ensign MacKenzie can use all the help you can give her.”

“Yes, Captain,” The Vulcan replied.

Gus finished the musical set, and put the guitar on a stand. He retrieved a dark bottle and headed behind the bars for three glasses. Walking towards Rebecca and T’Leya, he waited for an opening in the conversation. Gus simply said, “We owe Micah and ourselves that drink. Though it is now 44-year-old Saurian brandy.”

Rebecca hesitated staring down at the table as a flood of emotions washed over her. The fear and chaos of 
Tyra ramming home.  She was already struggling with this war. So far she had lost very few friends, but she had lost a lot of classmates and colleagues.  The list was almost too painful to bear. Every Friday that damned casualty list came out. And every Friday she had to pretend she didn’t want to hide in her quarters curled up in a ball and cry.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Rebecca said at last, flashing a weak smile.  “Let’s drink to the captain and everyone else we have lost.”

Gus lost no time in correcting her. “No Captain. What we still have left.” He paused, offering his hand and fixing her with a gaze. Vulcans were the masters of reading body language and what was left unsaid. His mental shields were up, but if he could offer support, he wanted to. 

She gave Gus a curt nod, “To the survivors.”  

He raised his glass, “and to each other.” Gus added with a nod, still looking at Rebecca for a moment.

“The survivors,” T’Leya said, lifting her glass.
 
Ming detached from his companions with a polite word and promise to be back before too long if he could before milling around the lounge.  He greeted his fellow officers happily and pleasently.  After a few minutes he found himself gravitating toward Arin and Farl.  He stayed out of earshot for a moment, which wasn’t hard given the volume of the room, and waited for what seemed to be a good pause.  

When he spotted an opening he closed the gap with a few easy steps.  Marcus offered a grin and said, “I apologize for inturupting.  I simply wanted to take the opportunity to say hello.  Good seeing you as always, Lieutenant.”

He fixed Arin with a warm smile.  He then turned his attention to Farl sayings, “Greetings Commander.  I don’t believe we’ve met yet.  My name is Lieutenant Marcus Ming….I command the Denver’s flight of fighters.”

“When he’s not three or four sheets to the wind.” Arin countered, tossing Marcus’s hair with her fingers, fixing Marcus with a knowing smile. “Keep it up Dapper Dan, we just got here. Go dance it off with someone. Then she quickly added, “Not it.” Grinning widely.  

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ming!” Farl grinned, extending a hand. “Do you still fly, or are you stuck behind a desk? I’ve only just taken the department head position myself, but my old boss warned me I’d be doing way more admin than science… So far he was right. But to be fair, I’m playing catchup, trying to get up to speed.” 

Marcus tipped Arin a wink before returning his attention to Farl, “I won’t lie. There’s a bit more desk work than I really had hoped for but I still lead at the front.  With a wing counting as six fighters I can ill afford to hide behind a desk. Frankly I wouldn’t want to be that kind of leader.  I ask my crews to go out there and risk there lives….as their commanding officer my place is right out there in the fray along side them.  I don’t want it any other way.”

Farl nodded in agreement. “I concur. I know I’m not in the cockpit of a fighter, but that’s basically why I’m out here, on the Denver. I know there’s value in teaching the next generation of officers, but I felt compelled to make a more tangible contribution on the front lines. It sounds like you’re being a good leader, not just a boss.” Farl paused a moment, internally debating scientific methods to support the war effort. “Not to talk too much shop while we’re supposed to be relaxing, but if you’d like, I could take a look at fighter wing sensor logs from the last few combats. Maybe I could find some kind of pattern in emissions or power surges that might give you and your pilots an edge. I know mine won’t be the first set of eyes checking for this type of thing, but they’re fresh.”

Ming nodded.  He replied, “I know the basics.  My parents started my martial arts training not terribly long after I started walking.  Like many more traditional folks of Chinese descent they also demanded perfection in all things.  My aptitude for spacial navigation and tactics floored folks.  That all is great for hand to hand combat, and flying.  It is a little limited.  Sure, it’s good for combat and exploration but it’s the scientists who ultimately further civilizations.  I envy those who are talented in those regards.”

“Oh mah god, do you two want to be alone? Nope, don’t answer that.” Arin said teasing the pair of officers, her accent getting thicker as she spoke along with a wide smile and chuckle. She was just as bad with shoptalk though as Marcus knew it.  She winked at him. “Time to find a stronger and larger drink….and maybe a keyboard.” 

“Oh, are you going to start a band, or play something solo? Either way, if you have the time, I’d love to try that Irish whiskey you mentioned before you take the stage.” Farl set down his empty glass and took a glance at the stage. He hadn’t brought his instrument with him – it was in storage, back on Earth. Probably for the better, Farl thought, since his shuttlecraft had been shot to hell on his way out here. No telling if it would’ve survived. Of course, the replicator could probably make one, but would it be any good? Farl thought not.

Lavender looked slightly amused at this question, her eyebrows raised slightly awaiting Arin’s response.

Holding up her fingers and waving them around, Arin said. “These are magic makers. I do not and will not sing.”  She hooked an arm into Lavender’s on a whim. 

Turning to Farl, Arin offered. “Yeah! Let’s do that.”  She walked behind the bar and set up half a dozen marble Collins glasses and a half-dozen glass coffee mugs. There were always extra people enjoying the show who wanted the coffee and she had to do extras on many occasions. Selecting a light roast she added a bit of muscovado sugar into each mug and added the coffee along with a shot of whiskey. Then carefully layered each mug with cream on top and shaved a bit of chocolate onto each mug. 

The Collins glasses took mere seconds. All six got several fingers worth of the Tyrconnell, one got ice, and Arin snagged the first one for herself, offering a second to Lavender.

Arin pointed to the non-ice glass first. “Neat. With ice in the next one. Some like it that way. I think it does open the flavor but mutes or waters down others. And of course. A nice sweet coffee with cream for those that would like a treat. 

“Thank you kindly,” Farl said, accepting a mug. Then he raised it. “If I may, a brief toast. In remembrance of those who’ve passed, and in appreciation for those who remain.”

The smile that crossed Marcus’ lips was one tinged with bittersweetness.   He raised his glass and added, “To friends and lovers -The ones still with us…And those who’ve passed beyond the great veil!”

“Friends and lovers,” Lavender repeated with a knowing look at Arin and took a healthy glug from the drink that had been handed her.

“Friends and lovers.” Arin finished the toast, raised her glass, and drained a fair amount. 

Marcus’ face worked with an obvious effort to mask his emotions.  If he’d managed the fact that he drained the remaining 3rd of his bottle of whiskey in two long pulls.  He looked down at the empty bottle before shaking his head adding, “I could swear that this thing has a hole in the bottom.  If you’ll excuse me……”

Ming’s smile was easy as he nodded to those at the table before beating a hasty retreat toward the bar.  After gesturing with a raised index finger toward the bartenter, the Knight’s CO proverbially exited stage left and didn’t look back after the lounge doors hissed shut behind him.

Rebecca sighed, her eyes fixed on the slowly rotating ball of Vulcan. The familiar sight of the planet did little to ease the tension coiled within her. She sipped her coffee, staring into the void of space, trying to reconcile the safety of her current post with the raging war that others faced on the front lines. The quiet of this orbit felt like a betrayal—how could she sit here in safety while other ships and crews put their lives on the line? Guilt gnawed at her.

The sudden chirp of the comm startled her, her hand jerking as she nearly spilled her coffee. She let out a slow, controlled breath and turned in her seat, pressing the comm accept button. “Captain Talon here.”

“Captain, you have a visitor waiting for you at the airlock.”

Rebecca set her coffee on the desk, the cup’s warmth a manifestation of her ever-present vice. “On my way,” she replied. She sat for a long moment and let out a heavy sigh. The life of a ship’s captain left little room for herself. The ship was a demanding thing, more so than a pet or a child, always requiring her attention, always needing something. There was no escape from its grasp, just as there was no escaping the weight of command.

Sighing, Rebecca pushed away from her desk and exited the ready room. Only the helm and operations stations were crewed by junior officers, who looked in her direction, sleep heavy on their bored faces. There was nothing to do while docked at the station, but those positions had to be staffed at all times. Giving them a curt nod, she crossed the bridge without a word exchanged, and the ensigns shrugged and returned to their panels as the turbolift doors closed behind the captain.

She stepped out of the turbolift onto Deck Eight just in time to see her twins shooting down the corridor at full tilt, their excited shrieks echoing like angry squirrels as they ran. “Girls!” Rebecca shouted after them, but neither heard her. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. Let them have fun. How much trouble could they get into on a station in orbit of Vulcan?

As she rounded the curve of the saucer, the airlock came into view. At the entrance, guarded by a pair of officers in mustard-trimmed uniforms, stood a man wearing the same uniform as her security officers. The girls were in each arm, their tiny limbs wrapped around his neck. His silver hair and walrus mustache were unmistakable, and her heart skipped a beat, scarcely daring to believe what her eyes told her. “Milo!” escaped her lips, and she pressed her hand to her mouth as if uttering his name would make him disappear.

Her eyes fell beyond Milo, and Ethan and Trinity stood behind him. Their hands locked, their expressions both overwhelmed by the reunion.  Seeing Ethan and Trinity shed weight from her shoulders, which she had ignored since Starbase 75 fell to the Dominion and the teens were stranded. 

But how? How did they come to be with Milo? How is Milo here? Gus had been the last to see him as he jumped off the shuttle back to the Denver in the evacuation of Betazed.  He was stranded on the planet deep behind enemy lines. That would be for later, and she ran the last few meters, fighting back tears that pooled in the corner of her eyes. She fell into him at a dead run, and he groaned as her weight knocked the air from his lungs. He stumbled backward, fighting for balance, trying not to drop his daughters.

“Easy there, Red,” He sputtered, forcing air into his lungs.

Rebecca held his face in both hands and kissed him, hoping to make up for all the lost nights while he was stranded on Betazed. At last, they separated, both breathless. “How? And where did Ethan and Trinity come from?”

Milo set the girls down, “It’s a long story, Becca.”

Rebecca stared at him, her heart heavy as she studied her husband’s face. The wrinkles carved into his skin told stories of sleepless nights and battles fought, scars etched deep from the horrors of war. She remembered the smoothness of his cheeks and the light in his eyes before Betazed, when laughter came easily and worries were distant. Now, the bags under his eyes were dark pools of fatigue, a physical representation of many sleepless nights.

As she stepped closer, she felt a rush of warmth mixed with sorrow. How many nights had they spent dreaming of peace? Yet here he stood, altered by the horrors he had faced. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the roughness of his cheek. “What have you endured?” she whispered, her voice barely breaking the silence.

“And where did you find Ethan and Trinity?  Nick will be happy to know his daughter is well.”

Milo sighed, “My resistance cell was captured during a botched raid on the communications raid, and we were brought to the station for interrogation, where they were prisoners as well.”

Rebecca eyed the teens, “Well, let’s get you all settled in. When you are ready, you can tell me your story. Until then, I am going to try to talk you into covering Chief of Security until I can get a permanent replacement for Collins.”

Milo adjusted Aimee on his hip as Livvy leaned in and kissed her father on the cheek, “Welcome home, Daddy.”

Milo grinned, “Thanks Pumpkin.”