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Thread: Star Trek RPG - Mission #3: "Some Other Side of Paradise"

  1. #251
    I'm the Cute one! =^.^= anyrose's avatar
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    More than a little amused, Collins puts down her fork, picks up her wine, and braces for a lovely argument.

  2. #252
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    Kylah hears the discussion of the Klingons in the distance and she struggles to focus on Cheverez's question. She nearly asks him to repeat it, but then catches herself.

    A favorite poem? One springs to mind immediately, though it makes her cheeks burn at the thought of reciting it aloud. She glances to the Coridanite man on her right for a brief second before looking back at Cheverez.

    "Yes, sir. There is one, an old poem. I... I have long been trying to set it to a song, but I have never been happy with the tune. It is more than two thousand years old, from a book we know only as Songs of Shareenah. This particular work is called Her Unheard Lament." She clears her throat and, in a soft voice, recites:

    "Who am I?
    I am a dull moon in a sea of galaxies,
    A cold pebble buried deep in an endless beach,
    A dried blade of grass hidden in a tall garden.

    Who is my rival?
    She is a speeding meteor,
    She is gleaming quartz,
    She is a precious flower in bud.

    And you, my secret beloved: Who are you?
    You are the world around which I circle,
    The sunlight I am denied,
    The rain for which I thirst.

    As you draw her near, the meteor blazes with incandescence;
    Beneath your heated touch, the quartz melts to smoothest glass;
    And the flower unfurls to accept your cool, moist kiss.

    The dim moon can only witness such glory from a distance;
    The pebble is shunned for the shining prize;
    And the blade of grass remains
    forever parched,
    forever dwarfed
    beneath the bright, dewy, velvet blossom."


    After a pause, Kylah looks down at her plate again.

  3. #253
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    Bennett says mildly, "Well, that was rather a long time ago, Mr. Graham. I'd like to think both the Scots and the English are just a bit more civilized now."

    "I'll drink to that," says Thalen, raising his glass.

    "As will I," says Dr. Villa, chuckling. "Who knows? Perhaps you'll give the Klingons and the Orions something to aspire to."

    Cheverez sits for a moment after Kylah has finished her poem, and then says, "That was... quite remarkable, Ensign. Thank you." He smiles. "Clearly I need to read more Elasian poetry."

    "Likewise," Dr. Noel says. "Many thanks for that, Mr. Kylah."

    Pourtash nods. He seems rather moved, as well.

    Before long the meal is finished and cleared away, and dessert is presented: tart but sweet lemon cake, and coffee or tea for those who wish it. After that, Saurian brandy is passed around, although some of you choose other beverages. Then Singh nods to Kylah, the juniormost officer present. The Communications ensign knows what is expected of her and rises, glass in hand, to propose the traditional first toast of a shipboard dinner: “The United Federation of Planets!”

    You all stand and repeat “The Federation!,” and drink.

    The Vice Admiral, as the senior officer present, then offers the traditional second toast: “The ship!”

    “The ship!” say all.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 20 Sep 2013 at 07:52 AM. Reason: Almost forgot dessert!

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    While talking to Dr T'var and Roble, Rangin's ears prick up at the talk of the Orions from further down the table as it seems that Mr Graham dislikes them as much as he does. After all, they were responsible for trying to sabotage the talks to admit Coridan to the Federation and have been plundering the planet for their own personal gain for several decades, if not longer.

    It's only after a few moments that he realises that Kylah is reciting poetry right next to him and looking round the end of the table, although the poem is perhaps not to his taste, she has the full attention of all.

    "Please excuse me," he asks of the two of them while turning to listen. He watches as she completes her poem and gains her plaudits. He wishes he knew what to say to her to show his appreciation, which is written across his face, but for once is slightly tongue-tied.

    He's happy to join in the toasts when they are held.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  5. #255
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    After the two formal toasts, Collins raises her glass and says "To Captain Sundri Parvinder Singh!"

  6. #256
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    You all drink. The Captain then graciously says, "And to Vice Admiral Hardin!"

    Another toast or two, and the Saurian brandy makes its way around the table again.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 20 Sep 2013 at 11:26 AM.

  7. #257
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    Kylah completes the toasts with everyone, more enthusiastic about the later toasts than her own, which she barely remembered having to give until the Captain sent her the meaningful look. She spoke it well enough, but she felt like a hypocrite toasting the Federation after hearing Graham's tale earlier--and especially after sending her own secret message to Aldaan this morning.

    At least the poem came across better. She's a bit embarrassed at having chosen that one to recite, one of the more sensual of the Shareenah songs, but the others seemed to approve. At least, most of those near her did. Rangin alone said nothing, and since she could not see him while thanking the others for their kind words, she has no idea whether he was paying attention or if he thought it too sentimental, or worse, that she was too emotive and making a fool of herself... If she had less will power she would have reached outward to sense his feelings, but she is afraid to breach that line. Not only because it breaks a rule she's created for herself--to do so only when necessary--but because she's afraid of what she will find. Or will not find.

    If her confusing emotions toward Rangin continue to grow, she knows the temptation to gauge his own toward her will also increase. She will have to talk with T'Var about this temptation, she suspects.

    In the meantime she drinks and just pretends to be a proud Starfleet member, instead of one sending its secrets to benefit her planet--and that of the Federation's despised enemy. She reflects wryly that it is very fortunate none of the others around the table are empaths.
    Last edited by choie; 20 Sep 2013 at 11:24 AM.

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    Though she finds alcohol a bit distasteful, T'Var drinks with everyone as each toast is made.

  9. #259
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    Vice Adm. Hardin finally stands and says, "Thank you all for a wonderful evening. I appreciate the warm welcome you've extended to Lt. Cmdr. Ebling and me. But the hour grows late, and this old man thinks he should be getting to bed. Good night to you all." He looks quite tired. You all rise; he makes a small bow and departs. Ebling lingers for a few minutes more over Saurian brandy, and then also leaves.

    Stewards offer coffee, tea and more brandy. After awhile, the Science Officer and Chief Medical Officer say their goodnights and take their leave, then the Chief Engineer and Pourtash. The Captain and First Officer talk quietly at their end of the table.

    It is now 2250. You may each stay, or go, as you wish.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 21 Sep 2013 at 10:01 PM.

  10. #260
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    "Mr. Graham," Collins says as she rises, "How about that bout, tomorrow after watch?"

  11. #261
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    The camaraderie of the evening reminds Graham of happy times, but the toasts call to mind darker thoughts: “To the day those that die are only those that deserve it,” he’s been thinking, staring into his glass. He tries to perk up: your demons shouldn’t ruin other peoples’ evening, Booker, he thinks.

    Graham instinctively rises as the ACOS stands.

    “Yeah, sure…I mean, sorry I was late before, L-T.” He forces a smile. “So it should be your choice of how we beat the hell out of each other…ma’am.”

    He turns to Bennett. “Likewise, sorry, ma’am…I was out of line. My grandfather…from the stories he told, you’d think 1746 CE was yesterday. But there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since Highlanders* fought Redcoats.”

    *Pronounced HEE-LAND-ers.

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    Kylah is a bit surprised that the Admiral and Ebling took their leave without any indication as to the rationale for the event. The whole thing seems a puzzlement to her.

    She looks at Rangin beside her and, after a surreptitious but pointed glance down at the other end of the table, murmurs: "I must say this was a delicious meal, yet I still wonder why this particular guest list was chosen. I certainly cannot fathom why I was asked. Not that I am unhappy to have been here--quite the opposite!" she adds in haste, focusing perhaps more intently on Rangin's face than she realizes. Kylah hopes to gain insight about this man just as normal people do--from physical cues. "Did you... did you enjoy yourself, I hope?"
    Last edited by choie; 21 Sep 2013 at 10:58 PM.

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    Rangin smiles at Kylah's comment and looks back around the table before focusing on her. "Yes. Yes, I did enjoy myself. I am also at a loss as to why we were invited, perhaps as some kind of reward, or perhaps because we represent a far larger set of worlds than just a few more people from Earth. I never realised you were from Elas, though, and your recital of its poetry was most impressive."

    Rangin stops for a moment and looks down slightly. "I will admit, poetry in general is not something that I have encountered much of, so you would probably have to explain what it means in terms of symbolism and so on," before then smiling back at Kylah and meeting her gaze in obvious appreciation of her recital, "but I can certainly appreciate the nerve and elan it takes to recite it flawlessly off the cuff at the dinner table."
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  14. #264
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    "Hmm, my choice?" Collins smiles and raises one eyebrow. "I'll let you know tomorrow. Good night, all." Collins leaves the room and heads back to her quarters.

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    The little ripple of pleasure that runs through Kylah when Rangin compliments her is unexpected and new, as tangible as a finger tickling the underside of her arm, and she has to take a moment to let herself drink it in. Why am I affected so? She is not completely unused to praise but coming from someone who matters--not on a professional but personal level--is something nearly unknown to her. Not even her family has doled out compliments to her in a long while.

    Kylah inhales and exhales once to hold on to the feeling, knowing she may well be treasuring his words beyond their intended value, and then says, "Thank you, Velir. I...do not know if it was flawless, as a performance, but I have been fortunate to have a memory that allows for lengthy recitals. As a child I used to confound--and I admit, bore--my tutors with acting out the Earth playwright William Shakespeare's works. I think that is why they taught me The Songs of Shareenah. It is from the larger ten-book Parisiaad, the holy text followed by many on Elas. Yet these poems are largely secular and even... somewhat controversial in their treatment of certain fleshly matters." She gazes at her hands folded on her lap for a second, a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable by a memory, then quickly brushes it aside.

    "As to the meaning... The speaker is the peasant Shareenah, who in the fifth book of the Parisiaad will become a powerful warrior-queen--the first female Dohlman, if one takes the book as truth. As a young girl she was in love with Dariuus, the son of the noble family to whom her family was... what is the equivalent... beholden, I suppose, though the truth is that she was little more than a slave; in those days most poor families were required to work for a select number of families of royal blood, and in return were allowed to live in huts on their land and retain a small portion of crops for themselves.

    "At any rate," Kylah says, shaking her head, "Shareenah was considered plain and shy, unable to speak without a stammer, except for when she sang. Thus she could not speak to Dariuus, who never noticed her. She could but watch as this young man became enamored with the beautiful and accomplished daughter of another wealthy House. She grew embittered and followed the lovers to their trysts.

    "The poem speaks of her watching their courtship and their--their secret physical encounters... and she uses metaphors to describe her yearning, and her lack of worth compared to her glittering rival, together with the majesty of Dariuus himself. Although when she uses the word 'rival' it is... sarcasm, almost; she knows she herself will never be a consideration for Dariuus's love and thus there is really no rivalry at all. She explains how invisible and unnoticed she is compared to the other girl, who sparkles and can sing Dariuus's praises while Shareenah remains overlooked and silent."

    Kylah hesitates while trying to measure Rangin's interest in the story. Is she as boring to him as she was to her tutors? She quickly adds: "Her epic tale is told through sixty songs, and eventually, when her people enter a war with another land, she herself becomes a skilled warrior. Her conquests allow her to rise to a higher position than even Dariuus and his new bride. Once she is Dohlman, she exalts Dariuus to the status of a Council member to keep him close to her and to hear him speak to her at last, though she still cannot utter a word in return.

    "Then one of her envious Council members notes the favors she has been granting to Dariuus, and, in jealousy, lies to her about his loyalty, claiming Dariuus plans a rebellion. Shareenah is enraged but while she first wants to grant mercy, she knows that in order to prove her strength and maintain her power she must execute Dariuus and his entire family, which she does by her own hand. The first and only words she says to Dariuus, spoken just before she kills him, are 'Forgive me, beloved.' She remains alone for years, ruling with greater and greater cruelty, until eventually she commits suicide over Dariuus's grave, with the same knife she used to stab him--his blood still on it. In that way their bodies are finally one."

    Kylah ends her tale with a wry smile. "This is what my people consider the greatest love story in our history. Not Shareenah's love for Dariuus--but her love of power, strong enough to destroy her beloved, and even herself, to retain it. It is taught as a lesson to be lauded, but it seems to me more of a warning. But then, as I have been often told, I would have made a poor Dohlman myself, and it was thus called a blessing when I no longer qualified." She meets Rangin's gaze and concludes quietly: "I consider it a blessing too."
    Last edited by choie; 22 Sep 2013 at 10:16 AM.

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    T'Var is unsure as to whether she should stay or leave. Despite her dislike of alcohol, she finds this brandy quite good. Perhaps another glass might be in order.

    The doctor sighs. She is disappointed that their guests gave no indication as to why they are on board. T'Var prefers to know exactly what's going on and why. She feels a bit restless at the moment.

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    Judging by the smile on Kylah's face, Rangin seems to have made her happy, after all she did recite the poem straight off.

    He fixes his smile but begins to regret his kind words shortly afterwards, as he realises she is about to actually tell him what the poem is all about. Rangin was just being polite, he's really not that much of a person for poetry, but as she seems certain to continue, the least he can do is sit there and be polite.

    Rangin thinks to himself to just keep smiling but his eyebrow is certainly raised by Kylah's comment about "certain fleshly matters". Fortunately she was looking down at the time, as he struggles to control the brief glance up and down her curves. A little voice in the back of her head wonders how innocent she is, given the flush in her cheeks and he struggles to wonder what the implication is.

    As Kylah continues, with her story he continues listening and wondering how much applies to Kylah herself. When she pauses slightly to see if he was paying attention, Rangin mutters a quiet "Go on." He keeps his smile in place, allowing her to continue, the poetry may not be of interest, but it would be impolite not to pay attention and besides, he may learn something of interest.

    And then right at the end, she mentions she is no longer qualified to be Dohlman and it freezes in Rangin's brain. His smile towards her is genuine, but from experience he knows that no-one is ever free from such a position. Circumstances can always change and if someone wanted her back as Dohlman it could happen. In some ways, she has been well brought up, in other ways, so naive. She is going to need all the help she can get. Does he really want to get to know someone who could be involved in such intrigue, then he considers that he is used to the corruption on Coridan and the Orion Syndicate. Rangin guesses that counts as learning something of interest indeed.

    Rangin pauses for a moment and then nods, "An interesting tale and well told. Although some would say it is a lesson in power. Others might say that power can corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. If you consider it a blessing and that you want none of it, then good for you. Find your own path, find your own friends, find your own way."
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    Even as Kylah finishes she blinks quickly and fights every instinct to reach out to Rangin--in every sense of the word. She knows, she knows something flickered within him at her mention of her ineligibility for Dohlman. Is he glad? Disappointed? Has he been friends with her merely because he expected her to be-- no, that can't be it, he didn't even know she was from Elas until tonight. That is what he said, but... She feels her mouth go dry. The terror of being used yet again is ever-present. Used by her parents to purchase a potential Dohlman, by her Guardian once he learned her potential lay in other areas... The thought of it happening again, of practically inviting it as she is now, galls her.

    It would be so easy to be certain. Just a push, a tight focus on Velir, his thoughts and feelings...

    She glances away and--T'Var is still here. T'Var, apparently not paying attention, but Kylah is so grateful for her presence she almost gasps in relief. The Vulcan is a reminder of control. Of boundaries. She had none until she left Elas. Now she must remember that sometimes it is better not to know. As much as she wants to protect herself, she must not violate Velir's trust. Even if he is not worthy of her own.

    But he must be. She looks back and sees his kind face. He cannot be what she fears. Listen to his words. They are correct. He could just be saying the right thing, telling her to shun power, implying that he too seems not to desire it--but isn't that what Aldaan told her when he first flattered her with his attention when she was little more than a child? What could have been a greater lie? Stop. Velir's words are correct. And he is not Aldaan. I would know. I would know.

    She nods. "Yes. I have tried to make the right friends," she says, every word spoken so carefully she feels they're made of glass. "I do not do so easily. And power... I would only have power and control over my own life. That is all I ask, for now. It may be too much, but I will attain it someday."

    Suddenly she remembers her meeting tomorrow morning with Ferguson. Speaking with him directly; that is taking control, isn't it? She almost reveals this to Rangin but at the last moment remembers how he told her to keep away, to forget the incident. He might not approve. True, Kylah will do as she feels best anyway, is certain that clearing up the matter with Ferguson is the honest and forthright thing: indeed, the opposite of how she has been raised. The man who frightened her so easily will explain his strange comment and look, probably a misunderstanding as she hopes, and then the matter will be done with.

    But she does not want to displease this man in front of her. Right now she believes, she needs to believe Velir Rangin to be a forthright person himself. And if he is, and if he possibly cares for her in any way, Kylah wants his approval. She will tell him when the matter is over with, and he might even be proud of her.

    "I should go," she says, suddenly excited, wanting the night to be over, the morning meeting to arrive, and afterwards, the ability to tell Velir of her success. That she is no longer frightened of Ferguson and she made it happen in a direct, mature way. "It is getting late and I have an important task tomorrow. But I do thank you for listening, and for your advice." And for being the right kind of friend... I hope... She leaves the rest unsaid, but does take his hand with a gentle squeeze before snatching it away.

    Kylah bids goodnight to Dr. T'Var, more warmly for a reason the doctor could not possibly understand. And then, feeling brave, she goes up to the Captain and Vargas.

    "Thank you, Captain Singh; Commander Vargas. It was a special evening and I am greatly honored and privileged to have been allowed to attend." She hesitates and, newly brave, adds: "If it is not too forward... may I ask why I was given so thoughtful and gracious an invitation?"
    Last edited by choie; 22 Sep 2013 at 04:59 PM.

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    Bennett's dark brown eyes are sparkling. She says softly, "No need to apologize, and no offense taken, Mr. Graham, truly. I didn't think you were blaming me personally for redcoat depredations. It has indeed been a very long time, and as the Scots and the English have been partners in a United Kingdom for so many centuries since, I'd say there's no particular reason to nurse old grudges, and every reason to forget them."

    A steward unobtrusively refills the good doctor's brandy snifter, and she cups it in her hand, her warmer-than-human body temperature having the desired effect.

    The Captain smiles and leans forward. "I like a mix of people at my official dinners, Mr. Kylah. The Comptroller General was kind enough to approve my proposed guest list with nary a change. I'm - we're - glad you could attend."

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    Kylah thanks the commanding officers one last time, and, after giving a farewell nod to the remaining guests--although Bennett is primarily paying attention to Graham and vice versa--takes a last glance back at Rangin before leaving. She is glad to head back to her quarters, and is in such a good mood that she takes the time to break the mutual awkwardness between her and her roommate--which has consisted of almost complete silence and avoidance since they left quarantine--to ask Collins if she had an enjoyable time at the dinner.
    Last edited by choie; 22 Sep 2013 at 08:26 PM.

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    "It was fine." Collins answers as she comes out of the head, already in pajamas, brushing her hair. "I like getting all gussied up every now and then." She sits on her bed and grabs the lotion from her nightstand. "How about you? Was this your first function in Starfleet?"

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    Graham acknowledges Bennett’s gracious words—and yanks his eyes off her before he stares long enough at her eyes to make things creepy.

    Well, he thinks, maybe I could forget 'old' grudges. But not now, and not ever, the new ones.


    He notices Rangin and Kylah are having some kind of heart-to-heart conversation and he thinks it best not to interrupt. He’s surprised to see T’Var lingering over her drink. His impression of Vulcans has been that they rarely drink and don’t much enjoy it when they do.

    After Kylah seems to finish with Rangin, then speaks briefly to T’Var and moves on, Graham moves closer to the Vulcan.

    “So, Doctor—it seems I’ve been misinformed about Vulcan drinking habits.” He shrugs. “Of course, maybe it’s just that it’s illogical to burn brain cells drinking swill at the cheap bars I usually hang out in when you can hold out for the good stuff at dinners like this.”
    Last edited by general_urko; 22 Sep 2013 at 08:52 PM. Reason: forgot most important character dev line :(

  23. #273
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    "My first function, yes," Kylah says slowly, now undressed in her favorite indigo silk nightgown. She doesn't want to discuss the dinner held when she was first told of her posting to the Yorktown. It was certainly not something most Academy graduates received and really, Kylah herself had been superfluous anyway; she had been dismissed literally the instant she finished her last bite of steak by her Guardian and the Federation officials who had arranged for the gathering. That had been the start of her conviction that something was not quite... right... about the way she had been posted here.

    "The meal was excellent and I thought the Admiral very affable, if somewhat... overworked. I hope he will find rest on the planet when we arrive." She finishes washing her face, removes the dozen tiny gold clips binding her braids, and runs a damp hand through her curls. Then she walks out of the head, moving to her bed. She hugs her knees to her chest and looks across at Collins. She knows they have never had a true woman-to-woman conversation but Kylah wants to make absolutely certain she is making the right choice. Her differences with Collins are numerous but she cannot fault the other woman's down-to-earth manner when dealing with others. At least, as long as we are not in a non-life-or-death situation.

    Kylah watches Collins using her moisturizer on her skin with hypnotic sweeps of her hands, and finally speaks. "May I ask you a question, please? Do you not think it best, when someone has said something to you that you find puzzling... to ask this person directly about it? I mean, rather than worrying and inventing possible answers for yourself?"
    Last edited by choie; 22 Sep 2013 at 08:52 PM.

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    Collins stares at Kylah for a moment, then resumes her nightly routine, working on her feet and ankles now. "There's nothing puzzling about what you said. In fact I agree with you - the man obviously needs a vacation."

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    As Rangin looks at Kylah, he can see her thoughts churning, but he has no idea what they are and what he has said to cause those emotions to bubble to the surface.

    As she turns away, Rangin's face drops slightly for a moment, thoughtful and brows knotted as he considers her words. What kind of person would happily give up a chance of being the ruler of her planet? Maybe that's why she's in Starfleet, a chance to escape the past and not be part of the future. He smiles as she turns back from looking at Dr T'var, inwardly wondering if a better role model for escaping the past would be Mr Graham instead of the serene Vulcan.

    As she bids him goodnight and squeezes his hand, he can see she has made her mind up about something. Abouit what he isn't sure, but the purposeful look on her face is writ large.

    "You're welcome. Good night and sleep well."

    As she heads off, shivers go down Rangin's spine from her squeeze of his hand. Was she just happy with the advice, was she just being friendly or is there something more he just didn't recognise?

    As she talks to the Captain, Rangin shakes his head sadly. He's much older than her, not to mention smaller. She's someone who could have ruled her planet, he would have wound up being a vet on Coridan if he hadn't escaped. Escaped, he thinks ruefully, perhaps that's what she's doing. Either way, he's got to be seeing more there than really is. He looks at the glass and wonders whether its him talking or the glass. Stifling a yawn, he realises he is tired after all.

    Different Culture is what he told Graham, and that's probably all it is. He chuckles as he takes the final sip of the brandy. No, being friendly was all it was likely to be. Nothing else.

    As she leaves, he nods in her direction as she glances one last time at him. As most have left, he makes the rounds of the few remaining, thanking the Captain for the dinner and bidding the rest good night, before returning to his quarters to sleep.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    Kylah's face falls at Collins's answer. She must truly dislike me to so misunderstand. With a struggle against her stubborn nature, she persists. "No, that is not what I meant. I was asking for advice on a personal matter. Someone said something to me a few weeks ago that has greatly troubled me. I have wondered what this person meant and at last have decided to meet with him and simply ask. To... to clear the air, as they say. I wish to give him the benefit of the doubt and let him tell me himself; I may have simply misunderstood. Is that the course you would take?"

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    T'Var smiles at Graham and gestures for him to take a seat. "I think you will find that I am most definitely not your typical Vulcan."

    The doctor calls the steward over. "May I interest you in a glass of this fine brandy?" she asks Graham.

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    "Oh!" Collins says with half a laugh. "Yes, it's usually best to talk to the person. Would have been better to have said something weeks ago. But better now than not at all." She switches position to work on her other foot and ankle. "Of course, there's always the chance that whoever it is has completely forgotten about it by now and would not know what you were talking about." Jeremi looks at her roommate and sees the anxiety this incident has caused her. "Do you want me to go with you?"

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    Collins's words make Kylah exhale in relief. The offer is tempting, but a quick consideration of the circumstances makes her shake her head, somewhat reluctantly. "That is most kind of you. But I suspect this is a private matter, not just for me but for...for this person. Even if it were not," she adds in a lighter tone, "having such a conversation in the company of a superior officer--and a security officer, at that--would be far too intimidating."

    She pulls her covers up over her legs and plays with the blanket's hem. "You are right that ideally I should have said something earlier. But this occured almost immediately prior to our mission and when we returned... there were other things burdening me." Kylah swallows and then hurries on, not wanting to go further into that topic or the detente between her and Collins will be ruined. "Still, while it was a few weeks ago, I do not think he will have forgotten what passed between us. It was a brief interaction but very... significant."

    Kylah again thinks of Ferguson and the hostility she felt from him just before he beamed her off the ship. She definitely doesn't relish being alone with the man. She tells herself just what she did this morning: there's every possibility she simply reminded him of someone else. Given the fact that they are complete strangers, it's truly the only explanation that make sense. It's the one she's hoping for, anyway.

    She lies down and looks at Collins. "I am sure asking this person directly will bring the matter to a satisfying conclusion. I do thank you, for both your advice and the offer. It is most appreciated."

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    "Fine brandy, no less," Graham, says to T'Var as he sits down. "How can I disobey a doctor's orders?"

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    "You're welcome." Collins puts the lotion away and gets under the covers. "G'night" she says as she rolls over onto her side facing away from Kylah.

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    T'Var and Graham enjoy a nightcap together, and are among the last to leave the Wardroom. The corridor lights are by then dimmed for shipboard "night."

    Rangin goes through his evening routine and then lies in bed for awhile, thinking of the dinner and his conversation with Kylah, but slumber soon claims him.

    Collins drops off to sleep without difficulty, as well, but Kylah, still worried about her meeting with Ferguson the next day, tosses and turns a bit before drifting off.

    The Yorktown sails steadily on, and the night passes without incident.

    You each awake the next morning to find a message on your comm account; you are to attend a mission briefing regarding Omicron Ceti III in the Captain's Conference Room at 1400. Rangin also finds a message from Science Officer Roble, asking him to be prepared to brief the senior staff on the first colonization effort and the Enterprise's mission there.

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    Credit where credit is due, Graham thinks as he gets ready for the day: I’m glad Vargas is going “old school” and keeping up onboard foot patrol.

    He’s eager to get to it, and hurries to ensure he’s right on time to report to Lt. JG Jones—given that he’ll be on patrol, he figures he can grab coffee at one of the common areas on his beat.

    Even without having had his morning coffee yet, the adrenaline starts to flow as he heads to Security. There have been Grahams walking a beat since they were cops on the South Side of Boston in the 1900s, back on Earth. He has generations worth of stories about why it matters and how it should be done.

    There’s an art and a science to it, he reflects. Every beat has its unique rhythm, its smells, its sound—and its cast of characters, good, bad, and mysterious. When you get plugged into it, you can feel when something’s not quite right. And as you learn more, it draws you in deeper: probing every dark corner, drawing out the people who are too preoccupied or shy—or intimidated, or scared—to share what they know about what’s really going on, just out of sight.

    To be sure, a top-of-the-line Starfleet ship is a pretty rarefied and generally safe environment, he thinks. And some things have indeed changed; he remembers the wisdom passed down from the old days back in Boston’s South Side:

    “Your first day on a new beat, you ask around. Find the biggest, baddest baddie, the son of a bitch everyone—even the other bad guys and gangsters—are afraid of. You find him, you stand eye-to-eye with him…and you kick ‘em in the balls, laddie. You win that fight, it’s your beat from then on.“

    Graham is OK with pre-emptive beatings no longer being a tool in the toolbox—but he holds to the underlying principle. Fear, not just crime, is the enemy. Fear undermines communities; fear cripples lives. Finding it and killing it on your beat is your job, Booker. It’s why you are here—it’s what you are for:

    Every decent, hard-working sensible person on that beat—your responsibility.

    Every well-meaning but awkward or not-so-bright goofball—your responsibility.

    Every bully, every bad actor, every scumbag—they are on your beat now.


    He plans to make sure he can visit as many of the main common and recreational areas he can in the morning so he can start to meet people and get a sense of folks’ routines. And, he reminds himself, get some damn coffee.

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    Collins wakes, dresses, heads to the mess for coffee and a protein bar, then reports to the bridge for watch.

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    The face in the mirror looks too tired, too young, too pale and too nervous to Kylah. She doesn't usually wear much makeup, certainly not on duty. But she won't be on duty until later, so she adds a hint of blush to her cheeks and a dash of shadow to make her sleep-deprived eyes seem wider and brighter. Her hair, she wears loose for once, and pushes the curls forward over her shoulders. She tried it pulled back in her usual clip, but somehow that felt too vulnerable; letting the thick curls hang down hides more of her face. It also makes her look less like she did when Ferguson spoke to her in that transporter room.

    Annoyed, she drops the unused clip with a clatter and strides out to the main quarters. This is absurd, she thinks in irritation. He will either apologize and explain he mistook me, or... or he will simply reveal himself to dislike Elasians. In which case the conversation will end and we will part. There is nothing to fear, stop acting like a first year cadet taking her first test!

    A glance at the clock shows that it's 09:15. No more stalling. As she takes a deep breath, one pleasant thought flashes through her mind: tonight she has plans to teach Rangin poker. By then all this will be over. Now, beyond this ridiculous business with Ferguson, she has a mission briefing--imagine, a new ensign asked to be part of a second mission, so soon!--and another evening with Velir to look forward to. This will be a good day.

    More confident and with her chin held high, Kylah walks out to find Rec Room 3.

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    Graham reports to the Security Office promptly at 0800. Lt. JG Ryan Jones, the Security duty officer, is a trim, fit black man about a decade younger and a head shorter than Graham, with a bonecrushing handshake and an upbeat, vigorous manner. "Good to meet you, Mr. Graham," he says, looking Graham right in the eye. "I understand Mr. Three Crows has already briefed you? Outstanding. Draw a phaser-2 and a communicator from the Armory, and then let me know what you'd like your patrol route to be."

    Collins finds all is well on the Bridge. The Captain is in the center chair, talking quietly with Dr. Villa, who stands beside her. They nod in greeting as you take up your post. Collins sees on the Security duty roster that Graham will begin his first watch this morning.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 24 Sep 2013 at 01:38 PM.

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    Rangin yawns widely as he sees the messages. He may have slept well, but is still feeling sleepy. He reads them again: another briefing, and he's been asked to prepare something for it. Well, there isn't that much to do in the xenobiology department at the moment and it will give him more of an opportunity to research the station there and see what else they have. It will probably take more than a couple of hours to do, so even if his shift doesn't start until 12:00, so he may as well go in early. Obviously Science Officer Roble has found ways of keeping him busy without over taxing him.

    He drops a brief message to Kylah asking if she is still up for teaching him poker and if so where and when she wants to meet, before heading to the mess hall for a brief breakfast.

    Hopefully it will be quiet, so he can head straight off.
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    T'Var begins the day with her regular grooming routine, will enjoy a cup of Vulcan spice tea with toasted bread and strawberry jam, then head to Sickbay.

    The doctor looks forward to the mission briefing and learning more about their next assignment.

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    There are five other people in Rec Room 3 when Kylah walks in. She recognizes Ferguson at once, seated alone at a table. He has a cup of coffee in front of him and gestures for her to take a seat. "Good morning, Ensign. What can I do for you?" he says. He doesn't smile or offer to shake hands, but calmly looks her in the eye.

    Kylah's heart thrums nervously but she sits and meets Ferguson's gaze as evenly as possible. "Thank you for meeting with me, sir. This may seem trivial to you, but it has nagged at me for some time and I appreciate your assistance. Do you recall the day, some weeks ago, when you were at the transporter console in charge of beaming me and members of the landing party to the Sakathian research station?"

    He frowns and looks off into the distance. "Vaguely. Why do you ask?"

    Even while speaking, Kylah has been measuring the man's emotions. It's not difficult: she has the strong sense that he does not like her, is insincere and is hiding something. Her voice remains low but intense. "I ask, Lieutenant, because when I was getting up onto the transporter pad, you said something to me--something very obviously intended for my ears alone. You said 'Up you go, princess,' and followed it with a look I can only describe as hostile and almost... insinuating." She leans in further. "I wish to know the reason for all this. Why you called me 'princess' when I am not one. Why you looked at me with such contempt. Why you would do either of those things to someone you have never met before--and why even now, you can barely look at me with any degree of courtesy." Kylah's hands clench her knees beneath the table and she pulls back slightly. "That is why I ask. Sir."

    She sees a flash of anger cross his face, but it is quickly concealed. He clears his throat and says blandly, "I don't remember anything like that happening, Ensign. I don't even know you. Perhaps you were thinking of someone else, from some other time?"

    For some perverse reason, his brief inability to contain the emotion so obviously within him gives Kylah more confidence. "I assure you my ability to recall conversations is quite strong. And I cannot believe you would have reached your current rank with such a poor memory." Her voice lowers further, but sharpens with a steel-like edge. "Lieutenant Ferguson. Since it is just you and I, sitting here, I do not see why you bother with a denial. I have no recording device, and I highly doubt one would even be needed. There is no one within earshot. If you have something against me, or my family, or Elasians in general, and wish to make this opinion known--and quite clearly you do or you would not have behaved in such a way--then have the courage of a Starfleet officer and say it."

    He takes a sip of coffee, puts it down and smiles thinly. "Thank you, Ensign, for sharing your views with me. When you contacted me, I wondered if I should even bother meeting with you, and now I know the answer. Is there anything else you'd like to say that won't get you put on report, before I dismiss you to return to your duties?"

    Kylah looks down for a moment, first to control her own rising anger, then to channel the man she most loathes. For once she finds some advantage to having lived under her Guardian's tutelage.

    At last she slowly returns her focus to Ferguson. "I will say this. I am someone who has never wronged you, and indeed, until your attempt at intimidation on that transporter pad, I would never have even noted your existence. However..." She hardens her tone. "As you clearly know of my family, you should also know that I am not without resources. If I am forced to, I will use them to learn the precise source of your hostility toward me. Further, there will be consequences from that quarter if any harm should befall me. Think on that."

    She stands up, clenching the edge of the table with white fingers as she leans forward to murmur softly: "And also think on the fact that I have recently faced--and caused--death. After such an experience, the idea of being put on report by a bullying, lying coward holds no fear for me."

    Ferguson also stands up, more abruptly. He slams his coffee cup down and pushes his chair back. Heads turn as he says very loudly, almost shouting, "I am not going to sleep with you, Ensign, now or ever! I don't find you attractive in the least, so please... stop... asking me!" He storms out of the room without looking back.
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 24 Sep 2013 at 01:13 PM. Reason: Kylah's dialogue by choie; Ferguson's by Elendil's Heir.

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    Graham checks that his phaser is set to stun--wouldn't do to vaporize someone or burn a hole in a bulkhead on his first patrol.

    "I'd like to focus on the ship's main common areas this morning," he says to Jones.

    Jones nods. "Very well - that would include the rec rooms, gym and pool, crew lounges, mess halls, chapel and auditorium." He looks off and thinks a moment. "Oh, and the Arboretum. Take your time and do it right. Good luck, Ensign."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 24 Sep 2013 at 03:34 PM. Reason: Added Jones's response.

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    The instant Ferguson rises so aggressively, Kylah takes a startled backward step, hands tightened into fists. But this cannot prepare her for the shock of what he's saying. His words--backed by a wall of malicious glee hidden behind a facade of indignation--slam against her with the impact of a brutal, backhanded slap.

    First confusion, then dawning anger choke Kylah's throat while she vainly searches for a response, but he strides away before she can find her voice. For a few seconds she just stares after him, mouth parted in impotent outrage. It is only when Kylah turns around that she realizes the others in the rec room are watching, having heard Ferguson's vehement accusation--clearly orchestrated for this very purpose. She needs no empathic abilities to know what they must be thinking.

    Now Kylah truly does feel as if someone has struck her. With a burning face and eyes stinging with tears, she swiftly averts her gaze down to the table to hide her reaction. There's no other escape: her body is far too stiff with mortification and fury to budge from where she stands.

    "How dare he," she whispers to herself, hands trembling while still clenched in useless fists at her sides. "How dare he?"

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    Graham isn't surprised that his patrol starts off quiet. About an hour and a half in to his shift, her approaches the door to Rec Room 3 and decides to have a look inside. As he steps in, he hears a noise--it's a cup slamming on a table--and keys in on it. Across the room, he sees an officer he doesn't recognize jumping to his feet: it's a movement that's close enough in his mind to someone kicking off a bar fight by jumping up and throwing their chair backward that his hand drops to his phaser and he takes several quick steps forward, angling around people and furniture aggressively while he takes in what's going on.

    He's surprised to see that Ensign Kylah is standing facing Shouter on the other side of the table; he's more surprised by what the man says to her. Shouter's already leaving as Graham approaches the table. Graham weighs holding him up, but doing so might escalate the situation--not that he's unwilling to do that when necessary, but he's completely unsure what's going on. Kylah doesn't look like she's going anywhere, I can track this guy down later, he decides. Graham does does give Shouter a good clear stare as he walks away, but continues toward Kylah.

    First responsibility, he thinks: help re-establish a sense of order. Show every one in the room things are under control. He takes an authoritative stance next to the obviously upset ensign and first conspicuously surveys the room. Then he softens his stance a bit and leans forward: reassure, he thinks. She's putative victim here--well, maybe, he reminds himself.

    "Are you all right, Ensign?," he says, trying to read her body language and expression as she responds.
    Last edited by general_urko; 24 Sep 2013 at 02:09 PM.

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    Kylah hears a vaguely familiar voice addressing her--just when she'd rather render herself invisible. She glances up and realizes it's Ensign Graham, and somehow this makes the whole thing worse. An older man, Aldaan's age, hearing what Ferguson said...

    "I--I am fine. This was a personal matter, please do not--I did not mean to--" Unable to keep the tears at bay, she manages to unclench her fists and hugs herself as she blurts helplessly: "I do not understand. I said nothing to provoke that. I spoke softly, I had no intention of causing such a scene, and then he purposely shamed me with such a vile..." Kylah can't continue until she catches her breath. "I just do not know why he despises me so!"

    She knows Graham is still beside her, probably watching her cautiously. Running her mind through the incident--both incidents, now--Kylah realizes there is nothing for which she can report Ferguson. All she has regarding their first interaction weeks ago is a snide comment and the wave of hostile intent she knows he felt, but her certainty stems from an ability she cannot reveal. And this, just now? What can she possibly accuse him of? Lying? Ferguson would insist she is the one lying, with far greater reason to be believed--and the witnesses to prove it. Witnesses who will gossip. A ship is a large place but a small community. Even assuming Ferguson himself doesn't spread the rumor, this will undoubtedly be heard by many others before too long.

    Miserable but knowing she must say something, if only to Graham, Kylah lifts a weak hand, gesturing toward the other side of the table as if she can still see Ferguson through her blurry gaze. "None of what he said was true," she says in a shaky voice. "None of it." Staring sightlessly, thinking not only of Ferguson but of her Guardian, she whispers: "How do some men do this? How do they know just what to say to make you feel so utterly... small?"
    Last edited by choie; 24 Sep 2013 at 02:48 PM.

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    Rangin finds Pourtash and Bennett in the Mess Hall, and breaks his fast with them.

    Dr. T'Var has by that time already arrived in Sickbay, where Dr. Bucci is treating two Engineering crewmen accidentally exposed to warp drive coolant, neither fatally.

    Things remain quiet on the Bridge for Collins. The starship remains on course and on schedule for Omicron Ceti III.

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    Graham listens carefully to Kylah's reply. There's a history, he thinks—not that she sounds excited to tell me about it. And: "It's personal." He's heard that before: there weren't a lot of abusive situations in the Starfleet ranks, but she's young, and Shouter's a more senior officer. What was it Rangin had said? She's from a "different culture." Graham thinks of her interactions with Rangin that he's observed: he's skeptical she was hounding Shouter for sex, based on what seemed like awkward shyness in her interactions with Science Guy. Well, first things first, he notes. Take care of your beat: Reinforce control of the space. Show everyone that it's the disruptive actor who has to leave the public space, not the person like them. Then take care of your--he hesitates to use the word ‘victim.’ ’Her,’ he thinks. She needs to own the space too, and he can't do anything if she won't open up.

    "Sounds like there's a history with this--what was his name?" he says, professionally but softly.

    Kylah brushes away her tears, annoyed that others are seeing this--but grateful for Graham's tone. He is far less, well, brutish than his story last night implied. "Lt. JG Mark Ferguson," she murmurs. Then a wave of defensiveness hits her—history, yes, she knows what he is implying--and her voice hardens. "There is no history. This was the first time I have ever spoken a word to him."

    Graham thinks, I'll be damned if those are fake tears, and it seems like she's still struggling to compose herself--so he's not sure what to make of her answer, but decides it's best not to push. Keep de-escalating any sense of conflict, keep her talking, he reminds himself. He briefly muses: Booker, why are you so much less of a failure at interacting with people right after they've been menaced, beaten or shot than in every day life? He provides his own answer: Because at these moments you believe that even you are better than no one at all.

    He shrugs. "Well, Fergie seems a little high-strung," he says, not jokingly but with a little bit of a lighter tone. He gestures toward an empty table. "Why don't we sit down and you can tell me about what happened?"

    Graham's words are neutral, and Kylah cannot help but reach out to gauge that he is trying, in his way, to calm her. But she would rather leave altogether, flee this now-loathsome room where the witnesses still present are watching her being interrogated by a Security officer....

    She looks up at him, almost desperate. "Please," she says, her voice soft but intense. "Please do not make me stay. Everyone will see...." She starts to put her hand out to take his arm but then jerks it back. Her hands are damp with her tears, and she knows what an effect they might have. She's never exhibited this power yet, but she has never tried. Perhaps that is why Ferguson thought he could make such a vicious accusation, she thinks bitterly. Jokes by cadets regarding the sexual thrall of Elasian women and their tears haunted her throughout her Academy years. Her anger rising again, she backs away. "There is nothing to tell. It was my mistake, I--I should not have asked to speak with him. I had no idea he would react in such a way."

    Two of those in the rec room slip out the door together; Kylah knows neither of them. One looks oddly at her as he goes by.

    Graham shakes his head. "You're not on trial here, Ens--" Calling her by her title seems too formal, but he doesn't feel quite right just using her name, either, while ‘on the job.’ "Ensign Kylah." He tries to speak as gently and casually as he can. "Thing is, I just get a little concerned when anyone's crying on my beat..."

    Graham's is even more keenly aware of her apparent reluctance to touch him or to stand too close. He sees no evidence of bruising, but this raises a warning flag based on his experience. A hard undertone comes back into his voice. "...or when people slam things around, too." He's sure that he did not see Ferguson's hands flinch in any way that suggested he might have been inclined toward hitting her and was perhaps holding back because he was in a public place...but then he starts to second-guess himself. No, I'm sure, he thinks. She's smaller than Elizabeth, for God's sake. If I'd seen a millimeter's twitch he'd have found himself with my hand on his neck and his head hard against a bulkhead.

    Regardless of what Kylah wants to disclose right now, Shouter and I are going to have a little chat soon, Graham thinks. "No more questions for now, I promise," he says, holding up his hands. "At least let me walk you to wherever you're going next."

    "Please," Kylah exhales. "I must get to the Communications Center." When they leave the room for the corridor at last and reach the turbolift, she's so relieved to have left the staring eyes of the other crewmembers that she's almost dizzy. She quickly wipes her hands on her uniform until she's certain they're dry, then takes hold of Graham's arm for an instant to balance herself. Staring up at him, she whispers, "Thank you, Mr. Graham. You have done all you can and I appreciate it." With a blush she releases him, belatedly realizing that such a touch could be misconstrued in light of Ferguson's insinuation. But somehow Graham seems protective, not accusatory, and certainly not lecherous. When the turbolift arrives, she enters and looks at him with as much gratitude and dignity as she can.

    And when the doors close and she's alone, she covers her eyes with her free hand: not to weep further, but to wipe her eyes dry. She cannot, she will not, show any tears before her colleagues. At last in relative control, she grasps the nearest handhold and says hoarsely: "Deck Six."
    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 25 Sep 2013 at 08:42 AM. Reason: Graham's dialogue by general_urko; Kylah's by choie.

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    Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 25 Sep 2013 at 08:12 AM.

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    "Good Morning" says Rangin seeing if either of them had overindulged from last night.

    "That was an excellent dinner last night, although I still have no idea how I would up on the guest list." He tucks into the meal in front of him before asking Pourtash, "So, what did you think of Ensign Kylah's poetry recital?"
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

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    Bennett and Pourtash seem none the worse for wear. The lovely young Englishwoman nods and says, "I've heard the Captain say many times that she likes to have a variety of people, of all ranks and specialties, at her dinner parties." She takes a sip of tea.

    The Persian helmsman pops a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I liked it. I don't know much about Elasian poetry, but that was a nice way to be introduced to it. And you?"

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    "Never heard that type before until last night. It's not my cup of tea", Rangin says with a smile and a nod to the cup in Bennett's hands, "but it was pretty good. She gave me a rundown on what the poem symbolises and where it came from afterwards."

    He continues munching away on breakfast, lost slightly in thought as he remembers back to last night, before changing the subject

    "So, anyone any idea what the spa facilities are like on Omicron Ceti III?"
    In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.

  50. #300
    I'm the Cute one! =^.^= anyrose's avatar
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    Since everything is calm, Collins decides to look into the Omicron Ceti III colony logs. She reads about the Berthold Rays, the several failed colonies, and the Enterprise's visit. Before my time, she thinks.

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