Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

The Yorktown Sickbay's small lobby looks much as it did yesterday, of course. A female nurse whom she does not recognize greets Kylah: "May I help you, Ensign?"

Graham 's eyes flutter, and he rolls over slowly, halfway between awake and asleep, feeling as if he'd been asleep for a week, never mind a night...

...he finds a warm presence by his side, breathes in deeply, reaches out to J---

Nia.

He snaps awake, realizing where he is--noticing the chronometer. And shit it's later than I planned...there were things I wanted to do on my first full official day...

And last night...what the hell happened...er, didn't happen, because... Hell, did I fall asleep?

Nia seems to be peacefully asleep--hopefully as blissfully asleep as he was a few minutes ago. He watches her for a moment: the lines of her cheek and nose, the rise and fall of the covers, remembering her urgent need for the breathing apparatus.

That feels a million years away now. He's torn about what to do, but in the end she looks so peaceful, he can't bear to wake her (...and then run).

After one last glance, closing his eyes to fix the moment in his memory, he gently extricates himself from the bed. He quietly gathers his uniform and puts on enough to be decent stepping into the hallway.

Before he does he taps a message on Nia's computer terminal, struggling with what to write. In the end, he writes:

I woke up to a miracle today. BG

He slips out and heads to his quarters to get a jump on his watch.

Kylah's gaze flicks nervously over toward Velir's room before she addresses the nurse.

"Yes, I was hoping to visit Ensign Rangin, if I may. Could you tell--oh, I should have said 'good morning,' I am sorry," she adds belatedly. "Could you tell me which doctor on duty is attending him this morning?"

Please say Dr. Bucci, please say Dr. Bucci...

The whoosh of the door in Nia's quarters results in an infinitesimal temperature change: the cooler air from the corridor sweeps inside the room, which is kept warmer to better suit Sidonian biology.

Even this briefest of drafts is enough to cause the bare skin of her forearms to respond, resulting in something between prickly goose bumps and sleeker but more protective scales.

Nia wakens and shivers with a tiny frown. After a second or two of sleepy confusion, she rises to rest on her elbows and face Booker.

Well, no. She's facing the empty space on her bed that should've been Booker.

The hell...?

Now she sits up, rubbing her eyes. A scan of her quarters reveals no male clothing or boots. No extra communicator. No trace of the guy who slept cradled in her arms.

Then her attention is caught by an item on the floor by her bed, not quite hidden by the covers.

Correction. There is a trace of him after all.

She sits up and, swinging her legs off the bed, kneels down to pick up the gift she got him. The expensive copy of The Maltese Falcon, left open on the floor, probably after having fallen off thanks to what must've been one helluva fast departure.

Her frown deepens as she presses down on two pages that are now slightly creased. She straightens them as best she can before snapping the old-fashioned cover shut. Guess books aren't for Book. Ha ha.

She knows he liked the gift--his gratitude seemed sincere. Still, his leaving it behind rankles, especially on top of that Jane thing, and the fact that he wasted no time to scram out of here without even a nudge. Why was he in such a hurry? The alarm hasn't even gone off.

But when she looks at her chronometer on the bed table, she notes that a) it is pretty damn late, and b) she forgot to set the alarm last night anyway. Great. Seven minutes to get to the Bridge. Thanks for the wake-up kiss, Book.

With a curse Nia tosses The Maltese Falcon on her bed and races to the bathroom to take care of what needs to be done, then scrambles into a fresh uniform, tights and boots. She's grabbed her communicator off the night stand to stuff into her utility belt when she spots the gift bag with Andy Johnson's present still in it.

"Yeah," she mutters to herself when buckling her belt. "Bet Ajay wouldn't forget a cookbook I gave him."

Ugh. Now she's crabbier than before, and she's not the crabby type. C'mon, woman, shrug it off. Not the first guy to make a hasty exit.

She yanks a barrette from her dresser and clamps it in her mouth temporarily as her busy hands attempt to corral her frenzied mop of curls into something resembling their usual ponytail. Meanwhile she makes a hasty exit of her own, so blindly that she almost knocks the keypad of her computer terminal off the desk.

This results in a vicious, wholly unmerited glare of resentment aimed at the back of her terminal, which didn't do anything wrong except exist while she stupidly slammed her hip into it.

Stalking through the door so quickly she nearly slams into that before it fully opens, Nia mutters a fluid round of curses. Thankfully, the UT is unlikely to be able to translate the words, since they're in an older Northern Sidonian language unknown to the Federation... even in the unlikely event anyone else could hear the profanities through the barrette stuck in her gritted teeth.

In this dire frame of mind, Nia ends up taking the turbolift to the Bridge. Now her hair's in place and her countenance serene. But down deep, beneath her protective scales and facade of calm control, her mood is anything but tame.

Graham hustles to his quarters to make himself presentable, and then to the Security office. On full day number one he has two goals: one, in the off chance Vargas sent any messages overnight, to respond as soon as the watch starts; and two to personally greet each Security officer taking a watch on patrol.

The nurse says, "Dr. Bennett is on duty at the moment, ma'am. Have you met him yet? He just came aboard yesterday."

Capt. Singh is in the big chair on the Bridge when Onn enters; she doesn't look up from a data tablet on her lap. Lt. Kendin, an Algolian male, is at the Helm, and yields his seat to Onn at once. Lt. JG Melissa Tsu is at Navigation, and gives Onn a friendly smile. Everything seems quiet. The stars on the viewscreen stream past as the starship continues her voyage deeper into space.

Graham finds no messages from Vargas, and only two minor Security advisories from overnight. No incidents or crimes were reported since he last checked. He is able to greet the four Security officers as they arrive for the morning watch: Ensigns Jeanne St. Croix and Haakon Kjaerstad, and Crewmen Alexandra Harper and Ari Friedman. He knows St. Croix the best, but is familiar with the other three. Friedman looks annoyed for some reason.

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Algolian

Graham greets everyone, working "good to see you again, St. Croix" into it.

"With Collins shipping out,"* I wanted to greet everybody face to face. As ACOS you should feel free to reach out to me anytime, day or night, if you think it's the right thing to do. Or if you need anything. And I want to emphasize: I have no doubt the courage of anyone on Yorktown's Security team. But keeping people safe--being safe, feeling safe, feeling comfortable to come to us with anything that seems out of line--onboard the ship, that's less about wrestling Denebian Slime Devils and more about listening, and making sure every crewmember knows we're there for them. Let's make Vargas proud."

He pauses for a moment, and rubs his chin, looking thoughtful, "Or at least...less looking pissed off."

"Any questions before you get too it?" He pauses and squints. "Friedman," he ask sympathetically, as if seeing someone who looks like he has a headache - "is there anything your mind you want to chat about, here, or for a few minutes in private?"





* :(

Her wishes not having worked, Kylah tries not to slump at the nurse's words. "Yes, I met him...when Mr. Rangin was brought in. But I was distraught, and fear I did made a poor impression."

Now she must decide whether to be brave and try afresh, or to slink away and wait until Dr. T'Var is on duty.

Concern for Velir outweighs timidity. "Would you be willing to ask the doctor if Ensign Kylah may speak with him?" She searches the nurse's face but does not recognize it, despite having spent so much time as a patient here. "Forgive me, I do not know your name."

Graham gets some wry smiles in response to his joke about the First Officer. Friedman seems a little startled to be singled out, and says hurriedly, "Uh, no, sir. Thank you anyway, sir." He puts on a studiously neutral expression.

The nurse says, "I'm Ellen Mills. You're Ensign... Kalla, is it? I'd be glad to speak to the doctor for you."

Nia doesn't know Tsu as well as some of the other navs, but the other woman's smile of greeting brightens her mood somewhat. She sends one of her own around the Bridge to acknowledge the rest of her colleagues.

"Morning, Tsu," she says softly while settling herself in the seat Kendin warmed for her. "Anything interesting I missed?" While she talks, she takes in both their shared panels to confirm (as she fully expects to) that everything's as it should be on this planned journey to Novy Rostov.

Even as her eyes are busy, her body's instincts take their own measure of things--those not visible on any screen: an overall sense of how the ship engines "feel," as most highly experienced pilots and engineers learn to gauge through a myriad of tiny vibrations, sounds, and even the very atmosphere.

Assuming all's well, Nia's happy to continue the status quo and will ask Tsu--in the quietest possible voice--if Singh seems unusually preoccupied to her.

The ship feels right to Onn, all the way down to her scaly toes. Tsu murmurs, "Good morning, ma'am. Pretty quiet so far, and nothing out of the ordinary overnight, they say." The young, pretty Chinese woman glances over her shoulder. "I guess the Captain's deep in some report from Starfleet Command."

The Bridge doors whoosh open and Cmdr. Vargas enters. He steps down into the well and, after a moment, begins to talk quietly with the Captain.

Kylah starts to correct the nurse's mispronunciation of her name, but then thinks better of it. After their rocky encounters yesterday, Dr. Bennett might not want to see the woman he knows as Ensign Kylah. The nonexistent Ensign Kalla, however, might actually get a response.

Instead, she simply says, "Thank you, Nurse Mills." Though she does not smile often, Kylah is well aware that most Terrans find it an important form of communication. So she offers a small smile of gratitude.

Once the nurse focuses on her communicator to contact Dr. Bennett--or leaves to see him in person--Kylah will take a quick look at her chronometer. How much time does she have before her watch begins?

Nathaniel is glad that Rangin was progressing. Now he supposes he should see what else was going on in Sickbay. And then get himself a dress uniform for tonight. He hadn't needed one in years and his is still back on Earth. He briefly wonders if that still fit, but notes he is in as good a shape as ever. Too bad Ensign Ward took off or he would have had a chance to find out.

Nurse Mills returns Kylah's smile and hits the comm button. "Dr. Bennett, an Ens. Kalla is here to speak with you, if you have a moment."

The young Elasian woman has almost an hour before she goes on duty.

Nathaniel frowns upon hearing the message from the nurse. You have got to be kidding, he thinks. He was going to have to teach this staff about saying he wasn't here or was in surgery or something. His team back on Earth learned very quickly about when and when not to bother him.

Besides, wasn't that woman out here for hours yesterday? And little had changed in Rangin's condition, nor could she do anything other than cry or wail over his body. Nathaniel's incliation is to send her away, but she'd only hang out in the office until he tries to leave and then she'd pounce on him, even more overwought and emotionally out of control.

He has to deal with her eventually, he sighs. Best to get it over with. But he has every intent on keeping this meeting short and make it clear he isn't going to put up with any of her nonsense.

"Send her in." Nathaniel says.

Graham checks the records for when Security last had some kind of moral / team building event or get together and any feedback about or assessments of them.

Kylah takes a few deep breaths while waiting for word on whether she will be able to speak with Dr. Bennett. She does not know whether he will come out here--effectively blocking her from seeing Velir--or if she might be allowed in after all.

Running through her mind the whole time is a calculation of how best to approach this prickly, arrogant human. Emotions do not sway him. Appealing to his ego helped some, but even then the change was insignificant. If he could have swatted me away like an irritating little insect, he would have. Gladly.

She clamps her teeth together and forces her nervous hands down to her sides while she waits. Deep breathing, calming thoughts, and a deferential attitude. If she could navigate the fractious moods of her cousin Elaan, not to mention gain the trust of a few hotheaded Klingons... Surely Kylah can do the same for one narcissistic doctor.

Nia nods at Tsu's words while taking a nonchalant glance at Vargas's entrance. She's not exactly well positioned to view him, considering Nav and Helm are in front of the Captain's chair. For a really good look, it'd mean swiveling around about 45 degrees, and that's hard to do without being egregiously obvious.

One thing Nia doesn't wanna do is attract Vargas's attention. That rarely goes well for her. And Singh wouldn't be pleased that her pilot's scoping the Bridge, as if she's bored and has nothing to do.

Even though... well, there isn't that much to do. Truth is, piloting the ship is easy-peasy when traveling through a relatively safe and mapped-out part of the Quadrant with a properly set course laid in. Depends on the Nav,, Nia thinks with a little smile.

But while she has some self-admitted. utterly absurd irritation toward Cecilia Bennett--who was by Nia's side when the Captain ordered the course set after leaving Beta Antares--Nia can't deny the gal knows her stuff, navigationally speaking.

So Nia's just there in case. Nineteen journeys out of twenty, there's no in case. Anything they come across will be visible in plenty of time, either literally or via the ship's exquisitely fine-tuned sensors. Even something extraordinarily unforeseen, like space debris, should be easy to catch in plenty of time for Nia to avoid disaster.

A Bird of Prey manifesting itself out of nowhere, on the other hand...

Oh crap, may Sen forbid that!*, Nia thinks with an atypical internal prayer to her culture's ancient deities... who she doesn't believe in anyway, so... kinda pointless.

But a cloaked Bird of Prey...yeah, that'd definitely count as that twentieth, unexpected glitch.

Let's not go there.

Back to being curious about Vargas. She does turn just slightly to give the commander a respectful nod--not that he'll likely see it, much less return it. She doesn't care; she just wants to see exactly where he's positioned. Now, when she shifts back, she can casually pick him out in the shining reflection of her panel, able to watch whatever he and Singh are doing.

The ability to let trivialities amuse her is one of the reasons Nia never finds these long journeys boring. Always something to see: outside in the vast expanse of inexhaustible space, or inside the small container of the Yorktown Bridge with its even smaller inhabitants.



* For more of this fascinating mythology, see "Religious Culture," at the bottom of the Sidonia page of "Memory Theta." :D

Nurse Mills smiles, gestures towards Rangin's room and says to Kylah, "You can go right in."

The Security Department last had a morale/teambuilding exercise just before Graham came aboard - a martial arts tourney followed by drinks and dinner, all hosted by Cmdr. Vargas. The anonymous evaluations on the Security computer comment boards afterwards were generally positive.

Vargas is focused on his talk with the Captain but Onn does catch his eye, and he nods back to her.

That Memory Theta page is really cool, SG!

Graham muses for a few moments and then sends a text message to Mahmoud.

Hey - what do you think about another morale event kind of thing - seems like folks liked the martial arts thing before I came onboard. Any ideas or suggestions for who I should talk to who might have some?

He pauses, and then adds more.

I also have a question - I'm looking for something that might be a little hard to find or...odd. To surprise Nia with. Anybody who's good at--as you might say--finding things onboard?

He starts to sign off, and then...

It's not what I bet you're thinking, get your mind out of the gutter. And it's "Pervert, Sir" now in any event if you were thinking something like that. Lemme know when and we can just talk.

Kylah nods again at Nurse Mills and offers a nearly breathless 'thank you' before starting forward. On her way, she suddenly realizes her hands have balled into tense, tight fists. At once she pauses, then loosens her fingers to shake them out.

Then, donning her mother's virtual mask of serenity, Kylah walks into the room.

Every instinct screams at her to pay attention only to Velir, to rush to his side and clasp his hand in an attempt to communicate. But she must deny those impulses. In fact, she does not dare look at the man lying so still on the bed.

Instead she aims her calmest gaze up--way up, given her diminutive stature--at the implacable figure of Dr. Bennett.

Not merely his height and obviously fit figure make him so imposing; Kylah finds even his extremely handsome face to be attractive in a remote way. It bears the rigid perfection of a statue cast from the richest bronze: beautiful but cold.

She stops a respectful distance from him. "Good morning, Dr. Bennett. I hope your first night on the ship was restful." Her tone is measured and well modulated, as if reciting before the Elasian Royal Council. "I am grateful for your sparing the time to see me. I promise will not bother you for long--I am due on the Bridge soon."

Not entirely true, but Kylah hopes this will assuage his impatience. She moves smoothly on. "Dr. T'Var told me that he appears to be responding to the treatment--or at least, is encouragingly stable. Is that so?"

Graham soon has a response: Another event like that might be fun; don't have any particular ideas myself, but let me think about it. As for finding things aboard, I know a guy: Ens. Akinola Serowe of Engineering. He's amazingly resourceful, but he doesn't come cheap. Meet for lunch? MAHMOUD.

Kylah can see that Rangin appears to be resting comfortably.

"He's fine." Nathaniel says. "He'll be fine. So there's no need for you to keep coming here and... worrying about him."

Nathaniel would find her weakly veiled attempt to control her hysteria amusing if he didn't feel she was such a sad, pathetic creature. He wonders what Rangin thinks of these visits, if he even has any awareness of his surroundings. Maybe he likes women weeping and wailing over him. Some men need that kind of attention. And some just commands it no matter what they did.

Graham replies.

Main mess, 2400 sharp. See you there and thanks for the pointer.

Graham checks Friedman's duty logs and records just to get a sense of whether there's something he should know about why the guy would be in a bad mood.*

Then he checks the duty roster for when this Serowe guy will be on station.


*Nothing invasive like what Security or a manager would do if there was an investigation or suspicion of wrongdoing - just normal everyday records acccess.

Kylah's throat is tight as she swallows. The doctor's contempt is practically an emotional corona, so strong it could overload her senses if she were not already guarding her own feelings.

Why? she wonders in frustration, hands clasping together. Is he devoid of the slightest compassion? Or is it that he has heard of her Elasian background, and suspects her of using her notoriously enslaving tears?

She has done nothing to imply such a plan. It is not fair. A flicker of anger warms her cheeks and the skin from her throat to the deep V of her neckline. This, along with her fear, she must hide.

Anyway, she is not hear to befriend this man. To continue to try would be like... like...

Kylah shakes her head, momentary at a loss for an analogy, and then almost smiles when she remembers a phrase used by one of her uncle's honored guests from Qo'noS: qagh HoH. Literally, 'killing gagh,' but idiomatically, it means an act that is illogical and pointless; gagh is, after all, only worth eating when alive.

And one Klingon phrase reminds her of another, which--in her thoughts--she spitefully aims at Dr. Bennett: HoS lI' Dalo'Ha'chu'. You are an utter waste of effort.

"Thank you for letting me know, Doctor," she says with considerably more control and respect than she feels. "I suppose it must be troublesome, visitors irritating you all the time." At last she turns to Velir and, taking him in with her eyes and heart, she is almost magnetically drawn toward him.

She must touch him. She must get some contact. Kylah does not care if Dr. Bennett calls security, but she will attempt to communicate with Velir again. As she nears the opposite side of the bed, she begins to gently push her thoughts outward.

Velir, Velir, listen to me. Can you talk to me? Over and over, like the Aelyrr broadcasting their desperate pleas into the void of space in hopes of a response. It was Kylah who caught that tiny cry for help. Will Velir do the same?

She continues her inward chanting, but knows she must somehow get Dr. Bennett to allow her more time. How can he be so unfeeling?

"You probably do not know this, sir," she says suddenly, "but Mr. Rangin and I... we are not just friends." She falters when she realizes that this will give him the wrong impression.

"That is--I mean--I owe him a great deal. He saved my life. Not long ago, on a shore leave like this past one, I was kidnapped. Attacked, robbed, and abandoned, unconscious and bleeding on a strange planet, with no communicator to be tracked, nothing identifiable."

She shudders involuntarily but quickly collects herself. "I-it was Mr. Rangin who thought of a way to search for me, using the ship's sensors to recognize the one item I owned that was unique to me. Something only he knew I had been carrying. His quick thinking enabled my other crewmates to find me at last."

As she says these heartfelt words, Kylah at last places her hand on Velir's wrist. A thrum of life, always there when she physically connects with nearly every emotionally readable being, vibrates from his skin through hers. She keeps her mind chanting, but adds aloud: "Surely you can now understand why I care so much what happens to him, Doctor? Why I keep coming back? Without him I would have died. I owe him my very life."

Afraid she will lose control again, she blinks and lifts her chin to look evenly at Dr. Bennett. "I wonder, sir..." She hesitates before continuing. This question must be phrased artfully, for she must simultaneously protect Bennett's enormous ego and her own secret.

"Dr. T'Var... she mentioned to me that because of his new mental abilities, there might be some psionic activity in his brain. Of course, I do not really understand the medical terms for such things..."

These last words are spoken all in a rush--blurting them out is the only way she can manage to tell such a massive lie.

"...But," Kylah hurries on, "...she suggested that Mr. Rangin might be reachable even while seemingly unconscious. Through Dr. T'Var's touch telepathy, or... or perhaps even a mind-meld. Naturally, Dr. T'Var is very experienced with that. I suppose you two have spoken about this already. Do you think that might work?"

Even as she says all this to this icicle of a doctor, Kylah's fingers clutch at Velir's, her thumb stroking him gently, soothingly.

I am back, Velir. It is Kylah. Feel my hand, my warmth. Feel my love-- No! No, that will scare him away! She corrects herself immediately: My loving friendship and affection. You are safe here, with me. Please tell me--show me--where you are, and why you are there? Will you not return to us?

Lunch at midnight? Um, how about a little earlier? Mahmoud texts back.

Friedman's duty logs and records appear completely routine, and reveal nothing about why he might be in a bad mood.

Ens. Serowe, Graham sees, is on duty right now on Deck 12, in Inertial Damping System Subcompartment 4.

Nathaniel is alarmed by what Kylah is suggesting. Rangin's condition is delicate. Improving, but delicate. She has no idea how intruding on his mind, which he would never allow without a lot of research first, would do to his condition.

"A mind meld?" Nathaniel says. "Are you insane? Or are you just stupid?!"

The doctor's blistering words strike Kylah like a blow, and she takes a jerking step backwards--but holds on to Velir. He anchors her.

Somehow--whether because Velir is so still and quiet and it is affecting Kylah, or because he is in that same pastoral dreamlike space... a sense of quiet indignation stiffens her pine.

At last she finds her tongue. "You have no cause to speak to me like that." Her body trembles with suppressed tension and anger. "I know mind melds are a risk. I did not suggest it, Dr. T'Var did.

"And I assume she did so because she knows Ensign Rangin's medical history as well as his capabilities, having served and treated him for longer than--than twelve hours."

Kylah clenches her jaw and forces herself to return to Velir's side. "I neither like nor advocate for invasive medical procedures, especially those involving the mind. I have experienced... too much along those lines." She glances down at Velir, needing the comforting sight of his face, before returning to Dr. Bennett.

"But the doctor's suggestion is worthy of consideration, and I simply wished to bring it up with you. She would have done so herself, and will, when she sees you next."

Kylah's left hand joins her right in clasping Velir's hand, cupping it and drawing strength from his presence. Please, Velir, I need you so! You would know how to deal with this monster passing as a doctor!

She takes a deep breath. "Contact Dr. T'Var, sir, as she is the expert on the subject on psionic skills. But I recommend you keep your insults at a minimum with her. Vulcans' tongues are dry but as sharp as a bat'leth. I would not wish to match your barbs against hers."

"I don't need you to 'suggest' to me how I handle my co-workers." Nathaniel snapped.

This... woman had really gone too far. Nathaniel had tried to be patient. He'd tried to be civil. He'd tried putting up with her nonsense, but he'd had all he could take.

"And I sure as hell don't need our unsolicited and unwanted medical advice." Nathaniel hissed, truly offended. He'd done all the work, he'd done all the research. And she dared to suggest it wasn't enough. "He's getting better and he's going to get better. And he's going to do so without your... help. At this point are you proving to be a distraction to him -- and to me. I'm going to ask you to leave. Now."

After Kylah's weakness in her confrontation with Ferguson yesterday--and losing countless similar battles in her life--something inside her snaps.

Normally, due to her empathic senses, she cannot avoid being affected when in proximity to such heightened emotions, especially those directed at her. An opponent's anger creates an almost tangible blast of heat--like a flamethrower--and her body reacts with an animalistic instinct to either respond in kind, or flee from the enemy.

But not this time. Kylah will not run, she will not crumple; not under the barrage of utterly inexplicable rage. Not when she is genuinely trying to help and breaking no rule.

Why... this is how Velir usually reacts, she realizes in wonder. Her gaze falls down to the man lying on the bed before her. It is as if I am channeling him.

The thought comforts her and enables her to stare evenly at this human, while projecting a shield of cool dispassion of which even T'Var would approve.

"I have done nothing to engender such hostility," she says. "Nor am I here without permission. Dr. T'Var--your colleague, an officer who is of equal rank and greater seniority in terms of service to this ship--allowed me to visit. So if you wish me to leave, Dr. Bennett, you will have to call Security."

As she says this last word, her heart quickens when she realizes that, at last, she has an advantage here.

This is a gamble, she knows. Mr. Graham's disapproval of her connection to Velir could easily make him side with Dr. Bennett, if for no reason than to force her away from what he clearly considers a toxic situation.

But he can also be fair and professional. He will, she hopes, see this doctor's egregious hostility. Bennett's behavior is far more detrimental to his patient's recovery than Kylah's.

So, after a patient inward breath, she adds quietly: "In fact, sir, perhaps you should take the matter all the way to the Assistant Chief of Security. Have him decide who is causing the disturbance."

Nia strains to hear any snippet of conversation between Vargas and the Captain.

It's not that she's that interested in whatever they're talking about. Most likely, mundane crap, like 75% of the discussions between a ship's captain and her first officer. But Nia craves something for her mind to work on, and she's a social person by nature.

Once again she notices the difference in the Bridge dynamic depending on whoever's in the big chair. When Nia's BCDO, she encourages conversation. Not to the detriment of people who have current projects to do at their individual workstations, but enough so that no one goes crazy from hours of traveling in what's generally the same endless vista of stars.

Singh doesn't mind chatter, either, to a degree. Officers are respectful and wait for her to initiate conversation, because... well, y'know, she's the captain. But at least talking's not forbidden.

It's the combination of Singh and Vargas that's shut the door on any likely banter. Even if he weren't in deep conversation with the Captain, Vargas alone is enough to keep most officers quiet. As Nia's joked before, Vargas's presence is the vacuum in which sound can't travel.

The thought makes her smile. Well, she's not afraid of speaking, and plans to ask a few questions that'll at least keep her and her crewmates mentally engaged. But interrupting the ship's two highest-ranking officers would be a) against protocol, b) rude, c) bad judgement, and d) an open invitation for Vargas's notorious dressing-downs.

So she's content to bide her time until whenever the aforementioned First Officer/Security Chief/Chief Pain-in-Nia's-Ass has finished his private confab with Singh.

Eh, 1200 wise guy, Graham replies to Mahmoud.

If otherwise undisturbed he heads off to find Serowe.

Onn can overhear only a few snippets of the conversation between Captain and First Officer: "Yes, we should defin...." "...ary readings are...." "...unusual, but not...." "knows what he's talking...." and "...see when we get there; I know that Mister Ro...."

Mahmoud replies, I thought that was probably what you meant, but of course now that you're ACOS I get to needle you just a little more so you don't get too full of your own awesomeness. See you!

Graham soon finds Ens. Serowe, as expected, in Inertial Damping System Subcompartment 4 on Deck 12. Serowe is a thin, almost scrawny African with a ready smile. He is with a humanoid alien redshirt whom Graham doesn't recognize. They have a toolkit partly and neatly unpacked on the deck. The compartment is utilitarian and drab, with not much space to move around the large IDS machine.

Nathaniel sighs, even more disgusted by this sad, pathetic creature. He loathed weakness. And he hated those who couldn't handle their own problems even more. It is just like her to want to whine to other people about her problems, rather than deal with him herself. But Nathaniel has better things to do than bring other people into this. Unlike her, he didn't create unnecessary and unneeded drama.

"Look, you clearly feel like need to make everything about your and your --- issues." Nathaniel says. "And I am hardly about to feed into your obvious desire to create drama as much as you might enjoy that. I just need you to remember that I am his doctor and I will decide what is to be done about his treatment, not you. Your... suggestions are neither welcome, nor warrented. You want to stay here to weep over him, then keep your comments to yourself and stay out of my way. Got it?"

"Morning," Graham says in a friendly tone. "Hope I'm not interrupting any work that's too delicate to be disturbed. Lt. J..G. Graham, Booker Graham."

Rangin sits on the hill looking down again, the blue skies are still in place, but the valley below is now obscured by fog hiding the people below. he can hear the gentle murmur but somehow it seems subdued, almost deadened as if the fog was muffling the chatter.

The fog then begins to form shapes and slowly creep up the hill. Wisps of it turning into figures that seem to come and go, drifting out of the mist and then merging back into it. But with it he can hear other voices, not the ones he has been hearing from the people down below, but new ones that spark some form of recognition.

The whispering words come out but mean little, but the feelings behind them: desire, anger, loss, fear, hatred, these he can feel. As the temperature cools slightly, his muscles begin to stiffen and feels helpless in the face of the oncoming fog.

Rangin struggles slightly both against himself and the feelings that sweep over him. That he has done something wrong, something he needs to make right, something he still doesn't understand. Looking into the fog, he can see things coalesce; a door with a figure in it. It changes to a floating object with charred patches across it which seems to twist sending sparks out into the mist.

He sits there, watching it move around trying to understand it, concentrate on it, figure out what it means and why it is so important to him, or to others as well. The figures slowly revert again and he watches almost hypnotised and trying to stay focused on the scene dancing in front of him.

"'Morning, sir," Serowe says, standing and nodding. "What can we do for you?"

Graham casually lowers his hand. "You're Ens. Serowe, is that right? An old friend - Ens. Mahmoud - told me you might be able to help me find something, uh, out of the ordinary. A, ah - well, kind of a gift for somebody that's a little out of the ordinary."

Serowe looks a little cagey. "That's what people say. Give us a minute, would you, Belet?" The alien leaves the compartment. "What did you have in mind, sir?" Serowe then asks Graham.

Unable to meet this human's arrogant gaze any longer, Kylah bows her head like a dog beaten into submission.

"I do not know what I did to so offend you, nor what you mean by 'drama,'" she mutters, emotionally exhausted by both Dr. Bennett's incessant nastiness and her own failed attempts to reach Velir. "I have done nothing false. I have not caused a commotion. I just asked a simple question about Dr, T'Var's idea, and then wished to remain by my friend's side."

Kylah shakes her head and unconsciously squeezes Velir's hand; otherwise she is numb and motionless. "Thank you for allowing me to stay--for that much, at least, I owe you my gratitude."

Nia can barely piece together the Captain and Vargas's conversation. Something to do with the sensors, maybe? Anomalous readings, it sounds like--although what kind is anyone's guess. Seems Roble's involved somehow, or will be. Frustrated, she shrugs to herself. Well, my career as a spy's not going too well. Doesn't appear to be an emergency, anyway.

She purses her lips slightly and glances sideways at Tsu. Can't hurt to get to know her a little better. "So," she begins, "how long've you been with the Yorktown?"

“Well, I’d settle for your not being here.” Nathaniel thinks to himself.

While she is clearly a weak, troubled creature, in some respects she is a stubbborn little thing. There is some strength there, even if it is misguided and pointless. He has to give her that much.

Instead he replies “Well, Rangin is recovering and I have other patients to see. I’m sure at some point you’ll return to doing whatever it is you do on this ship and you may not be here when I check on him again so I’ll Just say goodbye now.”

Nathaniel nods and walks out. He thinks about what is on his agenda for the rest of this day. Beyond his duties in Sickbay he still needs to get a suit for the officer’s dinner tonight so he has to see the ships tailor. And he still needs to get laid. It has been too long and he is starting to get a little grumpy. Last night with the cutie in the mess hall was a missed opportunity. He isn’t going to let the next one pass him by.

Tsu says, "Almost two years now. I was on the Waterloo before this, and was at Starbase 8 for awhile, right out of the Academy. How about you?"

Dr. Bennett's medical duties for the rest of his watch are not especially demanding. He learns from Dr. Bucci that the Yorktown doesn't have a tailor among its 430-some personnel, but that he may get a dress uniform in the proper departmental colors and size from the Quartermaster's stores. Any necessary tailoring is done by automation.

Rangin stares entranced at the figures in the mist as they seem to solidify. Before he knows it, the figure has held out whatever object it was, a sparking communicator, and pushed it out to him. He cannot help but reach out to her only to feel his fingers drift through the object, but entangle and make a tangible connection to hers. Last time he fell through, but this time he can feel something.

New emotions, a desperate sense that the person needs him for some reason, that there is something more he is needed for. It's despair tinged with fear and hope-against-hope that he might recognise her, hear her, answer her.

He squeezes slowly, almost surprised that the hand he touches does not fade away into nothingness, and calls out her name.

Kylah, I'm here for you.


* * *

The oddest sensation ripples from Kylah’s fingers up through her arm, making her shiver--but not from fear. Instead of the door--on which she has been focusing since Dr. Bennett left so abruptly--she suddenly sees a hillside, the same one as before. More than that, she sees a transparent image of herself. As viewed in a dream. As viewed through someone else’s eyes.

She inhales sharply in comprehension. She is again seeing what Velir sees. More than that: she feels him. Both mentally and physically: beneath her own hand, his fingers twitch, tighten.

Then his ghostly voice. Those words. A vow… to her.

With a startled cry, she clutches his hand and draws it nearer, holding it just where her pulse races at the V of her neckline.

“And I am here for you,” she blurts, both aloud and in her mind, as she focuses on Velir’s face. “Can you truly see me? Squeeze my hand again, if you are strong enough.” Her voice softens to an intense whisper, echoing every thought she transmits to him. “Please. Let me lead you home.”


* * *

Home...home. The words echo forth from the figure in front of him, and as quickly as it had arrived the mists clear, revealing the hillside and the people below still moving on and the suddenly clear sound of the transport overhead.

Home...home. He can hear their call urging him to join the journey onwards, to leave all this behind to find somewhere new, a permanent home for the rest of time. He starts to move towards them, perhaps understanding at last.

Home...home. But his fingers will not untangle themselves from the figure’s grasp. Some part of him is unwilling to give up and the figure is keeping him there, refusing to let go and wanting him, needing him to go with her instead.

Home...home. Is he always so weak-willed? Unable to move, he draws the figure closer. And as the mist draws around him turning the world white, he closes his eyes, burying him in darkness.


* * *

Kylah’s senses are torn into too many pieces, indistinguishable from Velir’s. Some unexpected reserve of strength within him is pulling her with him, into a dreamy, restful void as appealing as a warm bed on a cold wintry evening. It would be so easy to follow him, to slip into a place without heartache or pain...

Her eyes widen. No, she must not succumb. She takes a deep breath to clear her head and reclaim her own separate consciousness. As soon as she recovers, she bends closer to him, whispering fervently: “I will not let you go. I will not. Fight this and wake up!”


* * *

Tired, so tired; Rangin can feel every part of his body aching as his eyes open a crack. Blurred shapes emerge from a darkness haloed by blinding white light from all around as he struggles to work out where he is. From the one side he can feel his hand being held, still being held by someone. The dream he was having flits away quickly and it's hard to remember anything but the vaguest details and feelings, other than a sense of leaving something important behind. But for better or worse he is waking up...somewhere.

He lies there as the weight of his body becomes more apparent. As his vision slowly begins to clear, he starts to recognise the ceiling of Sickbay. Blinking away the blurs, he slowly starts to look round to see who is standing alongside him, even though he already knows the answer.




Rangin by Rangin/cias, Kylah by choie

Tsu's response makes Nia smile. "Didn't realize we were both members of the same Yorktown entry class. But given my age, I've got a lot more light-years in my history, and my record reflects that. I started on the Kossuth, served a two-year stint on the Rangoon, and right before this, a triple on the Meikikel."

Her voice is still low, which helps her keep one metaphorical ear on the Captain/Vargas conversation as she continues.

"Hard to believe we've served together all this time and haven't shared that many watches. Mostly, I sit next to Guzman or Bennett. Who are great, don't get me wrong, but like they say, variety's the spice of life. Who do you usually get teamed up with?"

Kylah holds her breath when Velir's eyes blink open and his confused, unfocused gaze takes in his surroundings, sweeping the small Sickbay room in a painfully slow arc.

At last he reaches her--first apparently noticing their linked hands, then--at long last--her face.

"Oh..." she exhales, struck forcefully by the impact of his questioning stare. She is at a loss. During her two-day vigil, she never considered how she should act if he should recover.

It has been such a long time since they were this close, physically. Or emotionally, for that matter. She was bound to him, through their empathic connection, and such intimacy has eluded them for a long time.

"Do not be afraid," she murmurs, although she does not sense any fear--or anything else--from him. "You are in Sickbay. The orbital skydiving... do you remember that? Your suit failed, and there were... complications. But you will be all right."

The words are automatic. She does not fully trust Dr. Bennett's brusque statements, as he seems likely to tell her anything if it meant she would shut up and stop bothering him. Thinking of the doctor makes her shake her head and glance up at the various monitors linked to Velir's status.

"I must tell someone you are awake. The medical staff will likely see your status has changed, but... " Kylah hesitates. Dr. Bennett or Dr. T'Var? She can only imagine the vitriol Bennett will spew at her if she contacts him directly. Or, for that matter, if she does not. She cannot win with him.

But to contact someone, to reach for her communicator, Kylah would have to stop holding Velir's hand. She is not ready to do that. After the struggle they just went through to pull him from unconsciousness, it is entirely possible that their connection is the only thing keeping him here.

She has to make sure he is solidly here, that he will not slip back into that seductive oblivion. Her worried gaze returns to him. "Can you speak?" she asks softly. "Can you tell me how you feel?"

Nurse Mills enters Rangin's room. She looks surprised to see him with his eyes open. She says, "I saw the change in his brainwaves, and came to check."

"Usually Kendin or Vaudreuil," Tsu replies. "They're both on the ball. I had a friend on the Rangoon, by the way."

Capt. Singh stands up. "Mr. Onn, you have the Bridge," she says. "I might be awhile." She turns to go with Vargas.

Graham grunts, clears his throat, and rubs his chin. "Well, it's like this..."

When he finishes explaining what he has in mind to Serowe, Graham emphasizes sooner is better than later--and offers to pay whatever it takes.

Serowe has a slow, sly smile by the time Graham finishes. "OK, Lieutenant," he says, nodding. "Let me see what I can do. I'll report back to you tonight."

Nathaniel heads down to the Quartermaster and before he knows it, he has his dress suit for the dinner tonight. He takes it back to his quarters and tries it on. He looks at himself in the mirror of his quarters. It fit well enough and is certainly snug in all the right places. Hopefully the right someone would notice. A little fun with the right guy is the only thing that is going to make this evening bearable. Nathaniel hates these stuffy dinners with the ship's officers. With the task of his uniform for the night taken care of, Nathaniel wonders if he should check on Rangin. It was doubtful his condition is changed. He would have been contacted if that were the case. Besides that.... woman would still be there. And Nathaniel does not want to see her. Then again, he'd be damned if he'd let anyone keep him from his Sickbay. Maybe if he were lucky, she would have found someone else to weep over.

Slowly Rangin's eyes begin to focus and the rest of Sickbay comes into sharp relief with a single figure still next to him, holding his hand closely. He feels surprised to see her for some reason he cannot yet fathom. But he feels glad that she is here and for some reason letting go of her hand would seem like the wrong thing to do.

He tries to remember back to what happened, the skydiving which went wrong, but the memories are hazy for some reason and he cannot pull together his actions. He hopes they will return later.

He then realises she has been speaking to him and seems to earnestly be waiting for his response. At this point in time, he is just glad that someone else is here and he opens his mouth to tell her so. Unfortunately, the words come out mumbled as he realises his jaw has not been active for a while and is not in best working condition. He exercises it a little and then tries again, although to what effect, he is not sure.

"Hello Kylah. Thank you."

Kylah has barely turned to the nurse when she hears a rasp of air--Velir's attempt at speech. She darts her gaze back to him, searching his dark blue eyes for meaning.

A sudden flash of fear strikes her. What if the lack of oxygen caused permanent damage? She has received no useful information from Dr. Bennett, who seems only to communicate in insults or brusque condescension.

Then he recognizes her, says her name. Thanks her.

"But I did nothing," she blurts, so happy to hear him speak that honesty tumbles from her lips. "Nothing except cry and make an enemy of the new doctor. Velir, I--"

The nurse's presence halts her speech, and also makes Kylah conscious that she is holding Velir's hand very close to her bosom. She steps an inch backwards, flushing, and changes position so that her hands and his are resting on the bed.

"I was...I was just about to inform the doctor," she stammers to Nurse Mills. "But I was afraid--"

Kylah realizes she cannot explain that she feared losing physical contact of Velir, possibly mental contact as well. He might have floated away, disappeared into nothingness, to a place she could not follow.

"I was afraid Dr. Bennett would think me presumptuous, telling him about 'his' patient," she finishes, which is true enough. Then she focuses on Velir again. She is very aware of the warmth of his hand, captured within her own. Is this presumptuous? When he was last conscious, they were almost enemies. For her, ages seem to have passed since they argued after Collins's goodbye party. For him... it must seem like mere seconds.

She reluctantly loosens her grip. "Many people worked to save your life," she says quietly, trying to rein in her feelings and return to a more professional demeanor. "And many worried for you. Captain Singh will be happy to hear you have awoken."

Nurse Mills comes over to Rangin's bedside and efficiently but gently checks his eyes, ears and neck, and then runs a small pocket scanner over him. "I'll be right back," she says. "I'd better let the doctor know what's happened." She leaves the room.

Dr. Bennett soon gets a call from the nurse, fully advising him what's happened.

Graham takes his leave of Serowe and mumbles "fingers crossed" has leaves Engineering.

If not otherwise interrupted, he intends to check the Security logs for any updates from the staff on patrol and then look up what department-wide training exercises have been conducted on- and off- the ship lately. In tandem with a morale event we should top up our skills, stay frosty....

Though Nia’s about to ask Tsu for the name of her friend on the Rangoon, the sudden command from Singh snatches her focus and makes her lift her eyebrows. She instinctively rises from her chair with an automatic, "Aye aye, Captain."

She glances down at Tsu. "You've got the helm, okay? Just till my relief gets here." After a couple of strides she's seated comfortably in the Captain's chair--having taken the brief time to decide which of her fellow helm officers should get the nod.

Now she taps the blue comm panel on the armrest. "Onn to Pourtash. Please head up to the Bridge to stand watch, if you're not otherwise occupied."

It'll be nice to see Faraz again; they aren't usually on the Bridge at the same time, not surprisingly. And hey, isn't he Trig's roommate? Nia hasn't forgotten how weirdly taciturn Mikhail Trigorin was when she saw him last night in Engineering. Maybe Pourtash'll know what's up with the usually friendly guy.

Once she gets a response (hopefully a positive one) from Pourtash, she'll ask her fellow Bridge officers for a round of general status reports and, more specifically, ask what projects each is working on. Getting the crew chatty should help wake things up a bit.

The Security logs show a variety of abandon ship, hostage rescue, forced entry and intruder countermeasures drills over the past month; Graham has been involved in some but not all of them. There have been no off-ship drills in that time.

Singh and Vargas leave the Bridge. Tsu replies to Onn, "Sure, no problem," and taps a few keys on her Navigation console to slave the Helm controls into it.

Lt. JG Faraz Pourtash says from belowdecks, "On my way."

Onn hears briefly from Lt. JG Ernesto Garcia at the Communications station ("All quiet, ma'am"), Ens. Sasok at Engineering ("All ship's systems are functioning within normal parameters, Lieutenant"), Lt. JG Tadeusz Kawecki at Security ("Nothing to report, ma'am"), Ens. Emebet Woizera at Environmental Systems ("All's well, ma'am, although nitrogen levels are slightly elevated on Deck 17 starboard. Nothing dangerous, but I have a team looking into it"), and Lt. Gennadi Antonov at Science I ("Nothing to report, Mr. Onn; sensors show nothing within a parsec"). No one is working on a project at the moment except for Antonov, who is researching sensor designs among three new warp-capable civilizations recently contacted by the Federation: the Drellim, the u'gaszi and the Gredonians. Woizera adds that she's been writing a short story for a Lyceum workshop.

The Bridge turbolift doors whoosh open. Pourtash arrives, nods at Onn and heads for the Helm chair.

Nia listens to everyone, meeting their gaze when possible. She asks Woizera to keep her informed of any new results of the investigation into the nitrogen problem; makes a private note to look up the three newly contacted civilizations--or to ask Antonov about them later if he takes a break; and thanks everyone else for the reports.

To her fellow helm officer, she sends a smile and a nod. They don't usually get to serve on the Bridge together, not surprisingly.

"Good to see you, Pourtash. And Tsu--thanks for watching over the helm." No need to formally tell Tsu she's relieved of that responsibility; the younger woman knows what to do.

Finally, she swivels her chair slightly to return her attention to Woizera. "Hope you didn't think I was gonna ignore your artistic endeavors, Ensign," Nia says with an affable grin. "What sort of things do you write, if you don't mind my asking? Don't worry, I won't nag you to read to us."

Pourtash says, "Thank you, ma'am." He seems happy. He begins looking over his board and orienting himself.

Tsu replies, "Not a problem, Lieutenant."

The Ethiopian woman says, a little shyly, "This is only my third story, but I write, oh, I don't know, just stuff. I guess you could say it's autobiographical, kind of. Loosely autobiographical but... fictionalized." She shrugs. "It's not very good, but I think it's getting better, thanks to the feedback the others in the group have been giving me. At least, I hope it is."

Rangin slowly loosens his grip on Kylah's hand, not really wanting to let go as it keeps him grounded in the here and now, but then suffers to be checked over by the nurse.

Once she is finished he turns his head back to Kylah to look at her again. "I'm thanking you because, for whatever reason it may be, you are here." Still finding things a little disoriented, he focuses on on the one thing he can still look at clearly.

"I don't remember that much at the moment. I remember the start of the descent and then it all goes a little hazy and I'm not sure why I'm currently here other than something must have gone wrong."

He moves uncomfortably in the bed, feeling as though he hasn't moved for a little while. "Perhaps I could get a glass of water as well? My throat is feeling a little dry and I'm not sure why. How long have I been out for?"

Nathaniel hurries down to Sickbay upon getting the news about Rangin. He assumes the guy would be waking up, but the treatment worked faster than Nathaniel had thought. I am good, aren't I, Nathaniel thinks as he enters Rangin's room. The nurse was there, of course, examining Rangin, as was Kylah. But of course.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Nathaniel says to Kylah. "I need to check on my patient. And this time, I insist."

Though Kylah was about to respond to Velir's question, Dr. Bennett's arrival deflates her. She backs away, almost shrinking against the fear that he will snap at her again.

She nods without looking at him, instead keeping her gaze on Velir. Somehow she finds the strength to murmur: "You do not need to thank me for being here, Velir. There is no place else I would choose to be."

The honesty turns her cheeks pink. "I will--I will visit you later, if it is allowed, and if you... wish it." Worried she is risking a harsh word from Dr. Bennett, she turns and hurries away, keeping as distant from the tall human as she can.

Before she leaves, however, she pauses to whisper to the other woman in the small room. "He said it so quietly, I do not know if you heard him ask for water?" Then she gives a weak and fleeting smile. "Thank you for everything, Nurse Mills. You have been very compassionate."

The doors open and shut behind her. After one last look at Velir's room, Kylah hugs herself and heads off to the Bridge.

It seems Woizera might not like being in the spotlight. Or maybe she's just not used to it? Nia smiles encouragingly. "I'm sure it's better than you think. Most artists I know aren't the best judges of their own product. Although admittedly they usually tend to overestimate their genius," she adds with a chuckle.

"Anyway, I wish you luck. Hope Lt. Thalen--is he leading the group?--or whoever, plans to put out a collection of stories by your group. What's it called? An...anthro... anthology," she says, snapping her fingers. Glad to save herself from sounding like a total dolt.

Literature's not exactly her strong suit. Not many artsy things are, to be honest. She can appreciate music and some sculptures and a few books. But her people didn't set much store by anything without a practical or utilitarian use.

After a moment she asks a question of the general Bridge crew. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting anyone from the group we're shuttling off to Novy Rostov--have any of you? I don't know much about our destination, for that matter. I plan on researching it myself, of course, but if someone's got some preliminary data, I'm sure we'd all be interested in hearing it." Nia casts a look of curiosity around the Bridge. "Anyone?"

With Kylah out of the way, at least for now, Nathaniel approaches the revived Rangin. The man looks like someone who had been through hell and back, because he had been. But he is alive was going to be himself again soon enough.

“So, I guess this is going to be our formal introduction.” Nathaniel says to Rangin. “I’m Dr. Nathaniel Bennett, the ships new surgeon. I provided the treatment that brought you back. So tell me, how are you feeling?”

Nurse Mills nods to Kylah and whispers, "Of course." After the young Elasian officer leaves Sickbay, she asks Dr. Bennett, "May I get the patient some water, Doctor? He asked for it."

Woizera tells Onn, "Yes, Mr. Thalen still heads the Lyceum. He hasn't said anything about an anthology."

Antonov says, "I met a couple of the miners bound for Novy Rostov earlier today, ma'am. They seem like good folks, and," he chuckles, "I'm not just saying that because they're Russian." He gives Onn and the others on the Yorktown's Bridge a brief rundown on the planet, similar to what she already learned in post 18. If she'd like more detail, she knows she has but to ask.

Lt. Garcia yields the Communications console to Kylah with a smile and a nod. He then leaves the Bridge, if she has no questions.

As Kylah leaves, Rangin smiles and as she heads off quickly speaks to her, seeing her only from behind, "Yes, I would like it very much if you would visit again." He wonders not only if the shade of pink has darkened, but even why she was here in the first place.

After she has left, he watches the new doctor walk across. "Ensign Rangin: Xenobiology. Thank you for bringing me back, although I'm not sure what or where from. I feel... I feel crap, like I've been stretched out thin and I'm slowly forming back into shape."

As Nia listens to Antonov's helpful lesson, she keeps her face interested and curious. But it's a struggle not to slap her forehead and roll her eyes at herself. Seht'Dar's Holy Balls, how did I forget looking all this crap up already?! Just yesterday, in fact, even though for some reason it feels like a year.* Not even that much happened since then, although the emotional ups and downs with Booker probably counted for several weeks' worth of her usual mental energy. She's not exactly used to being that intense with a guy.

Anyway. At least now she remembers her thoughts from yesterday, which were triggered again by Antonov's recitation. This time she voices them aloud, after thanking Antonov.

"Pretty harsh territory to make your new life in. When you spoke with our guests, did any of 'em mention just why he or she was willing to uproot themselves to end up there?"


And it literally was! April 12, 2017, holy cow.

Kylah thanks Lt. Garcia and asks whether the Captain or any of the other senior officers are awaiting any specific incoming communications, or if there is anything else to report. It is a standard--and nearly always unnecessary--question. She knows Garcia would almost certainly have told her if there were anything pressing. But her mind is on autopilot right now, and the question is rote for any crew member relieving another one.

Even as she asks, her mind is whirling away. Did Velir say what she thought he did? His voice was so weak, and she was nearly out of his room when she caught his last words. And if he really did say he wishes her to visit again, could he possibly be sincere?

She is also simmering with resentment toward Dr. Bennett. She had more to say to Velir, and probably Velir has many questions as well. That monomaniacal, narcissistic doctor likely knows nothing and cares less about what happened during that dive. Whereas Kylah was a witness to it all.

Velir must be so disoriented and curious, waking up in Sickbay like this. Sadly, Kylah has far too much experience with this surreal feeling: whole and healthy in one location, then seemingly blinking one's eyes to find oneself broken and surrounded by medical equipment. It is terrifying.

Kylah also wanted to tell him that she did her best to get to him. Further, she intended to give Mr. Graham credit for helping to save his life. She is certain Dr. Bennett will not allow anyone else to take away the spotlight from his own brilliance.

Velir will not like hearing that he owes much to Mr. Graham, Kylah thinks with an infinitesimal shake of her head while looking up at Lt. Garcia. Oh! It is Lt. Graham now. How will Velir react to that news?!

If Garcia has nothing to report, Kylah will settle in to her regular duties: taking a look at the ship's non-secure incoming and outgoing message logs; searching for any news bulletins or announcements that might be important to forward to the senior officers; and periodically checking the sensors to identify communication traffic that might be of note.

Antonov shrugs. "They're miners, there are jobs on Novy Rostov, and I gather the money is good. Several of them have family or friends already there."

Garcia tells Kylah, "No, it was a quiet watch. I'm not expecting anything important for the Captain or any of the senior officers."

After he leaves, she checks the Comm logs. The only things of note are a navigation advisory for a just-discovered subspace eddy in the Porono sector (not on the Yorktown's current course), an announcement of the start of the maiden voyage of the luxury liner Moonshadow from Anubis, and a summary of the USS Exeter's xenosociological field studies of a preindustrial society on Gearan III.

"Feels like a year." Heh.

"Yes, get him some water." Nathaniel says to the nurse. He then turns to his patient. "Yes, you have been on quite a journey, Ensign Rangin. But thanks to the treatment I administered, it looks like you'll be 100% in no time."

Graham heads out to get some coffee, keeping his eyes pealed for any of the Security team on their routine patrol. He realizes how differently he's thinking about getting a sense of the overall operations of the ship's departments and the Security team specifically now that he's ACOS, in contrast to "just his beat" on his veyr first watch on routine patrol. He muses about coming up with a reason to visit the bridge without barging in for no obvious reason or making Nia feel like he's intruding on her space. A Klingon attack would be convenient...well, let's look for something less actually dangerous...

Nia chuckles at Antonov's matter-of-fact response regarding the miners' reasons for emigrating to Novy Rostov. "Fair point. Guess a solid salary's pretty tempting, even more so for those who already have family there." She's about to ask him if any representative will be at the dinner tonight, but cuts the thought short.

She'd rather not mention an event that's not open to everyone--that's just plain rude. And it's quite possible she and Antonov are the only two here who were invited--and frankly, she's not 100% sure about Antonov, even though he's her rank. While awareness of one's place in the hierarchy is part and parcel of being a member of Starfleet, Nia's not a fan of it. That's not the atmosphere she likes to cultivate when she's got the Bridge.

So who else is going tonight? Maybe Pourtash? He became a pretty hot property as soon as he boarded the Yorktown, named for missions right off the bat. For a while there she was beginning to think he'd somehow played leap-frog over her, seniority-wise, but...

Not for the first time, Nia contemplates her fellow Helm officers and wonders where she stands among them...

Suddenly she has to hide a smirk at her own hypocrisy. Okay, so she's not entirely against the hierarchy herself. Yeah, yeah, fine. That doesn't mean I need to shove it in people's faces when I'm invited to stuff they're not.

As she glances around, wondering who might be going tonight, she notices that Garcia's just been relieved by Ensign Kylah. Nia keeps her face even and nods at the girl, inhaling deeply before making the effort to be polite. "Good morning, Ensign."

But she can't help the instinctive, wary tightening of her stomach muscles. Super. Just what I needed. Countdown to some disaster starts now.

The second-to-last item on the log causes a little hitch in Kylah's breathing. Anubis. A planet she never even heard of until just over a month ago, and would have been glad never to see it mentioned again.

It is not important, she tells herself. Just another ship, just another launch. We are far away and it has nothing to do with us...

She is aware of someone speaking, and then that same person continues, even more loudly.

"Excuse me, Ensign Kylah? You see something troubling on that screen?"

Flushing at the realization she has been addressed, she forces herself to swivel her stiff body to face the Captain's chair. She is met by the expectant, eyebrow-raised expression of Lt. Onn.

"Oh! Forgive me, I--no, sir. Ma'am. Lieutenant." Kylah does her best to fake a calm demeanor. "There is nothing alarming. Nothing to report at all."

The older woman nods slowly, wearing a smile Kylah cannot read, and thanks her in a voice that is almost gentle.

With the emphasis on almost. There is certainly an edge there as well. It is astounding how one can be thanked and cut at the same time, all with a pair of innocuous words.

Once Lt. Onn turns her attention away, Kylah exhales and gladly swivels back, catching Lt. Pourtash's gaze as she does. She swallows and tries an apologetic smile.



Kylah by me, Nia graciously lent to me by the kind and lovely SidonianGal.

Credit where credit is due!

Graham sees other redshirts, Engineering and Operations personnel he supposes, but no other Security officers as he walks. He is greeted or nodded to by many of those he passes in the ship's corridors.

Pourtash jauntily winks at Kylah and turns back to his work.

Kylah sighs quietly in relief at the friendly response from Mr. Pourtash. They have not been on the best of terms--although she cannot recall precisely why her opinion of him, and his of her, turned sour after one of their earliest missions. Whatever the cause, she does not want to remember. Perhaps they can start again.

She returns to her panel and contacts Lt. Thalen to see if he has any specific assignments for her other than her normal Bridge duties.

As she awaits his response, Kylah considers her words before tapping out her next message, this time to Lt. Graham.

Sir, I thought you might wish to know that Ens. Rangin has regained consciousness. Dr. Bennett ordered me out before I could say much to him, but I will be letting Mr. Rangin know of your role in saving his life. There is tension between you, as I know all too well, but I strongly believe it is only right that he should know the truth.

She gnaws at her lip in thought, hands poised over her keypad. Her eyes stare ahead, slightly haunted, before she continues:

You are probably busy with your new duties, so it might be an imposition to ask this, but if you are still willing, do you think you might have any time available to help me learn some self-defense, as you suggested yesterday?

I do not mean to inconvenience you; I will work around your schedule. Of course I will also understand if your new position leaves you no free time to undertake such lessons. Thank you whatever you decide. -- KYLAH

After another moment of held breath, Kylah exhales and sends the message off to Lt. Graham.

Nia keeps her eyes front, at the starfield ahead. At least the flaky little princess has confirmed that her ears are working and she remembers how to answer the duty officer.

With things now quiet again, Nia decides to take advantage of the lull and discreetly returns to her keypad.

POURTASH -- All the talk about Russians reminds me. Saw your roomie looking gloomy in Engineering yesterday. Couldn't get him to talk, which as I'm sure you know isn't usually a difficult task. Everything okay? -- ONN

She marks the note as low priority so that Pourtash will know he doesn't have to interrupt actual ship's duties to respond, then hits SEND.

Graham takes a break and finds a terminal to check messages. He finds himself curiously unmoored, since he's not required to be on patrol minute by minute on his watch. Of course, he knows that in a well-functioning organization, management ought to be unneeded for handling business as usual. His job is to raise the game of the whole team, figure out who should be promoted, and who should be ACOS after him...

Well son of a bitch...

Graham shakes his head and sighs at the news about Rangin. Well, hell, maybe the jerk has a family that he doesn't treat like shit. Look on the bright side.

Focus on the positive. Do something useful.

Graham replies to Ens. Kylah: Happy to keep that commitment. If there's time before dinner let's get started today.

Pourtash reads his message after a few minutes when he has a chance, and wryly looks over his shoulder at Onn. She soon has a reply: He had some bad news from home recently, but I'd better not say any more than that. He should be OK in time. Thanks for your concern. POURTASH.

Rangin looks up at the doctor. That had been a little more blunt than he had expected and hardly useful in telling him what had happened.

"Doctor, if you wouldn't mind, perhaps you could tell me what happened, why I am in here and what the treatment was?"

Rangin starts to check over himself trying to spot what might have been damaged. There didn't appear to be any signs of breaks or falling damage although from that height he probably would not be having this conversation.

He looks back up at the Doctor quizzically, waiting for a reply.

When Kylah gets the notification of a new message, she looks and is surprised to find that Lt. Graham has responded already.

Relief washes over her. It does not appear he is annoyed by her request. She hurries to accept.

Yes, after my watch is over I should have some time, if you are sure it is all right. I would be glad to start as soon as possible. Thank you very much. -- KYLAH

Once she has sent the reply, she glances around the Bridge--as if it will look different, somehow, just because there might be the possibility of feeling safe for the first time in... she does not know how long. Especially since her she lost her knives.

Not wanting anyone to notice her distraction, she scrolls through her message list again, still expecting a response from Lt. Thalen on any assignment for today.

Nia nods soberly when she reads Pourtash's message, and casts a sympathetic look at him before returning to her usual position. She's not that close with Trig, though they've worked together plenty given her regular jaunts down to Engineering to help trick out a shuttle with some experimental tech. They get along, but they're not buddies or anything. There's not much more she can do to find out what's up, unless she happens to pass him in the corridor while they're both alone. Seems like a private matter. Family troubles usually are.

Hmm. I wonder if he has family on Novy Rostov? Could he have heard something about someone there?

Nia shrugs with a sigh, leaning back against the chair and eyeing the endless night ahead of them. She can speculate all day but it won't be of much use. All she knows is, it's gonna be a long watch unless something interesting happens.

Her lips tighten grimly. Be careful what you wish for.

The nurse brings Rangin a glass of very cold water, and remains in the room.

Kylah gets a text on her communicator: I expect nothing out of the ordinary this watch; just mind the Communications boards and let me know if you need any help. THALEN.

Antonov's Science I console beeps, and after a few moments he says to Onn, "Sensors picking up a ship on a near-perpendicular course just over six light years away, ma'am."

"Thank you, Mr. Antonov." Nia adjusts herself in the chair, automatically attempting to calculate the two ships' trajectories given the speed and course of the Yorktown, at least when she last had the Helm.

Then she rolls her eyes. Delegate, fool. That's why there's a crew.

Continuing to talk to the science officer, she adds, "Okay, coordinate your readings with Helm and Nav. I'd like the three of you to determine the hopefully slim likelihood that our courses might bring us uncomfortably close--and if so, how soon. And while we're at it, Comms and Security, keep on your toes. Kylah, prepare to open up a channel just to say hello. And Kawecki... well, you'll know if you're needed."

She turns back to Antonov. "Lemme know once you can ID what type of ship this is. Oh, and Tsu*--check to see if there's any known traffic expected in the area."

Instructions over, she sits back and crosses her legs, not particularly worried. Three dimensions and six light years' worth of space leave enough room for dozens of ships to travel in relatively close proximity without even a slight possibility of trouble. She's curious about their fellow travelers, that's all.




* Unless this would be a Communications thing, in which case, substitute "Kylah." But flight paths and space traffic seem more like stuff a navigator would be in charge of...

This time aware of her surroundings, Kylah responds immediately to Lt. Onn's order with a quiet "Aye aye, ma'am." She unconsciously adjusts herself to sit on the edge of her chair while reaching for the Communications panel sensor controls. She will need to adjust for a broader sweep, but that will depend on the direction of the ship.

Her eyes shift leftwards, to Lt. Antonov. "Excuse me, sir, can you send me the vessel's approximate coordinates too?"

Antonov says, "Of course, Ensign." He runs a full scan, sends the other officers including Kylah what he's found, and says, "The other ship is traveling at Warp 5 on a heading of 413 mark 7, ma'am. There's no risk of collision if we both continue on our current courses and speeds. Still no positive ID at this distance - I might need another minute or two. Perhaps Mr. Kylah might see if the ship has an ID signal or transponder...?"

Tsu checks and reports, "No other ship now expected in this sector, according to Federation records. It's not unusual to come across one, this far out, though, without a flight plan on record. Lots of reasons one might have changed course."

Nathaniel sighs. He isn't really in the mood to go into detail about what had happened, but if he must...

Nathaniel tells Rangin about the accident that took place upon his arrival on the Yorktown and everything that has taken place since then and explains how he had saved Rangin's life for the first time, only for Rangin to continue to be ill. He then explains about the painstaking research he undertook to discover what Rangin was afflicted with and how his expert course of treatment would have him on the road to recovery in no time. Nathaniel hopes that would placate the man. Now that Rangin is out of danger, Nathaniel has other things to do. Other patients who might need him. Or maybe a guy to take to bed. Whatever it was, he doesn't want to be here anymore.

"So," Nathaniel says. "If there isn't anything else, I have a Sickbay to attend to. Or is there something else you need to know?"

"Right, Ensign," Nia says to Tsu. "And for that matter, it might not be a Federation ship at all. Kylah, I agree with Lt. Antonov. Put those feelers out, please. Let's see if there's anything we recognize. In all likelihood we'll just be two ships that pass in the night--literally--but it's worth a check."

Kylah confirms Lt. Onn's order and, using the coordinates passed along by Lt. Antonov, recalibrates the sensors. She starts with the lowest strength likely to reach that distance, not wanting to seem too aggressive--or, ideally, even noticeable--in a way that might alarm the unknown vessel.

If her first attempts are unsuccessful, she will keep increasing the sensors' sensitivity in tiny increments until she gets some identifiable signal.

Kylah detects no sign of an ID signal from or transponder on the other ship. As far as communications go, it appears to be entirely silent.

Nia nods when Kylah reports her non-findings. "So they're playing hard to get, hmm? Not a big proponent of that strategy, personally speaking. I like being neighborly." She smiles to herself and crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, let them have their privacy for now, Ensign, but prepare a general 'howdy' message in Fed Standard and LinguaCode--though don't broadcast it, yet."

She swivels to face the officers at the shared panels in front of her. "Tsu--and Pourtash and Antonov, feel free to chime in with whatever your sensors see--given our current speeds, how long until our two ships'll be at their closest?"

Assuming this is a ship. Right now, given how silent this thing is, Nia supposes there's an outside possibility that it's a malfunctioning beacon or probe. Or even just a jettisoned module of a long-since-departed vessel or space station.

That's what she's privately rooting for. Archeological tech discoveries, especially from unknown or lost civilizations, are pretty damn exciting. Fascinating to reverse-engineer some never-before-seen technology and try to figure out its purpose, and especially what sort of society developed it.

...Yeeaah, but it's probably just a ship with a broken transponder, she admits, settling in her chair with a grudging acceptance of plain ol' reality.

Antonov says, "We will be at our closest point, assuming no change in either ship's course and speed, in...," he looks again into the Science viewer, "...just over four minutes, ma'am."

"Confirmed," Tsu says.

Graham takes a deep breath and screws up his courage. It would make some sense to drop by Sickbay to close the book on the incident with Rangin by getting a statement from him (presumably) that he had no reason to believe there was foul play involved. But that's something he'd rather put off or delegate.

It's perfectly legit to check in on Security on the bridge. It's a critical assignment - I need to get to know the folks on rotation.

He heads to the Bridge.

Antonov's announcement comes as a bit of a surprise, and Nia's eyes widen. "Wait... we're four minutes to a fly-by and our sensors still can't get a read on what this ship is? Size, composition, origin, nothing. And no comm signals either. Anyone find that odd, or is it just me?"

Curiosity pushes her to her feet, taking her closer to Antonov so she can lean over his shoulder to check the panel herself. Not that she expects to notice anything a specialist didn't.

"It's like we're deaf and blind," she murmurs under her breath. Hard to fathom that anything could go wrong without the Engineering crew being alerted, but she has to ask... "Mr. Sasok, I know you said all systems are go, but just in case: can you run a quick diagnostic on the Science and Comm stations ASAP?"

"Our closest point of approach, ma'am," Antonov says, not taking offense, "but not really a 'fly-by.' It's still quite distant." Onn sees what he means.

Sasok runs the diagnostics and soon reports, "Science I and Communications are both functioning within normal parameters, Lieutenant."

Graham emerges from the turbolift and sees Kylah sitting at Communications and Onn standing near the Science station, and the rest of the Bridge crew. The big chair is empty.

Nia smiles. Science officers can be incredibly literal. "Right, just a figure of speech." She turns to thank Sasok, and as she does she notices Booker's arrival.

Damn her stupid, uncontrollable heart. Imagine, giving a little leap of pleasure just seeing a guy--the one who fell asleep rather than have sex, then fled her bed like she had fleas!

She maintains her pleasant expression and strolls back to the center of the Bridge. "Great timing, Lieutenant," she says sincerely, and flashes her gaze around to take in the entire crew. "I need input, and you and Lt. Kawecki will be particularly helpful here."

She quickly explains the situation: some flying object has been detected on a perpendicular path to the Yorktown. "Only about... what, two minutes away from our closest approach. We're not in danger of collision by any stretch, but it nags at me that this ship--if it is a ship--is totally eluding our sensors' abilities to identify the thing. They're also silent as a grave, according to Comms over there." Nia tilts her head in Kylah's direction.

"So that's the deal. We don't know if it's friend, foe, or none of the above. At this point it's so dead, it's quite likely just some random piece of space flotsam we can ignore. But one thing worries me."

Nia first looks at Kawecki, then lets herself focus on Booker. "Seems to me there's a non-zero possibility that it's a dysfunctional vessel, adrift, maybe with all its remaining power diverted to life support. Without a way to ask for help. Might not even know we're relatively nearby. Maybe that's why it's so invisible to us.

"Yeah, it's a long shot," she adds, lifting her palm up as if forestalling any arguments. "But I don't like betting against potential lives in danger. I've been in situations like that myself." She clears her throat. "But. There's also the same non-zero possibility they're a hostile with some sort of partial cloaking tech."

Nia continues to look at Booker, her hands falling to rest on her hips. "That's where the Security issue comes in," she says quietly. "Time's not on our side here. Our ship's safety is paramount. But we want to render help when we can... and if it's needed. What should we do, if anything?

"Personally I'm inclined to alter course briefly to see if we can at least get a look at this bloody thing. But that might be excessive--and if they're hostile, that could be effectively poking a sleeping bear. Or do we just fly on our merry way like we never saw this whatever-it-is?"

She sweeps her gaze around to the Bridge as a whole. "Recommendations, please."

Kylah pays close attention to the conversation while still doing her best to increase the sensitivity of her sensors. She is reminded of the Aelyrr ship. The Naradraen's cry for help was caught by pure chance, even though they had multiple voices broadcasting simultaneously.

She is taken by Lt. Onn's suggestion of a lonely little vessel, maybe even a mere escape pod for all they know, adrift and helpless... with, perhaps, frightened passengers hoping against all reason to be found amid the vast emptiness of space.

It is unlikely, as the acting Command Officer said. Still... the thought sends a shudder through Kylah's frame. Yet again she is forced to remember Anubis. On that planet, she was small and alone and helpless. With no way of communicating her position. If Velir had not thought of a way to locate her...

Holding onto the edge of her panel, she swallows and speaks up. "Lieutenant Onn," she begins, her voice hesitant. She forces more strength into it. "I have prepared that broadcast you requested. It already offers assistance. But, if as you say, they cannot themselves contact us, I can add a suggestion that they might... I do not know... do something our sensors could pick up."

She searches her mind for ideas. "Open an airlock hatch to release pressure, that would alter their course in some small way. Or they could jettison an old fuel cell, some other traceable object. Anything to let us know they require help." Exhaling, Kylah falls silent and bites the inside of her lip in doubt.

Graham has to catch himself and stifle a spreading smile when it fully sinks in that Nia's in command--and looking damn good at doing so, not just physically (which is true) but professionally. He listens carefully to Onn, and then Kylah who interjects.

He briefly turns to Kawecki and says. "Let's get a threat assessment going--given this ship's size, what could she do to us at what distance if we approach...assume she's got the best the Romulans or Klingons have."

He returns his attention to Onn. "I don't like the idea of ships running silent in Federation space, ma'am. It could be distress as you...and Mr. Kylah...suggest, in which case we should assist." He nods briefly in Kylah's direction. "Or it could be something else--in which case, we may need to interdict."

Takes a few seconds for Nia to even realize Ensign Kylah's spoken, and in fact Nia's about to tell Kylah to stop whispering when the girl finally uses her voice.

And in fairness, it's not a terrible idea. At all. But Nia prefers to focus on the Security angle first. Her prime duty is the safety of this ship, not some hypothetical lost crew that Nia herself might've just conjured up from an overactive imagination.

Then, Booker. Incredible how different his entire manner is when he's in this mode. She wonders if he even realizes just what he becomes, when he's "on." All coiled strength and radiating current of electricity. Like a warp core without a protective shield--lethally dangerous yet so hypnotically alluring you're drawn to it.

She's grateful for his perspective. And his cautious instincts are probably right on target. "Agreed. One problem: you said it yourself--they're running silent, and by that I mean they are off the grid. According to Mr. Antonov here, we can't even get a read on the unknown object's size, much less weapons capability. They have no signature aside from... I don't even know what the hell Antonov's been tracking. But they might as well be cloaked for all the good our sensors are at recognizing this frickin' thing. Unless its status has changed...?" Nia looks hopefully at Antonov.

Still, her talk is aimed at Booker--and Kawecki, too. "You Security guys see any danger in sending out a basic 'we come in peace' message, which we were originally planning before things got weird? Minus Ens. Kylah's creative options, at least for now?" Nia adds in belated recognition of the girl's ideas.

Kawecki rubs his chin and says, "It's moving at Warp 5 on a straight course, so it's not adrift, and it is of concern to me that there're no signals from it. I'd at least try a standard hail, and go from there, ma'am."

Graham resists the urge to rub his own chin and nodes his agreement with Kawecki.

Rangin looks up at the doctor and listens to what happened, as the other man drones on seemingly full of self-important waffle. So he managed to do his job and he seems to want to be praised for his efforts.

But then there are the longer-term implications of what had happened to Rangin at a physiological level. Perhaps this new doctor is intelligent enough to have some answers.

"Doctor. Thanks for saving my life. What's the long-term prognosis of the interaction between the Sakathian virus and my own physiology? Will there be any more side effects or will treatment you have devised be enough? Given this isn't the first instance of this causing problems for me, I'd be interested to hear your opinion."

Kylah's fingers are poised over the keypad while her gaze shifts from officer to officer, depending on who is speaking. When Lt. Graham adds his nod to Lt. Kawecki's, Kylah turns to the Bridge's C.O., waiting for the order.

The tall woman does not seem to hesitate or have a second thought--or, if she does, it takes far less time to decide than Kylah would have required. Lt. Onn just murmurs a "Go, Ensign" without a hint of uncertainty.

"Aye aye, Lieutenant." Holding her breath, Kylah engages the subspace transmitter to send out a version of the boilerplate message used in the majority of First Contact situations, translated in both Federation Standard and LinguaCode as Onn requested earlier.

In addition to introducing the Yorktown as a Federation vessel, Kylah offers welcome to any newcomer with no aggressive intentions; finally, reciprocal communications and ID are requested from the unknown entity.

"Message sent, ma'am," she says with another glance toward Lt. Onn--but first it meets Lt. Graham's, unconsciously seeking approval from him, before landing on the Helm Officer. "Awaiting their response."

Now her task returns to doing her best to ensure her station is ready to receive a message in any format and across any spectrum in which it is capable--even subsonics, if that is what this unknown ship uses.

At the back of his mind Graham is aware of the irony that in part he's on the bridge because it didn't seem like much was going on and he was looking for something to do...

But that's fading far into the background. There's no obvious reason to conclude something's wrong, but there's no obvious reason to conclude the ship isn't a threat.

Explosive decompression of the enemy's bridge is an effective tactic for decisively concluding ship-to-ship combat.

No reason to believe a bad guy on that ship would not have had just as much of the same training I had.

Nia's right here.

He glances around, taking stock of the crew and the obvious status indicators on the bridge consoles. Kawecki's senior and seems solid; nobody's obviously a weak link.

In the process he catches Kylah's eye...was she looking at him or did he just cross her gaze...? In any event, he nods partly approvingly and partly on autopilot: she's got her legs under her, she's got a handle on her job.

And she's right here too. Nia's right here. Kylah's right here.

Nobody's decompressing this goddamned Bridge on my watch.

Kylah has no response from the other ship or whatever it is. It remains silent across all subspace bands, as far as she can tell.

Antonov carefully works his sensor controls and says, "Preliminary scan results coming in now, ma'am... it appears to be...." He looks back at her in surprise. "A Federation probe!"

“It is far too early for us to know what the long term effects will be.” Nathaniel answers truthfully and he believes in telling patients the unvarnished truth, even if it was difficult to hear. Patients deserve that, though history has proven to him they didn’t always want it or appreciate it.

“The situation is unusual at best and something like this simply hasn’t happened before. For now we will continue the course of treatment, which is working, and monitor you closely.” Nathaniel explains. “As for the future, if you’re looking for platitudes and reassurances, I’m afraid I don’t have those for you. But I am doing everything that possibly can be done to make sure you get well and stay well. Now, I am going to leave you to get your rest. The nurse will be around if you need anything.”

Nia's mental calculations are in a tangle--first, trying to figure out just how the hell she missed that the unidentified object was traveling at warp 5; second, deciding that she'd better contact Singh to give her an update...

And third, taking in Antonov's latest report. She pivots on her heel to stare at him. "Oh, fu--for goodness' sake," she exclaims, laughing as she barely manages to swap her instinctive fuck me sideways to something more appropriate. "A probe. Y'know... I swear that ran through my mind as an option, but..."

She doesn't bother finishing, just takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. "Solid work, everyone, regardless. It's our job to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. I'm sure our Security team here will agree?" Nia sends a tilted smile to Kawecki and Booker--the latter getting a slightly warmer version--before taking her seat in the big chair.

"Warp 5," she murmurs, crossing her legs in a not-entirely-unintentional display for Booker's benefit when she swivels her chair around. "For a probe, that's crazy fast, pardon the technical term. Any hints of its origin, Antonov? Not too smart for a probe to be that speedy and stealthy; someone less, uh, Federation-friendly--or simply more trigger-happy--would've blasted it to its component quarks by now."

She swivels around. "I'd like a visual, if possible given its speed and angle of approach. Can we get this onscreen?"




Erm, whom would she be making this request to? I found one TOS book that has Kirk asking it of Lt. Alden, who was at Nav. But it also feels like a communications thing, so... Not sure if Kylah should be responding.

Different Bridge personnel were, in ST:TOS, occasionally responsible for putting something "on screen." I think Uhura, Sulu or Spock all did it now and then. Either Kylah, Tsu or Antonov might do it here.

Antonov says, "Sensors confirm it's a Jorr Surveyor-type deep space probe." He cross-checks with the Library Computer. "The whereabouts of at least three of those probes are unknown, although, as I said, there's no reason to expect one here. In any event, it should be in visual range very shortly."

Tsu asks Onn, "Would you like to change course for a closer approach, ma'am?"

Graham clears his throat after involuntarily blushing slight at Nia's smile, then glances at Kawecki, "What are it's specs and capabilities, lieutenant? Mass, acceleration...? He rubs his chin. "I know it's officially one of ours, but I swear I read a report about Captain Kirk of the Enterprise dealing with some kind of rogue Terran tech gone bad somewhere."

Antonov says, "You refer to the Nomad probe, I presume, Mr. Graham? Yes, that was a bad business, but very unlikely to recur, I'd say. The Surveyors are significantly more advanced - unmanned, unarmed but with standard shielding; 12.3 meters long, 4.2 meters wide, with 970 kg mass and a top speed of Warp 6.2. Designed for autonomous survey and cartographic operations on missions of 20 to 30 years."

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Nomad

Nia listens to Booker, Tsu and Antonov, a slight nod her only movement. Good memory, Book, she thinks appreciatively.

She then lifts a finger. "I'd definitely like a closer look, Tsu--please work with the updated coordinates from Antonov and plot a potential course. But you and Pourtash should hold off on executing it until I give the word. Just want to run this by the captain."

A flip of the switch to her left turns on the chair's comm panel. "Onn to Captain Singh. I've got a non-emergency but time-sensitive request, if you have a moment."

If Singh replies in the affirmative, Nia will quickly explain the discovery of the probe and ask permission to alter course just long enough to view this curious, powerful object--and, if possible, identify its origin.

Ever since Lt. Onn requested a view of the probe, Kylah has been attempting to fine-tune the visual sensors accordingly, depending on its path. Of course, if the Yorktown changes course, her current calculations will be obsolete--but at least she will be prepared just in case the Captain declines Lt. Onn's request.

She is ready to engage any of the multiple views available to the Yorktown: from fore to aft, port to starboard, and dorsal to ventral--and almost all other directions in between. Kylah knows there are few blind spots on a Constitution-class ship, as most sensors overlap to ensure as complete a line of sight as possible.

At least... that is true outside the ship. Inside is a different matter. Certain places within the Yorktown are not under constant surveillance, as Kylah is all too aware.

She shakes her head slightly to rid herself of these nagging thoughts and devotes her attention to the here and now. Though tempted to ask for more information about this rogue probe that Lt. Graham and Lt. Antonov are discussing, Kylah does not want to reveal her ignorance.

Singh promptly responds, "Thank you, Mr. Onn. You may do so. Keep me informed."

Try as Kylah might, the Yorktown is still not close enough for visual acquisition of the probe.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," Nia says in a rush of words, aware that time is fleeting. Cutting the connection, she looks over to the station she usually calls home. "Mr. Pourtash, if Tsu's course is laid in and you're both satisfied it's safe, take us about. Get us close enough to allow Ensign Kylah's sensors to do their job."

Nia's brows lower in a tiny scowl, and she chews thoughtfully on her lower lip before again addressing her Helm and Nav team. "...That said, let's maintain a respectful distance. We don't yet know who's behind it or exactly what it's looking for. Odds are it's as benign as a weather balloon. But it's not completely impossible that it has some kind of self-destruct to protect against discovery."

She glances around to Booker. "I'm not the type to duck and run when faced with the unknown. But sometimes an abundance of caution's not a bad idea. Wouldn't you agree, Lieutenant?"

Graham smiles slightly and nods. "If by 'some' you mean 'all,' yes ma'am."

Tsu smiles in satisfaction and says, "Course plotted and laid in, Mr. Onn."

"Changing course now, Lieutenant," Pourtash says, touching the keys to turn the heavy cruiser towards the errant probe. "Maintaining current speed."

From the Security console, Kawecki says, "As to having an abundance of caution, ma'am, I recommend we raise shields."

Antonov runs a more intensive scan. Kylah is soon able to establish visual contact.

Nathaniel walks out of Rangin's room, having answered all the questions he is going to. The patient knows all he needs to know or could understand. To continue the conversation further is a waste of Nathaniel's time. And he did have things to do -- like getting something to eat. He is starved. Maybe he'd run into that cute ensign again. And then he'd get what he is really hungry for.

Nia's eyebrows lift in reaction to just about everything she's heard in the past thirty seconds. Did Booker understand her pointed question--and was that response proof that yeah, he's putting up his own personal shields to fend her off?

Okay, whatever. The current situation trumps her personal life. She thanks Pourtash under her breath for the Yorktown's smooth change in direction--nice display of skills, there--then switches her focus to Kawecki, a little surprised by his recommendation. Truth is, she's not used to Security officers being so skittish, and to have two of them on her Bridge... um, the Bridge... is unsettling.

Not gonna argue with the suggestion, though. "Noted, Mr. Kawecki. Shields up." Nia tosses another look over her shoulder to the Comm officer. "Ensign Kylah, where are we with that visual?"

The girl's hands are busy with the controls, but there's a soft "I have it, ma'am" before Nia notices out of the corner of her eye that the image on the main viewscreen has suddenly changed perspective.

Facing forward, she nods in satisfaction at the newly visible probe. "Good, Kylah. Now magnify as best you can--I'd like to see any registry numbers or identifying marks." Even as Nia speaks, she realizes in mild amusement that she's leaning forward--as if moving a few centimeters could make any significant difference in what she sees onscreen.

She watches the screen carefully, then addresses the crew surrounding her. "Any of you see anything interesting, unusual or troubling, pipe up with it."

Kylah does not have to face the same direction as the rest of the officers--the image on the main viewscreen is a duplicate of the one on her own. So she keeps her gaze forward while doing her best to zoom in on the probe, making micro-adjustments to the sensors' amplitude and frequency to prevent loss of detail.

Dr. Bennett goes to the mess hall nearest to Sickbay. It is relatively crowded but he doesn't see the cute ensign from before.

"Shields up, aye, ma'am," says Kawecki, pushing the necessary buttons.

The probe can now be seen on the Bridge viewscreen. Kylah is able, with some difficulty, to keep it clear and centered even as it keeps moving at Warp 5. The spacecraft is long, spindly and light gray with red trim, and the number "42" is clearly visible on its side, also in red. Antonov says, "Surveyor 42, if that's really it, was launched six years ago from Omicron Pascal by the Federation Interstellar Exploratory Institute, on a twenty-year stellar cartography and astrophysical mission to the Doriath Cluster and beyond. It fell out of contact with base about eight months ago."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/42_(nu...opular_culture
http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Omicron_Pascal

"The Doriath Cluster," Nia repeats, drinking in the sight of the probe as if she's contemplating purchasing it. "Wow. Back at the Academy, my Cartography instructor was obsessed with learning about that. He always hoped he'd live to see a Federation outpost there, maybe even run the place. A heart attack cut his dream short, but I know he had a son who carried on his work. Who knows, maybe this probe's got young Dr. Thingol's fingerprints on it."

She stands and, watching the probe, walks to the Helm and Nav stations. "Let's get a little closer, Faraz," she murmurs, absently patting the back of Pourtash's chair while she looks down at Tsu. "What d'you think, Tsu? Far as you can judge, is it still on course for the Doriath Cluster?"

Nia glances over to Booker and Kawecki. "How about a deep security scan to make absolutely sure we're not in for any surprises? It'll mean letting our shields down, paradoxically, but I think the chances of a booby trap are relatively slim, don't you? What do you say, Lt. Graham?"

She lifts her eyebrows in question, hoping he'll give the go-ahead. If they can confirm it's safe, Nia really wants to see what, if anything, they can do about this lost little lamb. Although depending on what Tsu says, it might not be lost. Just... gone quiet.

While dimly listening to Lt. Onn's words, Kylah concentrates on the problem in her own way. Considering the complete lack of any outgoing transmission signature or response to the Yorktown's pinging attempts, Surveyor 42 is utterly useless as a probe. Eight months of data, possibly lost forever. A shame.

She hears the older woman's request to Lt. Graham, and Kylah turns toward him. If they let their shields down, a security sweep is not the only kind of scan they can do--which, she suspects, is probably what Lt. Onn has in mind.

In a attempt to anticipate Onn's needs, Kylah slides her chair over and, with her free hand, uses her secondary terminal to run a database search for any technical details or schematics related to the Surveyor-class probes' communications systems.

Luck didn’t seem to be on his side, Nathaniel thinks. The mess hall was pretty packed, but the ensign from last night wasn’t here —- nor is there anybody else to catch his interest. He figures he might as well grab something to eat and then head back to his quarters before the dinner with the captain tonight. There is something he needs to do and since it’s why he accepted this post on this ship to begin with, he might as well get to it.

After his meal, he goes back to his quarters and soon finds himself in front of a computer monitor, the personnel files of the crew of the Yorktown scroll before him. Somewhere in here, he thinks, is the answer he is looking for.

But after looking for a few moments, he realizes he needs to get back to Sickbay. He can do this later. After all, he didn’t want anyone questioning what he is doing. And being elsewhere when he should be at work was a way to lead to that sort of problem. He closes the files and soon is back on the job.

He decides to peer in on Rangin first to see how his patient is doing. Hopefully, the guy would be asleep... and wouldn’t have anymore annoying, persistent questions for him.

Graham feels slightly awkward that Nia--Lt. Onn, in this context--specifically asks him. It makes sense, as he's technically the ranking Security officer on the bridge, but the last thing he wants on his first day is for a senior member of the team like Kawecki to feel like Graham as needlessly throwing his weight around.

"It makes sense, ma'am. I'd position us 30 degrees off her stern," Graham replies, rubbing his chin. "At maximum effective range for the full suite of scans." He glances at Kawecki. "That make sense to you, lieutenant?"

Somebody would have had to do a hell of a lot of work to put an aft torpedo launcher on a damn probe...

Tsu checks and says, "Yes, its current course could take it towards the Doriath Cluster, but not by the most direct route. It's possible it had to go around something that's not on our charts and hasn't yet resumed a straight-line course."

Kawecki says, "We could certainly do that kind of scan. Makes sense to me, ma'am."

Kylah is able to find full details on Surveyor-class probes' communications system in the Library Computer. The comm system is similar to those found in Starfleet shuttlecraft, although more powerful, and she understands those well from her Academy days.

In Sickbay, Dr. Bennett finds Rangin reading a data tablet in bed.

The responses from the crew buzz around Nia's brain like determined bees working in concert. She's pleased and nods her assent.

"All right then, we'll execute as follows. Pourtash, follow Graham's suggestion as to position. Once we're in place, Kawecki, please drop the shields and run the security scan, fast but thorough. Hopefully 42 here won't give us any cause to put the shields back up."

Nia turns to most of the Bridge crew, not including the Helm/Nav team in front of her. "While they're busy, let me give you my thinking. The odds of another Starfleet ship coming across this tiny probe are infinitesimal. Hell, it's pure chance that we spotted it.

"Since we did, I'd like to do a solid for the folks back at Omicron Pascal and bring this thing back to working order. Obviously, we'd have to figure out what went wrong with it in the first place. That means running diagnostics on its comm and nav systems."

She can't help noticing Kylah, who seems to be paying more attention to something on a monitor than Nia's words. "But to do that," she says a bit forcefully, "we'll need access. A little probe like this shouldn't be too tough a nut to crack, should it, Mr. Sasok? You think you and Lt. Antonov can work on taking over 42 remotely?" Nia grins at Booker. "No harm in a little piracy when it's all in a good cause, is there?"

Nathaniel raises an eyebrow in curiousity as he sees Rangin reading something in bed.

“What is that you’re reading?” Nathaniel asks. “I thought the prescription was bedrest, not catching up on the latest best seller.”

Only a few minutes earlier, Rangin let the doctor go. It’s obvious that he only gives a damn about showing off how clever he is and that is only going to happen with his interactions with sick people. There was something quite off-putting about it and it also meant that getting anything further out of him was likely to be nigh on impossible.

Having watched him leave, Rangin decides it would be easier to read up what happened in the slightly more dispassionate incident reports and his medical notes. Picking up the tablet next to him, he begins to bring up the references. It’s not like he couldn’t understand them, after all, he was the ship’s xenobiologist, and not just another Doctor. In fact, in amongst that Doctor’s notes might be a few more clues to piece together to see if he could figure out exactly what the mixture of Sakathian virus and Coridanite physiology could cause next.

There is a fair amount to read, so he starts with the more pressing matter of what happened to him physically. The whys and wherefores of the accident can wait until later, he needs top know that something further is not going to happen. It wholey occupies Rangin’s attention as he flicks back and forth between the notes, and starts to cross reference other journals and articles he can follow up on.

Pourtash, Kawecki and the others on the Bridge all indicate they understand Onn's orders with a flurry of "Aye, ma'am"s and the like.

Nia's smile beams at the officers surrounding her. She wasn't certain Sasok would approve of taking control of a probe not belonging to them--or, for that matter, if he believes it possible to do so. But having voiced no objections, the Vulcan must be up for it.

She'd like to hear Booker's opinion; he must have some experience in getting past security systems. Still, at least Kawecki's game.

"All right, Pourtash, then let's get into position. Everyone else, hang on a sec'."

Before Nia issues her next orders--which will be to Tsu and Kylah, assuming the Elasian princess can be bothered to tear herself away from whatever has her so engaged--she heads back to the big chair to contact the captain.

"Onn to Captain Singh." Once the captain replies, Nia will hurriedly explain what they've found and her desire to attempt a remote repair job. "Our team can do it, Captain," she says with an approving glance around the Bridge. "Seems like a unique opportunity to fix what should've been a decades-long mission to a little-known part of the galaxy, but is now basically just a weaponless missile. With your permission, Captain...?"

Nathaniel found it... odd that Rangin hasn’t answered him. He must hear Nathaniel’s question. Or was what he is reading that engrossing?

Nathaniel leans on the end of the bed, surely Rangin couldn’t ignore him now.

“So, you want to tell me what has your avid attention?” Nathaniel asks, his curiosity definately piqued.

“Oh hello Doctor, sorry didn’t see you there.” Rangin’s eyes flick up to the man a few feet away, and then back down to the tablet in front of him. “I’m looking through your case notes and a few other things about the Sakathian Virus that may be relevant. I doubt you have had opportunity to look further into it.”

He flicks through a couple more references on the few pieces of medical history they have on Coridanite physiology. The dreams he had while unconscious seemed a little too real and while it is unlikely for any extra-ordinary abilities, it seems his subconscious had been overactive in trying to deal with other issues.

Stopping for a moment, he makes a quick note to one side about an electrically discharging communicator. It seems important for some reason, any part of the dreams he had that seemed just as real.

He looks back at the Doctor, suddenly thinking he might have missed something. “Sorry, is it time for another checkup or examination?”

"Thank you, Mr. Onn," responds the Captain. "Good idea. Carry on, and keep me posted."

At Onn's nod, Pourtash deftly moves the Yorktown to the position Graham suggested, relative to Surveyor 42. "We're in place, ma'am," he reports. "Now matching course and speed."

Antonov reports, "It's scanning us. No other reaction to our presence."

Nia's hands clap together in satisfaction. After thanking the captain and Antonov, and complimenting Pourtash for a smooth job, she turns to Booker and Kawecki.

"Okay, we need you both. Lt. Kawecki, you've probably seen plenty of security systems in your day, as well as learned their weaknesses. I'd like you to work with Sasok and Antonov to hack into the probe? We want control over its navigation and communication systems?"

Nia lets her gaze meet Booker's. "Now you, Lt. Graham." She enjoys repeating his title. She might be pissed at him, but it's not enough to outweigh her pride for his sake. "Would you please sit at Security 2 and run a thorough analysis to make sure 42's scan is benign? Then we'll need to maintain a careful watch on the probe's status. By taking over its system controls, we're basically performing what could look like an aggressive act. If we trigger some hidden defense that exists to repel boarders, we'll need you ready to defend us as necessary."

She smiles apologetically and takes a step nearer to him. "Sorry, Book," she says under her breath, her words just for him. "You know the drill better than me. Do you have any other recommendations? Or if you think you'd be better suited to the job Kawecki's doing, swap. What do you think?"

Graham nearly smiles at Nia's clap of satisfaction he's happy--proud--to see her in command...

He's a bit surprised when she approaches. She normally seems so confident... He's not sure if she's uncertain or doing this for his benefit. Though he's not sure what that would be. I'm not some kind of sexist dumbass...

Graham gives her a subtle thumbs up with his hand close to his waist.

"Understood, ma'am," Graham replies in a normal voice. Smiling slightly, in a voice intended just for her, he says "Just put in a good word with Vargas for me if I have to slag a Federation probe." He nods slightly and moves to take his station.

Despite everything--all the pointed questions she has for just why he fled her quarters like there was a Klingon raid in progress--Nia can't help but return Booker's smile. "If you want Vargas on your side, I'm probably not the gal to use as your advocate," she murmurs as he passes by to head to his station.

She doesn't get it. He doesn't seem awkward or remote. There's an almost tangible electric zing of chemistry when they're close. So what keeps going wrong with them?

Inhaling to refocus her mind on the current mission, she turns to Tsu. "Right. So...okay, Mr. Tsu. If we're able to gain access, I'd like you to take a look at 42's nav log to see if your guess is right--that it strayed temporarily for some reason, but now it's in the process of a course correction. If that's not the case, reprogram it to get this thing back on track. Might as well plot that out now. I'm not sure how long Captain Singh wants us to allow for this side project, so the faster we do this the better, right?

"...Not that any of this matters," Nia adds with a glance over her shoulder, "if the probe isn't performing its primary function--transmitting its findings." Her words are aimed at the young Elasian woman who's still focusing on heaven knows what...except that it definitely isn't her current CO.

"Excuse me, Ensign Kylah?" Nia tries not to sound too snarky, especially with Booker likely ready to leap to the girl's defense if Nia so much as looks at her askance. "Unless there's some emergency that's keeping you occupied, can I have your attention?"

Kylah twists around in her chair, her face warming at the undeniable edge in Lt. Onn's voice--and in the emotions Kylah can sense, which contain an undercurrent of disapproval.

"I--Yes, ma'am," she says, glancing back at her monitor for a second to reassure herself that she has done nothing wrong. She lifts her chin somewhat defensively. "That is--there is no emergency, I have simply been studying the Surveyors' schematics. If I am able to access the probe's communications system, I believe I might be able to diagnose the problem. And--and perhaps I can even fix it, if it is a coding malfunction."

The brief moment of bravado deserts her, and she hurries to deflect the spotlight by nodding at Mr. Sasok. "Of course... a technical issue will require an Engineering solution. Also," she adds, "there is a chance that the code will require decrypting. I can work on that myself, as cryptology is a specialty of mine, but Lt. Garcia has far more expertise. I can contact him if you..."

At last she realizes that she has been rambling on without letting the Lieutenant speak. It is unseemly for the youngest and least experienced on the Bridge to presume to give a tutorial to the BCDO. "Forgive me, ma'am," she hastens on in a murmur and shuts her mouth, waiting orders.

Nia's eyebrows raise during this outpouring of words. "Forgive you for what, doing your job?"

And apparently doing it adequately. Nia is taken aback by the young woman--hardly more than a girl, really--and the realization that Kylah might actually be suited for her duty. There's sure as hell been no previous indication that the ensign earned her place on the ship. Or that she's been anything but a source of conflict, an object of male attention and generally a big friggin' pain in the ass.

In fairness, I've only seen her in the middle of some crisis or drama. Come to think of it, Nia doesn't think she's ever worked with Kylah on the Bridge, or seen her perform her duties as a Communications officer. Only on missions, where the Elasian served primarily to be a magnet for gossip (at best) or violence (at worst).

Anyway. Now's not the time for epiphanies, and anyway, just because the kid can rattle off some basic communications tasks doesn't mean she's capable of performing them. Nia can't help flick a glance at Booker before returning to Kylah.

"All that sounds good," she says, not wasting words, but then relents a little. "Nice anticipation there, Ensign." A nod toward Sasok, Antonov and Kawecki. "If our space pirates over there gain access, I want to hear your analysis of the communication system status ASAP. Let me know if we need to bring Garcia in."

Nia pauses and returns to the captain's chair, sitting down. "All right, then. Anyone has anything to report, go for it. I don't stand on ceremony, so if you can contribute, go right ahead, no permission to speak needed."

Graham sits at the Security II console and analyzes the probe's scan of the Yorktown. It is entirely benign, and consistent with the probe sensor suite's capabilities, as designed. Kawecki confirms his findings.

Antonov says, "The probe is unarmed, and does not appear to have been modified since its launch." He runs another, more intensive scan. "There is some damage to its subspace transmitter array, and elsewhere along its length. Micrometeorite damage, perhaps? Its antenna looks in good shape, though."

Sasok says, "We don't have FIEI's remote-access codes, but I'm trying to hack in. I've seen the command protocols of similar probes before."

Nia nods, acknowledges the reports, and watches the crew perform their various tasks. Her own physical activity is restricted to the tap-tap-tap of her fingers as they drum quietly on her chair arm, although her mind is whirring along.

"I don't know, Antonov," she says, ruminating aloud. "'Some damage' seems optimistic, if it's stopped all outside communications. Kylah, now that we're practically close enough to touch the probe, are you able to run any diagnostics to see if there's even a slight hint of life left in that thing?"

She eyes Sasok. "Because if the transmitter is boned due to external damage, I don't see how we fix it. No way we're beaming anyone onto that probe to make the fix in person, and the only other option is tractor-beaming 42 into our docking bay and performing the repairs here. And even disregarding how much time all this will take, I'm not keen on doing any of that at our respective current speeds."

Gnawing her lip, Kylah says a quick "Aye aye, Lieutenant, attempting to contact the probe now" under her breath before she goes through with the actual order. Without much optimism, she runs through the usual methods to communicate with the probe on all frequencies.

As she runs the tests--not as effective as they would be should Mr. Sasok gain direct access to the system, but better than nothing--she begins to ponder some possible workarounds.

The probe can scan us, she thinks, watching her screen and listening through her earpiece simultaneously. Its sensors are working. So it is transmitting, in a way...

Her teeth continue to pull at her lower lip as she tries to connect the puzzle pieces in her mind, all the while waiting for any test results.

Nathaniel doesn't know whether to be amused or concerned. Amused because the patient is clearly trying to make him look bad and concerned because patients trying to self-diagnose usually only led to problems. He understands Rangin trying to find out more what happened to him because he nearly died, but Nathaniel has a medical degree and Rangin doesn't. Yet, he is curious what Rangin is thinking given the man's background with alien races and their medical histories. He might know something that could prove to be useful. Stranger things have been known to happen. And Nathaniel certainly didn't want Rangin to have a relapse or continue to be sick. It wouldn't look good for Nathaniel to fail with his first patient in his new job.

"No... no examination." Nathaniel answers. "But did you find anything? I understand you are Xenobiologist. Do you know something about the virus and the Sakathians that is not in that report?"

Mr. Antonov nods judiciously. "All fair points, obviously, ma'am."

Sasok says, "I'm making some progress here, Mr. Onn. If all goes well, I may be able to access its operating system shortly."

Kylah has no response from the probe to her signal. Its communications look to be entirely flatlined. She thinks she just might be able to broadcast on the same subspace wavelength as its scanning beam, although it will take some delicate recalibration of the Yorktown's own transmitter array.

Graham continues to monitor the probe's behavior and stand by on weapons if that should become needed while spinning up an analysis of the damage to the probe - checking to see if he can confirm it's micro-meteors or debris versus an identifiable weapon.

At the back of his mind he's...happy? Something. He's proud of Nia's confident leadership and glad to see Kylah free to do her job well.

"Great to hear, Mr. Sasok." Nia lets her attention shift from the probe on the viewscreen to the Engineering officer. "Once you've commandeered that puppy, we'll be in a better position to do something about it. I hope. Best-case scenario, Kylah and Tsu will be able to work their magic."

A frown wrinkles her already-scaly brow when a thought strikes her. "Actually," she murmurs almost to herself, "we'd better consider the worst-case scenario as well."

She turns to face her own usual station and speaks more firmly. "Mr. Tsu. I want to know where that probe's headed, assuming no course correction is possible. Can you project 42's encounter trajectory, as it stands now?" Her chest rises with her deep inhale. "...'Cause it strikes me that if it gets into any inhabited or traffic-heavy system--or, worse, a non-friendly neighborhood that might take a probe encroachment as a hostile act--a mercy killing might be in order."

Even as she says the words, her heart sinks a little. The explorer within Nia would hate to destroy a probe whose only function is to chart new territory and reveal its discoveries to those who launched it.

But the idea of endangering others, or potentially pissing off some known enemy--hell, an unknown one, for that matter--is far too sobering. It'd be the Yorktown's responsibility to take the thing out, like it or not.

She swivels to Booker and Kawecki, unable to hide her grim expression. "What do you think, gentlemen? Obviously I wouldn't make the call without confirming it with the Captain... and it might require some diplomatic apologies and a big 'Sorry We Torpedoed Your Probe' bouquet to Omicron Pascal.

"But I don't want that probe wreaking havoc, either. Thoughts? If you both agree, let's... well, let's be ready to target 42 as a last resort. Depending on Mr. Tsu's projection."

Discouraged by the probe's deaf-and-mute state, Kylah nevertheless perks up at the challenging possibility of converting a sensor into a transponder--able to receive and relay data.

The idea will require some creative rerouting of functions, and a redistribution of power in order to ensure the signal's boosted strength is both powerful enough and capable of transmitting at the appropriate subspace frequency level. And then there is the matter of whether she can adjust the Yorktown's own transmitter array...

She absently bites a thumbnail, glancing over to the intimidating figure of Lt. Onn. She does not want to run the plan by the C.O. The lieutenant does not trust her, Kylah can easily tell that even without stretching her empathic senses.

No. If she can hold off the impatient older woman, Kylah will only mention the plan after running it by Lt. Thalen. He can probably confirm whether implementing this unorthodox solution will damage the probe or repair it.

Of course, the probe is useless now either way. Trying something is better than nothing, she rationalizes. Returning to her secondary terminal, she begins to type out a methodical rundown of her proposal.

Tsu works at her console and projects the current course of the probe. "There is a charted but uninhabited system that the probe would reach in just over seven months, ma'am, at its current speed, and another, uncharted system that it would reach about three months after that. Beyond that," she taps at the controls, "it wouldn't come anywhere near another system or interstellar body - anything, really - for another three years. Given its mission parameters, I'd say its current course is the result of a malfunction and not a programmed response."

Kawecki says, "I agree it should be a very last resort, Mr. Onn, but a single photon torpedo would put a quick end to the probe. No way its shields could handle that."

Soon after, Sasok reports, "I have broken through the probe's command protocol safeguards, but still have not been able to gain remote access such that I can actually make it do anything. We will still need some kind of communications link."

Kylah is making progress but will need more time.

Rangin looks up at the doctor, wondering what might be going through his mind. After all, most of the other doctors, when it came to this, were more interested in trying to heal things after it was too late instead of trying to find a cure in advance, and this one appeared to be none the different.

"Yes, I am a Xenobiologist, and most of my experience with this pathogen has been a little too personal for my tastes. I lost a friend to it and in some ways I'm surprised I am still alive. I still haven't managed to track down the subtle differences as to why I survived and someone else didn't."

Rangin frowns as he looks back down at the pad on his lap. "Unfortunately, given it was a medical top-secret facility and any and all notes were redacted or removed, any knowledge of it is pretty much my medical record. What is worse is that it appears the virus has some longer term side effects, at least where I am concerned and I would rather understand them now and be able to treat or vaccinate in advance than to wait for it to strike and then be treated."

He looks back at the Doctor, "So, which side of the fence do you sit on?"

Graham nods acknowledgment at Kawecki's comment. That's an understatement, he thinks, holding back a smile.

"Not that I'm one to turn down target practice, ma'am," he says, addressing Nia, "but with those timelines, we may be able to get a Starfleet science or maintenance vessel to intervene and repair or at least salvage it before it approaches a system." He quickly adds "On the off chance we can't take control now, of course."

The news from Tsu gives Nia the freedom to breathe easier, especially when this perspective is echoed by Kawecki and Booker. "Good to hear," she says to everyone in general. "Sounds like we can avoid your target practice, Book, which is what I'd prefer--not a fan of destroying a science vessel if it can be helped."

Nia only realizes after she finishes that she let that 'Book' slip out. She pauses for just a second before continuing. "But, uh, I had to cover all possibilities, just to be safe," she says while casting a slightly apologetic look at Booker. "As you say, if we can't fix the nav issue, maybe someone else can save the day. We'll need to know if anyone'll be in the neighborhood first. Mr. Antonov, can you run a search for known travel in the area by Starfleet vessels over the next few months?"

That taken care of, she shifts to Mr. Sasok. "You're right, of course; we'll need some sort of basic communications link in order for the Yorktown to send commands that'd control 42. So, Ensign Kylah..." Nia lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, turning to the young officer. "Where are we?"

Mid-keystroke, Kylah hears her name again. She purses her lips in frustration, an expression only visible to the reflection in the shiny black panel in front of her.

Then she looks up at Lt. Onn. "Now that Mr. Sasok has successfully breached the safeguards, I will try to set up a channel for him and Ens. Tsu to connect with the probe. As for restoring the probe's ability to broadcast its findings... I have a possible solution to the problem. I was just going to run it by Lt. Thalen to see if my idea will work. It is somewhat... unorthodox."

Lt. Onn's tall figure approaches her. Kylah does her best not to draw herself back, though she cannot help the impulse. The older woman's head tilts a few degrees as she examines Kylah. "Well, now you've piqued my interest. How about you run it by me first, Ensign?"

Kylah does not like the attention and glances at her monitor for comfort. "It... it is very complicated..."

"Understood. Explain anyway--if you dumb it down, I'll do my best to keep up." The C.O.'s voice is almost playful, but Kylah can feel the aggravation practically radiating off her.

"Yes, ma'am." Kylah reins in her own growing annoyance before swiveling to face Lt. Onn. "In simplest terms, I wish to turn one of the probe's sensors into a functioning transponder. It is already able to receive data; this will allow it to transmit, as well."

She swallows. "This means significantly reconfiguring its programming and functionality. But I believe I can do it... with Mr. Sasok's help in accessing various subsystems."

In the silence, Lt. Onn scrutinizes Kylah. "Mmm. Interesting." After another pause, she nods with a slight smile. "Very interesting. Go ahead, send your plans to Lt. Thalen and see what he thinks. Then start work on opening a comm link between us and 42, that's job number one. Meanwhile..." She turns around. "Lt. Antonov, you Science guys are sensor experts. How possible is this, given what you know about this type of probe and its capabilities? Same question to you, Mr. Sasok."

A small sigh escapes Kylah's lips as she hurries to finish explaining her idea to Lt. Thalen, keeping one ear open to whatever judgment the others render on her proposal. She sends the plan to the senior Communications officer and then gets to work on the immediate issue: finding a way to set up a comm link, opening up a dialogue between the ship and the lonely little probe.



Thanks to SidonianGal for generously lending Nia to me! :devil:

Antonov and Sasok confer briefly, and Antonov says, "It's a clever approach, ma'am, and I believe it's quite possible. We'd be glad to assist Mr. Kylah."

Thalen, when reached belowdecks, concurs. "Good idea, Kylah. I'd say proceed."

Encouraged, Kylah quickly confirms to Lt. Onn that her superior officer believes her strategy is feasible. Then she works harder to establish a comm link with the probe, which will enable Sasok and Tsu to send commands to the probe. Little use in moving forward with the sensor transformation plan if the probe cannot be returned to its original course.

She is very aware of the passing time and increasing pressure. The crew is waiting on her, and the longer she takes, the more annoyed Lt. Onn and the others will be. Her teeth clamp on her lower lip as she attempts to connect with the probe.

Nia folds her arms across her chest and, after watching the Elasian ensign for a pointless moment, she turns back to Antonov.

"Any luck in searching for a ship that might be near enough over the next few months to corral this rogue probe? Just on the off-chance we can't take control of 42 ourselves," she adds smoothly, much as Booker did earlier.

She happens to be positioned pretty close to Booker right now. It's difficult not to meet his gaze, and his physical presence is almost tangible. She can't understand what happened to make him flee this morning.

Surely he feels what she does... right? Nia's always done her best to avoid overestimating a man's attraction to her--it's a waste of time and energy. But attraction isn't everything, she admits. Could be all sorts of reasons, emotional or intellectual, that Booker might've changed his mind and taken sex off the menu, so to speak.

Ugh. Stop focusing on this. Life goes on. Her lips tighten into a meaningless smile as she waits for Antonov's response.

Antonov stands and holds his hands behind his back. "There are no other Starfleet vessels scheduled to pass by here at any time, ma'am. We could suggest a mission assignment to Starfleet Command, if necessary. Other civilian ships come out here from time to time, but only somewhat rarely. The monthly commercial ore-carrier run is the only regularly-scheduled shipping of any kind out to Novy Rostov."

After another few minutes, Kylah is able, with difficulty, to piggyback a signal onto the probe's scanning beam and link up with its onboard computer. Sasok, with her help, is able to gain remote access to its command functions.

Graham surveys the scene. He looks with appreciation of her confidence, and them...can't help but notice her arms folded across a chest he's seen bare and beautiful, and then...

For a moment, he arms holding herself seem neither confident nor sexy along, but also expressing some vulnerability...

It's tough to be in the big chair, you idiot. For anyone.

Graham takes a side-step closer to Nia. Mostly unconsciously, he spreads his legs just slightly apart in parade rest, lets his shoulders fall and his chest expand. Autonomic responses kick in: this is the stance you take as senior Security officer on the bridge. Not arrorgance, but a promise: Captain, we will carry out the mission. If we fail, we'll be dead. But we knew that was the deal when we signed up. So we're all in.

"My money's on Mr. Kylah and the team, ma'am," Graham says glancing first at Nia and hoping to catch her eye. "I believe they'll get it done," he adds quietly.

He resists -- with difficulty -- the urge to reach out to take her hand....

"I'M GOING FAST!"

Lizzy's at the wheel of the antique Boston Whaler belonging to Jane's parents, all elbow angles and gap-toothed smile of a young girl.

Jane smiles but nearly loses her footing, and Graham instinctively reachers out to steady her: easily able to bear her whole weight with one arm, but failing that, committed to diving below her and breaking her fall.

"Remember about steering into the waves, Lizzy," Graham says, smiling at his wife as their daughter turns with a nod and a look of grim determination.

"I KNOW DAD," she calls over her shoulder.

She's so smart, like her mother, Graham, thinks...

And Jane smiles, Jane....Jane...disintegrates into memory...

Nia...

He thinks her name, but remains silent.

Top secret facility? Redacted or removed notes? Those terms made Nathaniel nervous and uneasy. There is many things he hated about Starfleet, and it's penchant for keeping secrets is one of them. Nathaniel's own experience is that those secrets were in concept intended to help people, but somehow managed to to hurt them. In fact, he is pretty certain that secrets Starfleet is keeping had affected his own life. And his desire to uncover secrets being kept from him is why he was on this damn ship to begin with. Now he is wondering if there were details of this virus that were being kept hidden -- and why they were being kept that way.

"Of course I would rather treat a problem before it happens." Nathaniel answers. "Unfortunately medicine usually doesn't work that way like with the accident that brought you here. But if there is a way to prevent any other incidents, of course I'd like to find them. I really don't like my patients dying. Doesn't look good on the resume, you know? I'm curious about this facility you spoke of. What can you tell me about it?"

Bad news about the lack of back-up rescues for the probe, but Nia just bobs her head in appreciation for Antonov's efforts. Still, she's disappointed. Great. That leaves Kylah and her so-called 'unorthodox' plan.

About to address the communications officer, she senses--and then notices--Booker changing his stance, making it more formal. Wider. Somehow his frame, which is pretty sturdy already, seems to have grown broader in the process.

He mentions both Kylah and the team, but what's most immediately evident is that--either unconsciously or intentionally--Booker has created a physical barrier between her and Kylah. Like he's the girl's own private security detail. And like I'm some danger to the kid.

For an instant Nia's eyebrows lower, not quite scowling, but pretty damn close. Then she forces a chuckle. "Your confidence is noted, Lieutenant," she says lightly. "And I'm sure Ensign Kylah both appreciates and deserves it." Stepping around the man-mountain (at least, muscle-wise--Booker's barely taller than Nia is), she focuses on the Elasian. "Nice work on getting the link up. While Tsu works on rerouting the nav system, you do... whatever it is you need to. Carefully."

Nia turns again and accidentally-on-purpose lets her body, more specifically her chest, brush up against Booker's well-muscled arm. Her gaze flicks upwards slightly to meet his. Just what the fuck is going on with you and her? she wants to demand. And more important, why isn't something going on with us?

But she doesn't pause mid-step, letting the brief physical connection seem incidental, and returns to her chair. Truth is, Sasok and Antonov--and obviously Booker--may have all the confidence in the world for this untried flake of a girl; someone who, only a few short months ago, was a mere cadet. But Nia wants confirmation from Thalen himself. And maybe not even just him. Trouble is, as professional as the Andorian is, he's too easy-going. Great at his job and a sweetheart of a guy, but maybe that's just his problem.

She flips open her communicator and taps out a fast message to both Lt. Thalen and Cmdr. Roble. First she lays out the basic issue to fill Roble in, adds a very brief sketch of what Kylah seems to be planning, and then gets to the meat of her question.

Mr. Thalen, please share the details of Ens. Kylah's strategy with Cmdr. Roble. I ask you both: while this is no doubt an imaginative idea on her part, on a project this ambitious, are you certain this particular officer wouldn't be better suited to some supervision by--or at least partnership with--a senior Comm. Officer? If so, I'd like to request one.

Nia sends the message off. She feels a little traitorous, especially with Kylah only a couple of meters away and her knight in red-suited armor even closer by. But screw it. This is Nia's Bridge, at least for now, and she's not playing around with the mini-mission at hand by letting some angst-ridden amateur mess up some expensive and valuable scientific equipment.

"Give me status reports at each stage, people. I mean Tsu, Sasok and Kylah. I'd like to hear how you're progressing, assuming you do."

Graham feels Nia's body brush against him, and shifts his gaze to meet hers, a slight smile starting to crease his lips at her response to his support, and...

She seems...mad...?

Not sure what to make of that he clears his throat and, after she moves away, returns to his station.

Kylah comes as close as she ever does to grinning--which for her means a non-bashful smile--when she manages to forge a link between the Yorktown and the probe. Lt. Graham's support bolsters her as well. A good start to her work.

Lt. Onn's words are much less fulsome, but at least she no longer sounds so impatient. Kylah cannot see her very well, and the BCDO is too near Lt. Graham for Kylah to pick out her emotions as before. In fact, the older woman is... well, unusually close to Lt. Graham. Kylah's head tilts in puzzlement before she shrugs and hurriedly returns to the task at hand.

Now that she has unfettered access to the probe's comm system--Thank you, Mr. Sasok--she examines her monitor's display of the official Surveyor-type probe schematics to make sure she can indeed identify the various components.

Before she can address the possibility of recalibrating some of the sensors' subroutines, Kylah needs to identify the precise problem with the communications system. She hopes to confirm Lt. Antonov's initial diagnosis: something external, but not the subspace antenna itself. If the antenna is damaged after all, the plan will have been foiled before she has even begun.

Kylah starts by remotely accessing the probe's comm panel, attempting to send a basic signal via the subspace relay emitter. While doing so, she runs a simultaneous diagnostic to measure the output and see where along the line the signal dies.

If she is lucky and the antenna is indeed intact--in other words, the signal dies before it even reaches the antenna--she will identify the problem area and work around it. Her basic questions will be:

1. Which is the most powerful working sensor? The Yorktown, of course, has a duotronic subspace sensor array, a tower of several massive sensors--but 42, as Lt. Onn calls it, is a tiny probe, not a Constitution-class ship. Kylah is searching for the most powerful, longest-range sensor that is still working. If none of the sensors are powerful enough by themselves, she will have to slave them together to form a jerry-rigged sensor array.

2. Can she add a new subroutine that takes the signal from this powerful sensor--the sensor beam--and send it through the comm panel's subprocessor ?

3. Finally, and most tricky of all: can she manage to reprogram the sensor beam from a single, steady input to a dual-phase, pulsing transponder: one that alternates between receiving signals and transmitting them?

Taking a moment to straighten her posture, making sure all her muscles are stretched, Kylah settles back for the challenge.

Lt. Cmdr. Abdi Roble, the Yorktown's Science Officer, soon responds to Onn in a text: It's a damn clever proposal and worth a try, I think, Lieutenant. I have no opinion as to whether another Communications officer might be better suited to carrying it out. I will say, as a rule, that I'm inclined to give junior officers the chance to learn on the job and improve their skills, especially when they've come up with a good idea. ROBLE.

A few seconds later Thalen texts: I concur, but will come to the Bridge at once if you wish, Mr. Onn. THALEN.

Tsu reports, "Steady as she goes at Warp 5. Maintaining course and speed, ma'am. No change in either by the probe."

Sasok, standing at Kylah's shoulder, says to her, "I suggest we use the dorsal sensor array at this distance, at one-twentieth power to start, at least, with a resonance setting of 411.23 fps and a subspace tuning of," he checks a datapad, "0.34442 millicochranes."

Kylah is soon able to create and add a new subroutine to carry the signal through the subprocessor. Reprogramming the sensor beam will be trickier but she thinks she's up to it. Sasok seems friendly and helpful, for a Vulcan, and is clearly willing to help, too.

Reading the responses from Roble and Thalen, Nia leans back in her chair. A minuscule amount of pressure from her right leg swivels her just enough to see a cloud of dark curly hair, which aside from a hint of her red uniform is all she can view of Kylah, and Mr. Sasok's larger figure standing by her.

She eyes her communicator again. Crap. Roble's advice is solid, of course. Under most circumstances Nia wouldn't be second-guessing her crew-mates like this. Honestly if the crew-mate in question were anyone but the biggest frickin' trouble-magnet and emotional shuttle-wreck Nia's ever served with, she doubts she'd have ever sent those messages.

But this is the Yorktown's resident trouble-magnet and emotional shuttle-wreck. Like it or not.

Nia tries to catch a glimpse of Sasok's face. Okay, good... he seems untroubled, at least that's something. Then she mentally rolls her eyes. Brilliant call, genius, what the hell else would a Vulcan look like? He'd seem untroubled if the probe was gonna explode.

Pulling her lips inward so they're practically a straight line, Nia shifts forward and stares at the starfield ahead of her. This girl's about ten years younger than Nia; probably twenty years younger, if you measure by life and work experience. And yet...

For a long time, Nia's father refused to let her go solo in their airship. You're only fourteen, you're not near ready, he'd said to her. And to her mother: She's ovulating and due for another implantation. I'm not willing to risk a steep fine if she can't make good on the contract, and that's assuming she somehow manages not to kill herself!

But her mother backed Nia, in that steady, gentle but firm way of hers. Even though as a man her father had the right to deny Nia just about anything, he finally, reluctantly, let her take Cloudbreaker 3 for its trial launch. Both Nia and the ship succeeded. And she's never, ever forgotten that triumph, or stopped blessing her parents for trusting her.

She sighs. Fuck it. It's just a probe. Not even ours. And it's broken either way--she can't make it worse.

Hopefully.

Nia cradles the communicator and types again. She quickly thanks Lt. Cmdr. Roble for his guidance, and asks his permission to pass along his compliment to Kylah. To Thalen, she writes separately:

THALEN, LT - Things going smoothly so far. Wouldn't object to a casual visit if whatever she's doing is worth a look. Otherwise... maybe just stand ready in case things go pear-shaped?

She sends the note and sets the device on her chair arm. "Very good, Mr. Tsu," she says lightly, "Maintain everything as it stands now, unless--until Ensign Kylah repairs the probe's transmitter. At that point, now that you're in, I suppose you won't have any trouble correcting 42's trajectory to its original course?"

Kylah lifts her face up to smile gratefully at Mr. Sasok. His very nature relaxes her--she has always felt most comfortable around Vulcans--but his assistance and encouragement are particularly appreciated.

"One of my biggest concerns," she says quietly, "is overworking the emitter. The process of switching from an active long-range scan to a passive--which it will need in order to locate the nearest Starfleet subspace relay beacon--requires a great deal of energy. We will need to significantly boost its output during the transmission phase."

She returns to focus on the specs on her secondary monitor. "I believe we will gain some power if we disengage the sensor masking circuit. That could be... potentially harmful. But the risk might be worth it. Perhaps this is a Security question..."

Twisting in her chair, Kylah seeks out Lt. Graham again. "Excuse me, sir?" She hurriedly explains the need for more power, and the idea of eliminating the currently functioning sensor mask. After a slight hesitation during which she wonders if adding too much more explanation will seem condescending, she continues carefully:

"Of course, my worry is that without a mask, the probe's scans will be more visible to anyone looking out for such intrusions. This might seem like a hostile act. The probe could be destroyed, or worse, incite a more aggressive response. And yet we must have the extra power to transmit. Do you believe this is an acceptable risk, sir?"

Kylah's explanation is mostly a lot of technobabble to Graham but the main point that a boosted signal might trigger threat sensors makes sense.

He glances at Kawecki to acknowledge that he knows another Security officer is duty on the bridge, then back to Kylah. "Since we're pretty clear the probe's been damaged, not nefariously modified, any risk is squarely on the probe. We can take it out if it displays threatening behavior. And since we may need to destroy or disable it if we can't correct its course anyway..." He pauses. "From a Security standpoint, the balance of risk isn't an obstacle. But of course this is the command officer's decision," he says, looking deliberately at Nia.

(And, for some hoping with an undercurrent of anxiousness she's not angry at him for some reason...)

Rangin looks up at the Doctor with a certain amount of surprise mixed in with a feeling of healthy scepticism. "Okay," Rangin's response is slightly drawn out, "so sometimes prevention is better than a cure. Good to hear."

He's not certain as to whether he is being humoured or if he is being spoken to honestly and in his current state he probably couldn't tell either way. He's not even sure if he should be telling the doctor given everything that happened, but it may be another way to help determine what is going on.

He sits back against the pillows, takes a deep breath and starts to recall what happened.

"We carried out a mission not that long ago to assist the Sakathian's with some medical supplies and expertise. We were shipping some creatures to them for some testing, ethically before you say anything, at least that was what I remember. In reality, it looks like they were testing a new form of virus, if not a certain amount of biological warfare."

Rangin keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the Doctor waiting to see what his reaction is, but continues to speak, trying to get the words out before his memories of the place become too horrific and start to give him waking nightmares. He can already feel a chill down his spine and his legs begin to fidget on the sheets as they instinctively move to try and get away.

"Something went wrong, the experiments got loose and the place went into shutdown. We were lucky enough to escape with our lives, although the Sakathians made sure that we didn't take anything linked to it away. I was infected with the virus along with a colleague, Fujishiro. She died, I didn't."

Rangin feels himself grinding his teeth, trying to force the words out as he remembers back to the cramped shuttle and arguing with T'Var about trying to save her life.

"Since then, it appears to have had some other side effects, but I wouldn't even begin to guess at what they were and I've never had a doctor give me a truly honest answer about it, at least not that I am aware of."

Rangin leans back in the bed tired form the effort of trying to remember what happened and the emotional drain of remembering Fujishiro. "If you are looking for something further, check the ship's logs, maybe talk to T'Var, that will get you started."

After the exchange between Kylah and Booker, Nia holds a finger up at Tsu, temporarily forestalling the navigator's answer to Nia's earlier question. Then she turns to face the others.

"I don't think Ensign Kylah's worried about danger to the Yorktown from the probe," she says with a questioning glance at the young woman. "It's a matter of revealing Federation activity to people who might not know about us."

Nia's not sure how familiar security officers are with the ins and outs of sensor mechanics--something she understands plenty from her engineering background. "Sensor masks are added to hide scanning activity from whoever it's targeting. Since the probe's in uncharted territory, that might include civilizations or vessels that we haven't had First Contact with.

"If they find out they're being spied on, they might respond defensively. Destroying the probe is the least worry. The bigger danger is that this'll trigger a paranoid, xenophobic reaction. They'll look on any approaching vessel as hostile. Or worse, start a proactive hunt to keep their borders safe."

Her own words strike her, and Nia can't help her tone from including a hint of tartness as she watches Booker. "So Ensign Kylah's offering you a choice, Lieutenant. And you too, Lt. Kawecki," she adds without breaking her gaze from Booker's.

"Do we keep the mask in place, hindering our efforts to get to know others but staying safe and secure? Or do we drop it and accept the risk of getting hurt in favor of a much more powerful, rewarding experience?"

Nia's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she turns to Kylah. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Ensign, but that's it in a nutshell, right?"

Kylah's mouth parts, but she says nothing at first. She does not entirely understand the emotions she is picking up from both Lt. Graham and Lt. Onn. She is also surprised that a Helm Officer would be conversant in sensor mask technology in the first place.

At least she stammers out: "Y-yes, ma'am. That is what I meant. Disengaging the mask is usually only done when we intend to announce our presence. The rationale for doing so can be a strategic choice to look aggressive--or an attempt to reassure the subjects that we approach them with open arms. No hidden agenda."

The BCDO lifts an eyebrow and returns to focus with strange intensity at Lt. Graham. Kylah falls silent, unable to advocate for one choice or the other. Although she would prefer to finish this unusual project, this particular decision is not hers to make.

Graham's intrigued by the explanation but second by second becomes more tense, winding up standing stock still at what seems like Nia's ...disappointment in me? Anger at me?

I can't imagine she'd be pissed I'm not an expert on sensor mechanics...

He runs over last night and this morning: I mean, I fell asleep on our, uh, a date night, and I rushed out in the A-M, but I left that note...but... Did I ruin things between us?

Part of him doesn't feel like that would be fair on Nia's part - but it hurts nonetheless.

Graham finds his throat dry. Holding Nia's eyes, he replies slowly. "If there's a Starfleet protocol on deactivating sensor masks or not, it's beyond my pay grade to override that." He pauses. "Ma'am."

His jaw clenches and releases. "But as a purely tactical analysis, any civilization with a level of technology that can be fooled by our masks is also likely to be vulnerable to our weapons. So I'd call it an acceptable risk."

He doesn't move at all. "Lt. Kawecki, your assessment?"

Kawecki thinks for a moment and says, "All things considered, I think we should we proceed, sir."

The Yorktown's Science Officer texts back to Onn, By all means, please verbally pass along my compliment to Mr. Kylah. Thank you. ROBLE.

The Communications Officer replies, I will simply remain on call, then. Better to give Kylah a little elbow room, I believe. THALEN.

Antonov says, "Federation records reveal no nearby alien presence or known settlement at all, let alone one which we might expect to act in a hostile fashion if we attempt to take control of and repair the probe." He shrugs. "I suggest, though, that we inform the Federation Interstellar Exploratory Institute of our intentions. It's a civilian Federation probe and the FIEI ought to know what we're doing."

Nia is struck by how earnest Booker's gaze is. If he's hiding a desire to cut and run from her, he's one of the best dissemblers she's ever seen. Note to self: don't play poker with him.

She nods slowly in appreciation of his advice--and to let him know that she's done with the personal crap on the Bridge, because she knows damn well she's being embarrassingly unprofessional.

With an exhale, she smiles more genuinely before turning to Antonov. "Very good points, Lieutenant. I'll compose a note to the FIEI." Although they're gonna have to suck it up whether they like it or not, given that this job'll be done and dusted long before they get the message.

"FYI," she adds, because damn it, these people aren't getting her message either, "I'm really not worried about the information you're currently finding in the Federation's records. I promise I haven't forgotten your earlier report.

"But this probe's going into uncharted territory. We don't know exactly what's out there." She can't help but give him a teasing grin. "I mean, that's kinda the reason FIEI sends these probes out in the first place, right?"

She turns to the crew at large. "Look, just to make sure everyone's on the same page: I'm confident that the Yorktown is in no danger if we repair the probe. No Romulans or Who-knows-what-ians are gonna attack us once we get that puppy back on line. We're gonna be okay.

"I am concerned with the bigger picture: the long-term impact of the changes Ensign Kylah's about to make to that sensor."

Nia gestures toward the large viewscreen, showing the probe relatively nearby. "That thing is, basically, a message in a bottle being sent to places we've never been. If, months or even years down the road, it comes across some civilization and scans it unmasked--and that civilization is just advanced enough to pay attention to the skies--that probe'll be the first contact the aliens have with the Federation.

"Every one of us has been drilled on the importance, the delicacy, involved in First Contact scenarios. They're unpredictable by their nature. So we have no idea how these hypothetical aliens will perceive that message. Or how they'll react. That's why we use sensor masks with probes in the first place."

She glances around to see if everyone finally sees her point. It's incomprehensible to her why most of these folks don't get it, while she and Kylah--frickin' Kylah of all people!--do.

Then it hits her. Oh yeah. I'm dealing with a half-dozen humans and a Vulcan who've been in the Federation as long as they've lived. They have no clue what it's like to be one of those aliens.

To them, the Federation is benign and safe, has the good of all races and peoples in mind. So how could anyone misunderstand its intentions?

But that's not how everyone views them--Nia's planet, for a start. Sidonia's impending death is the only reason her people had to cry out for help. Even then, most Sidonians distrust Starfleet and the Federation. They're at the mercy of Starfleet's goodwill, such as it is, and not surprisingly, Sidonians don't like asymmetrical relationships. In fact, they resent the hell out of that.

Nia may have nothing else in common with the little Elasian princess--aside from an apparent appreciation for Booker Graham--but at least both Nia and Kylah know what it's like to be alone among strangers. People whose agendas you might not fully understand. Or trust.

That's the whole reason Nia's spent thirteen years in an effective exile from Sidonia. Not just to learn from the Federation and trade her skills for their assistance. But to teach her people how to trust.

She maintains her grin--what else can she do but find their unintentional blindspots amusing?--and turns to Kylah. "Okay. All that said, and even knowing the unlikely but possible risk we're taking of some unpleasant first contact in the future, I agree with our Security team. Ensign Kylah, if you need the power, disengage the sensor mask." Try though she might, Nia can't help herself: she flashes a quick glance at Booker when she continues: "Showing all your cards isn't always a bad thing."

"I take your point, ma'am," Antonov says, nodding. "Ideally, we'll be able to fully repair the probe and avoid any such negative outcome."

The lengthy discussion flows around Kylah as she continues to work. She listens carefully, however, because the interplay intrigues her.

She is not used to someone in a leadership position entertaining this level of debate. Given the obvious (and admittedly curious) inability of the others to understand Lt. Onn's concerns, surely the woman would have had less trouble if she simply issued her command. After all, barring some catastrophic potential outcome, the crew would have been obliged to obey regardless.

Kylah is relieved when she hears the eventual order, and responds with a definitive "Aye aye, ma'am." She looks up at Mr. Sasok and adds more quietly, "Are my calculations correct, Mr. Sasok? Will disengaging the sensor mask provide us with the energy we need to handle the multiphasic switch from receiving to transmitting?" Gnawing at her lower lip, she eyes the controls again. "It will not hurt to try."

In preparation, she switches the view in her primary monitor so that it mirrors the probe's sensor system control panel. Her fingers hover over the buttons specifically for the dorsal sensor array.

If Mr. Sasok does not dissuade her, Kylah will disengage the sensor mask, then continue to work at turning what was once a single-direction data input receiver into a multidirectional transponder.

Nia opens her mouth to correct Lt. Antonov, but then admits defeat. Mmm, lemme put it another way: discretion is the better part of valor. Her lips curl in a silent smile. Yep, that's certainly a more flattering way to describe it.

She does, however, make a mental note to ask Roble to consider giving some of his officers a refresher course in First Contact procedures.

Having heard the notification from her communicator during all this, Nia reaches over to pick up the device. Ah, speaking of Roble! The replies from her senior officer and Lt. Thalen please her, and she strolls up to Kylah and Sasok.

"By the way, Ensign Kylah," Nia says, both for the girl's benefit and for the rest of the crew to hear. "Cmdr. Roble's been informed of your idea. He says, and this is a direct quote: 'It's a damn clever proposal.' He expressly wanted me to pass along his compliments."

Her hand lifts to gently pat Kylah's shoulder, a feather-light touch, before Nia adds: "And in case I haven't made it clear, I agree with him." She extends her smile of gratitude to Mr. Sasok as well. "You're both doing a solid job on what I know is a damn tricky operation. Thanks."

She moves away from the two of them and retakes her seat in the Captain's chair.

"All right, Mr. Tsu," she says brightly, her thumbs already working to type out a message to the FIEI on her communicator. "Now you can tell me how you're doing on getting 42 back on its intended course."

Graham is relieved--happy--to see Nia's mood (apparently) change for the better. But "showing all your cards"--was that comment meant for him?

Sasok says, "Yes, I think you have it."

Kylah proceeds, and is soon able to create a multidirectional transponder and then make firm contact with the probe.

Tsu says to Onn, "Standing by for a link from Misters Kylah and Sasok."

Nia tilts her head in surprise at Tsu's response. "Oh, guess I misunderstood--I assumed when Mr. Sasok got access to the command functions, that was enough to give you an avenue to the nav panel.*"

When Kylah reports her success, Nia chuckles and gestures gracefully at the Communications officer with a sweep of her hand. "Well, ask and you shall receive, Mr. Tsu. You've certainly got the goods now. Go to it." Turning to Kylah and Sasok, she lets herself give the pair a smile of genuine appreciation. "That is some pretty sweet improvisation, you two. Once we're done with all this, I'd like you to write the procedures up in an instructive report. I haven't seen this particular tech wizardry done before, and I've seen a lot. Cmdr. Roble and Lt. Thalen will want to see how you made it happen."

Actually, Nia wouldn't be surprised if Singh expressed interest as well. But she doesn't want to make Kylah or Sasok feel self-conscious at such close scrutiny. Okay, Sasok would be literally cool with it... Kylah, though, is as always unpredictable. She's done well so far, Nia worries about ruining this little streak of success.

She swings her chair around, casting a pleased smile up at Booker while she circles to face the viewscreen. No sense in ignoring the fact that he likes the girl; he's allowed to be happy for her.




* See #753. Did I misunderstand?

The effusive praise is unexpected, and while Kylah just nods silently, she cannot keep her eyes from revealing her pride. She glances up at Sasok and murmurs, "Thank you for getting access so quickly, and advising me on what to do."

She focuses on the probe visible on the screen. The sudden desire to contact Velir and tell him of this success nearly overwhelms her. Achievement is not nearly as pleasurable without sharing it with him. But while they seem to have declared a truce, Kylah is certain things are not yet at the point where she can contact Velir on such a casual basis. Perhaps someday, but not yet.

"It's a start." Nathaniel says, though he doesn't relish talking to T'Var. He's had his fill of the emotionless, but oddly arrogant Vulcan already. He'd rather scroll through volumes of computer logs than deal with her. "Do you remember the name of the facility that gathered all the information?"

Tsu says, "OK, I think I have it now." She taps some more controls and grins. "Yes, I'm in. Full control now established over the probe."

"We should make repairs, should we not, ma'am, rather than simply redirecting it?" Antonov asks Onn.

Tsu, overhearing, says, "I could bring it out of warp, stop it, and order it to drop its deflector shields, if you wish, ma'am."

Graham has a moment of...well, near panic when Nia swings around, but he's reassured to see her smile. He can't help but (after a brief moment of recognition) smile in return - albeit one which he tamps down for the sake of decorum.

And he's glad to see Kylah willing and able to focus on doing her job--successfully. Without needless...let's call it distractions. If Rangin could just remain on ice on Sickbay for another, oh, decade or so she might have a fine career...

He clears his throat. "Off the record, let me convey Security's appreciation. The paperwork on destroying one of our own craft would've been a nightmare if it came to that."

Nia nearly pauses to fully enjoy Book's look of pleasure--but then remembers that a) now's not the time for a love-fest and b) she's supposed to be pissed at him. Ugh. Consistency sucks.

Instead she redirects her mental focus to her navigator and science officers, who could use a little of that concentration themselves. Her eyebrow raises in amusement--choosing that rather than annoyance at Antonov's flakiness. "I don't know, Lt. Antonov. Unless I've been in some kind of fugue state over the past ten minutes and hallucinated the cleverness just displayed over by the Comm panel," she begins with a nod toward Sasok and Kylah, "the probe's issues are fixed. The main problem 42 had was that it wasn't reporting its data back to the FIEI. Now, thanks to our brilliant pair of ensigns, it is. This new data-scanning-and-sending transponder is online and ready--that's what you two said, isn't it?"

Now turning to Tsu, Nia hides the impulse that almost (almost) makes her wish Cece Bennett were sitting in that chair. She can't help eyeing Pourtash, who's probably thinking the same thing, before whisking her gaze back to Tsu.

"The course correction's the only task left, far as I'm concerned," she starts judiciously, and then exercises her tact muscles to avoid insulting the younger woman. "I like your initiative. But the idea's problematic. If you drop 42 out of warp, we're gonna pass by it so fast we'll be in a new solar system by the time your fingers even finish entering the command." An exaggeration, of course, but Nia wants to keep things light.

"No, seriously... As you know, we'd have to slow down ourselves, and I don't think Singh wants that--I sure don't, and I bet Lt. Pourtash likes our current speed just fine." She grins at her fellow helmsman. No pilot likes slowing down. "Truth is, there's a limit to how much time we can spend on this misfit probe--we have our own mission. So, once you get 42 back on track for its original destination, and most importantly, doing what it's supposed to...however scandalously unorthodox its methods--" Nia switches to flash her grin at Kylah and Sasok--"I vote that we enjoy our success and move on."

Not that anyone else gets a vote. This ain't a democracy. But what the hell, it keeps things casual and lets the crew feel that she doesn't have... What does A.J. call it, again? Oh yeah: Captain Bligh syndrome.

She looks around, genuinely interested to see how the others are feeling. At least, what they appear to be feeling. Nia knows looks can be deceiving. That's fine. Sometimes just the gloss is good enough. The big chair has its privileges.

Her voice remains cheerful but reassuring. "Besides, as per Lt. Antonov's excellent suggestion, I've already notified FIEI of what we've done. If they're not satisfied," which would make 'em friggin' ingrates... "they can put in a request for more detailed servicing by some other ship. It's a civilian enterprise, we've already done our part." Nia lifts her hands, palm upwards in a sort of shrugging, there you have it gesture. "Anything else? Otherwise, Lt. Tsu, make the course correction according to their nav logs, and let's send our little wanderer back on its way."

Antonov bows slightly. "Of course, Lieutenant. Just a thought."

Tsu makes the course correction, and Surveyor 42 resumes its long, lonely mission out among the stars. The Yorktown also turns back to its earlier course.

Capt. Singh returns to the Bridge about 20 minutes later. She commends Onn and everyone for handling the probe situation so well, and takes her seat again.

The rest of the watch passes without incident, and you go off duty. Soon it is time for the senior officers' dinner. You have time to change into full-dress uniform.

Graham pauses and looks in the mirror as he gets dressed.

Grayer. More scars than the last-first-time you put on a Lt. JG dress uniform.

And back then you believed everything would just be great if you climbed the ladder, for you...and Lizzy, and Jane...


He shakes his head clear and finishes. Well that was wrong. Tonight just try not to fuck anything up in the next few hours, Booker.

After as much swimming as she can cram in during the period after Bridge watch ended and a nebulous time Nia decides to call "the-latest-possible-moment-she-can-procrastinate-before-she-must-get-ready-and-still-look-halfway-decent-at-an-event-she-doesn't-want-to-attend," the tall Sidonian woman rushes through her skin care and makeup routine, bare-ass naked except for her scales at the periphery of her body parts.

Nia's not usually big on makeup, but tonight's different. Fancy dress (as far as Starfleet uniforms go, anyway) and the first time at an official event with Booker. She's annoyed with him but that doesn't mean she doesn't want him to like what he sees. Actually, it's even more important that he likes what he sees.

So: The barest hint of silvery green shadow that deepens her emerald eye color and highlights the faint scales surrounding her lids. A sweep of blush to emphasize and warm her smooth skin and high cheekbones. And she decides to dab her lips with gloss matching the deep, reddish-purple of a pomegranate--the same scent and flavor, too, if anyone gets close/lucky enough to notice. Or taste.

The rest is standard Starfleet. No jewelry--not even her usual barrette, because tonight Nia's wearing her hair loose and long. Not her usual choice, since she likes it out of her face and off her mind. Tonight, though, she's forced the curls into submission with a soothing hair balm, which lets them shimmer and ripple down to the small of her back.

Nia steps with some difficulty into her high-heeled boots and takes a last look in the mirror.

Well, maybe Booker won't, she thinks with a grim smile. But I'd fuck you.

With a toss of her head she rushes out of the bathroom and notices the old edition of The Maltese Falcon on her unmade bed. Should she bring it and add it to the growing list of stuff Booker should feel guilty about? Nope. Be practical. What's he gonna do with it all night at the dinner? Stick it beside his plate? Righteous indignation is fun and all, but Nia didn't spend all those credits to get the damn thing covered in wine stains or glops of food.

Nia hopes he'll be the one to retrieve it. A little contrition will get him inside her quarters; a lot will get him in her bed so he can find the book himself.

Almost late now. Crap. She quickens her pace out of her room. No time to take Andy's present as she'd planned, and while she spots the keyboard and monitor she'd knocked into this morning, she doesn't bother setting the former back on her desk or turning the latter on to see any messages.

It's okay, she can give Andy his gift tomorrow. As for the computer... well, no biggie. Anything important would be sent directly to her communicator, anyway.

The traditional ritual of beautification is not something Kylah left behind once she left her home planet. Not even now, after all the unpleasant attention she has attracted on board the ship. Her uncle has reminded her that she must ever represent Elas in the manner befitting her noble family. The ugliness and scandals surrounding her make it more important than ever to show the crew and any guests on board that no matter what they may think, she remains a member of the Elasian ancient and royal House of the Silver Weeping Tree.

Two hours since her watch have passed, and she is only now finishing the last touches. Her jet-black hair is woven into thirty-three braids, each ending with one tiny white bead. Whenever she moves her head, the braids dance and gleam in the light, and the pearl-colored beads create an almost musical sound. She would have preferred to pull the braids back into a thick knot, but the clip with which she would have secured it--silver and onyx in the shape of entwined leafy branches--is lost forever, stolen down on Anubis. Her mother's jewelry, part of the cost she must bear for her treachery and foolishness.

Of course she wears her Starfleet dress uniform, one that has been specially fitted to enhance her curves courtesy of orders by Uncle Aldaan. Kylah cannot imagine whom he bribed to enable such customizations. Or perhaps a more charitable reason exists: perhaps he requested and received the permission simply out of respect for her culture? Even as it is now, the uniform is almost comically prudish compared to Elasian everyday wear, much less formal or ceremonial outfits.

Her face is made up flawlessly, as it almost always is except in times of crisis (which, she must admit, occur more often these days). Thick curling lashes, lids lined in black kohl and shimmering with pearlescent eyeshadow, and delicate, translucent pink for her lips and cheeks.

She is ready to attend this dinner, still uncertain why she has been invited given her troubled and tarnished reputation. The thought makes her frown until she is heartened by the memory of the triumph during today's watch. Kylah accomplished something. Captain Singh made note of the Bridge crew's success at saving the probe, and Lt. Cmdr. Roble singled her out--at least, that is what Lt. Onn told her. And Kylah cannot imagine that the other woman would lie to make Kylah look better.

Pride makes her shiver in pleasure, and she hugs herself while looking in the mirror. I wish I could tell him, she thinks yet again. And, with a glance at her chronometer, Kylah makes an impulsive decision to do just that.

She snatches up her communicator and flips it open.

You each appear in the Wardroom on Deck 2 for dinner at the appointed hour. Stewards are circulating with trays bearing appetizers, glasses of wine (Chateau Picard ‘50 and a more recent vintage of Dorwinion chablis, most notably) and other refreshments. Classical music plays over hidden speakers.

The rest of the senior officers, all of whom, like you, are in dress uniform, are already gathering. First Officer Vargas, Science Officer Roble and Chief Engineer Cheverez are chatting with a Vulcan man in Science blue and a Skorr woman (you think) in Engineering red, neither of whom you've met before. Communications Officer Thalen and Lt. Bennett greet Dr. Villa, the Chief Medical Officer, as she arrives. Several other officers are there, too. The Captain has not yet arrived.

The Wardroom’s long Theban marble table is covered for the occasion by a crisp white linen tablecloth. Well-polished silver, fine china bearing the Starfleet arrowhead, and fluted Rigellian crystal glassware show that the Yorktown knows how to entertain when the occasion arises.

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Skorr

Graham raises an eyebrow. Skorr? Don't see them every day.

He grabs a drink from the nearest steward, not especially choosily...not being much of a "wine guy." But having something in hand feels reassuring.

Cecilia looks nice.

He decides a far better course of action than going over to chat with either her or Vargas is to find Nia first.

“Not bad.” Nathaniel thinks as he sips the red wine.

He isn’t a wine snob, but he does appreciate the finer stuff. And he hasn’t had anything that could be considered that since leaving Earth two years ago. Where he’d gone and the places he’d been good wine has been hard to find. But when you want to forget something the cheaper stuff did just fine. And back then Nathaniel wanted to forget the the events that made him leave Starfleet, Earth and the comfortable life he’d had there. While he hadn’t lost himself in a bottle of booze, some might consider his behavior just as reckless, maybe even more so. After all, he had nearly gotten himself killed more than once.

But he soon learned that he couldn’t forget no matter how he he tried, no matter all the risks he took, and the many, many men he’d bedded, though he hadn’t regretted that part. Sex is never regrettable, unless it is bad.

But his inability to forget is why he is here on this ship. He only hoped he’d find the answers he was looking for. Starting tonight. It was the only reason why he hadn’t tried to think of a way to get out of this ridiculous and boring dinner. After all, most of the players would be here. And he needs to get to know them.

He is still a little disturbed about this situation with Rangin and the virus. But he isn ‘t going to figure out that mystery tonight. But he wants to get to the bottom of that as well. For now though, he has his own problems to worry about.

He spots Cecilia and figured he should greet his cousin. She is going to prove to be useful as she could introduce him to the people he needs to meet in order for him to complete his task. He takes another drink and heads over to his cousin.

Nia scans the room and exhales in relief. She's not late--Singh isn't even here yet.

After noting the Captain's absence, she's about to search for Booker, but instead her attention is drawn like a magnet to the massive yellow Skorr...um, female, she guesses, given the uniform.

How the heck did she board without the gossip mill churning out the news? Plus, there's another new guy, a Vulcan. Nia vows that A.J.'s gonna pay for letting her fall behind on the ship's scuttlebutt.

Nia feels some kinship with the Skorr; there used to be several avian lifeforms on Sidonia, though they're almost entirely extinct due to the toxic air, drought and predators. Some scientists claim that at one time the Sidonian humanoids and avians were descended from the same ancestor, but it's only theory: no proof has been found, and such anthropological research is no longer the focus of what little scientific activity remains on her planet.

Nia's excited to meet the Skorr woman, and the Vulcan as well. Normally she'd happily go over to greet the newcomers, especially since two of her favorite senior officers are with them.

Trouble is, there's a third familiar officer in their company, one who most definitely doesn't rank on Nia's Top Ten list of Yorktown pals. And Cmdr. Vargas wouldn't rate her too highly either.

To hell with it. Nia doesn't like the idea of backing down just to avoid the Second-in-Command.

Lifting her chin, she starts a stroll toward the quintet, noting Thalen and Bennett off to her left as she passes by. Then she spots another stranger heading up to that pair. A male--possibly human, as far as she can tell--in Science Blue.

Oh, and he's also drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

She nearly pauses on her way across the floor, struck by the sheer aesthetic beauty in human form. Who in the name of Seht'Dar's Holy Balls is that?!

Her gaze expertly scans him without being too obvious, and it occurs to her that whoever he is, he could actually be mistaken for one of her half-brothers. Tall. Fit. Similar skin-tone and eye color. All that's missing are scales. His loss, Nia thinks with an inward smile.

She moistens her lips and turns away. In order to avoid gawking, she aims her gaze like a laser to focus straight ahead. If Booker's here, she'll have to find him later. Or he'll find her, which would be better as far as she's concerned.

Gracefully sidling closer to Cheverez, Roble, the two newbies and Vargas, she'll wait in polite silence to catch Roble or Cheverez's eye.

Kylah ends up hurrying toward Deck 2 and the Wardroom, having taken longer than she expected to composer her message to Velir. She hopes it was the right thing to do.

Even now she is tempted to recall the message, assuming he has not read it yet. It would be simplicity itself for her to erase it, even from Velir's mailbox. There are benefits to being a Communications officer.

When she reaches the entrance to the Wardroom, Kylah notices that her palms are damp from being clenched into nervous fists. She wipes them lightly on her uniform, making sure that there is no stain, and after a deep breath, walks inside.

It might be a select group of invitees, but to Kylah, the room seems more crowded than expected. She does not know where to go. How many events did she act as hostess back home? Klingons, Terrans, Vulcans--not at the same time, of course--she sat either by her uncle's side or next to whichever noteworthy guest Aldaan thought would be most amenable to Kylah's presence. And she survived them all.

During a few seconds of anxious immobility, she takes in the whole surroundings--and in between the murmurs or laughs of conversing attendees, Kylah picks out a soft strain of music. She gladly focuses on it, breathing in and out in roughly the same tempo as the piece.

Finally she pushes forward, accepts a glass of something that appears to be wine, and takes a sip. Do not have too much, she warns herself, although the pleasant warmth spreading from her chest makes gulping the entire glass far too tempting. Kylah knows that she is sensitive to alcohol.

Of course the farther she moves into the room, the more emotions buffet her from almost every direction. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, hating crowds, hating being on display, and hating having so little control over her senses. Then, with another deep sigh, she searches for someone friendly in whose company she can hide.

Graham sees Onn as she enters the Wardroom.

Lt. Cecilia Bennett has her dark brown hair up in an elegant chignon and looks sensational. She gives her cousin the doctor an affectionate kiss on the cheek, and introduces him to the handsome young Andorian at her side, in red as she is: "Nathaniel, this is my friend Lt. Thalen. He's the ship's Communications Officer and head of the Lyceum. And you know Dr. Villa already, of course...?" The blue alien and Nathaniel's boss both shake his hand and welcome him. A passing steward offers everyone pesto cheese tartlets from a tray.

Cheverez grins to see Onn. The Filipino engineer cheerily says, "Nia! I'm glad you could come. Have you met our two newest officers yet?" He introduces her to the Skorr, Lt. Vielar, the Yorktown's new Assistant Chief Engineer, who shakes Onn's hand with her sharp talons carefully curled back. Roble also welcomes the Sidonian helmswoman and introduces her to Lt. Cmdr. Sonak, the ship's new Assistant Science Officer. Vielar, her wingtips nearly scraping the ceiling, seems friendly, while Sonak, although polite, has the characteristic Vulcan reserve. Cmdr. Vargas also cordially greets Onn.

Thalen, Kylah's boss, seems a bit preoccupied with his group, but she also sees Lt. JG Ade Soerjosoemarno, whom she knows from Communications, across the room; he smiles and waves. As he does so Kylah spots Graham with a glass in his hand, alone for the moment. Just then a steward offers her a selection of hot Altairian savory crackers.

Rangin remains in Sickbay. He has not, as yet, replied to Kylah's text.

Nia seems to know exactly where she wants to go and who she wants to talk to, Graham thinks. Not really a susprise, he adds with admiration.

Well just don't lumber over there like an idiot...

He very slowly makes his way in her general direction, pausing to take a sip of his drink and to say hello to anyone he recognizes on the way.

Rangin sits propped up in the bed in sickbay. Probably one more night in here and then discharge in the morning was the last he heard and as no-one has told him otherwise, it’s not like he is going anywhere fast.

Having given the details on the Sakathian Mission and a reference to the logs where they should be, there is little for Rangin to do but wait and continue his research. The place is quiet, something about an Officer’s meal going on. Would he have been there if he was not injured? He doesn’t know, although the new Doctor is going. Perhaps it is more an introductory event than anything else.

Fidgeting in the bedclothes, Rangin pulls out his datapad with his work on and looks at the opt of it again. The reason why his research halted for the moment, a message he received a little while previous...from Ens. Kylah. Just looking at the name on it made him nervous wondering what it would say, what might have changed between the time she was here last, and the here and now.

With only the gentle sound of the monitor there to break the silence, his fingers hover over it, not wondering if he should read. But how he can continue when it is there waiting and taunting him? Screwing up his nerves, he quickly taps on the message to open it and reflexively shuts his eyes, before forcing them open to at least look at the first few sentences of the message.

RANGIN, ENS. -- I hope you are feeling better. You were missed on the Bridge this morning. Our path crossed with that of an off-course Federation probe, one sent by the FIEI to uncharted territory. Not only was it off-course, it was no longer transmitting its scan results back home…

This...this is unexpected.

His brow remains furrowed as he continues to read. It is slightly formal, but friendly, and he stops, flicks to the top and starts reading again, convincing himself once again who it came from.

There is also a small, warm feeling of gratitude towards her for writing to him, as not many have been passed. As he reads through, he shakes his head in disbelief at some of the actions taken. He does wonder if the Prime Directive was something they had considered. Just randomly scanning places openly is such a bad idea. How can you see things in their natural habitat if you decide to just announce your presence to everyone with a loudspeaker?

Admittedly the story is told from Kylah’s viewpoint, but even so, Rangin cannot help but wonder.

After reading a couple of times, he wonders what to write back. He briefly considers if he even should, but pushes it to one side. No he should respond.

KYLAH, ENS. -- Thank you for writing to me. I am feeling better and hope to be discharged shortly. I read with interest of the encounter with the off-course Federation probe and would like to thank you for the summary. Indeed I wish I could have been on the Bridge when it happened instead of in SickBay...

Nia's happy to make the acquaintance of the two new officers, although her hand reaching for Vielar's instinctively sprouts protective scales. Turns out it wasn't necessary, since the new ACoE was polite enough to retract those deadly-looking claws, but Nia's not responsible for her own biological impulses. Well, not all of them, anyway.

One thing she can control is her surprise upon learning the news that Vielar's in engineering. Nia's face reveals no puzzlement, but inside she's already wondering the logistics of this. How... how will that even work? I mean, physically? She tries to imagine the accommodations that'll be required to enable Vielar and her massive wings and talons to deal with ducts and instruments built almost exclusively for non-winged humanoids.

Tons of questions spring to mind, but Nia won't ask them. Accommodations have been made for her, given her breathing issues, so she's not one to judge. If Vielar managed to rise to her current position and Cheverez has confidence she'll do the job right, that's good enough for Nia. Still, she's looking forward to a chat with Delaney, whose demotion took him out of the running despite his prodigious talent, or Dahlquist--not that Nia's feeling too friendly toward him after his weird attitude the other day. Speaking of which, another possibility for promotion would've been Trigor--

Oh! Her own thoughts catch her up. Oh wow. Is this why Trig was so annoyed the other day? Was he expecting the promotion? Suddenly his pissy mood makes sense. Would've been a pretty big leap, Ensign to a department Assistant Chief, but Book made it. Anyway, since when does ambition mean thinking realistically? Trigorin could be irked regardless of what his actual chances were.

All this flashes through her brain in the time it takes to greet Vielar and Sonak, along with Cheverez, Roble and a more-polite-than-usual Vargas. How much of this wine has he had? Nia also makes a mental note to find out what happened to the two other Assistant Chiefs who were taken on back before they left Anubis.* Weirdly enough, she doesn't even remember their names, which is probably an indication of how unimpressive their work must've been, necessitating these replacements.

Still... why drag new people in when you've got several solid Engies and Science Officers who could've been rewarded with the extra stripe? Plus, this means Trig and the rest were overlooked twice in less than two months, which has gotta sting.

Nia trusts Cheverez and Roble to reward good work, so she decides randomly to blame Vargas, because why the hell not? Wouldn't be out of character. At least he had the good sense to promote Book. But then, Vargas is nothing if not loyal to his own private team. Redshirts stick together.

After a bit of small talk, she turns to Roble and Cheverez. "By the way, I asked Ensigns Sasok and Kylah to write up a report on their wizardry regarding that FIEI probe. Thought it might be useful to study, maybe even publish in some tech journal--although it's probably best to wait till we hear from Omicron Pascal, make sure it works as hoped."

As she talks she recognizes a man, mostly through his familiar gait, out of the corner of her eye. Ah. There he is. Nia really wants to take a good, long look at Booker Graham in his new dress uniform. In her present company, though? Not a good idea.

She turns to Vargas, eyes sparkling. "Did you hear about today's mini-triumph, sir? The Captain seemed pleased."


* Couldn't help it, I suffer from continuity OCD.

Surprised by Lt. JG Ade Soerjosoemarno's pleasant greeting, Kylah actually twists behind her to see if he is aiming his wave at someone else. She cannot tell, so rather than be rude, she lifts her hand slightly in return, even at the expense of her dignity if his gesture was not meant for her.

Should she go over to him? She has only ever seen Mr. Soerjosoemarno* in passing whenever her duty keeps her in the Communications department. And, again, there is the possibility that he was not waving at her. Oh, I am being foolish, I must try to make friends, she reminds herself. Doing so means risking rejection, but without such a risk, there can be no reward.

Then she spots Mr. Graham, and the tight knot in her stomach relaxes. She can at least greet him, he will not object. Although his gaze is fixed firmly on--she follows the direction of his focus--a group of high-ranking officers, including Cmdr. Vargas himself. Of course! His promotion... He is Lt. Graham now. Naturally it is proper for him to greet his peers and superiors first.

...A thought that causes a frown to wrinkle her nose. Alone among everyone she has seen thus far, Kylah is the only Ensign. The room seems to be a sea of Lieutenants Junior Grade, Lieutenants and higher. Why am I singled out? What am I doing here?

Looking down at herself reminds her that she is not just any Ensign. In addition to the very visible custom fit of her uniform, her uncle's influence has brought Kylah an invisible advantage that others in her rank lack. It must be why she is so favored with invitations and missions, regardless of her skills or failings. As always she remains ambivalent about this: recognition both pleases and unnerves her.

A tray appears in front of her as if it beamed in from nowhere. With a little start, she stares at the server and is about to refuse. And yet... the hors d'oeuvres smell delicious. And she neglected her breakfast in order to visit Velir. Lunch, too, was limited to a quick cup of soup.

Truth is, despite the tailor's best work, the dress uniform is now looser than it was at the last special event onboard. One cracker will not be too much of an indulgence. Besides, it will give her something to do other than stand and drink wine. Kylah nods at the server and accepts the little cracker.

Just the first tiny nibble makes her almost grab the tray for more. Spicy but delicious. Kylah's wondrous gaze meets the server's and she cannot help smiling in gratitude. Once she swallows her bite, she says, "How marvelous! Thank you so much, you are very kind!"

Which, she realizes too late, almost makes her sound as if she believes these appetizers were personally cooked and served for her enjoyment alone.

With a less effusive nod she backs away and, with both hands now occupied with the wine and the rest of the appetizer, Kylah is back to her original quandary. She decides to head for her colleague across the room. Focusing entirely on nibbling to finish the cracker before anyone sees her with it, she nearly bumps into Lt. Graham after all.

"Excuse me, sir," she says, covering her mouth while she chews the remnants of the food. "I was not paying attention..."





* Thanks ever so much for inventing such an easy-to-remember name! :D

Graham takes his eye off Nia--a bit reluctantly--but can't help but smile when he hears Kylah. "No harm done, Ens--"

It takes him a moment to digest her outfit. The fact she's his daughter's age and sometimes (particularly when she's red with fury at him) reminds him of Lizzy is hard to square with a uniform that's, uh...provocative, to say the least. He clears his throat.

He clears his throat. "You uh, look very nice, Mr. Kylah." Then he raises his glass in the manner of a toast. This time his smile returns. "And that was good work on the Bridge today. It was good to see you doing...ah, doing a job I think you were meant to do," he adds, nodding.

The sudden compliment lifts Kylah's spirits. "Why... thank you, sir. I was gratified to help in some way. Usually, I... " She lifts her shoulder in a half-shrug. "Well, you know as well as anyone that I have reflected poorly on the Yorktown. I hope I can continue to be useful, rather than..."

She hesitates, having noticed the direction of Lt. Graham's gaze, although now he seems intent on avoiding anything but her face. As far as she can tell, her uniform seems to be the object of his attention.

With a rueful sigh, she presses her now-free hand against the material at her waist. "I know, sir, it is loose and not a good fit; I must look unkempt. I should have had this altered at the same time as my regular uniform, but I had no idea an occasion to wear this would crop up so quickly."

Kylah hopes no one else notices. She quickly changes the topic to Lt. Graham himself, examining him instead. He seems particularly handsome to her, with his gleaming silver hair, the elegant dress uniform, and a general air of contentment that Kylah can sense even with her eyes closed.

"Your own uniform is becoming to you, Lt. Graham." Lifting her hand, she lightly brushes the additional stripe before smiling up at him. "The extra gold is even more striking. Sir, I know I said it before, but--I am very proud of you. I think--"

She hesitates, caught between truth and tact. The former wins out and she blurts softly, "I think I will have more faith in Security, knowing that you are at the head of it. Not counting Cmdr. Vargas," she adds with a glance toward that officer.

Onn considers that perhaps the two officers she just met were those who came aboard before the Yorktown left Anubis, but she just hadn't had the chance to officially meet them yet, as busy as she - and probably they - have been.

Roble nods judiciously. "Yes, I'll be interested to read their report on the probe."

Vargas says, "The Surveyor probe? Yes, that was a nice bit of work, Lieutenant. You had the Conn at the time, I believe? Well done."

The steward smiles at Kylah, nods and moves away with her tray.

When Kylah has a chance to look around, she spots two other officers without cuff braid - one in Command gold, and the other in Science or Medical blue - so she knows she isn't the only ensign at the party.

Nia blinks at the curious, almost intrusive idea that popped into her head while Vargas spoke.

She's not sure what's more bizarre--a) the notion that she's both somehow missed a seven-foot bird on board her ship for two months, and none of her close pals in Engineering bothered to mention that their new ACoE is a Skorr, or b) the fact that Cmdr. Vargas, a guy who's on the record (literally--her record!) as barely tolerating Nia's smart mouth, has just paid her a rather pleasant and, as far as she can tell, sincere compliment.

Ignoring the trivial speculation about the newcomers, she focuses on this most rare of occurrences: a pat on the head from the second-highest-ranking officer on the Yorktown.

"Thank you, sir," Nia says with an appreciative nod. "I hope it didn't seem like I was blowing my own horn--did I get that idiom right?" she adds, lifting an amused eyebrow at Cheverez before continuing. "I'd love to take credit, but all the hard work was done by Lt. Antonov, at Science, Tsu at Nav, and especially the pair who basically performed communications alchemy--Sasok and Kylah."

She looks around to see if either of them are in attendance. Can't see Sasok around, though he might be here and just hidden... And then... oh, of course, of course she finds Kylah right next to Booker. Wearing what looks like a dress uniform as rendered by a porn vid produced for Starfleet-fetishists.

And to think Nia's been mildly annoyed that Cecilia Bennett's already attracted the hot new officer and is bound to do the same with Booker. Should've guessed it'd be Kylah. Seriously, what the hell is she wearing? All that makeup, holy crap... and how long did it take her to concoct that hairstyle? Good grief, does she have a handmaiden stashed somewhere in her quarters?

Taking all that in with the same fast reaction time that's her inheritance from her often preyed-upon ancestors, Nia quickly flicks her gaze back to Vargas. "Um... honestly, I only even mentioned it because from what I know of the two of them, they're likely to underplay their achievements in that report. Sasok's as straight an arrow as I've seen, even for a Vulcan--if you don't mind my saying," Nia says with an apologetic smile toward Sonak. "And Ensign Kylah's..."

Ensign Kylah's what, exactly? What's Nia supposed to call her? Humble? Self-effacing? Would someone without a hefty sense of self-esteem put herself together like that and parade around like a--

Nia cuts herself off mid-thought. Because the answer is, actually... yeah. Absolutely someone would. Someone who thinks her looks are her only asset.

Well, dammit. Nia's mood deflates slightly. She's already annoyed with Book, she doesn't want to add to her own aggravation by being forced to feel bad for a princess too.

With only a slight hesitation she goes on in a slightly lower tone: "...And Ensign Kylah has more than her share of humility; in fact, I think she's... not as sure of herself as she could be."

Nia glances at Cheverez again. He's Kylah's ultimate superior officer, maybe he can give her a pep talk. Pretty obvious that Roble's compliment earlier meant a lot to Kylah. Who knows how the kid might react to a face-to-face 'well done?'

"Anyway," she says with a casual shrug and a direct look at Vargas, "They're the ones who pulled a tech miracle out of their hats, all without a bit of planning. Honestly, Commander, if this had been a Starfleet exercise to test the improvisational skills of our lower-ranking officers, it couldn't have been more of a success."

While briefly glancing over Lt. Graham's shoulder and seeing the others' braidless uniforms, Kylah sighs in relief. It is her hope that the more normally she is treated, the less off-putting she will seem to her crewmates, particularly those with the same rank. Then her attention returns to Lt. Graham, her smile a little brighter.

"Unkempt" is about the last word in the universe Graham would use to describe Kylah's outfit, but her reaction is a thousand times better than "stop ogling me you pervert."

Don't be creepy old guy, Booker...

Her smile - an honest-to-god smile - helps him refocus. Even more so...she brushed his uniform. He's...relieved, relieved of guilt, that his flashback and grabbing her on OCIII hasn't terrorized her, for god's sake...and, for a brief second...what would the impossible moment it be like if and when Lizzy admired the uniform, brushed the insignia...

He clears his throat. "That's a very nice thing to say, but..." He rubs his chin with his free hand. "...if we lose the trust of the people we're sworn to protect, we're not doing our job, are we?." He turns his gaze from Kylah over toward Vargas (and Nia...). "Anyway, speaking of jobs, I should probably say hello to my boss over there. Want to come along?"

After a very brief pause, he adds "For the record, it's good to see you smile, Mr. Kylah. If there's anything I can do to make it a more common occurrence, let me know, OK?" He smiles again. "Just a request of a friend, I won't make it an order, despite the stripes."

Kylah's fingers curl around the stem of her wine glass, as if it takes both hands to hold this light burden, while she turns to follow Lt. Graham's gaze. The idea of joining such senior officers--even Lt. Onn, complimentary as she was this afternoon--is too intimidating.

"Oh! No, no thank you, sir. I should find my colleagues. I cannot always cling to you or Dr. T'Var, or even Ve--" She halts mid-syllable, looks down at her glass. "Well, you know," she directs at the pale gold liquid.

Then she forces her eyes up to Lt. Graham's. "Smiling... really, it is not something Elasians do very often. When we are young, yes, but not as adults. I do not know why, to be honest. There are many things about my culture I do not understand. Anyway, since I am now among many who do value smiles, I try to return them."

Kylah's voice and expression soften the longer she looks at the older man. "As for what you can do... just... if you would remain my friend? Whatever people may say of me?" Mark Ferguson's blunt warning yesterday sends a slither of dread down her spine. Recalling the claustrophobia in that horribly loud machine room quickens her breathing--and sparks the courage to voice a request.

"You can also help, with your new job..." Kylah steps closer so she can lower her voice even further; her wine glass is almost the only thing between them now. "Being safe would help me smile. In addition to the defensive lessons you promised, I wonder if you would consider a suggestion? Not just for me, but for the safety of the ship?"