Gamma Mission

[Teaos]

Teaos stood on one of the walk ways of the promenade looking down upon the shoppers bellow. He had never been to DS9 before, never been to this area of the Federation before, he was just coming out of the academy when the war was happening and after it finished he had not been one of the many young officers sent to this area of space to help re-establish peace.

"Shouldn't you be working?" A voice said behind him.

"Shouldn't you?" Teaos replied with a laugh turning to face the man behind him.

His old captain had not changed much, a little more salt and a little less pepper in the hair and beard and a few more lines around the eyes but the last decade had clearly been good on the old officer.

"I've just arrived on station after giving the Paladin her run down cruise, I felt I was entitled to a drink. You on the other hand have been lounging around on this station for three months now" Fletcher replied with a laugh slapping his old friend on the shoulder.

"Lounging? I've been fighting off Gorn raiders and uncovering a assassination plot against several top ranking admirals" Teaos replied snootily.

"And when you haven't been in the holodecks?"

"Bit of this, bit of that" Teaos laughed "I've been going over the specs for the Paladin, impressive ship"

"Ha, those specs don't do the girl justice, come on lad, I'll show you around our new ship" Fletcher said turning towards one of the lifts.

"I saw you dock her as you were coming in, she certainly looks like she can kick seven different types of arse"

"That she does, I just want to show her off to Captain W'trisk, he sent me a message practically bragging about getting my old ship, lets see what he thinks of my new girl" Fletcher said with glee.

"Very professional sir" Teaos said smiling, he to was looking forward to seeing his old ship and friends again.

"You meet up with many of the crew from our fleet yet?" Fletcher asked more seriously.

"A few sir, the Captain of the Pegasus practically tracked me down, we have history together. I've also meet with several of the officer of the ships currently here. Do you know when we can expect the rest of the fleet to assemble?" Teaos asked as they stepped off the lift and made there way through the shoppers.

"The Klingons should be here tomorrow, the Romulans didn't give us an exact date but they will have to be here before we depart in five days, the last of the Starfleet ships should get here over the next few days" Fletcher said as he glanced out one of the stations windows and caught a glimpse of his new ship.

"Is the commodore on station?" Teaos asked.

"Yes, he went to meet with the Station commander as soon as we landed, they had business together"

"I suppose I'll meet him at the mission briefing then" Teaos said as they arrived at the Paladins docking port.

"Well here she is, my new girlfriend" Fletcher announced.

"You should really stop referring to her as that "

[Reliant121]

The promenade below teemed with movement, life of all kinds flourishing many colours, shapes and sizes of people. Bajoran's littered the floor, walking among the throngs of newcomers to the aging Cardassian station. A testament to someone's lineage.

Darel stood with his hands behind his back, glancing down on the station's most active deck. It had been years since he had last set foot on this deck. And he did not want to remember. His time here had been doing something he regretted badly. Witch hunting dissident Bajoran's seemed like a good career move at the time. It certainly didn't know. He noticed the odd glance from the older station residents. Maybe they remember? Maybe they simply don't like me for what I am. I don't blame them.

He turned around and looked out into space at where he knew the wormhole sat. Space was dark. Was empty. And yet, he felt as though he could see the vortex linking the alpha quadrant with the dangerous and deadly Dominion domain.

His viewing was cut short by quite a sight. 4 shimmering lights appeared, phasing in and out of vision. The striking green hulls appeared amidst the glows. The shimmers disappeared, and the foreboding green craft hung in space, the light of a nearby star edging the ornate and curved lines.

"Romulans," Darel said to himself, smiling slightly as the populace of the Promenade rushed to the windows to observe the Vanguards of the Praetor approach.

___________

"Centurion, open communications channel to Deep space 9," Mer'an ordered, snuggling gently into his cold and uninviting command chair, searching for any vestige of his cosy homestead back on Romulus. No success.

The viewscreen flickered to show the Face of Kira Nerys and a man Mer'an suspected to be Commadore Grayling.

"On behalf of the Federation and Bajor, May I welcome you to Deep Space 9," Kira said. Mer'an nodded before replying.

"Thankyou Captain. Commadore Grayling I presume? A pleasure," Mer'an said, inclining his head toward the aging man. The man nodded.

"Welcome to the edge of the Hornet's nest Commander. We'll be shipping out in 5 days."

"Understood. May I request that my ships have docking permission?"

"Granted, Commander. you have docking ports 1 through 4," Kira replied.

"Thankyou. RSE Ac'ron out." The line went dead.

[Mikey]

Mikey sighed as he watched his father's casket drift off to join the countless objects that made up the rings of Andor. From his viewpoint on the surface of Andoria the coffin was long since out of view, but Mikey remained still and silent for a while. Finally he murmured, "I still had more to show you," and then louder, "Computer - end program." The scene faded to reveal a holodeck interior. Mikey removed and pocketed the recording of the funeral which his grandfather had sent, and headed for the bridge.

His bridge, he reflected. He was well used to the Daystrom's bridge, but it still seemed somehow different - more of a gestalt - viewed through the eyes of a captain. As had the bridges of the Gage and the Stilwell. Entering his ready room, Mikey was pleased to see his effects set up per his instructions. He adjusted the Jem'hadar kar'takin hanging on the wall by his Nausicaan knife and relatively new Klingon gin'tak- all trophies Mikey had collected in personal mortal combat - and sat down at his desk.

Peering at the desktop terminal, Mikey began to write some notes on the screen and to compose some communications.

"Mr. Nijhoff: coordinate with Lt. Cmdr. Ge'haan; I'll expect the crew at alpha-schedule stations 30 minutes prior to departure.

"Lt. Hewer: Engineering is to be at optimum status by 1200 tomorrow. Welcome to the Daystrom.

"Dr. Holmes: please report on any medical issues in the crew records which may be a command concern by 1430 tomorrow. Welcome aboard.

"Lt. Cmdr. Ge'haan: coordinate with Cmdr. Rochey on the Paladin as to fleet departure, course, and in-flight disposition.

"Cmdr. Hewer: running off again to do who-knows-what against who-knows-who in somebody else's space - just like old times, eh? I expect you'll have approved dept. schedules, and I want you to keep an eye on Moncano - I'm not thrilled with his record.

"Lt. Moncano: Welcome to the Daystrom. She has quite a history, and we expect great things of you.

"*ship-to-ship comm* Captains Fletcher, Lewis, Berkley; Commanders Rochey, Munro: I'll be in the bar on the station's promenade at about 2300 if anyone is free."

[Mark]

Quarks Bar, Station Night, After closing.....

The Nausican threw the cowering Ferengi flat on his back onto the bar, while his other two cohorts stood back laughing. "Where's my money Quark?" the Nausican demanded.

"Look Dint, it's not my fault that Orion freighter was intercepted by Starfleet. I lost quite a profit on that cargo myself." Quark insisted.

"Yet you still have all this," Dint insisted "and all I have is this". With a wicked smile Dint pulled a long blade from a concealed pocket, "Last time Quark. Give me my cut!"

"Put down the knife, release him, and step away please, sir." a clear voice rang out from behind the three Nausicans. Lieutenant Mark, phaser raised stepped out of the shadows. The Nausicans looked around nervously, and then, realising that the young lieutanant was alone, started to snicker.

"This little puppy, thinks that he has teeth" Dint laughed. "Go play with your model ships, BOY, and let Quark and I finish our business."

"This is the last time I will say this, sir. Unhand the Ferengi." Mark replied.

Yanking Quark to his feet, and holding the knife to this throat, Dint snareled "Drop your phaser, kid. What are you gonna do, shoot me threw him?".

Mark replied by raising his eyebrow in a very Vulcan-like expression, then firing his phaser directly into Quark's chest. The Ferengi crumpled to the ground, his dead weight surprising Dint, and pulling him off balance. His henchmen, however, were ready. One, with a flick of his wrist, sent a small throwing knife sailing unerringly into Mark's right forearm, causing him to drop his phaser, while the second sprung at him, a knife of his own almost magically appearing in his hand. Without missing a beat, and ignoring his wounded arm, Mark weaved back and spun his weight on his right foot, using the Nausicans own momentum as well as his own body weight to send the thug flying into and upsetting three tables. The Nausican who had thrown the knife charged at him as well, throwing a powerful right handed punch at Mark's face, catching him a glancing blow to the cheek. Mark spun with the punch, allowing it's force to power his own spin, and dropping into a crouch, sweeping the Nausican's legs out from underneath him, sending him to the ground with a a crash. Mark sprung back to his feet, quickly snapping another spinning back kick directly into the face of the first Nausican, who had managed to regain his feet. This time, the big alien went down for the count. The second, also trying to regain his feet, was rewarded with an elbow between his eyes for his troubles, sending him reeling back to the floor, uncouncious as well. Now, only Dint remained standing. With a yell, the mighty Nausican plunged his knife directly in Mark's chest in a downward thrust. Mark, without changing expression, effortlessly caught his wrist in a iron like gripwith his left hand, stopping it with amazing strenght for a human. With his right hand, Mark casually reached up, and pinched the Nausican between his shoulder and neck, dropping him like a stone as well.

"Dammit Lieutenant, what the hell were you thinking?" erupted a furious Commander Vaughn, DS9s XO.

"Only that Quark was in trouble, sir, and he needed help." Mark replied as Dr. Bashir completed work with a dermal regenerator in Mark's arm. "I was afraid if I didn't act immedietly, that they would seriously injure him."

"They would injure him? Mark, your the one who shot him, for God's sake!" Vaughn yelled.

"Yes, I did sir. My phaser was only set to stun, and it was all that I could think of at that moment to keep the Nausican from using him as a hostage", Mark insisted with a Vulcan-like calm.

"Well, did you know that Quark wants you arrested, and wants to SUE Starfleet? I think that the Colonol may ACTUALLY pay him off to get him to not press charges against you." With a visible effort, Cmdr Vaughn calmed himself. "Lieutenant, in case you weren't aware of this, your new ship, USS Paladin has docked. Effective immediely, you are transferred to your new assignment. And son, a bit of advice. As a department head, people will look to you to make good descisions. Make them. Learn from today, that this was a bad one."

"Yes, sir." Mark replied.

As the young Lieutenat got up to leave, the elderly commander turned and asked him, "By the way, what possesed you to think you could take on three Nausicans by yourself anyway?"

Slightly cocking his head, Mark replied, "Well, the fact that I won, sir, is a pretty good indicator, wouldn't you say?" With a nod, Mark exited the infirmary.

Commander Vaughn looked at Dr. Bashir with a grin and said, "Damn, he reminds me of me!"

0800 hours USS Paladin

"Sir, Lieutenant Mark, reporting for duty." Mark snapped off, standing ramrod straight in front of Captain Fletcher.

"At ease, Lieutenant" the Capatin ordered, looking at Mark's record on his PADD. "I have a couple of questions I'd like you to clear up for me, Lieutenant. First, why do you insisit on being called by your first name? Your file says your name is Lieutenant Mark Knight, and you don't look Bajoran to me."

"Sir, because I was raised on Vulcan." Mark replied " My adoptive parents felt it would help me blend into Vulcan society a bit easier by not using my family name."

"Did it?" Captain Fletcher asked

"No sir, not noticably."

Nodding, the Captain said "As you wish. Second, you were a rising star at the acadamy, until your third year, where you got into a fight with four other cadets, can you explain that?"

"I have no excuse, sir." Mark stated "Cadets Resse, McGivins, Smith, and Martin simply got to me. Cadet Reese, however, did throw the first punch, sir."

Raising his eyebrows, Captain Fletcher responded "So the record reflets. It also says that the only reason you were disciplined as well was because all four of the other cadets ended up in Sickbay. How?"

Looking slightly embarassed Mark said, "I lost my temper, sir".

With a look, the Captain said "I see. And finally, your last ship, USS Intrepid. I see that you filed a complaint against Lt Cmdr Sara Renna for conduct unbecoming an officer. That's a bold complaint from a junior officer against a ships 2nd officer. What happened?"

With a neutrel expression, Mark replied "She was making unwanted sexual advances against me sir. I asked her to stop, and she didn't. I complained to the XO and then the Captain, but no action was taken. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. As soon as I was promoted, I requested a transfer. And as fortune had it, I somehow managed to impress somebody enough to be assigned here, as your Security Chief sir."

With an unreadable face, Captain Fletcher replied "You did Lieutenant. Me. Dismissed." With a slightly startled look, Mark turned and left the ready room, to assume his new post.

[Thorin]

"Energize," said Jonathan to the on duty transporter chief, and two beams sparkled from the pads, before quickly disappearing and leaving the transporter chief to his day to day duties. Over on Deep Space Nine, the two beams reappeared and the figures of the two brothers, Jonathan and Liam, emerged. They acknowledged the Bajoran on the transporter's controls, and made their way towards the promenade, talking casually as they went; their new crew, the Daystrom's engine specifications - 'perfectly refined' - according to Liam, how their children are doing with their grandmother, and a whole lot of general pass-the-time conversation. Suddenly a man ran up the stairs heading towards the pair, and Liam spoke first.

"Commander! Errr, can we help you?"

"Not as such, no. So how does this work exactly?" said the man, turning towards Jonathan, "Am I meant to call you sir now?"

"Feel free," said Jonathan somewhat seriously.

"Oh, that's nice to know - I'm glad to see those three pips on your collar haven't gone to your head," came the rather wry reply.

After a short pause, the two old friends began laughing and firmly shook hands. "Three, four years?" said Jonathan, "You should keep up with your old buddies, Teaos, one day we may just come in handy!" The trio began moving towards the stairs that Teaos had just ran up, "This is my brother Liam, the Daystrom's Chief Engineer." Teaos gave Jonathan a fleeting look of joking suspicion, "Haha, no, he earned it by himself, he got the position before I was even reassigned to her."

"Six years in the uniform, and six years in the Daystrom's engine room. It needed all that time, too! You two must've left it in a right state when you left, 'Commander Seafort and me had to fit all new injectors, magnetic constrictors, warp coils - even the damn core casing was corroding! We asked for a new warp core, one capable of respectable warp, but someone in Starfleet - or more likely a Federation civvie - thought they knew better. Well, regardless, the Daystrom's engines are now up to scratch. Not a match for a Sovereign or even the new Paladin, but she'll go where you want."

Liam was as laid back, in speech at least, as his older brother, something which had both hindered and helped them in their careers. Some officers prefer a certain formality to all conversation, while others appreciate to hear it blunt and without beating around the bush, and rarely did either brother find out what type of officer they were speaking to. On most occasions they got it right, though, and Teaos especially didn't even notice that Liam was talking to him like a friend rather than a superior.

They made their way to the bottom of the stairs and towards a bar called 'Quarks' where they sat down.

"The Paladin's a mighty fine ship, even if I do say so myself," said Teaos, "I had my first look at her today - Captain Fletcher showed me round."

"I've not even seen her yet, but saying that I've not seen Captain Fletcher yet, either. Mikey - or Captain W'Trisk to you," said Jonathan looking at his brother, "Has organised a little get together in fifteen minutes somewhere round here. Fancy it?"

Teaos nodded, but Liam's shift started soon, so he made his way back to the Daystrom after saying his goodbyes. Teaos ordered another round from the bar, and slowly a few familiar faces came into sight of the bar; a Breen, an Andorian, then a Tholian, then some more.

[Reliant121]

Darel stood observing the trio of officers below. He Needed a drink refill anyway. He wouldn't interrupt unless invited to do so, but he had every intention of hearing all he could. Old habits die hard he thought to himself, grinning.

Walking down the stairs, he noticed a stream of familiar faces walking through the door. He certainly couldn't miss a Environment suit-clad Tholian. Very rare, even for such a prestigious platform as this. Darel ambled over to the bar, and leant toward the famous manager.

"What can I get you," He asked smoothly. Darel turned smiling.

"A glass of Kanar, if you will," He replied. Quark shook his head.

"It can get expensive. You sure?"

"I am. a glass of the 2367 please," Darel smiled, giving Quark the details of his account. The Ferengi retrieved the bottle and a glass, pored one for him, and went away to serve another customer. Darel looked to the door. And noticed the woman enter.


_________________

D'Tyra stood on the threshold of the entrance to Quark's bar. Her eyes fleeted from table to table, checking for anything that would hint at a danger to her. Nothing so far. Years of experience had shown one of two things. One: Romulans are not very loved and Two: Always expect the worst. Nothing appeared to pose a threat, apart from the disapproving glances that appeared to radiate from a large proportion of the Bars patrons. She smiled. How little they know.

She walked to the bar, sat down and ordered glass of Camomile tea. The Ferengi bartender had looked curious as to why she was drinking a human beverage, but she offered no answers. Only a soft, motherly smile.

[Teaos]

"...so after being reported by Commander Rochey for being 26 seconds late to shift Mikey got a little annoyed, coincidently enough Rochey found the doors on the ship wouldnt open for him for the rest of the day" Teaos finished off his story of their time back on the Daystrom to a roar of laughter from those sitting at their table.

"That was never proven to have anything to do with me" The Andorian protested with a smug grin.

"Yeah its almost like the senior opps officer doctored the maintanence records from that day or something" Hewer laughed out.

"You said you had nothing to do with that?" Rochey growled out at Mikey.

"No I didn't, I said I didn't do it myself, never said I didnt order someone else to do it" Mikey retorted earning another rounf of laughter.

Hewer waved his hand at one of the waitresses ordering another round of drinks for the table.

"You meet with the Commodore yet?" Rochey asked Mikey.

"I ha-" Mikey started to reply before being cut off.

'"Hey" Teaos said while slapping a hand down on the table "No talking shop while drinking, we still have to rank the dabo girls in order of do-ability"

"Bloody humans..." The Tholian and Andorian both muttered.

[Monroe]

"Aren't Romulans never suppose to turn their back on a Breen." Munro muttered to D'Tyra as he entered wearing his starfleet uniform over his environmental suit. He ignored her look and kept walking to his old co-workers from the Daystorm.

"Hello Mikey," Munro nodded walking up to them. "I see the years have been good to you."

"And you Munro, Commander Munro now I see nice."

"I live in a suit. The years would appear to be so, and thank you sir."

"I hear you've got the first officer position on the Valkyrie. Its a fine ship." Teaos commented at Munro.

"Yes, they've even built a part of sickbay to operate on 'extreme' xenobiologies such as mine. Something we never had on the Daystorm."

"Its becoming standard around the fleet." Teaos replied, "Something Starfleet should have done a long time ago."

Munro nodded his agreement and then turned to probably the only person on the Daystrom he really got along with. "Hello sir." He said to Rochey, "Good to see most the old crew is here in one form or another."

"Commander," Rochey replied, "Killed any disobedient crewmen lately?"

"Only three since Forester on that slave world."

[Reliant121]

D'Tyra looked at the Breen quizzically toward. She almost laughed to herself at the uniform stretched over the environmental suit. To her, he would have been better in a good centurions tunic. Not that he would approve. or starfleet for that matter. She weighed up her options, and decided to respond to his quip. And it would give the chance to introduce herself to the Starfleeters collected in the corner.

She walked purposefully over having finished her drink. It appeared that the Andorian noticed her approach, and seemed to stiffen. she smiled at him, drawing a slightly confused look from him.

"Excuse me, Mr...for communications sake, Mr. Breen, i'll bother with your name later. In response to your question, Yes we are meant to. But we are meant to put trust in our allies are we not? Now...if you'll excuse me, i am going to do something i havent dont in a long time...i believe the earth phrase would be, "get thoroughly plastered". Anyone for a drink?" She smiled, beaming her almost perfect teeth.

[Sonic Glitch]

"Sir, we're approaching DS9" reported Devi from the operations station.
"Very well, open a channel with Ops."
Commander Elias Vaughn appeared on the viewscreen, evidently Kiras shift was over, and after an instant there was a glint of recognition in his eyes. "Matt is that you?"
Lewis smiled in reply, "Yes Elias, it's me! I decided to follow your lead and get back in the fleet. Requestion Permission to dock?"
"Permission Granted, docking pylon number 5"
"Thank you commander...and when you have a minute, we should talk...Ravage out. Lorcan, set her down gently on that pylon."'
"Um, sir, it's more of a gentle swing-in-sideways motion rather then a set-down motion." replied O'carrol with a smile. Matt rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."
After the ship docked he left the bridge in Devi's capable hands. He and Vaughn had a lot to catch up on.
After his meeting with Vaughn he received Captain W'Trisk's message about a gathering of the COs in Quarks. It'd been a while since he had last visited Quarks, though the hasperat stew he smelled wafting through the Promenade was probably the same stew Quark had tried to sell him last time he was here. And now that Quark was an embassy, well, things had no doubt gotten worse. He had arrived about half an hour early so he decided to sample the holosuites. The waiter was visibly disappointed when instead of asking to sample one of the more....lucrative roleplays he instead asked for one of the oldest holoprograms, something Vaughn introduced him to when they were both at SI. It was one of the first holoprograms ever written. It was a meditative program that cycled through the four seasons in an Earth forest. It started in late spring and by the time he had reached the clearing it had progressed to early winter. The sounds of the death and renewal of the forrest provided a nice backdrop for meditation. It gave him time to ruminate on an idea that had approached him earlier. After contacting his ship to inform Devi to organize shore leave rotations for the crew, he decided to wander back down to the gathering. He reentered the floor of the promenade just in time to hear the Romulan captain utter the phrase "get thoroughly plastered" and decided "This I gotta see." He wandered over to the group, "Mind if I join you gentlemen? And Lady." he added nodding at the Romulan.

[Tsukiyumi]

The drink was pink-colored, with a thin orange band near the middle; Devi had no idea what it was, but she accepted it from the oddly amicable Ferengi bartender nonetheless. Her quizzical look at the glass drew a chuckle from Lorcan.

" It's a 'Cardassian Sunset'; it's five parts Langour, one part Kanar. I came up with it during one of the Crazy Horse's aid missions to Cardassia. You'll like it." His mischievous grin said otherwise.

She grimaced, " I don't have much experience with alcohol, Lorcan. If I throw up in my quarters, you're cleaning it, and if I can't walk back to the ship, you're carrying me." He nodded, and smiled; the same sarcastic smirk he got when he was up to something.

She sipped the cocktail; it was rather smooth, until she got to the orange band - the Kanar was sharp, but the blend of flavors wasn't unpleasant. Devi felt the intoxicating effects almost instantly, blushing as she coughed. She set the empty glass back on the bar, and motioned the Ferengi to bring another.

" That Kanar really opens the sinuses, eh? I knew you'd like it." Lorcan's smile was immense; he was still grinning as he shoveled a pile of Gagh into his mouth.

Devi winced, " What the hell is that stuff on top of it?"

" Grapok sauce. I'sh good. Yu wan shum?" He said, slurping down a rogue that had been wriggling back out of his mouth. He offered her the writhing plate; she smirked, and slugged him hard on the shoulder.

" You know I can't stomach Klingon food, either. Are you trying to aggravate me?" Devi thanked the bartender for her fresh drink as Lorcan turned his attention back to the parts of his meal that were trying to escape the plate. She swiveled in her seat at the bar, and observed the room; she'd found herself doing that a lot more in the last few years, just watching people go about their routines, and occasionally, she'd spotted things that were not routine.

Like that Bajoran extremist last year on Risa, she thought, sipping her 'Cardassian Sunset', the one with a fondness for cloaked explosives.

Devi had spotted the woman fidgeting with her luggage, and went to help. By the time it was done, Devi had managed to break the woman's wrist before she could commit the latest in a series of bombings inspired by her religious zealotry, or overblown insecurities, or whatever the motivation was - Devi had accepted her award from the Risian government, smiled and waved for the Federation News Service, and never once cared why the woman had chosen to murder innocents. She hadn't cared.

Now, in the present, she cared quite a lot about the motivations of the people assembled on this station. The Klingons were here expecting battle; that much was sure. They were predictably raucous, butting heads over glasses of blood wine, and plates full of inedible detritus like Lorcan's meal. The Romulans were another matter entirely; they were reserved and cautious, sitting in strategically placed groups of three or four throughout the bar. Devi knew their agenda: they expected to gain something from the mission, probably intelligence on new Dominion technology or prestige with the Federation Council.
A rather gentle, but firm-looking Romulan glanced her way, and Devi casually shifted her gaze to the odd group from the Daystrom's old crew. Captain Lewis was sitting with them; he waved, and she responded with a calm smile and a wave of her own.

Now there's an inscrutable faction, she thought, finishing her drink. She nudged Lorcan, who was now eating from another plate of odd Klingon 'cuisine'.

" Krada legs. Theshe onshe are cooked " He mumbled, with his mouth full of the small, broiled animal legs. " Wanna try these?"

Her look was answer enough; he shrugged, and swiveled in his seat as well, wiping his hands on a small cloth napkin from the bar.

" What are we looking at?" He asked, another knowing smirk on his thin lips. He tossed the napkin back onto the bar as he crossed his arms and surveyed the room.

" The Daystrom crew. They're as tight as our crew on the Shoshone ever was I'm a bit envious. Captain Lewis was at their table when we got here; you suppose he'd introduce me?" She motioned the Ferengi for another drink.

" I'm sure he would. They're a good sort, the Daystrom crew. Captain W'trisk and I have a holosuite combat program reserved in two hours; you could join us, if you want." The remainder of the second plate disappeared into Lorcan's mouth as soon as he stopped talking.

Devi smiled, and ruffled his dark copper-colored hair as she stood, " Isn't that Lieutenant Uzume heading toward the dart board?" she pointed. The svelte young woman was asking everyone in sight for a game; any who would've been interested already knew she'd end up cleaning them out in anything but a friendly game. Lorcan grinned, shuffling his latinum slips. He winked at Devi with his artificial eye, and sauntered over, catching the young woman's arm as she passed. He whispered in her ear, and she smiled up at him; Devi knew how suave Lorcan could be.

Shaking her head, Devi headed toward Captain Lewis' table; he and the old Daystrom crew and were laughing at another of what seemed to be an endless parade of stories. As she neared, the Romulan woman downed another shot of some purple drink, and everyone at the table followed, except for the Breen and the Tholian. Both of them seemed to be watching the room as closely as she was.

Another burst of laughter boomed from the table, and she pulled up a chair; Captain Lewis made introductions, and soon she was laughing along at the banter and toasting fallen comrades, just like she'd been a member of the group all along.

As she raised a toast to Captain Thompson, she realized she felt happy for the first time in years. It felt good to socialize with superiors again, especially with such a diverse, and interesting group as this. It felt good to laugh.

Looking around again at the clustered groups of Klingons and Romulans filling the bar, and remembering the vague nature of their upcoming mission, Devi realized something else.

She had a bad feeling about the entire operation.

[Mark]

USS Daystrom, 1030 hours

"It seems that he is late." Dr. Salan remarked to Lt. Elbram, the chief nurse.

"Most inappropriate to leave one's staff waiting and failing to respond to calls on the intercom. He, after all, set the time for this staff meeting. It would seem logical that he would select a time that would be the most convienient for everyone involved."

Snorting with laughter, Pigrath'er, the ships medic, better known to the crew as Piggy, interjected, "If you recall, Doctor, he ordered all of us to be here at 0900 hours. He never said that he'd be here then, did he? You two haven't met the good Doctor yet, have you?"

"No, we haven't Master Chief, as he just came aboard yesterday" Lt. Alissa Elbram replied. A knockout even for a Betazoid, she nervously toyed with one of her long curly brown locks as she spoke "but we've both heard that he is one of the absoulute best Doctors in Starfleet today, and that we should be honored to work with him."

Howling with laughter, Piggy replied "That's exactly what he WOULD say, too".

Suddenly, the doors to sickbay hissed open, and in walked a rather plain looking man wearing a beard shot with grey, limping badly on a wooden cane.

"Dr. Holmes I presume?" Dr. Salan said "It's an honor to be working with you."

"Working with me?" Dr. Holmes asked. "Sorry, I thought I was the Chief Medical Officer here. I must be in the wrong place." Dr. Homes turned as if to leave, then turned back around. "On the other hand, a more likely explination is that your all morons, and haven't learned you places yet. You see, in sickbay, I am the boss, leader, man in charge, Captain, and God. I speak, you listen and obey. I say jump, don't you dare ask me how high, because if you don't already know, then you don't need to be here," With an evil smile, Homes asked "got it? Now who the hell are you people?"

"I am Doctor Salan, sir." the Vulcan doctor introduced herself "My specialty is alien biology. Starfleet thought....."

"Don't care" Holmes interuppeted, "Next?"

Standing at attention Lt. Elbram began her introduction "I'm Lt. Alissa Elbram, Doctor. I've been assingned as your Chief Nurse, and I am really looking forward to working with you."

"Great" the Doctor replied. "I have two questions for you. First, are those real?" he asked, pointing at her breasts, "and two, what are you doing tonight?".

As the young nurse stood there sputtering, Piggy said "Leave her alone, Gimpy, or the next thing I bite in half won't be your cane."

Holmes looked over at the little Tellerite and replied "You know, I've got this great loaf of rye bread in my quarters, and some fresh lettuce and tomatos. Why don't you finally accept your place in the scheme of things, and be the bacon that you were born to be?"

Piggy broke out laughing, "alright everyone. He's done with us. Let's let the old fart get setteled." The women needed no further prompting and bade a hasty retreat from sickbay, with Piggy stolling casually behind them.

Dr. Holmes painfully took a seat at his desk and read his memo from Captain W'Trisk. The messege flashed onto his screen;

"Dr. Holmes: please report on any medical issues in the crew records which may be a command concern by 1430 tomorrow. Welcome aboard."

After reviewing the ships crew manifest, and taking a long lunch, Dr. Holmes replied at 1745 hours, recording "Well Captain, the entire crew seems to be comprised of idiots and morons. However, since there is no treatment at present for stupidity, everyone seems ok, with one exception. I'll be needing to examine that autistic fellow, Kasper Nijhoff, in greater detail. I'll let you know what I find when I get around to it."

Pressing the send key, Dr. Holmes muttered to himself "I need a drink", rose painfully to his feet, and limped out of sickbay to see what devient pleasures he could solicit from Quark this evening.

[Mikey]

Grr'lek, along with everyone else on the promenade, watched the Romulan ships decloak. He did not share, however, the uneasiness and tension which the sight of the Romulans seemed to inspire in the rest of the crowd; rather, his natural curiosity was sharpened. He had spent a fair portion of his career on starbases partly due to his interest in meeting as many different types of people as possible, and the Romulans interested him as much as anyone.

That evening, Grr'lek approached Quark's bar with the intent of thanking Mikey for the recommendation for the liaison position. Instead he saw most of the fleet's captains, along with Commanders Rochey, Munro, and Hewer, talking and drinking around a couple of tables; nearby at the bar sat a solitary Romulan commander. The Starfleet officers' conversation had a hushed cast, as if they were uneasy about the proximity of the Romulan officer. Grr'lek strode up to her, indicated the vacant stool next to her, and said simply, "May I?"

"Are you sure you want to? I am a Romulan, you know," answered the woman ironically. She seemed to be just beginning to age, albeit gracefully, and a slight cynical smile played around her lips as if afraid to belie the stereotypes of Romulans.

"Thank you," Grr'lek said as he sat. Turning, he called, "Captain W'trisk! I want to thank you for your recommendation."

The Andorian raised his glass and said, "You earned it. Where did you end up?"

"Liaison aboard the RSE Lacron. I understand she's a fine ship with a distinguished commander."

Mikey winked, raised his glass again, hollered, "Na zdorovya!" and drained his drink. Grr'lek turned back to the bar and the Romulan woman began to applaud sarcastically.

"Very well done. One might even think you had Romulan blood," she said.

"Well, I couldn't be positive, of course," answered the slim Caitian, "but as a wise ancient Earth philosopher once said, 'you can observe a lot by watching.'"

"Very true," said the Romulan, "although not necessarily applicable in this case."

"On the contrary," replied Grr'lek evenly. "I merely... engendered the appearance of the information I wished to observe."

The Romulan woman laughed and signalled the bartender with a gesture. The Ferengi set down a small galss of a noisome, oily purple liquid in front of her, and one in front of Grr'lek. Raising it, she said, "Well done again. To the memory of old friends, and to the prospect fo new ones."

"Indeed," said Grr'lek, and drained his glass as she did, despite the protest of his sensitive nose. "Lieutenant Grr'lek, Starfleet liaison."

She shook his outstretched hand. "Commander D'Tyra of the RSE Lorcan. Welcome to my crew."

[Teaos]

Fletcher opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling of his quarters, the lights above his bed were slowing turning around the room despite the fact they were attached to the ceiling.

Hacking out a few coughs he grimaced at the taste in his mouth. It had been awhile since he had had a hangover, he could go to sickbay and get a shoot to relieve the symptoms but it was bad form for the captain of a ship to be seen needing a hangover cure.

Standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom he did his best to make him self presentable.

He knew he shouldn't have drunk so much last night, he told himself it was a one off thing, he was just happy to see so many of his old crew and friends again. But he knew the truth; the pressure was starting to get to him.

He had fought tooth and nail to secure himself the position of captain on the Paladin, the most prestigious posting in the Fleet, the captain of the first of a new breed of warship.

He was used to having responsibility; he had been a captain for almost a quarter of a century and had been working at Starfleet HQ for most of the last decade.

But this, this was different. He had meet Captain Picard once several years ago when the legendary captain had had a stop over at Earth and had visited the HQ. He'd asked the captain what it was like captaining the flagship, what it felt like to have the pride of the fleet at your command. Picard had said it was like being in a glass room and having everyone looking in on you, there was no where to hide, no where to be yourself with out someone judging you.

Fletcher had not fully understood what he meant until now. When he had been granted the command he was on cloud nine, while he always tried to act professionally he couldn't get the smile off his face for several days after getting the news. But then the messages had started, admirals offering advice, captains offering congratulations and warnings, ordinary crewmen stating their awe, people he had only meet once or twice asking for "personal favours" to be assigned to the ship.

The eyes of the whole fleet if not the whole Federation were on him, he had the most prestigious command in the fleet until the commissioning on the new Enterprise. It was everything he had always wanted, and now he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

"Well Andrew, what are you going to do?" Fletcher asked his reflection.

[Mark]

DS9 Prominade Station Morning

The huge reptillian Security Chief of the USS Valkyrie, Lieutenant "Seth" Cix sat in a cornor of the packed replimat eating breakfast by himself, as usual. While every other table was packed full of fellow Starfleet officers and crewmen, he had a table all to himself. This morning was no different than almost any other since he had rejoined the fleet. Almost everyone he has met and worked with, while polite and professional, had no desire to spend any time with him outside of work. He could unterstand why they felt that way after all. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how badly he intimidated people, a tool he used quite often while doing his "special" work, once upon a time. But he was getting tired of being treated like a monster. He didn't act like one anymore, after all. Very few people weren't intimidated by a huge hulking Xindi reptilian with glowing red eyes and spikes on his head, after all, but it WOULD be nice to meet a few.

A voice broke through Seth's brooding, "Excuse me, son. Is this seat taken?" Looking up, Seth saw a bearded old man, with the stripes of a Master Chief, wearing a gold starfleet uniform.

"Not anymore" Seth replied bitterly "it seems I've eaten my breakfast companions."

Hooting with laughter, the old man sat down across from the hulking Xindi. "Well now, that would indeed be a first. Every one of you Xindi lizards that I've known over the years wouldn't touch a mammal unless it had fur on it. My pet hamster may not be safe around you son, but I'm quite sure I am." Holding out his hand he introduced himself "Master Chief Donald McDuff, but everyone calls me Donnie. I'm the chief of engineering over on the winged horse, USS Pegasus."

With a grin that looked more like a snarl, he clasped the old mans hand, "Lieutenant Sethrithis Cix, but Seth is fine with me Donnie. You DO know, that most Xindi reptillians take offense at being compared with lizards, right?"

"Baa" the old engineer scoffed "if the boot fits, wear it. I do, and I'm about the oldest boot still kicking around the fleet. And, by the way, this Xindi fellow I served with about 50 years ago ruined that joke for you. Your no more offended by being called a lizard than I am by being called a pink-skin. It's just what we are, son."

Chuckling in agreement, the big Xindi said, "You've got me. I have to ask you, there aren't very many of us in Starfleet. Where did you meet other Xindi?"

"Seth, I've served in this man's fleet for 72 years now, this year" the old man said, leaning back in his chair "serving on every kind of ship that's ever seen service in this century. I've had plenty of time to meet my fair share of aliens. Something else I've learned son. Isolating yourself because of what you are is a bad idea. He's a tip and a little mission for you. Somewhere, in this task force are some "kindred" spirits for you. There's a bad tempered Tholian, a grouchy Breen, and an irritable Andorian around here somewhere. I'm almost positive you won't find yourself intimidating any of them. In fact, if your not careful, you may end up finding yourself on your backside looking up at one of them, wondering how you got there."

Laughing at that last comment and picking up his tray, Seth rose to his feet and shook McDuff's hand again. "Donnie, it's been a pleasure. I mean that. Why don't we meet up for a drink at Quarks tonight, after our shifts?"

"Sure. I'd like that" McDuff replied "and I'd like it even more if you were buying."

Laughing again, the Xindi nodded and started off towards the docking ring where Valkyrie was taking on supplies, keeping his eyes open for a Tholian, Andorian, or a Breen.