Star Trek RPG - Mission #4: "Codex Aelyrr"

It's memory, more than sight, that spins Nia around and aims her weapon at K2 in the doorway. "Don't move!" she yells at him, seeing his hand reaching for his disruptor. For a second she almost laughs. Too stupid to be armed and waiting for us? That'll cost you, turtle-face.

She shouts loudly to be heard throughout the shuttle. "Give up! You're surrounded, it's over. Five seconds you're gonna be out cold. Each of you get your arms up, now!"

It's something she has to say; no violence unless provoked, that's what she learned and it's what she's practiced as long as she's been in Starfleet. Still, even as she barks the commands she knows there's little point. The Klingons'll keep at it. They're taught to keep at it no matter how ridiculously outgunned they are.

The canisters, when are they gonna start working? Fuck it, why didn't I give them more time to work? Anyone gets hurt it's me, it's all me...

All this runs through her mind in an instant. She glares at K2, her hands pointing the phaser right at his center mass and her finger pressing the trigger button as far as it'll go without discharging. If he does anything but breathe, the slightest, micrometer movement of her finger will send a heavy stun beam into the bastard's gut.

All Rangin can do is wait in nervous anticipation on the bridge listening to the action unfold over comms while continually monitoring.

The Klingons are either unable to hear Onn's shouted commands through her spacesuit helmet, or are uninterested in complying.

K1, the pilot, continues turning around and begins reaching for his weapon, as well. St. Croix and then Three Crows both hit him with phaser fire, and he slumps in his chair. His disruptor falls to the deck.

Graham hits K3, who is slowed but not knocked out. He is almost fully standing when he fires at Graham and narrowly misses. His disruptor bolt hits the bulkhead just behind Graham, sending down a shower of sparks.

K2 does not turn towards Onn but raises his disruptor at Eris, who shoots at him and also barely misses. She dives to one side and raises her weapon for another shot.

Onn fires at K2 from behind and hits him. He is staggered but still standing.

All of this, too, happens in just seconds.

Among the chaos of the phasers and disruptors going off around her, Nia steps closer to K2 and fires two shots as rapidly as possible.

Graham drops low (as low as he can go with his left leg extended back one knee and his weight on his front leg ready to lunge toward K3) continuing to squeeze off shots at K3.

Onn hits K2 twice, as does Eris once, just a moment later. He falls forward to the deck, his disruptor flying from nerveless fingers as he does. He never had a chance to fire.

Graham and K3 hit each other simultaneously. The Starfleet man is hit in the right front thigh. The disruptor blast burns through the tough spacesuit fabric. A wave of fiery pain, as bad as any he's ever felt in his long career, sweeps up from his leg, but he remains conscious. Eris comes to his aid.

K3 collapses and rolls slightly over.

Nia hears whatever's going on in the next compartment, including what sounds like two shots that hit their targets, and a sudden furious instinct makes her want to leap over her own downed enemy to see what happened.

Instead she manages to focus and snaps out a fast command. "Everyone. Disarm the Klingons and get the anti-transporter devices from them." She bends and, putting away her own phaser, snatches K2's disruptor and pats him down none-too-gently. Now that she's in the doorway, she aims a searching gaze at the threesome inside Compartment B. Her heart sinks to her stomach. "Book," she exhales when she realizes he's the one who was hit. A second of agony passes before she recovers herself.

"Shuttle to Yorktown," she says, controlling her rising panic. "Ensign Graham's taken disruptor fire to his leg. Ferguson, beam him to the infirmary, now."

If/when she's successful in finding the anti-transporter device from K2, she'll yank it from him and order the Klingon transported to the Brig. As an aside, she mutters to the Yorktown that one of the medical team should probably be there to check on his status as well.

Burning. Burning that makes touching a hot burner on a stove feel like holding a piece of toast...

Decompression of the suit...

Oblivion would be a blessing, passing out a relief...

You go out, you may never wake up. Stay awake, dammit...

Graham's not sure how bad the hit is other than the fact it hurts as bad as any wound he's ever suffered (which is a bad sign) but he's not dead (a good one).

There's a big furry...oh, its the Aelyrr, Eris...helping him. He grabs the alien's arm with...desperate strength? a limp, flaccid hand?....he can't tell.

"Thanks, Eris. If I don't make it, tell my daughter...I love her, and I'm sorry."

His pulse is pounding...no, not pounding...something less...in his ears. Not good.

But someone Starfleet is issuing orders...good...it's Nia. He turns his head toward her voice...

Eris squeezes Graham's arm with her gloved paws and says encouragingly, "Do not despair, Mr. Graham. You have many years of Starfleet service ahead of you, I'm sure."

St. Croix takes the anti-transporter-lock gadget from K1, searches and scans him. "He's clear," she announces.

Three Crows does the same for K3, and suggests that Eris stand back a little to allow for Graham to be beamed back to the Yorktown.

In a few seconds, the wounded officer is gone, reappearing in Transporter Room 1. Dr. T'Var is soon there with a Medical team and an antigrav gurney. She scans him, gives him a painkiller and helps him remove his helmet. They put him on the gurney and take him on the double to Sickbay.

Onn disarms K2 and removes his gadget. He is soon beamed away, too.

"Report, Mr. Onn," the Captain says.

Nia stares at Booker as he disappears. I didn't get a chance to speak to him. She clutches the device in her hand as if trying to crush it into a tiny, dense metal ball. Then she gets a hold of herself, courtesy of Singh's voice in her ears.

"Yes, ma'am. The Klingon ship has been taken and is in our control. All three Klingons are down and have been beamed off the ship to the Brig. One of them shot Ensign Graham, he's just gone to the infirmary, but the rest of us--"

She hesitates before continuing, turning to eye St. Croix, Three Crows and finally Eris. Her lungs are straining--she's been breathing very fast and it's taxed her tolerance of the Class-M atmosphere--but she centers herself, focuses her mind and ignores the hint of dizziness. "They all look unhurt. St. Croix, Three Crows, Eris--report to the captain, please? Do any of you need medical assistance?"

While listening for any reply, she swallows and steps into Compartment B, trying to ignore the scorch marks from the blasts, and heads directly to the case she saw earlier. "Captain, I believe the Codex is in the box I saw from the viewport. I'll take a better look to see what its story is."

If Nia's duty belt has a tricorder, she'll scan the box herself to see what it's made of, not to mention getting a sense of whether it's safe to open.

"In the meantime, if the security officers aren't injured, I'd like them to search the rest of the ship for other stolen goods, data storage devices like our datapads that might indicate what their plans were, any weapons--"

The idea causes her to break off her words, annoyed. "No, wait. Forgive me, ma'am, my mind's going too fast." She straightens and looks at her crewmates. "St. Croix; Three Crows. If you're okay, please scan every inch of the shuttle for anything that could indicate there's any self-destruct or booby-trap waiting to kill us. The faster the better, too. Given the radiation readings Mr. Rangin mentioned, I'm not keen on staying here longer than necessary--and I wouldn't recommend towing the shuttle onto the Yorktown for the same reason.

"Until the scans are through, I don't want anyone touching or triggering anything. Including you, Eris, though I know you're anxious to get at this box." Her words aren't harsh, just matter-of-fact.

She kneels down to the case, looking it over sadly. All this trouble. Dead Aelyrr, dead Klingons. Booker hurt, who knows how badly... all for this damn piece of paper.

"That's all I have right now, Captain," she says quietly. "I'd be grateful for any recommendations, or corrections if I've made any poor decisions." Any more poor decisions, anyway.

Upon hearing of Graham's injury, Collins gets a little antsy. She'd like to ask permission to go see him in sickbay, but the mission isn't over yet and her place is here.

Singh says, "No recommendations or corrections here, Mr. Onn. Well done. Alveron is of course anxious to learn the status of the Codex. Carry on."

Only Graham and K2 have been beamed back to the Yorktown. K1 and K3 remain on the Klingon shuttle's deck.

St. Croix, Three Crows and Eris are all unharmed. St. Croix asks, "Shall I close the anesthizine dispensers, ma'am, and vent the cabin?"

A careful tricorder scan and search reveal no boobytraps or hidden dangers of any kind, in the shuttle itself or on the scuffed, dull gray box next to which K3 had been sitting. Eris goes to it and looks expectantly at Onn.

In Sickbay, Drs. Villa and T'Var prep for surgery. Orderlies remove intact Graham's gloves, boots and most of his spacesuit, and then begin cutting away his spacesuit pants. Before he is given a general anesthetic, Graham realizes his pain has ebbed considerably. He looks down and thinks he might see bone at the bottom of the ugly, burned, bloody wound on his leg.

Rangin looks straight ahead at the screen as he hears what is happening across there. Not a twitch, not a muscle moving, no indication of what he might be feeling inside. Just for one small moment, he's happy; happy Graham has been shot after all the trouble he has put Rangin through. Karma paying Graham back for all he's done over the last few days.

He can't help it, he knows it's wrong and clamps down on it hard, Graham is still a ship mate risking his life and Rangin steels himself to go back to begin ready to assist as best he can.

But still...a little voice in the back of his mind laughs quietly as Rangin curses himself out to be a better Coridanite.

Nia could have sworn she ordered the others to get the Klingons beamed back to the ship, but apparently not. It was only what she wanted when she'd ordered the devices taken from them. Well, they can't read her mind.

She thanks the captain quickly and adds, "Mr. Ferguson. Two more Klingons to beam into the Brig, please. You should be able to get a lock on them now. They're unconscious too, so better have a medical officer look at them as well." No rush, though, she thinks with a glare at K3.

Her attention returns to her remaining squad. "Yes, please, St. Croix. Close the canisters and vent." For all she knows, the damn things didn't even deploy--or if they did, they might as well not have. The Klingons didn't react to them in the slightest.

Probably there wasn't time. Why didn't I ask T'Var how long it would take? Why did I have us beamed in so quickly? That was stupid, inept, Academy-level decision making.

She hides her self-anger and continues, "And after that's done, you can both beam back to the ship. Excellent work, the pair of you. Thank you very much for your skill and efficiency." Her smile probably isn't visible through the damn helmet, but she attempts one anyway. "We'll have a debriefing, but you can get out of those suits and take some time to refresh yourselves however you want."

Once that's done, she focuses on the case. Eris's impatience is obvious. "We're getting there, I promise," Nia says calmly to the Aelyrr, and examines the box to see how to open it. If it's simply a matter of flipping a latch or pressing a button, she'll do that at once.

While she looks, she murmurs, "Onn to Yorktown. How is the radiation issue looking? Once Eris and I secure the Codex, before we head back to the Tesla I want to take a look at the Klingons' control and nav panel. Might tell us what their eventual destination was. At least I might be able to link it to the Yorktown's system, so you can do the data probing remotely. "But if we're expecting another rad leak situation like back on the Naradraen, I'm not risking it. Some engineers might beam aboard instead."

"Think that'll leave a scar, Doc?" Graham mumbles as he sees his leg, giving Dr. T'Var a wan smile as they put him under.

The remaining two Klingons are beamed back to the Yorktown. They will be checked by Medical personnel there.

St. Croix picks up and handles each canister briefly, closing their gas emission apertures. Three Crows gathers them together for return to the ship. St. Croix then goes to the control console at the front of the shuttle and finds the environmental controls (Onn vaguely remembers that St. Croix knows Klingonese). In a few moments, the air begins around moving quickly around the cabin - not gale-force winds, but definitely a strong breeze - as it is vented and replaced by clean air (or as clean, at least, as can be found in the tanks of a poorly-maintained Klingon shuttlecraft). Then all is calm again.

Three Crows says, "I don't mind sticking around, ma'am."

Onn can see St. Croix nod through her helmet visor. "Likewise, Lieutenant. You never know what might come up."

The gray case is heavy and strong, and has a codelock as big as Onn's hand.

"Scan for any radiation risk to the boarding party, please, Mr. Rangin," the Captain says on the Bridge.

In Sickbay, Dr. T'Var returns Graham's smile and asks, just as his vision begins turning blurry, "Why? Do you want another one, Ensign?"

Finding the case locked, Nia screams out a loud, vulgar curse involving the Klingon's sex life, his father, and a swamp-dwelling creature only found on Sidonia--but since she does it inside her head, no one else hears it.

She stands up and for a second aims K2's disruptor at the codelock. Unfortunately she can't be sure whether it'll destroy the Codex. "Well," she says to Eris in as controlled a tone as she can muster. "An anti-transporter device and a lock? You'd think this was as precious to these Klingons as it is to your Priestess."

Looking back at the security officers, Nia tilts her head toward the case. "Any thoughts? We know the case can't be transported, and it can't be unlocked unless we get the answers from our prisoners... Hang on, I'd better report this."

With a sigh, she communicates to the Yorktown again. "Captain. The case is locked and I'm not convinced we can break into it safely." She chews her lip in thought. "Maybe Cmdr. Vargas can try to uncover the code from the prisoners? With one batch from the Naradraen and the other from... this shuttle, whatever it's called... we have two groups of Klingons who might not be on great speaking terms with each other. After all, the three on this shuttle seem to have killed the others' crew mates. Assuming the first group aren't happy with that development, maybe we can play off their resentment to get some info about a possible password?

"Otherwise," Nia adds, "We'll need to get this to the Tesla and then over to the Yorktown for one of our codebreakers to handle it. I can turn off this shuttle's artificial gravity, letting us pick it up and carry it safely via a spacewalk. If anyone has other recommendations, I'd be grateful." She aims her glance at the three others in the shuttle, just in case they want to speak up too.

"Got to give the other guys some chance with the ladies," Graham intends to answer, but he has no ideas if anything more coherent than "Gagiogeeswalaydees..."--or even anything at all--comes out...

"I'd prefer a more direct approach," Singh says. "Scan to see if there's any incendiary device or other trap on or in the box. If not, and if it's safe in your and Eris's judgment to do so, go ahead and use a phaser cutting beam to open it."

Graham slips into unconsciousness, and Villa and T'Var begin surgery.

Nia glances warily at Eris, expecting a protest, as she responds, "Aye aye, Captain. The box has been scanned and deemed safe, and I'm more than happy to get straight to it. I'll do all I can to take care."

Great. Whose head will get ripped off by those claws if there's even a hint of a scorch mark on this Codex?

She takes up her phaser again, sets it to a cutting beam, and kneels down. "Feel free to stand back," she murmurs to the squad at large, not knowing how the metal in this box will react. Her hands grip the phaser and rest it on her knee to keep it steady; her head lowers so that she's looking straight across the weapon, level with the case. As thin as possible. Hopefully the Codex is all the way at the bottom... She takes an inward breath, holds it, aims the phaser only a few centimeters from the top of the case, and presses the button to start slicing this thing open like a tin of sardines.

Eris says quickly, before Onn can begin cutting, "Wait, please, Lieutenant. We should scan it more carefully, to confirm that the metal is inert and to make sure, as the Captain suggested, that there is nothing inside the box that might cause harm to the Codex if we force an entry."

"We'll also want to be sure that the Codex isn't near the part that you're slicing, ma'am," St. Croix says.

Three Crows takes out her tricorder and, after a minute or so, does just that, ensuring that Onn can cut safely.

"Thank you," Eris says. "I am satisfied. Please proceed, Lieutenant."

Onn carefully makes one cut, then another, and another, and soon has the box open.

Within is the silvery, embossed Codex case, apparently intact. Eris presses two recessed tabs and reverently opens it, revealing a thick scroll of pale blue, very thin paper, covered in delicate alien calligraphy. She drops to one knee, lowers her head and spreads her paws, saying, "Praise be to Ael, Creator of All, Queen of the Universe, that this holy relic has been recovered undefiled. Our prayers are answered, and behold, that which was stolen is now restored to its rightful people." She is clearly moved. She closes the case again and says, "My thanks to all of you. The Aelyrr are forever indebted to you, and to the Federation."

When Eris tells her to stop and makes her little suggestion, Nia sends the security officers a glare that should cut through the women's helmets like the phaser in her hand. She then stops and counts to thirty. Her mind is seething and her face hot.

Okay, what the hell. First they don't use their brains to have the Klingons beamed out, just as I did with K2. Then I order them to scan the box, and now they're seriously fucking telling me that they didn't have the goddamned initiative to scan inside the box as well? What did they think they were supposed to be looking for, invisible pixies dancing on the cover?

She looks back and begins slicing, furious. It's just like A.J. has said, time and time again. 'Bloody security officers. They're either control freaks or such drones that if they ever had an independent thought, it would die of loneliness.'

Nia's extremely glad she can take her frustration out on the box, slicing through it like a butcher through spiced meat. Then she sees the Codex, and she loses some of her anger. It is a pretty thing, she has to admit. As it should be, for all the trouble it's caused.

While Eris thanks her and the IQ twins in red, Nia waits until she's finished and nods. "It is an honor to have been able to perform a service for you and your people. That's what the Federation and Starfleet are for." She opens her mic to the Yorktown. "Lt. Onn to Captain Singh and High Priestess Alveron. The Codex is safe and in Eris's hands."

Rangin follows the captain's orders, relieved to not be sitting idly by, and checks the radiation level of the Klingon shuttle.

Collins reflects on the last hour's events. Deep down she knows Onn did way better than she ever could have. But she still yearns for command. I have a looooong way to go, she thinks sadly.

"Thank you, Mr. Onn," the Captain replies. "The High Priestess is very pleased, and so am I. Proceed with your plan for returning the Codex to the Yorktown."

Rangin sees no cause for alarm in the radiation levels aboard the Klingon shuttle.

"Stand down from Red Alert," Singh continues. "Mr. Collins, power down and secure phasers and photon torpedoes. Drop shields."

Nia nods, looking through the starboard viewport to find the Yorktown, as if she can see Singh directly. "Aye aye, Captain." She swallows back her impulse to bark: What about Booker, how is he doing, are they operating on him, is he conscious, has he lost his leg, tell me, damn it!

Instead she continues coolly, "Before we go, I'll do that quick check of their nav logs and see where this shuttle's been--that'd be one way of finding out where they came from... and possibly where they were heading, too."

Turning to Eris, she suggests that if possible, the Aelyrr try to find something to protect the Codex. It's only a few seconds of exposure, but radiation and anything else being emitted by the nebula might not be the best idea. Which is another reason we should've waited before opening the box. Nia adds, "St. Croix and Three Crows, thanks again. You can either accompany us or beam back directly the ship. Up to you."

Her attention now moves to the forward compartment, and because she can't help herself, she sits in the pilot's seat. A smile twitches her lips. Naturally she's been through simulations of numerous alien vessels during training, but sitting in an actual Klingon ship she and her team have just commandeered--even though it's just a shuttle--is pretty amazing.

Peering at the panels, Nia tries to identify the nav controls. They shouldn't differ too much from the Birds of Prey she trained with, but it's better not to start cockily pressing panel buttons. Once she identifies them, assuming she recognizes them, she'll attempt a download to her tricorder. Or, if that won't work, she'll contact Thalen to help her establish a channel to allow the Yorktown's system to speak to the shuttle. Then he can deal with it on his own, and she can get Eris and the Codex to the Tesla already.

Sedation is usually dreamless, but Graham could swear he's at a park with Lizzie, and she's ten years old, just as he remembers...only her mother has scales. And her pet cat is more than a meter tall and bipedal...

"Aye, ma'am" Collins powers the ship's weapons down and secures the system.

Singh approves Onn's proposal.

Three Crows asks Onn, "With your permission, ma'am, I'll remain with you. May I contact Sickbay for an update on Mr. Graham's condition?"

Eris looks around with Three Crows, but they find nothing big enough to fit the Codex. Eris says thoughtfully, "The High Priestess and I brought nothing with us in which to carry the Codex other than its own naryen case, which you see. Could your Engineering staff perhaps fabricate an airtight strongbox to replace the Klingon one and beam it here?"

St. Croix decides to stay, too. With her help, Onn soon gets the hang of the shuttle's nav systems. It is slow and crude, compared to Starfleet's comparable systems. The automated nav logs were tied to the scoutship's central computer before its destruction. She finds a series of Klingon starcharts and several tables of astrogational references with column after column of numbers, going back at least a month, but evidently from a region of space unknown to the Federation. She recognizes none of it, but downloads it to her tricorder.

Graham's unconsciousness deepens. He feels no pain as the surgical team strives to save his ravaged leg.

On the Bridge, Collins can tell that Alveron is delighted by the recovery of the Codex. The ancient felinoid is grinning toothily and almost bouncing in place as she stands near Singh in the big chair.

Oh, for a feather on a string Collins thinks when she sees how happy Alveron has become.

Rangin gives off the details of the radiation leak to the Captain and Lt. Onn.

Then with a sigh of relief, he leans back and thinks of the other person who should be told, but isn't here.

"Kylah, we retrieved the Codex. Thanks for all your help. Velir."

Nia is glad to approve Three Crows' request for information about Booker, and before finishing her task, contacts the Yorktown asking for assistance with an airtight container for the Codex--first giving them the approximate dimensions of the Codex and its covering.

Having removed her helmet while downloading the data, Nia knows she should replace it in preparation for the spacewalk, but she prefers to hold off as long as possible. The helmet is a bit claustrophobic.

She stands, thanks St. Croix for the assistance, and sends the data back to the Yorktown. Then she waits for both the box to turn up and any news about Booker.

The Captain thanks Onn for the data. She says, "Mr. Rangin, run a full analysis, and compare it to the Federation stellar cartography database."

Dr. Bucci reports from Sickbay, "Mr. Graham is still in the O.R., undergoing surgery. His injury is serious and would have been life-threatening if not attended to, but of course he was brought here very quickly, thanks to the boarding party. I am monitoring the operation now. I'd say his prognosis is excellent."

After a few minutes, a box much as Eris described materializes from the Yorktown. The Aelyrr warrior carefully places the Codex inside it, and it fits snugly.

Nia lets the others watch Eris put the Codex inside the box. She is busy hurrying to seal up her helmet, looking away from the rest.

His prognosis is excellent. Focus on those words, don't dwell on the thanks to the boarding party. It's not as if Nia did anything any slightly competent leader would do once someone in her party is injured. What matters is that it was her poor planning that put Booker--all of the squad--in such a dangerous position.

She blinks her eyes until the fogginess recedes, and turns off her mic so she can clear her tight throat without anyone overhearing. Then it's back on to the mic, her voice cheerful but false.

"All right, I think we've got everything we needed, at least right now. If the captain wants to dig out anything else, she'll probably send some engineers to make sure the shuttle's not a danger. If it's safe, I wouldn't be surprised if we took it along with us. Be a pretty good prize to bring to Starfleet--and to study, in the meantime. For that matter, it could be am important bargaining chip. Maybe the Klingon Empire has an interest in these criminals themselves."

Her rambling has allowed her to put on her game face. "To the airlock. We'll need to take a pretty hard leap to get the proper momentum. Unlike this shuttle, ours has no hand-holds--something I think we need to complain about pretty loudly, once we're home. Anyway, once you're within grappling distance from the Tesla, deploy your mag-boots and get 'em in contact with the hull as soon as you can."

She moves to stand by Eris and says quietly, "I know you have EV experience, but your arms are full, which puts you at a disadvantage when it comes to maneuvering in zero g," she says to the Aelyrr. "I'm gonna be right behind you, ready to grab you and position you as needed. Okay?" Nia turns to St. Croix. "You first, then Three Crows. Three Crows, please be prepared to help Eris into the shuttle. Or if necessary, to take the box from her and let her get inside herself."

Nia looks behind her, remembering to pick up the remaining anti-transporter devices and any spare Klingon weapons she finds that can fit on her duty belt. This stuff is way too valuable to leave behind. Starfleet must find a way to reverse-engineer these anti-transporter units.

"Let's get going, folks. Unless there's something I forgot, we're ready to make the trip." She switches her mic to connect to the ship. "Onn to Yorktown. We're about to depart the Klingon shuttle and make our way back to the Tesla. I'll report once we've made the hop. If there's anything more you need me to do here, please let me know."

"Acknowledged, Mr. Onn," Singh replies, with a smile Onn can almost hear over the intership channel. "Bon voyage from all of us here."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Eris says, holding the case just a little possessively. "I'm sure I will be all right."

Three Crows says to Onn on the private channel, "Ma'am, if you have any concern about us all getting back over to the Tesla safely, would you maybe like to ask the ship to beam over some maneuvering units?" The Sidonian woman knows the small thruster packs can be quickly and easily fitted to their spacesuits. "Or run a tether line between Eris and me?"

Nia eyes Eris thoughtfully while she listens to the security officer. "Thank you, Three Crows. I'm personally not very concerned at all, I just wanted to make sure everyone knew what to do. I have every confidence that between the three of us we can get Eris safely across--and she likely won't need help anyway. There's about three meters, tops, between the two shuttles. I've made the trip myself twice now without disaster, and at the time I had to worry about enemies blasting me to kingdom come.

"But you sound less than confident yourself, and I don't want a nervous officer in between us and the Tesla. Run a tether line if that eases your concerns."

Speaking of tethers, Nia is reaching the end of hers with every passing second. If thrusters had been a viable option, why didn't Meyer simply attach them back in the shuttlebay? So great, he sent us out with suboptimal gear? She's never seen anyone on the Yorktown use EV thrusters and had no idea they were available on the ship. Sure would've been nice to have that option when she was out there alone spying on the Klingons.

Fairly certain that her role in this little episode is finished for now, Collins turns to the Captain. "Ma'am? Permission to head to Sick Bay to check on Ensign Graham?"

Rangin takes the data and starts running the full analysis to see what he can find.

Three Crows stiffens. "No, ma'am. I can do it."

Singh says, "We just had a report. He's still in surgery and you won't be able to see him, Mr. Collins. But if you wish to go, you may."

Rangin compares the Klingon navigational data with Federation charts. What will he look for?

"Thank you, ma'am." Collins heads to Sick Bay trying not to picture Graham as anything less than fully healthy.

Kylah's communicator buzzes with the receipt of Rangin's message, muffled slightly from its position on the floor peeking out from under Collins's bed. Rangin receives no immediate reply.

Collins takes a turbolift to Sickbay. A nurse meets her in the reception area. "May I help you?"

Nia nods at Three Crows. "I know you can do it, Three Crows. Now, everyone: take a last check on your helmets and suits, just in case all that activity loosened a seal or tore anything. Once you're sure your suit status is a go, St. Croix, lead the way."

She follows her own orders, though her helmet seal seemed pretty secure seconds ago. If everything's okay, and all the others report no problems, she'll move to open the airlock door, peeking inside the chamber to see how many of them can fit at one time, especially given the box Eris is carrying. However many can fit, she'll wait for St. Croix to take the lead position.

If all of them can fit the depressurization chamber, Nia will close the airlock door behind her and make sure they're lined up in the order she recommended: St. Croix, Three Crows, Eris, and finally Nia herself. Also, assuming St. Croix is near the controls, Nia will ask her to begin the depressurization procedure until it's safe to leave. And at last she'll watch everyone push off to start the brief journey to the Tesla.

All of the boarding party's helmets and spacesuits check out.

Two will fit into the airlock at a time. St. Croix and Three Crows enter, go through the depressurization cycle and leave the airlock. The former pushes off and sails across to the Tesla; the latter remains on the outer hull and waits there for Eris and Onn, gripping a handhold. Onn, next emerging from the airlock with Eris, is struck once again by the vast beauty of the nebula. She sees St. Croix waiting by the open hatch of the Tesla, not far away. The Yorktown has not changed position since she last saw it.

"Ready, Eris?" Three Crows asks.

"Yes," the Aelyrr warrior says. "Let's go."

"All right, on the count of three," Three Crows says. "One... two... three." The pair simultaneously push off, Eris handling the somewhat cumbersome box in zero-G with no apparent difficulty. They cross the short distance to the Tesla, almost within arm's reach of each other, take hold of the edge of the hatchway and go inside.

St. Croix waves to Onn. "Ready when you are, ma'am."

Nia slips out of the shuttle and is about to leave when a little pull of determination overrides her desire to get back to the Tesla.

"Thanks, St. Croix. Um, give me a few seconds... I want to take one look at something."

No longer afraid that her clomping magboots will alert an enemy of her presence, Nia connects them to the hull and moves to the spot she saw before, where dirt and scorch marks cover the shuttle's signage. Using her gloves just as she did with the viewport, she wipes at the metal, hoping to clean off enough to see what's written below. If the letters become clear enough, she'll grab a shot of it with her tricorder.

Lucky I'm not Aelyrr or Caitian, she thinks with a humorless chuckle. Curiosity would've killed me long ago.

In truth, it's not just curiosity, really; there's some superstition here as well. Nia knows the name of just about every ship she's flown. While she never had a chance to fly this shuttle, she did sit in the pilot's seat. And her team took ownership of it.

One of them nearly died on it.

And so she'll be damned if, after all that, she never finds out what this troublesome bucket of bolts is called.

Once she's done--successful or not--Nia will disengage her boots from the hull and, like a swimmer reaching the end of a lap, turns gracefully and uses her strong legs to launch herself back to the Tesla.

The astrometric charts from the Klingon shuttle will be from an obviously different viewpoint coming from the Klingon homeworld instead of being based around Federation space.

However certain stars and systems will overlap and match between the two sets of records and those will be along the neutral zone between the two. Rangin also accesses what little data is known about the Klingons for their names of the various planets along the neutral zone to match up with the data coming across and cross references with Federation star charts. Of course, other main locations like Qo'noS would be invaluable in matching the charts up.

And by matching the two up like a puzzle of match the dots, he hopes to expand the Federation star charts out further.

"Yes, thanks" Collins replies to the nurse. "I came to see how Ensign Graham is doing."

Onn crosses the distance between the Klingon shuttle and the Tesla, all of space stretched out beneath her, and lands nimbly near the hatchway.

Rangin finds several points of commonality between the Klingon charts and the Federation's, particularly Qo'noS's star and four pulsars - Omega Listera, Vandor B, Gu'ro'kel and Sadain D. (Pulsars, given their precise, sustained radio emissions and easy detectability from far away, have always been useful guideposts in interstellar navigation). Once Rangin has matched those up, the rest of the pieces fall into place. The two maps merge and become one, rotating on the Science I display screen in front of him. He sees that the Klingon scoutship had long been outside but not far from the bounds of the Klingon Empire, in space unknown to the Federation. It spent a lot of time in and around a particular red dwarf star system about a dozen light years from the Yorktown's current position.

The nurse smiles and says, "He's still in surgery, but things are going well."

"Good," Collins says. "Do you know how much longer it'll be?"

Nia closes the Tesla's hatch and heads back to the pilot's seat. When her gaze falls on the co-pilot's chair, she feels her stomach turn leaden. Booker should be here with them. There's no sense of satisfaction over a completed mission, not with a man down.

"Three Crows," she says quietly on her way. "C'mon up and take the co-pilot's seat, please? I doubt there's a need for it but I'd like someone at weapons just in case." Nia hopes this will make up for her earlier attitude, which was what A.J. would call 'sarky.'

She repressurizes the shuttle's atmosphere to its normal levels, then tells the squad they can remove their helmets now. Her own is quickly unsealed and stuck behind her seat, as it was earlier.

"Tesla to Yorktown," she says. "We're all back. Shuttlebay, please prepare for our re-entry."

The nurse says, "They say another half-hour or so, if all goes well."

"Aye, Lieutenant." Three Crows comes up and takes the copilot seat. Everyone doffs their helmets once the shuttle cabin is repressurized.

"Tesla, this is Yorktown Shuttlebay," comes the prompt reply. "You are cleared for approach and landing. We're ready for you."

Rangin resists the urge to kick back from the console with a grin on his face and his hands behind his head basking in the glory of his own cleverness, mainly because there wasn't anything that clever about it. But still, the extra data on the Klingon Empire and, more importantly, the unknown space the Klingon mercenaries had been flying in would be exceedingly useful to the Federation.

He starts making notes on the red dwarf system, twelve light years only a short hop away, and tries to get any translation of the Klingon symbols to see if it is some kind of mercenary camp, or possibly the Aelyrr homeworld.

The UT translates the Klingon text of the charts. The sole Class-M world orbiting the red dwarf is labeled "Aelyrrin." The star system also includes four gas giants, two smaller, rocky worlds and a sizeable asteroid belt. The belt contains - or contained, as of a few months ago, judging by the datestamps - three Klingon mercenary bases, all within convenient range of Aelyrrin. The bases are labeled "Angry Ones," "Fek'lhr's Forsaken" and "Ninth Sons."

"Okay, thank you." Collins replies. She takes out her communicator and messages the Captain Ma'am: Permission to stick around Sickbay so that I'm here when Graham wakes up? The nurse said it could be as soon as half an hour if all goes well. She sits on an available chair to wait for Singh's response.

Permission granted. Keep us posted. SINGH., comes the response.

It is now 1030 hours.

After acknowledging the shuttlebay's response, Nia performs a brief test of the Tesla's systems, sort of an abbreviated version of the pre-flight check, to make sure everything is still copacetic. There's no reason it shouldn't be, but it's a habit she can't break.

If everything's working as it should, she starts off, swooping slightly below the Klingon shuttle like a porpoise swimming underneath a shark. The Yorktown is straight ahead and above her now, and Nia takes the Tesla in a sideways arc, turning the shuttle 90 degrees so that its top sweeps along the starboard side of its parent ship. She only turns them to line up with the Yorktown once the aft shuttlebay is straight ahead.

"Making approach now," she murmurs into her mic as she slows the shuttle down, intending to slip into the open shuttlebay and land as far inside as possible, just in case Singh decides to pick up the Klingon's ship as a souvenir.

Collins messages back Thank you, will do and then says to the nurse, "I just want to grab my personal datapad from my quarters, I'll be right back." She leaves Sickbay and double-times it to her cabin to grab her datapad and will head back to wait for Graham to wake up.

After getting a nice look at the Yorktown from outside, Onn smoothly lands the Tesla in the Shuttlebay. The great clamshell doors close behind them. When the Shuttlebay is repressurized, the Flight Control Officer says over the comm system, "Tesla, welcome home. Shut down all systems and come to Door 1, please." She can see the Captain and High Priestess Alveron already walking towards them. Ens. Rachel Hayes, the ship's Xenosociology Officer, and two Security guards bring up the rear.

The nurse tells Collins, "Of course. I'll save a seat for you."

Nia follows instructions and opens up the hatch, waiting for the others to leave before she picks up her helmet and, holding it against her side, walks out to the shuttlebay. She gives the Tesla an affectionate little pat of farewell before she exits.

She's curious as to why there are two more security officers approaching. And still no Vargas. For someone who's second in command and head of security, he sure shows little interest in the crew's missions, even when they've gone into battle. Does he even care about Booker?

She reaches the others and nods. "Captain. High Priestess. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we're glad to be able to return the Codex to your people. I only wish the man directly responsible for its retrieval could be here. Ensign Graham was the one to take down the leader, the Klingon who stole the Codex from the Naradraen. And Graham paid for it... " She swallows. "Not too badly, I hope. If I may say so, High Priestess, Eris also acted very quickly and with great bravery. As did Mr. St. Croix and Three Crows, Captain. I'm proud to have served with them."

Inside Collins's and Kylah's quarters, the lights are off, and the room is completely dark except for the brief light from the corridor as the door opens for Collins. If she listens she will be able to hear deep, steady breathing from Kylah's side of the room.

Collins reaches for the light switch, but remembers that Kylah had come back here to get some sleep, so she puts the lights to half, quietly goes to her dresser to grab her datapad, and turns to leave. That's when she notices Kylah's side of the room.

Kylah lies on her stomach with her hair covering her eyes, and bare arms at her sides. The cover seems to have been kicked off while in her dreams, or perhaps before she fell asleep. And she appears to be naked.

...But no, it's a trick of the dim light: on second look she's just wearing a short, translucent, peach-colored negligee. God knows she has many such bizarrely impractical off-duty items in her closet, but this so-called nightgown is one Collins hasn't seen, and it's ridiculously revealing even for an Elasian.

Her legs are bare from mid-thigh downward, and she doesn't appear to be wearing any undergarments--which means it's fortunate Kylah's lying on her stomach. As it is, the security officer is now more acquainted with Kylah's... aft side... than she ever expected or wanted to be.

On the night table is a pile of datapads, similar to the ones Kylah was using on the Bridge. Probably the same ones. A corner of a paper envelope or card sticks out from underneath.

To the left, Kylah's uniform has been tossed lazily on the chair near her bed. Her stockings, boots and undergarments are piled on the floor beside it, and her duty belt is also on the floor. Underneath Collins's own bed, only a few feet away, there's a glint of a communicator. It seems to have been dropped or forgotten, perhaps while Kylah was undressing. The younger woman tends to be meticulous about her things, but it seems that she was in a hurry to get to sleep. Given her exhaustion, it's not surprising. She hasn't moved despite the door, the lights or Collins's activity.

Collins puts down her datapad. She picks up the communicator and places it on the nightstand, then takes the blanket from her own bed and places it gently over Kylah's sleeping form. She makes a mental note to ask her roommate about the atypical sloppiness some other time as she heads back to Sickbay to wait for Graham to wake up.

Singh smiles. "Thank you, Mr. Onn. Well done, all of you."

Alveron is clearly deeply moved to see the Codex when Eris opens the container. The high priestess raises her paws and intones, "Praise be to Ael, and to the Four, and the Sixteen, and the Four Hundred. Praise be also to you, one of our number as well as righteous offworlders who dared much and bravely served as Her instruments in recovering the blessed Codex. May he who was wounded in this holy cause be soon and fully healed. May the Codex now be redeemed and cleansed from its time among the enemies of our people, the errant barbarians, those scourges of the Aelyrr, and restored to its rightful place among those whom Ael chose to receive Her many and great blessings."

Collins returns to Sickbay and finds First Officer Vargas there, talking to the nurse.

Collins stands discreetly aside from Vargas and the nurse, allowing them to finish their conversation. When they're done, she will acknowledge Vargas properly, then settle down and continue reading from her datapad a book she'd started a while back.

Nia waits for the priestess to finish the prayer, forcing her fingers flat against her helmet to keep them from tapping impatiently. After murmuring her thanks following a respectful pause, she turns to the captain. "The data I sent back from the shuttle, ma'am... was it useful? Will we search for whoever hired these mercs?"

He watches as the little Klingon Birds of Prey and Shuttles swoop between the various planets launching attacks on the Aelyrr homeworld and trading with each other as little cat-like ships scurry around and do their best to fend off the attacking fleets. A little scroll like icon that ultimate goal for each side to obtain.

Rangin squeezes his eyes shut to try and wring the sleepiness from them and looks back again at the sensor screen. Any trace of the little figures gone from the display and the amusing thoughts of a miniature wargame being played out in front of him now banished to the back of his mind. Stifling a yawn and feeling the heavy weight of several hours on high alert begin to tell, he wonders if he is going to wind up working through this shift as well given it would be three it of the last four. Or at least, it felt like it.

Still, he continues to add the data into the Federation starmaps as not only the Federation would be interested in the new data, but the Aelyrr would no doubt be very happy to know where those bases where. On a whim he looks at the details for the gas giants and thinks back to why they were here in the first place. He matches up the new data with the area they were due to visit with Dr Brold for his experiments and wonders if the Klingons already have some data on the are. In some ways, it would be excellent, as it would give them a chance to try the sensors out at long range and have a set of control data in advance.

Rangin taps away on the screen to see if their goal has already been mapped.

The Captain says, "We're sharing the data with the High Priestess and her people, as well as with Starfleet Command. Mr. Delaney and an Engineering team will make sure the Klingon shuttle is safe to bring aboard, and once that's done, we'll return to the Naradraen. I'm not sure yet what our next move will be after that. You and your boarding party should prepare your After-Mission Reports, and then you're off-duty. I know it's been a very long day for you already." She smiles. "You've all earned a good sleep, at the very least."

"Our gratitude to you and your people is boundless, Lieutenant Onn," Alveron says. "We can never thank you enough for all you've done."

"The High Priestess speaks for me, as well, Mr. Onn," Eris says. "Many thanks to you all."

In Sickbay, Vargas finishes talking to the nurse, who goes off to attend to other duties, and notices Collins. "Good morning, Lieutenant," he says, walking over. "Sounds like the outlook is good for Mr. Graham."

Checking Federation records, Rangin sees that FGC 23, the pulsar cluster where Dr. Brold's prototype was to be tested, has a nearby inhabited planet. The Yorktown was to test the radio astronomy capabilities of the sensor module prototype and determine its effect, if any, on the ship's biosensors. Both the cluster and the planet have been mapped before.

Science Officer Roble, now in the big chair on the Bridge, notices Rangin's near-yawns. "I think it's about time you got some sleep, Mr. Rangin. Finish up what you're doing, please, and then you're relieved."

"Yes, sir" Collins replies with a smile. "The Captain has given me permission to be here when he wakes up in recovery; I've been meaning to finish this book anyway." she indicates the text on her datapad. She then puts it on the chair next to her and stands "Sir, may I talk to you about the misunderstanding earlier between Lieutenant Onn and me?"

"Of course," Vargas says. "But please, take a seat if you like."

Nia smiles as graciously as she can in response to the praise, then shakes hands with St. Croix and Three Crows before hurrying out. She gets out of her EV suit and returns to her uniform, takes a quick breath from her inhaler--she really needs to make up for lost recuperating time once she's off-duty--and hurries to Sickbay.

However, when she exits the turbolift, one glance down the passageway reveals Vargas and Collins. Her muscles tighten and she freezes mid-step. She doesn't want to see either of them, and certainly not both, together. Not when she's already in a shaky frame of mind.

The turbolift's doors haven't even had time to shut before Nia backs inside. Jaw clenched, she pulls out her communicator and taps out a message. AJ: I'm back. Ignore my past message, just me being maudlin and superstitious. Can we talk soon? I know it's crappy timing. You're getting ready for lunch and I need to write a report. But when I finish, if you can spare ten minutes, let me know where we can meet. Please. -- NIA

She sends the message off, orders the turbolift to head to her deck, and leans against the back wall while closing her eyes. I'll deal with the report and wait for him to wake up. No sense in hovering. Probably the last person he wants to see, anyway. Still, she lifts her communicator again, this time speaking into it. "Onn to Sickbay--anyone available. I'm sure you're getting this question a lot, but... can you give me a status on Ensign Graham?"

It's always a stressful time after a Red Alert when the crew is trying to calm down and return to some sense of normality. Well trained they may be, but that never stopped people worrying about it or just needing a little something to help unwind, a kind word or two, a little something extra whipped up in the galley, that kind of thing. Gliding between the tables with a couple of refills and extra pastries, the pastries always went down well, the mood is more relaxed as news filters around about the events of the past few hours. It doesn't take long to put the snippets together and Ajay nods along to the stories being chatted about.

As he looks around the relaxed crew, he wonders if Chef is going to make him cook for their latest guests. Not the Aelyrr, but the Klingons currently held captive as he isn't sure the replicators are up to the challenge. A buzz of his communicator goes off and he heads back to the galley to answer it in private. Ah, another person in need of unwinding, especially given she had been in the thick of it by all accounts.

Nia. Lower Galley at 1ish, Chef's table. AJ

A few weeks ago it would probably have been something a little more intimate in either of their quarters later on that evening, but so far his burgeoning relationship with T'Var is working out. But from the message, Nia is going to need that stiff drink and a massage. Ah well, something to look forward to.

Rangin instinctively looks up at the other Science Terminal as he hears Roble's voice, but is slightly confused by the occupant being different and the sound having come from the centre of the Bridge. Wondering what he missed, he turns his chair slowly round and sees that both Collins and the Captain are both absent from the Bridge and a slow flush creeps over his face at the fact he didn't see them leave.

"Thank you Sir, It's been a long few hours. The retrieved data has been added to Federation charts and I believe there is some tactical data that will be of interest shortly."

Rangin turns back to the desk and downloads the data to Lt. Cmdr Roble, which will give him something to mull over as things get back to normal, before standing up and being relieved. Holding on to the back of the chair, the only thoughts running through his head is how long it will take to get back to his quarters and finally get some sleep.

The Tesla group goes their separate ways - St. Croix and Three Crows to the Security office, and Eris with Singh, Alveron and the others.

Dr. Bucci responds to Onn, telling her, "Ens. Graham should be out of surgery in the next half-hour or so. His prognosis is good, although he's going to need some time for natural healing and physical therapy."

Ajay finds his goodies very well-received by the Yorktown crewmembers coming into the Mess Hall for late breakfast or early lunch. He overhears a Security rating mention that the Klingon prisoners are being fed from replicators in the Brig, but that they aren't enjoying the food much at all.

Roble thanks Rangin for the data and begins looking it over. He leaves the big chair to take over the Science console himself as the young Coridanite leaves the Bridge.

Nia thanks Dr. Bucci and reads Johnson's message, grateful but not surprised that he responded to her request without any questions.

Back in her room, she looks at the bed, its sheets and blanket still rumpled where she and Booker left them. Nia slowly drags the blanket back into place and rests a hand on her pillow. After her respiratory distress, Booker had lain against it, cradling Nia while she leaned against his chest and breathed into her mask.

Of course the soft cotton is cool to the touch; there's no memory of his warm presence there. She imagines seeing him in Sickbay now, also in a bed.

"Knock it off," she mutters, turning rapidly away to sit at her desk. She refuses to get distracted or, as she called herself earlier, maudlin. Her job isn't done yet.

Focusing only on the report, beginning with the boarding of the Naradraen, Nia dictates and records every detail relevant to the mission.

Rangin is barely aware of the brief turbolift ride and only mildly alert to the people passing him in the corridor. All that sustains him is the thought of crashing out after the long shifts.

Bumbling into the quiet room, he can vaguely understand his roommate is obviously out as the lights are off and all is quiet and he shuffles across and sits on the side of the bed. He slowly reaches down and pulls his boots off, the effort of which leaves him sprawling back on the bed. Lying there and looking upwards, Rangin is sure that there are other things he needs to sort out and that it would not take too long to do them, whatever they are.

Before the thoughts can coalesce in his mind, he drops off to sleep, worn out from all the events.

Onn finishes her AMR and edits it.

Rangin falls into a long, deep and well-deserved slumber.

Drs. Villa and T'Var complete their operation on Graham.

After a brief conversation, Capt. Singh takes her leave of the two Aelyrr. They are led to guest quarters on Deck 6 by Ens. Hayes, who wants to talk to them further about Aelyrr culture, and the two Security guards, who are assigned to provide additional protection for the priceless Codex Aelyrr.

Delaney and an Engineering team look over and thoroughly scan the Klingon shuttle, shutting down its warp core. Satisfied that it poses no danger to the ship, it is brought aboard and parked in the Shuttlebay. Delaney and his team continue their study of it there, inside and out. Once the shuttle is aboard, Singh calls Roble on the Bridge and orders a return course to the Naradraen. Traveling more slowly than it did in pursuit of the Klingons, the Yorktown will rendezvous with the Aelyrr starship in an hour. This is posted on the Ship's Status display available to all crew.

"Thank you, sir," Collins says as she sits and moves her datapad to the small end table to allow Vargas to sit, if he so chooses. "I know I have to apologize to Lieutenant Onn, but I wanted to explain. I was about to tell you about her recommendation to have a Security escort on each of the Aelyrr when she stepped between us. It was rude of her, and I reacted to that."

Vargas sits. "I see. Is there some sort of personality conflict between you two?"

"Far from it," Collins says, maybe a little too defensively. "We had just started to build a friendship."

"How closely have you worked together before now?"

"Other than being on the same Bridge watch, not at all. But I thought maybe I could learn from her, so I asked her to join me for a drink after watch, yesterday. Or was it the day before already? It's easy to lose track of time when there's a mission."

He smiles. "I know what you mean, and you've been up quite awhile now, haven't you? Once we have an update on Mr. Graham, why don't you go off-duty. You need your sleep, and the crisis with the Aelyrr and the Klingons seems to have passed."

"Thank you sir, but I'm fine, really." Collins tries unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "Or not." she laughs lightly.

"'Not,' I would say," Vargas says. "I'd rather not make it an order."

"No need." Collins says quickly. "As soon as I've checked in on Graham and reported in, I'll get some rest." But not necessarily sleep she thinks as she remembers her lunch date with Cooper.

Vargas says, "That would be for the best. And I agree, Lt. Onn deserves your apology. The Captain and I have been concerned lately that some of this ship's officers have not been dealing with each other in a professional and respectful way. There have been several... incidents. Strong disagreement or difference of personality should not keep anyone from behaving properly, as Starfleet expects under the regs. As Assistant Chief of Security, it's your responsibility to help set an example for others. I would rather not be convening courts-martial."

Dr. Villa soon emerges from the O.R. with Dr. T'Var and says, smiling a little tiredly, "The operation was a success. Mr. Graham should make a full recovery, although he'll need rest and then physical therapy."

"Thank you, Doctors," Vargas says. "Well done. I'll pass the good news along to the Captain."

Nia's mouth twists in discontent as she looks over her AMR. She's not happy with it--displeased with both what she's written, and what she's left out. And the wording. And, for that matter, everything it contains.

Her fingers absently tug at her lower lip while she rereads the AMR for a third time. She checks to make sure she adds a note about the gas canisters.

Even after we fought for what must have been five to seven seconds after the canisters were beamed in, the anesthizine gas seemed to have no apparent effect on the Klingons, none of whom wore a protective mask. Before venting the shuttle, we failed to determine whether the air in the ship had ever been compromised; another mistake.

If possible, may I suggest a follow-up examination of the canisters to make sure they deployed properly, as well as on our supply of anesthizine to see whether it might have been inert or less than optimal concentration.

After checking everything again, she rewrites the conclusion.

...As described above, while the mission was successful in eliminating the Klingon threat from the Naradraen and retrieving the Codex, it would be false to say things went optimally. Perfection isn't possible, and near-perfection unlikely, but what occurred was too distant to meet my standards, much less Starfleet's.

Plans involving multiple actions taking place simultaneously, or in quick succession, were performed sloppily, including the pass-by of the Yorktown above the Klingon shuttle and release of the Tesla, as well as the boarding party's beaming over to the shuttle following the gas canisters.

I am primarily to blame for the performance of those performing tasks I myself had conceived. In the first instance, where the Yorktown moved up too early and, as a result, the Tesla was vulnerable, I should have made certain that I, Lt. Bennett, Lt. JG Collins and Lt. JG Pourtash were all crystal clear on the necessary timing, including performing a dry run-through of the steps at least once before the plan was executed. Instead, the timing was poor and the Tesla was easily struck by the Klingons, putting us in danger.

The second instance was again my fault. I failed to seek clarification from Dr. T'Var regarding the length of time needed for the anesthizine canisters to take effect; I erroneously thought they were instantaneous, and had the boarding crew beamed in only three seconds later. My concern was that if we waited too long, the Klingons would see the canisters and prepare for our boarding. But I should have waited and made certain the gas had deployed. If I had, the Klingons would have been unconscious and none of us would have been endangered, much less required surgery for a disruptor blast.

She shuts her eyes at the memory of seeing Booker lying on the shuttle floor, one hand grabbing at his leg, in horrible pain. Swallowing, she types the end of the report:

I accept full responsibility for these errors in judgment and for letting my crew and captain down. I'm extremely grateful that no lives were lost, but that was our good fortune, not my leadership. I understand, expect and even welcome any disciplinary actions or recommendations for improvement in future.

She saves the draft and looks at her chronometer, having lost track of time.

"When may I see him?" Collins asks of the doctors.

Dr. Villa replies, "He's being moved to the recovery ward now. You can go in shortly, if you like, although he may still be groggy."

Vargas says, "I have other duties to attend to; I think I'll wait until he's fully awake. Mr. Collins, remember what I said. Carry on."

Onn sees that it is now 1117 hours.

"Thank you," Collins says to the doctor, then nods in the affirmative to Vargas just before he departs. She walks quietly into the recovery room and looks at Graham to see if he's awake. I should've been there. I should have had your back she thinks when she sees him lying there. When he looks up at her, she says "You went and had all the fun without me, huh?" and she smiles at her friend.

Rangin sleeps deeply - blissfully unaware of anything else going on.

With the Red Alert now over, the galley begins to empty as people start to head back to their usual schedule. Ajay heads into the galley and starts mixing a few things up before putting them in the oven. Checking the small spirits cabinet stored for emergency, he nods as he sees the items he's looking for.

With that in mind he sends a brief message to Nia. "Nia. All gone quiet here, feel free to pop down when you're ready. AJ"

Nia turns off her respirator tank and takes off the mask, which she's been wearing while typing up the report. She's very glad to receive the invitation from Johnson earlier than expected. Wasting no time, she grabs a datapad and her communicator and heads out to the turbolift.

The doors open on the lower deck. Her journey--through the passages leading from the public mess hall to the galley--is very familiar, as is the look sent to her by the tall, lean man waiting for her in his crisp white uniform.

Nia meets his gaze for a second and darts a look around to see if they're alone. He probably wouldn't have asked her to come if the other kitchen crew were bustling about, but she checks just the same. Then she returns her attention to A.J.'s young, handsome face. He seems clean and alert despite the hard work he puts in for each meal. Meanwhile, Nia is exhausted and knows she must look like someone dragged through a hedge backwards, especially compared to him. She also knows he doesn't care.

"Hi," she says. "Thanks for letting me come." Normally she wouldn't hand him a straight line like that, but she's too tired and shaky to notice. She looks down, directing her speech to her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. "Anyway... the mission went well. We did what we set out to do. Captured a bunch of Klingons and retrieved a holy relic. I didn't have to kill anyone, and none of us was killed. One officer was hurt but... he'll be okay." Her throat is constricted but she forces the words through it. "So I don't really know..."

She doesn't continue. She's not even sure what she was about to say. Nia just shrugs, annoyed at herself and this atypically uncertain mood she's in, and lifts her confused gaze to her friend.

Graham looks he's almost about to respond to Collins, but then his eyelids droop and he falls asleep. The medical display over his head records the steady thumps of his heartbeat.

Rangin is also resting comfortably.

Onn and A.J. are alone in the galley, at least for the moment.

Collins leans in and gently kisses Graham's forehead. "Sleep well, big brother," she says quietly, "I'll catch you later."

Outside of Sickbay, Collins decides a workout and a shower are in order before she meets up with Cooper. She heads to the gym for some exhaustive cardio, after which she'll head back to her cabin to shower, change, and check on Kylah.

Ajay nods as Nia enters the Galley and watches as she heads across looking weary and a little bit lost, certainly not her usual sparky self. He'd already heard a few bits of gossip over what had happened including that Graham had been whisked off to sickbay, so it's a little understandable she might not be in the best of moods. Normally he would not hesitate with her opening comment, but given her demeanour the comeback would be inappropriate, she needs a friend first and foremost to give her a shoulder to lean on.

"C'mon you, it's all quiet here and yeah I've heard a chunk of what happened including who's getting patched up as we speak. Right, I've got some freshly baked biscuits and a stiff drink back here ready for you. I think you need it." He steps around, puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her behind the counter. "Fuckin' 'ell Nia, you're as tense as a badger's arse. I 'aven't seen you this bad in ages." Ajay shows her to the seat at the little table all prepped for her.

"This is you being all responsible for everything again isn't it?" he asks, hoping to try and work out the reason for her confusion. "If it's not the ship, it's the crew and in this case, I'm guessing a certain crew member got more injured than I've heard and you think it's your fault."

Nia sits down and almost smiles at Johnson's words. His accent always gets thicker when he's concerned.

"I'll take the food, but you know alcohol does almost nothing for me. Thanks, though." She sighs and rests her elbow on the counter, leaning her head against her hand. "Here. I brought a copy of my AMR. There's nothing classified there, and if you read the last few paragraphs it'll be faster than me unloading the whole thing on you." Her other hand pushes the datapad toward him, then lifts and tears at one of the baked goods.*

While he reads, she chews disconsolately in silence for a few seconds before continuing. "I screwed up. I was sloppy. You know me, Aje, I'm not one of those officers who makes excuses for screw-ups. And yeah, part of what I'm feeling is that it was Booker who was hurt. I can't tell you what I thought, seeing him with that hideous disruptor blast... it burned his uniform, his leg was charred black from what I could see. And he was in such pain. God."

Nia stares down at the plate. "I've led missions before with people I cared about. Some of them got injured, too. But this feels different. I don't know why. Maybe because it was so directly my fault. Maybe because... I don't remember fighting side by side someone who I was just... with... a few hours earlier. Plus, it wasn't just sex, we were so..." She closes her eyes, remembering the strength of Booker's body. His arm around her, her naked form leaning against the very leg that nearly got blasted off later.

"I had a bit of a breathing issue during the night," she says in a weary exhale. "In front of Booker. While we were in the middle of things. I'd misjudged how much I needed my respirator, and I ended up needing him to put my mask on." Her eyes catch his, then shift away, embarrassed. "You know I'm never like that, Aje, I mean, how many times have we had to end early because it was one of those nights? But I lost track of time with Booker, and paid for it. I was mortified. I hate having men see me as some kind of invalid. He was so..."

Her tired brain can't think of the best word to describe Booker's gentle strength helping her breathe, not judging her. She just shakes her head again. "And now, five hours later, I'm too much of a coward to go down to Sickbay. I went down to see how he's doing but when I saw his security pals--worse, Vargas--taking care of the bedside vigil, I just fled. Chickenshit behavior, huh? But I could just imagine what Vargas would say to me, after getting one of 'his own' hurt.

"And then there was Collins--do you know her? I don't know what her deal is with Booker. She acts like he's a brother but... there's something more than that. I admit I might be prejudiced because out of nowhere she manhandled me--and I'm being literal here, the girl's hands are like frickin' slabs of granite--grabbing at me right in front of Vargas, who of course said nothing and got pissed at me for being irked by some junior officer shoving me around... I'll never understand them."

A dry chuckle escapes her. "Damn, listen to me, rambling on like this. The flat truth is, I'm scared of seeing Booker. I'm scared of him blaming me. And I'm scared of feeling this way. Over a guy? That's not me. I don't know who it is, but it's not me."


* Vital clarification needed: are these biscuits what we Yanks would call biscuits, i.e. more like scones, or are they what we'd call cookies and you guys call biscuits?

Collins has a good workout in the Gym. Kylah is still asleep when the Security officer gets back their quarters.

A Sciences lieutenant whom Onn doesn't recognize sticks his head into the galley. "Excuse me. Do you have any fresh crescent rolls back here?"

At the intrusion from the science officer, Nia straightens up a bit and wipes some crumbs from her lips. She's self-conscious at being caught in such a low mood, and she shakes her hair and shrugs to physically wake her up out of this mood. The smile she sends the new arrival is bright but brief.

She starts to slide from the chair. "Maybe I should get going," she murmurs, half to herself, while waiting for A.J. to respond to the stranger. "I've bent your ear enough."

*I was thinking closer to cookies

Ajay looks up from where he is reading the datapad and across to the science officer. "Sorry, Sir. Croissants all went about an hour ago, next batch won't be 'til tomorrow. Replicator only."

He taps the datapad on the side of his jaw as Nia starts to rise from the chair, "One moment ma'am..." he says as he turns back to the Science officer. "...if you'd excuse us sir." and once he has wandered off, Ajay turns back to Nia again. "I think you're being way too hard on your self. You're a competent officer in charge of competent people, and sometimes situations degenerate regardless of what you do or don't do. You need to at least sleep on this. You've made a lot of assumptions in their about things you should've known. Bollocks to that, you're not the expert, the experts should be telling you the answers even if you don't know the questions."

He offers the datapad back to Nia, waiting for her to take it. "As for Graham, fuck's sake Nia, go and see 'im before you get some shuteye. Even if only to convince yourself he's on the mend. I know how you feel about being strong in front of people, put it this way, you'll soon find out what kind of guy he is. Should put some of your fears to rest. As for Vargas, he really needs to keep a leash on Security and he's lucky there was no-one else around. I've heard of demotions for that kind of thing and he's not getting a Chilli Con Carne special for a while. Oh and if Vargas does the one of his own, then point out you were in charge, until he's better, Graham's yours. As for Collins, I've not heard much between her and Graham, I'll keep me ears out, but I doubt its anything that special. She's too busy bumping uglies with Cooper every chance she gets."

"Go on, head off and rest - don't send that until you've woken up and thought over it - doubt anything's gonna happen for a few hours yet. I can tell how stressed you are, you haven't been that colour for a while," Ajay gestures at Nia's scales, "you need to talk, you know where I am."

Before heading in to the head for a shower, Collins looks at her roommate. She appears to still be asleep. Poor kid. She really pushed herself hard after all that on Anubis. She'll probably sleep through 'til tomorrow. Collins then undresses and gets in the shower. She sings a couple of songs to herself as she washes, making sure not to get too loud about it.

The Science officer looks disappointed. "OK, thanks anyway," he says, leaving.

The Yorktown continues on its way back to the Naradraen.

Collins decides to put her hair in a braid for a change. She finishes dressing and leaves her quarters quietly to allow Kylah the rest she so obviously needs, and heads off to her lunch date.

Taking the datapad proffered to her, Nia smiles despite herself with weary but grateful affection. "Oh, Aje. I really hope the UT is getting your idioms right, because they're hilarious." Her free hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, then drops to her side.

"I really don't think I'm taking too much on my shoulders as far as how things went. I believe in accountability, you know that--there are too many officers who don't, and I hate it too much to follow their example. Still, I'll take your advice. The Captain wants this sooner rather than later, but I doubt she wants something from a sleep-deprived brain. I'll see how the report reads after a couple hours' rest."

She's not convinced she'll think any differently, but she trusts A.J. After a moment's reflection, Nia takes another cookie for the road and nibbles at its warm sweetness. "I know I should check in on Booker, too," she admits. "Even if he's still out, I need to get a look at him for myself."

Nia moves closer to Johnson and kisses him on his cheek. "Thanks for having my back, kiddo," she says softly, and hugs him. Her eyes brighten after she feels his strong grip around her. "Want me to pass a message to a certain Vulcan while I'm in Sickbay, if she's not sleeping herself?"

Ajay reaches up and strokes Nia's cheek gently as they embrace and can slowly see the scales begin to fade back under her skin. Satisfied she's in a slightly better condition than when she arrived, he let's go.

"Just remember you're only accountable for what you can control and nothing beyond that. As for that certain Vulcan..." he pats Nia firmly on the backside trying hard not laugh at the thought of Nia passing the gesture on. "On second thoughts, tell her once she's recovered, I'm fine for chess in my quarters at 7pm."

"Go on, get some rest, I'll see you round." he stands back to let Nia head on her way.

=================

Nia smiles. If A.J. hadn't stepped back she'd return his patting gesture--though less gently; instead, she thanks him and promises to speak to him once she's a little more sentient. Then she leaves the galley.

Before heading to sickbay, she decides to take a detour to her quarters to grab something. Finally, she's back in the turbolift and walking through sickbay, asking for permission to see Booker.

When it's granted, Nia walks slowly toward Booker's bed. He looks terrible, not surprisingly. Her own stomach lurches at how unlike himself he appears. She's never even seen him sleeping normally, much less looking like this.

"Oh, Book," she whispers, reaching forward to brush her fingertips along his arm. She hardly dares to put any pressure on his skin, as if her mere touch will bruise him. "I'm so sorry. So damn sorry."

After a moment of contemplating the plains and curves of his face, she sets down the bowl with her water lily--the one he gave her--on his bedside table. At least he'll know she was here, whenever he wakes up. Then she takes his large, limp hand and entwines her fingers with his. "I'll be back for that. And for you. If you want me." Her voice is hoarse and her vision blurry, the latter very rare for her both emotionally and physiologically. Sidonians don't often produce tears.

Finally she bends down and simultaneously lifts his hand with both of hers, kissing it--first the top and, more intimately, the palm. She lays his hand back on the bed as reverently as if it's a holy object, just like that Codex that caused all this. Again she mouths I'm sorry to him, and with one swift turn she hurries from the room before her weariness hampers her ability to prevent a complete breakdown.

Onn revises and files her AMR, and finally goes to bed.

Graham stirs in his sleep. The Sickbay duty nurse looks in a little later and sees that all is well.

Collins has a nice lunch with Cooper.

Ajay finishes his watch.

The Yorktown returns to the Naradraen, and Chief Engineer Cheverez reports to Cap. Singh that repairs should be complete in the next four hours or so. Alveron and Eris go back to their ship by shuttle, happily taking along Codex Aeylrr. The rest of the day passes without incident.

The next morning, the Captain is in the big chair on the Bridge, reviewing personnel reports. Onn is at the Helm, Rangin at Science I and Collins at Security. Thalen is at Communications, Vaudreuil at Navigation, Dr. Bucci at Life Sciences and Delaney at the Engineering console. The Yorktown is holding position 25 kms from the Aelyrr ship. Rangin realizes that Kylah should have begun her watch by now.

It is 0913 hours.

At a quiet spot, Rangin leaves the Science console on hiatus running a few scans and wanders over to Lt. JG. Collins. He hadn't had a reply to his text from the previous day which surprises him slightly.

"Excuse me ma'am," he says quietly trying to catch Collins attention, "is everything alright with Mr. Kylah? I thought she would be at Communications by now?"

Collins looks up at Rangin quizzically, looks over to the Communications station, and shrugs.

"I didn't stay in my quarters last night, so I don't know. I'm guessing she's still fast asleep. She was when I saw her yesterday at about 1230. After what she'd been through, I'm not that surprised. Maybe Lieutenant Thalen gave her more time off. I wouldn't worry too much." Collins is about to reach out and pat Rangin's hand, but thinks better of it, and remains professional.

Hayes, the Xenosociology Officer, beams back from the Naradraen and comes to the Bridge. She looks tired but happy, and says to Singh, "I had a very long and fascinating talk with the High Priestess and some other Aelyrr, and probably got three or four tricorders' worth of information on their society. With your permission, ma'am, I'll turn in now."

"Of course," replies the Captain. "Well done, Mr. Hayes. You should know that Starfleet is sending another ship with an ambassador to open formal diplomatic relations with them, and I know they'll want a full report in the next few days."

"It'll be my pleasure, ma'am."

Nia stifles a yawn of her own once she sees Hayes. Her internal clock is somewhat mixed up. She slept for seven hours yesterday but, after waking, was unable to get back to sleep at her normal time. At least she was able to get a good eight hours' worth of face-mask time, so her head is clear even if she's physically out of sorts.

"Excuse me, Captain," she says once Hayes has left. "Will we be accompanying the Naradraen to safe space? We don't know who else is out there hoping for a chance at the Codex--or do we? Has Cmdr. Vargas had any luck with the prisoners? Must say, I'm curious about how those three from the shuttle are interacting with their former comrades, after the sabotage."

Once her conversation with Rangin is done, Collins decides it's as good a time as any, so she composes a message to Onn.

Lieutenant Onn, I wish to apologize for my extremely unprofessional behavior in the hallway when we left the debriefing. I reacted badly to your abruptly joining the conversation I was having with Commander Vargas. I hope that my actions don't affect the friendship we were attempting to build. Again, I am very sorry for my actions. Sincerely, Lt JG Jeremi Collins.

She rereads it a few times, then sends it off. Ball's in her court now. Collins sighs and returns to her panels.

Hayes leaves the Bridge.

Collins sends her message.

Singh tells Onn, "We'll be accompanying the Aelyrr to a rendezvous with the Watney, which will be bringing Amb. Phillips. Then we'll resume our mission to test Dr. Brold's prototype. Cmdr. Vargas has gotten a lot of bluster and insults from the Klingons, those few who will talk, and a sullen silence from the rest. Not much useful. They're being held separately, given the hostility they've expressed towards each other. Sounds like the Klingon ship was a real snakepit - not surprising for mercenaries, I suppose." She scratches her ear. "Tell me, Lieutenant, what do you think we should do with them? Let the Aelyrr take them along, perhaps to be executed, or keep them ourselves? And if we keep them, would it be to prosecute, to interrogate further, or to turn them over to the nearest Kllngon border outpost?"

http://i.imgur.com/QnxkEnK.jpg

Rangin nods at Collins' response and heads back to his terminal pondering what to do next. It's all quiet here and his mind keeps thinking back to wondering if Kylah has recovered from such long stints.

He thinks for a moment weighing up several options, should he slip out to see if she is alright...no, too stalkery and Graham would have a field day if he found out. Send another message to her, well, he'd done that already and is wondering where the reply is. They parted on reasonable terms after all.

Then something more amusing occurs to him, something Kylah might find more appealing and besides, it is something he owes her anyway. He drops a brief message to Mr Johnson, who appears to be Kylah's friend, asking if he knew if Kylah had been to the Galley and if not, could he take her a treat. He would owe him a favour, of course, but it is to repay the meal that Kylah had given him not long ago. It seemed to be the kind of thing that Mr Johnson both enjoyed and excelled in.

Listening to Singh, Nia mulls over the options. "Well, ma'am, I suppose I'm of two minds--maybe more. The primary crimes committed by the Klingons were on the Aelyrr, and not in Federation space. Technically the Aelyrr would be entitled to... deal with them... as they see fit. But as you say, it probably would be execution--assuming Eris's actions are any indication of how they treat enemies. And I'm not comfortable with the idea of turning anyone over to a punishment that's harsher than anything Starfleet would dole out."

She feels her communicator buzz against her hip, but she's too deep in thought to reach for it. "I suppose it's probably up to Starfleet Command, but if I were somehow involved in the decision, I'd want to keep them and contact some Klingon officials to see how they react.

"Do we know if there are any Federation prisoners being held by the Empire? I know they're not huge on prisons, but for all I know there's some Federation planet now, negotiating with the Klingons to get some of their people freed. If that's the case, these prisoners could be useful. They might even be wanted criminals on the homeworld, for all we know. Of course, then we'd be abandoning them to another grim fate. Back at square one."

Nia shakes her head and lifts both arms in a gesture of helplessness. "And this is why I'm not a diplomat, Captain," she says with a rueful smile. "Honestly, my own inclination is to go down there and yell at them incoherently for injuring one of my colleagues. Which would be useless and only slightly satisfying.

"But in all seriousness... is there a way to play these mercs against each other? Offer immunity to some but not to others if they'll give up information? Someone adept in Klingon culture might have a chance. Mr. St. Croix, for example. Has she been given a go at them?"

Singh says, "No, I don't think she has. Why don't you go have a word with them, and take her along?" She smiles. "No incoherent yelling, though, please, unless you really think it would help."

In the middle of tidying his quarters after T'Var stayed the night, in the other bed he muses and not that he had a problem with that, Johnson receives a message.
Putting down the chess pieces and picking it up, he reads over it as a wide grin begins to split his face.

So Mr Rangin wanted to return the favour of the meal to Mr Kylah did he? Well, there should be some croissant remaining, that and a pot of hot chocolate, a few fancies. Yeah Given Ens. Kylah's upbringing, so posh breakfast nosh might go down a treat.

Finishing up, he heads off for the Galley, to see if she has been in that morning and if not, pick up the few items and head off to her quarters.

Nia smiles. "Incoherent yelling is probably how most Klingon negotiations are accomplished. But I promise I'll use it only as a last resort. I'll contact St. Croix and see if we can coordinate a visit once my watch is over. Thank you, ma'am."

Pulling out her communicator, she is surprised to see that the message she received moments ago is from Collins. I'm right here, why is she passing notes in class? But she keeps her face utterly neutral while she reads the text, though it takes her best skills at controlling her smile when she comes to the middle of the message.

Speaking of not being a diplomat. I guess she never learned that apologies aren't super-effective when you throw in an excuse. Well, maybe she'll learn. Or she really will become another Vargas-lite.

She types in: Thanks, Jeremi. That was weird, but the circumstances were tense, and stress can do strange things to people. Don't worry about it. There are only a few grudges I expend my energy on, and it takes more than a grabbed arm to make me cut off a friendship. -- NIA

With a smiling glance over to Collins, Nia sends the message off. Then she focuses on her original intent: sending St. Croix an invitation to meet up for a tour of the brig after her watch ends.

St. Croix responds, I'm willing to help, and available now, if you wish.

Chief Engineer Cheverez comes onto the Bridge and says to the Captain, "The Naradraen is in as good a shape as we can get her outside of an Aelyrr shipyard. They're ready to go when we are."

Singh replies, "Thank you, Mr. Cheverez. My thanks to you and your team; well done. I don't want to tax our furry friends - recommended speed?"

"I'd suggest we start at Warp 4, ma'am, and take it from there."

She nods. "Very well." To Vaudreuil and Onn she says, "Set a course for our rendezvous point with the Watney, Warp 4."

Vaudreuil brings up the coordinates on his board. "Course plotted and laid in, Captain."

Collins reads Onn's response and smiles with relief. She messages back I'm glad, Nia. How about a game of tennis after watch? I could teach you. Jeremi

Rangin sits quietly at the Science station wondering if he will get a chance to see Hayes notes on the Aelyrr, and think that at some stage he will need to get back to dealing with Dr Brold and the new sensor

Checking the Galley is easy enough for Ajay and it appears from the replicator logs and from chatting to the staff that Ens. Kylah had not been around. When it came to asking him what he is up to, they all just shrug and innocently turn a blind eye knowing full well what Ajay is doing, their only curious looks being around who it might be for.

It's not long before he is leaving again, by the back door with a plate of goodies on his way to Ens. Kylah's quarters. He drops a note back to Ens. Rangin, "On way now, consider favour now owing." before arriving at the door and ringing the chime for her quarters.

St. Croix's enthusiasm amuses Nia and she just types a quick note thanking the security officer and explaining that she's on watch now--and it won't hurt the Klingons to stew for another three hours. Then she attends to the job at hand, getting the Yorktown to where she needs going.

Once they're on virtual cruise control, Nia looks down at Collins's latest message. Tennis. Well, that should be fun, if Nia ever manages to hit the ball, but not terribly conducive to learning more about one another. She wonders if this is why Collins and Cooper make a good match. From what little she's heard, they're basically all about sports and sex. Jeremi might not have spent enough time talking to the guy to realize...

Ugh, other people's problems. Not gonna get involved unless she asks me. And she doesn't seem interested.

Nia sends a brief acceptance of the other woman's invitation, though adding that she knows how to play tennis--just ridiculously bad at it.

Then she is back staring at the viewscreen, paying attention to her usual tasks but in the back of her mind wondering about the inevitable meeting with Singh to discuss her AMR; wondering about the Klingons and what their real plan was; about the odds of the Aelyrr working together enough to join the Federation; and about her own relationship, if that's what it is. She's very much looking forward to talking to Booker.

Kylah's eyes pop open. She breathes, feeling as if she hasn't had enough air in ages, and wonders what startled her.

Once her eyes blink a few times, she's surprised to realize she is in her bed. When did she get here? She was just...

Her brows furrow. Where was she, just a moment ago? The turbolift? That seems right, she vaguely remembers riding it down from the Bridge.

But now she is under the covers in her room. Awake, despite her exhaustion. She must have made it here in a daze, but why could she not stay asleep?

Her mind is disoriented but not terribly so; her body, on the other hand... There seems to be a thousand-pound weight crushing her. Neither arms nor legs are mobile--they could be disconnected entirely from her body.

After several tries to move her hands, which rest atop the blanket, she finally sees, rather than feels, them clenching and unclenching, just as she has been ordering them to. And now a rush of tingling, burning sensations overtakes her arms, through her chest and torso, down her thighs to her feet. It is extremely uncomfortable--much like when a limb has fallen asleep. But she has never experienced this from her entire body. Thousands of ants are crawling over her.

She turns over with immense effort and tries to see what time it is, but a hail from her door alerts her. It sounds incredibly loud--but perhaps it is because the ship seems so very quiet.

Why is someone bothering me, she thinks in frustration. Do they not know I was ordered off the Bridge so I could sleep? Of course it could be Velir or... maybe something has happened to the boarding party?

"Who is it?" she says--or tries to. Her voice could be a rusty hinge. Kylah coughs and with as much strength as she possesses, pushes herself to a seated position and tries again. "Just a moment! Who is it?"

She cannot believe how her body is reacting to what little sleep she managed. Annoyed, Kylah grabs hold of the edge of her night table and pushes herself to her feet.

At least... that was her intention. Her heavy, numb, tingling legs have other ideas on the matter, and Kylah cannot take a step before her rubbery limbs give way. She reaches out to her night table but only manages to catch the handle to the top drawer, which slides out easily. Kylah cries out in surprise as she falls in a heap while the contents of the upended drawer--a few datapads, her jewelry box, music recordings, and various other ephemera--rain down atop her body and the floor in a loud clatter.

Her arms are still numb and awkward, and she cannot seem to use them to get up. Embarrassed at being seen in such an undignified position, but not having much choice, Kylah closes her eyes and calls as strongly as she can to open the door to her visitor: "Enter!"

The Yorktown turns in space and soon reaches Warp 4, the stars on the Bridge's main viewscreen seeming to part ahead and stream past. The Naradraen matches her course and speed, following five light-minutes aft and to starboard. The nebula, vast and glorious, begins falling behind. About ten minutes later, Singh signs a final report with her stylus, hands them back to an Engineering yeoman and says to Onn, "I'm going below. You have the conn, Lieutenant."

Hayes's Aelyrr data is probably unclassified, Rangin knows. He can access it through the Library Computer's recent-acquisitions Science database, if he wishes.

In Sickbay, Graham stirs in his sleep.

At the call from inside, Ajay smiles as it looks like he just woke up Ens. Kylah, she mush have been sleeping late, so this is probably as good a time as any to catch her unawares. With his best faux hotel voice, he calls out "It's room..." The rest of the words die on his lips as he hears her cry out along with the clatter of items from inside and the sound of someone hitting the floor in a heap.

"Mr. Kylah?" he calls out in concern over the noises. Pressing his ear to the door, Ajay calls out again quickly, any trace of the accent gone, while wondering if all that's happened is a small accident or if its something more serious. "Mr Kylah, are you alright?"

The hoarse call of "Enter" may allay his fears that he might need to call Security or Sickbay, but it does little to lessen the worry that something untoward has happened. He finds himself falling in as the doors opens and he takes a couple of steps forward to balance himself, while still keeping the salver he is carrying steady.

A quick scan of the room and his heart skips a beat for seeing Ens. Kylah, sitting in a pile of assorted bits and pieces. He's also glad her legs have also fallen together, because her very short nightshirt has ridden up probably further than she thinks and exposing way more of her than Ajay would expect, especially given the few blushing conversations they had had. Hastily placing the tray on the desk at the side, he rushes across to aid as he can while doing his best to look at her face and not the flimsy garment

"Mr Kylah, are you alright? Here let me help you back up." He bends down, taking care not to tread on any of the fallen items and reaches out ready to support or lift her up as she requests it.

After responding cheerily to Captain Singh's order, Nia stands up from the Helm and moves to the big chair. She's comfortable here--physically, it is a better chair than the rest of the crew's, but the comfort is primarily mental. The burden of command that she felt on the Tesla is, curiously, lessened on the Yorktown. Perhaps because there are so many able colleagues to back her up. Not that the entire crew is able--she's not that idealistic--but there are more than enough highly skilled officers to make up for the few idiots who seem to have coasted by on nepotism or who knows what.

"Mr. Rangin," Nia says, squinting slightly at the stars ahead of her as if that would help spotting the invisible. "I wasn't here when you first went on watch. I suppose the Captain asked you to use your deepest and most sensitive scanners to sweep the vicinity, right? If not, could you do so, please? I'm still antsy about the possibility of Klingons--or some other merc group--popping up and surprising us. Lt. Thalen, the same with those scanners Ensign Kylah set up the other day. If anyone's doing any chatting out in the ether, I'd like us to hear it as soon as possible.

"For that matter, Lt. Collins, be on even higher alert than usual. Someone decloaks in front of us, we won't have much time to prepare a torpedo."

Nia sends apologetic glances toward the three of them and smiles self-deprecatingly. "I know, I know, I'm sure the Captain's already ordered this, but I'm just dotting and crossing the proverbial I's and T's, as humans would say."

Rangin nods back to Lt Onn, "Yes ma'am." and turns to the sensor console. With the nebula a lot further away, the initial scanning protocols he set up for disturbances have lapsed and he begins the process of re-enabling them over again. While calibrating a slow sensor sweep in the direction of the known Klingon bases, he receives a message from Mr Johnson and he cringes inside slightly wondering exactly what kind of favour he is going to wind up owing. And then he worries even more if Kylah decides she didn't like the appreciation.

He shakes his head and turns back to the sensors, it's out of his hands now. All he can do is hope Mr Johnson's cooking is as superior as it was last time.

Collins turns towards Onn. "Want 'em armed, just in case?" she says with a smile.

Collins grin gets returned as Nia looks back at her. "Best not, if only because Captain Singh might think I have delusions of grandeur and a hair-trigger to boot." She raises an eyebrow. "But I wouldn't mind if you kept your fingers ready to arm them at a second's notice. Which you probably already do."

Kylah is surprised to hear Mr. Johnson's voice and her mind cannot help searching for a reason he might have stopped by. But relief is her first emotion as he immediately reaches to assist her.

"Thank you, I am all right..." She tries without much success to grab hold of his arms. Unable to even help herself that much, she continues in an embarrassed hurry. "I think my body has just given up, after not sleeping for so long. I am finding it difficult to feel anything, or move properly. And everything tingles. I know it is my fault for pushing myself, but I wanted to be useful..."

Her voice fades away when again she notices how quiet the ship is. She frowns and looks toward the door. "The red alert has stopped. What happened?" Kylah stares up at Mr. Johnson, which requires her to crane her neck. "Have the crew on the shuttle succeeded? Are the Klingons truly giving up so quickly?"

===

"Actually, ma'am, I think you've overslept." Ajay looks round for any sign of injuries but other than a minor scrape he can't see anything. "Here let me help you back on to the bed before anything. I'm guessing you slept awkward and you're probably going to get the biggest dose of Pins and Needles shortly."

He reaches out with one arm offering it so she can support herself, but she still looks as limp as a rag doll discarded to the floor. "If you're alright with it, ma'am, I can pick you up and put you back on the bed if it's easier."

Ajay has come to learn that placing hands on a senior officer was only really acceptable when they asked for it, although most of them certainly seemed to appreciate it.

"And I've got some breakfast with me, I think you could do with it."

===

Now Kylah is genuinely disoriented. Overslept? She only just left the Bridge... didn't she? Confused, she tries to turn to the clock on her night table, which requires her to hold on to Johnson's lean but strong body even more tightly with what little strength she has. But she must have knocked her clock to the floor as well. Fool. Since she must find out how long she has been asleep, she will just ask.

However, when Johnson says the word "breakfast," all other instincts cease. At once all Kylah can think about is food. She is intensely hungry; her stomach feels like a deflated balloon. "Yes, please, I am starving. I did not realize until just now. Can you help me...?"

Once he bends to swing her up, cradling her like a baby, Kylah notices that her legs are bare. And her bottom is... feeling far too much cool air against it for her liking. Indeed, the only thing that is not cool is the warmth of his hand, cupping her flesh--very briefly, not lingering thank goodness--while he adjusts her in his arms.

Immediately she gasps and stares down at her body--which only makes her gasp again. What--what am I-- Why am I in this?

The filmy peach lingerie material covering her might as well be transparent for all the good it is doing. The belt meant to keep it closed is loose, not that it matters much. She is, for all intents and purposes, as bare as she was with Velir last week.

With every ounce of strength, Kylah tries to turn herself around so her breasts and... everything.. are hidden against Johnson's body.

"Please put me down, please! I do not--I did not realize I was wearing this," she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

Her face is burning, angry both at herself and, illogically, at Johnson for having seen her. "I do not understand, this is a robe, it is not meant to be worn alone! I do not know what is wrong with me. I must have been half-asleep when I dressed..."

Her floppy arm tries to reach toward her blanket, so she can cover herself as soon as he sets her down. "Why are you here?" she moans. "I mean--I am grateful," she adds hurriedly, "but--what are you doing here?"

===

Staring fixedly ahead as he lifts her up and doing his best not to peek down as what he thought was a nightshirt begins to open. But as he lifts her up it seems to escape his attempts to smooth it out over her, and he winds up running his hands over areas that a few weeks ago she would have pulled--no, she did pull a knife, for even jesting over.

He can still feel her outline pressing through his own clothes and a general warmth from her body as he cradles her gently before placing Ens. Kylah on her bed.

While a tasty view of the Elasian in all her glory would certainly give him plenty of sweet dreams, he knows it would make him a disappointment in the eyes of so many ladies on board, not to mention T'Var.

It's obvious she's mortified by her current condition and Ajay reaches down without looking to snag the blanket and help her cover herself. Once she is under the covers, the blanket tucked up under both arms, he reaches behind and plumps the pillows to provide support before helping her lie back in relative comfort.

Perching a bit further down the bed to give her room, he looks back up at the blushing face. "Okay, brief update. Red Alert ended yesterday, I'm guessing you've slept for way longer than you thought. Breakfast is courtesy of a friend."

While that news is sinking in, he fetches the tray and opens it in front of her showing the hot chocolate and warm pastries for her to nibble on. "Here. Get stuck in, ma'am."

===

At first Kylah sends him a wary glance for those last words--they seem like one of his innuendos--but the rest catches her attention like a slap. "Yesterday? Do you mean I have been sleeping for a whole day?"





to be continued - Kylah by choie at long last, yay! and Ajay by CIAS

Is Mr. Johnson joking? Kylah cannot tell. She is too ashamed to stare at him, and his emotions seem unusually impenetrable. It must be like my limbs, even my senses are numb.

"Is everyone all right? The situation is resolved?" When he confirms this with a nod, she sighs and looks down. "That is good to know. But a day, wasted in bed... I must have missed two watches. I cannot believe I was so irresponsible, or no one called me. I should really report, it is terribly unprofessional..."

Her concern for her duty fades when the scent of the hot chocolate and pastries reaches her. She bites her lip and rubs a hand over her right arm, slapping and massaging it to get some of the blood flowing again. Finally she tears off a piece of one of the pastries and bites into it. Her eyes close and she lets out an unconscious, contented mmm at its delicate, feather-light dough covered in some sort of sticky sugar confection.

She opens her eyes and smiles briefly, still flushing and unable to look at him. "Thank you very much," she says in a prim voice, as if she has not given Johnson what amounts to a completely uncovered view--and a hands-on experience--of her naked body. "This is all most delectable."

After taking another bite and chewing, Kylah meets his gaze at last. "Why are you so kind to me?"

===

Ajay breathes a small sigh of relief as Ens. Kylah finally starts eating, but has to bite his tongue at her first comment. Delectable, yeah she probably is, but this time it had been something left untasted. As for her comment on being kind, Ajay can't help but feel his face redden slightly, it isn't something he's used to being called.

"Um, kind? You'd fallen in a heap on the floor, what am I supposed to do, call Security? I don't think you'd 'ave wanted that." And as the grin slowly returns, "Scouts honour, no peeking either."

He sits back on the end of the bed and looks across at Ens. Kylah as her usually nimble fingers move stiffly when trying to get at the food in front of her. "Okay, in short, the situation with the Klingons and Aelyrr has been resolved and the Codex retrieved."

He halts on mentioning that Ens. Graham is currently in Sickbay; she can find out later. "Breakfast comes courtesy of Ens. Rangin, repaying the meal you sent him. Looks like it was good timing as well that he did."

Ajay's gaze wanders around the room, if only to give Ens. Kylah a little space to eat, and then sees all the little items on the floor. He bends down to start picking them up and stop them being trodden on.

"My suggestion ma'am, eat that, take a long shower and report to Lt. Thalen when you feel ready." Would you like your back scrubbed? echoes the thought through his mind as he kneels down so Kylah cannot see his face. Down, boy, comes a twin echo through his head sounding suspiciously like Nia and T'Var.

===

Relief washes over Kylah when she hears that the crisis has passed, and apparently everything seems to have gone smoothly. Her lips part with a slight inhale when Mr. Johnson adds that Velir sent the meal.

"That was thoughtful of Mr. Rangin," she says softly, trying to use her still-fumbling hands to grip the mug of chocolate. She also does not dare make more of Velir's act than it might mean. Instead she focuses on Mr. Johnson. "But you were the one to go to the trouble. I do not think these are replicated pastries. And in my experience not all men to come across someone in my situation would have just... helped me."

She finishes these last words quietly, as her lips touch the mug, so he might not have heard them. Which is just as well.

===

"Don't worry about Mr Rangin, he owes me a favour just like most do and no, those are not replicated pastries. Wouldn't dream of offering anyone something substandard." Ajay holds back on commenting about the other men she seems to have encountered. It may also account for part of her general demeanor.

===

Kylah finds Mr. Johnson's pride of work charming, and she smiles again while she wipes her fingers on one of the napkins he provided. Her hands seem a bit more flexible, and beneath the covers she continues stretching her feet and calves despite the uncomfortable burning and tingling.

Watching him act like a servant even further by picking up after her clumsiness, Kylah is about to tell him not to bother when she spies something she does not recognize in his hand.

"Is that an envelope?" She tilts her head in curiosity. "One so rarely sees paper anymore. Is it yours?"

===

Ajay holds the rectangular envelope up with a twirl of his fingers, "This? No, all these things on the floor are yours, aren't they? Here you go ma'am." He passes the envelope across to her and continues picking things up off the floor.

===

Kylah takes the envelope and sure enough, there is her name on it. Handwritten, as well, although she does not recognize the style. Not surprising; who writes manually these days? It is so rare that there is something extraordinarily personal and even intimate about taking the time to write a note.

It must be from Velir, Kylah thinks in pleasure, glancing over to Mr. Johnson and suspecting he is playing innocent as to the origin of the note. Just the sort of thing he would do for his own amusement. Very well, she will not spoil the impression that he has fooled her.

She tucks the envelope under her napkin, waiting to read it in private. While Mr. Johnson quickly finishes tidying up, Kylah asks him for another favor before he leaves--to pass her the communicator on her night stand. She must have many messages on it, probably from an annoyed (or, she admits as more likely, concerned) Lt. Thalen.

"Thank you," she says when he hands her the device, and she clasps its cool metal between her hands as she looks warmly at him. "For everything. Again. I am forever needing you to rescue me. I hope I can help you, sometime."

===

"Not a problem ma'am," Ajay comments as he packs up the tray, avoiding the napkin under which she slipped the envelope. "Just try not to make a habit of it."

He stands up with the tray and looks down at Ens. Kylah, who is now looking a lot better on the bed, and he begins to wonder just what he missed seeing under that blanket. "Of course, if you wanted to repay...nah, I'm a bit big to pick up...even wearing just a towel." He winks at her, that all-knowing grin across his face.

===

Kylah's face burns at the memory. To think, she made all that fuss over his wearing a towel in his own quarters. And now she has all but lain naked in front of the man. The incident on her first day as a Yorktown officer seems impossibly distant.

"If you needed me to," she says with a quiet, somber tone, "I would do whatever I could. I am not strong, but... I do hope to repay you properly.

===

Ajay nods, noticing the stark sincerity in her words and her wide but still tired-looking eyes. "Understood, ma'am," he says with more seriousness than he usually allows himself.

He heads for the door and then stops just in advance of it and looks back over one shoulder. "Word is you did good, ma'am."

She corrects him: "Kylah. Please."

With another nod, he remains in the open door. "All right, then. Just try to learn to relax a little. Take care of yourself--Kylah."

Ajay exits out of the door to take the plates back to the Galley and then get ready for the rest of the day.

===

The door closes Kylah in, alone again. And more than alone; there is that quietness, a stillness, that she does not understand. It presses down on her ears. Something is missing. Is it the ship's engines? Are they flying at sub-warp levels, perhaps?

Shaking her head, Kylah opens her communicator, knowing that work should come before the pleasure of reading the note. But... the communicator's small screen is blank. There is no light behind the keys, no small flashing icon to indicate there is a message. She turns it over quickly to make sure the device is ON, but yes, it is.

"What could have... When did I have this last?" She closes her eyes and thinks back. Something about the turbolift. Yes, there had been a message from Velir. Something nice, too, since she remembers it pleasing her. But she can remember absolutely nothing past that.

Well, she will have to go to Engineering, or whoever might be able to help her with fixing the thing. Kylah has never known one to lose power like this. How odd.

She shakes her head and sets the device aside, now allowing herself the treat of the note. Her fingers are still clumsy but she manages to open the envelope.

There is only a single word there. No signature. And it seems that whoever wrote it did not even like what she or he had written.

Kylah runs her fingers over the word, as if some tactile connection will help her understand. But there is nothing. Just as the sounds that she usually associates with the Yorktown are muted and eerily still, the note might as well be blank for all the meaning Kylah can make of it.

Frowning, she decides to put the thoughts aside and do her best to become presentable. It takes some stumbles and a lot of leaning against various pieces of furniture, but at long last Kylah manages to get herself into the bathroom to clean herself.

When she is through, she dries her hair, dresses, and takes both the nonworking communicator and the strange little note. She can certainly get answers about the former, and the latter will probably turn out to be meaningless.

In the turbolift, propping herself up against the wall, she looks down at the note again. But no matter how many times she reads it, all it says is:

ELASIAN

Kylah by choie and Ajay by CIAS

Rangin sees nothing nearby on sensors other than the Aelyrr starship, and the nebula, now steadily dropping further behind. There are nine star systems in the sector, none of which has been explored by Starfleet, as well as two orphan stars and a supernova remnant. It is otherwise a relatively empty area of space.

Collins confirms that phasers, photon torpedoes and deflector shields are all offline but nominal. They could of course quickly be made ready for use if needed.

Thalen reports to Onn, "Just routine subspace message traffic, ma'am. Nothing identifiably Klingon nearby, either military, civilian or mercenary. We did just get responses to some queries Ens. Kylah had made yesterday, though."

Ens. Horst Leventhal arrives to take over the Helm.

A Science yeoman is right behind him, with a datapad for Onn's review bearing a report on laboratory supply requisitions, and a stylus.

Nia nods at Leventhal, then thanks Collins, Rangin and Thalen for the updates. To the latter, she adds, "Ooh, that's good news, let's hear what those responses have to say. Assuming they're not classified or anything."

She turns to the yeoman and smiles apologetically. "Thanks--I'm sorry, I don't know your name. Need me to sign off on this?" Her eyes scan the datapad.

Then a thought occurs to her and, even while she reads, she continues the earlier thread of conversation with her friend the Communications chief. "Actually, Lt. Thalen, your internal clock needs rewinding, if you don't mind my saying so. According to what I remember of the ensign's seemingly endless reports, she picked up the Naradraen signal almost exactly forty-eight hours ago. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

When Kylah makes her still-unsteady way to the Communications Center, she uses her right hand to lean on the wall so she may keep her balance. The feeling in her feet seems to have improved, but her knees are wobbly--particularly the one she twisted back on OC3.

Curiously, the closer she gets to her department, the more she has the rather eerie feeling that no one will be there. If any colleague is present, she will be genuinely shocked.

Since she cannot use her own communicator, she must borrow one--or use one of the terminals--to contact Thalen. She must apologize for her having missed an entire day's work.

Thalen says, "Hmm. Perhaps the outgoing timecode was mistaken. But no, they're not classified." He reviews the messages. "In any event, the Caitian Cultural Heritage Center and the... University of Merrien, on Cait, acknowledge similarities between an ancient Caitian dialect and what we now know to be the modern Aelyrr language. A Prof. Mrenn of the University says that there are several legends of an offshoot race of larger felinoids who left Cait long ago to settle another star system. That might have been the Aelyrr."

The Science rating smiles back at Onn. "Yeoman Catherine Peters, ma'am. And yes, please have a look and approve it, if you will."

Kylah finds Lt. JG Ade Soerjosoemarno alone in the Communications Center. The stocky, older Indonesian man looks up at her from his console and frowns. "Mr. Kylah! Are you all right? You look... unwell, if you don't mind my saying. Please, sit down."

"Good to meet you, Yeoman Peters," Nia says, and examines the lab requisition. Assuming there's nothing unusual about it, she'll give the 'okay' and sign off as requested.

Then she turns back to Thalen. "Now that's interesting. I think the original theory was that the migration might've gone the other way--from this other planet to Cait. Apparently not. I wonder how the Caitians will feel about having a renewed relationship with these Aelyrr. Or vice-versa, for that matter. Since they don't seem to share a religion, I'd be curious to learn how all that 'four-hundred' and so on stuff evolved." She mulls this over further. "Hopefully Mr. Hayes had a chance to discuss the whole Cait/Aylerr connection with the Naradraen folks."

Nia looks back at the stars on her viewscreen for a little while. "While we're traveling, I'd be really interested in how each of you would've answered Captain Singh's question. How would each of you deal with the Klingons in the Brig, diplomatically speaking? Vaudreuil, Thalen, Collins, Rangin, Bucci, everyone?"

Kylah lifts a hand, which takes more effort than it probably should. "Oh, no, sir, it is better that I stand, I think. I am all right, it is just that I spent far too much time lying down asleep. I seem to be paying a penalty for it."

She leans against his desk for some support, but does not want to cause more trouble or draw more focus to herself. Just once she wants to fit in, to be unobtrusive. "I am sorry to have fallen behind in my duties, Lieutenant. I will report in to Lt. Thalen now and will take on anything that needs doing."

Heading to her usual terminal, she remains standing, with a little help from the countertop, and logs in. She should probably go through any unread messages, but she is anxious to speak with her superior officer as soon as possible, and so she starts to compose a new message.

LT. THALEN - I am greatly sorry to have caused an inconvenience by missing my watch. Please forgive my having slept for so long, no doubt requiring someone else to take my place. I will make up the missed time whenever possible. Currently, I am at my station in the Communications center and am ready to work, pending your instructions.

About to sign off, she looks down and remembers that unfortunately she needs another favor. She sighs and continues:

I am afraid my communicator is in need of repair. I do not know what happened, as I know it worked yesterday when I left the Bridge. It appears to be something electrical rather than a system issue--the device will not even turn on. As a result I will need to go down to Engineering to see if the communicator can be fixed. While it is being repaired--if that is possible--may I have your permission to request a temporary replacement?

She gnaws at her lower lip, embarrassed, when she remembers his generosity about her zither, and adds: I seem to be asking you for many replacements for items I have broken. I am very sorry, sir. -- ENS. KYLAH

After sending the message, she opens her inbox to see what, if anything, she has missed.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Collins says with a bit of a laugh, recalling her encounter with Fastolfe last mission. "Diplomacy is not my strong suit. I would have to be the 'bad cop' in any interrogation." She thinks for a moment. "Playing the first batch against the second batch seems like the best route. Group one will be angry that they were left to die, once we tell them about their shuttle, and group two will be angry group one is still alive. And both groups will be pissed off that they failed."

Graham blinks rapidly, his eyes taking a few moments to come into focus. He glances left to right and sees...Nia's flower.

He's baffled: What's it doing in my quarters rather than hers?

Images and recent memories start to coalesce in the fog he feels in his head. Away mission. Klingons. Firefight...

Something's happened to Nia...

Alarmed he starts to push himself up and out of bed...and gets about one millimeter off the mattress before he drops back down, overwhelmed by a flash of pain and a wave of something almost worse than pain, the feeling that lingers after your body has suffered a trauma almost enough to overwhelm it and shut it down, a trauma it was still trying to work its way back from...

Exactly what it feels like after being shot, he thinks. You know that feels because...you just got shot--again.

Graham realizes he's not in his quarters, he's in a recovery room in Sickbay.

And something didn't happen to Nia. Something happened to him.

My leg, he remembers. Still there, as far as I can tell, he thinks. Although he wonders: they have prosthetics now that can fool anyone but the recipient. Maybe they can fool the recipient too...

He swallows. That hurt. Why the hell should my throat hurt after I got blasted in the leg?

He forces himself to focus. "Hello--" his voice is hoarse. How the hell long have I been out?

He clears it and realizes a call button for the nurse on duty would be more effective... He finds it and presses it, resisting the urge to press it multiple times. He's anxious to know (in this order) if the whole team (present company excepted) has returned safely and then the extent of his injuries and his prognosis.

The lab requisition appears routine. Onn signs off on it, and Peters departs.

Vaudreuil says, "We should offer the Klingons to the Aelyrr. They're the ones who've been most hurt by the mercenaries, after all, and the Klingons haven't violated Federation law, as far as we know." Bucci and Delaney agree.

Thalen shakes his head. "From what we know of the Aelyrr, that might be a death sentence for all of them, and they might not all be equally to blame."

Leventhal says, "I have no opinion as to their eventual destination, ma'am, but agree with Mr. Collins as to further interrogating them."

Kylah soon has a response: You've been through a lot and clearly you needed the rest. Hope you feel better now. No apology necessary; we muddled through without you. Go ahead and get a new communicator from Ship's Stores while yours is being repaired. THALEN.

Opening the comm records, she sees the Caitian Cultural Heritage Center's and University of Merrien's responses to her queries about the Aelyrr.

Dr. Villa comes into the recovery room, the duty nurse close behind her. The CMO smiles at Graham. "There he is! How do you feel?"

Graham returns Villa's smile with something between one of his own and a grimace.

"Uh, well, shitty--but more importantly not dead, something which I presume I have you and your team to thank for...is everyone else from the mission OK? And...uh...well, how OK or not am I?"

Listening to the others' ideas, Nia nods thoughtfully. She's a little surprised that a doctor would be willing to turn prisoners over to be executed--even Klingons. But who knows, maybe Bucci's had a bad experience with Klingons in the past.

With a nod to Collins and Leventhal, she replies, "Oh, interrogating them seems to be job #1 for Cmdr. Vargas, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's worked hard to foment mistrust between the two sides." That's what he does best. Nia almost smiles but manages to avoid betraying her feelings. "Still, we all know Klingons are stubborn--types. I'm hoping having Mr. St. Croix talk to them in their own language will somehow smooth the path."

She turns to the Science console. "And what do you think, Ensign Rangin? What fate would you bestow upon the brigands in the Brig?"

Kylah flushes slightly when she reads Thalen's message. His response that they 'muddled through' without her seems pointed; maybe he thinks she has an exalted view of her importance in the department? She did not mean to give that impression.

After typing a short "thank you" message back, Kylah takes in the information about the Caitians and the apparent link to the Aelyrr, gratified to have the connection between the two verified--or as good as--at last. Pleased, she swivels toward the exit and gives a little start to see Soerjosoemarno again. Somehow she forgot he was here. Or more accurately, she assumed he left. Why did I think that?

She shakes her head, feeling out of sorts, but ignores the strangeness and carries on. "Pardon me, sir," she says. "Can you tell me where the Ship's Stores is, please? I need to replace my communicator, and Lt. Thalen I may go there for one, but I do not recall where it is."

"Everyone else is fine," Dr. Villa says. "As you will be, too, soon. You're going to need some rest and physical therapy, but I'm confident you'll make a full recovery. Your mission was a success - the Codex was recovered, the Klingons were captured, and we're now heading for a rendezvous with another Starfleet vessel. The Aelyrr are tagging along."

Soerjosoemarno says, "Why don't you sit down, Ensign? I'll have someone bring you a new communicator, or tell you what, I'll go get it for you. I feel like I need to stretch my legs anyway. You can hold the fort here."

"Thank you, sir," Kylah says slowly. Although she very much wants to walk around herself, she does not want to refuse Soerjosoemarno's offer--he seems so determined. Besides, 'holding down the fort,' as he calls it, is the least she can do after missing a watch. "If you do not mind going to pick up a replacement, that would be kind of you."

She holds on to the broken communicator for now, since she wants a chance to discuss what could be wrong with it. Returning to her terminal, she leans against the chair and, after a moment of thought, types out a quick message.

VELIR -- I hope you are well. Thank you so much for thinking to send me breakfast. It was delicious; Mr. Johnson is truly a marvelous cook.

I am embarrassed to admit I do not recall if I responded to your note to me yesterday. In fact, I do not exactly remember the message itself, except that it was thoughtful and I was pleased to receive it. Unfortunately my communicator seems to have burnt out roughly the same time I did. Do you know what might cause a communicator to die like that?

She finishes the message with the hope that they might talk sometime soon, and thanks him again for the breakfast. Then she remembers the envelope tucked in her duty belt.

I nearly forgot to ask: Did you give Mr. Johnson a note for me? It was unsigned and I do not recognize your handwriting. If so... I fear my mind is still fuzzy from sleep, because I do not understand it. Can you tell me what it means? You are likely laughing at me for being so thickheaded... -- KYLAH

Sending the message, Kylah rubs her hands over her arms, which are still tingling and a little numb, as well as chilly. Should she go to Sickbay with her complaints? This does not seem normal. Perhaps her circulation problems are due to dehydration--after all, she did not drink for 24 hours at least.

She shrugs and, with arms still crossed over her chest, takes a slow walk around the room, checking on various terminals to see what work is being conducted and to note the results of any scans.

Graham inhales and exhales a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks in the process. "That's good news, doctor--sir." He glances at the flower. "Do you know when I might be able to get up and around? I'd like to give someone a visit, if I could, uh, without crawling in a perhaps undignified way through the ship's corridors..."

Rangin is listening in on the question from Lt Onn and the answers from the rest of the crew, but is almost hoping he doesn't have to answer. A choice sadly removed when Lt Onn asks once again for his opinion.

"Ma'am, I believe the correct protocol would be to see what Starfleet Rules and Regs say about this situation as I would be very surprised if it had not happened before." Keeping calm and relaxed, he turns round to look at Lt Onn sat almost expectantly in the Captain's chair.

"However, ma'am. Mercenaries are mercenaries and by all accounts interrogation has not gone..." He leaves the sentence hanging letting everyone else fill in their own ending. "...and certain Coridan practices would suggest that a small gratuity would be a better motivator of their intentions in being friendly towards us. After all, there are three other Klingon bases in the area around the Aelyrr."

Rangin looks round the rest of the Bridge, letting his face go slightly abashed that he would say such a thing. "That doesn't mean it's the right thing to do though, ma'am," before turning back to the console.

Soerjosoemarno smiles and leaves. As far as Kylah can see, there has been only routine communications traffic received or monitored by the Yorktown since she last checked.

Dr. Villa says, "I don't want you on your feet just yet, Ensign. You can use the Library Computer terminal here," she pulls it closer to his bed, "for any comm access you need, or we'll get you a communicator, if you like. You're welcome to receive visitors, of course."

On the Bridge, Delaney asks Rangin, "Are you suggesting we bribe one of the Klingons? Or more than one?"

Nia was about to respond to Rangin's "let's do whatever Starfleet regs require" holier-than-thou canard, but the rest of his response turned out to be as far from 'holier-than-thou' as you can get, short of bloodshed. Her lip curls into a one-sided smile as she gives the science officer a new appraisal. Not what he appears to be. And also kind of cute, especially when he looks all embarrassed like this. Why haven't I noticed that before? I guess I've been seeing him through Booker's eyes--

The thought of Booker makes her blink and look away. They have no commitment to one another, but she sure as hell shouldn't be eyeing another man when Booker's lying unconscious in Sickbay because of her. Especially not Rangin, of all people. Get your frickin' priorities straight.

Then Delaney chimes in with his own saint impression, and Nia lifts a hand to ward off any internecine verbal battles. "Hold on, I don't think Mr. Rangin's suggesting anything. He's offering options, just as I asked. The fact that he's giving one that no one's come up with before is a good thing. The more possibilities the better." Nia shrugs with her left shoulder. "Not that I have any sway in this. I just thought we could brainstorm to pass the time and, maybe, get something to present to the Captain and First Officer. They're the ones who'll be doing all the decision-making."

She looks back at Rangin. "I am curious, though. What sort of arrangement do you mean? Would it work like a deal--sort of like Collins and I suggested, offering immunity to one set of the Klingons as long as they rat out the others? Except in your proposal, instead of immunity we'd offer credits?"

"I never said immunity," Collins corrects, gently, "but maybe a lesser punishment. Like the ones who talk get to go home to Qo'noS and deal with the consequences there, while the others face Aelyrrian justice."

Graham considers protesting--or sneaking out after the doctor leaves--but has to concede that in point of fact the doctor may be right, and he simply won't be able to pull off any real movement on his feet quite yet.

He thanks Villa and (assuming he's not being rude to the medical staff by doing so) he uses the terminal to tap out a message to Nia. He intentionally sends it directly as a recorded message, bypassing a "ring" as it were.

Nia--Thanks for the flower. But the doc won't let me get up yet, so you might want to come check it has enough water sooner rather than later. Book--he instinctively starts to type the final "er" but then deletes them before he hits "send."

Without losing her smile, Nia nods patiently at Collins's remark. "Yes, Mr. Collins, so noted. Immunity, leniency, it's the same general principle." She continues to look at Rangin with expectant interest.

She feels a little vibration on her hip. New message. It can't be from Collins this time. Maybe A.J.? Not an emergency or it wouldn't just be a notification. Out of habit she pulls the communicator out and gives a glance at the sender.

She can't help it: she gasps, a smile of disbelief and widened eyes revealing her pleasure at seeing Booker's name on the tiny screen. He's awake. He's awake.

Unconsciously she stands up, urged by the powerful instinct to rush over to Sickbay to see him. Then she catches herself--she's on watch, she can't just delegate and disappear when Singh herself has ordered her into the big chair. And so Nia changes her action from her intended path toward the stairs to a casual tour around the Bridge, as if pacing. She holds the communicator in her right hand, not reading the message, not needing to. He's awake.

"Um... yes, so... I have to assume our chief of security has used just about every ploy in the Starfleet regulations booker. Book." Nia feels her face turn slightly warm and she turns toward the viewscreen. "So--so maybe something unorthodox might be a useful ploy. Tell us more, Mr. Rangin." And she'll do her best to listen and force herself not to read the first communication from Booker since that horrible scene on the shuttle nearly 24 hours ago.

Rangin freezes as he can feel the rest of the Bridge all looking in his general direction, but knowing he will have to turn to face them all. The one thing he was trying to do was be an honest and respected Federation officer, far from the corruption that his home planet was known for. The last thing he wants is this crew to consider him as the typical Coridanite and quite accepting of the types of schemes they are known for. But, he has no option and so turns back round to face the enquiring.

"Mr Delaney, a bribe would infer that they are beings in a position of authority who would, for a fee, allow certain less than moral actions to occur. I would not say those Klingons in the brig would fall into that category." He focuses on Lt Onn, who is now prowling around like some kind of monitor lizard, eyes and teeth beginning to sparkle in his direction and Rangin's general instinct about dangerous animals begins to come to the fore.

"Ma'am. I was merely commenting that the Aelyrr said the Klingon groups had been paid in the past for certain services and it is possible that the attack on the Naradraen was also paid for. Either that, or the Codex was to be used as a bargaining piece to give which ever group they belong to a sense of security. In short ma'am, an alternative would be to make them a commercial offer for their services and see which group would be interested."

"I could see that," says Leventhal, nodding thoughtfully, "although I doubt the Captain would go for it. Spending official funds on Klingon mercenaries, even to good ends, would be hard to justify to Starfleet Command."

Dr. Villa and the duty nurse leave Graham's room. A few minutes later, Cmdr. Vargas enters. "There he is!" he says, a bit more jovial than Graham has ever seen him. He comes over and stands by Graham's bedside. "They told me you'd woken up. How are you feeling? May we get you anything?"

Graham's so taken aback by Vargas' ebullient--at least for him--mood that he momentarily forgets his own discomfort.

"Ah, nothing more than the reflexes I had twenty years back," Graham replies, shaking his head slightly. "It's going to be tough to live down letting that Klingon get his shot off, sir."

Even through the glow of her elation, Nia can tell Rangin's not comfortable, for some reason she can't fathom. His suggestion could probably fly--if the ship and crew were anything but Starfleet's own.

"I see what you mean. But Lt.--" Crap. Nice going. "Ensign Delaney is right in thinking that the powers that be wouldn't wear a scheme like that. That said, it's an interesting idea, and if we have a full debriefing or some other strategy meeting related to this, I'll throw out a feeler and see what happens."

She really wishes the watch would speed along. Yes, she has to meet St. Croix, but she can put that off until she's had a chance to see Booker.

Distracted, she continues to walk around the Bridge, ending up near Collins. "We'd better keep a close eye on them. Klingons are supposed to off themselves when they're captured, aren't they? Security had better be on its toes so that doesn't happen. We don't want a repeat of the incident from six weeks or so ago." Nia grimaces at the thought, glad she wasn't involved. "Speaking of that, Lt. Collins... not to be morbid, but do you know if the investigation ever found the reason or explanation how he was left alone to commit suicide?"

"Really?" Collins says to the comment about Klingon seppuku, "I always thought that was more of a Romulan thing. But yeah, we'll put them on suicide watch." She types herself a reminder before answering Onn's other question. She turns to face Onn, feeling a little defensive. "Not as of yet. But that investigation isn't closed."

Vargas says, "You aren't the first and won't be the last, Ensign, to have that happen to you. I hear you did well, and you got back the Codex, and that's what counts."

The Captain soon returns to the Bridge. She says, "Thank you, Mr. Onn. I relieve you. Go ahead to the Brig now, unless you have something keeping you here."

Nia's surprised by Collins's remark about the investigation being open, but before she can ask further, Singh walks in and gives Nia her marching orders. With a nod, she heads down the stairs to the turbolift, where she sends a message to St. Croix asking her to meet Nia at the Brig.

She's disappointed, to say the least, that she has to put off seeing Booker. Truth is, Nia's not entirely sure what she's doing in this Klingon interview. That's what I get for opening my big mouth and offering a suggestion, she thinks ruefully.

Still, since she has a little time to herself, Nia hurries to open Booker's message. Her smile widens at the words. She taps out a highly abridged reply.

Book: I'm unbelievably glad to hear from you. Should've known a tough guy like you could survive a disruptor blast from two feet away. I'm off to question the Klingons--and I'll be sure to give your regards to the S.O.B. who blasted you. Let me know if I can bring you anything.

When the turbolift doors open, she walks out, finishing the message by promising to visit ASAP then sending it off.

Glad that the conversation appears to be over, Rangin turns back to his terminal and brings up Ens. Hayes report on the Aelyrr, interested to see what she has found and feeling slightly jealous she got the opportunity, even though it is her area of expertise.

Noticing the message from Kylah, his hearts skips a beat before he brings up the nerve to open it and is instantly grateful when he does before tapping a note back to her.

"Kylah - good to hear you're up and around again. Relieved that Mr Johnson is every bit as good a cook as he makes out. I don't know about any card, I just asked him to provide breakfast. I don't know what might have happened to your communicator, maybe Engineering would be able to find out.

Would be around later on, I'd like to say thanks for everything that happened, instead of just sending a text. Velir"

St. Croix soon meets Onn in the Yorktown's Brig. Lt. JG Tadeusz Kawecki, a Polish man in his mid-thirties with a trim Van Dyke beard, is the Security duty officer. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" he asks.

Hayes's lengthy draft xenosociological report adds a good bit more to what Rangin already knows about the Aelyrr. They are a starfaring felinoid race with a matriarchal society and what appears to be a generally-benign theocratic state. They may be a Caitian offshoot, or perhaps vice-versa; that question will need considerable further study.

The focus of their religion, which they call simply "the Faith," is Ael, a female monotheistic deity variously described as Goddess of All, Creator of the Universe, Most Blessed, Worthy of Eternal Praise, Mother of the Aelyrr and Progenitrix of the Faith. They have no belief in a Heaven or Hell analogue, unlike many religious cultures known to the Federation, but have a strong sense of destiny and/or fate as controlling their lives.

The Codex Aelyrr is the book which binds, teaches and guides their culture. It is the cornerstone of the Faith, and the Aelyrr believe that in its chapters - Creation, Laws, Lore, Lineages, Teachings, Tales, Lamentations, Judgments, Praise, Condemnation and Prophecies - are to be found all that is necessary for their people to thrive, despite many past adversities. There are several known copies, but the one the Klingons took is the original, and it is extremely precious to the Aelyrr.

They are carnivores with a maximum lifespan of approximately 80 years. Their technology generally appears to lag slightly behind the Federation's, although their engineering knowledge is considerable. They do not have marriage or an equivalent social construct, or any incest taboo. Females are fertile six times a year and conceive after indiscriminate sexual intercourse with available males, bearing litters of four to six cubs after a five-month gestation period. The young are typically raised by males, who make up about 30% of the population and are almost always kept away from strangers (there are none, Rangin remembers, among the Naradraen's crew, warriors or clerics).

From the little she heard of it, Aelyrr music is, at least according to Hayes, not pleasant to Human ears.

Graham reads Nia's message several times.

Whether his odds of survival were relatively greater or not, "better me than anybody else" getting shot, he thinks as he reflects on the mission and people on the team.

Certainly better me than Nia, he winces, remembering the pain in his leg. Yeah, so I'm biased that I don't want her to feel that more than any of the others...so sue me in a Federation court...

But getting hit, the shock of it, the detour into unconsciousness and Sickbay...

It's woken you up out of fantasy-land, Booker. What the hell are you doing? Sure it's great to be messing around with a hot...very hot...younger woman. And to feel like--to imagine--that it might be something serious....But for god's sake why are you wasting her time?

He's not entirely convinced by his self-recriminations. But his self-recrimination doesn't stop, either.

He tries to start writing a note to his daughter.

Lizzy - Everything is fine. But I got shot by a Klingon.


Fuck. What the hell kind of letter is that.


Nia. I could ask Nia what I should say to Lizzy....

Fuck.

Kylah is in the middle of trying to learn more about how the mission ended when she receives the message from Velir. She hugs herself as she reads it, both because she feels a little chilly but also to remind herself that she is awake now. He seems so friendly, even warm.

Perhaps all they need is time. One day--nearly two--of not interacting apart from work might have helped ease or possibly repair the wounds to their relationship. Like her weary body, their emotions apparently needed to recuperate from all the trauma they have endured.

Strange about the card, she thinks, frowning a little. Perhaps it was some sort of ship census? She will figure it out somehow.

Kylah does not answer right away, although she wants to. But after spending so many hours in sleep, taking more time for personal communications feels negligent.

Instead she focuses on massaging her temple--her ears still feel strange, as if the silence is too loud--and most of all, catching up on all she missed. Is there a ship-wide log or report on the events of the mission? She is quite curious to see how the Codex was saved without the Klingons harming it--or anyone on either side getting harmed, for that matter. Then again... she does not know if the latter is true. Mr. Johnson did not mention any injuries, but Kylah is not convinced he would have told her.

The thought of the Codex makes her sigh. I wish I could have seen it myself. How she yearns to examine such a relic! Imagine, a new written language--well, not new, quite the opposite in fact, but certainly new to the entirety of the Federation.

Kylah shakes her head, knowing there is little chance of this wish coming true, and searches for the latest internal updates, if any.

"Lt. Kawecki," Nia says with a quick smile and nod. "St. Croix and I are here to help Cmdr. Vargas, or whoever's around, with any interrogations of the prisoners."

While she speaks, she reaches back and pulls her heavy ponytail forward. She's seen Klingon women and knows, generally speaking, the look that's prized by their men. Prim and businesslike ain't it. So with a tug, she yanks her clip out and lets her hair fall loose and a bit wild around her face.

Obviously she's not going to seduce the prisoners into giving up their secrets; they'll be too smart for that. But she'll take any advantage she can. They won't have seen a Sidonian before, and with her darker skin and scales, Nia actually resembles a Klingon as much as she does one of the hated humans. It might not help, but it certainly can't hurt.

She combs a hand through her hair to make the curls even less tame, continuing: "I think we should start with the first batch, unless someone's already in with them. Don't you think?" With a glance at St. Croix to confirm her suggestion, she looks back at Kawecki. "What's the latest you've got, if anything?

Cmdr. Vargas coughs into his fist as Graham works on his correspondence. He says, "I can see you're busy, Ensign. I'll check back later." He turns for the door.

There is no declassified shipwide-accessible log of missions or recent events. Kylah could ask someone who was in the boarding party, or see what she might learn through scuttlebutt. Soerjosoemarno returns with a new communicator for her. "Have you had a new one since you came aboard?" he asks. "It's easy to synch it with the personal settings from your shipboard comm account."

Kawecki watches Onn's impromptu hairstyling with interest, then calls the Bridge and confirms that she and St. Croix are authorized to see the six Klingon prisoners. He says, "We've kept them in separate cells and under mute-fields, so they can't talk to each other. They've identified themselves as members of the mercenary company Fek'lhr's Forsaken. Their scoutship was the Koraga. The three captured on the Naradraen were," he checks a datapad, "Klern, Klev and Kanel. The three you captured on the shuttle are Khroth, Khend and Karok. Khroth is apparently the captain, and Khend is the second officer. The rest are common crew. They all seem bored and surly, and complain about the food. None of them has wanted to talk much otherwise, although Cmdr. Vargas believes that Kanel is marginally the most reasonable and talkative of the lot."

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Fek%27lhr

Startled by Soerjosoemarno's voice, Kylah turns swiftly toward him. She peers at her colleague as if expecting him to be a ghost. After a few seconds, long enough to be noticeable, she holds out her hand and accepts the communicator.

"Thank you, sir." She swallows and takes a deep breath. Why does it feel as if everyone is sneaking up on her? "I am very grateful. My old communicator was given to me when I boarded the ship. I do know I can sync everything, but..." But she does not want her data on too many devices connected to the Starfleet network. Of course she cannot say that, and unfortunately, Kylah cannot think of another rationale.

"I would still like to find out what happened to this one," she finishes with a gesture toward the device on her hip. "Perhaps I did something wrong--I would not like to repeat the mistake." Placing the new communicator on the counter, she turns to Soerjosoemarno. "Sir, do you know anything about what happened on the mission? All I know is that the Codex was returned. How did the team manage this? Klingons do not submit in battle nor cede to victors even at the cost of their own lives. Are they... were there any killed?"

Thanking Kawecki, Nia asks to be taken to the Naradraen's captured Klingons. Almost unconsciously, she gets into her role while walking by changing her physical posture and gait. She lifts her chin, straightens her back, and strides forward like Cmdr. Vargas on his cockiest day. She also adjusts her uniform, lowering the stretchy neckline so that the scales on her shoulders and upper chest are more visible.

On the way, she murmurs to St. Croix, "I don't think a typical good-cop/bad-cop scenario will work here. So I want to warn you, I'll be treating you pretty obnoxiously in there. I think you should act defiant at first, then deferential. Let's let 'em think I intimidate humans and hold you in mild contempt." She gives a sideways glance to her companion. "I think they might grudgingly approve of that, though I doubt you will. Sorry in advance. Anyway, you're the Klingon expert here. Any suggestions?"

Soerjosoemarno tells Kylah, "They had to beam aboard the Klingon shuttle and were able to recover the Codex. No one was killed; they were able to stun and capture all the Klingons - four or five of them, I heard. Ens. Graham was hit by a disruptor bolt and had to undergo surgery, but they say he's going to be OK."

St. Croix replies, "I'm no expert on Klingons, ma'am, really, but your plan sounds as good as any - especially if Cmdr. Vargas hasn't really gotten anywhere with them. I'll follow your lead, just as you say." She grins. "I suppose I don't mind being insulted or pushed around a little for a good cause."

Kawecki asks, "Which Klingon would you like to talk to first?"

Kylah gasps and stands up, her mouth parted while she stares numbly at Soerjosoemarno. "Mr. Graham? A disruptor..." A vision enters her head of a man running toward her, followed by a burst of bright blue energy, and then the remains--merely ash--crumbling to the ground like dust scattered at her feet. She covers her mouth and forces the memory away, then lowers her hand enough to ask: "Was he--are you sure he will be all right? Is he talking? Can he receive visitors? May I go? When I am off watch, I mean?" she adds regretfully.

Graham flushes--blushes, really--"I'm..."

I figured you were just waiting for an excuse to leave, that you felt you had better things to do.... he thinks, but does not say. But my bad for assuming it...

"Sir, I apologize," Graham says. "I--I got it in my head I ought to tell my daughter what happened. I--well I appreciate the fact that your visit wasn't a pro forma in-and-out thing. I'm sorry I for all practical purposes treated it that way..."

"Regardless, commander, if a senior officer is in fact not looking for an excuse to leave, it's--hell, as bad as can be to disrespect his or her willingness to say..."

He pauses. "If you'd like to admonish me, sir, I have it on good authority I can't really move much, and I won't give you any sass back."

Nia grins at St. Croix. "Good, thanks. I'll try not to be too awful, but sometimes I get carried away when role-playing." As more than one crewmate knows--not that they minded; to the contrary.

Before responding to Kawecki--Damn, these 'K' names are hard to keep in mind. Lucky Ens. Kylah's not here--she eyes the Brig to assess her options.

If the cells are side by side, none of the prisoners will know precisely to whom she's speaking. If they're in rows opposite one another, she'll be more visible. Sometimes having the subject know what's coming is useful--but the unexpected can have its advantages, too.

She takes a deep breath. "Well, Kanel is tempting. Wish I knew exactly what Vargas asked, since I'd rather not repeat anything... but then again..." A thought strikes her and she smiles. This might actually be fun, if only to her. "Which one is he, Lt. Kawecki? In fact, if you don't mind, could you give me the details on who's in each cell? This way I'll know who to glare at menacingly."

Soerjosoemarno says apologetically, "Sorry, I don't know any more about it than that. You could call Sickbay for an update, or get in touch with Mr. Graham directly, I guess. Is he a friend of yours?"

Vargas chuckles. "Quite all right. I'll see you later. Take care, Mr. Graham." He leaves.

Kawecki, Onn and St. Croix are in a small reception area just beyond the secure, heavy doorway to the Brig, a short distance from the turbolift alcove. A redshirt is standing at ease nearby, a phaser-2 on his hip. There is a similar doorway a few meters away, with a slightly-curved corridor leading beyond. A dozen cells with energy-barrier doors line the corridor to starboard (on your right), one after another. None of the occupants can see each other, and with the individual cells' mute-fields activated, they can't hear each other, either. As you go by, they can see you, however, and you can see them.

Kawecki checks his datapad again, and lists the prisoners' cell placement:

1 - Klern
2 - Klev
3 - empty
4 - Kanel
5 - empty
6- Khroth, captain
7- Khend, second officer
8 - empty
9 - Karok
10 - empty
11 - empty
12 - empty

Here's an Enterprise Brig cell from "Mirror, Mirror." We never saw much of the Brig in TOS: http://www.letswatchstartrek.com/wp-...69-300x224.png

Kylah has to pause before answering Soerjosoemarno's question. Is Mr. Graham a friend? He alternates between frightening and protecting her. But she must care about him, more than just an acquaintance or colleague. She would not have been so alarmed by his injury if she did not care.

"Yes," she says, looking away as if the acknowledgement is presumptuous. "We worked together a great deal on the mission back at OC3. I will try Sickbay, thank you. I did not mean to barrage you with questions, sir. I just had no idea the team had been met with violence. I was told everything was all right..." Why did Mr. Johnson not tell me? But a glance at her shaking, clasped hands answers her question. He suspected she would worry.

She sits down again and opens her new communicator to send a quick message.

Mr. Graham. I hope you are able to read this. I thought a written note was best since you might need your sleep. Please forgive me for not getting in touch with you sooner. I spent an entire day in bed and had no idea you had been injured--if I had, I would have visited you by now, if it were allowed. I hope you are recovering. If you would not object and are up to it, I would very much like to see you. I wish to make sure you are all right. But if you need quiet or would prefer not to have visitors, or me specifically, please do not hesitate to tell me. Rest well. -- KYLAH

Once finished, Kylah twists around toward her superior officer. "Do you have anything you need assistance with, Lieutenant? I would be glad for such a project, once I have completed my routine tasks." The longer she focuses on him, the odder she feels. He seems... so lifeless. She gets no sense of anything he might be feeling. It is curious and disconcerting; no humans are this controlled. Perhaps he is not human, or of mixed race. "If you do not mind my asking," she blurts before he can respond, "What is your background? You are not part Vulcan, are you?"

Nia tilts her head while viewing the list. "Interesting set-up. I wonder why the cells in between Klen and Kavel, and between the senior officers and Karok, were left empty. Why not distribute them evenly and just leave every other cell unoccupied? Is there some Security strategy behind it, do you know?"

With a shrug, Nia puts her hands on her hips and begins her walk down the cell corridor, head held high and turning only to give the inmates a passing, speculative glance. If any prisoners meet her gaze, she won't smile or change her expression--basically, she wants to look as if she's a carved statue come to life.

After she's reached the end of occupied cells, she returns to the center of the corridor, surveying the group. The ones closest should be able to see her.

Then Nia turns to St. Croix, a scowl lowering her brow.

"Okay, let's just pretend I'm asking a question and I'm displeased with something. Now I'm insulting you in some way, probably something about one of your parents, so feel free to look upset and a bit embarrassed."

She lifts an arm and sweeps it in an arc to gesture at the cell block. "I'm extremely frustrated," she says casually. "This is an outrage, and so on. Not exactly sure what I'd be complaining about, but I want them to see me putting you in your place."

Finally she leans closer to St. Croix, unsmiling. "And now I'm threatening your career and likened your intelligence to a mentally deficient tribble. Damn, it's too bad Starfleet doesn't do salutes. If you can think of any gesture that'll give the impression you're apologizing for whatever the heck I've just been yelling about, go for it. Click your heels and nod your head, if that's your style."

Once this has gone on for a few minutes, and assuming St. Croix complies, Nia will then survey the motley crew before her, then stride toward Kanel.

With a sharp look at the Klingon in the cell, Nia snaps out an order: "I wish to talk to this prisoner."

Soerjosoemarno says, "Yes, please review the latest comm traffic from the Anubis sector and Starfleet Command." In response to Kylah's question about his background, he smiles and says, "No one's ever mistaken me for a Vulcan before. No, I'm 100% Human, from Indonesia, on Earth. A little island town you never would've heard of."

Kawecki shrugs at Onn's question about the prisoners' placement. "That's just how they happened to be put in. I wasn't on duty at the time, but I don't think there's any particular reason for it."

The cells are arranged just far enough apart that only one can be looked into at a time. All of the Klingons look up when Onn and St. Croix come into view; most stare back. Kanel, having seen their little drama, doesn't get up from the built-in bed in his cell. He is tall and thin, with the characteristic sallow Klingon skin, smooth face (including forehead) and unkempt dark hair and beard. He is dressed in the same beat-up uniform and light body armor as the rest of the crew. His arms are crossed and he shows only slight interest at Onn's order.

St. Croix does as Onn asked, and Kawecki plays along, too. He snaps to attention and says, "Of course, Lieutenant. Did you wish to enter the cell, or remain outside?"

Kylah just looks at Soerjosoemarno, who might as well be a featureless wall. Her heart beats a little faster in disconcertment; she does not understand why he is so... opaque. Perhaps he does not know his true background? Or maybe these Indonesians are a unique race with unusual mental capabilities?

It would be rude to ask such things, and Kylah cannot devise another way to find out. So she just nods and obeys his instructions, though her mind is now distracted and it takes her a little longer than usual to enter the correct commands to review the traffic.

Soon, however, Kylah is examining the communications data sent between the Anubis sector and Starfleet.

"Outside, for now," Nia says. There's no need to put herself at risk--or, more importantly, to give one of the prisoners the chance to use her as a hostage. It's exceedingly unlikely he'd get the chance, especially with two security officers nearby and Nia's own reptilian instincts for survival. But while it's improbable, she's not cocky enough to think it's impossible.

Assuming Kawecki arranges it so that Kanel can hear her, Nia will step as close as possible to the cell entrance and examine him, hands back on her hips. "I'm Lt. Ve'ne'ko'nia'onn." She paces the width of the cell, still eyeing the Klingon, then reverses her path. "And you're Kanel," she says, as if accusing him. "Our First Officer tells me you have been cooperative. I'd prefer to judge for myself. What was your role in this raid? Who paid you to steal that relic?"

Nia pauses and with a dismissive nod toward St. Croix, adds, "Though this security officer is human, she understands and speaks your language. Be as precise as you can."

Graham's pleased--and a little surprised--to see a message from Kylah come through. Not that I wouldn't expect a note or a visit from her, I guess, but not necessarily that she'd--well, go out of her way to do it...because she hasn't always been--comfortable, I guess, around me...

He reads it with a certain amount of alarm, confirming not only that she sounds a bit anxious, but also why the hell did she need to spend a whole day in bed?

He realizes drilling down on that particular questions probably isn't the best way to make her feel more comfortable--or welcome as a visitor.

Of course his attempts at humor haven't always been successful either, but he gives it a shot:

Kylah - The more visitors I have, the less likely it is that boredom will tempt me into sneaking out of here in violation of Dr. Villa's orders. And I'd better stay on his good side since my tour on the Yorktown has only just started and I've already been shot once. Stop by anytime. He's not sure how to end it. "Mr. Graham" echoes how she generally speaks to him, but "Graham" seems ridiculous..."Booker" seems...weird. Why? He doesn't know, but goes with "BG."

Kylah reviews the highlights of Anubis comm traffic. The Topgallant liner Star Destiny stopped at Anubis shortly after the Yorktown left, needing repairs to its environmental systems. The Martian freighter Gryphon was placed under quarantine by Starport Control and has still not been allowed to unload passengers or cargo after an outbreak of Poneli rotovirus. A shipping container of valuable hylanean ore went missing for almost six hours before being found in the wrong warehouse. A member of the Anubis planetary council resigned after a financial scandal involving her and two subordinates. An accused murderer being taken to Morra III for trial tried to escape from the custody of Federation marshals on the liner Persephone, but didn't get far.

Starfleet Command communications have been largely routine since Kylah last checked: assignments, circulars, standing orders, press releases, announcements, reports, advisories, commendations, promotions, demotions, retirements, etc.

Kanel remains seated, his arms crossed. He speaks Federation Standard with a somewhat thick but understandable accent. "Yes, I am Kanel. Why should I talk to you?"

An orderly in Medical blue comes into Graham's room. "May I get you anything, Ensign? Something to eat or drink? There are no restrictions on your diet."

"Really?" Graham says, turning his attention away from his correspondence toward the prospect of having whatever he wants to eat delivered. He's not sure why he would have assumed his diet was restricted given that his wound is in his leg--just something about being in Sickbay, I guess.

He realizes he is in fact hungry. "Well, then--if it's not too much trouble, a sixteen ounce ribeye, rare, sounds really good...with mashed potatoes, lots of mashed potatoes, and gravy."

He pauses a moment. "I suppose by definition I'm off duty...a nice stick-t-your-ribs stout to wash it down would surely help the healing process, too..."

Kylah absently winds a loose, curly tendril of hair around her finger as she reads the data. The first thing that makes her curious is this Poneli rotavirus. She does not recall hearing of such an illness, and so she performs a quick database search to learn more. She also tries to see if the Gryphon's last destination has been recorded anywhere. It sounds like a civilian commercial ship, so she is unsure whether its routes have to be approved by Starfleet or Federation officials, but it is worth a look. The financial scandal involving a government official makes her scowl. Another one, so soon after Vice Admiral Hardin? Is there any similarity between the two cases?

The mere mention of something on Anubis vanishing only to be found in a warehouse makes Kylah turn cold. Likely a merely mislaid item, a mere error of transport. But she cannot help learning more. Swallowing, she delves deeper to see if the location of the warehouse is known. And though she digs in her memory as best she can, she does not identify what hylanean ore is, or what use it has.

She is astonished that an accused murderer could elude Federation marshals--but the fact that he or she chose Anubis as an escape destination does not surprise her. Not after the criminal element she ran into on the planet. But this is only an accused murderer, not a convicted one. Perhaps the charges are incorrect.

Her attention is briefly distracted by the message from Mr. Graham. So he is awake, and sounding very much like himself. Relief relaxes her tense muscles. As soon as she has a break, she will visit him. A small smile tilts her lips. Perhaps he can be diverted with this mystery of the note left for her.

Finally, if the details are not classified, she will read the Starfleet advisories and glance over the press releases/announcements. She also takes a quick look at the various personnel status changes, wondering if she recognizes any names. Her uncle will be interested in any changes in what he would label the 'game and its players.'

The orderly smiles and makes a note on his datapad. "OK, I'll see what I can do."

Ens. Mahmoud comes in moments later. "So you're awake - and uglier than ever! How are you feeling, Book?" He takes a chair.

Kylah learns that Poneli rotavirus is somewhat rare but highly contagious. It can be fatal to Bolians, for whom there is no vaccine. The Gryphon, which is indeed a civilian ship, was last at Valtin VII. It would have to file a flight plan but its route would not need approval, as such, by the Federation or Starfleet. She can find no connection between what happened on OC3 and the Anubis scandal, which seems to be limited to the latter world. The location of the warehouse was not reported. Hylanean ore has a number of industrial and manufacturing applications but is found on only three worlds; it cannot be synthesized or replicated. The accused murderer was already in custody and tried but failed to escape.

There is some classified Starfleet comm traffic, but nothing of particular note, and she recognizes none of the names mentioned except in the most general way.

"Horny," Graham answers. "Why not come gimme a smooch?" he adds, making kissy noises.

He grunts. "On second, thought, no." Graham shakes his head wearily. "Kind of crappy, but I'll live--or Doc Villa's a really good liar." He sighs. "I'd almost forgotten how much those fucking disruptors sting."

Mahmoud nods sympathetically. "Never been hit by one myself, but that's I hear. How long until you're back on your feet?"

After Kanel's truculent remark, Nia lifts her chin and takes a step closer. "Why should you tell me?" she repeats. "Because I'm asking you to. The Captain is taking my advice on what to do with you--all of you--and so your fate is very much in my hands." The white lie behind her, she lowers her voice. "Now, once more. Tell me what you told Cmdr. Vargas. Or are you afraid to repeat your story? Have you forgotten which lies you told?"

"I haven't lied," Kanel says irritably. "I told him that we were trying to capture the Codex, which is priceless to the Aelyrr."

This makes Nia snort in derision. "This is why our First Officer thinks you're more cooperative than the others? Giving us information any fool would know after hearing the Naradraen's distress call? I suspect I'm wasting my time with you."

She purses her lips in thought before speaking again. "Seriously, Kanel. Do you know anything? What was your role on board that scoutship? As mercenaries, were there leaders and followers? Were you privy to any plans, or just hired muscle?"

"I was a sensor officer and soldier. I wasn't in command. The Captain didn't share his plans with any of us."

"Mmm. Very convenient. Just following orders, were you?" Nia looks him over, unimpressed. "Even so, you have ears and must have at least a modicum of curiosity. Mercenaries don't act without a price. Do you know who paid it? Who hired you to steal that relic?"

"There were other Aelyrr who, I heard, wanted the Codex and were willing to pay for it. I don't know who."

Other Aelyrr. Are things still so brutal on that world? Nia knows there's little point to addressing this with him. "All right, then. What were the original plans for that raid? Once you found the Codex, what were you supposed to do afterward, as far as you know? Take over the Naradraen? Return to the scout ship? Where was your intended destination?"

"As far as I know, we were supposed to take the Codex and blow up the ship afterwards. Then we were going back to the Aelyrr system."

Nia nearly loses her cool facade. So these others were willing to pay Klingons to murder an entire ship of their own kind--including a high priestess--all to recapture their holy book? Revolting. She hopes this isn't true.

Time to change tactics to see where this Klingon's loyalty lies. "You were left behind by your comrade, who beamed back to the scoutship once he had the Codex. Are you aware that he and two others purposely destroyed that ship while they fled in a shuttle, killing everyone else on board--at least a dozen, by our calculation? Tell me: did you know of this scheme? If you hadn't been captured, would you have joined them on the shuttle? Or would you have died with the rest of the disposable colleagues?"

"Yes, I heard that they blew up the ship. I didn't know they were going to do that, but it doesn't particularly surprise me. If it meant more money for them, or greater power, I have no doubt they would do it. They don't care about me and would have sacrificed me, too, if it had come to that."

His calm, albeit somewhat self-pitying, demeanor is odd. But he's had quite some time to get used to this notion, which could explain why he's relatively matter-of-fact about this betrayal. Nia changes subjects again. "Out of curiosity, what's your preference: to spend time in a Federation prison cell, or to be transferred to the custody of the Aelyrr, who will undoubtedly execute you?"

He laughs humorlessly. "What a delightful conundrum. What do you think I should do?"

Nia shrugs. "I think you should wish for a time machine, to prevent you from making such staggeringly poor life decisions. Other than that, I'd recommend you make yourself as useful to the Federation and Starfleet as possible. It may be odious to you, but Starfleet prisons are spa resorts compared to the sort of torture that might lie ahead at the claws and teeth of such religious zealots as the Aelyrr."

She lets him think on that for a while, then tilts her head. "I wonder. What is your status with the Empire? Are you wanted for any crimes there? What's their likely response to knowledge of your capture?"

"Me? I'm a nobody. The Empire doesn't give a damn about any of us."

"That makes it nearly unanimous, then." Nia smiles icily. "Since you're not telling us much about this particular raid that we didn't already know, I'm not convinced I have cause to recommend a lighter sentence." She pauses deliberately, narrowing her eyes. "...Unless, before I head off to talk to your surviving colleagues, you have other information of value. Crimes we don't yet know about. What was your group up to before this? What was your last... 'assignment,' so to speak? If you can come up with an answer to any unsolved crimes, it could make things much easier for you."

He pauses, thinking. "We were in the Aelyrr system for nearly a year. Their government had nearly collapsed and the civil war divided their people. The Bavell faction hired us and we did what we were paid for - raids on other factions' strongholds, captures of their leaders, interceptions of enemy ships, guarding Bavell ships and supplies. I don't know about any crimes - it was war, and we waged it."

"I see. So this is your first real criminal endeavor," Nia says, sarcasm giving her words a knife's edge. "Imagine that, starting out right at the top, it seems--sabotage, mass murder, and theft of a religious icon. Your lack of success indicates you chose the wrong profession." Before giving him time to react to the insult, she asks quickly: "So this Bavell faction, they're the ones who hired you, then?"

"That's what we were told, but I couldn't say for sure. It makes sense, though, given their goals."

Gotcha. Nia rests her hands on her hips again. "How interesting. Two minutes ago you said you had no idea who'd hired you." She lets him think on his blunder while she steps back and gestures toward Kawecki. "I'm done with this one for now."

Nia walks confidently away, wearing a pleased smile for the purposes of the Klingons whose cells she passes. Now to see the leader. He won't be as forthcoming. But he's the one who ran and vanished before her eyes, and he's the bastard who shot Booker. Nia is very much looking forward to finally addressing him face to face.




Kanel by EH, Nia by me

Finding nothing exceptional in the communications' background worth any further research, Kylah prepares a brief report of her review and sends it over to Soerjosoemarno.

She decides to reward herself for completing the task by hurriedly responding to the personal messages she received earlier. First, to Mr. Graham:

I will visit you as soon as I have a break. Do you wish anything to be brought to you? A book or some music? I can retrieve something from the library, or bring you one of my recordings. I remember how unpleasant it was to remain in the Sickbay by oneself. You seem even less likely to enjoy a period of enforced resting. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. Thank you and be well -- KYLAH

Once that is sent off, she turns her attention to Velir:

I would like very much to see you in person, although I cannot recall that you have anything to thank me for. Maybe when we are off-duty tonight, we could dine together in the Mess? It is better than sending each other food. As for my communicator, yes, I do hope to go to Engineering to determine what happened, and ideally have it repaired. I have a new one, but I would prefer to keep the original one given to me, if possible. I know it is sentimental, but it has always seemed sad to me, to throw things out that are broken. Not without trying to fix them. When I was little I had a closet of worn dolls that I hid from my servants, so they would not be replaced. I will probably regret telling you that, you will mock me. You may do so at dinner, if we do meet then. -- KYLAH

She smiles and sends off the message--but thirty seconds later, when rereading the text of her note, she realizes that 'sentimental' is the most flattering thing he could call her. Why, why did she refer to something 'broken'? Perhaps he will think she is rebuking him, as if she were making a pointed reference to his insult of her on that horrible day in Sickbay.

Oh, how stupid, stupid of me! Why did I write all that? Biting her thumbnail, Kylah contemplates whether she should send a quick note to explain that she did not mean anything by the remark. But that might only make things worse, if he did not notice; she would only be calling attention to a very dark moment between them.

Cursing her indiscretion, Kylah goes back to monitoring the traffic, wishing there were something to distract her from this new anxiety.

Collins and then Rangin get similar texts: Mr. Graham has regained consciousness and is receiving visitors, if you would like to see him. I understand you may be a friend of his. VILLA.

Collins smiles when she reads Dr. Villa's note. She looks around the bridge. It's very quiet compared to the last couple of days. She takes a chance. "Captain?" she asks politely, "may I go see Ensign Graham? Doctor Villa says he awake and may have visitors. Or should I just wait until my watch is over?"

The Captain smiles. "Go ahead and go now. I'll see that your post is covered."

While skimming through the report and also seeing what progress, if any, has been noted by Dr Brold on his prototype, Rangin receives the two messages.

Reading the first, he's not sure where Kylah is going with the anecdote, maybe he's a little tired, maybe she still is and hopefully, he may get more of an explanation tonight to help him understand what she means. Perhaps just better to skip over it and leave it for dinner. There have been several mis-communications between them and it may be easier to ask than play message ping-pong.

"Kylah, dinner in the mess would be fine. 7:30pm? Hope we can talk some more. Velir."

Than he reads the message from Dr Villa and wonders if this is some kind of a prank. Perhaps Graham deciding to utter a few threats and dire warnings from his sick bed if Rangin puts a foot wrong. He debates going to see him there and then, but when Collins requests it, he decides to leave it for the while, give it an hour or so and then go and find out what kind of mistake it is.

"Thank you!" Collins exclaims and practically flies to the turbo lift. "Sickbay!" she tells it and impatiently waits for her destination.

"You're young yet," Graham replies to Mahmoud. "Someday you'll be able to regale the ladies with how you overcame something serious than a mean hangnail you picked up in the line of duty." He shakes his head. "Not sure how long--I'm guessing there's a lot of--ugh, tissue and muscle to rebuild in the leg." He grimaces. "One time when I was going through physical therapy on Starbase 9--damned it the chief therapist wasn't supernova hot. But her good looks still weren't nearly enough to make it worth the pain. Not a lot of other options but to suck it up, though."

Mahmoud says, "Got you. I don't think we have anyone that gorgeous on the Medical staff. Other than Dr. Noel, I should say - sure makes talking to the shrink a more pleasant experience."

Ens. Carlos de la Paz arrives on the Bridge and sits down in Collins's place at the Security console. The Yorktown continues towards its rendezvous. Rangin sees that the Science and Engineering logs do not reflect anything other than routine work being done on the Brold prototype since the Aelyrr distress call was first received.

Collins soon makes her way to Sickbay and is shown into Graham's room by an orderly. Ens. Faisal Mahmoud is there talking to Graham. The Libyan gets a serious look and stands as she enters.

Collins takes note of Mahmoud's posture, smiles, and says "Relax, Ensign. Sit back down. I'll come back when you two are done talking." She starts to go back out to the waiting area, then turns and says to Graham, "I'm glad you're on the mend, Booker." She leaves his room.

Graham's confused by Mahmoud's reaction and Collins' abrupt departure. "Whoa there--I'm pretty darn sure it was a Klingon who shot me, not Collins," he says to Faisal.

Mahmoud is puzzled, too. "She's a superior officer. I was just showing respect. Want me to ask her back in?"

Rangin looks over the engineering notes on the prototype and finds himself nodding along as he reads them. Given the setup it's still going to be a few days before it's ready for its first proper test, though Rangin is curious to find out how the initial test went. He is less curious about who is probably bearing the brunt of Dr Brold's temper, but given he was assigned to it, he does feel slightly guilty that it's not him.

He sends a message to Lt. Cmdr. Roble asking me if he is further required to assist with the Prototype hoping the answer is yes. While being on the Bridge is a fine thing, it still doesn't beat the chance to work with something new.

Graham shrugs. "Well, go figure--sure, yeah, ask her back in. And, by the way--thanks for stopping by. You're my first vis--"

He glances at Nia's flower. "Ah, my first visitor since I've been conscious, anyway."

Science Officer Roble replies, Yes, definitely. I'm counting on you. I expect we'll proceed with a full field test after the Watney rendezvous.

Mahmoud invites Collins back in.

Collins smiles at Mahmoud and reenters Graham's room. "So, Ensign," she addresses Graham, "You went and had all the fun without me, huh?"

Graham grunts, but smiles slightly. "What's the old saying? 'Do as a I say, not as a I do?' I wanted to provide an example of 'what to avoid' to all you young-up-and comers."

Collins smiles. "So, let me know when you're ready for that basketball rematch, Booker." She lifts her arm as if she's going to slap Graham right in the wound, but halts a few inches above his leg. "Seriously, though. I'm very glad you're still with the team." She turns to look at Graham's friend. "How about you, Ensign? Do you play?"

"He mostly plays with himself," Graham interjects, chuckling.

"Care to lose the other leg?" Mahmoud growls good-naturedly. He responds to Collins, "No, ma'am. Soccer and water polo are more my sports."

Lt. Cecilia Bennett enters the room. "I should have known this would be a popular place right about now," she says, smiling. She walks over and kisses Graham on the cheek. "How are you, Booker?"

Rangin looks at the note back from Roble and feels a certain sense of pride over its content. He checks the upcoming shifts seeing when he will be back to the Cargo Bay and fixing up the sensor instead of keeping an eye out for any possible sightings of Klingons.

While being on the Bridge is prestegious and even having been sat in the Big Chair he still needs some time to mull over what happened and how he reacted. Thinking back over it, he doesn't think he did anything wrong, but there is no real way for him to tell what the results of that training and experience was.

He lets out a silent groan as Rangin realises how obvious the answer is. Of course someone was watching what he was doing and evaluating his performance, he was there the whole time...Lt. Cmdr. Roble. Shaking his head at having missed something so plain, Rangin puts the thoughts to one side knowing there is an answer waiting and gets back to looking at the console.

When Bennett kisses Graham's cheek, Collins' eyes widen a bit, one eyebrow rises, the side of her smile curls a little more, and she tilts her head just a little while trying to fix Graham's gaze, all as if to say You DOG, you!

Kylah finishes a task and stands up to give the datapad with her results to Soerjosoemarno. As she walks she feels a rolling sense of vertigo, which--coupled with her still-rubbery legs--requires her to clutch the edge of a nearby chair. She looks at Soerjosoemarno's back and tries to get her bearings before he turns around and notices.

Somehow, focusing on him makes it worse. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then shakily places the datapad on the nearest desk to her superior officer.

"Excuse me, sir," she says weakly. "Here are the results of the latest scans. I am sorry, I need to ask Lt. Thalen if I may be relieved early." Another inhale provides needed oxygen to her dizzy head and she turns around to lean against the counter. Then she lifts her new communicator.

"Kylah to Lt. Thalen. Sir, I am extremely sorry, but I am feeling exhausted and think I need more rest. I have completed a variety of scans of the local traffic and gave the reports to Lt. Soerjosoemarno. But the data on screen seems to swim in front of me, and it is hard to focus. May I please... May I please be relieved from my watch?"

Graham's a bit surprised by the kiss from Bennett, and can't help but notice Collins' reaction. He starts to blush slightly. Before Bennett pulls away, he touches her arm gently.

"Hold on...it's a miracle! I can see!" he says melodramatically. "Er...wait, oh, yeah the problem was my leg," he adds, smiling. He lowers his arm. "But ah, seriously, I'm already feeling better than when I came to. "It was really nice of you..." he forces himself to tear his eyes away from Bennett and glance at Mahmoud and Collins. "ah, of all you to drop by..." He pauses a moment. "This might be a new record for visitors at once after I've been shot. Or stabbed."