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My nostrils fill with the scent of the Tilla leaves, wrapped around a
roasting Grreth carcass, freashly slaughtered. My family stands proud, at
peace with my desicion to enter star fleet. My nest-sister has completed her
ceremony and stands an adult, ready to make her own desicions. My left foot
is cramping--

::snorting, and jolting awake from the plesant dreams, Arisah releases a
short yelp and stands, stretching her legs. Growling menacingly at the chair
she'd been curled up in, she walks about the small area until the cramp
recedes. Arisah takes a moment to stretch luxiurously, stretching every
muscle in her body, much like she'd seen a cat do once, back at the academy.
She found it a good way to make some of her human counterparts back on Earth
quite jealous when they were stiff or sore. Gingerly, the
Ru re-takes her seat, half curled up, half sitting.
Humans can be so fragile sometimes .. well, what they lack in body, they
make up for in intelligence, I'll give them that. Their fur, however, I dont
think I can forgive as easily...
For a long time, she had found it almost impossible to smell a human or
other furred alien and not get an urge to attack them. They had smelled too
much like her favorite prey. Eventually, she worked this out and gained
considerable control for one of her species. Just to be sure, she had
cleaned out the interior of the shuttle of all human smells, in case any
other Ru's came aboard when she finally arrived home.
Almost falling asleep again, Arisah was alerted by the computer that her
craft had just about reached her destination : The homeworld of the Ru.
Excited, the Lieutenant waited for the right moment, then cut the warp
engines. Ahead of her, magnified several times, resting in space, hung a
beautiful blue and green world. It was a faceted jewel among smaller,
colorless points of light. Silver, swift moving points of metal surrounded
the planet, as well as the gridwork of shipyards and a few
stations. In the far distance, the sun shone incredibly brilliant, giving
warmth and life to her world. (cont)

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Beholding a sight she had not seen in far too long, Raptor very nearly
forgot to breathe. She had also completely forgotten to hail them. Quickly,
she slapped on the comm and whistled to a dispatcher for a few minutes. It
took several anxious moments before he believed who she was and for what
purpose. Clan Ru's dont usually come home in a federation craft or, for that
matter, as a member of a federation starship.
Finally, the dispatcher growled permission to land, but warned her to
power down all non-essintials, and shut off her federation signal. Though Ru
were members, they do not welcome outsiders easily or release their own to
other services willingly. Broadcasting her signature could prompt some sort
of protest and make her short time on planet miserable. It wasn't that the
Ru didn't like aliens.. it was just still hard to stop thinking of them as
food. But, they were trying.
Carefully, she docked with a station. Absolutely no non-Ru vessels were
allowed on the surface, unless there was a really good reason for it. She
could easily take a passenger shuttle to the surface and finally, finally, to
her old home. Singing a song she had translated into her own language,
Arisah gathered her bags and cooperated with customs, security and all the
other trivia annoying procedures. The officials looked at her in amusement,
but that was all right, she didnt care.. Arisah Raptor
was home...

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
LT Arisah Raptor
Personal Log
03179.7 0246 (local time)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bright white stars shine overhead in a velvet black sky. Unable to sleep,
Arisah quietly steps out of shelter, into the open. Standing completely
still, a shadow in shadows, she watches. Lifting her head and taking a deep
breath, Raptor breathes the night air deeply, filtering scents, learning the
area. Satisfied there are no nearby predators, she switchs on the recorder
with a foreclaw.
'Begin Log :

This planet is beautiful, but I dont think I'd like to live here. Aside
from the air not having enough humidity, and lack of good hunting game, it's
not bad. Our team is getting along well, and the research is progressing
nicely. I think we shall have some more answers by tomorrow afternoon,
perhaps evening. I look forward to exploring the caves and chambers again,
they were absolutely fasinating
::cocks her head:: that reminds me, the Gallacite we scanned was in a
nearly pure form to start with, so I would like to find the aliens' refining
facilitly. I am thinking it would be near the caves, so they wouldnt have to
lug it all over the planet, unless they had transporters, but you never
know.'
Arisah lapses into silence, thinking, breathing.. After a few moments of
gazing in the distance, she says, 'I wonder if they had good sedatives...?"
sighing, and though it is unnessesary, walks the peremiter of the camp. The
'corder switches off, ignored.
Spying a small animal, not unlike a squirrel, she quickly verifies it is
neither poisonious nor dangerous, and immediatly bounds after it, chirping.
Some time later, she comes back, licking her lips and happily collaspes onto
her sleeping pad, snoring loudly.

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Warp's Personal Log
Stardate 9703.18
"Vacation on Risa"

While I was gone, I went to Risa. I enjoyed the Climate-Controlled
weather, and it gave me time to catch up on Articles for the padd. I think
that the vacation was a perfect break from the routine.

I had plenty of leisure time, although I will be glad to return to
the Potemkin. I think that it will be nice to return to my quarters, and see
my dog, Tasha, again. If the Potemkin no loinger exists when I return, I will
blame Frank.

The articles which I mentioned in the beginning of my log are
actually many parts of a book which I hope to put in the Padd. It mentions
several of my ideas about updating the ever-aging fleet. It includes my
designs for new starships as well as inventions, like a more effective
replicator. The replicator is going to be capable of level 3 replication,
which is better than the setting of the Cargo TR. It can almost replicate
living matter, but has a safety routine to prevent it. I also am putting
ideas on Archival and Compression of our files.

The Book which I will publish week-by-week will be available AFTER
it is completely published in the Padd, so NO READING AHEAD. I will also make
graphics of my designs available in JPG and BMP file formats.

The trip to Risa was very refreshing, so I hope to do the very best
I can on the ship for the next few days (A full Romance package is included
with this).

I would have thought for sure that no one would read up to here.
Well, for those that did, I have a little suprise in store. Just send me an
E-Mail with the subject "Suprise in store" and I'll give it to ya, and no
telling anyone about it. If the people don't read it, they don't get it.

Warp Out =/\=

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Warp's Personal Log
Stardate 9703.19
Supplimental

On my last log, I mentioned new inventions. I also gave a name to use
in an E-Mail to me for a little suprise. Read it carefully.

My inventions require some explaining, and I want to keep them on
file so that people in the future, maybe even on this ship, can learn more
about me. I have invented a new warp drive that pushes the speed of the
Potemkin to around warp 9.98. I have also invented a new replicator, a
forcefield to protect spacedock from warp core breeches, and some new
archival systems.

A NOTE TO PEOPLE WHO READ THIS: This log is more of a time capsule
than a log, and is attributed to be un-deletable. It will hopefully be of
some use to everyone.

ANOTHER NOTE TO PEOPLE WHO READ THIS: Beware of Frank Hernandez.
I'm sure when he gets to Captain, (If he ever does) he will be the master
destroyer. He will blow up every ship he can find.

The USS Potemkin B is an adventurer class, with 32 decks. She is
about 702 meters long, and is very powerful, as Brand will tell you. It is a
huge vessel, and could cover all of Starfleet Command HQ in San Francisco if
it landed there.

I would like to thank all of the people on the potemkin for being
good friends to me. Especially Ensign Scott, First Lieutenant Mason, Captain
Shodan, Lieutenant Arisah (A.K. LjgRaptor), First Lieutenant Frank, Ensign
Kali, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Kalla.

Computer, store and attribute.
COMPUTER> Stored

End Time Capsule Log
Warp Out </\>

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt Arisah Raptor
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winds buffeted the small passenger shuttle as it desended throught the
atmosphere. Thick white clouds quickly envelope the entire craft, enfolding
it in layers of milky soup. Below the lowermost layer, bright green jungles
are scattered in clumps. The planet below had stayed mostly intact,
surviving the development of the Ru very well. Silvery domes rose several
stories above the towering trees, as if to remind them who the dominant
species was.
A few Ru eyed Arisah warrily, but minded their own buisness, for the most
part. Just to be safe, she kept her small bag with her at all times. Despite
her best efforts, some human and ship smell still clung to her skin, making
the closer of the Ru nervous. Once she got into an intelligent coversation
with an adolesent male, but his'mother swatted it solidly with her tail, and
he shut up. Sighing, Arisah waited impatiently for the ship to land.
The platform came up fast and with a gentle thump, the craft finally
landed. She waited to be the last to file out on purpose. One Ru actually
inclined her head towards Arisah before moving along and disembarking.
Raiseing her own head a few inches, she stepped down the ramp, claws clicking
on the metal surface. Before even reaching the bottom of the ramp, she was
hit full-force with a wave of smell. She paused a moment to breathe deeply
and enjoy the scents that were denied her aboard ship.
Well, not denied, but very hard to find outside a holodeck.
A half-second later, she was hit head-on by something else entirely.
Almost being knocked completely off balance, she look up into a pair of large
green eyes set into dusky grey skin. This one's smell was clearly of
over-joyed happiness. Arisah finally remembered her voice, almost speaking
in English instead of Ruthhha.
[Deseera! Nest-Sister! how have you been, my good freind?]
(cont.)

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(cont)
Des whistled back [Far better, now that you have come.. I have missed you,
sister]. Deseeras' skin had deepened slightly since Raptor had seen her
last. Her stripes were darker and her eyes more vivid. Her crests above her
eyes had grown as well. She was a young female now, no longer the child
Arisah had left behind several months ago. [You've grown, I see. Tell me of
your hunting. Have you nailed any W'riithra yet? they're difficult you know]
Des drew herself up, her eyes shining [three, my sister. I could not have
done it were I not thinking of you at the time.]
Arisahs' mouth hung open in amazement [Three? I had but two before I left]
Smiling widely, Deseera thumped her tail, once [Come, I shall show you the
horns I took from them. You'll not be dissapointed]
[I doubt not. Where is our ride?]
[This way, come, we have much to discuss] With only some argument, Des
took her friend's bag and slung it over her shoulder and led the way. Arisah
followed quickly. [Arisah, how is life in the Federation? truely?]
For the first time since boarding the shuttle back on the Potemkin, Arisah
frowned. [I have sent you letters..]
Des whipped her head back and forth in the teeming crowd, as if searching
for listeners. Taking Arisah completely by surprise, Des spoke low, in
standard. "they said you lied, that you did not enjoy your work. That you
would be happier were you at home. That... your crew treated you like...
prey."
Astonished, Raptor stopped and stared at her freind in shock. "Of course
not, I have always enjoyed working with humans, they have treated me well,
with respect. Do you not see how quickly I have risen in rank? They do not
treat me like the supurior hunter, no, but they treat me as a freind, as a
pack-member. Even as, in some cases, family. I am proud to serve with them
and any they would chose to call freind. Why would you think I lie?"
Des was silent for several moments. "I foolishly expressed my wishes to
join Star Fleet. Immediately, they said I would not do well to join them,
that you had become.. soft-skinned because of it. That you now feared the
sight of the blood of prey. I did not believe them but..."
Arisah threw and arm about her friends' shoulders and smiled at her with
all teeth. [Come hunting with me again, Des, and I will show you exactly how
much I fear blood.]

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As of today, I have put up several pictures in my quarters. USS Potemkin A,
USS Defiant, and a few others. I also put up several models, like spacedock,
a BOP and the USS Reliant for starters. I think that my quarters look good,
and I think that the new doghouse I got my dog, Tasha. It is shaped like
Potemkin B (Our Ship). I think that my quarters look good. I will NOT, under
any circumstances let ANYONE know what the secret suprise is. I think that
anyone who did not read my log about Risa needs to.
Warp out=/\=

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______________________________________________________________________

Chief Engineer U.S.S Potemkin
FstLtFrank
Stardate 9703.19
Begin Personal Log
______________________________________________________________________

::In his quarters, frank is displaying his collection of die cast cars
from the 20th century.:: I forgot all about these things. Been inside that
box to long. Oh well ::Frank continues putting his cars on his shelf in his
quarters. Then someone rings the 24th century equivalent to a door bell.::
Come. ::FstLtMason enters Franks quarters::

Mason> Hey Frank! What are you doing?
Oh nothing. Just putting up these old cars I found.
Mason>I never knew you had a thing for 20th century automobiles.
Oh I am crazy about them. I know everyone that was ever made.
Mason> Well I just came by to remind you about the play tomorrow. Can you
still make it?
Well I don't think anything will come up from here to tomorrow. I'm pretty
sure I can make it.
Mason> Great. See you then
Alright you too.

::Frank continues putting his cars up. (In RL i have 17 cars. So it
kinda takes a while to get them all up. Plus I like to have them displayed
with doors and stuff open.). Then his dog Nala passes by and Frank looks
down::
Hey there pup. What ya doing? ::starts scratching her on the head.::Hungry? I
bet you are. Lets get you some food ::Frank heads to Replicator:: K-9
suplliment::pauses to think for a moment:: 24. ::The replicator creates the
dog food and Frank takes it from the little tray it on and gives to Nala::
Here ya go. ::Nala waits for the food to be layed down on the floor and
begins eating:: Ok now back to the cars. ::Frank continues seeting his cars
for display::

::A few minutes later, Frank finishes his work on his cars and leaves
his quarters to head to the holodeck for some tennis. While he walking across
the corridor, he runs into his friend, LtCmdrHetfield::
Hey James! how ya doing?
Hetfield>Hey Frank. Pretty good thanks for asking. Just came back from bridge
duty.
How was it?
Hetfield> Well, pretty boring. Nothing to do but sit there and just watch to
see what happens.
Thats what it can be like in engineering. Of course when there is a battle
there is so much to do.
Hetfield> That I know. What are you doing here anyway?
I shot the captain and I am running away. Just kidding
Hetfield> ::sarcasticaly::Funny. No really, what are you doing?
I am heading to holodeck 3 to play some tennis. I have been working to long
this week. What about you?
Hetfield> I am going to my quarters for some sleep. I didn't get any last
night because of the damn crew evaluations.
Oooh ooh how was I evaluated?
Hetfield> We're throwing you out the airlock.
Well looks like I better get that space suit. ::laughs:: See ya later James
Hetfield> You too Frank.

::Frank reaches holodeck 3 after 3 minutes of walking. he goes to the
holodeck control padd and types in the prgram he wants. Which is tennins.::
Computer> Program complete enter when ready.
::Frank enters the holodeck and sees a small tennis courts. Well half of one
anyway. He Then grabs his tennis racket and a tennis ball and starts hiting
it against the wall.
Then Warp secretly enters and silently orders the computer for a bucket of
water. The computer replicates it and Warp slowy goes behind Frank. However
Warp is having a difficult time trying to douse him with all the swinging of
the racket. Then Frank stops for s second to stretch his arms and Warp dumps
the water on him

What the ::looks up:: AAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Warp> Ahahahahahahahahahaahhahahahaahah. Hey Frank!
Computer, Fire hose ::computer gives Frank a fire hose:: Prepare to die!!
::starts the water and is thrown everywhere since one man can't handle a fire
hose. <<read next log>>

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<<continued from previous log>>However he still gets warp good.::
HELP!!!!
Warp> I'll save ya. Computer turn off water
NOOOO!!! Not while i'm in the::water stops and Frank falls from his position
20 feet above the ground::OOWW

::Then Lessa comes into the holodeck to find Frank on the floor soaked
and Warp on the floor dying of laughter.
Lessa>Um Sir?
::Gets up::Yes Lessa?
Lessa> Here is the report you wanted.
::Frank starts to walk and almost slips due to water everywhere. Grabs the
PADD::Thank you.
Lessa> Sir. ::turns around and walks out of the holodeck and burst into
laughter herself.
Ok Warp. Why did you do that?
Warp> Well you were flying everywhere and...
No I mean why did you douse me with water?
Warp>Oh, well, because, um, I wanted to.
Of course everyones against the Frank. Oh well. I gotta head to engineering
now for some test on the port plasma relays. ::Frank begins to walk out. Then
he says silently::Computer make the floors as slippery as it can be.::Frank
turn around to see Warp falling everywhere.::Hee hee hee. Douse me will ya?
::exits holodeck::

::Frank begins walking back to his quarters soaking wet and drawing
attention to himself. As each person passes by and stares at hims he
says::What? Haven't you ever seen a wet person before?::undaunted Frank
continues on his travel back to his quarters. Once he reaches his quarters,
he enters, gets changed, and walks right out to check the warp plasma relay
system. He reaches the TL and says:: Engineering:: The TL starts moving down
and Frank tries to get water out of his ears. A few minutes pass
and the TL stops. Frank steps out and heads for engineering.::

::enters engineering::Ok Ensign Ulrich and Burton I want you to perform
some diagnostics on the Transporter systems. Lieutenants Mustaine and Hammet,
i want you to assist me with the diagnostics on the port plasma relay.
::Frank, Mustain (Dave), and Hammet (Kirk) head to the little engineering
window. Like the one in the Next generation. Frank begins typing in some
diagnostic commands:: Ok Dave, tell me what happens.........:hits a button::
Now.
Dave> Nothing yet sir.
Tell me if anything happens. ::Frank continues to push more buttons and
commands to get some results::Well then lets try this ::Frank punches in
another command and then power levels begin to flutuate::
Kirk> Something happend. I think we got what we were looking for.
Good we'll do some more test tomorrw. ::frank leaves engineering and heads
back to his quarters. Once he reaches them, he takes a shower, changes, and
goes to sleep. ::

End Story

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Ensign Jackie Star Alkar
Security-USS Potemkin
Personal Log-Stardate 9703.13

I continue to have my resavations regrading the planet but they seem more
grounded in reality now that we have proof that the Borg once visited this
planet I have noticed that worlds that the Borg have inhabited often turn
into huge wastelands why I have know idea. I still worry about TJ traped in
the sand sotrm but there is nothing that I can do to save him I think I can
sense him but I'm not sure. I'm worried this was my first time working with
him but I feel that I know him already and I regard him
as a friend.

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Begin Log

::Sitting in chair, sipping sprite::

Well, when I finally arrived here on the ship, I barely had eough time to
unpack before they threw me out. Actually, they sent me out on an away team.
It was an interesting experience. The people here are very kind, and they are
doing all they can to make me feel at home. I still miss some of my friends
at home and on the Roddenberry, but it's not that bad. I'll live.

::puts sprite on table- walks to locker, pulls out hair clip, clips hair back
in a ponytail::

Got to go on duty in 20 minutes. Gives me plenty of time.

::goes back to couch, gets sprite::

Well, this is nice. Peace and quiet... for once. It probably won't last long.

::checks time::

Oh my, I gotta get going if I'm going to be ontime.

::puts down sprite, stands, leaves::

End Log

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt. Arisah Raptor
Personal Log - 03229.7
USF Potemkin -19:15
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lights in the cabin are turned low, as is prefered, despite the earliness
of the evening. Raptor comes in through the door long tail swaying. She
looks tired, as if after a long, grueling hunt. Sighing deeply, she curls up
tightly on a slanted chair and lays her head on an armrest. She
growls/gurgles something nearly unintelligible to the replicator next to her,
a few inches away.

Computer :: 'Please re-state request'

Arisah barks something in her own language and a large bowl of steaming tan
liquid hastily materializes. Unwilling to extend herself any more than
completely nesessary, she moves her head a fraction, and a long, dark tongue
flicks in and out of the bowl for a few minutes. ::growling:: 'Begin Log :
"Well, that is the absolute last time I go hunting Rigellian... anything.
Well, Rigellian antelopes, anyway. Earth antelopes were fun to hunt, but
these.. " ::hissing:: "Prey are not supposed to stand their ground and fight
back!''
The Lieutenant finally sits up and holds the bowl in her hands, sipping.
"I can see why StarFleet chose to invent phasers for fighting, rather than
claws and teeth, even if hand-to-hand is more honorable." Cocking her head
slightly. "And I suppose phasers create less of a mess afterward.. Ah well.
Humans..."
Suddenly thinking of who else might be listening to her log, Arisah
changes the focus of her thoughts. "As for the mission, the away teams didn't
get to finish their research, the aliens nearly destroyed us and Starbase
Horizon before Captain Shodan and I managed to save everybody from certain
death by putting together the artifact at the last possible moment.
"End Log"
Lapping up the rest of her tea, Arisah drags herself to the bedroom and
collapses into her nest-like bed.

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Dr. Robert Mason, MD (FstLt) ••
Chief Medical Officer, USS Potemkin
Personal Log, Stardate: 9703.22

---==Begin Personal Log==---

I am saddened to report the injury of Lieutenant Lessa Wildewoode, my
Assistant Medical Officer. As of now she is fit for duty; however, I'm
beginning to take any failure in any arena as a personal one. It's not a
healthy attitude, I realize, but it is certainly one I am plagued with. Risk
is always part of the Starfleet package, yes, but even after all this time, I
still find it difficult to accept- especially when the burden of that risk
falls so heavily upon you or one of your staff. . . . Or
someone you care about.

---==End Personal Log==---

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THE AWAKENING

Awakening in Sickbay with a lousy headache, Lessa looked around
blearily. Her mouth was dry and she had to blink several times before her
eyes focused on her surroundings. The dry air and the smell of antiseptic
alerted her to her location even before she was fully conscious. She
attempted to raise herself to get a better look around, then fell back on the
biobed with a groan. Never, ever had she ever had such a headache. She eyed
the hyposprays across the room with longing, then glanced around to
see who was on duty.

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She spied Doctor Sam Calpel across the bay, but his attention was focused
on Ensign Hatter. She frowned as she saw that Matassa was once again in
restraints. She sent a glare to Dr. Calpel in frustration. Didn't he realize
that Hatter just needed to be talked to when she had these episodes?
Restraints hadn't been necessary for weeks! Lessa looked around to see why
Doctor Mason wasn't taking any action, then noticed he wasn't there. She
sighed as she realized he must have the next duty shift. Not
wanting to make the effort to get Calpel's attention, she lay back down and
drifted off to sleep.

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::On the Planet of the Ru...::

The groundcar comes to an abrupt stop and two Ru get out, chattering back
and forth rapidly. The driver looks completely disgusted, as he has never
heard two Ru carry on a conversation for five hours straight, including him
in the conversation only occasionally. His skin is a shade of light
red-brown, very similiar to Arisah. It would be the same tone, if he was not
so annoyed. Seeing the two females are not going to help, the male Ru
mutters something under his breath and grabs the bags from the
vehicle. "Sisters...."
Arisah gives him a glance, but returnes to whistling to Des. Finally,
when the three of them are standing on the front porch ramp, Des hisses for
silence and presses the door bell. (yes, they have door bells) They stand
face forward-tails straight and heads high. For an uncomfortable moment,
nothing happens. Only the sounds of the nearby forest can be heard floating
by.
With a slight squeak, the door opens and a large male stands just inside.
He stands higher than the others, a Ru that has seen many sucessful hunts.
Deep crimson, with clearly defined rust stripes zig-zagging his flanks and
gleaming white claws. Scars, not just stripes, run down his hide like
rivers-battle scars. He is also well muscled, his figure screaming strength
and endurance, under a pair of unusal blue-yellow eyes. This is the sire of
Arisah and her brother Sara
All three of the younger Ru instincively, unconsiously leaned backward.
The big male began to say something when a flurry of movent hurled out the
door and smacked square into Arisah. Grey, brown and red chicks-very young,
recent cousins, in fact -swarmed over the surprised Lieutenant, chittering
with questions.
[We missed you! What is StarFleet like? are the ships like ours? Have
any-]
[Did you kill anything? what do you hunt in space? Why do-]
[What do the stars look like from up there? how are-]
[What do humans taste like? Do they-]
Arisah couldn't take this much longer. She barked once, shrilly, and the
small Ru scrambled off of her. They quickly stood in a row, big, colorful
eyes looking up pleadingly. She promised to tell them stories later, after
she said hello to everyone and ate dinner. The little ones parted with hearts
in the clouds, literally bouncing back into the house and to their nests.
Sighing with relief, she turned back to her father, composed herself and
waited for him to speak.

(cont)

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(cont)

After a moment of looking at her hard, Risath said [Arisah, it is good to
see you home again. Your mother and Oya both have missed you terribly, as
have I. The preparations for Deseera are almost complete. Perhaps you will
re-consider your position on the human ship when you see what benefit you
could be to your own planet.. ]
Intentionally, Arisah fell into the Federation at-ready stance (or as
close to it as her anotomy allowed) and replied, [It is good to see you well,
Father, but I am proud to serve with my crew members, human and otherwise.
They need me aboard that ship and I won't desert them. If it became
absolutely nesessary, I would stay to serve my ppl, but my skills would not
be noticed here ]
Risath failed to conceal his astonishment and look of pride. Carefully,
[you have grown much, young one, you have truely learned the ways of the
hunt. StarFleet has indeed helped you, I see that now- you are more the
warrior than ever. My invintation stands, feel free to consider retiring and
remain here. Maybe you could serve aboard a Ru ship. Your skills would be
well put to use there ]
Not on your life. [I will think about it, Father.]
He bobbed his head and led her inside the house, where eager eyes from
yearlings followed Arisah, reminding her of the promise she made for stories.
Des and Sara followed, and normal conversation returned when the big red Ru
relaxed visibly and wandered into the spacious kitchen.
Young ones almost swarmed again, but Arisah held out a hand and turned to
Des [Sister, I trust the bath is still where I remember it? I need a good,
long soak.. ] conspiratorily, within hearing of the little Ru, she said
[those shuttle-craft are nice, fast and nothing like you've seen here at all,
but they have no decent tubs.]
The smaller dinosauroids chittered and nearly charged again, but they
held back with a final warning from Arisah.
Des and Arisah hugged for a moment, then the latter climbed the ramp
upstairs, towards a tub large enough to put the entire bridge crew of the
Potemkin in.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt. Arisah Raptor
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A youngster intercepted the tired Ru as she made her way up the ramp. It
was Pekwra, just over two years old, who had not yet even been on her first
hunt. Pek was born just before Arisah's departure, a close cousin. She
almost didn't recognize the youngster, save for her silver ligntning stripe
across her back. It was an odd birthmark, but not very unusal. At least it
made her easy to disinguish from the others.
Tiredly, the elder turned to the other. "what is it, Pek? I'm very tired
and-"
The girl nervously blurted ''he wants to see you, cousin." and almost
fearfully scurried down the hall. Arisah sighed and readied herself. Pek
could have only been talking about one Ru in particular. Pekrwa gave her one
last glance of parting pity and dissapeared through a doorway.
Finally out of sight of the others, Arisah allows her tail to drag a
little, her head to fall slightly. She was exhausted, and hoping to
completely avoid that certain Ru as long as possible. But seeing the
grey-brown form approaching, she knew the confrontation could not be put off
any longer. The bath would have to wait a few more minutes until she dealt
with this threat. Here we go.
The male came up to her and stopped. He was a fine specimen of a Ru -
long tapered tail, well toned, clear smoke-grey eyes and a sleek form- if he
were human, he'd be the most fawned over entity on board ship. He was
slightly older than she and very handsome for a dinosauroid, but he no longer
stirred any interest in her. Arisah hissed at him.
The male's eyes widened and he ducked his head slightly. ''It's been a
long time, Arisah. You really should have called me, or something. I really
do want you to know, I've missed you, girl-"
Arisah's greenish eyes flashed and she took a step backwards."Ver, shut
up. I owe you no explanation and no infomation. You can stop you're act,
I'm out of your reach. You no longer mean anything to me, and that is all
that is important."
Ver looked dismayed, then annoyed. "Is that any way to talk to your
fianace?"

<to be continued...>

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt. Arisah Raptor
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raptor snarled at him and drew back her head, as if poised to strike. "I
am no longer under any obligation to become your mate. When I left this
planet for StarFleet, I left you behind."
One of the reasons she left in the first place was partly to get out of an
arranged marriage. At birth, becuase she was of a high household, she was
set to marry a Ru of another high holding. When she left, both her and Ver's
parents had agreed to suspend the marriage, for the time being. If Arisah
ever returned (permanently) she was under law and honor-bound to bond with
Ver.
She and Ver had actually become friends for a time, until she was told why
they were left together so much. Her temper flared and she disowned him as a
freind, accusing him of putting together the whole thing, plotting it, to
begin with. That temper tantrum led to a vigorous and through search for a
way out. Oya had provided her with information about StarFleet and as a way
out, as a bonus she could pursue her love of science. Realizing their
daughter would never be happy and perhaps even take
her own life to end the deal, her parents submitted and allowed her to go to
the academy. Arisah had not spoken to Ver for several months before she'd
actually left.
Ver recoiled from her, taking up a fighting stance, knowing good and well
that no blood should be spilt in house. If he ever found her out of house...
but Ver would never dare attack her. On some level, they were still friends,
and held an amount of respect for each other. And if any Ru attacked another
for whatever reason, it would be to the death. "You should re-consider,
Arisah. You would have a fine life here, with me at your side. I'm not your
enemy, and I don't care to fight you." a bit
of his old charm and general nastiness crept into his voice. "We'd make a
lovely pair, our children-"
She hissed again. "I'll never hold your eggs, not of my will."
When she had first known Ver, he really wasn't that bad of a guy. Later,
he had fallen into politics, and cared more about his image than their
welfare. He was fond of her, yes, but he didn't believe in the hunt any
longer, only power. To have his wife-to-be suddenly jump planet and run to
the humans, well, that didn't help him at all.
Ver sighed and backed off, realizing this was one battle he would not
win-yet. "Very well, my lady, but if you ever change your mind... I'll be
right next door."
Raptor hissed once more and mumbled something under her breath about
males, hormones and the general stupidity of politics. No longer feeling
like a bath, she made her way to her old room, opened the door and curled up
in her long unused bed. She ordered the computer to play soft music, and
drifted into a fitful rest.

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Ensign Jackie Alkar
Security-USS Potemkin
Personal Log Stardate 9703.20

I saw Warp again today it's amazing since we were in the holodeck I've looked
at him in a diferent light it's like I don't know I'm confused.... It's the
strangest thing that I"ve ever felt I don't know what it is I"m suposed to do
I don't know weather to appoarch him or what I'm just confused maybe if I get
some rest that will help...
Computer close log and secure
Log closed secured pathway 0089

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::the next morning, in Arisah's room::

Arisah uncurled from her sleep, refreshed and eager to begin the day.
After a brief shower, she rested near a window, watching the sun rise above
the horizon of lush green. The open window let in a cool breeze, filled with
light scents of the forest below. Breathing deeply several times, it took
her a moment to notice a new presence in her room.
She let the odor sift in her nose. It was not malevolent, and not
freindly. In fact, it had a very... human smell to it. Turning and opening
her eyes, Arisah saw a.. cat? Intrigued, she watched it stroll into her room
and for a moment, wondered if it were real. The small predator-very
definitly a cat bred from a human world-was orange and black and white.
Calico, if she remember the term right, and a female. The cat had no collar
or tags, but it was right at home here, that was for certain.
Raptor carefully picked the unalarmed feline up and-amused-stoked her long
fur.
The only other time she had ever seen a house cat was back on Earth, at
the academy. Her room-mate, a Bajoran, owned a cat in secret. How she kept
the contraband animal without it being discovered, Raptor never knew.
Strangely, "Luke'', black and gold furred with blue eyes, liked her from the
moment he saw her. the short hair kept coming up and rubbing against her,
leaveing fur all over her lower legs. Predators apparently identified with
each other well. After a while, she liked the little furball.
A moment later, Des' grey head poked into the doorway. "Good rise to you,
sister." Her eyes tracked the cat. "Ah, I see you found my pet, Potemkin."
Startled, Arisah gaped at her friend.
"Well, officially, her name is 'Huntress of the Night', but I and the
young ones call her 'Potem' for short. All of us wanted something to
remember you by, and after that message you sent about a 'cat' we imported a
few. I'm afraid they're about to overrun the planet." she chuckled, then
cocked her head and came into the room, extending a finger to scratch the
kitty's chin. ''Actually, her full, unofficial name is 'Potemkin-B'"

to be continued...

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<continued>

"B?" Arisah had told them about the destruction of the first ship, but they
shouldn't have changed the cat's name just because she got a new ship. Why,
what if she went to a new ship, or one with a strange name. She'd read
stories about a ship named the Jefferson Randolf Smith, in relation to Kirk.
"Yes, I'm sorry to say, dear Potemkin-the first one- was eaten by Rank.
He claimed to only be playing with the kitty, but one thing led to another
and-" she shruged. "So we got another cat.. well, there are several cats
now, but you get the idea. Anyway, Rank was punished severely and is now
taking very good care of the other cats.... don't look so distraut,sister, we
had told everyone, especially the children, NOT to eat the cats, we do care
about them. but, you know how yearlings are.."
Arisah nodded, a trait she was just begining to pick up from humans. She
smiled. "Rank, huh?" the cat was now purring contentedly in her arms. Not
finding a way to dislodge the feline without upsetting her, she sighed and
continued to pet Potemkin.
Des bobbed her head. "Yes, you know, the one who wants to design engines
for starships someday, the one who blew up the toaster...?"
Arisah got a very strange expression on her face then burst out laughing.
She hadn't had a good laugh in months and it felt good. The cat freaked and
ran over to Deseera, sinking her claws into the Ru's shoulders.
Fortuneately, Ru have thick skin and Des didn't even notice.
"StarFleet even followed me back home." and she began to tell her sister
of a certain Enginner, back aboard her home away from home.

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In his custom-built double bed, Robert Mason flipped onto his stomach
violently, throwing the covers off the bed and onto the floor in a heap of
fabric. The suite was almost pitch black; the only light came from the stars
streaking past the windows of the cabin, filling Robert's bedroom with
flickering, white, intermittent light. The only sound came from the soft,
slow pulsating of the warp core that could be heard all over the ship. The
sheets were too hot, and damp with the sweat of a frightened
man. The body of First Lieutenant Robert Mason was strewn upon the bed in
awkward angles.
And Suite 426 was unusually warm that night.
It was in this real world of shadowy darkness and fiery atmosphere that
the mind of Robert Mason took flight back to a time when it was. . . . .

* * *

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. . . . . cold and raining on the day of Esteban
Estevez's funeral services, and the cold rain fell upon Robert's body; heavy
as lead, and lethal as acid, the droplets of moisture stung his face as he
regarded Esteban's descent into the ground with puzzled, ambivalent eyes.
The trip back to Earth had been a nightmare, and his actions upon arrival had
been more frightening. More terrible indeed.
He did not want to think about Esteban now. He did not want to think
about Esteban's widow, on Earth, whom he had taken the night before half out
of guilt and half out of sadness. Nevertheless, guilt consumed him, or
rather, surrounded him. Feelings of dread, remorse, and regret enveloped
him, penetrated him, and bound his mind, body, and soul with their woeful
restraints. On not one, but several counts had he charged himself, the
foremost Esteban's death, followed closely by his inability and
obligation as a friend to prevent such a thing. Trailing behind was his
poor judgment concerning Nicole, Esteban's former wife, and both men's lover.

No, that was wrong. She didn't love him. And how could he love her?
Robert's feet sank slowly into the forming mud on the ground. From his
position away from the gathering of Esteban's family and friends, he
observed, listening to the gray howl of the wind past his ears, gazing,
detached, at the mahogany casket descending from view within which housed his
friend, and comrade.

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Who would never again see space and its vast manifestation of life; who
would never again behold the beauty of stars at warp speeds.
The acidic rain continued to sting his face as Robert turned to flee.
To run.
But she was there, her eyes burning with torment, guilt, and agony. The
dress she wore was drenched; she had been standing in the rain for what
seemed like an eternity. Just as Robert had. Her mouth opened, and it hung
in stasis that way; she wanted to speak, but she couldn't find the words.
Her long blond hair lay in clumps, tousled and wet.
Robert wanted to run. As far away from that innocent face as his feet
or technology could take him. But his feet wouldn't move. It was as if the
mud had gripped them, binding him. She moved closer to him, he stayed still,
listening to the gentle sound of water falling on the grass and the soft
rustling of leaves above them. He tried with all his willpower to look into
her eyes, but failed, and ended up staring through her, as if she wasn't
really there.
Once again she tried to formulate words. Her voice broke as she spoke
his name. "Robert. . . ."
He tried to look compassionate. Sympathetic. Caring. Human. Ever
since this whole thing began, it was as if he just couldn't be any of those
things. They evaded his grasp. He hadn't cried. He hadn't grieved. All he
could feel was guilt, remorse, and selfish longing. He wanted his friend
back. It wasn't right for him to die like that. Not now. Robert needed him
now. How could he just desert him?

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He tried to look compassionate. Sympathetic. Caring. Human. Ever
since this whole thing began, it was as if he just couldn't be any of those
things. They evaded his grasp. He hadn't cried. He hadn't grieved. All he
could feel was guilt, remorse, and selfish longing. He wanted his friend
back. It wasn't right for him to die like that. Not now. Robert needed him
now. How could he just desert him?
He pushed the thoughts away. They weren't rational. After all these
decades--these centuries--people were still afflicted with survivor's guilt?
When the human brain had been mapped countless times over and over, why were
there still feelings and emotions in existence whose sources and
ramifications defied our comprehension?
He didn't have the answers. He didn't know. And all he could do now
was stare through the wife of his best friend, the same woman who had given
herself to him 11 hours before, and the only person alive who could absolve
him of his guilt. Although he desperately tried to make them reflect
anything else, his eyes were cold and emotionless. His heart pounded in his
chest as he stood in the rain, the cold wind sweeping the water off their
faces as more fell.
She closed her mouth slowly, and looked down at her feet. She stood
silently, gazing at the wet surface of her small boots. And suddenly,
Robert's feet moved without his knowing it; he sidestepped the woman with
blond hair and walked slowly forward, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on
the ground. What was he doing? He was sure his body was moving against his
will, but knew otherwise when a shocking realization hit him: What if he
didn't want to be absolved?
What he had done had been so horrendous, so wretched, so terrible. He
couldn't just forgive himself. Not now. Maybe not ever. Definitely not
now. He cursed himself as he walked past the angel before him. He cursed
himself for having her. He cursed himself for leaving her. He hated himself
for not talking to her now.
Disgust with himself melded with guilt, agony, and pain of loss creating
the most wretched of all emotional cocktails Robert had ever seen. And he
was frightened that he had become the betrayer.
And he was afraid of what grew within him.

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* * *

His eyes opened as a bead of perspiration rolled off his forehead in a
languid path down his cheek, and onto his lips. The salty taste reminded him
of the tears he had never shed for his friend Esteban Estevez, and also of
the tears his wife had shed that night, after the last climax, when the guilt
began to settle on both their souls like lead raindrops on a rainy day where
the cold, windswept landscape rolled on under the night.

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Doctor Lessa Wildwoode finished reviewing the chart on Lieutenant Carson
and looked up in time to see Nurse Hardy's gaze fastened firmly on Doctor
Mason. Clearing her throat sharply, she was only slightly mollified to see
the nurse's attention snap back guiltily to her. Nurse Hardy's blatant
fascination with the Chief Medical Officer annoyed Lessa to the point that
her glove-encased fingers longed to slap the woman silly. With a sharp frown,
she began instructing the red-faced nurse in the alternate
medications for the injured Lieutenant. She also changed the nurse's duty
shifts for the next week to concur precisely with Doctor Mason's off duty.
She told herself that it was to teach the infatuated nurse a lesson, but she
knew in her heart that the last thing she wanted was for Doctor Mason to be
tempted by such a lovely young woman. She had a feeling the good doctor
rarely refused a blatant offer, especially the type Nurse Hardy was likely to
give.

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Nurse Hardy glared at Lessa as she glanced over her new, and extended,
duty shift, but said nothing. She felt the reprimand implied in the new
shifts was unwarranted. After all, what was the harm in looking? Besides, the
entire crew of the Potemkin knew that Dr. Wildwoode was a cold fish. The
Trellian had made her feelings toward the other members of the crew quite
clear. Carol Hardy's eyes narrowed on Lessa as she examined a chart on the
next patient. Could it be the "cold fish" had discovered the
lure of Doctor Mason herself? She watched Doctor Wildwoode intently for any
sign of interest in Mason, but Lessa's concentration seemed to be firmly with
the patient. Carol sighed and began adjusting the Lieutenant's medication.

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Lessa continued to stare at the chart, not seeing it at all as her thoughts
were confined to the knowledge that Robert Mason was only a few meters behind
her in his office. How could she gain his attention? What could she do to
show him her burgeoning feelings? Would he even be interested? She had never
known a man before, in any way. She had no idea how to even begin a
conversation that didn't hinge on the medical field. She replaced the chart,
careful to keep her eyes away from the total subject of her
interest, her thoughts whirling frantically for ideas.
Doctor Robert Mason leaned back in his chair, reviewing the surgical
notes on Lieutenant Carson. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata drifted through the
air, relaxing him as no other music could. And completely unaware that he was
the focus of the thoughts of the two women in sickbay.

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STARDATE 9704.03
Captain Eileen Shodan
Former Trill Extraordinaire
Acting First Officer soon to be Former First Officer
USS Potemkin NCC-1711-B (Adventurer class)
BEGIN PERSONAL LOG
AWARDS UPDATED
Award for the best acting in a comatose role: Lessa Wildflower, I mean
Wildwoode
Award for the being I love to thwap the most: Robert Mason (not Clewan, I’m
not Frank)
and speaking of Frank,
Award for the being most likely to get into trouble for thwapping others:
Frank Hernandez
Award for the strangest being to ever set foot on the Potemkin: Eileen
Shodan
Award for the being most likely to claw up furniture: Arisah Raptor
Award for the being who has caused the most warp core breaches: James B.
Mitchell (Warp) and Frank Hernandez
Award for the being most likely to get annoyed at Shodan when she expresses
sarcasm: Robert Mason
Award for the best Engineer the Potemkin ever saw: Alexander “Putty” O’Brien
Award for the being most likely to eat Tribbles: Arisah Raptor
Award for the being appearing to go the longest at Ensign because she refuses
to change her screen name to reflect her promotion to Lieutenant Junior
Grade: Katherine “Kit” O’Dell
Award for the being who wrote the most boring log: Multiple Tie :D
Award for the only sane being on board the Potemkin: Jacolenn Star Alkar
(although how long one can stay on board and remain sane is quite debatable)
Award for the being who receives the most pleasure from thwapping Mason:
Jacolenn Star Alkar
Award for the being who receives the most pleasure from thwapping Warp:
Jacolenn Star Alkar
END PERSONAL LOG

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt. Arisah Raptor
Personal Log -04099.7
USF Potemkin 16:01
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raptor comes out of the holodeck, looking fresh and energetic after a
sucessful hunt. A few people look at her in amusement, as she is streaked
with dirt and a bit of blood. Gradually, the stuff disapears, (I know it's
supposed to be instantanious, but I've seen a few episodes where stuff comes
out of the holodeck then disapears later) save a few blood streaks from minor
scratches. In her room, she quickly cleans up and takes care of the
scratchs, half-way hoping they'd scar and really hoping the
doctor doesn't see her before they do heal. (what's the point of going to
the doctor for every little thing?)
Restless, she heads to ten forward after gathering a few things. A few
crew members watch as she enters, then turn back to their drinks. It had
been a good few weeks since she'd been here. Ordering a tribble and spam
stew, a loaf of bread and a tall glass of prune juice. The order arrives and
she munches on the bread-a garlic and herb covered with cheese, from Earth-
while going through a stack of PADD's she'd brought along.
Two or three of the PADD's involved work, others had do do with new holo
programs and tribble recipes, ordering new equipment and supplies for the
lab, the latest issue of 'StarScape' - a look at interesting spacial
anomilies and the effects of a new hydrogen isotope in a negatively charged
inviroment, two petitions from her staff for raises, junk mail - you may
already be a winner - blah blah blah...and the last one was new mail from
home.
She alternated between flipping through the journal and eating her stew.
Near the end of her pile of mail was a note from one of her staff.
'Lieutenant, I know you're intested in Earth history and stuff. Included
is a novel
I enjoyed very much, I think you'd like it. It was written about 400 years
ago and I
think they made a film - a sort of flat holo for it. Enjoy.'
Raptor looked at the bottom of the page where a text file was marked 'Star
Wars'

<to be continued>

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£

USS Corona
Flagship: Starfleet Intelligence
De-Militarized Zone, Alpha Quadrant
March 2, 2363
1780 Hours

THE EIGHTH TORPEDO sliced its way through the shields and blew through
the primary hull of the Corona at warp velocity, reducing everything in its
path to bits of fiery, smoldering rubble, and leaving nothing but melted
duranium alloys and charred pieces of bulkheads and circuitry in its wake.
The sound was enormous as the walls and ceilings of each consecutive deck
imploded with stress, supports splitting with high pitched squeals, overhead
panels crashing down on over 30 Corona crew members, and
floor platings shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, splintering their
way up through the lower decks of the ship and into the junior officers'
quarters, where they lodged themselves into the bodies of those same valiant
officers with such force that each lifeless shell was blown backwards and
upwards nearly 15 meters before either coming to rest on what remained of the
ship's flooring, or until being blown out into the cold vacuum of nothingness
that lay beyond the Corona's hull.
The USS Sarajevo, which would be lost a decade later in a failed attempt
to capture a portion of Dominion space, banked slowly in space and rose up
from its position underneath the crippled Corona to finalize its position
nose to nose with the damaged vessel. Sitting in the dark, the bridge
crew--the two that were left of the bridge crew--of the Corona heard the
faint beeps from one of the only working computer terminals signaling an
incoming hail.

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Amidst the smashed bridge circuitry and decimated computer interfaces
spewing forth sparks hotter than plasma flows, Commander Mason looked up from
the small access screen mounted on the command chair to hear the tactical
officer's words. "Commander, they're hailing us." Mason thought about it
for a moment. Does one bargain for the lives of one's crew and try to cut a
deal? Or would it be more heroic to go out fighting? Even if that person
and his crew are the aggressors? How many times had he
told himself that this situation was caused by gutless Intelligence officers
unwilling to do what it takes? How many times had he mused in silence about
the ethics involved in Intelligence? Was the Sarajevo right in disobeying a
direct order from Admiral Stanton, a Vice-Admiral and the Director of
Starfleet Intelligence himself?
And how many times had he been told that it was not his duty to question
orders? No. The captain of the Sarajevo had made a grave mistake; he had
not only disobeyed a direct order to destroy the Cardassian penal settlement,
but he was ordering his crew to defy the directives of Starfleet
Intelligence. He was wrong. To not only disobey orders from a commanding
officer and turn against Intelligence, but to warn the Cardassians as well?
Surely they'd be sending half a task force out here right
now. Who was here to stop this "defector"?
Robert Mason.
"On screen," the anti-defector muttered.
"Sir?" The tactical officer, like all other Intelligence personnel, had
been taught never to make a deal, never to bargain, never to surrender. But
she had also been taught that you never disobey a direct order from a
superior officer if you were "loyal", if you had "honor", and a strong sense
of "duty". So the image of the traitor Intelligence captain appeared on the
main viewscreen seconds later, without another word from the resident
tactical officer, badly distorted with static.

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"Give it up, Mason," the captain dictated over the comm channel. Funny
how some people could pretend to be the greatest military minds when they
attack ships from their own fleet by surprise when that opposing vessel
wasn't even allowed the luxury of raising its shields in time. "Your ship is
crippled; you'll be surrounded in a matter of minutes. Surrender and
prepared to be taken into custody on charges of treason against the United
Federation of Planets."
"We both know you can't bring those charges to bear on anyone without
admitting to them yourself, Jacob." Of course Mason was right; how could he
point the finger and apprise the Council of Intelligence activities without
getting a little dirty?
"That may be right, but I'm willing to take that risk. This has gone on
long enough. The Federation deserves to know the truth about the activities
of Starfleet Intelligence."
"I suppose you've taken it upon yourself to be the bearer of truth."
"I have." The captain looked skeptically at Mason from his offensive
position opposite the damaged Corona. "That truth is all we have to cling to
in times like these, Mason."
"In the name of what? What is your motive here, Jacob? Surely you
don't intend to gain anything from--"
"In the name of loyalty."
"Loyalty?!" How could such a man, who had defied his commanding
officer, the directives of Intelligence that all involved held sacred, and
the organization itself, speak of loyalty?
"Loyalty to the Federation, Mason. Something of which you obviously
have none of."

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"You want to lecture me on loyalty, Jacob? I'll tell you about loyalty.
I pledged to live and die under the command of Starfleet Intelligence and its
doctrines--"
"And how many times have we both broken those so-called 'sacred'
principles of Starfleet Intelligence for the mere purpose of protecting the
organization's image, and hiding the truth?"
"That has nothing to do with this, Jacob, and you know it. You swore
the same pledge I did, and now you're ready to break your WORD as a Starfleet
Officer and take matters into your own hands just because it suits you, and
simply because your conscience isn't clear enough for you?" Jacob leaned
back in his chair, stroking his beard. "Don't get ready to talk just yet,
Jake-o, cause I'm about to tell you something pretty damn important.
Something that will, no doubt, burst your little bubble of
self-richeousness."
"And that is?" The captain leaned forward as Mason stood.
"We all have problems, Jacob. Every single one of us has old ghosts,
pasts that haunt us, actions we would love to undo. I may be
sympathetic--hell, I might even agree with you, for God's sake. But it is
not for me, or you, or anyone else in Intelligence to decide what is right
and what is wrong on such a scale as to denounce the actions of the entire
Starfleet Intelligence Corps. You're wrong, Jacob. You know it; I know it.
End this here. Now."
The captain of the Sarajevo shook his head silently. "You have fifteen
minutes to order your entire crew compliment to the Corona's main shuttlebay,
where my security personnel will take your crew into custody. Nemick Out."

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"Damn!" Mason pounded his fist on the armrest of the CO's chair, nearly
breaking the small PADD on the rest. "Taylor." The tactical officer looked
solemnly at her commander, fully aware that she was the only surviving bridge
officer. "What works?"

So we're not giving up just yet, the female tactical officer thought to
herself. Well, after last night, she couldn't honestly say that Mason wasn't
tenacious, or dedicated. Or resilient. "Not much, Rob. We've got partial
short-range sensors, minimal life support, communications, and port and
starboard lateral thrusters."
"Communications--"
"Yes. . . ?"
"Are the plasma transfer conduits on-line?"
"Barely, sir."
Mason nodded, formulating a plan. "Good. Flush the conduits and
transfer the baryon particles from deflector storage through them into the
subspace emitters."
"But sir-- they're not completely compatible. The emitters will surely
blow out once we--"
"You got a better idea, Hon?" Taylor smiled. She had to chuckle
inwardly every time he called her "Hon". She had to admit, he always made
her laugh, even as they were about to die. She shook her head 'no' and began
the preparations. A few moments later, she was finished transferring the
baryon particles. She nodded to him. "Excellent. Now- rig the
communications array to piggyback a baryon particle beam." He tossed a
silver, partially damaged PADD onto the console. "That's the Sarajevo's
bridge lockout codes. Just some standard common knowledge. . . ." He
smiled, already appreciating his own plan. It would work, of course, because
all Federation starships had bridge modules, and all Federation starships had
lockout codes. And all Federation starship bridge module operations
circuitry was susceptible to baryon particles sent in the upper region of the
EM band.

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"Damn!" Mason pounded his fist on the armrest of the CO's chair, nearly
breaking the small PADD on the rest. "Taylor." The tactical officer looked
solemnly at her commander, fully aware that she was the only surviving bridge
officer. "What works?"

So we're not giving up just yet, the female tactical officer thought to
herself. Well, after last night, she couldn't honestly say that Mason wasn't
tenacious, or dedicated. Or resilient. "Not much, Rob. We've got partial
short-range sensors, minimal life support, communications, and port and
starboard lateral thrusters."
"Communications--"
"Yes. . . ?"
"Are the plasma transfer conduits on-line?"
"Barely, sir."
Mason nodded, formulating a plan. "Good. Flush the conduits and
transfer the baryon particles from deflector storage through them into the
subspace emitters."
"But sir-- they're not completely compatible. The emitters will surely
blow out once we--"
"You got a better idea, Hon?" Taylor smiled. She had to chuckle
inwardly every time he called her "Hon". She had to admit, he always made
her laugh, even as they were about to die. She shook her head 'no' and began
the preparations. A few moments later, she was finished transferring the
baryon particles. She nodded to him. "Excellent. Now- rig the
communications array to piggyback a baryon particle beam." He tossed a
silver, partially damaged PADD onto the console. "That's the Sarajevo's
bridge lockout codes. Just some standard common knowledge. . . ." He
smiled, already appreciating his own plan. It would work, of course, because
all Federation starships had bridge modules, and all Federation starships had
lockout codes. And all Federation starship bridge module operations
circuitry was susceptible to baryon particles sent in the upper region of the
EM band.

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"Aye, dear."
They both knew they would probably die once the Cardassian ships
arrived; it was only a matter of time. But this was their last best hope for
buying a little time to get something working, and for silencing Jacob Nemick
in the process-- hopefully. He could never have an opportunity to reveal the
inner workings of Intelligence to the Council; he wouldn't have that
opportunity while Mason was alive.
"Is it ready?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir- What?" Mason laughed inwardly. Taylor rolled her eyes, and
smiled.
"Yes, O Mighty Magnificent One Who Stuns Me With His Prowess." Mason
flashed a grin at her and the turned to the screen, watching intently the
Galaxy class Sarajevo as it loomed over them.
"Lieutenant, send our friend a little message."
Taylor tapped her console and an instant later Nemick appeared on the
screen. "Why have you not contacted me from the shuttlebay, Mason. I
thought we agreed you were out of options." Mason watched as the bridge of
the Sarajevo was plunged into complete and utter darkness, a result of the
piggybacked baryon beam. An instant later the transmission was cut on the
other end, and the viewscreen on the bridge of the Corona returned its focus
to an exterior shot of the Sarajevo. A good plan, but it
had burned out the communications relays. But it was all they could do; it
was a small price to pay for the security of Starfleet Intelligence.
After some internal congratulations on his own ingenuity, Mason turned
to Taylor again. "Scan for the Cardassian ships." Taylor nodded, and her
fingers flew over her console rapidly.
She gasped in horror. "Two K400 kilometers and closing, sir!"
"Visual?"

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Mason sighed. Well, at least with the Sarajevo's entire bridge module
off-line--including the life support--Nemick was surely dead, along with his
senior staff. A plus. But there would be no telling what the captain had
revealed to the Cardassians. Probably not too much, not more than they
needed to know. He wasn't completely stupid. But the Cardassians were
already on their way to destroy the Corona; what could Mason do to stop them
now? Surely he couldn't simply--
Whatever Mason would have mused was cut short by the familiar sound of
quantum torpedoes exiting the torpedo bays of a starship, accompanied by
bright, loud bursts of blue-yellow light. The torpedoes smashed through the
nacelle pylon of the first Cardassian ship, thus crippling it. A second
volley of the blue-yellow destructive forces effectively destroyed the
second. A thousand questions raced through Mason's mind at that moment: how
could have Intelligence sent reinforcements so quickly? How
did they evade the Corona's sensors so long? Yes, they were damaged, but
not that damaged. The only answer was that this starship possessed a
cloaking device. Which means the Cardassians hadn't detected the new arrival
either; they hadn't enough time to send a message of warning. That was good.

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As Mason pondered the vicissitudes of the encounter, waiting for
beamout, four figures clad in black tactical gear materialized on the bridge.
Saying nothing, they turned toward Mason and Taylor.
"Glad you guys could drop by--" Two phaser bolts cut down the two
surviving Corona bridge officers in an instant; Mason saw Taylor fall before
he himself hit the ground, unable to cry out owing to the pain of the burst.
What he didn't know was that one of the phasers was set to kill; the other
was not.

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And that was the day Commander Robert Mason ceased to exist.

£

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt. Arisah Raptor
Personal Log -04099.7
USF Potemkin 16:01
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raptor comes out of the holodeck, looking fresh and energetic after a
sucessful hunt. A few people look at her in amusement, as she is streaked
with dirt and a bit of blood. Gradually, the stuff disapears, (I know it's
supposed to be instantanious, but I've seen a few episodes where stuff comes
out of the holodeck then disapears later) save a few blood streaks from minor
scratches. In her room, she quickly cleans up and takes care of the
scratchs, half-way hoping they'd scar and really hoping the
doctor doesn't see her before they do heal. (what's the point of going to
the doctor for every little thing?)
Restless, she heads to ten forward after gathering a few things. A few
crew members watch as she enters, then turn back to their drinks. It had
been a good few weeks since she'd been here. Ordering a tribble and spam
stew, a loaf of bread and a tall glass of prune juice. The order arrives and
she munches on the bread-a garlic and herb covered with cheese, from Earth-
while going through a stack of PADD's she'd brought along.
Two or three of the PADD's involved work, others had do do with new holo
programs and tribble recipes, ordering new equipment and supplies for the
lab, the latest issue of 'StarScape' - a look at interesting spacial
anomilies and the effects of a new hydrogen isotope in a negatively charged
inviroment, two petitions from her staff for raises, junk mail - you may
already be a winner - blah blah blah...and the last one was new mail from
home.
She alternated between flipping through the journal and eating her stew.
Near the end of her pile of mail was a note from one of her staff.
'Lieutenant, I know you're intested in Earth history and stuff. Included
is a novel
I enjoyed very much, I think you'd like it. It was written about 400 years
ago and I
think they made a film - a sort of flat holo for it. Enjoy.'
Raptor looked at the bottom of the page where a text file was marked 'Star
Wars'

<to be continued>

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Sela is standing in her quarters looking at the stars. she is perplexed;
concerned about her first mission. She has spent 2 hours in meditation, but
it has not helped. The thoughts racing through her mind have been cataloged
into tasks she must do.
She sets to work.
"Computer, begin memo to First Lieutenant Mason."
<Bleep>
========
Intership Memo
To: First Lieutenant Mason
From: Commander Sela
========
Lieutenant,
In our first mission together we experienced a slight...disagreement. I
would like for us to meet to work things out. It was nothing major, but
something that should be dealt with none the less.
Your prompt response is appreciated.

Commander Sela
========
"Computer, end message."
<Bleep>
"Begin Commander Sela's personal log and secure access."
"Log open and secure. Begin when ready."
"Today was my first mission on the crew. I think I will do well here, it
will just take time for me to adjust. Things are different here than they
were on the Lothlorien, mostly for the better as far as I can tell.
"The only thing that disturbs me is a certain comment made by a First
Lieutenant Mason. A good officer, but with a slight temper I think. He
brushed me off today, something I do not appreciate. I understand that he
was busy, but his sharp response was unecessary and unappropriate for
addressing a senior officer. I have arranged a meeting with him to work
things out, just so we don't get off to a bad start.
"The Captain seems like an outstanding leader. Some of our methods may
differ, but part of my job is to adapt. I think we will form a good team.
"I am concerned with one thing about this ship: we are understaffed. Half
of our positions are vacant. We need more officers. I am currently trying
to solve that situation, but we all hope the situation will be quickly
resolved.
"Computer, close log."
<Bleep>

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Sela's shuttle docks with the Potemkin, safely compleating her long journey
from DS8. She has to head directly to the bridge to meet the captain, but
her belongings are taken to her quarters.
After her meeting is over, Sela goes to her new quarters, following a map
on her PADD. She reaches the doors and they slide apart, revealing a large
room cluttered with travel containters.
"So this is home."
She enters her quarters and nods in satisfaction. there is a large window
taking up one wall and a long couch beneath it. Two chairs sit opposite the
couch with a long glass coffee table between.
On the wall left of the door is a replicator. A round glass able is
infront of it, with seating for four. To the right of the door along the
wall is a large desk that faces the window on the opposite wall. A swivel
chair is behind it and a computer sits on it's sleek black surface.
A doorway in the wall parallel to the wall with the replicator has a
doorway leading to a bathing area on the right and a bedroom on th eleft.
The bedroom also has a windowed wall. A large bed is beneath it, a
nightstand next to it. A dresser is along one wall, and a closet spans
another wall.
Sela sets to work unpacking her belongings. Uniform after uniform goes
into her drawers, her dress uniform hanging in the closet. Next to it hangs
several tan and brown articles of civilian clothing, and a dress she bought
on DS8. It changes color to match the mood of teh one wearing it. For Sela
it is almost always a dark hue of blue, for calm and tranquility.
She puts a clock on her nighstand and a picture on her dresser. It is of
herself, her brother J'Lan, her mother T'Pryn, and her late father Verin.
They were in the Valley of Chula on Romulus- her birthplace.
She goes to her family room and places a computer chip on her desk. It
contains a holo-image of her father.
And then she puts up the finishing touch: a hanging clother with her
family lineage painted on it. The left is her mother's family written in
Vulcan. On the right, her father's family in Romulan. All of this on a
black backdrop of stars.
"Magnificent. I know I will find a home here."
Sela goes to her desk and begins working on an updated roster.
"I hope the Captain and I will see eye to eye. He seems like a good man
and leader. I know the crew will do well, I only hope I will be able to
properly guide them in reaching their full potential."

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========
Lieutenant,

In our first mission together we experienced a slight...disagreement. I
would like for us to meet to work
things out. It was nothing major, but something that should be dealt
with none the less.
Your prompt response is appreciated.

Commander Sela
Executive Officer
USS Potemkin
========

The console in his office illuminated the room with the message in blue
displayed upon the screen. Robert Mason sighed, and read the letter again, a
thousand thoughts running through his mind. What if she would hold his
inappropriate behavior against him? What if she were to not forgive him? He
shifted uncomfortably in the chair behind his desk, and pushed aside three
PADDs on which were medical crew evaluations. He needed time to think; he
couldn't think with other work in front of him.

As he sipped the beverage he had retrieved earlier, a hot chocolate with
three marshmellows, he wondered if the Captain knew about his unorthodox
actions, or rather, words against the Commander. He had meant no disrespect,
of course, and it was so hectic in sickbay when she had called--he was
attempting to remove a piece of bulkhead lodged in the chest of a junior
officer while struggling to keep him alive--he supposed he just got a little
annoyed with the constant reporting in that was obviously going
to be necessary while serving under an XO like Sela.

But you didn't make excuses like these in official communiques, and you
certainly didn't speak to the new XO on anything more than a professional
basis-- until, of course, it was advantageous for both parties to do so. No.
Now was the time to adapt. Shodan was gone. He would have to accept it, and
adapt to the foreign command style of a new Exec. It was the XO's job to
perform periodical departmental checks and obtain the status of all those on
the ship. How could he have been so irate and
obnoxious to her for doing her job? There was no excuse for that. He was a
Starfleet Officer. But more than that, he had disappointed himself. And
Commander Sela.

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He frowned at his behavior. Maybe it was Shodan leaving. More probable it
was Lessa. Sighing again, he thought of all the missed opportunities that
had been squandered--by himself?--when she tendered her resignation. She was
not only the best AMO with which he had had the pleasure of serving, but she
was also the most dedicated, and certainly the most beautiful. Why had he
not done something about his feelings for her? Usually he was the one to
make the first move.

A part of him knew the answer to that; Lessa was more than just another
conquest, just another opportunity. But he didn't exactly want to aknowledge
that part of him just yet. It was too dangerous to do so; it might upset his
inner stability. He couldn't have that. He couldn't be asking questions
about his feelings, psycho-analyzing himself. Not now, and certainly not
when he had almost alienated himself from the new Executive Officer.

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He posted a response on the senior officer, intraship communications network:

Commander Sela, Sir,
I would, first of all, like to apologize for my inappropriate behavior
during the last mission. It was certainly not becoming of a Starfleet
Officer who carries the rank of First Lieutenant, and it was certainly not
the behavior I have come to expect from myself. I will not offer any excuses
here regarding this incident, as I know that no excuse can make an impression
to counterweight my words. Only actions can do such a thing. The most
disturbing part of this is not that I have let myself down
on a personal level, but I have also disappointed you. This was not my
intention, and I meant no disrespect, sir. Nevertheless, my behavior was
inappropriate, and I am prepared to accept the existence of an extra line of
text on my monthly officer evaluation denoting this incident. It is possible
tha placing me on a full report is not warranted, but that is not my decision
to make. It is the decision of the senior officer I have let down with words
of which I am ashamed, and it is the decision of
the new Executive Officer of the vessel aboard which I serve.

Once again, my heartfelt and humble apologies, Commander,

First Lieutenant Robert Mason
Chief Medical Officer [CMO]
USS Potemkin; NCC-1711-B

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Science Officer
Lt. Arisah Raptor
USS Potemkin- 0030
Personal Log - 04149.7
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arisah is in her quarters, depressed and subdued. Her eyes are in a fixed
postion, staring intently at a group holo of the main crew that had been
taken a few weeks before. Her eyes were dull, red and moist and her tail
hung limply off the side of the chair.
Curled into a tight ball, one could only guess at her true size. She has
not eaten for several hours and even the sight and smell of fresh-baked
honey-glazed tribbles does nothing for her. She has not moved or made a sound
since learning that one of her Captains, Shodan - a good friend and Lessa,
whom she considered a partial friend were now gone.
The lights in her cabin had been shut off long ago, the thick blackness
permeated only by sporratic starlight. The silence would have been
unbearable, but she had ignored that as well - nearly everything, including
calls from her communicator. She had resolved to mourn for their loss for at
least twenty-four hours. Her one consolation was neither were dead, and
though she knew Elieen would be leaving, it came as a blow. Shodan had been
one of the few humanoids Arisah had ever been close to. Now,
she too, was nearly out of reach...
A kitten Arisah had taken aboard with her return from Ru climbed up into
the chair and had fallen asleep some hours before. It was all orange with a
white tipped tail (in honor of my once real life cat whom we put to sleep
some two years ago) It purred softly, finding a place to curl in Raptor's
folded limbs. Arisah was grateful for the kitten's presence - reminding her
there were some things in life you could count on, besides taxes and death.
Arisah very seriously considered transfering to another ship. If not for
Mason, Warp and perhaps Frank, she would have done so already. Possibly
Shodan's new vessel needed a science officer...The transfer request was
allready written out and all she had to do was send it out to the appropriate
channels...on the other hand, this crew already needed her. But she wondered
how many of them she could count on as freinds (besides the 3 I mentioned
above)

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£

Intelligence Headquarters
San Diego, Earth, Sector 001
Medical Complex Alpha
March 6, 2363
0700 Hours

"THE MEMORY ENGRAMS ARE TOO CLOSE TOGETHER; I can not 'just erase the
most recent mission', Admiral." Doctor Selar looked up from her console in
the underground medical facility and frowned at Admiral Stanton. The female
doctor turned to the medical diagnostic wall display and tapped the black
surface, bringing up at least 40 different parallel lines, each with a fuzzy,
erratic pulse moving along its track from left to right. "Admiral, it can
not be done when the engrams are this close together."
The admiral in red gazed blankly at the doctor, hating her calmness, her
ability to suppress her emotions as all Vulcans could. But loving the fact
that she would be transferred to the Hood within the month. Maybe he was a
bit jealous of her youth, beauty, determination, and emotional stability.
But he was the Director of Starfleet Intelligence itself, he couldn't think
such thoughts. For over 52 years he had been the head of the organization,
and such thoughts of envy coming now simply didn't
hold water. He had led a good life, and even though he hadn't always been
fighting the good fight, he had done what he thought was right. And it got
him here, to the center of almost all intelligence information for the entire
Federation, or rather, for Starfleet as a whole. It had brought him to
Earth, San Diego to be more specific, and had settled the aging admiral
behind a nice, comfortable desk where he wouldn't have to worry about any
physical danger whatsoever. But maybe he liked physical
danger, the thrill, the rush, the high. Maybe he liked a little action now
and then.
But it was all gone now; the opportunities had come and gone like the
chill wind during a cold night in a desert, the chances had passed with the
years, and the admiral suddenly found himself a little worried about how much
longer he would be stuck here at the heart of Starfleet and at the hind end
of action at the same time, protecting the political and paramilitary
interests of an organization that was more ruthless than the Romulan Empire
at times.

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"Then I assume you know what to do, Doctor?" He glared down at the Vulcan
woman in the blue uniform; two pips adorned her collar, and although they
were not abundant, per se, she wore them with a regality that was typical of
Vulcan women. Quiet, mature, intellectual, and distinguished.
"Surely you aren't suggesting that I polarize all seventy-two memory
engrams. . . ." She waved her arm, taking in the wall diagnostic display,
indicating the small, fuzzy nodes drifting lazily across the screen on their
parallel line tracks. She then looked up at the admiral; it was now her turn
to frown. She furrowed her brow as she did so, awaiting a response, but yet
still monitoring the stability of patient Commander Mason with intermittent
taps on a small monitoring console's screen,
listening for any unusual beeps or sounds. She met Stanton's eyes.
"Doctor, that's precisely it. And it's not a suggestion; it's an
order." He glared at the Vulcan with icy, hazel eyes. Polarization of the
engrams would wipe out Mason's memory for nearly nine years. . . . The
engrams on the screen were all serious, major patterns. Built up by at least
seven important and intense events which had chosen to remain in the brain of
Commander Robert Mason. That was his entire career in Intelligence. And
seeing that it had taken this man only nine years to reach
the rank on Commander heightened Stanton's respect for the man. And it also
raised the level of remorse for what he was about to do.

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Stanton recalled the past nine years. There had only been three
officers he had seen with such potential. The first was Commander Mason, of
course, another Captain Alanna Netcheyev herself, and the third being
Stanton. While Stanton was sometimes considered arrogant and immodest by
others' standards, he knew that he was, perhaps, the best officer to grace
the portals of the Intelligence organization. He was right, he mused. Only
three officers had come here and started off their careers with
such enthusiasm and drive, and those were the three. Captain Netcheyev was
currently the commanding officer of the USS Santorini, he had been promoted
to the head of Intelligence, and Commander Mason. . . . Well, Mason was up
for his Captaincy in three months, where he probably would have stayed for at
least 10 - 15 years, as he would have proved, most probably, to be an asset
to the Intelligence fleet.
The only problem was that the stealth vessel that had arrived as the
Cardassians were closing in on the Corona had been monitoring the
transmissions between the Corona and the Sarajevo. And some very disturbing
words were spoken by Mason during that time. He had made a mistake. He had
spoken his mind. And Stanton couldn't risk giving him the benefit of the
doubt here. Not now, and certainly not with so much to risk. . . . Mason
had said he sympathized with Nemick.
A grave mistake. Sometimes officers become risks to the sovereignty of
Intelligence when speaking such words. And so Admiral James Porter Stanton,
director of Starfleet Intelligence, made his final decision. Mason's engrams
would be polarized, his career in Intelligence erased, and he would be thrown
into the standard Starfleet; the Federation could not lose such an officer.
Once there, he would need to start over. Maybe he could enter into a special
field, one in which the promotional and duty
requirements were a bit different than command or security or engineering or
science.

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But that would be Mason's decision. Stanton refused to recreate his
life for him. The admiral owed him the freedom of choice. As long as that
choice was within Starfleet, and as long as that choice didn't conflict with
any Intelligence interests whatsoever. Stanton thought about what he was
stripping from the Commander, and what he would be giving him, the choice to
do what he would within Starfleet. There was no way he could manipulate them
to cancel each other out, by any means. So he held
on to his power as an admiral, and his authority in the intelligence
business, and Admiral Stanton ordered the memory of Commander Robert Mason's
career in Starfleet Intelligence erased. Permanently.
"You have your orders, Doctor."
Selar looked up from the display screen, upon which were displayed the
vital signs and biofunctions of Commander Mason. No matter how she sliced
it, she had orders to follow. She couldn't defy those orders; she was
obligated to obey. It was not the Vulcan way to do otherwise when the good
of an entire organization was at stake. She nodded solemnly and turned back
to the instruments, breaking eye contact with the gray-bearded admiral in
red.
She spoke only two words before commencing her duties, erasing the
memories of a man she had known for three years, and been with four times in
the seemingly transient span of time which passed so fleetingly to her. It
was too soon. It was too much. If she had a human heart, it would have been
broken.
"Aye, Sir."

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Intelligence Headquarters
San Diego, Earth, Sector 001
Office Of Counselor T. Hayworth
March 19, 2363, 0900 Hours

"WHERE AM I?" The words escaped his mouth before he knew he had spoken.
Three hours ago, Robert Mason had awoken in a padded room with three overhead
lights radiating pure, white light. He waited for what seemed like an
eternity, and was then escorted here by two Starfleet officers in yellow.
The last thing he remembered was being in a planetwide transport, in which
the lights had suddenly gone out, the craft falling through the air as the
whir and hum of rushing air outside resonated throughout
the cabin. He supposed the craft had crashed in the ocean, because before
he lost consciousness, other passengers were struggling to keep their heads
above water as the precious air became thinner and thinner, and the cabin
became a tomb.

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What he didn't know was that this memory, and a host of others like it,
had been implanted into his neural networks like commands given a computer
database. Intelligence had decided to allow Robert to keep his identity up
until the point when he turned seventeen, and Commander Mason entered
Starfleet Academy. But he was now twenty-nine. And Stanton had decided to
fill in the age gap with memories of past experiences of family, friends, and
loved ones. Mason would remember entering the academy at
the age of twenty-five, graduating this past February with honors. For good
measure, Selar had given him the knowledge he would have acquired in such a
reality, and Stanton had given him a choice with what to do with the rest of
his life, after graduation.
And now he sat in a large room with a beige motif on the walls, floors,
ceiling, and furniture. Green houseplants adorned the room, sitting on
tables, shelves, bookcases, and some larger plant-trees in pots on the beige
floor itself. He sat on a manila colored, one-armed couch in the center of
the room, across from an armchair in which sat a voluptuous woman in a blue,
Starfleet uniform.