USS Serendipity NCC-2012

The Relative Solace of Ground

2011-07-30T20:04:00.003-04:00

by February Grace
110730.0200

---=/\=---

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

-William Shakespeare

-------------------------

December 2, 2468

-=/\=-Symbiosis Commission, Trill -=/\=-

All was still.

The sheet of rain that cascaded down over the windows all night long had altered now, as the first light of day began to bleed through the billowing canopy of gunmetal sky, seeking the relative solace of ground.

Those solitary rays of the new dawn were the only illumination that remained here. Every previously glowing candle snuffed out, the ceremonial brazier itself withered down to an ember of its former flame; signaling to the Host that he was going to have to accept that his time here was truly over.

The bleary eyes of newly-joined Aidran Grace stared blankly ahead, past the thin wisp of smoke still rising from the display. They gradually moved beyond it, to the exhausted frame of the woman who silently slept nearby.

She was slumped over to the side, head resting on the arm of the plush couch on which she’d been sitting, guitar still clutched in her hands as a security blanket she could not let go.

He did not remember falling asleep.

He remembered the voice of his friend, Milanya, as she asserted her personality above that of the currently-dominant former host and told him she needed to rest a little while before going on. He’d agreed, of course, but had never meant to let himself lapse into dreaming too.

Such strange dreams, he found, all disconnected from the life he’d lived before, unable it seemed to begin to integrate without the conduit that was the life force and memory of February Grace.

It was time to send her home.

Besides, if Ligle came back and caught him sleeping, there would be absolute Hell to pay…

“Hey…” he said softly, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “Bru. Wake up.”

“Hmm?” Milanya’s voice was not her own, and he knew that he’d managed, once again, to reach the psyche of Grace’s last and in some ways most important past host.

She was the narrator of his life: the compass by which he would somehow find his way forward even though everything seemed so utterly overwhelming to him now, he didn’t know how he could possibly manage it.

“Good grief, what did I do?” she asked, bolting suddenly upright. “Didn’t mean to doze off on you. That was quite a chat we had, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” His hand found its way to his temples as he tried to still the spinning of the world within his head.

She slowly unfurled her fingers from the neck of the guitar and leaned it up against the nearest wall. She squinted a moment at one of the windows, taking stock it seemed of the insufficient effort that the winter sun was making to try and brighten the atmosphere.

“Too dark,” she decided. “Too cold.” With surprising grace she rose up, sweeping into her open hand the lighting tool on the table beside them. She circled the room, igniting every remaining unspent candle on hand. She even took the liberty of stirring the dying fire in the brazier before setting the necessary tool aside.

“He’ll be back soon,” she added softly, her eyes flashing for an instant to the doorway. “Surprised he stayed away this long.”

“He knew how important this was to me,” Aidran replied. “How important you are to me.”

Color rose to her cheeks and spread across her pale, delicately constructed features.

“You are the most important Host of all, Aidran.” She moved toward him and affectionately brushed the angled fringe of his hair out of his eyes. “You are the future.”

He looked down, toward the floor, wondering how he could possibly do justice to all the experiences of the being that depended upon him now so to do. His hands moved toward his abdomen as he considered Grace, but stopped mid-motion, hovering reverently above. The contents of all the souls the symbiont had been were the gift now bestowed upon him.

With that great gift came enormous responsibility, and his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of newborn fear at the thought he might not be worthy to carry it.

“No,” February said simply. She placed a hand firmly under his chin and yanked until he was forced to look into her eyes once more. “You are enough. Just as you are. If you learn nothing else at all from me this night, Aidran, please, for the love of all that’s good and holy in the universe, learn that.”

The tears that filled his eyes were mirrored in her own. She brushed them away lightly with the back of her hand as they fell, first his, then hers.

“So,” she clapped her hands together once and smiled at him anew, though he knew her by this point well enough to know when a smile was forced. “Is there anything else you wanted to know before I go?”

“What…happened next?”

“Oh. Is that all.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. She huffed a seemingly impatient sigh, but it was impatience with the passage of time itself, with the insufficiency of the space it granted her to tell the whole of the story that she resented, not him, or his question.

“After the New Year’s celebration that year, Reece and I came to a decision.” Her voice turned grave, and she began to wring her hands so that her knuckles turned red and then white as she alternately tightened and released her grasp.

Her expression clearly painted the picture of just how difficult that decision had been to make. “As much as we loved the ‘fleet, as much as we loved that crew, we wanted a different life for Sophie.” She paced a few steps and turned away. She dropped her head into her hands, recalling.

“We took Vol’s advice and kept dual residences on Earth and Betazed. We taught the things we were best at to other people. Our work was different, but it went on. We went on.”

“And the rest?” Aidran’s voice cracked, evidence of the feeling that the air was being forcibly extracted from his lungs, as he considered just how much she must have missed the people of The Alchemy Project.

The realization of just how much he was going to miss them, too.

She stood as stone with her back still toward him, before shaking her head quickly side to side. She sniffled as she tried to stifle her sobs, and it took her a very long time to speak again.

Slowly, she turned and looked him dead in the eyes. “When Ligle returns my consciousness to you, you will remember it all. You will know it all.” She strode forward suddenly, grasping hold of him firmly by both shoulders. “Be prepared, Aidran. Not everyone who served aboard the Sera got a storybook ending.”

He nodded.

They continued on, locked in that stare of mournful knowing without his even fully understanding yet. With their time ticking away so fast now, he forced himself to open his mouth and speak a single word.

“But…”

Before she could respond, they were both startled by the sound of a key in the lock.

Ligle entered the room. As he began tsk-ing and fussed with the fire, the eyes of Aidran’s friend once again reflected the sadness of the woman she embodied.

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. Her fresh, silent tears rained down upon his lips, salty and cold.

“There is no ‘but’, Aidran. There is no more.” She sighed, with her lips now pressed near his ear. “We’ve reached the end of my story.”

Again Aidran found himself biting back tears of his own, but he had little chance to try to hide them as Ligle the Guardian made short work of commencing his last remaining duty.

“It’s time,” the man said simply, gesturing toward the altar.

Aidran reached out and took hold of the hand of the woman before him; with not only a new appreciation for the one he’d been speaking to, but the one who had allowed herself to be subjected to this ordeal for his benefit.

He would never take her place in his life for granted, wherever life should take them. She would always hold a place too dear to be touched by any other.

The eyes of the woman left his face only at the last minute, when she closed the lids and focused all of her will on the sacred recitation.

In a matter of seconds, it was over.

Milanya’s form wilted, completely exhausted, and Ligle leaped forward to catch her from falling as a reeling Aidran fought his own continued battle, just to stand.

In the moment February Grace’s consciousness returned to him in force, a torrent of memories issued forth from it.

He’d wanted to know what happened to the rest of the brave souls of the USS Serendipity: and in that moment, he did.

Just as the information had come to Reece and Grace as flashes in letters and other communiqués from their former crewmates, so Aidran, too, began to understand their fates.

Images flickered as frames of Reece’s beloved motion pictures between his mind and his closed eyes, playing out an unstoppable reel of news footage until it reached its end.

The images began with the announcement that Dengar had been chosen for a special assignment on another ship.

They continued to reveal highlights of TC Blane’s colorful career: brilliant, storied, and among the most respected in Starfleet.

2390 turned out to be the beginning of many new adventures for those who had inhabited the Sera. The year that brought such high honors for some…

…Lance Hartcort won the Nobel Prize for medicine. Twice.

It also brought an end, for all time, to others.

Happier memories that Grace clung to, of times spent meandering through museums the galaxy over with Vol Tryst and watching Sophie learn her first words were soon overshadowed by the weight of the sadder reports that had followed.

Some that they’d known had just gone missing, moved on, or were far too deep undercover in new assignments to dare risk contact to advise old friends of their whereabouts.

By last word, William Lindsay had continued working for TI, out there, somewhere, jumping timelines.

Lair Kellyn’s life came to a sudden, quiet end in the early weeks of 2390.

At last she rested in death with no chance of resurrection; plagued no more by fears of failing at redemption.

It was over, finally, and that was enough.

After continuing on for a while at her post, the Captain’s condition continued to deteriorate. Fight it though she did, the day came when she had to accept that it was time to relinquish command of her beloved Serendipity.

At the age of forty, Zanh Liis O’Sullivan took a medical retirement from Starfleet. She settled on Earth, at the house in Cork built just for her, where she would battle the unrelenting darkness of chronic Primary Time-Displacement Psychosis for the rest of her days.

The crew largely scattered after that, with those who were TI’s own returning to the fold as the focus of the program changed and The Alchemy Project, as it had been, was disbanded. It was said to have fulfilled its role in the development of the proper timeline; but there were those, like Keiran O’Sullivan, who would go on record as having said that there was so much more they could have done.

Some of those who’d served the Project continued on in their work as teachers of advanced tactical training courses. Others took the end of Alchemy as the sign it was time for them, too, to retire.

That was where the initial onslaught of Grace’s memories subsided, and though he still wished he could understand them all in greater detail, for the moment, Aidran was grateful now for the silence.

After Milanya regained her footing, she nodded to Ligle, and the Guardian silently exited the room, leaving the two friends alone amidst the faltering light of the last remaining candles.

Aidran was frozen, shaking as if in physical response to the slashing pellets of icy rain that pelted the windows behind them.

Milanya knew, though, even without the guidance of her Betazoid senses that he was not trembling because of the cold.

She gathered him into her arms, finding new strength within herself as he leaned against her for support. She ran her hand back through his hair and lifted his face toward hers, expecting to find him still crying.

He was not.

Too stunned to cry, or perhaps too overwhelmed, he simply leaned closer to her, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to her own.

Their first kiss: tender, affectionate, and beautiful though it held much more melancholy than Milanya thought she could bear.

“Aidran?” She placed her hands upon his face, again seeking his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he whispered truthfully. “Not now. Not for a very long time.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth a moment before speaking again. “What can I do?”

“Hope that a day is coming when I might be.”

-=Twenty-Four Hours Later=-

Personal Log, Lt. Aidran Grace

Of all the things I learned from February the last day and night of my Zhian'tara, the single most important lesson has been this: live every moment, to the best of your ability, where you are.

Every day, every second, every experience we will ever have is truly one of a kind--a time and place that will never exist again.

For the rest of her life, the people of the Serendipity mattered to her.

She would think, even at the end of her days, that she had never again known their like.

I know that no matter how long I live, I will never find their equal.

End log.

The young Trill raised a glass to his lips, and found himself humming a tune that at first seemed unfamiliar before the words and melody finally joined as one again in his memory.

He traced them back in his mind to a song an old friend used to sing: a towering Irishman with a fine voice, someone that February had always so looked up to.

He paused.

He held the glass of Macallen single malt Scotch out before him, watching the light bounce off the liquid as he tilted it to and fro in the glass.

He drew a breath and softly began to sing in lonely tribute to the ghosts of memory, long past.

“Fill to me the parting glass,
and drink a health, what’ere befalls,
then gently rise, and softly call
‘goodnight, and joy be to you all’.”

---------------------

-=/\=- February Grace

NRPG: I will never again have the good fortune to be in such fine, generous company.

The stories we wrote together will stay with me for the rest of my life: every word, every line, every post.

Thank you, gentleman.

~ZL

1152: A Shiny Vulcan Dress

2011-04-12T22:05:00.001-04:00

by Rada Dengar
110409.2330
After The Detective

-=Deck Three, USS Serendipity=-

Arriving back at the quarters he shared with Wren and Tam, Rada found them to be unexpectedly quiet. There was no conversation, no sounds of music, nor even the tapping of fingers on a PADD.

He began to slowly walk from room to room, looking for where they could be. Each one after the other though he found them empty. Only upon finally returning to the entrance did he notice the note taped to the inside of the door.

Taking it down in his hand, he read it in silence.

Hi Rada,

We decided to spend a couple of hours in the arboretum. Should be back by sixteen hundred hours.

Love you.

~Wren and Tam

Rada smiled, slightly sadly. He’d been very near the arboretum just before and may even have passed them. Had he known, he’d have joined them. He knew Tam liked the place and that Wren knew it too. More than likely, she decided to take him there for that reason, and as a distraction from all that had happened with Arie recently. As of yet, of course, he had no way of knowing that she had already left the ship.

Had Rada known that, he wouldn’t have been so focused on his own introspection as he was in this moment.

Rada didn’t place the note down, instead carrying it with him as he moved over to the couch. At first he eased his weight down into the cushions. Then he shifted to the side, then back again, before finally letting himself fall slightly forward. It was not a comfortable position, but he was never particularly comfortable with those.

Repeatedly he recalled the detective’s words about how he should ‘ask the victim’ to uncover the sender of the book that rested upon the table before him.

He only wished it were that simple, and smiled a little at the concept.

“So, Rada,” he asked himself, “who was it that sent this book to you?”

“I really couldn’t tell you,” he answered. “Unfortunately I’m just as in the dark as you are.”

“My, that really is a pity. I was hoping at least one of us would know.”

He exhaled briefly in quiet amusement, as he accepted that things would never be so easy.

Realising he needed to think, he put the note down and stood up again, and began to walk the length of the room.

Unfortunately, sudden flashes of inspiration were no more forthcoming than they’d been on the entire way back here. Still, he concentrated all his attention and energy, on trying to force just one useful thought to arrive.

*It really is quiet here today.*

It wasn’t a particularly useful one, but it was a start.

“Computer. Play music.”

^Please specify selection.^

“Whatever was the most recently used file.”

The computer beeped in acknowledgement, before beginning to play the song at the most unnecessarily high volume.

HE ROCKS IN THE TREE TOPS ALL DAY LONG
HOPPIN’ AND A-BOPPIN’ AND SINGING HIS SONG
ALL THE LITTLE BIRDIES ON JAYBIRD STREET
LOVE TO HEAR THE…

“Computer. End Music.”

Thankfully, the computer complied. Rada wasn’t entirely certain whom on board would have been listening to that particular song, but he was certain it didn’t quite fit the mood.

He sighed. This wasn’t working.

“Come on Rada, you can do this. Why would someone want you to have the book?”

Once more, he answered himself.

“Well, it’s an Angosian book. Maybe someone there wants me to think of home.” He quickly shook his head. “No, then why this book? If it were family, they could have sent one I’d read as a child. So it’d have to be someone who didn’t know me then. But why would they want me to be homesick? It doesn’t make sense.”

He sighed again.

“Maybe they just wanted to make me insane. I mean I am talking to myself.”

Again he shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure I was crazy enough already…”

He stopped walking again and huffed.

*This is ridiculous. Think…*

He took a few steps again.

*Think…think… think of words other than ‘think’.*

Unfortunately, he found he really couldn’t.

“Alright, let’s think of this logically. If it’s not family and presumably it’s not someone on board, who does that leave? I’m not exactly Mr. Social Life.”

His mind immediately went to the place it always did. “It must be an enemy. But why a book? How’s that going to kill me? Death by a thousand paper cuts?”

Even Rada considered that unlikely.

Of course the transporters would have detected any sort of deadly poison in the pages, and if not then his violent death would have been a giveaway. It was possible, he supposed, that he would have to be someone who'd lick his fingers when he was turning the pages to cause that. He’d never been such a person though, and he didn’t know why anyone would think he was. He certainly couldn’t make sense of the behaviour. He wondered if when their hands were dirty they licked the pages instead.

“Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way.” He suggested to himself.

“Oh, and I suppose you have a better one?”

“No, but you do,” he replied, before growling slightly at himself that now it really was absurd.

Still, he did have a good point, though he would forgo the formality of both admitting it and stating it aloud:

A lot of other people had enemies.

There was the Captain; Salvek had surely made a few in the Romulan Empire, and it could even have been some indirect attack by an old female acquaintance of occasional visitor William Lindsay.

Thinking about it now, he was sure someone at least would more than simply want to kill Jamie Halliday.

Rada’s eyes suddenly opened wider as he considered that they could be trying to distract him, so he’d make a mistake and accidentally press the wrong button and destroy the ship.

His heart rate slowed though as he dismissed that as a possibility. It’d take him at least three buttons to do that. The probability of it happening within the next month was only something like 12.5%. On average he’d only kill them all one and a half times this year. The intricate genius behind this, who apparently felt they’d mastered his psychology, wouldn’t leave it to that much of a chance.

Unless that was what they wanted him to think.

“Okay, under characteristics of the victim, we can put ‘paranoid’.”

Unless that was what they wanted him to think…

He spun around and continued walking.

Perhaps he was overanalysing this. Then again, not overanalysing this meant taking it at face value and accepting that no one was trying to kill him. Obviously that was ridiculous. So in fact analysing it normally was underanalysing it and so he had to doubly overanalyse in order to do so correctly.

In all probability, therefore, he was in fact still underanalysing it considerably. Yet if considering a potential alien plot to destroy the ship as an act of final spiteful retribution against Jamie Halliday for over exposure of teeth was still just looking at the obvious, then the reality must be more wild and horrifying than he could possibly imagine.

It would have to be some sort of massive interstellar conspiracy; a thousand seemingly unrelated components all working as one; like gears in a clock so absurdly complicated that by the time you read its face, you're neither still interested in the time nor in fact still alive.

Perhaps it was about more than books. Maybe someone had sent Dwan Tubman a shiny bottle of Vulcan wine, or Sue Tenney a trendy new dress. Then maybe it was something less predictable.

If he discovered Dwan in a shiny Vulcan dress then he’d really know he was onto something, not to mention having a question or two to ask.

Getting a brief mental flash of the image he actually smiled, before scolding himself at being amused when the entire Federation could be at risk.

Still, based upon all the evidence he’d seen so far, he couldn’t believe Vulcan garments for friendly giants were likely. That he was sent something Angosian couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe therefore, all players would be receiving something to remind them of their homeworld.

Salvek would be getting the Vulcan dress, Dabin Reece would be getting some extra spots, and perhaps Lair Kellyn would be receiving some sort of portable argument.

The only plausible reason for all of this that Rada could see though would be to inspire waves of patriotism about people’s homeworlds. That could get people arguing about which was best, much like with competing sporting teams. At first it’s a friendly rivalry, then it’s a traditional grudge match, and then it’s an all out war that tears the Federation to pieces.

No, he shook his head, obviously that reasoning was unreasonable. In that case, they wouldn’t have put Wren’s name on the book too…

He immediately began to consider the potential involvement of the Betazoid government, possibly in cooperation with a particularly shifty looking Ferengi who’d once held him at phaser point, when suddenly he stopped…and thought about what he was thinking.

Even he had to admit, it was slightly excessive…

He made himself turn around and settle back onto the couch again. Smiling again to himself as he thought of how easily he got carried away, he realised that he was never much good at seeing things the way they really were. The smile slowly disappeared though as he reached another realisation.

“You know what Rada?” he asked himself, sighing. “Frankly I don’t trust your opinion of me to be completely accurate.”

This time, he offered himself no reply. He knew he needed an outside perspective.

“Computer,” he said, “locate Lair Kellyn.”

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1151: Operation Evergreen

2011-04-12T22:04:00.001-04:00

by TC Blane, Dane Cristiane and Landry Steele
Stardate 110331.23
Following Mission :Improbable

-=Earth=-

"Something wrong with you, Cristiane?" TC Blane asked, as the trio of Starfleet officers--one willing and two much less so--trudged onward through the cold.

Dane simply grunted in reply.

"Let me rephrase the question." Blane narrowed his eyes. "Something more than usual?"

"No." Dane muttered, quickly adding a half-hearted, "...Sir." In fact, there was something more than usual wrong with him today: specifically the fact that he was not at all where he wanted or more importantly, felt he needed to be. His mind was far off, somewhere, and with someone, else.

"He hoped he'd be on a date about now." Landry explained, cramming her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket and cursing herself internally for forgetting to replicate a pair of gloves.

"That so?" Blane's eyebrow elevated.

"Not really a date, Sir." Dane hurried to correct Landry's comment. "It's just..." he shrugged. "Never mind, Sir."

"Spill it."

Dane sighed. "This is the first Christmas Gira is going through without her brother. I. " He stopped.

Suddenly, Blane understood. "Say no more, kid." He quickened his pace; leaving the pair already struggling to keep up with his long strides even more challenged to keep up with him now. "I know you got drafted for this at the last minute and so let's try to get this over and done and then maybe you can catch up to her, wherever she is."

It was 'where she was' that worried Dane most, and he sped up to match Blane's increased speed. "Thank you, Sir."

After a moment, Dane looked around at his surroundings and his boots crunched slowly to a halt. They were in a location that he was unfamiliar with. His thoughts had been so distracted he did not even pay attention to the coordinates that Blane had given to the transporter chief as they stood on the pad only moments before.

“Excuse me, Sir but, where are we?” He sped up his pace again to close the distance with TC and Landry.

They had been walking up an uncleared path though what could only be described as insanely deep, pure white snow. Tall Evergreens flanked them on both sides. Sun shone though in sparkling beams but it was not overly bright, so Dane surmised it was had to be early evening. He glanced at his watch--a gift from Keiran O'Sullivan on his last birthday to "aid the perpetually late young Intern in the correct tellin' of the time," and it showed the time to actually be only a little past noon.

The path had been slowly climbing at a mild angle and now crested a hill. TC stopped and glanced down, following its path. His breath formed white clouds in the frigid air that seemed to last for an eternity before slowly fading away.

“Alaska. ” He pointed down the path at a picturesque scene. A frozen lake was in the distance with majestic white mountains beyond that. In the foreground of the lake sat a large log cabin with tall windows and a massive cobblestone chimney. The cabin sat partially tucked into the protection of the Evergreens.

“Um no offense Sir, but the O'Sullivans live in Ireland...” Dane pulled the hood up on his parka. The thought of being in Alaska on Christmas Eve when Gira was so far away making him colder then he already was.

TC started down the path towards the cabin. It led them down to the unplowed driveway where TC turned and headed towards the darkened cabin passing an ornate, handcrafted mailbox. Landry took note of the name.

“Blakeslee..." Her eyes brightened. "This is Commander Blakeslee’s house?” she half asked, half marveled as they walked past the house towards the garage in the back. TC nodded as they passed the garage and made their way into the grove of trees behind the house.

“Why are we here?” Dane glanced at the snow piled up at the back door of the cabin: solid evidence that no one had been at the cabin since at least the fall. “Nobody is home.”

TC stopped and surveyed the trees around him. “Very astute, Mr. Cristiane. Maybe it’s because they have been on the Sera for the last several months.” He lifted the dark sunglasses from his face, as they were now in the shade of the trees. “They will be back when the weather warms. Delta IV has a tropical climate, so Missus Blakeslee is not fond of the cold. Unlike her husband.”

"I always kn-n-n-nnew that woman was ss-s-s-s-smart." Landry shivered in the cold of the shade. “So why are we here?” she asked, between chattering teeth.

“To pick up a Christmas gift for the Captain and her husband. A parting gift from the Blakeslee’s.” He took a step forward and peered around a particularly thick Evergreen and smiled. “There it is.”

TC treaded though the snow with Landry and Dane following the path he blazed. He stopped and looked at a perfect specimen of a Blue Spruce. It easily stood ten feet and was perfectly full. Not a single gap was present: it would make a perfect Christmas tree.
Dane pointed to the base of the tree. “Someone’s been here.” Fresh tracks were in the snow at the base of the tree.

TC looked around and no tracks lead to the tree or away. He smiled as he approached it. “Someone with access to a transporter and first hand knowledge of the exact location of this tree.” He knelt in the snow to look at the base of the tree. There attached to the trunk was a brass plaque.

Dane approached the tree. “Commander Blakeslee,” he decided.

“Ambassador Blakeslee.” TC corrected, and then he read aloud the inscribing on the brass.

“For those who fly with the stars
We must not forget the treasures of the Earth
Lest we misplace the Shepard of our soul.”

Enjoy our gift of Friendship and Love for many years to come and remember us fondly each year you decorate it.

Have a Merry Christmas, and many, many more

Zander, Samthia & Family

TC stood up and brushed the snow from his pants.

“So they are giving the tree as a gift?” Landry looked at it. “Wow, that’s nice but it’ll die in a few weeks once we cut it down.”

TC smiled at his two unknowing subordinates. “Who said anything about cutting it down?” He pointed to the shovels hanging on hooks on the back of the garage.

"Um...but..." Landry raised her hand in protest, drawing an imaginary circle around her face in the air before pointing squarely at her nose. "Does this look like it knows anything about transplanting trees?"

"Does this look like it cares?" TC asked, mirroring her gesture. "Come on, ya feather-weight. Remember who we're doing this for."

"Zanh Liis, Queen Of All Starfleet?" Landry grumbled, having adopted, somewhere along the line, Dane's old and not quite respectful nickname for their Captain.

"No." TC said, moving toward the shovels and grasping one in his hand. "We're doing this for Keiran."

Before Blane could say anything more in the way of admonition, he saw he didn't need to.

Out of respect and affection for the man in question, both young TI officers had taken the shovels and already started to dig.

TC nodded his approval and tapped his combadge. "Blane to Grace."

"Grace here," February answered, from high overhead aboard the Sera.

"How goes your part of Operation Evergreen?"

“Mission accomplished. Everything is ready and waiting. There are a half a dozen or so burly O'Sullivans standing by at the house with miles of lights, a smaller tree for inside, and a treasure trove of family ornaments." She sighed softly with contentment at the mental image the thought produced. "They are being commanded by one very little but incredibly determined young nun." Grace laughed. "I only wish I could see the look on Keiran's face when he sees it all."

"We'll be sure they take pictures," Blane promised. "Thanks for your help, you're a peach."

"Now now. You know I'm much more a strawberry marshmallow. Grace out."

Satisfied that everything was on track, TC grabbed the last shovel and dug in to help.

When the clearing away was done, Dane wiped sweat from his brow and, huffing plumes of warm breath into the clear Alaskan air, he made an observation then asked his superior officer a single, desperate question.

"It's a hell of a swim from Alaska to Ireland ...please tell me we get to use the transporters this time?"

TC reached into his pocket and pulled out a transporter transponder. “Well for me and the tree it’s off to the lovely Emerald Isle.” He smiled at Dane and Landry. “You two are welcome to join me or head back to the ship. Your choice. As you heard I have the practically the entire town of Cork to assist me with getting this set into the Irish soil. ” He reached through the branches and attached the transponder to the trunk.

He turned back to the two young officers and smiled his rare, toothy grin. “In any case, you two have a Merry Christmas.”

“You too, Sir. I’ll try to catch up to you later.” Dane replied.

The moment Blane and the tree disappeared, Dane turned to Landry.

“What about you?”

“Give my regards to the Queen…” Steele slugged Dane on the arm somewhat affectionately, but then her eyes clouded. She reached up and tugged at a chain hanging around her neck, though Dane could not see what exactly was hanging from it as she concluded, “I’ve already got other plans.”

Commander TC Blane
Second Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

Ensign Dane Cristiane
Temporal Investigations Intern
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Ensign Landry Steele
Temporal Investigations Agent
Serving aboard the USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1150: The Detective

2011-03-28T00:41:00.001-04:00

by Rada Dengar
110327.1600
After Morta

-=Holodeck Two, USS Serendipity=-

Rada Dengar was rarely a man to be found indulging in holodeck fantasy. Experience had taught him that fantasies almost inevitably followed a twisted, perverted path to the destruction of all he held dear, and he found little relaxing about that.

However, this mystery gift was beginning to drive him slightly crazier than he could afford to be seen acting, and he lacked even the most basic idea of where to begin looking to discover its origins.

All things considered, especially those things which happened to be that he was an alien on a twenty-fourth century starship, the odds were not greatly in favour of that mystery being revealed at nine in the morning in a quiet London restaurant early in the twentieth century. Nonetheless, that was where he found himself today.

Strange looks and hushed laughter abounded as he entered, and the bell on the door drew many eyes to his direction. Whispers began amongst the waitstaff and the seated customers alike; men in women dressed in suits, dresses and funny hats, all apparently considering this perfectly normal attire for the consumption of a meal which he’d generally eat in his pyjamas.

Rada paid little attention to their chattering, though he did begin to think that just maybe he should have changed out of his Starfleet uniform before he came. He had the impression that he may as well have shown up covered in tinfoil for how well he’d fit on.

He didn’t wish to have to replicate some twentieth century clothes though and have further records of this bizarre personal activity be generated. The alternative would simply have been to use holographic clothing and there was no way he was risking that. It was all too easy to forget as a red alert was called and to rush outside to discover that free from the holodeck’s guidance, you’re really just wearing a small white pear of underwear in front of the Captain, Chief of Security or some sort of senior clergyman.

Still, he reminded himself that he was really just dealing with computer algorithms and that he should give their electronically generated heuristic opinions of him the same weight one would when a locked door beeped rudely and wouldn’t let them in. So he continued to move in, contemplating deleting a woman with a particularly cruel chortle.

Quickly though, he found himself intercepted by a rather pale gentleman who seemed to be himself suppressing a chuckle.

“Excuse me, Sir…This is a private establishment. I don’t think it likely you have a reservation…”

“I’m here to meet someone,” Rada explained, surveying the room in front of him then smiling as he recognised the face he was looking for. It was a face attached to the head of a stout bearded man, who for all the food on his plate was fussily examining his eggs to ensure they were both exactly the same size.

“Ah, and who’s that…?”

“That’s him,” Rada answered, beginning to move inward much to the pale gentleman’s irritation.

As he approached, Rada realised he’d been noticed, as the stout man’s face registered first surprise, to be replaced by a slightly awkward polite smile.

“I need to talk to you,” Rada said, taking the seat across to him to the stout man’s clear confusion and distaste at his meal being interrupted.

“Ah of course, my friend,” the man said insincerely, and Rada could tell that he was taking stock of his rather unusual clothing and more particularly of the bizarre and tortured mind that would choose to wear it. “So tell me, if you please, what it is you wish to be talking about?”

“Well, I know you’re a great detective...”

“No.”

The man shook his head, and continued again to examine his eggs with his fork.

“No…?” Rada asked, wondering if he’d chosen the wrong program. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, no,” the man retorted quickly. “A great detective, I am not. I am in fact a detective entirely unique. I’m unsurpassably the greatest that ever lived. To say I am great is the most extreme of understatements.”

The man punctuated his statement by letting his fork fall and clatter onto the plate, as it became clear the eggs just didn’t measure up.

“I’m sorry…” Rada said, hoping he hadn’t offended him. “I didn’t mean to…”

The man sighed with irritation.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, as he signalled for the waiter to come, take the offending food away, and try again. “I suppose if a man wishes to talk about how great I am, he can be forgiven for a little inaccuracy. It is perhaps best, is it not, to preserve a little modesty?”

Rada shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “That’s actually not what I’m here for.”

“Ah, then you are here to make use of my detective’s mind? Perhaps you wish me to prove my greatness to you?” The man sounded like he was taking this as a challenge.

“I can pay you,” Rada said, knowing it’d be easy enough to have the holodeck make him some money.

“No,” the man replied, his voice losing intensity. “I don’t think so.”

“I can…”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt you could afford to pay. A man who dresses like that is either extremely stupid or quite wealthy, and the stupid find it harder to locate me.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Rada asked, noticing the man was barely even looking at him.

“The problem is I don’t take cases just for money,” he explained, looking longingly at the empty place setting before him. “First, you must capture my interest. So then tell me, what great mystery have you brought for my mighty mind to grapple with? A murderer that disappeared into thin air? A man seen dancing at a ball an hour after time of death?”

“Actually, it’s a children’s book.”

“A book?” the man furrowed his brow. “I see, and who did this book kill?”

“No one. Actually it just showed up.”

“By a body?”

“No, in the mail.”

“And it indicated someone would be killed?”

“Not exactly.”

The man blinked once in confusion.

“I don’t think you quite understand what I do…”

“I want to know who sent it,” Rada explained, quietly leaning in as if not wanting anyone to overhear.

Realising that really was all Rada wanted, the man was clearly not amused. He began to scowl.

“Have you tried the return address?”

“There wasn’t one.”

“I see. So you come here, and you interrupt my meal,” he gestured towards the table where his meal had been, then remembering the waiter had taken it he pointed at him instead, “for this?”

“Perhaps I should have gone to someone else,” Rada muttered.

“I’m certain you should,” the detective answered, his food finally being placed in front of him again, but the eggs now looking even worse. He sighed and looked up to Rada again. “So, why didn’t you?”

“Because you’re supposed to be the best,” Rada replied, slightly despondent at the ridiculousness of being in a situation where a fictional character in a holodeck fantasy was refusing to cooperate. “At least that’s what I was told. Personally, I hadn’t even heard of you.”

Now the man looked offended. He leant back in his chair and fixed an incredulous stare onto Rada.

“Haven’t heard of me? Where have you been living? The moon?!”

Rada simply shrugged his shoulders, and contemplated the man this hologram was based upon.

“I’m starting to wonder, actually, if your reputation wasn’t exaggerated anyway. I mean, if you can’t even find out who sent a book…”

The man only continued looking offended for a half a second, before he suddenly smiled slightly, seeing exactly what Rada was doing.

“Won’t, not can’t,” he replied, warming to his guest all of a sudden. “But since I like you, and since it appears I’ll be stranded here several hours waiting on some decent eggs, I’ll give you a hint to help with your inquiries. Always ask the victim.”

“The victim?”

“The victim.”

“The victim of the great book sending of 2389?”

“Well, it works best for murder,” the man replied, indicating for the eggs to be taken again.

“That probably makes interviews harder.”

“Yes, but in some cases more pleasant,” the man retorted, though it was clearly not meant to be taken harshly.

Rada paused, contemplating this information. Finally he looked to the detective again.

“But what if the victim doesn’t know?”

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t ask him what he knows. Ask him who he is. Only that will determine why someone would want him dead.”

“Or to own a children’s book?”

“Yes, exactly,” the detective confirmed. “To find out who sent that book, you must first find out what it is about you that made them want you to have it.”

Rada stopped again a moment to think about this.

“Thanks,” he finally said, although he still wasn’t really sure how this helped him.

“No problem at all,” the detective answered, as Rada stood up from the table. “Oh, and just one more thing.”

“What’s that?” Rada asked.

“A good detective trusts no one to be completely honest with them,” he added without a hint of humour. “Don’t forget that.”

Rada nodded that he wouldn’t.

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1149: The Fresh Face

2011-03-28T00:37:00.001-04:00

by Vol Tryst and Aubrey Church 110322.2100 After The Art of Friendship -=London, England=-

“Did you pack your slicker?” “Mum,” Aubrey smiled his ever-patient smile, “They have replicators. I can make a slicker if I need one. I’ll need one for home when I visit.” He checked his chronometer again. “Thirty five seconds.” Aubrey’s father stepped forward, and then extended his hand with a grunt. It was a wildly outlandish expression of emotion from the elder Church. Aubrey grasped his father’s hand and shook. He took one final breath of the familiar smell of salt water and fish, and the Old Spice that failed miserably to cover it, that had been a presence in Aubrey’s home for all his life. His father stepped back to allow mother one final chance to fuss. “Are you sure you know where you are going?” “It’s a transporter, Mum, it only goes to the transporter room. Hard to get lost on the way. I’ve been told the ship’s counselor will be there to show me to my quarters.” Aubrey counted down the last few seconds. “I love you both, very much.” He stepped back and tapped his com badge. “Church to Starship Serendipity. One person, and four pieces of luggage for transport please.” [Stand by.] Came the curt reply. As one lifetime faded into the glow of the transporter beam, another took form. Aubrey awkwardly grabbed each piece of luggage and lumbered off the transporter pad. Once clear, he drew the PADD with his transfer orders from his duffle and extended them towards Crewman Parrish. “Ensign Aubrey Church, reporting as ordered. Enclosed are my detailed orders from Admiral Gemini Lassiter assigning me to this vessel to serve in the Security department under the command of Lieutenant Commander Zander Blakeslee.” Parrish just stared at the PADD for a moment, his expression seeming to say And you are telling me this, why? Just then the doors slid open, and Vol Tryst entered. Aubrey rotated in place with his arm still extended, holding the PADD out under Vol’s nose now, causing the Counselor’s eyes to cross slightly as he tried to focus on it. “Ensign Aubrey Church, reporting as ordered. Enclosed are my detailed orders from Admiral Gemini Lassiter assigning me to this vessel to serve in the Security department under the command of Lieutenant Commander Zander Blakeslee.” “Mister Blakeslee no longer serves aboard this vessel, unfortunately,” Vol began, as he took the PADD. "I…" Aubrey started. "I wasn't aware." "Get used to that." Vol said as his eyes whirled over the PADD, skimming the details of it. "Life on this ship, things happen faster than the news cycle can keep up with." Aubrey simply nodded. He didn't like unexpected news, but it wasn't like he could contest the change in plans. "Everything looks in order here," Vol remarked, looking up at the Ensign. "Come with me." "Ay, sir." Aubrey bent down again to collect each piece of luggage. He struggled a bit, teeter-tottering towards the door which Vol stood in. "We'll have someone fetch those for you Ensign, no need to exert yourself." Vol chimed in. "Yes, sir." Aubrey immediately relinquished his grasp on his belongings and followed the Counselor out into the halls. "Not necessary to call me sir, Ensign. My name is Vol Tryst, Doctor in Psychology and Ship's Counselor aboard this vessel. Welcome aboard Ensign Church." “That is quite a lot of words, I assume you would like me to refer to you by something a bit shorter if we aren’t to follow standard protocols.” Aubrey gazed around at his surroundings, quite seriously examining the walls and ceiling for anything that may pose a threat to the vessel that was, from this time forward, his duty to protect with his life. “Counselor Tryst will do just fine. Is something the matter?” Vol asked, as he picked up on Aubrey’s sense of concern. He turned to observe the Ensign looking at everything except where he was going, as a young Science officer deftly stepped aside to avoid being mowed down. “Oh, it’s nothing, just keeping my eyes and ears open. Never know when you’ll find an eavesdropping device or explosive of some sort. All part of a standard deck by deck patrol. I’m sure the Security staff does it all the time here.” I… I haven’t noticed.” Vol answered. “Do you know when a new Security Chief will be assigned? I should like to prepare for him or her a list of observations and suggestions, once I’ve created one of course.” Aubrey could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect, grinning from ear to ear as he spoke. The smile was infectious. "I'm sorry to say that I do not," both men entered the turbo lift and Vol directed it to move to quarters before continuing. "I must say Ensign, it is refreshing to see someone so enthusiastic as you are." Aubrey gazed at the Counselor. "You mean, you don't enjoy serving aboard the Sera?" Vol hadn't expected that and quickly mended his words. "No! I mean, of course I enjoy it. I simply meant that the excitement is somewhat subsumed over time with the execution of day-to-day duties. It takes a fresh mind to appreciate it all over again, and I thank you for that." "A fresh… mind?" "Yes. I'm a Betazoid and skilled empath. Your jubilee is, as I said, refreshing." “Well I’ve been told before I’m a bit of an eager beaver. Let’s hope everyone enjoys it as much as you Counselor, because I cannot wait to get started.”

*********************************** Vol Tryst Ship’s Counselor USS Serendipity NCC-2012 & Ensign Aubrey Church Security Newbie USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1145: Without Fanfare

2011-03-17T03:25:00.001-04:00

by Lair Kellyn
100313.05
After Mission Improbable
-=/\=-

“Having done all, stand.’ ~ Ephesians 6:13
-=/\=-

-=Main Bridge, USS Serendipity=-

Salvek of Vulcan spun slowly from side to side in the command chair at the center of the bridge of the USS Serendipity.

It was a silent motion, smooth and even in arc as he shifted his feet back and forth ever so slightly against the deck plates. Repeatedly he would sway, just subtly, his hands held in the thoughtful, clasped position in which he usually kept them when deep in concentration.

The scenery around him moved as if outside time and space, frame by frame, like a projector turning at a different speed, as though he didn’t quite fit in with the world he surveyed.

Though deep in thought, the harder he tried to grasp each image in his mind, the more quickly they slipped away. Concentration was something that he was finding impossible on this of all days.

“Is…everything all right, Commander?” Micah Samson asked, unnerved by how entirely uncharacteristic the Vulcan’s behaviour had been all day.

Usually Salvek sat still as stone in that chair no matter the chaos swirling around him. In all the time he’d known and served with him, Micah could never recall having seen him so ill at ease.

“Commander?” Micah repeated, after Salvek failed, at first to answer.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Samson?”

“That’s the question that I asked you, Sir,” Micah’s voice cracked slightly as Salvek’s dark eyes settled upon him fully. He cleared his throat and rephrased his question. “Is there a problem we should be aware of, Sir?”

“No.”

Salvek picked up the PADD that rested on the arm of the chair and began to type on it, trying to appear more focused than he actually was.

A moment passed in silence, save the beeping of the normal displays all around them, and the crew exchanged glances that ran the gamut from slightly anxious to outright worried.

“Computer, what is the time?” Salvek asked suddenly.

^The time is fourteen hundred hours.^

Salvek spoke no more. He just continued slowly pivoting the chair back and forth and staring beyond the device in his hands, his mind far removed from his physical location.

-=The Captain’s Ready Room=-

Zanh Liis’ feet rocked against the deck plates moving in the chair at her desk, seeming to mirror the anxiety and the repetition in Salvek’s movements, even though she couldn’t see him. She twisted the chain of her earring as she spoke to a face on the viewscreen before her. “Are you certain this is what you want, Jariel?”

“It’ll be…too difficult to do this any other way, Captain.” Jariel replied. The image of his empty quarters aboard ship filled the screen behind him, and he was wearing simple, civilian clothing; no longer the all black ‘uniform’ he had worn in his work as Ship’s Chaplain.

“They really wanted the chance to say goodbye,” Liis said softly.

“Say goodbye to a room full of my friends, all at once?” Jariel shook his head. “Bru, and Dabin. Micah. Sue and TC and…” he paused, unable to continue listing those he would be leaving behind. “I can’t do it, Captain. It would be no easier for Fleur, either. In fact, she’s already taken the children and beamed down to Paris. Last I saw they were unpacking at lightning speed.” He raised his eyes to meet hers, and he tilted his head slightly. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate the gesture. We do. It’s just that…”

“You’ve never liked goodbyes.”

“No, and besides,” he sighed heavily. “I don’t think Kellyn and Salvek could take this going on any longer than it already has.”

Liis stopped fidgeting and sat up straighter in her chair. “You’re going through with this, then?”

Jariel’s earring jingled as he nodded. “We are. She’s already down on the planet with my family, and she seems to be settling in.”

“You’re sure it’s for the best?” Liis wrung her hands slightly, then began twisting the rings on her left ring finger.

“They don’t know what else to do, and I want to help, if I can,” Jariel replied. “We’ll…see what happens.”

“It’s an admirable thing that you’re doing. I know that they’re grateful to you, and Fleur.”

“We didn’t hesitate for a moment. If it can help…” His voice trailed off and he pulled something out of his pocket and held it up on display. “What would you like me to do with this, Captain?”

Liis took in the sight of him holding up his combadge and her mind flashed back over years and years of life and times in which they’d lived. Every choice they’d made and step they’d taken, led up to this moment when it was time, again, for their paths to truly diverge and each to make their own way in the universe. She’d known this day was coming for awhile, but now that it was here she still felt the sting in her throat and a burning sensation somewhere behind her eyes.

“I know that you’re in a hurry to go. Just…” she was about to offer to see him off, but again, remembering his hatred of goodbyes, she stopped. “Leave it with Andrew in the transporter room. I’ll get it from him later.”

“Very well. Is there anything else you require of me, Captain?”

Liis sighed now, folding her arms. “I’d like you, just once, not to call me ‘Captain’ before you go,”

Jariel blinked and shifted his weight. “Liis, are you trying to make this harder?”

“No!” She stomped her foot and launched out of her chair, pacing back and forth before her desk. Finally, she leaned her hands down upon the surface, lowering her head as she raised her eyes to meet his again and stared as if right through him. “Just listen to me for a second.” She drew a deep breath. “You’ve waited a long time for this, Camen. All your life, to have solid ground beneath your feet. To have a real home, a family of your own.”

“Now I have it.”

“Yes, you do, and I don’t want you to spend another second worrying about anything else. No one on the ship, not the ship itself. I know you, Jariel Camen. I know how you think, and I know you will worry some.” Her voice implored him as her tone changed again and softened. “Just don’t let worry about the life you’re leaving behind take a moment away from the life you’re meant to live. Be happy, Jariel, for the first time in your life. Be really, really happy.”

He nodded, and a gentle smile lived for an instant upon his lips before it quickly died away. “Be careful out there.”

Liis nodded.

Jariel stood taller, his shoulders back as he hefted a large duffle over his arm. “Permission to disembark, Captain O’Sullivan?”

Liis’ voice was a mere whisper as she smiled at him. “Permission granted.”

The screen winked out as Jariel terminated the signal, and Liis’ smile grew wider, even as she blinked back tears. “Live the life you were born for, Camen,” she whispered. “The one that will finally make you happy.”

-=Transporter Room Two=-

“The Captain said that I could leave this with you,” Jariel said, as he set his combadge down on the transporter panel.

“Sure thing, Vedek Jariel,” Andrew Parrish brought up the coordinates to which he’d earlier beamed Jariel’s family, and the guest they’d taken with them. “Ready to go?”

“Ready to go home, Andrew.” Jariel said definitively, stepping up onto the pad without an instant of hesitation. “Energize.”

“WAIT!” A frantic voice called as the doors flew open. “Jariel, wait.”

Camen set his bag down and descended, heading toward the shaking, tearful Bajoran woman who called after him.

“Kellyn?” He braced her as she teetered from side to side, looking like her knees were going to give out at any moment. “What is it?”

“She forgot him.” Kellyn’s hands vibrated as she held out a small, sad looking stuffed animal that Jariel readily recognized, as it had spent several years, soggy neck tucked beneath Lair Arie’s arm as she toted ‘him’ everywhere she went. “She forgot Raffe.”

“I don’t think she forgot him, Kellyn,” Jariel said gently, as he lowered her down onto the transporter dais and sat down beside her. “A moment, Ensign?”

Parrish wordlessly secured the station and left them alone. Kellyn grasped hold of the small toy with desperation. For days she’d held herself together, not once showing any emotion or shedding a single tear over anticipation of this moment but now that it had come, she seemed to be unable to stop them taking over.

“She would never have left him on purpose.” Kellyn insisted, wringing the poor little giraffe’s neck absently as she clutched him. “She wouldn’t.”

“I asked her specifically if she’d forgotten anything,” Jariel whispered, putting his arm around Kellyn’s shoulders. “She’s already all unpacked. She’s sharing a room with Tress, by choice, even though she could have had one of her own.”

“How could she leave him? He’s her…” Kellyn stopped speaking, wiped her tears away defiantly with the cuff of her sleeve and held the toy out to him. “You have to take him to her. She’ll be lost without him.”

Jariel understood that the panic rising in her was about Arie leaving behind so much more than her favourite toy.

“She’s going to be okay, I promise you.” Jariel whispered, leaning over and kissing Kellyn on the forehead. “I know you’re afraid. I know it’s difficult.”

”Have you ever turned your child over to someone else to take care of and known that soon you’d be unable to reach them?” Kellyn’s eyes narrowed. “Have you ever watched your child turn into a stranger before your eyes without even knowing why?”

Jariel exhaled slowly. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you don’t know.”

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry.” Jariel continued patiently. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I don’t want any of this. I never did.” Lair droned. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

“I promise I’ll keep you up to date as often as you want on how she’s doing,” Jariel vowed. “I promise, if we even think for a second that she wants to or is ready to come back to the ship, we’ll talk to her about it. In the meantime, we’ll do all we can to help her find her way back to herself. To the emotions that she’s lost.”

“That she has abandoned.”

“Kellyn…”

“I’m sorry. I know. It’s not her fault.” She looked down at the toy again and thought back over the years and wondered what could have been done differently to prevent this day ever coming. Jariel instantly read her expression.

“It’s not yours, either.” He pulled her into a hug, but she remained stiff and still. “Remember that.”

She broke from his embrace and moved toward the transporter panel. She set the toy down on it, beside Jariel’s combadge. Seeing it, she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Would you see that the Captain gets that?” he asked.

“Of course.” Her expression was now as emotionless as he would have expected Salvek’s to be. “Are you ready, Vedek Jariel?"

“Kellyn…” he hated leaving her in the state he knew she was truly in, but she was leaving him little choice. If his life and his training had taught him anything it was that someone who was not yet ready to grieve a loss could not be forced to mourn before they were able.

“Camen, please.” She shook her head. “Don’t.”

He nodded and took his place on the transporter once again. “Hold on to Raffe for her,” he said softly. “She’ll ask you for him, wait and see.”

“Standing by.” Kellyn said flatly, blinking back fresh tears as her shaking hand hovered over the transporter controls.

“Energize.”

Kellyn almost closed her eyes, not wishing to see the emptiness of the transporter pad, as she executed the command.

Instead she watched, as an instant later, Jariel Camen left the USS Serendipity, with her burden rested firmly on his able shoulders.

Now alone in the room, Kellyn uttered a few sorrowful, sacred Bajoran words; a lonely prayer for peace for her daughter and for the good friend who’d finally found his way home.

***************************

Commander Lair Kellyn
Engineering Research and Development
The Alchemy Project

(NRPG: Thanks to JPW for the most meaningful quote at the beginning of this- and thanks to Mr. Dengar for all his help. The Captain's latest surgeries (yes plural) have slowed up progress, but we are still here and we are definitely still writing. Much, much more to come. ~Zanh Liis O'Sullivan)

1144: The Art of Friendship

2011-03-17T03:19:00.000-04:00

by Vol Tryst and Lt. Grace
Stardate 110316.4
Time: Current

-=Quarters of the Reece family, USS Serendipity=-

Vol sighed patiently as he watched just the feet and legs of his dear friend February Grace moving before him. The top and middle portions of her willowy form had disappeared into a large closet, and her voice was muffled as she ran over her apparel options.

"No... no... no... definitely not going to happen."

Vol ducked as she tossed a blouse, hanger and all, over her shoulder, narrowly missing his head.

"If you don't decide soon..."

"I know. I know. But you sprung this on me when I thought the biggest event of my day would be having animal crackers between Sesame Street and naptime."

"Oh, well, if it's too much of an inconvenience for you, I wouldn't want you to miss an episode of—"

"Don't you dare." Bru could be quite threatening even if was just through her voice. Vol was still standing, staring at the closed door... completely quite.

"Frankly, it took us long enough to find time together. I yelped when Dabin told me of our date, and I'm thrilled, so don't you dare walk out on me now mister."

Vol remained very, very, quiet.

"Vol?" Bru inquired. Still nothing.

"VOL!"

"I'm still right here you silly goose." Another hanger and blouse game flying at Vol which he almost failed to evade.

"You're mean!"

"You're beautiful."

February huffed. "This would go by a lot quicker if I knew where I was going."

"How would it be a surprise if you knew where we were going?"

"I'm not a huge fan of surprises, you know," Bru said, sticking her head out of the closet and revealing a head of hair completely askew and possessed of static electricity.

She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. "I look like a blonde-ish bride of Frankenstein. With formula stains on everything I own."

"Then we need to get you something new." Vol tugged her out of the closet by her hand, gently positioning her before the replicator. He looked her up and down. "Yes. Definitely black."

"Black?"

"Yes. Pink stays home today."

"Intriguing." Bru nodded. "I leave myself in your capable hands."

Vol moved to the replicator and began tapping the panel, avoiding the speech interface so as to avoid spoiling the unveiling.

He returned with a simple black dress, soft and elegant. Sleeveless, with a simple neckline and tailored bodice leading to a skirt that would swirl and swish around her as she moved.

Bru looked at it approvingly. "Dude, I love you even more than I did thirty seconds ago, if that is possible.”

“It’s always possible.”

“So very, very true.” She held the dress up to herself and nodded again, but the up and down motion turned to a rapid side to side, and Vol mirrored her movements with much amusement as he anticipated what she was about to say.

“I know, I know. No high heels.”

“You know me so well.” She smiled once again at the thought of the day that awaited her: anything Vol would plan would have to be a fabulous time. “Wherever you're taking me, I don't want to end up detouring to the emergency room."

"I think that can be avoided." Vol moved to her closet and picked out a simple pair of black boots. "These comfortable?"

"Very. Why do you ask?"

"You're in for a bit of a walk."

-=USS Serendipity - Holodeck One - Early 21st Century Earth=-

"Oh Vol..." Bru was in awe.

Vol paused a moment to enjoy the sight as his friend walked on a few paces ahead of him. He held his hands together behind his back and he was absolutely beaming as the waves of joy, surprise and wonder she felt washed over him. He had done good. February turned to look at him.

"Where are we?"

"Le Musée des Beaux-Arts de Montréal."

Bru blinked. Vol chuckled.

"The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts." He smiled. "This particular exhibit is called The Earth is Blue Like an Orange. I know how much you love art and although I'm not sure if Pre-Warp Era Art is to your liking, I thought you might still take some pleasure out of this."

February grinned. “Do I ever.” She grabbed Vol's hand and dragged him down the halls. The floors shone in brilliant black marble, and the walls were white opaque glass. The ceiling was comprised of windows. It was difficult to guess the size of the museum, no matter where you were positioned the place seemed huge.

The rooms displaying the exhibit seemed to be of a different world. The pieces (paintings, sculptures, instillations, photographs and more) experimented with colour, primarily. Bright colours. This place reshaped the fundamentals of the worlds of fantasy, such as Wonderland and Neverland, and brought them together to speaks volumes about relevant issues of the time—while being marvelous simultaneously.

Bru seemed to hurry from piece to piece, desperate to take it all in, in what she was certain would be too short a span of time to see it all.

No matter what she did, these days, it seemed she never had enough time.

Vol sensed the shift in her mood, the conflicting emotions within her as she stood still and quiet, tilting her head side to side as she analyzed the piece.

Vol read the small plaque beside the sculpture “The Nest, by Piccinini.” He nodded. “Creative use of an unusual medium.”

“Mother and child.” Bru replied. “A mother protecting her child, at all cost.”

“That is the natural, maternal instinct.” Vol walked a few steps closer and he watched as her shoulders slumped more than a little. “You do a fine job of it. Sophie is a very happy baby. I wonder, though.” He paused, and February’s head snapped toward him.

“Wonder what?” She put one hand on her hip and shifted uncomfortably. “You know so much about me Vol you rarely have to ‘wonder’ anything.”

“I wonder, when in all this ‘nest building’ that you’re doing, is the last time you did something just for yourself?”

“Besides today?”

Vol nodded and waited as she tried to scan her recent memory for such an event. “I can’t remember.”

“That concerns me. As your friend and as Ship’s Counselor.” He pursed his lips. “I hate to put on a different hat so suddenly but I just have to say this now, while I have the chance. I have to ask when the last time was you got out your easel and painted something?”

February laughed. “Well, mandatory bed rest and new motherhood kind of kill arts and crafts time.”

“Well, we need to fix that.” Vol stated, not offering this as an opinion but as a mandate. “You need time to unwind, Bru. If you don’t, you’ll only get more tense, your health will suffer and Sophie will feel the tension in you, too. Infants—well, they're almost empathic with their sensitivity to the emotions they're exposed to. Happy mothers have happier babies.”

She stepped away, moving to the next work. She raised a hand as if to touch it but didn’t, merely gliding her fingertips through the air near the artwork. She observed the colors, the textures, the way the light played over it. “But when?” She sighed. “Between the new training program they have me running and regular duty shifts, and the baby, and everything else…”

“You can’t do it all. Not all at once. So you have to choose, which would you really rather do right now? Train or fly?”

“Train.” She said without hesitation. “No question. It’s rewarding to watch the next generation move up and take on more responsibility. There are still a few tricks, especially to do with the Alchemy, I can teach them.”

“Then we should talk to the Captain. See about shifting your focus.”

Bru bit her lip. Any idea of talking to the Captain about anything made her nervous.

“I could…make it a recommendation.” Vol offered. “I don’t want to overstep, but if it would help I-“

Bru threw her arms around him and squeezed him so tight his shoes nearly left the deck. “Would you?”

“Of course.” He placed a kiss atop her mop of blonde hair and held her at arms length. “I’ll recommend that the current work load is inadvisable given your new family responsibilities and suggest that your talents be maximized in the role of teacher.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “However, you must promise me that when we really get in a jam you’ll still take the helm and get us out of it.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll storm the bridge and tackle whoever tries to stop me.”

“A force to be reckoned with.” Vol smiled. “Now, about that painting…”

“Soon,”

“Now.” Vol stepped back and smiled again. “Computer, save program and run new program: Tryst/Grace outing 3.”

The scene shifted and suddenly, February was in the middle of a beautiful garden setting. The wind gently rustled through the leaves on the trees, and what appeared to be endless rows of flowerbeds decorated the land all around. A brook ran softly through it all, gurgling and churning gently to create a most relaxing sound.

“Vol, what are you…”

“Be right back. Computer, arch!”

He disappeared and when he returned a moment later, he was carrying a small folding chair and two very familiar black bags. One contained her easel, and the other, an array of paint and brushes. “Now.” He said softly, as he set up the chair and held out a bag in each hand.

“But what about our day?”

“We have lots of day left,” he promised. “I’ll be back in an hour to see how you’re progressing… with lunch.”

She shook her head as he retreated once more toward the exit, not wanting to break the magic of the moment by saying much more.

“Vol?”

He paused, arching an eyebrow expectantly as he waited for her to say what he knew she would.

“I love you.”

"And I you."

Lt. Vol Tryst
Ship’s Counselor
USS Serendipity NCC-2023

and

Lt. Grace
Flight Control Instructor
The Alchemy Project

1143: Morta

2011-03-14T03:16:00.000-04:00

by Rada Dengar
110314.2100
After The Three-Sided Square

-=An Alien Vessel=-

Morta was a woman who took few things fearfully, and to whom worry was mostly too much to worry about.

Certainly by this time in her life, she was well accustomed to the coughing and sputtering of a sickly and deteriorating engine. It was merely natural in a craft so old and poorly kept.

This humble ship was a century out of date, set to be destroyed before they’d perhaps mistakenly saved it from scrap. Much like her joints seemed to some days, it would rattle and it would shake uneasily, as they slowly traversed what felt like ever growing gaps between unwelcoming and unfamiliar stars.

Her people; the Maclaurans, were travellers, from a race; very like any other, not quite so rich as to build ships of their own, but that little bit too proud to accept any assistance in charity.

They were not explorers. They were not refugees. They were merely a people who’d chosen to take to the skies for a new life, only to discover it no more glamorous or fulfilling than living upon the dirt of home.

Their ship was self-sustaining, only occasionally taking on passengers in their journeys for a sliver of latinum for trade. For those like her, toiling in the heat of the galley, it was their only real contact with other races and their bizarrely alien ways.

In a lifetime, she’d met merely dozens. Some were friendly. Some were interesting. Others were pains in parts of the anatomy that she found it curious seemed to be possessed by even the most unusual alien races.

When their lives were threatened she took it in her stride. When her crewmates returned from missions to worlds where a relaxing day meant they merely attempted to hang, draw and halve you, she helped as she could in bandaging their wounds and then simply returned to work.

Certainly, she was not a woman easily shaken.

It made it all the more of a mystery to her then why this one guest, when she’d serve his food, had the ability, and the glare, to render her nearly incapable of speech.

For three days he had come; the picture of stoic posture and an arrogant air, and demanded she give him his due.

He was far taller than she. He’d tower over her as he stood with a waiting tray. With emotionless eyes he seemed to cut what constituted her species’ heart in two, only to coldly insist she pull herself together.

A man of few words, and fewer concerns, he’d never told her the name of his race. Only from photographs had she identified his kind.

Had she known more of that noble species though, she’d have seen something deeply incongruous in him.

“This meal. I trust it will this time meet my dietary requirements.”

Barely, could she force her eyes to meet his for a glancing brush.

“Y..yes, sir.”

“Are you certain?!”

“Y…yes.”

He didn't move. He simply continued to stand there; unfeelingly studying her soul like a crumbling book; as though it were so easily acquired and read, yet just as liable to fall to pieces in his grip.

Finally though, he seemed to be done for now.

“Very well.”

He quickly turned, his words a clear acceptance of the tray he took, and not a validation of the woman whose knees now shook before him.

As he took his seat alone by the wall, probing at his food with disgust, she had the horrible feeling that his eyes hadn’t really left her. Though hers was not a truly empathic species, she could sense something deeply unnatural in him. It was like he knew more about her than he should.

Not realising just how much he really had gotten to her, she jumped as a hand was clamped upon her shoulder.

Her eyes wide, she turned, then blushed, as she realised it was merely Gretcher; one of her fellow kitchen hands.

“Something wrong?” he asked; the sweet young man always far too concerned about the happiness of an old woman.

“I’m alright,” she said softly. “It’s just…him. He gives me the creeps.”

“I don’t see it, personally. Sure, he’s a bit weird, but they wouldn’t call them aliens if they weren’t. I met one once, I think it was called a Klingon, and it tried to sell me a lifetime supply of root vegetables, before propositioning one of the female deckhands for something called oo-mox...”

She smiled slightly, but it quickly dissipated.

“No, it’s something more than that.”

“Is this your female instinct playing up again?” Gretcher asked with a slight sigh; a frequent sceptic of the claims of higher senses being possessed by certain members of his species.

“I don’t trust him.”

“Yeah, well don’t worry. He’s supposed to be getting off at the next planet. He said, the sooner he could be released from the confines of this 'primitive vessel', the better.”

“The Captain won’t like that,” she replied; amazed at this stranger's audacity.

“The Captain doesn’t like him,” Gretcher answered. “He says his sort’s unnatural.”

Morta cringed slightly at the thought. For as terrifying as this man was, she could still not stand the Captain’s many prejudices being used against him.

“I hear though that the first officer feels differently,” Gretcher added.

”Many of the young women do,” Morta replied, still shaken. “He can be very…charming.”

“Another thing I don’t understand.” Gretcher shook his head, as he observed the cold and uncharismatic man.

Morta too continued to watch him, and it was then she saw him do something she hadn’t expected. For a moment, he seemed to look a little sad, as he took from his pocket a small and hard to make out device.

“What’s he looking at?” she asked, furrowing her brow; afraid to move any closer to get a better look.

“A holo-imager,” Gretcher answered, having caught sight of it earlier. “He doesn’t let anyone else see it, but he barely ever seems to stop looking at it.”

“I wonder why…” she asked, needing to consciously stop herself from closing the distance so she could see more clearly.

“It’s better not to know,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders, turning around to return to his work.

“No,” Morta replied, still observing him with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t think it is.”

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1142: The Three-Sided Square

2011-02-27T03:15:00.000-05:00

by Rada Dengar
110226.2200
After Chateau and Beer

-=Personal Quarters of Rada Dengar and Wren Elton=-

Wren quietly sighed, worried by what she was seeing and more so by what she was feeling. In spite of the general cheer about the ship today, there was something strange in the mood of one Angosian.

She slowly approached Rada from behind. He was quiet today, even for him. It wasn’t sadness, as such, though. She couldn’t place it that easily.

He was however exceptionally contemplative, as time and again he would flick arbitrarily though the pages of his book, read a little, then flick through again.

It seemed like he was searching for something without knowing quite what it was.

“You know you’ve barely put that thing down since we found it,” she said, leaning in over his shoulder and causing him to jump slightly as he was pulled out of the internal world of his thoughts. “Maybe it’s time to give it a rest…”

He looked up at her, a little startled. Slowly he recovered and exhaled. He realised she was right.

He snapped the book shut in one hand then placed it down. Yet he couldn’t help but to continue to stare. His fingers never left it as it rested on the table before them.

Wren moved around to sit on the couch beside him, gently taking his hand in hers and away from the book. He could see the concern in her eyes, and she could see that he just wanted to pick it up again.

She hated seeing him like this.

“Have you figured out who sent it yet?” she asked, picking it up herself and rubbing her thumb over the hard cover.

“It must have been someone in my family,” he suggested, without any real certainty. “I still can’t figure out though why they wouldn’t have left their name…”

“Maybe…maybe you should just try contacting them.”

“And ask about it?”

She nodded but it was clear he didn’t want to do that. Rada merely sighed, shaking his head in response.

Without even really thinking about it, he picked up the brown paper that the book had come wrapped in off the table and began to examine it in his spare hand. Seeing how uncomfortable he was, Wren squeezed the hand she still held.

She could tell he wanted to talk but that he didn’t really know about what.

“So…The Three-sided Square...” She read the title aloud. “You said it was Angosian?”

“Yes, it’s a very old and well-known children’s story…”

Wren simply watched him patiently as he sat the paper down, knowing he wanted to say more.

“It’s about, somewhat ridiculously, this…anthropomorphic square who sets out to leave Square Town to see the world. After a frightening encounter with a rather grumpy circle, he ends up in Triangle City. Everything’s a triangle there. The windows are triangles. The boats are triangles. Well, you get the idea.”

Wren nodded that she did and Rada continued with just the slightest hint of sadness entering into his tone.

“Of course he doesn’t fit. He can’t get in through the triangle shaped doors. He’s uncomfortable in a triangle shaped house. Besides, the triangles don’t like him very much. Eventually though he begins to belong.”

“They accept him?”

“He thinks so. Everything starts to seem easier. Only then he catches sight of his reflection in a shop window. That’s when he realises that his top has begun to be squished in by being forced through triangle shaped doors. He’s beginning to become a triangle. He knows then that he has to go home…”

Rada stopped, sighing. Wren could tell he was intending to remain silent.

“Was it a favourite of yours as a child, or…?”

Rada shook his head that it wasn’t as he picked the book up again. “I’d heard of it but it was never particularly significant to me.”

“So then why would your family want to send it?”

Rada’s eyes filled with fear as a possibility occurred, causing Wren to hold his hand even tighter.

“Maybe…maybe they know.”

“Know what?”

Rada paused and shifted awkwardly, clearly not wanting to put this into words.

“What I’ve done,” he finally answered. “What I’ve become.”

Wren’s eyes opened wider.

“Hold on,” She immediately objected, having thought they were past this. “You did what you did to save my life. You…”

Rada smiled slightly sadly at her, contemplating how to explain this. “What I did, what I now remember doing, was a very horrible thing. I’ll always have to live with it. However I’d done many things one of my people should never do before that. I’d changed a lot to even be in that position in the first place. Starfleet; this life we lead, it’s not the Angosian way.”

“No, it’s not,” Wren answered, taking the book from him and placing it back upon the table. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve changed. If you’d been content to do things the Angosian way, I don’t think you’d have ever left.”

“You’re right, I guess,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I never did quite fit in there either.”

“You fit in here,” she assured him.

“I fit with you and with Tam,” Rada replied with a slight smile. “I wouldn’t have even come close to fitting in here though when I first left home.”

Wren was surprised by hearing him speak of Angosia III like this.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you refer to where you grew up as home before.”

“I haven’t thought of it as home in a long time,” he admitted. “I still don’t. I’ve just been thinking now of how it used to be. I once belonged there and the rest of the galaxy seemed so strange. I’m quite different now though.”

“I didn’t know you then. But I think that if you could speak to your old self, he’d be pleased with how you ended up. Anyone would have to be.”

“I almost did,” Rada answered. “On Earth, I saw a young man. I could tell he was Angosian and, Wren, he was so much like a younger version of me. It was frightening.” Rada paused and closed his eyes, just trying to grasp how much had changed in him. “He had so much innocence I’ve lost.”

“I’ve known you a long time now,” Wren replied. “I don’t think you’ve lost anything. You’ve gained a lot though.”

“Yeah, well I know that’s not how they’d see it,” Rada said, turning to look now at her and contemplating just how good she was to him. “They’d think I’ve just changed to be more like the people out here. I think this book is someone’s way of telling me it’s time to go home.

“Do you want to go back?”

Rada immediately shook his head. “I don’t belong there anymore. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to say to any of them after all this time.”

“You are starting to miss Angosia though, aren't you?”

“No, I…” Wren gave him a look that reminded him who he was talking to. “It’s just this time of year. The ship tends to take on a very human, Christmas feeling. It reminds me how far away I am from where I began. I miss not feeling that.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to go back there?” Wren prompted him, just wanting to make it better.

“I’m sure,” Rada answered without certainty, though certainly with fear at the prospect. He looked to the book again. “First, I just really have to figure out who sent this…”

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1141: Chateau and Beer

2011-02-17T03:20:00.000-05:00

by Jamie Halliday and Ashton Ledbetter
110209.0200
After The Yellow Sheep

Christmas Eve at the Ledbetter residence was a most frightening occasion, though certainly not intentionally. In a classic and whimsical display of Yuletide generosity, Ashton’s mother, as a matter of tradition, always gave the hired servants six to nine P.M. off to be with their families. It did little good for the Hupyrians, who had no use for Christmas Eve or Christmas, but it did allow Ashton’s mother to present herself as a shining example of philanthropy during the local Bridge Club meetings.

Mother dearest would wear the same red velvet dress during dinner each year. Her hair was pulled back so tightly into a bun that her already sculpted Patrician façade appeared to resemble more a skeleton then a living person. Father would be rambling on about his latest case as Mother awkwardly set down the turkey, which of course the servants had prepared before being dismissed for three hours.

Apparently there was some sort of to-do over whether Federation Law allowed a ferret to be named as principle owner of a London boutique specializing in women’s hats. At issue was a dispute over services rendered and paid for in advance that were not completed to the satisfaction of the customer. The proprietor of the establishment hailed from a planet where a creature quite similar to ferrets were considered Gods, and therefore were not only allowed to own property, but in fact operating a business without the name of one of the Gods on your deed was, in fact, illegal.

At issue was the freedom of the Owner to practice the religion of his choosing, even if that meant the customer would be unable to recoup any of her payment by suing an assetless rodent.

If there was one thing Ashton hated, it was lawsuits involving property and furry creatures. He ate as quickly as he could, and even performed the menial task of setting the dirty dishes in the replicator to be reconstituted. Ashton was always somewhat disturbed by the fact that, despite his food being literally assembled one atom a time, it had in fact once been a plate, or any other number of vile things.

Upon unwrapping and thanking his parents for the yearly ascot, he kissed mother on her bony cheek, and retired back to his apartment. Now adorned in fuzzy slippers, a fuzzy robe, and eating a fuzzy peach, Ashton surveyed the city from on high as a solo piano slowly chimed out Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas over the surround speakers.

Despite what should have been the perfect moment, something just didn’t feel quite right. Champaign? No. Replace the piano with a classical guitar? No. He set his peach down, and tapped a hidden panel on the wall, causing a mirror to slide away and reveal a computer terminal.

“Computer, are you able to locate Jamie Halliday?”

The Computer thought for a moment, before popping up a map of the globe, with an arrow over the Scotland home of the Halliday clan.

“May I speak with him?”

The computer chirped, and Ashton was suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of raucous laughter and loud music coming over the communications line.

“This is Jamie!” Halliday shouted over the noise to be heard.

“Crewman Halliday, this is Ashton Ledbetter…” He paused for a moment. “Obviously I’ve caught you in the middle of a gather, my apologies. I’ll contact you another time.

[There’s no need to do that,] Jamie replied, as a festive debate between two Scottish brogues managed to overcome the sound of the music. [I’m not busy!]

“Are you sure?” Ashton asked skeptically, thinking Jamie was just being polite.

[Sure I’m sure,] Jamie replied as Ashton heard a voice, incomprehensible over the music, speaking to him on the other end. [It’s Ashton. A friend of mine.] The voice seemed to mumble again. [What’s that…? Oh, my mother’s asking why you’re calling.]

“I was just wondering if you’d like to get together tonight for something to eat.”

[I’d love to, but I can’t go anywhere tonight.] The voice mumbled once more. [Apparently you’re welcome to come here though!]

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”

[Then don’t be! Just come over.]

“Well…” Ashton thought for a second, not wishing to intrude on what was clearly a lively and loving family gathering, and indeed quite inexperienced in how to act at one, yet noting the loneliness of where he was now. “Well, thank you. I believe I will. Might I ask about the dress code?”

Even over the blaring music, laughter could be heard.

[I told you he was funny!] Jamie said to the crowd. [Don’t worry about it. Just come in what you’re wearing.]

Looking down across his fuzzy robe and slippers, which it was true were personally tailored; twice actually, after the first one couldn’t get the collar right, Ashton thought better.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

-=/\=-

By the time Ashton materialized in front of a small, well-kept but poorly designed house, he was dressed impeccably. While some people chose to slob about by dressing in smart casual, Ashton preferred a sort of ‘genius informal’, but obviously not too heavy on the 'informal'.

He’d carefully selected a simple, black, barely absurdly priced at all outfit, which should fit him in anywhere. It was clearly the fashionable choice. What it was not however, he realized, was the warm choice as he felt precious Italian shoes sinking down into the freezing snow.

Seeing the small house, whose functioning chimney bellowing smoke bizarrely suggested a fireplace for more than charm, Ashton wondered if there weren’t some mistake in the transporter coordinates. It was hard to believe a party the likes of which he’d heard would be contained within such a miniature replication of the family servant’s quarters.

Yet as he felt the snow threatening to sink straight through his shoes and render his socks damp and unpleasant, he decided that were it the right address or not they’d better prepare, because he was coming inside.

Rushing to the door, he pulled his arms around himself, scanned his eye over quickly, but was unable to find any chime. Giving up, he knocked insistently with his free hand on the wood.

The door was soon pulled open, revealing what appeared to be an ordinary sized woman, slightly miss-proportioned. Ashton had no chance to question if it were the right place, before he felt himself being pulled inside and the door shut behind him.

“Glad you could make it, dear,” she said excitedly, her arm linked in his. “Do take off your shoes.”

Ashton looked down, and as much as he preferred not to go around barefoot, he could see he was likely to trod filthy snow in with him and so he reluctantly complied. Thankfully, he’d chosen to wear designer socks today as well.

His task however was made slightly difficult as the small woman didn’t wish to free up his arm. No sooner had he managed to remove one shoe before he found himself descended on by what, had it not been for a single friendly face, he would have assumed was a small street gang.

“Welcome to the Halliday residence,” Jamie said proudly, moving to free his friend from his mother’s eager arm, though she seemed intent on holding on. He then turned back to the crowd. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce my friend Captain Ashton Ledbetter. Ashton; this is my mother, my father, my uncle Donny, my sister Dolina and my two brothers; Artair and Colon.”

“How do you do,” Ashton said, as he attempted to navigate the assault of approaching hands, each expecting to be shaken, while still trying to remove his second shoe.

Though the music had been turned down to a dull roar, the noise was more than made up for by the sudden clamor of greeting words.

Doing his best to be polite in the presence of these rather large people, Ashton tried to respond to each of their greetings in turn, yet two of the males were looking at him rather disapprovingly, and the younger of the females was looking at him all too approvingly.

His eyes quickly locked on hers and she smiled at him a little flirtatiously. However his thoughts were soon distracted, as he felt the extremely expensive bottle of Chateau La Barre he’d brought being yanked from his hand.

The man he assumed was Jamie’s father; it was hard to tell with the speed of the introductions, was examining it happily.

“Ah, grand,” he said. “It’s good ta see Jamison’s keeping such fine company.”

Then before he knew any more, the crowd had Ashton surrounded, with a person on every side, as he was led the very short distance to what appeared to be some sort of living space. All the while, Jamie’s sister kept eyeing him, as Jamie’s mother continued to talk excitedly in his ear. Jamie seemed to find watching the exchange quite amusing, though his sister seemed to find it less so.

“My, aren’t you a handsome young man?” the mother said, then turned rapidly to her husband. “Doesn’t he look like that man?”

“Which man's that then?”

“We used to know him. You know; pasty skin, beady eyes? You must remember.”

“Nah, I don’t know what yer talkin' about. You must be imaginin’ things…”

“He thinks I’m imaginin’ things,” she said to Ashton with a shrug of her shoulder, insistent that she was not. “He spoke a bit like you actually. Maybe he was your father. What was his name?”

“Ashton Charles Ledbetter, the same as my own.”

“No, that’s not it,” the mother replied, seeming perplexed.

“He couldn’t come up with anything a wee bit more original for you?” Dolina asked teasingly.

“Now, go easy,” her uncle insisted. “Names are hard to come up with. They named you after the neighbours’ dog.”

One of her brothers laughed.

“They named you after their parakeet,” the uncle added.

Then suddenly Ashton realized they'd arrived at the seating area, each of them taking their place. Dolina sat to his left and Jamie, protectively, to his right.

Jamie’s mother placed the now opened bottle of Chateau La Barre down on the table, and surrounded it with an assortment of other wines and longed neck beers. The color drained from Ashton’s face as he saw hands grasping for the rare vintage.

“Oh that’s really for after… dinner… tasting.” Ashton’s voice trailed off as he saw the bottle poured and rapidly consumed by Jamie’s family.

“Did ya same somethin’?” Artair asked from across the table.

“No, nothing at all,” Ashton shook his head. His initial shock turned to glee when he saw how much the family was enjoying the wine. Feeling rather game to try their offerings, Ashton grabbed one of the beers from the center of the table.

“Jamie,” Ashton whispered. “I believe I left my bottle opener… I don’t own a bottle opener.”

Dolina snatched the bottle from his hand, twisted off the cap, and set it down in front of him.

“Well, thank you very much, my lady.” Ashton said, with a bit of a grin. She inclined her head to say “thank you,” with a grin of her own.

Jamie’s mother returned to the table with a large platter of lamb shanks and set it down in the center. She then bustled back to the kitchen to retrieve the sides that would accompany their meal.

“So, Jamison introduced you as Captain Ashton Ledbetter,” Jamie’s father began, “But Jamison, I thought your Captain was that girl ya told me ‘bout. What was her name? Lonny Zeus?”

“Zanh Liis, and she is not a girl,” Jamie corrected.

“Where do these kids come up with these crazy names?” Jamie’s father shook his head as he grabbed a shank from the platter and plopped it on his plate.

“She’s Bajoran,” Jamie added.

“So why are you a Captain and on the same ship?”

“Well I’d very much like to know that myself. I am a part of an… organization, of which Zanh Liis was also a part. I had my own ship, for a few fleeting moments, which was lost saving her crew from doom. As reward for my heroism I was placed aboard her vessel as an observer until another ship could be procured for me to Captain. Apparently there is a backlog at the Starfleet shipyards,” Ashton grumbled.

“Well that hardly seems fair. If ya lost yer ship savin’ hers, they should be givin’ ya her ship.” Dolina chimed in.

“Have you ever considered a career at Starfleet Command?” Ashton asked her, completely sincere.

“Me?!” Dolina asked with an amused laugh, before adding an exaggerated wink. “I’d like ta think I’m far too excitin' for that.”

Ashton found the gesture so enticing and surprising that he didn’t immediately notice the sudden drop in conversation as her father and two of her brothers began to give him warning glares. Jamie’s uncle also gave a warning look; though it was more of the variety of ‘watch out; she’s dangerous’. It was an expression to be taken all the more seriously given Jamie had earlier told them one of Ashton’s claims to have strangled a Borg Queen with her own spine.

“Actually, Starfleet can be…quite a…” Ashton slowly recognised the silence that had descended around him. “A challenge.”

Suddenly, he felt rather uncomfortable as he noticed all eyes upon him. Thankfully, Jamie’s mother quickly spoke again. She had an eager smile on her lips; wondering if the two of them would hit it off.

“Oh, there’re so many questions we want ta ask ya.”

“Aye, I’ve got one,” Jamie’s father cut in sternly. “D’ya understand how to treat a lady?”

“Dad!” Dolina groaned, her face turning red as she looked away.

Again one of her brothers seemed highly amused.

“This from a man whose idea of a romantic first date was a parma and chips at O’Shannon’s pub,” Jamie’s mother teased.

“I still maintain I’ve never had a better meal,” Jamie’s father answered, the sternness leaving his tone. “Then again, maybe that was the company…”

Jamie’s mother giggled slightly at the suggestion, their eyes locking on each other, while their children turned away at this display of affection. Ashton could tell the attention had been successfully diverted from him once more.

“Yes, well, don’t worry. I can assure you I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” Ashton added.

“Well, I know that my Jamison’s a good judge of people,” Jamie’s mother replied, taking her husband’s hand. “If yer his friend, that says enough ta me.”

“Are ya kiddin’?” Artair laughed. “He’s a terrible judge of people. D’ya remember the furniture incident?”

Everyone except Ashton laughed, recalling the story.

“About five years back, a lad he knew asked him ta store some of his old furniture while he was off planet,” Artair explained.

“He said he’d be back in a week to collect it,” Jamie justified, though it was clear he wasn’t embarrassed.

“So of course Jamison obliges,” Artair added. All of Jamie’s family repeated the words, “Of course” in chorus.

“Do y’know what happened ta that furniture?” Artair asked.

Ashton shook his head.

“Well, at the moment a Starfleet Captain’s sittin’ on some of it…”

Everyone laughed as they saw Ashton’s realization. Though his immediate reaction was to try to say something kind to avoid Jamie being made uncomfortable to have his mistake recalled, he could see Jamie laughing just as much.

“No, the lad’s a terrible judge of character,” his father added, with a slight smile. “What he is though is a bloody good test of it. The wrong sort of people will take advantage of him. The way he tells it, that’s something y’ve never done.” He raised his glass. “So you’re alright by this family, Ashton Ledbetter.”

Raising their glasses as well, everyone murmured in agreement. Ashton smiled, slightly taken aback, feeling something warm and quite indescribable.

“Well, thank you,” he said sincerely. “Thank you very much.”

**********************************************
Crewman Jamie Halliday
Engineering
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Ashton Ledbetter
Observer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1140: The Christmas Star

2011-02-17T03:08:00.001-05:00

by Vol Tryst and Dabin Reece
110209.0100
After Mission Improbable

Vol Tryst sat at his computer, double checking his appointment calendar for the next week. Depending on the person he was scheduled to see, his reactions varied anywhere from pleasant smile to shrug to cringe. He reached slowly for a mostly empty cup of coffee and was just about to press the cup to his lips, when an intruder disturbed what was to be a relaxing morning.

Without a chime requesting entry, the door to Vol’s office simply opened. Vol froze with the coffee cup at his lips and shifted his gaze to see a wild eyed Dabin Reece pointing at him with a trembling finger.

“You!” Reece spoke in a gravely voice just barely above a whisper. He moved swiftly towards the Betazoid and Vol thought the same thing everyone else thinks when they are charged by a crazed intruder with unknown intentions.

*Finish the coffee before it’s too late.*

Vol gulped down the last of the cup, and just in time, as Reece grabbed his wrist and pulled him up from his chair with surprising strength. The mug toppled to the floor in what appeared to be slow motion as Vol was dragged away. Too shell-shocked to realize what was happening, Vol allowed Reece to keep on pulling until they were out of the office and inside a turbolift.

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“Replimat.” Reece answered, as he circled the lift like a caged animal. The Replimat was a small room aboard the ship housing a few larger sized replicator designed to handle more than your typical bowl of soup or cat food.

“Can I ask why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Reece shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You’re… worried about something.” Vol surmised, sensing Dabin’s emotions.

The lift stopped and Vol was once again moving involuntarily down the corridor. Dabin pulled him into the Replimat and pointed at an image of an item that was frozen on the screen above one of the replicators.

“I hate this,” Dabin said, pointing at the picture of a garden gnome. Vol looked up at the image, blinked and resisted the urge to gulp.

“Okay,” He said, waiting for more input.

“It just doesn’t say O’Sullivan to me.”

Vol laughed out loud. “No, it doesn’t. Should it?”

“Look, the Captain is throwing this sort of Christmas surprise for the Irishman. Just don’t tell her I know because she doesn’t know I know.”

Two engineers, having just replicated a replacement part for the ventilation unit in Sickbay, glanced back over their shoulders at Reece as they were about to leave.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Dabin said, holding his finger up to his lips. “It’s supposed to be a secret!”

“I didn’t say anything!” Vol shot back, holding his hands up in innocence. “And if it is indeed a secret, how is it that you came to—”

“Liisy talked to the ice man, all hush hush. That always means something is going down. Then I saw Steele all decked out like the Michelin Man and muttering something about a tree down by the transporter room. I put the pieces together from there. That and I pulled the transport logs after they left the ship. So I need something really O’Sullivan like to surprise him with, a gift from the crew. The gnome just isn’t talking to me. Help me Vol!!!”

Vol tensed his face and shut his eyes. He raised his index finger to drill it into his right ear for a second or two before removing it and stretching out his face.

"Counselor!" Dabin's pitch was beginning to inch away from persistence towards whining. Vol quickly placed his hands on the Trill's shoulder.

"Yes, Dabin! Of course I will help."

"Good."

"What's in it for me?"

"You—what?" Dabin almost yelped.

"My time as Ship's Counselor is very valuable Commander. There could be a patient waiting for me right now, in my office, in turmoil beyond your wildest imagination. And yet, here I am and here I shall remain if you make it worth my while." Vol cocked a single eyebrow. It was a signal, the gauntlet had been thrown down.

Dabin was quiet at first as he peered at the Counselor suspiciously.

"Did you have something in mind?"

Vol grinned.

"How is that beautiful wife of yours?" Once the words were heard and understood, Dabin's mind went places that caused the counselor to fail at stifling a laugh. A hand founds its way to his abdomen, an instinct when one's abs clench in pain despite laughing in glee.

"I miss her, that's all."

"...really?" Dabin joked.

"I do and I want to kidnap her. I've let you have her all to yourself for quite some time and I have been very patient."

"I gather you mean that you'd like to spend time with her?"

"Yes and soon."

Dabin's face was riddled with confusion.

"You know, you could have just taken off with her at any time. I'm sure she would've played along. She misses you too."

Vol raised his eyebrow again. "Is that so? How long would it have taken before you summoned all of the Sera's security officers to help you find her?"

"An hour at most I imagine."

Vol rolled his eyes. "You would have begging for help the moment you realized she was gone.”

“This isn’t getting my present selected! I’ll watch Sophie and you two can go have your day of fun. Deal!”

"Right, so..." Vol clapped and rubbed his hands together, pivoting so as to look up at the image of the garden gnome once more. "...a gift for Mr. O'Sullivan."

"You go first." Dabin suggested.

"Me? You want me to come up with an idea right now? Why?"

"That was my first guess." Dabin pointed to the viewer.

"Right!" Vol submitted. He approached the console and surveyed the buttons which gave him ample options to choose from. He tapped a few and then looked up at the viewer to browse the selections available. Once he found something he stopped.

"How about that?"
Dabin tilted his head to the side, looking at the picture of a small knife with Celtic knot carved into the handle.

“Too Blane,” Dabin said, shaking his head. Vol shook his as well, for a different reason, and brought up a picture of gift basket with an array of Christmas themed toffees.

“Too Dengar. Next!”

What followed was a rather hideous Christmas themed vest and scarf. Reece regarded it for a moment, then shook his head.

“Too me. But send me the number of that file. No, this is big, Vol. This is like the biggest deal for people of his faith. I love all the lights and stuff but I don’t know Christmas like he does! It needs to be meaningful, and respectful, and emotional and not tacky or ugly.”

“I can see why you are stumped,” Vol grinned as he spoke under his breath. “You said there is possibly a tree. Ornaments are part of the tradition, perhaps we could come up with something along those lines?”

“So what are you thinking?”

"Does he like stars?"

"Huh?" Dabin looked to the Counselor as the hybrid looked over his shoulder back at Dabin.

"Or does he prefer angels?"

"I haven't a clue." Dabin was on the brink of sounding helpless. Why'd he have to be determined to be a nice guy? It's so hard!

"Well, which do you prefer?" Vol now turned to Dabin directly. "Present are much more about the giver than they are the receiver anyway."

"They are?"

"Stars or angels!?"

“He has to have an angel already. I’m thinking star.”

Vol turned around and found tree ornaments which were traditionally tied, hung or placed on the ceremonial tree. There were quite a few.

"Alright, which do you fancy?" Vol spread his arms out wide as thirty-five or so ornaments were displayed in a slideshow on the monitor.

Reece looked at the offerings and tapped his foot. As his eyes moved from one to the other, he could sense Vol’s mind almost playing the “warmer colder” game in his head, leading him towards the one Vol liked.

“That one!” Reece shouted.

“I agree,” Vol nodded. “I’ll have it replicated, wrapped, and the good Commander will find it on his doorstep.”

“With a note saying its from the crew?”

“Yes Dabin, with the note.”

“You’re the best, Counselor!”

“I know.”

*******************************************
Vol Tryst
Ship’s Counselor
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

&

Dabin Reece
Chief Science Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1139: The Yellow Sheep

2011-02-03T21:52:00.000-05:00

by Jamie Halliday
110203.1430
Shortly After Mission Improbable

-=Scotland=-

In a small house, coated heavily with snow, a sweet rotund little woman was busy at work. Her hips wiggled as she moved back and forth, fussing with the tree. She’d move a piece of tinsel to exactly the right place, step back and realise it was entirely the wrong place, then decide to fix it all over again.

“Leave it be, ma,” a gruff voice instructed her, but she paid him no heed.

“Oh, let her do it,” an even gruffer one replied, having become quite accustomed to her quirks through many years of marriage.

Finally, the round woman stopped, stepping back, and looking at what was by this point barely recognisable as tree. Instead it was a pile of flashing lights and silver tinsel, with a single angel in top whose paper dress had long since been torn.

“Perfect,” the woman said enthusiastically, as she observed her work with an excited smile.

“You know, none of us even care about this stuff anymore,” the first gruff voice said.

It belonged to Artair, her middle child; now a burly man in his thirties, every bit the image of his father, but who’d always still be to her the sweet little boy who’d made the wonky clay cup which sat always upon their mantelpiece.

“Now you know that’s not true,” she replied in her squeaky high voice, not really minding his tone.

She was far too happy today to let anything bother her at all. On Christmas Day all too often her children had places to be, and their own lives to live. Yet today was Christmas Eve; her favourite day of the year, when none had the heart to deny her the tradition that they’d all be together.

“Oh, aye, the favourite loves his Christmas time.”

“He thinks every day’s Christmas,” a feminine voice added teasingly. It was the voice of her daughter Dolina, who’d managed to be pried away from the busy life of hospital emergencies and yelling ‘stat’ to be here today as well.

“Now,” her husband said sternly, peeking out from behind his newspaper. “Y’know we never have any favourites.”

Artair and Dolina simultaneously rolled their eyes.

“So then d’ya want to tell me why he’s the only one who ever gets a handmade scarf?” Artair asked. “He’s nowhere near here when winter comes.”

“Because he’s the only one willing ta be seen dressed in something his ma knitted him,” she answered, wondering now if the tree could sparkle just a little more. “It’s no use making it for one of you so it’ll sit in yer cupboards all year long.”

“Well we’d look ridiculous in it,” Dolina answered. “Whereas he just looks like…”

“Him,” both she and Artair finished together.

Finally, the old woman had to leave her tree be, as she was disturbed by a rapping knock on the old wooden door.

“It’s open,” her husband shouted, quite comfortable in his well worn recliner rocker and not too keen to get up if it were just anyone.

As he saw who it was though, he smiled, and set his paper aside.

It was his brother; a heavier man, with a chin covered in hair and a face with two permanent dimples.

“Ah, Donny, ‘tis good to see you again,” he said, forcing tired legs to raise him to the floor.

“And you as well, Duncan,” his brother answered, using his free hand to steady him before he fell.

Duncan however was actually much more concerned with the contents of his other hand. Retrieving it, he examined the bottle of wine approvingly.

“Ah, grand,” Duncan said. “So how are ya keepin’ yourself?”

“Oh fine. Bridget’s been keeping me on my toes.” Duncan merely smiled knowing that Bridget, his brother’s on again, off again, slap you in the face then get angry when you didn’t ask her for a meal next Saturday, girlfriend, could keep any man busy. “And you?”

“Ah, ‘tis too peaceful. All of the better criminals seem to have dried up. Sometimes I wish I’d let a few more of them go in me younger days. Give me something to do now.”

“Don’t ya mean give me something ta do?” came the voice of his oldest son Colon, as he stepped in through the door.

His voice was as gruff as his father’s, and he was a big man himself, but he was no shy sort when it came to affection. He pulled his father into a hug, nearly ripping him from the ground, before turning and in turn acknowledging every other member of his family. Of course he hugged his mother too, but having to stoop down reminded him to hold her gently, while she took no such precaution with squeezing him.

“So who’s still missing?” Duncan asked, counting one extra place at the tiny dinner table, which it was a mystery how such a large collection of people would manage in any way to fit, and how they had for years on end. It was quickly becoming a challenge just to fit them all in this small living space, with the people to space ratio becoming entirely disproportionate.

“Only one,” Donny answered, contended to be surrounded by this group.

Duncan smiled, realising who it was and thinking back over a memory from a few years ago.

“D’ya remember when he worked for me?” Duncan started laughing. “I had poor Reverend Campbell in a terrible state about gettin’ his engine back and running in time to get him to his big prayer meet. So I sent the boy out to get a new drive control. It’s a five minute job. Instead he gets back half an hour later, with a bucket full of loose components, and an idea how to make a better one.”

Artair and Dolina rolled their eyes together again as Duncan and Colon laughed. Donny however shook his head slightly in concern.

“I had ta sit him down and tell him we don’t make ‘em. We just fix ‘em,” Duncan finished.

“Aye, the lad never did learn ta do things easily,” Donny added, always just that bit worried about his youngest son.

“It’s all turned out fine,” the round woman assured him, moving to place a comforting hand on her husband’s arm. “He turned out like…”

This time, everyone but Donny finished together in chorus. “Like him.”

All but Donny laughed, but even he couldn’t stop himself completely.

A lot of families had black sheep that they all knew. Theirs however was more of a bright yellow, and they knew he’d be here soon.

In fact at that very second there was another knock on the door. Being closest, Duncan pulled it open, and there they found him; packages piled high in his arms, and a big smile adorning his face.

Finally the gathering was complete as he was welcomed.

“Is this the Halliday residence?” Jamie asked as he stepped inside. “Because I’ve got a present delivery!”

Crewman Jamie Halliday
Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1138: Mission Improbable

2011-01-31T21:50:00.000-05:00

by TC Blane and Zanh Liis
110131.0300
Following A Proposition Part Two

-=Ready Room, USS Serendipity=-

"Computer," the Captain said, "Locate Keiran O'Sullivan."

In the split second it took the computer to respond, Liis' mind flashed back to another time when she'd asked it the same question: the night after Keiran's miraculous return to his proper place in the timeline.

He'd come looking for her that evening and found her on the holodeck. After he'd softly spoken her name they'd said nothing more to each other; only danced slowly, without music until both were so tired they sank to the holographic earth of Cork and fell asleep. Artificial Perseids were still streaking above in bright blue swaths when they'd awoken hours later and had to part, to face their duties before they could really talk and begin to work things out.

How far they had come since that night, and how much, she felt, she had to pay him back for.

She'd developed a long and complicated list of things to do to that purpose. She'd jot ideas down as they came to her, sometimes stopping in the middle of other thoughts to save them for later. Often, she'd even think them up in the middle of the night and have to write them quickly down, lest she forget.

There were so many ways she wanted to show Keiran just how much he meant to her and finally, the time had come for one of those ideas she'd been saving to be crossed off her list.

^Keiran O'Sullivan is not aboard the Serendipity,^ the computer replied.

"Excellent," Liis smirked, then grinned, tapping her fingers together in anticipation. She knew where he was headed this day, he'd be busy for a good long while.

She strode forward to open the door and leaned out. "Thomas, a word?" she called, and TC Blane spun slowly in the command chair.

He glanced down at his captain, who, in this moment was quite a comical sight. Only her head was visible, and from the mischievous look in her eye, he knew that she was up to something that was likely going to involve him taking a field trip.

"Of course, Captain." He rose and nodded to Reece.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Mind the store," Reece said, looking up from the PADD he held in which he was making plans for the New Years Eve party to end all holiday parties, to take place on the Holodeck. "Maybe THIS time I'll win the cup..." he muttered, as he continued reviewing the menu.

The instant that the door closed behind TC, Liis spoke. "What do you know about Christmas trees, Thomas?"

TC blinked, taken off guard by the question. “Well, they are green, smell like pine, and are not generally considered a tactical threat. Why?”

“I need one for my house. A big one.”

Blane's eyebrow elevated, but in such a small increment that no one but Zanh Liis would have noticed.

"How big?"

"Big. Huge. Like, big enough to block out the sun but still fit inside my living room at the house in Cork."

“Ahhh, so your talking like the Griswold family Christmas tree size.” He saw by the Captain’s look she had no clue what he was talking about.

"Griswold? Did they serve with you on your last assignment?"

"No, I... never mind." TC took a breath. "What about ornaments? Have you thought this through? Or am I going to also have to procure the tinsel?"

"Of course I thought this through." Liis picked up a PADD and turned it around to face him. "Mary Clare has a bunch of O'Sullivan family ornaments she's leaving in the trunk in my study for me to use. We'll replicate some new ones too. Then the rest we'll do up in lights. I'm thinking, pure white twinkling ones. Like this." She scrolled down and tapped at another picture to illustrate.

TC's mouth hung open a minute.

"What?" Liis asked, thinking he disapproved of the picture.

"Did you just use the word "twinkling"?"

"Are you sure you want to ask the question?"

Blane opened his mouth again, and stopped. He cleared his throat slightly and finally looked at the picture she was displaying. "This...is a big idea. I'm going to need a little help."

"Sure." Liis moved to the replicator, ordered a cup of coffee and then smiled at him anew as she lifted it to her lips. "Take Dane and Landry with you."

“Really? You sure we don’t have a couple of trained apes that I could use?” He joked.

"Apes we'd have to feed. Dee and Dum can just skip lunch."

“I take no responsibility for any property damage.”

"Just keep Dane off the furniture. You'll be fine."

“When do you need this festive conifer by?” he asked.

"Well, it is the twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve? So...let's say I want it set up and strung with lights by 5pm tonight. The ornaments I'll do myself when I get there."

TC's posture changed. Somehow, he'd forgotten the date. He had not, however, forgotten the time. "It's already fourteen hundred, Captain..."

Liis smiled at him brightly, no idea the miracle she was asking. "Still hours to go...shouldn't be too hard, right?"

*Find a Christmas tree, a big one, on Christmas Eve. Sure, piece of cake.* TC thought.

He smiled. “I’ve had more difficult problems in my lifetime.”

"Yes and I have been the cause of many of them." Liis nodded and clapped a hand against his back. "I have faith in you, Commander. Assemble your team...add a couple more people, if you want. Just remember who we're doing this for. Remember, this isn't my holiday but it is his, and it's important to him. Let's surprise him in a good way for once."

TC nodded. “Will do. Now if you’ll excuse me Captain I have a tree to find.”

He turned on his heel and headed out of the ready room. He tapped his badge as he took all three steps up in one leap and proceeded directly to the lift. “Steele and Cristiane report to transporter room two as soon as possible.” As the doors closed, he added an order that also served as a warning. "Dress warm."

*************************************

Commander TC Blane
Chief Operations Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

-=/\=- Zanh Liis O’Sullivan
Commanding Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1137: Chapters

2011-01-31T13:00:00.000-05:00

by Zander Blakeslee and Keiran O’Sullivan
110131.02
After A Heart Divided Against Itself

-=Ireland, Earth=-

“Go, Keiran.” Maggie insisted, backing slowly toward the house. “Before he sees you here.”

Keiran dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Maggie’s voice from the past still echoed in his ears, so loud that it took a firm hand on his shoulder to bring him back to the present.

“Keiran? Are you all right?”

O'Sullivan looked up, shifting in the pew and sitting straighter when he saw a young, familiar face.

“Zander, surprised to see ya here...”

Zander smiled weakly as he unzipped his duty coat halfway, now that he was out of the cold. Still he was dressed comparatively conservative compared to others that filed into and out of the church. Being a native of Alaska he found the weather in Cork to be somewhat refreshing today.

“I’m sorry to drop in unannounced.” He looked around at the church. “I can come back later,” he offered, thinking that he might have disturbed Keirann

"No, not'a'tall. I would...actually welcome the company." Keiran smiled, but Zander noted immediately the smile was thin, strained, not at all the normal manner of the man everyone on the ship knew they could turn to at any time for a kind, listening ear.

Keiran noted the concern in Zander's eyes and broke the lingering silence. "So. You've come a long way on a chilly morning. Is there somethin' I can help you with? Or," Keiran's expression changed again in response to Zander's, as the younger man now appeared even more uneasy. "Were you lookin' for the Captain? She's not in Ireland, presently."

“No, I’ve come to talk with you, actually…” Zander looked around. He had never been much of a religious person. Even with his experiences on Delta with his wife and the mystics that had help him find his way away from the path of vengeance and self-loathing, he never truly could find himself committing to the belief of a higher divinity. Even so, he found himself oddly uneasy talking to Keiran in the church, as if someone else was listening, and judging him. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

"A walk, yeah?" Keiran rose slowly, as if testing whether his knees would actually stay beneath him. Satisfied they would, he took a step forward. "Crowded today."

"Are you sure you're ready to leave?" Zander worried he may have prevented Keiran from finishing whatever he'd come here to do today, but O'Sullivan nodded.

"Yeah. Am finished for today. Let's go."

The two men walked down the street a little ways, each lost in thought as they settled into a slightly more comfortable silence, one eased by the distraction of motion.

Keiran's mind kept drifting back to the church, to what he'd meant to do, but as each moment passed he became more certain that today, there were other things that had to take the place of those things.

"Commander," Zander began at last, running his hand up over his head and rubbing the back of his neck a minute. "Samthia and I, we've come to an important decision, and I wanted to tell you myself. After all you've done for me I…" he stopped walking, and Keiran did too. "I didn't want you to hear it from anyone else, not even the Captain."

"Is ev'ra'thin' alright, Zander?" Keiran immediately forgot his own troubles and focused intensely on his young friend. "Can I help you, at all?"

"That's just it, Sir, you already have." Zander shifted from foot to foot, and then remembering the words of his wife and his now former Captain, he stood taller, shoulders back, and looked O'Sullivan in the eyes. "I want to thank you, for all you've taught me. Not just as an officer, but helping me see things about myself as a father and a husband, too. Including being one of the voices in the back of my head that told me to say yes when Sam told me that it's time for us to put our family first. You see, she wants another child."

Keiran's eyes widened and his eyebrows flew upward. "I...see..."

Zander reddened a little. "That's not exactly what I came to tell you, though. I came to tell you that I've resigned, and so has Sam. We're going to settle on Seyalia and raise our family there. I'll take up my place as patriarch of the Wej family, at Samthia's side."

Keiran's hand elevated and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. A dozen thoughts collided in his head but it only took an instant for them to settle, and the contemplative look upon his face changed into the first true smile he'd had in days. His next words to Zander were direct, and sincere. "Good for you, lad. You're doin' the right thing."

"Am I?" The words were past Zander's lips before he could stop them. He knew in his heart he was, yet hearing O'Sullivan's validation caused that initial, knee-jerk reaction in him as when he'd first considered leaving Starfleet.

"Aye, I have no doubt of it at all. None at all." Keiran shivered in the cold once more, and he nodded to a small bar up the way. "C'mon. I happen to know that the Missus here keeps coffee goin' this time of day, for old friends. Let's go in."

Soon the two men were seated at a table with a pot of fresh coffee between them, and Keiran filled their mugs to capacity as Zander sat quietly, thoughtful once more. "Do you know, Zander Blakeslee, what I was thinkin' of, when you came upon me in that pew today at Christ the King?"

Zander shook his head and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. "No, sir."

"Was thinkin' of my boy, Carrick. He had his first Communion in that very church. Due to one thing and another between his mother and I, I wasn't there. I mean, I thought I was going to be there, moved heaven and earth to be in Cork on the date she'd given me. Only upon arrivin' did I find out that it'd actually been the week before."

"I'm sorry."

Keiran shrugged. "Can't be helped now. But my point is, that's not the only part of Carrick's childhood I missed." Regret enveloped the Irishman's features, and for a moment, he seemed much older than Zander could remember seeing him before. "I tried, God knows I tried. Maggie, she was nothin' if not iron willed."

"At least you've had a chance to reconnect with the boy recently."

"Aye, have, but it's not been easy. He's angry, and justly so. I only hope he realizes he's lucky to have the opportunities he's been given and doesn't squander them."

"Would he?"

"By last report, seems he might." Keiran sighed. "He was supposed to be with my sister, Mary Claire, but found out that instead of goin' to the family dinner before Mass Sunday last, my oldest brother finally tracked him down. In a pub. Guinness in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Will be havin' a talk with him soon."

"Good luck."

"Thanks, gonna need it." Keiran sipped his coffee and his voice dropped to barely audible levels. "Do you know how many times I've wished that I could convince Liis it was time to retire?"

Zander thought about what their life had been like in time since they'd married, and he could only imagine. He sat still, just listening.

"Many, would be the answer." Keiran continued. "But she's not ready. It's not time, she's still too much she feels she has to do. However..." Keiran shook his head now. "We do not have small children. If we did, Zander, you can bet that I'd be tryin to convince her every bit as much as Samthia did you."

Zander smiled. “That’s the funny thing. She really did not try very hard. It was only discussed once. It’s like she knew I would make this choice. Commander Blane acted the same when I approached him asking for advice. He was like…see ya!” He shook his head. “It was a little bit insulting actually.”

"Ah, it's just Thomas is wise enough to know the look of a man who's made up his mind." Keiran said. "You know, we all hate for the Sera to lose a man as fine as you. Still and again, though, I am not surprised at all you decided this way."

“It’s funny how everyone seems to think I am making the right choice here. They have the confidence that I was going to decide to leave even before I knew what I was going to do.” He took a sip from the mug. “They were right of course. It was an easier answer then I thought it would be. I know it is the right thing to do, that it is time to move on. It’s just hard to close this chapter, you know?”

He looked at Keiran more intently. “Maybe you should start one of your own.”

Keiran frowned. “One what?”

Zander smiled. “A new chapter. A new family…kids perhaps.” He took a sip from the mugs as he looked over the rim at the big Irishman. Zander’s eyes sparkled. Normally he would have never thought about suggesting such a thing, especially regarding the Captain but he was soon to be a civilian and thus protocol really did not apply anymore.

Keiran's smile faded, to an expression haunted by clear memory from an alternate past that at times still felt too real to escape. He recalled standing in a field, the ruins of the home he'd built for Liis' around him, nothing still standing after the storm but the small building which held the cradle he'd made with his own two hands but had yet to work up the nerve to ask her to help him fill.

The idea of having children with her was a wish he felt had died along with her in that history. Still, at moments like this, he was haunted by what might have been.

"I...have my hands full with the one the good Lord already gave me." Keiran finally answered, forcing another smile to curl his lip. "Still, believe me, if Liis decided that she was done with the 'fleet tomorrow and wanted to have half a dozen, I'd certainly have not one single objection."

Zander heard a beeping sound and pulled a small communications device from his pocket. "It's my wife," he smiled at Keiran broadly now. "She is asking my assistance in packing up the circus that is the traveling Blakeslees."

"Far be it from me to keep a man from making his wife happy." Keiran stood, and so did Zander, and the men grasped hands across the table. "Be well, Zander. Well, and happy."

“You too.” He smiled. “Don’t be strangers, you hear? Drag yourself and the Captain to Delta for a vacation. I’ll personally crack open a bottle or our finest and we’ll enjoy it over good meals and beautiful tropical weather.”

Keiran nodded. A lump rose in his throat, as he considered an evening that seemed lifetimes ago; at a party, where they'd shared a toast, and he'd asked Zander a question. His eyes glinted in the light as he repeated that inquiry now. "Tell me about your soul, Zander Blakeslee. What motivates you?"

Hearing the question, Zander remembered the first time he'd been asked, too, and answered by paraphrasing the most important of the choices Keiran had offered him that night. "The love of a good woman. My children." Zander smiled. "My family."

"A true Renaissance man." Keiran said, just as he had before. "I always knew it to be true. I'm proud of you, Zander."

Zander pulled his combadge out of his pocket and tilted it, watching the light reflect off of it for a moment before he showed it to Keiran. “Still not quite retired yet.” He smiled. “Blakeslee to Serendipity. One to beam up.”

*******************

Zander Blakeslee
Former Lt. Commander
Former Chief of Security/Tactical
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Commander Keiran O’Sullivan
Security Liaison
to The Alchemy Project
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1136: A Heart Divided Against Itself

2011-01-26T12:57:00.001-05:00

by Keiran O’Sullivan
Stardate: 110126.03
Time: Current

-=Ireland, Earth=-

The chill in the air was unseasonable for Cork, even at this time of year.

There was actually a frost, and everywhere you walked through town, people were remarking about it. How many years it’d been since they’d seen the like of it; how many more it’d be before they were likely to see it again.

Keiran O’Sullivan however, was too lost inside his own head to consider the uniqueness of the weather now. He only knew that the cold went straight through him, and he shivered. He pulled his collar up tighter around his neck, then cupped his hands together and blew into them, trying to return feeling to the fingertips that had gradually gone numb while he’d been too preoccupied to notice.

The man who had spent so much of his life carefully ticking off every passing moment of time to keep from being consumed by it had, in recent days, allowed it to overtake him. He had been so distracted that he’d made no note of the advancing date on the calendar, and almost missed the holidays, entirely.

Today was the twenty-fourth of December. It was nearly Christmas in Ireland, but even though he was technically home for the holidays after so many years of wishing it to be so, he found his mind continually fixed on other things.

His thoughts led his head to tilt toward the heavens above. His eyes followed an instant after, and he tried to peer beyond the heavy curtain of steel clouds firmly blanketing the sky, to imagine the Sera beyond them in her orbit against the black.

The whole of his being tilted, it seemed, to that ship so far and unseen over Earth. That was where she was, and where she was, his thoughts could never truly be far away. His right hand reached over and twisted the ring on his left, and he realized once more, all over again that the reason even the familiar ground beneath his feet did not feel like home in this moment was because Liis was not at his side there.

Home could only now ever be a location in which he’d see the fire in her eyes flash at him across the room. Home was only where he’d be able to take her in his arms, and to share her rare, and even more rarely shared moments of laughter.

Home could never again be any place, not even Ireland, in which she was not.

Keiran’s first intended stop in Cork today was the cemetery. Through the gates, and along the well-kept path, he made his way slowly, as he ever did, toward his mother’s final resting place.

There he did the same things, these small but significant rituals, that he always had. He'd say a prayer, and tidy up a little, and leave fresh roses; her favorite. He'd tell her how much he wished she was still walking the earth beside him instead of teaching the angels a thing or two up in Heaven, before settling to simply stand beside her a while in silence.

He never could predict how long these visits would take; no matter how many times he’d come here before. It was a span of time that defied planning or description, and only after he felt he’d properly paid his respects to the woman who’d raised him, could he bring his feet to finally carry him on.

Keiran was unusually nervous this day and he didn’t even know why- he tried to dismiss it as the phantom echoes of the uncomfortable emotions he’d been dealing with, ever since William Lindsay had left.

He worried about what Will might be getting himself into, in this moment or any other moment in a point in time far removed from Keiran’s reality. He wished he’d been a bigger man and in the moment they’d parted, he’d been able to give Will the forgiveness he’d wanted.

He prayed to God he’d get another chance.

As he observed his breath making small puffs of steam in the air when he exhaled, it stirred in him a particular, and particularly comforting memory: he wished, just for a moment, that he’d never given up smoking.

He trudged, at last, toward the steps of the Church of Christ the King at Turners Cross. He looked up toward the building’s ever overwhelming architecture, to the outstretched statuary arms of the Lord that greeted him. They appeared ready to welcome him into the sanctuary and offer him peace, but as unworthy as he felt today, he didn’t know if even being here could lighten the burdens that weighed so heavy upon his shoulders.

His boots struck heavy upon each step, and he nodded to people filing in and out of the building all around him, even so early in the day. He’d missed Mass today, but promised himself, and would soon promise his sister, that he’d do his best to be present for it tomorrow.

His aim in coming was to confess, though he found he was torn about waiting to do so after seeing the long lines of people and for the first time in his life considered just leaving instead. His heart seemed to divide against itself as he considered his family, and the last report he’d had about Carrick. Today, just this once, he wondered if the Lord wouldn’t forgive him for spending his time another way.

A young boy suddenly ran past him. The lad was dressed to perfection in a fine, small suit. The vision of his blond hair, which was bristly and fighting every which way against the effort his mother had obviously made to smooth it down, brought back a memory in Keiran so strong, he soon found himself sitting in the nearest available pew.

-=Flashback: 2378=-

His hands shook as he took a last long drag of his cigarette, before indignantly smashing its remains to dust and ashes on the ground beneath his boot.

He had been waiting awhile, pacing, smoking, pacing some more, and now at long last, he heard the familiar sound of the front door, squeaking open.

He’d purposely stayed just around the corner from the humble brick house that had once been his home. He couldn’t risk Carrick seeing him, but he just couldn’t let this go, either.

He couldn’t bring himself, this time, to let her actions go unanswered.

The moment to confront her was here, and he wondered upon seeing her naturally bitter expression how he had ever once thought her so beautiful. Features that had seemed sublime were now merely severe and disappointed. High arched brows framed eyes that had never offered him approval. Tight ringlets of dark hair that fell far beyond her shoulders covered a chest which held a heart forged of pure steel.

Immediately she saw him, standing by the gate. He waited for her to approach, never getting any closer to her than she was willing to get to him.

“What’re ya doin’ here, Keiran. You know that-“

“I just have to ask you a question,” Keiran said, his breath quickening as he fought back the biting tears behind his eyes. “How could you do it, Maggie? Was I really ever that bad? Did I ever treat you with an’a’thin’ less than…”

“Is over and done with now, O’Sullivan. Be on yer way then.”

“Over.” Keiran’s voice dropped. “Yeah, it is. Never to happen again. An’ is not that you just didn’t tell me, ya gave me the wrong date on purpose…”

“It would’ve confused the boy,” Maggie shrugged, “to have you there.”

“His first Communion. How could you just…” tears filled his eyes, and he closed them. “A day that will never come again. I’m still his father, Maggie, I should have been there.”

“Go, Keiran.” Maggie insisted, backing slowly toward the house. “Before he sees you here.”

-=/\=- Keiran O’Sullivan
Security Liaison
to The Alchemy Project

1135: All There Is

2011-01-24T00:21:00.002-05:00

by Rada Dengar and Lair Kellyn
110119.17
After A Proposition, Part Two

-=Research and Development Laboratory of Lair Kellyn, USS Serendipity=-

Kellyn softly growled in frustration as she eyed the offending door. The sound of its chime more than annoyed her today.

It aggravated her to the point where she was ready to throw something big and heavy at the control pad with great velocity and glee and smash it to bits, in hopes of at least delaying the impending progress of any visitor who would dare to try to shine a single ray of light down onto her darkened doorstep today.

She just wanted to be left alone. She couldn’t simply lock it though, because the people who’d been visiting were too damned smart and too concerned about her tendency to, well, nearly die on more than one occasion to ignore the fact she wasn’t answering.

That intelligence would allow them to know how to override the lock in about three seconds flat no matter the complication to the passcode she set for it, and failing that, their concern would enable them to justify taking it to the next step. They knew how to take a hydrospanner and strip the whole works down to obedient strands of wires in about half a second more if required.

As the offending chime continued its grating call she eyed it coldly, just wondering why she couldn’t be left to deal with this herself. Reece had been by- supposedly to tell her that getting the window replaced between their labs, which had been one of the things broken in the melee that had taken place aboard ship during their last trip, was his top priority. Then, he said, he needed to get more Christmas lights.

Yet the sadness beneath his smile had told her why he'd really come. However neither of them could find the words to begin to discuss it. Eventually, when the realisation that it wasn’t yet the time to speak of it had struck, he'd kissed her on the top of the head and then he’d gone off to spend some time with his wife and baby. Finally he’d left her alone.

She had however barely had a chance to sulk before Rada Dengar had arrived to interrupt her solitude again. Being the genius that he was, he even arrived bearing an extra tall Mocha Latte, double chocolate with whipped cream and extra sprinkles, too, damn him. He'd further added a shortbread cookie, one of her few weaknesses from the Afterthought's vast assortment of bakery, though she couldn't possibly have imagined trying to eat.

The effort he’d gone to had very nearly made her smile, but its affect couldn’t last. Quickly the inevitable awkwardness of silence had followed- and he looked at her the same way he had on Earth when she hadn’t wanted to try to tell him what was going on that had her so upset. Rada, being as considerate, gentle and kind as he was smart, didn’t press her for long. He simply left her with her coffee and the thought that she knew where to find him when she was ready to talk.

She’d even tasted that coffee once after he’d left, though she found its warmth made her throat ache even more. Even the whipped cream could only taste bitter on her lips despite its inherent sweetness.

She was not a happy woman today.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand exactly why Jariel was leaving- she did. She was even happy for him and Fleur, truly, that they’d take Pace and Tress to Earth, take up residence in the comfortable flat above Fleur’s bakery there and live a normal, sensible life for the first time ever. He seemed to finally have found some sense of peace, and she couldn’t have been happier for him. She just wasn’t sure exactly who she could even attempt to talk to now about Arie’s new issues with her Bajoran heritage if not the Vedek.

He knew Arie better than most other people. Though she knew he’d still be available to talk any time over subspace, she had hoped maybe some time in the arboretum gardening with Jariel would have cracked open, just in the slightest amount, the barricades that Arie had continually refused to let down for anyone else. Even Salvek wasn’t being allowed to see through them.

It was a hard enough time already and all day she’d gotten no reprieve. When Jamie Halliday had appeared mere minutes after Rada had left, that was when Kellyn had just about lost it. She wouldn’t have admitted that she did rather like the kid, especially after he nearly drowned to save her sorry ass on Sibalt. But still, today, her Halliday tolerance was lower than usual. The sincere look of concern that crossed his face before the smile he always wore returned and he bid her a ‘better day than she was currently having’ was almost impossible to stand. Now finally she’d been left alone once more and the damned chime was ringing again.

For a moment she picked up one of her heavier wrenches and swung it a couple of times, imagining the glass covering the panel shattering and raining to the deck with a sickeningly pleasing shower of color and sparks…

“Kellyn, please open the door.” Though instantly recognisable, the voice on the other side was unexpected. She hadn’t imagined he’d be back today.

She said nothing, hoping he’d just assume she wasn’t in.

She wondered though how much longer could she put off this conversation. Maybe it was inevitable. However she felt like a woman scheduled for a firing squad and was in no hurry to check that her fate was fixed.

“Kellyn, I’m worried.” Rada called from beyond the door. “I don’t want to short the lock but I will if I have to. We need to talk.”

Kellyn set down the wrench and rubbed her throbbing temples.

“Damn it, Dengar…” she muttered.

“Kellyn, Tam said something I need to ask you about.”

He wasn’t going away; she knew that about him, and it seemed he was likely to figure out what was wrong with or without her help. That was it, she thought. There was no hiding from this any longer.

“Ready, aim…” she muttered as she rose from her desk and approached the door.

As she opened it she found him standing on the other side, head tilted and eyes swirling with concern, as he held out to her a slightly stronger, less fluffy coffee based concoction, figuring by now she’d really need it.

“Before you take this,” he said, “I checked before I brought it and I know that you’re not technically on duty today.”

She was puzzled, until she caught the aroma of the beverage. It had a thick coating of cream over the top but it was no Mocha Latte. This was a much more…’fortified’ blend.

She nodded, and took the cup. As much as she didn’t feel like most companionship right now, the company of this drink seemed particularly appealing. “Thanks.”

Rada cast his eyes to the desk and found, sure enough, she’d let the first one go cold, untouched. Curdled whipped cream dotted with the remains of melted sprinkles foamed at the top of the cup, and before he said or did anything else, he moved over to the desk and retrieved it, returning it to the replicator for disposal before she could absently knock it over and ruin the piles of work that sat beside it.

She took a sip and nodded. She’d tasted this once before, at the behest of a certain Irish chief of security before he’d given up ‘the drink’. “The boys down in Engineering still call this an O’Sullivan Special?”

“They do.” Rada said. “I tried it once, and I had no voice at all for the rest of the day. But knowing you…” his words trailed off. “Well, I just thought.”

She began moving away from him towards the viewport, unconsciously trying to be as much alone as she could with someone else in the room.

“You thought I could use a good stiff drink, and likely you’re right.” She took a sip, slowly savoring the burn as it attempted to ignite something inside a chest that had gone completely cold.

Rada was clearly uncomfortable to be seeing her like this. His eyes shifted away from her reflection in the glass.

"I heard...well, I heard several things but let's start with the simplest," Rada began, clasping hands that didn’t know what they wanted to do, behind his back. "I heard you're not coming to Jariel's going away party."

Kellyn emotionlessly took another sip and again felt the whiskey swirling in its caffeinated catalyst try and fail to ignite her stuttering heart. "That's right."

"Okay. Fact one checked and confirmed..." Rada mumbled softly. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before continuing. “I’ve also heard that for days you haven’t been coming into the café or going much of anywhere around the ship except here and your quarters.”

"True,” she answered monosyllabically, not thinking to be disturbed by how easy this drink was going down. “But I’m sure that’s not why you’re here twice in a day.”

“No, it isn’t.” Rada sighed, looking up to her and thinking this really wasn’t the type of conversation he should be having with the back of her head. He gradually stepped forward to at least being beside her. “A little while ago Tam came to me, confused. Apparently Arie has been acting strange recently. When he finally asked her about it she said it was just ‘how Vulcans behave’…”

For as much as Kellyn’s emotions were locked down at the moment, and though this was far from new information, she couldn’t help but to cringe as he said the words. She said nothing however, merely taking a further drag, bordering on a gulp, of her drink. As it slid its way down her throat, her eyes became even more focused on the blackness outside of the window.

Rada simply looked at her, sadly wondering how long she would just ignore what he’d said. Knowing her as he did, he fought the urge to sigh: the answer was likely 'forever'. He'd have to prompt her further.

“What do you suppose she meant by that?”

Kellyn drew in what should have been a steadying breath, but her lungs felt like a sieve in which the air just moved straight through. It was clear she wasn’t going to be able to keep this from him any longer.

“I suppose she meant just what she said,” Kellyn answered flatly, never turning to him. “She’s all Vulcan now. Her Bajoran half doesn’t matter to her anymore.”

Kellyn could almost hear the shock filling his face, while he just heard a distinct bitterness to her tone. She was clearly hurt, among everything else she was feeling, and that inevitably came out as anger. It was very much a part of the Bajoran heritage Arie was now denying herself. Unusually for her, though, the fire passed quickly, as streaks of lightning bursting with energy in a humid summer sky. Within an instant her face had simply gone blank once more in a very uncharacteristic way. Even considering the straight, fixed line of her lips, it was the emptiness in her eyes which troubled Rada most.

He couldn’t understand why this would be, but there was something more important for him to say than to question Arie’s reasons.

“I don’t believe that’s true. I happen to know her Bajoran half is very important to her.”

"It is more trouble than it's worth, she says." Kellyn finished the drink in several long pulls and then paced to the replicator, disposing of the beverage's empty shell before finally turning and looking up at Rada. In the full light of the overhead fixtures he could see not only the circles beneath her eyes but the color that betrayed even more bluntly how little she'd been sleeping.

"She's so young, Kellyn...she..."

"She's twelve now, but it's not her age that's the issue. It's the mind her genetics have given her; thoughts racing so far ahead of her emotions. She's brilliant, Rada. So brilliant. She..." Kellyn wrung her hands. "If ignorance is really bliss...this is going to sound like a horrible thing to say but I honestly wish she wasn't so smart."

Rada's shoulder's sank a little and now, he did sigh. "Not horrible. I- I understand why you'd say it."

A moment of silence passed between them, and Rada wondered just what he could say now to help his friend at all.

"How do you parent a child too smart to be happy in an imperfect universe?" Kellyn whispered. "If you can't take away the pain, do you let them disappear into emotionlessness no matter what it may cost them later?" Her voice shuddered as she tried to keep her composure. "She's not entirely Vulcan. Her blood runs hot and cold, and the in-between must be hell...and I just don't know what to do for her."

"Love her." Rada moved in closer to her and whispered his insistence. "Just love her, Kellyn."

"I'm trying." Kellyn dropped her head down, blurry, tear filled eyes only half focusing upon the toes of her boots. "It's not enough."

"It has to be." Rada answered, his eyes telling of a heady mixture of sadness and determination. "It's all there is."

------
Commander Lair Kellyn
Engineering Research and Development
The Alchemy Project

and

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1134: It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2011-01-24T00:13:00.002-05:00

by Aubrey Church and Madeline Moth
Stardate 110123.18
Shortly after Always on Duty

-=Harrods Department Store: England, Earth=-

Starfleet cadet Carrick O’Sullivan was not an easy young man to shop for, but once Aubrey Church had politely and gently made the point to his mother that perhaps he should pick out the gift, he finally found something to his liking.

O'Sullivan had been Aubrey's bitter, irritable roommate in this, his senior year at the Academy. He'd done all he could to try to make the Irishman feel at home, at least in the small space they shared.

Carrick had scoffed at scones and tea and spent far too much time nursing a beer and sucking in putrid tobacco smoke, still, Aubrey had managed to make a little progress in reaching him.

By the end, O'Sullivan had finally opened up just a little, and for all the talk he had done about patching things up for with his father, he had never had the means to do it in the style Aubrey thought appropriate for such a task.

So, with his mother still insisting the horrid scarves were the way to go, Aubrey had picked out a full stationery set for Carrick, believing the young man would appreciate the chance to write his thoughts out in ink and parchment rather than just dictating to a soulless computer, as Aubrey had seen him do from time to time.

“Let’s get in that line, it’s shorter!” Beatrice Church said, giving her youngest child a gentle push towards a cashier who only had one customer.

“Right, Mum,” Aubrey said, moving to take his place at a respectful distance behind the woman at the register. She was speaking in a hushed tone to the cashier, and looked a bit agitated. He could not help but eavesdrop on the conversation, which seemed to be revolving around one of the items she was attempting to buy. He could not quite make it all out however, due to his mother incessantly elbowing him in the side.

“What is it, Mum?” Church finally asked.

“She’s beautiful. A little pale. Too much make-up and dressed like she's going to a funeral, but still. Maybe you should invite her to dinner.”

“Are you serious, Mum? That’s why you wanted to get in this line, wasn’t it? I don’t even know who this person is.”

“Oh Aubrey, but she’s lovely! When are you going to bring a nice girl home?” His mother asked, sounding frustrated as she shifted her heavy handbag from one shoulder to another before finally handing it over to Aubrey, who dutifully took the weight onto his own arm and, strong as he was, nearly toppled over in the effort to remain upright.

“I have my whole life in front of me and my first position on a starship, Mum. Not just any starship, either. I'm on the cusp of adventures I've never even dreamed of, the last thing..." he stopped, changing tack. There was no point in risking upsetting his mother's delicate mood so close to the holidays.

"I’ll bring a girl home as soon as I meet one I’m interested in. But right now there is a whole galaxy out there to explore and I cannot wait to get started!” Aubrey tried again to reposition his burden, shifting the stationary set from one arm to the other, and fumbling with the straps of Mum's purse.

Finally he turned back towards the woman at the head of the line, whose hushed tones were growing increasing loud as the cashier refused to comply with whatever it was she was demanding.

"The sign said that they are fifty percent off. I just want the discount the sign promised." The young woman insisted. She tugged on hair that was so black it had almost a blue sheen to it, yanking it into a frustrated knot positioned at the back of her head,

"As I've already explained to you... several times..."The sales associate, a woman who looked old enough to be Aubrey's nan, huffed, "the sign only applies to the other colors. Black is new for spring, and you'll find that this is actually quite a good value for the price. The thread count is quite high."

"Yes, it is and do you know how difficult it is to find black 1000 thread count sheets that will fit the inside of the shell of a quantum torpedo tube!" The young woman's voice rose even higher now, actually squeaking as she spoke.

"No, Miss," the woman replied, unaffected. "I do not. But again, the sign only refers to the other colors on display."

"The sign was TOUCHING this PACKAGE!" The woman's voice climbed another octave and got even louder. "How can it not apply to it? I want to speak to a manager."

"I am the manager."

The young woman growled, dropping her head into her hands. "Eight weeks of clean-up duty in the stinking, lousy, out of control weather on Sibalt and this is the welcome back to Earth I get."

Her mind flashed back to much darker, sadder times than that. To the planet of her birth, to a life she wished she could forget and only seemed to be able to when too tired to dream in sleep or waking, more unconscious than resting beneath the closed lid of a highly modified quantum torpedo shell.

She stared off into the distance, trying to lose the sights and sounds and smells of the life she'd long left behind, for brighter days that never seemed completely able to escape the shadow of the blackest ones before them.

"Miss, you're going to have to make a decision."The saleslady insisted. "Either purchase the item, choose another, or move out of line while you continue to debate our company policies with zeal and righteous indignation."

"This is totally against fair trade regulations. "The customer continued. "I expect you to honor the sale price!"

Finally, Aubrey could stand it no longer- he had to intervene. The line had grown exponentially behind them, and people were grumbling, tapping their toes impatiently and he feared that there might be a scene if this situation wasn't handled quickly and efficiently.

"Can I be of assistance?" he asked politely.

"Can you make them honor the lousy sale price?" The customer inquired with marked frustration.

He tilted his head curiously. "I'm not sure." Aubrey thought about it for a moment, and began digging around in his pocket for a few credits. “How about this, Ma'am…”

“Ma'am?” The customer folded her arms over her chest and dropped her head to stare down at Aubrey. It was a look she was only able to accomplish because of the enormous platform shoes she was wearing. "Just how old do you think I am!"

“Mate?” Aubrey offered the term generally reserved for greeting another male. The customer shrugged, finding it more appealing then Ma'am. “I’m shipping out soon and I’ll have little use for any credits. What if I just pay the difference in the bill?”

She laughed. "I should have known you were Starfleet..." she muttered. "That's very...strange...of you, Ensign, but-”

"How do you know I'm an Ensign?" Aubrey blinked, brow furrowed, perplexed. He'd always been told his maturity made him seem older than he was, and her assessment of him and the accompanying expression of bemusement threw him off a little. "How young do you think I am?"

"I still see apron strings." The woman answered completely sincerely, jerking her head in the direction of Aubrey's mother and lowering her voice.

"Now now, there's nothing wrong with a man escorting his mother for a day of proper holiday shopping for family and friends."

For a second her pupils constricted, and she seemed lost in thought. "No, you're right, nothing at all."

"Then perhaps you could just forgive the store their error and pay for your purchase so we can all get on with our day."

Her face scrunched up in disapproval once more. “But that doesn’t change the principle of it that they should have to honor the sale price. It’s not about how much I have to pay, it is about how much they are entitled to.” She wagged a finger at the cashier, who still seemed wholly unimpressed.

“Let’s go, ya cabbage!!!” A man shouted from the back of the line.

“What is that? What’s a cabbage?” The customer asked Aubrey. She extended herself even higher on the tips of he shoes to see where the voice had come from.

“British slang. He called you a dimwit, dear.” Aubrey’s mother answered, completely unhelpfully.

“Now now, everyone, let’s remain calm,” Aubrey piped up to be heard by the entire line, in attempt to gain control of the situation. “It’s Christmas!” He punctuated his statement with a cheerful smile, but the woman had punctuation of her own to offer.

"Don't remind me," the female customer replied, closing thickly mascara'd eyelashes for a moment before finally taking out her credit pass and swiping it through the reader. "Fine. I'll pay full price, this time. But I am writing a very strongly worded complaint to the head of this company when I get to my new place."

The cashier sighed with relief, placed the package of sheets into a shopping bag and handed them to the girl. "Thank you for shopping at Harrods."

The customer snatched the bag, started to say something, caught out of the corner of her eye Aubrey's disapproving glance, and then stopped. She took two fingers, pointed toward her own eyes, then back at the cashier, seething as she turned away.

"Would you like to join us for tea, my dear?" Aubrey's mother asked hopefully as Aubrey moved forward and paid for their purchase as quickly as humanly possible.

"That's..." the girl, began, then again, she stopped. "Thanks, but I can't, there's somewhere I have to be." She leaned forward and whispered into the matron's ear. "He's gonna get himself into a lot of trouble, that one, with all his do-gooding."

"Don't I know it." Beatrice sighed, watching as the girl disappeared into the crowd until the clomping of her platform shoes was lost to the song of the store's army of carolers.

"Pity the folks who have to work with her every day," Beatrice muttered as Aubrey offered his arm and they headed toward the exit.

"Now, Mum, everyone has something to offer in this world. Some people bring light and life to a room, and others...make us appreciate that fact."

Ensign Aubrey Church
Security Officer
Soon aboard the USS Serendipity

and

Lieutenant Madeline Moth, MMSc
also soon to be aboard the USS Serendipity

1133: Always On Duty

2011-01-24T00:11:00.000-05:00

by Aubrey Church
110116.2100

-=London, England, Earth=-

“Oh, how about this one!” The slightly graying woman held up the scarf that would best be described by the word loud. It was red and green with large felt cutouts arranged into the visage of Santa’s face on either end. The eyes of the young man with her lit up.

“Is beautiful mum, I love it,” He smiled broadly. Loud and festive was exactly what he liked in Christmas themes whether it be trees, music, food or scarves. But his smile eventually fell off into a frown.

His mother saw the look on his face and just shook her head. “Look at this child,” She held up the tag. “It is a,” She squinted to read the name on the tag. “Emily Atchinson original. One of only ten thousand made exclusively for Harrods! Who would not love this! This cannot be replicated. This is a work of art!”

The pair stood huddled around the scarf rack, as shoppers carrying oversized bags streamed up and down the aisles and around the giant Christmas trees that lined the store. Outdoors, large fluffy flakes drifted down upon the streetlamps as dusk settled upon the City of London.

A large balding man holding a bag in one hand, and a visual communicator in the other approached the young man from the side. He was arguing with his wife over the link as he walked about whether they should serve the green bean casserole or the yams with marshmallows for Christmas dinner with his in-laws.

Without breaking stride or tirade, he slammed directly into Aubrey Church, causing the young man to stagger a bit before finding his balance up against a clothing rack. Upon realizing he had nearly injured another human being, the balding man snarled back at Aubrey, clearly annoyed that the collision had impeded his progress. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no problem at all, have a very Merry Christmas, mate.” Aubrey smiled back.

The man said nothing, turning his attention back to his phone call, “I don’t care about the sodding side dish anymore, just don’t cook the stuffing in the turkey like you did last year…”

Aubrey lost the man’s voice amongst the other shoppers and Christmas carols piped over the store’s sound system. He cringed as he saw another near collision, this time with a tall wiry man. Aubrey brushed a wayward lock of sandy brown hair back out of his eyes as he shifted his gaze to this second man.

The wiry fellow was pale skinned with a scruffy five o’clock shadow that had probably taken him a week to grow. His eyes shifted back and forth as he looked around the area. Aubrey had only one word to summarize the wiry fellow’s appearance: nefarious.

Mrs. Church was still shuffling through the scarf racks, examining every stitch and pattern one by one, and describing them in painstaking detail. She continued talking on and on, unaware that her son was watching a potential criminal like a hawk.

Aubrey followed the man’s eyes across the store, to the jewelry counter. At that exact moment, a woman in disheveled clothing began shouting at one of the attendants, something about being treated like everyone else. She poked her finger in the clerk’s chest, as the security guards by the doors began moving towards the commotion.

The perfect distraction. Aubrey thought. He looked back towards the wiry man, just in time to see him snatch a hand stitched leather wallet from behind a counter while the oblivious clerk watched the scene unfold at the jewelry counter across the store.

“Be right back, mum.” Church said. His mother did not hear a word, as she was transfixed on the argument.

While most everyone else had stopped to watch, Aubrey was moving towards the thief. The wiry man noticed the motion in his direction and looked at Aubrey, making eye contact for just a moment, before realizing it was time to run.

“Stop! Thief!” Aubrey shouted, before breaking into a run. “Call the police!”

The security guards made an unimpressive attempt to cut off the thief at the exit, which was foiled by advanced age, slippery floors and the influence of decades of chocolate donuts with sprinkles.

The thief skidded out the door, turning the corner on the snow-covered sidewalk as he pushed through shoppers to make his escape. Aubrey burst out the door a moment later, turning in the same direction, and begging forgiveness for every unsuspecting man woman and child that he dodged in his pursuit.

His feet crunched beneath him as he ran through the mostly trampled snow. His unbuttoned trench coat flapping in the air behind him as Aubrey passed from light into dark continuously with each streetlamp he passed on Brompton road. The thief kept looking back over his shoulder nervously as Church began to close the gap between them.

“You are in violation of the Sections 403 and 889 of the London penal code! By authority of Starfleet Security, I order you to stop for immediate arrest and surrender to Scotland Yard!”

It was no surprise that the thief ignored him, but regulations did make it clear that an arresting officer in pursuit was to announce his attention to the person or persons they were attempting to apprehend. The thief ran across an intersection, nearly getting hit by a horse and buggy as he did so. Aubrey added jaywalking to the list of charges.

“You are now in violation of Section 409 of the London penal code as well!” Aubrey announced.

The thief turned down an ally, with Aubrey now about twenty meters behind. As Church made the turn, he lost sight of the man, and stopped at the end of the ally. Judging by the smell of roast beef, shallots and béarnaise sauce in the air, they were behind a restaurant. He let his eyes scan the area. The lack of footprints at the end of the ally told him the thief was here somewhere.

The trail he could see disappeared into a multitude of large bins outside the rear entrance of the restaurant that seemed to contain leftover foodstuff such as fish guts, cornhusks and fruit rinds that were most likely destined for composting on the active farms that still dotted the English countryside. The bins were certainly large enough to hide a man that wished to bury himself beneath the scraps.

Aubrey crept forward slowly, and drew out a phaser that was tucked inside his trench. As he moved about the bins, the ground near the restaurant door became visible. There were several footsteps leading up to it, and a small wet streak down the face of the door itself, about the width of a foot.

He glanced around once more, before pressing his back up against the wall beside the keypad. Aubrey leveled his phaser at the bin with the cornhusks, and tapped the keypad that opened the door. The door held open, as it waited for someone to enter, and then slid shut.

Church remained motionless, not making a sound, as several moments passed. Finally, the thief popped up from beneath the pile of cornhusks, stolen wallet in hand, as he stared down the muzzle of the phaser.

“Drop it,” Aubrey ordered. “As a member of Starfleet Security I assert my authority to act as an arresting agent in this jurisdiction.”

“Bloody hell,” The thief grumbled, as he tossed the wallet at Church. “How did ya do that?”

“First, your weapon,” Aubrey said.

“What weapon?”

“The blade I saw bulging in its sheath in your rear pocket as I pursued you.”

The thief frowned again, as he pulled out the knife and tossed it aside.

“Thank you ever so much,” Aubrey said with complete sincerity and a smile. “To answer your question, the reasoning was simple. I knew from the lack of prints you did not escape the ally. A very nice attempt you made trying to fool me into believing you had entered the restaurant. Clearly you intended to make your escape once I was inside. However I noted that the cornhusk bin was far too full to possibly account for how much corn would be consumed in a restaurant of this size on a daily basis.”

As Aubrey continued, the police appeared at the end of the ally to formally arrest the thief.

“Your footprints ended at the door but the wet streak on the door itself matched the size of your shoe. It appears that you jumped, flatfooted, in the air directly in front of the door, before pushing off from the door with your right foot, and executing a summersault backwards into the cornhusk bin. A most impressive feat of acrobatics I might add, leaving no footprints on the ground for me to follow. Unfortunately the print on the door itself was your undoing.”

“We do we ‘ave here?” The policeman asked Aubrey. Church safely stowed his phaser back inside his trench coat.

“Wonderful to see you gentlemen. Isn’t the snow lovely? Ensign Aubrey Church, Starfleet security. This man stole this wallet from Harrods. He was also carrying a knife which you will find in the snow over there. He should also be charged with resisting arrest, and fined for jaywalking. There was an accomplice inside the store as well. A female, approximately 162 centimeters with shoulder length blonde hair wearing a gray jacket and blue pants. Sorry I was not able to make out her eye color but she should be easy to find. I’m willing to bet she shares a domicile with our friend here.”

Aubrey turned back towards the thief. “Oh, and by the way, thank you for not running again. If you were aware of Starfleet code 1144.09, section C, paragraph 10, subparagraph f, you would have known it is against regulation for a Starfleet Officer to fire his or her weapon in a civilian setting without prior authorization from a flag officer of rank Commander or above. Unless you had attempted to take my life, I would not have been able to fire upon you.”

“I think we can handle it from here,” one of the police said, moving past Aubrey to take the thief into custody. Church thanked them for their service to London, and exited the ally, making his way back to Harrods. As he entered the store, he found his mother right where she had been before, still chattering on about the Christmas themed scarves as she had been before the commotion broke out.

“Who known when you’ll be seeing your friend again, once you leave for this Serendipity. Don’t you want to get him something truly special to remember you by?” At that exact moment, she turned towards Aubrey, unaware he had even been gone, and held up another gaudy selection.

“I’m sorry mum, it is so lovely indeed, but it just doesn’t say Carrick O’Sullivan to me.”

***********************************
Ensign Aubrey Church
Security Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1132: A Proposition, Part Two

2011-01-24T00:05:00.002-05:00

by Zander Blakeslee, TC Blane and Zanh Liis
110112.1337
Time: Hours after Part One

-= Blakeslee Quarters, USS Serendipity=-

The door chime rang, rousing Zander and causing him to sit straight up in his bed. He blinked as he tried to come out of his slumber. He glanced down to see that Samthia was still sleeping next to him. He yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced at the clock, 07:35. He wondered if he was dreaming.

*Way too early for my day off.* He thought as he looked at his pillow longingly.

The chime rang again as if to signal no further rest was to be had.

“Coming!” He called out as he rose from under the covers and slipped on his pajama bottoms. On his way past the door from the bedroom he grabbed his robe and put it on.

“Come in,” he called out, as he approached the door and tried to look alert.

The door slid open and his two sons raced through to greet their father, one hugging each leg. The collision almost threw Zander off balance.

“Daddy!” The boys exclaimed in unison.

TC Blane walked in behind them caring the boy’s backpacks as well as having his own slung over his shoulder. He placed theirs against the wall out of the way and smiled to Zander.

“Welcome home boys.” Zander hugged them both. “Did you have fun?”

Both boys smiled and nodded vigorously.

“We saw geezers!” Johannes exclaimed loudly. “They were cool, and went ‘whoosh’ up in the air and they was hot and stuff.” He accentuated his story with flailing arms and sound effects.

Zander laughed. “You mean geysers,” he corrected.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Dad. Geezers.” He threw his arms in the air again with a “whoosh” sound effect.

Zander laughed again and TC cracked a rare smile.

“I am glad that you had a good time.” Zander tossed each of their hair. “Did you thank Commander Blane for taking you?”

“Oh yes, numerous times.” TC offered as both boys nodded.

“Very good.” Zander smiled. “Why don’t you go and tell your mom. She is still sleeping.”

With a grin both boys bolted towards their parent’s room with a yell of pleasure.

Zander turned back to TC. “Thanks for taking them. They don’t get off the ship enough and the holodeck isn’t the same thing as real life.”

TC waved his hand. “No problem. They both behaved excellently and handled the ghost stories around the campfire well also.” He smiled. “Row, Row, Row your boat was a good time. Make sure you ask them about it.” He shifted the pack of gear still over his shoulder and nodded. “Well, I should go and let you get your morning started.” TC turned towards the door.

“Actually, do you have a minute or two?” Zander asked.

TC turned back and looked at Zander; he could tell that something was up. “Sure, if you got coffee. I think camp coffee is the only coffee that is worse then replicated.”

Zander smiled. “Of course.”

Zander ordered up a pot of coffee from the replicator as TC took a seat at the kitchen table. He returned with the pot a couple of cups and sugar and cream. He poured two cups and sat down across from TC.

After a few moments of watching Zander stare at the cream swirling in his cup TC finally broke the silence as his took a sip from his cup. “So?”

Zander smiled as he realized that he was somewhere else. “Have you ever thought about your life after Starfleet?”

TC sat his cup down and leaned back in his chair. “God, no. Me as a civilian? The world isn’t ready for such a thing. Besides who else would keep the Captain out of trouble?” He picked up his cup and took a sip. “Why do you ask?”

There was a long pause before Zander answered. “Sam wants another child. Obviously we can’t do that here, space is at a premium. Plus, I mean, recently, the Sera has not been exactly the world's safest assignment. She’s ready to move on. Resign her commission and return home to raise the kids and work on the family business.”

Zander tapped his mug, deep in thought as he continued. “Her father is aged and she has no brothers to take over when he passes. She is the eldest daughter and Deltan tradition states that his possessions will then pass the husband of the eldest daughter.” He thumbed at his chest. “That would be me.”

“Huh.” TC took another swig from his mug. “From what I understand the Wej Winery is one of the finest on the planet. I can’t even afford a bottle on my salary.” He put down the mug. “What’s the problem? Afraid you can’t run the place?”

“No, of course not.” He looked at TC. “I mean, sure, I’m a little concerned about it. But I’m not sure I want to leave Starfleet.”

“Why?” TC asked.

“Well,” Zander stammered. “I’ve got my career here and I’ve invested a lot into it.”

TC shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got more invested into your family. Right?”

Zander looked down at his cup. “Of course.”

TC leaned forward onto his elbows. “Look Zander. The Serendipity is a much finer vessel with you then with out you. I’ve have not known many finer officers then you in my time in Starfleet and I would choose you to serve with me anytime.” He leaned back. “But the Sera will survive without you. You have something outside of Starfleet that is worth more than Starfleet. I think you know that. Don’t let your sense of duty to the ship, or to your father’s memory, cloud your vision from making the right choice.”

TC finished off his cup and stood up. “Thanks for the coffee.” He laid his hand on Zander’s shoulder as he walked past to leave. “It was good serving with you.”

“I haven’t made a decision yet.” Zander protested.

TC smiled. “You will.” He walked to the door. “It’s an easy one.”

Just then Samthia walked out from the bedroom. “Commander Blane. Can I offer you some breakfast?”

TC shook his head. “No thank you.” He winked. “Keep in touch.” He exited the quarters.

Samthia glanced at her husband sitting at the table. He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eyes and a slight smile.

“Boys.” Samthia called out. “Take your backpacks to your room and unpack them. Then come out for breakfast.”

She sat down across from her husband in the seat that TC had vacated. “Xander? Are you alright?”

After a moment he smiled. “Yeah.” He stood up and kissed his wife on the top of her bald head. “He’s right. This is actually really easy.”

Samthia smiled, sensing that her husband had made a decision.

“I’m getting into the shower. Get a sitter for the kids. After breakfast we have to see the captain.”

-= Captain’s Ready Room=-

The chime for the door rang as Zanh continued to look over the repair reports from the dock master. She shook her head. How she would love to shake their reputation as the crew who was hardest on their ship of all in active service. Of course, she reminded herself, they also still held the singular distinction of being the crew who had finally taken down Taris, and that was enough as far as the brass was concerned to excuse the Sera's frequent trips to the shop.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself now, though, thinking how Dabin Reece had lamented the damage to equipment in his science lab on the Sera’s last little junket into the unknown and how he’d declared that if William Lindsay was going to set foot aboard her again it had “better be to announce that he and the singing O’Sullivan brothers were going to star in the thirty-fifth revival tour of Celtic Thunder.”

She signed off on the report to indicate she’d read and agreed with the content before it was sent to Admiral Lassiter, and just as she lifted her coffee to her lips the door chime rang. She shook her head and set the mug back down. "This is obviously not meant to be my morning where caffeine consumption is concerned." She lifted her eyes toward the door. It was early yet and her office had already been busier than a central transporter hub at rush hour. "Next!"

Zander and Samthia walked in and stood in front of her desk at a relaxed attention.

The look on Zander's face was one that Zanh could not recall having ever seen before, and slowly, she rose from her chair. "Good morning..." She nodded to Samthia. "To both of you. Is there something I can do for you?"

“Captain. There is no real easy way to say this so I am just going to do it.” Zander said as he exchanged glances with his wife. “Samthia and I are resigning our commissions in Starfleet effective immediately.” His face showed resolve and Samthia’s showed pride in her husband. “I’m sorry for the suddenness of this but we figured since the ship is at Earth and there are still a few weeks of repairs it would give you time to promote someone into our positions or for Starfleet to place suitable replacements.”

Zanh stepped back from her desk. She was so surprised by this announcement that she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.

"I see." She slowly walked over to the replicator, taking a moment to compose herself. "Medium roast coffee, hot. Double light." The cup appeared, and she grasped it, guzzled from it, and then turned back to face the couple. "Can I offer you something?"

"Captain, no thank you," Zander and Samthia exchanged another glance, and Zanh returned to her desk and set down her cup. For a moment he was tempted to ask if she'd heard what he'd said but he knew her better than to suggest she hadn't been paying attention.

"Oh, I heard you, Zander." Zanh said quickly, her brow furrowed as she appeared to read his mind. He cleared his throat and returned to standing at attention. Zanh allowed a moment of silence to hang in the air.

"Lt. Wej-Blakeslee," Zanh began again after she was satisfied enough time had elapsed. "You have not yet spoken for yourself. Are you certain that resigning your commission is what you wish?"

"What I wish most is to have another child, Captain." Samthia stated serenely. "I desire to take my proper place in my family, and while I am grateful for all that Starfleet has given to me, it is time for me to focus on my children, and our future."

Zanh nodded, satisfied. She knew Zander better than to ever imagine he’d make such a decision for his wife, but for the record she had to hear it with her own ears.

"Very well. I would like you to speak to Commander Reece before you formally resign." Zanh said, glancing over at Zander now. "Just as a show of respect. He is the head of your department."

"Yes, Captain. Of course." She nodded her head in a typical Deltan fashion.

"Thank you. I wish you the best with everything, Sam, and thank you for your service. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone with my Chief of Security."

Samthia nodded respectfully once again. "Of course, Captain.” She smiled at her husband as she turned away and left the room. Zander watched her graceful gait as she walked away and out of the door.

"Captain, may I speak freely?" Zander stepped forward a pace, the moment that the door had closed behind his wife.

"You've more than earned the right."

"You won't change my mind." Zander's jaw set, though a glimmer of emotion in his eyes spoke of his regard for the ship and its crew.

Zanh laughed softly, shaking her head. "I had no intention of trying to, Zander." She moved around the front of her desk. "There are just some things that I believe should be said between a man and his Captain, without an audience. Even if he happens to be married to that audience."

"Oh?" Zander shifted from foot to foot, looking down.

"Yes. I wanted to say that I know this choice could not have been easy for you, at least not for a moment or two, and I appreciate that. But I also want you to know that if I were you, I wouldn't hesitate to do what you about to do. You'll still serve the Federation, just in a different capacity. You've served this ship, and our crew, with distinction, honor and courage and I am personally grateful to you for your service."

He became aware of a hand moving into view, and he saw that Zanh had extended hers toward him. He grasped hold and she shook her hand firmly, once, before letting go.

"Be happy, Zander, above all else, and… do me one personal favor?"

Zander nodded.

"Tell Keiran yourself. I think that...you'll be very pleased with how happy he'll be to hear this news from you personally."

"Really?"

"Yes. He's been concerned about you, ever since Alaska. I think he'll be glad to hear you're setting yourself upon a path that'll bring you peace."

Zander nodded, remembering clearly his conversation with the big Irishman as he chopped wood outside the Blakeslee homestead.

“I will.” He smiled. “Thank you Captain, it’s been a privilege serving with you and everyone else aboard the Serendipity.” He turned to leave.

"Commander," Zanh called him back one last time. Zander paused.

"Remember, if there's ever anything you need, just say the word. You'll always have family here."

He smiled and nodded. “If you are ever near Delta IV. Stop in for a glass of wine.” As he turned to leave the door to the ready room slid open and TC Blane strode through.

Cleaned up and back in uniform, TC stopped and looked at Zander and then back to the Captain. He could tell by the look on the Captain’s face that Zander had indeed come to his decision.

He extended his hand to Zander. Zander took it and they shook. “Take care of yourself and the family.” TC offered.

Zander smiled and wistfully looked around the ready room one last time glancing at his soon to be former Captain. He turned back to TC. “You too.”

TC watched as Zander exited the room before turning to Zanh.

“You see.” He pointed to the Captain. “This is what I never leave the ship. Everyone gets delusions of grandeur. Or Chief of Security decides to go native and make babies with our stellar cartographer and someone decides to promote Briggs to captain.” He shook his head and smiled as he crossed his arms. “I’m never stepping off this tub again, far too dangerous to leave you alone with the crew. Bad things happen.”

Liis smirked, walking back to the replicator and ordering a cup of extra strong coffee, black. She held it out toward Blane as her lips turned up into a full grin.

"Drink with me, Thomas."

His ice blue eyes twinkled as he accepted the mug."To?"

"To happy Blakeslees, the safety of the Cairo and her new Captain..." Liis' voice trailed off.

"And?"

“And to the health of Thomas Cassius Blane, official 'puller of my fat from the fire'. Sláinte." She clanked her cup heavily into Blane’s, and he rolled his eyes upward as he raised it to his lips.

"Amen."

Zander Blakeslee
Former Lt. Commander
Former Chief of Security/Tactical
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Commander TC Blane
Chief Operations Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

-=/\=- Zanh Liis O’Sullivan
Commanding Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1131: The Package

2011-01-24T00:04:00.001-05:00

by Rada Dengar
110112.2130
After The Black Box

-=Personal Quarters of Rada Dengar: USS Serendipity=-

Rada’s whole body was aching. His brow was drenched in sweat, his sore arms and back were crying out for a reprieve and he was probably in desperate need of a shower. Even still, as he stood back, arms crossed surveying a job well done, he was smiling.

He had spent the bulk of the day shifting everything of Wren and Tam’s back into the quarters they were always supposed to share. He hadn’t done it alone of course. Tam had very eagerly volunteered, and it was a battle all day to prevent him hurting himself by attempting to pick up items which were significantly heavier than he was. Though having missed out on much of the heavy lifting at the start due a shift at the café, Wren had also assisted at the end.

Now it was done. There was a peacefulness to seeing it back like this. For the first time he really felt once again like he was home. For this moment he could almost forget all that had happened since their quarters had last looked like this.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, as he looked out across the wonderful clutter of Federation standard furniture, assorted knick knacks and so much of the entirely standard requisite family paraphernalia

“Exactly like it was before,” Wren said with a smile, her hand reaching down to his and squeezing it meaningfully.

A sort of sadness suddenly crept over his features and Wren looked to at him with concern.

“Yeah…” His voice seemed to trail off.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…it was so hard on you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s all.”

“Hey,” she said gently, stepping around in front of him now. “If you hadn’t done what you did I wouldn’t be here. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Rada’s guilt made him want to argue but his new found sense of happiness with life told him there was something better to do.

He put his arm around her back and pulled her closer against him. He found himself quickly forgetting how tired he was supposed to be.

“I love you,” he said softly, his hand moving up to trace over her cheek.

“I love you too,” she said. She paused before adding with a smile, “You really need a shower.”

“Oh, such romantic talk…” he answered with an exaggerated, loving sigh.

Her unmoving smile however made him think that perhaps he’d misjudged the intended number of occupants of said shower. He added, leaning in to kiss her, “Romantic indeed.”

Just before their lips could touch however they were interrupted by the intrusion of the door chime. Each let out a slight grumble of frustration.

“Hold that…everything,” he insisted before turning to call out to the door. “Come in!”

The door slid open and the smiling face of Jamie Halliday appeared there. He had a brown paper package in his hands. Apparently he came bearing gifts, as well as the usual pearly white teeth. Though the timing wasn’t exactly great, Rada had to admit it was good to be seeing that smile again.

“Good news, Rada,” Jamie said, not appearing to notice that the two were still in one another’s arms. “You were wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” Rada asked at they released one another, though their hands remained joined.

“You know how you said if your luck held out we’d all be killed?”

Rada and Wren exchanged a glance.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that…”

“It certainly doesn’t sound like you,” Wren added, though she sensed complete sincerity coming from Jamie.

“Yeah, you did,” Jamie insisted. “Ages ago. You said that it would be just your luck that the day you came back on board the ship after being away would be day it was blown up.”

Rada closed his eyes and let out a gentle laugh. Jamie always did have a way of phrasing things all of his own.

“Yes, I did say that.”

“Well, it’s good news that it hasn’t,” He answered and Rada agreed, though thinking about it to call it good news was naturally assuming that being alive is news to you.

Otherwise it’s really more of a good thing. People always seemed to say ‘good news’ though. No one ever just says ‘good thing’. In fact never in his life had Rada heard uttered the words “‘good thing’ the sun is warm and babies are cute”. Though come to think of it, they had often said “good thing we brought an umbrella” which personally Rada considered to be less important. If for example babies weren’t cute most parents would probably just swap them for a puppy, which are much quicker to housetrain and never want to learn the recorder. That would of course result in the death of all humanoid species and eventually a galaxy ruled by incredibly pampered poodles.

Still, even the use of ‘good thing’ in primarily umbrella driven happenstances wasn’t guaranteed. If you weren’t aware you’d brought an umbrella, like you were about to get it out when a really big hail stone hit you on the head and gave you amnesia, then it could be good news. Of course most people really don’t appreciate and declare the goodness of news when they’ve been hit on the head by a large block of ice anyway. Mostly they just complain of a headache.

Without even realising it, Rada was making Wren smile. She squeezed his hand affectionately. She’d been listening in on these thought patterns and there was something so very endearing about how his mind got so carried away. It was also just so very good to hear him thinking like this again.

“So what’s with the package?” Wren asked Jamie, her hand moving up and running patiently along Rada’s arm.

“Oh, this. Of course,” Jamie said, looking down to item in his hands like he’d very nearly forgotten it. “That’s why I’m here. The mail’s in. I happened to come across yours when I was picking up mine so I decided to bring it here myself.”

“That was very sweet of you,” Wren said, and she meant it.

Jamie really was completely sincere in his sweetness. She entirely suspected that he would in fact have sought out their mail deliberately just to come here and see them. Yet from him she sensed no desire or even capacity for deceit. He was simply a happy man who wanted to make the whole galaxy a little happier.

Though lacking in her Betazoid abilities, she knew Rada could recognise the goodness in Jamie just as well.

“Yes it was,” Rada agreed, moving from Wren to take the package from Jamie. “Thank you.”

Mail delivery of course wasn’t as big of an event on the Serendipity when compared against other ships that spent most of their time far away from Federations space. Still, there was something about arriving at a familiar port and finding something waiting for you that could just make you so happy.

“Which one of us is it for?” Rada asked.

“Actually it’s addressed to both of you,” Jamie said, handing the package to Rada. “I suppose that’s got to be nice for you, Rada. I know no one normally sends you anything.”

With anyone else Rada would have worried that it were a shot at his lack of social life. He never had to worry about that sort of thing with Jamie though. Maybe that was why they got along so well. The man with such doubt couldn’t help but to like the man whose intentions you could never doubt.

“No, that’s true,” Rada answered, examining with curiosity the small box in his hands. They’d never gotten anything addressed to both of them before.

“I guess you’re probably not that close with your family,” Jamie replied with a shrug of his shoulder. “I know I’m not a lot like mine.”

“They’re a doctor and three police officers, aren’t they?” Rada asked, handing the package to Wren so she could see and so that he could put his arm behind her back.

“That’s right,” Jamie confirmed; a clear pride in his tone. “If you want open heart surgery or to be arrested then they’re just the people you need. Yet when the power system for the house breaks down they always have to bring in someone who knows what they’re doing to fix it. Personally I'd rather do it myself.”

Rada and Wren smiled to one another about his remark, but said nothing. Without even realising it Rada’s hand was running up and down on her back.

“Anyway, I suppose you want me to get out of here?” Jamie asked warmly, in the same way the sky might do something bluely. “I know you must both be becoming pretty desperate by now.”

Rada’s hand stopped moving and his eyes opened slightly wider at the thought that the innocent Jamie Halliday may have some idea exactly what they were so eager to get up to before his arrival. Wren on the other hand sensed Rada’s thoughts and found the idea quite amusing, having to fight against her smile becoming a little too large.

“How do you mean?” Rada asked cautiously.

To Jamie the answer was obvious.

“You know, to open the package. I know I can never stand to wait.”

“Of course,” Rada said with relief, his hand moving again. “Yes, we’re definitely very eager to open the package.”

“Very,” Wren agreed, giving Rada a rather meaningful look.

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” Jamie said, just happy to have seen them.

“Well, thank you for stopping by,” Rada replied.

“Yes, thank you,” Wren added as Jamie simply smiled before he set off upon his merry way again. He only looked back once to smile at them again.

Then the second the door had closed Rada’s eyes were back on Wren, pulling her back into his arms, as he returned to the kiss they had tried to start before.

“What about opening the package?” Wren asked innocently when their lips broke away, her hands around his neck.

Rada seemed to think about if for approximately a tenth of a nanosecond.

“It can wait.”

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1130: The Black Box

2011-01-24T00:02:00.001-05:00

by Paxton Briggs, Salvek, and Zanh Liis
Stardate: 110109.15
Time: Current

=0700 , USS Alchemy – Bridge=

The bridge of the Alchemy was shut down, except for a few important systems that were needed to run the diagnostics and security programs. Accent lighting along with the few panel lights provided all of the illumination on the bridge.

Still, it was enough light for Paxton Briggs to perform his diagnostic work. With a PADD tucked under one arm and both hands working a tricorder he made his way from station to station checking various thresholds and variances as he fine tuned the systems.

It was a habit he had gotten into when assigned to the Border Station Indigo. He had found the station interfaces were not often part of regular maintenance projects and that there efficiency was sometimes off by as much as twelve percent. Not really a lot of time when you are considering the nanoseconds it takes for the controls station to relay messages, but in a life or death situation it might make a difference.

He heard the door to the bridge slide open behind him.

“Ensign Carmin I presume?” Paxton called out without turning around.

“Ah… yes sir.” Came a shy voice from behind him.

Paxton turned around and smiled. “Right on time.” He tossed the PADD that was under his arm to the Ensign. She caught it cleanly. Paxton nodded to the tactical station. “Have a seat.”

Eliza Carmin came aboard the Serendipity just over a year ago as a communications officer, and while she had performed her duties admirably during that time and her performance reviews where good she wanted to do more. Tactical had always been her weak point and she had asked Commander Briggs for help.

“I’ve loaded some test scenarios into the PADD for you. Take them down to the holodeck and run through them when you get the chance.” He crossed his arm in front of him. “See what solutions you come up with.”

Eliza nodded, “Yes sir.”

Paxton walked over by the tactical station. “I wanted you to come down here this morning because I think we can improve your reaction times at the console. Go ahead and pull up the tactical layout.”

She touched the blackened console and it came to life asking for the users bio-signature. She placed her hand in the location and it confirmed her identity. The panel unlocked and displayed all of the controls and settings laid out in a neat fashion. Each of the panel's layouts were configurable by user. As it was her first time at tactical, the computer displayed the basic template.

Paxton looked at her layout. “Well I see that you have the standard Starfleet template setup. There is a lot of information here that you will not need in day to day tactical operations of a starship. Everything is necessary but not all of it needs to be at your finger tips.”

Ensign Carmin nodded. “So you think I need to streamline it?”

Pax nodded. “Yeah. There is too much to looks at.” He touched the panel and logged her out and then logged himself in. “See, how basic my panel is. My base screen has all of the information and controls I would need for basic operations. I’ve setup quick links up here in the corner for different situations. Such as combat, damage control, planetary survey, etc.”

Eliza nodded again and smiled. “Thank you Commander. I’ll design something when I run through these holodeck trials.” She held up the PADD.

Paxton smiled. “No problem, Ensign. Happy to help.”

=0930, USS Serendipity - Afterthought Café=

Paxton sat at one of the tables near the windows that looked out aft of the Sera. Normally there would be streams of stars streaking past into the dark heavens. But now there was only the bright blue and white orb of the Earth slowly turning in a sea of stars.

The café would usually be a buzz of activity this time of the day as the morning shift filtered in to get their coffee and breakfast. But with the ship in orbit over Earth, there were very few patrons in the café, which made for a quiet place for Paxton to complete his crew evaluations.

He took a sip of the hazelnut crème coffee that he had ordered before sitting down then turned his attention to the PADD in front of him when his combadge chirped to life.

“Commander Briggs, please report to my ready room.” The Captain’s familiar voice beckoned.

He tapped his badge. “I’m on my way.” He took another long pull of coffee from the mug and picked up his PADD. He pushed away from the table and made his way to the nearest turbo lift.

-= 0947, USS Serendipity – Captain’s Ready Room=-

Paxton touched the chime on the door to the ready room and waited for the captain to answer.

“C'mon in.”

The doors parted before Paxton and he entered and room to find the Captain leaning on her desk. Her arms folded across her chest a PADD in one of her hands. Over her right shoulder, Salvek stood with his arms clasped behind his back.

“You wanted to see me Captain?”

”We wanted to see you, Commander.” She did little more then shift her eyes in Salvek’s direction, and the Vulcan knew she wished for him to step forward and continue. Salvek circled around from behind her desk, and stood a few meters from Briggs.

“Commander, since the time you decided to stay here and we assembled the on-call command crew for the Alchemy, it has not gone unnoticed the work you have put in keeping the vessel fully functional and prepared for duty at a moment’s notice. I have commanded the ship by rank but the reality is I believe you know its intricacies even better than I.”

“So… is there a problem?” Briggs asked, a bit confused as to why he was being hauled before he Captain and XO for a pat on the back.

“Yes, there is a problem,” Salvek continued. “While your vigilance to the ship itself is exemplary, Starfleet judges its leaders on how they handle their crew. The Alchemy staff has come to trust you, and even emulate you. At her last review Ensign Carmin informed me that she would be seeking you out personally to assist her in learning the tactical controls. She felt there was no one better to instruct her. I believe her judgment in that regard to be impeccable.”

Salvek continued to speak as he moved back behind the Captain. “Our problem, Commander, is that your talents, in our opinion, would best serve Starfleet in command on a day to day basis. The Alchemy simply does not receive enough mission time to warrant keeping an officer of your caliber in this position. That is why, when Admiral T’Mira sent out an open request for recommendations to take command of the newly commissioned USS Cairo-A, with Captain Zanh’s blessing, I submitted your name for the position. I believed, given your service to

The Alchemy Project, as well as your history aboard the first vessel to carry the name Cairo, that you were the best fit to Command the new vessel.”

“I’m being offered my own command?” Briggs asked, wanting to be perfectly sure he was really hearing what he was hearing.

“That’s right,” Zanh said, rising from her chair. She pushed a small box towards Briggs, and opened the lid to show Briggs the new pip inside. “The Admiral gave me permission to make your promotion official. That is, if you want it.”

Pax stared for a moment in stunned disbelief at the box and the shining gold ornament inside of it. It wasn't that the idea of taking command gave him pause- he was used to being responsible for the lives of crew and civilians alike in his years in Starfleet. It was that as he watched the light bounce off of it, he glanced up at Zanh and observed the four pips all in a row upon her collar.

He thought about having seen them on Salvek at points, as well, and even on Keiran O'Sullivan.

Suddenly, he felt the full weight of the responsibility of the title, 'captain' settle upon his broad shoulders. The moment passed quickly though, and then he almost, but not quite laughed. He shook his head, thinking that this had started

out as any other morning- he'd never expected it to be the day that his dreams for his career were suddenly handed to him the shape of a small black box.

Zanh's eyes twinkled with pride as she pushed the box a little closer, giving him a lopsided grin. "So what'll it be, Paxton? Is it time for the longest ever detour in the history of a Starfleet career to come to an end?" The smile disappeared from her face now, and their eyes met for a long moment. She could see in him a readiness, an absolute certainty before he even opened his mouth to speak.

"Yes. I guess it is." He shook his head. "Not that I am looking to get away or anything like that. Well...maybe I am." He smiled to signify that he was indeed joking.

In a moment of unusual sentimentality, Salvek spoke. "You will be missed."

Paxton grinned. "Isn't that you will be missed, Sir?"

"Hey, this is still my boat." Liis warned raising an eyebrow. "Get a little dust on that pip before you start teasing the Vulcan."

Salvek nodded to Zanh. "Captain, if that is all, I have duties to attend to."

"Yeah, go on, get out. My coffee's getting cold so somebody has to get to work around here so I have the time to finish it." Zanh nodded to him, and then Salvek was gone.

Paxton had picked up the box and continued to stare at the pip. Zanh sighed wistfully. He had, in many ways, no idea quite what he was in for yet, but she knew that he would rise to any challenge that command presented to him.

In a rare moment of complete seriousness and sincere respect, she reached out a hand toward him- toward the box he held. "May I do the honors, Captain Briggs?"

"Of course." He looked at the floor. "Please call me Paxton." To him having someone who he had come to admire as a leader and a fine example of what a captain should strive to be should never have to be so formal.

"I expect you to remember this moment someday when you outrank me and I do something that lands me in your office." Zanh joked, as she affixed the pip in its proper place. The immensely tall man before her suddenly stood, if possible, just a little bit taller still.

"I will do that, but I expect that your first and second officers would never let it get to that point." He smiled. "Thank you, for everything."

"Salvek was right, Paxton. We really are going to miss you."

"The feeling is mutual." He grinned as he touched the new pip on his collar...just to make sure it was real.

Captain Paxton Briggs
Commanding Officer
USS Cairo-A

Commander Salvek
Executive Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

-=/\=- Zanh Liis O'Sullivan
Commanding Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1129: A Proposition, Part One

2011-01-23T23:53:00.000-05:00

by Zander Blakeslee
110107.0805
Current

-=Blakeslee Quarters, USS Serendipity=-

The door to the Blakeslee quarters slid open as Zander approached it. In one fluid motion he unzipped his duty coat and tossed it onto the reclining chair that sat in the corner of the room.

Samthia was in the small kitchenette area of the room and the familiar smell of fresh fruit and vegetables drifted to him as he approached. He came up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly, lifting her off of her feet. He kissed her neck gently.

“Smells good. What are we having?”

She laughed. “Nothing if you don’t put me down so the steak does not burn.”

Zander complied and lowered his wife down to the floor. “As you wish.” He do not however let loose his embrace.

“Thank you. We are having Porterhouse steaks and wild grain rice with fresh fruit salad.” She leaned back and kissed her husband.

“Oooohhh. Charred animal flesh.” He smiled. “Your spoiling me or buttering me up for something.”

Samthia turned back to the stove. “I am simply taking advantage of the ship being in orbit over Earth and the direct availability of fresh food.” She turned the steaks over. “Now let me finish.”

Zander glanced at the steaks cooking and looked back at the table that had been set for two. “No kids?” he asked.

“They are with Commander Blane,” she replied, as she moved to stir the rice.

Zander glanced back as he made his way to the table. “Commander Blane?”

“Yes. He has them for tonight. Camping in Yellowstone Park I believe.” She smiled at him as she walked to the table with a bowl of fresh bread that she placed in front of him. “Please open the wine, my One. It needs to breathe before serving.” She nodded to the bottle in the chiller on the table.

Zander nodded as he pulled the bottle of wine out of the chiller. It was from Samthia’s family's stock. This particular bottle was a rare and practically priceless bottle. Deltan wine is infused with the pheromones of the Deltans themselves, which when consumed by most other races acted as a type of aphrodisiac. When aged the potency increases; this bottle was over ten years old.

Zander whistled and raised his eyebrows as he surveyed the date. He grabbed the corkscrew from the table and began to work the cork free. “Well while I appreciate the notion of having the kids gone for the night, why would Commander Blane take them to Yellowstone? I mean, he does not strike me as a babysitter.”

Samthia returned to the table with a bowl of steaming rice and placed it on the table between the plates. “Oh, I guess you do not know that he has started a Natural Explorer’s club for the youth of the ship. I believe that Arie and Tam have also attended the excursion.” She turned on her heel and made her way back into the kitchette.

Zander laughed. “TC might be in over his head.”

Samthia returned with the steaks and placed one onto Zanders plate before returning to the kitchen with the empty skillet and coming back with the bowl of fruit. Zander poured the wine as she sat down.

He looked at the food laid out before them and then to his wife who while still in her uniform looked particularly ravishing to him this evening. He knew that he was already starting to feel the effects of the pheromones from the wine but that was only part of it, something else was going on.

“So, steak, a bottle of your best wine, ditched the kids for the night.” He grinned. “What do you want my love?” he asked, as he took a sip from his wine glass.

Samthia placed some rice onto her plate along with a scoop of fruit. “Can I not simply show my love for you by attending to your favorite things?” She asked through and light sly smile.

Zander shrugged as he cut his steak and popped the piece into his mouth. “Hummm, this is really good.” He cut another piece as he smiled to his wife. “You forgot, we are one and I can feel that you want something. You have for a while now.” He bite into the next piece that he cut off of his fork. “You have me at your mercy, just ask already.”

Samthia smiled and put down her fork and pushed away from the table. Zander put down his knife and fork and took another sip from his wine. Samthia stood and made her way to Zander who had pushed his own chair away from the table.

She slowly lowered her small frame into his lap and kissed him gently.

“Xander, my One...” she whispered softly.

“Yes?” Zander answered.

“I want you to give me…” She paused as she kissed him again.

Zander gulped as her close proximity and the effects of the wine began to combine into an irresistible force to his restraint. “Yes?” He asked again, his voice scratchy.

“…another child.” She completed, as she kissed him.

Few things in the world can pull a human male away from a Deltan female who has focused her attention to seducing him, except to asking for a child.

Zander was slightly taken aback by the request. While he really, really, did not want to ruin the inevitable conclusion of the current course of events his concerns got the best of him.

“Ummm, we have two boys now?” He whispered as Samthia kissed his neck.

“Yes, I wish another.” She responded matter of factly as she turned her attention to his earlobe.

“Ummm…There really isn’t, I mean this is not a good time for another child…” He gulped. “These are as big a room as we can get. Plus your, our, careers are going well.”

She stopped kissing his ear and propped herself up on her elbows using his chest as leverage. “Xander. I will resign my commission and return to Delta IV.” She stoked his cheek with her hand. “I wish you to be with me. I wish us to continue our family.”

Zander blinked he could sense her seriousness and determination. This was what she truly wanted.

“What about Starfleet, the Sera?” he asked.

Samthia smiled. “That is no longer my path. I feel it is time to mature to the next part of my life, our life. I wish more children.” She kissed his forehead. “Father is not getting any younger. He has no sons, you will inherit the Wej estate, and our sons after you.”

She eyed him reading his face. “You will always be a part of Starfleet, you will continue your ambassador duties.”

Zander looked away, turning his eyes to the stars beyond the protective transparent aluminum of the window. “What about my career.”

Samthia gently turned his face back to her. “You do not owe anything else to your father.”

“Of course, the choice is yours.” She added quietly. She leaned in close to him and kissed him gently. “It is also not one that you do not have to make this evening.”

She kissed him more passionately. “Let’s go to bed.”

LT. Commander Zander Blakeslee
Chief of Security/Tactical
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1128: The Rise and Fall of Silence

2010-12-05T03:48:00.002-05:00

by William Lindsay and -=/\=-Keiran O'Sullivan
Stardate 101201.12
Soundtrack: Brothers in Arms, as recorded by Celtic Thunder, featuring Ryan Kelly
During and after Here, There, and Everywhere

-=/\=-

Through these fields of destruction,
Baptisms of fire
I've witnessed your suffering, as the battles raged higher;
and though that it hurt me so bad,
in the fear and alarm,
You did not desert me, my brothers in arms.

-=/\=-

-=The O'Sullivan Residence=-

The previous murmurs of conversation were all but inaudible now. The farther their steps drew them from the porch, the more the silence between the two men became painfully obvious.

It was not one of their usual, comfortable silences; the simple kind that partners in work and the closest of friends can share and exist in and find it restorative. Instead this was the most difficult and painful variety. It was that silence that settles like a dense fog between two people wrestling tiredly with emotions they'd rather not deal with at all. It was the kind that can sink a friendship, no matter how strong, straight to the bottom of the ocean if someone didn't find the courage to first attempt to break it.

As stubborn as both men could be, neither one of them was willing quite yet to make that first sacrifice of pride. The only sound that filled the air was the pattern of their footfalls, as boots again and again struck the soft Cork ground.

They walked side by side, step by step, but neither man looked over to see the other’s face. Keiran’s eyes looked dead forward, occasionally falling to watch his feet strike the ground, but his mind was clearly far away.

Will glanced around the surrounding land a few times but ultimately his eyes never strayed far from the area directly in front of them.

Will only stopped to look around again as O'Sullivan paused to take in the view of the house in the distance. Just barely, Keiran's eyes could make out Liis' shadow as the porch light shone down upon her. If he focused very carefully, he could see her earring glinting in the light and, as she reached up to twist the chain of it, the refracted colors emanating from the facets of the stones in her wedding band.

He had no doubt that she was the single reason that Will had come to dinner tonight- had to be, because Keiran had never invited him.

As difficult as it would have been, a large part of him, perhaps the best part of him, still felt guilty about that fact now. Here he'd opened his home to the crew of the Sera, specifically those of the command crew; those who were family, this night. Yet he'd neglected to include the man who was closer than his family could ever be- that troubled, wayward younger-brother figure that he could never quite figure out if he wanted to protect or strangle with his own two hands.

That choice however would have to be made later, as that younger man’s patience for this silent walk ran out, and in deference it seemed to the position Keiran had always held in their partnership, he spoke first.

“Tis a beautiful garden ye’ve got here,” Will finally volunteered, though he was unable to hide the effort in his tone.

“Thanks,” Keiran mumbled, not angrily but with the speed of a man not encouraging conversation. He began walking again, slow steps that never changed to the long and rapid strides of which he was so easily capable, suggesting that even if he didn’t want to be here he knew he should be.

“Yeah,” Will muttered tiredly in agreement.

As they continued to walk once more in silence, out the corner of his eye Keiran then glanced over to Will for a second, wondering whether looking at him would feel different this time than all the last. Finding it really didn’t, he quickly returned to looking forwards again.

"Time for a question." Keiran decided, forcing himself to stop walking and truly look William in the eye.

Will simply nodded.

"Are you here of your own accord or did she insist upon it?"

"She asked. She did'na insist."

"Ah." It wasn’t that it was his intention to make this difficult on William, but at the same time he just didn’t know what he expected of him. Keiran let out a deep and sullen sigh. "I know how Liis 'asks' for things. Has a way of gettin' under yer skin and ya just can't say no to her."

"I could've said no to her. Unlike you, O'Sullivan, I'm not under the impression that all the worlds love Zanh Liis. I for one could take her or leave her." For just an instant, the spark returned to Will's eyes, and when it disappeared again it became all too clear to Keiran just how much this past mission; this assignment at TI, had taken out of him.

"You nearly did."

The words were spoken before Keiran could stop himself, and he could tell by the change in Will's posture that they hit harder than any physical blow could have.

"I may not have looked before I leapt, Keiran, and gotten her in deeper than I ever intended, that's true, every word of it. Whatever mistakes in judgment I made, I swear, never in a million years of time linear or otherwise did I ever intend upon leavin' her behind. Not to save my own ass, not to save yours and not to save anyone else's!"

"To save the timeline, then."

"Hey, now." Will raised his hands in a defensive gesture and out of habit, used Keiran's signature 'stop there and not another step' turn of phrase. "She's TI as much as you or I will ever be. She knows that we're expected to give our lives or the lives of those dearest to us to save the timeline. She would have died if that was what it took, and willingly."

"For the timeline, yeah. For Brody's revenge? Hell, no." Keiran folded his arms and gave a truly irritated sigh. “What d’ya want from me, William?"

Will was surprised by the directness of the question, and had to think for a second to really know what to say.

Keiran continued. "Is there somethin' specific, or are ya just here to lecture me on codes of conduct that I taught ya to begin with?”

“I don’t really know what I want,” he answered. “Forgiveness would be nice but I know I’ve no right ta expect ta get it. What I don’t want though is fer things ta be like this between us forever.”

The suddenly new expression on Keiran’s face, reflective and almost absent, said that he didn’t want that any more than Will did. He just wasn’t sure how to change things back.

“Forgiveness is a fine thing,” Keiran acknowledged. “I know yeh don’t believe in it, but I was always taught the Lord can forgive us any sin. God knows I’ve been glad many times mehself ta know that’s true.”

“Well, maybe the book makes some good points now and then,” Will offered with as much respect as he could ever muster for Keiran’s faith, though it was clear that Keiran couldn’t simply change how he felt no matter the book that said he should. He opened his mouth to make a flip remark about how maybe he should retrieve the copy Keiran had given him as a gift years before from beneath the wobbly coffee table where it balanced out uneven legs, but quickly bit the words back, thinking he liked his teeth in his mouth and knowing Keiran was beyond the end of his patience already.

“I know I’m no saint, William,” Keiran muttered, shuffling his massive weight from foot to foot as his boots began to leave indentations in the soil below. “I do want to forgive ya, but it’s just it’s not as easy as it ought ta be.”

There was a pause as Will wondered whether there was even any point in asking the next question.

“Why’s that?” Will finally said, with neither anger nor curiosity but with simply acceptance that he wouldn’t be able to change it even knowing the reason. "Why is this time any different from before?"

“Deciding on forgiveness is easy. Something they never really covered in Sunday services was how you were supposed to make the anger go away. Men tryin' to follow the example led by Christ are supposed to be better than that. Better than this. I swear, I could be, if it were different. I'd keep turning the other cheek until Kingdom come. But she...what this did to her.” He exhaled sharply. "I'm angry at you, William. Am really, really angry and I don' know just how ta let go of it."

Despite the tone of Keiran's voice, Will's mood lightened for the moment. He knew O'Sullivan could never hang on to anger very long. Bitterness had been another thing, but the Irishman's anger usually burned hot and fast and then soon dissipated. "Ya know, this isn’t the first time I’ve done something ta really piss you off.”

“I know that ta be sure,” Keiran answered. For merely a second a slight smile crept to his lips, before falling completely away to leave only his previous unhappy expression. He looked down at the ring upon his left hand and then back to the house, and Will knew the reason that he was having such a hard time this time around. It wasn't that he had to forgive Will now for anything he'd done to him, it was the pain and suffering Will's decisions had caused Liis that Keiran still fought with.

"It’s different this time,” Will finished the thought without Keiran even having to.

“Is always different with Liis. You know that.” Keiran rotated now, head, shoulders, then his entire form, at last, toward the man who, aside from Liis, had been for years his closest friend and confidant. "She's tough, is true. She's been through things that leave grizzled old soldiers cringing and sick ta their stomachs to hear about. But she has a limit, William. She can be broken, and you and I have both seen how close Brody brought her to that. If you'd told me, or her...if we'd known-"

"Aye I know, Keiran. For all it’s worth I really am sorry." Will's expression was devoid of any sense of irony or sarcasm now- he was entirely sincere. "If I could turn back the hands and do it over, I would, you know that. But I can't. So I'm askin', if I told you that, upon my word, I'd never let anything like it happen again, then, do you think that in time you might find your way to look me in the eye and shake my hand just the same as you've always done?"

Keiran stared at him, unflinching, as he considered. After a moment his eyes flashed from rage to sorrow and he closed them as in that instant he relived, not at all by choice, many of the times they'd saved each other's lives, fought with each other and for each other, and always managed to come out of any struggle closer friends than they'd been before.

Will seemed to read his mind, and spoke to the memories playing out in it. "Am not askin' for any favor based upon anything we've been through in the past," he clarified. "I'm not askin' for it today. Not even a year from now. Hell, I know it's gonna take a long time before you can look at me and see anything but the interior of that holosuite on the Poseidon, and Liis suffering in it." He looked away now, struggling against things he did not care to even stop pretending weren’t there.

"If you want'ta know the truth of it, Keiran, is gonna be a long time before I look in the mirror without seeing that, myself." He let his words sink in before going on. "I have no right to expect your forgiveness, and if it turns out that you can't give it at all, is not gonna change the way I look at you. You're the best man I've ever known, Keiran. Even if I can't have your friendship now, am willin' to wait for it."

Keiran shivered suddenly, and as he looked back toward the house he saw the last of the shadows surrounding Liis fade away in the haze of a transporter. It was getting late, and he hadn't really had a single chance to talk to her since she'd been back to Medical. He was anxious for this to be over, just as he knew Lindsay was. Though he knew himself better than to believe that it would be completely over tonight or even in the days immediately to come, he also knew that he'd hate himself if it never ended at all.

He started walking back towards the house without saying another word, and William dutifully followed.

Just before they reached earshot, Keiran spun on him. "You're leavin', on a Jump. Aren't you?"

Will nodded. "Jonas is back, Keiran, that's my cue. There's a ship waiting for me."

Keiran blinked. "Soon?"

"Yeah. Soon."

Keiran reserved his reaction about Jonas Vox' return to the director's chair for another time, and focused on the man before him. "You're gonna come back to us in one piece, aren't ya?" He said, with just enough of a pause before he spoke the words to confirm he really meant any concern that could be read into them.

At hearing the question, Will's shoulders finally relaxed. "Aye, I am." He didn't give Keiran his trademark, wise-ass grin now, but his eyes did light up with the mischief of which only he was truly capable. "I rather like all my parts where they are. I'd hate to disappoint all the ladies waitin' upon my return to this timeline."

Keiran turned an about face and continued to walk, a slight worried smile on his face in the knowledge that he didn’t know whether it was a good or a bad thing that Will never seemed to change. They reached the foot of the porch and Liis slowly descended the steps to meet them. Both men inclined their heads toward her in greeting.

"Gentlemen." She folded her arms and rocked her weight from her heels to her toes. "Have a nice chat?"

"Yeah." Keiran said, his eyes unable to leave her face for a moment now to look at anything else. "Did. William?"

"We did at that. Now, I," he stepped closer to Liis and offered his hand. "I'd best be goin'. You know how I feel about early mornings."

"Yes. Like me, you prefer to hear from others how they went after they're over." Liis finally looked at Will directly, and then she did something neither man was expecting.

When she took his hand, she pulled him closer and clasped him into a hug. She held on for a long moment and when she drew back, she placed a quick kiss upon his cheek. When she drew back, tears glimmered in her eyes but did not fall. "Safe journeys, William."

Unsure what he should do or say, Will simply nodded. "You too, Captain." He turned then and looked at O'Sullivan. Very slowly, he extended his hand. "Keiran."

"William." Keiran grasped on, and shook it once, firmly. "I don't have my compass an'a'more, mind? Can't come and bail you out this time."

“Aye,” Will acknowledged, with an understanding in his eyes that Keiran found truly surprising. “I know ye’ve other things that ya need ta be doin’ anyway.”

Keiran could tell that in his own way, Will was supporting his attitude that the timeline and all else in it could be damned before Liis ever became any less than his top priority. Feeling her hand now tightly grasping his, Keiran realised Liis could tell that too.

“Besides,” Will added, a smile creeping onto his features, “the trouble ya get into when yer getting yerself outta trouble is often when you have the most fun.”

“Mind you don’t have too much fun, yeah?”

The smirk now thoroughly settled onto Will’s face. “And you mind you don’t have too little. Otherwise I might have ta come back ta make things interestin’ again.”

The look between both men’s eyes said that for however things may have been between them now, they both hoped they would be seeing one another again soon. Liis squeezed Keiran’s hand tighter again, as if to say that in her opinion they would.

“Lindsay to Vanguard,” Will said, finally hailing the vessel in orbit. “Beam me up.”

The moment the last of Will's transporter signature faded, Keiran immediately grasped hold of Liis, once again pulling her into his arms and holding her so tight that her feet no longer touched the ground.

Captain William Lindsay
USS Vanguard
Temporal Investigations

and

-=/\=- Keiran O'Sullivan
Security Liaison for The Alchemy Project
Stationed aboard the USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1127: Here, There, and Everywhere

2010-12-05T03:43:00.002-05:00

by TC Blane and Zanh Liis
Stardate 101204.19
Following Constant Beauty

-=The O'Sullivan Residence, County Cork, Ireland, Earth=-

“Liisy better hurry home or she’s gonna miss her entire shindig.” Dabin Reece said, settling back onto the porch swing and planting his feet onto the ground. He set the swing into motion and February’s eyes begged mercy.

“Ugh. No moving. Ate too much.” She rested her hand on her stomach as her feet hit the ground and she stopped their forward motion.

“Me too.”

“You two look about as overstuffed as Mama’s Thanksgivin’ turkey.” Dalton McKay said. He, of course, hadn’t needed to eat anything but he was happy to put his mobile emitter to good use tonight. Rarely did he get the chance to observe the crew interacting in such a relaxed setting, and he made mental notes on the appearance and mental status of each member of the command crew and found, for all they’d been through, that they seemed to be in pretty good shape overall.

With two obvious exceptions, women both obviously missing from the event: Landry Steele, and the Captain, herself.

“It’s getting late, and poor Fleur has been on tot-squatting duty for a long time. We really should go up there and liberate her.” Dabin said.

“And return her Vedek to her.” February added. “Where did Jariel get to, anyway?”

“Last I saw, he was holed up in a corner in the Captain’s office with Kellyn.” Dane volunteered. “Looked like they were deep in conversation so I didn’t interrupt to tell them that the party was starting to break up.”

“Yeah.” February slowly rose from the swing. “It really is getting late, do you suppose we’d get into too much trouble if we,”

“No, Bubbles. By all means, go home,” a low and weary female voice now spoke and all heads turned in the direction it issued from.

“Captain, I didn’t mean to sound like-“ Bru stammered. For some reason, to this day being in Zanh’s presence, especially in social settings where she was already out of her element, unnerved her.

“Go home, Bru. Take him with you.” She jerked her head toward Reece, who sprinted with surprisingly renewed energy to her side.

“Liisy, if I didn’t know you loved me so much I’d take that as an insult.” He leaned forward and did something few people in the universe could get away with. He gave her a peck on the cheek, and she almost, but not truly, smiled.

“Go before I change my mind and put you on clean-up duty.”

“Laters!.” Dabin took Bru’s hand and the two of them wandered down the porch steps, and soon disappeared in the glow of the transporter beam.

“I…think I’ll see if Gira needs help in the kitchen.” Dane said. “She had volunteered to help with clean-up duty, last I checked.”

“Don’t ‘help’ her too much, Cristiane.” Zanh warned.

Dane nodded to her and gave a half smile. He moved toward the door and as he grasped the handle in his fingers, he turned back to her. He never would have admitted this six months ago, and a year ago he’d have laughed at the very notion- but yet, he found he was really glad to see that she appeared to still be in one piece.

“You have something to say, Dane?” Zanh asked, slowly lifting leaden feet up the steps one at a time.

“Just…glad you’re back, Sir.” Dane replied, and then he moved on before he could see her reaction.

“Boy has grown a hell of a lot in the past year.” Dalton observed.

“Been a hell of a year for us all.” Liis replied, rubbing weary eyes. “Everyone else gone back?”

“Crowd’s thinned out like a bad comb-over, that’s for sure.” McKay replied. “Commander O’Sullivan said-“

“It’s okay, Dalton. I know how late I am. I didn’t expect them to wait on me all night. I’ll…owe everyone an apology and a make-up party on the holodeck at the Adventurer’s Club when we’re in a more…festive mood.”

“How is your mood, Captain?” McKay asked, not really needing her to answer.

“Go home, Dalton.”

“Aye, Sir.” In a moment he too, was gone.

The door to the house flew open just as Liis was about to grab for the handle, and she jumped back, startled. “Liis,” Keiran rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her so tightly her boots left the porch. He set her down and drew back only long enough to look her in the eyes.

When he saw the expression there, he immediately took a step backward. Her eyes spoke words that her lips couldn’t currently form- and they were asking him to give her a little time to process all she’d seen and been through this day. She couldn’t risk showing her real reaction in front of everyone that remained here, and so he knew patience was the wisest path to take.

“Look who’s here.” William Lindsay stepped out of the house behind Keiran and gave Liis a wink. “We were just about to take a walk around the grounds. Care to join us?” Will offered, knowing she’d decline.

“You two go ahead.”

“Won’t be gone long, yeah?” Keiran leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, and Liis nodded.

“Cristiane, keep those hands where I can see them otherwise I will use my good arm to dismantle you limb from limb.” Another male voice spoke up from the house now, and TC Blane emerged. He read Zanh’s expression in an instant and nodded to her. “Captain.”

“Thomas.”

“Well, c’mon, Keiran. Let’s go.” Will gestured toward the steps, and Keiran reluctantly followed him, casting a single glance back at his wife.

“Right, then.”

TC ducked back into the house and returned a moment later with a hot cup of coffee in his good hand. “Double cream,” he said, handing the mug over to Zanh.

“Commander, I’d promote you again but there’s nowhere left to put you but my chair.”

TC’s eyes sparkled, but he said nothing.

“Seems to me,” Zanh lowered her weary body down onto the swing and held it still so Blane could join her. “You’ve spent a good deal of time in that chair lately. How did you like it?”

TC thought for a moment before responding. "It's a little too comfy for me, and not enough lumbar support."

“Tell me about it, I have to have somebody look into that. Seriously though, you did a fine job, Thomas. Believe it or not, you got a glowing report to Starfleet from someone you’d likely least expect.”

“Oh? Who would that be?”

“Captain Lindsay.”

TC simply grunted. He was shocked but he refused to show it.

“So TI isn’t so bad after all.” Liis sipped from the mug and was surprised how bitter the contents tasted to her tonight. Maybe it was still the lingering impression of the place where she’d spent the better part of her day, poisoning everything she tried to take in to rid herself of the sights, sounds and smells.

“Captain,” TC began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully where the shadow of five o’clock stubble had begun to form.

“Don’t.” Liis’ warned, putting the cup to her lips again and gulping down the liquid so quickly her eyes began to water and her throat stung. “Please.”

TC looked down at his boots and clicked his teeth together in an obvious attempt to resist asking the questions that his soul told him to ask of his captain, his friend.

“I seem to remember once, in a location not too far away from here, you had me cornered at a table in that pub and I wasn’t in a talking mood. Someone wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Someone didn’t want me to take no for an answer,” she observed, setting the empty mug aside. “Not really.”

“And you do?”

Her eyes slowly rose to meet his, and she half nodded, half shook her head.

“Could you be a little more evasive, please?”

“House of cards, Thomas,” she said softly, reaching up and twisting the chain of her earring. “Take one away, they all fall down.”

“You know you can’t run from this forever. Eventually you’re going to have to talk to someone. Or the Counselor…”

“Ah, the Counselor.” Liis’ lip curled up at the corner. “Looks like I managed to dodge him tonight. I know I won’t be so lucky come the morning.”

“So why not start now?” TC asked. “Why not test-pilot what you’re going to say on someone with a foolproof bullshit detector?”

“And the Betazoid doesn’t have one?”

Blane laughed, a rare, deep laugh. “I’d go head to head with him in a Zanh Liis mind-reading contest any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

“That’s a meeting of the minds I’d love to see. But why don’t you do something challenging, like try to read Salvek instead?”

“Why would you say Salvek is more of a challenge?”

“Hello? Vulcan.”

“Yes. Vulcan.” TC looked at her sideways. “Male, and Vulcan. Pretty much an open book. Bajoran women, however…”

“Tread lightly, Thomas. Very, very lightly.”

He laughed more deeply now, but then his eyes took on a new and more vibrant intensity. “If nothing else, you have to talk to Keiran. The man is…” TC shook his head, his eyes following off into the distance along the path that O’Sullivan and Lindsay had taken. “All night, he had his eyes on the horizon, no matter what was going on around him his mind was clearly otherwise engaged.”

“I really pity that man.” Liis shook her head and her earring jingled. “I wouldn’t wish his lot on anyone.”

TC grew silent for a moment thinking of another conversation with his captain not that long ago and wondered if it would indeed be such a bad thing. Sure, at times he could understand the liability of such an emotional attachment, in fact he had convinced himself on several occasions of how much of a liability it was. But now, as he continued to age...

He shook his head and returned back to the matter at hand.

“It’s becoming clear to me,” Blane said, slowly rising from the swing, “that you’re really not in the mood to talk much tonight, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, then I suppose there’s no point in badgering you any more, and I had better go get Cristiane out of your kitchen before he…well.” He shook his head. “That kid is hormones with legs attached.”

“At his age, can you blame him?” Liis asked, suddenly feeling very, very old.

“No but I can’t trust him either.” Blane gave her a grin, and nodded. “Goodnight, Captain.”

“Goodnight, Thomas.” As he walked away, she held up a hand and called him back.

He turned and tilted his head, waiting.

“Target practice tomorrow? Holodeck two?”

Blane chuckled. "You must be feeling better. Sure, five credits a target?"

"Very well. Best of five rounds. Loser has to walk the winner's dog for a week."

---

Commander TC Blane
Second Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

-=/\=- Zanh Liis O'Sullivan
Commanding Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

1126: A Wonderful World

2010-11-28T15:07:00.000-05:00

by Rada Dengar
101128.2200
After Constant Beauty

-=A turbolift, USS Serendipity=-

Having beamed back on board the Serendipity, Rada naturally had only one place he wanted to be. That place was at Wren’s side and he wasted no time in ordering the turbolift to take him there. As it arrived on her floor however he stopped, immediately remembering that there was somewhere he wanted to stop off first and something he wanted to collect.

“Main Engineering.”

As anxious as he was to get to see her, Rada wasn’t complaining about this slight delay. In fact as the turbolift drew him back to his Engineering department, he wasn’t complaining about anything. As the door parted, once again immersing him in the beautiful sounds of a functioning warp core, he actually drew in a slight breath in awe of its magnificence.

Whereas his previous pace had been a hurried one, stepping inward his steps were slow as his hand passed along the smooth texture of the wall, just proving to himself this was real. As he felt that it was, and saw that he really had returned, he couldn’t prevent the joy from flooding his features.

In this moment, he felt like he could out-smile Jamie Halliday, though he still thought it was better not to try. It’d require bearing a lot of teeth at one another in a way that he’d often seen Klingons doing as a preparation to mating. It’d be just his luck that a Klingon officer who’d been recently transferred over would just see that, then ever so casually comment to the Captain how he’d been flirting with his officers and seemed to be very much enjoying it.

In ship’s time, much as with Cork’s, it was late here and wonderfully quiet, so Rada was able to take his time moving towards his office without anyone noticing he was there. So he continued moving slowly, his eyes moving backwards and forwards just taking this all in, like he was seeing it all for the first time.

Finally arriving at his office door he ordered it to open, finding to his luck that had there been any order to prevent his access it must have been revoked already, as it slid open and let him in.

He didn’t bother to call for the light. He once again moved with purpose, now towards his desk. Then his smile almost seemed to double as he pulled open the top left hand drawer, to find the item he was looking for was exactly where he’d left it.

Not even realising he was doing it, Rada actually found himself singing a very old song he’d recently heard when he was on Earth, as he examined the item in his hands.

“I see trees of green…Red roses too. I see them bloom, for me and you...”

He chuckled slightly to himself, thinking about how unlike him singing this song was. He knew his voice wasn’t nearly deep enough to do it justice but he really didn’t care. Being back here was so intoxicating it was like being drunk, except without the inevitable fear that you’d be called upon to repair the shields in a crucial moment and end up being sick on them instead.

The item in his hands was really just a small trinket and probably wouldn’t mean a thing to most. In fact for an unfortunate amount of time it didn’t mean a thing to him. It was just an utterly insignificant golden coloured metal ball whose top was similar to a bottle cap. It was used as part of a join in many of the areas when power conduits need to be redirected and there were probably hundreds if not thousand on board the ship exactly like it.

This one however was special. Tam had given him this one. One day they spent together the boy had discovered it lying around on the deck, and he’d decided that it looked like a really small trophy. He then proceeded to hand it to Rada, explaining that it was a trophy for the best day ever.

Since then, though Tam probably didn’t even know this, Rada had taken to keeping it in his quarter by his bed. Only when he came across it after losing his memories he forgot what it meant, and so he brought it Engineering intending to put it to use when it was required. Somehow he never thought to mix it in with all the rest though and now he was very glad he hadn’t.

Slipping it into his coat pocket, he was about to leave when he noticed a single PADD that had been placed on the desk in his absence. Figuring he should just take a look to make sure there’s nothing here that can’t be handled later, he eased himself back into his chair.

Then he moved about, finding the most comfortable position, and that position was exactly where it’d always been.

Leaning backwards, again the emotion flooded his face.

He had no idea how much he’d missed this chair.

Maybe it was just how he was feeling today, but it really did feel like one of the most comfortable chairs in all the worlds. It was the type of chair that was so comfortable that you felt like it deserved a chair of its own, then genuinely considered trying to sit it on top of one, before you realised that if someone walked in they may conclude you were some sort of megalomaniacal madman, attempting to assert your superiority with a flimsy self-made double throne. Worst of all, given it would have probably quickly fallen over that would likely have reflected badly on his engineering abilities, and not just his general intentions regarding galactic conquest.

Content to not conquer anyone right now, Rada picked up the PADD and began to read what id displayed. As he slowly took in the reports of the damage the Sera had undergone in his absence, his eyes widened in concern.

It was that sort of fear born of an impossible hypothesis that dug into your very core with bladed manifestations of what almost could have been. This ship had undergone such damage and been at such risk that he was certain if only he’d been there; were it just for that one small turn of fate, then he’d have beamed up to discover everyone was dead, and himself as well.

He was very relieved that hadn’t happened. Forgetting about everyone else, just coming across your own corpse really had a rather disconcerting quality to it, and it could be just generally disappointing as well. Luckily Rada was very much alive today and he truly appreciated that fact.

Well, he had to appreciate it now. A wise man had once told him you could tell the people who left appreciating life until after they were dead because they’re the ones in the coffins complaining.

Drawing in a deep breath, Rada simply considered how amazing his life really was. He was so happy he didn’t even think about the risk of finding himself in a coffin while he was still alive, though he had thought of it often before.

Of course, he would never accuse a member of the medical profession of acting improperly, but the fact did remain that when you were misdiagnosed as dead they tended to beam you into space or shoot you into a star, which does rather make the misdiagnosis part a little moot. Yet historically speaking misdiagnosing someone as alive and sending them back on duty had almost never had the equivalent effect. Mostly you just got a reputation for being lazy.

It wasn’t that Rada thought it was a particularly likely this would happen to him. Most of the ways he feared he would die didn’t involve a whole lot of chance for misdiagnosis, unless amputation from the neck up could be mistaken for a really bad head cold. Even still, unless and until his head had actually been cut off, he’d rather his doctor err on the side of caution.

Though he’d like to think otherwise, he had to admit that assuming he were buried alive then he probably would be one of the ones complaining. However assuming he were dead, then he was confident that they wouldn’t hear a peep out of him. When it came to appreciating life he certainly didn’t plan on waiting.

For as comfortable as this chair was, and it really was so comfortable that he swore he could never let Commander Reece sit in it lest it go the way of Kellyn’s Kava rock candy, there was some place that he’d much rather be.

Just once more while he was still here he smiled and let out a little laugh, looking around and remembering this really was his life.

Quickly placing the PADD back down on his desk, and patting his pocket to confirm the required item was still contained there, Rada rose from his chair.

Then just softly as he walked, he once again continued to sing.

“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world…”

Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012