Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

[Rangin]

Rangin looks across at Lt. Devereaux. “Truthfully, I don’t know what caused it. Something they were doing triggered a bad reaction. What I can say is that looked like she was tipped over the edge into shock and fear.”

He tries to push aside the thoughts and images he had seen in those brief moments in time when he was trying to take Kylah's pulse. Perhaps he is still suffering some long term effect from the Sakathian virus he is unaware of, especially after all those psychic tests showing nothing that untoward, but perhaps there is something more he needs to look at. But turning his mind back to Kylah, he continues, “Whatever it is, best thing she can do is get some space, get clear of the room and try and calm down somewhere quieter.”

Then probably go speak to a counsellor to try and figure out what kind of PTSD she has. After all, she’s been through over the last couple of missions, I’d be amazed if she didn’t need someone to help her get her head straight. The words remain unsaid, Rangin is not going to mention this in the gym, Kylah has enough to deal with and him saying any more, would only add to it.

“I think I’m going to go and grab a bite to eat, I feel hungry after all that, probably the adrenaline getting to me as well. Interested? I’ve got something I want to test out.” he asks politely looking to gauge Vivian’s reaction.

[SidonianGal]

Nia manages to return the Science ensign's smile, despite her dismay at being late. She's found that the mere act of smiling helps relax her.

Still, even a minute isn't too little for Vargas to notice, if it's one of his hard-ass days. He has been more congenial lately, but...

Prepping herself, she presses the door chime to announce herself. If he lets her in, she'll... well, walk in. Smiling, but not obsequious; confident but not cocky.

[general_urko]

Graham's in some ways more taken aback by Kylah looking...well, normal, from his perspective. He's always been cognizant she's his own daughter's age, and at times that awareness was heightened shen Kylah (like Lizzy, at times--to often) was really mad at him. But Lizzy was more angles and elbows and tomboyish clothes than...well, Kylah's typical appearance.

Graham clears his throat, and runs through what he remembers about interviewing victims. "It's...ah, do you mind if I sit," he asks, if he can see a chair - for god's sake, not the bed - but he wants to reduce the height differential. (If she approves, he does.)

"Ky--Mr. Kylah," he says very slowly and deliberately. "I've known people who considered themselves warriors--with good reason--who'd been hurt, or suffered trauma, such that the wrong kind of noise, or even a smell, would make them freeze up, or break out in a cold sweat, or...ah, wet themselves, even."

He shakes his head slightly. "You don't need to be embarassed, and...your concerns deserve to be taken seriously. " He pauses, looks down, and then back to Kylah. "But I can't investigate what I don't know about." He briefly clasps his hands together...something about Kylah and Nia both makes him keenly aware of the scars..so many. So much water under the bridge...

"You can take your time. With me...now, or later. Or if you'd prefer a female officer." He clears his throat again. "I'm sorry we don't have any other Elasians, if that would be helpful." He pauses. "But...I would like to help, Ensign. It's not just my duty--I would like to help."

[choie]

When Lt. Graham asks if he may sit down, Kylah nods and raises her arm to indicate the chair nearest him--as if he cannot see it himself.

During his quiet, intense speech, she hugs herself, hands hidden by the robe's large, fuzzy sleeves, and looks down at the light reflected in his black boots. Taking small glances up when she feels momentarily brave; avoiding him again when she does not.

Only his mention of another Elasian woman jerks her chin upwards so she meets his gaze. She nearly interrupts him, but when he finishes, she is glad she did not. His insistence that he wishes to help touches her.

"I know you do, sir. I know you do. If I did not believe that, I would not feel comfortable..." She falls silent and looks at the door. Nothing good has occurred when she has allowed a man into her quarters. His being here will--she hopes--alter that grim pattern. But she leaves that unsaid.

"I could never speak to another Elasian woman. They would have nothing but scorn for me, for such a cowed, frightened creature. if any were to see what I have become--even my sister--" Kylah chokes on her own self-contempt, and shakes her head before focusing on him. "Oh, Lt. Graham, I would rather face Mr. Palver again."

After a few seconds, Kylah breaks the stare and walks a few steps closer to the desk. Her anxious hands must do something, and they target the damp towel. She picks it up, then twists and untwists it as she tries to come up with the right words.

"In the gym, it was... I felt so paralyzed, and it reminded me..." Abruptly she bunches the towel into a tight ball and forces herself to spin around. To face Lt. Graham once and for all. "Our first mission together. You--you must know something, or have guessed, heard the rumors... About what happened at that hotel. About what--what I did there." Her voice is taut, almost hard. "What do you know? Or remember?"

[Elendil's Heir]

The dinner party was several days ago, not last night. See post 932.

Kostoyev replies, sounding a little panicked, "On my way." Soon he's in Sickbay, looking upset. "What is it, Doctor?" he asks. "Has she gotten worse? Is there anything I can do?"

Devereaux thinks for a moment and says, "Thank you, that would be nice. Where to?"

Vargas says, "Come," and Onn enters. She has seen his spartan office before, bare of personal details other than a silver-framed picture of an elderly couple on his desk. The desk also has several data pads on it, one of which the First Officer is reading. "Ah, Mr. Onn," he says, looking up and gesturing to a seat. "Welcome." He puts down the pad but is obviously distracted. He looks tired, too. "What can I do for you?"

[general_urko]

Graham listens carefully to Kylah, paying attention to her body language--and the bit about another Elasian woman, and a sister, both of which are news to him.

When she finishes, he leans forward--very slightly, once again clasping his hands in front of him. "Rumors--I don't care about rumors. What I know is that you should have had better back-up, and more support, full stop...and that I don't trust that Jan character one bit." He glances down at his hands and then back to Kylah. "But I didn't come here to pass judgment, or to tell you some theories I've concocted." He pauses. "I can help you if you tell me...when you're ready...about your concerns...and what has happened to cause them."

[SidonianGal]

"Thank you for meeting with me, sir," Nia says, slowly sitting on the indicated chair. "I appreciate your willingness to see me so quickly."

She tries not to examine him too closely, though her gaze does take in the pad he just deposited on the desk. "If this is a bad time... if something else has come up...I don't want to interrupt if you have anything urgent or important to deal with. My discussion can wait."

After a second in which she has to make a quick decision, Nia tosses caution aside and takes a leap. "Commander, I don't mean to step out of bounds, but you seem troubled. As I said, I can leave... or stay, if there's anything I can do to help." She lifts a palm, as if her assistance is an invisible but physical offering. "It's unlikely but sometimes another ear can help. Even if it's mine," she adds with a slight, self-deprecating smile.

[choie]

Kylah deflates a little. Her fingers worry the loose end from the balled-up towel.

"What concerns me goes back to Jan and the rumors. You may not care about them, but I must. Because you can teach me self-defense--or perhaps not, given my display before," she adds bitterly. "But those Kata moves will not work against rumors. They are weapons too, sir. Just like a phaser, just like a knife."

She runs an impatient hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face as she turns away from him again.

"Jan's trustworthiness--that no longer matters. It is my character that is now destroyed. My judgment questioned, with good reason, I admit, but what they believe is even worse than the truth."

She drops the towel on what used to be her bed, then backs away from it. "If it were not for OCIII," she says in a low monotone, "I would not be as vulnerable as I am. Now, any enemy can--can do anything,, and they will say I deserved it. I invited it. Am I not an Elasian whore? Perhaps, with my tears, I caused it."

[Elendil's Heir]

Vargas tenses and then seems to soften a little. "Thank you, Lieutenant, but it's nothing that need concern you. Just goes with the territory. I suspect you'll have to deal with similar matters when you're a First Officer yourself, which I could see happening in the not-too-distant future." He clears his throat. "But tell me, what brings you here today?"

[general_urko]

Graham's jaw clenches and unclenches as he listens to Kylah. Part of him is processing, on the job, trying to connect two-and-two together...and it's not like what's she's describing, plus his observations and gut on OCIII makes that hard. But...


When she finishes, Graham swallows and stands, turning away briefly to look at the wall and compose his thoughts. He rubs his forehead, and moves so he can lean one arm against it for support.


"Mr. Kylah," he says quietly, working on forming and getting the words out. "I had--have. she's OK now--a sister." He glances toward Kylah, then closes his eyes for a moment. "When we were young, teenagers, she was beautiful...what I mean is more than just that, I guess what on Earth folks could call 'hot' or 'sexy'-not the way I thought about her, but undeniable...and she was...bullied, I guess. Tormented. There were people who tried to convince her or mock her--goddamn, I can't explain what was in their sick heads."

He musters the ability to look Kylah in the eye. "Foxy Fiona. 'Fuck Me' Fiona, they called her."

He pauses. "To my knowledge, there was no basis in anything she'd ever done for those names. But here's the thing--if she'd ever done anything she'd regretted, or that was--shit, I don't know, wild or weird, on purpose or by accident--that doesn't matter." He blinks and takes a deep breath. "No one has the right to bully or abuse or denigrate anyone. Regardless. Regardless of any goddamned thing.

He rubs his jaw again and takes a deep breath. "The Federation is far from perfect, Mr. Kylah. But the law says no one ever forfeits their dignity. Their right to respect. I respect you, Ens. Kylah. And whether you feel it right now or not...whether my sister felt it in moments where...in..." He blinks again. "When she tried to take her own life--"


Graham clasps his hands in front of himself just above his waist again. "However you feel know, you deserve respect, and accountability for anyone who has treated you otherwise or hurt you."

[Rangin]

Rangin ponders the questions for the moment. It doesn’t really matter where, one mess hall is as good as the other and he’s more interested in testing some theories he has. Fortunately, the images he saw are fading, but it will be a long while before he can forget the sensation. Perhaps in a little while, Dr Bennett or Dr T’Var might be the right people to talk this over, but his professional curiousity is piqued and he wants to try a few things first.

“Let’s try Mess Hall 2, it’s a little quieter and after all that excitement I could do without anything more complicated. Sound good?”

If she agrees, Rangin will gesture to her lead the way and then match her stride to the turbolift, otherwise he will wait for her suggestion.

[Elendil's Heir]

"Sure, let's go," Devereaux says with a smile before you set out. "I could do with a sandwich."

[SidonianGal]

Over the years, Nia has trained herself to maintain a neutral expression when faced with difficult or extraordinary situations. That's why she doesn't react to Vargas's reference to the possibility of her becoming First Officer, presumably of another ship. At least, she doesn't react visibly.

But she's flooded by competing emotions: shock, pride, confusion, doubt--primarily wondering whether he's pulling her leg--and even a hint of concern. Because there's really gotta be something burdening Vargas's mind for him to make a statement like that.

One thing's for sure: it changes her opening statement.

"Thank you, sir. I'm grateful to hear that you believe that someday I might be capable of taking on such an extraordinary responsibility. In fact, it's... it's especially gratifying, because it leads me to hope that you'll look favorably--or at least, not dismiss outright--a proposal I'd like to put forward for you and Captain Singh to consider."

Nia folds her hands together on her lap. "Sir, it's long been my belief that there's a significant--well, maybe I should say, not insignificant--gap in the hierarchy of our crew. Really, of the crews of all Constitution-class ships, as far as I'm aware.

"Currently we have six Helm Officers and four Navigators. Ten of us sitting at the conn at one point or another. Generally speaking, we all work well with each other--either each position among our fellow helmspeople or navs, or as various helm/nav team working in tandem. And all of us are capable solo shuttle pilots--some are particularly excellent."

Nia remains tactfully silent on the details of that last statement.

"Still, there's inevitably gonna be some conflicts, or uncertainties, or even miscommunications, among the crew. Mostly things involving Bridge watch scheduling and other assignments, both on-ship and missions. Even shuttle assignments are pretty heavily fought-for. And there are dozens of other issues, even regarding which shuttles are repaired or upgraded, and in what order.

"Right now, there's no one to oversee these issues--no one except you and Captain Singh, and I'm absolutely not saying that doesn't work. Of course it does. Mostly, we do our best to avoid bothering the ship's two most senior officers about these, um, squabbles. Most of the time, successfully.

"But in the end, these things end up on your or Captain Singh's plates. And as you just said, sir, your plate's pretty heavily burdened as it is. Probably only rivaled by Ensign Rawlings' mess tray," Nia adds with a flashing grin.

She decides to pause, just to test the waters. She's got a lot more prepared, but she wants to check Vargas's mood before she continues.

[choie]

Everything Lt. Graham says falls upon Kylah with dull thuds of agony--the pain he conveys from his sister, and that which he himself feels as he recounts her history. It is moving, forceful, terrible, sorrowful, encouraging--in the end, at least... and binding.

He trusts her, and trust creates a bond. Perhaps particularly for an empath, but Kylah believes it is true for everyone. Invisible silk ribbons have extended from his heart to hers. It is Kylah's choice to accept them, hold them gently, and meet his trust with her own to tie them together.

Her bare feet pad across the floor until she is in front of his chair, and stares down at him. As tears have streaked down her cheek, she wipes a sleeve to thoroughly dry them. It is hard not to continue to weep, now that she is even closer to the source, but she has taught herself at least that much control--every Elasian woman must do so.

In a gesture he will not understand... or maybe he will, intuitively, though it is not his custom... Kylah reaches out to place both palms gently over his heart. The contact brings another ache from his memories, and she closes her eyes for a second to take it in.

Next she lifts her hands to frame his face, her cool fingers brushing his temple before she bends and lightly kisses his forehead. It is tender, nothing romantic or sexual. It is, in fact, an Elasian maternal gesture.

"Thank you for your trust," she whispers. "I am honored."

Then, after looking down at him again, her eyes glaze over and--to avoid any possible contamination by her tears--she wipes her face, sinks to the floor to sit beside him, and rests her weary head against his knee. She used to do this as a young girl, with her father, when he was reading. Then, once he learned what she was, he no longer allowed such closeness.

"I am sorry," she murmurs, comforted by the strength of his limb against her cheek. "I am sorry your sister suffered through that. People can be so terribly cruel. She was fortunate to have you--and to have such a powerful spirit, to move beyond her pain."

She closes her eyes, a tiny shake of her head as she thinks. "I wish I had known someone like you. Someone to confide him. Not just someone, but a... a father, a father-figure. If you do not mind my calling you that. My own father thought of me simply as a source of deceit from an adoption service.

"So all I had was my uncle. He allowed me to lean on him--not just like this, where he would comfort me and stroke my hair when no one else would even dare touch me. But I could rely on him too. He would listen, and not judge." She smiles wistfully, remembering those years when--so she thought--Aldaan was her closest companion, the person who protected her from a world that would have hated her. Feared her.

She takes a breath and looks at the case that once housed her zither. How tired she is of looking at this symbol of her failure; she must destroy it.

"That did not last. I should have known everything has a cost. When I was older--by then my parents had died and he was my Guardian--he asked me for... favors. He still does, and I hate it. But I must obey, it is the duty I owe him." Kylah sighs with a realization. "In a way, I seem required to pay for every relationship I have with any man."

Finally she swallows. It is time for her to repay Lt. Graham--although this debt, she understands is long overdue, and will...perhaps...help. At least it will help him understand her. "Sir... if I do tell you something, will you... will you try not to get angry?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Vargas smiles just a little at Onn's reference to Rawlings. He folds his hands in front of him, raises an eyebrow slightly and says, "Go on."

[SidonianGal]

Good, Nia thinks, relaxing just a bit. Still got him.

She nods. "Well, sir, there's all that, and that isn't even including the smaller, more...intangible issues. While none of us is anything less than professional, there's inevitably going to be some..." Her eyes look up while she thinks of a word--or pretends to, because she's got this speech memorized. "...Some imbalances when it comes to skill levels, temperaments, and even just plain chemistry.

"We--Nav and Helm--work so closely... if something's off, the consequences can range from mere mutual annoyance for the duration of a Watch, at one end of the spectrum, to something utterly catastrophic for the entire crew at the other."

Her palm raises swiftly to forestall any misunderstanding. "To my knowledge there's nothing that's even bouncing a needle close to the mid range of that spectrum, much less the red zone. And I'm sure you know all this already. You and the Captain must spend time, consciously or instinctively, balancing these variables out, when it comes to assigning duties. You do your absolute best for the ship."

Okay, enough build-up. And no more sucking up, he'll start thinking I'm bullshitting him.

She sits a little further forward in her chair, rather excited to get to the point. "But that leads back to the issue of your overburdened plates.

"My proposal--as I'm sure you've already anticipated by now," she adds with another small smile, "is that the Yorktown establish a new position: A department chief and sort of ombudsman for the Helm Officers and Navigators. This person would serve as both a direct report for Helm and Nav officers, as well as become a member of the senior staff--a lower-grade one, of course.

"As someone directly working with the flight officers on an intimate basis, the officer would offer practical recommendations to--and accept and relay orders from--both you and Captain Singh. Right now, there isn't anyone filling that purpose for you, and it adds to your plate. Implementing such a position would bridge that gap."

She shifts slightly to some research, because who doesn't love research?

"In surveying the crew hierarchies of individual fleets among various Federation planets--and even some non-Federation ones--I've found that this isn't an unusual position. Precise names vary. Chief of Flight Operations, Senior Conn Officer, Chief Flight Officer, Chief of Helm and Navigation..."

Looking down at her hands, Nia realizes she's been unconsciously counting off the various position titles on her fingers, to help her remember them. She smiles ruefully, drops her hands back to her lap and shrugs.

"Really, I guess there're almost as many names as there are fleets. All comes down to the same thing: Someone responsible for the personnel who help fly the ships and pilot the smaller vessels--shuttles, emergency pods, and so on. In a few cases where the specific officer has significant engineering expertise, they also oversee the operations, maintenance and upgrades of those smaller vessels."

Her heart's racing a little. Nia doesn't get nervous often--except in combat situations--but Vargas just does that to her. It's like his superpower. Inhaling deeply, she relaxes back into her seat, making sure her gaze doesn't waver as she continues for the Big Ask:

"So that's the bulk of my proposal, Commander. Except for the addendum, which I'm also sure you've anticipated: if, after consultation, you and the Captain do decide to implement such a position, I'd respectfully request consideration for this responsibility and honor."

[Elendil's Heir]

He leans back in his chair. "I see. Of course, all Helm and Nav officers are already in the Command Department, and report to me as First Officer, just as I report to the Captain. Given, as you say, that we don't have any significant problems among them so far - an assessment with which I certainly agree - is there really a need for this new post?"

[anthonydlangford]

“Your wife is fine... or at least as fine as she can be under the circumstances.” Nathaniel says. “I’m more concerned with the rest of the crew. This flu is highly contagious and I need to get you tested and anyone else she came in contact with. Can you give me a list ASAP?”

[general_urko]

Graham is frozen motionless as Kylah speaks, then moves...partly he's surprised, partly (just a little bit, but he wouldn't have joined Starfleet if he didn't get the infinite diversity of cultures even when species looked like Terrans) he realizes he might be getting a glimpse into real Elasian behavior, and partly...

There's snow falling. New Hampshire. An honest to god wood-burning fire. The old-fashioned book is half closed in his hand, while Lizzy sleeps, her head resting on his thigh where she fell asleep as he read...He doesn't move. Doesn't want to move, ever...Let her sleep here all night...

"I...

He's momentarily alarmed when Kylah describes "favors" her uncle demands--but almost immediately he realizes, at least based on how she's describing things and behaving at the moment, it's not what he initially worries that might mean.

"I..." He struggles for words to reply to the young woman his daughter's age who has just conveyed empathy towards his sister and gone so far as to describe him as fatherly.

You could plunge one of your knives into my quad and I'd have a hard time getting angry at the moment...

"I didn't come here to be angry, Mr. Kylah," he says quietly--true enough, though he's not sure it makes much sense.

[Elendil's Heir]

Relief and concern play across Kostoyev's face. He says, "Well, there's me, and our two children, and several of the other miners. Let me see: Yelena Golovakha, Gregory Dowd, Mike Chase and, uh, Samantha Pendleton. I think that's all, since she started feeling bad."

[choie]

Closing her eyes again, Kylah exhales. She imagines holding onto Lt. Graham's leg as if it were a strong tree, anchoring her during a hurricane. The winds could blow and rage while she clung on, battered but safe.

"I will tell you about Jan first," she says into the void of darkness beneath her eyelids. "Because after that... I am not sure any of the rest would have happened.

"We were just supposed to go dancing. You probably remember that. The resort had a ballroom, and it was formal, and... it seemed a good way to end the evening."

She lowers her head, eyes still shut. "I should tell you that--that I was not fully myself. Before I even left for dinner, Lt. Collins and I had bitter words. I do not even remember what they were about. It was probably my fault. I was so arrogant then."

It is hard to believe she is the same person who would think herself better than anyone. "And that dress... I bought it to show off. To impress Velir. I had grown to care for him, but he thought I was so young and he too old, and that we were just friends, nothing more.

"I wanted him to feel differently. To show him I was not a child. But instead he grew cold. He did not approve of me. Between him and Lt. Collins I felt I could please no one. I was upset. I was a child, Velir was right.

"After I went with Jan, he was so attentive and flattering that I felt better around him, I felt attractive and relaxed and..."

Kylah's words falter. How can she explain what happened without revealing a significant part of what was really affecting her? But she cannot do so without breaking her vow to her uncle. Somehow she must find a way...

"I have not told anyone this. Please do not--I hope you will--" Her teeth clamp on her lower lip as she struggles to find words. In the end she settles for lies that are not very far from the truth.

"I do not know why, or how... it may just be that my biological makeup is different, as an Elasian... but the closer I was to Jan, the more I was... affected... by the spores. The ones in his system. The feeling was not dissimilar to the way men react to our tears, so perhaps there is some interaction..."

Kylah again lets her voice fade to silence. She does not want to blame the spores for what happened. Not entirely. Still, she knows there was a connection. The incident makes no sense without them.

"Sir... do you remember how the spores were said to make people feel? Blissful? Carefree? Uninhibited?"

[Rangin]

Rangin smiles back at Lt Devereaux as they head for the mess hall. Grabbing a small bite to eat, he waits until they are both sat at a table and tucking into the food.

“Ok, you’re probably wondering what I have in mind, it’s actually quite simple, just something I need to, well, check.” he starts hopefully, keeping her attention, because the more he runs this through his mind, the more he wonders what on earth he is thinking.

“So, really, if you don’t mind, all I want to do is just take your pulse, just to, you know, to make sure I can still do it correctly. Would you mind?” He holds up one hand and smiles confidently at her waiting to see if Vivien agrees.

Of course, that would only be the first part, he wonders what will happen if he does take her pulse? Will he get the same troubled images as he did with Kylah or just nothing at all? There is something else nagging at the back of his head, but he puts it to one side, it’s probably not important now.

[general_urko]

Graham listens intently, stock still--as if the slightest move might break the spell that's enabling Kylah to open up.

Occasionally his brow furrows as he tries to connect dots...

He sighs as she pauses. "I'm not sure any of us were at our best on OCIII," he says slowly. He nods just slightly. "I do remember the spores." Then he shakes his head. "Not a fan, but I do remember them....please. go on..."

[SidonianGal]

Well, babe, that's what you get for sucking up, Nia thinks grudgingly, while nodding in acknowledgement of Vargas's response. "Of course, Commander. I know the current Command hierarchy. And, generally speaking, I maintain there are few problems.

"But with respect, sir," she adds--doing her best to actually sound respectful. "Is having 'few problems' the best we should aspire to? I hope it's not too presumptuous to say that I personally hold the Yorktown to no lower standards than the Enterprise. I have no doubt you and Captain Singh feel at least as strongly."

Nia leans forward again. "All right. You, very reasonably, ask me how this addition to the hierarchy would make anything any better. Let me give you three or four reasons why I think the ship and its personnel would benefit from the addition of this hypothetical new position--let's call it the Chief Conn Officer for the sake of this discussion.

"The first I've already expressed: to remove some of the load from your shoulders. You are the First Officer and Chief of Security, running a virtual army of officers. Security is where your heart lies, it's your area of expertise, and it shows. Your officers are without equal."

What a wonderfully ambiguous phrase that is, she thinks, keeping a completely straight face. She continues quickly: "But that leads me to point two. Your officers benefit from your expertise. Your passion for this specific, vital responsibility. This is your purview. But you also have an ACoS, who takes some of the day-to-day--or I should say, minute-by-minute--issues away from your plate. And like you, your ACoS is highly experienced in Security." Nia doesn't smile when she compliments Booker, but inside she's very glad to have the opportunity. "So naturally he's the direct-report for the rest of your security team. He's one of them.

"And that's not unique. If you look at most other divisions, each of them has a department head, or at least senior officer, who is an expert in that particular area.

"The Sickbay staff report directly to Dr. Villa, a fellow medical specialist--and she's assisted by Dr. T'Var. Our Engineers report to Cmdr. Cheverez, an expert Engineer, who's assisted by our new ACoE, um..." Nia squints in thought for a few seconds that feel endless to her. The avian woman, big feathers, what the hell's she called? "Oh! Lt. Vielar. Sorry, blanked out there.

"As I was saying... our Computer systems techs' direct report is Lt. Dosmukhambetov--" A chuckle escapes her. "Now why did I forget an easy name like Vielar, but that name came out naturally? Minds are strange. Anyway... my point is that he's a computer specialist. Same with the scientists, reporting to expert scientists Cmdr. Roble and Lt. Fuji-- Oh. No. I'm sorry... it's Cmdr. Sonak now."

The slip bothers Nia, as would the recollection of any lost comrade. She didn't know Fujishiro well, but the circumstances of her loss, taking place weeks after that initial illness, were so grim. Not the way one expects to go out, if one must, in service to Starfleet.

She forges relentlessly ahead. "The shuttle maintenance crew, headed by one of their own. The Communications officers, ditto. The transporter crew, ditto--and we don't even use transporters every day." Nia smiles to make sure Vargas knows she's not denigrating the importance of transporter technology.

"So there we are. Meanwhile... what about the ten of us most directly responsible for flying the ship? We lack a direct report with everyday knowledge of sitting at the Helm, at the Nav panel. Someone who knows the quirks of every shuttle in the line. Perhaps most important, someone with hands-on expertise in maneuvering a ship of this size in combat situations, working in concert with whichever Security officer's sitting at tactical."

Nia hesitates and says, a bit gently, "As you know, sir, this is such a new protocol. Things were easier--and I hope you'll forgive me if I seem to be disagreeing with decisions made by the higher-ups at Starfleet--they were a lot more logical, when the Helm officer handled weapons on her--or his--own.

"But things have changed, and now there are three of us who need to work in sync. It's not something that would've been part of training years ago. It wasn't even in my Academy training, and I graduated only eight years ago. We all remember the changeover process.*"

She takes a deep breath. Using this much tact and politesse is friggin' exhausting. But she maintains it. "Instead, the four navigators and six helm officers are gathered under your already-crowded umbrella."

Nia lets this sink in for just a few seconds before she goes on. "And all that's just maintaining where we are. As I said, we should be advancing. There's not enough hours in the day for you to manage everything on your own, sir--not innovations specific to our division.

"A Chief Conn Officer could make sure every pair of Helm and Nav officers are running like a single machine--and would spot the ones who don't work that well and make sure they don't get teamed up.

"I'd imagine that whoever's picked for this role could also be the primary person on deck when it comes to combat. We need the person with the most experience at Nav and Helm, and Weapons handling, during a time when fast-thinking and maneuvering are essential. At least one person at the conn on that Bridge should be expert at all these areas--navigation, propulsion, evasion, targeting, timing... She should know how they work symbiotically.

"I'm reading more and more in tech journals that a time will come when technology advances to merge Helm and Nav into one panel--especially now that, as I said, weapons control is now out of the Helm officer's hands. If I recall my history, I'm pretty sure the only reason Helm and Nav were separated in the first place was to make sure the Helm could handle weapons in a combat situation. Now, without that, there's almost no reason to have separate positions."

Nia shrugs. "But we do, and that means three people who need to work very, very closely together in extremely tense situations. And it's hard enough for two minds to work in sync, much less three. So far we've been lucky, but I know you, sir, and you don't want luck to rule when it comes to our chances in a battle with Klingons or Romulans or something we haven't even met yet.

"Well, along with you or the ACoS, a Chief Conn could devise and oversee simulations for the conn officers and the best security officers you prefer at Tactical, making sure everyone's in concert with each other, like three limbs of a single body.

"Then there's the political stuff that I'm sure you'd rather keep far away from. A Chief Conn, being among the crew, could sniff out any personality clashes or ego issues--and I hate to say this about my own people, but you may have noticed that we space jockey types sure do have egos--" Nia grins crookedly. "--And you wouldn't have to deal with the whole power trip thing. The Chief Conn Officer would smack 'em down or boost 'em up, whichever is necessary."

Her hands are a little sweaty from clutching each other--and her own efforts--so she lets them rest on her knees, which peek out from underneath her skirt.

"Then there's the matter of shuttles. A Chief Conn should, I believe, be the most experienced person in piloting a solo vessel, and so should be the chief pilot of the shuttles. But I'd also do more to find and utilize talent."

The unconscious slip in referring to herself passes her by completely. "I think we need more people trained in shuttle piloting. Off-ship missions are getting more commonplace, and while naturally one of our current shuttle pilots is almost always onboard, sometimes a backup is required. Injury. Death. It happens.

"Sure, most every officer on the Yorktown is a relatively competent pilot--you don't get out of the Academy without that experience. But for most of the crew it's been years and years since they actually got behind the helm of a shuttle. Well... I'd propose we start a training and certification program for the crew, specifically in shuttle piloting. And, with a Chief Conn Officer, we'd have someone able to schedule and oversee that, alongside Cmdr. Cheverez.

"I could also coordinate with Cheverez with regards to hangar deck operations, and with Hans--I mean, Lt. Meyer--as far as maintenance and shuttle upgrades. No one keeps up with current and bleeding-edge ship tech innovations the way I do, sir, and just ask any Engineer which pilot spends the most time tinkering with shuttles to experiment and improve--"

At last her mind catches up with her words, and Nia halts mid-sentence. She feels her cheeks burn. "Um... Sorry, sir. I got... carried away. I, um... I suppose I tipped my hand a bit. But I already said I wanted consideration for the job." She tosses her head, dismissing her brief nonplussed demeanor, and tries to regain her aplomb.

"Well... anyway, I'm enthusiastic and yeah, ambitious, but not just for me, sir. It's because I think the Yorktown can keep moving forward, not just literally, but through innovation, leading the way for the rest of Starfleet. Flagship or not. We are the best--or we sure as hell should try to be."

The quiet fills the room except for the blood pounding in Nia's ears. Who knew she'd be this nervous? She realizes that this means more to her than she thought.

Her hands return to rest together in her lap. "Well, sir," she says, with a little shaky laugh. "That's all I've got."


At least I hope so!

[Elendil's Heir]

Devereaux raises an elegant eyebrow. She smiles slyly. Without a word, she raises a blue-clad sleeve and extends her wrist to Rangin.

Vargas leans back in his chair. "You make some good points, Mr. Onn." He drums his fingers on his desk briefly, thinking, and then says, "Put all that in a memo, if you please, and I'll present it to the Captain with my recommendation."

[SidonianGal]

Nia, who's already prepared her rebuttal argument, has to switch gears and swallow back the words when she realizes Vargas has actually ceded her point. It's not a "hell yes" but she'll take a "maybe." Especially because Captain Singh is, she hopes, more receptive to new ideas.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time and consideration. I... actually have the proposal written up, as I described it. Minus some of my, um, off-the-cuff remarks. I'll send it to you and the Captain right away."

She clasps the arms of her chair, ready to push herself up, when she looks at Vargas again. "Before I go... you do look tired, sir, if you don't mind my saying. If I can be of any assistance with anything--I've got attentive ears and strong hands, depending on your needs."

[choie]

Kylah lowers her head. "Yes, sir. Well... that is how the spores seemed to affect me, at least a little. I felt this sense of--of peaceful rapture--whenever Jan touched me. I mean even just by accident," she adds hurriedly. "If our fingers brushed against each other during dinner." She shivers at the memory.

"We left for a walk." Her voice sharpens. "As I recall, you saw us on the security cameras. Embracing, and... more. I am a private person, sir, but I swear, I could not stop. It seemed like intoxication. Then we agreed to start for the ballroom. But first he said he needed to change clothes. It would just take a moment."

The nails from her balled-up fingers dig into her palm.

"So we went to his suite, and he left to the restroom to change. There was music already playing. With him gone, I felt more clearheaded. I looked around--we were supposed to inspect the resort, and this was an opportunity to do so. The room was beautiful, so was the view. Then Jan came up behind me. Not in a tuxedo, just in his shirt sleeves. He held me, he complimented me. And we began to dance."

The music rings in her ears, winds its way through her memories. She never wanted to hear it again--she thought she forgot it, but no, it is still there. Music does not easily give up its hold on her. Dread grips her heart, squeezes it mercilessly with the terror that she has somehow returned to the elegant resort.

Kylah forces her eyes open with a gasp. No: she is still here, in her quarters. Lt. Graham is beside her. His muscles do not seem to be moving. He might not even be breathing, he feels so still and solid, like a marble statue. But not cold. Not at all cold.

"I lost myself in that dance," she whispers. "Something was happening and I--I said we should leave, but he began to... to caress me, and I was helpless. Anywhere he touched my skin was... " Kylah stops. Her hands pull her robe tighter. "I wanted to tell him to stop. But I could not."

She is so ashamed she must close her eyes again. None of this will truly make sense to Lt. Graham, not without his understanding of her empathic connection to Jan. The businessman's passion became her own, his bliss from the spores was now hers. Even when her mind protested, her senses were no longer under her command.

Nevertheless, Kylah goes on. She can only hope Graham will not blame her too much for the egregious events that occurred.

"One moment we were dancing and--and kissing," she continues miserably. "Then he suddenly went further. He untied the top of my dress. I was half-bare, and his hands were... everywhere. I was appalled but felt so weak. I think I whispered no, but he was kissing me and I doubt he thought I meant it.

"The next thing I remember is being lowered to the bed, the rest of my dress slipping off... and Jan discovering my knife. He was surprised. No--not surprised. Amused." Kylah's tone flattens. "A child's toy. He said, 'We will not need that,' and unbuckled and tossed it aside like some trinket. I just watched, useless.

"Until then this all seemed to be happening to someone else. But without my knife, and as he too started to undress, I realized... this was real. Much too far, much too fast. How did things go so wrong? My mind and body seemed disconnected. No matter how much I desperately wanted to leave, I did not."

This wretched admission ends in a croak. Her throat is parched. She knows she has come this far, she must tell the rest. She can sense strong, swirling, unidentifiable emotions from the man beside her, and perhaps she had better break for both of their sakes.

Trying to swallow, she cannot. She shudders and hugs her knees close to her chest and glances at the empty pitcher near her bed. "Sir... forgive me, but could you... may I please have some water?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Vargas gives Onn a tired smile. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Onn, but I'm all right. Now, if there's nothing else, you're dismissed."

[SidonianGal]

Nia nods and gets to her feet. "Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your time." With a final smile she leaves Vargas's office--and the smile broadens once the door closes behind her. It's all she can do to keep from performing a fist-pump of satisfaction.

Don't get ahead of yourself, she warns herself, easing her self-pride down a couple of notches. It wasn't a yes.

Still, even with her expectations dialed to a more realistic level, she's practically skipping on her way back to her quarters. Her plans: To grab her swimming accessories--cap, goggles, and greenish-silvery suit that matches her scales--and take a multitude of exultant laps in the pool. Right now she feels she could swim to Novy Rostov itself.

[Rangin]

Rangin grins wolfishly as he delicately wraps his fingers around the proffered wrist while keeping eye contact with Devereaux. It’s not like he hadn’t done this hundreds of times before, but normally as part of either his training or in the field. Then again, he thinks, this is just one of his colleagues, well, lending a hand.

Without thinking he settles his fingers in place, quickly finding the right spots in which he can feel a pulse, the gentle heartbeat in her veins and he instinctively starts counting under his breath. There are no immediate side effects, no dizziness, no strange thoughts or images, as there had been with Kylah. After he gets to thirty, he begins to wonder why he is doing this and not just for the pleasure of holding the Lt’s wrist, but if what had happened, had really happened or he had imagined it.

But there could be so many different reasons for that and sitting here, with Vivien, in the mess hall, if there is anything to find, is a little unscientific and making it harder to tell.

“Pulse is fine, perhaps a little fast. So, how do you feel?” he asks while maintaining his grip and still feeling the pulse ticking through, while concentrating harder to see if he can pick up anything...

[Elendil's Heir]

Devereaux seems in no hurry to pull her arm back. She leans closer and says quietly, "Um, just fine, thanks, Velir. Tell me, are you cross-training as a medic?"

He has a vague but noticeable psi impression of her amusement and slight erotic stimulation.

[general_urko]

Graham periodically swallows, or takes a prolonged blink as he listens to Kylah recount what happened OCII. He's revising his initial take, but the fundamental fact remains it was a bad scene. And his instincts that something was rotten was right. Yes, there's some anger--he was suspicious of that Jan scumbag right off--but Jan's not here.

Whether or not it would even be possible to try to prosecute him is highly uncertain. But Kylah is here. And she is hurting. Getting pissed about the past takes a backseat.

As she concludes Graham glances at the water pitcher. He takes a deep breath, and leans forward, placing a hand gently on Kylah's shoulder. "No forgiveness is needed," he says quietly, shaking his head slightly. "None at all," he adds, almost to himself as he processes how closed in she is, arms around knees.

Mommy's gone, mommy's gone. Lizzy rocks back and forth on the floor, Graham watched helplessly, afraid to even speak...

This isn't that, but she's hurting, and you can do better now than then.

"Take all the time you need," he says as he stands. "I'll get some water." He moves to get water and bring it back to Kylah.

[choie]

Kylah watches Lt. Graham walk from her. From her perspective on the floor, he looks taller, larger than usual. Or perhaps she just feels so small. A child, why can she not be a child again? Before her siblings were born, before the truth about her own nature came out. Just a little girl with parents who doted on her, whose happiness was bound up with hers--and, because they were happy, she sensed it and her own joy increased.

Just as, when she disappointed them, her own shame deepened. What would they think of her now?

She accepts the glass with both hands, cupping it prayerfully as she murmurs her thanks. Her trembling hands make the glass unsteady but her teeth clamp it into place before taking a sip. the water is cold and soothes her dry throat.

Once Lt. Graham is seated, Kylah carefully places the glass beside her and hugs herself again. She stares at the wall as if her memories could be projected upon it, images of that night. She cannot picture herself, but Jan--unfortunately--is easy to remember. Handsome yet repulsive, seductive yet callous. No, she thinks while shaking her head. Not callous... surely that is only her imagination. She would have felt that, back then. And she does not remember that.

Her head's tiny movements do not stop. "No," she says, answering herself as if Lt. Graham could hear her thoughts. "I only wish I could blame him for being callous. But it was not his fault. He just wanted what men want. Whereas I... I wanted too many conflicting things. Physically, my body felt as he did. But my mind, my heart--I did not.

"Inside I was screaming at myself but could not find my voice. So he... he kept going, touching me... and I could not help reacting. When at last I told him no, when I said I wished to leave, Jan did not take me seriously. I can understand why. When he kissed me, when he touched me, I--I responded. My body made me a liar."

Too embarrassed to be so close to Lt. Graham, Kylah shifts and, without his source of strength, has nothing to guard against the storm inside her. "I was so ashamed. Scared. Everything had gone wrong. I kept thinking of the ballroom and the romantic dance I had envisioned, like some silly little girl in a fairytale. I was so stupid. So weak.

"He was naked, now, and on top of me, and I could hardly breathe. I could not move on my own. I knew he would have to be the one to separate us. I would have to ask him. It was degrading to admit he had such power over me. But I did it.

"I told him I was not strong enough, I begged him to help. But I suppose he thought I was teasing, or... or that I meant something else. Why should he believe me? He even paused, staring over me, his body covering mine, and said I could go if I wanted to. But I could not. With him so close, with the spores affecting me, I could not move. And when I just lay there, trying to speak, he--he took that as my answer."

Tears burn her cheeks. She hardly realizes she is crying.

"So I gave up," she says at last. "Gave him control. And he took over. He took everything."

Her hands cover her eyes, her head still shaking hopelessly. Finally she lifts her face, her voice a soft monotone while she again stares at the wall--now blank, like her expression.

"When it was over, I waited until he went to the restroom, then got my clothes and left. I ran into you and Dr. T'Var. Do you remember? When you saw me, you turned away. You seemed disgusted. I do not blame you, I can only imagine what you thought. I probably looked... my hair, my dress wrinkled... you were right to be angry. I did not act like a Starfleet officer. I took an hour or two of temporary pleasure and slept with a stranger."

Kylah wipes her bleary eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "Jan himself was also convinced that I had been... pleased by what happened. He never doubted it that night, and he remained convinced, I think, until the day we left that planet.

"That last day, I tried to explain, I met with him. Not to blame him, it was my fault, really. But... I had thought about it and decided I must tell him... it was important that he understand that when I said no he should have listened. He should have stopped. All I wanted was an acknowledgement, not even an apology. Do you understand?"

Kylah starts to turn back to Lt. Graham, but then, afraid of his expression, ducks her head and continues. "Jan was surprised that I was upset. He was taken aback, he said he had certainly not forced me, he had made sure I was ready, more than ready. Obviously I had wanted him."

Bile rises in her throat and she swallows. "But he was wrong. I did not want that. I did not! I could not. I would never have chosen to--to do that. Not then, not that way, with a stranger I cared nothing about." Her eyes glaze over. "Not for my first time."

[Rangin]

Still holding carefully onto Vivien's hand, Rangin is not sure whether he is picking up things psychically or if Vivien's body language, the leaning-in closer, the interested look in her eye, the slight lowering of tone of voice, is giving him more signals than he is expecting.

"A medic? I've done some training." He grins at her, "I may be no Ship's Doctor, but I know my way around. I have plenty of practice in administering to those in need of a assistance. Just ask me."

He thinks over what he is doing here, across a table in the mess hall, and why he is holding the Lt's wrist. It is just a little test to see if he could repeat what happened with Kylah. It feels vague at the moment and Kylah was intensely emotional at that point, whereas Vivien is calm, albeit more interested than Rangin had ever expected. The next step would, of course, be in a situation where there was more raw emotion, to see what kind of impact that would have, but that would mean being in such a situation...

He leans in closer across the table, towards her, his voice a little lower than before. "I still need to thank you, you know, for letting me take your pulse. If there is anything I can do, in return, let me know. It is running a little fast though, so perhaps some other part of you that might need careful examination?"

Although he wonders if he is being a little more forward with a superior officer than he should, Rangin realises that the wrist feels like its fits neatly under his fingers, he can still feel her pulse, but now there's also in a slight sheen from the close contact as he tries to get any further impression from Vivien.

Or maybe the perspiration is his.

[Elendil's Heir]

"You're welcome, Velir," Devereaux says, gently taking her arm back. "But for the moment, at least, I think I need no other examination." She smiles. "Not on a medical basis, at least, although it's kind of you to offer." Some laughter across the room breaks the mood, and she looks over, then back. "How about some coffee?"

[anthonydlangford]

“Thank you.” Nathaniel says, as he jots down a mental list of the names he is given. “I’d like for you to get your children and bring them here to be tested immediately.”

“As for these other people, I assume they are all still on board?” Nathaniel asks, as he hopes that is the case.

[Elendil's Heir]

Dr. Bennett is soon able to reach those he needs to. Within fifteen minutes they have all come to Sickbay, including Mr. Kostoyev and his two very appealing children, Yuri, 8, a towheaded boy trying to look brave, and Katya, 4, a delicate little girl who is near tears.

[Rangin]

Rangin sits back in his chair, having gracefully released Vivien's hand back to her as she sits back. What was he thinking, making a comment like that to his superior officer like that? Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained and she is still smiling, back to colleagues again, he guesses.

For a fallback, chatting science over coffee is still a good thing, even if the earlier mood had vanished. "Coffee sounds good", he nods agreeing with the suggestion, "shall I get them? It's the least I can do." Rangin can still remember how she takes it, like most of the people in the science team.

[general_urko]

Graham's led on an intellectual and emotional roller-coaster as he listens intently to Kylah.

A lot of things start to make sense...although not yet everything, but there's time for that later...

There are a lot of things to be unhappy about--including his own role on the OCIII mission, and how hard-to-impossible any legal action would be against this Jan scumbag, even if Kylah wanted to pursue it--but there's one thing that trumps everything else.

As far as he's concerned, he hopes--assumes--his daughter back on Earth is having a great time with whatever man--or woman--floats her boat. Or men or women. Or maybe she's not involved with anyone at all...whatever suits her and makes her happy.

He hasn't given any alternative a moment's thought...assuming, perhaps wrongly, that he'd know if her personal experiences hadn't been what he'd hoped.

But would I know? Would my own daughter ever feel able to share something like this with me?

He's truly not sure.

But he's sure , now, he knows what he would feel like if she did. And he how he'd feel about what she'd been through--and her at that moment.

Graham rises slowly.

It seems like a long way to get close enough, behind her, to slowly place one hand on her shoulder.

And still longer to gather his words.

"I understand enough to know you're not the one who should be ashamed. To know it's important and brave that you were willing to share this."

"To promise..." that's the hardest bit to get out, his voice fails slightly.

Why should Kyah believe me? What if Lizzy wouldn't believe me? How could I ever prove it?

"To promise you, I am not angry."

[Elendil's Heir]

"Yes, please," Devereaux says with a winning smile. "Very hot, and with just a little cream."

[choie]

Kylah's shoulder tenses underneath Lt. Graham's touch, but even through her robe's material she senses his warm concern, and her neck and arm muscles relax soon.

His reassurance makes her bow her head. "Thank you, sir," she whispers, meaning it.

Yet...

No sooner are the words out when she starts to weep again, and automatically bunches her fists into her eyes to stem the toxic tears. This sudden outburst is not just from sorrow or even shame.

The fact that Lt. Graham insists he is not angry with her... somehow it has unleashed something. Enabled her to access something new--or rare--within herself.

Deep inside her is a void, a place empty of emotion. Now a pinprick of rage appears: a tiny, white, impossibly dense star that builds and builds with growing heat and light that blinds her, even with her eyes closed; it is heavy and dangerous and for an instant Kylah fears she cannot control it.

And she is right.

"But I am angry!" she sobs--almost growls, into the folds of her sleeves. "I am. I despise myself. I despise him. When he--when he rolled off me--I stared at the floor and saw my knife. I should have taken it, while he lay beside me so pleased and smug. Taken it and--and--" Kylah chokes on the words, unable to continue the threat.

She sobs again. "I did use it, that night. Alone, in my bathroom. On that dress. That filthy gown I wore for my own vanity, to flaunt myself. I could not bear the sight of it anymore. It had his hands, his smell, over every revolting square inch. I shredded it. I burned it."

Kylah finally spins to Lt. Graham, trying to keep her face dry, wanting to collapse against him and bury herself in his strong arms. But now it is not just her tears from which she must protect him. She would not dirty this man with her.

Helpless, she again hugs herself, shaking her damp curls that cover and hide her face. "I only wish I could have done the same for my skin... Used the knife he tossed aside to carve out everything he touched. Flayed myself of the memory of everywhere he--he fouled me..."

Rubbing her face red and raw, Kylah stands there, small and trembling and utterly at a loss. "What can I do to forget? What am I supposed to do? What good will come of my telling you this?"

[Rangin]

Slightly distracted by the smile, as he raises from the table, Rangin has to put a hand out to avoid bumping into Mr Johnson. "Sorry," he nods to the chef as Rangin heads for the replicators.

Very hot, with a little cream...you are and I'd love to oblige...

...where did that come from?

Rangin keeps moving with a fixed smile plastered across his face as he tries to figure out why he's suddenly acting like a horny teenager. Maybe, this is a further psi effect he is feeling, Rangin is not sure, but it slightly worrying if it is having this effect on him. It's not like he wasn't just chatting up Viv...a superior officer...maybe he did need to have a word with the Doctors about this. On the other hand, the company is certainly enjoyable.

Hoping to calm down slightly as he gets the coffee proves to be more difficult than he expects but by the time he is returning to the table, he thinks he is ok again.

"Here you go Vivien, one coffee, as you like it." he pushes the hot steaming brew across the table before tucking into his own. After a sip, he puts it back down and looks across. He shrugs slightly, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"You know, you mentioned being bored earlier? Well there is a Lyceum concert tonight, 19:00 hours. That is, if you're interested?"

[Elendil's Heir]

Devereaux takes a sip from her coffee. "Ah, just right. Thanks, but I saw the Lyceum concert's program, and it's not really my kind of music. I appreciate the offer, though." Rangin and she talk for another half-hour or so before she leaves.

Graham is paged by Cmdr. Vargas, who wishes to meet to discuss the landing party arrangements for Novy Rostov tomorrow. It doesn't take long.

Soon after, Ens. Alvarez calls Kylah and says with regret that he cannot make the concert after all, as his Sickbay watch has been extended. He's been assigned to help test those exposed to one of the miners who, he confides, has a contagious disease. He apologizes and asks for a raincheck for a future Lyceum performance.

Within hours, Dr. Bennett confirms with some relief that none of those tested have the Canopian flu. Mrs. Kostoyev remains in quarantine.



Shipboard night passes without incident.

The next morning, the USS Yorktown enters the Eta Ophiuchi system and drops out of warp. Capt. Singh is in the big chair, with Onn at Helm and Bennett at Nav. Graham is at the Security console and Kylah at Communications, with Thalen standing nearby, his hands clasped behind his back. Dr. Bennett is at the Bridge's Life Sciences panel, Rangin at Science I, and Cheverez at Engineering. A Science rating enters the Bridge from the turbolift and approaches the Captain with a report tablet to sign.

"Approaching Novy Rostov," Bennett announces.

"Standard orbit, Mr. Onn," the Captain says with a nod. "Put us over the colony itself, if you please."

Rangin notices from his sensors that there is already another ship in orbit.

[Rangin]

Rangin looks at the blip on the console. He activates a scan to identify the ship and its course so he can pass the details to Helm.

He is not expecting anything untoward.

[Elendil's Heir]

The other ship is in orbit, not on a course. She is the Sarafina of Jarris III, a small merchant ship of Federation registry. Less than a tenth the Yorktown's size, she is listed as having a crew of nine; her master is a Nicholson Bell.

Singh accepts the tablet, briefly reviews and then signs it. The Science rating takes it and leaves.

Novy Rostov is growing large on the forward viewscreen. It is a rocky, bleak, reddish-orange world with no visible bodies of water or clouds. It sort of reminds Graham and the Bennetts of Mars, but without as many distinctive surface features.

[general_urko]

Graham runs all the standard protocols and scans for orbital and colony security.

Intense focus on getting that done helps him not be distracted by...Kylah...Rangin...Onn...and Bennett...

Jeez.

[Elendil's Heir]

Graham detects no potential threats in the star system. There is a single ship in orbit over the mining colony; he learns the same things about it as Rangin just did. The Sarafina has a small forward phaser bank and deflector shields appropriate for her size and role. The Assistant Chief of Security had earlier learned that the colony has a single civilian shield generator, common for such facilities, and no offensive capability; he confirms this is still true.

[SidonianGal]

Nia confirms Singh's order and, as the Yorktown shifts toward the colony, watches the red, seemingly lifeless world. She can't help thinking of rust-colored deserts of Sidonia. If for any reason she's asked to go dirtside, she might get one helluva case of deja vu. Minus Sidonia's harsh sunlight, so bright and jaundiced it stings the uncovered eyes of species that haven't formed protective lids.

Since it's more likely there'll be no reason for her to step on the ground, Nia gives a mental shrug and, whenever the ship is correctly situated above the colony--and making sure there's plenty of distance between the Yorktown's altitude and the Sarafina--will adjust speed until they're in synchronous orbit.

[choie]

With red-veined eyes that feel gritty as sand, Kylah focuses on her duties. Somehow she missed that Lt. Graham would be on watch with her today. As compassionate and protective as he was last night, she cannot forget all the intimate knowledge he has of her. She wants to shrink beneath her chair, but can do nothing while Lt. Thalen is standing over her.

Velir's proximity is distracting too, although she is glad to see him back on duty. Then there is Dr. Bennett, performing his watch at the Bridge for what Kylah believes is the first time. At least he will be on hand if Velir has any further health problems.

She catches a glimpse of her face in the shining panel beside her. Puffy eyes, dark circles, and--since she barely managed to get through her shower and into her clothes after sleeping through her alarm-- instead of the standard beauty routine she has performed since age 10, Kylah wears no makeup.

I look like a little girl playing dress-up in a Starfleet costume.

She faces her monitor again and performs yet another scan of the local communications activity.

[Elendil's Heir]

Onn eases the Yorktown into synchronous orbit. The Sarafina is now 50 km astern. The daylit arc of the planet fills the lower half of the Bridge's main viewscreen.

Kylah sees no local communications activity at first, but then the incoming-message indicator on her board lights up. The heavy cruiser is being hailed by both the colony and the Sarafina.