Star Trek: Timelines #2 - "Crossing the Line"

[Zaia]

Some stories are all about action, some are all about detail, and some are both. This one is both, but not always at the same time. I like Steve's attention to detail.

[Kuja]

Personally, I like the inordinate amount of detail. The little nuances and anecdotes about Talarian government and society were something I really sunk my teeth into.

Steve's pattern so far in Timelines has been to throw out a vast amount of detail, and when the action starts, there's no reason to question any of the actions taken because the resons for them have already been laid out.

It's a system I rather like, and it's working so far.

[The Wookiee]

Steve's pattern so far in Timelines has been to throw out a vast amount of detail, and when the action starts, there's no reason to question any of the actions taken because the resons for them have already been laid out.

It's a system I rather like, and it's working so far.

It's just too much for me. Everything's laid out so precisely that there's no room for imagination.

[phongn]

I like detail -- and don't mind if something is laid out so well that it leaves nothing to the imagination -- but it gets overwhelming. I find myself skimming huge chunks of the story just to get to the "point." Again, I appreciate detail greatly ... but it needs to be evened out.

[Steve]

The meeting ended with the dinner having just been completed. Almost immediately Phillips walked up to Picard with Petersen beside him. "Sir, if you don't mind, we're going to steal your Chief of Staff tonight. I need to show the young hotheads back on my ship what a real pilot is like."
Picard looked at Riker. "Will?"
"I've got no problem with it," replied Riker with a wide grin.
"Well, we are still thirty-six hours away from Starbase 592, so I suppose you have plenty of time to catch up on your old exploits." Picard smiled diplomatically. "Go ahead, I'll see you tomorrow at noon."
"Yes, Admiral." Riker and Phillips grinned at each other and walked out, followed by an equally-amused Petersen and a very confused Diane Howard.
Picard watched Riker leave, followed by the officers from the Valiant, Avenger, and Minneapolis. Commander Hicks led most of the squadron staff out as well, aside from Felix. Parker was still sitting at the table and did not pay attention when Felix and Marina Lenarova approached Picard. Captain Irvine and Commander d'Orvilliers, as well as Commander Ariel Shaham from the Great Lakes, stood nearby. "Sir, do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?"
Picard shook his head in response to Felix's question. "None at the moment."
Marina spoke next. "Well then, Sir, we would like to invite you to our weekly meeting of the minds, such as it is. Captain Parker is kind enough to loan us one of his conference rooms each Friday night and we arrange a dinner with the Enterprise's mess."
"It is an intellectuals' gathering, Sir," Felix explained. "A discussion and debate on issues of intellect, above the daily tedium of starship duty. And given your own interests in archeology and history, we would value your insight in whatever discussions happen to come up during the night."
For a moment Picard did not react. He looked between them and started to nod. "Why, yes, I'd be delighted."
"Good. We usually start at 1900 hours, give or take fifteen minutes to give the others time to wash up and beam over to the Enterprise. We'll see you tomorrow night."
Picard confirmed he'd be there at the proper time and watched them walk out. He turned back to Parker, who was staring out the window at the warp streaks surrounding the ship. "I take it that you have a past history with the Ambassador's daughter?"
"It's that obvious." It wasn't a question. Parker turned in the chair to face Picard. "It was eight years ago. I was Tactical Officer on the Agamemnon. We seperated after I was offered a promotion and the XO posting on the Yamato."
"It's an old story. You were a rising star in Starfleet, and she asked you to give all of that up for her."
"That's what I thought at the time." Parker folded his hands together. "But looking back, I can't help but wonder if that's just what I thought. Her father was Starfleet, and was killed in the line of duty when she was seven. She told me how it devastated her mother, and hurt her, and I realized that we could never make it work if I stayed in Starfleet. I didn't give her the actual choice."
"Well, certainly things have changed. She is of noble blood on Betazed and has probably found a suitor by now." Parker nodded absent-mindedly and Picard walked up to him. "We all have our regrets, Captain." Picard rubbed his chest, over the point of his heart. "Things in the past we wouldn't mind changing, for whatever reason."
Parker very nearly continued, remembering the last question Deanna had asked him before he left the Agamemnon. Did you ever love me? she had asked. Parker hadn't answered her then. He knew he couldn't now. All this time, and a couple of lovers in the intervening years, and deep down Parker wondered if Deanna had been the one.
"You're right, Sir."
Picard nodded. "Before I go, I consider it fair to inform you that you may need to look into getting a new Executive Officer when you return to Earth."
Parker looked up at him. "Oh?"
"Commander Razmara is an extraordinary officer. Because of her record, I've offered her command of the Stargazer."
"I thought your old ship was retired?"
"It was. This is the new Stargazer, Voyager-class."
"And what did she say?"
"Nothing yet. She still has the rest of the deployment to consider it." Picard waited for a moment before considering. "As a courtesy, I'd like you to consider Will Riker for the position."
"I thought that was up to Admiral Leyton?"
"It is, but Admiral Leyton always considers the opinions of a CO before confirming an assignment. And Will was on the list right beside Commander Razmara when Captain Harburton was given the choice."
Parker nodded. "I see. And Leyton just left Razmara there when I came in." Parker stood up. "Well, Sir, I'll consider Will if it comes to that. Though I have a few ideas of my own as well, so I can't promise anything."
"It's quite alright. This was merely a request." Picard drew in a sigh. "Will... is not suited for staff work. I've tried to get him back into carrier command but there will be no open billets for the next two years. By then, he'll be at risk of discharge for failure to earn a promotion."
"As I said, Sir, I'll give him all consideration he's due."
"Thank you, Captain." Picard turned and walked toward the door. "The next meeting is tomorrow at 1300, right?"
"Yes Admiral. But this one is limited to Commanders Razmara, Data, Montecuccoli, and Ivanova."
"I'll have Beverly in attendance as well." Picard pressed a button on the door and it opened, revealing the rear edge of the bridge. "Good night, Captain, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
Picard disappeared around the corner and the doors closed. Parker stood by the table and turned back to the stars whizzing by, still thinking of Deanna.
He then recalled that he had to be up at 0500 and went straight for his quarters.


In Intrepid, like all carriers in Starfleet, had multiple officer lounges to accomodate the fighter pilots and Sensor Information Officers as well as the ship's main complement. Because the ship had a complement of about 2,000 crew, including nearly 500 officers, there were four overall lounges. Two were for both sets of officers, one was reserved for main complement officers, and the fourth was the lounge reserved for pilot use. Normally they were called pilot lounges, but on the Intrepid, the pilots' lounge was called "Chappy's" and located on Deck 9 in the underbelly of the Intrepid's saucer.
Boisterous laughter filled Chappy's, accompanied by the clinking of glasses. Riker was seated at the bar, flanked by Phillips and Petersen. Various pilots and flight officers were in nearby seats and stools. Behind the bar was the man who had given the bar it's name and had been Intrepid's first CO; Captain Charles Sinclair, Starfleet (Ret.). The lights of the bar shined brightly on his ebony skin while he poured more drinks for a couple of the pilots at the bar.
"You were always getting on my ass like that," laughed Riker along with the others, after Phillips recounted a story involving Riker, a daredevil flying stunt, and how then-Squadron CO Phillips had chewed Riker out.
"You were my wingman, Will, I was supposed to," Phillips retorted, fighting back the laughter that came from their old stories. He and Riker had spent the last two hours recounting to the assembled pilots and second-seaters their exploits and the exploits of the other pilots they'd served with. "Then when you moved on, I had to take care of this little bastard." Phillips motioned to Petersen. "Fucking New Yorkers and their arrogance."
Petersen rolled his eyes in mock disgust. "Yeah yeah yeah, it's the same every time, it's not our fault that we 'fucking New Yorkers' live in the biggest fucking city in the Federation."
A catcall came from one of the pilots. "It's only the biggest because you sons-of-bitches took over most of Jersey and Connecticut!"
"Hey, hey, we need somewhere to dump our trash and send our rich fucks, y'know?" Petersen took another drink.
A young female voice called out, "What about your old people and your poor people?" The voice belonged to a young human woman, a junior lieutenant and pilot named Kylie Magnusson. The blue color of her eyes and Caucasian facial structure, not to mention her pronounced and firm bosom, went well with her yellowish complexion and low height; she was the product of a father of Swedish heritage and a Japanese mother.
Petersen snorted. "We've been sending the old folks to Florida for four hundred years now." A round of laughter echoed in the room. "And it'd cost too much to move the poor people, so we let them stay in their apartments, clean our windows, and sell us bad food on the street."
After another round of laughter, they returned to telling stories. Lieutenant Victoria Taylor - a dark-skinned woman of primarily African descent who commanded a squadron of Excalibur space-superiority fighters - took the time to remark about how much a flirt Riker was and on a particularly embarrassing situation he had prompted due to his skirt-chasing, causing Riker to blush and the others to guffaw at his expense. Riker took the ribbing in stride and the story-telling shifted to the Kraylor Incident of '61, when the newly-commissioned Intrepid had taken part in a strike against a Klingon base operating illegaly in neutral space. They spoke of dogfighting against the Klingon fighters sent against the carrier while the greater battle raged. A quarter of the pilots in the room, among the eldest present, chimed in with their own experiences in the battle while the younger pilots listened intently. At the end, Riker patted Phillips on the shoulder. "We didn't lose a single pilot at Kraylor, thanks to Eagle here." He raised his glass and called out for a toast, which the assembled pilots gave.
At one point, as the night wound down, they returned again to Phillips' tales of keeping a young and hot-tempered Will "Grizzly" Riker in line. Riker said little in defense as Phillips reminded him and those present of every stunt he had pulled. All of the ladies he had bedded (or tried to, more often than not), the times he had hotdogged and gotten in trouble with Phillips and the higher-ups, and of course, the barfights he had caused. One against Cardassians after the war, three fights with Klingons, one with Romulans, one with Orions, and perhaps the most embarrassing, one against a newly-arrived Vulcan pilot who, as Phillips said, "mopped the floor with Will's beard".
It was to everyone's surprise when a gruff voice called out from the bar, "Keep on yappin', Phillips. Because you were even worse!"
All eyes turned to Sinclair, who was cleaning a glass. Phillips smirked and looked at his former mentor and CO. "Yeah, yeah I was."
"You chased every skirt you saw, you got written up more times than I care to count, and you were the most hotheaded sonovabitch I ever had to deal with," Sinclair continued. "If you hadn't been such a good pilot, Starfleet would have kicked you to the curb your first year!"
Before Phillips could raise a voice in protest, Sinclair began regaling the others with tales of his behavior. And, indeed, it was worse than what Phillips had said about Riker. A number of the younger pilots laughed mostly because they had trouble reconciling the strict and unforgiving Captain Phillips with Sinclair's memories of his early career. After one of the stories, Phillips finally broke in and retorted, "Dammit, Chappy, I was just trying to be friendly."
"So that's why the constable at DS2 told you that if he ever saw you step foot on his station again, he'd haul you to the brig?" Sinclair pointed an accusing finger at him. "The only reason he didn't anyway is because I talked him out of it. Hell, you'd have been a dead-end if I hadn't gotten lucky and found you a woman."
A smile crossed Phillips face. "That you did, Chappy, that you did."
"Fifteen years now, right?"
"Yeah. Patrick Junior's going to be twelve soon. He's already planning on being a pilot."
"Good." Sinclair wiped down the bar. "Hopefully he'll give his squadron CO a better time than you gave me."
Phillips cringed visibly. Though it didn't hurt as much as some would think. Behind that scathing commentary, he knew Sinclair had a great deal of pride invested in Phillips' accomplishments. One of which entered the door to the lounge. She was probably the only non-pilot who could get away with doing so.
The ship's Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Drola Marskukas, entered the lounge, wearing her uniform trousers and shirt but not the jacket. It was still a snug fit, showing the attractive curves of her breasts and drawing a number of male eyes, including Riker's. Her brown hair flowed over her shoulders, drawn into a ponytail that went halfway down her back. Her emerald skin went well with the teal color of her uniform. Brown eyes shined upon seeing Phillips and Sinclair and she walked up to them. "Will, this is Drola," Phillips said to introduce them. "My Chief Medical Officer. Drola, this is Will Riker, an old wingmate of mine."
"Will." Drola's thick accent, similar to those who spoke the human language of Farsi on Earth, added to her exotic appearance.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Doctor Marskukas."
"Please, call me Drola here." She slipped onto the stool that Petersen had just vacated for her. He went to join a conversation with Vicki Taylor and her pilots. "You've heard of me, Commander?"
Riker nodded. "First Orion woman to graduate from Starfleet Medical. That's not my field, but Beverly - Chief Crusher - was impressed."
"Oh?"
"She went in to be a doctor as well. But a change in plans happened." Riker looked deeper into Drola's brown eyes. They shined with intelligence and steel will. Riker could imagine her other attributes. She had a stunning beauty to her, in her face and in her body, and Riker couldn't help but consider what she would look like in a more personal setting.
"Undressing me?" Drola smiled at him as Riker seemd surprised. "Don't worry, I'm used to that look. Orion women have a very bad reputation in the quadrant thanks to the widespread use of slavery among my race, and many men believe that I am very easy to bed."
"I'm sorry if I've offended you."
"Oh, don't worry about it. Like I said, I'm used to it." Drola's eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief. "And when a handsome man gives me the look, it even makes me consider it."
Now that brought Riker's attention. "And what am I?"
"Somewhat handsome. The beard is what does it. Without it you would look too young." She turned to Sinclair. "Chappy, I would like a durlaytu."
The older man nodded and reached into his cabinent for the Orion liquor she had just asked for.
"Durlaytu is very strong stuff," Riker reminded her.
"It is, but it helps drown my mind so I can sleep well." Drola seemed to look into the distance for a moment. "Otherwise, my dreams are not very pleasant."
"Oh really?"
"I was once a slave, William," Drola informed him. "I won't tell you all of the gory details, but I promise you that if there is a way for a sentient being to feel pain, I am familiar with it."
Riker nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, Drola. I didn't know. But, if I may..." He leaned closer while Drola took the bottle of durlaytu from Sinclair and sipped at it. "How did you get to Earth and Starfleet?"
A smile crossed Drola's face. "My owner's thugs were beating me for trying to escape when a young and noble Starfleet officer, a fighter pilot, came across us. He was half-drunk and on shore leave, but it didn't stop him from bringing down all three of my attackers. He then called for us to be beamed up to his ship. And that was that."
"Who was this officer."
Drola nodded forward, prompting Riker to turn. He realized she had nodded at Phillips. "Patrick?" Riker asked.
"I owe Patrick Phillips my life, Will Riker," Drola replied with a mirthless grin. "He saved me from a horrible fate and gave me a chance to find my true purpose in life. For that, I would follow him into the depths of the Abyss itself."


It was now morning on the Enterprise, 0800 to be exact, and Engineering was in chaos as a shift change was occurring. Commander Dalke stood beside the warp core's control panel, monitoring controls and keeping an eye on the various systems that needed to be maintained to harness the powerful and deadly reaction of matter and anti-matter in the core. He checked the dilithium recrystallization process once again and moved over to monitor the regular diagnostics that the computers ran on the ship's systems.
He immediately noticed that one of the ventral magnetic scanners was offline. He tapped his comm badge. "Dalke to Etps."
A male voice replied, "Etps here." Lieutenant Reginald Etps was his lead Assistant Engineering Officer, as well as the Damage Control Officer on the Enterprise. Young and very skilled, he had a knack for understanding the design of starships that even Dalke did not possess, making him an excellent choice for the ship's DCO. "What is it?"
"Did you take Magnetic Sensor D offline?"
"No."
"Well, someone did. And the controls are locked from here."
"That means someone is probably inside the damned thing. There were no repairs scheduled."
"Be a pal and check it out, will ya?"
A "hmph" came from Etps. "Fine, I'll check it out. But then I'm heading straight to bed until 1400."
"Fine. And find out which nitwit decided to conduct an unscheduled repair. I'll give him waste extraction duty for a week."
"You're being generous. It's usually two." There was a snicker from the other end. "Etps out."


As an engineer and starship designer-hopeful, Etps really couldn't stand bad design work. And every ship in Starfleet had some flaw in it. Minute, usually, and not actually hampering operation, they nevertheless were pains in the ass to deal with.
One really couldn't complain about the existance of Jeffries Tubes so much as they could complain about their size. The Jeffries tubes were not prevalent throughout a starship, despite the misconceptions perpetuated by the ignorant entertainment industry. They didn't access every system aboard a ship, merely those built into the ship's frame, like torpedo launchers, phaser banks, and sensor pallets, plus the tubes leading between the main portion of the drive hull and the warp nacelles.
Unfortunately, they were also very small. Even someone as thin as Etps could find maneuvering hard in the more cramped tubes. Fighting the battle of space, the designers had left the tubes as small as possible.
He wormed his way into the access tube for Magnetic Sensor D, located on Deck 11 in the saucer. After slipping in, feet first, he slid into the ladder tube leading down to the sensor hookup with the tube. As he advanced further down the ten meter length of the the tube, Etps felt a growing chill. They were within a meter or so of space at thie point and the temperature was below ten degrees Centigrade. It was another design flaw in Etps's mind and likely intentional; the designers were probably penny-pinching the power draw.
By the time Etps got to the bottom he was ready to hurt whoever designed the tube system. There wasn't anywhere to go from here but a small tube, more of a compartment, from which the actual computer hardware inside the sensor could be manipulated.
The compartment had an occupant. Etps had to squat down to see who it was, since it was only about a hundred and fifty-five centimeters off the ground (which was barely seventy centimeters from space) and he stood at about a hundred and eighty seven centimeters. As the occupant had gone in feet first, Etps could see who it was. "Lieutenant Larrisa?"
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Larrisa asked. Her hands were not visible and her blue eyes remained intent upon her work. "And can you hand me that pair of tweezers from the box?"
Etps looked down at his feet and saw a small toolbox opened. There were tools in it ranging from hammers - which hadn't changed in centuries - to more sophisticated chip readers and diagnostic devices. He took out a black-handled pair of tweezers and reached into the tube to hand it to Larrisa. Larrisa took it with her right hand and reached it into the sensor's hardware. "There was no repair scheduled, Lieutenant, and Commander Dalke asked me to find out why the sensor was offline."
"This thing hasn't been right since that fight at Beta Mortoli," Larrisa replied, referring to a skirmish with G'kkau raiders about a week before. "They did get a photon torpedo through the shields at one point, remember? The defensive phasers got it before it could actually hit the hull, but we still got smacked by it's radiation when it exploded."
"My people went over the sensors with the diagnostics after the battle, they found nothing wrong." Etps frowned. It irritated him that someone from a completely different department, albeit one related to the equipment, was trying to do his job.
"Yeah, well, I did. I keep getting hang-ups from this sensor. I tried everything from my station but the computer insisted it worked."
"And, naturally, when the computer thinks it works but it doesn't, you decided to investigate personally."
"Yep. And now that I have Lieutenant T'Dyra and her qualifications to mind the sensors while I'm down here, I actually had the opportunity to get this done."
"Why not tell me about it?" Etps asked in an accusing tone while Larrisa began working again. She was apparently trying to get to something.
"I went to one of your subordinates, Lieutenant Martin, but he didn't seem too impressed with the idea that I was trying to tell him how to do his job."
"I'll have to make sure he's the one Dalke uses for waste extraction duty for a week, then," he replied. "So, anything wrong?"
"Yep!" Larrisa grunted with some exertion and seemed to pull something out. Etps got on one knee and looked into the tube. The tweezers were holding an isolinear chip which was darkened and burnt out. "One of the control chips, probably faulty in the first place and shorted out by the radiation. I have a spare in the box, give it and the chip installer to me."
Etps did so. "Yes, Lieutenant Martin will be in a great deal of trouble. Good thing you caught that." He reached into the box and took out a chip and installer to hand to Larrisa. He watched the blond-haired Edo insert the chip into the installer. The installer was a small gray device with an LCD screen, a port for isolinear chips, and a wireless hookup into the ship's computer. From the installer's menus, Larrisa loaded up the appropriate programming for the chip's function in the sensor system and installed it into the chip. The installer ran three checks to verify programming and each one passed, as indicated by green lights on the tool's screen. When this was done, Larrisa took the chip out and slipped it back into the sensor. She seemed to toy with it for a few moments from where Etps was kneeling before she brought her hands back out and her right hand tapped the commbadge above her left breast. "Larrisa to T'Dyra."
"T'Dyra here. Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Bring Magnetic Sensor D back online and run a complete check. Let me know if the problem is gone."
"Running now, Lieutenant." There was a short pause, during which Larrisa handed the chip installer back to Etps. "Sensor D is performing normally."
"Run a scan on something," Larrisa said. Etps listened as she laid out to T'Dyra the kind of "hang ups" she had been complaining about. T'Dyra ran the scan and reported that there were no sign of the reported "hang ups". Larrisa smiled and thanked her while setting back the sliding cover for the sensor hardware. "I'll be back on the bridge in about ten minutes. Larrisa out."
Etps stepped to the far side of the tube and gave Larrisa room to pull herself out. He had fifteen centimeters on the shorter Larrisa, but Larrisa seemed more filled out for her height. Etps let Larrisa climb up first, following after her. When they got back out to the deck, Etps straightened out his uniform. "Well, I'd better go report to Commander Dalke what was going on. Lieutenant, would you like some dinner later?"
A slight grin crossed Larrisa's face. "Sure. It'd be nice. My off-time for dinner tonight is from 1800 to 2000 hours."
"So are mine, fortunately. See you in Arno's?"
"Of course. I'll be there by 1810." Larrisa smiled at Etps and received a smile in return; the two parted for the next ten hours.


The ship's chronometer in Arno's Lounge read 12:30. Larrisa and Sharon Carter were seated together, having a light lunch of roast beef sandwhiches and a Rigelian fruit plate. They were still in uniform, though with their jackets off. The discussion of the lunch so far had been limited to the mission at hand. But during lunch Larrisa had noticed that there were bags under Carter's eyes. She finally asked her if she was doing well.
Carter looked into her younger comrade's eyes for a few moment. Their crystal blue color and the intelligence within them reminded Carter of Jadzia. That thought had to be banished, though, as it directly related to Carter's restlessness. "I can't sleep, Larrisa," Carter admitted. "I try, and it all comes back. Madred and Jadzia, being tortured...." She closed her eyes. "I don't know what to do."
Larrisa nodded solemnly. "Sharon, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to say anything, I'm afraid that I'll hurt you about what happened..."
"Just... talk to me, Larrisa." Carter smiled weakly. "You're a very sweet young woman and a fine officer. But it's the the first thing I want to speak with. What do you think I should do?"
"Well, I'm not sure." Larrisa drew in a breath. "It's been my people's belief that bad dreams are the result of repressing the lu'vreyko."
An amused smirk appeared on Carter's face. "So to stop having bad dreams, I should have sex?"
A playful wince appeared on Larrisa's face. "Well, there's more to expending lu'vreyko than sex, Sharon. Just do something pleasurable. Get a massage."
"Where am I supposed to find a masseuse on a starship?" Carter's smirk didn't disappear, but she held up a hand. "And don't tell me to go to a holodeck, I'd rather not fall asleep on one."
"Well, you just wanted advice." Larrisa grinned weakly. "Dreams can be bad, though. I still dream about my parents. Or worse."
"Yeah?"
"I dream," Larrisa began, "that I'm back on Edo. And that the Mediators are after me to kill me like they killed my parents. Or that they're after Danielle."
"Danielle?" Carter gave her a quizzical look. "Who is Danielle?"
"My gy'doma." Larrisa's smile grew stronger. "She lives in the enclave I spent part of my life in. We fell in love at a very young age."
"So you're with a woman."
"Yes. It's not very odd among my people, most Edo are bisexual. 'Pleasure shared is pleasure increased', after all." Larrisa seemed to look into the distance. "And we're not given the choice of whom we fall in love with. And Danielle Ortiz loves me, and I love her."
"What is a gy'doma? Are you married?"
"Not quite. Marriage is lu'doma, the next step." Larrisa sipped at a soda provided by one of Arno's waiters. "There are three steps, actually. Hy'doma, gy'doma, and lu'doma. The first two are comparable to levels of engagement in a human relationship, and lu'doma is actual marriage. It's also unreversable. My people don't allow divorce." She grinned. "That's why most relationships remain at gy'doma."
"And what about children?"
"Two people have to be at least gy'doma before they can petition the Elders for a Conception Rite."
Carter's eyes widened. "Conception Rite?"
"Yes. A couple's family and friends must attend and maintain the Dyomata Okoa, the Posture of Veneration, while the couple conceives the child to the prayers of a priest or priestess for the creation of a child. The conception is guaranteed because the day before the ceremony, the female drinks a tea made from one of our plants which causes her body to release an egg for fertilization."
That last item didn't concern Carter. "You have sex in public," said Carter, bewildered.
"Only in two specific religious rites," Larrisa replied defensively. "Otherwise, it is a crime to copulate in clear sight of anyone. You must be in a private room or in the proper portion of a pleasure pavilion for casual sex."
"And what's the other rite?"
"The Lu'vreyko Mykaya Rite. The last of an Edo's passage to adulthood at the age of fifteen... well, thirteen in Earth years. It is the Rite for a young Edo to learn the true power of his or her lu'vreyko, and by acceptance of their inability to contain it and thus their submission to it, they gain the knowledge of adulthood. The pairings are usually close friends of opposite genders. In my case, it was the son of one of my community's Elders." Larrisa noticed the shocked look on Carter's face. "I probably shouldn't have told you."
"No, it's okay. Though... well, sounds like your planet is pretty good to live on. Leaving it must have been pretty hard, no matter what you say about learning about the universe and bettering yourself."
"It's good to live on when you're willing to do as told and to follow the Laws. Otherwise you slip up one day and get a syringe of poison in the arm." Larrisa's voice was bitter in it's tone. "After you do the Lu'vreyko Mykaya Rite, you are an adult and can be executed for a crime. I spent five Earth years during which every day out of the enclave I was deathly afraid of doing anything, for fear I'd break a law and be executed. So no, I do not miss Rubicun. It was a hell for me and I don't want to go through that again."
A scoff prompted both to turn their heads. Colonel Kira was standing nearby, having been discussing something with a pair of Marine Lieutenants, and her attention was now on them. The Bajoran woman drew closer, her short hair seeming to blaze from it's reddish tint, and a fire was in her eyes as she stared down on Larrisa. "A hell for you?" asked Kira. Contempt dripped from every word. "What do you know about Hell, Lieutenant? You grew up on a world that is a paradise. Everything was handed to you. You never had to worry about whether the Cardassians or collaborators were going to catch you, or whether you were going to get food and clean water. You never had to endure the stink of a cave filled with dying and wounded fighters who hadn't been cleaned for weeks. What did you have to worry about?"
"I had to worry about being murdered by the Mediators for the slightest offense!" retorted Larrisa.
"Ha! A syringe in the arm is mercy compared to what the Cardassians would have done to me if I had been caught. Forced-labor camps, torture, rape, I had to be afraid of it all. You? You're a pampered brat! You don't have the right to complain about anything!"
Larrisa opened her mouth to retort, but found that she could not. Kira was right. But it was Carter who slowly stood, looking down at Kira and emphasizing the ten centimeter difference in height between them. "Tell me, Colonel, have you ever actually been held as a prisoner by the Cardassians?"
Kira surprised the people watching by actually backing down a bit. "No, I haven't," she was forced to admit. "I thank the Prophets every day that I didn't end up as one."
"Well, I have been," Carter said harshly. "I have been in Hell, Colonel. I've known what it's like to feel like your body's going to explode from all of the pain in it. And that was just two days. If anyone here has the right to be offended by what Lieutenant Larrisa has said, it's me. And I can tell you right now that I'm not offended in the slightest, because I don't have my head stuck up my ass and I actually understand what empathy is. No, Lieutenant Larrisa hasn't been tortured by Cardassians, and nor did she endure the hardships of a guerrila fighter's life, but she's had her own terrors, and we don't have the right to judge her if she wishes to talk about how she has suffered."
Kira's jaw was locked into place. She nodded respectfully to Carter, even though she technically out-ranked her. "You're right, Commander Carter. Lieutenant, I apologize." She turned away and stalked off.
Carter eased back into her seat and looked back to her lunch. She picked up one of the sandwhiches. "That woman," Carter remarked, "is the most stubborn, arrogant, and self-righteous bitch I've ever dealt with."
"Sharon, with all due respect for sticking up for me, I don't blame her for being angry." Larrisa looked at the plates between them. "I've seen the holorecordings of what the Cardassians did to the Bajorans. It's horrible, and so I can understand why she's so bitter and angry. She's a lot like me, you know. She lost her parents too."
"Feel free to try to socialize with Kira if you want, Larrisa, but don't be surprised if she turns you away." Carter took a small bite from a roast beef sandwhich and swallowed it. "Some Bajorans have let the bad days get to them. They're angry that they were unable to drive the Cardassians away themselves, they're angry they had to accept Federation membership to be protected, so they lash out at everyone to get over their anger. Because deep down, they know that if not for the Federation, they'd still be slaves."
Larrisa nodded and quickly decided to change the subject.

[Kuja]

Good dialogue with the pilots, Steve. Reminds me of my buddies and I.

[darthdavid]

FUCKING AWSOME!!!!

[consequences]

Haha, someone told off Kira, someone told off Kira.
Just keep doing what your doing man.

[Sarevok]

Excellent chapter.

[Crazedwraith]

impressive, most impressive chapter.

[darthdavid]

I had a dream involving this fanfic, a lady friend of mine and sex. The moral, no more fanfics at 1 am...

[Steve]

It was 1900 exactly when Picard entered Conference Room 2 on Deck 2 in the bow section of the main hull. Marina and Drake were standing near the door and nodded to him. Rosaline had taken a seat at the circular conference table, flanked by Arik - Commander Shaham from the Great Lakes - and Felix Montecuccoli. On Felix's other side was the Enterprise's CMO, Dr. Phong Nguyen. And on his left was a young woman of about 177 centimeters height, with golden-blonde hair and freckles with the uniform of medical personnel and an Ensign's single gold pip. On Arik's right side was a junior lieutenant with the uniform of an engineer. He had a Mediterrenean complexion, a hawkish patrician's nose, dark brown eyes, and a strong jaw. His slick black hair was short-cut and combed to the right. Next to the right was Commander Howard. On her right was a Lieutenant Commander, a man of medium height and solid build.
Marina slipped into a seat beside the young Ensign, and Drake sat beside the Lieutenant Commander, leaving a final seat for Picard. Drake introduced the people at the table to Picard. The Ensign beside Phong was Halina Poniatowski, a twenty-seven year old Pole fresh out of the Medical Academy and serving as the Medical Officer on the Avenger. She had lovely brown eyes that shined when Picard looked at her.
Beside Arik was a junior engineer from the Great Lakes, Lieutenant Gaius Horatius Aemilianus. He was the son of a Nova Roman Senator from Planet 892 IV, also known as Nova Roma for it's Roman society. The Nova Romans had a culture unchanged for two millennia, the length of time they had remained on Planet 892 IV, and how they got there was somewhat of a mystery, though the mysterious and ancient Preservers were often credited with their existance.
On the other side of Commander Howard was Lieutenant Commander Seth Engasser, the Chief Engineer of the Hood. His eyes were hazel-green with brown hair meticulously combed to the left.
Once they were all settled in, the discussion began on a light note prompted by Picard's request for Earl Grey. He accidentally triggered a debate on the merits of coffee versus tea, siding with Captains Lenarova and Irvine against most of those present at the table.
After several snide but good-natured remarks flew both ways, the subject changed to the matter of how individual culture groups from Earth maintained political autonomy. Diane Howard played a central role in this debate in her capacity as the future Duchess of New Norfolk, with Picard, Phong, and Halina playing the roles of devil's advocate and being in favor of the further integration of human society beyond nationality and religious lines. Picard, however, expressed his own opposition to the Human Unity movements that frequently petitioned the Earth government and the Federation to end the practice of permitting cultural colonies. There were a handful of remarks afterward about the specific importance of political rights, and whether self-determination of a group was more important than enjoying greater rights and prosperity as a minority in a larger group - central to this was the question of where the line was where a colony was allowed to become independent and to, if necessary, bring about that independence with military force.
The next debate, which began at about 2000 hours, centered on Utopianism and Practicalism, the two leading ideologies of the Federation's leadership. Picard made an eloquent argument for the need to improve the lot of humanity and the other sentient races. Marina agreed with the need but not with the method; she expressed a doubt that things could be changed for the better simply through peaceful conduct. "To read history is to read the story of war," she told those at the table. "I do not think it possible to come to the pinnacle of our society through strictly maintaining the peace. We will, at times, have to wage war."
"Captain, I understand your pragmatism, but certainly war is not something to be sought eagerly," remarked Picard. "A path of encouraging peaceful relations between the races and nations of the galaxy will prevent the spread of unnecessary wars."
"Unfortunately, Admiral, one cannot often tell the necessity of a war until after it has been fought. Certainly we would realize an avoided war was necessary only when it is too late to fight it."
"'Si vis pacem, para bellum.'"
Picard nodded with approval at Gaius's remark. "Vegetius."
Gaius replied with a nod of his own. "Indeed, Admiral."
"There is no easy reply to your argument, Captain, other than to ask if we really wish to pay the price of a galaxy where our constant attempts to second-guess the affairs of our neighbors lead to wars. Eventually, too many wars can destroy an Empire - or a Federation - just as badly as failing to defend ourselves."
"The Admiral is quite correct in that regard," said Felix while he considered the last gulp of rich Columbian coffee in his cup. "Naturally, a middle ground is a prudent course."
"Indeed. But..." - Picard sipped down some Earl Grey - "...even such a ground is riddled with risks."
"Risk is our business, Admiral."
"I never said it wasn't, Commander d'Orvilliers, but I do think that we should be very careful about the kinds of fights we might provoke if we become more active. Acting as a reactive political body has allowed the Federation to maintain a peaceful neutrality with most of our neighbors. In the last thirty years, since the beginning of the decline of the Klingon Empire, the Federation has prospered and grown. I fear that if we were to become more militant, more aggressive, in our policies, we would lose the ground we have gained."
"The question, Admiral, is whether we have the luxury of maintaining this stance." Drake finished his own tea and set the cup to the side. "The Klingon Empire's decline was halted by the Ferengi and those two powers now form a powerful alliance bloc. They continue to appeal to the Tholians for alliance against us. Such an alliance could very well be enough to threaten the Federation worse than the Klingons did at their height."
"We must also remember the Revanchist movement on Cardassia," said Marina. "Our victory there was prematurely enforced, I fear. In our haste to keep the Ferengi from expanding, we allowed the Cardassians to maintain the fiction of an honorably-waged contest, and even now some of them believe that they were not actually defeated but undermined from within by liberal elements of their Empire. History has shown that such movements usually lead to resumed conflicts. The German revanchism that brought into power Hitler and the anti-Western hatreds of the nations in Africa and Asia that Khan and his ilk exploited are just two examples."
"You'd be surprised how many admirals at Starfleet Command echo your concerns, Captain." Picard sipped once again. "Admiral Maxwell has been leading the charge to restore some of our defenses along the Cardassian border for just such an eventuality." Picard placed his cup down on the table. "However, I cannot help but feel it premature to declare that the Federation must start compromising our ideals for...."
The door to the room swished open and a pair of Crewmen entered, pulling along a wheeled cart with dishes piled upon it. Most were human side-dishes, but the main course certainly wasn't; it was an aquatic fowl from the world of Madison near Pacifica, well-cooked and as brown as a turkey. There were also smaller pork and beef roasts. "A Madison seabird," Picard said with some delight. He looked to the door, where Arno was entering with a case of wine. "You've been talking with Guinan."
"Indeed. She assured me it was one of your favorites. Just like that Andorian heskil that Halina likes so much." And, indeed, everyone could see the delight glittering in Halina's eyes at the sight of her favorite alien dish. "In fact, Admiral, I have something for just this occasion." Arno reached into his case and brought out a bottle of dark red liquid. The eloquent script on the bottle's label read "Chateau Picard" and the year was quite clearly 2353.
Picard accepted the first bottle and looked it over. "I remember this stock. I was back home before my last mission on the Stargazer. I helped Robert harvest the grapes that year." His eyes clearly showed delight. "It is a very good year. I really must applaud your taste, Mister Vanbeggine."
"Thank you, Admiral. I still have two more cases of '53 in my personal locker, as well as cases of '45 and '49." Arno took out another bottle and handed it to a crewman to begin pouring it into the wineglasses they had brought with the meal. "I even have a couple of cases of '12 back in my storage locker in Brugge."
"Two cases of '12?! Sacre Merde, you are quite fortunate. We only have a single bottle left in our wine cellar." Picard looked into his glass as Arno personally filled it. "The year brings back pleasant memories. That was the first year I helped my father during harvest."
"I am very happy to hear that, Admiral. To get it I had to exchange five cases of Cardassian kanar," Arno explained. "Fine Cardassian kanar, from their best brewery I was told. But it was a worthwhile trade."
"Indeed it was."
An amused expression came to Marina's face. "I don't suppose you have any more vodka like the bottle you brought last week?"
"Oh no, I'm terribly sorry, but Captain Parker finished the last of it after that last fight with the G'kkau."
Picard noticed immediately that expressions in the room soured. To explain, Phong said to him, "The G'kkau raiders butchered the inhabitants of the colony on Markel III. They were eating them when we came along."
"Oh." Picard nodded stiffly. "Yes, a very somber sight I imagine."
"Fortunately, the dead of Markel were avenged," Felix said. "Those are a pack of raiders that will never harm innocents again."
There were a couple of murmurs in agreement. When Arno and his aides finished filling everyone's first glass of wine, they ducked out. Drake was the first to speak up. "Well then, this is certainly a fine meal, do any of you wish to say a grace before we partake of it?"
There were no replies. Drake immediately went to work cutting into the bird for everyone while several hands reached for the pile of plates and went toward picking up the sides. Gaius took a sip from the wine in his glass and looked to Picard. "This is very good. Your family makes this?"
"Oh yes. My brother Robert tends the vineyard now."
"Ah. Well, I should see about sending a case to my father. It will be something to entertain his fellow Senators with."
"Indeed. So, Lieutenant, I must say I've never met anyone from your world...."


Larrisa followed Etps to his quarters, the two chatting cheerfully about various technical issues involved in the ship. Dinner had gone just as well, with most conversation about their personal backgrounds - though Larrisa had not been completely forthcoming with her own - and how their careers had gone so far. Larrisa had rather easily shocked him by not being surprised at his confession of homosexuality, since she had been aware of it since first meeting him, and they had even shared a few vulgar jokes on the issue.
"Commander Dalke," Etps said as he continued informing her of the day's events, "could be heard across Engineering giving Martin a lecture on the importance of checking out, personally, every component in every system exposed to a radiation blast through the shields. Martin was trying to cut corners and, well, now he's been burned. The Chief won't be giving him that recommendation for a DCO assignment, that's for sure."
Larrisa giggled in amusement. "Serves him right. Can't afford to be cutting corners on this kind of ship."
"Well...." Etps walked up to a door marked with his name. "This is my stop. I've got to shower and get ready for another four hour watch. You get off at midnight?"
"Yes. I'm due back at 0800."
"Nice having half a day off. I knew captains that demanded no less than sixteen hours a day on duty."
"Well, Captain Parker understands the need to keep the crew rested. That kind of watch is for when you're in a war zone," Larrisa said. "But I hear that Captain Lenarova can be a real hardass about your time. Dog watches, never more than six hours off."
"Well, the frigate-types have always been a little stir-crazy." Etps, for effect, circled his finger around his right temple. "I also hear Captain Lenarova has a vodka ration for the entire crew."
Larrisa began snickering. "Can you see that happening here? I don't think I could bring myself to drink the stuff. She tried to get me to once, during a squadron command staff meeting."
"Russians and their vodka. Me, being of German descent means I get to pine for schnapps." Etps laughed once more. "But look at the time, I'd better go, or the Chief will have my head."
"Talk to you later, Reginald," Larrisa said, watching him enter his quarters before she walked off.


It was the end of the Talarian evening cycle for the crew of the Talara'Sathra, cruised at warp alongside it's smaller escorts toward the Federation's Starbase 592. The Talara'Sathra, "Grand Warrior", was a ship of it's own class, the largest built in the Talarian Steadhold and the pinnacle of native Talarian engineering. 800 meters long, the Talara bristled with Talarian X-Ray Lasers and imported Cardassian compressor beam cannons. The photon torpedo launchers on the fore and aft were unique amongst the Talarian fleet, the result of captured Federation technology during the war, though inferior to the Federation's own systems. Nevertheless, the Talara was one of the most powerful non-Federation ships in this region of space, outmassing and outgunning the greatest ships of the neighboring powers save the Cardassians.
To command the Talara was a great honor, and it had been through years of proud service to the Steadhold that Endar ku'Jashklu had won that honor. Endar was seated in his spartan cabin at the moment, Admiral Relki ke'Uytela across from him at the dinner table. Their meal had long been finished, and Endar was now hearing the lady admiral from the diplomatic contingent air her grievances.
"For years we have stood alone and triumphed over our enemies," Relki said, continuing a diatribe against the alliance they were going to negotiate. "And now our leaders decide to surrender without a fight to the Federation. It is a travesty, Endar, and you should be just as appalled as I. The Federation killed your son, I remember."
Endar hid a wince. "My son died in battle against the Federation, yes. And I fought the Federation as well. You try to compare them to the Breen and Tsen'kethi, while I know your comparison is a lie."
Relki waved his counter away. "It does not matter. The Steadhold must be maintained. Durlora and her mother would bargain away our freedom to get scraps from the Federation table."
"And that is why the Senate sent us. To negotiate in their names."
"Yes, it does help that your Family currently leads the Mortura, does it not?" A mirthless smile came to her face.
"If you are insinuating anything, Admiral, you do your reputation a disservice." Endar met her glare head on. "I would have expected better from the hero of Hortaka."
Relki's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You act hysterical. You act as if we are going to forge the chains for our own enslavement. And I tell you that we are not. I also tell you this. I have fought the Federation. You have not. You know nothing of them besides rumor. I have met them in battle, and I know their prowess and strength. Our best attack, Admiral, and it barely managed to overcome a depleted border force! Their counterattack sent us flying back into our home territories. If they had been as bad as you insist, they would have continued their onslaught and not offered peace terms."
"The Federation could never have conquered the Steadhold! Our people would have died fighting!"
"Yes, Admiral, we would have died. But we did not. The Federation even with a clear advantage chose to make peace." Endar shook his head, as if bewildered. "I do not understand them either. We, certainly, would have continued our attack until we could no longer sustain it. But the Federation's thinking is not like our's."
"So you will support Durlora in these negotiations?" Relki's face began changing hue.
"I will support what is in the interests of the Steadhold!" Endar thundered. "How dare you imply that I would do otherwise!"
"The interests of the Steadhold are in maintaining our freedom, Captain!"
"And I fail to see any substance to your insistance that the Federation will do otherwise! They value a spirit of freedom themselves, and you would know that if you bothered reading anything beyond the most hysterical of media back on Talar!" Endar swept a hand out. "Some of our people starve in the streets and the Federation offers us a chance to end their suffering! You would deny it for your own pride?"
"My pride?"
"Yes. Do not think I do not understand the true purpose of your opposition, Admiral. You do not want to admit the Steadhold needs allies to survive. You want to continue believing we can be alone forever and still live. You place your personal sense of pride as greater than your duty to the Steadhold to protect it!"
"You tread on dangerous..."
The door chime to Endar's room sounded. Endar and Relki stared at each other for a moment. "You may enter," Endar said aloud. The door opened and his expression grew less tense at the entrance of his son. He looked to Relki and said, "This is my son Jono. Jono, this is Admiral Relki."
Jono saluted respectfully to Relki. As was custom, he kept his helmet on in the presence of superior officers and neither did he ask if he could remove it. Endar nodded to him and said, "You may be at ease, Jono."
Immediately Jono's hands gripped the helmet and pushed it up and off his head. A look of shock came to Relki's face when she saw that he was very obviously not Talarian; dark blond hair covered his head. She looked at Endar with an incredulous expression on her face. "He is... Terran, isn't he?"
"Jono is my son," Endar retorted. He could see the disgust, the horror, in her face. But he ignored it, and instead stood to greet his son by clasping his shoulders. "And I am very proud of him. Jono, I hear that you have been assigned to Director Durlora's honor guard. You have done well."
"But I am only in the third rank," Jono said, disappointment evident in his voice. "I failed to perform well enough to win first rank. I am sorry."
"Jono, I am proud to see that you strive for the best assignment, but you must take victories where they are given. That one as young as you are has been assigned to the Director's honor guard is a great honor. You have made me proud, son."
The disappointment seemed to lift from Jono's expression. "Thank you, Father. I will not let you down."
"I know you won't, Jono. Go on to your room." Endar nodded toward the door. "I'll see you in the morning for First Meal."
Jono saluted with respect to the admiral, placed his helmet back on his head, and walked back out into the corridor.
Endar turned to Relki and the startled expression on her face. "Is there something wrong?"
"You have adopted a Terran son?" Relki said with a clear tone of disgust.
"He was the only survivor of a colony my troops attacked near the end of the war. The Federation colonists fought back, and we had to kill them to the last man. But I could not kill him. He was a young boy, and it would have been a horrible evil to end his life." Endar looked down, as if a long-buried pain was returning. "As you were so quick to point out earlier, my son had been killed in the war with the Federation. I was within my rights to adopt a son of the enemy, and I did."
"He is a Terran. He is not one of us!"
"He has been raised as any Talarian boy would!" Endar shouted. "His heart is Talarian. And I will not hear you speak such things about my son in the future."
"You forget your place, Captain," Relki said, standing. "You have brought an alien into our midst!"
"He is as loyal to the Steadhold as any other Talarian, and has proven it on many occasions! With his every act he brings honor to my Family and the Steadhold as a whole!" Endar's expression showed rage, and Relki quite wisely backed down. "Please leave, Admiral. I do not think it wise if we were to let this argument carry itself past the night."
"You are right about that, at least." Relki turned her back and walked out of Endar's room.


Relki stepped into her own cabin on the Talara'Sathra and began removing her outer uniform jacket to retire for the night. She looked up in time to see a figure step out from the spartan bedchamber built into the center of the room. Her daughter, Utali, was still in helmet and uniform; she stood at fine attention and made her mother proud. "I hear you have made first rank in the honor guard," Relki said to her.
"Yes. Gelya made third."
Relki nodded solemnly. As was custom, the six ranks of bodyguards were split evenly between six males and six females, one on each side. The first rank, the most prestigious, stood right beside those meant to be protected, and each following rank was outward in the line. "She knows what is asked of her?"
"Gelya lost her parents to the Federation in the war, Mother. She is ready to die to preserve the Steadhold against our enemies."
"Then her name will be praised after what we do here." Relki's eyes narrowed and she looked to her daughter. Utali was her eldest daughter, raised to be absolutely loyal to the Steadhold. She knew Utali could be trusted with what had to be done. "Durlora must die before the negotiations begin. It will convince the Federation that we are too unstable to be bargained with and they will give up their plan to conquer us with diplomacy."
"Yes mother."
Relki stood for a moment and pondered. Gelya would be opposite of Endar's adopted Terran son Jono. It seemed such a fit way for the universe to play itself out. "Fortunately they assigned the Terran son of Endar as her opposite in the male line. He is young and inexperienced. I do not expect her to have any problems until Durlora is shot. Above all things, we must make sure she does not live. We cannot afford her implicating us under interrogation."
"She will die, Mother, if I must shoot her myself," Utali promised.
Relki nodded. "Then you should go to bed. By the time we finish First Meal we should be at their station, and we are to board afterward."
Utali nodded and left the room, leaving Relki to herself and her own thoughts. To assassinate a Director of the Government - Durlora was head of the external affairs office and thus a good diplomat - was a grave step to make. But for the freedom of the Steadhold, it had to be done.
If only Durlora and her kind had not gained ascendancy in the government. Durlora's mother was a fine leader, a hero of the Steadhold, but her age had diminished her faculties. Relki still wondered why Lord Protector Murluno had not taken her own life yet, and could only guess that she did not think herself too senile. But now she allowed treason against the Steadhold. The treaty to the Federation was not an alliance; it was a surrender. Talar would be subsumed into the Federation, it would lose itself and degrade away. This could not be permitted, no matter what cost had to be paid.

[Crazedwraith]

1st post, nice writing but a bit of a slow chapter.

[Kuja]

Nice. A bit of a filler chapter, but definately one that makes you say 'Oh shit.' Eagerly awaiting what comes next.

[Steve]

Parker looked over from his pillow to see the clock flash 0500. He was getting a longer sleep than usual, since it was assumed he would need to be rested up for the introduction of the Talarian diplomatic team the next day.
But like the previous night, Parker couldn't sleep. He laid still, hands on his stomach, thinking of her. He could recall every intimate detail of their last nights together, and whenever he closed his eyes he remembered leaving her. Seeing those sad eyes, hearing Deanna's voice calling after him...
Did you ever love me?
Time and time again, Parker had tried to answer Deanna's last question. And he could never do so. Sometimes he wondered if there had been any substance to the relationship, anything beyond lust for a younger, beautiful woman. But he could never come to a decision on that. His memories of her refused to be filed away as a fling. There had to be something there, something concrete.
Despite having so little sleep, Parker decided to go ahead and wake up. He wasn't going to sleep, not until this was settled and he could bury his memories of Deanna. He slipped out of bed and into the shower. After he dried himself off Parker slipped on a uniform and walked out into the corridors of the ship. There was little activity on the habitation decks of the ship. Unwilling to go straight to the bridge, Parker found himself walking to the officer's lounge. It was mostly empty, since everyone was either on duty or asleep, but he found Arno at the counter with Kristin Ignacian standing beside him, their arms wrapped in an embrace. Arno was in his usual dress shirt and black pants while Kristin was in civilian clothes, wearing a sexy blue halter top that bared her belly and a knee-length blue skirt. They were laughing and joking about something when they looked to see Parker having entered. Kristin stepped away from Arno, blushing a little, but Arno was as unflappable as ever. "Good morning Captain," he said. "Up a little early?"
"Give me your strongest coffee, please." Parker looked to Kristin and couldn't help but grin a little. "Did Doctor Nguyen make you an officer behind my back, Chief?" he asked in a teasing voice.
Kristin rolled her eyes. "Arno let me come in to help him clean up." She walked around the bar. "No one is here anyway."
"Of course." Parker accepted a cup of black coffee from Arno and took a quick drink. The taste was bland to him, but it wasn't intended for taste but strength. Parker swore he could almost feel the caffeine shoot straight into his brain. "And I won't tell if you won't." He winked at Kristin and looked back to Arno. "You're usually not in here until zero six hundred."
"Got an early start today to clean up a few things. I was so busy catering to Captain Lenarova's debating circle last night that I didn't have everything done for the morning."
"Ah." Parker took another drink.
"So, Captain, what has roused you so early?"
Parker didn't answer at first, not quite sure he wanted to discuss any of it. "I had a lot to think about."
"Certainly not just involving the negotiations with the Talarians." Arno leaned over the bar. "It's something more, I take it?"
Parker kept looking into his coffee. "You could say that." He looked up at Arno. "Something personal. Something private."
"I heard that someone coming along is an old acquaintance of your's. A very special acquaitance."
"You could say that." Parker said no more. He knew others had already heard his comments about having been involved with Deanna, and he was reasonably certain somebody overheard that the Trois were in the delegation.
"So, what do you intend to do?"
"Not quite sure." Parker took another drink of the coffee. "It's.... complex."
"Love is often seen that way, even if it is not." Arno slipped over the bar and sat down by Parker. "It's a very powerful emotion. It overpowers sense and reason, it reaches directly to the soul, to who you are and what you want. That is why love itself is so very simple. And like so many other basic and simple things, we are the ones who make it complex. Often times we will lie to ourselves, and to others, because we do not know how to deal with the truth... because sometimes the truth scares us with it's purity."
Parker sipped on his coffee. "I never knew you were a philosopher, Vanbeggine."
"At heart, Captain, we are all philosophers." Arno smiled. "No matter how we try to block them out with our daily lives, our routines and our duties, we cannot escape the questions that every living thing asks."
"And what are those questions?"
Arno leaned foward as if to whisper a secret to Parker. "Who? What? Why? How?"
Parker stared at him a moment. "That's it. Just one word questions like that?"
"They are the key to trying to understand the universe, Captain. Now, if you'll excuse me a moment." Arno stood up and walked to where Kristin was wiping down a table. He pulled her into his arms and they shared a warm, passionate kiss. She smiled at him, touched him lovingly, on the cheek while his fingers held her chin, and walked out of the lounge.
"You say love is simple." Parker watched the door close behind Kristin. "Is that what you feel for Kristin?"
Arno slid back into the stool. "What I feel for Kristin could be called love, yes. She is beautiful and compassionate. Her passions for life mirror my own. Her desire for companionship and for the physical joy of sex are the same as my own. Tell me, Captain, do you feel such things for the woman you have left behind?"
"I'm not sure."
"I believe you are. I believe the truth is there in your soul, but you lie to yourself that you do not know because you would rather live with that certainty than accept the uncertainty of where the truth could take you." Arno jumped back over the bar. "If you need me, Captain, I will be in the kitchen preparing the morning meal." He stepped away and through the swinging double doors to the kitchen, leaving Parker to his remaining coffee and his thoughts.


Data departed the bridge at 0600 after being relieved by Commander Razmara and went to his quarters. Since he was usually on duty, they were rather spartan by the standards of others. He did not need to shower, though he did change uniforms so that the ones he had worn could be sent to the ship's laundromat to be cleaned and ironed. For a short time Data continued his usual musings on history and other arts, analyzing once more the symphonies of Beethoven while simultaneously reading works set in his time period to understand the social and technological context in which his music was circulated.
He was printing out his findings and analysis on his personal system when it occurred to him that Larrisa was probably up and going. He had enjoyed talking with her two mornings before and wished to do so again, so he saved his work and left his quarters.
Data walked down the corridor of Deck 2, around the forward bend of it, toward Larrisa's quarters. He arrived and rang the door chime. When there was no answer from within, he rang it again. Once more, there was no answer. Data briefly wondered (briefly meaning something on the order of a microsecond) if she had overslept, but dismissed that and asked the computer where she had gone. It was technically not proper, the system had been designed for finding officers for duty purposes only, but Data was simply too curious and did not think it a great violation of the spirit of the system. The computer's mechanical female voice replied that Lieutenant Larrisa was in Holodeck 1 - the holodeck reserved for the ship's officers.
With greater curiosity as to why she was in a holodeck, Data went to the nearest turbolift and traveled down to Deck 9, Quadrant C (the quadrant facing the rear of the ship). He walked to the right for short distance until he found the entrance to Holodeck 1. It was active but not secured, so it was not a private program and Data did not consider it wrong to enter.
Larrisa's program showed a beautiful garden, with a handful of trees with blue leaves in varying positions around their central location, which was a walkway bordered by bushes filled with wild hydola flowers. Larrisa was standing nearby, in the grass, wearing a sleeveless white blouse and knee-length green skirt. Her blond hair was free and flowed down over her shoulders. In front of her, by about ten feet, were three holographic figures clothed in white Edo garb. One was an attractive female, a little shorter than Larrisa, with hair her color and bright blue eyes. The other, a male, had a darker shade of blond hair and gray eyes with a handsome face and physique. The two were arguing in a language Data did not immediately understood but which his internal systems determiend was an Edo dialect found in their northern continent region. Standing beside them was a little girl of about seven Earth years. Her facial structure, blond hair, and blue eyes told Data that she was meant to be Larrisa as a child.
Before he could say anything, Larrisa spoke. "Freeze program," she said, and immediately followed up by saying, "Hello Data." The figures in front of her were completely frozen now, the man in mid-sentence, his mouth open and his face twisted into an angry look.
Data took a second to completely process how she might have known it was him, not counting the background noise of his other projects. "Your deductive capabilities are impressive."
"Only you would come looking for me at this hour and bother to come to the holodeck," Larrisa replied. "I take it you wanted to talk more?"
"I was interested if you were willing."
"Well, Data, let me show you something. It might help you understand me and perhaps others as well. Computer, resume program."
The program continued. The couple continued shouting. Data observed for a moments and noticed movement elsewhere. There were figures moving around them, but they were undetailed outside of their distinctive Edo clothing. "This is a memory of..."
"Shhh...."
Larrisa quieted him in time for him to see the male reach up and smack the woman, who had been screaming and crying frantically. It was an attempt to calm her, Data deduced.
At first the two looked at each other, but movement to his right caught Data's attention. He turned his head and observed two men in dark gray Edo clothing walking up; Data recognized this different color as that worn by Edo law enforcement, known as Mediators. Like the others, their faces were almost featureless. Immediately the woman tried to stand between the man and the gray-clothed Mediators, speaking to them frantically. They retorted and the man pushed her out of the way, speaking to them directly.
Data looked to Larrisa and saw that tears were running down her cheeks. Her breath seemed to slow, as if she were going to start sobbing. She closed her eyes and breathed words in line with what the little girl suddenly said as she jumped between the man and the Mediators, screaming at them. "These were your parents," Data said to her. "And the girl is you."
"Yes." Larrisa closed her eyes as the holographic avatar of her father spoke to the hologram of her younger self. Tears were in the cute little girl's eyes as her father explained to her that this could not be stopped. Data ran the words through the universal translator program he had loaded into his brain and understood the father's words completely. He asked his daughter to be strong, then rebuked the Mediators for threatening Larrisa and her mother. He stood, and without flinching presented an arm to the Mediators. One took a syringe and stuck it into the side of the man's bicep. About four seconds passed and his eyes rolled upward. He collapsed, and Larrisa and her mother ran to his body, crying. Larrisa's mother took the little girl into her arms and held her close, sobbing and whispering into her ear as the Mediators took the father's body away.
"They threatened to kill her," Larrisa suddenly said, fits in her breath indicating she was on the verge of crying. Tears streamed down from her eyes, which she closed to try and deal with the painful emotions roiling inside of her. "It wasn't enough that they murdered my father, Data. They threatened to kill Eylao" - Data recognized it as the word for mother in Larrisa's Edo dialect - "because I screamed for them to stop. I wanted them to leave Hylao alone. It was a mistake. He was trying to calm Eylao down." Larrisa's control failed. She dropped to her knees in the holographic grass and began sobbing bitterly. "They killed them both! They... they destroyed my family...."
A moment passed before Data decided to knee beside her. He placed a hand on Larrisa's bare shoulder, thinking he could be supportive. "I do not know what can be said to ease your pain."
"Nothing can be said, Data." Larrisa balled her hands into fists and slammed them on the ground. "If I could go back to that day as I am now, I would stop them, Data. The timeline be damned, I would save my family."
Data said nothing.
"Damn them! Damn them to the Abyss! What gives them the right to murder people for a single mistake?!" Larrisa's sobbing grew. "This isn't the way things are supposed to be!" Data was again silent, unsure of what should be said, but Larrisa soon calmed on her own. "I'm sorry that you had to see this, Data. But after some things were said yesterday, I couldn't keep the memories bottled up. I had to relive them again."
Data helped her to her feet. "I am..." Data searched for a word to say why Larrisa cleaned tears off her cheek. "I am sorry that this happened to you."
"Thank you, Data. So, was this enough of a lesson for you? Or would you like to talk some more this morning?"
"No, I believe this shall be sufficient. I shall return on another morning, if you like."
"It's quite alright, Data." Larrisa forced herself to smile at him. "You're... quite sweet for someone who doesn't feel emotions."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Data led her out of the holodeck and they went their seperate ways.


It was just past 1000 hours when the Enterprise and her squadron met up with H.I.(B.)M.S. Marlia Djaloi, still an hour away from Starbase 592. Parker watched the ship appear on the viewscreen. The Marlia Djaloi did not resemble a Starfleet ship in any way since it was an exclusive design from Betazed. Betazed had it's own military, like many of the leading nation-states in the Federation. There were a number of ground troop regiments with histories dating back to the pre-industrial age of the planet, as well as the Royal Star Fleet. The Marlia was one of it's leading ships, an Empress of Dilina-class cruiser built six years ago by the Royal Betazoid Shipyards. Painted in the light red of the Betazoid Fith House, the House whom the current High Empress of Betazed was a member of, the Marlia was a slim vessel with a tri-nacelle configuration, two jutting out of the dorsal hull and one from the ventral to form a triangular pattern around the ship. It had a pair of powerful phaser cannons built into the bow along with a photon torpedo launcher. Smaller phaser emplacements provided point-defense, as well as a third phaser cannon and torpedo launcher on the aft. Despite it's size, the Marlia was a swift and maneuverable warship and was built to use that maneuverability in battle. Parker mentally judged it to between the Great Lakes and Minneapolis in capability.
The Marlia pulled into warp ahead of the Enterprise, which slowed with it's squadron to Warp 6. O'Keefe turned from the communications station. "Marlia is hailing."
"On screen."
The blond-haired, dark-eyed woman who appeared on the screen looked to be well into her thirties and still quite attractive. Her uniform - which looked like it was a dress uniform as opposed to a duty uniform - was a dark violet color and more ornamental than usual Starfleet uniforms. Parker didn't recognize the golden rank insignia, which resembled a Betazoid mountain falcon that - from what he remembered - was the symbol of the Betazoid Imperial Commonwealth. Her shoulders were capped with white epaulets embroidered into the jacket with white tassels on the tip of the shoulder itself, covering a small part of her upper arms. The cuffs were a darker shade of purple, and white gloves covered the woman's hands. Parker could only see the waist of her dark violet pants, which had black striping running down the outside of the legs. The woman's name, in Betazoid characters, was on a name plate pinned over her right breast. Her left breast was partially covered by service ribbons which were vertical as opposed to the horizontal found in Earth-born militaries. Furthermore, a light red insignia of a Betazoid italra - a ferocious lion-like feline found in the steppes and forests of Betazoid's northern temperate zone - was pinned to the right of the service ribbons. Parker recognized the italra insignia. Deanna had possessions with the symbol; it was the insignia of the Betazoid nobility's Fifth House.
"Greetings, Marlia Djaloi. This is Captain Adrian Parker of the Starship Enterprise. You're right on time."
"Her Majesty's Star Fleet likes to be punctual, Captain Parker." A devilish grin appeared on the woman's face. "So you're the legendary Adrian Parker. I've heard so much about you."
"I didn't think I was that notable."
"Oh, but you are to some people." Parker got a sense of unease before the woman continued speaking. "I am Captain Kestra Troi, Captain of Her Imperial Majesty's Ship Marlia Djaloi. We will be following you to Starbase 592, Captain, but the Ambassador and her entourage wish to beam over to begin discussing matters of protocol with Admiral Picard."
"Of course. We'll let you know when we're ready to receive the Ambassador. Enterprise out."
Kestra had a mirthless smile on her face when the viewscreen flipped off. Parker tried not to wince too deeply. He tapped the commbadge on his chest and walked toward the turbolift, flanked by Razmara and Data. "Parker to Picard."
"Picard here."
"Ambassador Troi will be arriving in Transporter Room 1, Admiral. I'm on my way there now."
"Very well. I'll see you there. Picard out."
It was a quick trip down the turbolift to Deck 1 and the transporter room. Parker noticed Razmara and Data remained silent, which was perfectly fine with him because his thoughts were dominated by Deanna. How would she act toward him? Had she found a suitor?
Picard, Riker, and Beverly met them in the transporter room. Felix came in a moment later, wearing full uniform. The seven stood together and Parker gave the order to the transporter chief on duty to energize as soon as Marlia was ready.
Three figures appeared on the pad. The most prominent for the moment was a large blue-skinned alien, well over seven feet tall. Standing beside him was an older woman, on the verge of going from middle-aged to elderly, though the only reason Parker knew this was because she was very obviously Lwaxana Troi; the gaudy multi-colored dress with it's almost-untasteful low cut was as showy as he'd come to expect from Betazoids, and cosmetics were quite likely to blame for her dark hair and younger-looking face.
Standing beside her was Deanna Troi.
Parker drew in a breath. It had been eight years since he had seen her. She had been twenty-four at the time, very young and beautiful. This had not changed. Her dark eyes surveyed all of them and seemed to fix, for a moment longer than he'd wanted, on him. Her lips were as inviting as they had been to him eight years ago. Her dark hair was no longer curly, flowing down to her bared shoulders. Her sparking blue dress was more flattering than that her mother wore; sleeveless and shoulderless, it wrapped around her torso like a halter top, with a single strap looping around the back of her neck. The dress covered her cleavage but it's tightness on her form emphasized the curves of her breasts, every bit as attractive as Parker remembered. Her arms looked a little more developed than when Parker had last seen her, making him recall his advice to her that working out more often would help counter the effects of her cholocate cravings. The dress itself flowed down over her belly to her waist, where it continued downward to her calves. Black leather shoes etched with the italra insignia of the Fifth House over the heels rounded out her attire. As she walked down Parker could see that the dress bared the upper two thirds of her back.
Parker was again struck with indecision. A part of him wanted to get this over with, to get away from her and to not let the past come back. And a part of him wanted to take her into his arms and to plant a warm kiss on her mouth, and all that as a mere prelude to bringing her to his bed. Even now he worried that she might be engaged to another. Or that she would reject him. She had every right to, after eight years.
Immediately Parker shoved every emotion out. This wasn't the time for it. He stood at rigid attention as Picard greeted Lwaxana, shifting uncomfortably under her longing gaze. Parker remembered suddenly that middle-aged Betazoid women usually underwent periods of heightened sex driive and he felt very sorry for Picard.
Picard introduced Parker after he did Riker and Beverly. Lwaxana walked up to Parker. "I always imagined you were taller, though you're certainly as handsome as I've heard."
She is not my type. The thought crossed Parker's mind and he immediately wanted to take the thought back. It was hard to remember to control one's thoughts in front of a telepath.
If Lwaxana was upset at the thought he had, she didn't show it. Instead she smiled and gave a throaty cackle. "Maybe not. But you're not mine to take, are you?" She looked to Razmara. "And you need to loosen up a little, Commander Razmara. Hmm, must be the Vulcan blood." There was a brief moment of shock on Lwaxana's face before she regained control. "Ooh, hit a nerve there. Sorry." She moved on to Data. "But I can't read you at all. Just who are you anyway?"
"I am Lieutenant Commander Data, Operations Officer of the Enterprise. I find it highly unlikely that you could understand my thoughts or even detect them, because I am an android, Ambassador. I was built in..."
"Yes, that's very fascinating," the elder Troi said dryly. "Well, I see everyone's guessed that this is my daughter Deanna." Lwaxana smiled at her daughter, who barely smiled back. She looked to the blue-skinned alien. "And this is Mister Homm, my attendant."
Homm did not speak, but he bowed respectfully.
Picard broke the momentary silence. "Ambassador, if you will follow me to the nearest Conference Room, I can show you all of the recent communiqués from the Federation and from Starbase 592. I trust you have had time to..."
While her mother and Picard talked, Deanna walked up toward Parker. He noticed she seemed rather cold and unemotional. Of course, he was the same way. A feeling passed over him... what if she felt as he did? What would that bring to them? He immediately shunted it away.
Her dark eyes looked up at him as she came close. "Hello Adrian," she said.
"Hello Deanna."
The slightest hints of a smile came to her face. "You've gotten pretty far. Hope you're proud of what you've accomplished."
"I am."
Deanna looked toward the others as they filed out. "Maybe we can talk later."
"That would be good," Parker replied.
She nodded to him and followed her mother out of the transporter room. Parker followed her a few moments afterward.


O'Farrell was leaning his head against his hand, his arm wresting on the arm of his bridge command chair. The bridge of the Avenger was as quiet as usual. The entire command crew was at their duty stations, even O'Brien. On the screen, warp streaks continued to slide by lazily. O'Farrell felt his eyelids droop. "Are we there yet?" he said, nearly yawning.
"Coming up on it in a moment, sir," Tasha Yar answered from the helm. Her head of short blond hair looked back at O'Farrell. "You don't look very well. Not enough sleep?"
"Blame Parker and his insistance that all the ships' command crews be on duty when we arrive. I had to cut my sleep cycle short for this."
"Yeah, but I understand it." O'Brien didn't turn from the engineering control station, but he kept talking. "Talarians can be tricky, deceitful bastards and I wouldn't want to be caught with our pants down."
Phil Leeson looked over from his Operations console. "Any reasons why, Chief?"
"I'll tell you if you keep your damned eyes on the sensor board. Being alert isn't any good if you're not paying attention!" snapped O'Brien. The young Aussie turned back to his sensor board immediately. "There, that's better. Now, Leeson, to answer your question... I was still new to Starfleet at the time, didn't really serve in the war. I was only there for the tail end, when the Talarians settled for raiding. You know what the bastards would do? They would leave derelict ships, with life forms aboard, and send out distress calls to lure in starships. And our people would, predictably, board to look for survivors. And then the bastards would blow themselves up! I lost a bunch of friends one time to that little trick. Could've been me, I suppose, if I wasn't working transporter in those days."
"I remember that," O'Farrell said. "Hearing about it, since I was still in the Academy at the time. The Talarians attacked the Federation during the Tsen'kethi War because they mistook our ship concentrations on the border as sign of an impending attack. They thought we were going to attack them while they were still weak from another of their border wars with the Breen. So they attacked first. Our fleet had already moved out to open the second front on the Tsen'kethi, so they overran what we had left. And did a horrible job of it, too. Their technology was about fifty behind our's in a lot of places. Lost more than half their invasion fleet against our defenses, and the rest got kicked back across the border after reinforcements came." O'Farrell turned to Leeson's seat. "Didn't you study all this at the Academy? Recent Astropolitical History was a required course for all cadets, I remember."
"I, uh, didn't do so well in that," Leeson admitted.
"Let me guess.... had a cute girl sitting beside you?"
"Yeah. Name was Tanya. Cute girl from Yorketown."
"Ah. And you paid more attention to her than to Professor Friedman?"
"Couldn't help it. She had a good pair of knockers and the nicest eyes you've ever seen."
There was an exasperated sigh from both O'Farrell and Tasha, and for wildly different reasons. Tasha muttered "Men" under her breath, while O'Farrell simply drew in a sigh. "Phil, you really must learn to show some control. One of these days that mouth of your's is going to get you into trouble."
"Tanya said the same thing once. Of course, it was after we slept together to celebrate graduation."
O'Farrell opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it.
"Coming up on Starbase 592 and Pi Agalis IV."
Tasha's comment took everyone's attention. "Coming out of warp now..." On the viewscreen, the star-streak effect of warp was replaced by a bright M-Class planet. It was borderline oceanic, with only 15% of the planet's surface above water. The climate, from what O'Farrell heard, varied like on Earth, though most civilization was centered in the main continent along the equator. Pi Agalis IV had little in the way of vital natural resources, though there were a number of mines in the planet's asteroid belts and on a couple of the rocky worlds and moons in the six planet system. The planet's main attraction was it's tropical climate and the locales it offered. The initial colonists were Humans from Hawaii, with a few other races setting up settlements in the northern steppes of the main continent. New Oahu, as it was called, was a regional tourist spot, and there were species of fruit and animal that made excellent food.
Starbase 592 hung in a far geosynchronous orbit over the planetary capitol Waipahu. It was a small starbase, only a twentieth the size and mass of a major Starbase like McKinley. Ships milled about it and around the planet. Transports, freighters, and passenger liners from various races and planets.
But O'Farrell's gaze was on the seven warships sitting near Starbase 592. "So, what did the Talarians send?"
"Checking computers," Leeson said. "The lead ship is identified as the Talara'Sathra. Very little outright intel on it's loadout, this is the first time it's been encountered by Starfleet. I'm sure Parker will have Larrisa running covert scans to find out what it's packing."
"And the others?"
"Three Mortera-class destroyers, two Djamera'Stulke-class cruisers, and one of their battle cruisers. ID beacon for the Talara'Holtaje. According to intel, it's the personal escort ship of the Talarian Lord Protector." Leeson turned back to O'Farrell. "Their Lord Protector is here?"
"No, but her daughter is," O'Farrell said. "Technically it's classified that it's her, but I figure confirmation's going to come soon anyway."
"I didn't hear your slip of the tongue at all, sir," Leeson said. The others affirmed that.
"Thanks a bunch. Now, Bran, what do you think?"
Branislav Kojic turned from his weapons station. "Mass-wise, we are equal," the Serbian Lieutenant replied. "Judging by technological differences, though, I would say that if there were a fight, we would prevail."
"Well, we're here to talk, not fight, but keep an eye on them all the same. And Phil, keep your damned eyes on that sensor board. Don't want any surprises. God knows how many people would like to break this little get-together up."
Tasha double-checked the pre-programmed flight course that would keep their ship in it's proper place in the squadron formation. "Will we be docking, sir?"
"Don't know yet, but I don't imagine so. Parker will want us all out in space and ready to fight at a moment's notice. But don't look so glum. I'll see if we can get individual leaves to the starbase or the planet."
Leeson was the only one to show his happiness at that. O'Farrell stuck his hand back on his cheek and waited. At least he didn't have to attend the damned greeting ceremony, though he'd been invited to the banquet. He'd have to nap for a while first, though....


Within two hours of arriving at Starbase 592, Parker found himself in his dress uniform and standing with the Federation delegation in one of 592's main shuttle bays. An honor guard of Starfleet Marines were standing at attention, the flags of the Federation and the crimson starburst flag of the Talarian Steadhold fluttering in an artificially-created breeze behind them. The dress uniforms of the Starfleet personnel - himself, his command staff, the Starbase command staff, and the attending admirals - were more ornamental than usual ones, but still lacked the pure style of the Betazoid uniforms that Kestra Troi and her senior officers were adorned in. Deanna and Lwaxana had not changed, for their part. Awaiting beside them, Picard and the newly-arrived Admiral Rossa stood at similarly-brisk attention. Rossa had the look of a kind old grandmother, reminding Parker of his own "Grandma Parker", but he had no doubt she could be a commander when she had to.
The dark-painted Talarian transport craft settled onto the hard durasteel floor of the shuttle bay. The rear door opened and in proper step the Starfleet Marine music band began playing an approximation of the Talarian anthem, or what was believed to be their anthem. The Talarians, for their part, did not indicate whether it was wrong or not. Those who first stepped out where the honor guard ranks for the Talarians. One male, one female, on Parker's left and right respectively, though Parker had trouble telling the male from the female. He remembered then that Talarian women were supposed to be quite flat-chested compared to females from other races.
The first rank of honor guards seperated after taking eight steps out of the transport. They stepped once away from each other, then briskly turned about and clicked their heels together, standing at rigid attention. The next rank, also male and female, did the same but with one less step out of the transport. The rank afterward only made six steps out, and so forth. Parker was impressed by the crisp, fluid movements of the honor guard. The Talarian reputation for strong discipline was apparently well-earned.
First out of the transport after this honor guard was a tall Talarian male, unhelmeted and with the scaled skull ridges of his people fully visible. He walked to the end of the line and stood there. "I am Captain Endar ku'Jashklu of the Talara'Sathra. It is my great honor to introduce to you Durlora ke'Ytaklu, the Steadhold's Director of External Affairs and daughter of Her Greatness Murluno ke'Ytaklu, Lord Protector of the Steadhold."
When he finished, three individuals stepped out of the transport. The first two out were an older man and woman whom Parker recognized from the briefings as Admirals Hoturo ku'Rutake and Relki ke'Uytela. Between and behind them was a gray-eyed woman who looked slightly younger, though still very middle-aged. As they walked forward to greet the awaiting Federation delegation, the honor guard turned to follow. Parker watched the first rank take up positions behind Durlora, then the second, the third....
And that was when he heard the shot.


Jono's heart threatened to burst out of his chest as he stepped off the transport. The last three ranks were already in position, the males on his side standing in rigid attention. He would equal that; he had to. For the glory of his father, for the glory of the Jashklu Family and of the Steadhold, he would perform without error. With this display the Federation would be impressed by their discipline and would show the Steadhold more favor.
He took the appropriate number of steps outside of the transport, turned away from his female counterpart Gelya, and moved into position. He came about once more and stood at rigid attention, his arms and back straight and his eyes constantly forward. On his right hip was a plasma pistol, the standard issue sidearm for ceremonial honor guards, but he was certain it would not need to be used.
The other two ranks moved into position. Endar came out first. Jono did not, could not, allow his eyes to follow his father's path across his vision. He kept his eyes forward, concentrating them on Gelya. Her blue eyes looked back at him. For a moment he thought she looked distracted, but he could not be sure. Her attention seemed focused just like everyone else's. But her breathing seemed too fast and he thought he could see a little sweat on the parts of her face visible under her ceremonial helmet.
Jono kept his eyes locked onto her's, not wanting to give in to the temptation to look at the Federation people or his father. He heard his father give the introductions and kept his chin up as Admiral Hoturo passed by him. When Durlora passed, it was his time to move into formation with the male side of the honor guard. He stepped forward to do so.
His eyes, however, remained on Gelya's. And her eyes did not stay on his. They moved toward Durlora. She moved as if to get into the honor formation but Jono could tell something was wrong immediately. She was moving too close, as if to...
The instant Gelya pulled her plasma pistol out of it's holster, Jono knew what was about to happen. He had to stop it. He had to stop her. To warn the others he bellowed the Talarian sathje - the war cry - and leapt onto Gelya as she brought the gun up toward Durlora. Heads turned around him and then to Gelya, but it happened too quickly. Jono was on top of Gelya and a moment later his entire chest seemed to be on fire. She had shot him point-blank with the pistol. Jono's body revolted against his orders to punch her, to try to restrain her, and he fell limply against her with the searing pain drawing a cry from his throat. Gelya contemptuously tossed him off and brought her gun back up to shoot Durlora, but it was a futile gesture. The other guards had already stepped between her and Durlora. Before Gelya could act, Utali's pistol created a burst of green energy that enveloped Gelya's neck and chest. She fell backward and was dead when she hit the ground.
Jono's vision began dissolving into color. The pain was horrible, but he would not cry out. He would be strong. His father's face appeared in his vision. His voice called out, "Jono!"
But Jono did not answer before everything became dark.


Everything moved too quickly for Parker to react to. The third rank male jumped on his female counterpart and he could hear the distinct chilling sound of a plasma discharge. The rest of the honor guard immediately went to Durlora. The male cried out from pain and collapsed against the female, who tossed him aside. Before the gun in her hand could fire again, a plasma discharge from another guard hit her and threw her back. Parker was certain she was dead.
Endar's skin grew pale as he ran to the fallen male. "Jono!" he cried. "Jono! My son! My son needs help!"
Parker didn't have to ask. In a moment Phong broke from his place with the other Enterprise command staff and went straight to the fallen Talarian. He was joined immediately by his medical opposites on Starbase 592 and the Marlia Djaloi. The Vulcan medical officer for the Starbase hit his comm badge and gave a brisk order for medics to respond immediately to the shuttle bay. Phong, trying to get a pulse, reached for the boy's helmet as Parker and a couple of the others approached.
Parker was not ready to see the hair fall away from the helmet. The boy was not Talarian. He looked Human. Phong reached into his pocket to retrieve a medical tricorder - usually not the standard part of a medical officer's dress uniform but Phong had a habit of carrying one with him, Parker knew - and ran it over the boy's body. "He's Human. Much of his central torso has severe plasma burning, including the lungs, stomach, intestines.... We need to get him to an emergency intensive surgery unit."
"There is not one on the starbase, just on the planet," the Vulcan doctor said. "But I do not think he will survive a transport."
"No, but the Enterprise also has such a unit."
Phong didn't need to ask. Parker's hand hit his comm badge. "Parker to Enterprise, we have a medical emergency! I need an emergency medical shuttle and medic team to the Starbase's Shuttle Bay 4, ASAP!"
There was no return affirmation. One wasn't necessary. A few moments later, a small shuttle materialized in a transporter beam on the bay floor. Nearby, some of Phong's best nurses and aides appeared with an anti-grav stretcher and packs of emergency equipment. Phong pulled off the uniform jacket and handed it to Razmara. "Hold this please." He immediately went to work with the other doctors and his medical people, who had put Jono on the stretcher and were in the middle of stablizing him. The other doctors allowed Phong to take control of the situation. He barked order after order as they went to the medical shuttle.
Endar was very visibly shaken. "Let me go with him!"
"I can have you beamed over to the Enterprise as soon as they get there," Parker promised him.
Durlora had watched this entire display silently. She finally stepped forward. "I pray for your son's recovery, Captain. He has saved my life, and brought honor to your Family."
Endar wasn't looking to Durlora. He was looking at the shuttle, which lifted off the bay and slipped out of the protective forcefield into space. Parker found himself wanting to ask Endar why he had a Human son. It seemed so... out of character for the Talarians. They were so xenophobic, after all, that Parker could not see any of them willingly adopting a child of another race.
"My grandson."
The voice was soft and shaken, but Parker recognized it. Heads turned toward Admiral Rossa. Like Endar she had became pale, as if she had seen something she thought impossible. Parker walked up to her and said, "Admiral?"
"That is my grandson. I know it. I recognized him. That face, those eyes. That boy is my grandson." The older woman's voice was growing shakier with every word. She seemed on the verge of complete breakdown. "You! You took him from me!"
Parker thought back. Rossa's son and his family had been declared killed after the Talarian raid on Galen IV. Jeremiah Rossa, their young son, had been the only unconfirmed death; no body had been found and it had been assumed that his body had been destroyed in some way.
Could this human boy be Jeremiah? He looked to be of the right age, about 16. Talarians aged quicker than Humans, which would explain why he was in the military already and a member of an important honor guard.
Looking at Rossa and Endar staring at each other, Parker also thought about the fact that a member of Durlora's own honor guard tried to murder her. This diplomatic negotiation was about to get far more complex -and dangerous - than he'd bargained for.

[Col. Crackpot]

wow! that was fantastic!

[Crazedwraith]

Excellant as always. I wonder how Parker will handal the Jono/Rossa situation.

[Kuja]

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit...

FUCK!

Damn, Steve. That was something else.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

*grumbles about people causing unnecessary commotions and goes back to supervising the production of bootleg vodka in the Great Lakes' washing machines*

[Steve]

*grumbles about people causing unnecessary commotions and goes back to supervising the production of bootleg vodka in the Great Lakes' washing machines*

Yes, it's rather important that we keep our priorities straight.

[phongn]

Yes, it's rather important that we keep our priorities straight.

Eww, plasma burns. Messy.

[Ghost Rider]

Cool...some good midle stuff and very nice bit at the end.

[Steve]

Yes, yes, I'm still trying to get Chapter 6 done. It's coming.....

[Kuja]

*not the new chapter*

*hopes crash down*

Dammit Steve...don't do that to me.

[Steve]

*not the new chapter*

*hopes crash down*

Dammit Steve...don't do that to me.

Sorry. Well, I might post what I have for Chapter 6 tonight. But I have a specific way I want to end each chapter.